The trip on the Runabout from Starfleet Command to the Hera, still docked at Jupiter Station, had been unusually quiet. Aside from the pilots from Intel Command, the passengers were the Petty Officers, V’Nus and S’Rina Wil’I’ams, Ensign Mona Gonadie and the main reason they had all been on Earth, to begin with, Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox.

The weary-looking Rihannsu pilot had just completed two weeks of intensive debriefing with Starfleet in order to clear her to return to duty and was looking forward to getting back to those duties. But the gauntlet of Ambassadors, diplomats, and Intel heads had been exhausting. Particularly the last one.

On her last day, Mnhei’sahe had been beamed to a home in Scotland to meet with a unique woman named Admiral Charybdis MacGregor. The elderly, retired Starfleet representative was a Rihannsu ex-pat and former Starship Captain from the same era as Rita Paris. And for hours, Mnhei’sahe had listened intently as the remarkable woman told the young Lieutenant the story of her own amazing career. A career with a great many parallels to Dox’s own, including captivity by the Tal’Shiar, that made their meeting an eye-opening experience.

At the end of the long day, tears had been shed and the Admiral had passed away in her own bed. But not before bequeathing to Mnhei’sahe a number of important things, not the least of which was the drive of the woman’s life’s goals of finding a way of reforming their mutual homeworld, ch’Rihan, aka Romulus.

As the runabout landed on the main flight deck of the Hera at 21 hundred hours, the chamber was predictably quiet. Delta shift was on duty and there was no fanfare or revelry for the return of the embattled Flight Chief, which was much to her preference. During the reasonably short flight of just under two hours at high impulse, Mnhei’sahe had shared her story with her wife, but not in spoken words. Instead, they held hands during the flight and used their shared touch-telepathy bond. It had made for a quiet flight but was a far easier way to tell the highly emotional story. Which, unfortunately, had made for a very awkward flight for the Klingon sisters who had no idea why the other two women in the rear of the runabout cried intermittently.

Shortly after the ship docked, it dropped off the Hera crewmembers and disembarked back to Earth. The security sisters returned to their quarters, as did Mnhei’sahe and Mona with the young Lieutenant carrying her shoulder bag and a long metal case under her arm.

Quietly, as the tired married couple finally arrived at their cozy quarters on deck 8, Mnhei’sahe set the bag and the case on the dining room table with a sigh. As the doors wooshed closed, she opened the bag and pulled out a bundle of uniforms and unwrapped them to reveal one of the three items she had been given during her day with Admiral MacGregor. A beautiful sculpture of the great Rihannsu phoenix of legend, Al’thindor, carved of firestone. Placing it on the shelf across the room, it was given to the young woman as a reminder to remember the old ways of her people that would help guide her in her own future as a Rihannsu in Starfleet.

Reaching into the top, Mnhei’sahe then pulled out a small, black data crystal she had been given to protect. She picked up the small model of a d’Deridex-class Warbird she had built as a child and tucked the crystal inside a hole at the bottom of the model and replaced it on the shelf until she could decide what to do with it.

Then she turned to the tabled again quietly. Mona had stood near her side the whole time and the two had been silent until Mnhei’sahe put a hand on the case. Slowly, as Mona stepped closer and put her hand over her lover’s shoulder supportively, Mnhei’sahe opened the case. In it was a sword. A Vulcan-crafted sword over twenty-three hundred years old. A sword of lightly curved metal in a black, maithe wood sheath with a Sardonyx-wood inlay and a rough, black kahs-hir steel hilt.

Lightly running her fingers over the sheath, Mnhei’sahe spoke softly. “The sword of S’task. The founder of ch’Rihan.” The sword she looked at was known as the Honor Blade of the Rihannsu empire that had sat on S’task’s empty chair in the Imperial Senate for thousands of years, until the then Captain Charybdis stole it from the senate to prevent it’s destruction when ch'Rihan, aka Romulus, was to be wiped out by the Hovus supernova. The supernova that had been prevented in the timeline in which Dox and Mona existed.

Like Rita Paris, Sonak, and Az’Prel, this sword was a survivor of a timeline and reality that no longer existed. On ch’Rihan, this realities sword still sat on the Empty Chair as it always had, making this a temporal duplicate. But it was still what it was to Mnhei’sahe and it had the weight of a thousand stars to her. “I still can’t believe that she gave me this, Mona.”

"And I can't think of anyone better for her to give it to," Mona replied, gazing wistfully at the historical masterpiece. "What are you going to do with it?"

“There’s not really anything TO do with it, really. Charybdis hoped to use it as a symbol to help bring the Rihannsu people back together after ch’Rihan was to be destroyed in that timeline. Now, it’s just a sword, I suppose. It’s real... but she said that it’s only real value as such was… to me. Because I might be the only person who would appreciate it or understand what it meant.” Mnhei’sahe said softly, leaning into Mona a bit more as she closed the case.

“I’ll… I’ll have to think about it. But for now, it’s probably safer if as few people as possible even know this exists. I’ll have to tell the Captain and Commander in my report, of course. But still, it’s just so much to try and process.” the young Lieutenant turned to look at her wife and as she did, put a hand on her belly. The three children within were growing more every day and when she touched Mona, she could feel their energy as well.

Smiling, Mnhei’sahe looked deep into Mona’s broad, amber eyes. “Char called me the future. So did my grandmother. So many are putting so much in front of me, Mona. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to be… even half of what they expect. I can’t fix ch’Rihan, and maybe it’s foolish of me to even think I should try, but then I think of them. I think of them and I don’t know how I can’t try.”

Mona thrummed softly as they held each other, the three children within her starting up their own humming as well. "Of all the people in the universe that has a chance of it, I expect you would have the best and only hope of it. After all, everyone seems to be putting their faith in you, including that shadowy figure in your memories."

Smirking awkwardly, Mnhei’sahe chuckled. “No keeping secrets with a telepathic bond, is there?” Then her tone shifted to a far more somber one, knowing that the shadowy figure was most likely the woman known as Masato Rei, aka Death herself.

"Considering I can't actually get more than impressions of your memories of that person... Apparently, there is," Mona added, but quickly shrugged it off. "But with there being so many other deity class beings hovering around this vessel, I'm not surprised that there's one that can mask themselves even from our bond like that. Anyway, you have enough support to topple governments, so I say, when you're ready, go for it."

It was a rapid change of subject and tone from the stunning Miradonian and Mnhei’sahe wasn’t sure how she felt now knowing that her weekly lunches with Death weren’t visible as memories to Mona. But she didn’t press the point right away, with so much else weighing on her mind. But there was now an awkward silence between the two women and Mnhei’sahe couldn’t bear that in the slightest. “I’m… I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. Not for what ANY of them think I can do, Mona.”

Flumping down in the chair at the dining room table, Mnhei’sahe looked at the case with the sword in it and sighed. “Sometimes, our lunches are just casual talk. What I’ve been up to at work and things like that. She likes hearing about those kinds of things and just talking. Sometimes she’ll tell me about some of the places she’s been. Planets in parts of space so far we could never get there in our fastest ships in a thousand lifetimes that she goes to regularly. She likes talking with someone who isn’t about to die about the kinds of things normal people talk about. But other times, she tells me things about her job. The rules she has to follow. How hard it is for her to be strong for literally every being in the universe in their final moments.”

Looking up at Mona, still standing next to her with her finely feathered hand on her shoulder, Mnhei’sahe continued, “And I try to just listen, because really nobody else can. And because as odd as it sounds, she's been a good friend. But... I’m afraid to talk about some of those things. Some of the things she tells me… I can’t tell anyone without betraying that confidence. Or they're things that nobody should know because they're important secrets to keep. But then…” As she spoke, it was clear Mnhei’sahe was emotionally ramping up and becoming increasingly upset making the Rihannsu accent she usually tried to mask get thicker, “Then I go out of my way to not think about why I knew. Why she told me.”

Mona stroked her lover's cheek for a moment before replying. "Hey, it's ok. I figured for a while now that there was something about that person that you wouldn't let yourself realize, so it's ok. if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to, but if you want to work through it, I'm here for you, ok? Either way, I'm here for you."

Holding Mona’s hand, Mnhei’sahe’s eyes began to water. “My Grandmother wanted me to abandon everything to go with her to ch’Rihan and eventually take her place in the Senate. Char said she didn’t expect me to be the savior of the Rihannsu… but… then she gives me the nouhha’fdavt Honor Blade! Then Rei… She... Mona.”

Looking up into Mona’s eyes, she concentrated for a moment and that thrumming resonated with the lavender energy that was always inside of her. That combination of her own life force and Mona’s that gave her the strength to survive her ordeals on the Rihannsu Warbird where she had been a prisoner. With it giving her strength now, she told Mona everything. She told her that fate had foretold that she was not supposed to be rescued from ch’Rihan. That it was the intervention of Rita Paris, Sonak and Az’Prel that altered fate so that she could be saved. She told Mona of the thirty-eight hundred Rihannsu colonists that were also fated to die that would now live because of her rescue and of how she helped Masato Rei erase those thousands of names from her book so their new futures could be written. Then she told her of why that was only possible because she was apparently the only living person who could open a book of the dead. Because she had been chosen, if she herself so chose, to succeed Rei’s role as Death... upon her own.

Through thick tears, clutching Mona’s hand like a child terrified of being abandoned, Mnhei’sahe told her bond-mate everything that she had tried to keep to herself. The burden she had tried to bear alone that had finally become too much for her. Her emotions, all of which Mona could feel intimately, swirled within her. But above all of it was fear. Fear that Mona would look down and see a monster. Fear that Mona would see the woman whose children she was carrying with horror and disgust. In that moment, the woman who had to spend the last month and a half being beyond strong while refusing to yield to the forces that wanted her to bend before them finally cracked. And the emotions came flooding out like a burst dam.

And in that moment, Mona's own emotions burst. Her own motherly, nesting instincts took over and she pulled Dox's head into her fluffy, feathered bosom and ramped up her love, letting it reverberate between all three chicks within her, and poured it into her bond-mate in a mighty flood while simultaneously soaking up every last ounce of emotion that Dox could put out like a giant fluffy sponge. "We're here for you. Our love is unconditional and eternal and you are beautiful and deserving of all of the love we can give. Never doubt that no matter how long you live or exist. Beyond Death itself, we will always love you and be there for you."

Beyond the powerful words, Mnhei’sahe was staggered by the wave of Mona’s raw emotions flooding through her. Her eyes clenched tight as she wrapped her arms around Mona, Mnhei’sahe could see that energy as a blinding wave of color in her mind’s eye. A rainbow of intensity, filled with Mona’s seemingly limitless strength, buttressed by that of their daughters within. It was unlike anything the young Rihannsu had ever felt before and as it flowed into her, she felt her own pain and fear become overwhelmed. A voice too weak and foolish to stand before Mona’s unyielding compassion.

It took what felt like an eternity for the emotion to ebb and become manageable again, but in time it did, and Mnhei’sahe pulled slightly back to see that she had absolutely soaked the front of Mona’s uniform with tears. The sight was an almost comical relief of her own contorted, crying face pressed into Mona’s chest, embossed with tears. And as both women looked at it, Mnhei’sahe’s crying cracked into a laugh. “Hnaev…” Dox cursed with a cracked voice, “I’m sorry. I absolutely ruined that.”

"Clothes can be cleansed," Mona replied, smoothing out her lover's hair as she pulled Dox to her feet. "What is important is that your heart is full of love and your belly is full of good food. And I need to get busy cooking soon or these chicks are going to start complaining. Do you feel better?"

Sniffling and wiping her face, Mnhei’sahe nodded. “Ie… yes. I suppose I… I needed that. It’s just… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to burden you with any of that. It’s just… yeah.” The wet-faced young red-head trailed off sniffling and looking down again at the case with the sword. “Yeah… If you’re cooking, you’ll need the table clear. Let me put this… somewhere for now.”

Picking up the sword case, Mnhei’sahe started back towards the bedroom closet. “What were you thinking of making?”

"Miradonian gobbleberry waffles covered in maple syrup and butter with lots of runny eggs and bacon on the side. What do you think?" Mona asked as she took off her uniform top and tossed it on a nearby chair and tossed her apron on. "I was able to get a small batch of the berries and I want to use them up before they go bad."

From the back bedroom of their quarters that were currently spacious, but would soon become extremely cramped with three chicks trying to fly in it, Mnhei'sahe tucked the case with the sword at the back of their closet until she could find someplace more fitting for it. As she did, she called back over her shoulder. "That sounds wonderful. Breakfast for dinner is always good with me."

In the bedroom, Mnhei'sahe carefully removed her two solid, gold Lieutenant's rank pips and commbadge and set them on the dresser where she did every night and took off her uniform.

Stepping back out in nothing but her underwear, she caught sight of Mona in the modest kitchenette, topless but for her apron and the Rihannsu pilot smiled. But the smile was short-lived as she crossed the room, passing the computer comm panel on the wall near the main door and noticed a blinking green light.

"Oh, kreldanni Areinnye... what now. I just got undressed." Dox cursed in her native tongue, now irritated by the light that meant she had a message sighed and pressed the button to recall whatever was waiting for her. After a second, the voice of the ship's computer chimed overhead.

=^=Encrypted message for Lieutenant Dox' from Commander Helev t'Liun. ARW Golden Ghost.=^=

"Well, at least it's a message and not a call," Mona called out from the kitchenette.

"Hnaev... I forgot about this. During my debriefing, the Captain arranged for legal council from the Artans. Her name was Dana Nyn. Very nice, actually. Smart attorney. She said there was a message for me. Computer, play message. Authorization Dox, M. Lieutenant. Access code 795-X9E. Thank you."

And, as always, the computer replied to politeness with politeness, =^=You are welcome, Lieutenant.=^= And then, the message played as, on the screen, was the image of the Rihannsu Commander of the T'liss class Bird of Prey that had been the means of Dox's rescue, Doctor Helev t'Liun.

On the screen, the slightly older RIhannsu woman with the short-cropped, dark brown hair had a mostly neutral face, with just the slightest of smiles. “Jolan’tru. It is with the highest honor that I address you this day, Baroness Mnhei’sahe Dox. I am leaving this message on behalf of Baroness Sienae Nei'rrh, myself and the entire crew of the Isahj’ey Aehallh.”

Using the Rihan name for the ‘Golden Ghost’, the ship’s commander that regularly hated being referred to by that title of ‘Riov’, preferring to be called ‘Maenek’, or ‘Doctor’ in Rihan, continued.

"While my crew and I are relieved to no longer be assaulting a Tal'Shiar facility, we convened a meeting between myself and the crew, and took our decision to the Barony of the fleet. After a unanimous vote, the crew and command of the Isahj’ey Aehallh, decided that our path lies in your service, Baroness."

Listening, Mnhei'sahe had already been informed of the broad strokes of what was being expressed. But hearing the message, she let out a light sigh as it continued, "Afterwards, I submitted the results of our decision to Baroness Nei'rrh, and in her wisdom, she agreed and began the transfer of assets to your Barony. However, as you remain a member of Starfleet, just as the Queen is, and are not permitted a standing crew, I am told your Adjutant, Jaeih Dox t'Aan, will be managing your affairs in your place."

While she had begun cooking, Mona turned the heat down and stepped over to watch with Mnhei'sahe, leaning softly up against her as she did.

"Know that, like the Queen, we are prepared to be called upon during your service for missions as needed and I and mine are now at your disposal. Know that the crew of the Isahj’ey Aehallh will serve you faithfully and will bring honor to your name and purpose as we know you will to us. Jolan'tru, Baroness Dox. Until the Elements will us together again." With a nod, the message ended and Mnhei'sahe just stood there a moment, and with her shoulders sagged and her face low, Mona didn't need their bond to know what her wife was feeling.

Sighing, Mnhei'sahe turned towards Mona and paused, looking into her Miradonian wife's big, amber eyes that projected nothing but love and support. And as she did, the Rihannsu pilot couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle. "Another responsibility. Something else to worry about. I just… all I ever wanted to do was fly, Mona. But it seems like the galaxy has other plans for me."

Then, Dox walked over to the kitchenette and put her arms around Mona's waist, who had resumed cooking. Doing so, Dox could feel her bond-mate's growing middle and their three children growing within her and she smiled in spite of her own self-doubt and apprehension, all of which felt somehow less heavy there, with the two of them together. "So... Wife. Pilot. Mother-to-be. Possible cosmic force... eventually. Possible savior of ch'Rihan. Potential Senator. Unlikely diplomat. Pirate mistress. Am I missing anything on my ever-expanding to-do list?"

As Mona flipped another waffle out of the maker, she reached up with her free hand to stroke her lover's cheek. "You're still flying, but sometimes the Moon Goddess... The universe... Sends us on a different path for us to prove how well we can fly. My Minay? I believe that this path is one that you will absolutely fly in."

Standing in her office as Chief Flight Control Officer, Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox felt good. She felt, perhaps, just a little better than she had in a good long while. After a month of captivity on a Rihannsu Warbird then two weeks of debriefings, interrogations, and hoop-jumping, she was home again to stay on the Hera. Her rank had been restored and her more familiar responsibilities were once again hers.

It was 0:600 hours when the young Chief Flight Control Officer had arrived at her office, a full hour earlier than required. But she was excited to both get back to work and to see the state of her office and get caught up. Sitting at her desk, she was thrilled to see that her command codes had been reinstated, but less thrilled to notice that her chair’s settings had been adjusted. Grimacing slightly, Dox readjusted the seat, which slid back down to her normal height. As Mona was only 2.5 centimeters taller than she was, Dox presumed that it must have been the 175 centimeter Ensign MacNielle that had been at the desk last. All of which was confirmed from the files and timesheets Dox was now reviewing to get caught up.

Looking over the daily reports, everything appeared to be in order. Every report was filed mostly properly, save for three with minor discrepancies from MacNielle that were simple enough fixes. There were several incident reports filed by an Ensign Edgar Mulligan Trelawney VII, a competent pilot with a stick up his posterior and an air of superiority that rubbed Dox the wrong way and reminded her of the JAG officer that had been assigned to her debriefings, Garney. Someone with an inflated sense of self-importance that tried using the letter of regulation as a cudgel. And in the case of Trelawney, they were cudgels he preferred to leverage against one Ensign Fiona O’Dell.

Reading the reports, they were all extremely minor non-issues that could have been dealt with without the need for official reports, and Dox noted that she would need to have a talk with the man and see what his issues were and see if she could find a workaround to improve the situation between the two pilots. All the issues reported should have been directed to the officer in command of the department first, but she would take care of it. That all worked out, the Red-headed flight chief had other things on her mind that were priorities at the moment, as she called up the latest round of simulation test results.

Before her kidnapping, Dox had scheduled a series of bridge combat flight simulations and she was pleased to see that Mona and MacNielle had carried out the sims on schedule and filed the reports. And in those reports, Dox saw what she was looking for.

Pausing, the young officer pondered how to best proceed. In the past, her demeanor as a department chief had earned her the nickname ‘Lieutenant Murderpunch.’ Sitting back, she knew this was damage she wanted to try and repair. When it came to command, Dox’s posture took on a cold tone and an authoritarian stance. It wasn’t a position she was completely comfortable with and she defaulted to a style that borrowed more than a little from the way her mother had raised her. Often more a ‘commander’ than a ‘mother’. But her mother was changing for the better, so she could as well.

After weeks forced to observe Riov Dalia Rendal’s command style on the Rihannsu Warbird, ‘The People’s Will’, Dox had come to a harsh realization that her command style was decidedly and unabashedly ‘Romulan’. As it was not a welcome comparison to her, and something she wanted to be better about, so she pondered her tactics for a moment. Calling up the duty schedules for the Flight Department and the adjoining R&D Department, she began typing. Moments later, she sent a request to the chief of R&D for a brief meeting with a certain pilot assigned to both departments who was currently over there at the moment.

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

When the message in the eye scanner she was wearing started beeping insistently, Ensign Fiona O’Dell was currently elbows deep in the circuitry of the Thunderchicken, the original prototype of the variable mode fighter developed by R&D Chief Mona Gonadie. The Commander had come up with the idea, but it was Gonadie’s brilliance in revolutionary aerospace design that had brought the unique craft to life. Which had, by sheer luck, been assigned to O’Dell on a random rotation of testing with the testy Tellarite engineer Ensign Briaar Gavarus. The two had immediately hit it off, becoming lifelong partners, as Gavarus was a thorough and dedicated engineer who simply didn’t care for most people, while O’Dell was seldom taken seriously due to her diminutive size and cheerful demeanor which didn’t always camouflage a sharp tongue.

At the moment, she was upside-down in the cockpit, with her head up in the wiring harness behind the control panel, as it was easier for her to access due to her small size than the considerably larger and more rotund Gavarus. With a visual sensor overlaying one eye, the small and nimble hands of the picayune pilot were being guided by the experienced eye of the irascible engineer, as they mapped the cross-wiring changed Gavarus had performed to adapt the prototype, so the changes could be logged and applied to the second prototype, dubbed the Silver banshee by the ever-poetic O’Dell.

“Wassis noow… aww, shite and pog me thoin. Briaar, ye hafta haul me oota here… Lieutenant Murderpunch is callin’ me on the carpet,” O’Dell called to her partner, trying to keep her tone dismissive, although a pit had opened in her stomach and she was suddenly very afraid of what this meant. While the Lieutenant had been gone, they had appropriated the banshee to transport the exhausted Chief to her quarters and put her to bed in an effort to save her dignity. Which had, in turn, brought them into contact with the Lieutenant’s mother, a stern and disapproving Romulan intelligence expert whom they had somewhat forcible befriended and dragged out for drinking escapades.

Which O’Dell was now reviewing through a critical military discipline eye, wondering what regrettable thing she might have said in addition to what they had done which she was already aware of having broken a great number of rules and procedures in their misadventures. Hell, just having a baby shower for Amy Carrott in the R&D break room had been against regulations, as such gatherings were supposed to be held in 10-Forward or in a conference room.

There was little doubt she was in trouble- the question was how much and how severe. While she didn’t actually believe that the Lieutenant would physical punch her with one of the punishing blows she had seen her exchanging with some of the Klingon security officers, the small starfighter pilot was inherently afraid of physical violence, and her department head’s stern style did nothing to alleviate that fear. So while she was trying to sound casual about it, in the moment she was already reviewing her options if she was tossed in the brig or ejected from the service, and how she would manage her little family onboard with Briaar Gavarus and Minerva, the orphaned Minotaur babe they had adopted together.

After a moment, O'Dell felt the familiar three-fingered hands of her partner in crime and life, Briaar Gavarus around her diminutive middle. With a gentle pull and an audible grunt from the perpetually out-of-shape space swine, the Mariposian midget was slowly extracted from the Thunderchicken and placed carefully on the deck. Looking down, Gavarus rubbed the back of her neck and looked nervous. "The Lou? What do ya' think she wants? I mean, you didn't do anything like... wrong wrong. I mean, not anything she doesn't already know about, right?”

“Ah s’pose she might take offense to one or two of our shenanigans, or I mighta said something to Granny Murderpunch while I was drunk or… who the fook knows, aye? I’m sure it’ll be alreet. I mean, she’s nae allowed ta punch me head off, right?” O’Dell joked as she wiped the insulating gel off her hands and shrugged back into her duty jacket. “Or mebbe she’s watchin the cameras and her panties are abunch aboot me bein oota uniform. I’m sure ‘tis nothin serious, Briaar,” O’Dell lied fluidly.

If Gavarus thought Fiona was in danger or career jeopardy, she’d be right there to defend her. In this case, having both drunken miscreants of the R&D department trying to defend their actions wasn’t going to do anything but get them both in equal amounts of trouble, if not serving to exacerbate the situation. So she blew it off as if it were no big deal, and hoped her bestie would buy it.

"I'm sure it's nothing. She just got back so she's probably just goin' through like... paperwork or some shit and has some Officery crap to go over. Just smile and nod and say 'Aye, ma'am' a lot and it'll be fine, Fee. Besides, the Chief is super happy today, so if her wife was pissed, I'm sure it would show, right?"

“Aye, that she is… the pretty bird’s got a glow aboot her this marnin, to be sure. Tis nice ta see her nay moltin’ and frettin nae more, aye?” O’Dell replied, looking toward the R&D office door where their fine feathered chief was currently nested, dreaming up the next innovation while she waited on that wiring harness report.

"Yeah," the hefty handygal agreed. Then Gavarus cracked an awkward smile and chuckled nervously. "But still, probably don't wanna be late and really tork her off."

“Aye, aye… do I look alreet? Officer presentable, look like I ne’er do inny work and like I dinna wake oop five times last night to feed a bottomless pit?” O’Dell smiled standing at attention for inspection with a smudge of grease on her pale rosy cheek.

"Yeah, yeah. You look... hold on." As Gavarus looked her partner over, she spied the spot of grease and, licking a thumb, reached down and wiped it clean. "Yeah, there you go. You look great and..."

Then the towering Tellarite paused and knitted her eyebrows, "Oh, dear GODS, I just did that. We ARE mothers. Okay, go on. I'll finish the wiring report for the chief."

Taking the large, rough, calloused three-fingered hand in both her own small, pale and delicate hands, Fiona O'Dell briefly held it to her cheek, gazing up at her porcine partner with a small smile, taking some strength and confidence from her odd yet fulfilling relationship. Then inhaling sharply, she let it out as a sigh before releasing the hand that was roughly the size of her head. Scampering off to the edge of the upper flight deck, the tiny test pilot slid down the rails of the stairs to the main flight deck, turning to the Chief Flight Control Officer's office, located directly below. Steeling herself, O'Dell approached from the flight deck side, where the transparent aluminum walls meant the Lieutenant would see her coming.

Stepping inside, O'Dell marched up to the desk and came to attention, offering an actual proper salute.

"Ensign O'Dell reportin' as ordered, Lieutenant," she managed, her voice only cracking a bit at the end. She hoped the loose fit of her trousers would prevent her superior officer from seeing her knees knocking as she tried to put up a professional front, while inside her mind she tried to think of everything she might be getting called out on so she could invent excuses for it.

While Dox had her head focused on the computer on her desk the whole time, she had watched the tiny test pilot coming out of the corner of her eye the whole time and picked up on the anxiety half a deck away. Looking up, Dox folded her hands in front of her on the desk, glancing briefly at the model of the U.S.S. Exeter that Rita Paris had gifted her and thought of her Commander's demeanor. Pursing her lips slightly, her own anxiety was showing slightly as she hoped to try and alleviate some of O'Dell's own. 

"At ease, Miss O'Dell. Please, have a seat." Gesturing to the chair in front of her desk, Dox offered a mild smile that was a little nervous, though she had no idea how it would be taken.

For her part, O'Dell gulped audibly, then climbed up into the chair, her legs no longer making it to the ground as she sat on the edge of the seat. She tried to put her arms on the armrests, but it felt ridiculous when she was trying to sit up straight and not just slouch in the chair or sit all the way back with her legs sticking out because her knees would go straight. Uncomfortable, instead she just took her hands and folded them in her lap, then her fingers began wrestling each other as she fidgeted nervously, a somewhat sickly nervous smile on her tightly closed lips.

A lone bead of sweat rolled down her temple as she continued running through that list of defenses for whatever she and Gavarus had done to get her called in.

Noticing how panicked O'Dell looked, Dox tried to figure out what would be the best tactic for moving forward that wouldn't make the situation worse. Thinking the situation over in her head, Dox's eyes widened ever so slightly as she did, How in Areinnye does Rita do this? Come off as calm and in charge without making everyone freak out at her. It's...

Fvadt. This is me in my first couple of weeks on the ship, terrified that every time anyone wanted to talk to me I was going to be booted out of the service. That's what she's doing. She's sitting there running through every possible thing she might have messed up, just like I did. Like I still do. Dox thought, looking at O'Dell sitting there in the oversized chair sweating. And realizing that, she let out a light breath and sat back slightly in her own chair. The chair her own short legs dangled in when she first sat down after MacNielle had readjusted it earlier.

"Miss O'Dell, breathe. You aren't in trouble. I've not called you here to chew you out. Tell you what, walk with me, please." Getting up from her desk, Dox walked around to the side and gestured for O'Dell to follow as she stepped to the holo emitters in the center of the room, hoping that the 6 inch height difference would be less of an issue standing than it seemed to be in the chair that was too big for her. "Is that what you're thinking? That I've been watching everything you do and I want to chastise you or you and Ensign Gavarus for something?"

"Yuir nae takin me ta the gymnasium, are ye mum? Sir? Lieutenant?" Fiona wasn't actually sure which form of address her superior preferred, so she just ran through them, hoping one would be right. It sounded like a trap, a trick question, so she didn't know how to answer. When she spoke her brogue was deepening as she clambered out of the chair to hesitantly stand near but not too closely. "Ah dinna thin'ye watch everthin Ah doo, nae mum. Sir. Leftenant."

"Mine does that too, Miss O'Dell." Dox looked down at the only woman on the ship shorter than her and smiled. "My accent. I try to cover it up more often than not, but it gets thicker when I'm anxious. But, as I said..." As the Lieutenant spoke she reached up and pulled her hand down in the air, and with it came a series of holographic screens replicating the data that was on her desktop computer. On one screen, the feed from O'Dell's recent sim test at the Helm of the Hera in a combat scenario along with the date from it, "...you don't need to be anxious. We're staying here, and Lieutenant or Ma'am will be fine."

Stepping back slightly so the screens were easier to see, Dox smiled. "I asked you here, in part, because of this. Your sim results in the most recent combat flight tests performed while I was... indisposed. Do you have any idea where you rank, Miss O'Dell?"

"Not... good, mum?" O'Dell winced. "M'nae used to sooch a big girl, m'more of a small craft pilot, so thet's why m'nae s'good wi'er. Ah could, uhhh, spend s'more time in th'sims I magine, bmebbe one up a tetch more...?" The pixie pilot wasn't looking at the data onscreen, just making excuses for what she assumed was her poor performance.

“On overall sim numbers for the department, you rank third on the ship. I rank second and Ensign Gonadie ranks first… by a considerable gap.” Dox smirked as she turned back to O’Dell. “But this test, I wasn’t there to take and Ensign Gonadie was administering it. In this test, you ranked number one. By a considerable gap. It was a sim based on a Combat mission I flew against Valkryie craft at Starbase 336 just before you joined the crew, and you aced it, Miss O’Dell.”

Pointing at the screen while the sim replay ran silently, Dox ran her finger through empty space as she continued, “But, as you observed, you fly her like someone uncomfortable with her size. You take turns slower than you need to. You’re riding her right up to the line of what the manual says is safe, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m here to tell you that this girl is faster and more maneuverable then you imagine. I would like to help show you how to really open her up.”

Folding her arms back behind her, Dox nodded to the ceiling and the holo displays vanished as she walked over to the desk and sat back down. As she did, she gestured to the seat and asked softly, "I'm assuming you have questions? You have permission to speak freely, so feel free."

Internally, O'Dell was still not sure what this was really about, so she shrugged her narrow shoulders. When she spoke, it was clear that she was choosing her words carefully, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I kin do better mum, aye, and I kin, uh, push her more in the sims..."

Leaning forward, Dox pursed her lips and took a breath. It was an exasperated expression, but a fairly safe one as it was clear that O'Dell was practically looking down at her own feet. The young pilot was still terrified and still hearing what she was expecting to hear, not what was being said. Dox didn't want to threaten her or intimidate her. Looking across at the diminutive pilot that seemed to be almost shrinking as she stood there, she saw herself. 

If it wasn't enough that O'Dell was short and red-headed, Dox could also see the twitchy body language, lack of eye contact and compressed limbs. She was literally ready to run and hide and in that moment, she realized that the Mariposian pilot was looking at her much the way she looked at her Mother as a child pilot on that smuggling ship where every decision was a test waiting to be failed. And Mnhei'sahe Dox didn't want to be that woman. 

"You were partially incorrect earlier, Ensign." Dox said with a more serious tone. She was going to have to make O'Dell pay attention and if pushing those buttons could turn that fear into reaction, then that's what Dox would try. After all, it helped with her. "I do watch most everything that happens on that Flight Deck. I do watch the security feeds and review performance that way. If you're on duty, then yes, you're being watched to some degree."

"So yes, I know all about you and Ensign Gavarus' misadventure with the Silver Banshee and Ensign Gonadie. Which means I know all about my Mother's involvement in that affair. I know all about your child getting away from you and almost going over the edge of the deck. It's part of my job to know what's happening in this room and out on that deck. And yes, I read the reports that come across this desk. You've been written up four times this month for your conduct. And I do not disregard those things." Dox said with a slight snap to her voice.

"If you'd prefer, I can file a report that says that you're unfit to be an officer on this ship. We're still docked and I can file a transfer right now and you can take your leave and not have to worry about this anymore. OR, you can tell me why I shouldn't do that. Because you see, I don't watch those feeds to see what you're doing wrong. Reports from overzealous Ensigns trying to ladder climb will tell me that. I watch to see WHO you are. So I know that the nonsense with the Banshee was to protect your Chief, for which you all risked your careers. I watch to see that you were only even in here with that baby so Miss Gavarus could properly restock her tools and follow protocol to not get written up again. And I have seen the lengths you will go to to protect those people and that is not behavior I wish to punish."

"You're afraid of me."  Dox stood back up and walked over to O'Dell and looked down at her, hating herself just a little for doing so but desperately wanting to get through to the woman, "Because I don't smile on duty, so you think my doing so now is a trap. Because I pay attention and you're afraid I'm building a list of offenses with which to come after you. I fight with the Security team and I am a dangerous woman, and you're afraid that I might turn that on you. Because I don't socialize with the crew in Ten-Forward and take the proverbial uniform off when I'm off duty that you can see... so you have no idea how I'll react if you tell me how you're feeling." 

"So, as I see it, you have a choice to make, Miss O'Dell. Continue to be afraid of me to the detriment of your career, and let me transfer you off this ship. I'm quite sure, after that, Ensign Gavarus would resign and follow you right off, her own career be damned." Dox looked down, making eye contact with the slightly shorter woman, throwing the career of O'Dell's partner into the mix hoping to spur on the woman's protective instincts that clearly drove her to overcome her own fear in the past, "OR you can stand here and tell me exactly why I should not only keep you in this department but push you ahead to advanced tactical maneuvering and put the lives of everyone in this ship in your hands, because I know you can do it."

"Because I DO watch you. I've watched you stand up to Pirates. I've seen you, badly injured, talk your partner into facing her own fears to save both of your lives. I've seen you get into the cockpit of untested machines and push yourself past the breaking point just to prove your worth. In short, I believe in you, Ensign, even if I haven't shown that in the past, and that's on me. So I need you to believe that."

"Or, you can leave now and toss two careers away, because you're afraid." Dox sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk that O'Dell had been standing next to and looked up at the Junior officer, purposefully putting her own eyes below O'Dell's eye level. "It's your call, Ensign."

"Don't... don't you threaten Gavarus' career, mum," O'Dell started quietly, lip twitching a bit. "She's a... a damn good engineer, and she's improved the Chief's designs a lot workin' wi' us. And I'm... aye, I'll admit it, I'm bluiddy afraid of ye. I mean, what d'ye expect? Ye're... severe. Like yuir mum, but w'oot the sense 'a humor. But see, she dinna have rank, and yuir me department head, and Ah knoow I wouldnae be a test pilot wi'oot yuir approval, but... aye, part of it's that ye nivvir smile and, Ah mean, and watching ye and the Klingons spar.... it, uhm. Yuir... a, yuir a vurrah angry woman, mum. Lieutenant. VURRAH angry."

Emboldened a bit by not being cut off, the anxious ensign continued, gaining a bit more confidence as she spoke. "The Chief, she's a rum sort, y'know? She doesnae listen to our foolishness because she knows we work hard and play hard and as long as we do good work she's willin ta overlook the rest, aye? But..." O'Dell paused to look up, making hesitant but genuine eye contact for the first time as her words began tumbling out a bit faster- in defense of another, of course.

"Ah dinna know ye a'tall. I mean, we did our best wi' the Chief while ye were gone or whativvir... which, whativvir ye were doin' she was worried sick aboot ye. She cried in her office almost every day, and we did our best to distract her an' keep her occupied, but twasn't right of ye to put a pregant woman through that, pardon me sayin, mum. Chief Gonadie's a fine officer and a sweet lass wi' a good heart an' it was... well, whativvir ye were up to, ye were breakin' her heart, Lieutenant. Mum." The little lass they called Leprechaun realized she was going a bit too far chastising her intimidating superior, and backed it down a bit. "So, um.. aye mum, sorry, I get, ah wound oop a bit. What, ah, were ye wantin' me ta do noow?"

"It's okay. I told you to speak freely and I meant it, so you have nothing to apologize for," Dox replied, smiling a bit more and nodding. "And we can get back to what the official purpose of this meeting is in a moment, but you were frank with me, and as such, you deserve to get that right back."

"This is just me talking now, Miss O'Dell. No ranks. What you did for my wife while I was gone, I will never forget. She cares about you two deeply and she let me know exactly how good it was that you and Miss Gavarus bent over backward to distract her and help her not feel alone. And while I don't show it properly, I like you both as well. You have good hearts and are both exceptional at your jobs." Leaning back in her chair, Dox sunk just a bit and sighed. "And you're right. I wish I could undo what happened, but I can't. I should have been here, but I was taken away. My mother and I were kidnapped. Violently. And Mona... Ensign Gonadie watched it happen and I wish I could take that horrible memory out of her head, but I can't."

Listening, O’Dell blanched a bit. That was where Granny Murderpunch- which she realized she might have to amend that nickname- had been for the past month, AND that was why Chief Gonadie had been so afraid the whole time and so vulnerable. Apparently, it had brought the Lieutenant to a few realizations too, because it was clear the woman was making quite the course change. Imagining for a brief second how she would have reacted had it been her own little family that was kidnapped, and her respect for Chief Gonadie grew that much more. Because she would have been a drunken wreck for a month.

Sitting back up a bit straighter and smiling again, Dox changed the tone and nodded a bit, not wanting to dwell, "But... she had you two to help her not think about it, and I am very glad for that. I know I can be severe and distant and... as a result... scary. But I'm trying to be better and change that, and I appreciate you telling me as much. I hope you will continue to do so, moving forward."

"Because moving forward is the official reason I wanted to talk to you, Miss O'Dell. You're an exceptional pilot. You're intuitive, clever, resourceful and fearless behind a stick, but you're afraid of the big ship. It intimidates you and I think I can help you get past that and fly her like you own her." Dox leaned a little forward with her hands on her desk and raised her eyebrows.

"Now, while I can make it an order, I would like your input because the blunt reality is that this ship needs you. In a crisis, I'm often on the Away team and in a couple of months, Ensign Gonadie will be on restricted duty. As such, the Captain will need someone at that helm that can do what isn't in the manuals and certainly isn't safe. I believe that can be you. What do you think?"

There was still hesitation evident, as O’Dell’s thin lips pursed to the side, and her eyes darted about nervously as she internally considered what had been said. But in the end, there was no choice for the pixie pilot. “Me… me family’s aboard, mum. Yours too. I hear the Captain’s got a wee bairn noow, and… I canna let innything happen to any of them, if I kin help it. I’m, um, not… I’m not a vurrah good officer mum and I know that. I do what I have to ta get by and nae much else. But… but.”

“When I was wee… uh, less than I am noow,” the diminutive daredevil qualified, “I wasnae good for nothin. I was allays too small, too weak, too fragile, too crass, too whatever or nae enough whativvir. Same in the Academy, same in Flight School. But once they got me a chair that fit and got me some controls I could reach, I found the one thing I am good at, and that’s flyin.”

Swallowing, as the admission was difficult to make to the superior officer who intimidated her, O’Dell’s red brows furrowed as she pressed onward. “If the ship needs me… well, mum, like I said, me family’s aboard. All of ours are. If I kin make sure nothin’ will happen to alla them, then I canna say no. I’ll do whativvir ye need of me, Lieutenant. I’m a good pilot, and as scared as I am of bein on the bridge and messin oop in fronta God, the Captain and everybody else… aye mum. Ye show me what I need to do different, and I’ll fly ‘er like the devil hisself is one step behind us.”

Leaning a bit further forward, Dox nodded. "Being a good officer? It's more than knowing the correct protocols and memorizing the right way to shake hands. BOTH of which I botched spectacularly during my own onboarding, by the way. No, to me, the most important parts of being a good officer are in that you always perform your duty to the best of your ability, and you do that. That you do your part to elevate the officers around you so that everyone does better… and you do that, O’Dell. Also, that you're willing to do the hard work to ensure that your ship is safe. You've done that, continue to do that, and just affirmed that you will work even harder at that. That makes you a good officer to me, Miss O'Dell."

The short starfighter jockey smiled and sat up a bit straighter at that, genuinely surprised to hear such praise from her seemingly by-the-book superior. While she was proud of her skills, she had never before been referred to as a good officer, and the small pride she felt at hearing such praise made her heart swell in her narrow chest.

"A lot of the rest are things you will improve with time and a little work." Dox rubbed her hands together, nodded and smiled. "That said, I will prepare a new training schedule with you, and ensure it doesn't cut into your duty schedule with Ensign Gonadie in R&D where your work is invaluable to this ship. There are some modifications to the bridge station that are customizable for each officer who uses them, which I think you'll really enjoy working with. Actually, I’m quite excited to show them to you."

The meeting had turned around and Dox was legitimately happy to see a little less fear in O'Dell's eyes. "Until then, dismissed. That said, Miss O'Dell..."

Pausing, Dox thought about her next words. She wasn't Rita Paris. She wasn't Enalia Telvan. And she certainly refused to be Riov Dalia Rendal. So she had to figure out how to be herself in this moment and learn to trust that. "I know I can't order you to not be afraid around me, but I would like to apologize for making you feel that way. I know firsthand that fear is a horrible way to try to lead, and I should have known better. I really appreciate that you were willing to tell me everything you that you did today. Pointing out a superior officer's mistakes takes more courage than most possess, and I wouldn't be worthy of that position if I didn't acknowledge that, and say thank you."

Looking around a little, still not entirely positive of where she stood, O’Dell studied her superior officer for a moment, the gears clearly turning behind those big emerald eyes of hers. Committing to the decision, she nodded. “Aye mum… Lieutenant. I, um… Ensign Gavarus says I spook a little easy, and she, ah, explained to me that seein’ me jump at stuff and bein afraid of people was, ah, kinda hurtful. To those people I’m scared of, I mean. Soo… I’m sorry too, mum. Maybe… ye could come oot for a drink wi’ us sometime…?”

“I mean, I know tisane catchin us at our best and we’re uncoth, as yur mum puts it. Mrs. Dox, I mean,” O’Dell backpedaled slightly, but still stuck to her point. “But it’s… ah, tis the best way for us to get to know someone, and tis what we do in our spare time, and I know ye’ve a lot on yuir plate and all, but… twould maybe be a way we might see ye more as a person and less of a, er…” O’Dell fished for some way to say ‘scary potentially murderous officer who could break their careers in a heartbeat who was trying to be nicer’, but couldn’t quite find a way to say that without being offensive. Instead, she just grinned a nervous grin, hoping her message would be well received.

Thankfully for the Liliputian pilot, it was. As was the unspoken fear still just under the surface that Dox chose to overlook, realizing that such things would take time, and that O'Dell's suggestion was likely a good way to do so. With a tilt of the head, Dox replied with a smile and the slightest of chuckles. "Miss O'Dell, that sounds like an excellent idea and I would be glad to join you and Miss Gavarus. How does twenty-one hundred hours sound?"

“Mebbe twenty hundred mum? The wee one has to be put to bed by twenty-two hundred, so we start a tetch earlier these days so’s we kin get her ta bed, because heaven forbid she not get her sleep- she’ll be headbutting everyone the next day, and she dinna care for most babysitters. Well, save for yuir own mum, who she likes better’n me,” O’Dell grinned, the topic having taken the onus off her and to one of her favorite subjects, the adorable baby creature of legend she and her partner were raising together.

“Would ye prefer a family affair wi’ the chief and yuir mum? She enjoys shenanigans in the pub, but I understand if that would make it hard for ye to unwind. Y’know, nivvir mind. We’ll git Granny Mu-ahhhh, Mrs. Dox to babysit so’s it can be joost us. Have a few drinks, throw some darts, tell some stories and get ta know each other a bit, aye?” It was clear that the idea was gaining ground with the little stereotype in motion, as she was being freer with her opinions and ideas.

In truth, Dox was slightly relieved it would just be her and the couple as she would then not have to worry about her mother making the situation awkward. After all, it was difficult to be relaxed and natural when one's mother was there, so this suited the young Lieutenant perfectly. "Twenty hundred hours it is, Miss O'Dell. I look forward to it."

“Aye, mum! We’ll see if we kin lick ye at darts, aye?” O’Dell offered with a mischievous grin before hopping off the chair and bounding out to the flight deck, doubtless to share the news with her porcine partner.

Smiling, Dox got back to her work preparing an intensive lesson plan she knew the pint-sized pilot would ace., letting out the slightest of sighs of relief. She had been on the Hera little more than a month before she had been named the chief of the Flight Control Department and it was both an honor and a responsibility. But, with the exception of Mona, it served to also distance her slightly from most all the other pilots on the ship. After all, command responsibilities were completely new to the young woman who herself had still been an Ensign only a little over a year ago.

But she was learning… and she hoped that this was a positive first step in growing into the role, and caring for the people with whom she had been entrusted.

The computer chirped gently in the otherwise quiet Flight Control Office as Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox looked up from her computer, a stack of PaDD’s next to her and a half-empty bowl of stew next to that.

=^=Appointment Reminder: The time is 19:50 hours. You are scheduled for recreational activities in Ten-Forward in ten minutes.=^= The computer intoned in an almost sing-song voice, reminding the busy Rihannsu Department Chief of her plans. Earlier in the day, she had a meeting with the junior officer and ace test pilot, Ensign Fiona O’Dell that had gone fairly well. As a pilot, Dox was among the best around, but as a department head, she had a decidedly authoritarian and harsh command style. A style that, along with her proclivity for angry and violent sparring with the Security team, had earned her the unflattering nickname of “Lieutenant Murderpunch.”

Letting out a sigh, Dox organized the PaDD’s she still wanted to review and replied to the computer. “Thank you, Computer.”

As she put the PaDD’s in her desk drawer, she saved off a file of crew rotations for the next week that she had been tweaking to give O’Dell more simulator time, as the two had discussed. As she did, the computer replied as it always did, =^=You are welcome, Lieutenant.=^=

Getting up, Dox turned off the computer and grabbed the bowl to carry over to the replicator. The day had been her first full day back on duty since her abduction and the resulting weeks of debriefing, and she had a lot of catching up to do. As such, her thoughtful wife and fellow pilot, Mona Gonadie, had been by earlier to make sure she stopped to eat. In truth, Mona was tickled that Dox had made plans to meet Ensigns Gavarus and O’Dell in Ten-Forward to try and get to know them better. After all, the pregnant Miradonian R&D chief worked with the unlikely couple every day, and intended to employ the duo as babysitters when the time came, so it would be good if they weren’t afraid of her wife anymore.

