Adjusting the collar of her anachronistic uniform, the gold-clad Commander Rita Paris looked herself over in the mirror, insuring that her appearance was inspection-ready. The trio of tourists had been approved to visit Vulcan High Command today, and while she had very little idea of what they would find there, she was determined to make a good impression. After all, Starfleet personnel were allowed entry, but it was a professional courtesy extended by the High Command, and by no means a right. Thus she was going to ensure that when she made the scene, she would make a good impression, and reflect favorably on Starfleet, the Hera, and of course, Sonak.

Seeing Vulcan with him had been… surreal, in a way. The world she had never visited in her travels before Nero had destroyed it, was instead a thriving active world of wonders, teeming with people and places she had only known through her husband’s stories and legends she’d heard. But to see it as a living, breathing, tangible legend had been magnificent, and she was excited by this next phase. She had swum their calm seas, climbed their tall peaks, seen their universities and their blasted plains. While she could be considered an expert on the planet by no stretch of the imagination, she was definitely a well-traveled tourist now, and as pilgrimages went, she felt she had accomplished much of what she had set out to do with this particular expedition.

Someday she and her logical love would plot out the timeline, take the medical steps necessary and they would conceive children. Hera herself had foretold it to her, although Rita suspected that her fate was never set in stone, no matter what the powers of the universe might say about it. While she believed in the reformed goddess, and the thought of her made the ancient astronaut smile, she knew that this universe had never accounted for Rita and Sonak… nor Az’Prel, for that matter. They would always be wild cards, x-factors in every equation, who could change the course of destiny with their actions because they were never meant to be there.

Yet and still, in her heart of hearts, Rita truly believed this was where they were supposed to be. This was where they belonged, in this space and time. Maybe the universe needed wild cards, or maybe it just liked a little chaos. Whatever the cosmic reasoning, Rita felt quite certain that she was meant to be on the Hera, alongside Enalia Telvan, supporting the spotted captain in her efforts in the shadows. Ensuring that as the perennially embattled and conflicted captain lived in those shadows, there was always a light beside her. After all, without light, there were no shadows, only darkness.

Thinking of her friend and captain brought a smile to the face of the buxom blonde bombardier. Enalia had done so much for her, and cared for Rita more than she could easily admit. In that, the feeling was mutual. Rita respected the woman- she was noble and damaged, fierce and flawed, fearless yet filled with awe and wonder at the spectacles the universe showed her. And she refused to give up on people- particularly Rita Paris, even when she was ready to rend space and time to run from her like her ass was afire. Chuckling, she shook her head at how the woman’s wry sense of humor had kept her guessing as she’d promoted her to first officer, then sent her to meet her destined rendezvous with Sonak, closing the paradoxical loop begun by her sending her old communicator back in time and space with her final report, which had given him the clue to come find her in the here and now.

It had been the most joyous day of her life, and one for which she would be forever grateful to them both. He for traversing space and time just to find her, to return to her, to reunite with her- proving to her that love was, indeed, stronger than any force in the universe. Her for preventing Rita from running, and giving her a home where she was wanted, needed, appreciated and respected. With a captain who sought a first officer who was flexible enough to handle the sort of missions the Hera encountered, but with a strong enough moral compass to keep them firmly on the side of the angels.

The Hera had brought her into contact with Asa Dael, the young immortal, of whose soul she felt herself a custodian. When she was less than dust they would still stride the stars, and she knew the lessons they learned in the here and now would stay with them for a lifetime, and it challenged her to be better, to provide an example to them that would hold up to scrutiny and provide memories that would last however many centuries they might endure.

There was Samuel Clemens, the southern gentleman spymaster whose code of honor and speech patterns made Rita seem positively modern. Yet his warm smile and gentile manner warmed every room he entered, and despite losing so much of his physicality to mechanical replacement, his humanity and warmth were second to none. Thex sh’Zoarhi, the acrobatic Andorian whom had been so lonely when they had met, yet was now so fulfilled with an entire family of her own surrounding her, with young ones on the way. When no one would take the time to explain the modern world to her, Thex had been there to catch her up, and save her life. Rita would never forget her for that, and she treasured their friendship.

The wide-eyed Ila Dedjoy, a scientist so afraid of away missions and the danger inherent in them, who had sacrificed her own life to save the crew of the Hera was another unique life she had encountered. Yet in doing so she had become something more, and Rita in turn had been able to repay the debt she’d owed the Ilaran scientist, recognizing her as a quantum ‘ghost’ and helping to reconstitute her form, after a fashion. The Dedjoy system would forever bear her name to honor her sacrifice, even as the young woman herself lived on in a cybernetic shell housing her consciousness.

The Baroness Schwein von Alcott, now betrothed to the Mighty Thor, had grown distant of late, but Rita suspected she knew why. The one-eyed cyber pirate was deeply sentimental, and while she was loathe to admit it, cared deeply for those she called friends. Knowing that she would soon have to leave the crew of the Hera, she had begun the process of distancing herself, so as to make the process easier when the time came for that separation to become permanent. While she understood it, still Rita missed the surprisingly good-natured, calm and generous super-soldier’s company, even as she was glad to see her finally having found love and companionship, in the arms of a man who could withstand her passions- a man who was not a man at all, but a god.

Then there were the Doxes.

When she had met Melanie Dox, the young officer had been furtive and evasive, a shy, pudgy young woman who would have been content to remain in obscurity, avoiding any attention and shuffling through a career of no distinction because she believed she had no worth, as an officer or as a person. But Rita had been unwilling to accept that, and had challenged her to be more. To her delight, the young pilot had proven her to be more than correct, and had risen to be both a great officer, a fine young woman, and a true friend, a sister beneath the skin. The fact that the young woman, over the course of time, had discovered that she was not half-human but fully Romulan had mattered not at all to Rita, who judged not on race or species, but on character. And in Mnhei'sahe Dox, as she was now known, she had sensed a nobility and purpose she felt obliged to foster.

The relationship Mnhei'sahe shared with her mother Jaeih was complex, as the woman had built an elaborate web of lies to protect her daughter over the years, including genetic manipulation, surgeries, and intense training combined with a harsh and unforgiving mein that left little room for warmth. But when the opportunity had presented itself, Rita had worked to try to help them bridge that gap and reconcile. Likely it was her own issues with her estranged father which would now never be resolved, despite her repeated attempts through the years, which drove her efforts. But slowly the two women had come together, with none-too-subtle help from both Rita and Enalia, and Jaeih had come into her own as well, rebuilding her relationship with her daughter even as Mnhei'sahe built a life with the Miradonian genius Mona Gonadie. As their family grew, so too did their closeness, and it was wonderful to see.

Which made the incoming message that much more dreadful for her to hear, as her comm badge chirruped.

Tapping it with a puzzled from, the Starfleet siren spoke clearly. After all, it was likely Vulcan High Command, and she had to be prepared. "Commander Paris here, over."

=^= Incoming transmission on encoded channel, your eyes only. Please verify that you are alone and confirm identification =^- the computer voice intoned, which was not the cool, logical tone of the Vulcan computer comm system, but that of Starfleet. That frown deepened as her brows began to knit together at the base.

"I confirm, I am alone. Commander Paris, Rita. Authorization code LTCDR 867-5309," she offered, then the comm channel chirruped again.

=^= Incoming transmission from Captain Enalia Telvan. Stand by. =^=

If the Captain was contacting her, it couldn't be good news, and in her stomach, that familiar feeling started... the one that meant trouble was on the horizon. The sort of trouble that the rest of the fleet didn't send out starships for, and instead, they very quietly dispatched the Hera. In that moment, Rita began mentally inventorying where their belongings were, how long it would take to collect Sonak and Az'Prel, and what she could do to arrange passage off-world. Because if she was right...

"Rita..." Enalia's voice was strained and sounded as if she hadn't gotten any sleep. "Sorry to call like this but there's been an incident. We're on our way to pick you up at maximum warp. While on holiday, the Tal'Shiar captured..." For a moment it sounded like she was just going to use their first names and thought better of it. "They captured Lieutenant Dox and Agent Dox. We'll be there in three hours to pick you up."

A number of things raced through the mind of the first officer of the USS Hera all at the same time. One was that is both the Doxes had been captured, that likely meant family business, and bad business with the Romulans, which meant that they were headed through the Neutral Zone, and the potential for war with the Romulans if they were caught or captured.

It was a foregone conclusion that they were going, of course.

The second was that if Enalia was calling her now, the meant that she’d been pushing the Hera at her top speed to get here since the event had occurred, which likely meant that for… Rita ran the calculations in her head, and it meant that for the better part of three days now, the Trill captain hadn’t slept, had hardly eaten and was pacing like a caged tiger worried sick about her officer and her agent. While she was often cavalier about her own safety, there was nothing more precious to the starship captain than the lives entrusted to her care. If Mnhei’sahe and Jaeih had been taken, that meant Enalia was sick with worry and equal parts furious at herself for ‘allowing’ them to have been taken. Which meant she was flying the ship apart to come get Rita, Sonak, and Az’Prel, because she needed them all now more than ever.

There were details, of course, that could not be discussed over an open channel, or even a secured line such as this one. This was implicitly understood between the two women, and it would remain unspoken. Rita wouldn’t ask, Enalia wouldn’t volunteer. Instead, the briefing would come once they were all aboard. Likely Enalia had the rough outline of a plan, some resources in place, some favors called in, and right now she needed support. She needed unconventional brilliance. But more than anything else, she needed hope, in a dark hour where it looked like there was no hope to be found.

“We’ll be ready for you, Captain. And we’ll find them, and we will bring them home.” Rita stated it as a plain and simple fact, with absolutely no uncertainty whatsoever. Because right now, that was exactly what Captain Telvan needed to hear. In truth, right now, that was what Rita needed to hear. She could worry later- right now, she would focus on canceling their plans and getting the three of them off Vulcan and out of the system, so the rendezvous with the Hera could occur quickly and efficiently. Already her mind was racing with to-do lists as she plotted the course of how to get them where they needed to be… where the Hera needed them to be.

Because their shipmates needed them. And between the three of them, there was not a one of them that would not move heaven and earth for those in need- particularly those they cared about.

Laying on the lightly padded bed in the VIP Quarters of the D'deridex-class Rihannsu Warbird, 'the People’s Will', on which she was a prisoner, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox meditated. Or, at least, she tried to.

Her first time meeting her Grandmother and captor, Deihu Verelan t'Rul had been devastating for the young Starfleet officer. She had said and done virtually everything wrong and it had become abundantly clear how hopeless her situation seemed to be. So she sat and tried to clear her mind and think. There was always a way. There had to be.

In the quiet of the chamber, broken only by the repeating hum of the Warbird’s engine, her sensitive ears could faintly hear the two guards outside her door, shuffling. Two out of a possible fifteen-hundred on board. That was not going to be the way.

A D’deridex-class Warbird was massive. More than twice the size of the Hera. Twice the crew compliment. And the VIP Quarters were dozens of decks away from the bridge and even further from engineering or the ships flight decks. She visualized the corridors she had memorized the specs of with excitement as a child when she was enamored of the ship and its workings. But now all of those details that thrilled her when young were bitter reminders of how functionally impossible it would be to get anywhere on the ship where she could do anything of impact. It was probable that there were guards at most doors and turbolifts. And those specs she had poured over as a child told her that even access tunnels had segmental shielding for anyone not registered for access. Her own room was definitely guarded and the door didn’t acknowledge her anyway, nor were there any control consoles on the interior to even try and circumvent. She almost wished she HADN’T spent so much time as a little girl learning about the ships that she was once in love with so, at least, she could take comfort in ignorance.

As for her attempts at meditation, the Vulcan Kolinahr master Lieutenant Sonak had been working with the red-headed Rihannsu woman for months on the Hera. Training her in Vulcan mental discipline techniques, greatly strengthening her mental defenses, and developing her nascent, though extremely limited psionic potential. But at that moment, she found it near impossible to relax her mind or concentrate. With her eyes closed, she could still see and feel the swirling lavender energy that was a part of her forever. Her gift from her wife and bond-mate, Mona Gonadie. But it was a small piece of her love to cling to. As she thought, she fingered her empty wrist where the pearlescent black Rihannsu ceremonial wedding bracelet should have been but had obviously been taken from her at some point. A reminder of how alone she was.

If she were stronger, maybe she could have reached her mind across the chasm of space to call for help. But she wasn't. She could only make telepathic contact with Mona when they touched.

Alone, she could only touch the piece of Mona left inside her. Captured and kidnapped along with her mother, who was likely being 'interrogated' at that very moment for her petulance, Dox had no idea what to do except wait and hope.

Mona had escaped the Kidnapping attempt. She would return home to the Hera. She would tell Enalia and Rita and they would come for her. It was all she had left to cling too. And as that first long night stretched out before her she began to realize that her captors had likely accounted for that as well.

The lighting in the mid-sized room turned off when she was expected to sleep and back on when she was expected to wake and they were taking their time to let her stew. In the darkness, she cleared her mind and began to focus on that gentle glow in her mind's eye to shut out the anger and panic that was threatening to overwhelm her reason.

You're a kreldanni Starfleet officer, Mnhei'sahe! She thought to herself in the darkness. Act like one. THINK like one!

It took hours, she knew not how many, until she could find her center and calm her mind. Sonak was an excellent teacher, even if she was often an impatient pupil. But with calm came added clarity as she replayed her Grandmother's offers and threats, veiled and unveiled.

The elder Romulan Senator had laid out the groundwork for what she wanted. And she wanted her Granddaughter home with her and likely much more. She made broad attempts, first at reminding the young, embittered Starfleet officer of her painful childhood. She offered her a life on ch’Rihan... the homeworld she had never set foot on. She offered her position and privilege and a life of supposed greater meaning. Told her she was needed there. Told her she would be welcomed as a returning hero by the Rihannsu people for turning her back on the Federation.

Then, when that failed to sway the young pilot, her Grandmother reminded her of her place and her predicament. That she needed the favor of her Grandmother to survive. Then came the threats.

They had Dox's mother as well. And the more the captured young woman resisted, the more they would take out their frustrations on Jaeih Dox. An interrogation she was assured would already have begun thanks to her initial attitude. It was a manipulation tactic and she knew it, but knowing it wouldn’t help her mother.

They had almost all the leverage. But not all of it. "You know a great many secrets that could be quite valuable to a great many parties." Senator t'Rul said plainly. They wanted what Dox knew. She was a senior officer on a ship of secrets. And her Grandmother twice mentioned the name of one of those other parties: Rendal.

Riov Dalia Rendal. Former Commander of Starbase 336. The Starbase the Hera saved from an onslaught by the forces of Asgard, who had attacked the base when it was discovered that Rendal had been experimenting on the sleeping body of a titan. One of the most powerful beings in existence… a god to the gods... and Rendal was cutting into it to dissect it and learn the secrets of the gods.

And as she lay in the darkness, the only light that was provided by the streaking stars warping by through the small window, she realized why Riov Rendal wanted her and it hit her like a warp core breach she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen until then. She wanted the secrets of the gods. And many of those secrets rested… protected... on her home.

On the Hera.

During that first conversation, Dox sensed actual sincerity in her Grandmother's words. She might not have been raised in the Imperium, but she was moderately decent at telling when she was being lied to. And as warped as she was, Dox believed the Senator meant many of the things she said about wanting some measure of family between them to be restored. But FAMILY wasn't enough of a justifiable cause to kidnap a Starfleet officer with an entire D'deridex-class warbird and risk war so far from the Neutral Zone.

But the Hera was.

And now they had an Intelligence asset and a senior officer with access to those secrets. She and her mother were bait. Laying in the darkness, a tear rolled down her cheek as her options seemed to narrow further. She focused on that swirling collection of lavender energy. The combination of her soul and Monas and thought out as strongly as she could, praying to every god she could think of that she would be somehow heard, ‘Don’t come for us. They want the Hera. Stay away.’

As the night stretched before her, Dox's mind began to fade. But before she succumbed to a fitful and restless sleep, she knew what she had to do. She had to find some way to save herself and her mother. Because if Rendal got her hands on the Hera and the secrets contained within her, it could spell doom for all who opposed her. It could spell doom for her real family.

Even in sleep, true rest had been elusive for the Miradonian known as Mona Gonadie. it had been three nights since the kidnapping and she wasn’t handling it well. She had returned to the ship in tears and told the Captain everything that had happened. And after talking, the Captain allowed her a leave of absence from her duties. And while she was still not allowed back on duty, she would at least be allowed to witness the next round of interrogations once Commander Paris was back aboard today. She, the Miradonian second for Baroness Marelith, and the computer would be acting as lie detectors for those involved in the planning of the trip as well as those that had the knowledge of where the family would be.

However, it would likely be the gut feelings of the Hera's second officer that would come through in the end as Mona's emotions were compromised and the computer was unreliable in reading Tal Shiar agents, if there was one hidden among those being interrogated. Especially if there were more than one and they all had practiced their stories.

But that would be later and for now, Mona was tossing and turning in bed, tortured by dreams of her love calling out to her, but she couldn't quite make out the words. They began that first, awful night alone. Like the memory of a voice in the darkness calling out. Heard but unheard, but nothing to make her think that it anything more than just a bad dream. Bad dreams were, of course, more than understandable under the circumstances.

But on the second night, it felt just a bit stronger. It felt… somehow more real, even though Mona knew that it couldn’t be possible. Miradonian’s mate for life and bond with their mates, and Mnhei’sahe Dox was her bond-mate. But her Minay was also Romulan and had a stronger than normal affinity for psionic ability. And that had enabled them to develop a uniquely strong bond. Strong even by the standards of Miradonian couples that had been bonded for decades. They could not only feel each other's emotions, but they could share dreams and now, even communicate telepathically. But all of this was dependent on them physically touching and her Minay was now light-years away. But Mona was also pregnant with their children. Three of them, of both Miradonian and Romulan blood. All of them developing those same gifts within her, and her own sensitivity seemed heightened as a result.

When her Minay had traveled back in time, Mona could feel her leave this universe. And when she returned to the proper time, Mona could feel that as well, even separated by light-years. When Dox returned to the ship injured, Mona had felt that and rushed to sickbay to meet her. She had felt her love without them touching. And in her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was feeling her right now in her dreams. She couldn’t help but wonder if her beloved Minay was trying to send her a message.

She just knew the message, if that’s what it truly was, was important and she could almost make it out, and it seemed to be getting a bit clearer... But other than the distinct feeling that they were walking into a trap, she couldn't actually tell what her Minay was trying to say. It was as if she was screaming the words from across a vast expanse.

It had been like this every night, and if there was any truth to her feelings, then she would have to tell the Captain and Commander. They would know what to do.

But until then, all she could do was try and sleep. And in that sleep, try and reach back and pray to the Moon Goddess that had blessed their union, that she would find her Minay.

A smile was on Thex face as she finished tightening the last bolt on the second incubator. With her twin daughters only being a month or two away she had to get the finishing touches of their room. Everything would be perfect for when the two of them would be here.

She wiped some of the sweat of her brow as she stood up and packed away her tools. Now she just had one thing to do. Her blue eyes looked over at the holo transmitter in the corner of her living room. Checking the time she walked over to the block. Here goes nothing.

" Computer activate scheduled transmission to earth. " She said breathing in as the holomatrics scanned her in and began projecting her image and her across the vastness of space and into a small medical room far away on distant earth.

What her blue eyes fell on made her freeze in place. The andorian in the bed could be described at the very best as a mess. His right arm was gone and judging by the regenerator a good chunk of his shoulder and side had come with it. His face could barely be called a face being nothing more than a patchwork of scars and bruises.

His antenna flicked as he heard her and one of his bruised eyes forced itself open.

Thex wanted to hate him. She wanted to scream and shout and throw things at him, but as she looked into the bloodshot, broken eye her heartfelt nothing but pity. Reaching out a hand she took his in her own. " Hello thavan." she said trying to hide the tears in her eyes.

Even though it was naught but a holographic projection she felt him squeeze back. A single bloody tear fell down his face as he tried to say something, but with the pipe down his throat, only a gurgle came back. " Please don't say anything. Just constrated on getting better I don't want to lose you now that I have you back. " She said gripping his hand out of concern.

She only had an hour with him, but it felt like only five munites had passed before as she poured her heart out to him and informed him of everything that had happened to her. He listed replying with a smile and what she thought may have been a laugh. she caught the buzzer that indicated her transmation would be ended.

Looking back at the wounded andorian on the bed she gripped his hand more tightly. " Just get better Thavan. I'll call again as soon as i can."

He replied with a weak smile as he held her hand until with another buzz she vanished and was back in her quarters. A smile spread over the hera's chief of engineering face as she felt a relief had been taken off her shoulders.

As she stepped off the patform she pushed as she noticed the error message on the padd. Bending down to investigate she saw that some junk information was blocking up the padds memory backup. Must be a lot to be causing an error she thought as she walked to her computer to fix the issue.

Just as she was about to purge the date befoe she paushed as she looked at the information being displayed. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the data. This wasn't junk data it was far too organized for it. With a few types, her eyes widened at what she was seeing. This was a massive data dump in the old andorian zombo computer code. One of which her people hadn't used in centuries. How someone got it into the federation holo grid she had no idea, but what was on the screen was an even bigger puzzlement. The files all began with a message spelling out THEX DON'T DELETE FROM THAVAN.

Leaning back in her chair she was very confused , but she still moved the data into a separate computer archive she quickly created before she deleted it from the holo grid. This would take some investigation to work out.

''You are Lieutenant Sonak of the starship Hera.''

Sonak had heard the approach of the Vulcan High Command officer. He had recognized it by the mechanical rhythm of soft boots on the stone floor so distinct from those of civilian footwear. He only turned his head and rose from his meditating bench once the green uniformed woman of the in-system space agency stopped to address him. She offered no excuse for disturbing his meditation, nor did he expect any. All that and logic suggested that this was no idle chat she intended. His answer was as to the point as her own statement.

''Correct, Ensign. ''

''I am Ensign T'Pia,'' she gave in return. ''We have received an urgent transmission for Commander Rita Paris and Lieutenant Sonak. She has been reported in your company but we have yet to locate her.''

''She is currently visiting the advanced physics labs and classes of the Academy.''

T'Pia nodded. Sonak didn't need to explain to her that the structure housing the advanced physics labs were heavily shielded to prevent contamination from external factors as well as to prevent any experiment to adversely affect the rest of the Academy grounds, thus preventing any scanning or transmission to go through. Still, it raised slightly the kolinahr master's left eyebrow.

''No disrespect to logic or competence intended, but a transmission could be made to the Academy Registrar; and then relayed to the department lobby. The message would be conveyed directly to her faster than locating one of her subordinates.''

''Unless that message is explicitly stated by Starfleet not to be transmitted but directly delivered to Starfleet officers Commander Rita Paris and Lieutenant Sonak ."

Sonak's eyebrow went higher up.

''You are to be recalled immediately to the USS Hera.''

''Please elaborate.''

''Details not provided. Only the recall order was transmitted. Here are the order and spacetime coordinates for rendezvous to the pick-up point. The patrol cruiser Shavok is currently waiting in orbit to beam you up.''

She gave him a data chip, the raised her right hand in the parted fingers salute prevalent both in civilian and military society of Vulcan.

''Peace and long life, Lieutenant Sonak.''

''Live long and prosper,'' Sonak replied along with the same salute.

She turned and left, while Sonak also turned to greet his wife, her so familiar clicking footsteps in her martial stride echoing from the base of the grand staircase behind him. Although not as familiar, he inferred correctly that the softer, measured ones beside hers were those of Az'Prel.

As Rita came to him, he handed her the data chip.

''Commander, we are recalled to the Hera. There has been an incident.''

“The Captain informed me a few moments ago. I’ve been gathering our belongings and making plans…” The brow of the human woman was furrowed with concern, a clear indication that she was most likely somewhat more aware of the situation than she was able to explain at the moment. “I suspect we’ll need to make arrangement for offworld passage. If we can get to the edge of the system, it would facilitate a better rendezvous with the Hera, which will be expected in system within three hour’s time.”

''Captain Telvan obviously saw to it,'' Sonak confirmed. ''The Shavok is waiting in orbit to beam us up and carry us to these rendezvous coordinates. They are presently waiting for our signal.''

Rolling her eyes, the curvaceous commander sighed, then fished the collapsible PaDD she carried out of her uniform top. Snapping it open, she began tapping away at it. "Says here the Ti-Valka'ain Fosh Halitra Shavok... wow, in its native tongue that is much more impressive sounding, Shavok which is a desert hunting bird with like a 2 and a half meter wingspan- oh we saw some of those off in the distance, out on the forge, I remember. Awww... nice." Rita paused a moment to enjoy the connection, smiling at Sonak before returning to the task at hand.

''The very one the Romulans adopted as their Imperial symbol,'' Sonak confirmed. ''They even kept the name in their own modern language. And it inspired their space navy up to and including their impressive Warbirds. It is a symbol of strength, fierceness, and independence to them as much as it is a symbol of control, detachment and achievement here.''

"All right, Vulcan Defense Force Shavok commanded by Doctor S'tahnn? Not a military rank? Okay, scientist culture, makes sense," Rita shrugged. "Well, let's see how my logic holds up today." Tapping at the raised replica of the ancient Starfleet delta of command of her day which she wore in place of the modern insignia upon her ample left breast, the transporter phobic interstellar explorer called out to the universe to try to make an excuse.

"Commander Rita Paris to TFH Shavok, requesting evacuation from planet's surface by shuttlecraft, over." As these things tended to do, Rita opened the gambit. This was a game she was often forced to play with the universe. Sometimes she won, sometimes she lost. She'd see what happened today.

''Vulcan High Command has a different structure the Terran-inspired one of Starfleet,'' Sonak explained. ''Like Starfleet, our local fleet reports to civilian authorities; but on our ships, one such civilian representative is in overall command. The captain sees to the actual ship operations, much like an Exec on a Starfleet vessel albeit with more command authorities. On the Shavok, Doctor S'Tahnn gives mission orders and parameters. Captain T'Naa directs the crew and ship operations.''

He spoke to divert her mind from the upcoming beam up, sensing as much as knowing all too well her stress, even if the cause of her previous mishaps had been eliminated. His last words faded with the energies of the annular confinement beam that caught them as their atoms disassembled to be reassembled on the green and red-lighted pad of the Shavok's transporter room.

It looked surprising much like a familiar Starfleet transporter room, albeit more curving and flowing in design, and the operator isolated from any contaminant or attack in a transparent booth barring the way to the exit door. As much a medical as a military precaution dating back centuries, it is from this compartment that two Vulcans stepped out to greet the three of them.

One was in quilted sand-colored uniform of simple functional design with a collar striped with four green lines, a very tall Vulcan woman with a stern bearing and a very athletic body, her age impossible to determine on her flawless jade-tinted asian-like features. The other was a thin man in a similar although more ample and thicker outfit of a dull grey color, his long flowing white hair framing a chiseled face like that of time itself. He spoke first to greet them, his hand lifted in the familiar salute.

''Commander Rita Paris of the USS Hera; Peace and Long Life. I am Doctor S'Tahnn. And this is Captain T'Naa. We come to serve.''

At which point Rita, who had been preparing for a conversation and was entirely unprepared to be beamed, dropped to her knees, vomiting the contents of her stomach out onto the floor.

"So... so glad I opened with a request for evac by shuttle..." the human officer growled angrily under her breath as she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and struggled to compose herself. "How expeditious of you to so thoroughly ignore that as well as my service record, when we have ample time to have avoided this."

As soon as she dropped, Sonak helped her back to her feet as the technician behind the console rushed out, medical tricorder and medkit in hand. He made a quick scan then turned towards his captain.

''There is no physiological impairment; but I register a spike in cerebro-glandular activity. This is a psychosomatic reaction to transport brought about by intense uncontrolled emotional reaction to the experience. I recommend a mild sedative before the next beam out. ''

Captain T'Naa then spoke to Rita.

''My apologies, Commander; but it is my understanding that transporter operation is routine in Starfleet. Moreover, the urgency of your mission, as well as the inconvenience to our own mission timetable, makes auxiliary craft operation illogical. It takes ten point fifty-three minutes to prepare a shuttlecraft for launch and sixteen point forty seven minutes to bring you all aboard from planetside to orbit. That would have made it impossible for us to reach the rendezvous point in time following the imposed parameters, nullifying the entire operation.''

Her eyebrow lifted a bit up, as she seem to realize that she was speaking to a Human who would react emotively to her dry statement of fact. To diffuse the possible tension, she recalled her Human interaction courses from the Academy and offered what Humans would call ''concern'' for her well being.

''Since you show a psychosomatic adverse reaction to transporters, I suggest you take proper preparation for the next beam out; again an unavoidable necessity dictated by the planned rendezvous conditions. Our medical staff will provide to you everything you should need to mitigate your discomfort.''

Doctor S'Tahnn nodded in return to both the technician and the ship's commanding officer, then shifted his eyes towards Sonak.

''Lieutenant Sonak; Peace and Long Life. Our trip together will be short but I am looking forward to discuss with you the path of the Kolinarh, one I am inclined to follow following my next and last assignment.''

''Live Long and Prosper,'' gave Sonak in return, his hand also raised. ''We too come to serve, Doctor S'Tahnn.''

The old scientist nodded then gave his greetings to Az'Prel.

''Peace and Long Life, Az'Prel of Vulcan. I have received the report about your presence here. As an exoanthropologist, I am understandably curious about your own parallel culture. I would consider it a considerable favor if you would give me a moment to discuss your unique Vulcan perspective.''

Returning the salute, Az'Prel was still trying to work out the hesitation ingrained in her of giving it so freely, but she was getting better. After all, in her own reality, it had meant instant execution to be caught doing it by a Terran.

With a slight bow of her head, the displaced Vulcan refugee addressed the request. "Education is the foundation of understanding and through understanding, great things are accomplished. If by better understanding the parallels of the reality I come from aid you in your studies and future endeavors, I consider our discussion an honor."

S'Tahnn bowed his head in acknowledgment of her statement and in gratitude.

Captain T'Naa then also gave her own greetings and spoke.

''We will be diverting our own course towards the rendezvous coordinates with the Hera,'' she explained as her hand invited them to follow her out of the transporter room and into a curvaceous, oval-shaped corridor almost organic looking, with oval-shaped doors marked with Vulcan signs that switched to Standard as they came closer to them and reverted to the original Vulcan as they went away.

There were fewer people roaming the narrow passageways than one was accustomed to on a Federation starship, and more than a few were dressed in civilian clothes, holding padds or discussing in hushed tones. All were Vulcans, and all visibly noticed them, but none acknowledged their passage; like people already well aware of who they were and why they were there; or completely ignored it all and didn't care much about it. It looked all and the same to the three passengers.

As they walked, Captain T'Naa spoke further.

''Despite the obvious importance and implied urgency of the situation, we have been ordered to remain at full impulse. Logic suggests from this order that there is concern about bringing too much attention to the whole situation. Therefore it will take two point nine-three hours to reach the upper edge of the system where the Hera will meet us. This is a small scout ship but quarters have been assigned to you if you wish for some privacy during those hours. the otherwise routine and secure nature of this short journey will allow me to be at your disposal.''

With some remnants of vomit on her hand's with spatters on her knees and cheeks, Rita Paris smiled a humorless smile. "Some privacy would be most appreciated, Doctor, at least for myself. If you'll excuse me?"

With a nod the Starfleet commander moved to follow an ensign who moved to show the way, exiting with a nod.

''I assume by the timetable and speed involved in our current travel that we are moving away from the system's ecliptic, '' Sonak stated more than he actually asked.

''You are correct, '' S'Tahnn answered as they walked along the soft-lit curving corridor towards the prow of the ship. ''The urgency of the rendezvous left no alternative as the 40 Eridani A system is forty-seven AUs across.''

''My concern is that such a trajectory will make us more visible to any hypothetical observer scanning the system. We will not be aligned with the gravimetric forces and planetary bodies of the system. The star's radiation and luminosity output alone will hide us but for so long as we move away from it.''

''Your concern has been addressed, Lieutenant. The rendezvous point and trajectory will have us barely clear the ecliptic and only for the brief moment for your ship's pick-up. Furthermore, this is a science vessel with a non-sensitive mission profile, while your captain sent for a Starfleet scoutship to pick you up on Vulcan at a later time. This decoy will lure potential curious away from your real position and offset their own schedule if they plan anything like interception or monitoring.''

Sonak nodded appreciatively.

''A prime example why Captain Telvan earned the command of the most important covert operation starship of the Federation. Still, I suggest you deploy several probes to simulate a testing operation prior to mission departure; all the while scanning inconspicuously but intensively for any unwanted presence or surveillance.''

S'Thann's eyebrow rose and he nodded in turn.

''And I see you are an apt pupil of hers. Good thinking, Lieutenant. I will follow your recommendation presently.''

As they spoke, they reached the bridge of the scoutship, an oval-shaped command center not unlike the familiar station ringed center seat design; obviously the inspiration for Starfleet's centuries-old style. As Captain T'Naa took the chair, the old science doctor invited Sonak to join him on a curving bench beside and slightly behind her.

''Helm,'' ordered T'Naa, '' break orbit and plot a course 75 mark 20, full impulse.''

''75 mark 20, full impulse, acknowledged, '' answered the male at the piloting station right in front of the captain's chair. ''Vulcan Central Command confirms our priority for departure. Breaking orbit and engaging plotted course.''

On the oval screen spread all across the bulkhead in front of them, the copper and white orb of Ti-Valka'ain, what the rest of the universe called Vulcan, slid downward and to the left as the bow of the Shavok swept past the main glare of the major star of the trinary star system they were now flying away from at one hundred and fifty thousand kilometers per second. Even at this half-light speed, it would take them almost three hours to clear the orbital path of all the planetary bodies to rendezvous with the incoming Federation starship.

It might have been simpler, if not routine, to have the Hera warp in the system close to Vulcan and beam up their crew members herself. But that would also have been much more conspicuous. It was obvious that the entire pick up operation was intended to not have it being noticed.

As to why, only Sonak's wife at the moment would know, as such data would be on the chip he gave her. But there was no effort on Sonak's part needed to curb his curiosity. In less than three hours, they would be aboard the Hera anyway and all would be revealed then.

So he just sat there and observed the Shavok's crew operating their small science ship, pondering about how he could himself have been part of such a crew dedicated to knowledge, research and understanding, if he had not joined Starfleet instead. Would he have missed anything?

One thing popped up instantly in his mind: affirmative; he would have missed Rita Paris.

As the Hera had broken speed records racing from the Kabul System to reach Vulcan, she now approached Vulcan barely slowing. Captain Telvan had an edge in speed and she was wasting as little of it as possible to use to give herself and her crew time to plot, to scheme, and to come up with some sort of brilliant plan that would enable them to outsmart and outwit the Romulans who had captured their own Romulan officer, one Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox. Her mother, the independent civilian asset known as codename ‘Mrs. Dox’ has also been captured, and in the three days it had taken for the Hera to cover the distance between systems, the spotted captain had barely slept a wink.

Consumed by guilt and wracked by responsibility, she was consumed by her need to make this right again. In order to do that, she needed her first officer. Well, needed was a strong word. But the woman was an unconventional thinker and a planner, and she tended to construct strategies that were unexpected, and while they seldom worked as planned, they definitely tended to surprise their opponents and achieve results in a spectacular fashion.

Thus as the USS Hera and the VDF Shavok rendezvoused at the outer edge of the Vulcan system, the communications were quickly established. The Hera wasn’t planning on slowing down much at all, and she expected the shuttle handoff to be tricky, but Rita was a fair pilot herself, and Enalia assumed she’d be up for the challenge. But the transporter room was currently being alerted to receive the landing party. Which was nothing particularly unusual for the Shavok, but it started a yellow alert onboard the Hera, which wasn’t particularly how Captain Enalia Telvan wanted this particular exchange to go.

"Let me guess... The Vulcans insisted on the transporter?" Rubbing the bridge of her nose, the spotted Captain decided that giving up coffee had been a bad idea and wished she had a nice tall cup of... But that thought was interrupted.

“Transporter Room two, ma’am, they’re beaming over the landing party now, including Commander Paris. Protocol indicates that that moves us to yellow alert immediately…” the transporter technician explained as the sounds of the transporter activating sounded through the comms. “They’re coming in now… wait, hold on, it isn’t supposed to do that…”

Transporter malfunctions involving Warp 9.2, Vulcan starships and Rita Paris were not something Enalia wanted to hear the words ‘they’re not supposed to do that’ in any sort of connection together.

"Telvan to Dedjoy, get to the pod transporter and get a lock, just in case. Transporter room two, you'll make it work. I have faith in you." Enalia then punched up the visual feed from the transporter room and sent it to her chair's monitors to keep an eye on what was going on, all while trying to remember who was on duty down there at the moment. Was it Radcliffe? It didn't sound like O'Malley or Florin... Maybe it was Thaniels...

Working the controls in Transporter Room 2, Technician Second Grade Radcliffe had heard all of the horror stories, and he'd seen the logs. If you were transporter rated on the Hera, then the entire logs were declassified to you, and you could watch all of the First Officer's beam ins and outs. Including the one in this very room in which the transporter dragged her screaming from across the room into the annular confinement beam, at which point it ate her in slow motion over 10.27 seconds, which was vaguely horrific to watch.

Having seen that, the slo-mo beam-ins that happened when she was passing in the hallways outside, the weird shape distortions and such that formed in the energy wave patterns because she was nearby that resolved themselves on beam in- he'd seen it all. It was fascinating. If you spent any time at all studying the science, you understood how impossible so much of that phenomenon was, yet somehow those processes were being interfered with on a quantum level that was still being studied.

Heady stuff.

Which was all good and well until one day you're in the middle of a nice dull shift. The ship is apparently going really fast, because that's what people are saying, but not like you can tell because inertial dampeners, right? And you're checking your messages and wondering about taking another test on the next section of your transporter tech quals when the message comes in that a beam in is occurring.

No incoming hail, no call from the bridge, just the 'handshake' that three signals are beaming aboard and that you should be receiving them. Lieutenant Sonak, Az'Prel and... Commander Paris.

Which is when the annular beam flexes and widens by two hundred percent, as the captain's voice rings out in memory, telling you to 'make it work. You hear your instructor at the Academy's voice in your head. "Boost the power gain to strengthen the waveform pattern of the confinement beam to regulate it's size and reshape it to bring it back on target."

"Okay, doable, just... crank this up by... five thousand megaherz, right... wait, what's it..." As Sonak and Az'Prel finally materialized on the transporter pad, a full seven point two three seconds after they'd begun, the pattern onscreen is taking on a ribbonlike quality, and moving in what could best be described as ‘a most peculiar way’.

"This wasn't covered in the manual," Transporter Technician Second Grade Radcliffe muttered, wide-eyed.


Meanwhile, on the bridge, Enalia watched it all as her heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears. Almost as if someone else was controlling her, she punched in the comm codes for the Vulcan science ship that was supposed to have been making the handoff and opened a comm frequency. "Thank you for ignoring the orders to stick with shuttles. My first officer's quantum allergy to transport has..." She paused for a moment as time seemed to catch up with her, a message from the pod blinking on her other screen. "You will be hearing from Starfleet Command."

Barely having finished the last word, Enalia closed the channel and opened the message from Dedjoy. It was long and rambling and full of science she didn't understand, but it seemed that Rita was 'safe' and 'recoverable' at the very least. It would just take some science shenanigans to pull it off.

As soon as he rematerialized, Sonak understood something was wrong with Rita's transport; again.

As he heard the transporter chief's muttering, he joined with him in great strides and signaled him to move over to the assistant monitor as he took control of the console.

''It is in the Hera's manual, Chief; I wrote the addendum myself. Reset the Heisenberg compensator on my mark... mark! ''

As the Chief complied, Sonak's fingers rapidly input a quantum signature signal into the annular confinement beam emitter and then slid the subatomic reintegrator at a precise speed with his other hand.

"I'm not... I'm not the chief..." Radcliffe protested weakly, complying as the orders came in from the chief science officer. Because as bad as this day was, it was getting worse in leaps and bounds now as he realized that he wasn’t as familiar with these protocols as he should be, and this was NOT going to bode well for his career.

For barely a second, it seemed like the entire transporter room went dark. Then it blinked back to life, the pad hummed, the light display twinkled back into existence over it, and the shape of one Rita Paris began to slowly materialize, the shimmering energies beginning to coalesce into the appropriate and rather distinctive shape of the Hera's fulsome first officer. It was taking far more time than it usually did, however- again, this was not the instant three-second transport of the modern day, but a rather long and drawn out affair.

As Sonak moved to her, he addressed the transporter technician in a stern voice.

''I informed engineering to integrate specific calibrations for Commander Paris on this ship. I even sent those protocols to Starfleet Command to avoid such incidents on all ships and installations within the Federation. The Shavok had them. I want you to find out who did not follow instructions on this ship and report your findings to Commander Paris herself.''

''Err... aye, aye, Sir.'' As far as he knew, all of those settings were laid in as a permanent protocol, and the settings weren't optional. But he'd definitely check and file his report, if only to make sure that he wasn't standing at Captain's Mast defending himself over it.

The psychic link to Sonak shared with the human woman allowed him to feel all that she felt, even before he touched her. He knew that physically she was unhurt. But he knew also that bad memories would be haunting her again right now, more painful even than any bodily harm. He sent her his own thoughts to soothe her.

I am here. You are here. We are here.

As the extradimensional explorer finished rematerializing on the pad, her energies returning from their sojurn back to matter, gone was the familiar anachronistic minidress uniform she still insisted on wearing. Instead, her outfit was one of silks and light links and chains, light armour crafted from the shells of alien molluscs and the familiar bronze bracers she wore, a gift from the goddess whose life she had spared, whose course in the cosmos she had changed with her belief. In her left hand she held a sword, thin of blade, crafted of a mottled jade metal of some sort, jagged and crude workmanship, stained with an unknown ichor. In her right, the trusty type II phaser she'd carried since the Academy in some form or another.

Whirling about, her eyes taking in the scene, her weapons lowered as a smile crept over her face- one of relief and happiness. Her tanned face fairly glowed as her wrists flicked and the weapons disappeared, and she strode off the transporter pad, oblivious to her minuscule clothing and the surroundings. Instead, she only had eyes for Sonak.

"You found me... I knew no matter how long it took, you'd find me... and you did. I'm back... this is the Hera, right?" Feeling him in her mind, of course, she knew the answers- his own situational awareness filled her, and she knew the date, time and place clearly. Just as he knew she had impossibly spent the past eighteen point four seconds of her difficult beam-in as seventy-four days and nights on the planet Kathoom, fighting as a freedom fighter on that world against the god-emperor of Kathoom, Sulan Got.

Sweeping into his arms, Rita Paris sighed, "I'm home..."

Sonak's eyebrow shot up as he noticed her attire and listened to her, smelling sweat-clung alien sands on her sun-heated skin and the whiff of charcoal-cooked meat on her breath.

''This is most illogical. We know your teleportation anomalies were the result of our original pseudo-universe tearing at the fabric of the multiverse. Since we have erased this anomaly ourselves, there should be no instability, even with a transporter not adjusted to compensate for such disturbances. The Shavok used its own system and I know it was adjusted; I checked it myself. And there is no physical phenomena present in this region of space that could account for any disturbance. There is simply no rationale for this event to have occurred at all.''

“Yet here I stand, in defiance of the laws of physics and reality once again,” Rita shrugged. “It’s got to be something we haven’t figured out yet, I guess. It’s definitely not as bad as it was, at least… the transport didn’t injure me physically, it just got me a little lost in the process.”

''I will highly recommend that you no longer risk any transporter travel until this... unexplained anomaly can be fully understood and resolved. I am afraid, Commander, that this may jeopardize your duties; possibly even put your fitness for executive duty into question by Starfleet Command. Confined to shuttlecraft travel, your efficiency as a mission command officer will be inevitably impaired, especially in emergency situations.''

It was as softly as he could deliver such hard truth. Away team missions, especially on this ship, were more often than not dire, dangerous ones requiring split-second decisions and actions. If she could not perform her duties until a lumbering shuttle could bring her down or back, this meant a clear loss of efficiency, possibly amounting to loss of lives. That would simply not be acceptable even in routine circumstances, let alone the exceptional nature of their mission.

Sonak did not think Rita would be content with a reassignment to some safe starbase duty, or even confined to onboard duties just to stay in Starfleet. Yes, she had been a helmswoman for a good part of her career, and a top one; and she could pursue a most successful career being one again. And as she was next in line for captaincy, this would eventually bring her back to the center of things, but this time without the duty of leaving the ship every time to do so.

Would she accept to return to the helm, and never more be directly involved with the action, as she was now? Even her mind-linked husband could not truly tell. He could perceive her thoughts on this quite clearly; but he was powerless to understand her feelings about it.

His grey eyes sought hers.

''As of now, I will dedicate all my free time in solving this... problem; permanently.''

“You may have missed it, but this isn’t new. It’s been a staple of my career, both old and new. On the Hera, we have taken certain precautions, Sonak. The Paris Protocols are in place primarily to create workarounds for such emergency situations, since there’s just something about me and transporters that never have seemed to mix well,” Rita explained, sliding back into her usual role with a casual ease, as if she’d not been gone any time at all. “I’ve managed this far, and I’ll continue to manage. I somehow doubt Starfleet is going to sideline me just because transporters still refuse to behave properly around me. I mean, it’s certainly better, and I’ve beamed a number of times now without incident. So we’ve certainly made strides- I just prefer to keep it to emergencies, rather than expediency.”

