There had been tenderness, and there had been passion, and the woman so very tied to the material world reassured herself that she inhabited it, rather thoroughly. And as she sought to doze afterward, her mind was still puzzling over the problem, teasing it, prodding it.

In the hours since Oulette had shown her hidden identity, Rita had placed the woman off limits save to the doctor. She trusted that her precautions were still being faithfully observed- although, she realized, she was not on a Starfleet vessel, and on this vessel, her ranks were more of a polite deference than actual command capability within the rank structure. Right now, Dox was the captain of this vessel, which, she realized, had added to her anxiety. She was accustomed to being more than humored or deferred to on a Starship, and being the mission commander while her subordinate was commander of the vessel, whose crew held no allegiance to her whatsoever was disconcerting for her.

Plenty of unstable ground to go around, it seemed.

But Dox hadn't contacted her. If- again, a very long shot- if Dox had been activated then right now the starship might be making all due haste to the colony. But Rita hadn't felt a course change nor speed, and in an old bird like this one, even with newfangled insides, Rita felt confident she would have recognized the signs. But she held course and speed for now, so that hadn't changed.

Instead, more than likely, Dox was wondering what the hell was going on, and Rita was letting the sweat cool from reminding herself that where there is life there is hope, and she was most definitely alive.

Patting Sonak silently, who was reviewing some quadratic integer quantum equations in his head while he meditated, she rose and padded to the shower, considering her next move. A thirty-second sonic shower later, she grabbed her previous day's uniform- no sense in replicating a new one, because she'd still need sleep tonight. Slipping into it with practiced ease in seventeen seconds time, the lost navigator knelt on the bed to kiss the last Kolinahr, drinking him in with her eyes as he gazed at her, seemingly dispassionately- but only to one who did not know the subtleties of his expressions.

Stepping up t0 the door, as it slid open, she took to that brisk military stride of hers, thick-soled explorer's boots gripping the floor as she moved confidently toward where the prisoner was being held. Because she wagered that's where she would find Dox, puzzling over the problem in her own way. Besides, it wasn't a Starfleet vessel. You didn't just tap your comm badge to ask the computer where someone was at the moment. This was a freebooter that flew by different rules.

But the Brig wasn't where Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox was. She wanted to be there to try and figure out just what had happened, but the ship's Doctor, Helev t'Liun, had been the one to inform Dox of the order from Rita, and Dox was obeying it.

Which, in and of itself, was frustrating. Rita hadn't contacted her herself after the attack and made an order specifying that Dox not have access to the captured spy. It was extremely troubling to the young pilot and the lack of other information was digging around her brain like a hungry worm.

She didn't know about Rita's concerns. She didn't know what had also happened on the Hera. She didn't know why Rita hadn't talked to her since the incident. Which all birthed too many questions in her already overburdened mind.

So, after a fitful attempt at sleep that hadn't helped, she was up and around. Like the last time she had been on the Golden Ghost, she had a hard time relaxing. So, just like last time, she found herself sitting alone in the crew mess with a cup of coffee and a spread of PaDD's in front of her to review the mission information for the thousandth time.

It took a while for the gold-clad commander to find the restless Rihannsu, but eventually find her she did, with a bit of help from the Bridge. The graveyard shift comms officer had obliged her in locating Dox's comm badge, a standout on the Artan vessel, which pinpointed her location and led Paris to the right location. Which, upon entering, she took in at a glance- a stack of PaDDs and flimsies, a cup of cold coffee, an officer working into the night who couldn't sleep, and most of the pieces fell into place rather quickly for her.

You created the situation, even if you didn't create the circumstances, Rita. Time to face the music.

Striding in quietly, Rita crossed the room and smoothed out her skirt as she seated herself at the table, not opposite but to the left of Dox. "I suppose I owe you a few answers."

Of course, with those keen ears of hers, Dox had heard Rita’s usual and distinct stride coming down the corridor as the ship was unusually quiet. But knowing wasn’t the same as being prepared and the young pilot didn’t want to deal with whatever was about to be said. It was a conversation she had imagined in her head from a handful of different directions, none of which was pleasant for her to think about.

There was a moment of silence between the two women as Dox put her PaDD down and, turning slightly towards the woman she considered a sister, replied softly, “You’re my superior officer, Commander. Beyond that, you’ve saved my life more than once now and I wouldn’t even be here right now if not for you. You don’t owe me anything. That said... “ there was a weakness in her voice as she continued, “I would greatly appreciate some.”

"As we were expecting, Lieutenant Oulette turned on the doctor- something triggered her, and a hidden personality emerged. We caught her, and I had her isolated. Sonak admitted that he might not be able to detect a personality implant such as that in others were it not activated, and... that gave me pause." Rita picked up one of the PaDDs, tracing her finger along the outer edge of the slender tablet. "I contacted the Captain to report, and simultaneously, Mister Varnok- the Cardassian intelligence officer- was activated during the nebula battle, and Rendal got the lion's share of the protomatter data Dedjoy had in the pod. So my paranoia has been running a little rampant today." Those bright blue eyes came up to meet with those of the dark-eyed Romulan, and in that expression, Dox could see the weariness in them, the toll such doubt took on the usually forthright and honest to a fault officer.

Looking in those weary eyes, Dox began to understand what must have been going on in Rita’s own head all this time as her own expression shifted to a blend of surprise and shock. “Varnok? Nouhha… was anyone hurt back on the ship? Is Yeoman Dedjoy okay?”

"Dedjoy seems to be none the worse for wear, and no, he didn't hurt anyone. But the fact that he's been deep cover and suddenly triggered, at the same time that Oulette was shoehorned into this mission by the insistence of a Vice-Admiral, no less, got me... well." Rita paused at that, setting the PaDD down and leaning back in her chair.

"Back in the old days, during the 5-year missions... part of what kept you going was crew unity, you know? We all knew one another, and we were all in this together for the next five years, boldly going, exploring strange new worlds... and whatever happened, you knew you could rely on your shipmates. It was us out challenging the universe, pushing back those frontiers, seeing what was out there and handling it, because we knew we could rely on the people around us. Everyone was dedicated, everyone was Starfleet, and everyone would give their all for the crew, the mission, for one another." Pausing in her reverie, Paris shook her head.

"It's not like that anymore. Now we travel on starships without Starfleet crews, we have officers who don't even know they are brainwashed, and we boldly go, but not in the open, not honestly. We sneak around because that's how we outsmart our enemies, and we have to because that's the universe we live in. It's... not something I am accustomed to," Rita admitted, pinching the bridge of her nose as the headache she had been fighting on and off for the past day tried to reassert itself. "Not knowing that I can turn to my shipmates when trouble strikes, because we're not on a Starfleet starship. Or our enemies may have gotten to our own crew, may have turned them into enemy agents that don't even know they have been compromised... it's... hard for me, Miss Dox."

It wasn't the best of admissions, but it was an honest one.

“And, logically, you thought about me and had to wonder. I spent a month on that ship and you couldn’t know what happened every minute I was there. How could you be sure... if the person who made the report was now a sleeper agent?” Dox said, as the air felt like it had been kicked out of her, understanding now what Rita had been going through. “And it’s not as if you can just ASK me if I’ve been compromised... if I legitimately don’t know.”

“I can say… if I’m brainwashed… I’m going to be furious. I fought my proverbial ass off against that kreldanni machine. It hurt like hell.” Dox tried to joke lightly as she fidgeted with her cold coffee mug, trying to push back against a wave of depression she felt coming towards her.

“Sorry… I… That was a bad joke. Not my strong suit.” Dox hemmed and hawed for a moment as she tried to figure out what to say next. “So, what changed that you’re here, now? Did you talk to Commander Sonak?”

"Oddly enough, that was a considerable consideration. If you had fought and resisted it, and you found out that you hadn't after all..." Rita paused at that, her words trailing off before she redirected. "Yes. I'll be frank, I was... well, after I found out about Varnok, I was a bit overly paranoid. I couldn't confide in you, which is more disturbing than I realized for me, and with any of the crew suddenly suspect, I looked around at the crew of mostly strangers here whom I cannot vouch for in the least and... you get the idea."

"So yes, Sonak to the rescue. he talked me down, and calmed me down, and helped me get back from 'what do I do when I logically must suspect everyone, and in particular the one I need most on this mission' to a more sensible 'how do we face this and overcome it'. Have to love that man of mine's logic... when the universe refuses to make sense, he's always a eye of the storm for me. Good thing he's fascinated by logic and emotion combined," Rita joked, then her eyes met those of the Romulan rebel.

"Sonak assured me that if you or your mother were compromised, despite his admission that there are variables and possibilities, he is quite positive in your case that would know if that were the case. Also, he gave you full credit for resisting the Ju'rot machine, because he said that your mental defenses are second only to his own. High praise indeed from the man who once contained a Talosian mind within his own, and lived to tell of it with his sanity intact," Rita relayed, a reminder in her mind that she likely shouldn't mention Talosians around others, particularly on a civilian vessel. But she'd worry about the death penalty later, assuming this universe had the same General Order. "So while I might have made you miserable keeping you out of the loop while I dealt with my own anxieties, take that compliment for what it's worth, hm?"

“I know what a compliment from Sonak is worth, so… thank you.” Dox replied with pursed lips, not quite knowing what she was feeling at the moment. “I understand. You had to be sure. It’s just…”

There was another long pause as Dox looked back to Rita, “When I realized that for Rendal, I was bait to try and lure the Hera into a trap… I tried to call out to Mona. I tried to tell her to tell YOU... not to come for me.”

“Rendal… She… she put in in a chair. Locked me there so I couldn’t try to kill myself because she knew my mother taught me how to if I was ever taken. And when I thought I didn’t have anything left… after what she did to my father… I saw you. I know I was just hallucinating. I was exhausted and dehydrated and… but I did. I saw you standing there in front of me, giving me one of those perfect speeches that you never have to rehearse for, telling me to hold on. Because you’d come. You’d always come.” Dox looked down at the table in front of her and let out a long breath.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Rita. I’m going to do my best to not screw this all up, I am. But… having you here means everything. And when it felt like you… like you didn’t trust me anymore… I didn’t know how I was going to do what I have to do.” Dox was clearly letting her emotions out as she shook slightly and ran a finger over the tip of her ear.

"That's the problem, Miss Dox. We need one another... that was the lesson of the five-year missions. We could pull off just about anything if we all stuck together as a crew. The circumstances change- but that's the nature of things, is it not?" Rita gestured to the retro Romulan bird of prey mess hall, which was essentially unchanged from what it would have been in her day, which was itself a refitted pirate vessel turned privateer, now under the command of the subordinate officer before her. "The key is that trust between us all. When that's shaken, we all falter."

"I'm sorry that I doubted you, Miss Dox. Captain Dox- I'll admit, that's one I'm still trying to get used to, but it's settling in on me. Call me old-fashioned or competitive, but I always figured you'd catch me in rank before you passed me right by." A chagrined smile slowly spread across Rita's face as she spoke, half-jokingly. "I felt I would be remiss in my duty had I not addressed the possibility that you and your mother might be compromised. Because if that were the case, both missions were suddenly in considerable jeopardy."

"I had to address the concerns of my conscience before I could arrive at a confident decision," the spirit of the 23rd century stated plainly, adding, "which I hope you can appreciate."

“I can.” Dox said, nodding her head lightly, “I… I would have had to have done the same thing if I was in your shoes. And it would have felt horrible. I’m sorry.”

The young Rihannsu pilot looked over at her friend and let the crack of a smile out, “And please, don’t call me that. I’m not a Captain. I don’t know why they gave the Ghost to me, but I’m not a Captain. It’s… it’s just us. ‘Dox’ is fine, please.”

"But you ARE a captain. This is YOUR crew," Rita emphasized pointedly. "They elected you their leader, even if you didn't ask for the job, Baroness. I would be remiss if I did not recognize it on your own vessel out of courtesy to the captain of the ship regardless of who it was. Just taking a bit of getting used to is all. Sonak would call it wounded pride, and he'd be right. So bear with the old fleeter who is still adapting to the freebooting future."

"Uggggh…" Dox groaned pointedly as she flumped her head lightly into the table with an exacerbated thunk that caused the small pile of PaDD's to slide slightly. "This is kreldanni ridiculous."

"I'd want to say that I can't wait for everything to go back to normal, but it isn't going to, is it Rita?" Dox said, pulling her head back up and nervously running a finger over her ear. "This is the new normal, isn't it?"

"Normal is relative, Miss Dox. You know that by now. To be fair, you signed on for the dual life- Starfleet and the Romulans, Starfleet and the Artans... that dual nature of yours will likely be a repeating pattern throughout your life. Straddling both sides of the divide will never be easy, but it will make you adaptable." There was no acrimony nor sarcasm in the voice of the human explorer. Instead, she just laid out the facts as she saw them, as she always had, and delivered them with a smile. "Like the wise man says, life is what happens while we're making plans. Just remember, unlike all of those dark days on the Forager- you are never alone, now. There's always someone who has your back- shipmates, sworn to serve together. It may not be deep space and the 5-year mission, but that doesn't mean we can't strive for the same espirit d'corps, aye?"

"Indeed. Not being alone in all of this makes it all that much more manageable." Dox replied, looking at one of her PaDD's and thinking. "Or at least, a touch less... daunting."

"Espirit d'corps... Hm. Commander, Lieutenant Oulette... Have you talked to Sonak about the possibility of helping her? If this was the work of the Ju'rot device as Maenek t'Liun suspects, then she's been used. She's not fully responsible. If there's even a chance of that, we have to at least try." the Rihannsu Lieutenant Commander asked with a look of quizzical concern on her face, as her eyebrows knitted slightly.

Somewhat taken aback, Paris looked surprised. "Why... would we not? She's a Starfleet officer- one of our own. She's been victimized and had her agency removed from her- why in the universe would we not do everything in our power to help her, Miss Dox?" This time Paris stated it plainly, quite suddenly a command officer with a question to which she expected an answer.

"I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page before I started making proposals is all, Commander," Dox replied in a more straightforward voice and tone. "I never considered it an option that we wouldn't help, but I was unsure on what level of involvement I would have in that help until now. That said, I've had a lot of time to think about it and I think we should have Maenek t'Liun run as many deep neurological scans as possible. Anything as invasive as the Neural Extraction Converter has got to leave some kind of... fingerprint. Something we can detect."

"And if Commander Sonak's plans are in any way similar to the technique we used to free my Grandmother, then if we perform that under medical observation, we would be able to see exactly what areas of her brain have been affected."

"I believe he is thinking that you and the Doctor accompany him in his metal probing, as he can rely upon her medical knowledge and your experience. I had assumed you would be onboard for it, given the circumstances, and I assume the doctor will also be willing, as it is what's best for the patient. But that's tomorrow," Paris redirected, laying in a course closer to her original point. "We're still in the here and now. So, I believe I've brought you up to speed at this point, yes?"

Nodding, Dox replied, "Aye. And I appreciate it, thank you." Her response was sincere but twinged with the slightest hint of curiosity, not knowing where Rita was leading but trusting her to never have that path be astray.

"This mission- dealing with Rendal, who's so hell-bent on getting her hands on protomatter technology while sending undercover infiltrators at us seemingly with ease- it isn't going to be an easy one. It will try our souls, and the ties that bind us as a crew. So forgive an old lady for having reasonable doubts, and try not to let it burden you. As for all of this," Paris offered with an encompassing gesture, "Look at it as your post-Starfleet retirement plan?"

"I do, Rita. Thank you. I'm working on my own side of things. Trying to not take everything onto myself and assume that I did something wrong. It's not always easy, but I am trying. I like to think I'm getting better." The perpetually anxious Rihannsu pilot smiled. It wasn't forced or artificial as she looked over at her friend. 

"Leaps and bounds, Miss Dox. I believed in you then and I believe in you now," Rita reassured with a clasp to the shoulder and a little shake.

"As for the Ghost..." Dox looked around her at the strange ship that had somehow become hers, "When this mission is all over, I just want to see how she flies. You want a go at the helm?"

"I wouldn't say no. Take turns putting her through her paces?" Paris replied, ever eager for a chance to actually just fly for a change.

"Well then, we have yet another reason to succeed at this mission," Dox said with a playful grin. "And I don't think the Captain will object."

"There is that. Come on. neither of us is going to get much sleep tonight, so a nightcap, to toast your captaincy, my friend. What do you say?" Rita stood and stepped to the replicator, snapping out her foldable PaDD to interface with the unit, to have it create one real version and one synthehol, in those hand-blown squarish tumblers the locals seemed to prefer. Picking them up, she carried the cocktails carefully to the table, handing the real Romulan ale off to the Romulan, while she drank the 'not harmful to braincells' version her husband preferred.

Looking at the foggy blue liquid, Dox smirked and shook her head as she chuckled lightly and joked. "If I'm the Captain here, I don't suppose I can order you to stop calling me that, can I?" 

"As this is essentially classified as a civilian vessel, I still outrank your captaincy in it with Starfleet rank," Rita reasoned. "So no, you can't order me to stop. But I won't tease either. Fair?"

"Fair." The outranked young officer said with a grin as she pondered what to say. "What did your old classmate call it? Back in that recording from the Khitomer accords?"

Then, the words came to the young, redheaded pilot as she lifted her glass to meet Rita's. "To the Undiscovered Country."

Then Rita held her glass up and clinked it to Mnhei'sahe's. "To the Golden Ghost..."

Dox smirked and shook her head as she chuckled lightly. "And my post-Starfleet retirement plan. May she survive my Captaincy."

Few on the Artan Bird of Prey known as the Golden Ghost slept well or particularly long overnight as the ship warped its way through Romulan space towards the hidden reunification colony known as Mol Krun’chi. The night earlier, the crewmembers of the U.S.S. Hera had rooted out a spy in their midst.

Now, as morning bells rang at 06:00 hours, those crewmembers stood ready in the brig of the Ghost outside the cell of Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette. The Vulcanoid Rigellian Intel Officer assigned as an observer from the U.S.S. Persephone who, the night prior, had attacked the Ghost’s commander, Doctor Helev t’Liun, in an attempt to gain access to the ship’s computers to learn the location of the colony they were headed too.