With a few minutes left, Dox was scrambling to lock up the office feeling as if she were forgetting something. And as she tugged down on her uniform top, she grabbed one of the PaDD’s from her drawer just in case she would need it.

Meanwhile, in Ten-Forward, the aforementioned couple of Fiona O’Dell and Briaar Gavarus were already settled in their favorite seats and a drink into their evening, three in the case of Gavarus. On the table was a plate of nachos that had been intended for the group, that the porcine engineer in gold had already decimated. “What?!? You know I’m a nervous eater, Fee! I mean, you said the meeting went well, but this is still Lieutenant Murderpunch. Sure, her mom ended up being cool, but I’m kinda freakin’ out.”

“Alreet, alreet- s’nae matter that the nachos are gone, we’ll joost order some more IF OUR BLOODY SERVER EVER COMES BACK! And, look, she’s tryin’, alreet? I toldya she was kidnapped and I think it rattled her, ye know? She saw something oot there she dinna like at all, and noow she’s wantin ta change. So we owe it to her, aye? Remember, she was the one what formed R&D and assigned us both to it. If not for her, ye and me would nivvir hae gotten to work together, and we’da nivvir fallen for one another, and we’d nae hae wee Minnie. So no callin’ her Murderpunch, okay? S’nae who she wants ta be n’more, so let’s give her a chance, alreet?” Taking the large three-fingered hand of her porcine partner in her own, O’Dell made puppy dog eyes at Gavarus.

“Pleeeease Briaar? Joost try… fer me?” It was dirty pool and she knew it, but the Lieutenant was making a real effort to try not to be a terror to the two slack and slovenly sailors, and O’Dell was convinced enough to at least give her a chance.

"Oh, COME on! Don't give me... Don't... that's not fair, Fee! C'mon..." Gavarus griped, wincing as if the puppy dog eyes were weaponized. And in a way, they were and targeting her directly. "Okay, okay! Just turn those things off! GYAAAGH, you know I hate when you do that. Stop using your Catholic Space Guilt against me. I have no damn shields against that crap and you KNOW it and it isn't fair."

Running a free finger around the bottom of the bowl, Gavarus scooped up the last of the queso and licked it off, scowling slightly. "And I promise, I won't call her Lieutenant... MURDERPUNCH!"

Mid-sentence, Gavarus cut herself off and blurted out the unflattering epitaph as Mnhei'sahe Dox entered Ten-Forward at the far end, her nose buried in a PaDD. Cringing slightly, Gavarus knitted her eyebrows and took a swig of her already half-finished beer. "Gods, I hope she didn't hear that with those ears of hers."

And if on cue, Dox looked up, tucking the PaDD into her back pocket, scanning the room to find the two women she was there to meet with. And, as it took a second, Gavarus sighed slightly since it seemed that Dox hadn't heard and she hadn't begun the evening by sticking a hoof in her mouth.

Waiving merrily, O’Dell offered a smile, which was then followed by a bit of a confused expression. As the Lieutenant approached the table, O’Dell greeted her. “Evenin’ Lieutenant, glad ye could join us! I dinna make ye a drink order since I didn’t know if ye wanted a draught of the sour blue stoof or if ye were in the mood for a beer or what have ye. Me and Briaar like beer, but I’m partial to a good single malt Irish whiskey meself, while Gavarus here’ll try innything once, but I’ve noticed she’s a bit partial to a margarita if the salt’s good that day.” Beaming a pleasant smile, O’Dell hoped this was going to work, and that her inner nerves were not showing on the outside.

"Good evening Miss O'Dell, Miss Gavarus. Thank you for the invitation, I appreciate it." Dox replied, still far more formally than was likely good for what was supposed to be a casual evening. As she did, Gavarus replied by grinning a bit too widely, showing off nacho crumbs in her teeth as she did. 

However, the question of drinks caused the nervous senior officer to tense up ever so slightly. While most of the bar's stock was synteholic, Dox was firmly on the proverbial wagon where Alcohol was concerned and hadn't considered that when agreeing to meet with the Hera's two most notorious drunks. As such, her response was even stiffer and borderline forced. "I think I will have a... coffee to... uh... start with. Thank you, though."

At that, O’Dell raised both eyebrows in the middle and pursed her lips to the side. “Um, ma’am? Nae ta be tellin ye yuir business, but sittin in yuir uniform in 10-Forward drinkin coffee is nae really getting oot ta hang pout wi’ people, ye ken? I mean, ye did flight school, aye?” Backing away from the statement to have deniability, O’Dell waved her hands before her.

“I mean, tis yuir call and all, but, um, it isn’t… I mean, I thought the idea was to come out for a drink or two and unwind and make us less sca-uhhhh… intimidated... by you.” O’Dell stretched the last syllables out as she was testing the waters, and the pit opening in her stomach was telling her this was all a Very Bad Idea she’d had, and that this was not going to go over well at all.

Looking down at her crisp, crimson uniform, Dox let out a sigh and brushed some hair over her ear. "Yeah. I… uh… I wore my uniform on my first date with Ensign Gonadie. I… legitimately do not know how to relax anymore."

Had she thought of it, Dox would have gone to sickbay for an Anti-Intoxicant like she did for her bachelorette party. But O'Dell and Gavarus were making an effort and she didn't want to discourage that. On the flip side, she couldn't believe she was worried about what amounted to peer pressure as she replied. "And… point taken. But I think I'll stick with a synthale."

"Nae worries, mum. I'll join ye in a round of synthehol or two, although Briaar'll stick to the hard stuff. But she's got a tetch more mass in the alcohol equation than ye and me, so it takes her quite a bit more to get her buzz going, aye? Ah, look, there's our nachos, which may still be warm enough for the cheese to still be melty," O'Dell sniped, then rattled off the drink order. "Two fingers 's synthehol Bushmills fur me and the L-T, and a triple fer Gavarus here, aye? "

Holding up a finger to make the server wait, Gavarus picked up her beer and chugged the whole thing down. Then, with a slightly restrained burp, the touchy Tellarite handed the empty, oversized mug over and commented, "AND a refill here. K' thanks."

"So, uh, Lou... Chief... Lieutenant... uh. Are nachos okay? It's got queso and beans and some little g... green thingies and that I... I... I don't know what they are but they're zesty even though they get stuck in your teeth and take forever to get out and I can't stop talking, Fee. Make me stop talking!" Gavarus nervously tried making small talk over the snacks as she stuttered and started spiraling.

"How'm I suddenly the bloody adult in the room? Chroist jayzis. So how's the little ones coming along, Lieutenant?" O'Dell tried to change tracks, regretting this idea more with every moment that passed and wondering if she could cause a fire or simulate an alien attack to get them out of this mess. The Lieutenant, who didn't know how to relax despite having been through flight school who was stiff an awkward, Gavarus who was anxious and scared, and she herself who was just desperately uncomfortable and still a little scared herself.

Which was when the drinks arrived.

"Oh thank heaven," O'Dell exclaimed as she tilted up her glass and took a gulp of her drink, downing perhaps half of it in one go. Looking at the scared swine and the rigid Romulan, she downed the other half and handed it back to the server. "I'll have another a'those, and soon, aye?"

Watching the exasperated O'Dell, Dox sighed and took a drink, wishing it were the real thing in the moment were she didn't know how she needed to behave or even how she wanted to behave. She knew that for a command officer, which even as just a Lieutenant, was what she was to the two women at the table, she was to maintain a certain professional distance. But there always seemed to be some kind of distance to worry about in her life. Some facade she needed to maintain.

Putting her glass down on the table, she answered O'Dell's question. "Mona… Ensign Gonadie… she's…"

Exasperated, Dox took another sip of her fake whiskey and rolled her eyes. "Mona… which is her name and you know it and it's acceptable to call her such off duty… Mona is doing great. The kids are actually growing faster than the doctor had expected. At this rate, they're expected in about… five months or even less."

Talking about the children she had on the way, Dox warmed up ever so slightly. "And Miradonian's… they have empathic abilities with family members, so… when I touch her, I can actually feel the children. I mean… feel what they're feeling. It's… kind of amazing."

"Five months? I figgered she looks ready ta pop already... whoof, that's g'win ta be hard on the poor gel. That's nice that ye kin feel 'em though, I dinna know that aboot Miradonians. D'ye know that Briaar? Nae, nope, we did not." It was clear that O'Dell was rambling a bit as the liquor worked it's magic, although one would not expect it to work quite so quickly. But the lightweight leprechaun was a famously easy drunk, and as she was allergic to Synthehol, it had the same effect on her as real liquor.

Taking a scoop of the nachos, Dox took a bite and there was a forced silence as a result as she chewed. "You two… you have a little one as well. Mona says she's a little sweetheart and is looking forward to making playdates when the girls are here."

"As fuir playdates, we'll hafta see. Minnie-" O'Dell paused to try to get another sip from her empty tumbler, peering into it 2with one eye squinting closed before setting it down and cupping the tumbler with both hands to have something to do with her hands. "Wee Minerva, she vurrah particular aboot who she likes and who she dinna, so we hafta be careful. Some folks she joost adores, like yuir mum yuir wife and Jablonski and me an' Briaar, boot when we tried to leave her at daycare she was a bit... ah... wassaword, confrontational? Aggressive?"

"She started headbutting people. At about four months old," Gavarus offered with a small degree of parental pride. "Seems she just deals with everything by coming straight at it head on. She didn't like being left at daycare, so she headbutted everybody she came across, then she started headbutting the door because it wouldn't open for her. Heh." Gavarus drained about half her beer, relaxing a little talking about their pride and joy.

"Aye. But she likes the Chief it seems, so... mebbe?" O'Dell recalled an episode recently when the miniature minotaur had been on Mona Gonadie's lap, with O'Dell hovering nervously nearby, wherein she had placed both hands on the feathery flier's swollen belly and gently placed her head alongside it, as if listening to the occupants. Which had been odd but reassuring, as her horns and propensity for headbutting made her a bit dangerous around a pregnant woman. But she had been gentle with Mona, which had been a relief to both fairly odd parents.

Listening, Dox was taking in all the details. Reading both women's body language and trying to anticipate how the conversation was going. In short, she was reacting like she was still strapped to a metal chair in a Romulan brig being interrogated and realized how ridiculous she was being. She was sitting, drinking with co-workers talking about their children and she was locking down again. 

"Well, we'll see, I guess. I've not met her yet, but my Mother and Mona can't stop going on about her. And you two certainly seem to be happier on duty for it." Dox took a swig, finishing her drink and gesturing with two fingers to the bartender to come over. "Not to bring up work, but more to just say I've noticed the smiles and it's really nice to see. More smiles at work are a good thing. Now I just need to take my own advice and pull the stick out."

As the bartender came over, Dox leaned over and made an order, "Another, please. And a shot of the Praetor's reserve. Cut it by half. Two fingers, please." Then she turned back and made an admission. "Am I... really that scary?"

"Shit, yes!" Gavarus blurted out, chugging her beer.

A subtle elbow to the ribs made Gavarus grunt, more from surprise than pain, as O’Dell tried to pacify the situation a bit. “Well, yuir… severe, mum. No nonsense. I canna speak for all the command officers, because we generally dinna deal with ‘em much. But yuir our boss, and I, uh…” O’Dell paused and spoke very slowly, watching the woman’s face intently as she did so, as if navigating a minefield. “I would not bring a problem or issue to ye unless twas absolutely necessary.”

The magic of syntheol was working quickly on the 90 pound weakling with the low alcohol tolerance, and it was loosing her tongue and making her bolder in her conversational ventures. “Truth be told, I’d take it to the Commander if twas that important, because she seems like she’d be… ah, more… amenable? Assuming I couldn’t joost bring it to the Chief. I mean, she’s nice, ye know? We allays know where we stand with her, and we know she likes our work, because she tells us so, a lot. And we allays know when we go wrong because she tells us. Ye are… hell, I don’t know who ye are. Ye allays look like someone joost ran over yuir dog or jammed a carbinium rod up yer-“

The rest was muffled as Gavarus had one beefy three-fingered hand over O’Dell’s mouth and another around the back of her head, effectively cutting off the little drunk before she went even further into the land of ‘too far’ than she had already ventured.

“So yeah, you’re scary is what she’s trying to say,” Gavarus added hastily, before whispering, “Shit, Fee, permission to speak freely ain’t THAT free, yannow? You trying to get us killed?”

As Dox's shot of Romulan Ale arrived, she took it and tossed it down quickly. Even half watered down it was strong and she felt that familiar old burn she knew well. Looking at the empty glass, she chuckled at the display across the small table "I grew up drinking this. Stopped a few months ago out of fear that it was going to make me do something stupid on duty and ruin my career. But I'm trying to be less afraid of myself. And the word is 'ass', Miss Gavarus. And I specifically asked her to be honest with me in our meeting. So no harm done. Promise."

"Honestly, I was an Ensign piloting cargo shuttles a year and a half ago out on Starbase 17. I made Lieutenant Junior Grade by pulling a crazy stunt when the shuttle I was flying with an important delegate got stranded with no engines or thrusters in a dense asteroid cluster. So I used the tractor beams to push off some, pull towards others. I... bounced the shuttle free of the asteroids and got the delegate to safety. That stunt got me here." Dox leaned forward and took a bite of the Nachos and nodded, a slight smile beginning to form that was clearly less forced as she continued.

"Within the first month of being on the Hera, I was put in charge of the department. I had barely met any of the other pilots, all of whom had been here longer, and I was suddenly in charge of them, and I had no idea what I was doing." Taking a swig of her synthale, she chuckled slightly. "I still really don't. But I know enough to know that I would HATE having a chief like myself. So I need to fix that."

"So, here's a promise, ladies. I will tell you if you've made a mistake, but I will help or encourage you fix it as well. If you come to me with a problem, I will listen to what you have to say and do what I can to fix it, even if the problem is me. I will not yell at you unless you do something that absolutely requires... volume. And I will always do my best to be fair and even-handed." Taking another drink, Dox paused for a moment. "Sound fair?"

Considering the woman’s words, O’Dell eyed Gavarus as Gavarus eyed O’Dell, in the unspoken communication of two who were often on the same wavelength, nodding, the prickly porcine and the pixie pilot both turned back to their superior officer.

“Alreet mum, agreed. We’ll do our best to help ye yank that crank oota yuir bum, and help ye be a bit more like one of the gals… approachable, that’s the word,” O’Dell went back to her empty tumblet for another drink, and hiccuped. Her slurring and accent were deepening, and it was clearer by the minute that she was speeding through ‘buzzed’ and ‘drunk’ at high speed.

“An yuir nae s’bad, joost… ye know, we saw ye pummellin that Klingon gel, and ye nivvir smile and ye don’t say much one way or t’other, so it- hic!- it means we’re kinda left to our own whatchacallit, ahh… conclusions. Now yuir mum- SHE’S scary. But I’ve known crabby old ladies like her alla me life, and when we were scheming ta steal the Banshee and use it to get the chief home, she was alreet wi’it, ye know? That went a long ways, a’cuz she knew we were doin’ bad fer a good reason, eye?” The dopey smile that settled on the face of the midget Mariposian was one of a happy drunk.

“O-KAY, it’s O’Dell’s near beer for you for awhile,” Gavarus decided as her pint-sized partner hiccuped happily. “Sorry, she’s allergic to the fake shit too, so just about everything gets her drunk, and when she gets nervous she'll pound it, and she, ah, she tossed that down pretty quick, so…”

“At’s me girl, allays coverin fer me tiny arse!” O’Dell declared, then leaned in to hug the bicep of the tall Tellarite. "Ah love ye Briaar. I dinna tell ye enoof, Ah knoow boot Ah do..."

Putting her hand up to cover her mouth, Dox couldn't help but smile at the display between the two, as they were legitimately hard to not like, all things considered. As she did, Gavarus leaned over and mussed her pint-sized partners ginger mop-top. "Love you too, ya' drunk ass wackadoo. Now we just gotta sober you up a little. Have some nachos and I'll order you another, less drunky drunk."

As Gavarus flagged down the server to order O'Dell a strictly non-alcoholic beer that she wouldn’t have the same reaction to, Dox took another sip of her own synthale. "I can see how S'Rina and I going at it in the ring could be... offputting. But, it's hard to explain. We both have a similar... itch that needs to be scratched in that regard. Weird upbringing on my part, cultural affectation on hers. And we can go at it without worrying about the other because we can both take it and don't take it personally. It's... a release, really. But if it's any consolation, most everyone else thinks it's disturbing as well."

"I mean, we got into a bar fight for my Bachelorette Party. It was... fun. That's how I relax and stop worrying about being an officer sometimes, if that makes any sense." Dox took a sip and raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I KNOW you two have gotten into trouble in bars before, so it can't be that far afield."

"Wellllllll... ahhh... I may have thrown myself over a few bars after assholes that effed with our holosuite before. And... yeah, and Fee will pick a fight in here over..." Gavarus looked down and cricked an eyebrow, "What did you head butt that one asshole in the junk about, again?"

“He called ye a fat dirty pig and said ye should be kept in a mudpen wi’ the rest of the livestock,” O’Dell replied, drunk enough to not self-edit. “Izzy in here? Cuz I’m ready to scrap wi’ im again. Dirty goabashite fecker. Asides, he was comin on ta me, and who the hell comes onto a bloody midget wi’ nae teats or arse? S’like cruising the shoolyard fuir dates, dirty pedo pile a shite…”

Her eyes went wide for a second as Gavarus took a swig of her beer. Under normal circumstances, O'Dell would never actually say exactly what random jerks said about her, but tonight she was in rare form, and drunker than usual. Looking around, more than a little irritated after hearing that, Gavarus scoffed. "No. I don't see no douchy blond pretty boy asshole pilot assholes."

Listening, Dox cricked an eyebrow. "Wait? Pilot, arrogant, about 187,188 centimeters and blond? Ensign Hovind?"

Taking another swig, Gavarus snorted and swallowed hard, pointing at Dox excitedly. "Yeah! That was his frickin' name! Hovind! Yeah!"

“Ensign Hindmost, ye ask me… fookin horse’s arse. Aye, where is he so’s I kin make sure he dinna father inny children,” O’Dell rolled up the sleeves of her emerald cable-knit sweater, revealing her pipe-cleaner thin arms as she unsteadily got to her feet to stand on her chair, looking around for the offending party, clearly ready to engage, despite her lack of skill, ability or strength.

Across the table, Dox pursed her lips and smirked slightly. "Uh... Ensign Hovind transferred off ship after the tribunal. As it turned out, he had a... significant problem with the... manner in which he interacted with other crewmembers. An extended problem over time that he was given multiple opportunities to rectify." Then she took a sip of her own drink. "And he hit on me, too.”

“Well ent that unfortunate fer him, cuz he’s missin his chance ta kiss the Blarney stone,” O’Dell huffed, brandishing her tiny fist before settling back in her seat. “I guess he had a thing fer redheads. Well, here’s hopin he marries some harridan from hell who treats him like the sack o’shite he is and he lives miserably ever after.” Taking Gavarus’ beer bottle, Fiona took a swig, then made a face, sticking out her tongue. “Ach! All suds!”

As one of the servers walked by bearing a plate of hot wings, O’Dell watched, sniffing the air. “Ach… so, ah… since me partner’s made’a pork I canna have that in good conscience, and me babe’s made oota beef, I see big brown eyes lookin at me from a hamburger. Lemme guess- ye canna eat chicken n’more given the Chief’s all feathery and sooch?”

Watching the same plate go by, Dox eyed it more than a little covetously herself as she replied with a sigh. "Uh, no. I... I gave that up after we started dating. I mean, I know it's all reconstituted protein molecules and it's not actual meat from a real bird, but... I know what you mean. I can't not think of Mona. And... I've tried sneaking some but I just felt terrible, you know?"

Noticing her mouth was watering at the strong scent of the hot sauce as it wafted by, Dox took another sip of her drink, finishing it off. "Fvadt, that smells good, though. Buffalo wings were one of my favorite dishes from Earth."

As Dox stuffed a particularly large pile of chips in her mouth to compensate, the server arrived with O'Dell's non-alcoholic beer. Holding up her empty Kali Fal glass, Dox nodded with her mouth full and the server replied as she left the table, "Right away, Lieutenant."

“Bring more chips. And queso. Oooh! Oooh! Bring us three a’them buffalo shrimp salads! Yuir g’win ta love it, L-T. It’s greens an’ all, but they fry the shrimp then toss it in the hot sauce, so tis most a’ the fun wi’ nunna the guilt! Plus bleu cheese crumbles an’ dressing over a spring mix, s’delicious! Aye, aye, that’s all. Cept for another beer for me partner here, aye?” O’Dell blurted out, still a bit excited from the concept of a confrontation that was not going to materialize.

"See, this isn't a problem for me. I don't eat Humans or Mariposians OR Romulans. Even with, like, garlic sauce or shit." Gavarus grinned sarcastically, pushing her comfort just a bit.

“Wahhhhl, ye’ve nivvir tried, now have ye? Wi’alla that tart blue liquor it’s nae wonder the romulans are s’dour. Imagine how they taste pickled in the stoof?” O’Dell laughed, then became suddenly aware that she might be going too far. “Ah, I mean… no offense, mum, joost… joost joshin, ye know?”

But instead of any kind of offense, the red-headed Romulan let out a throaty laugh at the joke at the expense of her notoriously sour-tempered people. "HA! That sounds about right. Seriously… I… I have no illusions that my people are any more pleasant on average than I am."

Nervously, Gavarus looked down at O'Dell, not quite knowing how to react to the self-effacing comment as Dox continued, changing the subject back to food and still chucking slightly, "I am embarrassed to admit that I never considered the shrimp. Good thinking, Miss O'Dell."

"Well, aye mum. Ye still have fish an' shrimp an' calamari and all sortsa..." As another server walked up, with their drinks, this one a cephalopod head complete with tentacles on a humanoid body, O'Dell threw up her hands in the air. "OH COME ON NOOW!"

Looking at the server, then down at the plate of buffalo shrimp, then back to the server, Dox took her refreshed Kali fal off the tray. Taking a drink, she shrugged and took a bite of the shrimp as the server left. As she did, she closed her eyes, smiled lightly and let out a long "Mmmmm... Yeah, this is too good and I don't really know him. So, I'm just eating it and playing the 'Rihannsu are assholes' card this time."

"Fook alla that noise, mum. I seen a fella with a head of broccoli on DS9. Somewhere oot there, somebody's allays g'win ta be eatin somebody's bebeh. Long as it ain't mine, I'm alreet wi'that," O'Dell shrugged and jammed one of the buffalo sauce smothered jumbo fried shrimp into her mouth and began chewing cheerfully. "Fo why you gotta be fo down on Romulans, mum. F'you'll parbum me fayin fo," O'Dell managed to swallow enough of her mouthful to talk without the speech impediment, "Seems kinda bad ta be puttin yuirself doown. I mean, I thought ye come oot to hang oot because ye dinna want ta be an ass. Or, scary or make yuir crews wet themselves."

"You didn't tell her about that time..." Gavarus began, as Fiona shook her head, the mop of unrestrained crimson curls emphasizing the motion.

"Nae, I dinna, but if ye dinna keep yuir trap shut she's g'win ta figure it oot in a hurry, ye great goober," O'Dell hissed in a stage whisper. "Noow eat yuir salad and get some roughage in ye."

Taking another of the delicious buffalo shrimp and enjoying it, Dox chuckled lightly as she watched them gripe with each other, understanding why Mona talked about them so regularly with smiles after work. But she also pondered O'Dell's question as well, giving it some serious thought for a moment while she chewed her food. 

"You're right. It's... another old, bad habit I need to get over. Back at flight school and the academy, it proved easier to tear myself down before others could do so. Or, at least, less immediately painful. Even though it never really worked or stopped anyone from being cruel. BUT..." Dox paused on her punctuation, taking a bigger sip of her drink as she did.

"...That's not what's going on here. It's an old, self-destructive habit I need to bury along with 'Lieutenant Murderpunch' if I want things to improve, right?" Then the redheaded Romulan chuckled again as she blushed slightly, turning a bit more green. "Although, in the interest of full disclosure. I... kinda like 'Murderpunch'. Mona thinks it's adorable and my mother wears her version as a badge of pride. Seriously."

Working up a bit of courage with another massive swig of her freshly refreshed beer, Gavarus gulped as she stabbed her salad with her fork and took a larger than necessary bite. Talking while she chewed, she replied nervously, "I's... we know 'oo said no nicknames..." Finally swallowing loudly, her voice cleared up, "But we didn't really mean anything by... we weren't... uh... we're sorry. I guess it made it easier for us to stay scared of you. But for as scary as she is... your mom is actually really cool n' it started makin' us... actually start feelin' bad about the whole nickname thing, right Fee."

"Strewth," O'Dell replied. "I mean... we kinda nickname everybody, because somehow that makes 'em... well, a little less intimidating. Cuz we're, ye know, not exactly the best of officers, so we're allays worried that we might get called on the carpet or demoted to whativvir is lower than ensign or what have ye. But the Chief, she looks out for us, so we should, aye, we should stop doin that too, like ye said, Lieutenant. S'nae a good habit, and we shouldnae allays assume the higher ups are after us for what we might or mighta forgot to do. Or got drunk and forgot we did..."

"Well, not to talk about work any more, but it's not been a problem so far. And frankly, so long as you both continue to perform as well as you do, that's what's most important." Dox said, taking another drink. She's couldn't really feel if it was having any effect on her, but she had a notoriously high tolerance even having abstained for a few months.

"And let that be the last thing I say about work this evening. Fvadt… I really did forget how to relax somewhere along the way. That or I genuinely never knew. I don't know. " Dox fidgeted slightly with a shrimp as she fumbled her way through her words, asking sincerely but awkwardly. "It was easier when nobody had any expectations of me. When I was a title delinquent in high school or the idiot absolutely not smuggling Romulan Ale in at the academy, everything was easier. What do you two do to relax at the end of shift?"

Both O'Dell and Gavarus turned to regard one another quizically, then turned back to their superior officer. There was a silent exhcange as each encouraged the other to speak, before O'Dell rolled her eyes and launched into it. "Uh, this, mum. We go to the pub, we have some drinks and some food and some laughs, mebbe play some darts or some billiards or cards, maybe sing some songs. We make friends wi' the crew sometimes- this is where we met Jablonski and most 'a the gals in Security- look, there's Big Ethel chattin' up Grblftrz, who's workin the door. We come out and we drink and we enjoy each other's company, and we bring Minnie too, because this is what we do, mum. We live our lives, and we enjoy ourselves doin' what we like. And tonight we're doin it wi' you... so why're ye so doown on yuirself when yuir oot havin fun wi' the department odd ducks?"

"For no good reason, Miss O'Dell. For no good reason." Dox took another swig, finishing her other drink. "You're right. We're here to relax and have fun and it's past due I stop overthinking it. We're here, we're talking and learning about each other and having good food." As Dox spoke, she held up her empty glass and shook it side to side, "And get a few more of these in me and you might even get me to sing."

"That's the spirit, Lieutenant!" O'Dell scrambled to stand in her seat and adopt a commanding pose. "Now on yuir feet, mum, I'm g'win ta lick ye at darts!"

"So long as I hold her up to be eye level with the board, or you let her stand in a chair," Gavarus qualified. "Cuz, y'know, short shit."

"Well, I think we can allow that, even though it doesn't sound regulation." Dox said with a wry grin, "I'm assuming there are regulations. I've never played this in my life, so I expect you will be kicking my ass in this one."

Pushing out from the table, the young Lieutenant thought for a moment, remembering some of her talks with Rita and some of the assurances the commander had made that had put her at ease. And with a smile and a slight nod, she looked across the table. "Also, on duty, it's 'Lieutenant' or 'ma'am' or 'mum'. But when were off duty, I'm just Mnhei'sahe."

"Uh… okay, Min… Men… Min yay…" Gavarus stuttered slightly on the admittedly hard to pronounce Rihannsu name blushing pink and awkwardly.

"Or, ya know, 'Dox' will do, in a proverbial pinch" Mnhei'sahe chuckled knowingly.

"Aye... Dox'll do," O'Dell nodded enthusiastically with drunken cheer. "S'quick and to the point, and tis still informal but nae disrespectful. That bein' the case, I'm Fiona and she's Briaar, but Fee dinna bother me and ye kin call her whativvir ye like so long as it ain't late to dinner!"

Laughter flowed, as did the drinks, and the Lieutenant who wanted to learn how to relax learned from the professionals that night, and found some kinship with her subordinates. The odd couple were, she discovered, easygoing, good-hearted and they did indeed know how to unwind and let go of the stress of the day. For a change, they treated her as an equal, as a shipmate, instead of fearing to speak, to make eye contact or be themselves in her presence. Selves which, she realized, were a fun pair of roustabouts who, their alien heritages aside, would have been right at home in any test piloting atmosphere of any age.

They were dedicated to their work and took great pride in it- but on their off time, they played, drank, laughed, and it was abundantly clear that their relationship was based not just on mutual interests, but on respect for one another. It was a different sort of respect that they had always showed her, as it was irreverent and easygoing. Yet it was clear each respected the other greatly, and tonight they extended the same respect to her- teasing gently, making the occasional joke at one another's expense, but she found they gave as good as they got, and her gentle jibes were just as well-received.

"Waahhhhhll, L-T, this has been a right riot of a good time, but we've got duty in the mornin, and Big Ethel's prolly passed oot wi' Minnie droolin oh her chest like last time," O'Dell admitted as the hour grew late. "So's we should prolly call it a night, collect our wee one and be ready for the mornin- I think we're doin' stress testing on the inertial dampeners in the Silver Banshee tomorrow, and I dinna wanta puke in me helmet. Doesna give the right impression of the fearless an' daring test pilot, aye?"

"Good thinking, ladies. And as for puking in your helmet, I wouldn't worry. I happen to know for a fact that any bodily-function issues that may have occurred in a flight suit officially never occurred as far as the records show." Dox said with a knowing grin as she looked down at O'Dell.

"That said, thank you again for the invitation, Fiona. Briaar. I have a wife waiting for me and you have your little Minnie. But I'll see you on the deck in the morning." Dox nodded smiling, happy that the evening had turned out so unexpectedly well. Maybe she might not be so bad at balancing command and being a person, she thought.

"Aye. And while I doubt we'll see ye every night, yuir allays welcome to come oot drinkin wi'the girls, aye Dox?" O'Dell grinned, happy to have seen Lieutenant Murderpunch relax for a night... and just be one of the girls.

"Okay, that should do it." Thex said as she connected up the last of the cables and locked it into place. "

She paused as a smile formed on her face as she observed the machinery that had assembled over several hours. All of this to try and make just one of the bracelets that Hera's Amazon's had used. Still, if they could get these built it could revolutionize federation away teams in so many ways. The experiment was being set up on the edge of the Sol system's asteroid belt, close enough for the Hera to Monitor from its berth at Jupiter Station, but not too close to anything that could become problematic.

"Thex to engineering team two we've finished off here what's your status." She said into her mic

"Team two. Ensign Gavarus here..." Adding 'be-frickin'-grudgingly' in her own head. "Just ran another diagnostic and everything is comin' up gold, chief. We're good to go. The current leads are shielded and rated to transfer the maximum generatable power from the Hera's Warp core to see if we can pull this off. We're talking upwards of thirteen billion gigawatts." The two-meter tall, usually testy Tellarite junior engineer responded back with almost none of her telltale sarcasm or snark present. In fact, since the adoption of the minotaur baby, Minerva Carrot, had gone through for Gavarus and her partner, Fiona O'Dell, the usually persnickety porcine had been positively pleasant to work with. But there was a twinge of fear in her voice, as she was currently having to work outside of the confines of a ship to finish the prep.

The irascible engineer was wearing an EVA suit as she returned from the void of space, which she hated working in, to the small shuttle that would return her from the asteroid where the experiment would take place to a safe distance.

"Okay, we're heading back to the shuttle. Monitoring team, is everything okay on the ship?" Thex said into her suits communicator looking up at the distant shape of the Hera.

Back on the Hera, Ensign Mona Gonadie, head of the R&D department, was monitoring the readouts of the test and diagnostics equipment as they prepared for the initial testing. "Everything looks good on our end, Chief. All sensors recording."

Standing on a platform in her own EVA armor in the asteroid field where the test was occurring, safely away from the actual test, Petty Officer Ethel Jablonski looked at what was happening with a bit of apprehension. The bracers she wore with pride on her wrists in service to the Goddess Hera were a mark of honor for the muscle-bound security officer and she didn't know how she felt about the crew trying to tap into that same power technologically. Still, she was also a Starfleet officer and was the person most intimately connected to that technology, and as such had a unique perspective on these tests, so she did her duty. "Ready and standing by, Lieutenant Commander."

With the final confirmation, Thex gave a nod to the pilot as she sat down in the console area in the shuttle. As the last of the engineering team sat in their chairs the Andorian began to run the start-up program. " Okay everyone if everything goes well the machinery will pop out of existence and into its subspace pocket. It will then allow the bracelets to work as the set Hera gave us. "

With that, she looked back at the readings as the machines needed so much power just to even come close to what Hera could do with a flick of a finger. Well, what she could have done at full power.

"Energy build-up should be completed in thirty seconds. Make sure we're at a safe distance ensign. Monitoring team how are things at your end?" The Andorian said keeping her own eyes on the readout.

Mona kept her eyes solidly on the readouts, making sure all data was within expected ranges. "Energy consumption is seven percent higher than expected, but still within projected tolerances. I recommend backing the shuttle off another hundred kilometers just in case."

The shuttle pilot did so as Thex gave him the nod to proceed. The shuttle pulled back as Thex kept her eyes on the data. It kept building, but even she could see the levels beginning to slow and then...

From the asteroid came a bright flash as ripples of dust flew from the asteroid. The shuttle shook slightly as an energy shockwave rocked it before the pilot steadied the vessel.

"Well, we're still here. Monitoring team, how's the local environment?" Thex asked into the coms as she made sure to backup the data recording.

From the shuttle heading away, Ensign Gavarus looked at her monitors to check the actual equipment and connections. "Whatever that... discharge thingy was... it didn't damage the power leads or any of the senors, Chief. The power drain was... 6 percent higher than anticipated, but still within your parameters."

A smile spread over the Andorian's face as she heard that. Looks like something had gone right. " Okay, everyone. The teams are heading back to the Hera. Jablonski would you mind running the test to make sure I've not gone into your bracelets subspace pocket?" she asked nicely.

"I'm on it commander, Commander." Jablonski replied, holding up her wrists, and flicking them slightly. She breathed out a slight sigh of relief as nothing was out of the ordinary and the heads up display in her EVA suit read clear. " All clear, Commander. My own subspace pockets still only have what I keep in them regularly. You aren't in here."  

Well, that's a relief Thex said as she watched the data on her own screen. The energy readings looked good and at the rate of decay, it would have dropped to normal levels in a day or two. She'd like to get some samples from the asteroid for the science team to see any side effects. " Okay, everyone. We'll head back to the Hera and I'll take a look of the readings. After a few tests, we can see if the prototype works as well as the amazonian made ones." She said calmly.

"Anything that puts us back on the ship, I'm good with Chief." Ensign Gavarus grumbled lightly from the shuttle she was in. "Retracting the power leads now and packing it up."

" Very good ensign. " Thex said as she watched everything play out as expected. She was actually rather happy at how everything had gone off without a hitch. True she'd need to look over the data and run the tests, but this looked like it was going to go smoothly.

Like many things on the Hera, this was not to be.

Pacing back and forth, Asa felt the anxiety of the moment wash over them. They had made such good friends on the Hera....in truth a second family. However, Starfleet had reassigned Asa to gene studies division back on Earth after reviewing the work Asa had done in repairing gene damage to their shipmates while on the Hera. They had put off the transfer as long as they could, but the time had come. They had to leave the next day, and it was time to say goodbye.

The decorations had been put out by the 10-forward staff, and Asa had already said goodbye to their staff. Tonight was for farewell to friends, and they stood stiffly near the door waiting on others to arrive.

In the turbolift, on its way to deck ten, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox nervously adjusted her uniform top. At her side was her wife and bond-mate, Ensign Mona Gonadie, who was wearing a more accommodating maternity uniform to allow for her slightly more prominent baby bump.

The ride from the deck eight senior crew quarters was a short one, but for Dox it felt like an eternity. Her face was tight and she was doing her level best to not let the loss she was feeling show on her face. The past couple of months had been some of the hardest to endure in the young Rihannsu pilot's life and this seemed like a step too far to bear. After spending a month as a prisoner on a Romulan Warbird, enduring emotional, mental and physical torture, watching her father get executed and then having to fight to keep her career for two weeks on Earth with Starfleet Intel Command, now she had to say goodbye to her best friend.

She didn't need to say any of this with words to Mona, who held her love's hand tight. Their empathic bond had become touch telepathy, so all of their thoughts and feelings were one in that moment as the lift stopped and the doors hissed open. Taking a breath, the couple made their way to the doors of Ten-Forward and stepped in. Once inside, Dox met the eyes of the person that had held their hand through so much trauma and shared so many good times together, and it was all she could do to put on a smile. "Hey, Asa."

With their customary boundless energy, Asa sprung into a full-body hug with their friend. The tears had come early to the party it would seem, and Asa tried to brush them away as they whispered, "Hey Min. Long-time no hug."

Wrapping her arms around Asa, Mnhei'sahe squeezed them a bit tighter than normal and held on a bit longer than normal. "Too long, Asa. Far too long."

Pulling back just enough, the Rihannsu Lieutenant's eyes were shiny and full already, but she did her level best to keep it contained. "But... this should be an amazing opportunity for you. I mean... I suppose I was your unintentional test subject for a lot of the work, but you discovered and undid genetic manipulation so well hidden, nobody else caught it in my entire career. You're going to be able to do great work."

"I for one, look forward to reading about you in the Federation Medical Journals," added Mona, stepping in for her own hug even as she also was getting teary-eyed.

Reaching out to include Mona in the bleary-eyed hug, Asa snuffled out their thanks. "If I knew it would take me away from you....well, maybe I wouldn't have filled out my reports quite so precisely. This really isn't how I saw my life going, but then again, what part of life goes according to plan?" the young doctor said.

"None of it, really," Enalia replied, sneaking in from the corridor to make her own entrance without any fanfare, a small box wrapped in gold paper in her hands. "As they say, the best-laid plans of symbiont and host... We're going to really miss you, you know. You're not just a member of the crew, but family."

Trying bravely to meet the Captain's gaze without tearing up, Asa said, "So...so are you ma'am." Halfway through speaking tears leaked out their eyes again.

Thex stepped forward giving her friend a big hug. " I'm going to miss you Asa. Thank you for everything you've done."

Returning the hug, Asa attempted a smile. "You are welcome. It is no more than any doctor would have done, but I am honored to have served you. To served all of you really. I....I didn't see this coming. At all. It feels like life has run away from me and I'm just hanging on to its coattails....."

"Sometimes that's all you can do, Doctor. Hang onto those coattails, and hope life slows down long enough for you to adjust your grip," Rita Paris chimed in as she entered with Sonak. Stepping over, she opened her arms and held them out to the young immortal for a hug. "C'mere Asa, give the old lady a hug, would you? Because I'm going to miss you terribly, and I'll need one to remember until we meet again."

Returning the embrace with gusto, Asa wiped an errant tear from their eyes.

"It feels like just yesterday I was coming aboard, green from the Academy. I never would have guessed the adventures that were waiting here for me. Thank you for that....all of you. I'm the better for having served with each of you."

Nodding, Dox couldn't keep her own tears from flowing as she choked out a reply while Mona squeezed her had to give her strength. "And we're all better for having you in our lives. And no matter where your life takes you, this will always be your home, Asa."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," chimed in Enalia, handing off the small gold box she carried. "And just so you don't forget, here's a small reminder from all of us to you."

As Asa opened the box gingerly, they were taken aback at the beauty if front of them. A small object, fitting inside the palm of Asa's hand, reflected the light gently. The model of the Hera was stunning, made in a clear crystal that made it glint in reflected light as Asa gingerly turned it over in their hands.

"Th-thank you, Captain," they said, clearly choked up at the gift. "I will treasure this always."

''A suitable object for meditation as much as for remembrance, '' Sonak commented with a nod. '' For us, what you have done on this ship will forever be part of its legacy; and live within each and every one of us. May you live long and prosper, Lieutenant, '' he formally offered with the time-honored salute of his people.

"You as well, Sonak," Asa replied, returning the salute respectfully.

"So, um, let's eat?" they said, eyeing a nearby pastry with a touch of longing.

Wiping a tear from her cheek, Mnhei'sahe chuckled nervously. "That sounds like a good idea, Asa. And... and I think someone may have instructed them to have a pot of fondue prepared."

The young Rihannsu pilot smiled at her departing best friend, mentioning the first meal that Asa had shared with her in this very room just a couple of days after Mnhei'sahe had joined the ship.

Eyes alight Asa followed Mnhei'sahe over to the fondue, smiling at the shared memory. Fondue would always hold a special spot for them now, as would many shared memories.

"So, who hasn't had the pleasure of this dish before?" Asa asked, twinkle back in their eyes, spending one last night in the company of family.

TIMELINE:

• Rita, Sonak and Az'Prel are on Vulcan.

• On their way to pick up Rita & Co. on Vulcan in her personal craft, the Khallianen, Dox, Jaeih and Mona stop-over at a Romulan restaurant called "Tranquility" on the moon called Enox VI, in the Kabul system, not far from the Artan Fortress where Dox and Jaeih are kidnapped by Tal'Shiar agents. Mona escapes to inform Enalia and the Hera.

• Dox awakens on the D'deridex class warbird, "The People's Will", where she meets her grandmother, Deihu (Senator) Verelan t'Rul.

• The People's Will is flanked by Riov (Commander/Captain) Dalia Rendal's Leosa Class Warbird, the Iurret. (The Silence) Both ships are en route to ch'Rihan (Romulus) at high warp. Senator t'Rul wants to take the month of travel time to Romulus to try and convince Dox to switch sides and join her willingly. However, once they arrive at Romulus, if she hasn't succeeded, then both Dox and Jaeih will be subjected to a device called the Neural Extraction Converter (The Jurot) that can pull the information that Rendal and the Tal'Shiar want at the cost of extreme brain damage. The device can also brainwash its victims as well, but due to its top-secret nature, Romulan High Command doesn't allow it to be taken off-planet.

Stories:
Tranquility -Complete
The People's Will -Complete
The Waiting Game -Complete
The Carrot or the Stick -Complete

• As soon as Mona rejoins the ship, Enalia recalls Rita and Sonak from Vulcan.

Stories:
Another Intel Ship? -Complete
Recalled to Duty -Complete
Logic Is Nothing If Not Expedient -In Process
Interrogation and Mission Briefing Story -Story to be begun

• An Interrogation of the Romulan Baroness, Sienae Nei'rrh of the Romulan Refugee Corps, who recommended the restaurant to Dox after Enalia's coronation. It will eventually be determined that one or more of her crew is on the Tal'Shiar payroll and tipped them off.

• In order to restore her honor (ironically, called mhnei'sahe,) she will agree to have one of her cloaked, restored Romulan Bird of Prey, T'liss-class ships (Original TOS Ship with a modern, faster engine and cloak) meet the Hera at the border of the Neutral Zone for a stealth incursion to Romulus and provides a loyal member of her crew, a Romulan medic, to assist the crew in the rescue as she knows the culture and, having been a former Centurion, knows the military structure. (Maenek Helev t’Liun)

• Every night, Dox has been trying to use her link with Mona to let her know that it's a trap and that they're after the Hera. Because Mona's abilities are temporarily enhanced by her pregnancy, she will be able to receive these messages as dreams but Dox will be unable to get any replies. The core info she keeps repeating is "It's a trap. They are after the Hera. Don't come after us."

From here, the story will move back and forth from the Hera to the Warbird, where Dox is being indoctrinated.

Stories:
Stories:
Tranquility -
The People’s Will -
The Waiting Game -
Carrot or the Stick -
Another Intel Ship? -
Recalled to Duty -
Hopeless Options -
Mona’s Dream -
Logic is Nothing if Not Expedient -
It’s Always Something with Rita -
Concessions to Family and Fate -
Enemy Memories -
Romulan Rescue -
Mona Dines with Death -
Losing Yourself -
The Patchwork Quilt of Family -
Getting the Bird out of her Head -
Indoctrination -
Voices in the Darkness -
Training out the Stress -
Tie a Yellow Ribbon -
Twist of the Knife -
Where Else would I be? -
What's a Few Billion Miles between Friends -
You Can’t Handle the Truth -
Statements of Intent
Duty -
Very Old Wounds
Of Puppets and Pulling Strings
Closed Doors
Frustration, Compromise, and Finality
Moments of Clarity
Keep a Burning Heart Running
Rendezvous with Al’thindor
Romulan Getaway
From One Golden Girl to Another
Medical Verifications
Making the Blue Girl Green
Leverage
To Know a Soul, You Must Spar
Subjective Truths
Brass Tacks
The Last Temptation of Mnhei’sahe Dox
The Double-Blind 1
The Double-Blind 2
The Double-Blind 3

Epilogue Stories
--------------------------
Post-Action Debriefing: Mrs. Dox
Post-Action Debriefing: Lietuenant Dox -

The ever-ambitious Riov Dalia Rendal was acting as an honor guard today, flanked by her loyal SubCommander, Erei'Riov Arrnehe t'Suil, as they escorted Deihu Verelan t'Rul onto the Senate floor to make her proclamations and justifications for all of the behind the scenes drama that had been happening with the Tal'Shiar lately. After all, they had nearly triggered a war, and while they would prefer to brush it under the rug, the rest of the Imperial Senate deserved at least the canned response they had prepared. They also needed to hear the planned announcement that Rendal would be Verelan's heir.

The senator had undergone treatments via the Ju'rot device several more times, and although it seemed the programming had taken, there was something about Verelan that Rendal still found unsettling. Something that reminded her of their recent guest, Mnhei'sahe Dox. In her eyes was a light, or a strength of will that wasn't there previously… and it worried the Riov to no end. However, she had been following the plan thus far, so the commander had no cause for outward worry as they waited for their time to speak before the rest of the Senate.

On the floor, an impassioned speech was wrapping up as an elder, male Senator was demanding a vote on the acquisition of land from the Mnaeha Provence for an expanded public transportation system under development. After that, there was more meandering political maneuvering that all had to be managed before it was Senator t'Rul's time.