“As for solving the problem permanently, if anyone can, it would be you, my brilliant husband, whom I never doubted would find me,” she replied with a dazzling smile, her fingertips coming to rest below his chin as she gazed happily into his eyes. Despite the separation, despite the ordeal she had been through, the Pits of Orichalcum, the Mines of Rularoo, the Slave Market of Unam-Ki and the eventual Battle of Maruk, which would come to be known as Freeport, all that concerned her now was that she was back. Here, now, where she belonged… beside Sonak, back aboard the Hera.

Having stepped off of the pad to await the completion of the transport, Az'Prel couldn't hide her emotional response in the form of a dropped jaw at the outlandish sight of her friend and mentor of this universe. It seemed as if she had spent some time adventuring in yet another parallel or pocket reality during the transport, and her amazement at the transformation was something she could not hide.

On the bridge, Enalia had seen the whole thing go down and sighed in relief, slumping in her chair before issuing further orders. "Lieutenant Commander Sonak, when you have a chance, please update your uniform's rank. Commander Paris, please report to medical at your convenience. Az'Prel, welcome back aboard. Once you're all settled, we'll hold a briefing."

For the second time in barely a minute, Sonak's eyebrow went up. It took him a full three seconds to reply.

''Acknowledged, Captain.''

It had taken him that long to conclude that they had not both been transported into yet another parallel universe.

Laughing musically, Rita managed to look embarrassed as she tapped her comm badge, currently worn on her hip as a decoration amongst the links of chains holding up her loincloths. “Aye aye, Captain, I’ll be along. Congratulations on your well-earned promotion, Mister Sonak. The Captain and I planned to surprise you with it when you arrived back on board, we just… well, you know how it is. Lives like ours, never a dull moment. I know rank is immaterial to you, having been there and back, but you’ve proven yourself time and again onboard the Hera, and the captain insisted. You deserve this and more, Lieutenant Commander, as well you know… so as I said, congratulations.”

''Rest assured, the surprise was effective,'' the stoic Vulcan nevertheless admitted. ''I shall endeavor to prove myself worthy of my new responsibilities.''

“Already accomplished, mister Sonak. With that said, I should get a shower, brush my teeth properly for the first time in months, and get into a uniform so I can report in and remember just what my job is around here,” Rita grinned, sashaying off to the transporter room exit, apparently intending to cover the distance between the transporter room and their quarters in her somewhat outlandish native outfit.

Shame, after all, had never been Rita Paris’ strongest suit.

What passed as morning came much too quickly as a bright light over the bed snapped on, yanking lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox from what broken sleep she had managed. Subtly was not a priority on Warbird's, it seemed. Groggily she sat up and noticed that her bare accommodations were ever so slightly less empty than they were the night before in her so-called VIP Quarters on the D’deridex class warbird, ‘The People’s Will’, upon which she was a prisoner.

On the small dining table was a folded set of dark green, simple clothing. Below the table rested a pair of basic black boots, both of which she assumed she was meant to wear for the day ahead, likely beamed in while she slept. Then a low, harsh chiming sound filled the room and a computerized voice in Rihan spoke.

=^=Morning Ablutions.=^=

Rolling and stretching out what felt like pins stabbed in her back and neck from the less than restful sleep, Dox groaned as she looked towards the refresher through the small door to her left. A part of her wanted to simply sit there. Resist in every way. Make no concessions. But that would result in further unknown torture for her captive mother, and less of a chance for her to do what she needed to do, though she had no idea how she could. But she knew that she couldn’t do anything alone and trapped in her room. And the only chance of getting out of that room was trying to earn some measure of trust from her Grandmother. And as unlikely and dangerous as that seemed, it was the only thing she could think of, at least for now.

She rubbed her bare wrist where her Rihannsu ceremonial wedding bracelet had been worn since her wedding, now gone and she scrunched her face angrily for a moment before calming down and thinking, Calm down. Find your center. Keep your cool. Remember everything mother ever told you about your people.

So she decided to concede. Play nice, listen and bide her time. Try and use that time to find a way… ANY way... to contact the Hera. Let them know that it was a trap. That whatever else her grandmother wanted, she and her mother were most likely bait to draw the Hera to the Romulans. She had to let her family know to abandon her and her mother if need be. It was the only way she could ensure that the Hera’s deadly secrets remained secrets. It was the only way to keep her true family safe.

Maybe not the only way, she thought grimly.

NO! Stop. You'll think of something. Find some way out of this. Some way to contact the Hera, Dox thought as she sat there in her not so terribly gilded cage. You have a family to get home to. Children coming. You have to focus on that, and figure something out. She wants to talk, so talk. You’re not Rita, but you’ve managed a handful of half-decent speeches. Use your head like you actually have one, Mnhei’sahe.

So, begrudgingly, she made the first concession and felt sick to her stomach for how good the simple sonic shower felt. She hated herself for enjoying the basic luxury in that moment as she finished up, brushed her teeth and put on the provided clothing that fit too well for her comfort. As she did, she folded up her own worn dirty clothes and placed them on the end of the bed just to exercise some sense of control over something. The outfit provided was a plain, dark greenish gray pair of pants and a tunic cut not unlike a Rihannsu uniform top, but plain and unadorned. She refused to look at herself in the mirror of the refresher alcove as It’s meaning was not subtle to her: You are ours.

Knowing she was likely being watched and monitored, she smoothed out the top as if it were her familiar Crimson Starfleet uniform out of awkward habit, immediately mentally chastising herself for the action. Dox folded her arms behind her back and looked out the window at the streaking, smeared stars at warp that represented freedom now more than ever, to wait for whatever was next as she let out a long sigh.

An hour passed.

Two.

Three.

Four.

A simple lunch was served, with still no contact initiated.

Another hour passed.

Another.

Another.

By the time Deihu t’Rul entered the relatively expansive quarters of Mnhei’sahe Dox, the young woman had been pacing like a caged animal for hours, left to her own devices and her own imagination. Smiling pleasantly, the Senator raised her eyebrows slightly as she exhaled. “Well! My apologies for keeping you waiting… it has been a rather busy day. But then, it’s not like you have anywhere to go, I suppose. And it did give you time to think, did it not?”

Noting the lack of reaction to her pointed statement, the politician sat down on the edge of the bed. “So… I am curious to hear your thoughts today. Planning perhaps to fashion a blade from a shoe sole, take me hostage and capture the ship to turn it around and take it as a prize capture to Federation space?”

Letting out a breath to curb her frustration, Dox shook her head as she stood, her arms folded behind her back. She took a second to collect both her thoughts and her composure, knowing full well that how she reacted was being observed as much as anything else.

“No.” Dox replied flatly. “Tactically, that would be remarkably stupid on every level. But beyond that, and in spite of the situation, I don't actually want to hurt you. Especially if any of what you said was true.” As angry as Dox was and as frustrated as she was, she still couldn’t quite get past a lingering desire to understand the woman sitting across from her who was undeniably family.

"I've been thinking about my mother and if she's alright." Dox continued, with a slight dip to her voice.

“For now,” t’Rul absently picked at a piece of lint on her knee. “The continuation of that status relies entirely upon you and your actions, however.” Pausing to eye the young woman critically, the elder Romulan’s piercing gaze was both appraising and unsettling. When she spoke again, she switched to an accented Federation standard which, while not flawless, still managed to sound dignified.

“So what will it be today, I wonder?” the silver-haired matron mused, looking up with a wearily bemused expression fixed upon her face. “Do you plan to perhaps deliver some threats if your mother is harmed, perhaps? Some vows that your shipmates will come for you? A reminder that kidnapping a Starfleet officer is a violation of any number of treaties? A litany of facts of which I am already well aware with which you intend to attempt to intimidate or bully me from your position of strength here as a prisoner perhaps? What delight will you offer me today, granddaughter?”

"No. No threats. No reminders of treaties. No intimidation." Dox took a breath, keeping herself as calm as she could manage in spite of everything while replying in her native Rihan. "Right now, my primary concern is maintaining my mother's safety. So... my offer... is that I'll do what I need to do to protect her. I'll listen. And short of directly betraying my oaths, I'll obey."

"Mmmm, sullen acceptance is a start I suppose," the Senator continued in Federation standard before switching back to Rihan, her tone that of boredom and disappointment. "Not terrifyingly practical, but at least an improvement over yesterday. Tell me, Mnhei'sahe, why are you here? I know the answer of course, but having given you nothing but time to think, I wish to see if you possess the capacity for analytical thinking and practical application. In theory, Starfleet gave you quite the education, so I am curious if it made you intelligent... or if you are only an obedient and often angry drone. So I am curious to know your thoughts. Why do you imagine that you are here under these particular circumstances at this particular juncture?"

The elder Rihanna woman was certainly adept at pushing buttons as Dox had to continually bite her tongue with each passing moment. Each question was a test with too many ways to fail where even success meant giving up more of herself.

What is said is rarely as important as what is NOT said with our people, Melanie., Dox's mother often told her as a child.

Here, Dox knew she was being baited. Insults designed to push her to give up information out of pride. But then Dox thought on her Grandmother's own words from the day before. In her own frustration, she had all but told Dox what she needed to do: play along. And she hoped she was right as she replied. "I suppose I'm here as a bargaining chip of sorts. As you said, there are many voices in this chorus interested in what I might know as a Starfleet Intelligence Officer. But I'm also the only Starfleet Intelligence Officer that happens to be your granddaughter. Meaning that if I give you what I know willingly… abandon Starfleet for you... you have the most to gain. That makes your voice potentially the loudest. Gives you the most leverage."

It was the truth, but only part of the reality. The full reality was right there in the words unsaid and Dox hoped she was right. That her Grandmother might actually want her to let her know that she knew without saying so. That she could be smart enough to not be baited.

Then, Dox turned to look out the window again for a moment with a wistful expression and a softer tone as she gave up a card willingly, knowing that her only hope truly might lie in if her Grandmother actually did care in her own way, "Thought I suppose it would be... naive... to want to believe you also meant what you said about actually wanting some personal measure of restoration of family in the process. But I'm choosing to be naive."

"Yes, of course," t'Rul rolled her eyes and retorted mockingly. "Because if I expressed any sort of sentiment it must always be a lie, a manipulation designed to maneuver you into doing my bidding, pursuing my agenda, playing my masterful games of manipulation, Because I'm a Romulan, and that's what we do, isn't it? Of course, you are just a bargaining chip. Of course, you are just a pawn in the game. Of course, you cannot have any true value in and of yourself. Of course, nothing I said could possibly have been the truth." Shaking her head, the elder Rihan woman rose from the bed, dusting off her slacks as she did so. Sighing wearily, she eyed the Starfleet officer, shaking her head with what looked convincingly like genuine regret.

"Well, I see we've made little progress today. Honestly, I'm beginning to doubt we'll make any progress at all, will we? This is just a waste of time, isn't it? I should just turn you and your mother over to the Tal Shiar and be done with it, shouldn't I? Rendal was right... this was all just a silly waste of time, attempting to reason with you. You are too angry, too suspicious and too stubborn. Trying to reach you is a waste of everyone's time." Shaking her head, the silver-haired Senator turned to leave.

Closing her eyes a moment, Dox was cursing herself for being so easily manipulated emotionally. She could see the pattern clearly and didn't see an option other than letting her shields down more than she was comfortable doing. Letting her captor in.

But she was cursing herself even more not for believing her grandmother. But for wanting to.

"Hu'nanov..." Dox said in a raspy, broken voice. The first time she had called the woman anything, much less 'Grandmother'.

"I... I am trying to... I want to trust you. And ... I am afraid of what it means that I do."

"What you had asked me yesterday. If we would ever have talked had you not brought me here." Dox turned to the elder woman with an almost desperate expression as she told the truth. "I would have, eventually. I would have tried to find a way to reach out. I don't know who I truly am. And when I first saw a picture of you I was scared. I realized that I was scared of what the answer to my question might be."

"But I also need to know those answers. Of who I am... where I come from." Dox conceded, hanging her head slightly.

There was a brief moment of silence before the elder woman turned to regard the younger. When she spoke, her voice was soft and calm. "Our people are from the hills of i'Ramnau, in the province of Ihhliae, where I grew up, and were our lands and titles remain today. It borders on the river of Fethraie, and its rich, fertile country, renowned for its herds of wild hlai, which makes for the finest hlai'vnau in the region. Our vineyards produce the richest Lehe'jhme wine on all of ch'Rihan. Generations have lived, raised children and died there. The house of Rul has represented the Ihhliae region in the Imperial Senate since the fall of t'Rehu, and it is my hope that perhaps that line may yet go unbroken," the Senator paused to let that sink in for a moment before continuing.

"Have you ever heard of the Prisoner's Dilemma, Mnhei'sahe Dox?" she asked rather directly.

Looking back, Dox thought for a second, her mind swimming. "That two prisoners serve to benefit mutually from cooperation or suffer from either one failing to? But the term 'prisoner' is a metaphor. In this scenario, that means you are the one whose fate is partially linked to mine, as much as my Mother's, isn't it?"

"I don't just mean politically. Personally. You stand to lose the family you've wanted as well." Dox was beginning to understand that perhaps her Grandmother actually wanted this to work for herself as well. That she had been telling the truth about her personal motives.

Rubbing an ear nervously, Dox's attempts at maintaining her posture were gone. "And... thank you. I've... I've seen pictures of i'Ramnau and Ihhiliae. It's beautiful."

"You try to change the subject when you are uncertain. It's not a good habit," the elder woman smirked, but she nodded. "Yes, that is the dilemma, and yes, that is the situation here. There is a slightly greater chance of success with trust than not, and that is the great gamble, isn't it? Out here all alone, with no resources, with no choices, when offered what looks like a chance, do you take the chance that it might be genuine and offer your trust, or do you distrust, remain silent and hope that it will work out more favorably? Bearing in mind that the other parties involved have their own motivations, yes... but there is the chance that they might just be honest and truthful with you."

In that moment, the older woman's eyes softened, and in them the desire to reach the young woman was clear. If she was indeed manipulating Dox, she was doing a masterful job as she reached out hesitantly toward the young woman's plump cheek, not reaching it, but stopping herself short. "I can see so much of your father in you... you have his eyes, and his jaw. Not his nose, for certain, and definitely not his hair. And he always did tend toward the portly side," she chuckled. "Just like your grandfather."

"Learn of your people, Mnhei'sahe," the silver-tressed Senator pleaded. "Let me teach you of our family, of your heritage... your TRUE heritage, not the lies you grew up being told, or the rumors the galaxy spreads of us. Let me show you who we truly are, and you can make up your own mind as to who YOU are, and who you wish to be. If you will not do it for your people or your lineage, then do it for yourself. You said you want to know who you are, and where you come from... and that I offer you freely."

There was a tension in the room that hung between the two, an electric thing. Breathing and alive. Dox could feel the hairs on her body standing edge at the almost touch of a moment ago.

Almost shaking, the younger woman knew that she and her mother were bait. That the Tal'Shiar sought the secrets of the Hera, and through her they could get them. And with those secrets, the kind of devastation they could cause was incalculable.

But she also looked into the face looking back, so much like her own, and believed her. And worse, wanted to know what her grandmother was offering to teach. And perhaps, in trust... there was hope, Dox thought, praying that she wasn't deluding herself. Hope that the two-way door of trust might give her a kind of leverage of her own. A place to argue that what the Tal'Shiar wanted was more dangerous than her Grandmother could understand. Maybe.

Remember Mona... Dox thought to herself in that quick instant. Remember Enalia and Rita and Asa and the Hera. Remember YOURSELF.

As all that swirled in the heart and mind of the red-headed Rihannsu, her eyes never broke from her grandmother's piercing gaze as she nodded ever so slightly, the words catching in her throat as her voice broke and she prayed she was doing the right thing. "I do. I... I want... I need to know, please. I accept your offer."

The eyes of the career politician searched those of the portly pilot, seeking the truth there. She'd maintained the bio-detection field for her own safety upon entering the room- there was every possibility that on the second day of her captivity that her granddaughter might well still be violent, and were she to make physical contact the young woman would be beamed into a detention cell to be turned over to Rendal's tender mercies immediately. When she had instinctively reached out to stroke the young woman's cheek, she'd had to physically restrain herself, although it had made her heart ache to do so, as she had felt she was truly reaching her.

Now, in those dark brown eyes, so unlike her own, but so very much like those of her husband's, gone these many years, and her son, taken from her by political machinations and circumstance and the Tal Shiar, she could see the hope of the next generation. A lifetime spent amongst liars and thieves, amongst hedonists and cowards and backstabbers and opportunists had granted her a keen sense of character and cleaving truth from falsehood. In those eyes she saw the genuine desire, even with some hesitation, to know her roots. To at least learn of her heritage and hear of her home, of her world, of her family. And in that moment, Veleran t'Rul committed her trust to the young woman whom she had convinced to be brave enough to commit to reaching out across the neutral zone to trust the grandmother she had never know... but wanted to so very clearly.

Touching the ornate bracelet at her wrist and compressing three of the jewels upon it in specific sequences, t'Rul deactivated the bio-field. When she heard the soft chime of the field's deactivation code in her ear, she opened her arms and offered them to the shiny-eyed stranger.

Watching, Dox's muscles tightened and she felt a shudder run through her and she could no longer tell if it was fear or anticipation. Part of her hated herself for wanting to know the woman before her. Part of her was terrified of what doing this might mean. Part of her legitimately still wanted to run as far and fast as she could, knowing full well there was nowhere to run to. Part of her wished she had stayed hidden. Never discovered those first truths that opened the doors that led her to where she was.

But there was another part in her that was growing louder. The ten-year-old girl who was desperate to know more about her home and what family she might have there that her mother denied her. The nineteen-year-old girl that stood in a spaceport on Earth with tears in her eyes trying to buy her way to ch'Rihan before turning around and eventually choosing when all other doors were closed to her Starfleet. The woman who only a little over a year earlier would have never even questioned her Grandmothers offers of the last two days and would have accepted it as a rescue from a life of misery. Those voices were growing louder as hesitantly she raised her own arms and slowly stepped into her Grandmother's arms.

Holding the shorter woman tightly against her lean frame, Veleran t'Rul kissed the top of those bright red curls and whispered, "Welcome home, granddaughter."

The smuggling ship known as the Forager orbited the only world forbidden to one of its two residents. The well cloaked mid-sized freighter hovered thousands of kilometers about the glistening turquoise seas and lavender and green spotted lands of ch’Rihan. The planet known to the rest of the galaxy by the bastardized name of ‘Romulus’

Watching through the small porthole window of the cargo hold, 10 year old ‘Melanie’ Dox watched the world that she had always been taught was her home slowly spin below her. And it was as close as she had ever been to it.

Orbit.

It would be twenty-one years before she would learn her true name of Mnhei’sahe, hidden from her. Twenty-one years before she learned that the human, Declan Dox was never her father. Twenty-one years before she would have the pointed Rihannsu ears that had been surgically removed when she was four restored. Twenty-one years before her DNA would be repaired to make her damaged blood flow green again. But for now, little Melanie Dox looked longingly out the window and dreamed.

All of her life, her Mother had denied her any knowledge but the most perfunctory regarding the world of her people. But her's wasn't the only voice that the young Dox was exposed to. Her cousin Lhi t'Aan spoke often of ch'Rihan. Of the Hartlhei caves that she played in as a girl. Of the Korthre cliffs on the edge of the Mhiessan Provence. Of the flowering plains of Aihai with its lavender grass spreading out for what seemed like forever. Lhi would Melanie all about their homeworld for hours on end, long into the night when she had visited, years earlier.

And the refugees they took on, feeling not the world itself but it's increasingly repressive government, would often speak of its beauty and its virtues when Dox would sneak into the hold to listen. And thinking of all that, Dox wanted to leap out the window and run through them all.

But she was forever denied. Ch’Rihan, mother said, was too dangerous. She told her that she would never be welcome there. That the mixed human heritage she didn’t yet know was a lie was a crime on her home. She told her all about the dreaded Tal’Shiar. The Rihannsu secret police that would take her away forever if they even knew she existed. Her mother would never go into great details on her own past, but she told Dox enough for the young and impressionable Rihanna girl to know that the Tal’Shiar was the reason that they hid. And that if they were ever found that it would be over. She told her enough horror stories about the oppressive government of her home to give her nightmares.

But others had told her enough visions of perfect beauty to fuel all the dreams of home a little girl could ever need.

Sighing, Dox flumped back, away from the beautiful view. Her mother was down there right now. She had beamed down leaving the young girl alone with the ship on automatic pilot to pick up supplies for their next smuggling run through the neutral zone. It was a hard and lonely life, but it was all Dox had ever known. And she hated it.

And, of course, Mother had left her with work to do. Lessons to study. Skills to practice. She was still nursing thick, brownish-purple bruises up half of her left side from her regular Llaekh-ae'rl lessons of the day before. The violent and brutal martial art her mother had begun teaching her when she was six always left a sore mark. Sometimes bruises. Sometimes cuts that became scars. Sometimes broken bones. But Mother was insistent. Dox needed to master these skills if she was to survive in a universe that despised her people. To survive if the Tal’Shiar ever came for her. And smuggling ships rarely had dermal regenerators on hand just for bruises. That power expenditure was a luxury reserved for real injuries, mother said. So she scowled and bore it, as usual, learning to ignore things like everyday aches and pains. She was trained to. Trained to fight through pain. It was simply a part of life for the all-too young Rihanna girl.

“The Tal’Shiar won’t care that you hurt. They will relish in the pain of your broken bones. But if you can strike them through that pain, then you become more dangerous than those that would take you away.” Mother would say, forcing her to learn to use her own pain as a weapon.

Walking back to the center of the room, Dox was to practice her strikes and positioning, but she couldn’t concentrate. That window kept calling her. She was supposed to practice and memorize the characters of the Vulcan language and write a report on their similarities and differences to the Rihan alphabet. She had to read ten passages from the poetry of S’Task, one of the founders of ch’Rihan, and tell her what they meant. And mother wanted her to read three chapters of some stupid human book called ‘A Wrinkle in Time’ that didn’t make sense to her.

Mother wanted her well versed in the cultures she would have to learn to interact with, often more than her own, but Dox couldn’t make herself care. Human culture was stupid. The only thing she liked of it was the music files that Declan Dox had left in the ship’s library when he abandoned them years ago. Loud, angry music that helped her deal with her emotions and how they always tried to punch their way out of her. She liked that one thing from Earth, but that was about it. Earth wasn’t home. Ch’Rihan was home. Earth was just the place that made leaving the sector illegal. Earth was the place that the man she still believed was her father ran to when he left them.

Looking back towards the window as she shuffled in place, picking up and then putting back down the PaDD’s left for her to study as she nervously ran a finger over her ear. Why was she looking at stupid lessons, she thought? Mother was GONE and there was a world below her. HER world. The home she was taught to fear and love in equal measure, and she eyed the cargo transporter and thought. Would it be truly so bad to simply scan for a place with nobody around and simply beam down and breathe the air. Touch the soil. Feel the warmth of Eisn on her face through the teal twinged sky at last?

Thinking about it, she sighed. She knew how to work the console. She knew how to do it and erase the records. Hell, she knew how to fly the ship herself by now. She could break orbit, warp away and leave her mother behind and be free. But she also knew she wouldn’t do any of those things. She was trapped and she knew it.

On the forager, that ship that was her home for all of her life, she was little more than a prisoner. Kicking over a spanner left on the deck, she cursed out loud in her native tongue. "Imirrhlhhse!”

Then her cheeks blushed a deep brown, the color of her genetically damaged blood, as she imagined what her mother would do if she heard her talk like that. It almost sent a wave of panic through her as she shuddered. Heavier lessons for sure. More intense drills. More time nursing bruises and broken bones. But mother was gone and the ship, at least for the moment, was her’s.

The security cameras had been programmed to replay a very dull loop of her lessons from the last time mother left the ship and she was as free to do whatever she wanted for the next hour as her heart demanded. So she closed her eyes and left the ship that way. In her mind, it was easy to run in the fields and play in the caves. In her mind, she wasn’t alone. In her mind, there were always other Rihannsu children to play with who accepted her because in her mind, she looked normal. Her ears were pointed and she didn’t look half-anything. In her mind, she was just the normal little Rihanna girl she wanted to be. She belonged.

So she ran. She ran until she imagined her lungs burning cold with each rough breath, laughing maniacally as she did. And she felt the damp grass between the toes of her bare feet as the clouds swirled overhead. Flumping back carelessly, she rolled in the grass and giggled as she looked up at the clouds. One looked like a beautiful bird, the other like a child. No, three children. Then the last... looked like a ship.

The claxon of the red alert went off, snapping Dox out of her momentary daydream. Hopping back to her feet, she scrambled from the cargo hold, up the ladder to the spinal corridor and onto the bridge. She knew the sound well, it was the Forager’s proximity alarm.

Sliding into the helm seat that was two sizes too big for her still, Dox leaned up and looked out the transparent plastisteel front window as the light of Eisn was blocked out by something amazing. A D’deridex class warbird was entering the system and making orbit just above and ahead of her. At barely 2,000 kilometers away it might just have been the most beautiful thing the very young pilot had ever seen.

The rays of ch’Rihan’s sun cut through the elegant, sweeping curves and shimmered off of the deep green hull. The reflected light cast a brilliant emerald glow into the window of her little cloaked ship as her eyes went wide with wonder. She had only ever seen one from half a system away on the ships monitor’s, but she was in love. On the underside of the hull was the raised lines decorating her with the spread wings of great Al’thindor. The glow of the nacelles fired her imagination as she imagined standing in her engine room before the artificial singularity that powered the magnificence of the ship.

When she was younger, her cousin Lhi gave her a gift. A small model of a D’deridex that Dox had then assembled painstakingly. Hand painting her hull and each of her windows, she spent 9 days building the model. It was her most prized possession and there was the real thing, seemingly so close she could reach out and touch it. A few months after getting the model, she had downloaded the ship’s official specs and began studying them intensely, hiding both from her Mother. She became obsessed, memorizing every deck and room and learning everything she could. And it wasn’t hard to close her eyes again and imagine herself at the helm of that magnificent ship. But she didn’t want to close her eyes again. Not then. She wanted to be there as much as the shimmering jewel below her. She imagined herself a grown woman in a charcoal gray uniform sitting at that helm, piloting that bird into the vastness of the cosmos. Suddenly, it was all she could imagine.

But that Warbird wasn’t imaginary, it was there and the proximity alarm was still chiming off.

A quick glance of the sensors showed that they didn’t see her and their orbit being so close was just a coincidence. Deftly, the all-too young girl dropped the ship’s velocity and adjusted the Forager’s orbit using maneuvering thrusters so as to avoid sensor detection. Slowly, the Forager let the mammoth Warbird float gently ahead as she slid the small freighter into a safer orbit, out of range of their own proximity sensors just in case the cloak failed.

It was further away after a few minutes, fading into a green blob on the horizon as she sighed wistfully, closing her eyes again. She had never seen anything like it and dreamed that one day, she would be on one of those jewels in space.

---------------

Then her eyes slowly opened for real. A knock in the hum of the engine roused the young Starfleet Lieutenant, Mnhei’sahe Dox, from her shallow, fitful sleep. Rolling over… she was still there.

Another night in the modest quarters of the D’deridex-class Warbird called ‘The People’s Will.” Her Grandmother’s senatorial flagship... and her prison.

What she had dreamed of as a girl had become a prison and a promise all at once. She was being taken to ch’Rihan, possibly never to leave again. A prisoner of the Imperium unless she fully embraced the offers of her Grandmother and took her place in the empire as its ‘loyal daughter’. An act that would only require abandoning her wife and unborn children, her family on the Hera, and every oath she ever swore. And she cursed herself for silently wanting it on some deep, painful, weak level. For wanting to give up and finally go to the home that was denied her all of her life. For wanting the family that her mother had denied her. And her shame hung heavy on her heart as she found her resolve and strength buckling under her Grandmother’s aegis.

But beyond the bonds of family her Grandmother was trying to restore, were the machinations of Riov Rendal and the Tal’Shiar. Machinations Dox was under no illusions that her Grandmother was innocent of involvement in. Dox knew that she and her captive mother were also bait for a trap. A way to lure the Hera to ch’Rihan in a rescue attempt. A way to give the secrets of the gods to the Tal’Shiar. And Dox had to stop that from happening at all costs.

And in her heart, she still had Mona. Mona’s swirling energies fused with her own. That brilliant purple glow that reminded her who she was and what she had. Mona was there. Mona’s presence in her heart would remind her of who she was. She was not Mnhei’sahe t’Rul. She was Mnhei’sahe Dox. Through that bond, she reminded herself of all of that. That was who she was and that was who she would be until the day she died. And Mona would always be there inside her until that day, even if that day was tomorrow.

Closing her eyes again, she found herself trapped like she was on the Forager... as she began to silently weep herself back to sleep as her half-asleep mind fought against itself. ‘Mona... It’s a trap. They’ll kill you all if you come. They’re waiting for you to come.’ She thought to herself, reaching out to that lavender energy she could see so clearly in her mind as she faded back to a fitful sleep, praying she could be heard.

"Yes, Engstrom, I know that violating the space/time protocols are something to be avoided... well, I wasn't the one who was so damned insistent on beaming me at warp 9.2 onto a moving target, now was I? Yes, I'll file a complete report with the DTI. Yes, I'll include all of the relevant scans, including my full Medical workup. Yes, I'll include some of the native materials so they can be analyzed. Look, I've got a briefing to attend, so if you have more nagging, send me a list and I'll read it when I have time. Paris out," the comely commander snapped as she tapped closed the window on the PaDD that had sprung up with a surprise conversation from one Alden Engstrom the 13th, head of the Division of Temporal Investigations, who apparently considered her packing 74 days into one exaggerated beam-in his business. Which meant that he wanted data, and he wanted to know.

Which Rita would oblige him as best she could, but for now, there were far more pressing concerns.

The entire time she'd been gone, the one issue that had weighed on her, more than any other, was that the Doxes were missing- kidnapped by the Romulans. The Hera was racing to the Neutral zone, apparently trying to get out ahead of them, but Rita hadn't known she would come back a few seconds after she'd left- instead she had been plotting long-term strategies in her head for when she got back. The unexpected development of having lost no time and snapping back to the moment that she left had been a boon to her, one final gift of Kathoom, she supposed, and for it she was grateful. Now a number of strategies and possibilities were available, and she looked forward to discussing them with the brilliant and motivated crew of the USS Hera.

Striding into the briefing room to see that for a change she was the last one to arrive, Rita smirked a bit. Way to set the example, Commander.

"Are we all here, then? Good. Captain, shall we begin with the facts?" Paris asked as she took her seat.

Enalia nodded grimly as she punched up a list of data to hover over the conference table. "First off, as some of you may be aware, two of our crew have been kidnapped by the Tal'Shiar. They were on their way to Vulcan to pick up Commander paris and her party and stopped off at a restaurant that had been cleared and recommended by Baroness Nei'rrh and her crew. The Baroness has been interrogated and has been cleared of suspicion... But those involved in her crew have not been."

"Lieutenant Dox and Agent Dox are being taken to Romulus by two ships at we suspect warp eight. We also know from the cloaking profile that one of the ships is a D'deridex class. The other vessel is an unknown Romulan class with a slightly more compact profile. I suspect this is a trap to get us to bring the Hera itself and all our secrets right to them. Therefore, our rescue operations will not include the majority resources aboard."

The tension in the air as Az'Prel's jaw tightened could physically be heard y anyone sitting next to her. This was the first she had heard of this and even as a logician and a Vulcan, the rage that this news stirred in her over her newfound sister surprised even herself and it took several moments of breathing exercises to regain her calm.

As Enalia spoke, the cloaking profiles cycled up into the table's holographics. "We suspect that they plan on crossing the neutral zone near Galorndon Core. We will be meeting Baroness Nei'rrh's ship, who has kindly loaned it to us to restore her honor, at a smuggler's crossing in four days, transferring essential crew to her ship, and traveling to Romulus to conduct a rescue."

Sporting his new hollow pip added to his former pair of filled ones on his blue collar, Sonak pointed to the red band one light year across separating the frontiers of the Federation and that of the Romulan Star Empire.

''With the Treaty of the Neutral Zone in effect, it is clear that there is grounds for suspicion that the zone was violated in order to perpetrate their abduction. We are therefore justified to proceed with all legal authority and measures to apprehend whomever is responsible. Moreover, under Galactic Law, we are also justified to demand help and extradition from the Empire if the culprit succeeds in crossing the zone. Refusal would mean condoning the action, which under treaty stipulations is an act of war.''

He paused to let that sink in before continuing.

''The Star Empire is in no shape at the moment to face a war with the Federation. It would simply mean the end of their civilization, especially with the Klingon Empire watching and ready to pounce on them at the first opportunity. We should therefore not only ask for permission to pursue the culprit through the zone, but for the Empire to assist us, especially if they do not allow Starfleet personnel and resources to enter their territory.''

With those facts presented, Sonak now looked to his commanding officer.

''It is logical to assume that, if this is indeed the Tal Shiar, that it it is not operating under Praetorian authority. Would it be under orders from the throne, it would destroy everything the two governments tried to build for the last three decades... along with what is left of the Empire. Thus, there are three possibilities; that this may be a rogue unit making a stand against official imperial policy; or this may be an impersonator aiming at shifting the blame on the Empire... someone who would profit from a conflict between us and the Rihansuu people; or this may be something strictly personal regarding our abducted crewmates... something worth risking a galactic war for it.''

"Commander Sonak raises a host of valid points, Captain," Paris ceded. It was interesting to her how easily she had gotten used to operating in the shadows that the simplicities and straightforward nature of galactic law somehow had not occurred to her to bring it up, but leave it to the master logician to see the situation clearly and without the hindrance of personal entanglements to point out the realities of the Star Empire and the Federation's legal standings with one another. "Will we be coordinating our efforts with the Romulan government in order to undertake this mission, and will we seeking to affirm that this is indeed a rogue element and not an official operation of their government, to give us stable grounds from which to operate?"

The buxom captain just sat there dumbstruck for a moment, the thought not having occurred to her. "We've operated in the shadows for so long, it never occurred to me... We can't directly give away that the Hera exists or that they're assigned to us, but if we coordinate through the USS Persephone and Captain Naraan to work that angle, saying that they're assigned to them... That might work and tell us at least a bit more. It might also tip our hand to those that kidnapped them so we'll have to be careful."

"On top of that, while a legal angle might get us Lieutenant Dox back... after she's been interrogated or reprogrammed for months... that legal status would not apply to Agent Dox, who in their eyes is an escaped traitor and would either be executed or spend the rest of her life in prison."

"That point, logically and emotionally, is not something I am willing to compromise on. They are both valued members of this crew, and I personally owe my life and family to both of them." Enalia's seriousness was on par with when she was on the floor of the Tribunal at this moment, and her gaze could almost kill a mugato. "We will pursue legal options only for informational and research purposes, but the rescue mission commences."

''Acknowledged, Captain,'' Sonak replied. ''I would then suggest to keep in mind the implications I delineated as... negotiating leverage, if such opportunity presents itself. A more... 'direct' approach, also entice the risk of provoking ourselves the very war hanging in the balance; which might still be their goal. And just as importantly for us, such action might risk losing them both.''

He was advising caution and planning. As the captain was committed to what he had called a direct action, the worst thing they would do would be to charge in half-cocked. That was what this briefing was for; a great part of what had made Starfleet successful even against overwhelming odds in dire situations like this one.

"With a secret operation, we also give Starfleet and the Federation something else. Plausible deniability. Especially with the Hera staying on this side of the border." Enalia finally lightened up just a bit at that point and gave a hint of her lopsided grin to Sonak. "With luck, we're dealing with an element their government will label as rogue, our government will claim we're pirates, and neither will invest in an obviously costly war that will destroy both and both sides walk away while saving face and we get our people back."

''Agreed, Captain,'' the Vulcan answered. ''And no starship or crew are better suited for such a task.''

Breathing an internal sigh of relief, Paris relaxed. She'd been prepared to play the diplomat, but it had been unnecessary- Sonak's logic was as always unassailable, but Enalia's tactics were sound, thus his words served as warning, and all was well. Once again she marvelled at the amazing individuals who surrounded her in her travels, appreciating all of their strengths and characteristics which made them all so uniquely suited to their positions. She'd missed this, and she was glad to be back amongst them again.

The spotted captain then pulled up a list of names. "We have until we arrive at the neutral zone crossing to get any useful information out of these people. Some are innocent, but at least one is the operative that sold our people out. They were the only ones that knew the Dox's would be at that restaurant beforehand."

She then went silent, hoping she made sense as her eyes went around the room, making contact with each person there.

“Traditional interrogation methods will be employed, I assume?” Paris inquired. Generally speaking, while Sonak was capable of mind melds and even range telepathy these days, he was loathe to do so with strangers, and certainly those who were unwilling. But she neither volunteered nor did she speak for the Kolinahr; instead, she pursued what she knew, and as always, asked questions.

"Actually, I leave that up to you." The spotted Captain motioned towards a mysterious green and orange plumed Miradonian man dressed in Artan livery that had been sitting calmly in the back of the room this whole time, who gave a slight flourish of his hand from his brow in greeting. "Baroness Marelith has loaned us her second to aid in the questioning. As a Miradonian, Bedo Fritterson has trained himself to higher levels of truth detection. His services were invaluable behind the scenes during the Tribunal and he's offered his services again for this."

"A living lie detector is never a bad thing, and combined with skills in interrogation, that should prove to be quite the boon," Paris offered, smiling and nodding down to the Miradonian male. "Mister Fritterson, welcome aboard- we look forward to meeting with you. I'll coordinate your efforts with our Intelligence department and see if we can't cook up a sound strategy that will net us the best possible results in the shortest possible time."

"Since the Hera and the bulk of personnel will be remaining on our side of the neutral Zone, what did you have in mind for the away team. ma'am? I know I'm not the best candidate for a Romulan incursion, but I'd very much like to go." That was as understated as Paris could make the statement that she was determined to go. But she knew next to nothing of Romulan culture, language, and she was, as Dox had once put it, 'the humanest Human to ever human'. If the captain ordered her to stay with the Hera, she'd cool her heels and remain on standby.

In truth, she felt personally obligated to rescue the Dox's. The mother and daughter meant a lot to her, and she felt responsible for them. if their roles were reversed Dox would be finding a way to blame herself for Rita's kidnapping and driving herself up the wall with guilt. In Rita's case she didn't believe this was her fault- but Dox was her protege, and her mother was yet another of her projects of helping people find their better selves. Both women had come so far and made so much progress, and had become a family with Ensign Gonadie. Rita would be well and truly damned if she would lose them to Romulan terrorists. It was simply not an option.

"At a minimum, myself, you, Sonak, Thex, Sam, Varnok, Az'Prel, and at least six of our security team trained in hand to hand combat. As for the language and culture, being associated with pirates, we have access to deep learning methods that the Federation tends to frown on. Pop the neuro-programming devices on, go to sleep, and wake up with all the knowledge you'll need... And a splitting migraine for a few days..." Enalia pulled up the devices on the holo-display next. "They were developed in the Klingon Empire during our first war with them. Surprisingly reliable and adaptable tech, considering they work cross-species like they do. Then again, the Orions put a lot of effort into it."

Sonak, visibly considering the facts presented all the while, then spoke.

''Plastic surgery is sufficiently advanced to alter all the non-Vulcanoids of the team; at least to the eye. But any scanning device will betray us, showing things like the wrong arrangements of organs, cardio-respiratory rhythm or body temperature. Any sensitive area in Romulan space will be under such scan. I suppose, being... familiar... with shall we say, covert operations, the Artan pirates have access to masking technology.''

"Light holographics, nanite injections, and sensor scramblers, yes... But we'll have to avoid anything more than a passive scan," confirmed Enalia with a slight nod of her head.

Sonak shifted his grey eyes to Rita.

''Commander, you will be satisfied to note that, in this mission, any use of transporters not specifically under our control should be avoided at all cost. Even the most advanced disguise system, anything short of Changeling genetic polymorphism, would fail against their subatomic bioscanners.''

He then looked back at his commanding officer.

''But technology has limits. Caution should be exercised at all times. The smallest cut or bruise, even a mere blush, would betray even to Romulan children the absence of copper in the blood of a non-Vulcanoid. A holographic disguise might cover this up on oneself; but not on anything one would touch or walk on. A thorough examination, like a genetic sweep of an area, will unmask us, or at least reveal that aliens were there.''

His tone became noticeably heavier.

''Romulans are notorious for their paranoid tendencies and thoroughness; and that was before Changelings were even known to exist. In this mission, time will be of the essence once we interact directly with the Empire. It is not a question of if, but of when we will be discovered.''

He paused before finishing.

''This will of course apply to our mode of transportation, and our equipment as well.''

"Which means we'll only have one shot." The spotted captain pulled up the schematics of the small fightercraft they had liberated from Starbase 336. "Which is why we're taking these with us. Unfortunately, they'll need to be repainted in their original colors to blend in with the rest of the infiltration craft. The Banshee... I don't think paint will help it blend in. And that means we'll have to take Ensigns Gavarus and O'Dell as well. We'll also have access to Schwein's ship since she's currently at Asgard."

"The Banshee? Are we planning an assault, ma'am?" Paris asked. Bringing the flight crew of their experimental aircraft along only meant they were anticipating and preparing for a fight. Because the versatile and extremely valuable prototype that couldn't be allowed to fall into Romulan hands was an enormous liability to bring into Romulan space. As were, she considered, the two wild cards associated with it. But if they anticipated a space battle, that was still dubious logic to bring them along.

"You advise against it?" Enalia asked, pausing the meeting to confer on the subject. She knew how the R&D department was at times and reports of those two in particular had reached her desk so it wouldn't take much to talk her out of including them. "I admit that they're not the most... Ah... And then there's the cloaking system in the Banshee..."

''Which is illegal by the terms of the Treaty of Algeron,'' Sonak reminded them. ''Commander Paris has a valid point. Adding to that violation itself, if we are but merely identified as Federation citizens aboard a combat or even a simple scouting vessel within the Neutral Zone or Romulan Space, we would also be violating the Treaty of the Neutral Zone. Under such circumstances, there would be no deniability possible from the Federation. Posing as Romulans would simply compound the crime with undeniable intent of infiltration and spying, and opening accusations of attempting interference in Romulan affairs, up to and including seddition. Add to that risking all it's technologies falling into Romulan hands.''

Again he looked at Captain Telvan with his usual cold, steely gaze.

''The Empire may not be a formal enemy, as of now, but it certainly is not an ally, yet. Using such a craft, especially under such conditions, the risks would largely outweigh the benefits by a factor of four thousand seven hundred and fifty-three to one.''

"Ok... So in common..." Enalia picked up a PaDD and pretended to type something into it before dropping it on the table. "You're saying that that's the worst idea I've ever had. Duly noted. Consider it dropped then. We'll have to go in with those already on the roster and the cyclones as backup and transportation. Any other thoughts, comments, complaints, or questions?"

"The Banshee even having a cloaking device at all is a complaint, since it's on the table, ma'am," Paris added quietly. "Like it or not, it's the treaty. Your pirates can play fast and loose, and Mona can claim it belongs to the Miradonians all she likes, but installed in a Federation starship, it's a declaration of war waiting to happen. Respectfully, ma'am."

It was a very quiet room for a moment.

Enalia sighed heavily. "Yeah I was expecting this and already have the documents for that matter drafted. It'll be removed and locked away so we can decide what to do later."

"Thank you, Captain," Paris offered quietly. "I would have brought it up behind closed doors, but... it needed to be out in the open. The officers needed to know we aren't becoming Section 31, and becoming our own law in the shadows. So, now that we've covered that," Paris stood up. "What we need more than anything else right now is intelligence- I need to know likely locations where they are being taken, who took them, why and for what purpose. Mister Varnok, I want you in on the interrogation, I believe you have quite a bit to offer here."

"Mister Sonak, Chief Clemens, please get to work on that sensor spoofing technology, liaise with Baroness Sarika back there, I believe that's why she's here. Thex, keep her going- I know we're running hot, but we're racing destiny again, and you know how much she hates to loose. The sooner we get answers, the sooner we can plot a course and start making plans to get our people back. For now- analyze the data at hand, and let's do what we can to prepare." Pausing in the barking of orders, Paris placed a hand on the Captain's shoulder, and looked her in the eye.

You have to be the one to tell them we're going to get our people back, she said silently, all with a clasp and a glance that Enalia understood. Because command meant being that voice of confidence, and while the officers looked to the first officer for leadership, it was the Captain who commanded, and spoke with absolute authority.

For just a moment, as Enalia's eyes met Rita's, she felt weak and tired. With a nod from the first officer, she quickly composed herself though. "We're going to get our people back. We're going to do it by our own hands. And we're going to do it staying on the side of angels. If no one has anything else to discuss... dismissed."

"Let's go rescue our Romulans."

it had been a few days since the kidnapping and Mona had not been handling it well. When her Minay had gone on an away mission through time, the familiar energy she knew as her bond-mate was gone from the universe so she had freaked out a little, but she felt comfort in the knowledge knowing that she would be back and indeed, when that energy had returned she felt great relief and knew that Mnhei'sahe Dox would return to her shortly.