The timely intervention of Lieutenant Commander Sonak prevented tragedy from taking place but after a long night of frayed nerves and legitimate suspicions, it was time to come together to find out exactly what had happened to the Starfleet officer lying sedated on a bio-bed in the brig, under a security forcefield. During the attack, everything about the woman’s behavior and body language suggested a woman stripped of her own agency and control. It had been like a switch had been flipped and a second personality had taken over. Watching from the other side of the shimmering green forcefield, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox’s face didn’t betray her conflicted emotions.

The chamber was entirely too much like the Romulan brig she had been a prisoner in not too long ago, but she pushed that feeling out of her mind to focus on the officer in front of her on the table.

“That could have easily been me. Me or my mother. It was my grandmother.” Dox said in a low, gravely tone standing beside the golden clad lost navigator from another time and place, Commander Rita Paris. Beside her was her husband and her rock, the Kolinahr Science Officer, Lieutenant Commander Sonak of Vulcan. On the other side of Dox, stood the Vulcan refugee and warrior-woman, Az’Prel.

From behind the group, the ship’s commander and doctor entered the room with a large tray of equipment, “Quite possibly, Captain… but your experience in that infernal Ju’rot device may help us here, today.”

“How so, Maenek t’Liun?” Dox asked, referring to the woman as ‘Doctor’ in their native tongue.

The Doctor was, like Dox, Romulan, and spoke of the red-headed pilot’s time in the mind control device known officially as the Neural Extraction Converter. Referring to the Dox as ‘Captain’, as by Artan law; the Ghost was under Dox’s command as an Artan Baroness. “I still have your brain scans from your last visit, which was not long after you had beaten that machine. With your current scans, I’m having the computer run comparisons to look for any variations as any differences might point out areas of damage.”

Setting up the tray next to the bio-bed, the ship’s doctor kept talking. “This equipment… which I would have preferred we keep in the med bay… will enable me to monitor Lieutenant Oulette’s brain activity and biochemistry during… whatever it is we’re going to be doing here… so we can see what happens while it happens.”

“That said… what exactly ARE we going to be doing here?” The somewhat out of her element Romulan doctor asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We are all going to join hands, in a gesture as symbolic as it is practical, and with Sonak's guidance, we're going to come together to discover just what was done to Miss Oulette here, and we're going to try to help her. This is a Starfleet officer, and she'd do the same for us. So run your scans and let's certainly address the biochemical science of the process. Then, so long as you're willing to accompany us as a doctor and physician in guiding us, we're going to meld minds and go literally into our shipmate 's mind to help her. In doing so, you share a bit of yourself, and there are few secrets. But this is what we're planning for Lieutenant Oulette, and we're asking for your help, to lend your expertise."

At that, Paris held out her hand, reaching across the distance.

For her part, the doctor looked legitimately nervous. More so than Rita Paris had ever seen the usually sardonic woman in the brief time they knew each other. Setting the machinery to begin scanning, t'Liun glanced over at Dox who nodded with the slightest hint of a smile on her face as she spoke in a calm, even voice. "You trusted me with your ship and your crew. We're trusting you in our minds, Maenek."

With an edge of anxiety in her voice, the reluctant ship's commander wiped her hand dry on her pant leg as she felt it becoming clammy and replied, reaching forward to put her hand in Rita's. "Very well. I would be quite the terrible reunificationist if I were to remain... afraid of such a thing, wouldn't I?"

''It is the most intimate experience you will have in your lifetime, '' explained Sonak in his typical monotone. ''All of your mind will be shared with us; and of ours with you. Essentially, we will be one mind; not Collective like the artificial connection of the Borg is, but a truly organic mental and spiritual fusion of being. To an emotional being, it may be an intense, difficult experience to assess.''

"You don't have to if you are uncomfortable with the idea- no one is going to force this on you," the antiquated officer assured the anxious analytic psychologist. "If you prefer, you can advise us from out here, or watch our backs, as it were. That's completely reasonable. If it's just the fact that it's an intimidating prospect, that's a healthy response. I can assure you it is safe, but we're entering a brainwashed woman's mind- that's where it gets unsafe. But we push back the darkness together... so, the choice is yours."

''Of course,'' Sonak added, ''being under my overall presence, my mental shields will protect you just as well from any possible mental intrusion or attack. But the deepness of the experience will remain.''

"Plus I don't think we're through with our scans and test results yet, so you have a moment to think on it," Paris released the woman's hand after a shake. "Meanwhile, Sonak can explain the procedure. What are you picking up from Ms. Oulette at this range, Mister Sonak?" Commander Paris ended her pitch with relevant questions.

''The logically expected jumble of emotions; confusion, anger, fear; thoughts of duty and wants conflicting. A certain level of resentment but a higher wish to find out what is happening to her.''

He turned his steely grey eyes to each of them in turn.

''I will remind you that any mind meld with her must be voluntary; from any and all of us... and from her as well. It would be most unethical, even criminal, to impose our minds on hers without her full knowledge and consent of what it implies. You will have to convince her to cooperate freely, without duplicity or coercion.''

Az'Prel, the Logician Vulcan from the mirror universe took a step back. "I will decline as melds with me tend to be unpleasant due to my own training in the art from my own version of reality and extensive time inside of agony booths. Thus, I believe it logical to remain alert and... Monitor your posteriors."

''Quolloquially put, but a sound proposition, '' Sonak agreed. ''Science has taught us that a control subject is mandatory in any experiment, both for safety and validation.''

"Good point, Miss Az'Prel. Well, let's get started. Lieutenant Oulette?" Paris called out sharply, that voice of command which she'd mastered from generations before, getting the officer's attention. When next she spoke, her voice was calmer and softer, but no less urgent. "Hypothetically you can hear me in there. It's Commander Paris. You've been compromised by the Tal'Shiar, the Romulan secret police. We'd like to help you, but we need your consent to do so. What do you say, Lieutenant? Would you like to return to duty and help us with the mission?"

Though she was still heavily sedated and under a security field, Ayamo Oulette was still mostly aware of what was going on as they spoke of what was going to happen. It took her a few moments to fully process what Commander Paris was saying before she could formulate a reply, but when she finally did, the fear in her voice was obvious. "Commander... This isn't... It's not going to be like when I was captured by the Cardassians, was it? They tortured me for months... Something about lights... And then when they handed me over to the Romulans... They told me I'd been rescued... That I'd..."

There was definitely something preventing her from talking about what had happened as tears filled her eyes and started running down her face. It looked painful just to even watch her try to get the words out. "Please, Commander... I just want to feel like myself again..."

Sonak answered.

''There will be no pain. there will be no pressure unless you resist. And there will be no contact unless you agree. There will be no feeling except those you have... and those of us who wish to help. This will be a merging of minds. It will be bewildering at first. For that time, we will all be one. You will perceive our genuine desire to find the truth, to help you... and we will feel your fear, your pain. You will know all that we are, all that we lived; and we will know all that you are, all that you lived. We will be one... and we will all find you again.''

Listening, Dox felt her compassion for what must have happened to Oulette and leaned in and spoke in a soft voice, "I know what they did to you, Lieutenant Oulette. They tried to do the same thing to me, but I had help. I had Commander Sonak's training and other minds to help me keep my own. Together, we can show you how to fight what they did to you. We can give you that, if you'll let us"

As she tried to nod, Ayamo choked back more tears and some words that seemed to get caught in her throat, her face scrunching up in pain. After several moments of the tortured look and her attempts at trying to say something, she let out a small scream and her facial features seemed to shift to that of the persona that appeared during the attack on Maenek t'Luin. "You may get her consent Vulcan but you will never have mine... If you think you have what it takes, let's see if you can do it by force. If you can't, you'll lose poor little Ayamo forever. She'll be heartbroken as I murder everything she cares about, starting with her plantsss..."

With that, the Tal'Shiar embedded personality tried to spit at Sonak, though it didn't even get off the biobed. Thankfully... Mercifully... It then let go of her and left her a sobbing mess under the security field.

The Vulcan didn't flinch. His eyes stayed on the woman.

''This emotional response is a clear indication that the false personality embedded in the Lieutenant is aware that we can find it and eliminate it. Since it is in itself a violation of her integrity, for her sake, we do not need to show any restraint in doing so.''

The coldness of his emotionless voice left no doubt as to his resolve in this matter.

Looking first at the data readouts with narrowed eyes, Maenek t'Liun then looked across at Rita with the apprehension in her face gone. The guiding star of those that served the Artan family was freedom, and to see first-hand someone's freedom taken from them so cruelly from within like that clearly moved the passions of the Rihannsu doctor. She nodded quietly as she took the hand next to hers, that of Lieutenant Commander Dox.

Reaching out her other hand, Mnhei'sahe nodded assent. 

With a sly smile, Rita Paris extended her index and middle finger toward the Kolinahr master, setting her weight comfortably as she turned to take the hand of Mnheisahe Dox. "Ready for another adventure, Miss Dox?"

"Stronger together, Commander." Dox said as she took Rita's hand confidently. As she did, she closed her eyes, taking slow and steady breaths to prepare herself. "Commander Sonak, we're ready."

"What matters is when he's ready," Rita quipped, her fingers still extended patiently. This was an undertaking, after all- not many beings could even do what Sonak was about to make look easy.

Sonak made contact with his wife's hand, then, slowly, extended his other hands to sprawl his fingers on Lieutenant Oulette's head, setting his long thin fingers on specific points of her cranium like a pale spider nesting delicately on it. he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

To everyone, it felt like when you wake up from sleep. Suddenly there was consciousness; not one but several minds now joined as one, sharing all thoughts, feelings, emotions, knowledge, and memories.

Be they real... or fabricated.

The Vulcan's mind was the center of their connexion. His mental shields protected them all from assault; Dox had her own psychic barriers as well and even Rita, because of her bond with Sonak and frequent melds, was far from being defenseless, if only on an instinctive level. Thus they could delve into the psyche of the hybrid woman, Sonak building up her defenses, Rita's thoughts being a refuge of comfort; find the parts of her that were genuine and needed their protection.. and the parts that were not of her and needed to be found and expunged.

And that would be Dox's task.

At the center of the Meld, Sonak's mind served as the maestro conductor taking the cacophony of thoughts and directing them towards harmony. Maenek t'Liun's deep medical knowledge opened up their path through Oulette's mind like roads before them that she, and therefore they all, knew the map of. But it was Dox’s mental training that would define their battlegrounds.

In her own mind, Sonak’s intense training had helped her construct a unique defense in the form of Mount Selaya. The legendary steps of the great peak from the Kolinahr master’s home was recreated in exacting detail in the young Rihannsu pilot’s mind for her to climb. There, she could feel the oppressive heat and sapping dryness of the air as if she were truly on that ancient world her people once abandoned.

When Dox had entered her grandmother’s mind with Sonak to help free her mind from the machinations of the Tal’Shiar, that training manifested itself within the parameters of Verelan t’Rul’s memories. Instead of the craggy, red stone of an ancient Vulcan landmark, Dox found herself on ch’Rihan. On Romulus, at the foot of the Imperial Senate where her grandmother served. And in her grandmother’s mind, she climbed those steps and fought past the barriers placed within as she rose until she had defeated them.

But now, the four that were one… Sonak, Mnhei’sahe Dox, Helev t’Liun and Rita Paris… found themselves someplace new and unknown. They were in the mind of Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette.

The mind palace that formed around them was that of a grand old greenhouse, the glass frosted and the joining bars made of ornate brass or copper. Similar steampunk fixtures could be seen hanging from the ceiling to provide light or water where necessary. Plants were arranged in long beds separated by winding bronze and stone-lined paths. Plants from hundreds of worlds could be seen scattered throughout the magnificent array.

However... Blue, creeping vines had invaded every part of the greenhouse and coiled like snakes on the paths. Rain beat down on the glass roof. increasing the overall mental pressure of just being there. And at the far end? Poor little Ayamo, as a child, strapped to a trellis by the vines. She looked so weak and defeated as they tightened their grip on each of her limbs individually, pulling her spread eagle.

“Well this certainly won’t do,” Paris replied to the vista before her as she rolled up her sleeves, which were bare of the ancient bronze bracers she tended to wear. Here in the mindscape, she instead looked for local tools, and in short order located them- pruning shears and heavy-duty work gloves. Slipping on the gloves, she hefted the shears, scissoring them experimentally. Moving in on one of the choking vines, she tested the empty pruning shears, then used then to snip through one of the blue vines to test their strength and resilience.

Which was when every vine in the greenhouse began to shudder and tremble, some of the ends moving to wave about menacingly.

“Ohhhh, this won’t do at all…”

The vines where the programming in Oulette’s mind defending itself, threatening to engulf the real woman still within. They were the obstacle that needed to be overcome, and they knew they were being threatened. As they began to loom around the grouping, as it was in Dox’s Grandmother’s mind, Sonak was not visibly there. He was the link that connected the others and it was to them to free the embattled Lieutenant.

And each of the three brought into this mindscape a specific skill. Rita Paris was a problem solver and a negotiator. She could find her way out of any sticky situation and was like a living compass that always pointed to what was right. She would be the key in giving Oulette the strength to fight, if only she could reach the young woman at the center of the labyrinth.

Helev t’Liun was a healer. A doctor who understood the pathways of the mind medically. The pathways they were now standing on, metaphorically. And as the vines began to creep up higher and closer, she looked around at the rows of plants and tables and her eyes went wide. And while their minds were linked, in the mindscape and the moment, old fashioned communication seemed to come easily. “The defense is strongest in the main corridor. The plants are denser in the center… this way! This pathway is better.”

Pointing to a narrow path between some of the rows of plants to their left she began to move forward when Dox stepped over and put her hand on the doctor’s shoulder. Of the three, Dox’s mental defenses were the most refined. The strongest, and bolstered by Sonak and the others, that was what she brought to the mindscape: raw strength and a powerful defense. Looking on the nearest table, she saw what she would need in a medium-sized shovel that she held up like a staff and started forward. “Commander, if I may take the front?”

"If you'd be so kind as to clear us a path to the patient, Miss Dox, I'd be most appreciative," Paris replied, snipping at an encroaching vine. "Doctor, stay between us if you would, and let's move, shall we?"

"You will hear no argument from me there, Commander." T'Liun said, stepping behind Dox.

"Aye, Commander," Dox said as she started into the narrow side path with the shovel raised. And as soon as she did, the vines began encroaching towards her and the group. Swinging tightly, she began to chop away at the vies as they got closer doing her best to keep them from getting to t'Liun or Rita. 

As they advanced, the Vines began to fill in behind them, making retreat impossible. And in the front, after having only advanced a few feet, the first of the vines began to get past the Rihannsu pilot's swings. "GYAAGH!!" Dox cried out in pain as a length of thorns cut across her arm, drawing a strip of green blood. But as soon as the blood was drawn, she grabbed the vine with her free hand and sliced it off with the head of the shovel. 

"Baroness?!" T'Liun called out, seeing the injury and reaching forward to help. But Dox shouted back as she kept moving forward, panting from the effort.

"Keep moving, Maenek! It's not a real injury. We... we get through this and it's gone. Just stay behind me!" Dox called back, and rather than slow down, the red-headed Lieutenant Commander picked up her pace. And as she did, the thorny blue vines began to criss-cross in front of them, trying to bar their way. But as fast as they did, Dox swung and slashed and physically pushed past each barrier. And each barrier cut deeper into her skin, over and over again, trying to force them all back.

Grunting with each step and doing her best to stifle any more cries of pain, Dox knew the real threat wasn't in taking the intense pain of the thorns but in letting that stop them. Being stopped by the programming in Oulette's mind would allow that programming to infiltrate their minds just as Sonak warned her on ch'Rihan with Dox's grandmother. So, just as she pushed through each barrier in her grandmother's mind, she did so for Ayamo Oulette. The Lieutenant's mind had been infiltrated much deeper and the defenses for that programming was that much stronger, but they weren't going to be stopped.

They kept pushing forward as the vines got tighter and closer. Each woman taking their share of hits as it became more and more impossible to defend against them all, but none more than a few scratched compared to Dox who absorbed the lions share of the attacks from the front position. Pushing forward, they seemed to walk far longer than the length of the room should have allowed, but finally light began to leak through the gaps in the plants as Dox made one final slash with her splintered and stained shovel. With that small opening, she threw the shovel down, grabbed the thorned vines with her bare, raw, blood-stained hands and tore them open with a hoarse cry.

There, in front of them, was Ayamo Oulette as she was as a child. Stepping through the hole Dox tore, all three women emerged whole. As they did, as Dox predicted, the injuries sustained seemed to vanish and the intense pressure that had been building abated. T'Liun looked over at the Red-Headed Commander and let out a sigh of relief that the massive amount of damage she seemed to absorb to get them through the vines had vanished.

A strange soft sound then reached their ears. At first, it came from afar, something invisible yet slowly but surely filling up the vegetation from the edges of it and coming toward them. Then, a trembling went through the vines as if something was moving under; and a soft, low sound was heard as whatever it was came nearer under the leaves.

A purring sound.

And then, they saw. Under the vegetation slowly moved an ever-increasing number of small purring furry shapes as they came near them, eating with gusto the roots, the stems, the leaves, the seeds, the flowers, the fruits, every scrap of vegetation down to the thorny vines themselves. And as they ate, they seem to multiply and spread even farther into the encroaching greenery. They all knew what they where; the most inoffensive form of life known in the galaxy... except to tasty greens.

Tribbles.

"Why is it always Tribbles?" Rita sighed.

''Because they are inoffensive to humanoids, incessantly voracious and breeds fastest of all land creatures in the known universe; the perfect counter for this... encroaching foliage,'' came in answer the thought of Sonak. ''An apt representation of an antivirus program purging a corrupted system.''