Negotiations for trade embargos to be lifted for the port city of Mhiessan. Refurbishment of the waste reclamation facility that was failing in the city of Iuruth. All dull, time-consuming nonsense that Senator t'Rul seemed to be listening to as intently as she should, considering her station. In fact, she was performing exactly as ordered; a good a loyal puppet with invincible strings, as Rendal had designed it.

In attendance today were more than just the majority of the senators, but also three of the twelve ruling Praetors. All there to hear the t'Rul's much-anticipated words. After a time, the speaker of the floor, a short rotund older man stepped forward, in front of the legendary Empty Chair. The chair of the founder of ch'Rihan, S'Task. The chair that had remained empty for thousands of years, but for his sword which lay across its arms, undisturbed. A symbol of the glory and honor of the Rihannsu Star Empire. As the man stepped forward, he addressed the chamber from the podium in the center of the floor.

"Honorable members of the Senate. Venerable Praetors. The floor yields to the honorable Deihu Verelna t'Rul. Loyal representative of the Ihhliae Provence."

Rising, the very portrait of grace and nobility, the silver-haired Senator turned briefly to Rendal to offer a smile, and the words, “I do hope this exceeds your expectations.”

Rendal furrowed her brow in consternation as 'exceeding expectations' was not in today's script...

Striding with her head held high and with the slow dignity of the aged, t’Rul took the podium, gripping it with both hands as she gazed out over the Senate. Raising her chin to hold her head high, she smiled as she addressed the gathered ruling body of ch’Rihan.

“Members of this august body, I bid you welcome this day. Welcome to the dawn of a new age, a new rea of prosperity and honor for the citizens of the Star Empire. While we may have our individual differences, we all understand certain truths of the universe. The Star Empire must ever expand for the glory of ch’Rihan. To stagnate would be to invite decay, and rot from within. While we take our pleasures, we know that decadence and complacency will make us soft, and there are ever those amongst the stars who would seek to push back our borders, and contain us. To subjugate the noble spirit of the Rihannsu, and to stain the honor of we who live and die by our passions.” Knowing her audience, the Senator paused there for the applause her words would wring from the inherent patriotism of her words.

As the applause died down, Veleran continued.

“Some of my esteemed colleagues have raised concerns over recent rumors that have circulated. Unsubstantiated rumors of incursions into Federation space, an act of war in violation of the treaty we maintain with the Humans of Earth. Rumors of factions proposing reunification with the Vulcans. Rumors of subjugation of our very way of life, of the very Senate itself. Rumors of those working against the will of the Rihannsu people to weaken us and drag us down, to make us mewling weaklings who obey. I stand here today to tell you that so long as there is one honorable Rihannsu who draws breath, that shall not come to pass!” As Deihu t’Rul paused, the applause was thunderous.

“So allow me to explain, my esteemed colleagues, so that you may gain greater understanding of the situation. So that you may take home to your provinces the truth, to ease those worried minds, to put to rest those fears which plague us- for it is fear that is the true enemy here.” Turning to Rendal, Verelan held out her hand.

“Riov Rendal, one of our brave commanders who lost an entire space station where she was doing research into protomatter… for which to fashion greater weapons, to show the galaxy the might of the Star Empire. Who crossed the Neutral zone… not to assess recent anomalies concerning subspace on a survey mission, but to kidnap a Starfleet officer who is the granddaughter of a Senator, to gain control, her own voice in the senate.” Holding up a recording device, Verelan smiled as she hit the playback, and Rendal’s voice was clearly heard.

“You’ll do as your told once we’re through with today’s reprogramming session, and you’ll name me your successor before the Senate. Then with your position, I can deal with those weak-willed fools who wish to thin our passions with reunification with Vulcan, and destroy the reunification colonies in the borderlands.”

As the gasps were heard around the Senate and the centurions standing near the collected group put their hands on their sidearms awaiting orders, Deihu t’Rul continued. “Fear, my friends and countryman. Fear is what motivates such desperate measures, such honorless behavior. Fear of reconnecting with our logical cousins, of dealing fairly with our enemies. Fear on the part of the Tal’Shiar of losing the stranglehold they have maintained over the Star Empire by forcing us to remain insular, by preventing contact with the rest of the galaxy, so that they may continue to stain the honor of the Rihannsu. But I say no more, my colleagues, no more!”

Rendal was absolutely and utterly taken aback at this turn of events. Verelan was supposed to be completely under her control, but instead had somehow broken the programming of the Ju'rot device just as her granddaughter had and betrayed her. As her face twisted from horrified surprise to anguish to rage as she realized what had apparently happened on that landing pad, she did her best to compose herself. "You have made an enemy this day, Deihu. Rendal to Iurret, two to beam up." Before the Senate security teams could bypass the Tal'Shiar Riov's transporter signal, she and erei'Riov t'Suil had been beamed up to her ship in orbit.

The stocky speaker who had yielded the floor to Senator t'Rul stood up in shock, as the Senate chambers themselves were supposed to be shielded against transport. "What treachery! Centurions! attend the Deihu! Contact Planetary Defense, NOW! I want her found!" But his voice which boomed earlier was drowned out in the din of chaos in the chamber as every voice was raised in shock.

Still at the podium, Deihu t’Rul spoke, raising her voice to take advantage of the projector at the podium. “Friends! Countrymen! I call upon you for calm in this moment of crisis! Still yourselves, and let us reason together!”

While there was still a hubbub, much of the initial panic died down, and Verelan continued, raising her voice and making the speech that she knew had to be delivered.

“For too long has the Senate, and the people of ch’Rihan been subject to the will of the Tal’Shiar, who were established to serve and protect the Empire, not for us to be slaves to their schemes and sabotage. The galaxy does not see us as honorable Rihannsu, but cowardly, lying backstabbers. We still remember Shinzon, do we not?” There was a murmur of agreement at that, to which the dignified Deihu nodded along. “I was kidnapped on my own vessel and betrayed, by the ambition of the Tal’Shiar, who moved to provoke war with the federation. Because war breeds fear and mistrust, and it is those tools upon which they rely in order to maintain their control. But I say it is time to put such childish fears behind us, and look toward a future free of fear. We are the Star Empire! We exist because our forebearers stood upon untested ships and flung themselves into the stars to find our destiny there, without fear! We are better than what they seek to make us! Have we no mnhei’sahe?”

A general cheer arose amongst the hubbub, and the elder senator pressed on.

“Today I introduce a proposal that known reunification colonies will be considered protected zones. For in those colonies are coming to pass the great experiment. Centuries ago, S’task led us from the followers of Surak, for we could not reconcile our differences. Logic and passions could not then coexist. But the galaxy has changed, and both we and out Vulcan cousins have matured, grown, and learned. Logic can be reasoned with, and can work with passions- the Vulcans of the Federation are proof of that. We of the Rihannsu can accept logic, without divesting ourselves of the passions that make us great.” That brought about some murmurs of dissent and a few half-lidded looks of suspicion, but the Deihu pressed on.

“While I do not propose that we unify our cultures,” she qualified, addressing the most primal reaction she knew her words would arouse, “instead, I propose this- we foster the reunification colonies. For change that is sudden and hasty will seldom be successful. But as we have stood apart for thousands of years, let us take a step closer as we no longer fear our logical cousins. Let us experiment to witness for ourselves if our cultures might coexist, and benefit from one another. Let us not wage war on those we call cousin, upon our own sisters and brothers, all for the petty machinations of the secret police who condemn free thought because they realize that an end to fear will bring change, and they will no longer be able to maintain control over our people, our world, our empire."

"What say you, august body of representatives of this great world of ours?," Verelan t'Rul raised her arms out at her sides, encompassing the Senate as she spoke to inspire them. "Cast your votes, and let your voice be heard… for the future. For prosperity. For the Imperium to once again share our culture with those less fortunate, to shepherd them toward honor and glory that will bring another thousand years of the mighty Star Empire!”

Some in the chamber let out hesitant cheers at the declaration, others still leaned together to whisper, while some shouted outcries of protest. For every cry of ‘Nonsense!’ or ‘Impossible!’, there seemed to be one of ‘Aye!’ or ‘It is inevitable!’. Looking across the chamber, Verelan knew that it was but a small step, and an uncertain one at that. But as she looked out at the faces of her fellow Rihannsu, it suddenly seemed that much less an impossible one.

—————————-

Far above the gilded domes of the Imperial Senate and past the turquoise skies, in orbit of ch’Rihan, Rendal’s Leosa Class Warbird, the Iurret, circled the planet as quietly as its name, which in Federation Standard, meant ‘Silence’. Onboard, as Riov Rendal and her SubCommander, Arrenhe t'Suil rematerialized in a swirl of green light, there was more than a little tension.

Stepping off the transporter pad, t’Suil ran over and slapped the comm panel, all but shouting. “Bridge! Activate the cloak and raise shields immediately. Our Riov will be on her way presently, but begin scans for ANY approaching vessels or projectiles.”

Then, the agitated SubCommander turned to her mistress with shock upon her face and waited.

While the Royal Riov was outwardly composed, inside she was a roiling sea of seething emotion, threatening to boil over at the next person to so much as step out of line. Calmly and deliberately, she gave her next orders with her eyes closed in a frighteningly calm voice. "Break orbit and set course for Station Seven-one-donner, warp six via the Aldeberan nebula."

"Contact our benefactor and inform him that the plan failed, and we are proceeding with plan delta three and will require... assistance... with the modified experiments."

The USS Hera had a new mission already and Captain Enalia Telvan sighed softly as she shook her head and punched up the request for Commander Paris and Lieutenant Dox to join her immediately in her ready room for the briefing she was currently involved in with Admiral Meowlith. She thought the rescue plan they had concocted was insane enough, but now Starfleet was concocting something for them that was even more insane.

"You realize that they're likely both going to object, right?" Enalia asked the holographic woman sitting on her couch.

"Command has no doubt that they will," replied Farenia with a grin as she sipped at a bottle of root beer. "Am I to assume you'll be filing objections as well?"

"Will you actually file them, or will they be conveniently lost on someone's desk for the next hundred years?" Enalia scoffed as she reviewed the computer readouts of the mission details.

At that accusation, Farenia looked genuinely hurt. "Hey now, I've been doing a lot better. I'll have you know I have people to file paperwork for me now."

"I'm sure you do," Enalia muttered softly.

----------

Coming from her office on Deck 4, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox made her way quickly, PaDD in her hands which were folded behind her back, to the nearest turbolift. After a brief wait, the doors wooshed open and already inside was Commander Rita Paris, also with a PaDD in hand as she always seemed to have.

Stepping inside, Dox gave a professional but sincere smile to her friend and Commander and nodded as she spoke up to the ceiling. "Bridge, Please."

As the lift doors closed and the lift resumed, Dox nodded to Paris with a comfortable but slightly anxious smile. An affectation she usually had when being called to speak to with either Rita herself or the Captain. However, it was much more contained than it used to be and she didn't seem overtly more nervous than not. "Good Morning, Commander."

“Good morning, Lieutenant. Good to be back on the job again, I hope?” Paris offered. Given that it had been over a month and a half since Dox had been on duty onboard the Hera, the full-figured first officer suspected this was just what the chief flight control officer needed- to be called upon for a mission briefing, and to get back to business as usual.

Which, on the Hera, always tended toward the unusual.

"Beyond good, Commander. Thank you." The red-headed Rihannsu pilot replied sincerely. She didn't quite break protocol as ranks were still being used, but she did have a slightly larger than not smile on her face that got just a hair broader as the brief turbolift ride ended and the doors wooshed open to the port side of the bridge. 

To their right, the bridge was the usual bustle of activity as the two women crossed the small gap over to the doors to the Captain's ready room, and entered after the prerequisites and formalities of door chimes and permission to enter had been managed. Stepping into the chamber, the shorter Lieutenant came in just behind her confident Commander, only to notice the holographic projection of someone she had read the files enough times to know by sight. But the presence of the Rear Admiral was unusual enough to put just a bit of concern in the young officer's stomach, though it was not evident on her face.

“Admiral, congratulations are in order for the promotion I hear, although I always liked the ‘Commodore’ title myself… a bit of old nautical terminology in our modern organization,” Paris offered with a smile to the holographic ‘Vulcan’ on the couch. “Captain Telvan… given that we’re all here, this must have something to do with the Romulans, and of course, trouble?”

As Meowlith nodded in appreciation, Enalia chuckled softly as she motioned to the two chairs across from her. "Astutely observant as usual, I see. Though I think I'd rather describe it as 'troublesome' rather than 'trouble'. Let's have some tea and Admiral Meowlith and I will go over the details. Maica made a lovely Darjeeling for me today while I fed Moira."

Pulling out three teacups (which looked unusually plain for the captain's collection) and a thermos of the hot tea, Enalia poured each of them a cup and sighed softly as she took a moment to enjoy the aroma of her own cuppa.

Farenia took this time to speak up in her place, not content to wait for Enalia to finish. "Troublesome is right. You've been secretly invited to cross the neutral zone. You as in the USS Hera specifically, by Senator Verelan t'Rul. The message was delivered by a man named Pajom tr'Sahe, an Arrain... or AnteCenturion... in t'Rul's service." As she spoke, Enalia tapped her desk console to display a holographic image of the man in question.

Putting her cup of tea down on the Captain's desk in front of her, Dox's eyes went wide and she interjected. Two weeks of being grilled by hostile Admirals had weaned her of any overt anxiety of speaking due to Farenia Meowlith's rank. "I know him. Well, not all that personally, but... he was one of the guards on the Warbird, the People's Will. He was the one that remained loyal to my... the Senator. He was trying to protect me without giving himself away as much as possible. Mostly it amounted to feeding me a little extra or keeping me hydrated, really. On her orders, he was feeding us the nano transporter tags that my Mother used to escape her cell and he helped her set that up."

“Wheels within wheels,” Paris observed, eyes narrowing slightly. “To what end, Admiral? What’s our mission in the sector of space where if we’re caught we’ll start a war?” While they had just returned from such a mission, that had been in an independent starship which had borne the disguised officers to Romulus itself, bringing the United Federation of Planets starship USS Hera across the Neutral Zone, even by invitation, would be interpreted as an act of war by the Romulans. So Paris was understandably curious to know the reason for such a mission.

"Apparently the senate took a vote and barely passed legislation making several reunification colonies protected and, when permitted by the senate, able to be visited by delegations from Vulcan directly," Farenia explained before finishing off her root beer.

"And since we have two delegates of reunification aboard, one named as a representative of the senator herself, we were requested by Senator t'Rul specifically to visit..." Enalia added to the explanation, but had to pause as she looked up the name of the colony. "The Mol Krun'chi colony to open these negotiations and test the waters. We've been asked to maintain our stealth plating during our visit, however."

Farenia picked up the next details with a sour note in her voice. "Yes, it seems that your old friend, Riov Rendal, has made an enemy of the senate and is now considered to be a wanted fugitive. Supposedly. Either way, once you meet the guide ship and are led to the colony, you must make sure its location is not discovered."

“Aaaaand there it is,” Paris rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. “Rendal will be following the guide ship, so we won’t ever really have a chance to be unobserved. So I propose we exercise some chicanery- how about if we have the Hera follow the guide ship to somewhere OTHER than the actual colony, and we instead take a runabout to bring the delegation in to meet with the colony?” For a straightforward and honest woman, Paris seldom had trouble thinking deviously. After all, she’d been raised by one of the sneakiest officer in Starfleet in his day, and while she hated to admit it, the lessons of Clifford Paris proved providential, particularly when paranoia paid off.

"Not a bad idea..." Enalia mused over the idea for a moment, wondering if the Selune was enough. "We have a stealth runabout, but if the Hera is in any way detectable, so would the Selune. If only we had a cloaking device..."

Farenia almost choked on her root beer as she opened a fresh bottle and took a swig of it. "Oh no... You're not using... No, we've had this discussion already. If the other admirals found out that you used a cloak on a Federation ship without authorization, you, me, your entire crew... We'll all be on the next ship to a penal colony."

Not quite being sure if it was her place as the lowest ranking woman in the room to say anything, Dox muscled through her self doubt and interjected again. "Pardon me Admiral, but I may have a solution." Turning back towards Enalia, Dox continued, "Rendal's sensors would pick up the Selune. As I stated in my reports, she mentioned she is aware of our stealth shielding. However, as an independent government onto itself, an Artan ship isn't subject to the Treaty of Algeron. And... well... The Golden Ghost has a state of the art, fully legal cloak. And she has been put at my disposal for something exactly like this."

"We can't risk the safety of those colonists. Riov Rendal wouldn't hesitate to wipe them out if she knew where they were," Dox added with a deathly serious tone, knowing full well that wiping them out was exactly what Rendal was to do in the now altered timeline, had Dox herself not been rescued.

"Okay... While I agree the safety of the colonists is paramount, bringing intergalactic politics like that into it is a bit beyond the scope of my authority," the Admiral intoned, her voice taking on a more serious note. "However you get the delegation to the colony is up to you. If you get some dirt on this Rendal woman, awesome. If you take her out of the holo completely, even better. However, the priority must remain the safety and security of those colonists as well as being able to safely conduct the diplomatic mission at hand."

"I propose we divide and conquer," Paris uncrossed her legs and stood, pacing slowly as she formulated a plan. "Lieutenant Commander Sonak, Lieutenant Dox, Myself and Az'Prel will take the Ghost to meet with the colonists and perform the diplomatic mission... how about the Ghost's captain act as the Artan ambassador in this, so that we can continue to build relations between the freebooters and the reunificationists, as well as the Federation and the Romulans."

"Meanwhile, the Captain and the guide ship can lead Rendal into a trap... somewhere that her cloak won't do her any good, so the fight will be on a bit more equal terms. Still, we'll need Mrs. Dox on the bridge, because I'm not comfortable with Rendal being patient enough to wait out the trap, so we'll need a cloaking expert on hand to advise the Captain." Pivoting, Paris continued walking slowly, putting it together as she slowly paced. "So we'll need a locale and a plan once we get there, as well as a contingency plan assuming Rendal jumps the gun, or if she figures out she's being set up. Petty Officer S'Rina is my best on the tactical station, unsurprisingly, and who've you got to recommend for the helm in your absence, Lieutenant? I can't say I am entirely comfortable putting Ensign Gonadie on the bridge in a combat scenario this late in her pregnancy..."

Enalia nodded as Rita spoke, making notes and furrowing her brow. She may have been a tactical genius when it came to combat and warfare, but in this regard she needed someone like Rita that was all about Federation style planning and all around safety. In fact, since the Commander had taken over as First Officer, the loss of crew to untimely deaths had dropped off significantly and she intended to keep it that way.

Then she had an idea. Enalia may not know where the colony was, but she knew where the rendezvous was, and there was a nebula nearby. "The Aldeberan nebula is near the rendezvous point. The gasses should render cloaks nearly useless, but our stealth plating should be minimally impacted thanks to the sensor scattering effect. It's also flagged as a very young proto-star so background radiation will be high."

"That should be perfect, actually. My... Agent Dox and I have used the Aldeberan nebula as both a hiding space and a way to force pursuing ships to reveal themselves. She knows that location very well, Captain." Dox replied confidently, referencing her years as a smuggler in the Neutral Zone with he mother, that she still had difficulty not simply calling 'mother' in official meetings.

Turning towards Rita, Dox nodded thoughtfully. "I agree concerning Ensign Gonadie, Commander, and have been making plans for this exact eventuality as regulations would only allow her to serve at the helm for three more months as is." Dox continued, turning slightly nervous at her next suggestion. "Now, I know she lacks a certain degree of... polish... but I have been working with Ensign O'Dell on bridge combat simulations and she's responding excellently. She's quick, adaptive and imaginative at the helm. She needs a little more confidence, but her performance during the tribunal proved that she won't choke in a real crisis. And I believe she will gel well with the Captain's command style."

"The tiny test pilot, the redhead?" Paris held her hand up around nipple height, which was in actuality still a bit taller than the R&D leprechaun. Rita's bright blue eyes cut over to the Captain, who shrugged noncommittally. "If you think she's the one for the job, get her a booster chair and put her on the bridge. You know your people and we trust your judgment. Speaking of which, given the circumstances... Captain?"

"Speaking of boost..." Enalia was grinning as she pulled a small black box out of her desk and slid it across the desk to Dox. "It took some convincing in the Admiralty, but those of us in this room all agree that you deserve a boost to your rank. Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Dox. I think if there were any lingering doubts, you erased them here just now in this meeting."

Looking at the small box for a moment, Dox slowly opened it to look at the tiny black pip inside with a mix of shock, surprise, pride, excitement. and anxiety, all vying for control. But a month on a Romulan Warbird learning how to contain her emotions while dealing with the aforementioned Riov Rendal gave the sensitive young officer a much greater ability to control what emotions she chose to show. So the more emotionally controlled young woman nodded silently as she collected her thoughts, not hiding her pride but containing her excitement appropriately.

It took only a couple of seconds before she replied, but in those quick seconds so much had rushed through Dox's head. In such a short period of time, she had been presented with so many changes. So many opportunities and potential directions, each a responsibility to add to the burdens already upon her. And in her heart, she knew that this wasn't really any different. It was a new level of responsibility and she knew it. But this was a responsibility she had been actively working towards. This was an achievement, not a burden. This was the path of the career she had chosen to embrace over and over in the face of those that would have stripped it from her given the opportunity.

Picking the pip up, and looking at it, she looked back up at her Captain and friend and smiled just a bit. "Thank you, Captain. Commander. Admiral. I will endeavor to honor this decision."

"Well, that certainly was anticlimactic," Paris chuckled. "I think I actually shrieked the first time I made Lieutenant Commander. But, to each their own, I guess. We're proud of you, Miss Dox. You're an exemplary officer and you're coming into your own, and you've both earned this and deserve it. So you 'endeavor to honor' all you like, but this is a promotion you have proven you deserve, so try to enjoy it. Try not to think of it as a burden, and instead see it as recognition of your devotion to duty, bravery in the face of adversity and your progress on the command track. This is just us recognizing that formally- that's what rank advancement truly means, both to us and Starfleet."

Looking over to Rita, Mnhei'sahe sunk a little in the seat realizing she was doing it again. The same thing she did with Gavarus and O'Dell in Ten-Forward. The same thing she had been doing in her meetings with the Admarity at Starfleet Command for two weeks. She was locking herself down when she didn't have to, like she was still being interrogated by the Tal'Shiar. "Sorry, Commander. I'm thrilled. I'm terrified and excited and shocked and excited. I'm just... well, I've never met the Admiral before today and I'm..."

Taking a breath, Dox continued, trusting that even with the unknown factor of Admiral Meowlith, she was among friends. As she spoke, that familiar, nervous smile cracked out as she spoke to the woman she considered a sister. "I'm overwhelmed. I mean, I'm one of the two delegates in question who's going to have to make diplomatic overtures to Rihannsu reunificationists. I'm suddenly on this much bigger stage than I ever intended or imagined possible. One of the Admirals I met during my debriefing gave me... well... something you'll have to see to believe, and I'll show you all later. It's a lot to take in, and I'm doing my best not to let my emotions get the better of me here. But... I admit that I really want to let them, because..."

Holding up the pip in her hand, she blushed a slightly deeper shade of green, "...this is amazing. It really is. And I want to put it right on and leap up and down, but I'm doing my best to maintain a professional demeanor, which I'm now failing at epically. And I'm also terrified that I'll try to put it on and I'll drop it and it will roll under the Captain's desk and I'll look like an idiot with my butt in the air trying to find it. So... yeah... all that."

"Some are born to greatness, some have it thrust upon them, Miss Dox," the comely commander smiled, a frank and understanding expression. "We do not choose the times in which we live, nor the events which will shape our lives. It is the mark of character how we choose to shoulder those burdens, and work to leave the universe a better place for our passing. You are doing just fine, Mnhei'sahe. This is our way of expressing that, and instilling in you the confidence that you will continue to do so, and more."

"If I may?" Farenia asked, standing and setting her bottle of root beer outside the range of her holographic sensors. She then maneuvered over to Dox and carefully took the small black pip, pinning it in place herself. "I know Enalia isn't much for ceremonies so now you can say you've had rank pinned on holographically. And since it seems it's sharing time..." She rested one hand on Dox's shoulder reassuringly with a soft smile. "When I made Lieutenant Commander, I thought I was going to jump out of my skin, i was so on fire. I drank so much Vulcan firewine on Starbase thirty-one that night that all I remember is three very impressed Gorn and a Trill that will never forget that night."

"I took command of the Hera with my promotion to Lieutenant Commander, but... I was always an overachiever." Enalia lightly scratched at the spots on her temple suspiciously. "Either way, we have faith in you and you've earned this in more ways than you can imagine and we know that you'll more than live up to our expectations." With a nod from Farenia, Enalia pressed on. "Now... if you could talk your wife to accepting a promotion as well... Command also has some expectations out of her."

"And… I'll see what I can do regarding Ensign Gonadie." The smile turning into a slight smirk as she continued. "I do have a little pull there, after all."

Shopping in the wharf district had produced some rather remarkable purchases, and Rita was officially stocked up for the holidays. While she didn't know if all her shipmates celebrated the winter holidays, she was prepared with gifts nonetheless. As well, a few shuttle stops across the globe had produced gifts from a variety of cultures, and she felt prepared for some of the less conventional celebrations in which she might be involved as well. Some surfing in Maui, some skiing in Vale, some hiking in the Black Forest and snorkeling in the Mediterranean had satisfied her need to reconnect with her home planet, and Commander Rita Paris was returning to the USS Hera refreshed, renewed and rejuvenated.

The lean muscle she had picked up on Kathoom was starting to soften without daily exertions, and she was fine with that. Being buff was fun, but a lot of work, and the busy executive had too much to do to keep up an exercise regimen that would put her to the test quite like running and fighting for her life on a daily basis. She still ran and would maintain her fitness, but she saw no need to work at chiseling her physique. her curves, after all, were part of her charm, and she saw no need to leave them behind. At least, not at this stage of her life, when she was still quite young by human standards.

The shuttlecraft had been parked and transporters could unload the goods directly to her quarters. While Rita herself eschewed the use of a transporter whenever possible- which was surprisingly often, even in their modern beam-happy society- she had no compuncti9ons about others using them. Or having them used on goods and materials. Thus her packages would be waiting for her to sort them when she arrived at her quarters, which she traversed the starship Hera in her outdated and sexist uniform.

As the first officer, appearances and the maintenance of them was important, and Rita had to give the crew something to respect. So no coming back aboard looking like a merchant marine dragged home from shore-leave in shorts and a t-shirt declaring her to be 'Anomaly bait'.

Traversing the starship on foot, she took a barometer of the crew as she moved. As first officer, she was feared by some, as the rank intimidated them. That was understandable, although it generally meant to her that they had something to hide, so likely their quarters were slovenly or they were skating by on duty or just turning in poor performance in their duties. By contrast, those who were overly friendly were often social climbers and status seekers, brown-nosing the superior officer to ingratiate themselves, hoping that would reflect positively on the for evaluations or advancement. her father had been such an unctuous man to superior officers while treating those of lesser rank like dirt, and she had little respect for such crewmen under her command as well. Although she never condemned them for it outwardly.

The crew who just acknowledged her presence, or offered a smile as she passed- those were the ones doing their jobs, upholding their duties, and understood that the woman wanted them to succeed- those were her favorites. Like Goldilocks, there was a middle ground she sought as equilibrium with the crew, and she accomplished it often, took her wins and worked on the rest.

Arriving in Officer Country, the forward section of Deck 8 where the senior staff quarters were located, she took a moment to appreciate the quiet and the peace of the starship at dock. Everyone would be returning soon, and they would shove off again, for parts unknown. But for now, the mighty starship was low population and quiet- a rare moment of peace. Approaching her quarters, Paris paused to appreciate the touchscreen nameplate beside her quarters.

PARIS, R CDR
SONAK LTCDR

It brought a smile to her face that while the powers that be had seen fit to test Sonak, the Vulcan possessed of infinite patience cared not for his rank nor climbing the ladder of advancement. He cared for science and discovery, for exploring the universe and keeping his wife out of trouble, then rescuing her when that failed. He cared for enriching and enlightening minds and helping others achieve their potential. But it still made her happy to see him succeeding in this universe as he had in the last, and knowing that he would continue to advance, and succeed in the endeavors that mattered most to him.

"Life is good," she murmured to herself as she entered their quarters.

Decorated in the style of their era, it was a stark contrast to the tones and shapes of the rest of the Hera. In here, it looked like an apartment one might conceive of if a designer from 2260 were to be given the space of modern quarters and was asked to design an apartment. Metal mesh screens acted as room dividers, making the spaces not absolute, but suggestions. The walls were hues of greyish blues, while the carpeting was a deeper shade of the same, yet the overhead was an orange-ish red. The screens were a dark metallic green, while most of the fixtures were black, chrome or shades of dove grey.

To others, it looked anachronistic and terribly outdated. Which was accurate.

But for Rita, it was home.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, reconnecting once more with the space. It was glorious to visit Earth, and it always energized her. But returning to her quarters was a return to the business of exploring the universe. Sonak would be back soon- while he had accompanied her on some of her jaunts, he also had business and duties to attend to, as he was representing Vulcan in much of the reunification negotiations, which made her that much prouder of him. Once upon a time, he had been the last Kolinahr. Now, with Vulcan still intact and going strong, he was but one of many. However, he was brilliant even amongst geniuses, and wise beyond the experience of most. In their native reality, he had been a great man, and here he was no different. Knowing that he was stepping onto a larger stage made her that much prouder of him, for he was A Vulcan whose name would be spoken in the company of legends such as Surak, Sarek and Spock.

Wed to a legend, she chuckled internally, not seeing the irony.

When the comm whistled in her quarters, instead of the chirp of the modern comms, she had reprogrammed it to make the three-note whistle of her era, as it pleased her to hear it. "Commander Paris, you have an incoming call,"

"Put it through to my desktop please, Mr. Pratzl," Rita asked, as she seldom issued orders. Curt and direct may have been fine for some, but she always maintained that she wanted her subordinates to feel respected, as she had so seldom felt that way as a junior officer. As a senior officer, she was determined she would be better than that, and give respect to receive it.

"Aye aye, ma'am," the comms officer replied with a mild note of surprise. The man hadn't expected the Commander to know who was on comms right now- but while she was no supra-genius, Paris worked hard to ensure she knew what was going on, and particularly who was the voice of the Hera at any given moment. Stepping over to the desk she maintained in her quarters, which was littered with PaDDs and flimsies, she sat down to see who was looking for the gal in the golden oldie uniform.

Then the screen came up and showed a familiar one-eyed, platinum-haired pirate smiling at her. "Rita! It is good to see you again, mein fruend! I trust you received the wedding attire safely?"

“Baroness!” The pretty pilot’s smile sprang into place, that million-watt smile that lit up a room and made her joy abundantly clear. The platinum pirate had been one of her first friends on the Hera when she was struggling to find her place, and she had consistently been a good friend to Rita Paris. While she couldn’t bring herself to call the woman Schwein, her given first name, seeing her face onscreen reminded her of just how much she missed having the perennially pleasant pirate around. Rita had literally faced off against Death herself for Baroness Schwein von Alcott, and she counted her amongst her dearest friends.

“I just got back aboard, so I don’t know… was it beamed in on a manifest or did your groom send it by way of Bifrost?” While that might have been a sarcastic remark, in this case, it was actually a reasonable question. Betrothed to The Mighty Thor, the Asgardian god of thunder of legend, he would occasionally deliver goods and people thusly, which amused Rita to no end to see living mythology… beyond Hera herself, down the hall. The fulsome first officer had been the one to encourage the Baroness to pursue the handsome heroic figure of myth, and the fact that the Baroness had found love with him was bittersweet for Rita. She missed her friend, but was happy that she had finally found the love of a man-god who could withstand her aggressive passions and treated her like a queen.

"Actually, this time it was Heimdal that delivered the attire to everyone over the Bifrost." Schwein's eye lit up like a kid at Christmas as she went on. "Seventy boxes of Spear Maiden and Shield Maiden armor made specifically for our wedding, and seven are specially made for those that will stand by my side. Yours and the Prinzessin's are of the highest quality, however. I cannot wait until you see it. I believe Heimdal said Dedjoy would make sure they were delivered to your quarters."

“Well, then they’re here somewhere if the All-Seeing One delivered them and Yeoman Dedjoy was in charge of… ah.” Against the bulkhead in the ‘living room’ of their quarters, Rita spied a rather large somewhat coffin-shaped box, intricately carved with Nordic runes, along with depictions of Yggdrasil, Thor, and Schwein, and the assembled gods of Asgard arrayed about them.

“Well… if the box it came in is that impressive, I’m a little afraid to see what’s inside,” Rita remarked, then she turned the conversation a bit. “So yes, I have received my… Asgardian shieldmaiden raiments and I am very excited and honored to stand by your side for this event. When is it coming to pass, and more importantly, how are you? Are you ready, are you excited, are you going crazy trying to keep up with it all?”

At Rita’s own wedding, she had avoided a spectacle and opted for a small Starship chapel wedding, which meant that very few had been in attendance. Chief amongst those had been the Baroness, who was now preparing for her own nuptials, which sounded like the exact opposite of Rita and Sonak’s little private ceremony.

Marry a living god, things tended to get a bit elaborate.

"I just hope they fit perfectly. If not, there's adjustments that can be made, ja?" Schwein closed her exposed eye in an attempt at a wink. "I also have something else that we discussed and would prefer to deliver in person. Before that, I want to know how you are and how things are going there. Please, tell me what is up?"

The ‘something else they had discussed’ was something vital to the survival of the goddess Hera, with whom Rita shared a complicated relationship. But the thought that she might yet be saved from extreme old age brought a very happy smile to the face of the old-school officer, and her eyes misted up a bit.

“Baroness, you are truly one of a kind. I can’t thank you enough… and yes, I will anxiously await your next visit. As for me, I have stories to tell and time to tell them. Can you come now, or are you otherwise entangled? I can explain over a comm line, but it isn’t the same as seeing you in person,” she asked hopefully. It was selfish, but Rita missed the cheerful corsair who would soon be a demigoddess, if she wasn’t one already.

The one-eyed pirate grinned knowingly. "I needed to know when a good time was and where to go, ja? I can be there in a few minutes. Shall I meet you in Hera's quarters or in yours?"

“How about my quarters, then we can go see Hera. I’m greedy, and I want some time with just us to catch up,” Rita grinned sheepishly, but it was true. Their lives had grown apart, and while she cared deeply for Hera, some time with just the two of them would be nice for a change of pace. “Plus, I don’t want to startle Hera. Demigods popping in out of nowhere have seldom come bearing good news in her life, and I don’t want her to think someone swearing vengeance upon her has somehow found her.”


"Ja, I will be right there," came the reply as Schwein moved back from the view of the transmission for a moment before poking her head back in. "Give me three minutes, ja?" Then with a grin, she cut the transmission.

Chuckling to herself, Rita rose and made sure the quarters were presentable- which as career Starfleet officers, it was. While Rita’s workspace tended to be somewhat organized chaos, their actual quarters remained inspection ready through teamwork with her logical spouse on a daily basis- yet another bit of routine that she welcomed in her life.

With the Baroness von Alcott on her way, Rita debated the beverage of choice. Dark beers were always a good plan, and mead would likely be on her palette these days. But as Rita wasn’t much of a drinker, and she suspected she would get more than her share at the bachelorette party, instead she opened a few bottles of root beer, and replicated a pepperoni pizza. When in doubt, go with hospitality from your own background instead of trying to match your guest, she reasoned.

True to her word, three minutes later, a rainbow glow formed through one of Rita's windows and in a bright flash, there stood the former pirate in all her Asgardian glory - gold and silver armor, blue cape, and a cudgel at her hip, she looked like a demigoddess already. In one had was an ornate platinum box the size of a large book.
"Rita! It has been too long!" Without hesitation, she went in for a hug, doing her best to be gentle with her still mortal friend. As they were both around the same height, as Schwein swung Rita off her feet, she laughed gaily and returned the hug, clapping her well-traveled friend on the back.

“It has indeed been too long, my friend. Let me get a look at you,” Rita requested, and as they parted, she looked the former pirate adjutant to the Artans over, then twirled her finger in place to indicate to the woman to turn about. “Well look at you… every inch the dignified demigoddess now! I daresay your old pirate crew wouldn’t recognize you. And look at that smile! You’re practically glowing, Baroness! Ohhh, I am so happy for you!”

The wide and brilliant smile Rita wore was one born of genuine happiness for her friend, to see her so happy and contented. While she had seldom been anything but cheerful outwardly, Rita had known of her loneliness and her desire to share her life and her bed with someone. With Thor, the mighty God of Thunder, it seemed she had found that fulfillment, and Rita couldn’t be happier for her.

The pirate turned Asgardian couldn't help but giggle like a schoolgirl as she modeled her new attire like some runway model. "Ach, nein. Not glowing right now, but ja, I am happy. Danke schoen for pushing me to it. Odin says that after the wedding we are to have a great battle alongside each other, but will not say who we will be fighting. I look forward to it, nonetheless. Your attire has a few surprises built into it for that reason."

That got her an upraised eyebrow as Rita considered. "Well, after you've come all this way, I suppose it would be rude not to at least take it out and make sure it fits? Even if you are crossing half the galaxy in no time these days..." As she spoke, Rita stepped over to the cabinet holding the Asgardian rainments that had been gifted to her by her friend. Running her fingers over it, she took in the details appreciatively. More than likely said rainments would likely live in the cabinet they'd been delivered in, save for special occasions. But if the cabinet was this intricate and masterfully crafted, she was a bit intimidated by what it might contain. Peeking back over her shoulder with a smile, the Baroness made an exasperated shooing gesture to encourage her, so Rita opened the wardrobe.

Inside was a gold and silver Valkyrie themed armor set with a rather unique shortspear with a half meter blade and a half meter pole. On the spear was a tag with simple use instructions on how to collapse and extend the weapon to the full two meters. The armor itself was ornately detailed from the sabatons to the helm. Even the artifacts on the breastplate looked over made and seemed to glow with an inner power. The pauldrons were lined with a golden fur, and a crimson cape hung from one shoulder almost defiantly. This was paired with a golden capelet that hung from the tasset.

The thing that really stood out though, were the bracers and the helm. Rather than the breastplate setting the tonal lines of the rest of the outfit, it was those that dictated the pattern of knotwork. The helm was a simple golden headband with silver woven into it as you would vines and leaves, but in the middle it was clear that a simple double W was left in the center to protect the wearer's forehead.

Then there were the bracers. They were clearly of superior craftsmanship to the ones Rita had gotten from Hera's former Amazons, but rather than the scenes of craftsmen, the sun, the moon, etc... These were solid gold with large blue opals embedded into each, and with the same silver rope banding at either end with the same double ‘W’ emblem as was evident on the headband, woven into them as part of the overall design.

“It’s… breathtaking, Baroness,” Rita gasped, taking in the ornate craftsmanship and intricate detail. Then she turned and, pointing to the repeated sigil, smirked. “This one… someone definitely went to old Earth history for this one, and color me flattered. And… this rune here, over the heart… is that the rune for Freya? The goddess of, ahh… fertility, beauty, magic, war and death?” Given the life she was leading, Rita had boned up on mythology- after all, when they were living and breathing and you had to deal with them often, ignorance would serve no one.

"Ja, she looked in on you and was quite impressed. She was muttering something about Aphrodite's blessings as she and Diana were crafting..." The silver-haired woman blushed lightly as she looked away somewhat sheepishly.

“Well, you did say I needed to make sure it fit, so,” Reaching behind her, Rita grasped the neck of her uniform and tugged it over her head, shrugging out of the garment with practiced ease before unclasping her bracers, to set them down atop the discarded uniform. Like a superhero stripping down to the costume beneath, Rita Paris divested herself of her antiquated uniform quickly, leaving her clad in a neutral beige yet lacey and pretty set of matching bra and panties. It was clear she was unabashed about it, just as it was clear she’d been working out a bit.

“I might need a little help with this… I’ve never worn armor like this before,” Rita explained as she began taking the pieces of the armor out of the cask and laying them out on the couch.

"Ach, ja... The first time is the hardest as you train the artifacts to you. Once they are bonded, you will be able to summon the armor from the Bifrost." Schwein started with the breastplate as it was the central piece, picking it up and laying out the inner workings... Or seeming lack thereof. "Every seam is completely sealed when worn so grip it tightly facing away from you. Then give thanks to Freya and the back will open and you can slip it on. Easy, ja? After that, the other pieces will fall into place."

Following the instructions given to her, Rita held the breastplate- which she noticed was quite generously cut for her rather prodigious bosom- out at arm’s length facing away from her. Then she looked up and asked of the cosmos, “Freya be thanked and praised?”

As if on cue, the back of the breastplate opened up like some sort of hyper-advanced tech and all but flew onto the busty bombshell. Once it had sealed itself and adjusted its fit, the rest of the pieces started to stir, tiny grav-plates hauling them into the air and performing the same opening and closing action around the rest of Rita until only the headband remained. It silently hovered in place in front of her rather than slapping into her forehead - apparently detecting that it may cause a concussion if it hit too hard.

A few doors down, Hera looked up from her Jackie Collins book and crooked an eyebrow.

Reaching out, she gingerly took it in her fingers and slid it into place, making sure the overhang of hair that she was perennially sweeping out of her eyes was not caught in the headband. Flexing and feeling the fit, Rita stretched out a bit, twisting and reaching to feel the fit. “That’s remarkable,” she observed. “It fits like it was made for me- which, well, there you go.”

Grinning at the sensation of the Asgardian armor, Rita reached for the two spear halves, reading the tag to figure out how it worked. “I mean, I may as well go all in. Particularly if Odin expects me to stand in battle with it When the one-eyed Allfather with cosmic awareness warns you in advance, you’d better be ready.”

"It is collapsible. This piece fits into here and you twist until it locks. To engage the blade guard, twist further up. Simple and... Cool... Ja?" As Schwein pointed out the various functions, she had a wide grin on her face. She then pointed out the various markings on the blade guard. "I had some pull on the design and insisted on Hera's crest. I admit some amount of schadenfreude."

"I appreciate that... wouldn't want Hera to think I was tossing her over for some Asgardian goddess of a different folio," Rita wisecracked distractedly, as a few doors down the goddess chuckled and returned to her book. Putting the two halves together to twist and lock them, Rita's questing fingers scanned for the grip to engage the blade guard. When it sprang into place, she nodded, eyebrows upraised in the middle. "It's a lot lighter than I would have expected."

Hefting the spear experimentally, Rita tossed it back and forth between her hands, then levered in on her palm to find the balance point. It was where she would naturally choke up on a polearm this size, and she was duly impressed. "This is... one hell of an heirloom, Baroness. I'm not really sure how to show proper gratitude... I mean, this is armor and weaponry of a hero of legend, and for me it's my bridesmaid's dress for your wedding. I almost feel guilty accepting it."

"Ja... It is actual Valkyrie armor..." Schwein waved one hand in the air for a moment before continuing on. "Seven sets were made... The rest are more symbolic leather armor with shields of Valhalium. You, Enalia, Ethel, Mnhei'sahe, Thex, Sarika, and Hera. Though if you want to return it after, you may."

"Computer, tri-mirror reflection please, show me the angles," Paris called out, and the computer complied with a chirp to produce three holographic representations of Rita from various angles. For a moment, as she turned a bit and eyed her reflection, Rita was a bit awestruck at just how she looked. Then she forced herself back to the moment, and she nodded to the pirate turned power.

"Thank you, Baroness. It's... a bit beyond words, really. I think I'll keep it, though... I imagine it would be rude to return such a generous and magnificent gift. After all, it being my life, I suspect someday I might just know a heroine who needs supernatural aid in the form of a gift from the gods to enter the land of the strange and mysterious. Which Rita Paris happens to have in her closet..." The buxom blonde laughed at her own joke, but she had to admit- she genuinely looked like a Valkyrie of Norse legend in this getup. After all, she was blonde-haired, blue-eyed and built like a brick house, as the old saying went. With the great spear in her hand, all she lacked was a flying horse to finish the look.

"Ja, such things do happen," Schwein replied with a nod. She couldn't confirm it, but things like that did seem to happen around Rita. "I took the liberty of having the bracers modeled after your old ones a bit, with some elements added by Diana. I hope you like them. They have the full power storage, unlike the Amazonian ones that were confiscated. That way you may hide a shuttle if you wish. Yours are the only ones with that feature."

"A shuttle?" Rita looked at the bracers thoughtfully. "Or an army... well. That's... again, amazing. Thank you, Baroness." Eyeing the spear, which was a bit too big to be lugging about the starship, Rita move to lean it against one of the interior bulkheads, then thought better of it and laid it on the couch. "I'll have to take you to the holodeck after this to try all this out... I actually did a bit of spear work recently, and have I got a story to tell you. But for now, we should probably pay a visit to our patron goddess." Looking over the armor, given that it was essentially seamless, Rita furrowed her brow.

"Uh, so... how do I get it off...?"

"The same way you store things in your other bracers," Schwein replied with a chuckle, tapping the new pair that Rita now wore. "Just remember that you can't store compressed space like these within each other without a... Umm... There are rules to it, but suffice it to say, if you walk into an Asgardian ship that's bigger on the inside, you're fine. You just can't store active bracers inside other bracers."

"Oh, but without the bracers, it comes off by thanking Princess Diana," Schwein quickly added.

“Mmmm, extradimensional space can’t exist within extradimensional space, because it inevitably implodes, taking as much of the local matter with it as it has energy available to it… I’m reasonably certain that was Sonak’s warning to me about dealing with such phenomenon, but duly noted for future reference,” Rita observed, shunting the armor into the extradimensional space of the ornate and beautiful bracers, which glowed briefly with a golden light before fading to normal. Eyeing the great Valkyrie spear, Rita shunted it as well, for safekeeping until she was ready to practice with it.

“While you’re here today I’ll have to tell you my little tale of adventure and we can spar some in the Holodeck. Show you that I’ve learned a few moves, and that your lessons were far from wasted- they saved my life on more than a few occasions, and every time I thought of you with gratitude,” Rita explained somewhat mysteriously. But given her life and the unlikely nature of it, she suspected it wouldn’t faze Schwein, as she was quite familiar with the weirdness of Rita’s life and experiences.

"From the sound of it, I assume you do not mean the recent trip to ch'Rihan, ja?" Schwein chuckled softly, wondering what adventures the universe had thrown at Rita this time while she'd been away. "I will have to tell you of the adventures Hilda and I have had as well."