This was different. Her wife had been kidnapped and taken by the Tal Shiar and she had no idea where she was or how they were going to save her. If she was on the mainstay ship of the Imperium, the D'deridex, it would be crewed in excess of 1500 Rihansu and such ships rarely flew alone outside of Romulan space. The Hera was but one ship with 783 souls and even with the help of the Artans, it would be a dangerous mission for her wife and mother-in-law.

This is what brought her to the guarded door of what was rumored to be the guest quarters of the embodiment of Death, whom her wife had lunch with weekly. The excuse was that since Dox was gone, someone would need to bring Masato Rei food and company, and even though she couldn't see the spirit, Mona hoped to at least let her know that Dox was no longer aboard and what happened to her. She might have been hoping for more, but those were the words she told herself as she arrived at the door and nodded to the security guards carrying a large bundle of Miradonian foods and entering her access codes.

Somehow, the door opened for her, revealing a normal and seemingly empty VIP quarters. Even still, looking around, she felt like she was being watched, the fine feathers on the back of her neck standing on end. Assuming the spirit was there, she headed to the table and began unpacking the lunch she had brought.

"I'm told you're the spirit of Death. My wife comes to eat lunch with you every week so since she's not aboard right now... I'm here instead." As she laid out the fried egg dishes, she realized she was rambling, but there was nothing for it. It wasn't like she could hear someone she couldn't see anyway. "I'm Mona Gonadie, by the way. She might have mentioned me. She doesn't speak much of you, but when she does, it's always with respect and high regard."

Having finished laying out the food on the two plates she had brought, Mona moved over to the replicator and started to punch in a couple drinks before pausing. "Ah... I don't know what you'd like to drink... I hope a honeyed fruit tea is ok. It's a traditional drink on my world." Pausing a moment out of respect but knowing there would be no response, Mona punched in an order for two glasses with straws, carrying the drinks back with her to the table before seating herself and picking up the chopsticks she had opted for for the meal, knowing that Dox had mentioned that Rei was partial to them.

With her chopsticks hovering over one of the fried egg rolls, Mona felt the air tension increase almost exponentially as she just sat there almost waiting. "She was kidnapped. By the Tal Shiar. As well As Jaeih." The words were a struggle to get out, tears forming in her eyes as she did so. "It was at a restaurant. This is why you and Kodria both warned my Minay that she didn't have much time left with her mother, isn't it?"

Mona finally took a bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully through tear filled eyes. "We've fought gods, demons, and worse. The crew of this ship will fight fate itself if we have to just to bring both of them back alive."

As she ate, the tension in the room seemed to lift and to her amazement, every time she seemed to glance away or blink, some of the food on the opposing plate seemed to vanish mysteriously. Even her multi irised eyes saw nothing, which was a bit creepy. She had to laugh it off though - she'd seen far creepier on this ship. "I think I have an idea of where all those missing socks and gloves over history get to now. someone like you trying to clothe themselves."

Then she turned more serious as she finished her own much needed meal. "I've hardly eaten since then. I'm just so worried. I know I should be resting and seeing Doctor Dael for counseling, but I haven't been yet. I'm on a leave of absence for the time being because of it as well, which means all I have is time to think. Gavarus is watching over the R&D department and MacNielle is covering Flight Control."

"I really wish you could give me a sign that everything would be ok. I guess in a way, you have, but it could mean just the opposite. That warning could mean that my Minay is the one that isn't coming hone and Jaeih will be perfectly fine. But then Kodria wouldn't have known her and called her Auntie, right? which means she comes home safe and sound." The brightly plumed woman set aside her chopsticks and sighed heavily. "There's no use even asking or contemplating any of this. We're going to rescue both of them and your book of the dead and fate are wrong if it says one of them isn't coming home."

With that, she stood up and headed towards the door before turning back and looking at all the empty dishes on the table. With a sigh, she gathered them up and set them all in the replicator, taking her plates and lunchbox with her. "Thank you for listening. I'll try and come back next week, but I can't guarantee the best conversation since I can't see you."

As the Miradonian woman left, Rei sighed heavily and grinned up at her other visitor, a woman that looked like three women standing in one place. "Well, you heard her. She's going to fight you the whole way."

Nights were the worst. During the day, her Grandmother, Senator Verelan t'Rul, had been keeping her busy with lectures and lessons all designed to remold Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox of the U.S.S Hera into a loyal daughter of ch’Rihan. During the day she could easily escape her fears and thoughts in the plethora of information pushed at her. It was easy to forget she was a prisoner. Her grandmother had changed from a tone of confrontational aggression to one of calm understanding and warm acceptance. She had changed from captor to grandmother. She told her granddaughter all about her home and the family she never knew existed. But now Mnhei'sahe was being conditioned and she knew it.

But at night, in the mid-sized quarters on the D’deridex class Warbird that was her prison as they warped her back to the world the galaxy called Romulus, she was utterly alone with her own thoughts. And that’s when her mind began to seek out doubt. Seek out ways to question herself. Blame herself.

Blame was easy. She was playing a balancing act. A dangerous game between maintaining who she was, Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox of the U.S.S. Hera, with who her grandmother wanted her to be, Mnehi’sahe t’Rul: loyal daughter of ch’Rihan.

And she was losing.

Her Grandmother had begun filling her mind with warm stories and information on Rihannsu culture. She spoke only Rihan. Listened to only Rihan. Learned libraries of information about her people and the world she had never seen. She was trying to hold on to who she was under the assault of who she could be, but she was failing and she knew it.

The room was a gilded cage at best. Locked and guarded, the lights shut down on a timer when it was time to sleep and snapped back on when it was time to wake. And she did what she was told to protect her captive mother from harm. Her Grandmother assured her that her mother had not yet been tortured. She had not been harmed or interrogated. But Dox knew that that status quo was fully dependent on her compliance. So she complied.

But when she was told to study, she found that she now did so willingly. And she hated herself for enjoying it. She enjoyed learning what she had always been denied. And as the days began to blur together, she stopped resenting that she had to eat when they told her, slept when they told her and wear what they told her. She was beginning to accept it and here, in the dark of night, she reminded herself how dangerous that was.

The lights were out and she was expected to sleep. She had changed into the night clothes that were left for her. A simple thin linen grey top and pants. She had laid flat on the small bed provided along the starboard bulkhead of the room. And as she did, like she did every night, she meditated silently. In meditation, she strove to remind herself of who she was. Remind herself of what she needed to return to. Her real home on the Hera. Her chosen family there.

But every night, it became more difficult to concentrate. Her thoughts, once a mishmash of English and rihan, were now only rihan. Her ideas of home becoming blurred. Her sense of self wavering. So she closed her eyes and repeated the lessons in mental discipline she had been being trained on for months by her Trensu, Lieutenant Sonak. Her master in her attempts to train her mind and mental potential in the Vulcan way of her ancestors to restore some measure of those long lost abilities. Redoubling her efforts to remain herself in the wake of her failures, she pictured, in her mind's eye, the lavender swirl of energy that was her gift from her bond-mate, Mona Gonadie. The combination of their mutual life forces made one. And she concentrated.

As she lay there, pretending to sleep, she would see the steps of Mount Salaya on Vulcan. And while she had never been there, Sonak had recreated it for her on the holodeck in perfect detail and enhanced the experience through mind melds. For her, it was real. She could feel the heat of the Vulcan sun and taste the harsh, arid air. And her knees weakened as she climbed the steps, calling out the names that reminded her of who she was.

She didn’t dare say them out loud knowing her room was likely being monitored, but her mind was the only place that her Romulan captors couldn’t control her. So she climbed, straining against what felt like an impossible weight as she gasped against the blistering heat.

“Mona Gonadie… Rita Paris… Asa Dael… Enalia Telvan… Thex sh'Zoarhi… Fiona O’Dell… Briaar Gavarus… Sam… Sam…” She paused on the names as she stumbled to her knees on the hard stone steps in her mind. “Clemens. Sam Clemens…”

As it had always been, though the experience was in her mind, she could feel the hard, hot stone cut into her knees as she fell as if it were the real thing. In her quarters on the Warbird, she visibly winced ever so slightly. Forcing herself back to her feet, she felt her mind slipping. The air became thinner and the sun hotter. “Masato Rei… Ila Dedjoy... S’Rina Wil’I’Ams… V’Nus Wil’I’Ams… Ethel Jablonski… Maica… Moira... Milla and Mardo Morafry… ”

The names evoked faces in her mind. Images of her friends, new family and loved ones that seemed always just a few steps ahead of her, ascending. In the Vulcan of her mind, the heat was real as beads of sweat appeared on her brow in the real reality of the Warbird. In the Vulcan of her mind, the wind blew hot as she pushed forward. Each step aiding her in remembering. Each step forward bringing her closer to Dox and further from t’Rul. As she walked, different names filled her mind and she said them on those sand-swepped steps.

“Tala…”

“Amihan…”

“Hlai'vana!”

The names evoked no faces for they were the names chosen for the three young girls growing in her Wife's belly a system away. The names chosen for their daughters. The ones she MUST remember. The ones she could not abandon for a child’s fantasy.

And after what seemed like an eternity in her mind, she reached the platform at the top of the mythical version of the impossibly tall mountain that existed in her mind. Exhausted, she looked up past the pale yellow skies of Vulcan to the stars she needed to return to. To the Hera, which seemed to form above her in her mind as if she could reach out and touch it.

But as she began to rest in her success, she felt herself growing weak. As she stuttered and struggled, in the real world, it was not her mind but her body that was betraying her. The days were long and arduous and pretending to sleep soon gave way to the real thing as exhaustion got the better of her and her meditation was broken for the yawning abyss of dreams.

And as the image of Mount Selaya faded into darkness, so did she. And as she faded into dreams, it was not her conscious mind that betrayed her, but those child’s fantasies.

---------------

The house was a modest, two-story farmhouse in rural Ohio. The parcel of land that it sat on was mostly bare with a small gray barn behind the pale yellow home. It was early August and the trees were green as fireflies began dotting the darkening horizon and night fell over the rolling hills. It was an idyllic and serene scene to be sure, and the nineteen-year-old Melanie Dox hated it.

“Mellie, dinner’s ready. Come wash up.” Came a melodic voice from in the house as, out in the barn, the young woman groaned as she pulled herself out from underneath the matte silver hoverbike she had been tuning the engine on.

“Hnaev... “ she muttered, cursing under her breath in the language she was discouraged from speaking at the inane school she had just graduated. Her native language of Rihan was less than popular on Earth. Sitting up and pushing herself to her feet, Dox was a thickly built young woman with a large shock of curly red hair up in a bun on the top of her head. She was wearing thick yellow work gloves that were covered in grease and a pair of grease-covered overalls with a plaid shirt.

The barn had long ago ceased being used in any capacity that ever resembled agriculture and over the past four years, had become the young women's refuge and workshop. Strewn about were all manner of engine parts and tools. And in the corner, hanging from a crossbeam was an extremely worn old heavy bag held together with mostly duct tape and hope.

“I will be right there!” She called back in to the house as she pulled the gloves off and tossed then on the dropcloth beneath her bike. When she yelled, it was much easier to hear the thick accent she had spent the past four years trying to learn to conceal. But it was still there, regardless of volume. Yet another reminder of the heritage she was taught to be ashamed of by most of the local people that didn’t accept her.

But they never seemed to care, within the house. Shawn and Juliet Dox. The parents of Declan Dox. The loving couple that took in an angry, sixteen-year-old they believed to be the granddaughter they didn’t even know existed. And while they would be long gone by the time that the young Rihannsu woman would learn that they were not, in fact related to her, for the time they were her family. And she resented them for their unconditional love. Her mother spent years fostering a cultural distrust of humans, and that had born fruit that now confused the girl that still believed she was half-human, faced with people that made everything her mother said a lie. So she resented them for it, and that resentment only made her more angry at herself and more withdrawn.

Slouching like an almost-typical teenage girl, Dox walked in through the screen door from the back porch. Like the house, it was functionally antique and irritated the young woman raised on a space freighter. And compared to the Dox farmhouse, the rusting smuggling ship, the Forager suddenly seemed state of the art. She walked over to the large metal sink in the kitchen and began washing her hands. As she did, the elderly Juliet Dox walked in from the living room.

She was a short, plump human woman with thick corrective lenses and a bun of gray hair with red streaks through it, wearing a large yellow apron with cartoon chicks on it that seemed somehow familiar in the memory of the moment. “How’s it coming out there, Mellie? Did you get that thing running again?”

“Ie... “ Dox replied, first in Rihan before correcting herself. “Yes. The engine had a blockage but I cleaned out the plasma injectors and…” She was going on in details that the smiling older woman didn’t even half understand. “Yes. She runs again.”

While her mother taught her federation standard, Vulcan, and even Klingon, Rihan was her natural language and she had only been speaking english full time for a few years and she didn't speak much. Silence was her preferred way of dealing with those around her. Her diction was still a bit stilted and her muddy, spacers accent was still prominent as she worked at improving her command of the language with time and practice.

“Oh, that’s lovely, dear. I may hate how you drive that thing, but I know you love it. C’mon, I made beef stroganoff. Your grandpa is upstairs napping. Could you go fetch him, Mellie, dear?”

Rolling her eyes, Dox ran a finger over her ear as she sighed. “Ie, grandmother.”

Walking upstairs, she passed a series of old photographs of the Dox’s when they were young. And aside from the familiar red hair that the old Scottish family shared, she saw no resemblance when she looked at the images of her adopted grandparents or the childhood pictures of the man she still believed to be her father.

At the top of the stairs, it was dark but she didn’t bother with the lights. She was accustomed to the dark corridors of the Forager and didn’t want to wake up Shawn Dox harshly. He hadn’t been well of late.

Pushing the bedroom door open, it creaked lightly on old hinges. From within she heard raspy breathing and spoke softly, “Grandfather. It’s time for dinner.”

There was a brief pause before he chuckled his reply from bed. “Heh. I’ll be right down Melanie. Tell your grandmother I don’t need a nursemaid.” Sitting up and turning on the ancient-looking lamp by the side of the bed, Shawn Dox looked older every day. But he smiled and kept up his spirits and tried to keep up Melanie’s.

"I heard you working out in the barn. Sounds like you got her purring like a kitten." Shawn said with a smile as he slowly rose to his feet, still dressed in the old blue jeans and gray t-shirt he took to napping in. He was something of a grease monkey himself and enjoyed working on projects with his granddaughter when he felt better.

"Ie, Grandfather. The plasma injectors were clogged. It was not a… significant problem, thankfully." Dox replied with a smile. When they worked together she too enjoyed it in spite of herself. "Let me help you."

Gently, she took his arm and led him downstairs. She found that she often resented that she cared about him, but she did care and didn't want to disappoint him. Of all the people she had met since being left on Earth, they were the only two that never batted a eye at her Rihannsu heritage. Never chastised her for her accent or language. Never judged her.

It made her feel all the worse for what had been going through her mind of late.

At the old, wooden farm table with generations worth of wear and old food stains, Dox assisted Juilet in setting the table. It was a simple enough chore when compared to the near-military upbringing with her mother, and in spite of herself, and she liked helping when she could.

While she was resentful of their affections, deep down she didn't want to see her grandparents unhappy. So she tried her level best to be as good of a granddaughter that she could be. She didn't always succeed and her near-constant anger often got the best of her. But she was raised to be honorable and did her best to return the honor they showed her.

Slowly, she spooned her way through the stew, lost in thought and quieter than usual as Juliet spoke. She had a soft, sing song tone to her and smiled lightly as she did. "So, Mellie. I was at the library today and that nice man from Starfleet was there. They were talking to students from your school. You remember when he talked with us last year?"

Shrugging, Dox sighed and muttered. "Ie… Yes, I remember."

She continued playing with her food, trying to avoid the topic. The man in question was a retired Commander with Starfleet. A recruiter who had made a presentation to students with grades past a certain point. And Dox's grades far exceeded even that, singling her out for attention she didn't want.

"Jules… drop it, dear." Shawn tried to interject, but she shushed him and kept going.

"Well, he remembered me and was asking about you and he said that it was never too late to start thinking about a career. And with your test scores, he could… what did I say he said, dear? Fast track? Yes, fast track you in. He even said he'd sponsor your application, Mellie dear."Juliet smiled, showing just a bit of nerves as she did.

Dropping her head, Dox took a sip of her water and tried to pretend she didn't hear for a moment until the silence began to feel too heavy. "I don't… I'm not going to Starfleet, Grandmother. That's… not for me."

Trying to react calmly, Shawn and Juliet seemed legitimately surprised, expecting a blow up. "O… okay, Mellie. Have you… looked at those brochures for that flight school I picked…"

As she spoke, Shawn wearily cut her off. "Jules, honey. Stop pestering the girl."

"No, I haven't!" Dox said a bit more predictably forcefully. "I don't need a school to tell be how to fly. I don't need some…" she was about to say 'human' but cut herself off and changed course. "I know how to fly. I probably know more than those so-called teachers. When they can lose two Klingon birds of prey in an ion storm, then they can tell me how to fly!"

"I… I'm sorry, Mellie. I'm just trying to…" Juliet stammered, nervously. "I just want to see you happy doing what you love and you love flying, dear."

Blushing the sickly brown color brought on by her genetically damaged blood, Dox tried to contain her anger. She wasn't angry at her grandmother and she knew it. She was just angry at life, like she usually was. "Ahr'usae… I… I'm sorry. I'm just… may I be excused?"

She sat, ashamed of her outburst. Ashamed of making her grandmother feel bad for caring. Ashamed of being who she was. Her face was flush brown and her hands were trembling slightly.

Juliet looked at her husband with a resigned expression, not knowing what to say. "You don't have to, but you can, hon." Shawn interjected, nodding his head softly.

Frustrated and angry at herself, Dox stood up, nodded and cleaned off her plate in the recycler and all but warped through the kitchen upstairs. Moments later she had slammed shut the old wooden door to her room to cry and curse herself. She flumped to the floor, her back against the door wiping her face dry as she heard a wheezing voice slowly climb the steps, eventually stopping at her door.

"Melanie, can I talk to you for a minute?" Came the weak voice of her grandfather who knew her a bit better than she would like. After a moment of silence, he continued.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes, hon." He said with his familiar chuckle. "Look, Mel. I know you don't like it here. And I can't pretend to know how different this must be from the life you use't know. But… but we're glad you’re here."

Sniffling behind the door, Dox rolled her eyes silently as he spoke, pretending even to herself not to care as he continued.

"Your dad. He… he never liked it here neither. He left when he was younger than you are now, after getting into every kind of trouble there is to get into. A lot like you, except he wasn't ever a bit as smart and he always got caught. But other than that, you're not anything like him. He never cared about anyone else. Never thought about anyone else. And I know it's a… a horrible thing to say about your own son, but I'm glad you're not like him, Mel."

"But you do have that same wanderlust, and maybe you get that from your mother. I don't know. But it could take you big places if you let it, hon." Shawn kept talking, hoping she was listening.

"Your Grandmother and I… when you came into our world, it was like a miracle. A chance to make up for how bad we failed your dad. And we're doing our best, but sometimes it's hard for us too. Your grandma, she means well. She pushes and pries because she wants to see you happy, is all. Please don't punish her for caring about you. We both do, Mel." His words brought the tears out in force as Dox failed to contain her shame and gulit for her behavior.

"Look… just think about it, okay. We… we love you and we just want you to be happy, with whatever it is you decide to do with your life. We know that you'll go far, hon." He finished, placing a hand on the other side of the door for a moment before slowly walking away as Melanie Dox silently cried.

Hours later, when the elderly couple went to bed, Dox leaned out the small window to the bedroom that was hers, her cheeks drier and her mind racing. The walls were covered with blueprints and technical specs for starships. The small model of the D’deridex class Warbird sat on a high shelf collecting dust and cobwebs. Outside the window, was home.

Looking up at the stars, Dox sighed. It had been four long years since Starfleet had unceremoniously left her with the Dox’s. Four long years since she had been out there. Instead, she was stuck on Earth. She hated earth. With its dull greens and flat lands and stupid people.

She wanted to go home. On the cluttered desk behind her was an application to Starfleet academy. It was Starfleet that saved her from being stuck on the Forager as a smuggler and never pressed charges. Starfleet that encouraged her to join their ranks as she completed so-called ‘high-School’. But the academy would be another four years on the mudball she hated surrounded by people that hated her.

And there were other options out there. Options she had been considering for months now.

A half an hour later she was skirting the treetops on the back of her silver hoverbike towards a spaceport in Cleveland. She was pushing the line past 300kph and didn't think twice, bobbing and weaving through the stray branches with ease. By staying close to the treelines, she was avoiding the ridiculous local authorities that were stupid and bored with the pacified population of humanity she was so sick of. So she raced towards another choice, a single duffle bag strapped to her back.

A short time later, the young red-headed woman with the rounded ears and the sickly brown blood that felt neither human nor Rihannsu had parked her bike in the park nearest the spaceport and began walking towards her escape. It was a small port-town bar she had frequented thanks to a false identification she had fabricated a couple of years ago. A rowdy dive that reminded her of the spaceport stations she used to stop at with her mother when it was time to refuel or restock the Forager. It was dirty, dark and filled with dangerous people who liked to avoid authority and get into fights. Dox loved it.

It was the kind of place to get into trouble, or at least find it. And Melanie Dox certainly liked getting into trouble. She felt alive when she was breaking the slow, stupid rules and sticking her feet back into the world she grew up in. Covering up bruises had become second nature, but came with the territory and she could forget about her stress and her responsibilities and let out the seemingly endless anger she had inside when she was there and she liked that.

“DOXXIE!? What the hell are you doin’ here, kiddo?” She heard, yelled out from behind by a burly, gray, wild furred Caitian man with an artificial eye. A smuggler and trader that she had known since she was twelve.

Smiling, she replied in her native tongue, not worried as he knew the language well enough due to his business dealings to understand. “Captain Frees! I've missed you! How have you been?”

As she spoke, about half the bar turned curiously, wondering just who was shouting across the room in Romulan.

As Captain Rankin Frees walked over to the young red-head, he turned and hissed to the bar in common. “Mind your damn businesses, you drunk asses. It’s just Doxxie.” Then turned to give the girl a hug, continuing in the planet’s language to keep her using it and not invite trouble. “It’s been months since I’ve seen your ugly, hairless mug, Girl. Need another crate of Kali-Fal to sell to the townies?”

“No. Not anymore, Captain. I am… I am planning on getting out of there. For good, this time.” She looked up with a forced smile, answering him in federation standard. “I did what they all wanted. I finished that kreldanni school and now they want me to go join STARFLEET if you can imagine. Me, in one of those ridiculous uniforms. A Rihannsu!?”

Looking the girl up and down, incredulously, the Caitian took a seat at a nearby open table with two chairs and a smirk. “And that’s a BAD thing, Doxxie? I thought you wanted back in space. I hear tell that’s where Starfleet tends to work. I mean, it’s right in the name, after all.”

“Be serious, Captain. I am not cut out for Starfleet. That is not for me. More annoying hevam and their inane rules and… It is not for me." The irritated red-headed Rihanna girl said, leaning heavy on the Rihan slur for 'human'. "I barely made it through that Fvadt school without killing anyone, and Al’thindor knows I wanted to near every day.” Dox commented through her still thick accent as she shrugged and flagged down the bartender with two fingers. She had been there enough for him to know what she wanted.

Moments later, he sat down a double shot of Kali-Fal. The light blue alcohol known as ‘Romulan Ale’ that she had been drinking for years regardless of her age. Frees rolled his eyes and he hunched forward.

“And is that what you're here for, tonight, Doxxie? You planning on running away and joining my little crew of smugglers? Getting off the rock and back into the life? Because you were so happy doing that the first time?” It was a sarcastic reply from the feline pirate as Dox took a drink.

“Dhat...No. You… you know what I did to get away from her and that life. Imirrhlhhse… you are the only person who really knows. But I do need... a ride.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small card.

“I can pay for transport. I… put aside a small percentage from every mission Mother ran since I was eleven. It’s not a lot, but it should be enough to book me passage to…” Dox paused, holding the card out, as her hand shook slightly. Her speech was getting a bit smoother as she continued, getting more comfortable with the language the less she actively thought about it.

The cagey cat looked askew at her as he purred slightly. “Why don't I like that look on your face, girl?"

“Ch’Rihan. Romulus. You make smuggling runs there five times a year. You’ve got a cloak. You could drop me off anywhere. Just… as long as it’s there” Dox replied

“Wow. Big decision. Round eared Romulan girl wants to go home. You think that’s what you really want, Doxxie? You think Starfleet has rules? Your people make those rules look like summer camp.” Frees said flatly.

“Just because I don’t… because I look like this doesn’t make me ANY less Rihannsu! Why shouldn’t I get to go home!? My mother was a liar! The Tal’Shiar won’t care. I can go there and I’m a fvadt good pilot. I could join the Rihannsu academy. Be a pilot there! What’s so wrong with going home?” Dox yelled angrily.

“Nothing wrong with goin’ home, Doxxie. I think it’s what you need to do tonight, matter of fact.” Frees sighed and sat back, scratching a mangey spot on his neck.

“Then here! When do we go? What do I need to do?” Dox smiled as she put her card on the table in front of him, missing his meaning entirely. But he never even looked at it as he pushed it slowly back to the young woman.

“You need to go home t’ your grandparents and think about your future, kid.” He sighed. “I like you. And truth be told, if you actually came here and said you really wanted to join my crew, I’d be all kinds of tempted, Doxxie. But you don’t know what you’re asking me to do. You don’t know what you’re wanting to go to.”

“Arhem ssuajukhe… I… I don’t understand! You… You’re a Kreldanni SMUGGLER!! I’m offering to pay you to smuggle me off of this hnaev planet!” Her eyes were welling up tears of anger as she shouted. “Please, Rankin!”

“Sorry, Doxxie. I can’t. I wouldn’t do that to you. That place ain’t for you and you know it.” Frees leaned forward and fixed his good eye on Dox’s. “You’re a damn good pilot. And you’ll get back up there where you belong again, but this… this ain’t the way. Go home. Sleep on it and really think about it. You really think your Mother hid you from them for so long for no reason? Hell, you think she wouldn't bust her ass outta that prison, string me up by my whiskers and come for you if I did that to you?”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT HER!! SHE CAN BURN IN AREINNYE, FOR ALL I CARE!!! I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!!!” Dox screamed as tears streaked her cheeks. “Just take me HOME!!! Pleaaasssee!”

“No can do, Doxxie. I’m sorry, but I can’t take you there. There ain’t no amount of money I’d take to do that.” Rankin Frees said as calmly as he could, though it was clear that the old cat was upset as well, having spent years rerouting his ship to Cleveland of all places just to occasionally check-in on the young Rihannsu girl he once made a promise to the mother of. But he was well hardened by his years in the spacelanes and he kept his own eyes dry in spite of himself. “Just go home, kid. Go home to those folks that care about you and forget about that place. It’ll break you if you let it.”

"The 'fleet. They're good people. You could go far there. Farther than you could ever go with an old cat like me." He said flatly.

Shuddering in her seat, Dox stuffed her card back in her bag and tossed the glass against the ground where it shattered. “FINE! D… don’t take me! I’ll find someone else who’ll take me! I don’t need you, Frees! I don’t!!”

“This town, you do Doxxie. Ain’t nobody around here making runs to Romulus. And you ain’t got enough money on that card to convince anyone to take that risk. Just go home, kid.” Frees sighed, doing his level best to play it cool.

Standing up, Dox was shaking as she looked at her old friend with rage and pain in her tear-filled eyes. But she had no more words and she turned and stormed out of the bar and broke into a run towards the park where she parked her bike.

Her chest heaved and her every breath burned cold in her lungs as she slumped on her knees, sobbing and screaming in front of her hoverbike. She had been ready. She was going to leave and turn her back on everything and now she couldn’t. And again she was stuck. She was defeated. She was trapped.

Wiping a tear from her eyes, Dox felt the cool night air become hot. A dry wind seemed to chap the damp tears from her cheek as she looked up over the back of her hoverbike at a light that seemed to cut through the night sky. And looking up, she saw a sight that shocked her. A sight that reminded her where she really was and what she was trying to remember.

There, in the middle of a part in her memories of a city in Ohio on Earth was Mount Selaya. Burning red in the heat of the Vulcan sun. And the heat of that sun beat down on her again. And she was on her knees again looking ahead of herself now, not at the hoverbike which had vanished, but at the first step at the foot of the impossible climb.

And standing on that step, a thirty-two year old woman. Short and portly, she wore a crimson Starfleet uniform and a head of short, red curls. Her skin was olive and her hears pointed. And as Dox looked at the image of herself as she truly was, the image turned and began to ascend the steps silently.

Standing slowly, the nineteen-year-old Melanie Dox sniffled. And one step at a time, she began to follow.

Nights were the worst.

Seventy-four days fighting a mortal god-king, and all Hera could do was retreat into her mind palace and watch it all play out as a mad god toyed with her favorite person, and one she thought of as a daughter, Rita Paris. But now she sensed that she had finally been pulled back into this reality and Sulan Got could no longer have his way with her. Which meant that Hera had sighed a breath of relief and made a fresh batch of brownies to celebrate for when she came by.

Though when exactly she would, Hera still didn't know - there was quite a fuss on the ship that bore her name. Likely it would be after the meetings and medical clearance... And something told her it would be that evening. So she would be ready with a pitcher of fresh lemonade and her triple fudge brownies.

Meetings had been attended, a medical checkup had been accomplished, a plan had been formulated, and before she went to meet with her husband to reconnect with him after so long apart, Rita had one more stop left to make. As much as she needed to reassure the Captain, pacing like a caged tiger with two of her people kidnapped and her without a way to affect the situation, she knew there was someone else she needed to reassure as well.

Her husband was concerned, but he did not worry, per se- his concern was more intellectual, and leaned toward the practical. If anything it was his concern for her emotional well-being that would cause him strain. But her unshakable faith in him had sustained her throughout this particular ordeal, as she had explained to her companions repeatedly. She wondered how they had fared, knowing that they were no more, their lives having been lived and ended in the hours since her return, in the justaposition of difference between time and relative dimensions in space.

Another lesson in ‘appreciate people in the here and now’ for her, which she needed no prompting to learn. She would miss Jayd's crooked toothed grin, and Blok's gravelly slow voice. Arrista would have found her way without Rita there, she was sure of it, and Glan had seen a better way, and risen from a humble slave to become a conqueror, but not a despot.

But there was one who still needed her, and who, if she was honest with herself, she needed as well. Once the tyrant of Meroset 347, now the reformed and matronly patron saint of the starship Hera, the goddess whose very name was stamped on the hull in letters four meters high. She whose name Rita had invoked more than once on the world of Kathoom, as she had used her gifts sparingly and wisely. Whom she suspected was somehow watching over her, even if she could not aid her beyond the gifts she had provided her on her hero's journey. Said gifts in the form of the wondrous bracers, which enabled her to access a stable pocket of extradimensional space; wherein she stored an armory that she had used to help free a people, and change the fate of a world.

Gifts of the 'great Hera', as Rita tended to refer to her when invoking her name.

Approaching the VIP quarters where she had placed the woman, first as a prisoner, then as a guest, Paris was pleased to see Jablonski and Lu on duty. The short fireplug Petty Officer Lu was stout and quiet, given to few words and slow action, but she was observant, dutiful and reliable. Whereas Petty Officer Jablonski was the captain of the Honor guard, whom Hera considered her ‘general’. Enormous, well over two meters tall, just as wide, and heavily muscled, the towering titan was matched only by the size of her heart and good nature. Dedicated to the service of the Goddess, she nevertheless managed to put her Starfleet duty ahead of her duty to the Goddess, so Paris tacitly approved and said nothing about it, save her silent acknowledgment.

Approaching the hulking security officer, who drew stiffly upright at the approach of her commander, Paris nodded the duo at ease, and asked quietly, “How is she?”

“Been pacing… she’s concerned about something or someone, I think,” Jablonski whispered conspiratorially. As attuned as she was to Hera, she generally knew the Goddess’ moods without even being near. “It’ll do her some good to see you. You haven’t visited much lately and it worries her, y’know?”

Looking up into the big brown eyes of the faithful petty officer, Paris smirked. Parental guilt, delivered secondhand through the honor guard, unasked for yet delivered all the same. The Goddess of Motherhood truly was the archetype of her aspect, after all. Reaching over, Paris patted the bicep which was the size of her head. “Fair enough, Miss Jablonski. I suppose I’m overdue for a visit.”

While it had been perhaps three weeks of chronological time for Hera, for Rita it had been three months since she had seen the matron goddess. Often, in her musings of remembering the people and places she missed of her life onboard the Starfleet vessel after she had been whisked to her adventures on Kathoom, Paris had found herself wondering after the health and well-being of Hera herself. Which disturbed her- the Goddess was supposedly eternal, after all, and immortal. Yet Rita worried about her slowing down, and aging, and that she might actually perish, which was a concept that brought about a lump in her throat she found herself emotionally unprepared to face.

A maternal figure was not something Rita was accustomed to having in her life. Losing one again was something she was wholly unprepared for, and she very much did not want to contemplate the possibility just yet. If ever. The concept that her children’s children might someday learn to bake cookies from the hand of the ancient Greek was a concept that made her happy, although the little voice in her head that was seldom wrong also told her that wasn’t likely to happen. Taking a deep breath, Paris pressed on, putting on a brave face and a smile of good cheer that wasn’t an affectation, but one of casting worries aside. Hera didn’t need to be burdened, she just needed to know Rita was back and fine from her trip to Vulcan was all. Likely she wasn’t even aware of her jaunt to Kathoom… but she was about to find out.

The scent of fresh baked brownies made her stomach rumble, as she realized that baked goods and sweets in particular hadn’t exactly been part of her diet for the past few months, and chocolate had definitely not been on the menu. Which of course, somehow Hera knew, and had anticipated.

“Hera? It’s me, Rita…. Are you about?” Rita called from the foyer. Of course, she had run of the ship and could choose to barge in as she pleased. But she preferred to give their guest her space and privacy, thus why these quarters HAD a foyer, and room dividers. Hera was a guest, not a prisoner; she had earned that status on the Hera, helping her crew and others time and again. Selflessly placing herself between mortals and danger, in an attempt to atone for her past misdeeds. Helping by volunteering whatever she knew that could help.

Making good on her promise to Rita Paris to ‘be better’. To be the goddess that she could tell her children of someday, and that the starship that bore her name did so with pride.

The goddess had lived up to that challenge, and more.

In point of fact, Rita cared deeply for the woman, more so than she would care to admit. But her feelings were complicated, and she tried not to examine them too deeply. After all, women seldom did when it came to the maternal figures in their lives.

Hera had finished just in time and just set out the glasses and plates on the small dining table and sat down to wait for her beloved Rita a few minutes prior. She'd never admit to how much she'd paced the floor or how much she'd worried over which recipe to use... But now she had a large tray of triple fudge brownies and a pitcher of fresh lemonade ready and the table was set, both glasses full of ice.

Looking up with a bright, matronly smile, it seemed all was right with the worlds again as Hera motioned towards the seat next to her at the table. "I've missed you. Please, have a seat and tell me about your adventure. I made some brownies just for you."

A look of genuine surprise flashed across the face of the explorer as she made the realization. Shaking her head, she took the offered seat and sat down. "You knew... about my little escapade for the past few months? Here I thought I was coming to see you after a few weeks being gone... but you know, don't you? You're aware of where I've been and what I've been up to, aren't you?"

There was no accusation in her tone as Rita reached for a thick, warm brownie to set it on her plate and begin nibbling at it. Instead, she marveled at it. The woman was a goddess, after all, and she tended to be aware of Rita- that she'd realized some time ago. She just didn't realize just HOW aware.

"The Fates have linked us together, my dear," the matronly goddess replied with a knowing grin as she poured the lemonade. "When you're in trouble, I'm always aware. And I may have had a bit of a view... Though there was nothing I could do and there was a lot that I wasn't able to see. After all, I could only see so much from here as I watched over you."

“Well, I may have invoked your name a few times,” Rita admitted as she took a bite of the brownie, savoring the sweet chocolatey flavor and the cake texture in her mouth, two things she really hadn’t eaten at all in the past two months. Not that she was much on sweets, chocolate or desserts in general. But without any access to them, enjoying one because it was here, accessible and presented to her was a treat- precisely as it was intended.

“As for not helping me, don’t kid yourself. If not for you, I likely would have died out there more than once,” Rita held up her arm, and the sleeve of her uniform withdrew slightly to reveal the edge of the relatively crude bronze bracer she wore on her wrist, the twin of it’s mate on her other wrist. “You may never have intended them for me, but they’ve saved my life more times than I can count now.”

“Those times you heard ‘Thank Hera!’, I wasn’t kidding… so thank you. And thank you for watching over me… somehow it kind of felt like someone was, and it was… comforting, you know? I wasn’t worried. I know I’d be found, I knew I’d be rescued, I just had to survive long enough for that to happen. Sonak is not in the habit of losing to the universe's malarkey. So again” Rita made eye contact with the Goddess, sincerity evident in her eyes and in her heart, “thank you, Hera.”

There were genuine tears in her eyes as she reached out to rest a hand on Rita's shoulder, barely able to hold back one of her biggest smiles and starting to literally glow just the slightest. "You're very welcome, my dear. I'm just so glad you're safe and sound and back with us now."

"Hey now, I got you out of Asgardian prison on a supervised parole program," Rita joked, placing her hand over Hera's and smiling back. "I have to stay close to make sure you stay on the path of the compassionate and the hopeful, right? Making sure the families of today become the heroes of... tomorrow..." Rita frowned a bit, the line echoing a speech she'd given at a coliseum not long ago after sparing an opponent and taking the first step toward changing the course of a society, and perhaps a world.

Also really violated the prime directive. But that would all be in the report, as they had yet to actually figure out exactly where she'd actually been all this time.

It echoed her life here... on the ship, everyone was planning a future, everyone was having kids, and family was the core central heart of the Hera. Enalia and Dox were like sisters to her, Hera a mother, her husband was here, the most perfect man. Kids were popping up- she passed the midget and the pig in the corridor wrestling a baby minotaur, which was something she meant to ask the goddess about. Life was apparently a generational story, and the exploration of the stars even moreso. Even Enalia had ended up with a child, despite the entire Tribunal having been, at it's core, about her mother wanting a next generation from her daughter, albeit with some rather insane control issues added on for good measure.

Thus the starship Hera seemed ideally suited, and the ship's resident goddess had been straightforward to explain that her 'aspect' had it's sway. Amazons showed up to serve her, as evidenced by the Security force, predominantly female and all quite exceptional in some manner or another, all benefiting from 'serving' the goddess. When Rita had changed them from a guard on Hera's door to an honor guard, that had been sufficient for the sympathetic magic to work, thus the Amazons had a choice as to whether to accept the goddess' gifts. Most did; not all, however.

The increased fertility rates and birth rates were also taking their toll. Since she had come aboard fully 40 crew members had become pregnant. Out of those initial pregnancies, a full 21 were twins, with the 22nd case as triplets and the 23rd was a litter of 6. Since then, six months had passed, and even with crew rotations, a full 23% of the crew were either pregnant or post-partum. Domestic violence reports were few- families seemed to be doing well, and the expanded family facilities on decks 13 and 14 seemed to be doing the trick for meeting the needs of the burgeoning families. Family units seemed to be forming out of local materials, if Doctor Dael's reports were to be believed.

Which, of course, Rita believed quite easily.

Almost all of the positions of power on the starship were filled by women, and the crew ration was 67% female, a surprisingly high ration in Starfleet. Apparently because the goddess of women was aboard. Just last week Yeoman Astor had announced that she was transitioning, which also seemed to be happening with a statistical improbability onboard. But that's what you got when you bore a goddess onboard a starship with 750 crew members.

Taking the hand of the ancient Ambrosian, Rita pulled her toward a chair. "C'mon. Sit down, talk to me. Enough about me, how are you? I'm actually kind of glad that you can 'tune in' on me like that.., at least it means you see more than your four walls and your books and your plants, which are looking impressive, I might add. The ship's arborist sings your praises, as you know."

"Well, I do my best. I have a fair bit of free time on my hands, after all." The matronly goddess ceased glowing and pulled up a brownie as well, nibbling on it as she began. "I've done what I could to watch over the crew with my clairvoyance. You especially in that pocket dimension. The Rihannsu woman are not aboard... I'm worried about them. Something is shielding them from my vision and I sense that they're in great peril."

Hera then dramatically waved her brownie in the air for a moment. "If I were still on Mount Olympus, I'd deliver some grand and dramatic message about perilous peril and dispatch you on some perilous journey to perilously rescue them... But I think you already know how hard it's going to be, and that there are non-mortal powers at play. They probably won't show themselves, but they're there."

She then looked deep into Rita's eyes with that motherly smile of hers. "And I know you'll succeed. You always do. Which means I don't have to worry too much."

"Not... always," Rita admitted. "But your faith in me is definitely encouraging, that's for sure. But yes, I'll get the Dox's back, whatever that takes... Enalia's beside herself with worry, and I suspect she isn't sleeping. Whatever other players are involved, I'll deal with them as they come. It's always something... the nature of life, right? Big or small, epic or dull, life challenges us and forces us to rise. It's just a sliding scale according to the scope of the lives we lead, I suspect."

There was a pause then, as the gold-clad commander considered her words, but as always, she chose her course quickly, then committed to it. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, and gentle, as she probed the goddess with personal questions. "You sleep now. Quite a bit, actually, for an immortal being. I know that subsisting on good deeds and the good done in your name doesn't sustain you like your old methods... is this part of it? Do I need to be worried? Please... truth, Hera." Rita reached out and took the goddess' free hand in both of her own, and peered into her brown eyes, searching. "I'm not a child you have to protect from it, despite my relative blip of age compared to yours."

Hera nodded slowly as she dropped the glamour she'd been using on herself to show her true age. Gone was the gentle, middle aged, motherly look to reveal something closer to a modern 150 year old woman on the edge of medical tech. "You're right, my dear. There should be no secrets between us. I'm nearing the end of even my life, and I'm running on the fumes of the level of energy that I'm used to. I feel older than I've ever felt and sleep... Sleep lets me preserve what I have left in this form while letting my mind roam."

"But I will tell you this. I have cherished every moment of every day that I have spent with you, and the people of this chariot of the stars. It has been the finest, most rewarding, and most wholesome time during my entire life." Hera smiled shakily, her true, un-glamoured smile for once, like an old woman happy for the life she'd lived. "And no matter what happens in the coming days, I just want to enjoy the rest of mine here, with all of you."

While she had asked for the truth, and thought she had been prepared to face it, being visually confronted by the actuality of the matter was something else entirely. Seeing the woman whose life she had turned around, who had literally placed herself in harm's way to save her own life more than once, whom Rita had come to think of in the intervening months as a member of the family, reveal the wizened and ancient form she actually wore beneath the glamour brought tears to her eyes. Tears that fell freely as the emotions welled up within her, and as Rita was faced with the prospect of losing Hera, she realized that she was quite unprepared to do so.

Attempting to compose herself, to put on a brave face, Rita failed miserably. She knew she was being selfish- Hera had been living on borrowed time, after all, ever since Meroset 347. And she had lived for aeons, and seen so many mortal lives such as hers come and go. But she cared deeply for the woman, and Rita Paris didn't give up easily on those she loved.

"Is... is there something we can do? I mean, I know you've lived a very long time, and that you're alone out here but... I.. I was hoping my children would meet you someday... grow up knowing the famous Hera their mom talks about..." Rita hedged the actual truth with her words. In truth, the goddess of family, woman and motherhood had come to occupy a hole in her life that she had ignored for most of it- the hole left when her own mother had died when she was very young. In the patchwork quilt of family that she had assembled on the Hera, Hera herself was like the doting, approving and proud maternal figure Rita had never known, and Rita could not bear to let her go, as she had her own mother so long ago.

Thus she reacted as she always did, and began formulating a plan.

In this case, ridiculously, a plan to save a 9,000 year old Ambrosian from old age.

Hera just reached out and took Rita's hands in her own and squeezed them as gently as she had the strength left for and smiled that age old grandmotherly smile that old people seemed to have. "Without a constant flow of energy, I may have lost my youth, but I've gained something far greater. The respect and love of people I care for. And a new family that I wouldn't give this up for... for anything."

"If there is something to be done, however... We ambrosians always equipped our ships with energy generators that we could use to replenish ourselves." The Matronly Goddess pulled her notepad to her and picked up her pencil and started sketching. "I had one on Meroset, but it wasn't complete. The Amazons couldn't build it right. I don't even have the tech now to build one. You'd have to go to..." Hera seemed as though trying to remember pained her and she dropped the pencil. "To... Do they have names?"

"What... what is it? What are you trying to tell me, Hera?" There was, of course, the possibility that the canny old goddess was pulling a con job on Rita, playing on her emotions and manipulating her with little effort. But Rita Paris navigated from her heart, and from her intuition. And simply put, after all they had been through, she believed Hera, and believed IN her. Whatever she was trying to tell her, it was significant. "How can I help?"

"Nidavellir..." Hera finally got the name out as if painfully remembering it from another life, which for her, she was. "The people there... They made the generators for us. The Asgardians, the Egyptionians... All of us..."