Turning to face the unconscious child, the Starfleet commander called out in that bark of command that made people listen, and she paired it with a reinforcement of identity and military protocol. Every officer in Starfleet knew what it was to be awakened in the middle of the night by the call to attention on deck- the military signal of old which meant that you should be up, alert and ready to take orders.

"LIEUTENANT OULETTE! Attention on deck!"

As if waking from a long and lethargic nightmare, the child entwined in vines before them snapped her eyes open and blinked blearily for a moment before trying to stand at attention. Finding herself still mostly trapped in the vines, she focussed and visibly grew stronger and closer to her current age over the course of about twenty seconds as she, with the aid of the tribbles, eventually freed herself of the vines.

She then stood before Commander Paris at attention and gave a crisp salute. "Lieutenant Oulette, reporting as ordered, Ma'am."

Just then, the back wall of the greenhouse seemed to fade away and the group found themselves standing in a warm cave on Cardassia. Screams could be heard in the background and the industrial desk of an 'interrogator' could be seen. Behind that desk was a seated fat Cardassian man, a Standing Romulan woman, both of whose faces were hidden by shadows, and five intensely bright lights on the wall behind them.

As the scene came into focus, Oulette slowly turned, a look of terror spreading across her face as the Cardassian slowly intoned the phrase, "How many lights are there, Ayamo..."

Looking around, the room felt as real as the greenhouse did. The warmth of the damp air filled the lungs of the assemblage. They felt the heat from the lights and the brightness stung their eyes. It was as real to them as it was to Lieutenant Oulette. Whispering slightly, Dox turned towards Rita, "This... this feels like a memory. The greenhouse was an abstraction, but this feels... different. More grounded. And if this is something that happened to her, we need to make sure that if she succumbed before, she doesn't this time."

The implication was clear, shared through the mind meld from what Sonak had taught Dox previously, that if Oulette succumbed in this memory, they could become potentially trapped with her. 

Sonak's voice reverberated within the cavern.

''Throughout the history of every known world, there has never been a single case where a tortured prisoner was left unharmed or freed, even after fully collaborating. Since cooperating will not alleviate suffering or death, it is logical to refuse to cooperate. Do not answer. Do not comply. Do not speak. Do not acknowledge anything. Thus, the failure will be theirs. And we know the price of failure on Cardassia... on Romulus. That, will be your victory. That, will be worth the price of your pain and your sacrifice. That, will make you free.''

“Lieutenant?” Paris called out clearly, “This is a memory. This is what went before. It cannot hurt you, and these people cannot reach you. This is only a memory of this time and place. We’re here to see what they did so that we, in turn, can undo it. You are not alone here, not this time. We are all here with you, and our strength is your strength. You are here with Starfleet this time, and Starfleet stands together. So you stand tall, and we're here with you.”

It wasn’t her best pep talk, but sometimes simplicity worked best in Rita’s experience. The gold-clad commander had every confidence that they would overcome the programming, and that Lieutenant Oulette would be saved. That confidence was all of their confidence, here in the communal mind meld of the embattled Lieutenant, so Rita shared it with them all. Failure, after all, was not an option here.

Ayamo nodded silently and kneeled on the floor, clasping her hands before her in the method of her clan - that of the Forgiveness clan, and began meditating within the meld, which prompted more dialog from the two shadowy figures.

The Cardassian man spoke first, with slow deliberation. "You know how I dislike your incessant prayers, Ayamo. And you know how much pain I can cause when you..."

Then he was interrupted by the now familiar voice of Riov Rendal, which caused Dox to flinch ever so slightly. "If I may, I have a far more... expedient... option... And then we can just let her go. We'll have everything we'll need from her."

"They no longer have any power over me," Ayamo said to herself, trying to believe it as she found herself suddenly strapped into a Ju'rot chair in that same room, those five lights still glaring down on her. "I have friends fighting with me now. Everything will be ok."

"You're right. We've beaten her before, Lieutenant Oulette, and we are one now. So you've beaten her before too." Dox leaned in to the embattled officer in the chair, just as Rendal had done to her, "Those straps don't exist. Those lights don't exist. You will be free because you are free. That is the truth. Everything will be okay because we will make it so together. The vines that held you are gone. What they did to you is broken."

Dox said softly but firmly through their mind meld, offering the strength she once used to defeat the Ju'rot. "You know your truth. You know who you are. Tell us all... who are you?"

"I am..." It took her a moment to compose her thoughts as pain seared through her brain. "I am now, have always been, and always will be... Ayamo Oulette... Starfleet officer... Member of the Forgiveness clan of Rigel five... I am myself!"

Stepping forward to confront the shadowy figures, Rita Paris wagged a finger between them as she looked over her shoulder at Oulette. "Do you recall their faces, Lieutenant Oulette? You're doing very well, and I think we should take advantage of this opportunity to identify the criminals who perpetrated this particular injustice." Turning back to regard the two shadowy figures, Rita Paris waited to see if their identities would come to light.

Focusing through the pain, Amaya glared at the pair of shadows and forced the lights to dim, causing the two to come into sharp focus. The woman was wearing the accouterments of a Tal'Shiar erei'Riov but the face was unmistakably Dalia Rendal. She even had that haughty smirk plastered on her face, though it was obvious that this memory of her was at least twenty years younger.

The Cardassian man was an overweight Gul known for his ruthlessness and ties to the Obsidian Order. He had been listed as killed during the liberation of Bajor, yet here he was, interrogating a Starfleet prisoner during the Dominion war. Gul Kerrat Jalan seemed to be alive and well when this memory was made, at the very least.

"More grist for the mill, I see?" the Cardassian Gul sneered, reaching out to stroke the backs of his fingers along the cheek of Rita Paris, who smiled benignly as she took the fingers in a painful hold.

"I think not, shadow, You have no power here as but a memory," she expressed as a sword cleaved the air where she'd stood a second ago, through she had seeming casually stepped out of the way. Moving with a fluid grace and surety, it was representative of the woman's personality, as well years of mental training by a master of the craft. "You may be adaptable and rooted, but today is weeding day in this mental garden, and you're due to be pruned." Tugging the Gul into place to use as a shield, the sword-wielding aspect manifested by Rendal was frustrated by the human woman's seemingly effortless evasion, even as she called over her shoulder.

"Miss Dox, if you would be so kind?" the cheerful Commander called, even as she shifted her grip to drive the fat Cardassian to his knees. "I believe this is more your specialty."

"My pleasure, Commander." Dox replied with a mild sneer as she stepped forward. In the real world, when the two clashed with swords, Dalia Rendal handily defeated the much less experienced Dox. But in Ayamo Oulette's mindscape, where Dox's natural mental talents have been honed by training by that same Vulcan Kolinahr master, the odds were well and truly reversed. 

The shadow of the woman who would eventually murder Dox's father and attempt to turn her as she once did Oulette raised her blade to strike. And as the blade came down, the red-headed Rihannsu woman simply reared back and swung her unguarded arm in a backhanded strike against the curved blade... a reflection of the same blade that took her father's life. And in that instant, Dox's mental defenses, fueled by her will, represented themselves in what appeared to be an uncanny display of strength as the razor-sharp blade simply shattered against Dox's arm like a gentle wave would against a bolder.

The shadow of Dalia Rendal that had rooted itself in Oulette's mind fell back against the cave wall with a loud smack, thrown back by Dox's advance. "The programming that gave you any strength is broken, Rendal. You are NOTHING here."

Then, the young Lieutenant Commander turned to Ayamo Oulette, still strapped in the chair in the center of the room and spoke with authority. "There is no chair, Lieutenant. No metal shackles. No straps. No pain. It's time to stand up."

The deep, deliberate voice of Sonak reverberated all around her with a calm, factual conviction.

''This, Lieutenant, is not you. This is the past. The past is gone. Now, YOU are in control of YOURSELF, of YOUR future. This is all but a memory, a shadow with no substance, a wisp of falsehood, a lie from someone else. This is an illusion. YOU are the reality.''

He appeared beside her, as calm and poised as a mountain facing clouds.

''And you, Lieutenant, are not alone. You will never be alone.''

As Ayamo realized she was no longer in pain or being held down, she stood and found herself looking up at the most handsome man she'd ever seen, causing her to blush mightily. It took her a moment to compose herself anew as the current scenery dissolved and changed once more to that of the agrarian plains of Rigel V, the clouds moving across the sky at an accelerated rate to mimic her heart rate.

"Yes, I understand now. Thank you. All of you, thank you so very much. For the first time in years, I feel... Free."

Looking around, Maenek t'Liun was taken aback by the reality of the vista surrounding her as she let out a whispered, "Remarkable."

Sparing a smile for the amazed Rihannsu doctor, Dox took a moment to reach out with her own senses. The mindscape felt clean and free of the programming they had fought collectively against, but the young student turned to Sonak, to defer to his expertise.

“That seemed a bit easy… mind you, it was five against one, and one of us is Sonak, but I would like to be positive. Can you verify a clean bill of health for Lieutenant Oulette, T’hy’la?” In the midst of the meld, Paris’ personal and professional boundaries were not quite as strictly enforced, as she used the encompassing term for their relationship. Which was what naturally came to mind for her when she called him ‘Mister Sonak’. Here in the mindscape, however, the truth slipped out. Not that she objected or was at all embarrassed- if anything, Rita found it amusing to witness her mental substitutions revealed.

The Vulcan science officer nodded.

''It is over. Through our meld, Lieutenant Oulette has gained full control of her own mind. What has been done to her is now but a thought she can ignore at will. Whoever or whatever would again attempt to influence her mind, she would know how to recognize it, shield from it and nullify it.''

He looked at Rita and then at the others in turn, finishing on Ayamo herself.

''Further training would consolidate, even expand this capability, all the more since she is in part Vulcan. But like a child who has finally learned how to walk, she can now walk alone; and in turn, come to run like the wind."

"Knowledge has set her free.''

The unthinkable had occurred.

During a pitched battle in the Aldeberan Nebula against Riov Dalia Rendal of the Romulan Tal’Shiar, the U.S.S. Hera had been betrayed. Infiltrated and stripped of its secrets by one of their own. The Cardassian Ensign, Varnok Jahal.

Vetted by Starfleet Intelligence, the officer had a record that had been spotted with issues that seemed to be chalked up to racism and lingering distrust from the Dominion War and he had not seemed to have any issues integrating to his new assignment. He had made friends and performed his tasks exceptionally well. But now, all of that was suspect.

In the turbolift on her way to the brig on Deck 11, Jaeih Dox was concerned. Serving on the Hera as an Independent Intelligence Consultant, she had detected the security breach where Varnok had placed vital data on Protomatter Weapons into a beacon and shunted it into space where it was intercepted during the battle by Rendal. She identified the threat and helped the ship’s security to apprehend the officer. But the whole thing sat like a weight in the elder Rihannsu’s stomach. She had thought she had a measure of the man she had served with, but when he spoke briefly during his capture, it was like talking to a stranger.

The Hera’s Captain, Enalia Telvan, had asked Jaeih to accompany her to the brig for an interview. If this was tampering and manipulation by the Tal’Shiar, then who better than a reformed former agent of that clandestine organization to help root it out. As the turbolift doors opened, Jaeih adjusted the gray Intel uniform she wore and made her way through the multiple security checkpoints to the main waiting area where the Captain was waiting.

A bit of anxiety rose in the woman as she got deeper into the Hera’s secure brig. While largely white-walled, pristine and well lit, it was still essentially prison cells and Jaeih Dox and prison cells had a long and unpleasant history. But her old friend and Captain needed her, so she maintained her perfect facade and ignored her momentary discomfort. “Captain. Reporting as requested.”

"Thank you," Enalia replied, her arms crossed under her prodigious bosom, a look of consternation creasing her brow. "Doc Power says he's looking over the scan data to see if there's anything we could have picked up, but it may take some time. What I want to know is the probability of the cause being that neural whatsit thingy... Th Ju'rot..."

Pausing, Jaeih sighed for a moment, her arms folded behind her back as her eyes went down for a moment. "As you well know, I spent many, many years with the Tal'Shiar. In that time, I... inflicted the Neural Extraction Converter on... far too many of my fellow Rihannsu."

Collecting herself, she looked back up to meet Enalia's eyes again, "Yes, I suspect that the Ju'rot has been used on Ensign Varnok. There are several ways in which the machine is used. What was done to Senator t'Rul... and what they attempted to do to Mn... to Commander Dox... was what is called a loyalty overlay. They only had time to treat Verelan once before she was freed, leaving much of her mind still intact. Had they completed the sequence... between three and five treatments... and the core of her personality would have been irrevocably re-written to be blindly loyal to Rendal."

"What I saw in the pod, was a... different application." Jaeih said as her voice dropped slightly, "The Ju'rot can implant a programmed, created persona. Completely hidden and largely dormant until triggered by a number of elements. Dormant, unknown to the subject's true personality, but still there, capable of influencing their actions towards their programmed goal."

"It makes you wonder just how many ways they can use this thing on people," countered Enalia, her brow furrowing deeper. "Also, we need to know when and how they got him into one of these machines. Was it during shore leave? Was he a prisoner at one point? before he even joined Starfleet?" As she trailed off, she realized just how deep the rabbit hole went that someone she trusted to help save her own daughter could have been a secret sleeper agent this whole time and not even known it. What if he had been triggered during that mission? What if Moira's life had been thrown into the balance because of this programming?

The implications were worrying and Enalia made a silent vow to not only help the one that had helped her and her family, but to bring the one that did this to him... That stripped his very mental freedoms... The one core principle of the Artans... To bring them to justice.

Furrowing her brow, Jaeih recalled the personal data she had read up in the short time since the incident and replied with sadness in her voice. "We worked side by side. We talked and I never suspected a thing. On his first day here, he ingratiated himself to my daughter. Since this all occurred, my mind has been racing to wonder if it had all been on purpose."

"He did not leave the Hera during our stay in the Sol System." Jaeih continued, shifting to what she knew and away from emotions. "I'm running a full sweep to check for any transmissions he may have received, but so far nothing. He was orphaned at fifteen. During the Dominion War."

Then she looked grimly at Enalia. "My people had a STRONG presence in Cardassian space at that time. This programming could have been inserted as early as then. But there are few ways to know for sure. And if there is a hidden program… an alternate persona... I may be able to get it to reveal itself."

Enalia thought it over for a moment before making a decision. "If there's a safe way to do so. We don't want to provoke it. We also don't want to strip Varnok of his mental faculties if at all possible. If that's still possible..."

"It would require my... fishing for a trigger phrase. Depending on when this was done to him, a number of the ones used during my time might be the one used for him." Jaeih said nodding. "However, to activate the secondary persona would place Mister Varnok into a state akin to being asleep. He would have no recollection of the time afterward if this is the case. If we are dealing with a sleeper persona as I suspect."

"However..." Jaeih added with a nod, "I shall only do so with your permission."

"You have my permission..." the Trill woman began as she pointed into the interrogation room, through the glass at Varnok. "If you have his consent. Either way, I want information."

The expression on the reformed Tal'Shair operative's face was a rarely unguarded one. There was, perhaps, only three or four people that Jaeih Dox would allow to see her true emotions at play, and Enalia was among them. On her face was a show of concern, compassion, guilt, and anger all vying for control. But after a moment, she composed herself and restored her icy facade of professionalism. 

With a nod, the Intel expert deferred to the Captain as the pair of women entered the small chamber on the other side of the shield from the panicked looking Ensign. The man both women thought that they knew.

In the interrogation chamber, Varnok was looking around with an expression of mounting panic as he called out to the empty room. “Why am I here? Someone answer me? I have the right to know why I’m in the brig? What’s the meaning of this!?”

As Jaeih and Enalia entered, Varnok’s expression shifted to a mix of surprise and thankfulness at the familiar faces. But that soon dissolved to return to concern as he read their stern expressions. In the moment, the frantic looking Ensign forgot protocol as he spoke, “Jaeih! Captain! What’s going on? Why am I here?”

Enalia spoke first as she took up a standing position not too far into the small room. "Ensign Varnok, I'm sorry to treat you this way, and I'm sorry we have to be blunt, but there's really no easy way to say this. During the battle between us and Riov Rendal, you... Or a hidden personality controlling you... Assaulted several members of this crew and launched a beacon containing vast amounts of data on protomatter technology which fell into the hands of the enemy. We need to ascertain the threat level that this situation has introduced so we're able to determine a course forward and, if possible, a method of treatment for you."

The young Cardassian Ensign looked at Enalia blankly, "I was working in the pod, but I would never betray the ship's secrets. Who brought these accusations against me?"

Looking from one woman to the other incredulously, Varnok could not believe what he was being told. On her face, Jaeih could barely hide her concern as she pursed her lips and looked over to Enalia for permission to answer.

The leopard-spotted woman nodded to her Rihannsu cohort approval before stepping back to lean against the wall.

Stepping forward slightly, Jaeih looked down at the man she had served with. "I am truly sorry, Ensign, but these are no accusations. During the battle, you entered Yeoman Dedjoy's lab and locked her in her rechanging cradle and deactivated the lab AI, Lucky."

"I investigated along with Petty Officer's Liu and V'Nus. You attacked Petty Officer V'Nus using a magnetic charge that crippled her EVA armor momentarily while I watched. You spoke to me, Ensign. I threatened to fire with my phaser and you said clearly, 'Not in here, you won't'." Jaeih continued as Varnok watched her, his eyes widened with shock as the truth of her words rung out.

"Petty Officer V'Nus freed herself and you attacked her again. There was a brief struggle before you were detained. As soon as you were detained, you fell unconscious and were moved to here." Jaeih finished, letting out the slightest of sighs. "Yeoman Dedjoy, two security officers and... myself... we were all witnesses, Ensign."

The Ensign stammered, "How... how could I have done that? I would have remembered... I would have never attacked a crewmember!"

Looking over at Enalia, Jaeih took a moment and then pulled out the chair opposite the plastisteel barrier to sit at Varnok's eyeline. "I... I have seen this before, Ensign. We believe that at some point in your past, you have been the victim of the Tal'Shiar's Neural Extraction Converter. We believe you may have had a programmed alternate persona implanted in your mind."