“Ohhh, we are definitely sharing some stories then,” Rita grinned as her mein turned more somber. “So… as grateful as I am for the magnificent gifts you brought me, you brought something else, I see. Is that for Hera?” Rita had been shoving that particular concern aside for quite a while, but she was actually desperately hopeful that this was good news for her favorite reformed goddess.

"Ja, the dwarves of Nidavellir have outdone themselves in this." As she spoke, she held the small ornate chest before her. "Inside is the smallest of the power supplies they have ever created. It is far from powerful, but it will be enough to sustain Hera and perhaps occasionally turn water to wine."

“That sounds like it should be perfect,” Rita declared, relief obviously written all over her face. The emotional executive wore her heart on her sleeve, and as she shrugged back into her outdated uniform, she considered. “If the dwarves had to craft it, then somewhere along the line someone paid them, which means that there is a debt owed somewhere for this favor of the gods. Whom is owed and what, if it isn’t rude to ask? Because you did this on my behalf, and if there’s a debt to be paid, it should be my burden to shoulder.”

The silver tressed woman nodded slowly, her features turning a bit grim. "Ja... They did demand a fair price. And it has been paid for now by Loki. For now, he insists that it is a wedding gift, but if you insist on paying off that debt... Thankfully, he has... Matured... Over the years."

Laying her hand on the shoulder of her dear friend, Rita smiled, a wry expression. "It's only fair, Baroness. This is something you did because I asked, and I'm responsible for Hera... Thor made me her keeper, so she's my responsibility. I can't just let her waste away, any more than I could let her die any of the other times she's courted the reaper. So if Loki is the one I owe, then I suppose I'll have to take it up with him. God of mischief and deceit... I can't imagine that's going to be an easy price to pay, but I can't let you shoulder that burden."

"Ja, you are a good friend and sister," Schwein replied, placing one hand on Rita's shoulder in turn. "Now we must get this to Hera and save another of our sisters."

"I guess for you she is a sister of a sort, now that you've joined the Norse pantheon. Which, I have to say," Rita made to pick up the case Schwein had casually carried earlier only to discover that it was far heavier than it looked, and realized it was out of her league as the pretty pirate hefted it effortlessly and they began walking. "Ah, yeah, I guess you need to get that. But really, you always were larger than life, and somehow you and the Norse gods just... fit. I mean, it seems like you never really fit in... at least, that was how you put it to me. But you seem like a perfect fit with those Teutonic gods of the longboats and feasthalls."

The rosy blush on the corsair's face was plain to see as she hefted the small box with ease. "Ja, there has been talk of adding me to the order as a lesser deity as Diana was. Something about compassion, mercy, and the strength of mortal women." Then she blushed harder as she realized she was getting some odd looks walking through the halls dressed as she was. "It is good to be back aboard the Hera, but I do not recognize any of the crew so far. Have there been that many transfers?"

"You are quite a strong woman, my friend, and it has nothing to do with muscle," Rita patted the pirate on the shoulder. As for the transfers...some... you know how it goes. Times change and the faces around you change. I think Sonak once said that change is the only constant of the universe, so one must adapt in order to survive. As for the crew... still plenty of familiar faces, just not many on this deck. Asa was reassigned to Starfleet Medical- apparently, their work in gene therapy is quite revolutionary, and they are quite the big deal now."

"But we still have plenty of familiar faces... case in point." As they came around the bend in the circular corridor, Petty Officer Second Class Jablonski and Petty Officer Lu snapped to attention. The two-meter and change hulking mass of farmgirl muscle was a bit bulkier across the shoulders than Schwein remembered her, while the stocky but short Liu seemed eternal as she was inscrutable.

"At ease, ladies. How's our guest today?" Paris acknowledged the formality then offered the command that released the enlisted NCOs from said formality. She seldom required it- the Captain, for instance, did not wish to have everyone brought to attention when she walked onto the bridge. But for honor guard duty, it was good military discipline, and Paris had instituted it as a regulation. Just down the hall, guarding VIP Quarters 13, Phillips and B'jou had also come to attention, and accepted the 'at ease' command as well.

"Quiet, Commander," Jablonski reported. "She isn't baking today, so I think it might be reading, or..." checking her wrist chronometer, the security officer the called 'Big Ethel' nodded, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Or she might be asleep on her fainting couch with a book. She naps a lot this time of day, so... y'know, we give her privacy, but she likes for us to check on her around 1500 so she can go take a walk. These days she's usually asleep." There was no judgment in the woman's voice, only an underlying current of concern.

Schwein nodded her own concern as a gilded scroll appeared in her free hand, offering it to Big Ethel. "I have been told that sleep is a late stage of extreme old age for her race. With luck, we will be able to begin to reverse that today. As for this, I have told Hilda of you, and she has written a letter expressing her desire to meet you on the day of my wedding. I believe the two of you have much in common. The... ah... portrait may not be the most accurate. Asgardian art is stylistic, ja?"

Eyes flickering to the Commander for a nod of permission, the hulking petty officer accepted then unrolled the scroll, then her eyes went wide and she blushed furiously. "Ah... well. Golly. That's, ah, I'll, ah, hafta... gee. Ohhh m'gosh. I, ah..." she stammered, as Paris chuckled.

"You're welcome to come if you've been invited, Petty Officer Jablonski. I assume Hera was invited as well, so of course she'll need her honor guard," Rita reasoned. "So you can answer later if you-"

"I'll go!" blurted the easygoing and sincere young woman who had grown over time into the massive maiden of muscle she was today, slowly absorbing the magic of Hera's domain aura that had not dimmed and waned as had Hera's power. Patting the somewhat flustered young woman on the bicep, Rita led the way into Hera's quarters, as behind her, Jablonski shared the image on the filigreed scroll with her cohort Liu, whose eyes opened wide at the sight.

"I will let her know that you accept her proposal, ja?" Schwein chuckled softly as she gave her larger friend a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Now, let us deliver this last gift and see to Hera's continued health."

Entering the spacious VIP quarters that had been customized by it’s occupant, Rita and Schwein paused in the foyer, as Rita called out to the quarter’s occupant. “Hera? It’s Rita. Baroness von Alcott is visiting, and she has a surprise for you… are you decent?”

The only real response for a moment was a gentle snoring as they entered. It ended quickly at the question of decency as Hera awoke from her nap and dropped her current book on the floor. "Oh my... Dearest me... I was asleep a bit longer than I expected, wasn't I? Please, come in."

Getting up from her fainting couch, Hera left the abandoned book where it was and went to wash her face to make herself presentable, finding it much more difficult to replace the glamour that she used. "I'll be there in a moment. Please make yourselves at home and help yourselves to the cookies on the table."

Stepping over, Rita smoothly knelt down to fetch the book on the floor, then picked it up to place it back on the end table next to the fainting couch. As she heard the water running, she suspected that hera was having difficulty summoning the energy to ‘put her face on’, and she debated saying something to that effect. But while Hera maintained her illusion for the benefit of others, Rita suspected it was also a component of her own vanity at work. After all, what woman wished to surrender her beauty to the ravages of age if she could help it? While the goddess of women, motherhood and family was comfortable appearing as a striking middle-aged matron, it stood to reason that she still wished to at least be perceived as able and eternal. Particularly in the presence of another power, which, whatever title Schwein was moving into adopting, would certainly qualify.

Taking a couple of cookies, Rita sat down in one of the receiving chairs Hera kept by her fainting couch for visitors. Offering one of the cookies to the pretty pirate, Rita silently indicated to the Baroness to take a seat. If they stood, Hera might feel the need to do so as well, and she did not want to tax the elderly and weakened goddess. So she set the stage for a casual encounter instead, and nervously nibbled at the cookie in her hand.

The pirate turned demi-goddess was also a bit subdued as she too nibbled on one of the cookies. Hera had reformed amazingly well during her time on the ship with her name and for Enalia and Rita's sake, she was determined to see the woman live well.

It was a few more minutes before the water finally turned off and Hera returned from the lavatory, walking slower as she did so, but with a bright smile on her face as usual as she resumed her seat on her fainting couch. "It's good to see both of you. Baroness, I've heard that your wedding day is fast approaching. I look forward to seeing everyone in their wedding attire. I'll have to see if I can petition access to my old bracers so I can wear one of my nicer dresses."

"I would very much like to see that, Hera," Schwein replied with a warm smile as she moved to offer the box to Hera. "But before then, I have something that should help considerably with..." She glanced to Rita for help with her words as she was running out of them.

“I’m not sure how all of this works, but… I believe this is a small scale version of the power generators your people use to sustain yourselves. Given that the number of faithful you have these days are few, and you don’t receive energy from sacrifices as you used to…. Well, we’re hoping this will help?” Rita smiled a hopeful smile, as this was her ‘hail mary’ play. She had one more card to play if this failed, but it was one she was loathe to use if at all possible. Already she was in debt to the Trickster god, which couldn’t possibly go well for her.

But she had to try… while she was acutely aware that her relationship with the matron goddess would likely be viewed as inappropriate, the reformed goddess had a place in her heart. One that Rita would fight for just as determinedly as she would any of her friends or loved ones.

Schwein then opened the box to reveal two egg-shaped objects. One was the size of an ostrich egg and ornately crafted in a Victorian steampunk style out of what appeared to be gold, silver, and platinum, but glowed with an inner light. The smaller egg was the size of a sparrow's egg and was fleshy pink with a bronze band.

For a moment, Hera gazed at it longingly before picking up the smaller egg and holding it gently in her palm. It then sank into her palm and though it seemed to cause some mild discomfort for a few moments, the immediate relief as a gentle light radiated softly from the larger egg and seemingly filled Hera for a moment quickly surpassed whatever discomfort she felt. In fact, after less than a minute, the light had faded to its previous state and the matronly goddess had visibly let her glamour drop to reveal that her aging was quickly reversing to not only the face that she had been showing, but perhaps a little younger.

"Thank you. Both of you. I owe both of you my life. If there is anything you wish of me, please... Just ask." With her head bowed, the now restored nearly immortal woman now humbled herself before Rita and Schwein.

Taking Hera's hand in her own, Rita spoke gently, eyes glistening. "Remember what I asked of you, all those months ago? 'Be a goddess I can tell my kids about someday.' You have become that, and more... all I ask of you is that you continue to do as you have done. Be better, a little bit every day. Because you HAVE become a goddess I'll tell my kids about someday... and I hope they get to meet you. Because you're part of the family... just like the Baroness here," Rita nudged the shoulder of the silver-haired demigoddess fondly. "Now, as for what boon she might ask, I wouldn't deign to speak for her..."

The silver haired woman blushed bright red as Hera took the box, closed it up, and set it aside on her in-table. "If it is not too much to ask... I am still... I can't..." As she turned brighter red, she bowed her head and blurted it out. "Hera, please bless my marriage! I want a good family!"

With a knowing smile, Hera reached out a hand that seemed to glow with a golden light and rested it on the Baroness's shoulder for a moment. "Consider it done. Your wedding night will be extra magical, I think."

With surprise and delight, Schwein looked up at first Hera, then Rita, then back to Hera. "Thank you. Thank you."

"Just like that," Rita beamed at Hera, then wrapped both women in a hug. "Just exactly like that."

A price would still likely have to be paid, but in the here and now, to see the look on Hera's face as she wasn't facing a slow decaying death by old age, and the look on Schwein's face as Hera blessed her to bear Thor a fine son... whatever the cost later, for now, it was worth it.

Walking through the corridors of the U.S.S. Hera, the ship’s Rihannsu Chief Flight Officer was having an extremely packed day. Since returning to active duty following a month of captivity aboard a Rihannsu Warbird followed by two weeks of debriefings and interrogations at Starfleet Intelligence, the young woman found that her life had all but completely changed.

Suddenly, her newly discovered status as the granddaughter of the elder Senator of the Star Empire, Verelan t’Rul, put her in a very unique position. She was still a Starfleet officer and a Federation Citizen. But the PaDD in her hand, which contained a very formal and official message from her Grandmother to Starfleet on behalf of the Imperium also codified even more information. She was now, legally, a citizen of ch’Rihan. Claimed on the senate floor as a member of the house Rul, with all the privileges and responsibilities that that entails. Legally, on the homeworld she had barely known, she was ‘Mnhei’sahe Dox t’Rul’. Her grandmother’s chosen heir. It was a less than subtle way of her grandmother letting Dox know that her offer to return to ch’Rihan remained open.

That claim is what was making what she was now tasked with doing possible. Detailed in the letter were the specifics of a vote held on ch’Rihan, known to the rest of the galaxy as Romulus, for the government to offer aid and protection to the formerly illegal colonies in the empire that embraced reunification with Vulcan. Worlds where Rihannsu people lived who wished to embrace their Vulcan roots and learn of those philosophies and ways of life. To make one what had become two thousands of years ago in the Sundering when S’task led 80,000 pilgrims into the stars.

Now, Mnhei’sahe found herself in the middle of centuries of animosity between the Rihannsu Star Empire and the Federation. A citizen of both, and approved by the senate of ch’Rihan and the Admiralty of Starfleet Command to open communications between the Federation and the reunification colonies on her grandmother's behalf. A first stepping stone to test the waters of diplomacy.

Of course, Mnhei’sahe was no diplomat. She was a pilot. And one that only a short time ago was only a Lieutenant. But now, as she made her way to the turbolift for a meeting in the Hera’s conference room, she was a Lieutenant Commander with new responsibilities, being trusted to do something that she was wildly unqualified for, all because of her blood.

The contents of the message had been forwarded to two of her fellow crewmembers she had called a meeting with: Az’Prel, the Vulcan warrior woman from a collapsed mirror reality that had come to serve on the Hera as an independent Intelligence asset alongside Mnhei’sahe’s mother. And Lieutenant Commander Sonak, the Hera’s brilliant science officer and Kolinahr master. The Vulcan who has also served as Mnhei’sahe’s teacher in regards to the disciplining of her nascent mental abilities over the last year. But he was also an expert in the reunification movement and was authorized to act on behalf of the Vulcan government on the Hera, his knowledge and credentials making him the Logical choice.

Mnhei’sahe knew she would need him. In a meeting with Captain Telvan, Commander Paris, and Admiral Meowlth, Mnhei’sahe learned of the Hera’s upcoming mission to a hidden reunification colony called Mol Krun'chi to open up talks between them, the Vulcans, the Federation, and the Imperium. And as she would be the unexpected linchpin in those talks, she needed help. As the doors to the lift opened to the bridge, the freshly minted Lieutenant Commander Dox walked quickly and with intention along the rear towards the conference room situated on Deck One, aft. Ensign Jessica MacNielle was sitting at the ship’s helm, piloting the Hera as it moved smoothly through space. It was a seat Dox sat in less and less these days, and she found that she missed just being a pilot. But fate kept calling on her to fill shoes that seemed to get bigger and bigger.

These newest shoes seemed to be fit for a giant, and Dox was feeling every bit the 5’3” woman that she was. As she entered the Hera’s conference room, she was right on time. Which, of course, meant that the Vulcan’s Sonak and Az’Prel were there as well.

Wearing the standard grey intel uniform, the woman who had become a sister to Dox’s mother was standing near the large curved windows that faced the ships Intel Pod on the aft, waiting. Standing near her like a stoic statue that Dox had learned to lean on as needed in her journeys to discover her own heritage and her own mind, Sonak was the perfect image of a Vulcan in his crisp and pristine teal science uniform. The sight made her subconsciously adjust her own uniform.

Nodding, Mnhei’sahe addressed the pair professionally, though she was feeling considerable nerves, having requested the meeting herself. “Lieutenant Commander Sonak. Miss Az’Prel. Thank you very much for your time today.”

'We come to serve,'' Sonak simply said as a greeting and acknowledgment of her entrance. ''And congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant Commander. It is well deserved. And it should prove valuable in no small part for our upcoming mission. Your people respect authority and individual accomplishments, especially in military service to the state. They will at least listen to you, if only on the basis of your merit.''

Smiling ever so slightly, if a bit nervously, Dox nodded. “Thank you. And I had thought about that. Merit may get me further with the reunificationists than any blood ties to the Senate. That said, the timing is fortuitous, if coincidental. If I can manage to say anything worth listening to, I hope that's something we can work on.”

"Indeed, there is much that may be said and from what the briefing indicates, we have a willing audience..." the displaced Vulcan woman began. "However, I surmise that we must use words of substance rather than platitudes or open promises for the future that may not be easily achievable. Yet some of what is said may have to be that simply on principle."

“I agree, Miss Az’Prel. And I think that’s a large part of why the three of us have been asked to undertake this mission. We each have a lot to bring to this that I hope will be substantive.” Dox added, getting just a little more confidence in her voice. “My family connection makes me well situated to speak both as a Rihannsu and a Starfleet officer. And my training with Commander Sonak shows reinforces the validity of the value of reunification, as does my past as a smuggler aiding in the movement as a child. Commander Sonak’s knowledge and position of respect with the Vulcan command is a strong leverage point. And your perspective is somewhat unique in this reality, and… if you will pardon the observation… you stand as additional proof that logic and passion can coexist.”

"We can't really make promises. At least not yet. But our very presence there should go a decent way towards moving things forward. Or, at least, represent that there's a willingness on the part of the Senate to accept the movement." Dox added, hoping she wasn't tripping over her own words and embarrassing herself.

“But here is where I need to express my own ignorance of the politics of the situation. I know of the Imperiums former hard-line stance of the movement. It was literally illegal and a punishable act up until last week before my grandmother got her movement passed. There’s still significant resistance, but I need to know more about this all if I’m going to be useful.” Dox paced slightly, preferring to stand as she thought more often than not.

“Commander, what’s the Vulcan’s government position here?” She asked.

Sonak took a moment before replying. Decades of experience among Humans and other emotional races had taught him that lengthy, detailed, thorough discussion was usually not conducive to proper attention and appreciation of a situation as it would be at the Vulcan Science Academy. He thus summarized and simplified his answer despite all the diverse intricacies it implied.

''Vulcan understands what brought about the birth and rise of the Rihansuu people. A desire for some to resume a relation with their ancestral roots and for others to continue moving away from them must therefore both be acknowledged. In this regard, Vulcan, as part of the Federation, must and will follow the Federation's Charter and the Starfleet doctrine of the Prime Directive.''

He went to the computer terminal and activated the holographic monitor to display the official documentation providing in more detail what he was summarizing. Of course, he could have simply asked for the display vocally, but he still kept his outdated 23rd-century habit of handling controls directly as a matter of methodical rigor. It also gave time for the others to reflect a bit upon his words before continuing.

''The proposal is this: there will be no interference in Imperial society, for example, with solicitation, directly or indirectly. Only Imperial citizens freely and voluntarily expressing on their own initiative the desire for relations with Vulcan will be welcomed to do so. No requirements to renounce Romulan heritage or citizenship will be made. Federation citizenship will not be offered. Annexation to the Federation by colonies or planetary systems will also not be part of this proposal. Communication, access, travel and stay limited to Vulcan will be allowed, within a specified corridor of travel, transmission, and contact under the guardianship of Starfleet. Under the same conditions, Vulcan citizens making a request to establish relations would only do so with those of the Empire allowed as defined. They would enjoy the same rights and same restrictions regarding Imperial Space, under the guardianship of the Imperial Navy. Those corridors of contact would be established jointly by The Federation Council and the Imperial Senate as were the terms of the Treaty of the Neutral Zone and along similar lines.''

He paused before finishing.

''This proposal has been accepted by the Federation Council as a starting point for negotiations with the Empire. For all intent and purposes, the citizens involved in this interstellar relationship would be granted ambassadorial status and privileges but without the authority to speak on behalf of their respective communities. This will still be reserved to those with full ambassadorial status or with officially granted diplomatic powers; like us.''

Looking at the display, Dox picked up her PaDD and called the data up to read in detail later. But as she did, she nodded slightly and pursed her lips. She felt tremendously out of her depth here but was doing her level best to keep up. "When my mother and I were still just smugglers… this alone would have been seen as a miracle to those reunificationists we helped, I think."

Putting the PaDD back down, it was clear she was scanning the data on the screen for details while she spoke, taking in relevant details without derailing her train of thought. It was a necessary skill for a pilot and useful in the matters at hand as well. "But this movement has been growing for generations, being a crime this whole time on ch'Rihan. I imagine it will be far easier to convince these people that the Vulcan government will support them that it will be to convince them that the Rihannsu government isn't just trying to draw them all out."

Pacing again, Dox's tone it more somber. "It's a tactic the government's employed before, after all. Or, at least, the Tal'Shiar. Hnaev…"

Lowering her head slightly, Dox cursed under her breath, beginning to feel the real weight of what was being put before her. "There's a very real chance that this is some kind of trap. A way to make us lead Riov Rendal and the Tal'Shiar to be these hidden colonies to wipe them out, though Commander Paris is making plans to account for that. I believe my grandmother is sincere in all this, but the government as a whole, I'm not so sure. And it will be partly on me to try and convince thirty-nine hundred people to believe me. I… need help figuring out how to do that, Commander."

Sonak looked straight at her.

''There is Klingon saying: Blood Will Tell. You are Rihansuu of a noble lineage currently in a position of power in the Imperial government. That alone will command respect and consideration from the more traditionally-inclined among them. As for the others of a more progressive mindset, the fact that you are also a Starfleet officer and officially given a title of authority in these matters will convince them that their dream can be made a reality. Adding our voices to yours will underline it all.''

He then frowned.

''But your caution is warranted. Romulans are fine tacticians and shrewd planners... and they are also naturally averse to change and dissent. That this is all an elaborate trap to seek out and destroy discordant elements within the Empire is a distinct possibility. Hence why these efforts should be as discreet as possible, at least in the opening phase.''

As they had been conversing, Az'Prel had been looking over the records of the Intel officer that was to be transferred over to the Hera from the Persephone for the mission but now pulled up the Vulcanoid Rigellian's profile on one of the conference room's displays. "In that regard, I have concerns over this outside observer that Starfleet has chosen from the Persephone. This Ayamo Oulette seems to be a very strange woman if her records are any indication. Plus, her specializations lie in Klingon and Cardassian codebreaking and linguistics. She is not a logical choice from these records and my... Guts... Are telling me we will have to mind her observations closely."

Sonak nodded.

''It is a fact that within the Federation, even on Vulcan, Reunification is not universally viewed as a positive undertaking. The logical possibility that this is all an elaborate long term infiltration plan always remains. It is more than enough to fuel emotional reactions to the free coming and going of an old enemy right within the heart of our space. Some people have long histories of apprehension, resentment, fear and even hate of the conquering people who caused one of the earliest and most devastating interstellar wars. The simple fact that the actual people who did so are long dead is not always convincing enough to douse the fire in their heart.''

He looked at each of them in turn.

''It is logical to expect that, learning of our endeavor, the most vocal of these opposing voices would find a way to, if not forbid our mission, at the very least closely monitor it. Federation Security must deem this a prudent move; but it may pose a hindrance to our efforts. Seems our first diplomatic work will be among ourselves. On the positive side, it should prove adequate preparation before meeting Romulan opposition.''

"While my grandmother had enough pull to make me a part of this, I'm sure that 'Romulan opposition' will have a lot to say about my involvement," Dox replied with knitted eyebrows, looking concerned.

"That said, I’m… inclined to listen to your gut, Az’Prel.” Dox leaned on the table slightly as she spoke, her mind drifting back momentarily to her captivity on the Rihannsu Warbird. To her time under the ‘tutelage’ of Riov Dalia Rendal where she was shown the recording of the Captain of the Persephone negotiating with the Senate for her release in place of Enalia, who was mounting a rescue. Thinking of it all, Dox noticeably tensed up as she made no effort to mask her emotions from the two Vulcans she trusted with her life.

“During my debriefings at Starfleet Intelligence, Admiral Forsyth assured me that Starfleet thoroughly investigated the crew of the Persephone and determined that Rendal had to have been trying to manipulate me when she told me that the Tal’Shiar had a spy on that ship. She assured me that they found nothing to indicate that. And I accept the possibility that my own judgment in this regard might be skewed in this instance as a result, but if you have suspicions as well independent of my own, then I would say that it’s prudent to remain… vigilant.” Dox stood back up straight and tugged on her tunic to straighten it back out.

Sonak again nodded.

''That is wise. Keep in mind that once, a Romulan infiltrator posed as a most notable Vulcan ambassador for decades before tricking even the elite crew of the flagship Enterprise of legendary Captain Picard to deliver her back to the Empire. They even had the sentient android Lieutenant Commander Data aboard, directly interacting with her, yet unable to recognize it in time. We should never ignore or underestimate the capabilities of the Star Empire.''

“Indeed. And considering that doing something similar seems to have been one of Rendal's plans for me, we can't afford to discount anything. As for discretion,'' Dox added, ''I was just in the POD before coming here, meeting with Yeoman Dedjoy and my Mother. They will be preparing a message to encrypt to sent to the Artan ship, the Golden Ghost. As it turns out, she’s been placed under my aegis and discretion in all such matters and I recommended to the Captain, Commander Paris, and Admiral Meowlth that we take advantage of her to get us from the Hera to Mol Krun’chi undetected. She has a legal cloak, not being under the jurisdiction of the Treaty of Algeron, and can ensure we don’t give away the location of the colony.” As she spoke, it was clear to unemotional Vulcans that Dox was feeling the immense pressure of the situation and that it was weighing heavily upon her.

“The Tal’Shiar wants to wipe out the reunification movement. They consider it a threat to the Imperium as a whole and I know for a fact that Riov Rendal considers those people beneath her contempt. They aren’t Rihannsu to her. They’re… a plague to be cut out to protect the Imperium to her. And she’s still out there. Commander Paris and the Captain have a plan to try and draw her out while we’re doing our jobs, but we need to mind all the angles.” Dox turned to Az’Prel, taking the moment to flex a bit of authority.

“Miss Az’Prel, whatever resources we have that can be brought to bear to learn what we can about Ayamo Oulette, I would appreciate you taking. You can confer with my Mother in the Intel Pod. The more information we have, the better, and we will need all the help we can get. Thank you.” Dox said flatly but with intention. Making orders wasn’t something that came comfortably to her, particularly regarding Az'Prel whom she knew she had no real authority over, but she was trying to be as prepared as possible and she trusted that the Vulcan refugee would take no issue with the request.

"Wise precautions on both angles." Az'Prel tapped at the console she was at for a few moments before nodding in satisfaction and closing it down. "I will investigate the woman thoroughly and if I suspect that she is not who she says she is... I will endeavor not to end her life myself for her betrayal but bring that knowledge to your attention immediately. For now, though, I will hold any further judgments of her character until I have met her."

Listening, Dox pondered how best to respond to the idea. And after a moment, she knitted her eyebrows and replied, "Ultimately, I think most sides here are expecting some measure of violence. Based on my own experiences with reunificationists, I am certain they will be expecting it as soon as we start talking. These are people that live with an ever-present threat over their heads. As such, we will need to bend over backward, proverbially speaking, to show them that we will do whatever is possible to avoid any kind of violence. You and I may have a propensity for violence, Az'Prel, but we're going to both have to work to be better, here."

"I think we need to set the standard right out of the gate. Open hands and peace are the only way this is going to have any chance of working in the long term for these people. For our mutual people." Dox's confidence was beginning to overwhelm her anxiety as she spoke with passion, looking at the two for their thoughts.

''In that case,'' Sonak then proposed, '' We should make visible efforts to show both strength and courage the Empire admires and respects most, but without showing aggression or intent of violence; the Strenght of Peace the Federation prides itself of. We should all wear a phaser 1 locked to work on stun only; and at least one traditional weapon capable of non-lethal application, like this.''

He lifted his shirt and deployed what looked like a long white two-thonged leather belt ending on both extremities with small flat metal weights.

''This is the Vulcan anh woon; it can be used to trip and entangle as much as for whipping or strangling. Humans for example also have a wide variety of similar types of weapons, like nets, bolas, kusaris and mancatchers, even seemingly inconspicuous ones like fans, scarves, and capes. Romulans still carry the old tradition of wearing blades, even at ceremonial events, as a show of their noble warrior spirit. Showing ourselves thus armed would demonstrate that we understand and honor their ways without betraying the non-belligerent values of the Federation we claim to represent. It might also intrigue them enough to help start conversations and build common grounds... while ensuring our security in case of trouble with less welcoming Imperials. Brushing up on your unarmed combat skills would also be advisable.''

"Hmmm. My Caitian blades are shielded with a customizable stunning field which renders them non-lethal, but still might appear too aggressive. However, of all of us going, I'm the only Rihannsu and am representing both Starfleet's interests AND the interests of the Imperium... no pressure... Dox muttered under her breath as she thought of her options out loud. "Perhaps I should present as such. And, as you said, the wearing of blades is culturally traditional. If not, I have my collapsible staff with stunning edges I can also carry easily enough."

For just an instant, Dox's mind went to the case in her closet that was given to her by the Rihannsu Starfleet Admiral, Charybdis MacGreggor. The case that contained the temporal copy of the sword of S'Task. The Honor Blade of the Rihannsu Empire, taken from the timeline in which Romulus was destroyed and gifted to her only days ago now. But that wasn't a road she was willing to walk down just quite yet.

"As for unarmed combat," Dox added, taking her mind off of the sword for the moment, "I have some time in the gym already scheduled for later today with V'Nus Wil'I'Ams for training. I Thank you for your input, expertise, and suggestions, Commander. There's still... far too much about my own culture I simply am ignorant of that I need to learn about if I'm going to be effective at all in this role."

Nodding, Dox's insecurities were showing a bit more on her face and posture. While she may have learned how to put on a very effective poker face during her captivity, she was consciously not employing it in the here and now, preferring total honesty and emotional transparency.

''This could, in fact, should prove to be an asset, '' Sonak stated after a moment of thought. '' You are a displaced Rihansuu living within the Federation, yet working to get closer to her people and help it build bridges with the past and the future. You are the living embodiment that Reunification is possible, if not even more; peaceful coexistence with the whole Federation, without renouncing to what makes you, or them Rihansuu. That makes you also the embodiment of what the Federation stands for; a brotherhood of the stars, where each world can join in common prosperity and peace while staying true to itself and master of its destiny. Truly there is no better person to lead this endeavor than you, Lieutenant Commander.''

"I also stand with you," Az'Prel replied, literally standing to punctuate her point. "My mentor before my old universe collapsed was half Vulcan and half Romulan. Thus he was an outcast on Vulcan and with his world destroyed by the Terran Empire his only home was the refugee and freedom fighter camps. Indeed, even with the followers of peace being those that left with S'task and settling on Romulus, there were those in my reality that dared hope for reunification. If I am able to assist you in any way, please do not hesitate to ask."

Humbled by the statements of both Vulcan's, Dox shrunk slightly for only an instant before realizing that to succumb to her own insecurities in the moment dishonored the both of them. And while on the inside, she wished she was just a pilot again that nobody cared about, that life wasn't hers to live anymore. Straightening back up, she took a breath and a moment, nodding as she replied. "You already do, Az'Prel. The both of you offer more assistance then I can express properly."

"I was... expressing my concerns over my place in all of this to my wife the other day. That, in my heart, I'm still just a pilot. And that I'm feeling more than a little overwhelmed with all of these new paths being laid before me. I said that all I ever wanted to do was fly." Dox continued as she looked out the windows to the stars streaking behind the ship. "She said... You're still flying, but sometimes the universe sends us on a different path for us to prove how well we can fly."

Then, the embattled Rihannsu turned to look at them both. "Looking on the bright side of things isn't something that comes naturally to me... but I'm glad to know I'm not flying alone. I will be leaning on you all during all of this, and I thank you for that support."

"We are here to serve," the displaced Vulcan logician replied with a slight bow of her head.

''We come to serve,'' the Kolinarh master simply said.

While Enalia had heard a lot of mixed reports on Ensign Fiona O'Dell, she had not met the woman herself. She knew she was an accomplished test pilot and had covered quite a few night shifts on the bridge, but the Mariprosian midget had also come up on the Captain's blotter several times for bar fights and drunk and disorderly behavior in Ten Forward. She and her life partner, Ensign Gavarus, were somewhat notorious on the Hera for that very reason.

They were also a bit famous for being the only team that could keep up with Ensign Gonadie's crazy inventions, which made them more than interesting in Enalia's eyes. After all, getting in a bar fight or two... Or thirty...

The Trill woman sighed heavily as she finished off another holographic fencing opponent. This was how she had taken to clearing her head before lunch and to get in some extra training - Fencing training to hone her skills.

"Level one seventeen clear. Proceeding to level one eighteen." came the sound of the computer's voice as she focussed and the next opponent came on.

The infamous pair had just adopted the minotaur baby and it seemed to have had a positive effect on them as no complaints had reached her desk in several weeks as of late, other than the incident of Minnie headbutting several children and breaking a door. Enalia would take the victories where she could get them though, and she was hoping Fiona's combat piloting skills would mesh well with her combat command style.

This was why Enalia had asked the woman to meet her for lunch after her time in the gym.

"Suuure, take on some bridge shifts. Learn how to fly the big girl, take care of the ship and be ready for combat flying. Now it's meet the bluiddy Captain. Fookin Lieutenant settin me oop... no good ivvir come oot of a meetin' wi' the brass, Fiona, me gel," the picayune pilot muttered to herself as she paced outside the gymnasium, trying to psyche herself up.

Breaking away from R&D, she hadn't told Gavarus about the meeting, instead begging off that she had to follow up on some orders from the Lieutenant, who seemed determined to keep her every waking hour occupied with simulations and required reading and technical specs. It was one thing when she was working to find the flaws in experimental spacecraft and she just had to report. Now it was like being in flight school all over again, because apparently Romulans didn't sleep or think other people did either. The deeper into it she got, the more O'Dell was regretting having agreed to take on the additional duties.

Now it was a meeting with the Captain for lunch, where she'd have to watch her mouth, try not to say anything offensive, and pray the woman was in a good mood. She'd already peed four times between leaving Deck 3 and arriving at Deck 7, she was so nervous. She desperately wanted a drink to calm her nerves, but it certainly wouldn't do to have the Captain know she was a day drinker on top of whatever other reports she had on her.

Of course, there was the question of why she wanted to meet with an ensign whom the top of her head came up to the woman's tits. Fiona had already braided, unbraided, ponytailed and turned loose her hair, and she couldn't stop wringing her hands. She was also reasonably sure she could throw up if she'd had anything left in her stomach, but that she'd left behind when the Chief told her about the scheduled meeting. In the moment she was equally willing to run away and hide or to just resign from Starfleet to avoid the meeting, but that would just get her into more trouble or cause Gavarus to resign as well, and that wouldn't be fair to her porcine partner.

"Why did ye agree to do this, ye daft hairbrush," Fiona muttered to herself, but she knew. The damned Lieutenant had pointed out all the lives in her hands, and two of them were Briaar and Minerva. She'd drive a shuttlecraft into hell to outfly Satan himself to protect those two, so she had to face this. Thinking of those big brown eyes, she tried to swallow the enormous lump in her throat and steel herself.

For Briaar. For Minnie.

"Inta the lion's den to meet the bluiddy pirate pornstar..." the midget Mariposian muttered, stepping into the gymnasium where she'd been told to meet the Captain.

Barely catching a glance of the picayune pilot entering the gym, Enalia took a double step back and stepped on the emergency stop zone for the fencing sim, bringing her training to a halt. She then stepped out of the specialized weapons training area and grabbed a towel and her water bottle, sheathing her sword - a beautiful gold heavy rapier with a full guard and a rose jewel pommel. "Ensign O'Dell, I presume. It's a pleasure finally meeting you. Your reputation precedes you." With a rather piratical grin that may have looked a bit sadistic from the angle Fiona had, Enalia offered her a handshake.

A bloody SWORD? O'Dell's eyes went from the sword dropped casually into the scabbard to the rather prodigious bust of the trill woman, which sweat had rendered somewhat translucent. Which was indeed right at eye level for the short stunt pilot. Gathering her wits and trying not to stare at the big brown 'eyes' staring at her at eye level, O'Dell plastered on a smile that didn't quite work and when she spoke, her voice immediately cracked. "Ah, nothing-"

Trying to clear her throat, the nervous junior officer took the sweaty hand in her own and tried not to react to the sweaty handshake. "Ah, noothin' good I'd s'pose mum. Sir. Cap'n."As per usual, not knowing which form of address to use, Fiona just rattled them all off, hoping she'd hit the right one as her accent thickened as it always did when she was nervous.

"Some good, some bad," Enalia admitted, her mood souring just the slightest. "And never call me 'sir' unless you want to go for a really long spacewalk." Continuing to towel off and stepping through one of the public sonic booths, Enalia headed to her locker that had her uniform as she continued to talk. "Your recent records aboard the Hera have been impressive, to say the least. Forty-seven bar fights in the last year alone, successful piloting of an experimental and untested combat vehicle which resulted in not only you staring down my mother, but collected critical intel and spared the lives of her crew. And that's just getting started."

At this juncture, the small stereotype didn't know what to say, so she just shut up and listened. It didn't sound like an invitation to talk, so rather than correct or comment, she just followed along, wondering if she was going to watch the woman get dressed next. Folding her hands behind her so the Captain couldn't see her fidgeting, O'Dell tried to keep her breathing even as her heart hammered in her chest and she tried to concoct excuses for whatever other misbehavior might come up next.

"So... having said that, I and both of your supervisors believe that you would be a good match to my command style during combat." Enalia then grabbed out her uniform and slipped it on over top of her gym clothes. "Thus, I've invited you to lunch with me. My wife has prepared us a nice Trill version of shepherd's pie, so I hope you like it. Instead of being made with beef, we make it with a large, meaty bean. Otherwise, it should be pretty close."

"I'm, ah, sure t'will be fine mum. Captain. Si-" O'Dell managed to stop her nervous rambling just in time to not repeat the same mistake twice, as visions of what constituted 'a really long spacewalk' flooded into her brain, and she bit her lip to try to focus and change the subject. Before she realized she was going out on a limb, she had already started to speak. "Uuhhhh, so whut, ah, beggin' yuir permission ta ask, mum, what exactly is yuir, uh, command style thatcher thinkin Ah might be a guid match fer?"

As the spotted woman led them out of the gym and down to the nearest turbolift, Enalia began her explanation. "Unlike most captains, I don't give headings or attack patterns. I find them predictable and pointless almost all of the time. If I call out evasive maneuvers, it's up to you to come up with something that the Hera can do that won't tear her apart at the seams yet, is still evasive. If I call out a general maneuver like 'bring us about', I want you to figure out the heading based on where the bloody enemy is. Line up for good firing angles and such. I've used mines, warp shadow probes, hidden behind asteroids..."

As they entered the turbolift, Enalia paused a moment to lock her eyes with Fiona's. "Computer, deck eight. I'm a pirate queen at heart. My tactics are that of a pirate queen. I refuse to lose. If that means you have to do a one hundred eighty degree power slide at warp nine... Don't rip the engines off. What this interview is for is to help me determine if you can take the pressure on the bridge. After all, there are nearly eight hundred lives aboard counting on how well you can pilot. Not only that, but it's no exaggeration to say that some days the fate of the universe is decided on that bridge."

"So how about we have lunch and see how well you handle that kind of stress?" Enalia finished as the turbolift doors opened.

"Can we joost skip to the paart where ye see if I kin fly the bluiddy ship instead of the fookin' interview?" O'Dell blurted out, then her hands flew to her face to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide. "M'sorry m'sorry ah christ jayzis... ah... I dinna... ah..."

For a moment Enalia could only stare as Fiona stumbled over her words before bursting out in laughter and clapping the much shorter woman on the back. "Fine then, to the flight simulator. Computer, take us to the flight sims and clear one for use." With a chirrup, the turbolift doors closed once more. "We'll have to apologize to Maica afterwards for being late. Now... Which battle should we load? Any recommendations?"

Surprised that her gaffe hadn't landed her in hot water, the short sprite spoke frankly, shrugging her narrow shoulders. "Ah jazis mum, I dunno. The Lieutenant's had me runnin sims an' exercises and alla that blatherskite, an' they all blend inta one another. Ye want to see if I kin figger oot what ye want from nae mooch orderin', ye pick the scenario and I'll show ye what Ah kin do to fly her. L-T said ta joost lean inta her and fly her like I would a single pilot fighter, so ye call the battle and I'll see if I canna keep us from gettin blowed oop, aye?"

"Then how about a classic scenario from one of the earlier days of the Hera under my Command?" Enalia grinned that lopsided grin of hers as the turbolift doors opened to the flight control offices, the flight sims not far away. "While rescuing an intel officer from a Reman prison station, we had to team up with a pirated B'rel scout class and fight an older Warbird while in orbit of a small neutron star. That mission was before our current refit so I think we can bump the old Ar'kif to something more modern like a Valdore or... Let's say a Laeosa class warbird and with no help. You'll have to line up attack vectors on an evenly matched Rihannsu vessel, worry about a stealthed runabout, and keep up with whatever surprises they have."

"Plus there's the gravity pulses of a neutron star ta keep an eye oot for, a'cuz they pulse, aye? S'like waves radiatin' ootward at odd intervals that mess wi' the nav sensors and make it like waves on the beach? Runaboots have phasers but no torpedoes, an' since ye said team up I assume we're tryin' ta line up rendezvous coordinates fer the runaboot, while we're fightin one a'them great big Romulan birds the same size as us. Cept she packs a cloak we canna penetrate, a horde a'disruptors, and plasma cannons that pack a wallop, cuz they bypass our shields and do structural damage, aye?" Switching the topic to actual flying, the accent eased back and the little lass immediately became both more talkative and forthcoming. While it was clear she was afraid of the rank and intimidated by the woman, flying was something she had considerably more confidence in, and said confidence was readily evident.

As Enalia programmed in the modified scenario, she added a few notes from the actual battle she had lived through. "We have a slew of tricks up our sleeve as well though, including tachyon field emitters that can detect a perfect cloak through at close range, given the star's pulses don't disrupt it too much. Though with them defending their station, they didn't use their cloak more than three times, as I remember. The stealth runabout will have to be protected at all costs as the Selune's sole mission is to not be detected and rescue the agent. Their mission will take nine minutes. As for their plasma weaponry... They're slow enough so if we keep a decent distance they should be avoidable. The Leosa class is also suspected to have similar tricks to ours, including specialized armaments."

The sim doors finally opened as the computer chirruped, revealing a replica of the Hera's bridge, red alert status already in place. Helm and the Captain's chair were empty, with the rest of the seats filled with unfamiliar faces as status reports were being called out, setting the stage for the mission.

"Captain, the star just cycled! Shields at ninety-seven percent! Enemy has detected us and is decloaking! Leosa class Warbird! The station is not taking any outward action so far."

The Trill Captain strode to the big chair and sat down as if she owned it. "Ensign O'Dell, activate manual controls and take us to combat speeds."

As the Captain spoke, the scrawny starfighter pilot had already scampered ahead of her, literally jumping into the empty helm station chair. Punching in her access code for the station with confidence, the station adjusted the settings to accommodate the half-pint heroine. Smaller and shorter and more petite than most of her peers, O’Dell was ideally suited to testing starcraft as her lower body weight and mass meant that she was easy to accommodate in a cockpit. But it was a liability on the bridge, where the stations were set for adult-sized humanoids.

The USS Hera was no ordinary vessel, however, and her flight control interface had been designed by a genius whose revolutionary designs would someday be a fleet standard. The seat moved up and forward, pedals extended out from underneath it even as a throttle and joystick rose up out of the flat panel display, ringed by holographic interface controls that enabled a number of functions, all of which O’Dell had recently been tutored in, rather extensively.

At which point she paused, waiting.

"Try and anticipate their moves and avoid a frontal assault, but do your best to line up our forward weapons," Enalia ordered, checking the scenario readouts on her chair.

“They’ve decloaked and they’re lining up their targeting resolutions, mum. If we give ‘er a tic… ah, there she is, she figgers we’re g’win ta be on the same course and speed, so there she goes, annnnd…” the petite pilot jerked the throttle back toward herself even as she angled the throttle, pulling the large and seemingly unwieldy starship into a sudden reverse turn, negating and reversing her forward momentum for two seconds as the line of disruptor fire tracked a trajectory upon which the Hera was no longer pursuing. Shoving the throttle forward, launching the large vessel into action, O’Dell propelled the customized Nebula class forward.

“Ye g’win ta stare slackjawed all day or do ye plan to return fire, aye?” the small smartass at the stick called out to tactical even as she began evading adjusted incoming fire from the enemy warship, clearly anticipating the trajectories with a grasp of three-dimensional geometry that could not be taught.

"Modulate phasers to compensate for the star's interference and open fire. Ready quantum torpedoes - set them to explode on proximity rather than on impact. It'll irradiate them like a glow bug so they can't cloak easily." The spotted captain was calling out orders fast now that the sim was in full swing.

That was when the ship shuddered slightly from a wave from the star. "And let's see if they're having a hard time with the pulses as well. Tactical maneuvers, please. I want to dance a jig around our partner."

“Wahhhhhl, if ye want ta dance a jig wi’ a starship, mum, ye canna do that wi’ three dimensional flight plans,” O’Dell commented from the helm as the Hera slid past the Romulan vessel, even as her hands were not on the helm, but busily tapping away at the holographic display showing a globe of the arena of engagements. The small and dexterous digits of the little lass fairly flew, and they were back at the controls within a few seconds, at which point she called over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving the displays as the computer crunched the math for her. “Get yuir targeting set and gi’me a mark- the cap’n wants a jig, we’re g’win ta show her a right bonny good time!”

The tactical officer, puzzled by the request that sounded more like a demand from the impish helmsman, reported. “We’re locked on, so-“

“Aye, guid! Cuz here we goo!” At that, the starship suddenly blipped for a fraction of a second at warp 1, moving laterally. On the spherical display above the piloting station, it showed that the Hera had winked out then reappeared two thousand kilometers from her starting point. Where she remained long enough for the Romulan warship to change her targeting resolution, whereupon as it opened fire, the Hera was no longer there, but hopping in a seemingly random direction for another fraction of a second warp hop, another three thousand five hundred kilometers distant.

“At's the spirit, target this, ye pointy-eared bastards. Lady wants a jig, we’re g’win ta dance to a right merry tune,” O’Dell muttered to herself, although the captain still heard it clearly. Raising her voice to be heard clearly, the little lass they called ‘Leprechaun’ called out to the starship’s master and commander, her eyes never leaving the tactical display as the Hera winked back into existence six thousand kilometers from her previous position, yet still aligned toward her opponent. “That’ll keep ‘em confused for a bit more mum, til they catch on and start launching spreads. D’ye want to close or lead ‘em on a merry chase noow? Ye said we’re stallin fuir time to protect the runabout, aye?”

The operations officer was looking a bit green as they reported in. "Selune reports they've docked with the station. Estimated mission time, nine minutes."