Plucking the portable PaDD she carrying in her loose V-necked top, Paris snapped it open, powered it on and began tapping away at it. "Nidavellir.... Nidavellir is a neutron star, and one of the Nine Realms of Asgardian mythos. Orbited by a multi-ringed megastructure which served as the homeworld of the Dwarves. Nidavellir's forge harnesses the power of a blazing neutron star." Rita looked up. "So, forge of the gods, huh? I suppose I've had crazier quests. I'll talk to the Baroness... I think she's evolved into something a bit more like you than me these days. Apparently you can become Asgardian by injection, at least if your genetic code is up for it. Anyway, I think she'll still hear me if I call her, and I'm willing to bet she could help."

Standing, Rita stepped toward the open space in the living room, to give a bit of clearance, Shaking her head, she offered Hera a wry smile. "Besides, it's been forever since I've seen her. It's rough when friends move away, you know?"

Bringing her hands together, fingers splayed, fingertips touching, it was clear she was using a focusing meditation she'd learned from the Kolinahr master. While Rita was no adept, and capable of very few mental disciplines, she had spent an inordinate amount of time around the man, and over the years some of his teachings and disciplines had taken root in her. So much of who she was today she owed to her association with Sonak, who meant the universe to her.

This was not the time for dwelling on her husband, whom she could feel nearby perceiving her mind entering a more tranquil state even as she thought of him, and he of her. Instead she concentrated on the swashbuckling space pirate, the colorful supersoldier who despaired of ever finding love, because what man could withstand her passions, with her mighty strength and endurance? Who drank wine and ate finger foods and taught swordfighting to a fleeter just because she asked. Who relived her greatest defeat for entertainment on the holodeck, just to see if the battle could ever have been won. Who never acted in anger, who never raised her voice. Grinning, charming, silver-haired and eyepatched with a medical tricorder installed in her other eye, with a flair for big hats and fancy coats.

"Baroness Second Class Schwein von Alcott, first of your name, captain of the Queen's Desire, right hand to the Princeszin Artan. Betrothed of the Mighty Thor, and friend of mine... heed my call!" Caught up in the moment, Rita honestly thought it was going to work. When it didn't, she made a bit of a puckered lip face, looked sheepish and tapped her comm badge. "Paris to ops, put me through to the Baroness von Alcott, please..."

Before the call could be placed, a rainbow of blinding light streamed in through the window and a person in a shining gold Asgardian coat materialized as it faded. There, almost impossibly, was Schwein von Alcott with a wide grin on her face. "You called, ja?"

A wide smile split the face of the explorer as she laughed aloud. "Well I'll be damned. It worked after all. Baroness! Look at you!" Stepping into the woman's space, Paris swept the woman into a hug. "It seems like I haven't seen you for months. How are you? You look great!"

"I feel wunderbar!" Schwein replied, returning the hug gently. "And you look well also. You are working out, ja? You look a match for most young Valkyries."

Then the other woman in the room caught her eye, whom had resumed her glaamour. "Ah, and the motherly Hera. It is an honor to meet you." Schwein greeted her with a respectful bow.

"It is good to meet you as well," replied the matronly goddess.

“Young Valkyries? You’re too kind. But I did recently have one of my misadventures that involved a surprising amount of time with a sword in my hand, and your lessons saved my life more than a few times… so thanks for that,” Rita laughed, surprised that ‘summoning’ the space pirate thusly had worked, and genuinely glad to see her friend glowing with such happiness. Despite her good nature, von Alcott had always seemed to have a cloud over her. But now that was no more, and she seemed practically giddy.

Such the fate of those betrothed to handsome gods, it would seem.

“I called you for a reason, f course- not just because I’ve missed you, which I have, but Hera has a bit of a problem, and I was wondering if perhaps this might be something you could help us with. Since she gave up her old ways and the worship she once used to sustain herself, Hera is… diminishing.” Rita found she did not have it in herself to actually admit that Hera was dying- that would be a step toward accepting that fact, and Rita simply wasn’t going to accept that verdict.

“Once upon a time her people secured generators that sustained them, from… Nidavellir. Unsurprisingly, it’s not on any of our star charts. But the Asgardians have been around a lot longer than Humans have been exploring the stars, and as it’s one of the ‘nine realms’ I thought you might be able to make some inquires…?” While it was a seemingly simple request, Rita wasn’t sure what she was asking, or if it would be well received. But baroness von Alcott knew Rita, and knew her well enough to know that she would not have called to ask her if it were not important, and the unspoken pleading in her eyes spoke volumes. Please, help her. After all we’ve been through I can’t just let her wither and die.

The super soldier turned Asgardian fiance nodded grimly as she considered the issue. "This has been covered in my new schooling. The Asgardians treat such devices with great care as they are connected to their life forces. Those of the Ambrosians and other elder races squirrel them away to protect them." She then pulled back her golden coat to reveal two relics on her new armor that were similar to the six that Thor sported on his openly.

Hera nodded approvingly, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "You have earned two relics already. You must have earned great respect from Odin and Freya both."

"Ja, I have. However, were I to ask this of them... It may spend some of that good will, daughter-in-law or not." Schwein thought it over a moment before continuing. "However, if you were to fade away before your trial..."

“Whatever it takes, Baroness.” Paris made the statement, knowing that saying such a thing to powers of the universe was a highly risky endeavor. “I sent Odin home with a titan and a space station because he asked. All I ask is of you is that that you inquire on her behalf… on my behalf.” Again, Rita knew the words could very well bring forth repercussions she might regret. But not doing all she could to try to save the patron goddess of the starship would haunt her far more. “Please… I have to try. I can’t have brought her this far only to fail her now.”

“Don’t endanger your position or your future. This is something I’d ask him myself, but him I don’t know like I know you,” Paris smiled and gently mock punched the cyborg supersoldier in the shoulder. “Which, I might add, you look the happiest I have ever seen you… and I’m so glad to see it. When do I have to haul you off for your bachelorette party of the gods?”

The silver haired woman gave a happy chuckle as she clapped a hand to her friend's back. "In three months time, ja? I will make sure Hildr is with us as well. She and Ethel have much in common and I would see them share a meal, ja?" It was unclear whether Schwein was trying to wink or blink heavily, but the comment obviously meant she was going to try to hook the large Amazonian woman up with the large Valkyrie. "And do not worry about the relic. I will make the request politely on your behalf."

“Well, truth be told, I think the two of them might just start a solar system with their own relative personal gravities,” Rita grinned in reply, offering a wink of her own. With a one-eyed swashbuckler it could be hard to determine a wink, but she’d gotten to know the Baroness well enough over the past year that she recognized the saucy wench’s proclivities. “As for the other… thank you, Baroness. On my behalf would be deeply appreciated, and even just some directions would be welcomed- you know us, always up for a wild chase across the galaxy to track down a legend, right?"

"In the meanwhile,” Paris gestured expansively to the table where the frail elderly goddess sat, “how about joining us for a brownie?”

With that, the three extraordinary woman sat down together and spent an afternoon trading tall tales of their exceptional lives in a rather mundane manner- over handmade brownies and lemonade. Which all three found rather fulfilling, and as the laughter and jokes echoed about the room, out in the hall, the guardian of the goddess smiled, knowing her goddess was in good hands, and would be fulfilled by the encounter far more than any medicine or rest.

For even in the 24th century, there was no substitute for the healing power of laughter shared amongst friends... and the support of the patchwork quilt assembled of the parts at hand... known as family.

It had been an extremely long and busy day for Ensign Briaar Gavarus and it was, somehow, only oh eleven-thirty hours. For the last week, the Hera had been warping at maximum speed to a destination that she didn't know, but it meant she was doing double duty between her responsibilities as an assistant in Engineering... trying to keep the engine from exploding and killing them all... and her responsibilities as the Assistant Chief of the R&D Department, where she was at the moment.

And at the moment, the flustered Tellarite wanted to pull her kinky, platinum blonde hair out by the roots. She was sitting at the regular Chief's desk. Ensign Mona Gonadie had taken an extended leave of absence leaving Gavarus in charge of the frantic department for some unknown reason. All she knew was that Gonadie had also left the Flight Control Department in someone else's control for a while as well because, apparently, her wife Lieutenant Dox was gone. And NOBODY was saying where Dox was or why she was gone as if it were the galaxies biggest secret. But it left things a bit chaotic as Gavarus rifled through the stack of PaDD's on the Chief's desk trying to make heads or tails of the Miradonian's organization system. 

Then, from the small couch in front of the desk, she heard a cooing giggle and she remembered the extra detail that she had momentarily allowed herself to forget about. Looking over, she cracked the slightest of smiles at the sight of her partner in life and crime, Ensign Fiona O'Dell laying on her belly, feet in the air, playing footsie with the hooves of the newborn baby Minotaur on the couch with her. While it had been a few days since they had first babysat for Nurse Carrott and his wife's adopted baby, Mrs. Carrott had since gone into a very extended labor and successfully delivered her own natural-born baby. But it had apparently been a stressful delivery and so the unlikely duo happily volunteered to pitch in and watch baby Minnie for a while so the Carrott's could recover and adjust. 

And truth be told, they were excited to volunteer. Since that first unexpected babysitting gig, the two regularly joked about just straight-up stealing the baby, and in truth, they were only kind of joking. In a remarkably short time, they had both completely fallen in love with the fuzzy bundle of adorableness. Her real mother had died in childbirth a couple of weeks earlier due to the magical and unusual nature of birthing a MINOTAUR. But in spite of her unusual origins, little Minnie was a perfectly normal, healthy bundle of hooves, fur, a tail, and tiny little horns. And she had O'Dell and Gavarus wrapped around her little finger. 

But today, watching the baby while figuring out how to do Ensign Gonadie's job while running back and forth to Engineering to put out the occasional literal fire... was way more than the notorious slacker was prepared for. "I... I have no idea how Gonadie keeps track of anything. This desk looks like my closet, Fee. Seriously. I think I have a handle on... maybe... the testing schedule for the next two days and that's it. But there are parts requisitions, crew rotations, flight test schedules, power allotment requests, MATTER allotment requests FOR parts requisitions and... It's NUTS. We don't DO that much shit here, how is there this much paperwork?"

"Ideally tis joost a bit'a organization Gavarus," O'Dell responded distractedly, most of her attention on the gurgling bundle of joy that seemed to be occupying the lion's share of her attention of late. Scooping up the toddler with a grunt and a heave, she got up off the couch, parking Minnie on her hip while expertly parking a pacifier between her lips and jostling her as she walked, making her way to the desk. Looking it over with a critical eye, the linear-thinking Mariposian nodded firmly.

"We need the Chief," she stated matter-of-factly, turning to Minerva to nod firmly, who promptly nodded back, much to Fiona's delight.

Snorting out a barely contained laugh at the adorable display of mimicry, Gavarus put a hand up to her mouth as she smiled. "Oh, frickin' c'mon! That was just... Yeah, we're stealing her. We'll tell Carrott she hitched a ride on a passing freighter and ran away and we'll hide her in my quarters."

"Yes we will, and we will call you 'Winnie' and it will just be a coincidence that we happen to have a Minotaur baby. Nobody will suspect a thing. Bwaa haaa haaa." Gavarus joked as she reached across the desk with her thick, three-fingered hands to tickle baby Minnie who giggled maniacally.

But in doing so, accidentally knocked over a stack of PaDD's illustrating O'Dell's point. "Shit... Yeah, you might be right, Fee."

"Look, tis simple. Whativvir's goin on wi' the Lieutenant, the Chief is all atwist aboot it. So while we probably dinna want ta know, what we do know is that we dinna know how to run the department withoot her. And maybe tis joost me," Fiona came over to help pick up the PaDDs, was not quite strong enough to manage the surprisingly heavy baby and bending down and grabbing, so she just handed her off to Briaar, then started collecting the scattered PaDDs. "But she seems... withdrawn. So she needs to get her mind off things innyhow. Soo, we joost find a reason why she HAS to come down and save the department from the two morons she left in charge, and it'll give her a reason to come oot of her nest, aye?"

Standing, Fiona stacked the PaDDs neatly on the corner of the desk and held out her hands for the hand-off again, a maneuver with which she and her porcine partner had gotten considerable practice in the past few days.

Making the handoff like a seasoned pro, Gavarus handed Minnie back while she pondered their predicament. "Yeah. We need to come up with something that absolutely needs her supervision but doesn't need security called. Or something that gets us busted off the ship."

The two-meter tall Tellarite got up and started walking around the room to think. As she did, she started muttering her thoughts under her breath in a random and incomprehensible stream of consciousness. "Don't want to wreck the banshee, that would... Can't just take her out and... No, THAT would get us thrown in the brig...

As the Porcine engineer pouted while pacing, the tiny Minotaur baby began pouting as well and mumbling incoherently, mimicking Gavarus's ramblings, which elicited a chuckle out of O'Dell.

"Hey, the cloak!" Gavarus said with a start as she clicked her fingers. "She's got a modified module in the Banshee that she was working on with ol' lady Dox that I had to remove to put in storage. But that's half Romulan/half Miradonian tech and WAY ABOVE my pay grade to know shit about. If I went and did a full system reboot on the Banshee, and made sure to keep the reinstall of the cloak's OS in the reboot, it could cause a system crash when it doesn't find the hardware. We'd need the Chief to get that running again, right?"

"See? Yuiur bloody brilliant. A criminal mind of ever there was one, aye?" Peering at Minerva, O'Dell bounced the tyke on her hip a bit as she repeated herself. "Aye? Aye? Aye?"

In response, Minnie gurgled and laughed, as O'Dell turned back to the plan at hand. 'That's what we'll do then, and we can come all hat in hand to the great and wise Chief to save us from our silly folly, and in the process, we'll see if we can't warm the bird up a bit and maybe soothe her feathers. How long will it take fuir ye to give 'er the wrong reboot, or have ye been doin' it while I been yammerin?" Fiona asked good-naturedly, knowing that her partner wasn't one to waste time nor words.

Chuckling slightly, Gavarus slid back over to the desk and began typing away on the chief's computer. "Gimmie about twenty minutes and I'll have this shit well and truly hosed."

---------------

The Miradonian in question was at her workbench in her quarters trying to keep her mind distracted, working on yet another of her inventions. This time, an upgrade to the flight suit. For some reason, she was adding things to it like cookie replicators and holographic jukebox controls and just crazy things like that. A couple of the ideas seemed useful like extendable wings that could be used as flight stabilizers, though why anyone would ever want to jump with a twenty-meter wingspan, she wasn't sure. It could easily forego the parachute, at the very least.

But none of these would be useful if she couldn't get her head in the game. Tossing her stylus on the bench, she shut it down and headed out the door for a walk to try and clear her head. Maybe seeing the flight deck would help. Being relieved of duty meant she had all the time in the world to do... well... anything. But she had nothing she wanted to do. She was supposed to be recovering from the PTSD, but she went through the mandatory program and the next session wasn't for another three days. What was she going to do for three more days? Make another variable mode fighter craft?

Which is precisely when her commbadge chirped with a familiar voice that sounded more than a little forced. "Hey, uh. Ensign Gavarus to Ensign Gonadie. Sorry to bother you chief, but... uh... I kinda... I kinda messed something up down here with the Banshee. And, I don't know if you're available, but I could sure use some help."

"I'll be there in a minute," As she was already on her way to the general area, it only took her a minute to make her way to the R&D lab on the flight deck and convince the door controls she was just there for a visit rather than for work.

"Please tell me you have something to distract me for at least a little while," Mona said as she entered the R&D offices, one hand rubbing her belly.

In the center of the deck, sat the Silver Banshee in its vehicle mode, cockpit open and Gavarus leaning half in with her extremely ample lower half dangling out the side. To her side, standing with a smile was Ensign Fiona O'Dell who was bouncing little Minerva Carrott on her hip to a chorus of giggles and gurgles. 

Almost hitting her head on the canopy as she pulled herself out with a grunt, the tall Tellarite engineer had an extremely awkward grin on her face, looking very much like a pet that knows it made a mess in the kitchen. "Hey, chief! Awesome! Yeah! Uh... um... w... w... we... Well, I m... m... mean I was running a diagnostic check on the Banshee's systems and had to do a full system reboot to install new... uh... software patches. But... uh... um... well, when the reboot got to the cloak's OS, it went tits up and the whole thing crashed when it didn't find the hardware. And now I can't get around the security protocols for the cloaking module to reboot the thing. Yeah."

"I was distractin her wi' Minnie doin' somethin cute, so tis me fault Chief. Ye know how 'tis," O'Dell lied fluidly. "But Mrs. Carrott's still in recovery and so we're still babysittin. It dinna seem right somehow to leave poor wee Minerva wi' the daycare folks who frankly are nae prepared for this wee tyke o' terrible trouble. So, ah, that's why it's 'bring the kid that's not yours to work day' too," the mop-topped pixie pilot explained, even as Minnie watched the plumed Miradonian's brightly colored plumage with fascinated eyes as she worked on eating her own fist.

Mona knew Gavarus well enough to know when she was making things up and when she was nervous. This was both of those times. She just pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes and glared. "I don't need my racial ability to know that's not true. You're trying to distract me, aren't you?"

The brightly plumed Miradonian didn't wait for a reply and instead just shook her head and grabbed one of the secure PaDDs on her desk and punched in her access code to bring up the system controls for the Banshee. "Computer, download software package Alpha one one three into Banshee Alpha and reboot the virtual intelligence." With a chirrup from the computer and a bit of a pause, the running lights on the Banshee flashed to confirm that it was complete and the computer chirruped again.

With a nervous, snorting chuckle, Gavarus smiled broadly. "Uh... Fee... help."

"Alreet, foine! We're worried aboot ye, Chief!" O'Dell, brows knitted, admitted as she launched into a brief tirade that was not harsh, but certainly a bit more direct than she tended to be with her supervisor under ordinary circumstances. "We dinna know what's going on- and we're nae askin' neither because sure'n we know we're nae cleared for alla the high muckity muck and that's okay, we dinna need to know. What we do know is yuir our Chief. You lead our merry band down here in R&D, and whativvir's wrong, yuir, well, not yourself. So we needed you ta come down and, well, be needed."

"So, we need ye. We think ye might need us ta need ye right now. So we found a way to need to call ye so ye could come help us dunderheads oot of a jam like ye allays do, so ye could keep yuir mind offa whaivver's the matter. Which I guess we screwed up that too, so on to plan B. Here, hold the baby!" With that, O'Dell thrust the wide-eyed and surprisingly adorable Minotaur infant out to the brightly plumed aviatrix inventor, forcing her to take the infant.

Cow, meet chicken.

For a moment Mona just stared at the strange-looking baby in her arms before just bursting out in tears and slumping to her knees crying and holding Minnie to her tenderly.

Watching, Gavarus's eyes went wide for a second as she looked down at O'Dell with a freaked out but concerned expression and very quietly whispered, "Uh... Shit. We broke her."

Bending over, as she did not need to kneel, O'Dell gently stroked the woman's back, an arm about her shoulders, and spoke in soothing tones. "That's it, s'alright Chief. S'joost us here, and nobody believes a pair'a drunks innyways. Briaar, get her a nice cold washcloth, aye? There ye go, shhhhh, s'alreet, let it oot... yuir safe, s'alreet, we've got ye. You joost let it alloot, alreet. There, there..."

While this went on, Gavarus returned with the washcloth, and O'Dell signaled to her to take a squat on the floor in silent 'bar' language, a visual shorthand both were accustomed to communicating in across a loud bar which enabled them to be understood to one another without words, which came in handy in moments like this. O'Dell herself sat down at the distressed Miradonian's other knee, and she patted her hand gently.

On the other side, Gavarus slowly lowered herself to the deck with a grunt and leaned in to hand the washcloth to Mona, somewhat unsure of how to react in the moment, "Here you go, chief."

Once she took the washcloth and cried into it, it took Mona a few minutes to settle down enough to not break into tears again immediately when she looked into Minnies cute little face. "Sorry... I just... With my Minay and Jaeih's kidnapping... And the kids on the way... I guess I've been bottling it up..."

Sitting up ramrod straight for a moment, Gavarus turned to O'Dell as her mouth hung open before turning back in surprise. "Wait, what? The Lou and Jae are what, now? Kidnapped? What the @#$% happened? Holy shit!"

Rather than let loose the string of obscenities that came to the surface, O'Dell locked her teeth together and listened intently, blinking a bit too quickly for sanity.

Mona nodded to Minnie, who nodded back cutely. "We were at a family restaurant and the Tal'Shiar attacked us. There was nothing I could do. My Minay fought them, but they eventually knocked her out. I think Jaeih flat-out killed quite a few of them by that point. She realized it was a losing battle and negotiated for them to let me go."

Still shocked by the revelation, Gavarus scratched her head as she worked through what Mona was saying, "So, the Tal-whatsit? That's like, what, the Romulan evil police, right? What the hell... why? I... I guess that's why we're going at warp 40 but... shit." She was rambling as she looked at her red-headed partner-in-crime hoping that she had something better to say in the tense moment.

"Sooo if the Lieutenant and her mum are kidnapped," O'Dell offered in a prowling and quiet tone, "that means that afore long we're g'win ta get where they are. And that means we're g'win ta need ta be ready. Because if they're in some brig or prison somewhere, ye know what they're gonna send in after her, aye?" O'Dell looked out the window to the Silver Banshee, parked on the pad.

"I know ye been thinkin' smaller, more economical, more sleek and closer to armor, Chief. And that's good, she's a beautiful design. but if we're g'win ta rescue the Lieutenant and me favorite crabby old lady, then we're g'win to need somethin' a wee bit less 'sleek fighter' and a tad more 'bunker buster'. Aye!" Leaping to her feet, O'Dell parked her hands on her hips like a superhero. "That's what we kin do to help! We'll by god build the L-T a war chicken!"

"So build a bigger version of the banshee?" Mona thought it over as she tickled Minnie's belly. "I could scale it up to about twelve meters... Any bigger and it won't fit on the ship."

Looking over at O'Dell, Gavarus smiled. The idea might be crazy and impractical and might never work... but their chief wasn't crying and she was thinking. Thinking of something to do. Some way to help and not feel useless.

Then the porcine engineer turned back to Mona, who was playing with the baby and started pitching in ideas to keep her head on the prize. "Yeah, we would have to probably triple the power output to compensate for the size and probably sacrifice some of the transformability in favor of stronger armor. I mean, we almost never use her in just flight mode anyway. The Walker mode is clearly the most useful one. That will make it easier to maximize it's functioning strength if we're not spending a third of the interior space for mode conversion tech and shit, right?"

"Aye! And she dinna need ta be big as houses, Chief, but definitely bigger," O'Dell pitched in, hoping the idea was gaining some ground as she saw the look in Briaar's eye that meant she understood what was happening, and was doing her part. "And Gavarus is right, with the smaller fighters, tis a surprise that they transform. The War Chicken need nae sooch subtleties- we kin joost build her as a mecha and she kin stay that way. Get some movable shielding on, her maybe even a tractor and a forcefield along wi' some big guns?"

"I've had the plans for a grav-cannon rattling around in my head for a while..." Mona mused. "In theory, it should be able to disable a ship and crew without too much damage. A larger mecha would be a good platform for it. And multi-targeting phaser defense systems."

Smirking slightly, Gavarus let out a bit of internal stress. O'Dell's plan was working like a charm and she knew how to keep it going and keep helping their Chief. "Shit yeah, that sounds awesome. And I have some notes I've drawn up to improve the servo speed that will be way easier to implement without all the conversion hardware in there. Let's get this shit done, Chief!"

Pulling her PaDD out of her back pocket, Gavarus called her notes up and handed them to Mona all while stealthily transferring baby Minnie back to O'Dell as she did. Still fixated on the Miradonian's brilliantly colored feathers, the gurgling Minotaur gently ran her fingers across Mona's head as she was handed off.

As she looked them over, she floofed her feathers up so that Minnie could get a better view of them. She just hoped that the display would entertain the young minotaur. "You added a micro-graviton generator to reduce the strain. That's ingenious. With that, I think we could go full-on walker with ease."

At the display, Minnie let out the most infectious, giggling laugh imaginable. She waved her tiny arms and pumped her fuzzy hooves up and down in O'Dell's arms. Between Gavarus's snout she loved to try and stick her fists into, O'Dell's massive mane of red curls and now Mona's colorful plumage, the three women were like a sensory overload playground for the tiny tot.

“Aye, Chief. And if we’re building a solid non-transforming platform, she kin have a generator big enow to power it an more, and room for a gunner’s mate as well, aye?” Wrestling the squirming infant in her grasp, O’Dell continued speaking as if she were not trying to keep the grabby black-nailed little hands away from the Miradonian’s colorful plumage. She didn’t know what it felt like to have feathers yanked, but her own hair-pulling experiences with Minerva had left her a bit leary of inflicting that on Ensign Gonadie.

“As mooch as I do love being the star of the show, I dinna mind having someone watching me back other than the onboard AI. Which brings up rear-facing armaments as well as for’d facing. And maybe we could add some weight to her too… the Banshee’s built for speed and maneuverability, but for a bunker buster, some proper density and weight would go a long ways towards her toughness I’d wager.” More weight would present more problems with thrusters and maneuvering, as well as pressure on the servos. But her points were valid, and O’Dell wanted to insure the plan rolled forward. The Chief was already looking a lot more like herself, and caught up in the fervor of invention like a spark of old, she would have something to do to work on rescuing her kidnapped wife.

Which O’Dell wasn’t going to consider now. While she was not particularly close nor really even that familiar with Lieutenant Dox, the head of the Flight Control department, she knew the Chief and cared about her. And she was actually quite fond of the tart-tongued Mrs. Dox, who was surprisingly willing to come along on pub adventures with she and Gavarus. The greying Romulan woman was her friend, and her anger at her kidnappers, and those who had inflicted such heartbreak on her chief, would enrage the wee Mariposian pilot if she thought about it too much. So for now, she too needed the distraction.

And distracted they were, as the trio continued discussing the potential new project. Mona was focusing on doing something to help an untenable situation and Fiona and Briaar were happy for the added distraction as well... and to have their Chief back where she belonged.

Waking up considerably before the lights snapped on in her quarters as they usually did, Mnhei’sahe Dox was beginning to settle into a routine of sorts onboard the Romulan Warbird that was both her prison and her begrudging, if hopefully temporary, new home. On the Hera, she was accustomed to being up at oh four hundred hours to begin exercising. She had adopted a fairly strict regimen over the past year of either jogging with Rita Paris, sparring with the Klingon security sisters, or otherwise practicing one of the various skills she tried to keep sharp as an officer.

A year... Dox thought as she lay in bed, staring into the darkness. It Has... It's been a YEAR now since I joined the Hera. The longer I stay here... the further away it all feels.

For the past two-plus weeks, living on 'The People's Will' en route to Romulus, she had only her modestly sized room to exercise in and had seen nothing more of the ship, but in the darkness of the chamber, she dragged herself up and had been trying to get back into her familiar routine as best as possible. It helped her clear her head. It was a different kind of meditating from the mental exercises learned from Sonak that she did every night in bed. But it helped her remember the Hera. Remember her family.

With limited room, that restricted her to sit-ups, push-ups, and general calisthenics. So she practiced in the darkness of her mornings and thought of the past two weeks. Her exercises weren't the only routine that she had gotten used to.

Every day since she chose to accept her grandmothers offers to learn more about her family and heritage had been a whirlwind of information. Most days, the elder Rihannsu senator would arrive early in the morning to share breakfast with her. And over those meals, usually with a detailed description of each ingredient's cultural significance, came the first stories of the day.

That third morning, after the deal had been made and the initial overtures passed, was all about family. Her family. The family she had been raised knowing nothing about. Over a meal of hlai eggs, she learned about her grandfather, Gorath tr'Rul. A proud, headstrong Rihannsu man. With a wistful smile, her grandmother spoke of his hobbies and his habits. His simple ambitions and how much he loved tending the farmland of their home in the countryside of the Ihhliae Provence. Verelan t'Rul was the politician and her grandfather the farmer and they were happy for a long time that way before he passed, it seemed.

The red-headed pilot hadn't had fresh hlai eggs since she was a girl and one of the refugee families her Mother had taken aboard their smuggling ship, the Forager, had prepared some for her, and they were as good as she remembered. But breakfasts were just the beginning.

After breakfasts, Dox would learn why her quarters on the ship had a small desk with a computer on it as Deihu t'Rul deactivated the lockout and the system's purpose was told. Between meals, she would be given... assignments. Mostly reading coupled with lengthy lectures from the Senator. She was working hard to connect with her granddaughter and spent hours every day with her. The computer had a massive library of Rihannsu information. Cultural, economic, and even political. Information her grandmother pressed her to study and learn if she were to be integrated properly into Rihannsu society, as she was now expected to do one day.

Breakfasts and Dinners were shared meals where her Grandmother held court and told her personal stories. But the days were spent reading. Learning. Studying. And they were intense lessons, rivaling her classes at the academy. And they were surprisingly comprehensive.

Day after day passed as Dox learned things that even the classes at Starfleet didn't know about the Imperium. Details about the structure of the government. The names and policies of senators. Days in session and days out of session. The rulings of the 12 Praetors and the history of the past Emperors and Empresses. A Tri-Cameral system that has stood for thousands of years that the young pilot was expected to learn as much about as possible if she was ever expected to eventually take her Grandmother's seat in the Senate one day. The young Rihannsu woman was being buried with lessons. lessons about the people and life on ch'Rihan. Lessons about the nine major religious holidays still celebrated and their importance to the people and maintaining their cultural traditions. Lessons about the planet's economics and social strife. Lessons about the history that dictated that strife. Lessons upon lessons that overtook Dox's mind.

And as the days began to blur together, Dox became lost in them. Lost in the shared meals with warm memories of people and places she had never met or been. Of the senate and ch'Rihan's economic woes over generations due to a near-perpetual wartime economy. Of the great sundering from Vulcan, thousands of years ago by S'task and the 80,000 pilgrims in 'Generation ships' that spent centuries searching for their true home. HER true home. She learned more in those two weeks than she had learned in a lifetime of searching and, in spite of herself and the horrible circumstances that had brought her there, she was enjoying herself.

Absorbing the information like a sponge, she had not spoken a word of Federation standard in two weeks. She had become absorbed in the details of a world she came from, yet never set foot upon, and it had been extremely overwhelming for the woman who always wondered about her roots. And her Grandmother did nothing to discourage that. There were no questions about Starfleet. No questions about friends or crewmates. No questions at all that would prompt her to think of her life before being on 'The People's Will'.

But still, when she exercised, she reminded herself of them all to re-center herself. Remind herself that she WAS still a prisoner. That any freedoms she would eventually be granted were freedoms under the rules of the star empire. Freedoms that required her betraying her oaths to Starfleet. Freedoms that required her abandoning her family on the Hera. Abandoning Mona and the three children growing within her. Children that her Grandmother seemed oblivious to the existence of, for which Dox was happy.

As she finished her morning exercises, the lights in the chamber snapped on as they did every morning at the same time. And the same computerized voice called out, =^=Morning Ablusons=^=, prompting her to prepare for her day. So prepare she did. Dutifully, she showered and changed into the clean, plain dark green clothes that materialized overnight, every night while she slept. She fixed her hair and rubbed out the wrinkles as she looked at herself in the mirror provided in the alcove with her refresher in it. She no longer avoided her reflection in the Rihannsu clothes, so much like a military uniform that she once was ashamed to look at herself wearing it. But that idea seemed distant to her now as she took a breath, closed her eyes once more, as she did every morning and concentrated on that swirl of lavender energy within her. That fusion of her essence and Mona's that sustained her and reminded her of home and family.

As she stood there, lost in that moment, she heard the door woosh open behind her, slightly earlier than normal.

Standing in the doorway, framed by two armed Centurions, was Deihu Veleran t'Rul. On her face was an inscrutable expression, which in and of itself was telling- the woman had been open and warm with Mnhei'sahe since she had accepted her offer and begun to embrace her heritage, and she had treated her as a long-lost treasured relative. Now her body language was stiff and formal, and her expression was unreadable. It was off-putting for a second until Dox could place it.

She looked, for all intents and purposes, stereotypically Romulan for a change.

"You will attend me. You will make no hostile overtures, nor will you speak, nor make any sudden movements or actions that might be interpreted as attempts to escape immediate custody, or you will be subdued and returned to your cell. Am I understood?" While her words and air were haughty, the older woman's eyes were encouraging, almost pleading. And in that moment Dox realized not only was this a test but that it was a test not just of her but of them both.

Turning, Dox stood to military attention with her arms flat and visible at her sides as she replied with a sharp nod, not speaking as instructed. She wasn't sure what was happening and she was understandably nervous but didn't let it show, but the instructions and the presence of armed Centurions told her that she was about to see more of the ship than just the room that had been her world for the past two weeks.

Turning wordlessly, the Deihu swept into the corridor, clearly expecting Dox behind her. As she fell in step behind the elder stateswoman, the two centurions stepped in behind her- close enough to act, not close enough to be easily surprised, Dox noted. It was clear from their movements, the way their eyes watched her and the way they distributed their weight that both Centurions, a male, and a female, were clearly well-trained. In a fight, she would be hard-pressed to take one of them, and while she wasn't planning to put it to the test, she suspected that while she might overcome both, it would not be without cost to her own mobility and ability.

In short, these two looked to be as dangerous as she herself, which was also something she was going to have to get used to. The forbidden Romulan martial arts in which her mother had drilled her since childhood were much more widely known in the Star Empire, and particularly amongst those of a more martial bent. Even if there were not personnel moving past them in the corridors, all of whom were armed, even if they were not onboard a city in space on board what she had deduced was likely a D'deredix class which held a crew complement of 1,500, clearly this was a test to see just how stupid and desperate she was, and how she would react to the first hint of freedom.

It was also, she realized, a test of her grandmother, and just how well she was getting through to the stubborn Starfleet officer. For if she failed this test, so too did Veleran t'Rul.

As they approached the lift, there were guards, and there were credentials presented. When they exited the lift, there were guards, and credentials presented. As they moved into what appeared to be a detention block of some sort, more guards were present, and these moved with greater martial ease, and it was clear to Dox that while many were Centurions on duty, many of those were overseen by Tal-Shiar operatives, often taking the place of officers. Which wasn't how the rank structure was supposed to work- yet in the modern Star Empire, the Tal Shiar had infiltrated that much of daily life.

When they came to a cell block and were checked on, the doors were opened to admit them, and closed behind them, and they passed through a series of security checkpoints that made it abundantly clear that getting in or out without authorization would be a herculean if not impossible task. And when they arrived at the unmarked and plain door, the silent Senator turned to regard her descendant. There was concern in her eyes, but it was tempered- clearly she wished to say more than she could, but she was trusting Mnhei'sahe, once again, extending herself in the hopes of reaching her granddaughter.

"You have ten minutes," Deihu t'Rul said simply, yet in her eyes there was that note of hesitation, of caution, of concern that seemed strange to see in the eyes of her captor. Yet it was only recognizable to Dox because they had spent so much time together in the past two weeks, and she had genuinely felt that she had begun to know the woman. Perhaps it was a lie, a ploy, a manipulation all cunningly designed to ensnare her.

But perhaps not.

As the door opened, inside the simple cell, sat Jaieh Dox- unharmed, intact, and at the sight of her daughter, her stony expression did not waver- her facade did not crack, nor did she react whatsoever. Instead, she simply noted the open door and waited patiently.

Slowly, Jaeih stood up and approached the edge of the shimmering force field that separated the two as Dox stepped in and the door closed behind her, leaving the two women alone. She was wearing a similar dark green outfit to the one Dox had been given but looked gaunt and slightly disheveled. Her long salt-and-pepper hair hung in a loose braid in the back as random wisps floated in her face. She had no bruises or noticeable marks on her, but she looked tired, and the cold expression was chilling to Mnhei’sahe. And for a long moment, there was a powerfully uncomfortable silence in the room.

“Jolan’tru, Ri’anov.” Dox offered a simple greeting to her mother in their native tongue. It hovered there, unanswered for almost a full ten seconds.

Looking her daughter up and down, Jaeih raised an eyebrow at the unusually formal greeting as Mnhei’sahe stood at almost attention with her arms folded behind her back. “Hello, my daughter. You look well. Very well, frankly. I assume you’ve not been harmed?” Jaeih replied in Federation Standard.

“Dhat, Ri’anov… uh… No, mother.” The sound of her mother speaking ‘common’ actually surprised Dox, a surprise only rivaled by her own reply in Rihan without thinking. More often than not, the mother and daughter spoke to each other in Rihan, and it was all Dox had spoken in two weeks now. She had to take a second to reset her brain to respond in the human language she had been speaking primarily for the better part of sixteen years. “No, they haven’t. Have you been hurt at all?”

As Jaeih started to pace the tiny cell slightly, she was taking in her daughter rapidly and something was wrong. Mnhei'sahe's posture was stiff, her speech seemed almost stilted and she was pausing to think for a second before talking. “Aside from the backs of the oh so silent guards that rarely make themselves known, yours is the first face I’ve seen in two… yes… two weeks. They've not hurt me… they've barely acknowledged my presence. Come closer. Let me see you.”

Hesitantly, Dox took a single step closer to the field, her arms still folded behind her back, standing at near attention. Jaeih squinted as she looked close at her daughter’s face, shaking her head slightly. Dox had never seen this level of mounting anxiety on her mother's face before, as she too was taking in the disconcerting details. The odd twitching, the frantic pacing, the closed down body language with just the hint of a hunch. This was less her mother and more an animal struck too often.

Looking deep into her daughter’s dark brown eyes, Jaeih began to mutter slightly still in common, “No… something’s wrong. This isn’t you. This isn’t right.”

Confused, Dox slipped back to Rihan without thinking as she replied with a raised eyebrow. “It’s me, mother. It’s Mnhei’sahe. I’m fine. They haven’t hurt me, but I was worried about you, so she let me see you.”

Jutting a finger so close to the field that it hummed, Jaeih shouted back in standard shuffling back and forth in place. “Is something wrong with the language I taught you to speak, Mnhei’sahe? The one you speak with your friends and family back on the ship? Are you even aware you’re doing it? No, you aren’t, are you? They’re in there, aren’t they?”

Poking the sides of her head, Jaeih was ranting like a madwoman now. “Talking to you, aren’t they? Telling you all the little things about ROMULUS that you always wanted to know, aren’t they?!”

Still speaking in Rihan, Dox struggled to contain her distress in her mother’s behavior as she replied in a calm and controlled voice, knowing she was being watched and her behavior judged. “Yes, I’ve had many conversations. And yes, I’ve learned much from her over the past two weeks. Many things you never told me.”

Squinting, Jaeih stepped back from the field like an animal that had been burned by it before. “H… her? Verelan. It’s her, isn’t it? Your… Grandmother. Verelan is here! She’s the one doing this! Don’t you remember what I TOLD you about her, Mnhei’sahe!?!?”

Desperately trying not to crack, Dox kept her face as impassive as she could as the women half-argued in two languages and tears began to well up in Dox’s eyes. “I remember EVERYTHING you ever told me! Everything you taught me, mother.”

“You taught me to be afraid of where I come from. Afraid of my own people. And you wouldn’t let me know anything about it. Anyone who tried to talk to me about my people or my culture, you shut up or stopped me from talking to them! The refugees we took on! My friend as a little girl, Hlai'vana. Everyone. So yes, she’s teaching me everything you wouldn’t, Mother. And now you know.” Dox spoke with a forced calmness as her low, raspy voice warbled just a hair.

Jaeih immediately stopped pacing and froze for a moment of eerie stillness before she started shaking her head again. “And your FATHER! Has she told you about HIM! What she DID to him!? What she’ll do to both of us once we reach Romulus!”

Locking in place, the fate of Dralath tr'Rul was one thing her Grandmother had avoided over the last two weeks. It was a subject it seemed she was all but going out of her way to not talk about. According to Jaeih, when her secret love had last returned to Romulus after his last visit, he vanished. The next time Jaeih had seen him, it had been years later and he had become a broken drunk, struggling out on the rim systems. One who looked at her with empty eyes and no recognition. “She wiped his MIND, Mnhei’sahe! Ask her about that! I know that look. I left it on far, far too many Rihannsu faces with that cursed machine, Mnhei’sahe! She destroyed her own son! ASK HER!"

“Y… you told me what you saw, Mother. A man you thought was my father on Chaltok III…” Dox replied, still speaking with a forced stillness in Rihan as her mother squinted slightly at her daughter with dumbfounded disbelief as Mnhei’sahe continued. “But you’ve told me many, many things, Mother. Many ‘last answers’ that never quite were.”

“You told me my father was a human smuggler. You told me I was half-human when I never was. You poisoned my BLOOD. You had my EARS cut off and told me my memories of it all were just childish nightmares. At least she’s not LYING to me, Mother.” The emotions had become too much as Dox’s voice cracked and rose slightly across the force field at her mother who could only stare back in shock, not believing what she was seeing or hearing.

“Oh yes, the truth. She’s telling you the truth, isn’t she? Filling your head with it. She’s telling you all about the great problems our people face. All the corruption in the senate that must be fought from within. Everything she has been striving to make better that YOU can help her with. I know the speeches, Mnhei’sahe. All the pretty truths that she used to talk me into joining the Tal’Shiar oh so many years ago to help save ch’Rihan.” Jaeih stood up straight again and narrowed her gaze as her senses seemed to return to her.

"Did she tell you that everything was the Tal'Shiar's fault? That she was protecting you from them? Child, she IS the Tal'Shiar! She was my SUPERVISOR, Mnhei'sahe!"

“She’s GROOMING you, Mnhei’sahe. Indoctrinating you. Conditioning you to think how she tells you to think. Cultural conditioning is still conditioning, but it’s easier for you, isn’t it? Give up. Abandon Mona and Paris and Telvan and the rest for a little girl's sad fantasy. You’re pathetic if you can’t see it, Mnhei’sahe.” Jaeih turned around and sat back down on the small, rigid shelf with the thinnest of pads against the wall that was her cell’s bed. “I raised you to be strong. Not… this. But I understand. I understand far too well. Just… enjoy your wonderful new life, Miss t'Rul.”

With an expression of utter disgust, she turned her head towards the back wall, turning her back on her daughter, who just stood there shaking.

Shaking as she stood there, Dox’s jaw hung open, and slowly she wiped an errant tear from her cheek as she stepped back slightly towards the door to the chamber, turned away from her mother and waited.

"Say your farewells now, if you care to. If she has you, then she has no more need of me, even as leverage," her mother's voice came from behind her, not the steady, firm assured tone she was accustomed to hearing, but the resigned and weary voice of a woman who knows she is already dead. "There will be an 'accident' or I will 'try to escape' and it will be 'regrettable', but 'something she brought upon herself'. I wish you well in your new life, Mnhei'sahe t'Rul. May the Elements have mercy on your soul."

The words hit like a knife through her heart as Dox stood there, frozen in a single moment that lingered for an eternity in her mind. She had been trying so hard to play their game. Trying to be the attentive granddaughter and somehow bide her time and keep her mother safe. Trying to be a clever Romulan with wordplay and clues peppered into her emotional words to try and give her mother clues that she wasn't gone.

'Hlai'vana' was the name chosen for one of the three children she and Mona were expecting, not a childhood friend. Her childhood friend was her cousin Lhi, who's name meant 'A Game of Wits and Riddles'. It was a clue hidden too well. Jaeih had told her she last saw her father at Tortuga Station, not Chaltok III. Chaltok III was the location of a refueling station they visited regularly that was one week and six days from Romulus. Dox had been trying to convey a countdown clock to her mother of how much time they had. But her mother was right. If her captors believed that they had her, mind and soul, then Jaeih Dox was expendable. She was an Intelligence Operative with limited clearance to the secrets of the Hera. They needed HER. And a loyal Granddaughter just might give them what they wanted without coercion. And she was giving them exactly that. She was giving them herself in trying to bide her time.

And it was in that thought that she thought of the third message she had tried to convey to her mother. "The Last Answer". Something Verelan couldn't know. The secret Vulcan execution technique that Jaeih had taught a twelve-year-old 'Melanie Dox' oh so many years ago. A way to kill yourself with your own hands and nothing more. The last way to ensure that what they knew could never get out. Never be used by the Tal'Shiar.

Dox had hoped to gain enough of her Grandmother's trust to somehow talk her out of seeking that knowledge. The secrets of the gods that Dox was one of the stewards of. A way to avoid that Last Answer. But in trying to bide her time, she was dooming her mother. It was clear that Jaeih hadn't picked up on the messages. It was clear that her two weeks of solitude and imprisonment were breaking her in a completely different way. And it was clear that Dox had a choice to make.

Keep playing the game and trying to be clever or end the game here and now. Take the chance that her grandmother might still listen, but also understand that what might need to happen might be inevitable. This was her no-win scenario. She couldn't protect her mother. She couldn't protect her Grandmother. She couldn't protect herself. But she could protect the rest of the galaxy from what could happen if the secrets of the Hera got out. The one thing Rita Paris hadn't prepared her for. Her own personal Kobayashi Maru.

Turning, Dox stepped back to the forcefield with a determined expression and spoke in Federation standard. "Mother, look at me."

Hesitantly, Jaeih looked up with a confused expression, still frightened as Mnhei'sae continued. "I am your daughter. I am Mnheisahe Dox and I remember what that means. I'm sorry that my words hurt you, but I need to remember what they meant. What we know is too dangerous to be known to anyone else, do you understand? Do you remember the Last Answer?"

Jaeih nodded hesitantly as the pieces began falling into place, the expression on her face looking more like the child than the mother at that moment. Then Dox turned and looked up at the room, knowing she was being watched. And as she spoke again, she returned to Rihan, hoping it would help her be heard and touch that connection she had been making these last two weeks. "Grandmother. You said that I lived in the shadows, and you were right. But you never asked why. I... my family and my crew... we live in the shadows... so the shadows can never escape, to do harm to the universe."