At that statement, the young Cardassian thought to himself that his worst nightmare might have become a reality.

"There are... ways I can bring this out if this is true. Trigger phrases. There are security dampening fields in there. You would be incapable of hurting yourself or anyone else, but I cannot proceed without your permission, Varnok." Jaeih said gently, using the ensign's name to try and calm him as much as possible. "But we need to know what they did if there's any hope of helping you."

Looking Jaeih in the face, all protocol aside, Varnok begged, "Jaeih, please help me."

Getting up from the chair, Jaeih nodded at the young, panic-stricken Ensign. Then she turned towards Enalia. "Captain?"

Desperately trying to push the panic down, Varnok waited for them to begin.

Enalia nodded and moved forward as she began speaking, sitting in the other chair next to Jaeih. "Ultimately, the decision to do this is yours, Varnok. I owe you a lot and I still trust you. Since you've asked for help... Then as long as you're ok with it, we'll proceed. I'll be right here with you through it, ok?"

Steeling himself for the interrogation, Varnok nodded at the Captain as Jaeih closed her eyes and gritted her teeth slightly. What she had to do was beyond uncomfortable for her as she knew it would be for Varnok. Opening her eyes, she met his worried gaze and nodded slightly. 

And when she spoke, it was firmly and in her native tongue. "Card'hassinnsu ben'Lehrie Varnok, Itallh'na. Ssuaj-difv?"

Enalia, who knew the language as well, understood what Jaeih had said. She called Varnok a Cardassian agent. She demanded his report and asked if he understood. And across the shield, the young man's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment and go unfocused as his head dipped slightly. In a low, hoarse sounding voice, he replied that he understood in Rihan, and then Varnok called her a 'fellow Romulan': "Ssuaj-ha, ke'rhin."

Nodding slightly, Jaeih began to count down slowly, from ten to one,
"dha, 
lhi, 
the, 
lli, 
fve, 
rhi, 
mne, 
sei, 
kre, 
hwi."

As she said 'hwi', Varnok's head rose up again and the expression on the young Ensign's face was cold and distant. He looked like a completely different man sitting across from them. 

Sitting back in the seat, his face spread into a broad and disturbing grin. As he did, he locked eyes with Jaeih and spoke in a quiet, drawn-out tone. "Oh, It's about time we were properly introduced."

Ignoring the taunt, Jaeih sat back and nodded. "That's not a valid report, Agent. I gave you an order. What are your mission parameters?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Why do you presume someone excommunicated would ever have that hold on me?” Varnok replied knowingly.

“My current status is irrelevant, Mister Varnok. I may no longer be Tal’Shair, but you’re no longer hidden. Or free to act.” Jaeih said, leaning forwards slightly. “We are reviewing all ship’s communications and have put in for your logs during your time on the Varys as well.”

“Oh, my dear. I was a very busy boy with the Varys.” He replied matter-of-factly, “That’s going to be a lot of reading for you.”

“That depends on you, and just how difficult you plan to make things for yourself.” Jaeih said with a narrowed gaze, “Or for him.”

The sly Cardassian leaned forward and locked gazes with the stern Romulan woman sitting across from him, and asked huskily. “Oh, my dear, why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”


“You know what we need to know. Your little act of sabotage was well-timed, but you had ample opportunities to give them what they wanted before that, and you didn’t. Meaning you’ve been contacted fairly recently and had no orders before that to act on.” Jaeih said, tilting an eyebrow at the Cardassian man knowingly.

“You know as well as anyone that a good agent needs no specific orders to act when the opportunity arises. This was just the newest in a long list of opportunities. Admittedly louder than most and not my finest execution, but not my first either.” Varnok said with a wry smirk, admitting that his capture was clearly not according to plan.

“So, you have been installed at least since your time on the Varys? And functioning autonomously?” Jaeih asked with a raised brow.

Chuckling to himself, Varnok replied, “Oh, do you think I’ll make it that easy for you? I’ve been at this game far too long.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that, Mister Varnok. The trigger phrase I used on you hasn’t been in effect in over two decades. And then, for only a period of five years, which narrows down when this program happened.” Jaeih said with the slightest hint of a smile, revealing what she had already learned from the questions she was using to fish for information. “Meaning you were quite young. And you made no notice of separation between yourself and your other personality. The chicken or the egg, Mister Varnok?”

The cagey Cardassian narrowed his eyes and replied dismissively, “Oh, THAT.” He paused, “That’s of no consequence. By the way, Jaeih, how’s your daughter? I take it she’s fully recovered from her ordeal. I read her report, it must have been quite harrowing. Such a shame, she was such a lovely woman.”

Leaning forward, Jaeih tensed up slightly and her lips pursed at the mention of Mnhei’sahe. But after an instant where her skin flushed green with momentary anger, she collected herself again. “You don’t like talking about the Ensign, I take it? I would presume having to take the back seat to a better man must have been frustrating for you.”

The muscular chords on the Cardassian’s neck tightened as his jaw clenched. “The better man is a matter of opinion.”

“Thankfully, yours isn’t the opinion that matters. And you are excisable.” Jaeih said flatly as she grimaced at the man, then turned to Enalia. “Captain, I believe I have sufficient information to conduct a proper investigation. I can… deactivate this at your will.”

The intel operative turned to the Trill Captain that had been watching and listening the whole time, giving her the proverbial floor to ask any questions or say her piece.

The spotted woman swallowed hard as she thought over what had been said. She wasn't up on everything that Jaeih knew, but if she pieced the puzzle together properly, Varnok had been programmed during the Dominion war before he even became a refugee in the Federation. It also seemed that this 'persona' was more than a triggerable program and more of a fully fledged second self that was deeply ingrained in the man, acting on its own free will, even without Varnok knowing about it or even orders from the Tal'Shiar. Being in Intel would tell him exactly what they and even the Obsidian order, if they still existed, wanted and he could act on it without any external prompting.

The implications were terrifying to say the least.

"I have one question," Enalia began as she leaned forward. "Who did this to you? Who put you in there? Was it Rendal? Someone else? Will you give us any names, or will you make us ask someone else?"

"Power changes hands often on ch'Rihan, Captain. Those that I served initially died during Shinzon's uprising. My service is now to the Imperium as a whole, and no one Riov." Varnok said with a condescending air, seeming irritated by the question.

"And almost all the Cardassian leaders from those days were killed off during the Dominion war," Enalia added with a soft sigh. "No further questions for now. Jaeih?"

"No, Captain. Shall I?" The clearly upset intel operative asked flatly. As she did, Enalia simply replied with a nod as Varnok's eyes narrowed with unveiled rage behind them.

"You can't..." the Cardassian sleeper agent began to say before Jaeih cut him off, calling out in Rihan, "Ihlla'nh, Card'hassinnsu ben'Lehrie Varnok. Ehhaai."

At the order to 'sleep', the mind-altered operative's eyes flickered as he appeared to be trying to fight the programmed response for an instant before those eyes went unfocused and his head drooped down against his chest. Looking over at the medical readout on the wall that had been scanning the Ensign during the entire interrogation, Jaeih nodded. He was, indeed, asleep now.

"That was... disturbing," Jaeih said, crossing her arms in front of her and pinching the bridge of her nose as she took a breath. "He's been like this for years... decades. Without further information, we may have no way of knowing which persona is the original one. All I know for sure is that the two are in conflict. His reactions depersonalized the Varnok we knew. Attempted to devalue his influence."

"However," Jaeih added with a hopeful nod, "Since all evidence seems to point to him having been acting independently of any specific orders, there's a window of hope. Varnok had multiple opportunities to betray us in ways even worse than what he eventually did. During the rescue, he was positioned in the facilities control booth. With the flip of a switch, he could have ended that conflict by calling in Tal'Shiar reinforcements and gave Rendal ALL of us in one moment, and he didn't. THAT tells me that the person that we knew... the Ensign that I fought with that helped us save Moira... is still in there and still fighting... even if he's consciously unaware of what he's fighting."

Enalia took a moment to think it over before replying, eventually nodding. "I'm forced to agree. However deep or whichever one is the controlling persona... I'm going to choose to believe in the one we've come to know rather than this one we've just spoken with. Even if it's folly to do so. I suppose our next step now is to figure out how to help him."

The Artan Bird of Prey, the Golden Ghost, had settled into a tight orbit around the mysterious world known as Mol Krun’chi. As it hovered silently above the planet, the modest flight deck doors of the upgraded T’liss-class Romulan ship opened as the Federation Runabout Selune departed to make planetfall.

With the coordinates being a heavily guarded secret, the Ghost was able to locate the small, greenish-blue world in spite of an array of well-hidden cloaking fields that surrounded it to protect it from the prying eyes of the Romulan, or Rihannsu in their own tongue, Star Empire. For Mol Krun’chi was a planet on the edge of Rihannsu space populated by nearly four thousand reunificationists: Rihannsu that sought to reconnect with the long-abandoned ways of their Vulcan forebearers. People who sought to make one what had become two thousands of years ago.

Entering the gentle atmosphere of the planet, not much larger than Mars, the Selune glided silently and stealthily down. At the helm, was Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox. Next to Dox, in the co-pilot’s seat was her Superior officer, mission commander and the chosen representative of Starfleet’s interests in the proceedings to come, Commander Rita Paris.

In the hold of the Runabout, was Lieutenant Commander Sonak, who would represent the interests of the Vulcan government. And with them was Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette. The Vulcanoid Rigellian Intel Officer assigned as an observer from the U.S.S. Persephone who had been an implanted spy from the Tal’Shiar, now free of that influence. And assigned to both monitor the safety of the diplomatic envoy and ensure that Oulette was no longer a threat, was the Vulcan refugee from a mirror universe of horrors known as Az’Prel.

As the Selune passed through the clouds, the sky had the faintest hint of turquoise to it, so much like ch’Rihan, or Romulus, itself. Below them, they passed over rolling hills with trees of greens and light oranges. Green rivers flowed and there was a bluish tint to those clouds. At the helm, Dox couldn’t help but feel a strange pang in her stomach at the comparisons to the homeworld she had only ever been to once, but still longed to return to in some way. But in the moment, she was a pilot and a representative with a job to do, as a light on the ship’s console caught Dox’s eye. “Commander Paris, we’re receiving a hail from the colony.”

“Better a hail than disruptor fire,” Paris quipped as she tabbed the panel for the comms. “This is Commander Rita Paris, representing a collection of delegates from Vulcan, the Federation and ch’Rihan. We come in peace, and are requesting permission to land, in order to open diplomatic negotiations.”

The voice on the other end of the line was a close attempt at Vulcan emotionlessness, but the Rihannsu inflections and slight haughtiness of a ch'Rihan capital dweller could be heard in his extremely professional radio voice. "Federation Runabout Selune, welcome to Mol Krun'chi airspace. Please continue on flight path four niner niner seven mark three. You are cleared for landing in bay fourteen. Please be advised that the skies have been cleared, however be advised we are currently experiencing crosswinds in excess of sixty knots over the capital. Delegation and greeting services have been arranged for your arrival. Have a safe and productive visit."

"Thank you, Mol Krun'chi Control, we confirm four niner niner seven mark three, bay fourteen. Thanks for the welcome," Paris replied, having punched in the nav coordinates as they had been coming in- an old habit, particularly when she was in the copilot seat. It corresponded to her old navigator post on the Constitution-class starships of yore.

"I suppose in hindsight we should have worn our formal uniforms, but frankly, I hate them and almost no one looks good in them. Better to present ourselves as we are, I think. So... ready for first contact, Miss Dox?" Paris beamed an excited smile at the introspective pilot. "I don't believe these colonists have ever had representatives from any of our delegations set foot on their planet before. Ergo, first contact, of a sort- no?"

Returning a clearly nervous smile, Dox let the ship's flight computer, working off of Rita's entered coordinates, do most of the work of flying. Pondering her Commander's words, she looked back at Sonak and the others in the rear of the shuttle through the open door. "I suppose this is a first contact in a lot of ways, yes."

''First contact protocols would be a wise procedure to follow in present circumstances, '' Sonak agreed. ''It would be a mistake to go in with our usual preconceptions. These are atypical Romulans in an unusual situation within a delicate context. A fresh-minded approach would be logical.''

"As for my being ready, I'm as ready as I'll ever be Commander." Dox followed up, letting out a breath and smiling a little more confidently.

“I know there was some talk of weapons as the Romulans respect strength, but as Commander t’Liun mentioned they were a pacifistic culture, I’m going to eschew a show of force,” Paris explained, expanding on her own perspective while offering options. “We come in peace- at least, the Federation does. As you are both here representing your individual cultures, I will leave it up to you as to how you wish to present yourselves, and if you prefer a show of strength and combat readiness or the olive branch. Me, I’m coming with the open hand rather than the one holding the phaser.”

Letting out a light breath, Dox was relieved to hear that. She was nervous about going into a peace mission armed and her gut was leading her towards a similar path in this instance. "There's something to be said of the strength of convictions over arms, and considering what we're trying to do, I think it's best for our goals to go in open-handed as well, Commander Paris."

"Perhaps other Rihannsu would do it differently, but the Senator knows who I am and knows my heart. I don't think I was picked for this so I would do what another Rihannsu would. If we're trying to present change, this seems like the right first step. At least, in here it does." Mnhei'sahe said, placing a hand under her right breast, over her heart.

Az'Prel was often one not to mince words and rarely spoke out during times like these, however now she felt the need to. "I feel I would be remiss to mention that my job on this mission is security. Therefore, I will remind you that I will be armed." As she mentioned this, she motioned to the pair of antique styled ahn-woon blades at her hips as well as the small type one phaser she had decided to carry.

“Miss Az’Prel, you are security for this mission, so I have no objection to you being armed,” Paris replied easily. “As you are neither a delegate nor a representative of any of the principals involved, I am perfectly content with you remaining armed unless our hosts wish it otherwise, and it will be an impediment to the negotiations. Should that come to pass, we’ll cross that bridge then. In the meantime, I’ll count on you to be alert for trouble- primarily designed to sabotage the negotiations, although given the circumstances I rule out nothing.”

Having looked over the Vulcan warrior woman and giving a hint of a blush, Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette spoke up as well. "In light of recent events, I feel lucky to just be allowed to continue with my original mission. There's no way I'd consider carrying a weapon. Besides, if my reports make it to both governments and move them to increase support for reunification... Then I suppose the pen truly is mightier than the blade."

"Your duty, Lieutenant Oulette, is to record it all, and get as much of the negotiations on sensor as you can," Paris reinforced, insuring she was instructing the essentially newly reactivated officer who was unfamiliar with her command style. "Help out where it is needed, and facilitate the rest of the away team when called upon. Back in my day your position on this mission would be 'free safety'- you have a demanding duty, but you can be called on. Standard textbook mission parameters, despite the circumstances."

Offering the young woman an encouraging smile and a hand on her shoulder, Rita Paris lent the young woman a bit of strength from human touch. "I think it'll do you some good to get back into things, Lieutenant. You've got a Starfleet career to get back to, after all."

''Vulcan always stands for peace,'' Sonak reminded them all. ''As does the Federation. As a Starfleet officer and Kolinarh, I stand for both. Therefore, with Az'Prel officiating as our guard, my personal recommendation in my case would be also to present myself without weapons. Romulans, particularly those contemplating reunification, are well aware of what the Kolinarh represents; and that a Master of Gol needs no weapon, save reason and logic. If, however; other, more belligerent parties manifest themselves, they will also aware of what the Vulcan mind can do. As a show of respect, this should satisfy the more traditionalists among this proud warrior people.''

"Well said, Commander Sonak," Rita replied, smiling at the return to a familiar pattern of naming. Looking about the Runabout cabin as they descended, Rita Paris realized they might just be making history. Sonak would likely remind her that every moment that passes is history, but she knew he felt it too- this was important. They all knew it. Success here could bring about a larger movement which could change the face of the galaxy, and all in the interest of bringing sentients together for the betterment of all.

Great Hera, look at you, Rita- trying to change the universe. In the back of her head, a plan began to brew, as she aimed for a succinct yet inspiring order.

Light years away, the aforementioned goddess looked up from her knitting and smiled, cocking an eyebrow and shaking her head as she rapidly knit some twin onesies for the Andorian Gemini.

"Each of you- I have little advice for you on this mission. Just listen to your heart, use your head and watch each other's backs. Bring us in for a masterful landing, Commander Dox. Let's show off just a little bit.

Sonak lifted one eyebrow slightly. It took him a second to understand that the comment was a colloquial one, not that he should monitor his own heartbeat; which he routinely did anyway.

"Aye, Commander Paris." Dox replied with a smile, internally joking that with all of their ranks, it would now behoove her to mention specific names in such responses as just saying 'Commander' would get confusing quickly.

Bringing the runabout below the teal-tinged cloudline, the rolling hills of Mol Krun'chi appeared below them in a vista that could be best described as bucolic. And as they streaked over those hills, and the colony began to come into view, that descriptor became even more apt.

The capital was located in a hill-rimmed valley. Closest to the rolling green hills was visible mining equipment excavating natural clays from the rich, red soils below them. On the furthest edges of the plains, grazing fields for Rihannsu riding mounts known as Shaill were visible, with several herds of the majestic animals beginning to run at breakneck speeds as the Runabout swept low enough to inspire them to action. It was something Dox felt stir the natural pilot in her and she banked into a turn with a smile, enjoying the strange interaction with the animals along the plains.

The Rihannsu pilot looked over to her Commanding officer, friend and fellow pilot, and shot Rita a smile and a light chuckle at the moment as they continued. Quickly outpacing the land animals, they then passed over yawning fields of various crops being tended to both by visible Rihannsu farmhands, along with the most modern of tilling equipment that they sped above. As they did, the center of the modest colony itself came into view.