"Excellent," replied Enalia. "Unload all torpedoes, please." As soon as she gave the order, the forward main launcher and the forward pod launchers began a salvo of quantum torpedoes that would put an Akira class to shame - a full twenty one gun salute, each one set to explode not on impact, but in close proximity, the radioactive debris soaking right through the Romulan ship's shields and right into the hull so that it would all but glow in the dark for weeks.

The resulting fireworks caused the viewscreen to dim as they lit up almost as bright as the star they were fighting near. "Enemy shields at seventy percent. They're launching torpedoes. Captain, they're loaded with protomatter warheads!"

"Evasive maneuvers! They touch us we're all dead!" Enalia ordered immediately. "Lock phasers if you can!"

“Nae pressure there,” O’Dell muttered as she cancelled the random warp hops. It wouldn’t do to pop into an explosion- this would have to be handled manually, watching the sensors to determine the trajectories of the torpedoes, estimating the explosive radius of the warhead burst and staying ahead of them and avoiding them even as she kept the starship in the theater of operations to insure the success of the mission. As the torpedoes streaked out from the Romulan warship, O’Dell’s bright emerald eyes, seemingly too big for her face, darted across the displays for a second and a half, watching, anticipating and making her choices before she shoved the throttle fully forward, taking the Hera up to full impulse, fully .9 of warp speed. Generally considered too fast for maneuvering, the pixie pilot was taking no chances. If they touch us we’re dead left little to the imagination, and zero room for error.

“Maaaan of Haaarlech stoop yuir dreeeamin, can’t ye see their spear points gleeeamin…” O’Dell sung not entirely under her breath as she pushed the starship into twisting, rolling and shearing maneuvers which threatened to tear the great ship from stem to stern. But the pedals enabled her to work the inertial dampeners as she flew, adding stressors to compensate or loosening them up when she needed more time and distance.

A sudden shudder was indicative of a close miss, and the diminutive daredevil interrupted her song to curse. “Fookin goabashite Romulan bastards, yuir nae messin oop me test flight! Tactical, if Ah git’ny closer I’m g’win ta scrape the paint, so what’re ye waitin fer, bluiddy Christmas?!?”

As the tactical officer started sweating, phaser fire lanced out at the remaining protomatter torpedo before the Leosa class warbird suddenly pulled their own 'Picard Maneuver' and popped up in front of the Hera, launching a full salvo of plasma torpedoes right in the path of the Nebula class starship.

"Load tricobalt warhead and fire on that warbird!" Enalia ordered immediately. Slow seconds passed as the glowing green balls in front and the yellow ball behind them converged on them before a silver lance of light arced out of the forward torpedo launcher, just as the warbird decided it was a good time to cloak, striking the green ship in the side of the beak-shaped forward hull. "All hands, brace for impact!"

“Impact me tiny arse!” O’Dell curse at the helm. Shoving the stick down and activating a waiting warp hop, she accelerated beyond the capacity of the pursuing plasma torpedoes, leaving nothing in their path but the Warbird itself. As O’Dell pulled the Hera into a turn that strained the inertial compensators, the starship cavitated and groaned, but held together as she redirected them back toward the battle. “Suck on that, ye plasma-breathin bastirds!”

As the bow hull of the warbird broke up and escape pods ejected, the singularity core started going critical and imploded, taking most of the beak of the now derelict ship with it. The sim then started shutting down and cycling through the results, displaying the damages to each vessel and the six minutes left they would have to wait on the Selune to return.

After a moment of review, Enalia nodded satisfied. "Congrats. We took out the warbird with only mild torsion on the hull, fourteen minor injuries, six major injuries, and the equivalent of two blown warp coils worth of maintenance, limiting us to warp six for the next week. I would call that a passing grade."

Clambering out of the helm station chair, O'Dell looked like a guilty child as she clasped her hands behind her back and looked over to the Captain somewhat forlornly. "Ah, sorry mum... I dinna mean ta breek her. Lieutenant said I should treat 'er like a starfighter, so that's what Ah did... sorry I blew out the warp coils."

"If you hadn't, there wouldn't be a ship to pilot. Hence why you pass. However... Do be mindful that there are nearly eight hundred other life forms aboard this behemoth of a fighter, ok?" Enalia spoke softly, not scolding the young officer, but instead choosing to nurture the raw skills she displayed.

"You're an amazing pilot and if this were the Artans, you'd be at the helm of one of our flagships, but as this is Starfleet... Unfortunately, I have to remind you of your responsibility to the ship and crew... Assign you simulations... And clear you for combat ops on the bridge." Enalia then glanced over at the simulated ops officer trying not to vomit on her console. "But if you make anyone throw up, you get to clean up the mess."

"So... be more careful, mum? Dinna fly 'er like a starfighter?" O'Dell asked, not sure what the lesson was to be taken from the Captain's words.

"Fly her like a really big, pregnant starfighter," Enalia amended softly. "She's as agile as a ship a tenth her size, but not quite as sturdy as a proper fighter, and carrying very precious cargo. Does that make better sense?"

The short and spindly ensign witht he mop of unruly curls, didn't make eye contact when she began speaking, still clearly self-conscious. "Ah'm nae a vurrah good officer, mum. M'lazy and Ah curse too much and I dinna keep me mouth shut when Ah should, and Ah drink too mooch. But... th'Lieutenant, she told me that we're flyin' inta dangerous sectors, and we're likely in fer a fight, an' she won't be here ta pilot her. So she wants me ta do it." Looking up at the much taller woman, O'Dell's face wore a small, chagrined smile.

"The Chief's onboard, Ensign Gonadie, and she's havin' chicks... three, she says. An' me Briaar's onboard." As she spoke, O'Dell smiled a bit more genuinely, thinking of the important people in her life and relaying it to the authority figure who intimidated her, but now, not so much she couldn't explain herself. "She's an engineer, clever an' smart, wi' big strong hands what kin fix innything. And our wee Minnie Mo, an'... I dinna think I'm the one fuir the joab. But... precious cargo, mum. I'd do innything to protect 'em. Whativvir it takes... e'en takin' the bridge under the scary pirate, if yui'll pardon me sayin' so, and flyin' the big pregnant space whale like she's a Banshee fighter."

"So... aye, mum, Ah do understand precious cargo. S'the only reason m'here today. I'd do whativvir it takes to protect me family and me loved ones, aye?"The midget moppet's bright green eyes searched those dark eyes of the Trill captain with hope that she'd expressed herself sufficiently for the Captain to understand why she'd faced her fears and done as she'd been asked, to audition for the position and responsibility that she very much did not want, yet did so because she had to.

Enalia leaned in and gently rested a hand on the Mariposian moppet's shoulder. "Aye, Ensign. I understand perfectly. And Fiona? That's what'll make you a great officer one day. Now how about we go have that lunch? I've got a bottle of my family's vintage we can crack open with it, but don't tell anyone, ok?"

The smile that dawned across the face of the picayune pilot was genuine, and grateful. “Aye Cap’n mum’s the word. Long as ye dinna mind a wee drunk at the cap’n’s table, cuz I’m a cheap date!”

There was chaos in the ornate, vaguely art deco conference room. A podium stood in the center of the stage, with two men laying on top of each other in a heap behind it. Flags of the worlds of the United Federation of Planets encircled the rear of the stage. Along the walls, long columns of lights stretched from floor to ceiling, and moments ago, a Klingon with a sniper rifle had fallen through one of those banks of glass to fall to the floor, dead. The sniper, having just missed a shot at one of those two men, thanks to the last-second intervention of the other.

Standing up, one man was a regal and dignified Efrosian, with flowing white hair and the robes of the office of President of the Federation. The other was an aging man in a maroon Starfleet uniform with Captain’s bars on his white shoulderboard. His hair was graying and he had a bit of a paunch, while his uniform was stained and dirty. He looked more than a little disheveled, but he helped the other man up gently and stood proudly.

In the crowd, a group of Klingons had been swarmed protectively around a Klingon Woman who pushed her way forward and shouted, “What's happened! What's the meaning of all of this?”

“It's about the future, Madam Chancellor.” The Captain in the uniform that had been unceremoniously dubbed ‘the Maroon Monster’ by officers for decades said in a commanding voice. “Some people think the future… means the end of history. But we haven't… run out of history… just yet. ...Your father called the future ...'the undiscovered country'.”

Then, he stepped slightly down and looked her in the eyes with an expression that looked almost apologetic and spoke directly to her in the center of a room filled with officers and dignitaries from every Federation world. “...People can be very frightened of change.”

There was a pause as the woman considered his words and replied with a similar tone of almost apology, though tinted with her obvious authority and the respect she carried. “You've restored my father's faith.”

With a bit of an impish smirk, the Captain in maroon replied, with hope in his voice, “And you've restored my son's.”

A slow clap began to roll through the chamber as more Starfleet officers, all seeming to be of similar ages to the Captain who stood somehow taller than he actually was. And from the back of the chamber, standing in her modern Crimson uniform, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox watched with a PaDD in her hand.

The young Rihannsu Starfleet officer looked tired, with slightly deep-set eyes and loosely hung shoulders, but she watched the scene unfold with a clear focus in those eyes. From behind her, there was a light woosh as a familiar and welcome voice called out, “Computer, freeze program.”

Striding slowly into the recreated room, the anachronistically-uniformed Commander Rita Paris took in the scene, walking over to inspect the crew of the USS Enterprise, thirty years after the era from which she hailed. “This wasn’t the man I knew, but he is similar. A better man, to be sure- wiser, more seasoned, more… mature. I tend to forget that he was a master of brevity in those impactful speeches of his.”

Taking in the details with wistful eye, the striking senior officer sighed. “I wish I had known this version. I knew the rash, impulsive version, the maverick officer who made his own rules out on the final frontier. This was the statesman, the hero who had seen it all. He was lost a year or so later to the Nexus, I read, only to resurface twenty years ago or so… and die a sad death. But still a hero… always a hero.”

It was clear that the old-school officer was having a bit of an emotional moment as she turned back to the junior officer, now having advanced to that middle range of not quite junior, not quite senior, although she was still senior staff, burdened with the responsibilities of command as she learned from those above her in the chain of command. Cocking her head curiously, Paris walked over to take a seat in the front row of the gallery, in a vacated seat with the frozen figures of the legendary heroes of Starfleet standing solemnly before her.

“Take a seat, Lieutenant Commander. Let’s have one of those famous long-winded talks of mine, here in this historic setting,” Paris gestured casually to the empty seat across the aisle as she crossed her legs in a practiced motion and hung her elbow over the back of the chair, setting a casual atmosphere even though she was addressing Dox by her rank.

Walking around the frozen form of the former Chancellor of the Klingon High Council, Dox lay her PaDD down on the seat and paused for a moment to look around at the scene again. Then, sitting down herself, the young officer took a light breath and nodded. "Aye. I would say that I'll never get used to hearing 'Lieutenant Commander', but at this point, I know better. It still feels... heavy sounding, though."

“That’s the weight of responsibility coupled with a healthy dose of imposter syndrome. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, but it comes in time,” Paris admitted freely. Part of the reason that she worked well as a mentor to Dox was because she genuinely understood many of the young Romulan officer’s anxieties, having experienced them herself over the course of her long and storied career. Gesturing to the image of the heroic captain whose career was the stuff of legends, who set the standard for so many, Paris posed a seemingly simple query.

“So how much do you think he practiced for that speech he just gave there? You know, the one that’s actually part of the monument they built for him in Arlington?” Turning her bright blue-eyed gaze back to the Romulan redhead, the buxom blonde bombshell swept her short tomboyish hair out of her eyes as she so often did. “How many revisions do you figure he went through? How many nights did he practice it in front of a mirror to make sure that when he made history, he got it right?”

Looking up, Dox raised an eyebrow slightly with a light smile. "If I had to guess, none. According to the records, he escaped from a Klingon penal colony earlier that same day. There was no time for practicing speeches. It looks like he just spoke from his heart in the moment."

“That was Jim Kirk all right,” Rita Paris smiled, and sighed, shaking her head at the memory of the man she had known, yet paradoxically had never met. Turning back to eye Dox, Paris changed course, as she so often did in so many ways, and spoke with frank and perceptive directness. “So, how is the obsessive over-preparation for your diplomatic jaunt which you feel thoroughly unqualified for and are terrified of going down in history as having botched one of what might be the most critical moments in the history of the reunification of the Romulan and Vulcan peoples?”

Chuckling slightly, though there was little real humor in it, Dox shook her head. "As well as you would expect. I've studied the history of the movement from every available angle. I've read three books on diplomacy and watched another fifteen programs like this one."

The anxious, fatigued young officer gestured toward the image of Kirk with her head as she continued. "I've been at it so long that Mona comes to the office to make me stop to eat after hours, and I can't sleep even when I try. And on top of that, based on the eye daggers I'm getting from Ensign O'Dell during her extra flight training, I doubt she appreciates my idea of a work schedule."

Then, her shoulders sunk just a bit more as her voice sank to a near whisper. "But there are thirty-nine hundred colonists on just that world alone. One colony out of who knows how many. And if I screw this up, they go back to being criminals in the Imperium or worse. Because three different governments all decided I was the person to do this."

“Why are you not, Mnhei’sahe?” Paris asked, cutting to the heart of Dox’s insecurities, inviting a rant to give the frustrated fighter turned diplomat some release.

For just a moment, Dox looked up at Rita with an almost confused expression. On a very conscious level, she knew what Rita was very likely doing, but after weeks of having to keep herself together and keep her cool and be professional, she simply allowed her thoughts and fears to flow out as they came. She had cried with Mona, but it wasn't the same, and she still didn't fully open up.

Subconsciously, she rubbed the tip of an ear as she opened up, "I'm not a diplomat!? I'm not a delegate. I'm a pilot, for Al'thindor's sake. I... I relax by punching things. I barely know how to talk to people, much less for them. If I have so much as five minutes to think about something, I do THIS!"

Gesturing to the holographic simulation, Dox continued, continuing to ramp up as the accent she usually kept well hidden started to leak out ever so slightly, "Rita, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm going to get these people killed if I screw this up! I could get you and everyone else killed if I'm WRONG for believing my grandmother."

The young officer stopped her rant as she avoided dipping into even deeper anxieties. Stresses she hadn't yet told her friend and commander about her time with the Rihannsu Starfleet Admiral, Charybdis MacGregor. Of the burdens, she was feeling from all sides since returning home. Her voice calm again, she spoke with a more reserved tone, "I know I need to do this. And I know I need to figure out how. I know why they're all putting this on me. It's just... so much."

Standing, Rita Paris, Starfleet Commander, First Officer of the USS Hera, stepped over to the frustrated and overwhelmed pilot and folded her into a hug, pressing the young woman’s head to her bosom. Stroking her hair, the old-fashioned officer offered some simple human comfort in the moment. As Dox began to sob, she spoke in soothing tones.

“A small and simple life is composed of small and simple choices, of very little responsibility, and of very little impact on the universe. The larger the stage, the larger the responsibilities. The more consequences of getting it wrong, the greater reward for getting it right. Look at Spock- one mistake, one miscalculation and he created an entire splinter universe with a divergent timeline. One mistake,” Rita explained, patting the young woman’s back soothingly.

“But Spock did great things. He broke the time barrier and mastered time travel. He solved so many mysteries of the universe, revolutionized scanning technologies, and despite all of that, even he couldn’t manage reunification in his time. It’s a lot to take on. But,” Pulling back a bit from the overwhelmed officer, Rita offered an encouraging smile.

“You’re not alone. And yes, there are potential consequences. Dwelling on those will only drive you crazy, and force you to fail. If you want to succeed, Miss Dox, you MUST believe that you can. That you WILL. Because the universe, in my experience, responds to that willful determination. In the time you have known me, how many impossible situations have you seen me walk out of, maybe not unscathed, but alive, intact, and still ready to follow the next star?”

Wiping her eyes with an almost angry expression for letting herself cry yet again, Dox sniffed and composed herself. She wanted to protest, knowing it was nothing but self-pity, but the young Lieutenant Commander took a few long, deep breaths and spoke calmly. “I feel like I’m following a Black Hole sometimes. And the closer I get, the more impossible it will be to escape what’s at the end. But I know I can’t not do this. And I know that I have to do my best and protect these people. There’s really no choice. I just… even if I succeed, then what?”

“We make contact and it goes well. The colonists are willing to listen and then we need to report that all the Starfleet Command. And then Sonak tells the Vulcan High Council. And then… the senate on ch'Rihan... THEY will want to hear it from their… ‘chosen representative’. Sooner or later, even if we succeed, it means I’ll have to go back there.”

"There's always a choice, Mnhei'sahe. You can refuse and go back to your far less complicated life. You could retire from Starfleet, get yourself a little ship and go back to smuggling. You could go teach at the Academy, settle down and raise your chicks with Mona. You have a universe of choices- no one is a slave to destiny. But..." Rita knelt down next to the beleaguered young woman. so that she was looking up at the shorter woman. "You have the opportunity to make a difference. For your people, for other people. To make the universe a better place."

Frowning slightly, it was clear Rita was considering her next words before she committed to them. Then she forged ahead, as she tended to do. "Sonak has never said it, and I don't think he necessarily believes it. But his people, their culture... it had stagnated for centuries by the time they encountered the Human race. We had the drive and initiative that they lacked, the passion to explore and expand the frontiers of math, science, understanding. I wouldn't speak for him, but... I think part of the reason he and I are together is because he recognizes that he needs my passion, my drive, my thirst for adventure, just as much as I need his logic, his stability, his calm. Yin and yang, Earth philosophers described it as- two halves of the whole. Each incomplete without the other, yet so much stronger together than apart."

"I think maybe... just maybe... reunification is about that. The Vulcan people need what was lost with the Romulans, just as the Romulans need what they lost when they rejected the teachings of Surak. Two halves, equal, yet opposite, which are far stronger as a unified whole than as two separate parts. So, with that said..." Rita stood, smoothing out her skirt in a practiced motion as she did so. "You can walk away from this. From all of it. But that's not who you are, and we both know it. Knowing what you know, having seen what you've seen, and having done what you've done, you know you can't just stand by and do nothing. But that doesn't mean you have to be crushed under the weight of it all."

"You do your best. In the moment, you do what you can, with what you have, where you are. You make mistakes and learn from them, you stumble and fall, so you pick yourself back up again. You try to be prepared, but don't grind yourself down trying to ensure you're prepared for every eventuality." Looking over at the sixty-year-old holographic representation of her old classmate from the Academy, Rita nodded. "He understood that. If he were here, I suspect he'd tell you much the same. But since he isn't, you'll have to settle for me."

"I think I'm better off for it." Dox said, leaning back in the chair and stretching her neck slightly as she wiped her weary eyes. Standing up along with Rita, Dox looked over at the hologram of the legendary Captain and tilted her head slightly. “When I was younger, and my mother was teaching me the Vulcan language, she would tell me why we worked to help reunificationists. She would tell me that she believed that our people were damaged. Incomplete. That the problems that plagued us over the millennia… xenophobia… distrust… paranoia… She said they all came from that empty place that was left when we left part of ourselves on Vulcan. We are passion without reason, she said.”

Then the young woman in crimson turned back towards her golden-clad commander, looking thoughtfully down as she collected her thoughts before looking back up to meet those striking blue eyes. “I’ve felt… incomplete, for a very long time. And… maybe, deep down, this is something I need to do for myself as much as I need to do it for those people… my people. So I can say that I’m Rihannsu without feeling like I need to apologize for it. So maybe It won’t sting as much every time I hear the word ‘Romulan’.”

"I hope it doesn't sting when I say it... I've never meant it negatively. I want you to be proud to be who and what you are- it's all I've ever wanted for the officers under me, but you in particular. It's been a long road, to get from there to here. When you were ashamed of your heritage, of your background, of your mother... of yourself. I think that young Lieutenant who I walked around in a circle to get through to her wouldn't recognize the woman standing here today. if you tried to tell her what her life would be a year later, I suspect she would have called you a liar... yet look at you now." Beaming with pride, the ancient astronaut laid her hand on the shoulder of the next generation.

"You make me proud, Miss Dox. Since the first day I challenged you to be more than a sullen shuttle pilot, you have never, ever done anything but make me proud of you. This will be no different. Trust yourself, listen to your heart, and do what you think is right... and you'll do fine." Looking back to the frozen hologram of the legendary crew of the NCC1701, the old-school officer nodded. "That's what he did... what they all did. That's what made them great."

Nodding, Dox cracked the first grin that Rita had seen since she entered the holodeck. As she did, she chuckled lightly and raised an eyebrow. "Thank you, Rita. And... I'm guessing that you didn't practice that in a mirror, either."

"Hah! The day I start practicing speeches is the day I run for President of the Federation," Rita chuckled.

"All things considered, that's hardly an impossibility, Madame President. After all, I'm now a Lieutenant Commander, a pirate Baroness with her own T'liss class ship, Mother-to-be, eligible to be a senator and apparently a diplomat in training. If I tried to tell the me of a year ago any of that, I think I'd assume future me was very extremely drunk." Dox said, shaking her head with a weary smile, chucking under her breath as she realized she was leaving a number of even more bizarre things out of that implausible list.

As she spoke, Dox looked again at the representation of the legends of Starfleet's long history. As she did, her mind drifted to all of the improbable responsibilities being laid out before her, and the weight of them all. A weight she felt keenly, but knew she couldn't move forward with that knowledge without some degree of perspective. And, as always, Rita Paris seemed to know just what to say.

"And speaking of drunk... I think that there's a young Ensign that I've been leaning a bit to heavily on that I should go talk to, who is likely cursing my name in Ten-Forward right about now." Dox rolled her shoulders back a little as she thought of one more responsibility she needed to address before she could rest. "I've been putting my own anxieties about all of this on Miss O'Dell and subjecting her to a lot in her combat flight training. She's got it down and will fly the Hera magnificently, of which I have no doubt. But not if I keep pushing her so hard in the sims that she snaps. I need to take care of this and make sure she knows how good she's doing... and that I will be backing off to a reasonable level."

Hearing the words, listening to the choices and knowing the woman as she did, Rita Paris was proud. The officer she had seen within Melanie Dox had indeed come to fruition, and she would make a fine starship captain, and likely an admiral if her life did not take her on another path. Perhaps a senator, perhaps an ambassador, perhaps an empress... time would tell, and Rita was perfectly content to discover it in the natural passage of such time. But in the here and now, seeing how far the woman who was only perhaps a year younger than she herself had come, she was overcome with pride. The pride of an officer who had mentored, who now saw that mentoring being used in the service of others. It was the way she had always believed Starfleet should operate... and here in the distant future, so far from where she herself had begun, that vision of equality and uplifting others to teach them how to do the same had clearly come to pass.

"You'll do great, Miss Dox, I have confidence. You always do..."

The summons had been sent out, as Commander Rita Paris sat in her anachronistic uniform, in her anachronistic office, a reproduction of the office she had once maintained on the USS Exeter, back in 2268. While she was sentimental to a fault and prone to dwelling, quite literally, in the past, she also recognized the needs of the here and now, and the duties and responsibilities she shouldered as the first officer of the USS Hera, in the year 2396.

One of those responsibilities needed tending to before she left the ship to board a private vessel, to travel to a diplomatic mission which might just begin to make steps toward unification of the Romulan and Vulcan peoples. It was a small but significant step, and she was coming along to watch for trouble, be frighteningly paranoid, and if the truth were to be told, to provide moral support to the delegates while ensuring their safety. Given that one was her husband and the other her adopted sister, in a manner of speaking, she knew she was being overly cautious.

A part of her knew that the Hera was heading into battle, and that by devoting herself to the diplomatic mission she would not be on deck to man the tactical systems of the mighty starship, which was far and away one of her duties which she relished. But she was only one officer, and she had to place her trust in the officers below her whom she had trained, and believe that they would stand in her stead and protect the starship that was her home in this distant and wondrous future.

One of those officers, who was not an officer at all, she had summoned to her office for a meeting before she left the starship in their hands. Because being Rita Paris, she needed to reassure herself that she took care of the person, not just the position. Because she needed reassurances, as well as to offer reassurance. Because despite being a civilian operative assigned to the command, the old-fashioned officer felt quite responsible for one Jaeih Dox.

Arriving to the office with the nearly perpetually open doors, the older Rihannsu Intelligence Operative stepped into the doorway, hands folded behind her back and standing at attention. She might not have been an officer officially, but she acted like one, respected the chain of command and, in truth, thought of herself as such. Jaeih Dox found purpose and satisfaction in serving on the Hera, and had a unique fondness for the straightforward woman who somehow encapsulated everything humanity usually only pretended to be. Jaeih's respect for Rita Paris had been earned, and she would show as much by respecting the rank. "Reporting as ordered, Commander. Permission to enter."

“By all means, Mrs. Dox,” Paris looked up with a small smile, addressing the operative in the manner that she always did. While she clearly knew the woman’s first name, Jaeih couldn’t recall the old-fashioned officer ever using it; instead, she perpetually chose to address the Romulan intelligence asset with the honorific one afforded one’s elders in Human society, as an act of polite deference. “Please, come in and take a seat.”

As Jaeih did so, Paris closed the door behind her, then folded her hands on the desk cluttered with PaDDs, flimsies, and bric-a-brac that were the sign of a disorganized mind. Yet she knew that Rita Paris was nobody’s fool, and the chaos of her work environment was instead reflective of the chaos of her life. Perpetually moving from one crisis to the next, the woman was adaptable and flexible, and in chaos she always seemed to manage to never lose her direction. Which was ironic, given her nickname as the ‘lost navigator’.

“As you know, I’ll be accompanying the diplomatic delegation to the Reunification colony… well, for a number of reasons. Not the least of which is that I want to keep an eye on the delegates, considering who they are,” Paris began, speaking frankly. “While it was initially suggested that you accompany us, I was the one who requested that you remain onboard, and I thought you deserved to know the reason why.” Paris paused at that to see if there was a question or comment.

Sitting across from the golden-clad commander, Jaeih's posture was stiff as usual as she raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, "I would assume it has more to do with just my knowledge of the Aldeberan nebula that will be our destination."

“Of course,” Paris admitted. “While we appreciate and value that expertise, the Hera is acting as a decoy in this particular affair. I am assuming that the guide ship meant to bring us to the colony is being followed. I also think the backup plan will likely also have some skullduggery afoot, but that’s not our focus at the moment.”

“The reason I’m asking for you to remain on the Hera is twofold. One, I expect a stealthed ship to be tailing her. I expect there may be more than one stealthed ship tailing her, in fact, because why would you send one lone starship if you plan to decimate a colony and make an example of it. Despite stealth technology, the Star Empire is, historically, fond of large-scale shows of force.” Spreading her hands as she spoke, the fulsome first officer continued. “The captain will need your expertise in locating, tracking and identifying these threats so that she can formulate cohesive strategies.”

Nodding, Jaeih crossed her fingers before her. "She will have whatever she needs from me, of course. And I agree. The Imperium has... an ingrained and deep-seated... inferiority complex. For lack of a better term. When they choose to do something, it is usually to excess in such matters. I also have my own fair share of expertise with the tactics my people prefer to employ. Particularly this Rendal, who seems to have an excess of self-importance. She will want it to be known that it was she who destroyed the colony, should she get the opportunity. I will do whatever I can to aid the Captain in our mission."

“I know you will Mrs. Dox, and I feel it will be critical in this mission. Beyond that… “ Paris paused, taking a deep breath and furrowing her brow, clearly choosing her words carefully. “Unofficially…with Lieutenant Commander Dox and myself off the bridge, I would appreciate someone watching out for the captain. We have a large and loyal crew who are all quite good at what they do, capable and competent. And it is frankly a bit unfair of me to ask this of you, just as it would be insulting to the crew were they to know I asked this of you. But… just as you will be worried for Miss Dox as she is on her mission, so too I will be concerned for the Captain in our absence.”

“I will safeguard Miss Dox as I will the entire delegation, which I know you would not ask of me, because you assume it to be so. I know that you will do the same, but… I… well, I worry.” Paris sighed at that, shaking her head. “Rendal is out there, and we’ve stymied her twice now. She is going to try to get at this colony, and if she’s frustrated again, she’s only going to become that much more vindictive and eager to get her vengeance. The Captain is able and competent, I know, but… “ It was clearly difficult for Paris to frame, but she finished the statement.

“Watch her back for me while we’re gone. Please, Mrs. Dox,” the pretty pilot pleaded. “As a favor to me. I swear I will do everything in my power to protect Miss Dox on the mission, but I have a bad feeling that the greatest danger will be here on the Hera, and…” Shaking her head, Paris rolled her eyes. “I can’t be in both places at once, and… I can’t quantify it, but I… worry.”

Pausing again, Jaeih looked deep into Rita's eyes and leaned back slightly in her seat, untenting her fingers as she drew a long breath and replied. "The only reason I have not formally protested not going on this mission with her, is knowing that you will be, Commander. I know that you will do everything in your power to both protect her and support her as needed." The gray-haired Rihannsu woman leaned back in slightly. "I have known the Captain since she was young and I would not see her nor this crew come to harm if it is in my power to prevent it. I swear to you on my honor and on my daughter's, I will protect her with everything at my disposal. From Rendal. From this… escort ship I trust as far as I can throw it. From any unforeseen threats. From herself, if need be."

"I am... unsettled by this situation as well. There are too many variables in play here, Commander. Variables are the wide margins within which treachery finds purchase. I shall… remain vigilant."

“Thank you, Mrs. Dox,” Paris replied, the gratitude clearly evident in her voice. “I know you would without my asking, but… I’ll feel better knowing that you’re on alert, and on the case. I’d leave Az’Prel behind too, but I can’t rationalize that move, and if there is trouble at the colony it’s entirely likely we’ll need her help. Plus… honestly, I think being exposed to a colony working together might be a bit of a balm for her soul, but please don’t tell her I said so. As a logician she eschews emotion, but she still has them, and I know that seeing some harmony and cooperation at work between your peoples will likely do her a world of good.”

"We may hope that her… unique… skills go unneeded in this instance, but it will be an additional comfort knowing she will be with you all, I will admit." Jaeih said with the slightest hint of a grin forming.

"But I agree. It is not my place to speak of her so, but I know you care for her as well. She is to me as you are to my daughter. We are as sisters, and she struggles with the acceptance of her emotions." Jaeih's face got slightly more somber as she thought on her bond-sister. "I hope she finds… inspiration in that harmony. Something to help calm her fires."

"On that note, I hope you find harmony there. It will make your tasks easier to manage, to be sure." Jaeih added with a light smile, her tone lifting slightly.

“Well, I am bringing one of the greatest minds Vulcan has to offer, whose capacity for logic and clarity is second to none, and a Romulan ambassador whose passions have brought her quite far in her young life. Not to brag, but I myself have brokered peace between some very unlikely factions in my day, Mrs. Dox. Admittedly at the business end of a phaser at times, but one does as needs must in the moment,” the anachronism admitted with a peal of laughter. “We’ll do fine, I have confidence.”

“So… thank you for this. If you could see your way to keep this conversation between us, I would appreciate it. I have the utmost faith in the Captain and the crew… but you’re the element our opponents won’t be able to account for, and that will hopefully give Captain Telvan the edge she needs in this conflict.”

Standing back up, Jaeih adjusted her gray intel tunic, and looked around at Rita's office for a moment. The office that looked like a time capsule of a long ago age, of idealism and noble intentions. A reflection of it's occupant, to be certain. Then, the cagey operative looked back at the cheerful commander with a positively Romulan grin on her lined face, as she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Why, Commander Paris. What conversation?"

They were finally there, ready to meet with their escort and cross the neutral zone. Of course, things weren't expected to go well and the Federation sensors had already confirmed that the U.S.S. Hera had already picked up a tail. Still, the ship and her crew had technical diplomatic immunity so from the regular Imperial Navy, as long as they were within the confines set forth, it would be fine. It was the Tal Shiar factions that disagreed with the direction the Empire was going that the Intel Starship had to watch out for.

And that was most likely exactly who was following them now, judging by the tachyon disturbances.

But Captain Telvan and her crew had planned for this, which is why the U.S.S. Persephone, The Golden Ghost, the Hera, and now their escort ship, the Sistus were now sitting in a small circle staring at each other. They were quite a sight to behold. A purple pearlescent modified nebula class, a lavender hulled modified intrepid class, what appeared to be a stock T'liss class warbird but updated to completely modern standards, and an antique T'varo class warbird that was retrofit with enough modern hardware to run on a standard Federation large-format starship fusion reactor and enough amenities to get by on.

"Captain, the observer from the Persephone and our team have begun the transfer over to the Golden Ghost," reported the Ensign at operations.

"Thank you," Enalia acknowledged as she monitored the status of all the transfers. "As soon as everyone checks in, we can get underway.

On the viewscreen was a clearly Asian human woman with tattoos and open cybernetics on her face and she looked none to happy. She wore the patched uniform of a Reman officer - obviously salvaged from somewhere. "You know I'm not fond of this plan, Captain... But considering the circumstances, we're going along with it. Maenek t'Luin speaks highly of you, which is the only reason I'm trusting you now."

Enalia nodded, giving the woman her full attention. "That's completely understandable, Commander Cho'ran. If I were in your shoes, I would likely refuse this entire attempt at diplomacy. There are a lot of people on both sides that wish to see it succeed, however."

The obviously augmented woman grunted disagreeably. "I won't argue that point, but my job is the safety and security of nearly four thousand souls. Don't make me take responsibility for yours as well."

"I wouldn't dream of it. We'll do everything in our power to assist in that defense as long as we're able, and if possible, bolster those defenses for once we're gone. And perhaps we can keep them from even figuring out where you live entirely?" As Enalia spoke, the comms chirped, signaling an incoming transmission from the Golden Ghost.

On the screen appeared the commander of the T'liss class Rihannsu Bird of Prey which served in the Artan fleet known as the Golden Ghost. She was an average height Rihannsu woman with short-cropped, dark brown hair, prominent forehead ridges and the stern expression common of 'Romulans'. Though Enalia knew the woman well enough to know that was a professional facade for the wry, slightly sarcastic, but fiercely loyal woman. 

A doctor, or Maenek in her native tongue, Helev t'Liun was a Commander in title only, and it was a title she hated, preferring her medical moniker first and foremost. "Captain Telvan. Once again, you honor the Isahj’ey Aehallh... the Golden Ghost... by calling upon our services. And, as always, those services are at yours... and our Baronesses... disposal."

Nodding a slight but respectful bow, t'Liun used the Rihannsu name for the Golden Ghost, though she spoke in an accented Federation Standard and had the slightest of smiles, undetectable by anyone who had never met the woman, but clear as day to Enalia Telvan and the crew of the Hera.

"Maenek, it is good to see you again. I take it that everyone has arrived aboard safely?" Enalia asked with a soft smile of her own. On the other half of the viewscreen Commander Cho'ren's demeanor relaxed slightly now that she visibly saw that someone she was intimately familiar with was involved in the mission.

Noticing Cho'ren's change in posture from her own screen, t'Liun allowed herself the slightest of smirks as she responded to her Artan Queen and the Captain of the Hera, "Ie, Captain. Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette beamed over from the Persephone and is being taken to the conference room now. And Baroness Dox, Commander Paris, Lieutenant Commander Sonak and agent Az'Prel have just landed the Runabout Selune in the flight deck and are securely onboard."

"Excellent. Then I recommend we get underway," the spotted captain replied immediately, a smile spreading across her face. "Ladies, Good Journey. Commander Cho'ren, by your lead." With a final nod to the other two ship commanders, the viewscreen went dark.

Both Romulan ships cloaked, and while the Ghost was not sending out an IFF for the Hera to follow, the massive tachyon sensors immediately showed that it had gone to warp and vanished across the lightyear wide neutral zone. The Sistus, however, was emitting an encoded Federation IFF that the Hera could follow as it turned and entered warp, topping out at warp five point five.

Enalia couldn't help but chuckle at the antique ship. It was like something from out of a museum. "And that's going to make for a bit of a slow trip... Engage stealth plating and plot a parallel course, match speed, safe following distance. Keep an eye on our visitor as well. I want to make sure it's us that they're following..."

Parked on the Romulan designed, Artan run T’liss class Bird of Prey known as the Golden Ghost, the Runabout Selune was powering down in the landing bay. At the helm of the Hera’s stealthiest shuttle, freshly minted Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox was running through the shutdown sequence. It had felt particularly good to get to just fly a ship, even for the short jaunt from the Hera to the Ghost. It was a simple pleasure for the young woman, pulled between worlds.

On the Runabout was a small team from the Hera preparing for the upcoming mission. Dox, Commander Rita Paris, Lieutenant Commander Sonak, and the Vulcan freedom fighter from a mirror universe, Az’Prel, all were there to be taken to a hidden colony world deep in the Romulan Star Empire. A colony of reunificationists known as Mol Krun’chi. As she enjoyed those last few moments where she could pretend she was just a pilot again, Dox took a breath. She was a Starfleet officer, but she was also a Romulan. A Rihannsu citizen by birthright, and the granddaughter of a powerful woman in the Imperium.

The elder Senator Verelan t’Rul, Dox’s grandmother, had passed a motion in the Romulan Senate to begin the first steps towards the notoriously xenophobic and secretive government accepting it’s citizens that wished to reconnect with their Vulcan roots and philosophies. Towards reunification. At present, it was a simple motion to offer protection and support of those colonies and help nurture their growth, rather than stamp them out as threats to the stability of the Star Empire. It was a step that was both small and monumental at the same time. And it was a step that would involve cooperation between the Empire, the Vulcan government, and the Federation.

Lieutenant Commander Sonak had been chosen to represent the interests of Vulcan in this matter, while Commander Paris would represent Starfleet in the talks. But it had fallen to the granddaughter of the Senator to speak both for her Grandmother and the Imperium. It had fallen on the narrow shoulders of the young woman who was not a diplomat to suddenly become one, and open communications with the colony.

Standing up from the powered down and secured runabout’s Helm, Dox could feel that the Golden Ghost had jumped to warp. A natural pilot, she could feel the shift in the deck plates and the hum of the ship’s engines. They were on their way and the time for waiting and delaying was over. Letting out that long breath with a light sigh, Dox adjusted her crimson Starfleet uniform and stepped back into the hold and picked up her simple shoulderbag and addressed the others. “The ship is secured and her computers and systems are locked down on our codes and voice recognition.”

"Excellent," Commander Paris replied. "I need to go have a word with the captain and make some arrangements. In the meanwhile, settle in, people. Miss Az'Prel, once we're assigned quarters, a full security sweep of them if you please. It's not that I distrust our hosts, but I have faith in the Tal'Shiar to attempt to sabotage these talks any way they can, and we'll not be caught unawares. Mister Sonak, if you would be so kind, if any tight-beam transmissions are sent from this ship, I want to know about them and I want to know the contents, without alerting our hosts. Miss Dox, Mister Sonak, you're with me."

''Acknowledged,'' Sonak replied in his familiar monotone.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied with a more relaxed tone in her voice than she had a moment ago. Rita being on top of things gave her a bit of comfort in the moment.

Moving into the starship which was of her own era, with which she had grown familiar in a recent journey to Romulus itself, Paris considered her position and how she planned to approach the topic with Doctor t'Liun. This was a delicate matter, but one that would need to be broached- for while Paris was still keeping some of her own cards up the sleeve of her anachronistic minidress uniform, she also needed the cooperation of the vessel's commander.

"So I gather that this vessel is essentially under your command, Miss Dox?" Paris ventured as they walked.

Blushing ever so slightly, the legal status of the Ghost was a detail she was slightly uncomfortable with, but her voice remained steady as she replied, matching step with Rita's pace, as she had long ago learned to do without a second thought. "Apparently, yes. I received a personal message from Maenek t'Liun saying that she and the crew put it to a vote, and decided that the Ghost should be under my Barony in the Artan fleet."

"Good. That will come in handy if we encounter resistance. The good doctor has been kind enough to cooperate, and I feel that will likely continue," Paris spoke quietly as they strode the corridors of the old vessel. Years of partnering with Vulcanoids had left her accustomed to speaking in quiet, conspiratorial tones for privacy, as she expected sharp hearing from those pointed ears. "But I feel better knowing we have a recourse if you need to pull rank. Given whom we are opposing and the nature of their tactics, I expect there will be one or more individuals on this vessel who will have been bribed, coerced or brainwashed into betraying our position once we arrive, so we're going to operate from that supposition. Hopefully, Doctor t'Liun will see this as a sensible precaution rather than an affront to her honor and that of her crew. Thoughts?

"I agree. From my own experiences, the Tal'Shiar certainly like to work as many angles as possible. As you've said before... circles within circles." Dox replied thoughtfully as she continued. "As for Maenek t'Liun, I don't know her that well, but within those bounds, I believe her when she pledged her support to us and me. I think she wants reunification to happen, and she's... reasonable. I'll make cooperation an order if I have to, but I don't think we will have to."

'We'll soon see..." Paris muttered as they approached the bridge. The aged Romulan T'liss class was far fewer decks that a Federation vessel, so fewer turbolift rides. But it paid to move with Paris' martial pace, as it ate ground and got one where one needed to go in short order.

Entering the bridge from the port-side entrance as the typically paranoid Romulan design eschewed doors behind the Captain's chair, there wasn't the guard presence one would find in a real Romulan ship of the line, but there was one security guard at the doors that immediately recognized Dox and Paris and nodded to approve their entry.

The bridge itself was fairly small. An octagon-shaped chamber with an empty captain's chair at the center, rear and a number of standing stations near the walls, but not build into the bulkheads. The general aesthetic was lots of light gray metal, touches of classic coppery orange accents that contrasted from the modern workstations that had been installed, mostly all shades of dark green.

While the Golden Ghost was a ship from the same era as Rita Paris, her technology was completely up to date. At the security station, the ship's commander, Doctor Helev t'Liun, was going over a report from the officer on duty as she turned to notice the officers at the door.

The Ghost's Doctor and reluctant commander looked up and raised her eyebrows as the thinnest of light smiles as she acknowledged the ship's new occupants and walked over. "Commander, Baroness. Welcome aboard. I regret that I was unable to greet you on the landing deck, but there was ship's business to attend to."

Before she could get any further, Dox interjected politely but firmly in a calm tone. "Thank you, Maenek. However, as I'm here as a Starfleet Officer, I would ask that you address me by rank while I'm aboard, Thank you."

"Ahh, yes. My apologies Lieutenant Commander. I do know a thing or two about being addressed incorrectly, as half the crew can't quite stop calling me 'Riov' here." t'Liun added with a slight nod. "That said, I and this crew are at your disposal. How can I be of service?"

Sonak then spoke, his steely grey eyes unblinking.

''It is customary, regardless of actual rank, to refer to the master of a ship as Captain. This avoids confusion as to who aboard is actually in command.''

The Vulcan knew with how important this was with a culture thriving in intrigue and priding itself for discipline and it's sense of duty and honor. Thus, he made it perfectly clear who was.

"Well, I still don't have to like it." t'Liun said with a wry smirk. 

"If we may, I'd like a word in private, Doctor?" Paris asked with a professional smile and a slight tilt of the head. She knew the woman from their previous adventure together and had established a good working relationship. But this might strain that relationship, as Paris understood implicitly. So she was proceeding cautiously, and diplomatically.

"I suspected you might, Commander. The conference room is prepared for our... official meeting. But for now, let us adjourn to the executive office." T'Liun raised an eyebrow slightly and gestured to a door next to the door they had entered through. As she did, she turned to the officer at the security station. "Erei'Riov, you have the bridge. Mind the ship."

Stepping through the door, the room was a small, windowless office with a thin shelf coming off the bulkhead that could be scarcely called a desk, with a modern computer terminal fixed to it. There was one chair behind the shelf and a long bench for seating across from the desk. Turning to stand by the desk, the door closed behind the group as they came in and t'Liun pressed a button on her computer and there was a light hum heard.

"Sensor jammer to ensure privacy activated, Commander Paris," T'Liun said, her demeanor taking on a slightly more professional tone. "Your word?"

"I would not presume to know your crew, your policies nor would I wish to impugn your honor, nor that of your crew nor any member," Paris began, hands open, palms upturned. "However, the Tal'Shiar are devious, and will literally stop at nothing to sabotage this mission- either by preventing it from coming to pass, or destroying the colony after we depart. Thus why the Hera is leading their tail on a decoy mission, and why we have enlisted your aid."

"However, paranoia pays off when dealing with such organizations, and I wanted to be clear with you that my people will be independently monitoring for transmissions, in an attempt to ensure that the position of the colony is not betrayed in any way. As this would appear to be a lack of trust in your crew and by default you, I wanted to be clear about this from the outset. Coercion, brainwashing, and blackmail can make the most virtuous among us act against our natures, and while I sincerely hope that I am wrong, and that our mission will go smoothly, there are four thousand colonists and the potential for a better future on the line here." Having made her point, the Commander added, "If this offends you, I do apologize, but I would hope you would recognize the necessity."

For a moment, t'Liun simply looked at Rita with a seemingly neutral expression and there was a lingering silence before she replied. "So, your... presumption is that either myself or someone on my crew may have been compromised by the Tal'Shiar to betray the mission?"

"I am not offended, Commander Paris. It is a possibility I do not like to consider, but what I like cannot be a deciding factor in such things. Though we've had no new crew transfers in 4 months, we restocked at the Artan fortress shortly after you last disembarked leaving us a narrow window of potential vulnerability. As a result, I have already run several security sweeps and we are monitoring for any potential signals." T'Liun replied with a thoughtful expression. 

"The ship is currently transmission blocked with internal shielding, and we are monitoring regularly for any attempts. All outgoing communications can only be made with my own command codes or under order of Bar... Lieutenant Commander Dox. As such, It would be impossible to..." she continued with a concerned tone before Dox cut her off mid-sentence.

"With all due respect, Maenek. My mother got a coded transmission off of a D'deridex class Warbird completely undetected that made it possible for you all to rescue me in the first place." The young, recently promoted officer said with a critical tone and a stern expression. "We cannot leave any potential avenue unexplored. Any potential spies may already have found workarounds you can't foresee. Our presence changes that. This is a necessary precaution."

Pursing her lips slightly, t'Liun nodded as she replied. "Of course, you are both correct. And you show me respect by bringing this to me."

Thinking for a time, Sonak now addressed the Romulan Doctor as much as his crewmates.

'Any emission from the ship might be used as a message carrier or to mask one; from navigation lights to the engine output. I would recommend to monitor any and all external emissions of any nature from the ship for whatever could be resembling a repetitive or irregular pattern. The first could be a beacon, the other a coded transmission. I would assume masking our warp and impulse signatures are already implemented. Again, I would suggest also to distort them. If they are used for covert communication, that distortion will also affect any embedded transmission.''