"It was not a role I sought out, nor was it one I ever could have expected. But it is a responsibility that I have accepted and one that I have no choice but to uphold." Mnhei'sahe looked down for a moment, struggling for the words before she continued.

"In those first days, you asked me to do you the courtesy of telling you the truth, and every day since then I have. And even now, I have no intention of changing that. Know that... that in spite of the circumstances that brought me here... that I do appreciate that you've reached out to me. And I have fulfilled my oath to you to reach back and give you my trust. But know that I must also stand by what I told you then. That I would not betray my oaths. Not to you, not to Starfleet, not to my wife, and not to her."

Turning, Mnhei'sahe looked with desperate eyes at her mother who seemed on the verge of panic in the small cell. "She is my mother. And in spite of our differences, I must honor that. She sacrificed sixteen years of freedom for me, and that is a debt that must be balanced. If she is harmed in any way, then I will consider the promise you made to me to be broken... and I do not want that, Grandmother."

"I wish that I could embrace all you offer me freely, but I also know the ultimate cost. Were that cost not so high, I would do so happily. I truly would. I believe in you, Grandmother. I believe you are worthy, or I wouldn't be saying any of this at all. But soon, the lessons I have cherished will make way for the questions. The tales of family I have appreciated in ways I cannot describe in words will become the need to know secrets. And I simply cannot share those secrets. And you need to understand why."

Standing up just a bit straighter, Mnhei'sahe put her arms at her side and raised the tone of her voice just a little stronger. "I don't know if you've ever touched a God, Grandmother. Been touched by one. We categorize these beings as simply... hyper-advanced aliens. Creatures to be studied. And I once thought that as well. But I cannot allow myself that comfort anymore. I've seen too much. I've felt too much. I know that Riov Rendal seeks the power of the titans. Seeks to use me to draw those secrets to her. But the Hera won't come for me. They won't come, because my Captain understands what I learned. These secrets we have been entrusted with must be protected."

In her mind, Mnhei'sahe remembered the impossible day she merged with the slightest of shards of the Titan Gaia. In those few minutes, she saw the universe through the eyes of a god, and saw the connections between all living things and it had changed her forever. "The power you seek won't help you save ch'Rihan, Grandmother. I have held that power inside me. I've been a part of it. And every day, I wish I could forget what I so briefly became a part of, but I can't. So I can only help to protect it. I believe that you do wish to heal... to heal our world. To right the wrongs that you've shown me. I believe that you hope that if you can do so... even through me... that it will lessen the weight of all the wrongs you've already done. And it can. I would help you if I could. But I can't allow you to have the weapons you seek."

There was a shudder to her voice as her eyes grew wet again, but she stood as tall as she knew how. "That kind of power isn't meant for us. Use it, and it will destroy you in ways you can't understand yet, because it's still an abstract idea to you. It's not abstract to me. I've been a part of it... and it will destroy you, destroy Rendal and curse all of ch'Rihan in ways you cannot imagine. The universe requires balance, Grandmother. Use that power... and that balance will come for you, and a thousand generations of our people will suffer for it."

"The oath I serve, Grandmother. It's bigger than being Rihannsu. It's bigger than the Star Empire. Bigger than Starfleet. But I can still pray. I can pray to Al'thindor... to the Elements... to whatever powers you revere... that you'll listen to me. That you are Rihannsu and not just Romulan. That you understand what the name my Mother gave me truly means. That you'll let me save you from what you'll become if you let Rendal do what she wants. That's more important than what happens to me or even my mother. You've tried to help me. Let me help you. Please." Mnhei'sahe bowed her head and stepped back from the door a step and waited.

When the door slid open, Mnhei'sahe Dox was braced for her grandmother's reaction, whatever it may be. What she was not prepared for was to see her grandmother held firmly in custody by her centurion escort, behind the smug smiling face of Riov Rendal, flanked by four armed centurions with disruptors drawn.

"You've helped her to a traitor's grave, Lieutenant Dox. Now let's discuss the fate of you and your mother, shall we...?

Yesterday...

-----------------------

It was difficult to concentrate for Jaeih Dox. The cell was small and she had lost track of how long she had been there. She and her daughter, Mnhei’sahe, had been taken by force by agents of the Tal’Shiar. She knew she was on a Warbird. In her heart, she knew they were being taken back to ch’Rihan. To the world she both loved and feared in equal measure more than anyplace in the universe.

But that was all that she knew for the longest time. In that first day, the guards that had beamed the two women aboard said nothing as they were separated. Jaeih had tried to protest, reaching for her stunned and unconscious daughter, but the butt of a disruptor rifle to her belly ended that quickly enough. She could fight them, but she had sworn that she wouldn’t in exchange for their attackers letting her daughter-in-law, Mona Gonadie, go. They had, so she obeyed.

They led her to the cell. Small, bare and dark, and ordered her to strip, clean herself with the small refresher in the corner, and change into the provided clothes. She did as instructed through gritted teeth, hoping that she would eventually speak to someone to explain what was going to happen. Nobody came.

For what she would later be told was two long weeks, nothing happened. Every morning, she cleaned herself and changed her clothes, but the process was automated now. Fresh clothes were beamed in. Occasionally, a guard would walk down the dark corridor at the end of her cell block, but that was the only sign of life she had seen. She heard no voices and saw no faces. She was alone.

For the first three days, she endeavored to maintain some sense of personal control. She exercised or simply tried to think. She knew in her heart what must have happened. The thing that she had feared for decades had to have come to pass. Mnhei’sahe’s grandmother… the mother of her lost love, Dralath, had to have discovered that she now had a granddaughter.

She had gone to intense lengths to hide Mnhie’sahe. She changed her daughter's name. Surgically altered her appearance and even her genetic code to appear to be half-human to mask her true father’s DNA signature. She then lied to Mnhei’sahe about it all. Convinced her that her memories were only dreams. And then only dreams of a dream. She crafted an illusion of a childhood and told Mnhei’sahe, then called ‘Melanie’, that her life was different from her memories. And she reinforced that false narrative over and over until the 5 year old girl came to believe the lie and forget the truth. It was a despicable thing to do to a child and she knew it. But ignorance of the truth, Jaeih hoped, could be a shield of sorts. If she didn’t know, she wouldn’t go looking for answers she didn’t know she didn’t want. And for a time… it worked.

The young ‘Melanie’ knew she was at least half Rihannsu. She spoke the mothertongue and knew her people’s basic history and culture, but also believed the lie that she was half-human. And in that lie, it had been Jaeih’s hope that Verelan t’Rul would never discover her.

Then her daughter joined the Hera, and everything changed. After only a few months, her true memories and name were uncovered. Her physical appearance restored. Her hidden DNA revealed and repaired. 'Melanie' became 'Mnhei'sahe' again and suddenly the secrets were secrets no more. It was only a matter of time before the name of her true father was revealed, and from there to where they were now became an inevitability.

Family and her bloodline was sacrosanct to Verelan t'Rul and she would not be denied her blood once she knew it existed

And while nobody appeared to confirm or deny her fears, she knew on some level that this was the price of her past crimes being visited upon her again. And now on Mnhei’sahe.

The days in the cell were impossible to keep track of. On a starship or a Warbird, ‘day’ and ‘night’ were, at best, abstract concepts. But in the cell, even more so. The only light provided was the green glow of the force field generators around the door which remained a steady, dim tone all the time. A perpetual sense of a vague night that never quite ended that made sleep the only way of separating one day from another. The reappearing of fresh clothes only happened while she slept, so that was less of a gauge than she would like. And she found she was sleeping a lot. And it was never good.

Against the wall was a thin platform with an even thinner pad that was her bed, and aside from the retractable refresher in the corner, there was nothing else of note. But she studied every wall, corner and surface. The room was clean and smooth and featureless. Just like her cell on the penal asteroid of so many years ago.

Trying to not think of that, she sat up straight at attention and muttered to yourself, “That was past, Jaeih. You endured it and it is the past. And you will endure this.”

By the fourth day, however, she found that she spent much more time speaking to herself. At least, she was fairly sure it was the fourth day. She had slept that many times at least, but sleep often crept up on her when she least expected it and took her for a time, so she wasn’t certain. If she gauged a new ‘day’ purely on waking up, then she must have been there for weeks at least. But she didn’t think that was the case.

And when she spoke, it was in random bursts of words without any seeming meaning. Logic puzzles she remembered and memory exercises she repeated from her days in the Academy of the Great Art of ch’Rihan. Military training to help keep ones mind sharp in isolation. And whatever this was, it was isolation. Occasionally, she would glimpse a guard’s back at the end of the corridor outside of her cell, but she had begun to wonder if it was no more than her eyes tricking her. So she returned to her only place to sit and tried to concentrate.

There were other techniques she had been trained in to help maintain her mind in captivity. Techniques that she knew far too well. Seven years on a Penal Research Asteroid on the edge of the Neutral Zone had given her ample time to work on what was called her Mind Palace.

In the cell, no longer remembering what day it was, she sat and breathed. Closing her eyes, she let out her breath and remembered. She had spent months ‘building’ the place. A building to go to in her mind. A place to store the memories she needed to remember and remind herself of who she was.

There, it was warm. As she slowly opened her eyes, she was home. Home on ch’Rihan looking out over the hills of Iuruth. It was a poor region and her family didn’t have much, but her father was a respected Khre'Riov in the Rihannsu Millitary with a ship of his own and he provided for Jaeih. Her mother was… gone… but she had a home and it had its share of fond memories. So here, she could remember them. Here she could escape from the reality of the cold cell.

Standing in the field just outside of the home, Jaeih took in a long breath of the fresh, cool air. The sky was a brilliant sea of teal that faded into a pinkish gold where the light of Eisn kissed the horizon at days end. It was always days end here, in the palace of her mind. Always perfect.

Turning, the house was larger than any in the surrounding fields. Two stories with polished columns of gray stone at the main door and black stone steps that lead inside. Stepping through the large, heavy wooden doors that creaked on hinges that needed attention, Jaeih could almost smell dinner cooking in the small kitchen to the rear of the main hall. The cold black stone floors were always polished well enough to see your face in and the walls were largely bare. Father disliked art or ostentatious displays in his home and preferred a cool interior, free of clutter. So the walls were adorned with little more than the occasional wall sconce that shined a warm, amber light into the chamber.

Stairs along the far right wall were stained dark and almost black, and like the floor, were polished to a shine. As Jaeih walked through the main hall, she heard the large double doors under the top of the stairs slide open on well oiled metal rails. There was a loud thunk as they opened into the wall that echoed through the old home.

“Retreating again, I see. How predictable you are.”

In the doorway stood Jaeih t’Aan. Short cropped hair, cut in the military fashion, she wore the uniform of an Erei'Riov. The black and gray checkerboard pattern was dark, with twin black belts crossed over her right shoulder, clipped together with the silver sigil of the Imperium. The Great Bird, Al’Thindor gripping in its talons, the Two Worlds of ch’Rihan and ch’Havran.

Surprised and confused Jaeih Dox could only blink and stare at the much younger woman standing there. Hair still jet black and face unlined by years or regret, SubCommander t’Aan of the Tal’Shiar raised an eyebrow and walked over, looking Jaeih up and down, arms folded behind her back. “You are a disrespectful sight to behold. You dishonor me looking so and I will not have it. Better to share Mother’s fate and die in cold and darkness than see myself reduced to this. Have you anything to say for yourself, Dox?”

Stepping back slightly, Jaeih Dox was confused, and found no words came in response as she looked around the house of her mind.

“She doesn’t need to answer to you, Erei’Riov.” Came another voice from behind. Turning sharply, Jaeih Dox saw another vision of herself. This face was older. There were more years on the face then there were years behind it, perhaps, but her own face, nonetheless. She wore her hair longer and in a ponytail with only a few wisps of gray creeping in at the sides. But she stood as tall and stern as the SubCommander across the hall.
Stepping past Jaeih Dox as if she wasn’t there, she wore a dark gray tunic with a high neck and long sleeves. Her hands were folded behind her back and over her tunic, a beige vest. On her hip was a worn weapons belt with an out of date, weathered green disruptor. This was Jaeih Dox, Captain of the Smuggling ship, Forager.

“You would come here, invade this place as you did so many colony worlds. Like Eilhaunn or Mendaissa or Ysail, you sweep in and pacify those you find for failing your ever lofty standards of Rihannsu perfection. Leave her be, this is her home.” The angry Captain spoke sternly at her younger self as Jaeih looked on, still confused.

“The Imperium… like a mind… demands order and obedience. I brought order and HONOR to those that sought to bring chaos to ch’Rihan. I do no different here, smuggler!” The Erei’Riov sneered back.

This was her Mind Palace. Where she could find peace and re-center her thoughts. Instead, she found only turmoil here. A mind at war with itself and no peace. Beginning to feel panic overtake her, Jaeih stumbled back against the far wall of the corridor before pushing off and breaking into a run. “This is MY HOME!!! MINE!!!” She shouted as she scrambled up the stairs and down the hall of old wooden doors.

Below, she could hear the two voices of herself continuing to argue. From a door, she saw a flickering light leak out the bottom toward her shaking feet. Hesitantly, she felt compelled to open the door. But open it she did as she reached across and slowly pulled open the heavy wooden door. Inside was a familiar room. Not her lost mother’s room and not any room located upstairs. No, this room, she remembered, should have been in the rear of the house behind the kitchen.

It was narrow, with cold stone walls and a small window near the ceiling in the back. There was an old leather couch for sleeping against one wall and a chair in the back. Old and worn, the wooden chair had a woman sitting in it. The woman wore a deep green chilton that went to the floor, sashed at the waist and sat, holding a bundle as she swayed back and forth, humming gently. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid and didn’t have the military trimmed bangs that Jaeih still wore, but it was her face, as she looked 32 years ago. Or rather, how she might have looked had fate dealt her a kinder hand. “She reminds me of father, that one out there. Duty and mnhei’sahe without ever seeming to understand what that word really means.”

“I… I don’t understand.” Jaeih said as she stepped in. “This… this was hru’fre Nurema’s chamber. The servant’s quarters, but it wasn’t here. It was downstairs. And you…”

“Things have a way of being where they need to be, Jaeih. Don’t they, Mnhei’sahe?” The mother in the chair smilled as she looked down, speaking in a sing-song voice to the bundle in her arms. But as Jaeih stepped closer, she felt a wave of fear. “What are you afraid of, Jaeih?”

The image of the Mother looked back up at her with a raised eyebrow, not unlike the look the Erei’Riov gave her downstairs. “She's your child. Are you really so afraid of her that you would cringe at the idea of her? She needs you, Jaeih. Now more than ever, she needs you to be strong or she’ll be lost too.”

“Mnhei’sahe needs you, Jaeih. Not your lies and excuses. She needs YOU. Her children will need you."

Feeling her fear threaten to overtake her, Jaeih reached down with a trembling hand at the bundle and pulled the tattered old wrapping back at her head. But there was nothing there. No baby. No little Mnhei’sahe, happy and cooing up at her. Just an old bundle of bandages, stained green.

“NOOOO!!!! No, this isn’t real!!! Why are you doing this to me!?!” Jaeih screamed as she stumbled backwards through the door to the hall. As she did, she lost her footing and fell hard to the cold metal deck.

Feeling around, it was suddenly dark. The floor in the hru’hfe’s quarters was gray stone. The hall upstairs, maithe wood. There was no metal floors in her childhood home. None in her mind palace. But she felt a shudder up her spine as she realized she wasn’t in her mind palace. Nor was she back in the brig of the Warbird. This was someplace else. Someplace cold and dark.

Someplace familiar.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she began to see the shape of the metal room. It was only a meter wide and maybe three meters long, but the walls easily went five meters up. On the ceiling was a single, dim light that did little to light anything and behind her, a durasteel door with a sliding window at the middle and no handle or hinges visible. And it was then that she heard breathing.

It was an eerie, raspy, broken sound that filled Jaeih with dread.

Scampering back, she slammed hard against the cold metal door as she sruggled to see who was there even though she knew. She knew this room. She had lived her for the majority of seven years. This was the solitary confinement quarters on The Thieurrull Penal research outpost 97. And the dark shape in the corner barely moving… was her.

“T… They listen.” The weak, cracked voice in the shadows said. “They all listen to everything you say. Everything you THINK. You know they do. So we don’t give them anything, so we. We build our Mind Palace and THAT’S where we live now. Not here.”

“My… my Mind Palace isn’t mine anymore. It’s… broken.” Jaeih stuttered in the darkness. “I’m broken.”

“Of course we’re broken. We’ve always been broken, Jaeih. We’re the monster that they made us and we thought we could be a MOTHER!?” The prisoner in the corner shouted, a bit of spit shooting across the room to land on Jaeih’s face as she flinched against it. “We’re not a mother. Were we ever? This is what we are now. What we always were! Heh… did you really think they would ever have let us escape this room? You know we never did. You know you’re still here, Jaeih. Accept it!”

“NO!!! I escaped! I got away! I got away and Dralath saved me and I was free and we… we had Mnhei’sahe! We did! It’s REAL! IT IS!!!” Jaeih screamed, terrified.

“Then why are you still here, woman? Why do you keep coming back here?” Came a harsh, snapping voice from behind. She was in the main hall again, squinting from the sudden light of sunset leaking in the windows. Strong hands reached down and yanked her back to her feet and looked deep into her eyes. It was Erei’Riov t’Aan again.

“I… I… I don’t want to…” Jaeih protested weakly.

“HNAEV!” The Erei’Riov shouted back. “Do not dishonor us with your child’s lies, Dox! Why did you go there? Back to that place!”

“I… I… I don’t know. I don’t!” She replied, a bit stronger this time.

“You go there because you think you belong there, Jaeih.” Mother Dox said from the side, the empty, green stained rag hanging in her hand by her side, and angry passion roiling up in them. “Because failures do not deserve freedom, do they? Mothers that mutilate their children don’t deserve freedom. Mothers that let their children sit in the empty airlock of a ship with their HAND ON THE RELEASE VALVE INTO SPACE do NOT deserve freedom, do they!?!”

“N… no. I didn’t…”

“You didn’t what, Dox? Say it.” Erei’Riov t’Aan barked in her face.

“Why don’t you run, Jaeih? That’s what you do, isn’t it?” The Smuggler Captain said with a raised eyebrow. “Just run away again. Hide from your truth as something you’re not. It’s what you do best.”

All around her now was the chorus of her own voice. The Erei’Riov of decades past who joined the Tal’Shiar and pacified colonies that threatened to turn from the Imperium. The Good Mother that she never was, judging her for her failures. The cold smuggler, only caring about survival and making her daughter strong. But the prisoner wasn’t there.

And, looking down as the three visions of herself stared at her with accusing words, she knew why. Her hair was long and matted around her dirty, gaunt face. Her clothes were little more than dirty gray rags with stains of her own blood dried across from scrapes and bruises earned in the darkness. She was the prisoner.

“QUIET!” Came a commanding shout from behind her and she turned around so fast she almost fell as the other fell silent.

Standing there was another Jaeih Dox. Hands folded behind her back, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore a dark gray Starfleet tunic and on her breast she proudly wore the Rihannsu commbadge given to her by Commander Rita Paris when she joined her daughter's ship in its service. She had an exasperated expression on her face as she rolled her eyes. “Enough of this nonsense, Dox.”

“B… but... “ Jaeih tried to protest before being shushed over.

“Shush. This isn’t an interactive moment, my dear. So for this moment, you will listen. And hopefully, you will understand. You know why you are here. Not here in this recreation of memories, good and bad. But on the ship. You are there to protect Mnhei’sahe. They will try and break her. They will try and turn her. And she will need you to remind her of who she is or she will truly be lost.”

“And if YOU are lost, you can’t very well do that, now can you?” Agent Dox said with a wry smirk. “Rhetorical, you cannot.”

“This is a wonderful memory, this place. Here, you can regroup and remember who you are and where you come from and where you may yet go. But remember that these voices are your past. Your mistakes and weaknesses and even your fantasies. They make up who you were, but do not define who you ARE. You are her mother. You have fallen but you have also gotten back up to recover what was lost. You did that because you are stronger than them.” The authoritarian woman called ‘Grandma Murder-Punch’ in the corridors of the Hera said stearnly as she looked at the now-silent chorus of Jaeih’s standing before her.

“And you are stronger because you ARE them. You are all of us and more. We are here because you need us to be here, but do not allow their voices to overwhelm your own. What was it that Mnhei’sahe says, that we are stronger together? She is right. And she is stronger with YOU. So BE you.”

There was a moment as Jaeih closed her eyes and breathed. She concentrated and focused on her breathing and slowly, she opened her eyes. She stood again in the hall of the home of her childhood. The warm light of the sun came in the windows, and she was herself. She wore only the simply greenish-gray outfit provided in her cell that she wore in reality. But she felt a calm again overtaking her. The voices were silent for the moment. She was Jaeih Dox again and her daughter needed her.

As her eyes opened slowly to the cold reality of her cell, she took a breath and looked around. Let them think you are mad. Maybe you are, a little. Let that madwoman out to play and they will underestimate you.

You must be strong. You must defy the will of fate and survive. You survived this before. Now you have a reason to. Many reasons. Remember yourself, Jaeih. Remember.

Since she had gotten the news that her sister in arms since coming to this reality had been kidnapped, Az'Prel had been somewhat restless and no amount of meditation or training and exercise could work it out of her. Normally, she could outwait just about anything, but even though the ship was traveling at speeds she had previously never traveled at before, she felt like she was standing still.

She needed to find a way to make progress. A way to improve her skills or prepare for when they arrived.

Hence she was once more in the Hera's gym, sparring with a holographic partner on the highest setting.

Once more, she was able to defeat it in less than a minute.

Pausing the program, she grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her forehead and climbed out of the ring in order to hydrate.

The spacious gymnasium was unusually empty as much of the crew was busy in preparations for the mission ahead, so it wasn't exactly subtle when Petty Officer 3rd Class, V'Nus Wil'I'Ams came storming into the room complaining to herself in her Klingon tongue. It was clear she was oblivious to or simply didn't care about the presence of anyone else in the room as she made a bee-line to the grav-lev bench press.

"...unable to follow range instructions! BAH! What nonsense! Were this a Klingon ship I could have wrenched his head from his tiny shoulders and would have been promoted for my troubles!" 

Tossing her bag at the foot of the machine, V'Nus began punching in the weight settings and growling to herself before noticing Az'Prel in the center of the sparring circle. Switching to Federation standard, she nodded in acknowledgment of the woman who had volunteered her considerable skills to helping train the security team. "My... apologies... if I have disturbed you."

"You have not, but thank you. I am merely attempting to... de-stress." The Vulcan woman took a drink from her water bottle as she watched her Klingon counterpart for a moment. She respected the strength and willingness to learn of the Wil'I'Ams sisters and V'Nus especially seemed most receptive on the combat training she offered.

"As do I... that tu'HomI'raH veQ quartermaster of the weapons range has restricted me from use pending review as apparently destroying one's targets TOO well is somehow problematic!" V'Nus replied, about to sit on the bench when she stopped herself. It took her a moment to process what the other-dimensional Vulcan woman had just said.

"Wait? You need to de-stress? I would have thought such concerns of 'stress' were not common to Vulcans? But, then, you are an uncommon Vulcan." The tall, well-build Klingon woman said curiously. "Perhaps our issues have a... common solution."

"I assume he feels you caused needless and wanton destruction of the ship's facilities and took the steps he deemed appropriate. As a former freedom fighter, I commiserate with your plight." Az'Prel approached her Klingon counterpart with a thoughtful nod. "I... feel your pain... I too sometimes feel constrained by the training equipment provided by this ship and wish to be able to... Go Targ wild."

To hear words like 'feel' from a Vulcan was always unusual for the Taller Klingon woman. But between her and her sister, V'Nus was the more contemplative of the two and had an understanding of the internal conflict Az'Prel displayed. She was, in many respects, a Vulcan with a Klingon's heart, as V'Nus saw it.

"Well then, perhaps instead of testing the ships equipment, we test the skill of its doctors. I don't fear wild Targ's, after all. In fact, one can learn much from wrestling with one." V'Nus gestured back to the sparring ring with a vicious grin. 

"It would be an honor," replied Az'Prel, setting her towel and bottle aside and motioning for V'Nus to precede her into the ring. "Are there any rules of engagement that you would prefer? Obviously, no killing blows as that would be detrimental to the mission of the ship and our current mission in particular."

"I sense we both bristle under too many rules as it is. I think agreeing not to kill each other will suffice." V'Nus took her place across from Az'Prel in the ring and stretched out her neck, making a series of moderately loud pops as she did. Then she assumed a battle-ready fighting stance to begin. "So... is it our current mission that has you... 'stressed'?"

"It is. How much have you been told?" Az'Prel asked as she stretched her back out a bit, eliciting several of her own audible pops.

"I know that our two... Romulans... have been taken. That a rescue is being mounted and that cosmetic surgery is insufficient for my sister or I to qualify to volunteer." V'Nus almost snarled her reply, while stopping herself from saying the Klingon name for Romulans. "While our people have been enemies for many generations... I respect the Lieutenant. She is a fierce, if reserved, warrior who understands honor. We have drank bloodwine together and I would do so again."

"I concur. They both have honor in their hearts and I would trust them both with my life, should the need once again arise." Az'Prel assumed a low spider stance to begin their match with, knowing her opponent would likely go for an overhead attack, but going on a semi-defensive posture, just in case. "Which is the cause of my internal stress. I would be there to rescue them this very moment if I could. Especially if what I have learned of the other Romulans of this universe are true."

"I know little of your universe, but in this universe, the Romulans are a race of deceitful taHqeq! backstabbers whose true mothertongue is lies. I would have loved to hoist a few on the edge of my Bat'leth in this engagement." V'Nus smeared slightly as she began her attack, a downward leg strike towards Az'Prel's legs that the skilled warrior avoided with ease. "Thankfully, we have a Captain that knows the fire of Kahless in her belly, as we do not wait for childish Federation peace talks to stop us from reclaiming that which is ours."

The Vulcan refugee responded with a sidestep, a roll, and a trio of rabbit punches that she knew V'Nus would easily counter. "Indeed, it is good to know that while the Federation is the polar opposite of the Terran Empire, there are those that will fight for what is right and not toothless sabercats speaking of diplomacy. As the Romulans of my universe discovered, there is a time for diplomacy and peace and there is a time for combat. For them, that lesson came too late."

Blocking the blows, V'Nus took an unexpected tactic for one so tall, and fell into a spiraling sweep with her massive leg that forced Az'Prel to leap to the side to avoid the low kick. Then, In one smooth motion as Az'Prel landed, followed through with her second leg, raised to strike at the Vulcan's middle.

Rather than dodging or blocking the kick, Az'Prel took the blow and grabbed the offending limb, twisting it and herself in an attempted throw.

Realizing what was happening almost too late, the massive Klingon woman rolled herself into the throw. Az'Prel's reversal was a Llakh-ae'rl counter that V'Nus had learned in her sparring with Dox that could easily have wrenched the Klingon's kneecap free had she not spun into the throw.

Rolling free, both women squared off again. "Excellent. As the lieutenant says, if a leg attacks you, kill the leg. You've trained with her as well? Or her mother, perhaps?" V'Nus could sense her opponent harboring far more emotion that one simply concerned for a fellow shipmate and probed further.

"Jaeih Dox and I are as sisters," Az'Prel stated simply, this time taking on a more familiar classic Mok'bara stance. "As for my training, at times it surprises me how closely her combat training has mirrored my own."

"Ahhh, then Kah'less's spirit has brought you two together in your own way." Smiling slightly at the stance she knew well, V'Nus attacked again with a series of wide swings designed to force Az'Prel into a more defensive posture, which began to work until the seasoned freedom fighter countered with a strong center strike that staggered the Klingon warrior back a good two feet.

Letting out a hearty laugh, pleased with the combat and pleased to be fighting so worthy a foe, V'Nus re-set her posture and prepared for the next attack. "And this is truly personal for you. They have taken your chosen family from you?"

"They have. And I will make them pay for that error in judgment." Az'Prel attacked with a flurry of mixed Vulcan and Klingon blows.

The rapid-fire blows forced V'Nus back slightly, overwhelming her defenses. As she reached the edge of the ring, the skilled Klingon warrior instead changed her tactics with another lesson learned from sparring with Mnhei'sahe Dox: Taking the hit to open up your opponent. Leaning in, she positioned herself to take a blow directly to her dense ribcage at an angle that turned her half around but, in the spin, deliver a powerful left that finally connected with Az'Prel's jaw.

The dual blows staggered both women back. As a Vulcan, Az'Prel's strength was superior, but months of intense physical training and the slight bit of a boost from occasionally guarding the door of the goddess Hera meant that V'Nus's own strength was more than that of even a strong Klingon woman and both women felt the impacts. As she collected herself, V'Nus let out a powerful and deep belly laugh. "YES! THAT is how a warrior hits!"

Az'Prel had a hint of a grin as she started to get an adrenaline rush finally being able to cut loose. "I concur! It is logical to use full force with every strike!" With that exclamation, she gave a roundhouse kick aimed at V'Nus's head.

"YESSSS!!!!" V'Nus howled back as she leaned inside the kick, taking Az'Prel's powerful thigh to her shoulder rather than a boot to her face and countered. Blow by blow, the fight continued with increasing power and viciousness. Each landing harder blows upon the other as the speed ramped up to a frenzied pace.

At the door, Ensign's Gavarus and O'Dell started to walk in... to the sight of the two women locked in epic combat, green and red blood staining each other's clothes. "Oh, HELLS no." Gavarus exclaimed as the unlikely couple turned right around and left, not even being noticed.

After even more time, the fight began to slow as even the two warriors had begun to run out of both steam and adrenaline. Clothes torn, faces and bodies bruised and the blood of both spilled in the process but both women looked remarkably... happy as the stepped away from each other.

Huffing and puffing, V'Nus let out a throaty chuckle and spoke, gesturing to her freshly broken nose. "HA! My Sister will see this and be jealous, Az'Prel. I have not had a fight like that in far too long. I envy you the battle ahead. The Romulan's that have taken ours will surely fill the halls of whatever hell they fear before your wrath."

Finally out of breath and properly winded for the first time since coming to this reality, Az'Prel nodded with what energy she had left. "This is how I earned the nickname 'Messenger of Death' by the Terrans. These Tal'Shiar will learn this lesson soon."

"HA! I do hope the Commander makes a security hologram of that, for I would dearly love to see it." V'Nus said, grabbing two towels from her bag on the side of the ring and tossing one to Az'Prel. "That heart of yours, woman. I have seen it now. Vulcan you may be, but your heart beats with a fire to rival the greatest of Klingon warriors. The Lieutenant's heart too beats with fire, as I suspect does her mother. Those fires... that PASSION will make you victorious. And not just in the battle on Romulus to come."

The Vulcan woman caught the towel and wiped at the blood on her face and arms. "There is much passion in the Vulcan heart, tempered in the Forge with logic."

It had been a very long day for Commander Rita Paris, the first officer of the USS Hera and her resident ‘golden girl’. Being recalled to active service on their Vulcan vacation with her husband Sonak and her extradimensional charge Az’Prel, the Vulcan vessel had insisted on beaming her up, then beaming her across to the Hera rather than dropping down to shuttle speeds. Which was something Rita was willing although hesitant to do. In the case of the Vulcans, they seemed to take a strange satisfaction in ignoring the fact that she was transporter phobic, and for good reason- transporters simply did not behave properly when she was involved. While the beam up to the starship from the planet had just resulted in some weakness and vomiting, the beam at warp 9.2 between two starships of matched relative speeds had resulted in something new.

Rather than materializing on the transporter pad of the Hera, Rita had found herself on an alien world, with no constellations she could recognize, no stars to guide her, and under that alien sky, she had found herself embroiled in a battle for the freedom of a slave caste against the god-king Sodam Yat, As the hours had stretched into days, then weeks, she had continued on, fighting for her survival and for the freedom of her newfound friends, But through it all, she never lost her faith that it was a temporary state of being.

Because Sonak was out there, and he would not rest until he found her and brought her back.

At the height of a climactic battle, wherein she had stayed the hand of the conqueror and given a speech that she hoped would sway those hot bloods of vengeance to one of cool compassion and mercy, she had felt the familiar tug of the transporter beam, and she had vanished from the world of Kathoom, likely never to be seen there again. And after 74 days, her patience had been rewarded, and there indeed had stood Sonak, just as he had looked when they had parted- sharp, crisp Science blue, a neutral expression on his face. Well, neutral to most- in it she saw relief and surprise, given that she’d beamed out seconds ago in her uniform, and returned with surprisingly little of it intact or present.

While he was concerned, she was just happy to be home. She had been calmly collected in the transporter room, blasé about her extradimensional escapade, and mildly surprised to find that no time had passed while she had been gone, despite the passage of weeks to her perceptions. Now, the shower taken, uniform redonned, meetings attended and people reconnected, at the end of the long day she was still tapping away at her PaDD as she entered their shared quarters. There was no reason to look up- she had long ago programmed the sensor to open far in advance of her entry, as she tended to walk quickly, and as she entered their spacious quarters, she looked up to take in the sight of her handsome husband.

Square jawed, atheletic build with dark, straight hair and piercing steel-grey eyes, she’d been fascinated by him the moment she’d met him, although she had expected someone else entirely to be behind those eyes. Instead, she had found a student of the universe, awed and fascinated by the forces which they tended to confront, yet unflappable in his resolve and impeccably logical. Strong, fast, able and fearless, he was dedicated to her safety and well-being in a way she could never have anticipated, and in him she found her life completed. A logical man was ever calm and reasonable, and he valued her highly- her understanding of emotion and how it could be incorporated with simple logic never failed to fascinate him, and he celebrated their differences, as diversity was infinite, and through it came infinite combinations.


For now, she had a puzzle, and if there was one thing to which she was always ready to cede to his vastly superior intellect, it was a conundrum.

A smile spread across her face as her eyes drank him in, and the longing and distance and time all came to the forefront. On duty they were professional- here, they were behind closed doors, and they owed nothing to professional comportment and setting examples to the other officers. Here they were no longer first and science chief- here, they could be just two people in love. As she approached him, she eschewed the traditional two fingers. Instead, she opened her arms and embraced Sonak fully, holding his lean muscular body tightly to hers, breathing in his scent, and letting the stress of the weeks apart leave her as she felt his strong arms about her.

“I have missed you terribly,” she said aloud, although her thoughts and actions declared it far louder and clearer.

''Your absence was equally significantly felt,'' answered Sonak, putting his arms around her, as he knew as much from perception as from habit, that she needed him to do so. And to tell the truth, he had become not just accustomed to but appreciative of this most Human type of behavior.

Indeed, the mere seconds that elapsed between her disappearance and her return had felt as long as the weeks she had actually experienced in her absurd, unexplained transdimensional shift. Well, absurd because unexplained... as yet.

He already had a hypothesis about what had happened; and with that hypothesis, a possible path to finally solve this peculiar displacement problem of hers.

He had to find a solution. Her life, her career, her future, depended on it.

Her presence in his life had become as indispensable to his well-being as breathable air. For just as air filled his lungs and supplied life to his body, she filled his katra and supplied life to his mind and soul.

He did not ask her how she felt. Not because he didn't care, of course. Because he knew, linked as they were with their mating bond and his growing telepathic ability, most evident between them. He had still perceived her life essence across time, space and realities when the transporter had whisked her away; far and feeble, but there still. And that had, in fact, given him a clue to his hypothesis.

But that would be for later. Now was the time to be, completely, with Rita, she who is his wife.
Wrapped in his impossibly strong arms, the faint scent of sandalwood that she always associated with him, she let out a shuddering sigh. It had been nearly 75 days since she last beheld him and felt him close to her, and in that moment, she let go of all of the tension, the fears, the insecurities and the stresses of her extradimensional adventure.

Here, safe in his arms, reunited at last, she could relax. Here, she could be just a mortal woman, no larger than life figure, no leader, no crusader, no officer of the line who needed to face all adversity with a smile and a laugh in the face of death. Here with Sonak, he who is her husband, at last she could let it all go, and be merely the human girl from Earth who traversed the stars, exploring strange new worlds.

It took a moment for her to let it all go. But she knew that in sharing with him, he would know of her adventures, of her trials and tribulations, and he would appreciate them. For now, she was simply content to be here, with him, together.

“The universe does love to split us up from time to time. I think it’s so I will never stop appreciating you,” she joked as she pulled back, her light blue eyes searching out his steely grey gaze that she dreamt of when they were apart. Lifting a hand, she gently caressed his cheek and her lips curled in a wistful smile. "Not that I ever would…”

''We are in agreement,'' he replied, ''except in assuming a willfuness of the universe. Despite countless beliefs on countless worlds across time, despite the obvious influence of actual beings with powers beyond our current comprehension, there is no evidence of any will to the universe itself. But there is much evidence of numerous phenomenons that still surpass the mind in their intercomplexity. This universe is estimated to be at least thirteen point forty-eight billion years old; life itself existed but for a tiny fraction of it. It will logically take time to figure out much about it.''

His grey eyes went into hers.

“It will logically be faster and easier to consider one problem at a time.''

“Your logic is, as ever, indisputable,” the human girl grinned, happy to hear such things again. Months where the most logical voice in the crowd was her own made her appreciate her logical spouse that much more. Logic was pure, after all, and one could always see the simple beauty of it. And Sonak was a master of logic, as a Kolinahr who had studied it his entire life.

“So, I sensed your consternation at the illogic of my experience, and I have a very, very loose theory as to what may have happened, and how it came to pass. Now mind, you have to remember that I lack your scientific background and understanding of many of the fundamental forces of the universe. Buuuuut I have an idea that might just explain what happened, if you would care to hypothesize with me?” While she made it sound fun and flirty, few would see logic exercises as a fun experience upon reuniting with a spouse. But then, Rita and Sonak were far from the typical couple, even in the wildly diverse universe in which they lived.

Sonak nodded.

''It is a well-established fact that Humans have a unique capability to go beyond logic. And logic is but the beginning of wisdom, not the end of it. You hold facts from which no doubt you can make a sound hypothesis. Both may very well guide mine. This will be a fascinating discussion.''

Parting from their embrace, she moved to the kitchen to wash her hands and begin preparing a meal while they talked. This, too, was a ritual; one they both found familiar and fulfilling. Having been absent for so long, it would make her happy to return to their established patterns, and Sonak was literally raised on traditions- thus he was always prepared to follow one. Particularly one such as this, which held personal meaning for them both- a blending of their cultures which had ever been a cornerstone of their relationship.

As a Kolinarh since a very young age, Sonak was not the typical Vulcan, bound to tradition because it was logical to follow tried ways. Logic dictated that no premise was exempt of scrutiny and questioning, ergo any tradition. Following a way just because it was tradition was not logical; it was mindless. Thus, what ritual they had established between them had been deliberately and thoughtfully fashioned out of their mutual needs and personalities to best fuse their vast divergences into a cohesive whole.

Rita liked the security and simplicity of traditional domestic roles, while Sonak had been raised to fend for himself in all things. He would normally have not accepted her cooking for him and serving him as if she were his servant; but he knew how comforting and satisfying it was for her, particularly emotionally. It was an anchor of normalcy against the wild weird tides that seem to constantly try to sweep her away. For the sake of her well-being, he thus accepted gracefully to comply to what others would superficially see as an outmoded traditional family relationship.

If there was something Sonak never cared about, it was how others would see them. Truth is what mattered to him; and he knew the truth about their behavior and partnership... and that, at it's core, was his concern for her.

She was happy. he could not relate to such a feeling; but he could understand that this was what made their union valuable, for the both of them.

While she prepared the meal, he, as usual, set the table and prepared their refreshments, all the while pondering his own data and hypothesis about what they would be discussing over the meal. These were moments he found especially... gratifying.

As the flash-frozen vegetables were thawed and tossed into a pan with a small bit of oil to stir fry, she replicated the rice and began explaining her theory to arguably one of the most brilliant minds in the universe. She did so with no fear- for while his intellect was vastly superior to her own, still he listened and valued what she offered in such times, as her unconventional thinking was respected by him for it’s occasional accuracy and the fact that while she trusted her intuition and instincts, she supported them with logic whenever possible, and ceded ground to logic as well.

“So I had a lot of time to think about this on Kathoom, and my best guess is that we hit a bump in the road, so to speak. Since both vessels were moving at warp 9.2, that means in the 3.2 seconds of a standard transport, we actually covered roughly 2 billion kilometers in that three seconds. We’ll leave out the time dilation effect that I tend to have on transporters for some reason, and just focus on that standard beaming. My best guess is that there was a very small hint of an energy ribbon, like the one the El Aurians were rescued from by Picard? That would explain the drag on the signal, as well as how I ended up in another dimension with a different flow of time. Why it did not affect you and Az’Prel’s beam in, and how you managed to still beam me back out of there is a bit beyond me. But, that is, as promised, my ‘vague idea and very loose theory. Thoughts?”

As she did with many problems, she approached this one with an open mind. If she was wrong and he said so, her ego would not be bruised nor her confidence diminished- she was not the brilliant scientist, she was the explorer, after all. Thus science often contradicted her theories, but it was illogical to become upset at facts.

Sonak simply nodded.

''I have studied your... difficulties with telportation quite thoroughly. I have devised new transporter protocols to account for the unique variables that are personnal to you. And we identified the source of the problem as coming from the very nature of the artificially created universe we both came from; now corrected completely with the restoration of the multiverse. And then, after all known parameters having been fully under control, this new incident occurs.''

He paused as if thinking a bit more about the matter before continuing.


''Your hypothesis is therefore quite sound. The only logical explanation of your latest displacement is indeed that another external interference came into play.''

He looked at her, nodding again.

''I checked the transporter sensor logs from both the Shavok and the Hera. I found that a cosmic string intersected the beam out and was amplified by the warp field of both ships at the very moment we were beamed aboard. This normally is of no consequence and thus why Az'Prel and I materialized as expected. But with your particular condition built up over years of previous displacements, it affected you again the same way the old link with our former universe used to do; a distorted quantum resonance occured and sent you accross the multiverse.''

So that she could reason it for herself, he made a pause before finishing.

''This is where your hypothesis and mine converge. Of course we would need further testing with some of your genetic material and a quantum resonator to validate them, but logic suggest that this is essentially the correct explanation.''

It was silly to take pride in the fact that her dirt drawings on Kathoom and her inspection of the transporter logs had actually borne a reasonable hypothesis. But a wide smile split her face as she felt it well up within her. For once, she had figured out how something had gone wrong with her, and she had been able to present it to her somber scientist in a manner that was logical and sound, and he had agreed that it was a reasonable working theory. Which again, she knew she should not be so happy about.

Yet having been gone so long, and having so much time to consider it all, his approval of her hypothesis meant more than it should have, and it genuinely made her joyful, and rather proud of herself. As she entertained all of that internally, she let it process and flow. He knew her, knew her process, and knew her emotions, and while she silently beamed for a few moments, she knew he knew why, but there was no need to belabor it.

Instead, once she was through being full of herself, she scooped out a serving of rice, and swirled the stir-fried peppers, onions, mushrooms, green beans and cilantro together in the pan with a dash of teriyaki sauce. Skillfully depositing them atop the scoops of rice, she turned everything off and turned to he who was her husband, still wearing a merry smile. “Dinner is served… and… thank you. I don’t know if I am getting smarter spending my time with you, or if being apart just makes my brain work harder because I can’t ask you questions. But I feel better knowing there was a logical explanation, rather than just ‘the universe being out to get me’,” she chuckled.

''You give yourself too little credit,'' he admonished with a little hint of sternness. ''You are an intelligent person with excellent training and more first-hand experience with such phenomena than most researchers on the subject. It is only logical that you build sound hypothesis, even if influenced by human feelings and emotions. My personal experience has shown that these are not always a hindrance to effectiveness; just as you demonstrate here.''

He poured both of them a glass of Altair water.

''That being said, emotional beings, especially intelligent ones, do tend to perceive the patterns making up our reality, even if imperfectly; and at the same time, perceiving patterns where there are none. This can extend to the point of believing there is some agency or intent within the universe. But in truth there is none; only a wide set of self-balancing factors that allows this universe to exist as it is.''

As always, the logic of the Kolinahr could not be argued, which was a cornerstone of her reality that she had missed in her absence. Wise while allowing for the unknown, intelligent beyond brilliant yet lacking the arrogance that usually came with such knowledge, Sonak was far and away the best man she'd ever known, or ever would. While she never claimed any sort of prognosticational capacity, Rita Paris lived secure in the knowledge that she would never meet his equal in her eyes, and in that supposition she was correct. In the many years they would be together, she would never be tempted by another, nor would she ever meet anyone who made her feel the way he did. Thus while she respected his logic, in her heart of heartsd, she still believed that perhaps the universe sis have some sort of sentience, and that it was not unkind.

For it had brought them together, and though time and space and relative dimension might separate them, they always found their way back to one another. In that, while Sonak believed in empirical data and fact, Rita was given to the flight of fancy that perhaps there was more to heaven and earth than were dreamt of in their pholosophy. Reaching across the table to take his hand in her own, she smiled, that smile that she saved only for him, of all the smiles she wore and gave to others. It was a smile of devotion, of admiration, of appreciation, and of deep and abiding love for the one person in the universe who made her feel like she truly was someone special.