Few buildings seemed larger than a single story, with the exception of what they assumed was the city center, a decidedly Rihannsu-style domed structure in the center of a wheel and spoke designed city, bustling with activity as sentients could be seen walking in the streets. On the edges that they passed over first, were long streets stretching out into the valley with modest, clay-build farmhouses and simple dwellings. There were children at play, and for every hovering transport flitter that could be seen making their way down the streets, there seemed to be a Shaill-puled carriage carrying goods about as well. For all of the evident modern technology, Mol Krun'chi seemed to be an agrarian society, living simply and in touch with their beautiful world.

With the navigation controls indicating the location of Landing bay fourteen along the far edge of the city's central plaza of government buildings, Dox swung the Runabout around the city in a wide orbit so they could all take the vista in before bringing the maneuverable craft in. With one hand on the ship's controls and the other adjusting the internal inertial dampeners so that those inside would scarcely feel it, Dox brought the Selune in towards the landing pad, executing a last moment turn into position with precision and speed, before lowering her down gently into place. The hydraulics of the landing struts gave out a telltale hiss as they touched down perfectly in front of a small group of waiting delegates and security.

Beginning the power down procedures, Dox turned to Rita, "Runabout Selune has completed landing procedures, Commander Paris. Powering down and activating security shutdown protocols."

"An appropriately showy entrance, Miss Dox. Well, done," Paris nodded, appreciating the flourishes of fancy flying. With the landing craft secured, Paris rose and indicated to the landing party to disembark, as the hatch of the runabout was to the rear." All right people- let's go meet the locals and broker some peace in our time, shall we?"

As the ramp to the Runabout lowered, the waiting delegation of reunificationists came into view. There were three Rihannsu, two men and one woman, standing proudly in the center. They wore goldish-gray tunics and leggings with a tight, diamond pattern across it and deep green, sleeveless robes that extended to their knees. The robes were hooded, thought the hoods were down and along the seams near the front were Rihan characters on the left lapel and Vulcan characters on the right. Each one wore a medallion that appeared to be a stylized Rihannsu IDIC - the gold ball at the top with the green wings of Althindor spreading up around it and the claws clasping two globes, yet instead of looking down, the great bird was looking up to the third globe.

On either side of the group was what appeared to be a security officer in similar goldish-gray uniform tunics, but with blue checkerboard sashes over their right shoulders that extended below thick black belts to their mid-thighs. They appeared unarmed at first glance, wearing uniforms unusually similar to those worn by the Centurions of Rita Paris' era.

The man standing in the center stepped forward and gave a respectful bow. He looked a bit older than the others, in his mid-seventies, with salt and pepper hair cut in a traditional Vulcan style, though a bit longer as if he needed a trim.

Stepping forward, Rita Paris eschewed the traditional Vulcan salute as a form of greeting. As there were representatives of two cultures here, her role was mediator and facilitator. Thus she stepped forward, offering her open hand in the style of her own people- the offered hand to be clasped, to show there were no weapons in the hand, and to connect physically to signify a coming together in friendship.

"Hello! I'm Rita Paris, representing the United Federation of Planets. We thank you for welcoming us to your home, and we look forward to facilitating these talks. This is Mnhei'sahe Dox, here as a representative of the Rihannsu Senate. This is Sonak, here as a representative of the Vulcan High Council. Lieutenant Oulette is here on behalf of Starfleet to record this historic meeting for posterity, and this is Az'Prel, who is here as a cultural observer. We come in peace," she finished with, waiting to see how her introduction would be received.

While she usually clasped her hands behind her back, Dox folded them in front of her here, wanting to reinforce Rita's gesture of friendship and being unarmed. As such, she nodded to return the offered bow and gave the simple cultural Rihannsu greeting of "Jolan'tru."

Sonak raised his hand to them in the time-honored salute of his people.

''On behalf of all of Vulcan, Peace and Long Life, to you and to all of your people, here and afar. In the purest tradition of the IDIC philosophy, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, we welcome your wish to expand yourselves into a larger universe.''

As Az'Prel also gave the traditional Vulcan salute, the Mol Krun'chi delegation gave their greetings. The female of the group clasped hands with Rita, a polite smile on her face while the younger of the two men gave the Rihannsu head bow. The lead male took a moment to make sure he had his fingers right before holding his hand up in the Vulcan salute. "Jolan'tru and welcome to ch'Saithe, the capital of our colony, Mol Krun'chi. In the name of peace, we offer our support and hope that this becomes a lasting endeavor that... erm..."

With a look of consternation on his face, the elder Rihannsu pulled out a small paper notebook and glanced over it a moment. "Well, I planned to go on a while, but it's just us so... This is my wife and the secretary of the council, Avilh. This is the minority leader in the council, Okhala. I'm the majority leader, Khaiell. If you need anything, then please just ask one of us or Karl. He's Captain of the watch this season." With the last name, he motioned towards one of the security officers who smiled and nodded pleasantly.

"It's good to meet you, and I think I speak for us all when I say that we look forward to discussing the possibilities with you moving forward." Paris beamed one of those smiles that could warm a Grinch's heart, then inclined her head towards their hosts slightly. "Which, on that note, we're quite refreshed. If you're willing, if there is somewhere we can talk? I'll admit, we're rather excited and eager to get started. Assuming that's alright with you?"

Keeping the tone friendly, the extradimensional explorer sought to direct the opening of negotiations rather than spending time on refreshments and social niceties. Neither race, in this case, was particularly fond of it, so she reasoned it might be the appropriate expediency. The smile was because it was friendly, and tended to be disarming.

"Of course," replied Khaiell with a wave of his arm towards the governmental plaza not far off. "We have a meeting hall reserved and one of our few portable replicators there if you want anything unusual."

Avihl cleared her throat before interrupting. "Husband, dear... Refreshments seem to be the last thing on their mind right now. However, when the time should arise, we have a variety of local beverages, should you require them. As for supper, we have a small banquet planned, if you don't mind. The harvest has been kind."

"Ah, of course, my wife. I would be lost without you," The smile on his face was a bit goofy as he scratched behind one ear. "If you'll follow us then, please?"

As they left the landing bay, it was Okhala's turn to speak up. "I will have to ask you to be wary of protesters and to avoid them. There are some that oppose revealing our location to anyone and think that this is all a trick to get us to expose our location so the Tal'Shiar can wipe us out. Alternatively, there are some that are too young to know the dangers of the Tal'Shiar at all and feel we should be out in the open."

"Those are both very real concerns and aspirations," Paris replied as they began following their hosts. "Our hope is that we can find a way to move forward which would not endanger the colony, yet move forward with reunification possibilities to explore the feasibility of the movement. Clearly there will be some who distrust the policies of the Star Empire, which is entirely reasonable given their past position, and rightfully so. Although I must say it's very good to hear that the next generations hold hope... for it is upon that hope that we may yet build the future."

As she spoke, the assemblage made their way from the landing bay towards the government plaza across the small, open-air courtyard separating the two. The sky above them had a light teal quality to it. Not as purely turquoise as ch'Rihan itself, but not quite as blue as Earth. The building ahead of them looked older than it likely was, with walls of a weathered green metals rather than the same reddish clay most of the buildings seemed constructed with, and large, ornate wooden doors. It was the tallest building in the city, yet was at most, four stories at the top of the greenish copper dome that sat atop it.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It was built from the colony ship. Most of the systems still work, though there's no way she'd fly again. The engines are all gone and the power plant's been reconfigured completely. Heck, we've put so many holes in the hull to expand the building..." Khaiell stared up at the great building before them as they came up to a set of hand-carved double doors.

"You'll have to excuse my husband. He was one of the apprentice pilots when we landed." Avilh added with a gentle pat on her husband's arm.

"Psh... Ancient history now, my love. I'm happy with you and the grandkids," he replied, looking for a way to change the subject. "We figured since you're all spacers, we'd use one of the old conference rooms. They're a bit more... Ah... Modern?"

Okhala couldn't help but pipe up with a chuckle as they passed through the large doors and into the green and tan dimly lit halls of the old Rihannsu colony ship interior. "What you mean to say is the chairs are padded and your back hurts, don't you? It's fine. I'm sure our guests wouldn't mind sitting on wooden benches, but for an occasion like this, I too agree." He then turned towards the Starfleet delegates as they walked. "You see, the majority want a few more amenities but the desire to remain hidden outweighs those desires since the larger our energy footprint is, the easier we are to detect. We in the minority want to eschew technology altogether, other than the system defenses, to maximize our chances of not being discovered."

"There are other differences, but that's the main one that we worry about daily, I think," Avilh chimed in, punctuating the point with a finger in the air.

The elderly man, Khaiell, stopped before a set of octagonal autodoors and tapped at the door controls for several moments before they finally opened, seemingly in pain from age. "And here we are. It's a bit old and worn, but we've done our best to take care of it. It's also one of our last uncracked skylights."

"I love that you recycled the colony ship so efficiently, and incorporated it by making it the center of the city." Paris marveled, genuinely appreciating the starship skin repurposed to serve the colony, and appreciating their lack of resources. "It's a bit brilliant and ingenious and shows fluidity of thought, adaptability and yet a desire to preserve history. All the earmarks for a healthy culture," Paris remarked. "Your desire for comfortable seating notwithstanding, we're honored and flattered to be allowed into the central hub of your government. We'll do our best to validate your trust in us all."

Sonak nodded approvingly.

''Simple and efficient; a tribute to both your logical thinking and to your pride in what you are and what you can achieve. You build your future from what is useful of your past, neither denying nor clinging to it as you look to control your destiny. It is...promising.''

As Khaiel moved over and poured himself a cup of strong black tea and grabbed a couple of blue pastries and a napkin from the refreshment table, he went on a bit about how they governed themselves. "Thank you. We do our best to combine practicality with heritage as logically as possible, all while protecting the people as a whole. It doesn't always work out, and we don't always agree; hence why we have an elected council of twelve councilors, the longest standing majority and minority leaders acting as the de facto leaders of the council, and the secretary breaking any ties."

When he finally paused for breath, Okhala interjected. "We do have to import things from offworld now and then, of course. Even the staunchest of conservatives among us know that. For that, Commander Vara does her best, but we owe a great debt to the Artans and Maenek t'Luin personally. She's even brought us some refugees from time to time, once properly vetted, of course."

Listening, Dox had been admiring the remains of the starship that had became the capital of the people, running a hand along the nearest bulkhead. For someone raised on a freighter for half of her life, it touched a chord, but there was more to it. For while she might not have been born there, she had been well versed in the history of her people. She appreciated the symmetry to the structure as the original refugees who took the generation ships to found ch'Rihan and ch'Havran used those ships to build the first capitals there as well.

"Hopefully Maenek t'Liun vetted us as well. Apparently, much of her crew is made up of refugees I helped deliver to her and she has pledged her service to us in this matter, which I hope will speak towards our sincerity here." Dox said, a twinge of nervousness in her voice as she interjected, hoping she wasn't completely out of her depth as she noticed how Khaiel was drinking his tea very noticeably.

Realizing that she was among fellow RIhannsu, and knowing her people's predilections well, Dox felt it was quite possibly a message. A way of showing them all that the refreshments were safe. So, as a show of trust in the interest of things moving forward well, the young Lieutenant Commander stepped over and poured herself the offered tea and took a sip with a smile

Gesturing towards the offered seating, Khaiell smiled lightly at the returned gesture as she replied to Dox's statement. "Maenek t'Liun is trusted here, and she informed us of her trust in you all. Had she not, this meeting would not be occurring. That said, we are glad it is. There is much to discuss, so let us begin."

As the diplomatic delegation from the Hera took their seats, so too did the ruling council members of the Mol Krun'chi government. Taking a sip of his tea, Khaiel gestured towards the Starfleet officers across from him and began. "We, of course, have many concerns. But those cannot truly be addressed properly until we have heard your proposals." And he looked at Commander Paris with an open expression, ready to listen.

"Ah! yes, that would be my cue. All right." Repressing her urge to get up and pace as she spoke and talked her way through her idea with them, this was a diplomatic negotiation. Body language, rules of decorum and the literal interpretation of 'everyone coming to sit down at the table' for negotiation all applied here. Instead, she uncrossed her fingers, and talked with her hands, emphasizing her points as she spoke.

"This is a beautiful colony. And as soon as it's location is known, that means that sooner or later, the Tal'Shiar are going to find it. or religious zealots, or conservative republicans or someone who has a grudge to bear against reunification. I think we can all agree on that, given that you've remained hidden until now, working to avoid being detected by said agency." Paris waved an acquiescence, then pressed on.

"Exposing this colony would endanger it, and the Federation is loathe to do that if they cannot offer the colony protection. Which they cannot, because it is across the Neutral Zone, and this space belongs, according to their militarily enforced claim and the treaty we both signed, to the Romulan Star Empire. My being in Romulan space makes me a wanted fugitive, as I am considered to be committing an act of war, thus I am a war criminal in the eyes of Romulus. Which, I understand, is not the name of your motherworld. I'd like to qualify that I use the term as that's what's on all of the treaties. Apparently, no one cared enough about the treaty to correct Starfleet?" Paris shrugged, coughed, then continued meandering to her point.

"The point being that we- the Federation, Starfleet- we can't help you if a political enemy goes after you once you are exposed. Not unless a lot of policy changes come about. But I do have an idea which I think might just work. Something we could use to prove logically that reunification can succeed- hopefully thrive, but we'll see. I propose... an experiment."

Brows arched, Paris smiled, that smile that could sell a used hoverlift. "We have the greatest scientists in the galaxy on planet Vulcan. We have a planet very close to the neutral zone, only three-quarters of a light-year away. Avoided for just that reason. A binary star, if there's some poetry to be found in the cosmos. Its name on our star charts is Beto 569. We have a mixed lot of idealists who want to give living with the Vulcans a try. If we set the experiment on the Federation side- as Vulcan is a Federation founder after all- we can protect the colony and give the experiment every chance. We can see if the two cultures can get along together on a small scale. Because if the two cultures can mix once more, and do so successfully..."

Spreading her hands, Paris made her point. "The logic and knowledge of the Vulcans with the intuition, passion and drive of the Rihannsu?"

"That could change a world."

"That could change an empire."

"That could change the galaxy."

"Maybe. Possibly. Or you might not be able to stand one another, and you might remember why the Great Schism came about in the first place. Might be disastrous, we all admit. But," Rita Paris waved that finger in the air. "I think we owe it to the galaxy to find out. That, with lots of ancillary material that I can hand you for review, is the core of the federation's position and proposal. Thank you." With that, Paris sat back, crossed her legs in scissoring motion and smiled demurely. Raising her brows, she turned to Sonak, as the representative of the Vulcan High Council.

The Kolinarh master waited a moment before speaking.

''History tells us that the Sundering occurred because the teachings of Surak had been rejected by some, and these chose to move out and build their own society away from an inevitably changing Vulcan. Now, what we are seeing is the descendants of those dissidents wishing to learn more about what their forebears had rejected. What would be changed, if it is that it could change anything, remains to be seen.''

He was looking at his colleagues as well as he was looking at the Romulans.

''To learn about a way of life is one thing; to accept it is another. To embrace it is an even bigger step. Since the teachings of Surak is fundamentally based on the denial of emotion as a driving force, it is illogical to assume that such teachings and the... passions of the Rihansuu will merge; only that they could at best coexist within a given society, just like Vulcans and Humans do within the United Federation of Planets.''

He paused to let that sink in before continuing.

''There will be individuals who will wish to learn of Vulcan and it's ways; some might even wish to embrace it, if only for a time. others will want to ignore it and continue on with their lives will others will reject it outright; just as there are some Vulcans who wish to part from the ways of Surak or simply to experience something else. As an enlightened society, we all should allow, even support this; thus, the real objective here should be to promote and uphold overture, exchange, and sharings as freely and as openly as possible, within the constraints of all cultures involved. To employ an image, all should be allowed to do in Rome as the Romans do... and that all roads that can lead to and from Rome should be open.''

He took the time to let them reflect upon his words before concluding.

''The Rihansuu will never become Vulcans, nor Vulcan turn into an extension of the Empire. Neither is foreseeable nor desirable. But just like Vulcans, Humans, Andorians, Tellarites, and over a hundred different cultures learned to share and follow common goals in common ways without abandoning what they were, so can the Rihansuu join the brotherhood of the stars... on their own terms... starting with their distant cousins.''

Listening intently, majority leader Khaiell glanced to Okhala and Avilh and they nodded to each other. As they did, Khaiell tented his fingers and raised an eyebrow. “We are Rihannsu. We acknowledge our roots and we have spent over forty years here studying them and seeking a balance between our passions and the logic we have come to accept is needed to temper that passion. Ultimately, all we seek is the freedom to live as we have chosen.”

Then, he looked at Dox, whose expression was one of hidden but evident anxiety as she knew the floor was going to be hers. “While we expect that continued negotiations with all parties will be difficult, our primary concern is the august body that you have been sent to represent, delegate Dox.”

Taking a light breath, Dox swallowed. Her throat was dry and the room seemed inordinately quiet as she began to speak. “The… the Tal’Shiar has thrived in many forms on ch’Rihan for generations. And many times, it’s influence has been curbed by the will of the Rihannsu people for a time until old fears resurface and fuel the conditions that allow them to return to power.”

“Right now, that… that pendulum has swung back towards the people realizing that the Tal’Shiar is a representation of a problem that has been ingrained in… in our people since the sundering. The reunification movement was halted during Shinzon’s uprising, but the people of ch’Rihan know that much of their current freedoms are owed to the Federation for removing him from power and asking nothing in return.” Dox’s voice was hoarse and gravely as she started, building in strength as she spoke.

“The Tal’Shiar push the belief that any change or growth will rob us of our sovereignty and what makes us Rihannsu. That peace will weaken the Empire and take away our individuality. They believe the Federation is no different from the Borg and seek to assimilate cultures. History shows that to be a lie. The Federation peace with the Klingon empire show that we can all co-exist and take nothing from each other.”