Listening, t'Liun's face betrayed a bit of surprise at Sonak's observations, making it clear without saying so that she hadn't considered any of those possibilities. But after an instant of letting her emotions show, she resumed her neutral expression and verbalized her thoughts. "I will... implement monitoring for these potential venues of transmission immediately, Lieutenant Commander. Thank you."

Turning and angling his head slightly, the Kolinahr faced Dox.

''There is also one other possibility; telepathy. Granted, telepaths capable of contact over interstellar or even merely planetary distances are rare; but they are not unheard of. With your permission, I could attempt a periodic telepathic sweep of the crew to determine if this is occurring.''

Now it was Dox's turn for her face to betray some surprise as she realized that when Sonak had spoke earlier of calling a ship's master 'Captain' regardless of actual rank, he might have been referring to her as he was now asking for her permission to implement another security measure on the Golden Ghost. The young Rihannsu Starfleet officer knew that Rita must have caught her surprise as Rita could always see through Dox's best poker faces and the red-headed Rihannsu hadn't even tried here. But after a moment, she composed herself and thought on the content of Sonak's comment and request, uneasily.

Thinking on it for just a moment, she knitted her brows. "I assume you can do this without, in any way, infringing on their minds or you wouldn't have suggested it. As long as that's the case, I have no objections. I doubt that they would have a telepath of that level of power at their disposal or Rendal would have used that against me, I would think. Her obsession with getting secrets out of my head was her primary reason for kidnapping me, to begin with. Still, no proverbial stone unturned." 

"A logical assumption, Captain," he agreed, moreover compounding his previous comment."Nevertheless, this does not remove the possibility that they may have since acquired that kind of resource, be it only to monitor our position."

Dox blushed at the title, but she knew she had the authority to make that order as the Golden Ghost had been placed under her command as an Artan Baroness. She also wanted to not alienate Maenek t'Liun in doing so, and made sure to ask with polite deference. "Maenek... do you have any objections?"

Looking over at the slightly older Rihannsu doctor and reluctant commander, Dox expected to see resistance or even envy at Sonak calling her 'Captain' and at her flexing that authority. But instead, the young Starfleet officer saw the slightest of smiles that she couldn't quite peg just yet. "If you feel this is a prudent precaution that will not be an infringement upon your crew's rights, then I fully approve."

"There will be no disturbance nor intrusion," Sonak assured them both. "My telepathic abilities are far from returned to their former level, but I can still feel telepathic emissions when in proximity of either emitter or receptor of such transmission. much like you can hear a conversation nearby. I will only need to make rounds on the ship. if there is a telepathic link active near my position, roughly the same distance as earshot, I will sense it and locate it. Of course, it is crude and limited, but in our present endeavor, little is still better than nothing."

"Excellent." T'Liun nodded, allowing herself to smile openly. "Then we have plans in place to ensure the success of our mission and the safety of the colony. I welcome any further measures or would like to hear any further concerns you may have, Commander Paris."

"My concerns I have voiced, and we have shared with you, Doctor. As for measures, the less spoken of them, the better. I simply wanted to be honest and straightforward with you to make you aware... now that we've accomplished those and we are all in accord, we proceed from here," Paris explained, deliberately holding back her contingencies. "When it comes to matters such as this, it has been my experience that the less said, the better. I wanted to offer you the courtesy of being frank with you, and making you aware of my position. That has been accomplished, so now we begin our journey to Babel, such as it is, and we do our best to approach an accord between alienated peoples. Standard Starfleet stuff... even if this is somewhat momentous given the peoples in question."

"Indeed, it is. This could be quite the step forward for my people. And one we all here have long worked for, Commander. As such, I hope you will forgive any... enthusiasm that leaks out on my part in these proceedings." Standing, Maenek t'Liun nodded and tugged on the hem of her tunic as she replied to Paris. "I have arranged for yourself and Commander Sonak to have the same, shared accommodations as on your last stay with us. I can show you to your quarters, and we can meet with this... Lieutenant Oulette from the Persephone that beamed over as a so-called independent observer, who should be waiting in the conference room."

"Who?" Paris asked with an upraised eyebrow.

Pulling out the PaDD that she seemed to have almost perpetually in her back pocket, Dox called up the file for the mission that she had submitted before the rendezvous. “Miss Az’Prel informed me a bit about her. Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette. A Vulcanoid Rigellian Intel Officer with the U.S.S. Persephone. Specialties in Klingon and Cardassian codebreaking and linguistics.”

Handing the PaDD to Rita, the young pilot continued. “Az’Prel mentioned to me that she found the assignment as… illogical. Her gut was telling her that something was amiss, and Az’Prel rarely references her ‘gut’ as a cause for concern. As I understand it, Admiral Forsyth wanted a set of eyes and ears independent of the Hera’s command structure to observe the proceedings, though nothing in her service record seems to make her an ideal candidate. At least as an observer.”

''On the contrary,'' Sonak objected. ''To have a truly impartial view, an observer with no direct contact and interest with the situation is most desired. As an intel officer familiar with the intricacies of language and encoding techniques, her expertise would allow her to discern hidden patterns in communications; undoubtedly useful when delicate diplomatic contacts are concerned. Moreover, being a Vulcanoid hybrid, she embodies what the Rihansuu must know and expect of what the Federation is truly about.''

Nodding, Dox looked at Sonak, who's logic was, as always, unimpeachable. “True. And it's not as if I have anything in my own service record that makes me an ideal diplomat. That said, Admiral Forsyth, during my debriefings on Earth, let me know that she had a full investigation performed on the Persephone and her crew after Rendal told me they had a spy on her and that the ship was cleared.”

Continuing, Dox knitted her eyebrows slightly. “However, with Az’Prel expressing and almost emotional level of concern and considering the potentially volatile nature of what we’re doing, I asked her to confer with my mother and get whatever information was above the board on Lieutenant Oulette. Unremarkable career. She’s been on the Persephone for nine months. No incidents of note, up or down. Almost too uneventful. But nothing to point to as problematic, which in and of itself has me admittedly nervous.”

Sonak nodded as if he had expected this reaction.

''Given the current situation and the people involved, emotions will be flaring, and doubt present on all sides. We cannot ignore them, but we must not let them dictate our decisions and actions. That being said, she is an unknown variable in this equation. She needs to be monitored.''

"In that we agree, Mister Sonak. I was attempting to make this mission a secret one, and the addition of an unknown officer from another ship entirely is not only suspicious, but immediately violates the secrecy of this mission. With that said, it places us on that much higher a state of alert to be aware and looking for betrayal and subterfuge." Paris heaved a sigh at that, shaking her head. "Diplomacy is always fraught with perils, but this mission seems particularly and specifically perilous given the forces arrayed against us. Treaties and alliances and diplomacy are built on establishing mutual trust, and it seems in that regard we are already carrying a debit on our end, before we even encounter one of the negotiating parties."

Listening, Dox couldn't help but feel out of her depth as she thought of the situation and the nearly four thousand lives that could be in danger if they failed or if they led a spy to the Mol Krun'chi colony. The pressure was staggering, but it was a responsibility she had chosen to accept and couldn't back out of even if she had wanted to. And in truth, she didn't. She wanted to see this through in spite of the pressure being put on her inexperienced shoulders. 

Thinking of all that, she paused for a moment after Rita's last comment and took a breath, working her confidence back up. "I suppose our next step now would be to have that meeting and get an idea of who this person is, beyond supposition and concerns. Diplomacy, it seems, will be starting up here." 

“Well said, Miss Dox. Doctor, could you make arrangements for a room, or would you prefer we use this one? Mister Sonak, I assume you are available as an observer as we take the lead on this one?” Paris understood the command structure at work here, but she was the mission commander, so the success or failure of the mission was in her hands. Thus despite it being Dox’s starship command, Paris was still issuing orders in her usual polite 'request' style.

''Acknowledged, '' the Vulcan answered. ''If I may suggest; if at any point you deem it relevant or useful, do not hesitate to remind this... observer that I am better versed and efficient in mind-meld techniques than any other Vulcan currently alive.''

He paused before adding:

''This is not a boast of course; only a statement of fact, if such fact appears relevant to our mission.''

"Of course, Mister Sonak- Vulcans have no ego, thus do not boast," Paris agreed with a close-lipped yet bemused smile. In Sonak's case, after all, it was completely true, and she knew for a fact the man never boasted- he only stated fact and observation.

For her part, Dox was more than happy to defer to Rita's 'request style' and turned to Maenek t'Liun to allow her to answer the golden clad Commander's question. With a raised eyebrow, the Rihannsu doctor nodded. "Until you have vetted her to your satisfaction, I'd prefer that she not be this close to the bridge. That said, we have a conference room prepared on deck two. Upon her arrival, I had her escorted there where she should be waiting, Commander Paris. All should be prepared."

Then the Doctor turned back to the crimson-clad Lieutenant Commander Dox and nodded with the slightest hint of that grin she seemed to like to let slip out from time to time, "With your approval, of course, Captain."

Blushing slightly at the light emphasis on the rank Sonak had insisted on using for her in this unique scenario, Dox pursed her lips uncomfortably and nodded with a half-lidded expression. Dox couldn't tell if t'Liun's smirk was approval or sarcasm or both, but she replied regardless. "I do, Maenek. Thank you. If you will lead the way, please."

With just a bit more of a less guarded smile, Maenek t'Liun gestured to the door and nodded. "Excellent. If you will follow me, then. We can manage one more bit of diplomacy before our mission truly begins."

"Let us take a moment to strategize first... I suspect if we do this right, we may be able to turn this situation to our advantage..." Paris proposed.

While the U.S.S. Hera was warping its way through Romulan space towards the Aldeberan Nebula with hours to go, much of the crew were on proverbial pins and needles waiting. The bridge crew was on a tight rotation to keep everyone fresh so that the ship could react in an instant if a threat arose, and for the first time, that included the ship’s civilian Intelligence Operative, Jaeih Dox.

The elder Rihannsu woman had been assigned bridge duty for the expected conflict, but that was predicted to be approximately eight hours away when they reached the nebula. So for now, the anxious woman could only wait. Wait, and babysit.

In her overly spacious cabin on Deck 8, Jaieh was pacing back and forth rocking the tiny baby Moira in her arms. The child of the Hera’s Captain, Enalia Telvan and her wife Maica, Moira was also freshly named as Jaeih’s Goddaughter and it was a responsibility the former spy took very seriously. But it was also atrocious timing.

The was research to be done and intel sweeps to perform. Or, in the case of the hyper through Intel asset, be re-done and re-performed. In truth, she had the time to help the Captain at the moment, but she was concerned. The Hera was purposefully acting as bait to lead the Tal’Shiar Commander Dalia Rendal away from the ship with Commander Paris, Mister Sonak, Jaeih’s bond-sister Az’Prel and her daughter Mnhei’sahe. The ship on its way to a hidden colony of reunificationists where her daughter had been tasked with aiding to bring their two races together again. As such, Jaeih was a wreck and the baby knew it, fussing in her arms and being finicky with her bottle.

“Oh really? Now you’re not hungry? Well, then you don’t need this, do you?” Gently, Jaeih took the bottle away with a sarcastically stern expression, and as she did she rolled her eyes and sighed… at herself.

“Really, Jaeih? You’re playing power games with an infant?” And as she spoke, Moira’s dark eyes went wide, her lips began to quiver and she reached for the bottle and began to cry.

“Oh, for Al’thindor’s sake. You’re fighting with a baby and you’re losing! Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” She gave the bottle back to the spotted, green baby who immediately began sucking again and stopped crying. “There you go, my little a'rhea. Your Theirr’anov is sorry. Yes, she is.”

Referring to Moira as her ‘dear heart’ and herself as the child’s ‘Godmother’ in her own native Rihan, she smirked lightly and muttered. “That’s right, no godchild of mine isn’t going to know a good, proper few languages.”

Continuing to pace in her drab, unappointed quarters, Jaeih looked around and scowled. And realizing that she wasn’t alone in her concerns, she decided to be a nosey Mother-In-Law. If she was this nervous, Mnhei’sahe’s pregnant wife, Ensign Mona Gonadie had to be an absolute wreck. So, grabbing Moira’s diaper bag, she left her quarters and made her way down the corridor to Mnhei’sahe and Mona’s shared chamber. Pressing the entry button that she had the entry code to, the door wooshed open and Jaeih leaned in. “Mona, dear. It’s Jaeih. Are you in here?”

While Mona was normally unflappably optimistic, the new influx of emotions and hormones in her system, coupled with once more being separated from her bond-mate so soon after the kidnapping and the Starfleet interrogations, she was 'on-edge' to say the least. Hence she was sitting in one of the nested chairs the couple had recently gotten so she could be more comfortable during the pregnancy, rocking back and forth, humming agitatedly when Jaeih opened the door.

"I am. I'm... Yeah, I'm here." As Mona spoke, her feathers all raised up on end and she had to ruffle herself to get them to settle back down. "Yeah, sorry, is there something I can help with?"

Taking in all the visual cues combined with the aural cues such as Mona's slight stammer and the tone of her voice, the Intel operative in Jaeih immediately informed the mother-in-law in her of the situation. "Frankly, yes. I'm having a bit of a hard time getting Moira here to settle down and though you might be able to help. You're quite soothing to Miss O'Dell and Miss Gavarus's precious little Minnie and I was hoping that nigh-magical effect might be helpful here."

It was a partial lie, as Jaeih had Moira well under control and she was there specifically to check on her fragile daughter-in-law, but she thought that distraction might help Mona. AND she wanted to see exactly how out of sorts Mona was by testing the living lie detector's focus in the moment.

Completely missing the partial lie, Mona ruffled her feathers again and smoothed them out before nodding consent. "I think I can do that. Maybe mine will settle down for a few as well."

The master spy kept the concern off her face with all the skill her job often required as she brought the tiny green bundle over to the very pregnant Miradonian and gently handed Moira off. Since Mona hadn't caught the lie, Jaeih let it ride hoping that focusing on Moira would relax Mona enough to help.

As she did, the tiny tot almost immediately smiled. Under normal circumstances, Mona seemed to almost give off a calming energy that Jaeih chalked up to the Miradonian's unique nature. But now pregnant with three babies that seemed to have not only Mona's natural empathy, but their Rihannsu other mother's natural mental talent, and that effect was almost now measurable. There was an audible thrumming that Jaeih could be sure, but she suspected came as much from those three grandchildren in Mona's belly as Mona herself.

Without asking, or being asked, Jaeih went into the kitchen and began preparing a pot of Mona's favorite tea. A calming Miradonian blend that Jaeih herself didn't care for but Jaeih wasn't the concern here. As she did, the woman who found herself with a previously undiscovered maternal streak talked calmly. "She will be fine. She had Commander Paris, my Az'Prel and Commander Sonak to support her. She will succeed and she will return unscathed. Of that, I have no doubt."

Returning with a cup of tea for Mona that she placed on the table in front of the brilliantly plumed woman, Jaeih sat in the normal chair to her side and placed her hand on Mona's upper arm. "And she has you. That energy from your bond that she says is ever-present in her. That gives her an impossible strength. And you have that from her as well, correct?"

The brightly plumed aviatrix nodded, finally calming down as she fed Moira and enjoyed at least the aroma of the tea near her. "Yeah, our minds are as one because of that. I know she's safe. Stressed, but safe." Then she realized something about what her mother-in-law had said and she slowly looked over at the Rihannsu woman curiously. "Wait... My Az'Prel? That's odd wording for a bond sister. Are you two..."

Suddenly, Jaeih blushed a bright green as she just now realized her verbal slip. One she had not intended to make, unlike her other comments so far. "Uh... well. Lying now will avail me naught, I suppose."

The elder Rihannsu woman sat forward, fidgeting slightly with body language she shared with her daughter that Mona instantly recognized. "I... do not know. My feelings are... confusing. And they are kept to myself as of now, and I suppose now, with you. But... when we were on ch'Rihan and I saw Enalia in disguise, there to rescue Mnhei'sahe, I was elated. My faith in our Captain bolstered, as you would well imagine."

Looking over, Mona was meeting her gaze with those piercingly deep amber eyes that could see through any subterfuge if they were focused on it as such and Jaeih sighed, scrunching her lips up awkwardly. Mona couldn't help but smile at the many ways in which mother and daughter shared the same mannerisms. 

Continuing, Jaeih looked back ad Mona deeply, "But when my Scorpion crashed on that landing pad, and Az'Prel used a centurion's head as a stepping stone to rush to my side and help me out of the cockpit, I felt something... different. Something I hadn't felt since... since Mnhei'sahe's late father. My heart swelled in my side."

Then Jaeih's eyes narrowed and she mock-scowled, "She does not know this."

"Oh, of course not," Mona replied, shaking her head lightly. "She's Vulcan and dealing with her own emotions and logic. I'm sure she's missed the signs and has no feelings for you other than that of a sister." Mona paused a moment before asking a loaded question. "So which one of you asked to be sisters first?"

"I've no idea her feelings, and I can well control my own. It's... I suppose I am more relaxed around you and I let the guard slip a bit." Jaeih allowed the hint of a smile to grace her usually stern mask. As she did, she leaned over and gently took the resting Moira, who had fallen fast asleep in Mona's arms.

"Here. Have some tea, my dear." Jaeih said quietly. "I suppose I said so first during that horrible business with Cleopatra Mudd. It was reciprocated rather immediately and with, what I felt, was emotion behind it. If all we ever are are sisters, that will be enough. I would put myself upon a blade for that woman, Mona. As much as I would for Mnhei'sahe or you."

As Mona sipped at her tea, she thrummed a bit louder, enjoying the distinct oils of the bark and leaves. "I've seen how she looks at you. You make her question her logic. How about... You ask her to join you on the holodeck? For say... A hot springs visit?"

"Well, that's a bit... forward. In truth, I... I don't know how comfortable I am with my own feelings right now." Jaeih fidgeted as she got up to replicate herself a coffee. "Besides, between Enalia placing such trust in me with little Moira and your three little ones on the way, to say nothing with my duties here on the ship, I'm sure I have enough on my proverbial plate than trying to deal with such foolishness."

Taking a sip of the fresh, hot brew, Jaeih paced slightly as she was wont to do when nervous and she was clearly nervous about this topic and was transparently trying to dismiss it, rather badly. "And besides... Mnhei'sahe didn't ask me to keep an on you to talk about my nonsense. Not that she needed to, mind you. But nevertheless, how are you holding up, my dear?"

"Poorly. I need a distraction and your love life is perfect for it," Mona replied with a sour look. "I'm relieved of duty until the chicks arrive and that leaves me with more time than I know what to do with. On top of that, I'm starting to molt. One thing Miradonians haven't evolved out of is molting for the nest, so there's that to worry about... Feathers are going to be all over the ship..."

"I suppose that explains the... floof." Jaeih said, bringing her hands up to her head and wiggling her fingers slightly. "And you have... five months to go, still? Well, you can still work on your designs and inventions, I imagine. And your quarters! This chamber is fine for you and Mnhei'sahe, but it will become far too crowded rather quickly. Will you have to be planning for that, soon?"

The questions were asked quickly and with a bit more emphasis than normal, as the elder Rihannsu woman was clearly trying to change the subject off of her confused feelings for the Vulcan woman she had clearly become quite attached to.

"Yeah, five months, or so the doctor says," Mona replied, batting her belly softly. "And they should be able to fly within a month after that. And talking a few months after that."

"I suppose we shall see about that. Rihannsu bones are denser than not. Still..." Jaeih allowed a smile to creep across her face as she looked down at little Moira, sleeping in her arms, "Judging from their parents, they will, no doubt, be positively wonderful regardless. And... you can feel them, as you do Mnhei'sahe?"

Mona nodded solemnly as she rocked back in her nested chair slightly. "Constantly. It's like a tiny chorus in my head at all times. When they come out, Miradonian chicks understand a vast array of emotional issues too, so don't be surprised if they're trying to counsel you on the meaning of their favorite food and why it's so delicious or something like that. And the whole lie detection thing? You're safe until puberty. Speaking of which... I need to get some holonovels for them..."

The usually stoic intel operative let out a light chuckle, which caused the baby in her arms to stir slightly. Stifling it quickly, Jaeih shook her head lightly with a smile and a raised eyebrow. "Holonovels? Do you think they'll have your visual acuity? Won't they see right through holograms as you can?"

"Half Rihannsu," the brightly plumed avian replied, waggling one finger. "Their genes read that they'll have my Minay's eyes so they won't have my visual acuity until puberty at the earliest. Hence, no proper lie detection and no hologram detection right off. And you're right about their bones, but so far they're growing hollow, thankfully. Otherwise, I'd be an extra thirty kilos."

"Thank goodness for hollow favors, then." Jaeih chuckled. "Mnhei'sahe was like carting around a piece of bulkhead for thirteen months."

"Still, that's somewhat fascinating, actually. By and large, my people and our Vulcan brethren are notorious for... aggressively dominant genes whenever we crossbreed." Jaeih said with a quizzical expression. "Then again, these three darlings may be the very first of their kind in all the universe, to my knowledge."

Then, the elder Rihannsu woman got up and gently placed the sleeping Moira in the second nest-chair next to Mona that acted as a near perfect cradle. And as she did, she looked down and kneeled before her daughter-in-law. Looking over at those deep amber eyes of Mona's, Jaeih held a hand out and raised her eyebrows slightly for permission. With a smile and a nod, Mona happily agreed.

Placing her hand on the pregnant Miradonian's belly, Jaeih was thoughtful and smiled. Warm smiles were something that still seemed almost odd on the usually inscrutable woman's trained face, but came easier more and more. "There's an irony there, I suppose. That my people once worshiped the great firebird Al'thindor. We adorned its image on our ships. We were 'those who flew under the Raptor's wings.' Half our language evokes a connection to the avian. Now, through you two, it is as if fate stepped in to make that ancient connection real."

"And Miradonian religion is full of similar symbology, from the Moon Goddess Minay, which we saw the blessings of at our bonding ceremony, all the way to the mythos of how the stars came to be in the sky - Altha'donar, the peacock who flew too close to the sun because of the Trickster, Nicoo'la and whose ashes were scattered across the night sky by the wise old bird Goo'lga."

"Then again, avians are the dominant form of life on my world. If something ridiculous were dominant, like sea monkeys... Who knows what kind of mythos we'd have. We'd probably worship the sun instead of the moon or something." Mona chuckled softly as she tenderly moved Jaeih's hands around so the chicks could each get a chance to thrum at her directly and get in some bonding time.

Listening, Jaeih logged all the names and stories away in her mind like a good intel operative, pausing to appreciate the metaphorical allegories and the bizarre similarities that seemed to link her people and those of Mona's. But in the moment, she instead concentrated on that unique and soothing hum that came from Mona's belly. From her grandchildren.

Three distinct hums she could feel through the bones another hand that put a tingle down the elder woman's spine. She lacked her daughter's psionic sensitivity, but could feel the thrumming all the same and she felt emotion well up in her at the idea. "Are they... aware that I'm... of me?"

"Mmhm..." Mona smiled wide as she moved Jaeih's hands a bit more. "And they already know you as Gran'mama and know you'll spoil them rotten. They're also looking forward to playing with Minnie and Moira already."

At that, the usually cynical woman was taken aback as her eyes went wide for a moment. "Really? They're that aware already. Amazing."

Then the elder Rihannsu let her expression settle into a wry grin as she leaned in close to Mona's belly and mock-whispered, "Very well then, a’rheasu..." using the Rihan term of endearment for 'dear heart's', "I will also accept 'Hu'nanov' or 'Nonala'. And I shall shower you with Osal twists whatever your mothers say you cannot have." she added, referring to the words for 'grandmother' in Rihan and Miradonian, respectively.

The thrumming from the gravid avian's belly audibly increased at the promise of sweets and Mona couldn't help but chuckle. "See? They know you already."

Stifling a louder laugh for the benefit of the sleeping Moira, Jaeih straightened back up into a stand and looked down at what she would have thought impossible just a year ago. A daughter-in-law, pregnant with three children, all that she would happily die for. But more, that she wanted more than ever to live for and do right by. The smile on her face was warm and sincere as she took a breath.

"It's getting late, arham’paenhe." Jaeih said, calling Mona the Rihan term for 'my daughter' as she held out her hands, "I swore that I would look after you until your wife returns, and I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't get you AND that little one there off to bed."

"Well, I won't argue with you on that," Mona replied as she took Jaeih's hands and let her help her out of her chair. "Thank you. Just be sure to take care of yourself as well, ok?"

In spite of her added weight with the little ones, Jaeih pulled Mona up with little fuss and a warm smile. "I will, my dear. I have a great many reasons to be my best for, after all."

-=USS Hera Bridge=-

Enalia had been checking her own tactical readouts almost religiously since crossing the neutral zone, and while they had not been challenged by a single Rihannsu vessel, the tight beam tachyon spread of the cloaked ship following them was still showing up every so often, indicating they were still being followed. The seemingly random course corrections by their guide was also a bit confusing, but Enalia had faith that Ensign O'Dell and her relief officer could keep up with them.

They were almost twelve hours into Romulan space, after all. They would be at the nebula in less than another twenty minutes and they could get this little game of cat and mouse over with.

-=RRW Iurret Bridge=-

As the Iurret followed the Hera deeper into Romulan space, Rendal's mood grew ever darker. If the secretive Starfleet ship was following a guide vessel, they couldn't see it, but from the various course corrections of the larger vessel, they could only assume that the large ship was indeed doing so, and doing their best to throw off imagined or expected pursuit. On top of that, the random changes left quite the large range of systems possible for where the colony actually was actually located.

One thing that worried the royal Riov, however, was that they were drawing close to the Aldeberan nebula - their cloak would no longer be effective if they were forced to follow the Federation vessel inside. Fortunately, the Tal'Shiar had a trick up its sleeve hiding inside that self-same nebula.

-=Sistus Bridge=-

Commander Cho'ren glanced down at an old worn picture for a moment, glancing at each of the five faces in it long and hard before tucking it back into her jacket pocket. She'd been ripped from that life long ago so now she was doing the best she could to live with what the universe had thrown at her. Now it called upon her to apparently team up with some pirate queen that worked for Starfleet that she knew little about, with a massive and powerful ship to defend the colony she strove to protect. The new family she had found after all these years. Well, she'd be damned if either this pirate woman or these Tal'Shiar binks were going to take anything from her without a fight.

Standing from the center chair on the bridge of the cobbled-together T'Varo warbird, Vara threw out one hand dramatically to inspire her small crew. "It's time! We head into the nebula at this point! Come about, mark zero eight seven mark zero zero four! Engage!" As the calls went out and the small ship performed one more course correction, the brooding woman sat back down and eyed the tactical readouts, wondering if they would survive the battle they were about to enter.

-=USS Hera Bridge=-

"Captain, the Sistus has made a severe course correction straight into the nebula!" called out the officer at ops.

"Red alert! All hands to battle stations! Helm, stay on them!" Enalia punched in several more orders other than the ones she called out, readying the ship for battle as they'd be entering the nebula a bit sooner than they expected.

Sitting calmly at the Intel station of the bridge, situated just to the left the Captain's chair, the Hera's independent Intelligence Operative, Jaeih Dox, leaned over, "Captain, I recommend reducing speed. The Sistus's engines create a MUCH smaller warp field, but the Hera's can cause undue turbulence in the nebula."

The older Rihannsu woman was both an expert on Romulan Cloaking Devices, and as a former smuggler who worked in this very region of space, she had used the Aldebaran Nebula as both a hiding space and a way to evade Romulan patrols many times. "And, if I may..."

She gestured with her head towards the helm where the pint-sized Mariposian pilot, Ensign Fiona O'Dell sat at the ready. Jaeih had come to genuinely like the often hotheaded and outspoken young woman, and the Captain knew as much and nodded her approval.

"Miss O'Dell... be prepared for what will feel like crosswinds. The Nebula gasses will have a shearing effect that will act very much like you're flying in an atmosphere." Jaeih gave her advice with a bit of a calming, almost motherly tone, which was almost unsettling for the notoriously stern woman.

“Wahhhhl, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day, mum. I did me flyin growin’ oop in an atmo aircraft, so this’ll be a day at the park fuir me. T’won’t be s’good for our friends I expect, aye?” The diminutive daredevil slowed the great vessel as requested, indicating to their pursuer that they were afraid of too much speed in the buffeting waves of the nebula. “Nooow, she’s g’win ta shake an’ shudder a bit, but dinna ye be worried, Cap’n. Tis joost me playin’ along and makin’ ‘em think we’re a great landed space whale, founderin’ like a gormagander after a heavy meal, y’ken?”

"Sounds just like the battle over the rings of Santor seven," Enalia added with that famous grin of hers. "Prepare the tachyon buoys so we can start casting our nets. I feel like we might catch a big one tonight."

It only took ops a moment to ready the buoys and report back. "Tachyon detection grid ready to be deployed, captain."

Rather than giving the order herself, the Trill woman turned to Jaeih and nodded, indicating that the order was hers to give as she was the specialist.

Nodding lightly back, Jaeih's fingers flew over her console as she sent files directly to the young officer at Opps. As she did, she spoke in a firm but confident tone even though she had to admit… at least to herself… unexpected nerves at giving orders on the bridge of a Starship. "Adjusting our spread pattern for this egress point. There's point three two percent higher particle density here, but this will account for that and give us maximum area coverage with no loss of signal strength."

"There. Deployment pattern delta five on my mark…" Jaeih said, drawing out her breath for a moment before continuing. "Mark!"

A few moments before the Sistus entered the nebula and was forcibly decloaked, the Hera launched a series of buoys, the tachyon detection grid activating within seconds. What it revealed was a surprise to everyone on the bridge as not only was it able to identify the Leosa class warbird following them close enough to visibly see them - a mere one thousand kilometers off their starboard side...

But they had flown into a rather large cloaked minefield as well.

It was mere luck that they were spread out far enough that the Hera hadn't hit one of them already. In fact, their reduction in speed had definitely saved them as interference from the nebula scattered readings inside of it, but the minefield readings continued on deeper inside. Operations finally had a report, and it was hopeful, if a bit grim in what it might mean. "Captain, now that we know they're there, scans show that these mines are of a type that have been in use for over a hundred years by the Empire. Very basic cloak, medium payload, very aggressive targeting systems. I recommend we avoid them if possible."

Looking at the displays on her own console and calling up the details of the scans, Jaieh frowned noticeably at the intel station. "This nebula was NOT mined the last time I was here."

"Someone please tell me that our guide is not on Rendal's side and that this is just coincidence..." Enalia muttered as her heart sank at the tactical readout that was building on the viewscreen.

The keen ears of the Romulan intel operative scowled at the Captain's dark thought, replying coldly. "T'Liun and the Ghost's crew vouched for this Cho'ren Vara, as did Intel Command. And I've found no evidence connecting her with Rendal in ANY way. In fact, her psych profile shows a deep hatred of the Tal'Shiar and pirates in general. She's worked with t'Liun and Baroness Nei'rrh before,  however, her relations with the Artan's was... strained during your mother's reign. She may be testing your resolve to this purpose, Captain. Making sure you're not her."

Enalia looked over with a slightly knowing expression at the telling tone of Jaeih's last comment as the older Rihannsu intel operative smirked slightly and met the Captain's eyes, "Not that I've done any digging on her or anything."

"Of course not," Enalia replied, settling into her seat a bit more comfortably. "Since these mines are so old, we should be able to avoid them easily enough, right? Can we find their IFF codes? See how far out they go?"

"IFF codes..." Jaeih's eyes narrowed as her mind raced. "Yes, En... Captain!"

"Well, not technically. But I know these mines from when I was an Erei'Riov. They are programmed to avoid Rihannsu ships and only target enemies and unknowns. They are keyed to the ship's command codes..." As Jaeih spoke, she began typing furiously at the Intel station computer in front of her. "Just like THIS one I've just sent to Ops. It's an old code, but not as old as those mines. Load that into the Hera's transponder and the mines will think we're a Rihannsu ship."

"Eh, question from the wee ignoramus... they still go off if they hit somethin', aye?" O'Dell asked from the helm.

"Indeed, Ensign O'Dell. They can still be triggered by impact." Jaeih said, then she smirked a bit as she leaned in slightly towards the tiny test pilot she was quite fond of. "But I may have procured three bottles of quite old Jameson from our little shore leave excursion that says you can manage quite well."

"Nae me point, mum," O'Dell replied. "M'thinkin' that should we need it, a wee bit of broad beam tractor beam might make for quite the turbulence in our wake in a pinch if t'were t'drag a mess'a them mines behind us. As fuir flyin' betwixt 'em, aye, Ah think I might be able ta manage. Strewth, at this speed, who couldn't?"

The Trill captain grinned at Jaeih for a moment. "I knew I liked her." She then composed herself and thought about their next move as the Klingon at the tactical station grunted behind her. "I know we likely can't get a proper lock on our tail yet... But let's fire at them anyway, just to let them know we're here. Full power phaser strike across her bow, if you please. Then start gathering up some of those mines to make it look like they're chasing us."

At the tactical console, Petty Officer 2nd Class S'Rina smiled, a predatory, unpleasant expression, as she complied with the order, adjusting the tractor beam controls and blanketing the nearby area with the rear emitters even as she fired the shot across the bow of the pursuing vessel, close enough that it looked like a genuine miss rather than a warning shot. "Shots fired and emitters engaged, Captain. The pursuing vessel is adopting a pursuit course... very slowly."

-=RRW Iurret Bridge=-

The mood on the bridge of the Leosa class warbird was darkened as first the ship they were pursuing launched tachyon buoys, then fired directly across the nose of the cloaked ship.

"Adjust course for pursuit! Get us into their blind spot!" Rendal demanded adamantly as she leapt from her command seat to hover over the operations officer. "You assured me that their tachyon grids wouldn't be able to detect our new cloaking system! What went wrong?"

The officer she was hovering over was working his console furiously, trying to figure it out, but couldn't find anything wrong. "I'm sorry, Riov. Everything is functioning as it's supposed to. They must have upgraded sensors or something."

For a moment, it looked like the Royal Riov was going to kill the man for his insolence, but eventually calmed down and returned to her seat, though still fuming. "No matter. They're inside the minefield now. Already some of them are trailing them so they can't even slow down. We've all but won already."

-=USS Hera Bridge=-

Meanwhile, with the Hera fast approaching the edge of the first currents of the nebula and the Iurret and a couple dozen mines close behind, the tension on the bridge was almost palpable.

Enalia tapped the intercom controls on her chair's console to make an announcement. "All hands, we are now entering the Aldeberan nebula. Prepare for shearing forces, sudden maneuvers, and impacts." Releasing the intercom, she braced herself as they flew directly into the first of the waves, the ship shuddering slightly from the impact. "Steady as she goes, Fiona..."

Not far behind them, the Iurret hit the same wave and was forcibly decloaked, their shields and weapons powering up and the Hera finally getting a good, clear scan of who they were up against, even if for just a moment before the nebula's interference started taking over.

"The pursuing vessel is powering up weapons, Captain. I have... correction, the nebula has broken our target lock, but I have a visual. Charge phasers and load torpedoes?" the tactical officer called out.

While at the helm, the musically-minded Mariposian was quietly singing to herself as she bobbed and wove the large starship, leaning her into incoming waves and letting them buffet the vessel a bit to lend an appearance of haplessness, even as she wove and bobbed between the mines to ensure that the tractor beams continued to collect them in the wake of the mighty starship. "Alas, my love, ye do me wrong, To cast me off discourteously..."

"Indeed, all weapons at the ready. Let's use photons for now though and save the quantums for when we're a bit more sure of targeting." Captain Telvan confirmed they were still at red alert and made a note in her logs that they had entered the nebula and prepared to engage the Iurret. "As soon as they fire..."

Before she could finish that statement, bright green disruptor fire lanced out across open space towards the Hera. Most of the shots missed, but a few bolts glanced off of the shields, causing a slight increase in the vibration of the ship for just a moment.

The Trill woman chuckled softly for a moment, pointing one finger into the air as if to mark the moment. "And there we go. Miss Wil'I'Ams, if you would be so kind as to let them know that we received their message loud and clear?"

"Aye, Captain, with pleasure," the Klingon warrior growled, silently thanking Kah'less that she had bested her sister in arm wrestling for this shift on the bridge. Multiple phaser banks streamed energy out from the rear of the Nebula class starship, a few of the beams striking the shields of the vessel. With her finger hovering over the tactical controls, the security officer asked for clarification. "Sustained fire or bursts on command, Captain?"

"Whichever seems more effective," Enalia replied, preferring to leave that choice up to the more experienced tactical officer.

A grim chuckle was the response as the phaser banks began a sustained barrage behind the, the golden beams even striking and exploding a few mines in their wake as the pursuing vessel suddenly found itself assaulted by intense though only mildly accurate fire, while being riddled by shockwaves from the exploding mines.

As the vessel behind them began evasive maneuvers, they were still being annoyed by the fairly accurate Klingon woman at the tactical station as was evidenced by their increasing attempts at evasion.

It was only a minute of this harried exchange of fire before the Sistus came back from deeper within the nebula, dragging a good thirty mines behind it. Without even slowing, whomever was at the helm aimed right for the Iurett, dodged most of their disruptor fire, ducked under the much larger ship at the last moment, and left the Rihannsu vessel to deal with flying through the rather large clump of now armed mines.

While the Sistus didn't get away clean, Rendal's vessel had it much worse, triggering a chain reaction in the minefield that resulted in the entire clump and several other nearby mines exploding, further buffeting the large science ship.

The officer ops called in the reports as they came in. "The Sistus reports that shields are at fifty percent and their warp drive is offline. Torpedoes offline, but they still have their plasma lances. The Iurret's shields are at around twenty percent. I'm not reading any internal systems damage at this range due to the nebula's interference."

"Then I think it's time to turn up the heat as well." Enalia leaned forward in her chair and considered her next tactic. "Fiona, how's your square dancing?"

"S'nae me best dance step mum, boot I kin do-si-do wi'the best of 'em. Ye plan teh swing our partner round the ootside?" the picayune pilot asked over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving her displays even as she made jokes and interpreted orders.

The Trill woman grinned as the ideas came together in her head. "Reinforce forward shields. Ready forward tractors, target the Iurret for a point-blank slingshot. As soon as we're close enough for target lock, unload phasers and photons but try to avoid critical systems. At the same time, those mines we're dragging, I want the rest of them to meet our dance partner." After a second, Enalia realized she needed to give some sort of command to enact the plan so she motioned towards the viewscreen. "Let's do it!"

"Aye mum, a Virginia Reel it is, swinging her aboot now!" At the helm, O'Dell was flying somewhat blind without sensor data, but feeling out the waves, she spun the Hera about and brought her in an arc about the pursuing vessel, offering Tactical all the opportunity they needed to harangue the enemy vessel with the requested phaser and torpedo barrage. While the torpedoes went wide, exploding behind the Iurret, a few of the multiple phaser beams connected with the shields, reducing them to nothing. Meanwhile, the mines that had been dragging in the wake of the Hera began slinging their way into the Romulan vessel.

Just as the tractor reached out for the Romulan vessel, something completely unexpected happened. Rendal had ordered a modified Picard maneuver, jumping her ship away two thousand kilometers and leaving a shadow of her ship's singularity core behind for a few seconds. Rather than locking onto the dark green hull of the enemy vessel, the Hera's tractor beam was now locked onto a micro black hole that was slowly sucking them and a bunch of mines in.

Alarms across the bridge went off as the grav plating struggled to keep up with the sudden shift, the tiny singularity ravenously tugging at the nebula class starship. At the helm, the sudden shift in the inertial dampeners had slammed O’Dell’s head into the controls, leaving her seeing stars swim in her vision as the mighty starship groaned, and she spun the vessel about on her axis to direct all impulse power away from the singularity that threatened to swallow them all. Gritting her teeth, the petite pilot blinked the tears of pain from her eyes as her head rang and she pushed the engines, her feet working the inertial dampeners to use every trick she knew to keep them clear of the sudden hazard she hadn’t foreseen. Even as mines tumbled past them, impacting the hull in various locations, O’Dell struggled to remain in the pilot’s seat and maintain control of the vessel.

“Nae… today, Satan…” the tiny test pilot whispered, determined not to fail, but fearing her reckless showboating had doomed them all.

The officer at ops called out readings as an EPS conduit exploded behind him. "Singularity collapsing in three... two... one..." As quickly as it had appeared, it was now gone, as if it had never been there. The only sign being that the Iurret was now powering back up and coming around for a pass on the now startled crew of the USS Hera.

"Let's hope she can't do that again. Load quantum torpedoes and set them for proximity detonation." Enalia glanced at her own readouts and wasn't too keen on the list of injuries scrolling across her screen from that little stunt.

“Loading now,” came the growl from tactical as the Klingon warrior obeyed the command, awaiting the command to fire.

As the Hera came around to engage Renal's warship, a warning light suddenly blinked to life on Jaeih Dox's Intel console. With a cricked eyebrow and a concerned expression, the elder Rihannsu woman got up, hands gripping the console as she called over to Enalia through the chaos. "Captain... we have a new problem."

-=RRW Iurret Bridge=-

Several tense minutes elapsed as the ships circled each other in the mists of the nebula, and the Iurret was coming around for another pass, even without shields. As they did, a signal they were waiting for finally came in. From the station to her side, SubCommander t’Suil looked over to her commander’s chair and called over. "Riov! The beacon! Sensors detect that it has been ejected and will clear their shields in... seven seconds."

A sly grin spread across Rendal's face that would have made a Grinch hatching a plan proud. "Then let's buy seven seconds. Hail them! I wish to look upon the face of such a worthy foe!"

-=USS Hera Bridge=-

As Enalia was preparing to give the order to fire, the operations officer's comms panel suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree in Whoville and the young officer at ops called back. "Captain, they're hailing us. They wish... to look upon the face of such a worthy foe."

Enalia literally had to do a slow turn to look at her ops officer, who just shrugged helplessly. "Canned dialog... Who knew..." she muttered as she sat back in her chair. "On screen," she ordered, nodding assent.

As the view of the nebula and ship before them changed to that of the Royal Riov, Dalia Rendal and the bridge of her ship, Enalia gave a formal nod. As she did, the Romulan commander spoke, "Captain Enalia Telvan. A pleasure to see you again. I do not see your infuriating first officer or my apprentice with you. I am amazed that you and your crew have fought so valiantly without them. I commend you and yours on the skill and bravery that I have witnessed this day, Captain. Would that it be said that all Starfleet officers were made of the same mettle."

"You would be surprised, Riov Rendal. When pushed, all Starfleet officers respond in kind," replied Captain Telvan. Then she noticed a flurry of motion at one of the back consoles on the Romulan bridge as they beamed a Federation beacon aboard right next to them. Surprised at the sudden action, she was on her feet and demanding answers immediately. "What is that? Where did you get it?"

"Indeed, Captain, I obtained it from your crew. Thank you for such a lovely time. Helm, escape vector if you please." As Rendal turned away, the viewscreen returned to the external view only to show the Iurret turning away.

"Open fire, full phaser barrage!" the Trill captain ordered, and even as the lancing golden beams cut through the nebula, the Romulan vessel went to warp, headed deeper into the nebula where they couldn't possibly be tracked.

Exasperated, the Trill woman flopped back into her chair and thumbed her comm controls. But just as she was about to speak, her own comm chirped as a message came in to confirm her own fears.

=^="V'Nus to bridge- we have apprehended Ensign Varnok in what appears to be an act of sabotage, in addition to assault on Starfleet personnel."=^=

Sabotage. Betrayal. Whatever Enalia had told Jaeih to go and investigate was a seed that had now borne bitter fruit. After a moment of consideration, Captain Telvan tapped her comm panel again. "Telvan to Yeoman Dedjoy. Rendal... she beamed a beacon full of data that was ejected from the pod aboard and escaped. Can you tell me what was in it?"

There was a brief "Aye Captain, I can," from the Android Yeoman followed by a few tense minutes of silence. On the bridge of the Hera, you could almost hear a pin drop if anyone actually had one. Enalia's mind worked through the possibilities as the reply finally came through. Ila's voice was hoarse as if she had just been yelling as the answer echoed across the bridge.

=^="Captain, she has it. Rendal got what she failed to get from Lieutenant Commander Dox. He copied... 74% of the POD's files... on protomatter technology."=^=

"Red alert! All hands to battle stations!" 

The Captain's voice could be heard over the ship's comm system as the cluttered lab of Yeoman Ila Dedjoy was rocked. The U.S.S. Hera entered just the Aldebaran Nebula, being pursued by Riov Rendal's warship, the Iurret, and the gasses of the nebula had created a shearing turbulence that caused the massive Starship to rock. 

Several tools and PaDD's that were still loose on the many open worktables slid with loud clangs to the deck as the Hera's resident Mad Scientist steadied herself against the console she had been working on. 

As Ila ran around the lab slapping the containment field controls to at least secure the tables so everything on them wouldn't go flying, she muttered about sudden battles in nebulas being inconvenient as another wave rocked the ship and she almost fell over.

"Perhaps you should secure yourself as well," suggested the pod's British voiced AI, Lucky.

"I will in a moment. After all, with how things are going, I'd rather not get knocked into something and get hurt again, or get sucked into space..." As soon as she was done locking down the tables, the ship was rocked again as she caught the edge of her cybernetics maintenance cradle. She pulled herself into it and engaged the micro-tractors to hold herself in, but left the cage unlocked as usual so she could get out if she had to. "Ok... Lucky, bring up the status of the battle. I'd like to see how things are going and if there's anything I'm needed for." As holographic displays came up around Yeoman Dedjoy came up around her, she focussed on her readouts and did her best to tune out the rest of the world.

It wasn't long before her screens flickered for a moment, but in the heat of combat, such things happened - after all, the holographics in the pod were older and sometimes had glitches like that. Paying it no mind, she continued monitoring the ship's systems and barely looked up as the door to her lab looked up, recognizing her co-worker as he entered. It wasn't usual for someone that had access to come in to see her, after all.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, barely giving the person more than a cursory glance as they reached up and locked her maintenance frame, all but helpless as her body automatically entered a maintenance mode. "Umm... What are you doing? Lucky? Computer? Security alert?" Fear was starting to creep into her voice as she realized she was now completely cut off, unable to do anything but watch her status readouts.

Especially when they left and the lab was vented into space, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts and those readouts.

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

"Computer! Has the POD been locked down as ordered?" Jaeih Dox called up to the ceiling as she held on to the wall of the turbolift as the ship shuddered slightly again. 

=^=Affirmative. The POD is in security lockdown. Security forcefields are now in place and the venting doors have been closed.=^=

"Excellent." As the elder intel operative held on, the lift stopped as expected and the door opened up. As it did, the tall lean Klingon security officer, V'Nus Wil'I'Ams entered, phaser rifle at the ready, with the short fireplug, Petty Officer Liu, on her heels carrying a type 2 hand phaser. 