Peering deeply into his grey eyes, that she could always recall as clearly as any memory that she held, no matter the time nor distance apart, she felt another hunger within her. A hunger that had been denied for months for her, which was no less urgent than her need for food to fulfill her. As she contemplated acting on it, her stomach gurgled and reminded her that some needs were more necessary than others, and she giggled as with her free hand she took a forkful of her dinner.

The sharing of their minds, bodies and souls could wait. For now, she was content to be here- sharing a meal of her homeworld, spending time together, and simply enjoying being reunited once more.

Yesterday had begun like most days the last two weeks had for Mnhei'sahe Dox. She woke up on her own before the lights in her quarters to exercise. She showered and dressed and waited for her grandmother to start her day. Before long, the sealed door opened and her grandmother arrived with breakfast and a warm smile.

In truth, she had no illusions that she wasn't a prisoner. Hadn't been kidnapped. But she still found herself enjoying the morning talks over breakfast with her estranged Grandmother, Deihu Verelan t'Rul.

And on that morning, just over a day ago now, the elder Rihannsu Senator brought more than breakfast. She had a PaDD with her and showed her granddaughter their ancestral family home. On the screen was holoimages of a large house on a hill. A large, three-story building with great columns at the front that went from the steps of the main entry to the portico. The columns were a shined black marble framing weathered, pale tan walls over lavender fields. It was Verelan's home in the countryside of i'Ramnau on the homeworld Dox had never set foot upon: ch'Rihan.

Romulus. The world she was being taken to. The house that would eventually be hers. A new life that would only cost her her life, family and wife on the U.S.S. Hera. But still, she had smiled as her grandmother walked her through the rooms and told her stories of her own childhood running through those halls, laughing.

But today, all Mnhei'sahe Dox could hear were her grandmother's screams.

With her arms and legs shackled into the cold metal chair, Her head locked to the rear with a metal collar that even restricted her head movement and the entire affair bolted into the floor of the small gray detention cell In the brig of the Romulan Warbird that had been her prison, the red-headed Rihannsu Starfleet officer was officially out of options. Her attempts at reaching out to her grandmother and trying to convince her to not seek out the secrets of the Hera had backfired spectacularly. Her impassioned speech may well have gotten through to the wizened senator, but Dox had no idea because while she spoke to her grandmother through the door to Dox's mother's cell, Verelan t'Rul was betrayed.

The Romulan Commander Riov Dalia Rendal, who wanted the Lieutenant and her mother for the secrets they had access to on the Hera used the Lieutenant's impassioned speech as an excuse to take her grandmother into custody as a traitor and assume command. And now, all three women were prisoners.

Put in separate cells and restrained to ensure that none of them could do anything to hurt themselves to stop them from talking, there was nothing Dox could do but sit and listen as she heard the intermittent screams of pain from down the narrow metal corridor. For the past few long hours, she had been isolated and alone. Alone with her thoughts and the occasional screams of her mother and grandmother echoing through her mind. Screams that were her fault.

Eventually, the screams of the Senator subsided and she was dragged past Dox's cell, barely conscious and much worse for wear, her clothing smeared with her own green blood as two centurions deposited her in a cell nearby.

Then Riov Rendal stopped in front of Mnhei'sahe's own cell, with Erei'Riov tSuil close at her heels looking like a jade statue of the model Tal'Shiar commander.

"Thank you for your little speech earlier. It gave me just what I needed to advance my own plans." Rendal's royal Rihannsu accent had come out full force now, drawing out her words like a cat toying with them before releasing them to her intended audience. As you spoke, I realized something. Even if your Captain and crew do not come chasing after you, we already have what we need. Right inside your... disgustingly fuzzy head... and we have two people that you seem to care about."

She leaned in slightly, the pale green glow of the cell's field generators lighting up her face almost eerily. "And if you really do care about them... What do you think would ease their pain? Hmm?"

Staring back with nothing but hatred in her eyes, Dox was furious. Furious at Rendal for her cruelty, but more furious at herself for her absolute failure. In her attempt to reach her grandmother and save her mother, she had doomed them both, and given Rendal the roadmap to what she was seeking.

But she maintained her composure and spoke as calmly as she could in her own muddy, spacer's Rihan accent. "You're already torturing them just to prove you can. To show me. Why would I believe you'd stop if I told you what you want to know?"

"Because if I get what I want... what I need... then my own honor would demand that the three of you would be of no further use and free to go about your lives." Then another thought occurred to Rendal, to twist the knife a bit more. "Just like your father. Once we finished with him all those years ago, he was set free, wasn't he, Subcommander?"

Sitting in the cell, completely shackled, Dox's stomach tightened into a knot at Rendal’s words and the cold smirk across her face as Subcommander t’Suil replied flatly. “Ie, Riov. Once former Commander tr’Rul had completed his service to the Imperium and fulfilled his obligations… his mnhei’sahe… he was released freely.”

Invoking Dox’s name, the name of the Rihannsu code of honor known as the Ruling Passion, served only to twist that knife even deeper as the captive Starfleet officer felt ready to explode and half wished that she literally could.

“And I would trust the honor of those that would torture the helpless for power? Would bargain lives with a smile? Or should I trust that you’ll let them go with minds torn apart like was done to him? Like... YOU did to him?" Dox replied with a raspy crack in her angry voice. “You may have listened to what I told my Grandmother, but you didn’t hear a word. You have no honor and I can’t give you what you want.”

The stony face of Rendal almost showed a hint of emotion as one eyebrow raised. "Oh we listened. To every single word. However, I believe you are operating under the assumption that we are trying to save something. No, my faction is dedicated to the defense of the Imperium and the destruction of our enemies. What your mind contains is perfect for such a task and our... mnhei'sahe... demands that we stop at nothing to do so."

"As for what happened to your father... What we had to do to his mind is unfortunate, but please understand that with the resistance he put up, combined with all of the secrets we had to erase, there was not much left to work with. We showed him what compassion we could, however... There were some who thought it more kind to execute him." The Riov motioned in the air with one hand as she let a thought slip out. "Though if we had, he would not be in this cell block now, nor would he have confirmed you or your mother's existence."

"You don't understand. What you want won't just destroy your imagined enemies, it will destroy what you're trying to defen..." As she protested, Rendal's words worked back through Dox's mind as a bomb of recognition went off in her mind, slicing through Dox’s anger as the captive officer’s eyes went wide. “What? You… he’s… my father is... here?”

"Oh yes, he's only six cells that way, if memory serves. Would you like to meet him? I believe he may remember you and your mother now." Rendal motioned off to the left towards the direction her grandmother had been taken after her torture session.

The strength in her muscles let out all in one moment as Dox exhaled and her head dropped as much as possible as though it weighed a metric ton. Her eyes wide and shiny again, she stared at the cold metal deck plates at her feat, blinking in disbelief. “He’s... here.” She repeated in shock. Rendal had everything. Every blood relation that Dox had was there, at the Romulan Commander’s mercy.

Wanting to scream and rage and cry and fight, all Mnhei’sahe Dox could do was sit and mutter weakly, “Y... yes.”

"Very well then."Rendal stepped back and motioned to the centurions to bring Dralath. "I am, after all, a woman of my word."

The centurions vanished for what felt like an eternity and Dox listened to the sounds of muttering from down the corridor followed by a ragged shuffling sound. Minutes later, Riov Rendal stepped back slightly to stand beside her ever-present Sub-commander as the centurions lead a man into view.

He was tall and fat. His thick, puffy face hung low like a frightened animal, framed by shoulder-length, dark gray hair and an unkempt beard. Slowly, as Dox stared in impossible disbelief, the man stood there, still facing Riov Rendal. Dipping her head to meet his hidden gaze, the cold commander gestured with her head towards the shimmering green forcefield and the woman in the cell in front of him. And as she did, he slowly, hesitantly turned his weary face towards her.

As the light of the force field illuminated his thick face, Mnhei’sahe gasped. Looking at his unfocused eyes, that refused to make contact with hers out of fear, memories she didn't know she had ran wild in her mind. Memories of a younger man with a warm smile that spoke her name with love. Who told her stories and sung her to sleep and held her tight when she was scared. Memories that like so many others, she had let herself forget and hide so many long years ago. As a tear escaped her wide eyes, she gulped. Rendal hadn’t lied.

This was Dralath tr’Rul. The father she hadn’t truly seen since a childhood almost forgotten.

Weakly, she muttered under her breath as she called to him. “Father?”

Those eyes... those dark, sunken, sad eyes that flickered about so furtively came into focus at the sound of that word, and the derelict looked confused for a second. Then understanding dawned across his face, and when he spoke, his voice hoarse from screaming, he managed to get out the name. "M-Mnhei'sahe...?"

At the sound of her name coming from him, Dox shuddered and choked slightly on her tears as she replied with a cracked, rasp. "Ie... it's me, Father. Do... do you remember me?"

"No... no no no no no, why are you here, Mnhei? Your mother had you hidden away, far from all of this, so they couldn't find you!" the broken man sobbed, shaking his head. "It wasn't safe, it would never be safe for you..." Pausing, his eyes cleared, and he looked at her, truly looked at her, taking in the details of her face- her eyes, her cheeks, her jaw, her chin. "Look at you, all grown up," he whispered. "I missed it... I missed your whole life, and now here we are... they brought us back together only to die together..."

Listening, Mnhei’sahe did her best to try and put on a calm face through her tears, knowing that he was right and that there was nothing she could do. Instead, she forced a weak smile to her face to try to bring him at least a measure of comfort. “I’m… I’m here now, Father. I’ve… I’ve missed you. I didn’t even know how much I missed you, but I’m here. We’re here. We’re together. I’ve missed you so much. But Mother… she told me. She told me how much you… how much you loved me. She did.”

The defeated look in his eyes was painful to witness, as tears fell freely from them into his unkempt beard. Shaking his head, Dralath tr'Rul sniffled, then heaved a mighty sigh. "Everything I ever did was just to keep you safe, Mnhei'sahe. Please... no matter what happens, I beg of you... please believe that. Don't remember me like this... remember me from your mother's stories, of the man I was, whose intentions were noble, who lost everything just to try to save the most precious thing in the whole universe..."

Then, Rendal did the unexpected and dropped the forcefield. Dralath flinched as the cold Commander gestured inside Gingerly, he reached out an unsteady, dirty, green blood-encrusted hand to tentatively yet tenderly caress her cheek.

Then his eyes widened in shock, and he coughed. He struggled to remain on his feet, but he lacked the strength. As he slid to his knees before her, his hands sliding weakly down her bound arms, Mnhei'sahe Dox could see emerald blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to speak, to say something more. But there was no more time... not for Dralath tr'Rul, not in this life. Not as Riov Rendal's blade twisted in his back, causing his eyes to squint in one final expression of agony as her sword in his back ended his life. There on his knees, before his long-lost daughter, for whom he had sacrificed everything to keep safe... the last sight he would ever see.

The haughty Riov cleaned the green blood from her sword with a dueling rag, then tossed the rag onto his corpse. "I thought it only fitting that he spend his final moments in the arms of the one he valued more than his own life."

Looking down in shock, Mnhei’sahe knew what Rendal was going to do but still couldn’t process what had just happened. Her eyes fixed on his lifeless form on the deck plates in front of her, blood pooling around him. “I… I love you…” She whispered... the words that came too late.

In that frozen moment, it was only the two of them. Rendal and her Sub-Commander no longer existed. The restraints didn’t exist. It was only Mnhei’sahe and her father. But in her eyes, he was as he said... young and alive with hope and a warm smile. But back in the cold reality Mnhei’sahe desperately wanted to escape, she could only mutter to him weakly, “I’ll… I’ll remember.”

In that moment, time seemed to slow and stop just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of Masato Rei, the literal embodiment of Death itself, reaching down and lifting her father's soul, hale and hearty, looking just as he was in his prime, out of his body and vanishing into a soft light.

Completely oblivious to what had just transpired, Rendal sheathed her sword and motioned for Dralath's body to be disposed of. "It seems his purpose has finally come full circle. You know what I want and you now know what I will do to get it. When we reach ch'Rihan, my patience will wear thin so I suggest not risking your mother's life. And if she and your grandmother are not enough..."

The Romulan Royal pulled Mnhei'sahe's wedding bracelet out of one of her pockets. "We will pursue other avenues of persuasion."

Sitting in the small, cold, dimly let cell on the Romulan Warbird that was her prison, Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox wept.

Shackled in her cold steel seat, unable to move her hands or feet, all she could do was cry and look out at the drying puddle of her father’s blood on the deck plates in front of her. Her eyes were thick and rimmed green and her face was puffy and swollen. She had lost track of how long she had been crying since she watched Riov Rendal execute Dralath tr'Rul right there in front of her. An incentive for Mnhei'sahe to give up the secrets of the Hera to the Tal’Shiar.

One of the three incentives they had. The other two were in different cells in the narrow, dark corridor. Her mother, Jaeih Dox and her Grandmother, the Rihannsu Senator, Verelan t’Rul. Both now prisoners of Riov Dalia Rendal. Both now victims of torture and pain because of Mnhei’sahe Dox’s failures. Then came the final threat. Rendal pulled out Dox's ceremonial wedding bracelet as additional leverage. A threat against Mona.

As her own raking sobs finally slowed, and her breathing began to calm, Dox was light-headed and exhausted. She had already been a captive for over two weeks, but they were two weeks of comparatively gentle treatment before now. Her grandmother had tried to reach out and convince Mnhei’sahe to embrace her family and heritage willingly. The elder Deihu filled the young Starfleet officer with stories of family, the home she had never seen, the life she could have. The answers to a lost little girl's childhood fantasies. But accepting so would have cost her her new life. Her marriage and the children on the way. And it would have cost her her mother.

Also captive, Jaeih was being used as leverage to ensure compliance and for two weeks, Dox complied. She listened to the stories and absorbed the lessons and was beginning to falter. She was beginning to want what her grandmother was offering. And when it became clear that if she did so, her mother would become expendable, Dox was forced to make a choice and take a stand. So stand she did.

And in doing so, played into the hands of the cruel Romulan Commander, Dalia Rendal. Rendal used Dox’s impassioned attempt to reach out and convince her grandmother to see reason as justification to orchestrate a coup. She took over the mission and the ship and detained Verelan t’Rul as a traitor. And she had already begun torturing the elder stateswoman to prove to Dox that she would.

It was over. There was nothing left for Mnhei’sahe Dox to do. No more options left to try and exploit. Rendal had her. Had what was left of her family. All she could do was hope she could resist enough to deny Rendal her final prize: The secrets of the Gods contained on the Hera. And those contained in her own mind. All she had left was the hope she could hold out long enough to protect those secrets until it was time for Masato Rei to come and claim her too.

Restrained, she couldn’t even attempt to deny Rendal by taking her own life. What was once her final answer if all else failed was no longer even an option. She had gambled and lost everything. And as she sat, her head dangling over in the darkness, all she could hear was the hum of the ship's engines as they raced towards Romulus to die… and the raspy breathing of her grandmother in a cell down the corridor.

Her mother’s breathing, she couldn’t hear. She had no idea what condition either was in. She had no idea what would happen if she tried to say something. Would Rendal punish them further if she tried to talk to them? She no longer trusted anything she thought. She had failed so utterly that she didn’t know what left she could do to the degree that even speaking frightened her. She was no Starfleet officer. She was a scared child in a cage waiting to fail one last time.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the only thing she still had. The only thing left Rendal couldn’t take from her. In the darkness of her mind’s eye was still the swirling lavender energy that gave her the only comfort she had left. The piece of her wife and bond-mate, Mona Gonadie that was forever a part of her own soul. That piece that was, perhaps, all that was left of her own.

With her eyes still closed, she reached out to that energy in front of her and slowly, softly, began to speak. She didn’t know if she was speaking to Mona, half a galaxy away or the family there on the ship, or just to herself. But she spoke anyway. “If you can hear me, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry that I failed you. I’m sorry that I failed them. But I did. I did everything I could think to do and it’s only made everything worse. They’ve taken… everything. All I have left is my mind and they will be coming for that soon as well.” Dox spoke, just a little louder. As she did, she wasn’t even consciously aware she was speaking in her native tongue of Rihan, and didn’t really care. She just had to talk.

Since she had been taken, she had tried to reach out to Mona with their telepathic link that usually required physical contact. But in her desperation she had tried anyway, not knowing if her whispered thoughts were carrying or being heard. But still, she hoped. And still, she spoke.

“I didn’t mean for everything to go so wrong. I should have just given up. I should have just given in. But I thought I could be… more than what I am. I thought I could do the right thing. I was… I was so scared that I wanted what I was being offered. I wanted the home being given to me and I’m ashamed of that desire. I knew that if I kept walking… turned my back on my mother one last time... that I would lose her. That I would lose myself completely. And I couldn’t do that. So instead, I doomed everyone by trying to be a hero. Trying to be what Rita thought I could be. Because I thought I was better than I was. Because I thought I could be stronger than I was. I should have just given in. Conceded. I’m sorry I’m not what you thought I was. What you thought I could be. I’m sorry.”

As she went on, even she didn't know if she was really speaking to Mona on the Hera, or to her mother or to her grandmother, both in separate cells down the corridor… or just herself. And she had no idea if any of them could even hear, but she had to say it.

“I tried. I tried so hard to be what everyone else thought I could be. I tried to be a good officer. I tried to be a wife and a daughter and a friend and in the end, I even tried to be a granddaughter.” As she spoke, tears began to flow again, stinging her already burned eyes that she thought had no more tears to give as her voice dropped to an inaudible whisper. “It’s better this way, I think. It’s better that this all end out here like this. So they’ll never know. So that I’ll at least never be able to fail… to fail them. Just… when they’re born… please don’t tell them that their mother was a failure, Mona. Don’t let them live with that.”

As she spoke, her head sunk low and she quietly cried. Whatever strength she still had was gone. Spent. She felt like an empty thing waiting to die and she found herself looking forward to seeing the face of Masato Rei one last time to put an end to the farce that was Mnhei’sahe Dox.

------------

After an hour of hanging her head passed, and another, and another, she thought she heard something. Bootsteps in the corridor. Not Rendal’s or her Centurions. These were familiar somehow. Impossibly familiar, considering where she was. It was that quick paced, martial stride she had learned to keep up with and match over the last year on the Hera. And as she looked up through groggy, tear stained eyes, there stood Commander Rita Paris.

“R...Rita?” Dox muttered to herself. “You… you shouldn’t be here.”

“Nonsense. Where else would I be?” The impossible woman replied with a voice that was both Rita’s and not Rita’s. “So, let me guess, Lieutenant. They’ve been dragging you through your past and now you’re sitting there blaming yourself for everything, right? That is your default pattern, isn’t it? Hw'm I doing?”

“Shut up. You’re not here. You don’t know.” Dox hung her head again and mumbled a weak response. Neither woman was speaking the same language, but they understood each other all the same. As usual, Rita a little more than not.

“Oh, I know. I know that you’re being manipulated, plain and simple. They’re pulling at everything you’ve ever wanted while threatening everything you’ve gained and your head is spinning trying to not drown from it all.” Rita replied, a snap in her voice designed to make Dox pay attention. And slowly, the embattled Lieutenant raised her head, an angry look on her face now.

“It’s my fault. It’s my fault they’re being tortured. It’s MY FAULT HE’S DEAD!!” Dox growled at the ghost in front of her.

But Rita’s inscrutable expression remained fixed as she looked down at the young prisoner. “That's not true, and you know it.”

"If not for me none of us would be here." Dox protested weakly.

“Also untrue, and while it is delightful that you try to make this all about you, you already know that isn't true either. What did you do wrong? Take your family to dinner? Choose to actively try and NOT kill your attackers?” Rita raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “Stop me when I get to the massive screw up at the heart of all this, Miss Dox.”

Dox scoffed and blinked through heavily lidded eyes as she raspily replied. “This whole situation is my fault.”

Sighing, Rita shook her head. “Are you really going to make me run down, item by item, all of the reasons it isn't? Because viewed objectively, it's quite clear that it's not. So while it's adorable how much you want to wallow in this guilt trough of yours, it's time for you to put on your officer's panties and figure out how to keep you, your mother and your grandmother alive long enough for a chance to escape or for help to arrive. Because no matter what, you know we're coming. Like a goddamn ion storm, Enalia Telvan will not rest until she finds you.”

“That’s what they WANT, Rita! They want the Hera to come after us!” Dox protested, louder as her voice cracked and broke.

“This is not our first rodeo, Miss Dox. Enalia’s wrestled with the Tal’Shiar before and you know it. And you know we’re not stupid, so that’s not what you’re really worried about, is it?” Rita kneeled down, closer to Dox’s eye level with that perplexing expression she mastered. That look of a parent explaining something simple to a child.

“They took… they took everything. I can’t… I can’t… I can’t let them take you too. You, Enalia, Asa… Mona. I’m not worth risking your lives over.” Dox hung her head and fresh tears flowed through chapped eyelids, stinging as they came.

“Didn’t you once tell me something along the lines of how you’d turn time inside out to come after me if I was ever lost in it again? How dare you expect any less of us, Rinam.” Rita spoke firmly, with that familiar fire in her voice as she evoked the Rihan word for ‘sister’. One of the very few words in the language that she knew.

“Now Lieutenant, I expect better of you, and when I read your report on all of this after you are back on the Hera, you can leave out your night of guilt and grief, because it's understandable. Now it's time to make a plan and rise to the occasion, and show this smug Tal’Shiar bitch how honorable Starfleet officers comport themselves, and how we've consistently outsmarted the Star Empire for the past two hundred years.” Rita stood back up at military attention and spoke with that authoritative voice of hers that made gods pay attention.

Gods… and guilt-ridden Lieutenants that forgot who they were.

“Aye… aye, Commander.” She said, weakly.

“What was that, Lieutenant?” Rita replied with a smirk.

“Aye, Commander.” The emotional young red-head replied, voice still cracked, but with more strength behind it. “But. I… I don’t know how.”

Kneeling down again, Rita put her hand on Dox’s chin and raised it up to meet her gaze. “Yes you do, Lieutenant. Yes, you do.”

And with that, she was alone again in the cell. Still shackled and still alone. There was no Rita Paris, just Mnhei’sahe Dox and the little voice in her head that she deferred to when she was lost. Her own personal ‘lost navigator’ that forced her to ask the questions she often didn’t want to ask and answer them with a determined, “What would Rita Paris do?”

Hefting the bottle of Saurian Brandy by the handle of the traditional sling in which they were sold, Rita made her way next door to the Captain's quarters. Sonak had once pointed out that the Saurians made the leather for the bottles from Saurian hide, which to this day she couldn't decide if that added to or detracted from the experience.

She'd been gone a while, and she'd worried about her Captain while she'd been gone. To have come back the moment she left had been a huge relief to her, and she was glad Enalia hadn't been alone fighting her way through this for the past two months and change. But the ancient astronaut was certain that she was likely a bit tenser than normal. Which meant that as chief morale officer, it was time to get the queen of the Artans, Mistress and Commander of all she surveyed. to relax a bit an unwind and likely unburden herself. Likely while blaming herself, a common trait on the Hera.

But that was part of why Rita was here, in this time and place. Of that she was rather certain. Thus she tabbed the chime and waited to see how Maica was holding up with the baby- another stressor on the Captain.

Interestingly, it was Enalia herself that answered the door personally, a tribble in one hand and baby Moira cradled in her other arm while the sounds of cooking came from the kitchenette. Moira was bound and determined to reach the poor little tribble as well, whom was already quite damp from being in the tyke's mouth.

Seeing Rita, the stressed captain couldn't help but give a wide grin and wave her inside. "Rita, please, come in. Make yourself at home." While the quarters were usually clean prior to the introduction of a baby, now that Moira had been added to the family, it was obvious that even Maica had not been able to keep up with the housekeeping and there were baby toys, towels, and dishes scattered about in random places. Even a few of Enalia's prized teacups looked to be suspiciously missing.

"Well hello little one... hello there!" Rita beamed at the babe in arms, as she stepped into the quarters. "I brought real booze- I figured you could probably use a drink, all things considered, and I wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay. I'm glad we haven't left yet- little gift from the universe I guess. Because I was worried about you before we beamed out, and that was a while ago for me. But you look surprisingly calm... even with a wee baby in hand, yes, yes little one, hello!"

The inspirational first officer was apparently having trouble being distracted by the infant, who gurgled and cooed happily for the moment as she continued trying to gum a tribble to death.

Relieved to have an extra set of hands, Enalia handed off her little tribble and smiled that zen, dead-eyed smile that only parents that have crossed a certain threshold of lack of sleep have. "I would love a drink. As soon as I get Moira to bed again, I'll..."

That was when Maica swooped in from the kitchen with a pair of plates with simple egg salad sandwiches and fried potato wedges. "Rita! I heard you come in so I took the liberty of making you a plate. Please, have a seat. I'll get little Moira tucked in." She set the plates on the table and transferred the infant to her own prodigious care, starting in on a strange rendition of a Trill lullaby as she headed for the bedroom.

“Thank you Maica, that’s very sweet of you!” Paris smiled, taking the plates and handing off the soggy robotic tribble.

The spotted Captain could just stare and smile after her wife, with that same glass-eyed look. "I don't know how people do it. Moira's tried to eat my tribble three times just today and I think it's programmed to let her. Everything goes in her mouth and there are so many diapers... So many diapers..."

“I hear that’s part of the experience at this point. Nonstop feeding and pooping for a while at least,” Rita owned as she sat down, setting down the plates as well as the bottle she was carrying, which she promptly uncorked and poured one for the captain. “Here, Enalia. Take a seat, stop long enough to eat and have a drink, and you can catch me up on what I’ve missed, hm?” Again, while it had been months for Rita it had only been a few days since Captain Telvan had learned of the Dox’s kidnapping. Thus it seemed to have been much longer to her, and she was still working to readjust to the local timeline… again.

"Yeah, thanks..." With a light sigh, Enalia flumped into the dining chair and sipped at the offered glass. "Oh... That's good. I haven't had Saurian Brandy in ages. It's been Artan Vintage this and Praetor's Reserve that since the whole Tribunal kicked off I almost forgot what a good brandy tastes like. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

Picking up half of her sandwich and biting into it, the spotted woman moaned softly. "Mmph... I swear she can make dirt taste good. Anyway, medical scans show that you've spent something like seventy two days inside of some sort of pocket dimension while only around thirteen seconds passed in our time. Are you okay? I'm no counsellor and I'm honestly horrible with feelings, but I'm here for you if you want to talk."

"Actually?" Rita offered a sheepish smile as she poured out a shot of actual Saurian brandy for herself, which she never did. Alcohol-impaired mental function by inflicting brain damage, and Sonak was rather opposed to such things. Although he left the choice in Rita's hands, she generally obliged it, respecting the logic. But tonight, with her captain, catching up, Rita was gonna let her hair down a little.

"It was like a colonial adventure saga, like Boroughs or Howard. The planet's gravity was lighter, so I was alarmingly strong. I still had my weapons locker in the bracers, and I used them sparingly, but there were not that many energy weapons, really. Just lots of swords, some powerful psionics like magic maybe? At any rate, I was worried- worried about you facing this alone, about the ship, the crew, missing Sonak. But I knew he'd find me and figure out a way to bring me back. He always does. So while I went on adventures and kind of spurred and maybe led a rebellion against a mad god-king, it was..." Rita shrugged and smiled, that irrepressible smile of hers that could light up a room.

"It was the best vacation I've had in years. It was like being stuck in a theme park for almost three months. I had adventures and setbacks and situations and negotiations and..." Words failed her as Rita shrugged broadly and tossed down the shot of brandy. "It was amazing. The only bad part is that I might never see any of those people again if the time differential between dimensions is consistent, but I don't think it is. If so, they are thousands of years down the road from my visit by now, and all of my friends there are dust. But... maybe not." Pouring out another shot, the fulsome first officer handed the shot glass to her captain.


"The universe is not unkind, and I think I might have a theory about what happened." Rita wagged her finger, a habit she was fond of when she prepared to lecture or pontificate. "You know how much space we covered in the 3 seconds of what would have been the standard beam-in at that speed? Around 2 billion kilometers. In those three seconds. That's a lot of space. And mine stretched, of course. Transporters still seem to do that with me- they take longer. No clue on why that is. But at any rate, we covered about ten billion kilometers in the time it took me to beam in. That's what happens when two ships moving at warp 9.2 do in moments like that. Cover a lot of space."

"Right..." Enalia was starting to see where Rita was going with her logic as she downed the brandy and handed the glass back. "With the Vulcan ship and us both moving at warp 9.2, that's a lot of quantum dilation, even with compensation. If we had stopped the ship we would have completely reset the cooling system and flushed the intermix chamber and we'd have lost at least a day. I had requested the use of one of their high-speed shuttles..."

“Oh, I know. Somehow the Vulcans seemed to take an intellectual satisfaction in beaming me regardless of my protestations. Which I will definitely be bearing in mind moving forward, trust me,” Rita rolled her eyes at the memory. “Point being, somewhere in the first two billion kilometers, my best guess is that my transporter signal managed to get dragged across an energy ribbon of sorts… it’s this phenomenon they have still not thoroughly explained, but it’s like an extradimensional tear. Why my signal and not Sonak and Az’Prel’s, I am sure there’s a scientific explanation for that too, but… well, Rita and transporters, can’t say as I was surprised.”

While she remained transporter phobic, as she would for life, Rita could at least casually discuss the details in hindsight, The same mentality that enabled her to bounce back from just about anything applied here, and relieved as she was to be safe and sound back on the Hera, she could let go of the fact that the universe got her lost. Again.

Long ago Rita had earned the nickname ‘the Lost Navigator’, and the universe apparently like to reinforce that to her occasionally.

“All of that aside, Oh Evasive One, how are you holding up? That’s why I’m really here… while I genuinely appreciate your concern, I am actually none the worse for wear. Heck, I even have some abs- no carbs, all protein diet was great for burning and tonight with all that exercise. But you’ve got kidnapped personnel, and a mystery, and if I know you it’s been eating you up.” Pouring another shot, Rita tossed it back, then poured another to hand to the Captain. “So talk to me, Enalia- just you and me here, no ranks, no junior officers who have to see you as indestructible. This is our time and in your privacy, so be honest- how are you holding up?”

Enalia downed the shot and handed the glass back once again, that patented lopsided grin of hers finally showing through for just a moment. "Me? Evasive? Yeah, ok... I've been trying to keep it together in front of the crew as best I can what with the Dox's having been kidnapped, both of them being friends and important to me. I have to be a bastion of strength, after all. But then I get home and I have to be a bastion of strength as well, what with motherhood. Maica has hundreds of databases, but she has zero instinct so she's been relying on me for that."

"On top of that, I think my boobs are getting tender and... I don't even want to think about where that might lead." Enalia's face kept falling as she poked at her fried potatoes, occasionally nibbling at one. "And then there's the potential Tal'Shiar spies we have in the brig. I'd like to toss them all in a penal colony and be done with it, but my inner Rita won't let me. Something about doing the right thing and due process or something."

"So yeah. That whole 'don't burn both ends of your flame-stick' saying? I think mine is on fire at several points in the middle as well." The Trill woman waved a particularly large potato in the air before biting into it to punctuate her point.

“Well. That is a bit of a list,” Rita agreed. “Yes, the crew needs to see you as a bastion of strength, but I don’t. So that’s why I am here, so you can be mortal, cry on my shoulder, try to blame yourself for letting them get kidnapped, fret that we might not manage to rescue them and be afraid. That you can do here, with me.,.. that’s why you have a first officer. Someone to keep your secret that you aren’t actually Superwoman.”

"Yeah, far from Superwoman. Maybe Captain uh..." Enalia waved a hand in the air, trying to remember the obscure 20th century comic book references. "Captain America? Maybe? Anyway, I feel like I let my guard down at the end of the Tribunal and I know it's not my fault, but like you said, I can't help but feel like it is. On top of that, we're heading straight to Romulus. We have no hope of rescue if we fail. We'll be up against the Tal'Shiar. Any sane captain would turn around and hand it to the Diplomatic Corps or at the very least, have a far better plan."

"What's the core of our plan? Oh, our ship is so much faster we're hoping to catch them by complete surprise and rescue them when THEY get there? Ok, there's more to it than that, but..." Enalia picked up her sandwich again and bit into it, moisture building up in her eyes before continuing her rant around a mouthful of egg salad sandwich. "I'm worried that... That we're not only not going to rescue them... But we're going to lose other people as well."

“I know, Enalia. I know,” Rita offered in a soothing conciliatory tone. “I’m scared of all of that too. But we’ve been through a little too much together for me to give up hope. Dox is a lot of things, but she will have unshakable faith tat we’ll come for her. Because she knows Artan Queen Captain Enalia Telvan will face off with death herself if need be to get back her pilot. And I didn’t invest all that time and energy in those two to lose them to the Romulans.”

“We’re going to get them back, Enalia. I don’t know how yet and I don’t know if it will go well or poorly, but I’m not in the habit of losing people, and I don’t plan to start now. So you just keep that chin up and keep looking like the indestructible iron-willed Captain, and you let me worry about how we’re going to make it work, okay?” As a legendarily awful liar, Rita was known to speak the truth. And here, her voice did not falter, her eyes did not look away. Instead, she remained focused on Enalia and did her best to instill in the spotted mistress and commander of the USS Hera the confidence that she needed, that she was having trouble finding in herself.

When Enalia Telvan couldn’t believe in herself, Rita Paris would do it for her.

While the myriad details surrounding the kidnapping of Lieutenant and Mrs. Dox had been filed and analyzed, there were some facts available already. It was clear that the abductors were Tal Shiar trained. It was clear that they came prepared. Given how the two women fought, it was even suspected that their food may have been drugged to make them that much easier to capture. Seeing the grainy restaurant scans from their low-quality equipment the kidnapping team had not bothered to destroy, a ball of anger knotted itself in the stomach of the Hera’s first officer as she watched Mona Gonadie taken hostage, and the two women undone by their compassion.

This would not stand.

The Romulan baroness of the Artan Family Fleet of Privateers was one Sienae Nei’rrh, who had been cleared of any suspicion early on, in a session of interrogation which was likely not entirely civilized, given the code of pirates- privateers Paris reminded herself, as the captain had steered her family business onto a slightly more respectable course since taking it over. But to assuage the stain to her honor, she was cooperating fully with the crew of the USS Hera. Not only had she loaned her resident Miradonian spymaster Bedo Fritterson, but she had also offered to loan her personal T'liss class Bird of prey, the classic Romulan star cruiser from Rita’s era named ‘The Golden Ghost', to rendezvous with the Hera at the border of the Neutral Zone in order to ferry the insertion team into Romulan space.

Disguises would be donned, cosmetic alterations would be made, and already Rita was dreading the migraine that was to come from a ‘datadump’ learning method that would teach her how to speak Romulan and cultural cues she would need in order to be able to pass cursory examinations. But for now, it was time to set the stage and interrogate her three suspects.

Darok tr’Khev was the one who had scheduled the dinner. Aerv t'Lioh had garnered a voucher from the restaurant for a free meal. And Ria t’Narath was the one who had provided the flight plan clearance, which Rita was still unsure just how that made her a suspect.

While she would feel better using Gonadie as a lie detector, or even Sonak, Rita would work with the fine feathered fellow sent by the Romulan Baroness. Ideally, he could be trusted, and she planned to sit him behind the subjects, signaling lie or truth as needed without them being able to read his facial cues to know if they were being found out. Combined with Varnok’s specialty in information extraction, Paris was prepared to play the bad cop and get results. She was just coming off a two-month boot camp- her muscles were toned and strong, her confidence high, and she was quite motivated to have the truth.

In this matter, she would have that truth. Because in the words of her ancestor astronauts, failure was not an option.

“Mister Varnok, Mr. Fritterson, are you prepared?” Paris asked as she paced the small interrogation room, chosen specifically for its claustrophobic size. She had the lights dimmed low and the sound set to dampen, so that it would be hard to be heard and sound would not carry very well, all to add an element of suffocation and pressing urgency to the proceedings.

Varnok thought briefly to himself about the Doxes; if there was an ounce of information to be had, he would happily dig it out one way or another. Turning to the blonde senior officer with a grim look on his face, he replied, "Aye Commander."

"So, you're the good cop in this scenario, Mister Varnok. I am the bad cop, and Mister Fritterson is our lie detector. I'll assume you know this role well, so feel free to play it as broadly as you like, just remember- don't lie. We're Starfleet. We want the truth, and we will have it, but we can't stoop to their level." The conventionally cheerful commander cocked a quizzical eyebrow, and an unsettling smile crept across her face. "Omissions and suppositions, however, those we may choose to abound. Have I set the protocols for you appropriately, gentlemen? And remember, this is round one. We can keep doing this all the way to Galactic Barrier if we have to, so while there is urgency, we need not rush our work. Watch every nuance, every tel, learn whop these people are and convince them that it's in their better interest to come clean than to maintain their silence, and overcoming their fear of the Tal Shiar."

"Or," The golden ghost of another age admitted with palms to the overhead, "determining their innocence. But I suspect we've three criminals here. And that's where we begin."

-------------------

"CONSPIRACY!" Paris clattered the PaDD down on the table in front of Darok tr’Khev.

Jolting back at the display, tr’Khev looked genuinely surprised for a moment. Or, at the least, nothing about his body language indicated a hardened Tal'Shiar agent.

Dressed in a simple black tunic, tr’Khev was a bit thicker in the middle that not and was something that seemed fairly rare in his people: balding. He had the more prominent forehead ridges common for Romulans that the Dox women both lacked, and was a communications officer for Baroness Sienae Nei’rrh's flagship. According to the report, after the Captain's coronation dinner, where Lieutenant Dox spoke with the Romulan Baroness and she had recommended the restaurant, he was ordered to handle some of the arrangements and make their reservations.

But the initial investigations revealed a gap in time while he was on duty after making those arrangements. A three minute period where he had been logged in where not even background static had been recorded from his comm station. Just long enough to send a message and erase the record.

“You see, there are three of you involved here. Each of you played your parts and contributed. So since that means more than one, a conspiracy. Multiple counts of kidnapping? That’s 6 years in a penal colony followed by another two years in a rehabilitation center. But conspiracy? That charge carries a minimum of 20 years in a maximum-security penal colony. Five years of rehabilitation. Oh, and we add it to the kidnapping charge. So despite your longevity compared to we short-lived Humans,” Paris lectured as she stared the man down, “that’s a big chunk of your life to be eating prison rations and replicated gruel.”

“So talk. Cooperate with us now and we can cut a deal, and you don’t have to go to a penal colony with the rest of your conspirators. You can walk out of here today a free man. Or you can make this hard on us, and force us to squeeze the truth out of you inch by inch. I’ll keep coming back every day, in a progressively worse mood as I get migraines and stress headaches from all of this, and the deal is going to get worse every day I offer it to you. So this is your golden ticket, Darok. Sing now and you go free. Make me work for that conviction, and I promise you will have a very long time to regret it.”

Looking extremely nervous, the thick-middled balding man scrunched up in his seat uncomfortably. He could hear the feathers of the man sitting behind him bristle slightly, and to the side of the gold-clad human woman was a narrow-eyed Cardassian simply watching. But if tr’Khev was faking his nervousness, he was doing it well. "My... my baroness said to cooperate, so I'm here to cooperate. I made dinner reservations on my Mistresses behalf for one of her fellow baronesses. Baroness Nei’rrh is a co-owner of the restaurant and simply wanted our ship to extend a courtesy to this woman for her efforts during the tribunal."

Nothing he said wasn't in the report, but gave no additional information meaning nothing he had yet said could register as a lie to either the canny Miradonian in the back or the scanning equipment that was having a hard time determining anything as his agitated state made almost everything he said register inconclusively.

At that, the miniskirted maverick’s eyes narrowed, and a mirthless smile settled onto her face. “Do you know what I love about Romulans? They are renown throughout the galaxy as being lying, backstabbing cheats, sneaks in the night, all of that. But it’s like they pride themselves on what they DON’T say. I notice there was no denial of the conspiracy charge. No denial of involvement. No protestation of innocence. You’re here to waste my time, aren’t you, inmate?” Paris leaned on the table, her gaze seething.

“I absolutely ABHOR having my time wasted. Beam this idiot back to his cell, since he doesn’t seem to understand how to NOT be a sneaky, shifty, shitty excuse for a Romulan,” Paris snarled, as Varnok spoke up.

"So, Mr. tr’Khev..." Varnok said, tapping the PaDD in his hand as if it was not working. "It appears you have worked yourself into quite the... emotional state."

The nervous-looking suspect eyed Paris then eyed the Cardassian in the gray, Starfleet Intelligence Uniform with a suspicious expression.

The stern-looking Cardassian gave a little bow and a light clap, tucking the PaDD under his arm. "Quite the performance. A bit old and overused but effective, forcing your vitals into a stressed state to confuse the sensors and muddy the readings." Pulling the PaDD back out from under his arm and entering some data, Varnok said quietly, "My kingdom for the days of the Order."

As the cagey Cardassian spoke, the nervous Romulan tensed up. Tal'Shair or not, even as an Artan Pirate tr’Khev would have known enough about the legendary Obsidian Order to give him pause. And, of course, he had no way of knowing that the Starfleet Officer was only 15 when the Cardassian Secret Police was disbanded as it was particularly hard to peg his age from just looking at him.

Giving a sly, unsettling grin to the seated Romulan, Varnok continued, "It is going to be such pleasure to relieve you of your secrets. I do hope you will give them willingly. Do tell us what you were doing during those three minutes, either you are inept or you had a message to send. Which is it?"

"I am not inept, I perform my duties diligently and with honor." tr’Khev spoke, fumbling over his words slightly. "I... cannot speak to whatever technical issues may have caused the gap in the records."

Keeping his stony facade, the Cardassian leaned forward on the table, "Come now, you said you were not inept so the only technical error would have been you. Maintenance reported the communications board was functioning properly. So let's talk about this message you sent."

As he stepped back from the table, Varnok bluntly stated, "To whom was this message sent?"

The flustered Romulan opened his mouth as if to answer, but then caught the words in his throat and went cold, folding his arms in front of him, saying nothing. As he did, Varnok turned to Paris and said plainly, "If he doesn't answer, we can always sedate him."

“No need, Mr. Varnok,” Paris snarled. “He’s the weakest link, the one who did the least in this entire affair. So when we’re adding up charges, his would have been the least of the sentences. But I’m certain that his co-conspirators will be happy to sell him out, so frankly, I’m not that interested in what he doesn’t have to say. Get this slug out of my sight. We’ll likely not speak again, Mr. tr’Khev, given that you have nothing to offer. I do hope you enjoy rotting in prison. I hear Federation prisons are a particular delight for Romulan prisoners, particularly those who have had to fight Romulans… oh, and the ones who spent time in Romulan penal colonies. Not that we humans would ever hold grudges like that.”

At that statement, Paris let a slow and remarkably unpleasant smile spread across her face. “So since he’s chosen honor amongst thieves, I’ll be happy to ensure he gets the maximum sentence. Now get him out of my sight. Goodbye, Mr. tr’Khev. You will have plenty of time to reflect upon this discussion in the years to come.”

At that, the door of the interrogation room opened, and in strode the two burly and intimidating Klingon security officers, V'Nus and S'Rina of house Wil'I'Ams. Grasping the prisoner under the arms, they roughly hauled him to his feet.

"Ladies, this is the trash responsible for one minuscule portion of the Dox kidnapping conspiracy. Escort him back to his cell so that he may begin the long contemplation of his ruined life ahead, and just whom he is more afraid of- Federation prison or whomever is blackmailing him. I trust you will not lose a grip on him en route. And if he tries to run, remember- we're Starfleet. We don't kill. Crippling..." Paris left the sentence to trail off.

The taller of the two, V'Nus, turned to give her sister S'Rina what could almost be describes as a smile which was returned eerily. Then they started the suspect out of the room with a harsh tug on his arms, "Come along, p’tak!”

Of course, the dedicated and decorated Security amazons would do no such thing. And Rita herself was skirting the truth with that one. But at this point she was surprised by her own vehemence. The missing Dox family was a subject she was attempting to deal with rationally. But in point of fact, she was furious. Thus none of the threats she had made were inaccurate- she would have grey hair before Darok tr’Khev was a free man again, and she would see to it personally. She had offered the man a genuine chance, and he had chosen poorly. She would have no regrets whatsoever about insuring his life was ruined, and beyond that, the Artan family of pirates would all know who he was, and that he was branded as a traitor, and be made fully aware of the date of his release from prison. She suspected that even when his sentence was up, his life expectancy would not be very long at all... and she was surprisingly fine with that.

Betrayed Romulans, it was said, had very long memories. She suspected the Baroness Nei’rrh would be happy to prove that in thirty years or so.

--------------

After a few minutes, the next suspect was brought in and sat down. Aerv t'Lioh was one of many assistants to Baroness Nei’rrh and was the equivalent of a boatswain in old terminology.

She was an older woman, looking close to Jaeih Dox's age with mid-length, graying hair in a bob. She was wearing a deep green, high necked top and had a severe, gaunt face and seemed to be making little effort to conceal her anxiety. Her hands were tented in front of her on the table as she trained her eyes down and waited.

According to the report, she acquired the voucher for the free meal which also gave her access to the timeline, how many people would be there. She had the when, where and how and that was a lot of information. And she also had family on Romulus that could have been used as leverage against her.