“These are relationships that only strengthen us all, and the Tal’Shiar want to keep that reality from the people of ch’Rihan. But the Tal’Shiar is not ch’Rihan. The Tal’Shair is not the Senate. The people want peace and freedom. But as long as the fear of the other is ingrained in the Rihannsu heart, the Tal’Shiar and their kind will always have roots on the hearthworlds.” Dox said, her voice growing in strength. “I, and many others, believe that the principles of logic can help to allow us as a people to move past old fears and xenophobia. Logic as a candle in the dark against old fears.”

Taking a moment to sip her tea and wet her painfully dry throat, Dox glanced at Rita, trying to remind herself that she could do this and not make the situation worse. With a breath, she looked up at the light coming in the dome and nodded. “This world is thriving. There is peace here and cultural growth that I would… very much like to see more of while we’re here. Because the Senate and the people need to know that the great experiment can succeed.”

“There was a proposal that passed in the Senate. The vote was slim and not without protest, but in the end, the Senate has approved efforts to foster the reunification colonies. They are viewing this as an experiment to witness for themselves if our cultures can coexist. If we can benefit from such a lifestyle. If other can benefit from such a union opening what we have created as a culture being something that can finally be shared.”

“Legally, all reunification colony worlds have been granted provisional legally protected status in the Senate, pending further talks and data. I…” Dox wanted to rub the tip of her ear nervously as she stammered slightly. “I am here to deliver that message. That the Rihannsu Senate wishes to open communication towards the goal of seeing if the efforts of this world can be expanded and eventually included as a protected world in the Imperium.”

“That said, what will be done on ch’Rihan will depend on the message that… that I will have to deliver back to the Senate, and I agree with Commander Paris’ proposal and the reasoning. Currently, there is… conflict between the Military and the Tal’Shair, and opening this colony while that conflict remains unresolved would result in disaster. If the success already apparent here can be replicated on Beto 569 or a world in Federation space that can be actively protected for the Rihannsu people to see, it will give the Senate more leverage to claim ch’Rihan from the grip of the Tal’Shiar, perhaps for good this time. This is what I’d like to tell them.”

Putting her hands flat on the tabled, Dox waited to see what the council had to say, her heart in her throat. And the wait was more than a little drawn out as the three councilmembers took in the young Starfleet officer sent to represent the Senate that once had outlawed their very existence.

The female Rihannsu secretary of the colony's council, Avilh, was the first to speak as the other two thought over what they had heard. "Those in the senate may see it that way... And so may the people... But I worry that they'll see it as a trick by the Federation. Lies, deceit, and distrust are ingrained in many Rihannsu hearts and I worry that that is what they will interpret reports of a new colony with a different way of life to be. Especially one in Federation space."

"I can see this is going to be a difficult vote, split between hope and worry," Khaiell replied with a soft smile and a pat on his wife's hand. "I think I'll hope for such a future, whether it be here or at Beto 569."

"Well, the idea is to experiment with a colony. Representative Dox raises valid points that will be against it being in Federation controlled space. Since it's so close to the Neutral Zone we might seek the grant from the Federation Council an aisle of approved traffic into Federation territory, which would likely involve some sophisticated scanning emplacements to insure no sneaking. All hypothetical at this stage and all of it still needs t be ratified by the august body that I represent in these proceedings." Pausing, Rita considered if the Captain had been here. She would have been distrustful in herself, ever feeling herself the outcast. But this sort of out of the box problem solving was her specialty, and Enalia would have had a good idea or two for this. Wish you coulda been here, Cap'n.

There would always be a next time, at least for now.

"I propose that we seek volunteers from both cultures- here on Mol Krun'chi, from interested parties with Vulcan and... " The amateur diplomat wagged that finger again. "In a perfect world we invite some from Romulus itself, in order to balance the experiment. But to invite that is to invite the interference of the Tal Shiar. Which may very well sabotage the experiment because it is highly probable that they would literally sabotage the experiment to turn it into a propaganda win."

"But in all fairness, is it wrong of us to exclude anyone from your homeworld itself, out of fear of the opposition? Should we, from a moral standpoint include them, to show that their ideology cannot withstand the blending of cultures? I mean, it really makes the experiment a longshot, but..." Sitting back in her chair again, the time-tossed temptress spread her hands, fingers splayed. "Would it be the right thing to do?"

Turning to her shipmate who was representing her planet in diplomatic negotiations for the first time- A career of firsts. Next time mention that to them when they start figuring things out. Eh, I probably said something like that to her somewhere along the way.... "Miss Dox, this is your bailiwick. Your thoughts?

The young, politically inexperienced Starfleet pilot looked over at Rita, and then back to the delegates. "I have to say, thinking of your point, that in my heart I agree. We need to exercise considerable caution here, but if we exclude Rihannsu from any proposed initiative, I feel like we would be... undercutting our efforts. Like Representative Avilh said, there will be too many that will disbelieve any successes of what we're doing. I hate to admit that it's true, but distrust is too ingrained in us culturally over too many generations to discount."

"Somehow, we will need to include direct representatives from ch'Rihan that the people will trust the words of. Or at least listen to. There are a great many reunification supporters still wanting to get away from the Hearthworld, but..." Dox swallowed hard at the implications of the thought that was occurring to her as she forced out the words. "Senator... Senator t'Rul made this proposal. I... I may need to consult with her... and the Senate... regarding a standard by which candidates from ch'Rihan herself for any proposed new colony could be vetted. She is as invested in NOT allowing the Tal'Shiar to sabotage these efforts as we are, I believe. That all said, you're right. It would be the right thing to do. If we aren't willing to stand for our ideology here, how could we expect others too?"

"An excellent point. Representative Dox. Well said," Paris beamed at Dox in genuine pride and admiration. "Ambas- Representative Sonak," Paris mended as she redirected, after a slip of the tongue from a possible future she'd heard once. "Your thoughts, as pertains to the perspective of Vulcan?"

Sonak nodded.

''As far as Vulcan is concerned, the Planetary Council wants to support all means of exchange that would be deemed satisfying to those in the Empire wishing to do so; be it only a simple transfer of data. Of course, there are security concerns even if it were merely for subspace communications, let alone actual movements of people. I imagine a secured lane of contact, similar to the current Treaty of the Neutral Zone, would have to be implemented within both territories and managed by each government. In our case, that would be the specific concern of Starfleet Command within Federation territory. Therefore, it is imperative that both our governments be in full knowledge and agreement with this effort. As part of the founding members of the Federation, Vulcan has a significant voice, and a favorable one to this endeavor. We are ready and willing for contact. The work must now be emphasized on the Rihansuu side.''

"If I may redirect," Paris qualified, "more to the issue of adding peoples from Romulus itself, Mister Sonak. As there is the markedly high probability of inviting Tal'Shiar influence to the experiment, what is the perspective of Vulcan on that matter is more our interest in this specific case?"

''Vulcan has now centuries of experience in direct contact with emotional species. It is fully open to any people wishing to share in the Vulcan way of life, culture and customs. On the specific issue of security, that is what the Neutral Zone corridor I suggested refers to. In these matters, Vulcan defers to Starfleet, as is the rule in the Federation. But that is only pertaining to Federation territory and citizens. For the Romulans themselves and their territory, it can only be, and must be, addressed by them. Anything else would be direct interference with their society, a stance that is not acceptable either by Federation or Vulcan laws and principles.''

“A very valid point, Representative Sonak,” Paris replied, seeing the subtlety of the statement. “All right, that seems to be agreed then, at least by the delegates. What are your thoughts, Mol Kru’nchi Council? As we concoct our possibilities and plans, your input is very much necessary to these proceedings.”

"I think that at this point, with all the arguments that you've made, we have a very good starting point," Khaiell said with a warm smile. "I don't foresee there being an issue with any of these propositions passing through the council, or there being a lack of volunteers on our side. In fact, I'd also like to propose the director for this new colony, at least initially, be elected from here by the colonists of Mol Krun'chi. I think it would foster more trust and understanding that way."

"I'd also like the new colony to be declared a sort of exclusion zone," Okhala added, folding his hands in front of him. "The safety of the colony must be taken seriously and thus I would prefer that a third party be responsible for it. The Federation and Empire should have embassies, yes... But I propose actual colony and system security be handled by the locals and by those that we've trusted since the founding of this colony. The Artans."

While she was there as a representative of the Rihannsu Senate, Mnhei'sahe was also still an Artan Baroness, and felt confident in replying in this instant, "I can say with confidence that Maenek t'Liun would agree to this and we can present this proposal to the Queen Regent as well if all parties agree."

"I believe the Federation can cede to a third party, and given the proposal that the colonist volunteers from Mon'Krun'chi be directing the efforts, the request for third-party mediation from a party outside the Federation does complicate things somewhat, but not unduly. In regard to the relationship the colony has enjoyed with the Artan fleet, it seems like a logical evolution of their relationship. Mister Sonak, your thoughts?"

It was obvious by his fixated stare that the Vulcan had been thinking. His facial expression did not alter, however, when he spoke.

''To be effective, a neutral third party must be recognized as such by all parties directly involved in a dispute or negotiation. There are direct connections between the Artans and the Federation; our own Captain, serving in Starfleet, attests to that. Logically, anyone opposing these talks would see this as a disqualifying factor, regardless of the fact that some of the Artans might even be serving in the Imperial Navy. Both indicate direct interest in what happens here.''

He looked at everyone, finishing with Rita, as he concluded.

''What you would need is someone recognized by both parties as incorruptible; someone having absolutely no direct interest whatsoever in what happens in or to both the Federation and the Empire; and someone who is indubitably interested that both galactic powers benefit equally from such talks.''

"I can see your point, Mr. Sonak. Have you such a neutral third party in mind?" Paris asked.

He looked pointedly at her.

''The first one that comes to mind are those who planted the seeds and predicted the current friendship between such seemingly opposing societies as that of the Federation and the Klingon Empire.''

Raising an eyebrow, Mnhei'sahe was confused for a moment by the cryptic reply. But she was curious and ran through her academy training as best as she could and nervously interjected "Commander Sonak, please forgive me, but who are you referring to? My first thought from history would be... the Organians? The beings that ended the war between the Klingons and the Federation?

Sonak nodded.

''Of all beings in the universe, they are the most dedicated to universal peace and totally detached from our material existence, yet, still concerned about the well being of all living things. No one would accuse them of taking any side but that of peaceful coexistence for all. And they have the power to instantly stop anything or anyone that would try to interfere in an effort to promote galactic peace and cooperation. They are the most logical choice. The difficulty however would be to convince them of the necessity to get involved. When they did so on the eve of the second Federation-Klingon war that in the end never happened, it was because their own chosen space was to be in the middle of it and they had been dragged into it. Those circumstances are not present at this time.''

"It's an interesting proposition, Representative Sonak, but..." Paris chose her words carefully, the out of date explorer attempting to define without appearing to undermine. "Do we have a means of contacting and communicating with the Organians? I'm a bit behind the times, but I don't believe they maintain embassy representation of any sort in the Federation, nor to they particularly respond to entreaties for intervention in matters such as these. Or has that changed since the last report I read about them which was, admittedly, a very long time ago, and may not have played out the same way locally."

''Contacting them is easy enough; they never barred anyone from going to Organia, '' Sonak pointed out.'' In fact, they made this world expressly in order to interact with our material form of life. Proposing to them to arbitrate in the interest of galactic peace might appeal to them as they abhor violence even beyond this made-up world. That is the whole point of the Peace Treaty Zone that makes for the borders between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Then again, they might wish to have nothing to do with our affairs. There is no way of telling except go and ask them. They make the best logical choice as arbiters and moderators; but their thinking may not deem itself bound by any such logic. Again, we can only ask them.''

"That is an intriguing prospect, Representative Sonak. All of these are fascinating options and we can certainly discuss all of these as potential directions further.” Avilh interjected with a raised eyebrow, clearly invested in the many directions on the table. “But with all that said, the specifics of how we choose to move forward can be worked out in detail as we go. Right now, the decision we must make is if we choose to go down this path or choose to remain hidden as we are. These decisions will not be made with only we in this room, but must from here go to our council of twelve and to the people themselves. And to that point, we have questions to ask and additional concerns to address to ensure that Mol Krun’chi may maintain it’s sovereignty, humble though it may be.”

And with a nod from the majority and minority leaders, the questions began. The leading councilmembers of the Mol Krun’chi government ran through a gauntlet of questions that stretched throughout much of the day, with Rita, Sonak and Mnhei’sahe keeping pace, answering where they could and doing their best to represent the interests of each of the governments involved. Ultimately, each would have to structure reports on the meetings to send to the Federation, the Vulcan High Command, and the Rihannsu Senate, summarizing the relevant details of the meeting so that each government could decide how it chose to go forward.

As day turned into afternoon and then into evening, the meeting eventually reached a conclusion for the day that all involved was satisfied had been productive as they created the first steps on a plan that, as Rita Paris had suggested, could eventually change the face of the galaxy as it had been known. But for now, the time for such discussions had ended as The Council Leader rose from the humble table. “Representatives, Majority, and Minority leaders, I thank you for your great efforts here today. I am confident, that in spite of the many obstacles that we still face, that what we have discussed here might well be the building blocks of something unique. But for now, I’m sure we all hunger, and we have made arrangments for… something of a banquet.”

The majority leader, Okhala, interjected. “Indeed. We have met as representatives and as officials. Now, let us break bread as friends.”

"That sounds perfect," Paris agreed. "We've covered a lot of ground today, proposed some very interesting ideas, and we've all got a lot to think about, and to transmit to our respective bodies. But after the first day, I must say, I feel... hopeful."

Looking around the table, the unlikely diplomat hoped to see agreement. In the faces of the assembled representatives, all talking in the attempt to build a better future, she saw that hope reflected, which encouraged her. If things continued on this path, it seemed they might just have a rendezvous with destiny after all.

Built on hope.

In the modest, agrarian capital of the Rihannsu colony world of Mol Krun’chi known as ch'Saithe, the young red-headed Starfleet pilot, Mnhei’sahe Dox, slept.

While the Rihannsu officer rarely slept well when separated from her bond-mate and wife, Mona Gonadie, she was exhausted mentally and physically from the tasks of the day, and there was something about the cool night air of the picturesque village drifting on the breeze through the open window that relaxed her. The modest, clay-walled two-story house provided for the use of the delegates from the Hera was connected to the government plaza at the center of the village, but was otherwise largely rustic in keeping with most of the buildings in ch'Saithe. Dark wood floors that creaked a bit when you walked on them along with handcrafted fittings and furnishings that felt like something from another era surrounded the young woman as she slumbered. There were very few modern features to be found outside of the comm unit in the room on the wall next to the thick, tracked wooden door. On the open window, wispy green curtains extended floor to ceiling and flowed in the night breeze.

The name of the city meant ‘of the Peaceful’ in her native language of Rihan, and it lived up to the name so far. The talks with Mol Krun’chi’s ruling council had gone fairly well, all things considered, for only the first day. There were concerns and arguments, speeches made and fears that were expressed and Dox had somehow not yet ruined the diplomatic proceedings she felt wildly unqualified to be a part of. But as the granddaughter of the Rihannsu Senator who made the initial motion that had lead to these talks, Dox had been chosen to represent her grandmother and the Senate in the talks. It wasn’t a position she wanted to hold, but one she felt compelled to do her best in, regardless. She had done her best to represent what she felt were her grandmother’s wishes while comporting herself as a Starfleet officer, and while it seemed that the council was reluctant to trust her, perhaps a bit more than the others in the party, she had not yet derailed the talks. And Rita Paris had assured her at dinner that she was doing very well so far. So as night fell across the rolling hills, the ruling council ended the talks for the evening and provided sleeping quarters in the house she now relaxed in. And after supper had been eaten and pleasantries exchanged, Mnhei’sahe retired to the small room she had been provided. A room she was glad she didn’t have to share with anyone.

The bed against the wall was smaller than she was used to, but the bedding was soft enough and the breeze carried the gentle smell of lehe'jhme blossoms from the fruit trees in the farm to the north of the village. All combined, it was enough to let the stressed Rihannsu woman relax and eventually drift off to sleep in a room that felt far more comfortable than she would have expected. So she slept.

Her dreams were deep and she found herself lost in them for a while. The circumstances of her resoning for being on Mol Krun’chi were weighing on her mind and that weight showed up in dreams where she found herself, not on Mol Krun’chi, but on ch’Rihan itself. She found herself walking through the maithewood halls of her grandmother’s beautiful country home. Her family’s ancestral home she only saw in holopics and in the mindscape of Verelan t’Rul when Sonak had linked them. In her dream, she was a child again, living the life that had been denied her as she ran up and down those ancient halls carelessly. The dream was a good one, and she was happy to find herself there for a time as she slumbered.

After a few hours, a pale horse, with ghostly legs that faded to nothing and eyes that were as the deepest black of space, silently trotted into the room and nuzzled at the younger Rihannsu woman, doing his best to get her to wake up by pulling the covers partly off of her and neighing softly in her ear as if trying to tell her she was needed.

Rolling over slightly, still mostly asleep, Mnhei’sahe groaned slightly, muttering with a gravely whisper in her native tongue, “Ie? Fvah? Qiuu mnekha?”

“Is… is something wrong? Who’s… there?” Mnhei’sahe said, switching back to Federation standard with her accent more unguarded than it usually was, as she started to wake up. Still confused, as her eyes struggled to focus in the light of the small twin moons that shown in the open window, she looked up and saw the looming head of the etherial equine she knew well, looking right back at her. “Fvah? Taxes?”

Startled as she finally woke up to notice the mount of Masato Rei, the woman known as Death, standing right over her bed. The horse with the somewhat whimsical name of Taxes. “What… What’s wrong? Where’s Rei?”

Being a horse, even a ghostly one, Taxes couldn't speak and could only emote, so he glanced over at the window and back towards Mnhei'sahe before tossing his head in such a manner that his reins wrapped around her hand so he could tug at her in an attempt to get her to come with him. There was an urgency in his actions and whinnies that he'd never shown before - as if time were short.