"Agent Dox. I received an order from the bridge to meet you on the way to the pod, but nothing further? What is amiss?" The more cool-headed of the two sisters said as the lift doors closed and it continued quickly on its way.

"I'm not entirely sure, Miss Wil'I'Ams, but we have a situation. The intel station I was manning at the bridge received a warning that the primary research lab of the POD had been vented into space, and we've not been able to raise anyone there. Not Yoman Dedjoy or Ensign Varnok or Chief Clemens. As soon as I received the notification, I had the POD locked down. Nobody has entered or left since."

Looking up to the much taller woman, the elder Rihannsu woman cricked an eyebrow. "I told the Captain I'd check it out and asked for assistance. I approve of her choices." 

"Of course," the Klingon warrior expressed. "We will take point. As you are a civilian, our first priority is to protect you. Move as we indicate and coordinate with our actions. We will assume this to be a boarding action until we have secured the area. Is this understood?"

Even as the tall and lean Klingon petty officer spoke, Liu nudged the Romulan agent to hand her a type 1 personal 'holdout' phaser with her usual inscrutable expression.

Taking the smaller phaser, Jaeih rolled her eyes in a somewhat exaggerated fashion towards the Klingon warrior woman with a light smirk. "Of course, Miss Wil'I'Ams. Still, I need to do something about this 'civilian' status nonsense of mine. I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. But in the meantime, lead the way."

The three women began slowly making their way down the dark corridor, and as she spoke, Jaeih pulled out a tricorder from her rear pocket and began scanning. "This is not good. I'm getting... nothing. Something is sending out a jamming signal from Yeoman Dedjoy's lab."

The two security officers exchanged glances, and V'Nus nodded. Pulling back her sleeves to expose the bronze bracers beneath, the Klingon warrior brought her wrists together before her in a swift and violent motion, and was suddenly clad in tactical EVA armor. As the armor systems powered up, a round blue shield of energy sprang up from her left wrist, even as she traded the phaser rifle for a bat'leth.

"Then let us be prepared," the Klingon stated firmly. "My sensors confirm your readings. Officer Liu, there is an auxiliary access located in the lounge. Make your entry there for a two-pronged approach, and let us unseal this laboratory." Moving in slowly and cautiously, V'Nus tapped at the comm panel beside the door, inputting her security override. "It is... encrypted. My override is locked out."

"Hmm... let me take a look." Jaeih said, with narrowing eyes as she leaned in to the comm panel. Tapping her own security clearance in, she received the same lockout message that V'Nus did. But in doing so, she got to observe the system in action and formulated a strategy on the spot. 

"Ah, I see. One moment, Miss Wil'I'Ams." As the experienced infiltrator spoke, she skillfully popped open the access panel under the comm panel to reveal the inner workings. Unplugging a bundle of wiring, she took them and connected them to a panel on the side of her own tricorder and began typing away. "Interesting..."

Thinking out loud so as to not exclude the Security officer from her thought processes, Jaeih was quickly manipulating the controls on her tricorder. As she did, every couple of seconds they could hear the lockout buzz repeat. "This is... difficult. Whoever locked us out has... oh, this is not good. You are not going to like this, Commander Paris." Jaieh muttered as if continuing the conversation with Rita Paris she had had at the onset of this mission. "This is a multi-fractal coding sequence. It's an algorithm that is using predictive... no... oh, no. You aren't going to go there, are you? You little..."

After approximately a minute and a half, the door buzz was replaced by a familiar chirp and the sound of the security clamps in the wall housing releasing. Looking slightly pleased with herself, Jaeih reconnected the wiring and resealed the wall paneling. "Whoever locked us out used a level four STARFLEET security clearance to gain access in the first place. That implies something I don't like to think about, Miss Wil'I'Ams. However, I have locked their own reworked codes out and replaced them with a new one. Transmit this silently to Miss Liu, if you will, and we will have access and our mystery intruder will not."

The cagey Romulan operative handed her Tricorder to V'Nus with the long code sequence she had just created which could be transmitted securely through their EVA armor computers.

"Culturally, I prefer to be referred to as Petty Officer V'Nus, if it is all the same to you, Agent Dox," the Klingon volunteered, as it was a correction she made to subordinate enlisted but did not correct her superiors with. However, as a civilian asset, Jaeih Dox she felt within her bounds to correct, as she rather disliked the eponymous surname she and her sister had adopted to join Starfleet. Particularly when being addressed by another warrior, civilian though she may be. As she cloned the code and transmitted it directly to Liu, upon receipt of the confirmation signal she nodded and moved into position.

While she showed no outward sign of it, Jaeih logged the information and V'Nus's ever-so-slight shift in tone while asking for future reference. Nodding with deference. the Rihannsu operative simply replied, "Of course, Petty Officer V'Nus. I should have asked in advance, and the fault was mine for making an incorrect assumption. You have my apologies for any unintentional misstep to your honor."

When she spoke, it was with complete sincerity, as she generally wasn't a fan of being called 'Mrs. Dox' either. That surname was simply taken to help complete the illusion of her daughter's false parentage that was now known. Her 'marriage' to Declan Dox had always been a sham and she kept the name to respect her Daughter's continued use of it as her own house name had been stricken from ch'Rihan after she had betrayed the Imperium.

"It is done- we may proceed. Please watch my flank and stay to the rear, as the Commander left rather explicit instructions regarding the safety of the crew in her absence," Officer V'Nus ordered as she did her best to fill the doorway, shield at the ready as she gave the command and the laboratory door slid open.

Inside, the room was as dark as the corridor, with the only light coming from the slowly strobing Red Alert lights along the ceiling. A few of the consoles sparked occasionally, seemingly having been destroyed in some fashion. Keeping her phaser at a low ready position, set to stun, Jaeih entered behind V'Nus exactly as instructed.

"Even with that sensor blind, I believe your EVA suit should still have several visual enhancement modes. Can you see anything? Is Yeoman Dedjoy still in here?" Jaeih whispered softly from her position, trying to let her own eyes adjust to the lack of useful light.

“For someone unschooled and inexperienced in wearing one, you seem surprisingly informed on the capabilities of our armor,” V’Nus observed with unguarded suspicion in her voice. Moving in, she swept the room cautiously, even as the maintenance hatch unsealed and Officer Liu emerged, flicking on her helmet light.

Raising her phaser ever so slightly, Jaeih scanned the room a bit as her eyes had begun to get more accustomed to the limited light. As she did, she responded with a whisper, "Consider it a touch of professional jealousy. I looked up the basic stats... at least what my clearance could show me... after watching you all wear them during the battle in the Tribunal. My interest was piqued."

“It would appear Yeoman Dedjoy is currently locked into that… recharging station at the far end of the lab. Sensors are still blind, and we are proceeding with caution,” V’Nus reported to the bridge as she stepped, carefully, keeping her weight carefully balanced as she stepped slowly and deliberately, her eyes missing not a single detail, her armor recording real-time telemetry to document the incident.

A panel to port beeped, and the Klingon warrior whirled toward it, only to realize it was a diagnostic completing on one of the many pieces of equipment the security officer could not identify in the scientific laboratory. But the distraction was sufficient to enable a figure to detach itself from the shadows, and slap an ionizer onto the tall woman’s EVA armor, seizing up the systems immediately as she struggled to move within it.

Spinning around, weapon raised, Jaeih stepped around to put herself between V'Nus and the shape of the intruder she could still make out, rimmed in the red glow of the alert. As she did, she shouted out a warning. "Move and I'll fire!"

It was a bluff and she knew it, as weapons file was prohibited in Ila's lab due to the extremely volatile nature of her experiments. Jaeih knew she couldn't fire, but so did the mysterious shape as Jaeih heard a hoarse whisper that was uncomfortably familiar. "Not in here, you won't."

"Nouhha... No." Jaieh whispered under her breath as her eyes went wide, recognizing the voice. But she didn't hesitate as she tucked the phaser into her belt and spread her arms wide between the attacker and V'Nus, still struggling to wrest control of herself.

Quickly, Jaeih worked out the mental math of how quickly she could remove the ionizer and still keep the intruder in her eyes. she shouted out to Liu on the other side of the lab. "Officer Liu! Get Yeoman Dedjoy OUT of that cradle! She can restore power and security systems once she's free."

Not worrying about protocol or Jaeih's civilian status, Liu simply began moving as quickly as she could across the room toward Dedjoy's cradle as she was closest to it and too far from their position to intercede quickly enough.

Shunting the EVA armor to the extradimensional space inside the technologically advanced bracers she wore, where it was stored when not in use, the Klingon warrior growled as she could move once again. Placing her hand on the Romulan woman’s shoulder to pull her back and step forward. “I need no phaser and you will surrender now, or I will cripple… you....”

As she spoke, the intruder rushed forward. Stepping out of the shadows into the dim red lights in the room, V'Nus and Jaeih could clearly see the face of one of their own. The face of Ensign Varnok Jahal, the Hera's very own Junior Intelligence officer. 

Taking advantage of the momentary shock on the face of the Klingon warrior, the Cardassian officer connected with a swift that strong kick to her middle that knocked the wind out of her for an instant. But only an instant. As another kick came in at her head, the Klingon warrior caught the leg, then with a strangled grunt she used it as leverage to drive the Cardassian officer to the deck. A stomp to the crotch tended to produce similar results in most species, and the Cardassian was no exception.

There was a clear consideration of following through on the threat to cripple the man, but honor dictated that to do so to a crew member, even one who had turned to sabotage, would earn her dishonor with her commander. If there was a force stronger than Klingon rage, it was Klingon honor. Coldly, the tall and slender warrior reached down to grasp the intelligence officer by the front of his uniform, then she hefted him to his feet with a grimace as Liu unlocked the regeneration cradle, freeing Yeoman Dedjoy from bondage.

As the locks were finally released, Ila Dedjoy was finally able to move and talk again and the first thing she did as she stumbled out of the framework was bring up her right wrist and activate a holographic display built into a bracelet she wore, tapping out a series of access codes and bypasses into it, bringing the pod's systems back under her control. Within seconds the lights and safety protocols came back online. "Thank you, Liu. Do you want a containment field?"

"No. I want answers," the security officer replied. "What have you done, Ensign Varnok? What sabotage have you enacted? Confess and there may yet be some mercy for you." Without waiting for a reply, the security officer tapped her comm badge. "V'Nus to bridge- we have apprehended Ensign Varnok in what appears to be an act of sabotage, in addition to assault on Starfleet personnel."

There was a long silence from the bridge before a soft "Standby," was replied as it almost sounded like a shouting match was taking place for a moment.

Jaeih stepped back slightly, eyes squinting as Varnok gasped, blinking rapidly but not yet replying. The seasoned Intel operative stared for an instant at the man that she worked side by side with. The officer she had worked with to save the Captain's child. The man that had befriended her daughter who was now, inexplicably, a traitor. The elder Rihannsu woman was beginning to fear the worse. 

Having no authority in the moment, Jaeih instead did what she could, which was gather information, hopefully before the situation escalated. "Ila... Yeoman Dedjoy. Are you alright? Do you know what happened? Were you aware while in there?"

Ila nodded as she regained her full faculties. "I was aware... I just couldn't do anything but watch."

Then a proper reply from the bridge finally came through from Captain Telvan herself. "Telvan to Yeoman Dedjoy. Rendal... She beamed a beacon full of data that was ejected from the pod aboard and escaped. Can you tell me what was in it?"

"Aye, Captain, I can," Dedjoy replied as she began to move. Making her way to the nearest computer console that wasn't visibly damaged, she entered her access codes and began searching the ship's databases.

Her fingers flying over the console, her large, doll-like eyes darted back and forth. "It appears he tried purging our files after he copied the data out but ran out of time when we locked down the pod. But what was... oh... fot'en'dimmel!"

Running her hands down the edge of the console, Dedjoy shouted angrily, cursing in her native tongue as the others looked on. As she did, she slapped her combadge and composed herself down. "Captain, she has it. Rendal got what she failed to get from Lieutenant Commander Dox. He copied... 74% of the POD's files... on protomatter technology." 

The Artan-run T'liss class Bird of Prey warped its way through Romulan space, skirting the edge of the Neutral Zone toward its top-secret destination: the hidden reunification colony known as Mol Krun'chi. But there was still a good day's travel and concerns that needed to be addressed en route.

As such, the ship's Doctor and Commander, Maenek Helev t'Liun sat beside the crew members of the U.S.S. Hera in the somewhat cramped conference room of the ship known as the Golden Ghost. At one end, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox: The red-headed Rihannsu pilot was also a Baroness in the Artan fleet, and the Ghost had been placed under her command, making the lowest ranking officer in the room the unexpected Captain of the ship. Next to her was Commander Rita Paris, who had called the meeting and would be leading the discussions. Beside her were the two Vulcans, Lieutenant Commander Sonak and the Intel operative, Az'Prel.

Across from them, a woman named Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette. A Vulcanoid Rigellian Intel Officer with the U.S.S. Persephone who had been assigned to accompany the crew of the Hera on this mission as an independent observer. She was a somewhat plain brown-haired vulcanoid with close-cropped hair in a somewhat traditional Vulcan hairstyle designed to not stand out. Her uniform was cared for but not to the point it looked pressed. The only thing that marked her as unusual in any way was a trio of beads woven into her hair that marked her as a practicing member of the Forgiveness Clan of Rigel V rather than a Vulcan, which is often waived for religious and traditional reasons.

The mystery officer was a specialist in Klingon and Cardassian codebreaking and linguistics, with an otherwise unremarkable career. But the mission of the Ghost was a sensitive and vital one, ferrying three Starfleet Officers acting as ambassadors of three factions of galactic power and an intelligence operative to the reunification colony. This was in the hopes of taking yet another tentative step towards communication between the formerly illegal colony and their homeworld of Romulus, as well as reuniting with their cousins, the Vulcans. It was a mission with far-reaching implications that could not afford to leave anything to chance.

Thus an unknown observer, attached to a formerly top-secret mission at the last minute, presented a very big chance that all involved agreed needed to be investigated. 

"Lieutenant Oulette. Sorry to keep you waiting, but in a rather complex mission such as this, it seems there are a thousand and one details to tend to. I don't believe I've had the pleasure... I'm Rita Paris, first officer of the USS Hera." With a smile on her face, Paris extended her hand in greeting, offering a handshake- a standard Starfleet greeting.

Standing and setting aside the PaDD she had been reviewing, Lieutenant Oulette smiled politely and accepted the handshake. "It's a pleasure, Commander. I know my presence is an unexpected and likely unwanted one on this mission, but I assure you, I'm just here to take notes for you and Command. Just think of me as a stenographer and as long as I do my job right, you won't even know I'm here."

''Indeed; be it in science or diplomacy, this is the one required qualification of an observer, '' Sonak acknowledged as he nodded to the woman, ''since any action on your part, other than passive accurate recording, would immediately invalidate your role in this mission... and you would thus forfeit any further involvement.''

It was more than just a reminder of her duty; it was a warning that she too would be under observation.

"An accurate statement, though if asked to read part of those notes at any time for a review, I would certainly do so." The slightly shorter Lieutenant's smile faded as she greeted Sonak with the customary Vulcan salute.

"Commander... Sonak? I presume? It's an honor."

"Your service honors us," the chief science officer of the Hera responded, offering his own salute in return. "But may I remind you that us reviewing your report would compromise its impartiality. We do not want to hamper you in your duties, Lieutenant; we only strive to make sure nothing will hamper our own."

Oulette then turned to the Romulan in the room. "And you must be Commander Dox. Command sent me a rather large file on you, though most of it is redacted. I assume that's why they consider you the key to this mission."

Keeping her own face impassive and neutral, Dox nodded as she replied. "Well, I suppose that's all part and parcel with a career in Starfleet on an intel ship. One tends to become involved in their fair share of top-secret things that make for a thick file filled with not much that makes for good reading. A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Oulette."

The comment was as much about not directly addressing those redacted details as it was about hanging a bit of a proverbial lampshade on the Rigellian woman's conspicuously uneventful file. To say nothing of the fact that Dox would prefer to find out exactly what Oulette knew from her before telling her anything of her notable family ties that had placed her in the center of all this.

"I was briefed on the official Hera crew members and their roles, but I must admit some slight confusion as to the... venue changes. As long as I'm able to perform my duties though, I suppose it doesn't matter." Oulette nodded slightly, motioning to the small case on the conference table that held her equipment.

"Well, the Artan Government has more than a passing interest in seeing this venture succeed, as they have, as you've likely noticed by this ship and her crew, being completely Rihannsu," Dox replied, addressing the venue change from the Hera to the Golden Ghost that was, in fact, her own suggestion.

At which point, the Ghost's own commander and doctor chimed in with a nod towards Dox, "Indeed. The Golden Ghost may not have the same level of accommodations as a Starship, but we have all pledged ourselves to the... Lieutenant Commander... and to the success of this mission. And in regards to the final venue, the coordinates to the colony are safely encrypted. Even the helm officer doesn't know where they are flying us to. Only I and Commander Dox have the command codes to access that data, so I can assure you that we are as safe as possible in this regard." 

"Which I believe brings me to my introduction," Az'Prel interjected, causing the Rigellian woman to be somewhat slightly taken aback by her for some reason. " I am Az'Prel of Vulcan. I have been assigned to the team as security. Like you, if I do my job properly, no one will be the wiser. However... I have no compunctions about causing a scene if there is a threat to the safety and security to the mission or those I consider... Friends."

Ayamo Oulette was much better at reading this woman - she had spent a career reading warriors and unlike other Vulcans, she was no scholar, but someone that was well-practiced in the art of killing. She could see it in her stance, her eyes, and even hear it in the way she spoke. Not even the cold dispassionate speech of a Vulcan could cover that up. She would need to make a note that whomever this Az'Prel was, she was no Vulcan, but a Klingon in Vulcan garb.

But she did her best to not reveal any of that. After all, she was a professional observer, and a professional observer needed to remain impartial. Hence she composed herself and gave a Vulcan salute. "Then it is an honor to work with you as well. If I see something suspicious, you will be the first person I report it to."

Sonak raised an eyebrow.

"That would be inconsistent with your duty as an observer. You are not here to intervene in any shape, matter or form; only to record and afterward provide your own estimate of the mission; nothing more, nothing less. That is, unless you have other orders and duties, beside or beyond those of an observer, that you have not yet disclosed to us?"

"This is true, however, if I see something that may threaten harm to myself or a fellow sentient, it is still my responsibility as a Starfleet officer to report it. As another apparently independent agent, I feel comfortable entrusting such a report to Miss Az'Prel." Ayamo furrowed her brows in consternation, not expecting her job to already be called into question. "If you would rather I say nothing, then I won't..."

''More than report it; then you have to act upon it,'' Sonak retorted. ''Your duties as an observer do not remove your duties as a Starfleet Officer. You are a Starfleet officer first; only currently mandated as an observer. This is much like Starfleet General Orders always superseding any and all orders given in the field. Your duty as a Starfleet officer should always be your priority, within your mandate of course, but even at the expense of that mandate, if such a conflict of duties should arise. Do you have reasons to expect such a conflict awaiting before you, Lieutenant?''

"I foresee no conflict, but one must have a plan for if something does happen," replied the Lieutenant, visibly wilting under the gaze of Commander Sonak. She already wished she hadn't accepted this assignment and missed her plants. "I'm sorry, but is it too much to hope for to get through this mission without any troubles?"

"It very likely is, Lieutenant Oulette." Dox interjected slightly at the nervous officer's question. "Trouble often comes with the uniform, and being prepared for it to the best of our ability is what we hope to achieve in this briefing. Keeping it from spreading to others is even more important."

With the introductions out of the way, Dox folded her hands on the table and looked towards Commander Paris to lead the discussions.

“So, let’s begin with the overview of the colony itself, and the various resources and potential liabilities that they are bringing to the negotiations. With the current census of…” Paris began, and for the next hour and a half, the curvaceous commander proved that dry facts and observations could be combined with strategies of diplomatic approaches in order to produce a thoroughly mind-numbingly boring briefing. By the time she reached her closing statement, a few of the attendees were struggling to keep their eyes open.

“So that concludes the examination of the potential long-term socio-economic impact that we are projecting to come to pass if the proposed immigration policies to the colony are accepted as recommended, which will continue to enable the colony to grow and demonstrate that reunification, if closely monitored, can be achieved peacefully, as both cultures come together in a creative harmony. Which concludes the briefing. Are there any questions before we retire?”

Throughout it all, Oulette had kept notes of the meeting using the small stenotype machine she had kept in the case on the table. Dox kept her eyes on the woman's reactions to the details for anything that might be suspect, but saw nothing in particular. And in truth, by the end of it, it was the least experienced officer in the room that was one of the attendees working to stay awake.

As was Maenek t'Liun who, as an Artan Privateer, was far less used to briefings and lengthy meetings and far more accustomed to surgery or space chases. The monotony had caused the ship's commander to almost nod off more than once. But with Rita's conclusion, she snapped back to full attention. "My only question might be if anyone else would like some coffee." t'Liun quipped.

Not particularly waiting for an answer to the obvious attempt at light humor, t'Liun raised an eyebrow. "I still have a good bit of paperwork that needs attending in my office in the med bay, but I can show you all to your quarters first. We still have a full evening's travel and rest, I suspect, would do us all well."

"Thank you, Maenek." Dox said, stretching out her neck. "I think I'll actually take some time to unwind in the ship's gym before retiring for the evening."

"If possible, I'll need a schedule of the proceeding meetings once we arrive. I may also need to schedule some time for clarification on some points for my notes and reports, if that's possible. After all, Rihannsu is not a culture I'm familiar with." Unlike the others, Lieutenant Oulette was wide awake as she packed up her stenographer's equipment and finished up on one of her PaDDs. Indeed, it seemed as though the driest and most boring parts of the meeting almost invigorated the woman with energy.

Standing up from the table, the weary ship's doctor nodded with a mild smile as she turned to Dox. "With your permission, Captain, I can take care of this for you. I have the relevant information and more than enough cultural data to keep Lieutenant Oulette well informed on our people."

Standing up as well and straightening her uniform top, Dox nodded and replied, "Thank you, Maenek. I'll defer to you experience here."

The taller Rihannsu doctor turned back to Oulette and raised an eyebrow. "Very well. I will show you all to your quarters, and if you would give me an hour, come and see me in my office in the med bay, Lieutenant. Thank you."

Having been confused by the titles thrown around, Ayamo planned on asking about them first and foremost. "Thank you, Maenek. I would be most appreciative," she replied as she finished packing up and prepared to leave.

The meeting with Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette had gone long and, after running the woman through the proverbial wringer, there were still suspicions but the woman seemed to be innocent. But all involved were still acting on their plan to potentially weed out any spies or saboteurs in the mission, and to that end, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox was going to go to the ship’s gym to unwind in public.

The ship in question being the Golden Ghost meant that the gym was much different than the comparably massive accommodations of the Hera. And with a decidedly different population. Being late, the red-headed Rihannsu pilot was hoping that she would have the room to herself until Az’Prel had finished her security sweep of the ship, but such was not the case.

The Golden Ghost was, of course, an Artan run ship, but also a Rihannsu one. A re-purposed T’liss class Bird of Prey from Rita Paris’ era, the ship’s crew was entirely Rihannsu. And, more importantly, the ship had been placed under Dox’s Barony, making it essentially her ship.

An awkward detail, considering she had barely met any of the ship’s 158 crewmembers. Crewmembers that had apparently voted to be under her command on reputation and pedigree alone. So when Dox walked into the medium-sized exercise chamber, hoping to have the room to herself, her stomach tightened when the half-dozen crewmember’s heads all turned to watch her enter.

“Uh… Jolan’tru.” She half-muttered as she walked in, dressed in black work-out gear with a towel around her neck and a water bottle in her hand.

The nearest crewmember to her stood at attention and offered her a sharp bow and replied in their native Rihan, “Jolan’tru, Enarrain Dox.” He was a lanky, tall young man who looked to be in his mid-twenties with short, messy brown curls flanked by the more common forehead ridges and slightly larger than not ears.

Sighing slightly, Dox bit her tongue slightly as it seemed that Sonak’s insistence during the initial meeting with the Ghost’s commander, Helev t’Liun, that she be called ‘Captain’ had made the rounds. ‘Enarrain’ being the Rihan translation of the rank that she was extremely uncomfortable being called, Dox nonetheless did her best to restrain her emotions as she replied, speaking Rihan back to the crew out of respect. “Thank you. At ease, please.”

Obeying, the crewmember offered a nod and relaxed his posture slightly as he spoke again, “Is there anything we may assist you with, Enarrain? Our facilities are at your disposal.”

“No thank you…” Dox said, trailing off as the young man had yet to introduce himself properly. A minor faux pas to which his eyes widened slightly as he replied. “tr’Rorian. Vriha'Erein Manan tr’Rorian.”

Recognizing the rank of ‘Vriha'Erein’ as the Rihannsu equivalent of a Lieutenant, Dox nodded lightly and continued. “No, thank you Vriha'Erein tr’Rorian. I’m simply looking to relax a bit with some exercise before settling in for the evening. And I believe I see what I’m looking for.”

Gesturing lightly to the far wall, Dox centered in on a row of padded torso shaped outcroppings from the wall, meant for combat training. They were well worn and looked as if they could use a refurbishment, but felt like a very old friend to the young woman. Beginning to make her way to the other side of the room, the young man nodded again to let her pass. “Very well, Enarrain. If you have any needs while you are here, do not hesitate to let me know.”

With the pleasantries out of the way, Dox walked over to the furthest most practice dummy and laid her towel down on the nearby bench along the bulkhead and began to stretch. Her back was to the room, but she could clearly hear that nobody had resumed their own exercising and from the general silence, they were likely all still watching her. For the slightest of moments, her stomach tightened as she realized there were six crewmembers between her and the door. Four male and two female, and if any were a spy or double agent, she might be in trouble. But she quickly put that thought out of her head until it was merited.

A month spent on a Rihannsu Warbird had made her more than a little wary around the company of her own people, for good reason, but she was no prisoner here. Quite the reverse and she was making a conscious effort to stop acting like someone under watch.

After a few moments of stretching, Dox wasted no time in attacking the practice dummy. It was remarkably similar in design and feel to the one she used to keep in her quarters and it felt good to unload some of her tension on the shape. As she attacked the form, she could hear faint whispers and murmurs from the room, most to the effect that the crew had no idea that she was trained in the Rihannsu martial art of Llaekh-ae'rl. One of the women made a complimentary comment on her form while Vriha’Erain tr’Rorian hushed the rest of the whispers. And after a few more moments, the room returned to what Dox assumed was normal activity.

Two crewmembers were jogging on forcefield treadmills against the aft bulkhead, both young me. One was of average height and build but the other was a bit shorter and stockier and both had short-cropped black hair. Tr’Rorian and another more muscularly built young man with a squared-off, flat face and longer, straight brown hair was sparring in the circular pad in the center. One lean but muscular woman with shoulder-length, light brown hair was lifting weights on the tension field machine and the last, another woman with a thicker build and short, slightly curly black hair was resting on the bench against the port bulkhead. But the Starfleet transplant was no longer the center of attention for the moment.

The tension of the evening, however, had clearly been taking its toll on Dox as she had begun to increase the aggression of her workout. As time passed, she had begun striking the form with more and more intensity, making more noticeable grunts and exclamations with each hit. And before too long, she had begun to notice that the background noise had once again received.

Stopping somewhat abruptly, she turned to the room and wiped a bit of sweat from her brow. And, as she suspected, her efforts had garnered an audience. “I… apologize if I’m disturbing you.” She said, flatly.

“Not at all, Enarrain.” One of the two women, the one working the weights, said with a nod. “We apologize if our attention is unwelcome. It’s… rare to see anyone use those practice forms with such… energy. I am Arrein Kiania t’Retinel.”

Picking up her towel, Dox took a sip from her water bottle and nodded. “The day has been a long one… and I didn’t like the way he looked at me.” She gestured with her head to the practice dummy, attempting to lighten the mood with a somewhat weak joke. But it had the desired effect as the exercising Arrein chuckled lightly as she continued to pull against the force field weights in the machine she was sitting at.

“Better him than us, I suppose.” she replied, between reps, giving Dox cause to raise an eyebrow.

“I apologize. This is… likely not the most ideal way to make the acquaintance of the crew. Maenek t’Liun told me I would have the opportunity to speak with the crew in a more formal manner in the morning before we arrive at our destination, and perhaps it would have been better to have… made myself scarce until then.” Dox admitted, with a bit of anxiety creeping in at what she now realized might have been a mistake.

From the center where he had been sparring with one of the other young men, Vriha'Erein tr’Rorian interjected as he wiped sweat from his own brow, “Not at all, Enarrain. The Golden Ghost is under your Barony. As such, her chambers are all at your disposal as you see fit.”

“Thank you.” Dox said with a nod as she began to make her way toward the exit anyway, feeling very much out of place in the moment. “That said, I’ll leave you to your evening. I should try and get some rest before the morning.”

The room fell oddly silent as she stepped across it, past the crewmembers that she was technically in command of, yet felt embarrassed in front of at the moment. But as she reached the center of the room, the woman who had been sitting on the bench opposite them spoke. “Enarrain Dox… I am Arrein t’Ganon. May I speak?”

Pausing, Dox stood still for a long few seconds before replying, trying to remind herself of the lessons she was still learning on the Hera regarding command even just in the Flight Control Department. As she did, she nodded and replied, “Please do. Speak freely. That stands for all of you.”

“This mission. We all know the stakes. That the Imperium claims to wish to open dialogue with the reunification colonies.” The woman stood up nervously, not quite making eye contact with Dox. “I came from a colony such as this one we travel to now. Many of us on the Ghost did. Reunification is why many of us serve in the Artan fleet. Do you believe it… do you think that it is possible that the Imperium is… sincere?”

“I can’t speak for the Imperium, ironically,” Dox said, knowing full well that speaking for the Imperium was exactly what she was chosen to do on this mission. “I can only speak for Senator t’Rul. She is sincere. I know this as much as I know my own mind. She means to make this work… if only in the smallest of senses. And if we can do our part to show the Senate that there is only value to the Empire, and that the old fears that have kept reunification a forbidden subject for so long are unfounded… then there’s a chance.”

“She is your kin? This Senator?” t’Ganon asked, with a bit more confidence in her voice.

“She is, yes.” Dox answered with a nod after a moment of thought. “We have her support. And the support of those in the Senate that stood with her in the vote.”

“The rest…” Dox said, looking down for a moment as she thought, “Is up to us. And no matter what the outcome, we will try together. Starfleet and Artans. Rihannsu and Vulcans. All of us already working together. So we’ve already succeeded.”

There was another moment of silence as the woman smiled lightly and nodded with more confidence. And as Dox went to leave the room again, this time she stopped herself, “Now… If I may… why did you choose to serve under my Barony? None of you had ever met me before?”

“You may not remember all of us, but are known here, Enarrain Dox. You have been known since you and your mother ferried many of us as children from servitude on ch’Rihan all those years ago. You are the young Rihannsu with the hair like the fire of Al’thindor’s wings that flew us to freedom. You brought many of us to the only homes we have known since.” The woman said with a clear voice, “And now… you have shown us that perhaps you can bring us home again. To our true home. To ch’Rihan.”

“We are to you, as you have always been to us.” the young crewmember said, bowing. And as she did, so too did the others in the room. Watching, Dox blushed a bright green as she returned the bow, humbled in the moment.

The once little girl that only ever wanted to know the home she had been denied as a child stood with her new crew. All of them shared that same desire to know that home again and see it free. They stood as Rihannsu looking out over an uncertain future, but they shared hope. And in that moment, Mnhei’sahe Dox suddenly felt something she had never truly felt quite like this before.

She wasn’t a lonely Romulan girl anymore. She didn’t feel torn between her duty to Starfleet or the Artan’s. She didn’t feel like the broken parts of an incomplete whole. She was Starfleet. She was a Baroness. She was Rihannsu… and that difference was everything.

The medical bay of the Artan Bird of Prey known as the Golden Ghost was quiet and the lights were dim as the ship’s chronometer chimed 01:00 hours. The bay itself was physically larger than would have been on the ship had the old T’liss class Romulan ship not been retrofitted and upgraded on the interior. But now the bay was large enough to accommodate multiple wounded and there were several beds with patients sleeping in them in the darkness.

Against the rear of the octagonally shaped room, there was a set of double doors leading to the office and repurposed quarters of the ship’s Master Surgeon and Commander, Maenek Helev t’Liun. It was a small office at the front with a shelf that extended from out of the bulkhead with an older desktop computer that served as a desk. The desk itself was a mess of clutter with old PaDD’s stacked precariously about next to half-used coffee cups, med scanners and tools. It was a level of seeming disorder that rivaled Rita Paris’ office back on the Hera and it was exactly how the unconventional commander liked it. Behind her, in the corner, was an open doorway to a small chamber where a disheveled couch could be seen in the darkness with piles of clothes strewn upon it where she slept.

Sitting at her desk, she wore a simple dark gray/green tunic with an open neck and black pants, as the uniform code on her ship was fairly loose even during operation hours. And anything was better than the uncomfortable quilts that Rihannsu officers wore on actual Warbirds.

The enigmatic Rihannsu woman with the short-cropped brown hair and the prominent forehead ridges liked to keep things unconventional. While she was the commander, or ‘Riov’ in her native tongue, of the Golden Ghost, she insisted on the crew using the Rihan title for Doctor, ‘Maenek’. She had a slightly sarcastic style about her and seemed regularly either put upon or in on a joke that nobody else had heard. But tonight, she was working in her office late finishing up some paperwork on her computer when she heard the expected light knock on the frame of the door leading from the med bay itself into her office.

At the door was Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette. The Vulcanoid Rigellian Intel Officer assigned as an observer on the top-secret mission the ship was currently warping under cloak towards. T’Liun was expecting the woman and looked up with an inscrutable, half-lidded expression and a cricked eyebrow. “Lieutenant Oulette. Please come in.”

The doctor gestured with her eyes to a seat across from the desk with a green lab coat draped over the back. “Have a seat. Pardon the clutter.”

"Thank you for seeing me, Maenek. I must admit that I was lost a few times during the meeting earlier and I do hope that you'll be able to help me clear up some of that confusion." Lieutenant Oulette smiled politely as she entered, PaDD in hand as she took the offered seat. "Especially all the titles. Am I correct in my assumption that Commander Dox was referred to as her Starfleet rank, Baroness, and Captain? And can you explain your various titles in both this vessel's and the Artan's hierarchy?"

As Oulette spoke, t'Liun seemed to almost be ignoring her for a moment as she finished typing something out on her screen, leaving the question hanging in the air for a moment. Then, after a few seconds of awkward silence, she leaned back and looked up to the ceiling for a second and then replied casually, "Ah, yes. The titles. Lieutenant Commander Dox's status is... complex. As a Starfleet officer, that is her rank. However, she is also a Baroness within the Artan Government and as such, this vessel is under her Barony. So, to myself and the rest of the crew, she is a Baroness first and foremost."

"Calling her 'Captain' is, apparently, some degree of protocol when referring to the master of a ship, which she technically is." T'Liun shrugged slightly and allowed the slightest of smirks to crack her authoritarian facade. "Though I don't believe she likes it any more than I like being called a 'Riov', so you should be safe with 'Lieutenant Commander', Miss Oulette."

"So, that said, I am the ship's commander AND her Master Surgeon... or Chief Medical Officer in Starfleet." T'Liun summarized, "So, the crew answers directly to me and I make things go. However, I prefer my title or Maenek, or Doctor. I answer to Commander Dox in all things, however. But she isn't running the ship unless she directly says so. And in regards to the parameters of this mission, we all answer to Commander Paris. Any questions?"

Ayamo nodded as she made notes, humming as she did so. "I suppose then that changes the meaning of several things on pages fourteen, seventeen, thirty-seven, and... ninety-one. I do hope you don't mind going over each of them with me?"

For another lingering moment, the irritated doctor simply stared across her cluttered table at the attentive Lieutenant. "Very well, Miss Oulette. After all, we Rihannsu are nothing if not anal-retentive when it comes to the minutiae of detail, and you had... concerns... regarding our culture."

"That said, you have done well enough not calling me a 'Romulan', so you're starting off on solid footing." t'Liun circled an eyebrow and picked up a PaDD for a moment as she checked over some information. "You may begin. Let's see if we can wrap this up before we reach our destination so neither of us is falling asleep in the middle of the negotiations."

"There are few things I pride myself on and attention to detail is one of them. Dealing with tlhIngan Hol has taught me a great deal of respect for non-Federation cultures, for instance... But I digress. If we could review the plans for the meeting on..." As the droll Lieutenant droned on and the Rihannsu Maenek helped with the details of her notes, the night wore on for almost four hours until finally, the last page was reached and still she had somehow not put the weary t'Luin into a bureaucracy induced coma.

"Well, that should cover everything, Miss Oulette. Glad I could be of assistance, even if I might have droned off a few times. Thankfully, years in surgery have me quite accustomed to the long hours. So, I can show you out..." t'Liun said, letting out a long yawn as she turned her computer off, stood up, stepped around the desk to show the Lieutenant to the door. "Unless there's anything else you need from me?"

"No, I think..." Ayamo began before something in her seemed to stop for a moment and she dropped her PaDD. Her face scrunched up for a moment as if she were in pain and it was as if an entirely different person was standing there in her place as the woman reached into a pocket and pulled out a hypo, twirling it in her fingers for a moment before noticing that her target was right there before her.

"No, I think..." Ayamo began before something in her seemed to stop for a moment and she dropped her PaDD. Her face scrunched up for a moment as if she were in pain and it was as if an entirely different person was standing there in her place as the woman reached into a pocket and pulled out a hypo, twirling it in her fingers for a moment before noticing that her target was right there before her.

Moving with a swiftness and strength that she had not previously shown, the Lieutenant thrust a forearm up under t'Liun's chin and shoved the confused doctor hard up against the rear bulkhead of her office. Flailing, t'Liun kicked wildly, knocking stacks of padds off of her desk as she struggled to pull the arm from her neck that seemed stronger than should have been possible. 

The voice that came out of the previously kind and slightly nervous bureaucratic Intel officer was now unmistakably vile and seething with bloodlust. "I'm afraid I'm going to need a bit more out of you... Mae... nek... Either your command codes, or the location of the colony."

Then, the cold-eyed Oulette brought the hypo up to the side of t'Liun's face and he voice dropped to an eerie hiss, "Otherwise, who knows where this... Hypo... Will end up."

Gasping against the pressure, t'Liun's eyes darted around her small office wildly as she gasped, "I... I cannot... give you what you... what you want. My mnhei'sahe... will not... not allow it."

"Neither your precious... honor... nor your Baroness will save you here. The codes... or I start... breaking things. Things you know as a doctor will not heal."

There was a hiss; but it was not from the hypo. It came from between the clenched teeth of the Vulcan-Rigellian hybrid as her eyes rolled up and she collapsed under the unhurried pressure of a Vulcan nerve pinch.

Sonak caught her limp form within the crux of his free arm then scooped her up to lay her flat on the biobed's sheet under wich he had hidden all this time.

Gasping as she caught her breath, with her windpipe clear again, T'Liun choked out a nervous, "I... Impeccable timing, Commander Sonak."

''Your assessment of her was correct, Commander,'' he told his wife as she stood near the other biobed where she too had played sleeping patient in the shadows. ''Logic was not enough to establish with reasonable certainty her danger potential. But your instinct and perceptions are now being proven true.''

"A last-minute addition to a mission that was supposed to be highly classified played more part than instinct in this case, to be honest," the curvaceous commander replied as she came around to look at the unconscious officer. "We need to know what she knows, what her orders are and why the Jekyll and Hyde routine here. Would you be willing to investigate, Mister Sonak?"

The Vulcan waited a moment before responding with a slight frown.

''A mind-meld would certainly give access to her mind; all of them if there is one involved, be they real or fabricated. However, my expertise is in science and my experience is in command. I have little knowledge of intel or security and no experience with psycho-medical treatment or Romulan brainwashing techniques. I can get to her; but if there is an implanted dormant personality visible only when activated, I might fail to recognize it... and most probably unable to remove it.''

The statement hit home to the anachronistic officer, who in that moment realized that were this the case, Sonak’s previous clearance of personnel might also be under consideration. As well as his treatment of the Romulan senator who had in fact requested this mission. Suddenly, there was an awful lot of paranoia in the air, and no easy answers. Dealing with brainwashed implanted personalities made a number of people suspect… and not all of them were in the room, nor all aboard the Golden Ghost.

“Thank you, Mister Sonak- precise as always, and your insights are appreciated. Doctor, please keep the Lieutenant sedated- I want her to remain quite unconscious for the moment. If the ‘triggered’ personality is still in place, I’d like for it to remain dominant for the moment,” Paris ordered, a troubled expression quite clear on her face, as she tended to wear her emotions rather openly. “In the meanwhile, before we take any action, I would prefer to discuss this with Captain Telvan.”

Rubbing her neck, t'Liun nodded and bent down to pick up the dropped hypo that she had just been threatened with. "Ie, Commander Paris. Her pupils dilated when she attacked and the level of strength she exhibited was indicative of boosted adrenaline production above normal levels for her biology. As such, I'll need a blood sample to compose a proper dose of sedative. Should be simple enough."

Looking at the hypo, t'Liun scowled. "Which is better for her than it would have been for me. This thing is loaded with enough paralytic compound to stop my heart, Mister Sonak's or Miss Az'Prel’s in less than a second. Permanently."

Then the ship’s doctor and Commander looked up at Rita with slightly narrowed eyes. "Would you like me to inform Captain Dox and Miss Az'Prel that the operation was a success?"

Eyes cutting to the Romulan Artan ship commander, Paris considered her words carefully before replying. “Yes… however, under my orders, I want a security forcefield in effect over the patient, with no one to have access to her but yourself for the time being, Doctor. Now my question is, given the rather complex rank structure currently in effect, can my orders be superseded?”

With a narrowing gaze, t'Liun stood more upright and considered what she was being asked for a second. She had come to trust Rita Paris on their last mission together, but she was still Rihannsu. And being Rihannsu, knew suspicion and paranoia like a very old and ever-present friend, and she saw it taking seed now. "They can, yes."

"However, you are the mission commander and I will enforce your orders here for the betterment of that mission as my loyalty is to that purpose above all else. Those orders, only my Baroness or I can supersede, and I would approve no actions that threaten the success of our purpose here. However, for her to do so, she would have to formally relieve me of my command of the Golden Ghost, Commander Paris. And you would be informed immediately in the instance of such an event with a ship-wide communication making such an announcement." t'Liun's answer was as specific as it was broad-reaching, and the tension in the room was palpable.

“Understood, Doctor. Thank you for the clarification.” Paris replied. “Please ensure that an alarm will be sounded if the medical forcefield is breached or tampered with, and I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.” Taking one last look at the unconscious officer on the biobed, the expression on Paris’ face was one of sorrow and regret. “Spies and assassins who aren’t even aware they’ve been compromised, placed in Starfleet. This is… very, very bad.”

For a moment, the astronaut whose career had begun nearly a century and a half earlier suddenly looked as if she felt the weight of her relative age. But she shook it off to adopt a mask of professionalism.

“I’ll be in that secure conference room of yours if anyone needs me, Doctor.” Nodding to the assemblage, Commander Paris took her leave.

The battle was over- there was no intercept course to plot because they dove into a nebula, which only a mad person would do. Which Fiona O'Dell herself had just done repeatedly, she reminded herself she'd been waiting to lay in a course when the Captain cycled off the bridge, and apparently that's how Bridge duty went after a battle- the order went out to call their relief, and everyone on bridge duty had been relieved.

Which meant it was time for O'Dell to collect her partner and their adorable babe, and head for the pub. Whether it was to be a celebration or a dirge remained to be seen, but Fiona was determined to get a whiskey drink and a lager drink. She'd sing the songs the remind her of the good times, she'd sing the songs that remind her of the bad times. But as she bobbed along in the corridor headed to Gavarus' quarters, O'Dell hummed the merry song of Chumbawumba, because she was rather happy to be alive today.

Strolling in through the automatically opened door, long ago programmed to recognize her, Fiona came in singing. "Ohhhhh, Danny boyyyy..."

Sitting on the floor, on a cow-patterned rug Gavarus had manufactured for her, Minerva Moo was parked on her diapered rear, with simple engine parts that had been cleaned and sterilized arrayed about her. Simple blocks and games she had passed through quickly, so Briaar had taken to showing her disassembly and reassembly of simple machines. When she wasn't chewing on the parts, Minnie was learning quickly. Scooping the joyful toddler up with a grunt of exertion, O'Dell continued singing as she swept into the quarters.

"Ah git knocked doown, boot Ah git oop agin, cain nivvir g'win at keep meh doown..." taking the furry toddler's delicately hooved hand in her own with the babe parked on her hip, Fiona danced with the delighted child, serenading her with one of the drinking ballads of her people.

The delighted Minotaur baby squealed with delight at the antics of her returning other mother, as the last piece to this most unusual of family units came out from the bedroom wiping dry a piece of copper coil with a towel. "Well, someone's happy. And we're not dead so I guess that means things went at least okay up there in the big chair, right?"

"Good enough, I reckon," Fiona replied as she danced into Gavarus and leaned against her in a sort of half-hug that brought the three of them together. "Bad guys got awee, but we dinna get shot nor pulverized nor disrupted, and I did me job as I was told, so, aye, I'm callin it a win. I dinna think the Cap'n was displeased, joost mad that the other ship got awee mostly, but that's nae on me as the pilot. I'll find oot what I did right an' wrong from the Lieutenant- ach, the Lieutenant Commander when she gets back, so til then, aye... all is well. At least Ah think so."

Gazing up at her porcine partner, she small sprite grinned. "So since they relieved me fuir the rest a shift, what'dye say we nip oot to the pub fuir a celebratory drink? Ah know yuir hungry," Fiona stated, as that was usually the case, then she kissed the top of the bouncy Minotaur babe's head, then pulled back to eye her erstwhile offspring. "Ah know this wee monster's hungry, aye, Minnie Moo?"

The tiny tot that was the terror of the Hera’s daycare when the rare need arose, bounced up and down on her ginger-topped mother’s hip with her usual exuberant level of excitement, letting out a gurbled string of nonsense sounds that ended in a giggle. “Mffurrggl, FFRRRBBBPP!!! He He HEE HEE he!!!”

“I think that was a ‘yeah’ for both of us, Fee.” The two-meter tall Tellarite engineer said as she put the coil down and kissed Minnie on the top of her head. She was out of her uniform and only wearing a pair of sweat pants and an oversized black t-shirt with the words 'Honey Baked Engineer' on it. “And I’m frickin’ starved. Here, let me hold her so you can get out of your uniform and relax. What was it like, flyin’ her in a frickin’ battle? That had to be frickin’ nuts.”