"MISTER Varnok, I am in a mood already with these discussions and I don't suspect my mood is apt to improve with this interview. Open the negotiations with our cards on the table, if you please?" Tapping at what she considered to be the relevant points of the intel report they had, the curvaceous commander leaned back in her chair. Propping her black knee-length explorer's boots up onto the table, the Starfleet siren leaned the chair back, crossed her fingers in her lap, set her face in the manner of a disapproving schoolmarm and waited to see what the junior officer had to offer.

As angry as she was at the first suspect, Rita Paris recognized that she was emotionally compromised and needed to calm down before interacting with another suspect.

So, she would analytically observe how the ensign- again, the ancient astronaut reminded herself to reprimand the Cardassian officer for disobeying her order. He'd been aboard for some time now, and he had yet to take his JG exam, as she'd instructed him to do at his first opportunity during his onboarding. It pointed to a problem, which she didn't yet know, but she'd work out. Meanwhile, handing him the exam and giving him time to work on it would give him something to do, and a distraction from the pending perilous mission. Charging into peril was a very different game that taking a slow boat to peril, and Paris knew how the stressors could add up. But that was for her to spring on him later. For now, she literally kicked back to watch the interrogation technique from the good cop.

Varnok stepped forward and looked over the middle-aged Romulan woman sitting before him. Scanning her face for any sign of trepidation. Glancing down at the PaDD in his hand, he locked gazes with her and stated, “We know you acquired the voucher for the free meal and also set up the time for the dinner. Is that correct?”

T'Lioh fidgeted slightly, glancing nervously at Paris who sat with her feet up on the table watching, then back to the calm Cardassian standing before her. She was clearly trying to figure out how to answer and didn’t seem to know what to do. “Ie. Y… yes, that is correct. I handle many such matters for the Baroness.”

Glancing down at his PaDD again, the biorhythms of the woman showed that she was being truthful, as did the slight nod from the living lie-detector sitting in the rear of the room. Encouraged by her willingness to give just that small truth, the Cardassian Intel officer sat on the edge of the table.

Immediately, the woman stiffened ever so slightly with nerves but didn’t pull away.

“We just spoke with your compatriot and know that you set up the whole evening. Why should we not believe that this was your plan all along?” Varnok said plainly.

“I was… I didn’t... “ She hemmed and hawed, clearly trying to choose her words carefully and beginning to look extremely pained. “I didn’t know anything about a plan when... I just did what I was told to do.” As she spoke, reading the biorhythms, he could tell that the statements were again true.

Reading the fear on the woman’s face, Varnok followed his instincts and placed his hand on hers. She flinched slightly, but looked up at him with pleading eyes. He smiled gently at her and said, “They threatened your family, didn’t they?”

At that, she snatched her hand back and her eyes went wide and shined with tears she was terrified to let slip out. “I… I… I can’t... “ She began shaking her head. “Elements forgive me, yes.”

Turning his head, Varnok looked over to Commander Paris, who had been following the exchange.

Still kicked back in the chair, Paris spoke calmly and evenly. "Were you or your family to be in jeopardy as a result of blackmail, as a private citizen there is very little I can do for you. However, as a witness in a criminal organization to finger a conspiracy, you and your family would be taken into protective custody by the Federation and relocated. Even extended family. Starfleet loves colonists, after all."

"We are currently in a very, very secure room. I guarantee you any signal in or out we are aware of an in control over, and whatever you say only aids your case with us. I'll hear your testimony and I'll tell you if we have a deal. So..." Paris dropped her feet off the table and landed all 4 feet of the chair on the floor, coming to fold her hands in front of her as she was now seated at the table and paying attention.

"Talk to me. What do you know and what can you prove, Ms. t'Lioh?"

Dipping her head, t'Lioh began to slowly shake her head as if she were to decline, but when she spoke, there was a weak crack in her voice. "What I know is not enough to engender your mercy... nor can you do anything for them, Commander."

Looking back up, she wiped a tear from her eyes as she continued. "My sons... my two sons are nothing more than factory workers. They pooled all their coin to..." Collecting herself, she took a breath, closed her eyes and started over. "I am a unificationist... but there are very few legal ways one gets off ch'Rihan where such beliefs are safe, Commander. My sons arranged such a way. They paid... all that they had... to get my name in the lottery as a colonist. From the colony... I was... recruited into the Baronesses service. Service from one Empire to another, I suppose. I could earn my way to a unificationist world for some time serving her, so I accepted."

Then she actually cracked with a light chuckle, "But no, that's not what you want to know. No. I was approached by the communications officer, Darok tr’Khev. I'd never liked the man in the two years we'd worked together. He... he came to me more friendly than usual, talking about the woman... the Baroness Dox and their dinner arrangements that Baroness Nei’rrh wanted to have arranged on their behalf. The voucher was to be open-ended. To be used at Baroness Dox's convenience. But tr'Khev said that he needed me to revise the schedule. To make the voucher for a set date and time."

"When... when I told him that I would need to clear such changes through Baroness Nei’rrh, he changed. He went cold with me... the kind of coldness I'd only ever seen from soldiers on the hearthworld. He... produced a small PaDD with scans of my families home. With images of my sons... their wives... my grandchildren. He said nothing on the images, letting me make what connections in my own mind was required. Then he gave me the exact day and time that he needed me to make the meal voucher for. And... and I complied."

The weary woman hung her head again and let out the longest breath as if it were her last. "That is all I know, Commander. I am nothing in this... conspiracy. A tool along the way. And even if I knew enough to satisfy your needs, there would be nothing you could do for my family. They never got away. They live still on ch'Rihan. If they are not already gone for my having been questioned, it is only a matter of time. It would be better had Baroness Nei’rrh simply killed me for her suspicions."

“You’ll be granted sanctuary within the Federation, and I will arrange passage for you to a unificationist colony. You have my word,” Paris began, offering sincerity that she hoped would be seen as such before continuing. “If you get me the coordinates of your family, I will see what can be done. I can’t make any promises, but… well, we have a habit of doing the impossible around here, so give us something to work with and we’ll do our best.”

“Now, given that you have been very straightforward in this matter, are you willing to testify to attest to these facts? It sounds like you have no proof, only hearsay at this point, just conversations?” Paris couldn’t play the ‘bad cop’ for long, given her nature. But this was a lead, a solid lead, and it had pointed out just who the true architect of this case had been all along.

The older Rihannsu woman looked up into Paris' deep, blue eyes. Then over to Varnok's. Both offered compassion that she was unprepared for and didn't quite know how to process. But after a moment, she shook her head again, looked down and spoke.

"No. I would have you take no action there. Either his threats have already been carried out and they are gone, or they were idle threats meant to frighten a weak, old woman and any attention you shined on them would only bring about the same harm I fear. No." Then she looked back up. "But I will testify in whatever capacity the truth requires. I... I have little left but the frayed remnants of my mnhei'sahe, but I will fulfill its demands one last time, Commander. You have my word."

Stiffening inadvertently at the mention of the first name of the kidnapped chief flight control officer, Paris cocked an eyebrow. “I appreciate that, ma'am. Your Mnhei’sahe? Are you related to our Miss Dox, Ms. t’Lioh?”

For the slightest of moments, t’Lioh was confused as she processed the question. But as she did, she shook her head slightly. "No more than I am to any daughter of ch'Rihan, Commander. No, the Baroness's name, 'Mnhei'sahe', is the name for Rihannsu Ruling Passion."

"It is the chief principle of honor by which our people live their lives, Commander. Or, at least, should. The Baroness holds as her name, our highest virtue, heaviest burden, and greatest responsibility." t’Lioh finished.

“I… did not know that,” Par is admitted, marveling that she’d known the woman for a year and didn’t know that. Of course, her own name was the shortened form of a fruity drink of which her father had been fond, which was the name of a yellow flower or, from the root language, a pearl. “At any rate, don’t count yourself out, Miss t'Lioh, and don’t imagine nothing can be done. I might just be in that neighborhood soon, and you’d be surprised what a motivated earth girl can accomplish when she sets her mind to it. In the meanwhile you’ve cooperated with us fully, and we’ll see you protected for it, assuming we can prove this.”

"Then may the Elements be with us all, Commander. I remain at your disposal." t’Lioh said, offering a respectful bow. She was still afraid and still deeply shaken, but she was allowing herself the sliver of hope… a thing that Rita Paris had a powerful ability to bring out in others.

After a moment, Commander Paris called in a different security officer. This time, the petite little fireplug, Petty Officer Liu, who was instructed to return the woman to guarded quarters, rather than a cell. It seemed prudent to set the tone for further cooperation, as the woman had been cooperative and, according to the room’s sensors, Rita’s instincts and the Miradonian man at the rear of the room, truthful.

------------

But there was no time for additional pleasantries between Paris or Varnok, as it was only a moment after she had left that V’Nus and S’Rina returned, flanking the next and final suspect to be interrogated. The security officers lead her in, waiting outside the door as the woman entered and walked around the table, her head held unusually high. Ria t’Narath was the Baroness Nei’rrh’s flight control officer. The tall, leanly build Romulan woman had long, thick brown hair pulled back into a looped braid and a calm, slightly irritated expression as she sat down.

The Baroness had a small fleet of ships and Ria t’Narath was in charge of managing the pilots and flight plans of them all. And, in regards to the kidnapping, she had managed the flight plan clearance of Lieutenant Dox’s personal ship, The Khallianen, at the Enox VI moon where the Baronesses restaurant was located. Arguably, it was difficult to figure out how that made her a suspect, but she had a strangely arrogant attitude that made her seem more than a little suspicious in the moment.

Taking a silent moment to assess the woman, Paris assembled an internal image of her, making character suppositions and considering her approach. Inspecting her like a zoological specimen, Paris turned to the Cardassian intelligence officer. “I suspect that despite the evidence in hand, Ms. t’Narath is just going to stick to her story and plead ignorance. What do you think, Mr. Varnok?”

Speaking about the woman as if she were not there was a dig she suspected would start off the questioning putting her off balance, so Paris pressed that button, and pressed the point.

"Well, obviously this woman has no mnhei'sahe, and her haughty airs tell be she will be nothing but difficult," Varnok said, looking down at his PaDD as if the woman were not even there and not worth his attention. "And considering what we already know, I doubt she has much to tell us."

Raising an eyebrow at the bait, t’Narath leaned back slightly in the chair and waited.

“So. Surprise us, Ms. t’Narath. Tell us something about this case we don’t already know. Give us some insight into why we shouldn’t just proceed with what we have already, and get those conspiracy charges filed against you all?” Paris affected an offhanded and casual air as if the details of the case were a moot point by now.

Looking first at Paris, then over to Varnok, than back to Paris, t'Narath took them both in. The anachronistic uniform, the pips on each, the colors. Their faces and expressions. She took it all in a moment while she processed what she would say next.

"Really, Commander? No overtures? No offers? I know you got nothing from tr'Khev. He's an idiot, but a loyal one. Even if you had the two Klingons beat him within an inch of his life, he wouldn't talk. And poor t'Lioh is less than a pawn in this and frankly, has nothing of value to give you. So, points for the effort, but I think I will require a little more effort here." The arrogant woman said, her eyes half-lidded as she had the hint of a petulant frown in place.

Turning to grin at the intelligence officer, Commander Paris settled back into her chair, crossed her legs smartly then opened her hands wide in a display of interest. "Mister Varnok, I give you the brains- the mastermind. By all means, Miss t'Narath, entertain me. Showcase your brilliance. We hang upon your every word." Paris cocked an eyebrow as she fluttered her lashes and smiled a close-lipped smile.

Glancing up at the woman with only his eyes for a second, Varnok sighed. "Moriarty she is not, Commander. A second rate agent from a second rate organization, at best."

Watching the display from the two, t’Narath rolled her eyes slightly and leaned forward on the table slightly. The power play going on wasn't going anywhere and her information needed to be shown at least a little for her to have any leverage in the moment. “Very well… you need me to show a card so you’ll take me seriously.”

Turning to look at the Miradonian in the rear of the room, t’Narath frowned slightly and let out a sigh. Turning back, she continued. “I joined Baroness Nei’rrh’s organization seven months ago, give or take a week. I and tr'Khev have been operating undercover for our government for that time under the orders of the Tal'Shiar. There specifically to find a way to get closer to your missing Lieutenant... Nei’rrh’s fellow Baroness.”

Then she leaned in further towards Rita with narrowing eyes. “And we weren't the only operatives tasked with getting closer to your 'Mnhei'sahe Dox'. The Tal'Shiar might have already had an agent on this very ship had the shuttlecraft ‘Ghidora’ carrying our deep-cover asset, listed in your records as ‘atmospheric systems engineer Chief C'huk’, not exploded before it could get to you thanks to the former Artan Queen’s less-than-subtle machinations during the Tribunal.”

“Supposition and hearsay. You’ll have to do better than that, Ms. t’Narath,” Paris dismissed. She’d, of course, run an investigation on the intel, but as of this moment, Rita still wasn’t buying what the ‘smarter than you’ Romulan woman was peddling. Generally, it was her experience that challenging such individuals tended to make them overplay their hands, and that’s what she was nudging the woman toward. “Anyone can create a rumor.”

"And at no point did the Miradonian behind me shake his head, nor did the PaDD in the Ensign's hand report falsehood on my part, Commander." t’Narath commented, sitting back a bit more, with an exasperated expression. She knew the game being played all too well and was irritated to be wasting her time playing it. "Which you will pretend to dismiss all the while making mental notes and shuffling your proverbial deck to see how I shall react. Very well."

"You want to know what other cards are in my hand... The stories and the proof to support them... I want certain assurances. No more handouts, Commander." t’Narath commented with a serious expression, staring Rita straight on. 

“Assurances are easy, especially when you’re offering nothing for it. I can make it worth your while, but I need something tangible. After all, you’re counting on this deal, otherwise, all of your machinations go down the drain. And we both know I’ll turn you back over to the pirates if I can’t prove your part in the conspiracy, but I suspect Romulan pirates are very, very forgiving, given to parliamentary procedure and they always ensure that there is proof before taking revenge. So play this however you like. I’m not the one whose ass is on the line here.” Paris played a few of her cards to show more of her position. The woman could ask for assurances all day long, but given her attitude and approach, Paris was currently debating another point, which she, in turn, played as well.

“I’m sure that should the Artan pirates interrogate you, they will, of course, adhere to only the most humane of conditions and would never dream of using more direct means of information extraction. So you go ahead and play your ‘I’ve got all the cards’ position, and let’s see how that works for you, because this is your ONE chance. You walk out that door without giving me anything, you go back to the Artans, to the tender mercies of the Romulan Baroness you betrayed. So tell me again how I need to make assurances to you?” Paris sat back and waited, to see if her logic would penetrate or if the arrogant criminal thought she was bluffing… which of course, she was not.

To which t'Narath actually laughed and shook her head. "Do you honestly think I'm not aware of that, Commander? I've already admitted to you that I am a Tal'Shiar spy. A sleeper in the Artan organization. I am likely more aware than you are just how impossible my predicament really is. Once the Tal'Shiar KNOW I've been interrogated, they will seek to have me eliminated regardless of what I say as a simple precaution."

"And the Artan's... they will do so with extreme prejudice. Otherwise, I would have said what I knew while still at the base. Why else do you think I played suspiciously until this ship was warping away from that fortress at high speed. You're the Federation. Starfleet. You stand by your word and offer mercy to even the undeserving." t'Narath commented, sounding slightly more agitated now. 

"Promise me protection from both, and I will tell you what I know and give you the evidence to prove it, Commander. It's really quite simple. You need what I know and I need what you can do for me." Then the cynical Romulan woman gave up one more card to nail her point home. "Your... ass... may not be on the line, but the Granddaughter of Senator Verelan t'Rul's certainly is."

The reaction that was supposed to elicit wasn’t there, because now Paris had heard enough. “Yes it is. So, are we really going to keep bandying about with these little power plays, or are you going to tell me what you know? Because frankly, at this point you already know what I can do for you.”

“Apparently you don’t know what else I can do,” Paris fairly snarled. She’d done all right up til now, or so she felt, but this was someone in specific she could take out her frustrations over the situation- an admitted spy who wanted to play games with the lives of people she cared about. ”You want to play hardball? We’ll be rendezvousing with the Romulan baroness at the border. So don’t think you are out of the frying pan. Instead, I’m the only one standing between you and the fire, and frankly, I’m sick of hearing your bullshit and evasions and games.”

Standing, Paris brushed off her skirt and picked up her PaDD, clearly done with the proceedings. “So you can give me something real, or I can hand you over to them and when they get the truth out of you they’ll let me know… since you so generously waived any chance at striking a deal with Starfleet. You want to know what I am prepared to do to you? Leave you to the pirate’s tender mercies and see what the chunks of you that can still communicate have to say when they’re done with you. I imagine they'll be thrilled at how long they've been harboring a spy, and they'll be so excited to see you again.

"So make your play, spy, because you have five seconds before any hope of any sort of deal with Starfleet walks out that door, and my report will read that in my professional opinion, you had nothing of value to offer the investigation. For the record, I think you’re bluffing. Me?” Paris leaned in enough for the overhead light to throw her face in shadow, those blue eyes piercing in their glare at the Romulan agent. “I. Do. Not. Bluff.”

Fuming, the Romulan woman looked at Varnok, whose face was a mix of irritation and disgust as if he had smelled a particularly bad cheese, then back to the enraged Commander whom she had no doubt wasn't bluffing. As she did, she spoke in a voice that was clearly trying to sound calmer than it was.

"Dox and her mother are on the D'deridex-class Warbird, 'The People's Will'. It is the Senatorial flagship of her Grandmother, who IS on board. It is being escorted by a Leosa Class Warbird called 'the Iurret'... 'the Silence'. I cleared the airspace around Enox VI for them and have their sub-space comm frequencies." She all but hissed in contempt.

"I also recorded the three-minute comm message from tr'Khev to his contact on the Iurret. A SubCommander named t'Suil serving under the command of an operative of the Tal'Shiar named Riov Dalia Rendal. He gave them the time and place for the kidnapping." She added for good measure. "Under cloak, even command cannot track them, but with those comm frequencies, you can intercept their communications with ch'Rihan."

“The recording?” Paris asked. “Again, all of this can be hearsay and misinformation from the Tal Shiar. Funny thing, spend a few centuries establishing yourselves as the best liars and cheats in the galaxy, it tends to work against you when you want to be believed.” Paris held out her hand, knowing the woman would have the data hidden on her person.

“Prove what you say, and Starfleet will protect you from both the Artans and the Romulans. Are you any good at crypto analysis, by chance…?” Paris asked with something of a sly smile creeping up at the corners of her mouth as if enjoying a private joke, which in truth was precisely what she was doing, the wheels already turning in her mind and plans forming.

Cricking an eyebrow, t’Narath sighed slightly. "It's not something I have on me commander, but rather... in me. The data is encoded as resequenced biological tags in my blood. Not new technology, but still effective at smuggling data places without having to carry anything incriminating on your person."

"The technology to which she refers is old at best. We have the means to... extract that information right here and the readers in the pod to decipher it. It would be my pleasure to get that information for you, Commander." Varnok commented with a sly grin that did not meet the coldness in his eyes.

"That call is up to you, Ms. t'Narath. Time to put up or shut up, and time for you to make the decision that you trust me and Starfleet at our word and give up your proof, or you can play games all the way back to the Artans. Make your decision." There was no time limit given on it, because while under ordinary circumstances Paris would let the prisoner stew in her cell over the decision, time was a luxury they lacked. Besides, she wanted those answers. Plans needed data, and a Senator's Romulan starship headed for the Romulan homeworld was not anything remotely like good news for the Dox family. But there was a way- there was always a way, and Rita would figure it out if she just knew a little bit more.

Which depended on this arrogant, stubborn spy's cooperation.

Clenching her jaw slightly, t'Narath just stared at the steely-eyed Commander, unblinkingly. She could read a liar from a sector away, and while Paris was clearly boiling with anger, she had never lied. As such, t'Narath made her choice, rolled up a sleeve and held her arm out on the table in front of Varnok. "I presume you have a hypo available? Three milliliters would be sufficient for the data."

"Not at all what I had in mind to retrieve the sample, but it will have to do, little prick that it is." Varnok replied with a cold edge to his voice that surprised even him. 

I would rather smash your smug face to the table for your part in what's happened to my friends. But this will have to do. The normally cautious Cardassian thought to himself as he realized just then how much the absence of some of the only personal connections he had made in his short time on the ship had affected him. 

But the sample would be extracted and studied, and the information would be retrieved and verified, and the crew of the Hera would get their crewmembers back, one way or another.

The tears had long dried as Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox awoke in her cell. Arms and legs shackled and a metal color fixing her neck to the back of the chair, her captors had left her overnight in the cold, metal chair which did nothing to help the searing pains in her neck and back. She had fallen asleep from utter exhaustion the night before with her head dangling off to the side as much as was possible. Now, as she tried in vain to stretch in the awkward, seated position, her tense muscles screamed in protest.

Letting out the slightest of winces as a knot in her bracketed neck twisted in protest at her desire to right her head, everything went white for a split second. Looking down at the deck plates in front of her, they were still stained dark green from the blood spilled there the day before when Riov Rendal executed Dralath tr'Rul, Mnhei'sahe's father, right in front of her. And beyond that, only darkness and silence. Knowing she was being watched by a security feed, she knew it would only be a matter of time before Centurions would be posted outside her cell. She could see the retractable refresher in the wall in the corner of her cell and also knew that she needed to use it, so she simply waited.

An hour passed before anyone appeared. A pair of Centurions in gray-black uniforms deactivated the field, one male and one female. The female Centruion entered and the field turned back on while the male one turned his back to the cell and stood alertly. Dox knew these two. They were the guards that attended her Grandmother the day earlier. Who took Senator Verelan t’Rul away and beat her viciously just so Riov Rendal could show off her cruelty to Dox. And Dox remembered those faces well.

The female guard had removed her sidearm outside the cell. Nothing that could be taken from her in a struggle, not that Dox was physically in any condition to fight with her muscles still on fire from her attempts at contorted sleep shackled to a metal chair. After a moment of the Centurion standing in front of her, there was a buzzing noise and the shackles released themselves with a hissing clank and Dox gasped and found herself almost flumping out of the seat involuntarily.

“You will attend to your needs, then return to the chair. You will do nothing else, nor take provocative actions of any kind or you will be returned to the chair by force, is that understood?” The female guard stated plainly in Rihan, never once making eye contact. Was SHE nervous? Dox thought to herself as she slowly stretched out the universes tightest knots in her neck and lower back.

“Understood.” Dox replied in kind with a hoarse gravel to her voice, not bothering to mask her contempt anymore. As she spoke, the guard took one step back to give the exhausted Starfleet officer just enough room to get up, pull out the small reclamation unit, lower her pants and do her business. Once complete, the wall panel next to her slid open to reveal a small sink and she cleaned herself up to the best of her abilities. Splashing a bit of the water on her face, she stole a slight sip before the wall panel slid shut and locked itself again and the refresher slid by itself back into the wall.

Looking over, the Centurion slowly gestured to the chair with a blank expression on her face. In her current state, Dox knew she didn’t have a chance if she had wanted to test the woman, but her roiling anger still made her think about it as, dutifully, she sat back down and put her arms and legs in position and watched as the shackles relocked. The field dropped for a moment and the female guard left, took her sidearm back from her counterpart and replaced it in its holster. And as she took her place outside the field, the male guard stepped away.

A few moments later, Dox could hear his bootfalls as he returned. With a small bowl in hand, he stood in front of the field. It deactivated again, he stepped in and the field snapped back in place. This time, his holster was now empty as the man stood in front of Dox with the bowl. She remembered him well. When ordered, she heard his name. Arrain tr’Sahe. 'Arrain' being the Rihan word for Antecentruion which essentially made him an Ensign, his fists still showed dark green bruising from where he struck Dox’s grandmother the day earlier and her eyes took him in. As she did, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining herself giving him far more than bruises for what he did.

But when the angry young Rihanna woman looked up to meet his eyes, which were not avoiding hers, she was met by a strange expression she couldn't quite put a description to.

He did his best to look professional and stone-faced, just as any loyal Rihannsu would do, but he couldn't help but feel something in his heart as he kneeled before the red-headed woman before him and offered a spoonful of the porridge to her. At first, he thought she would refuse as she stared back into his eyes. "You must eat to keep up your strength."

Squinting her green-rimmed, bloodshot eyes from a mix of dehydration and the seemingly endless tears of the night prior, Dox sneered at the Antecenturion's words but took the offered spoonful. She might have wanted to feed him that spoon through his eye socket, but he was right. She was already dehydrated and wouldn't be any use to her mother or grandmother for the nearly two weeks left they would be on the ship.

It was thick and largely tasteless, but she choked the spoonfuls offered down along with her anger as he continued. She needed a clear head if any of her family was to survive this. But she kept her eyes fixed on his as she finished. "There... I've eaten."

"My mistress will be pleased. You appear to be dehydrated." With that, he set aside the bowl and pulled a small bottle of water from his pocket, offering that to her as well. "Drink," he commanded simply.

Locked into the chair, it was tricky to lean her head back enough to drink, but she managed a few sips and resisted the urge to spit them in his face. "You can tell your Mistress Rendal you've done your duty, Arrain. Please her some more." She growled.

She wanted to tear into him for what he did to her grandmother. She wanted to do something... ANYTHING... except sit in that chair and be fed like a child. But she couldn't, and bit her tongue rather than say anymore.

For a moment, the pang of guilt in Pajom's heart for what he had done almost revealed him to the Tal'Shiar agents he knew was watching them right now. Even so, he was only barely just able to keep a moistness from his eyes as he collected the bowl and stood, preparing to leave. "As a loyal officer of the Imperium, my duty and my mnhei'sahe are my life. If you are a true daughter of ch'Rihan you will understand."

Watching as he turned to leave, his words bit into her just a little more. Evoking her name… the name of Rihannsu Ruling Passion, of honor... to justify his actions disgusted her, and yet something in his tone gave her pause and she bit her tongue again. The was conflict in his eyes and words, but the anger in her own heart made it too closed to understand. At least in that moment.

The field dropped just long enough for the Anticenturion to step outside. And with their task of attending to her most basic needs complete, the two stepped away. Out of her direct sight, but not far as she could hear. So Dox tried to rest her head against the cold back of the metal seat and stretch the tiny, hot knives out of her neck as she waited for whatever was next.

Which didn't take long for once as the ridged Romulan, Riov Rendal, stepped up to the field emitters close enough to make them start to hum just the barest amount. "I see that you've been fed and watered. Good. We want you kept in good health so that you survive what is to come when we arrive on ch'Rihan. Unless you've had a change of heart?"

Watching her stand there, Dox felt her face go hot and flush. As usual, the angry Lieutenant knew that meant her face was now turning a deeper shade of green as she looked over at the woman who killed her father with the black-sheathed sword resting on her hip as always. But she had to not act on her anger. If any of her family were to survive, she needed to think, not just react. So instead of cursing or growling, Dox simply spoke.

Still, her voice was cracked and raspier than usual. "You haven't yet told me what I should be changing my heart about, Riov."

"Why, about giving me what I want to know, of course. Of doing your duty for your people." Though Rendal's voice took on a somewhat sing-song tone, her face remained as jade - as if she were speaking to a child. "I'm not asking you to reveal all your precious secrets. Just the ones I'm interested in. The ones related to protomatter and... Genesis..."

"What I know about protomatter is what any cadet learns in the academy. It's unstable and dangerous and outlawed as a result. I know that over a hundred years ago it was used illegally in a terraforming project that was codenamed 'Genesis' that ultimately failed. It's since proliferated on the black market, though is rare. During the Dominion war, the Maquis tried developing protomatter weapons before they were wiped out. Protomatter can kill a star or reignite one." Dox replied, rattling off a summary of basic information most anyone with access to opensource databases could read about. "How can that help ch'Rihan?"

"That specifically, can not... but what you learned from the titan Gaia... that, my dear... that can protect our people from our enemies." Riov Rendal had to force herself to keep from rolling her eyes at the children's summary that she had just been spoonfed. Instead, she took a more patient approach. "Let's say the Borg attack us again. You're aware that we aren't as tactically adaptable or superweapon rich as the Federation. We are also not as cavalier about throwing lives away as the Klingons."

"So what are our options then? Come in with fifty cloaked warbirds, knowing full well that one cube could pick us apart before we even decloak, just like last time? Watch as they assimilate an entire planet and eventually have to artificially destroy the star itself just so they don't spread to other nearby systems?"

"And what if another threat comes along that's worse than them? You've fought Titans and demons and deity class beings. What if one of them decides to make its home in our space and threatens our very existence? Are we to call upon you and your vaunted Federation for help? And if they answered, what then? At what cost would that help come? How long would it take? Hmm?"

"No, we would rather have the tools of our own salvation in our own hands rather than relying on some self-proclaimed peace mongers that pull the fangs from every race they pull into their fold." The venom that she spat those last words out with were vile indeed and showed her true feelings for the diplomacy of the Federation.

Realizing that Rendal's deep level of disgust was borne of fear, Dox decided to try and not meet it with kind. She took a breath and thought of what Rita might do. Rita would have some brilliant speech in her back pocket and win the day with words. Dox thought. And while she was no Rita Paris, she decided that her voice was the only weapon left to her and decided to attack fear with reason.

"Has that happened, Riov? We negotiated with the Federation during the Dominion war and did our people lose anything?" Dox shook her head slightly as she spoke, only vaguely aware that she defaulted to speaking from a decidedly Rihannsu perspective, using 'we'. But once realized, she continued quite on purpose just as she chose to address the woman with her title as a show of respect.

"I've read the economic reports. Our financial deficit dropped by 16% in the first year when that alliance loosened those restrictions on interstellar trade. And we have more to offer the galaxy than Kali-Fal. Relations with the Federation allow that. And relations don't mean absorption. You mentioned the Klingon's… federation allies for decades now without sacrificing anything. In fact, that empire was doomed before accepting Federation aid a century ago and now it thrives. Ch'Rihan could thrive too, Riov, without giving up our individually or culture or sovereignty."

The words kept flowing, and Dox realized just how much of her grandmother's lessons had actually sunk in, and that she found herself legitimately caring about the points she was making. "And yes, the federation WOULD rush in to aid us if we were in need. The blunt reality is that they… WE... would do so right NOW if the Borg came after the hearthworlds and you know it. It's why we don't live under the rule of Shinzon of ch'Havran right now. Because Rihannsu brave enough to follow their Mnhei'sahe saw the horror HIS 'superweapon' would unleash and sided with the Federation… who came to our aid... to save our world AND theirs. And all it did was put another stone in the path to the end of over two centuries of pointless animosity."

"And the Klingons have also refused to remove their fangs and weaken themselves before their enemies." Rendal's face was starting to flush a bit more olive, though she showed no outward emotion. "When the Borg attack us again, we will have days to respond. How long will it take for a fleet to arrive from Sol? Two weeks? Three? Four? By the time they got there they would be mounting a relief effort rather than mobilizing for combat. No, I will not allow more of my... Our... People to fall to such distasteful undeath."

Listening, Dox didn't know exactly what to say. Rendal wasn't right, but she also wasn't wrong. Instead, the young Starfleet officer tried to trust that guiding star and the little voice inside of her. Renal said 'us' and 'our'. She was bothering to argue which meant the cause wasn't completely lost. Not yet.

"let's say I could give you exactly what you want. Then what? Follow the scenario through, Riov. The Borg invade the Eisn System. They come for the hearthworlds. And you have a Genesis weapon and you use it. It succeeds. The Cube is destroyed by it. Then, maybe a year later, the next cube comes… and they remember what their hive-mind told them and the power that destroyed them once is now known to them. They do what they've always done. They'veadapted and the next torpedo does nothing, and now you've given them the weapon that will make them unstoppable." Dox looked up at Rendal, praying she was reaching her.

Biting down on her own pain and anger, Dox put it away. Rendal was acting on her own old angers and fears, and Dox knew she couldn't do the same and help anyone. So, she kept talking. Some words we hers. Some, Rita Paris'. Many, her grandmother's.

"That's why now isn't the time to seek protomatter weapons, its the time to reach out and seek allies. Starfleet could be here to help in days without a Neutral Zone between us. Starfleet has worked beyond hard to learn how to resist the Borg. How to adapt to them. That knowledge would become ch'Rihan's knowledge. Those defenses would then serve ch'Rihan. I could share my secrets freely then."

"You could do this, Riov. You could put aside old fears and reach out. The Federation didn't pull the Klingon's teeth, they would make no such demands of us. And the Imperium would be stronger than ever. You can make this right, Riov. My Grandmother is no traitor and I believe you know that. She can speak to the Senate and the Praetorate. I can bring this message back to Starfleet. Then you won't have to try and make me help our home. Then I could return freely and would do so willingly."

"Ah, but that's the catch..." The Romulan Royal then slowly leaned forward and pressed her face to the forcefield, making it go crazy as she did so. It was clearly painful as sparks danced across her forehead ridges and scorched her eyebrows and bangs. "The infinite mutability of protomatter exploding is something they shouldn't be able to adapt to. Is it? Just like your vaunted transphasic torpedoes you supposedly got from the future."

"If we're able to properly defend ourselves, none of our people will ever have to live their lives with a tenth of their bodies replaced with cybernetics. None of them will know the pain of a trillion voices in their heads. None of them will know the pain of a government that just leaves them to die while we call for aid from a foreign power that might show up well after they've been assimilated and shuffled off to some unimatrix fifty thousand light years away."

"And you know that world that was attacked by the Borg that your dear mother used to cover her defection from the Imperium? She wasn't the only survivor." Rendal then glared down at Dox, having decided in her obsession that the young woman's aid was a foregone conclusion. "But I am honestly glad of it. Her daughter will provide us with the means of our future defense."

The young officer never flinched as the forcefield sparked and howled in protest. Let her burn herself Dox thought, her anger still bubbling up just under the surface. But she also was running out of arguing points to keep the debate going. But in her zealousness to show off her own anger and determination, Rendal also showed Dox some of her own cards.

“Penal research outpost 97… The Thieurrull colony… You were there? That was… thirty-three years ago. You were, what, a young Uhlan or an Arrain stationed there when the Borg attacked the prison?” Dox squinted as she ran through the possibilities as Rendal appeared to be no older than her mid-fifties.

“You… and someone else.” A guess, but one Dox posed as a statement, not a question. “You lost someone there.”

"Yes, someone else! You kreldanni fool! I was adjuctant to the head of my household! She was Riov of the greatest warbird in the system!" Rendal had lost it at this point, having finally dropped her jade statuesque calmness and trading it for full-on rage. "My grandmother entrusted me with the sword of our household and only because of her sacrifice, do I stand here today! That ch'Rihan still stands! Do you understand that level of dedication to your own people? To family?"

Taking an extreme force of will to calm herself, she stepped back from the security field and turned to her own first officer, erei'Riov t'Suil, whom was already waiting with a medkit. "I hope you're able to better understand our faction's position and are more inclined to... willingly assist... because I assure you, the alternative is... Unpleasant."

As Erei'Riov t'Suil dutifully went to work with a small dermal regenerator on Rendal's burns, Dox listened. The young Starfleet Lieutenant that had already given so much of herself for the greater good of the galaxy, understood that dedication and sacrifice as exactly why she couldn't give Rendal what she wanted. She understood it far deeper than Rendal knew. And while she had harsh words in her, she knew they would only serve to enrage the unstable woman further. So she choked them back and found her own calm and tried to measure her reaction. "Your grandmother's sacrifice was honorable, Riov. As is your desire to protect our people. But have you considered that in your desire to balance that honor... you threaten to lose yourself to become that which you hate the most?"

"I have and there are measures in place to prevent that," replied the Royal Romulan as her wounds were being treated. "I've spoken this much with you out of respect to your supposed station as heir to a royal Deihu family. That's as far as this goes, however."

"In other words, 'resistance is futile'. Well said, Riov." Dox said flatly, giving in slightly to her own anger as her eyes slipped to the dried blood of her father on the deck below Rendal's feet before coming back up to meet the Riov's own.

"Resis... You think..." Rendal's rage flashed across her face for just a moment again before she was able to calm herself again. "Every government is like that. Your vaunted Federation assimilates cultures into it diplomatically, drawing them in with sticky sweet talk and absorbing them, adding their cultural and technological distinctiveness to the Federation... Oh... Where have I heard that line from..."

"Then there's the Klingon Empire. They use combat and honor to do the same thing. Ferengi? They buy and sell what they want. Cardassians tried to do it as well, but I theorize that they lacked honor paired with their level of ruthlessness. Why should you view the Borg or the Imperium in any different light?" Rendal fixed Dox with that same glare again, yet this time there was something more to it that said that she was educating a water flea. "It's called evolution. Societal evolution."

With her blood boiling and threatening to overwhelm her reason, Dox kept her eyes open. But in her mind, she was focusing on that internal glow of energy within that was the combination of her own life and that of her bond-mate to try and find a calmness from within. It took more effort than she could have imagined as she felt her pulse slow slightly and breathed in calmly. She wasn't going to get the last word. She wasn't going to win the argument. Rendal's cries of 'societal evolution' had made Dox's point for her, that Rendal was acting no differently from the Borg. But Rendal couldn't or wouldn't see that.

The only hope came in the idea, however improbable, that she could slowly reach Rendal through her dogmatic madness. That she could, with words, stall the Romulan woman long enough for an escape to be possible or rescue to occur. All Dox could hope for was that maybe when she left this chamber, that Rendal would think about what she was doing. It was a very thin hope. And one that would be for naught if she continued to antagonize her captor further.

So, instead, she looked away with a defeated expression. Give this to her. Fold your hand for now. Let her walk away. Give her time to think. Give your family time. Dox thought to herself as she prayed that Rendal wouldn't spend the next two weeks torturing her Grandmother or Mother just to make her point.

The Royal Romulan then promptly ignored her captive. "Have the Ju'rot device prepared. Once it's ready aboard my vessel, all three will be transferred and begin undergoing treatment."

"Ie, Riov. It will be as commanded." t'Suil replied as she put the medical equipment away and stood at attention following her commander. Meanwhile, Dox did her level-best to choke back the fear that Rendal's words drew from her.

The Ju'rot device. The Neural Extraction Converter. The device that her mother used to rewrite the minds of thousands of Rihannsu under her grandmother's orders to make them loyal to the Imperium. The device that was used to erase and destroy her father's mind.

But she's leaving... Dox thought to herself as Rendal and t'Suil exited the brig. She's leaving without torturing my mother or grandmother anymore. At least for now. That's something. It's time. But quickly, the hopeful moment passed as her mind was drawn back to Rendal's words as if they had their own gravity.

What would such a device do to her, she wondered? Two weeks of her Grandmother's tutelage almost made her turn her back on her mother and Starfleet. The Ju'rot wouldn't be so subtle. It wouldn't give her the chance to make arguments or think. Would it break her mind like it did to her father? Or far worse, would it change her. Make her want to tell Rendal everything she knew as a loyal daughter of the Imperium. What her grandmother had tried to do could now be done by force and when it was over, they could make her glad for it.

They could make her forget her bonds on the Hera. Forget Rita and Asa and Enalia. They could make her forget Mona.

At the thought of that fate, she shuddered as her face went white as she shut her eyes and thought. And as she thought, her mind drifted back to an image. Faint at first, but clearer and more focused as she thought. It was a place, arid and warm. A place a friend once brought her in her mind's eye to teach her how to make her mind her own. A place of hope. Maybe the only hope she had left.

Eight Months Ago...

Duty was important to Uhlan Pajom tr’Sahe. It had been twenty-six months since his assignment had begun, serving as security to a prominent and respected member of the Imperial Senate, but in that time none of the young man’s fire had gone out for the enlisted Rihannsu.

Standing at attention, as he often did even in his humble shared chambers on the grounds of the spacious mansion in the i'Ramnau countryside, Uhlan tr’Sahe adjusted his uniform anxiously. Every morning, like clockwork, when it was time for Deihu Verelan t’Rul to be escorted by personal flitter to the Senate chambers in Ra'tleihfi, tr’Sahe made sure he represented himself as the ideal model of a Rihannsu officer. Even if he wasn’t quite an officer.

At the Imperial Academy, he had drilled into his head the importance of maintaining the mnhei’sahe of the empire. Of ch’Rihan. Of the house you served. And the young and still very green tr’Sahe believed in honor and was proud to serve the house of Rul, a wealthy and prominent house with great reach and influence that had supported his own family for years. And he knew that the slightest stain on his tunic or tarnish to his badge would reflect poorly upon the house he served, and Deihu t’Rul’s honor would be in question should he fail to represent her properly. He would never allow that. No loyal Rihhansu would, he thought to himself as he fixed his equipment belt and secured his communicator and sidearm. All was in order, and he was finally satisfied he was presentable for his duties of the morning.

Which was good, he thought as he looked at the small timepiece on the wall of his narrow, stone chamber in the basement of the mansion where the security forces barracked during the working week, because if he didn’t stop preening like a cadet, he would soon be late.

Making his way to the flagstone circle in the front of the home, Uhlan tr’Sahe walked swiftly to attention aside his counterpart, a young officer named Dree t’Jaohn. T’Jaohn was an Arrain in the service and his direct superior. She was stern but fair and simply gave him an approving nod as he sidled next to her to wait for the Deihu’s personal flitter to arrive to take her into the bustling Capitol.

Moments later, the shining black transport hovered from its cradle in the carriage house and lowered itself in place at the foot of the stairs from the house. As it did, Deihu Verelan t’Rul emerged, PaDD in hand as she walked briskly down the steps and towards the flitter, reading the whole way. As he did every morning, he opened the door for her transport and waited, but uncharacteristically, she paused a moment. “Uhlan tr’Sahe, attend me. Arrain t’Jaohn, command the escort flitter.”

It was an unexpected command, but both security personnel simply responded and did as ordered with no questions. And with just a hint of nervousness that he quickly quashed, tr’Sahe followed the elder Senator into the cabin of her flitter, closing the door and securing it behind her.

As the transport zipped away and the large, old house of Rul faded into the tree-lined distance, there was silence for a solid ten minutes as the Deihu typed away on her PaDD. Then, as if there had been no break in the conversation from her order at the door, the Deihu spoke, not yet looking up from her PaDD. “Ahhe and Panom. Are they well?”

“Ie, Deihu.” tr’Sahe replied simply, sitting at attention. Thinking of his parents as she spoke of them, his mind drifted momentarily of how he ended up in the Deihu’s service. Years ago, before his birth, and when she was still in military service herself, then Riov Verelan t’Rul defended a farming colony on Virinat from Klingon attacks. A colony world that his parents lived and worked on for the Imperium. When his parents relocated from the devestated colony back to the hearthworld, they set up a farm on t’Rul's vast lands with Verelan’s blessing and in service to her house.

He was raised as a boy on the lands of the house of Rul. He played in those fields he now defended. He walked as a child in the halls he now guarded. And as Riov became Deihu, his family was rewarded with comforts for their efforts at bringing honor and wealth to the house. There was a balance and Verelan t’Rul had been there for him always. Service for service, as mnhei’sahe demanded.

Looking up with only her eyes, t’Rul continued, “They do my house honor, as you continue to. And last month, you are the officer that intercepted the assassin hired to convince me to change my vote on motion 7c9?”

Slightly more nervously, he nodded and replied, “Ie, Deihu. Though I am only an Uhlan, not an officer.”

“Do not correct me, Arrain tr’Sahe. It’s rude.” She looked back at her PaDD as she pressed a final button and set it down beside her. It was such a matter of fact statement that tr’Sahe had almost failed to register the promotion to officer that he had just received. Almost, but not quite.

“M… My thanks, Deihu. I will endeavor to…” He said, stutteringly, before she raised a finger to stop him.

“Yes, you will, Arrain tr’Sahe. I shall be both blunt and brief.” The Senator said, somewhat more softly. “Mnhei’sahe is in short supply on ch’Rihan. But not in this flitter. You have given your blood to protect mine, and for that, I have chosen to burden you with a responsibility if you would take it. I have recently received... information that may enable me to do something about that in a way that I hope will be ultimately positive for our people. But to enact that and… protect... an investment I will be making to keep my noble house from stagnation, perhaps, I will require those that understand honor. I’ve been watching your performance, Arrain. Not just the grandiose gestures like stepping in front of a blade, but in your general duties. You perform even the lowliest tasks with the honor expected of any true Rihannsu. I believe you may be able to serve me in my upcoming tasks. Will you?”

“I am a loyal son of ch’Rihan, my Deihu. I serve the imperium and the house of Rul, and will see no dishonor befall either.” He replied quickly and with maybe just a bit more eagerness than was required. But she saw sincerity behind his dark eyes as he sat at attention.

“As of this moment, you will be assigned to my personal flagship, the People’s Will. At the end of your shift today, you will pack your belongings and take transport to the fleetyards for transfer on my orders. There you will familiarize yourself with every facet of my ship's function. Every department. Am I understood? And you will not be alone, but you will never speak of this conversation again, nor will you know whom else I’ve had this conversation with. Prove to me your loyalty and mnhei’sahe… and I will serve yours.”

And with that, not even waiting for an answer, the elder Senator picked up her PaDD again and began to read. What she read, he did not know. But the day moved on as if nothing of interest at all had occurred.