“What’s going on… is she in trouble? Taxes?” Mnhei’sahe got up out of bed, trying to get the worn leather strap off of her wrist. “Okay… hold on…Hnaev... I’m in my underwear, Taxes… hold on.” But the spectral mount was still tugging as Dox grabbed the dark green robe that the house hru’fre, or head of the housekeepers, had provided and tossed it on her free arm as he dragged her insistently to the window.

“Taxes… this is the second floor.” Mnhei’sahe said nervously as they got closer to the window, still trying to slip the robe on, but unable to get her hand free to get the other sleeve on.

The spectral horse just kept tugging with a glance back at her to see if she was going to get on or not. When he saw that she wasn't, he shook his head and decided another approach was necessary, nibbling at her hair for a moment before poofing into a cloud of mist and reforming a couple of seconds later as a ghostly hoverbike that was keenly reminiscent of the one Dox owned, yet was still unmistakably Taxes as the whinny that came from the engine was definitely the spectral horse and the reins were still wrapped around Mnhei'sahe's arm.

“Fvah Imirrhlhhse?” Mnhei’sahe cursed at the bizarre sight. Pausing for an instant, the concept finally clicked in her mind as she rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, I understand. I get it. I’m getting on.”

Awkwardly, the young pilot slowly lifted her leg and straddled the hoverbike. “Okay… uh… I’m on. Now what?”

Without hesitation, Taxes floated up and through the window silently. He may have taken the form of a hoverbike, but as a spectral entity, still paid no heed to the laws of physics one was bound by and thus traveled freely as if the world around them was moving, rather than if they themselves were what was moving.

Grabbing the reins tight, Mnhei’sahe leaned in tight to clutch the body of the hoverbike that was a horse moments ago in a mild panic. She might have been an extremely skilled pilot, but this was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

Thus as the ground below moved, there was no wind, no chill, no hum from an engine. The sound of the solar-powered street lamps, as well as the few people out this late at night, could easily be heard below them as they passed above in silence, invisible to all.

“HNAAAAAAEEEVVV!!!!” She cursed again, but the few people below them clearly couldn’t hear or notice as Mnhei’sahe wrapped her arms tighter against the body of the bike. While the Rihannsu woman was still very mortal, at that specific moment she was as immaterial as the ghostly, transformed horse she clung to the back of, and it was an extremely bizarre sensation.

It wasn't long before they came to a small cottage on the outskirts of the capital, a lone electric light flickering dimly as if the battery behind it was dying. Barely slowing, Taxes flew right through the front door, down the narrow corridor and into humble bedchamber of an old woman in a bed covered by a threadbare blanket before finally stopping with a soft whinny.

“Taxes…” Mnhei’sahe whispered as she quickly climbed off. Finally, the strap around her wrist that seemed to be fixed to her came loose, allowing her to slip the rest of the robe on and close it over her, “What are we doing here? We shouldn’t be here. Where’s Rei?”

"Is that you, Jaeih?" The old woman asked in a soft voice, barely more than a whisper. She spoke in Rihan and there was a gravel to her voice that sounded weak. "Have you come to guide your old theirr’anov to the afterlife?"

“J… Jaeih?” Mnhei’sahe whispered, looking over to the woman who could clearly hear and see her and spoke Dox's mother's name. Processing what was said, Mnhei’sahe thought on the old woman’s words. ‘Theirr’anov’ was the Rihan word for a chosen guardian. Her heart skipped a beat as she tried to swallow, though her throat was now dry. Gulping, she replied in Rihan, “Jaeih? No… I’m not…”

Suddenly, what was happening began to become clear to Mnhei’sahe as she turned back towards the door where Taxes had resumed his normal form. Looking at the now loose hanging leather strap, she realized that once she was no longer touching any part of Taxes she was visible and tangible again. The spectral horse stepped over and nudged Mnhei’sahe slightly forward with his head. This woman, whoever she was, was near death. But Death was nowhere to be seen, and instead, Death’s horse came to Mnhei’sahe to go to the woman’s side.

Hesitating, Mnhei’sahe felt a wave of anxiety tie her stomach up in a tight ball. She knew that this was a potential future that had been laid before her. A choice yet to be made. She had been chosen to succeed Masato Rei when her own life had reached its end, but that hadn’t happened and she was being asked to step far too close to that role for comfort. “Taxes… I can't do this… I’m not Rei. I can't…”

But the horse simply looked at Mnhei’sahe with a look of desperation in his eyes. He might not be able to speak, but the message was loud and clear. He needed Mnhei’sahe, and so did the woman on the bed across the room.

Biting her bottom lip, the young woman straightened up and turned back to the elderly woman in the bed. She looked to be close to two hundred, with deep creases in her face and her long, gray hair up in a bun over the top of her thin pillow. Stepping over to the side of the bed, she knelt down. “Jaeih’s my mother’s name. I’m… I’m not her. I’m not… uh… my name is Mnhei’sahe.”

The smile that spread across the old woman's face was almost blissful. "Little Mnhei'sahe? My little star?" she asked, one hand reaching up to delicately cup Dox's cheek. "Oh, it's been so long. Do you recognize me? I… I was your family's hru'hfe. I helped you come into this world. I told your mother... I told her... Stay here so little Mnhei'sahe can be safe. But you're safe now, right? Old Nurema worried about you dear. Even after you left for good. I always worried and prayed to Al'thindor and the Elements themselves that you'd be safe."

As the elder woman spoke, Mnhei'sahe's memories began to fill in. Not of the woman’s face, but of her name. It was the first name Mnhei'sahe had read in Masato Rei's book that was to die at the hands of Riov Rendal had the Tal'Shiar discovered this place in the timeline that existed before Rita Paris has rescued her from ch’Rihan. She had noticed that the woman's second name was the same as her mother's, which simply meant they came from the same village on ch'Rihan, but now she understood that it meant so much more.

"You're… Nurema. Nurema ir-Korthre?" Mnhei'sahe said, placing her own hand over the old woman's hand, still on her cheek as the heart in her side swelled. "Y… yes, I'm safe. We're both safe… myself and mother. I've… I don't remember. I've… been here before?"

Pulling back her hand as she feebly covered her mouth to cough, a raking and harsh sounding thing that made Mnhie’sahe wince ever so slightly, the elder Rihannsu woman took a moment then replied with a nod. “Oh, my little star... you were born here. Here in this very house when it was still new.”

Looking back with an expression of shock towards Taxes, who simply nodded his head slightly towards her, Mnhei’sahe’s jaw hung open. As the old woman continued, “Your mother… Little Jaeih… she was my world. She freed us when we sought to escape ch’Rihan. It cost her her freedom for a time, and so much more. This world would not exist but for her sacrifice.”

There was a long pause as the old woman shut her eyes and took some breaths. As she did, she reached back out and weekly took Mnhei’sahe’s hands in her own. “And when it came time to have you... she called out to me. She sought sanctuary…” Another cough interrupted the tale and this time Mnhei’sahe could feel the violence of it through the woman’s hand as she tightened her grip.

“The council would never have allowed it… the risk of discovery was too great. But… I could never say no to your mother. I did all I could when she was little to help raise her after her mother passed and her father left her with me to care for in his absence. And I did my best. I gave her all the love I could as if she were my own. I taught her of our people and our Vulcan roots. So I told her how to find us and she came. In secret, she came.” Nurema continued, her feeble voice growing weaker as she did.

"Back then, we were called Mol Furvas. Taken from the name of the tiny moon colony of Furvas VI we had originally tried to establish before the Tal'Shiar came for us. When your mother turned against them to save us." The old woman said with a cough, before composing herself to continue, "We would not take on our current name on this world until our founders, Elders tr'Krun and t'Chi, had passed, a few years later."

“The council was furious with me for the risk I had taken, but Jaeih calmed their fears. Jaeih… she was as much a force of nature as the Element of Air from which she was named. She would not bear you on some freighter in space. She… she insisted that you would draw your first breath with real air in your little lungs. With soil beneath you and a warm sun above. So, I opened this home to her… and to you. And it was here… in the small bedroom down the hall… that I took you in my arms for the first time. The basin in the washroom where I cleaned you for and heard your first cries. Oh, you were so beautiful.”

Reaching up, Nurema ran a finger through Mnhei’sahe’s curly, red hair and her tone went more somber. “You were little more than a year old when she decided she had to leave again. Her love… your father… was still Tal’Shiar. He could not see you while you were here. Even Jaeih knew it was too dangerous to let him know where this colony was. She told me her plan… to change you. To hide you. I hated it! Thought clearly… it worked. We fought so long over that, but your mother was never one to lose a fight. In time, she took you away from here, and we left with harsh words on our tongues and... pain in our hearts.”

Taking a moment, the elder Rihannsu collected herself. Nodding gently, she patted the back of Mnhei’sahe’s hand reassuringly and continued.

“When you were little, you had her hair. It was still curly, but raven black. Not like this. But… but your eyes…” The elder woman said with a smile, “You still have Jaeih’s eyes. I see her in you. So much of her.” Then her face took on a pained expression as she shook her head. “All this time, I have missed you, my little star. I have wondered what became of you. Please… please, tell me of your life. Tell me you are happy.”

With a long breath, Mnhei’sahe sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye onto the dark green robe she wore. Again, she found herself at the side of the bed of an elder Rihannsu woman on the last night of her life. Again, she found herself having to be strong for another that she had never known, but who had nonetheless been important in her life in ways she didn’t understand until just then. And squeezing Nurema’s hand, she replied.

Skipping over the darker parts and the most painful memories, Mnhei’sahe told the woman that helped care for her as a child the story of her life. She told her of her successes in Starfleet. Her joy in piloting starships. She told Nurema of the family she had built on the Hera with the Pirate Captain and the Immortal child, now gone off to grow their career elsewhere. With the ‘most human human to ever human’, who taught her how to forgive her mother and how to be better every day. And she told her of why she was there, on Mol Krun’chi. Of how the dream of reunification might be moving forward at long last and the part she was chosen to play in it. Then she told her of her love for Mona. Of their bond that ran so deep that it could be felt light-years away. And she told her of the three children on their way, bridging a gap between two wildly different worlds to create something new in the universe.

The old Rihannsu woman smiled deeply and nodded as she replied, a tear running down her cheek, “That… that makes my heart glad. That is why we came here… to be more than we were. To be complete again, and you… you will make it true. You can be that dream brought to life, little star. Oh, how I love you. How glad I am that it was you that came to me… to hear my words and see me one last time.”

There was a feeling of warmth in Mnhei’sahe as she held the woman’s hands tight and felt them shudder. And while she didn’t like to consider the implications, she hated that she could feel that it was Nurema’s time. Somehow, she knew. She didn’t feel Rei’s presence as she did with Charybdis, but she felt what was happening in her heart all the same, as she closed her eyes. “I’m… I’m glad I came as well. I’m glad I got to finally know you, Theirr’anov.”

Using the Rihan word for ‘godmother’ brought another smile to the elder Rihannsu woman’s aged face as she nodded. “It is good, little star. I feared I would be alone this night, as I have been all these years since your mother took you away. Oh, I have a nurse, but it’s… she’s not you or Jaeih. Tell her. *COUGH* Tell your mother that I regret the words I said that evening. T… Tell her that her old hru’hfe has always loved… always loved her.”

“She… she will know. I promise you, Theirr’anov.” Mnhei’sahe said as she nodded. “And… soon you will be able to see her again. And you will no longer be alone, I promise you.” Putting a hand on the old woman’s cheek, Mnhei'sahe leaned over and kissed it lightly, and the elderly woman smiled and replied,

“T… Thank you. You are my final gift, little star. Al’Thindor is kind.” Nurema said with a warm smile, though her voice felt weaker than ever. Her breaths became shallow and more labored. Each shorter than the last, with longer gaps between them.

“Just… just relax, Theirr’anov.” Mnhei’sahe said, her voice broken and cracked as she fought back tears, trying to be strong for her. “I’m h… here. I have you.”

With those words, it was as if a bridge of light had opened up from the small room stretching out towards a gleaming river where a small ferry waited. As the light stretched out, it seemed to sparkle a little as it touched Mnhei'sahe. On the other side of Nurema she could clearly see Rei, helping the now young woman up off of her bed as she first stared in awe at the spectre before her, then across the waters in delight at whatever or whomever she saw across its shimmering crests.

Looking first at the sight that threatened to overwhelm her, Mnhei'sahe wiped a tear on her robe as she looked over at Masato Rei. In that moment, she realized that something had changed as she no longer saw her image of the woman as an older Rihannsu as she always had, but saw her as she had once been. She saw the true Masato Rei, still pale and ethereal, but also clearly the Japanese girl whose identity Mnhei'sahe had helped her rediscover.

As they took a few steps towards the small boat, Rei waved her friend forward. "Mnhei'sahe can go with you as far as the river, Nurema, but no further. You have one last thing to tell her?"

Walking forward onto the gleaming bridge, Mnhei'sahe's skin felt warm where the light touched it and she pushed past her fear as Nurema, now a woman likely younger than she was even when she raised Jaeih, held her arms out.

Stepping into the hug, Mnhei'sahe's attempts at not crying outright finally failed. Nurema tsked her and wiped her eyes dry with all the tenderness of a mother. "No more tears, little star. You see it... this is a joyous moment. I got to hold you again one last time, and now you will know me and know what you have always meant to me. Be happy, little star. You have given me the greatest gift I have known since I first held you."

Stepping back towards the ferry, Nurema smiled broadly. In the breeze off of the river that seemed to carry chimes of music with it, her raven black hair flowed freely across over smooth face. "You have more family than you know, little star. More than Jaeih knows. And you will find them."

And with that, Nurema turned to Rei and nodded, holding her hand out to the ethereal woman in black and spoke again. "Thank you."

With that, Rei led Nurema off towards the small boat, speaking softly as she helped the woman into it, a small lantern lighting up as she sat down on the single bench, which seemed to propel it across the waters towards the other side. "Well, that was vague... But your heart will rest easy in the other world."

And with that, the light faded and Rei and Taxes were both gone, leaving Mnhei'sahe alone once more.

The river and the light was gone and Mnhei'sahe blinked a few times as her eyes readjusted to the dim light of Nurema's modest bedchamber. The young woman looked around for a moment and confirmed that Taxes must have gone with Rei. And looking down, she was alone with the body of Nurema ir-Korthre.

Looking down in the flickering, dim light of the single lantern in the chamber, Mnhei'sahe knelt back down and brushed the woman's cheek. She was gone, but the smile on her face was still there. Kneeling there for a moment, Mnhei'sahe wiped her own cheeks dry once again as she suddenly heard a sound outside the chamber door.

Another door down the hall had opened and she heard footsteps and suddenly the young Rihannsu realized that she wasn't alone in the house. As the sound of footfalls got closer, she looked down and saw a wedge of light cut from under the door and her stomach tightened as a wave of anxiety came over her.

But as she heard the metal clank of the old, rusted door latch begin to move, she felt a shot of hot breath on her neck. Turning with a start, Mnhei'sahe saw that Taxes had returned and was dangling his reins down over her shoulder as she leaned his large head towards her.

Grabbing the worn leather strap just as the door opened, Mnhei'sahe held her breath and froze. As she did, a young Rihannsu woman in a long, linen nightgown holding a candle stepped inside, whispering. "Ihhei Nurema? I heard you talking. Are you…"

The young nurse that Nurema spoke of earlier gasped and put her free hand over her mouth as she looked at the bed. "Tlhei… Oh, Elements. Ihhei Nurema."

Calling the elder woman 'madam', the young woman walked over to the bed, passing right by Mnhei'sahe and Taxes, who were clearly unseen. Kneeling down, she set the candle down and began checking for vitals for a moment. Clearly, a live-in nurse of some kind, the woman let out a long sigh as she ran her hands over Nurema's eyes to close them. As she did, she whispered a quiet prayer Mnhei'sahe knew well. "Nurema ir-Korthre, may the wings of Al'thindor carry you to Vorta Vor and your rest."

As the young nurse spoke, Taxes whinnied softly and pressed his head against Mnhei'sahe's in a comforting fashion. As he did, Mnhei'sahe patted the side of his face and closed her eyes respectfully for the prayer.

Knowing she could neither be seen nor heard, Mnhei'sahe whispered back to the woman softly, "She did."

After a moment, the nurse stood wiping tears from her eyes and pulled the threadbare blanket over Nurema's eyes. And as she did, Mnhei'sahe climbed up on Taxes back and gave the spectral horse a pat on the side on his neck. "Thank you. We can go."

The orders Tovanna waited on for over 60 years, finally arrived. She was finally on her way to her first long commission off world. There had been various symposiums and conferences over the last few decades but her agreement with her parents kept her bound to Starfleet Command for 67 years. She was ready for her career to truly begin, without the restraints of her family duty weighing her down. Her ship was called the USS Hera, she was to report as the Chief Medical Officer.

It was hard to say goodbye to her family but with the arrival of her brother they were focused on his future. She was happy Cyprianos was doing so well, her brother was a delight to the entire family. She was hoping her parents might not wait so long to have another child this time. Rian needed a sibling that was able to spend more time with him. She always felt guilty about her inability to spend more time with him, but knew he was proud of her.

Her fellow officers were a different matter. While she felt a comradery with them, she aged differently than many humans and already had lost many of her closest friends to retirement or reassignment. Her time at Starfleet had become extremely routine, she longed for exploration and something more than forms. When her transfer came through she gathered her belongings, packed away any extras she would be leaving behind and was ready to go in short order.

It took some sweet talking but she managed to get permission to take a shuttle to her ship alone. There were advantages to being older than many of her peers, shuttle privileges were apparently one of them. She couldn’t help but feel a quickening of her heart as the long-range shuttle left the hanger; it was if she knew in that moment her life was going to change forever. Space was spread before her, the course was set in and she was heading toward the nebula that surrounded Gildebron to intercept the Hera.
Her first stop was going to be the USS Gorkon as she joined them on her journey to Starbase 241. She saw the glow of the stars around her and the busy traffic of Starfleet around the shuttle she would be piloting after leaving the Starbase. In the meantime, she was going to use up some of her unused leave and relax during the voyage and revisit a few old friends from Starfleet. She landed in the shuttle hanger eager to see be on her first leave in over two decades.