"Ye know the funniest thing?" Fiona commented as she shook out her skinny arms. Hefting their child was becoming more and more challenging to her every day, and her morning workouts were not keeping up with the growth of the child, who was expected to someday dwarf Gavarus' stature. But as a parent, Fiona was determined that she would keep up with her babe in swaddling for as long as possible, and that meant being able to pick her up until she was simply no longer physically capable. Because a silent agreement between them both had dictated that Minnie would group up thinking that everyone was different, and that her own size and stature would never be seen as a negative. Thus she would find a way to work around it.

Unzipping her uniform top and shucking her slacks, Fiona half-folded them to place them in the replicator for recycling even as she hopped on one foot to remove the ankle boots that were part of the uniform. " I wasnae scared, honestly. I guess tis all the time the L-T- dammit, the Lieutenant Commander, had me spend in the simulator. But the Captain, she let me joost fly her, ye know? So I wasnae nervous or noothin', I joost... did what came naturally, and... I think I did alreet. Ah hope so. Like ye said, we're still here."

Shrugging into an oversized sage green sweater that came down nearly to her knees and cuffing the sleeves, Fiona looked thoughtful as she grabbed a pair of leggings, then realized they were definitely not hers, then grabbed a light brown pair and sat down to slide them on. "Ah did do some fancy tricks though, and I sang a wee bit and the Captain, she dinna say naught aboot it, so... hopefully? ye dinna think she'd write me oop later, aye? She's the direct sort, I figure."

“I dunno, I’ve… I don’t think I’ve ever met the Captain, really. Like, one-on-one.” Gavarus said as she bounced little Minerva on her much more prodigious hip. “But, like, I figure if she didn’t tell you to hush then and there, you’re probably fine.”

Then she looked down and smiled, “Oh, I love that sweater on you. You look nice.” Then the towering Tellarite leaned in towards Minnie and grinned. “Look at your Mum. Don’t she look pretty? Huh?”

Looking first at Gavarus, who was officially 'Mom', then down to O’Dell, who was 'Mum”' Minnie smiled broadly and made grabby hands at the smaller of the two, who was currently blushing at the compliment. Gavarus knew her pint-sized partner wanted to carry the little bundle of happiness for as long as she was able, and so she leaned down to accommodate the transfer. "Here, I can grab her travel bag if you want to carry her."

"Aye, thankye luv, I'd appreciate it," Fiona took the hand-off, trying to hold Minnie out before her and quickly realizing she needed her full strength and body mass to manage the increasingly heavy bundle of joy and excitement that was their somewhat spoiled child. After all, her mothers both doted on her, and while they easily made time for one another, she was clearly the focus of their lives. While she might not have been consciously aware, Minerva Moo Mary Margaret Mona Carrot most certainly knew as a surety that she was definitely loved- which was what both parents were determined would constitute her childhood.

"Ready to go the pub, aye? Aye? Let's go get yur momma some guacamole and queso, and some cheese an' crackers fuir me, and we'll get ye a nice bottle of chocolate milk to celebrate, aye?" Fiona asked the babe in excited tones, as Briaar fetched the diaper bag, and checked it's contents to ensure they had all the tools for the job at hand, ever the consummate engineer. Watching her bustle about the messy yet cramped quarters, Fiona smiled, a dopey, happy expression. More and more she found herself appreciating the unconventional love of her life, whom she would never have anticipated, yet somehow couldn't imagine living without.

“I dunno. I got the recipe of some of that tits ass potato casserole shit we had in Ireland, and I think I could eat a tub of it tonight. Put it into the ship’s systems and everything.” Gavarus said as she hoisted the custom-designed, black and white cow print diaper bag the pair had made just for Minnie and smiled. “Let’s get this portable feast underway!”

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

Ten-Forward was less busy than normal, as the Hera was still in the nebula and still on guard, but for the most unconventional of families, that just meant more room for them to spread out. As they entered, the bartender and wait staff rolled their eyes, almost in unison, as the trio made their way to their favorite table. “Yo! High chair!” Gavarus shouted over to the bar, pointing to Minnie as she pulled out a chair for Fiona and tossed the bag on the adjacent, empty table.

“Thin crowd tonight. Don’t know if that’s a good thing of a bad thing.” Gavarus said, sitting down with a grunt.

"Everybody's on edge, I s'pect. Bad guys got away wi' lots of advanced hoosh-hoosh stoof, so more danger and alla that. Plus in the nebula we're a bit sightblind wi' the sensors a'course, but Cap'n know what she's doin'," Fiona opined. "So folks frettin cuz of danger, but tis a bit par for the course, aye?" While the diminutive daredevil would fret and obsess about her own performance, Fiona had a remarkably effective coping mechanism about not sweating the big stuff. Which was in no small part why she preferred to not be a part of The Big Decisions- instead, she was content to do her part in R&D and test out the inventions and innovations of the future, leaving Saving The Universe to those better qualified for it. Bouncing Minnie on her lap until the chair came, she shooed off the server's offer of assistance, and with a few grunts of exertion, got Minnie secured in her high chair, that was beginning to get snug on her.

"Christ jaysis, I think next month we're g'win ta hafta start puttin her in a booster chair, Briaar. She's growin s'fast, y'ken?" Spoken with no small amount of maternal pride, Fiona's thumb brushed the furry cheeks of the bovine babe who was rapidly advancing.

“Well, that book might read like weird-ass Shakespeare that we got, but at least it told us how to feed her right. So she's growin' right.” Briaar said as she waved the server over. “Okay, Two Guinness’s and two whiskey shots. A plate of Potato Casserole, a Cheese and Cracker tray. And a bottle of Chocolate Milk for Minnie and F*** it, a tray of chips and queso with guac.”

As the server typed the order, walking away, Briaar clapped her thick, three-fingered hands together with a grin, “You’re gonna be on big girl food in no time, right Minnie Moo?”

The baby that seemed to be growing every day slapped her own three-fingered hands on the lit table and giggled, loving all the attention. “I’m glad it went well for you, though, Fee. I mean, I knew you were gonna kick ass. So that’s awesome.” Briaar said, legitimately excited for her pint-sized partner.

"Aye. Troth be told I did some raisonably insane stoof oop there today. But the Captain, she dinna bat an eye, joost let me go at it. I mean, I dinna want ta brag..."

"B'ag! B'ag!" Minnie chimed in, and as Gavarus stared at the babe in surprise, O'Dell took the encouragement.

"I programmed on the fly a spherical warp rotation. We dinna hafta use the sensors, because tis a nebula. Ye know what's there? Sand. Hangin in space. Twill move oota yuir way when ye warp there. So the only thing Ah had to prohibit was a sphere a' safe distance from their ship, which we couldna really see fuir the sensors and all, so I was kinda guesstimatin. But twas a delight. All the for'd batteries had to do was keep firin', because I spun her on an axis to the center point of me guesstimatin. So that big angry Klingon gel, she was makin some satisfied noises back there, if ye catch me drift." Accepting the bottle of Guinness from the server, Fiona paused to take a swig before reaching for the bottle of milk from the server, only to have Minnie's grabby fingers get it first, latch onto it with a surprisingly sure grip and bring it in to begin gulping it down like an expert.

Listening, Briaar was all smiles, not caring that her bottom tusks were showing as she leaned forward to grab her own beer. “That is frickin’ AWESOME, Fee!”

"They groow oop s'fast, that's what me Da always said... I dinna think he meant quite this fast though. Ah well, t'means diaper's'll pass sooner, aye? Oh, speakin a which, them chicks 'a th'Chief's. She allays goin on aboot how her people fly from birth. E'en wi the LT's genetic soup in there, bet ye a shilling they're g'win ta be flyers. So," Taking a sip of her beer, Fiona wound up her punchline. "Dye figure she's developed a diaper that can stay attached to Miradonian Romulan flying infants?"

"Also, d'ye reckon they'll need helmets...?"

“Crap…” Briaar said, leaning back in her seat and taking a big swig of her beer. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I didn’t know if she was, like, serious about the flying. But we should probably work up something.”

“Hey, you know how we have the dampening field on the hands of the Banshee so you can grab things and pick people up safer?” The Porcine Engineer leaned forward, a bit excited as she thought, “I bet if we could get the power supplies down and design a flexible mapping grid, we could make, like, energy bubble wrap for them. Like those old EVA belts, but bouncier.”

"S'bloody brilliant, Briaar! Aye, that'll save 'em from early brain injuries. Wouldnae do fuir one a'the Chief's kids ta be crosseyed, aye?" Grinning winningly, Fiona tapped her beer bottle to her partner's in salute. "See, ye've allays got an idea. Which reminds me, somethin ye said t'other day rung a bell wit me, and I started ta thinkin."

As Fiona talked, the server brought the ordered meals to the table, along with refill drinks. And as soon as the plates were in place, the portly porcine dug in to her steaming Potato casserole with a smile that turned into a sarcastic smirk as she raised an eyebrow at Fiona's hanging thought. "Uh oh, should I be scared?" The Tellarite engineer said, clearly joking.

"So ye were g'win on aboot how we could get one a' them family quarters, wi' more room and space fuir the wee one. So's we could consolidate alla yuir great engine parts wi' me perfectly maintained shrine of breakable things wi' our wee bullette in a china shop here." Hopping up to stand in her chair, Fiona wrapped the small calf in her arms. The babe grabbed for her as well, jamming the bottle into Fiona's unruly mop of crimson curls as she squeezed Fiona's pale cheek in tightly against her own furry face.

"But aye, Ah think tis time. I'll hafta have a few rooms that are off-limits to little missy here until she's older, and supervised. I'll give her music lessons, but only after she's learned not to pain't wi' her own manure. But otherwise, tis silly fuir us ta be roughin it in yuir wee bachelorette quarters. We're a family, and Starfleet made us different quarters fuir that. So let's go get us one, aye? Like ye said?" Reaching over, Fiona's small, pale doll-like five-fingered hand laid over Briaar's large, rough, three-fingered version that dwarfed hers.

Smiling hopefully up at the Tellarite, O'Dell shyly suggested, "Ye and me, and Minnie makes three... what d'ye say, Briaar?"

Turning her hand over, Briaar took Fiona's into her own and leaned in, "You can dial down the puppy dog eyes, Fee. Yeesh! It is not fair you can do that. It’s like a superpower. Seriously!”

"Ah'm joost tryin ta look sincere so's ye know I'm nae jokin, and that I realize tis important, aye?" Fiona protested mildly.

Chuckling, Briaar smiled as she leaned back, “Yeah, of course. I mean… I brought it up. N’ while you were on shift earlier I was talkin’ about it with the Chief, anyway. She’s looking at that as a possibility too, but they might be able to expand their quarters down there and keep those big ass windows in ‘Officer Country’. I dunno, but for us, there are still a shit-ton of family quarters available on Deck... uh... 13 that we can go look at as soon as the ship’s out of freak-out mode.”

Beaming a happy smile, Fiona stroked the large, calloused hand in both of her own. "Aye... I'd like that. Um... but before we do, we..." That happy dopey smile faltered, and the smile became a forced one- not that O'Dell could ever particularly hide her moods from the prescient porcine. "We should probably call me folks. I been... I been puttin it off for a while, and ye've nae said innything but I know ye've thought aboot it, and likely figurin' the worst. We... we should call 'em. Face the music, I suppose."

Immediately, Briaar's face scrunched awkwardly. Her own mother found out mostly by accident and the subspace call was a comedy of errors and suddenly all of her body issues and self-consciousness came bubbling back up to the surface. "Heh... uh... y... yeah. Yeah. I guess before we're s... s... shipping Minnie off to the Academy, we should p... probably do that. Yeah."

As usual, the persnickety porcine's nervous stutter chimed in at the dreaded concept of meeting Fiona O'Dell's family. But she took a massive swig of her beer and pushed out a smile. "Yeah! We got this!! We can do this, right kiddo?"

Addressing the rhetorical confidence booster at the bovine baby, the fuzzy bundle of excitement pumped her tiny fists and muttered, "DOOT!!! DOOT!!!" with a smile and a trademark giggle.

"Look, Briaar..." Fiona stroked the big calloused three-fingered hand in her own. "Me da... he's an old man, and he's... vurrah set in his ways. I mean, ye saw alla the silly hobbies I have that he insisted I learn growin' oop. So's I'd make some strapping young man a fine hoosband, and make lots of new O'Dell's. Ye and me... well, yuir nae a strapping lad from the Campbell clan or the MacGregors, and Minnie wasn't what he was thinkin' of when he pictured his grandchildren from his wee bebeh girrl. Me mum might be a tetch more progressive but..."

Brows furrowing, the little leprechaun dug in. "I'm nae ashamed a'ye, Briaar. We're an odd couple, I'll grant ye, but ye make me happy and wi'ye I feel safe, allays. Plus ye and me make good parents for the wee one here, and she needed the likes of us, I think- two oddballs who aren't like innybody else, because she's like no one else. So she'll grow oop knowin that bein different isnae bad, tis good- tis what sets us apart and makes us great, aye? Her and Moira and Hermoine and the Dox girls and whoever else comes along that Hera told us aboot, they'll all be great, and our gal'll nivvir doubt that her parents love an' support her. But... meetin me Da, ah... I dinna think he's g'win ta be happy, nor is he likely to be kind, Briaar. But I've put it off long enow, I think. Aye?" Those big green eyes searched those of the earth-pig taken to space, hoping against hope that she had not hurt her paunchy partner with her admission.

Listening, Briaar knew it was going to be an uphill battle with Fiona's family and she let out a bit of a sigh. "Look... Fee... I know that I'M nobodies idea of the perfect person to bring home to meet the folks. I do. I know what I am and I'm a frickin' mess and a half. But..."

Biting the bottom of her lip, she fidgeted slightly in her seat and rocked slightly as her eyes darted around. It was clear she was searching for the words to express what she was thinking and having trouble. "I... I don't frickin' care if your folks think I'm just some piece of shit pig as long as you know I love you. However you want me to handle this, I will. You want me to give as good as I get, I will. You want me to just smile and take it, I will. Whatever makes this better for YOU is all I care about. You and her are all that's important to me, okay?"

"Awwww, Briaar, yuir s'sweet," Fiona sighed. "Nae, ye dinna take a lick 'a guff from me folks. Ye and she are wi'me, and we're family, and that's that. I joost... I dinna want what they might say to hurt ye is all. Me Da, he's old-fashioned, and men will be men and girls will be girls and the way God intended it and alla that. I joost... I don't want ye to be hurt, that's all. That's why I been stalling and dragging me feet alla this time, is cuz... well, Ah know yuir sensitive, and the last thing in the world I want is for ye to be hurt because me family are a pack'a dunderheaded old religious types."

"I've heard it all, Fee." Briaar grinned. "But I got you an' I got Minnie. They got nothin' they can say that'll hit me with you two behind me. Bring 'em."

Taking a swig of her beer and a scoop of casserole, the prickly porcine grinned, "And if they insist on being... exhaust ports... we can always patch my family in on the other line and let 'em fight it out amongst themselves, Thunderdome style."

"Oh my dear sweet baby jayzis, that's a fookin' hoot! Aye, let the in-laws slug it oot, that's brilliant!" As the mood turned jubilant after some tension, Minnie squealed with delight, as she was wont to do when she was happy. With both of her fairly odd parents happy, that was a clear sign to her that celebrations were in order, and she rapped on the tabletop of the high chair with enthusiasm. As Fiona scooped up a large chip of guacamole, she carefully fed it to the babe, giving her the opportunity to discover a new flavor and texture.

"Oh, we're gonna be cleaning up weird, green diaper stains in a little while, ain't we Minnie Moo?" Briaar said as she reached over and booped the tiny tot on the nose. As she did, the baby's eyes crossed, focusing on the finger as she tried to chew the new experience. 

"Good thing she's growing so fast she can chew solid food now. Well, food and my engine parts at least and not fingers anymore." Briaar said with a wistful expression on her face. In her mind, she was stuck on the choice of phrase Fiona had just used a moment ago: 'in-laws'. A phrase that implied that the two were a married couple. And while that wasn't the case, they were certainly a family. They had adopted Minnie together and were about to officially move in together, and the typically temperamental Tellarite was truly happy for probably the first time in her adult life.

Leaning over, Briaar pushed up tight against Fiona as she smiled, the little ginger cuddling to her with a contented sigh as Gavarus went to take a sip of her beer...

Her now empty beer.

"Oh, for F@#$'S SAKE, can we get some FRICKIN' refills sometime this DECADE?!"

Dropping heavily into the uncomfortable chair at the secured comm unit she had brought along specifically for this mission, Commander Rita Paris pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed as she waited. It had been a long and trying day flushing out a brainwashed spy, which was going to potentially destroy a Starfleet officer’s career who, by all appearances, was a victim, not a treasonous betrayer. Which didn’t make the process of having flushed her out any less odious nor trying, and Paris took no joy in it. While their mission was a diplomatic one, the strain was already beginning to wear on her, and being forced to look for betrayal at every turn was apparently going to be a constant in dealing with Romulans- not only from the Romulans themselves, but everyone vaguely connected to the process.

As someone who preferred optimism and positive resolutions, it was beginning to dawn on the old-fashioned officer that this darker future in which she dwelled, this was only the beginning. It was only going to get worse from here, and she was beginning to rethink her five-year plan to start a family planetside. Living in a state of constant paranoia was not one she wanted to experience, and it seemed that was precisely what she had to look forward to as the USS Hera attempted to aid the reunification efforts between Romulus and Vulcan.

For now, she had a job to do, and she was the mission commander for this particular mission. So she had to see it through. But the internal debate was already making itself known, and she realized how much she did not want to be here, doing this, nor facing what was likely more of the same to come.

The Starfleet emblem appeared on the screen before her as a secure comm channel was opened using a tight-beam transmission method. In all the skullduggery of their secret mission, she and Captain Telvan had worked out a schedule of times when the Hera would be stationary at specific coordinates, so that tight-beam communications could be established which could only be intercepted by someone who intercepted the specific line of communication. Which would do them little good without the appropriate encryption code, which had been pre-arranged between the Captain and her first officer. Even now, the two comm systems were exchanging ‘handshakes’ even as retinal patterns and DNA scans were occurring on both ends, and she typed in a cypher code that she had memorized before leaving the Hera.

As the screen’s image shifted to that of the Hera’s specific logo, the sight of the Trill captain’s face was a sight for sore eyes to Rita, whose relief immediately turned to concern as she saw the expression on the Captain’s face.

“Captain? What’s wrong?”

Leave it to Rita to see through her commanding officer’s poker face.

"More bad news than I'd care to mention, honestly," Enalia replied as her face almost fell with weariness at the sight of her first officer. "We discovered that one of our own had been brainwashed, a Tal'Shiar agent this whole time without even knowing it, Rendal got a majority of our protomatter data, and she got away."

The spotted woman went to take a sip from her tea but paused and set the teacup back down without doing so. "Please tell me you've had better luck?"

The cheerful commander offered a sickly smile. "Gut instinct told me she was a spy, but Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette. A Vulcanoid Rigellian Intel Officer with the U.S.S. Persephone who had been assigned to accompany us on this mission as an independent observer turned out to be another Manchurian candidate- brainwashed deep cover. Not only is this diabolical, but it's hard to believe they have this many sleeper agents out here under deep cover? They're like body snatchers, Enalia. They seem fine, all is well, then suddenly phlbbbt, you're a killer programmed by the Tal'Shiar."

There was a pause as Paris looked away, unwilling to say what had to come next, but she couldn't why away from the danger to both ships. "The Doxes both spent a month with the Romulans, cap'n. It's a hard fact. As much as it pains me... Sonak can clear them, but is it even there for him to find in their mind if they aren't somehow triggered? I'll admit I'm feeling particularly paranoid right now captain... if nothing else because I left one on each ship. If we've been wrong about them..."

"Don't beat yourself up, Rita. There was no way to tell in Varnok's case. We just..." Enalia paused a moment, trying to come up with something to say that would indicate a plan or lighten the mood, convincing herself of what she was saying as she said it. "We just have to learn from this and move on, doing the best we can. They're ahead of us for the moment, but we'll get back in the lead before you know it. As for finding it, I have faith. After all, Senator Verelan t'Rul is the one that proposed all of this and if she were still their puppet, there's no doubt in my mind that the colony would have been wiped out by now."

"Unless this was part of their plan... have Dox go to the colony as the representative then activate her at a critical moment," Rita countered.

Enalia slowly leaned back in her chair, contemplating the possibility for a long moment before shaking her head. "Sonak already performed a mind meld and cleared her. He's melded with at least two people that we know of that's gone under the Ju'rot device, plus Mona's bonded to her. There are enough angles of failure of her being a sleeper agent that I'm confident that she isn't. Sonak or Mona would have sensed something by now."

"Still..." the Trill woman began, pausing a moment more. "I'd like to ask him to meld with her and this Lieutenant. And see if Az'Prel is able to meld as well, just as a backup. I don't want to ask him to take all the risk, after all."

"I'll present it to him in the morning and see what results we get. if he can't find the implanted personality, though... that's cause for genuine concern. I hate this, Enalia," Rita admitted, shaking her head and frowning. The pretty pilot wasn't at all happy about this, and it was starting to give her heartburn. "We're the good guys, and I can always trust my shipmates. But now, we have to second-guess everyone. Who knows how many sleeper agents they've gotten to? Which just sows distrust, because it isn't paranoia if they are really out to get you. And one on each ship? We need to know who issued the order for Ouelette to be sent on this mission that no one was supposed to know about."

"I have to check, but I'm pretty sure it was Admiral Forsyth. She's the one that somehow got the invitation and intel and disseminated it down to Admiral Meowlith and us." The look on Enalia's face was starting to grow grim as realization was starting to dawn on her why Forsyth did what she did so often regarding the Empire. "I think I'm going to have to request an investigation into Forsyth as soon as we're back in Federation space."

"Quietly- we don't want to arouse suspicion if we don't have to. We don't know who else in the chain of command might be brainwashed... stars and garters, Captain, this is a nightmare!" Rita paused to rub her brow, worry creasing her features.

"It really is. I grew up in this sort of atmosphere though, so it's... Familiar." Enalia finally took a sip of that tea of hers before continuing. "Trusting everyone with your life because if you didn't, you really didn't have anything. But then being ready and willing to phaser your best friend at a moment's notice if you had to."

"But you're a Starfleet woman through and through, and you're the ideal that all of Starfleet should be striving for. You're not used to this at all, are you?" The Trill woman had a genuinely concerned and caring look on her face as she set her teacup aside. "How are you holding up? I know this can't be easy for you."

“I’m…” the gold-clad commander began, then uncharacteristically slumped in her seat, actually letting the fatigue show. “Surgical alterations. Traveling on old Romulan birds of prey. Sneaking around our own chain of command. Brainwashing, deep cover agents. It feels like I’m working in Section 31, not Starfleet. I can’t trust people, the people I trust with my life, who now I have to suspect of turning at any moment. At least I’ve got Sonak to lean on, but… this isn’t the career in Starfleet I planned to have.”

“It isn’t the career in Starfleet I plan to have,” Paris admitted quietly. “I honestly don’t know how to cope with this, Captain. I'm a little out of my depth, here. Rampant paranoia because everyone could be a secret double agent that we can't detect until they turn on us at a critical moment... looks like Rendal might have won after all.”

"No. I guarantee you she has not won, nor will she." The fires of Freedom were alight in Enalia's eyes now and there was no putting them out. "She may see herself as winning or perhaps even as in the right, but I guarantee you that the ideals and freedoms that we strive for will carry the day. Our goals may be lofty and our enemies abundant and strong, but I promise you this. Our hearts are stronger and they will rue the day that they crossed the likes of true Starfleet Officers."

And with that, Enalia stood and posed just like Rita in that poster she kept on her wall growing up. "Because we believe in the ideals of the Federation and strive to bring them to all sentients that have hope for a better future in their hearts."

“While our enemies are subverting and brainwashing our allies,” Paris countered, then stopped as she made a rather chilling realization. The captain didn’t seem to be considering the very real possibilities that Paris was pointing out- that logically, their own people were very likely compromised. Instead, she was glossing over the facts, trying to inspire Rita. Which only served to worry her that much more. Could they have gotten to Enalia as well?

That heartburn kicked into overdrive, and Rita Paris suddenly felt quite ill.

“All right, Captain. I’ll stay the course and do my best,” the golden age graduate offered, steeling herself. “We’ll keep you posted as to developments as they occur, and in the morning Mister Sonak will see what can be done to detect and/or deprogram Lieutenant Oulette.”

As Enalia sat back down, a slight blush of embarrassment on her face, she nodded and returned to her normal somber demeanor. "Sorry, I guess I'm not that good at inspiring people after all... I'll leave that to you from now on."

"As for the possibility of who may be brainwashed, I'll have the computer run an analysis on the backgrounds on those we know for certain have been, and see if there are any indicators. There might be some clues to give us hints at people that might also have been compromised. For now, all we can do is proceed as normal, trusting our allies as normal but being on guard. And please let me know how things go on your end."

“Yes ma’am, I will keep you posted. In the meantime…” It was clear Paris was struggling to say the words, but she got them out, a sad look of deep regret in her eyes. “Watch your back, Captain. Paris out.”

"Hera speed, my friend. Telvan out." As the secure comm channel closed and returned to the Starfleet logo, Enalia slumped in her chair, tears forming in her eyes. Things were getting worse and she feared for her friends on both the Hera and the Ghost. Unlike other trials, this sleeper agent BS was one she could do little about and she felt that Rita, Sonak, and Az'Prel, having come from other universes and not having been in a position to have been put in a Ju'rot device, were the only ones she could really, truly trust right now.

On the flip side, could she even trust herself?

She found that thought to be the scariest one yet.

The night on the Golder Ghost had been an extremely frustrating one for Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox.

The crewmembers from the Hera had doubts concerning the observer that Starfleet had assigned from the Starship Persephone, Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette. As her assignment at the last minute was suspicious, the crew worked with the Ghost’s commander, Doctor Helev t’Liun, on setting potential traps to see if their suspicions had any validity.

Both Dox and t’Liun had the secret command codes that would allow anyone to get the coordinates for their final destination, a Rihannsu reunification colony known as Mol Krun’chi. And in a briefing with Oulette, they made sure she knew this fact. Then came the waiting. Dox went to the ships small gym to work out and spar with Az’Prel, as both women were natural fighters, but anxious and tended to deal with their anxiety through more… physical means.

Az’Prel was to protect Dox in the event of an attack, but none came. Instead, Oulette went to the Medbay to meet with t’Liun and go over the parameters of the mission. It was a meeting that went on for hours, but finally served to reveal what they had all feared when Oulette brutally attacked t’Liun to get her command codes and the coordinates of Mol Krun’chi.

But at the moment, that was all that Dox knew and that lack of information was gnawing at the young Rihannsu woman who knew she had been thrust into the middle of something sinister and far beyond her own experiences. She was also a Baroness in the Artan government, and the Ghost had been placed under her barony, making whatever had happened in MedBay very much her business. And she wanted to know exactly what that was.

Still dressed in her simple black exercise clothes, as soon as the intensity of the moment had passed, she was sent a message by the ship’s Doctor and Commander and made her way to t’Liun’s office in the Medbay. By the time she had arrived, Oulette, Rita and Sonak were gone and she entered to see t’Liun cleaning up the mess that was her office.

“Maenek t’Liun. You called to brief me on what happened?” Dox said, referring to the woman by the Rihan rank for ‘Doctor’, as she had expressed her preference. The floor was covered in scattered PaDD’s that t’Liun was picking up to restack, and as she came in, Dox bent down to assist without a second thought.

Immediately, t’Liun stood up to protest, “Please, Baroness… pardon me… Commander. Captain… ugh…” It was clear the woman was stressed after the events of the evening and was stumbling over herself. “I apologize. Please, let me. It is not your duty to clean up my messes.”

Finishing what she was doing, Dox remained calm and offered a mild smile as she placed a stack of PaDD’s neatly on the desk. “It’s no concern, Maenek. Whatever my rank, I can help out in such situations just like anyone else. And don’t worry about rank. If you’re most comfortable with ‘Baroness’, there’s nobody else here to worry about that confusing. Please.”

“My apologies, Baroness. This evening has… set me on edge.” T’Liun admitted as she finished picking up the PaDD’s that were scattered on the floor. She was avoiding eye contact and was clearly stressed. Dox knew something had happened in here that revealed that Oulette was a spy, but she didn’t know the details. But she wanted to find out and never liked seeing those around her upset. She barely knew Helev t’Liun, but the woman had risked herself and her ship to save Dox from ch’Rihan and followed that up by pledging their loyalty to her Barony. That all earned more than a little consideration from the young Starfleet Officer.

“So… this can go two ways, Maenek.” Dox said as she folded her hands behind her back and looked up at the taller woman with a soft expression and a light smile, “I can ask for your official report as your Baroness… or we can just talk and you can tell me what happened.”

From the other side of the narrow desk, t’Liun’s expression was hard to read, but twinged with a bit of what looked like confusion. And now, with t’Liun standing straight up, Dox could see a mild green bruising on the woman’s neck. Noticing the red-headed woman had seen the bruise, t’Liun rubbed it mildly and tried to not stiffen up. “Your… suspicions were correct. Oulette was a spy. We talked for hours, going over all the data and everything about her said she… was meek. Studious. The ideal woman for her job. As we talked, I had become certain that she couldn’t be dangerous.”

Walking over to the door to the main med lab, T’Liun was trying to keep busy as she talked, picking up the blankets that Rita and Sonak had been hiding under in the guise of sleeping patients as had been planned. Dox followed, noticing that the woman’s anxiety seemed to be increasing.

“Then, as she was about to leave, she… changed. Her voice, her body language. Everything. It was as if a switch had been flipped and a different woman was suddenly standing in her body. Her eyes…” T’Liun turned back to Dox while she folded up the blankets. “Her pupils dilated right in front of me and she practically picked me up and shoved me against the wall as if I weighed nothing. It was… unsettling, Baroness. I… I apologize.”

Narrowing her gaze, Dox nodded. “No doubt. Are you okay?”

“Ie, Baroness. I will be fine. I’m just a bit shaken but I’ve dealt with worse. I just need to get some sleep, no doubt.” T’Liun replied, stacking the blankets with her back to Dox as she fidgeted, trying to find something else to do with her hands. It was all very conspicuous to Dox as she watched.

“And so you suspect mental conditioning? From the behavior and the physical cues? Brainwashing?” Dox asked, pointedly.

“I believe so, yes. I’ve encountered it before with people we’ve rescued from the Imperium that have had their minds tampered with. All the symptoms are the same, Baroness.” T’Liun replied as she tried to walk past Dox to the office. But this time, Dox wasn’t allowing it.

“Maenek, stop.” Dox said with a bit of an edge in her voice. As she did, she pointed to one of the medical tables next to them. “Have a seat.”

The woman who wasn’t used to taking orders on her own ship suddenly remembered that the Golden Ghost wasn’t exactly her ship anymore. It was Mnhei’sahe Dox’s. And she had no illusions that ‘have a seat’ wasn’t an order, as she replied. “Ie, Baroness.”

As t’Liun sat, looking over to the woman ten years her junior that looked back like someone that wasn’t new to command and had a serious expression. There was a moment of silence between the two women before Dox sat on the table opposite her and broke it. “I’m sure the attack was stressful. But like you’ve said, you’ve experienced worse. But from your behavior and your physical cues, there is something you aren’t telling me, Maenek.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say you were going out of your way not to tell me something. So, let’s try direct questions. Where is Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette now?” Dox asked with a concerned tone, looking t’Liun in the eyes.

Knowing how to respond to an order, t’Liun was stiff but direct as she answered, understanding where Dox was leading her. “Under heavy sedation in the brig. Under a security forcefield. To be… seen only by myself.”

Nodding, Dox looked like she had deflated slightly. She was beginning to suspect why Rita hadn’t messaged her herself afterward. Why she hadn’t seen her friend and Commander since the incident occurred. The pieces were beginning to fall into place in her mind. Two weeks of having her loyalty challenged, questioned, and threatened by Starfleet Intelligence had made this all far too familiar of a feeling. “That sounds like an order. And since there aren’t many people on board that can actually give you an order here, this would be a mission-specific order. From the mission commander, I take it. From Commander Paris?”

Sitting up a bit straighter as if to steel herself, t’Liun nodded. “Ie, Baroness.”

There was another long pause as Dox thought about it. At worst, she thought, Rita was now concerned that she had been compromised as well. It wasn’t an illogical leap, after all. It would mean Rita also doubted Sonak’s clearing of hor on ch’Rihan, but circumstances warranted caution to be sure. At best, it was a simple precaution. The less variables in a situation, the better, so it made sense. But still, the uncertainty of it all was palpable.

It was also a potential pattern that troubled the young Lieutenant Commander. This wouldn’t be the first time Rita had purposefully kept her out of a loop she should have been involved with. Dox thought back to the Captain’s tribunal a few months past now and how Rita organized a secret plan to use the experimental Thunderchicken in the assault, keeping those orders top secret on the Hera’s own flight deck. The flight deck Dox was supposed to be the chief of.

Trying not to dwell on the implications, Dox pushed those thoughts out of her head as best as she could. She had never asked to be bequeathed the Golden Ghost, called in her native tongue, the Isahj’ey Aheallh, but the ship was now hers. As such, she needed to at least act like someone who knew how to command. And that made making sure those under her felt confident and secure, even if she herself didn’t.

“Thank you for letting me know. Commander Paris will not make any orders that would endanger us or our mission and should be followed as if they came from me or Captain Telvan.” Dox said, reassuring t’Liun that all was under control. “As such, it seems as if the situation is under control. And we all need some rest if we’re to be at our best going into these negotiations. I would suggest you wrap it up here and try and sleep, Maenek. I’ll be doing the same.”

Standing back up, Dox tugged down on her exercise top as if it were her uniform and started towards the door. As she did, she turned back towards t’Liun. “Maenek… if there’s any way in which we can succeed in our purposes here, we will. That’s what Commander Paris does best. She finds a way to win when it should be impossible. I’m living proof of that.”

Listening, t’Liun could hear that Dox was trying to bolster her confidence, but she could also hear that the younger woman wasn’t lying and it was a comfort. Nodding, the ship's reluctant commander replied simply, “Ie, Baroness. Good rest. Jolan’tru.”

“Jolan’tru, Maenek.” Dox replied as she left the med bay and walked down the corridor to her assigned quarters on the Ghost. She had done her best to assure t’Liun that everything was under control, but it was a facade. Dox hadn’t heard it from the source, but that silence had been deafening. And while all she had was her own guesses about what was going on in her friend's head, she couldn’t shake the feeling that when the proverbial chips were down, Rita simply didn’t trust her and she didn’t know how to process that fear as it took root in the front of her already troubled mind.

Retiring to the quarters assigned to them on the Golden Ghost, the old Romulan Bird of Prey that was currently ferrying them to their rendezvous with destiny at the reunification colony of Mol Kun’chi, Commander Rita Paris looked around the spartan quarters suspiciously. Az’Prel had swept them for security, which was an order she had initially felt might be a bit overboard, but was now taking some cold comfort in the knowledge that had come to pass. Racking her brain, she couldn’t imagine a time or opportunity for anyone to have ‘gotten to’ Az’Prel, so on the list of people of whom she now had to be suspicious, Az’Prel was low on that list. But the fact that there was a list at all made her stomach churn, and Paris still found herself looking around the empty quarters with a suspicious eye.

Methodically, she moved to inspect the room, seeking any clue of sabotage, of surveillance, of tampering. Because she would be remiss in her duty as an officer if she did not. Because someone might have come through after Az’Prel’s sweep. Because she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if she didn’t.

By the time Sonak arrived, she was in her EVA armor, using the suit’s scanners to search for any sort of possible bugs, toxins, traps- anything suspicious. Her husband's arched eyebrow rose as he saw her nervously checking every inch of their quarters; obviously not for the first time.

''Please tell me, my wife; is there a problem with the environmental controls?''

"No..." she began, turning to face him before being distracted by a reading that indicated no different results than the first few times she had checked, before powering the EVA suit down and shunting it to the extradimensional space where she stored it. "I just... I needed to be certain that the quarters were secure. I know Az'Prel checked them when we came aboard, but I couldn't be certain that someone hadn't come behind her, or that it might have been something more technologically advanced than she is used to looking for, or..."

Turning to face Sonak, Rita looked genuinely miserable, on the verge of tears.

''Or you want something done well, move your butt and do it yourself?''

Sonak was not mocking her. Although he could not share her anxieties, and barely understood them, he would never ignore or dismiss them. And with decades of being with Humans and other emotional beings, he had learned out of observation and experiment two ways to stave off a negative emotion; bring forth reason... or stimulate another, more positive emotion.

Like laughter.

"Did you really just say...?" Rita managed before she snorted, then burst out laughing. "Yes, I..." Nodding, Rita stepped into his space, slowly sliding her arms beneath his and laying her head on his shoulder. Shuddering slightly, she sought the reassurance of his touch. Feeling insecure, adrift and overwhelmed, she sought the one constant point in the universe. The rock of stability that was a constant, from which she could navigate anywhere in the universe and beyond, and always find her way back. Pulling back slightly, she brought her forehead to rest against his own, reaching for him... to find her way back.

...Sonak...

It took barely a nonsecond for their minds to connect the moment they touched. The matrimonial bond between them was faster and deeper than any mind meld. And with it, he could for a moment experience what she felt, and she in turn could perceive what he thought, both as if they were but one mind struggling with the emotion and anchoring themselves into reason. Even their bodies came into synch, his higher heartbeat slowing down, his deeper breathing drawing hers in, her coolness diffusing his higher body heat, the dryness of his skin absorbing her sweat and tears.

...Thy'la... your Human feeling of apprehension is logical in the present circumstances. Thus, use logic to master both.

That's my problem... logic tells me that trust is a mistake, that caution is sensible, and that the conspiracy facing us cuts deeply. What if you can't find the programming? What if the Dox's are still compromised, and will turn at a critical moment? This implantation of sleeper personalities into people... it's horrible and frightening and I can't know who to trust. A vice admiral sent that woman on this mission, one who wasn't even supposed to know about the mission at all, and she did so in order for the mission to be betrayed. So that WE would be the cause of the deaths of those colonists.

Who else? How do we fight this? How do we trust, when people don't even know themselves? The anxiety was not quite panic, but the desperation and the frantic looping of logic, following the implications of what they had learned, knowing that Ensign Varnok back on the Hera had simultaneously been activated as a sleeper agent had thoroughly unsettled her, as fear and logic were running neck and neck, both headed for conclusions she could neither ignore nor seem to escape. The confidence and clear vision which usually guided her was undermined, and in such circumstances, she clung to him, hoping for some reassurance that her logic was flawed, that she was not seeing some element of the paradigm which the brilliant mind he shared with her could readily discern.

Trust Dox; her mind and mine were shared and through our bond; you know now, just as I do, the truth of her being. Trust me; we have already together foiled this major attempt to infiltrate us, an attempt that would have succeeded if not for us. Most of all, you have known success in such perilous missions before; this makes you now even better prepared to face the next challenge than you were back then; trust in yourself.

I DO trust Dox... it's this... great unknown I'm afraid of. If she turns out to be a deep cover agent, it'll destroy her. Or her mother, or both. They're our family, Sonak, and I'm terrified for them, Rita explained, clarifying her own feelings by explaining them to him, as she so often did. You said yourself there was a possibility that you might not have detected it...

There was the brief flash of paranoid thought- what if it could be transferred via the mind meld? What if all those telepathic Remans who died during the building of that wretched technology somehow managed to imbue it with the capacity to be telepathically contagious? It was highly improbable and certainly a rather impressive leap of logic, which had very little evidence to prove it. But as a burgeoning anxiety, it still bloomed there in the inventive and imaginative woman's mind. In the life she led, the improbable was often far from the impossible- it was seldom limited, as Sonak had observed, by their own understanding of the forces of the universe.

The thought bloomed, but she refused to let that fear take hold.

As quickly as it occurred, she rejected the idea. Sonak's mind was vast and powerful, and she knew it well. So too did she knew his soul and his calm and precise green heart, and the will which drove him. His thirst for knowledge and understanding of the universe was matched only by his self control. While genetics granted him the capacity to perform feats of mental telepathy, it was his own will which moved them to action, and expanded their range, power and intensity. It was his control over his own body and mind which enabled him to meld with another, so easily and thoroughly. Afterward he tended to compartmentalize the experiences in most cases, to prevent too many loose whispers in his own mind. But just as she could always feel a part of him within her, so too a part of her lived within him.

Their katras, intertwined and shared freely with one another- the purest expression of giving she had encountered in all her travels.

Through him, she could recognize the odds of his statement, wherein he did have to admit there was a small but not inconsequential chance that he might not detect such a personality implant. Which gave her the idea that perhaps the implanted personality was not custom crafted for each deep cover, but perhaps one personality... which in a way narrowed down some of what they were looking for, somehow in her mind. All of this passed through her mind in the seconds after she wondered about him... and realized that her first instinct, as usual, was the right one, and it was folly to doubt the kolinahr. Far too self aware and strong-willed, no insidious brainwashing technique could assail his intellect fortress.

Sonak was Sonak, and that remained a constant of her universe. Which brought Rita Paris more relief than she realized.

Pulling back slightly from him so that she could look upon him with her own eyes even as they shared minds, and sort of double vision he'd long ago taught her how to reconcile, the impulse engines finally caught in Rita's brain, pulling her free of the mire of panic and paranoia she'd wound herself up in over this. "All right. The chance of you not having caught it in our people is very low, and this isn't some metascience Q level god thing. These are sneaky secret police with a machine they've programmed. How... how do they preprogram them for situations, though? How did Oulette get triggered, or Varnok? It isn't magic, so there must be some sort of contingency, or some way to activate them, no?

''That part is rather basic hypnotechnique,'' the Vulcan explained; ''implant a trigger word or event and the process will activate upon such occurrence happening as a matter of simple behavioral reflex.''

He then went back to the toughts she had shared with him.

''Vulcans, as a matter of basic education in a society of psionically endowed population, learn at a very early age to build mental barriers and defenses. Even the dreaded Klingon Mind Sifter cannot penetrate them. Of course, the kolinarh disciplines bring this basic technique to a much higher level, enabling effective defense even against powerful telepaths like Betazoids. And in my case, because of my peculiar inborn exceptional level of mental sensitivity, I was trained longer and further than any other Vulcan currently alive. You remember on our first assignment together how I was able to challenge even the Talosians. I may not be able to find masterful tampering in another's mind; but I would assuredly sense any attempt to tamper with mine... or yours, since we are bonded.''

He paused for her to assimilate what he was conveying before finishing.

''As for Dox, do not fear for her either. For months now she had been my sole disciple and the intensive mental training I shared with her was first and foremost to build up her mental defenses. She proved an apt and dedicated pupil, able to even fight off the mental influence of the god-like beings we recently encountered, even when one had already taken a foothold in her mind. I estimate her mental shields to be second only to mine.''

Then something else occurred to him.

''Thinking about it, there has been observed an inverse proportionality between the degree and quality of infiltration and the number of attempts. That is, if the mental implant and brainwashing technique used on this Lieutenant Oulette is as advanced and thorough as we estimate, then it is logical to assume that there were correspondingly much fewer occurrences of infiltration. Case in point; when the Changelings infiltrated Earth during the Dominion War, they sent only one, as they knew Earth was unequipped to find it, and thus defenseless against it.''

He looked straight at her.

''Of course, that doesn't mean to relax our caution. But we can reduce our apprehensions.''

"Fear can be healthy, panic serves no one. I wonder if I can get a decent cup of tea out of one of these replicators..." Rising, Rita fished her collapsible PaDD out of her uniform top, snapped it open and sought to transfer recipes to the replicator. "Well, good to know. Dox was awfully worried about mental intrusion... nice to hear you found an apt pupil, and that she can protect herself. Her report was that she resisted the device successfully, and I'd hate for her to have been wrong. So, there's a touch more paranoia we can safely remove from the board. That just leaves the rest of the universe, but as long as we've got one another, we've got a chance."

Pausing in her activation of the replicator, Rita mused. "That's it. That's what was driving me to distraction about all of this. So long as we can rely on one another, as a crew, I can be confident. Because I believe in Starfleet, and Starfleet is every member of the crew. But the command staff, more than anything. I need the Captain to make those hard calls and be a sneaky pirate. I need the Doxes because they've lived in the shadows, and they're dangerous, but they have noble hearts. I needed Asa... I should have seen that coming. The withdrawal, the insular behavior, the long silences. This life is pretty dangerous out here, and they're still just a kid. A kid I dragged through a day in a war."

The replicator dinged and the door slid open to reveal a wide, squat mug of tea, a bergamot blend whose scent soothed her and helped her think. Removing the mug, she blew on the tea as she cradled the mug in both hands, part of the ritual, as she sat down on the bed. "Thex with her tinkering and her over-achievement, all settled down with twins no less, and a full family unit. But knowing she's down there, making sure those engines are running and that there's power for whatever cockamamie scheme we throw at her."

"All of them... that's what I believe in, and what gives me the courage to face whatever situations arise. But not being able to trust them... mmm, yep. That just takes the rug right out from under me. I never realized that about myself, but here I am." Taking a sip of the tea, she savored it's warmth and the scent of it. "We can't accurately hypothesize without more data, which we'll get tomorrow. Right?"

''In the current circumstances, that would be a logical course of action,'' he acknowledged, going for a change of clothes.

Reaching up, she touched his arm to restrain him. If he was moving to change, then he likely meant to continue working- after all, his exceptional metabolism combined with his unparalleled discipline meant that he needed far less sleep than she, and in fact could go days or even months without it, merely meditating to reorder and rest his mind and body. But for right now, she required a bit more reassurance- while her mind was calmer and his logic had penetrated and dispelled much of the fog of fear that had clouded her mind, still she required reassurance of a more physical sort. Years of being an energy ghost had left her very tactile by nature, and while their minds came together so often so too did she have needs of a more physical nature. Needs which she silently expressed to him, with questing eyes.

They came together, in the manner of her people, as they had for many years now, and would for many more. In those moments, she felt truly alive as in no other, and she expressed her love and admiration for him, even as he reciprocated in kind. Together they wove their bodies and souls together as one for a brief time, as they bridged the gap between their cultures, and themselves.

In the face of such intimacy, no lingering doubts or paranoia or anxieties could remain... as together, they drove back the fear of the unknown with the absolute confidence they shared in one another. Confidence... and love. Devotion, understanding, and above all, love.