-----------------------

Seven and a half months later, Arrain Pajom tr’Sahe was aboard the D’deridex class warbird, the People’s Will. The young Antecenturion’s service had been largely uneventful, but he had buried himself in his duties and fulfilled his obligations. And as such, was quickly moved up the rank structure to administrator of Ship’s Security. It was a position that he took to eagerly, working doubly hard to ensure that his Deihu’s flagship ran like a well-oiled machine. All shifts were met with clockwork precision. All officer's uniforms were immaculate. All systems he had control over functioned exactly as required. He lived to serve his Deihu, her house and the Imperium.

The Senator had been on board only a handful of times over the last eight months, but she always seemed pleased with his service and progress. She showed pride in his achievements and let him know it as he continued to rise in responsibility and position. He worked hard and it was being seen and appreciated, but the task this last time seemed different. When the Senator arrived this time, there was a stern earnestness to her tone as the People’s Will warped out of ch’Rihan space.

Warped toward the Neutral Zone with the Federation. Towards it, and under cloak with an escort vessel he didn’t know flanking them, through it into the stars of the Imperium's enemies. There was understandable tension on the ship, but he continued to see to his duties as the ship warped deeper into enemy space toward some unknown coordinates near the Trill System.

As he went about his business, he noticed that there was something more happening on his ship. There was no chatter off-hours. No whispers in the corridors. How many officers had his Deihu entrusted as he had been, he wondered? How many might not be trustworthy? This was surely what he had been reassigned for, he thought in his quarters at night as he tried to rest. But rest became something elusive to tr’Sahe over the days as they reached their destination.

Then, everything changed. Tal’Shiar agents from the escort ship were moved over to the People’s Will. Given security clearance he did not approve of. Given authority that he bristled under. This was his Deihu’s ship, not the Tal’Shiar’s, he thought as he did his duty. Then, he was unceremoniously reassigned.

Called into the Deihu’s office, he met with his mistress in private again, one last time. And there he was given instructions. He would be transferred to a security position outside of a VIP cabin on deck seven. There he would perform his new duty. He would protect the occupant of that cabin to the best of his ability. An occupant being moved into that cabin later that very day by Tal’Shiar agents.

And he was told something strange. He was to follow, to the letter, ANY orders given by whoever was in command of the ship, regardless of if it was her or not. He agreed, but the Deihu pressed that last point.

“Whosoever commands the People’s Will… you will obey their orders regardless of your personal feelings, Arrain. Am… I… UNDERSTOOD? Beyond the boundaries of those orders, protect your charge however possible.” The Deihu demanded with a stern and fatal expression that frightened him slightly.

He agreed. And after more words whispered in secret... he was sent on to his new duties of guarding a door.

There, he began to understand. The guest was finally brought aboard. A starfleet officer. A Rihannsu. A daughter of house Rul. The house HE served with honor. With mnhei’sahe.

Mnhei’sahe. That was the charge's name.

This woman was his Deihu’s Granddaughter. And as he understood it, their mission was to bring her home safely to ch’Rihan where, with time, the damage done by the Federation could be undone so she could one day stand by his Deihu's side. Tr’Sahe understood the honor of family, and served his Deihu as commanded. He stood dutifully, day in and day out and he paid attention. And the girl was responsive. She seemed to be listening to the sage council of his Deihu. And his Deihu seemed genuinely pleased every day when she entered or left the chambers. As a loyal son of ch’Rihan, it did his heart good to see. That any true child of the Imperium could be cleansed from the corruption of the Federation with a little hard work, discipline, and compassion.

Though it wasn’t his place, when he was off duty, he spared himself a smile for the house he served, that it might have a true heir soon. One day, Elements willing, he would serve this young Mnhei’sahe, as her namesake would demand, and he was hopeful.

For two galactic weeks, the trip had been uneventful, but he knew that wasn’t to last. Hope was replaced by cold reality when the bounds of his duty changed yet again. Today, he was to escort Deihu t’Rul and her granddaughter to the ship’s brig. There sat another prisoner of some importance that he knew nothing of. When the Deihu arrived, she was cold and stern-faced. It was a duty she was clearly not wanting to do, but duty never asked to be fulfilled. So she fulfilled it.

As he would as well. After a tense moment, the Deihu lead the young Rihanna woman from the chamber and it was the first glimpse of her that he had yet stolen. She was short and somewhat… portly with a wild head of red curls that was more than a little uncommon on ch'Rihan. But it was in how she moved that he was most focused. While he and the female officer that flanked the young woman were well trained, everything about this ‘Mnhei’sahe’ said she had the much same training. As her grandmother had ordered, she made no provocative actions or movements, yet there was something about her carriage that fascinated Arrain tr’Sahe. She walked like someone ready to act and he was slightly on edge and even more intrigued.

Who was this woman? Rihannsu in Starfleet were exceedingly rare and those of noble blood unheard of. As they walked, tr’Sahe truly hoped she would continue to heed the wise Deihu’s words and accept their help as he wanted to learn more of this woman.

But in the brig, hope again quickly turned to despair and panic.

The prisoner was the girl’s mother. A blood traitor to the Imperium that barked and shouted at the girl like a wild woman. From the corridor, the emotional confrontation could be heard and seen on a security screen that the Deihu had been watching intently. And for a few moments, it seemed like, as fired as the confrontation was, that this Mnhei’sahe would turn to rejoin her grandmother and all would be well. The things Arrain tr’Sahe heard that were done to the girl were monstrous. There was talk of surgeries and lies and deception unfit for a Rihannsu mother and he could feel the girls pain from the other room before it all changed.

Loyalty to the house and family that the Deihu had been working so hard to cultivate became words of defiance. The girl had been so close to accepting her true and noble path but turned around and in an instant, Mnhei’sahe destroyed all the brave work that her grandmother had devoted to her recovery.

As the argument became a deluded speech about gods and weapons and childish Starfleet obligations, he watched the hope drain from Deihu t’Rul’s eyes. Like a light going out, the elder Senator’s head hung low for a moment as she whispered gently, “Oh, Mnhei’sahe… you have doomed us all.”

Then, the Deihu looked up and glanced ever so briefly at Arrain tr’Sahe and silently mouthed, ‘remember.’ right as the Commander of the flanking escort vessel, Riov Rendal burst in with armed centurions of her own. There was chaos in the antechamber of the brig while Mnhei’sahe continued her speech inside. Disruptors were aimed, and a legal declaration was made. For fostering the girl who now defied the Imperium, the Deihu was charged on the spot with treason and Rendal took command of the People's Will. Riov’s centurions turned towards Arrain tr’Sahe and the centurion at his side and demands of allegiance were made and they were ordered to take their Deihu into custody. It was a test of loyalty, and Rendal had no idea how deeply the test went.

In Arrain tr’Sahe’s mind, his Deihu’s words echoed loudly: “Whosoever commands the People’s Will… you will obey their orders regardless of your personal feelings, Arrain. Am… I… UNDERSTOOD?”

Without hesitation, he understood now what it meant. Riov Rendal commanded and she was to be obeyed. His Deihu knew this could happen and had done all she could to prepare for it. For nearly 8 months, she had planned, and tr’Sahe realized the part he was to play in that plan as her grabbed Verelan t’Rul, Deihu no longer, and replied subserviently, “I serve the Imperium, Riov.”

It was agony. His stomach swirled as if it were filled with worms, but he did his duty. His TRUE duty. Not to the Tal’Shiar, but to his house and his mistress who had commanded him to betray her that he might continue to be trusted to serve her true interests.

To protect her granddaughter.

In the brig, he was ordered to take his mistress to a cell. Then, standing there, Riov Renal gave him and his counterpart a new order. Verelan t’Rul was to become an example to be shown off to the girl, now captive in the brig herself. An example of what happened to traitors and enemies of the Imperium. And he was to carry out the punishment immediately... and personally.

Looking down, for the quickest of moments, Arrain tr’Sahe’s eyes met those of his mistress, who had commanded him to follow Rendal’s orders. Those eyes knew no fear, but in their silent pleading, reinforced her final orders to him. He was to watch the girl. Guard her however he could while maintaining his facade. The girl was the heir to the house of Rul. His mistress's granddaughter, and thus HIS mistress as well. He would somehow save this Mnhei’sahe t’Rul, for he would hear no other name. And he would fulfill HIS own honor until his last.

As he raised his clenched fist to strike his beloved Verelan t’Rul, whom he would serve to the death, he declared. “I shall fulfill my duty… as my mistress has commanded.”

Walking through the cold, claustrophobic brig of the Romulan Warbird, the People’s Will, Erei’Riov Arrenhe t'Suil walked slowly to the cell of the traitor, Jaeih Dox. It had been two days since she or her mistress, Riov Dalia Rendal had been in the brig since Rendal last spoke to Jaeih’s daughter, Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox.

Two days free of questions or torture for the prisoners while plans were being made and preparations were put into motion. T’Suil found that it seemed that the debate with the young Dox had troubled her noble Riov. She was concerned that the mewling child, Dox, had made her mistress even question her resolve, but that time was done. The Riov had decided on her next course of action and it fell to her SubCommander to implement it.

Standing outside the forcefield, t’Suil spoke. “Jaeih Dox, blood traitor to the Imperium, you are to be moved.”

Inside, there had been almost no light for the imprisoned Intelligence operative and former Tal’Shiar agent but for the sickly green glow of the force field generators for over two weeks now. But suddenly, as t’Suil pressed a pad outside the door, the overhead light snapped on.

“AAAH!!” Jaeih yelled as the sudden light shocked her awake. Blinking, Jaeih strained to focus through swollen, bruised eyes. When Mnhei’sahe Dox needed to have her resolve to resist weakened, Riov Rendal had chosen to have her Mother and Grandmother beaten to make her point. And Jaeih still had bruises to spare. “You? Rendal’s little lackey. What do you want?”

“I do not like to repeat myself, traitor. You are being moved to prepare for your… treatment. You will turn and lay flat on the cot with your arms crossed behind your back. Comply or you will be stunned and moved regardless.” t’Suil said with an angry sneer, disgusted by the sight of the woman who had once betrayed her beloved Empire.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to put you out any, would I.” Jaeih scowled, her eyes narrowed. In truth, she was glad for the beating in a strange way. The pain gave her something real to focus on these past few days. Something to keep her from retreating into her own mind as she was threatening to. As she spoke, she turned over on her thin, flimsy cot and folded her arms behind her back. If anything, staying awake while being moved was an opportunity to learn more about her surroundings. The layout of the brig, perhaps. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Excellent. You are capable of at least following basic directions. Do not move until instructed to. Or move if you’d like. I would very much enjoy reminding you of the cost of betraying the Imperium.” t’Suil said as she stepped back, deactivated the field and held up two fingers.

As she did, two Centurions entered the cell and attached a pair of wrist shackles to Jaeih as she lay there before pulling her painfully off the cot to her feet. It was painful but Jaeih made no sounds to give t’Suil any further satisfaction.

“Centurions, attend our guest to detention cell 22-C.” t’Suil said, as they shoved Jaeih forward. Passing t’Suil, Jaeih kept herself from making eye contact as they lead her down the corridor of cell doors. Two of them had active fields glowing. One six ahead, and the last at the end of the corridor. Slowly, they passed the first of the glowing cells. And inside, Jaeih saw a sight which turned her stomach on edge and sent a cold chill through her heart.

In the small cell, identical to her own sat her daughter, Mnhei’sahe. Her arms and legs were secured in metal shackles attached to the cold, metal chair that she was locked into. She looked gaunt and pale as her head hung limply forward, seemingly asleep. Hopefully just asleep.

“Mnhei…” Jaeih went to shout as she moved slightly towards the field before being shoved past the doorway where she fell, hitting the deck with her shoulder hard. “AAAGH!!! Mnhei’sahe! What have you done to her?!”

Standing before the glowing field, t’Suil looked in calmly. “Nothing. She is fine. She is fed and given water every day. She simply… sleeps. She sleeps most of the time, it seems. A weakness in her upbringing, perhaps, that she lacks your… fortitude.”

A gesture from the SubCommander and the centurions hoisted Jaeih back to her feet. “Let us continue. This is not your place.”

As they walked further, Jaeih glanced back as her Daughter had not stirred in the slightest.

The walk to the end of the corridor seemed longer than was possible, but eventually, they arrived at the final forcefield. “Centurions, her shackles.” As t’Suil spoke, the centurions unlocked and removed the shackles. Then, t’Suil tapped the pad on the wall outside the cell and the field fell.

The centurions gave a final shove and Jaeih stumbled into the cell, larger than her own with a forcefield of its own in the center. As she turned, the main field reactivated, and silently, the Centurions turned and left leaving only t’Suil. “Here you will stay until it’s your time, traitor. Enjoy yourself.” Then, she too left down the corridor and Jaeih was alone again. Or so she thought.

"Ohhh, this is grand opera then... all the recording devices from every angle, so voyeuristically capturing every instant of this meeting. Pairing the two of us together before they hurtle us through some life-changing or ending drama..." The voice of the old Senator was a bit reedy and thin tonight, but as she leaned against the far wall of the cell, she still played her part for the oration to the gallery of the senate. Even when it was light-years away, and she was beginning to believe she might not make it back there again.

"The first and second generations, the unlikely in-laws, the senator and the smuggler. The traitor to the Tal Shiar and the democrat who wants to bring peace to the republic." With that said, the old and injured Rihannsu levered herself unsteadily to her feet, then recovered, setting herself in a dignified pose.

"Hello, Jaeih... it's been rather a long time. Pity the circumstances."

"The Circumstances?" Jaeih stood on her side of the shimmering green field that split the chamber, her fists clenched as she growled out, "The circumstances YOU created!!! We are here because of YOU, Verelan! Because you must own EVERYTHING!!"

"Oh yes, by all means, this is most certainly the situation that I sought, was it not? How wonderfully ideal for all involved, no?" The elder satesman of the great senate that ruled the people who rejected logic for their passions, for better to be consumed and destroyed by them than to forever deny them. "Explain to me how this is all my fault, and I'll explain how it's all yours and I'm sure we might make afternoon telenovella of the week, Jaeih. But we both know there's blame enough to share here, so why don't we get to what you really want to say. Because I suspect this little exchange goes on precisely as long as it entertains our captors, and when they get bored, our time is done."

"She always was perceptive," muttered one of the technicians recording the exchange, who until recently had worked for the Deihu.

Her puffy eyes went as wide as they could. In the dim light, Jaeih could see that Verelan had also been the recipient of Riov Rendal's wrath, and while it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that it was all a ruse, the seasoned Intelligence operative felt that the scenario was as it seemed.

"You couldn't leave her alone, could you?" Jaeih hissed. "You just had to try and control everyone and everything like you always have. You had to know she wouldn't betray her entire life because you told her… what… that you would whisk her away to ch'Rihan like a child's fairy tale?"

"It isn't some child's fairy tale, Mrs. Dox," the senator of the province of Ihhliae drew herself up haughtily. 'She is of my blood. She IS my heir, no matter how hard you tried to pollute it or hide it. So she IS the heir to the seat in the senate. She is the only one who can inherit it, unless I name a successor. No matter what you think, she IS the future of our family. If our line lives on, yours and mine, it is through her."

On the Hera, when Commander Paris called Jaeih ‘Mrs. Dox’, it was affectionate and it somehow never bothered her. But out of Verelan’s mouth, who knew all too well that her fake marriage to Declan Dox was a business arrangement and a sham to help her conceal her daughter’s true father’s identity, it stung like the venom of a snake.

"Blood, blood is sacred to us, don't you see? Because it's our heritage, what ties us to one another. The simple truth of our genetics that override anything mixed with it. What drives us out to conquer the galaxy and bring it to heel beneath our boot. Because we are the Rihannsu. The Declared. Our passions drove us to the stars, to build, and to conquer. And so we did. Here we all are..." The silver-haired senator, some of her hair matted with green, waved her finger about lazily in the air.

"She's last of the house Rul, like it or not." Seeing the sour face of her audience, the old woman rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Yes, you did a marvelous job of hiding her, but then you let her enlist in Starfleet. Well, you were in no position to stop her at least. Then those nosy Starfleet doctors started investigating and undoing everything you had done. Frankly, I'm surprised it took them as long as it did. Doesn't speak well of the Starfleet Academy doctors that they never realized how wrong her biology was in four years there, and however many years of active service until they undid what you did. Well, had done, which I applaud your choice- never try to 'home kit' rewiring your child's genetic code."

"Oh, we were thorough. We were trained to be. 'Never do a thing in half measures', I believe you taught me that yourself." Jaeih hissed across the field.

Pacing like the caged animal she felt like, Jaeih pinched the bridge of her nose. As always, even after almost forty years, Verelan knew exactly how to push her buttons. It was no wonder that she came so close to talking Mnhei'sahe into turning, she thought. "She wasn't YOURS, Verelan. She was MINE. But just like with Dralath, you wouldn't allow that, would you? And now he's gone. And I heard that speech Mnhei'sahe gave to Rendal... So many of your words falling from her lips as if they were her own. Congratulations, now you have her, too. For however long we all have left, she'll fight for YOU too. You kidnapped her and she'll still fight for you."

“Why does she have to be a possession to you, Jaeih? Why can she simply not be a person, a woman, an individual?” Shaking her head, the old woman sighed. This was an old argument, but one they apparently needed to have again. Nothing like an old wound. "Mnhei’sahe is starved for a culture and a people she’s been denied her entire life, whom she’s been taught to fear and hate. No wonder she has self-esteem issues- her ‘Romulan’ mother taught her to hate and fear ‘Romulans’. All I did was show her our nobler intentions, our loftier goals. To what we aspire, if not always achieve.”

“It worked on you once too, as you recall,” Verelan said quietly. “It would have gone on working, had you not fallen for a man with inconvenient political ties. Ties that would have forced you to sacrifice some of your freedoms to become a political wife, which was apparently a fate worse than death for you. Which you viewed as so spectacularly awful that a life of mutilating your child and hiding on the fringes of space living like a scavenger was preferable.”

“All so that you could maintain YOUR precious freedom, to keep your daughter from what, exactly? A higher education? A life of privilege? Growing up to eventually become an Imperial Senator? How dastardly of me to concoct such a fate for the poor girl. You’re right, clearly, I am a horrible, horrible villain,” Deihu t’Rul sighed, shaking her head as she walked slowly toward the forcefield, her energy waning as she spoke. This discourse was taking what reserves of strength she had left, but she would be damned if she would flag in the face of this confrontation, which was now 30-plus years in the making.

At Verelan’s words, Jaeih shrunk slightly and made no attempt to hide it. For herself and the many, many mistakes she had made, she had no defense. She knew that there was too much truth to what the elder Rihanna woman had said about her own fears. What was once talk of marriage to Dralath tr’Rul had devolved into requests from her for assignments further and further away to avoid that fate she had once feared and longed for now that it was impossible. For her own past, Jaeih had no words. But for her daughter’s future, she still had fire in her.

“She was an individual, Verelan. Before you took her away from it, I let her go. I let her go and she finally thrived for it. She has a WIFE! She was finally HAPPY!” Jaeih pleaded across the field, her voice growing hoarse. “What about HER freedom?! She’s going to…”

Then Jaeih stopped herself cold, snatching the words she was about to say and swallowing them. As far as she knew, Verelan had no idea that her earlier words might already be false. That the bloodline hadn’t ended. Mona was pregnant with three of Mnhei’sahe’s children, as Rihannsu as they would be Miradonian. Verelan's great-grandchildren to come. But she wouldn’t betray that information.

“All of that is due to you, is it, Jaeih? That was all part of YOUR master plan? Because a little birdie told me you were busy cooling your heels in Starfleet detention, decoding the bread crumbs they could find for the better part of the past 15 years. Because your little smuggling vessel got caught, and you had nothing to do with her or her life choices at all after that point. So tell me again how you LET her go, how you LET her thrive.” Chuckling, the elder Rihannsu leaned her back against the wall next to the forcefield and slowly eased herself down to the floor, stiffly and painfully. “We lie so well we believe them ourselves, it seems…”

Narrowing her eyes slightly, Jaeih had an answer that was very uncomfortable for her to say. “You’re ‘little birdie’ had far too little information. We were caught because Mnhei’sahe tampered with our cloak. I had… I had let things become so…”

The words were beyond difficult for her, but she dragged them out. She had sworn to her daughter to leave behind her life of lies, and even now with Verelan, she had to live up to that. “She wanted free of me and that life. I knew how badly I had failed her… I KNOW how badly I still do... that when she saw a Starfleet patrol ship, she sabotaged our cloak. I knew what she had done and I let it happen anyway. But she was sixteen. By law, she could be held responsible for the life I had forced on her, so my ‘breadcrumbs’ were part of a deal. I offered no resistance and agreed to assist my captors and betrayed yet another oath so that she would be free. NO criminal record, NO charges. A chance of at least some kind of future.”

“That’s how I Let her GO, Verelan.” Jaeih said through a cracked voice. “For her happiness now, I know I did nothing. Everything she’s found that is good in her life happened on that ship.”

“Which, again, you played no part in. So tell me again how you were her savior from such a terrible life on ch’Rihan, being groomed to be a senator? How knowing her homeland and her heritage would have been so bad for her? How it all had to be my way… when in fact, it really all had to be YOUR way, didn’t it?” The aged politician let the words hang in the air. The bitter sting of truth was not going to go over well, so she chose instead to soften those words a bit.

“But she likely would have been soft and pampered, my way. Never known hardship, never known injustice, never know the true realities of life in the universe. Instead, she would be an idealist, always aiming at lofty ideals without realizing it’s those people with dirt and blood under their fingernails who are busy making that dream come to fruition with the sweat of their brows and the strength of their backs. So maybe you did me a favor after all, Jaeih. Maybe now she will far better appreciate what I offer.” Waving her finger about lazily in the air, the old woman looked bemused. “Assuming we all survive this…”

Slumping back against the wall, Jaeih let out a sigh. In over forty years, she never won an argument with Verelan t'Rul, and now she didn't even want to. The elder Rihannsu was right about her and she knew it. Her voice was weak and flat as she replied, "And... if we survive... you would intend on continuing what you started? Whisper your truth to her until she's what? What will she be if you succeed? Independent? Happy? Will you be inviting her alien wife to ch'Rihan? Or will you simply continue to lean on what you know of her and use that to mold her as you see fit? Her sense of responsibility? Her guilt? Her need for what I denied her?"

"I don't care what you think about me, Verelan." Jaeih said, exhausted with a plaintive tone, "I don't care what happens to me in any of this. I only care about her. So tell me, please... Tell me the truth. Why are you doing this? Do you care what she wants? Tell me you care about her in this."

That elicited rueful laughter from the old woman, a tired laugh that ended in a cough that became an unpleasant hacking sound. "Ohhh, Jaeih Dox, how little you've ever understood me. Why do you think I did all of this, any of this?" Waving her hands airily about before her, the old woman muttered on. "The future, the future. It's all about the future. The future of our bloodlines, the future of our people, the future of our world, of our empire, of our destiny as a galactic power, as residents of the milky way."

"We... you and I," Veleran wagged her finger between the two women, separated by a generation and a forcefield. "We're the past. We're still here, and we still affect events, but her... she's the future. She carries all of us within her, and more. She is what we will be, for weal or woe, for greatness or pettiness. All I have ever done was work to better our people, to advance them, to maintain their greatness and press them ever onward to the stars. All for her, although I didn't even know she existed. I did it for her because she is the youth, the next generation. The ch'Rihan to come, who will never know the shame of Shinzon."

"I want her to be great if she'll allow herself to be. I want her to lead our people as I have done, and to change our course for the better. I want her to bring honor to our house and live up to that ridiculously pretentious name you so cavalierly decided to saddle her with," the head of the house of Rul shook her head, letting slip a moment of genuine honesty between the two women. "There is great passion within her, and it is tempered. I want for her to have the opportunity to live up to that potential... as a Rihannsu, not as a Federation Starfleet officer. To serve her homeworld, not some mongrel alliance of blandness. The 'human polite club', as the Klingons called it."

"As for you... the only thing I ever disliked about you was that you forced my hand. If you'd worked with me we could have found an accommodation. Perhaps. There were no guarantees for such things, of course. But by playing it your way you kept her safe... but Dralath had to be sacrificed," Veleren admitted quietly. "It was... the only way."

At the mention of her former love, Jaeih's heart tightened and she felt anger well back up in her, but the let out a breath and tried to release it. There was too much old pain between the two for her to truly see Verelan as she was in that moment. But she tried, in spite of herself. "There is always another way, Verelan. I learned that lesson a little too late from someone from your 'human polite club'."

Closing her eyes, Jaeih slid down to sit across from Verelan as she hung her head slightly and thought long on her fate, whatever it might be. "I will not return from whatever Rendal has in store for me. I know this. Then you will be the only blood Mnhei'sahe has left in this universe. And you must be prepared for what that means to her. You don't just have an heir, Verelan. You have a granddaughter. And either on ch'Rihan or back on her ship, she knows you now. And she has her father's tenacity. That which he got from you is in her. She knows you now, and even if she escapes back to her ship, she will seek to know you more. That is who she is. She will find a way."

Taking a deep breath, Jaeih looked across at Verelan with defeated eyes. "You have stolen her from her home and the family that has earned her trust and her love, as I once did. But after everything I ever did to her... the horrors I inflicted on her to shield my own fears... she reached out to me. She reached across that gap I had curated over her lifetime and pulled me across to her in spite of everything I am. She will forgive you as well and that is a responsibility. Be ready for what that means."

"Don't fail who she is, Verelan," Jaeih said as she hung her head.

Taken aback by the frank truth, the sheer honesty of her words, the aged senator sat in silence, respecting the moment before whispering back, "I swear upon my Mnhei'sahe... I shall not."

In the tiny cell she was shackled to a chair in, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox could hear almost everything that happened in the corridor beyond the shimmering force field. She heard when Subcommander t'Suil moved her mother to the same cell as her Grandmother. She heard their conversation, at first heated, and then quiet as the two found some measure of peace between each other.

Then, after another day of waiting, Dox heard the ships Subcommander, Arrenhe t'Suill, and the Centurion's come for them. Deihu Verelan t'Rul offered no protest as she was lead away and they took BOTH women. Verelan for her 'treatment', and Jaeih to ‘watch’... erei'Riov t’Suil said grimly as Mnhei’sahe listened. They walked them past the doorway to her cell, and if her family had looked in, Mnhei'sahe didn't know it.

For while she could hear what was happening, she wasn't completely there. For all intents and purposes, Dox appeared to be asleep. She appeared to be asleep most of the time, now. She roused herself a few times a day when the guards came to release her from the painful chair she was shackled in to use the reclamator or clean herself up and change into fresh clothes. And when she did so, it was always with that same female centurion standing right behind her. Watching coldly.

But the other centurion, AntiCenturion Pajom tr’Sahe, was different. He came in after she was dressed and locked back in the chair. He had an increasingly concerned expression well hidden behind his dark eyes. Something Mnhei’sahe couldn’t quite understand, but whatever it was, she couldn’t keep harboring anger for him. His eyes said that he too must have been something of a prisoner here as well. If only to his duty, but a prisoner nonetheless. Twice a day, tr’Sahe came and fed her the same thick, tasteless porridge and a small bottle of water. Just enough to keep her functional, but not enough to give her any kind of realistic fuel.

Even if the shackles came off and the forcefields came down and the guards all took a nap at the same time, Mnhei’sahe doubted that she had the strength to escape anymore, which was an ideal condition for her to be in for Rendal's needs. And what energy she had was spent in thought.

The hours spent seemingly asleep, where she could hear everything around her, were spent not on the Warbird, but on Vulcan. The Vulcan of her mind created by in her mental training with Lieutenant Sonak that had begun over seven months ago. Every day, for hours upon hours, she meditated. During those long hours, in her mind, she climbed the steps of Mount Selaya as he had taught her. Each arduous step... another step in learning to control her mind and improve her mental discipline. It was the only form of ‘exercise’ left to her. And perhaps the only one that would save her when it came time for her ‘treatment’ .

The ‘treatment’ her Grandmother was taken away for the day before. The so-called "loyalty readjustment" treatment courtesy of the Neural Extraction Converter called the 'Ju'rot' that, in her cruelty, Riov Renal had let Jaeih witness before returning her to her own cell an hour later. Rendal had made Jaeih watch. Before Mnehi'sahe was born, her mother served the Tal'Shiar as well, and in that service had lead literally thousands of Rihannsu to the same machine to have their loyalties reprogrammed. To this day, it remained her greatest regret and her most consistent source of pain, and it was the source of her personal failure that Rendal wanted to remind her of.

Once returned to her cell, Mnhei’sahe couldn’t see her mother, but from down the corridor, she could hear her.

There were decades of bad blood between Verelan and Jaeih that stretched back well longer than Mnhei’sahe’s own life did, but beyond that was a relationship that had begun with great respect and obvious affection. She had heard it in their voices the night prior. Anger as strong as it had been between the two women could only have come from a place of what was once love. And it was from there that Jaeih began to softly cry from down the corridor. Mnhei’sahe had heard her mother cry before, but it was nothing like this. This was a frightened sound Mnhei’sahe was unaccustomed to hearing from her usually powerful Mother. She sounded almost like a child in the moment as her own whispered words carried down the corridor, heard only in the gaps between the soft sobs.

“Oh, Elements forgive me. Protect her and give her your strength. Give her my strength that she might endure as would the granite before a mighty wind. I beg of you, stop this… Please hear my words, carried to you on the wings of Al’Thindor, I beg of you.” Unbidden, the words of the prayers Jaeih had memorized as a child returned, spilling from her lips now in a panic as she reached out for someone, anyone for help, here in this dark place at the end of her life, at the end of her family, and seemingly at the end of her hope.

Hanging her head as much as she could, the sound of her mother’s weak prayers were too much for the young Rihannha woman as Mnhei'sahe's eyes welled up again with tears. And as she sat in the darkness, she called out weakly to the woman she knew was listening somewhere. “Please, stop this Riov. I’m here. You don’t need to hurt them anymore. You have me. Take me and leave them be, please. I’m begging you… take me.”

But there was no reply. From down the corridor, Mnhei’sahe could hear her Mother continue to pray in a weak, cracked voice into the night as she sat there, trapped. Trapped and waiting.

She didn’t know if they would come next for her or her mother. Functionally, while Jaeih Dox was an Intelligence Operative for the Hera, her security access was well below Mnhei’sahe’s. She simply didn’t have the level of clearance or knowledge about the Protomatter weapons that Renal wanted, so she was largely there as leverage. Incentive for Mnhei’sahe to cooperate. A way to punish her further as needed. But as she listened, the young Rihannha Starfleet officer feared that her Mother would break soon and likely couldn't withstand the Converter and possibly wouldn't survive. Mnhei'sahe didn't know if she or her mother was next, but realized that it had to be her. It might be the only way to save her mother long enough for help to arrive.

----------------

After another long night of waiting, from down the corridor, she heard footfalls. The answer of who would be next came marching toward them. Three sets of boots walking in a very military pace. But the steps had passed where she knew her mother was kept in her cell down the left side of the corridor. As the came closer, she could hear her Mother’s voice call out in a confused, broken voice, “V… Verelan? W… what are you doing? No! Please, NO! NO!”

But there was no answer.

And a moment later, she knew why. Slowly, Mnhei’sahe arced her head up as high as it could move in the brace and looked out past the shimmering green forcefield. And there, flanked by two cold-eyed Centurions that she didn’t recognize, stood her Grandmother. Deihu Verelan t’Rul. But the bruises that she had collected from her own time in the brig at Riov Rendal's not-so-tender mercies had been healed and she stood tall and regal again, dressed in her senatorial finery much as she did that first day that the two had met close to three and a half weeks ago now.

"Grandmother?" Dox asked, her voice raspy and weak from a dry throat and very little speaking over the past couple of days.

"Good morning, Mnhei'sahe. I've come to speak with you about Rendal's plans for Romulus, and your part to play in them. I want you to reconsider your position," the regal senator explained. "We need those protomatter weapons to make Romulus great again, and you are the key to that victory. So I want you to stop this resistance and give her what she wants. Cooperate with her, so that together we can forge a new, stronger Romulus, rising from the ashes of the old like Al'thindor. Compliance will be rewarded."

Romulus? Mnhei'sahe thought, in shock. Grandmother HATES that word more than I do.

The jingoistic slogans coming out of the woman's mouth sounded like a parody of the impassioned statesman of a few days ago, like some mad puppeteer's version of what she sounded like to Mnhei'sahe's ears. And as she listened, she went slightly pale as the young Rihannsu realized what must have happened. The Ju'rot device. The Neural Extraction Converter. It could be used to not just rip knowledge from a mind violently. It could also erase memories and do what seemed to be the case here: reprogram minds.

"If I complied... told you everything I know about protomatter weapons... then what? What will happen to me and my mother?" Dox asked, wanting to see just how lost her Grandmother was.

There was a moment there where Veleran t’Rul looked confused, as the question made her consider the answer. It was an unexpected response, a deviation from the script, for which she was unprepared. But as she blinked rapidly, her mind racing behind those eyes to seek a way out of the mental prison in which she was trapped. The answer that she wanted to give was there, so close, and she fought and struggled to find some way to express it that would still be ‘acceptable’ to the reprogramming performed upon her. But even with the hasty job performed, it was sufficiently comprehensive to hedge her in and prevent her from speaking the truth.

“Why, you will be rewarded, of course. Placed well within the High Command, or perhaps as an adjunct to me in the Senate, learning by my side. I still have plans for you, and aspirations. You are… the future. You are the next generation of Rihannsu, who will… obey the Tal Shiar, to work with them to restore Romulus to her former glory and dominate the stars.”

Eyes narrowing slightly, Dox could hear the conflict in the stilted words. Sentences that began as words she knew were her grandmothers and ended as Rendal's twisted propaganda. Is she still in there? the young officer wondered. And while it might not have been the smartest move, she needed information and the more she could have her grandmother talk, the better and idea of just how comprehensive this ‘treatment’ was. “That’s me. MY future. The Riov said my mother would be freed if I cooperated. Will… you be able to do that, Grandmother?”

“Ye… “ the senator began, and Dox could literally hear her teeth grinding. When t’Rul spoke, it was the party line, delivered through gritted teeth and a smile that was plastered on, but so insincere as to be practically comical, were it not so tragic. “Your mother is a traitor to the Star Empire. She must be made an example, as are all traitors, so that all will learn the folly of opposing the might of the Star Empire.”

A single tear rolled down the face of the Deihu, as her eyes betrayed that her words were not her own, nor were her actions. While she was being puppeteered to speak and react, the conditioning they had so hastily forced upon her was not so complete that it was not clearly evident that the strong-willed woman was still struggling beneath the surface, fighting to take control of herself yet failing to accomplish it.

For a moment, Mnhei'sahe hung her head as she took a breath to fight the wave of rage building in her at the sight before her. Letting it out in a long sigh, she slowly lifted her head back up and met Verelan's pained eyes with terrible remorse in her own. "I am... I am truly sorry for this, Grandmother. I can't undo what's been done anymore than you can, but If there's any way in the universe to make this right, I will. Just rest. I know this isn't you. I understand."

Then her eyes went cold and the anger swelled back in them as she looked up to the ceiling to speak again. "Riov, my grandmother never lied to me. Speak to me yourself or not at all. But if you continue forcing your words through her like this... if you continue hurting them to hurt me... I guarantee you you will never get anything from me. Speak to me yourself or put me through your 'treatment' and be done with it."

Over the intercom came the voice of the Tal'Shiar Riov in question. "Then you get your wish. Deihu t'Rul, please bring your granddaughter to the treatment room. We will begin immediately. You will get your compliant heir and I will get my secrets. And Jaeih... Oh Jaeih... You get to learn the price for betraying the Imperium."

"Damn you, leave them BE!" Dox shouted back. In spite of the fact that it was Verelan that had her and her mother kidnapped in the first place… Verelan who wanted to steal her away from her wife and home… Verelan who instigated all that had transpired… the family-starved young officer couldn't help herself for caring about the woman. She was her grandmother and in spite of everything, she couldn't stand to watch her suffer like this. In spite of everything, Mnhei'sahe still wanted to help her. And then the added threats against her mother proved more than she could bear and her passion was getting the best of her as she began pulling futility against the shackles, her already terribly bruised extremities screaming back in protest as she did.

If Veleran t'Rul had a response, a protest, or anything to say at all, it could not escape her lips. Instead, she gestured to the two guards stiffly and stepped back. As she did, the forcefield dropped and the shackles on Mnhei’sahe’s legs and neck released and the exhausted and bruised young woman lurched forward with a gasp. But her arms remained locked in place as one of the guards entered with a small device.

“Move only as instructed.” He said flatly.

As he did, he pushed a button and the shackled released, not from her wrists, but from the seat itself. As they did, Mnehi’sahe struggled for a moment as their weight initially wanted to pull them down. Looking up at the guard, she simply stared coldly as he spoke again. Looking past him, her first thought was to use the shackles to bash his head in, but the second guard had a disruptor trained on her and there was nowhere to go even if, by some miracle, she could beat both guards. “Lean forward and put your arms behind your back.”

Begrudgingly, Mnhei’sahe obeyed. Obeying had been almost all she had been able to do for weeks now. Obey in the hope it would buy them time, but each act of concession dug a deeper cut into her soul and she was light-years beyond sick of it. As she complied, the two shackles slammed together hard and locked together with a harsh buzzing sound as she winced slightly as the quick jerk acted on the stiffness in her joints. As she did, the guard stepped back and raised his own weapon and spoke again. “Now, stand and slowly walk this way. Exit the chamber, turn left and begin walking at a slow pace behind the Deihu. The Deihu will lead. Make no provocative movements.

Taking a breath, Dox slowly and stiffly complied. Time was the only weapon she had left and she was trying to do whatever she could to keep her mother out of the Ju’rot device and stall for time. Her shipmates would find her. They would come and find them both if there was any way in the universe to do so. She had to believe that, as hard as it was. So she needed time. In the same room with Rendal, she might be able to talk longer. Run out the clock just one minute more. But at least it would be her and not her mother to suffer.

And as she walked behind her puppeted Grandmother, she neared her mother’s cell and the two women’s eyes met. Mnhei’sahe had heard Jaeih’s desperation and panic. Heard her childlike prayers. But in these last few days, she hadn’t SEEN her mother. Across the field, as they passed, she looked long into her mother’s eyes and saw something she couldn’t hear in her voice: Life. Fire. Her Mother, unbroken.

Turning her head slightly to Verelan, Jaeih called out. “Rendal! Yes, I know you’re puppeting her. Watching and listening.”

There was no reply from Verelan’s lips or the intercom system, but the elder Deihu stopped and turned to look at the caged intelligence operative. As she did, the guards paused and held Dox in place, who could only wait and trust in her mother in the moment.

“So I have no compunctions of talking to you through her if I need to.” Jaeih paused for a moment, and her eyes softened ever so slightly as she looked into the eyes of the woman she had hated and feared for over thirty years. The woman she blamed for her hardships before accepting that they were her own doing. Now, she again could see the eyes of the woman that was once her mentor, friend and surrogate mother a lifetime ago. And in that moment, there was compassion in her eyes, happy at least to have finally reconciled if only a little. But the moment passed as she spoke again.

Finally, Veleran thought to herself.

“Did you ever read about the Rihannsu infiltration program of Starfleet they reactivated back in the 2250s? It was back before the Federation knew what we looked like, you see. It was an attempt to pass off Rihannsu as Vulcans. So there was also, of course, some liberal gene-splicing and some genetic experimentation thrown in as well. We'd captured one of the human sleeper ships of their genetic augments, and we were ready to play god. Perhaps you can relate? I'll assume you are familiar with the project and I won't bore you with the details." Jaeih spoke in a calm, slow voice, only slightly cracked from her time in the cells. But neither Verelan nor her puppetmaster replied.

"At one point in attempting to craft a rather powerful psionic in a laboratory on Reman, a test subject actually managed to manifest a creature, apparently a native to the psionic realms, who was then loosed on the lab and technicians. It was an eight-legged arachnid that referred to itself as the God of Dreams, and named itself as Anansi." Jaeih was on a roll now, her voice a prowling thing as she laid out the tale like a trail of blood and meat for the prey into the trap.

"That is a name my daughter will not utter... would you like to know why?"

At the mention of the name, Mnhei’sahe flinched ever so slightly as she remembered full well, her face showing just a bit of noticeable fear. As she did, Verelan’s eyes moved slightly towards her granddaughter with concern before her programming readjusted her gaze back to Jaeih but still said nothing.

"In her travels, Mnhei’sahe encountered this being, who may or may not be an actual god of dreams- in such matters, who can truly say?" Jaeih shrugged, then continued. "What can be said is that in springing forth from her mind, he tore open the doors of perception in her mind, leaving her an open receiver for all such psychic encounters. He desired something she possessed, but by the laws that bound him and his kind, he could not take it, she had to give it to him freely."

"With others he encountered... he was under no such compunction to be so gentle."

"A number of her shipmates vanished, their fates never to be known."

"Yes, yes, I am an old woman telling a ghost story and you want me to get to the point," Jaeih chuckled and continued pacing slowly now as she brought her ghost story to the point. "The point is, if you start prodding and poking around in there, you might arouse the attention of beings far greater than you know, who have been in there before you. They might notice you. And as just encountering one made her a conduit for their entry into our world, how do you imagine they would react to being dragged in this world, and finding themselves and their conduit being tortured?"

"Food for thought, Commander." Jaeih finished and took a slight step back, and there was a long moment of silence in the corridor.

The reply came over the intercom in Rendal's voice, this time as if from a great distance or from an old movie - very low quality, filled with artifacting and static, and her royal accent was thicker than usual. "That... Is a risk... I very much wish... To entertain..."

"These are not creatures of the four dimensions of which we dwell, Rendal. These are beings of the higher dimensions, to whom space and distance mean nothing to their vengeance. Do you think not being in the same room will save you? Not being on the same starship? Do you think they will not divine the author of their misery and know from whom to seek revenge, these ancient and terrible powers with which you would chance with which to play dice, fool of a thousand fools? Here, in deep space, far from anyone and anything that could help you?" Because there it was- if she waited until they arrived somewhere, that would buy them time. But then Rendal might have the resources to deal with whatever horror she might summon from the cosmos that might lurk in the mind of Mnhei'sahe Dox.

That was the gamble, at least. But it was a gamble that she didn't know the true outcome of as Verelan stiffly started to move again. And as she did, the Centurions gave Mnhei'sahe a light show to follow behind. As she passed, she gave her mother the slightest smile, which was returned with a somewhat stern nod of the head and a raised brow. It was an expression that was almost cold, but one that spoke volumes to her daughter. It was the expression she gave to her daughter growing up when she had fallen in training or failed at a lesson. It was a look that offered little warmth back then, but now and in this moment when she could not say the words freely without betraying her daughter, they hit with all the intended meaning implied: 'Get up and do it again. You possess the strength to continue, now do so.'

In reply, Mnhei'sahe nodded in understanding with still just the hint of a smile as she was shoved forward to keep walking. At the end of the brig corridor, the lead guard stepped ahead to open the secure doorway to the rest of the ship. As it opened, Mnhei'sahe noticed him again. The young AntiCenturion that had shown her a bizarre and hidden compassion named Pajom tr’Sahe. He turned to look and as he saw Verelan leading the way, Mnhei'sahe saw it. The expression on his face changed and for a fraction of a second, he looked hopeful to see the Deihu looking well and unhurt again, walking free. But she didn't look back at him as she passed and his face went blank again, the mask returned and in that moment Dox finally understood his words to her from days ago now. 'As a loyal officer of the Imperium, my duty and my mnhei'sahe are my life. If you are a true daughter of ch'Rihan you will understand.'

Perhaps he WAS loyal. Loyal to his mistress, Deihu Verelan t'Rul. That would explain why he showed her compassion. Mnhei'sahe had learned much from her grandmother in the few weeks they had together, particularly about the loyalty of an officer of the Imperium. The loyalty they had to their house was powerful, Verelan had said. And she emphasized that that loyalty extended to all members of a house and would extend to her one day. Verelan was trying to tell her this for a reason, and she thought she was finally understanding it. He was helping her. Feeding her a little more than not. Making sure she kept up her strength. Trying to keep her alive without giving himself away. Serving her as a member of house Rul however he could. And in that moment, not knowing if her feelings had any truth to them, but choosing to believe and trust them, she made eye contact as the guards moved her past. Her face was stern and almost commanding, as if she were reprimanding pilots on the flight deck of the Hera. 

A simple enough gesture that he met with the slightest bit of barely perceptible recognition. And in that brief, stolen moment as their eyes met, she glanced back behind her towards the cells. Towards her mother. And she hoped she was right and not making a massive mistake. 

The walk was a long one through the corridors to a locked room, flanked by even more guards at the end. The double doors were larger and thicker and clearly well shielded and it sent a serious message that made her think of something she had read during her time at the academy in her class on comparative literature: 'Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here.' But she paid the memory no mind, for she had hope. Her mother was not lost and had bought them even more time, possibly planting further seeds of doubt in Rendal's mind. Her grandmother was controlled and damaged, but still inside and still fighting. The AnteCenturion might even be a wild card.

A wild card. Mnhei'sahe thought as the doors slowly opened into a brightly lit room before her. The most important wild cards on the table are still out there, Mnhei'sahe. Rita Paris and Enalia Telvan. The crew of the Hera whom you've risked your life for again and again who have done the same for you. They'll be coming. They'll be here. You just have to hold on to your mind long enough to give them that chance. Trust in that. Trust in them. Trust in yourself.