When she stepped onto the Gorkon she was greeted by her old friend her Starfleet days, Nurse Katherine Cambridge. She had aged a great deal after 30 years compared to Tovanna, but was no less lovely in her own way. Kat’s once brunette tresses were now more silvered than Tovanna remembered.

Kat shook her head looking a Tovanna as she watched her friend disembark, “How the hell do keep looking so good?”
“I only look human remember? That’s why you have been out here having the time of your life and I’ve been stuck back at the Academy. I’m a mere teen in my people’s eyes.” teased Tovanna with her dry wit.

“Well that explains why you’re such a smartass. Get off the damn shuttle you whippersnapper, If you don’t behave I’ll see to it you are banned from all the synthehol in the replicators kid.” Kat smirked with crossed arms.

Tovanna smiled as she came out of the shuttle with her bag, “Okay mom.”

Kat’s eyes shot open, “Too far you little shit, you’re older than me!”

Tovanna sashayed past the indignant nurse, “True but I look so much better…..MOM.”

Kat came up behind Tovanna shaking her head laughing, “Still the same sassy doctor I know and love.”

“Only because it’s an established banter with you and I. Anyone else and you realize I would never be so bold.” Tovanna blushed.
Katherine bumped her hip, “You need to break out of your shell a bit and it’s good to see you have some fight in you. You’ll need it out here Tova.” She looked at her quiet friend with a gentle smile. In all the years she knew her, Tova was always quiet and at times distant from others. Kat worried for her on a ship with a crew that would dictate the experience of Tova’s assignment. “Let’s get you some guest quarters and food.”

“Sounds good, thank you for being a pain.” smiled Tova, “So what’s on the menu?”

Kat smirked at Tova with a gleam as they made their way to her room, “Well it can be what or who, which would prefer?”
“KATHERINE!” Squeaked Tovanna while blushing deeply.

Katherine roared laughing, “That’s the bookmouse I know. You have me for tonight but I return to duty in the morning. You have two days all alone before we get to the Starbase, after you are on your own until the Hera.” The girls finished their way to Tova’s quarters. “Private dinner or 10 Forward?”

“10 Forward sounds good. It will be good to look out into the stars while we eat. “ Tova requested while looking out her window with appreciation. They both appreciated a good meal and remembering past times. Too soon Tova had to say goodnight to Kat, leaving Tova to think over what the future held. She thought over the lives lost during the Raid on San Francisco, the sense of responsibility she felt for the wounded she cared for and how she was now taking on the mental and physical well-being of an entire crew she would come to know and consider her own charges.

She took the next two days loading every medical book and study piece she thought she might want to read. She also did a final review of all of the personnel files for the crew, checking over the details of their medical and dietary requirements logged by the prior doctor. Her consumption of all of the data meant her leave with Kat was over before Tova realized what happened. Her alarm went off letting her know that she had to get to bed so she would be ready to depart for Starbase 241 in 8 hours. Tova was shocked she missed so much time in what felt was mere moments.

She packed up, sent her final note to Kat and was ready to launch her shuttle in the morning. When she awoke she was ready to go. She knew the last leg of her journey would be much slower than the Gorkon had been. It was time for her to meet the Hera and her crew.

Tovanna finished getting the new supplies at the Starbase in preparation for her new assignment. She was starting to get more excited as she boarded the shuttle for last time. She had two days to reach the USS Hera and was eager to get to know the place she would call home for the foreseeable future.

As the shuttle left the hanger she knew she had a new mindset. She was no longer just an Academy teacher, a HQ doctor, she was a Chief Medical Officer approaching her new ship. A shiver ran through her with the thought of a crew that would be her new family, her responsibility, hers to watch over with care.

She could see the nebula she was approaching before her. Someplace inside it was the Hera full of adventures to come. Tova couldn’t help but wonder what would await her. She was reviewing the personnel files a final in preparation for boarding. She knew she could never have all the mineauta but she would at least have the sweeping details.

Tova decided to end the first night of her flight surrounded by music as she ate. By the time dinner was over she was dancing alone in the shuttle happily, barefoot and free. Her constraints of family duty and the life she was shackled to were finally over. Her excitement was reflected in the joyful movements of her cute little Snoopy-like dance moves as she was getting ready for rest before bed.

The next morning began with Tovanna awaking to a breathtaking view of the nebula of purples and blues against the inky darkness of space. She quickly dressed and prepared for her redeveax with the USS Hera. She knew the Hera was somewhere among the beautiful form before her and should be within range soon. Tovanna hailed the Hera, waiting anxiously to hear from her ship for the first time despite not seeing it.

“USS Hera, this is Lt. Tovanna Mah on the shuttle Perseus on approach for docking.”

She received her orders to approach and dock on Pad 4, reporting in to Commander Rita Paris who would be waiting for her. She looked into the nebula for the standard grey ship and realized after a discharge of lighting that she was seeking a black and purple pearlescent ship instead. It looked as if the nebula itself was carved into a mighty Federation Starship with running lights twinkling like stars in the vast clouds and mists. Tovanna’s breath was taken away, surely THIS could not be the ship she was assigned to. There it was though, NCC-79010 on the forward ventral view of the USS Hera, as she flew toward the shuttlebay and her future on the most amazing ship she had ever laid eyes on.

Before the dawn, she was awake, as was he- in truth, the Vulcan seldom slept, but maintained a meditative state that rejuvenated him. Thus she could sleep soundly, knowing he was far more alert to their surroundings, aside from he comfort she enjoyed being close to him in slumber, bodies, and minds intertwined. Now she chose to awaken as his internal clock indicated the approaching sunrise. Which had already adjusted for local time and calculated the time of sunrise and sunset, committing them to memory as he did so. Which provided her, in contact with his mind, a full awareness of the time.

Thus predawn she began to disengage from a dream she was having of a day at the beach when she was 11, the dream becoming lurid as her image of herself as a child gave way to her adult self, squinting in the sun at her somewhat youthful father and her brother Albert, all of nine years old, sticking his tongue out at her as he built a sandcastle. As her consciousness level rose, she swam to the surface of her true surroundings. The sensations of the world slowly returned to her- the woven fabric sheets, the scent of the scrubbed clean home the locals had loaned them, the humidity of the morning air. The lack of feel of the starship beneath her- no thrumming of the deck plates nor sensation of motion. Just the world, solid and unmoving.

Mol Krun'chi, if she understood it correctly- because they hadn't named the planet, at least as much as she'd been able to ascertain.

The day had been a long one, and trying. Diplomacy was a stressful art, as the nuances of one’s verbal, empathic and bodily behavior (and the interpretation thereof) could potentially lead to disaster- a poor turn of phrase, dismissive body language, appearing to not listen or comprehend, or even something as simple as an incorrect answer could make the difference between a successful negotiation and a breakdown of communication. While there were many things in life that just came naturally to the career Starfleet gal, diplomacy was a genuine challenge to Rita Paris.

Regardless of the duty that had been assigned, and she needed to be here. While Mnhei’sahe Dox likely would have expected to come alone to attempt the negotiations, she was inexperienced, and she drew strength and confidence from Paris’ presence. Sonak was as ever steady as the north star, which of course is where Rita drew much of her own strength. Starfleet- where standing together made them far greater than standing alone.

A light meal had been taken, and in the simple quarters provided, she had slept soundly, wrapped in the strong arms of the man who had crossed space and time for her. He who knew her like no other. The one who calmed her troubled mind, helped her process her fears and anxieties, and patiently helped her process her logic. Despite how relatively slow and inefficient her process was when compared to his own.

Yet he found her fascinating, and bore great respect for her. So much so that he had bonded with her; although in truth, that had begun as a happy accident. The result of a ploy she'd attempted when she deduced he was in danger, on an occasion when her instincts had been quite correct. While cooperating with the Talosian possessing him, Sonak had deposited a Ka-dasirkolin in her mind. Taking in the sight of his profile as he lay on his back, she remembered thinking about him in that moment.

But he... he’s nice. He was reaching out to me, I’m... well, not sure of it, no. But that’s part of the attraction. He had to be reaching out to me, he’s one of the last of his kind. Their planet is gone and he’s out here with all of us humans and he wants to understand us so he needs me-

No longer one of the last of his kind, in a universe where Vulcan thrived, today he was here representing them as an ambassador of reunification. Who better? In their native timeline, with Vulcan gone, Sonak believed reunification was the best option for the continuation of their species, although he believed just as clearly that he needed to adapt to the humans. Which he most certainly has, she mused, kissing his shoulder with adoration.

Pausing to appreciate him, Rita allowed her heart to swell with the love that she felt for him, which she shared with him through their link as t'hy'la, that most intimate bond they would share for a lifetime. Each orbiting the other, complementing and bettering both for the union. In her mind, she revisited the oath she had sworn to him when she knew he held her heart, which she still recalled word for word to this day.

I love you as you are, and I will support the choices you make. I will remain beside you as long as I am able. No matter how far you travel or how long you may live, you will always have my love within you, even after I have long since faded to memory. My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts, my heart to your heart, my soul to your soul. No matter what fate holds in store for us, there will always be some of you within me, to guide me through troubled times and ensure I will never be alone. So within you I leave a bit of me, to soothe your soul and remind you of the wonders all around you.

Inhaling deeply of his sandalwood scent, she rolled off the bed to start the day, bare feet hitting the packed earth floor of an alien world.

As she rose and stretched, Rita gathered a few items to take to the reclamator with her to relieve herself. The bronze bracers she had confiscated from the Amazons of Hera’s Planet, Meroset 347, in the battle for that world. Much had transpired since then, and in the here and now, she often found herself invoking the deity’s name. Hera had become a part of her life, as had the bracers themselves. Three times she'd saved the deities life, and Hera had saved her just as many now.

Sliding the bracers on in the cool morning air, she used them to call forth some equipment she needed from the extradimensional space which they accessed. While there were weapons, arms, and armaments contained in said space, this morning she needed something simple- a pair of running shoes, socks, a clean pair of panties, a pair of shorts and a top that hugged her bountiful bosom like the hands of her lover. With precision and speed, she dressed for PT like a practiced military officer.

Returning to the bedchamber wearing the top with the simple word HERA emblazoned across the somewhat strained navy blue fabric, she kissed her logical lover on the forehead. Through their empathic and telepathic bond, Rita silently expressed where she was going, what she was doing, and when she expected to be back. He placed no such demands upon her, of course. In truth, he was most likely already aware of all of those facts, as his powers continued to grow, slowly returning to the strength they had once possessed, in the universe from whence they had escaped.

Yet she told him all the same, out of courtesy, and out of respect. After all, given the number of times he had come to her rescue through their years together, she had learned that it seldom hurt to keep her husband well-informed of her whereabouts and plans.

Slipping into the exercise clothes, she quietly stepped outside in the brisk morning air to stretch her muscles, preparing them for the task at hand. Running had always been a part of Rita’s life. When she was young, she ran to try to beat the boys, to prove she was faster and better. As a young adult, she had run as a participatory sport that she enjoyed, as opposed to the activities forced upon her by her overbearing and oppressive father. When she ran, she felt free; in those days, freedom was a precious commodity to her, and she savored it.

Surprisingly often throughout her Starfleet career, the ability to run both quickly and for long distances had served her remarkably well.

Leaning into some long stretches, she mused over how much her life had changed, yet some things were still a constant. Here she was, on a Romulan splinter colony of peace-loving Romulans who were considering reunification efforts, on the Romulan side of the Neutral Zone. Under the predawn light, the planet could have been Utah; yet it was an alien world far from her own homeworld. Upon sensing the pending dawn, still her body roused her, and called for the rush of endorphins, the wind on her face and in her hair, the challenge of speed, placing one foot in front of the other to cover ground, and boldly go.

17-year-old Rita would be impressed with 34-year-old Rita for keeping at it all these years… as well as just how far she had come. Shaking off the chill, she launched herself down the dirt path leading out of town, rapidly building up speed. Her long legs were accustomed to the work, and embraced it. Her lungs were excited to breathe in the natural air, tasting the scents on the wind that were unfamiliar, yet welcome.

The lights of the township faded behind her as she ran, and she pushed herself for speed as given the current circumstances, she could. There was no reason to pace herself for anyone else, nor need she be careful of passersby in the corridors. This was cross-country running, the very sport in which she had excelled in her Academy days, which she now practiced on an alien world. Using it to shake off the cobwebs and lingering worries over the diplomatic negotiations, for which she was in command. Which meant that she was responsible for their success or failure. Which bothered her far less than the potential cost of her failure, which was likely to be paid by these people.

Such was the burden of command. Which she had accepted and made peace with long before now.

The kilometers flew by, and as the sun rose, she turned herself back toward the town after circling it a few times at a distance. She would have time to bathe, get uniformed and prepare for the second day of talks, and already she was beginning to arrange her agenda in her mind for today’s meetings and topics.

The Federation waited with interest, and there were now questions that could not be answered immediately. Thus she was considering how best to proceed when she heard the rustle of feet in the damp, morning grasses behind a nearby barn on the edge of the farmland just to the left of where she had been running. Immediately, the seasoned officer realized that she was being watched. While her human ears weren't as keen as the Vulcan ears of her mate, or the Romulan ears of the locals, she could also make out the sound of two distinct sets of young voices shooshing each other.

Pausing to mop the sweat from her brow, Paris paused to take in the locale, a stretch of farmland on the outskirts of town. A barn was just off the trail to her left, which seemed to be where the voices were coming from. While she was no prescient, nor was she psychic like her logical mate, years of adventuring had granted Rita Paris something of a sense for when danger was near. This did not appear to be one of those times, so she peered cautiously around the corner of the barn.

"Hello?" she asked. "I come in peace..."

Scrambling away, there were two young Rihannsu children that seemed to be no older than young teens, a boy and a girl. Both were dressed in dirty gray pants and grayish-green, loose-fitting tops that looked like work clothes as the shorter of the two, a younger male with shaggy brown hair tried ducking behind the taller girl.

With shoulder-length, lighter brown hair pulled into a ponytail, the girl turned over her shoulder at the boy and rolled her eyes as she spoke in Rihan, "Really, Davan? I think she's seen us and how is that hiding? This is why I always win when we compete over who is to do the morning chores."

Turning towards Rita, the slightly older looking girl blushed slightly green as she shoved the boy out from behind her, switching to a heavily accented Federation Standard. "I... uh... we wish your pardon. We... do not have many visitors here and we... we wanted to see."

In an isolated community where everyone knew everyone, strangers were news. The girl who explored the universe in a minidress understood curious locals. Opening up a genuine friendly smile, Rita Paris spoke in oddly dialected Rihannsu. "It's all right, it's good to be curious. By embracing curiosity we explore and discover, and learn. Curiosity is always positive, so long as it's tempered by a bit of caution, right?" the buxom blonde nodded to the more anxious young man, who was not succeeding at not staring at Rita's impressive pinup physique in her rather skimpy running outfit. Ignoring teenaged hormones in action, Rita stepped forward slowly, her hands open, with palms up.

"I'm Rita Paris. I'm a Human, from planet Earth, about 42 light years..." Searching the skies, the dawn had erased the stars from the sky. Shrugging, the earth girl waved to the lightening skies. "Ah, I can't see the stars to navigate, but out there, far away. I'm a visitor here, an explorer. It's nice to meet you."

"You're... human?" The young girl looked, not at Rita's endowments, but instead at her rounded ears. Her eyes showing both wonder and a bit of fear, "I am... I am Rhae. This is my brother, Davan. You are from... Spacefleet? Mother and father said you coming here would let the Tal'Shiar know where we were."

Smiling gently, Rita nodded. "Hello, Rhae, Davan. Yes... I am Starfleet, but I come representing not the fleet, but the United Federation of Planets. They are a union of over a thousand worlds, who have come together in peace, to learn and help one another, to share our knowledge and grow together. We came here with the help of the Artan fleet, so we could come cloaked in silence and secrecy, while our starship drew the Tal'Shiar off our trail. Because we wanted to come, to help reunification talks- but we had to make sure your colony would be safe. Because peace talks are no good if your colony isn't protected."

Hunkering down to a squat, to be less intimidating with her height, Rita continued. "We're talking about trying to set up a new colony, with reunificationists and Vulcans and Rihannsu all together to see if it can work. We still have to see if all involved will approve of it, but it's a step. One that won't endanger your colony, and won't expose you to danger. We want peace, yes, but not if it endangers your people."

On the one hand, she was speaking to the locals, not delegates, and outlining her plan, which might or might not come to pass. But Rita Paris was honest to a fault, and while these two were young, they were not too young to appreciate the danger she brought with her to the planet. So to her, she owed them a genuine explanation- after all, she was literally the Federation's ambassador right now, and that came with obligations to the hearts and minds of the people. Which made something click in the back of her brain, and suddenly she realized where she had been going with these negotiations all this time.

"Is your Starship BIG?!" The younger one, Davan, blurted out excitedly, "Is it bigger than a..."

"DAVAN! RHAE! Silence!" Came a harsh voice from the field, coming towards them in the golden light of the dawn that crested the rolling hills. The two young Rihannsu froze, with anxious expressions on their faces. Clearly, they were children caught crossing their elders. "You are supposed to be in the south field helping your father pull the old reeds that got jammed in the harvesters. Not out here, doing what I told you not to."

The woman looked older than Rita, but not by much. Perhaps in her late forties, but a bit more worn from working a farm and braving the elements daily. But still there was a beauty about her, with light brown hair pulled up into a loose bun on her head. The 'Romulan' military clearly projected an image of uniformity with their slick, straight black hair all cut the same. But seeing average people simply living their lives was making it clear that there was more visual variety to these people than their government allowed to be seen.

Stepping up to Rita and looking her up and down, she put a hand on the older girl's shoulder and stepped between the two, like a mother protecting her cubs. "We have found that ‘peace’ usually means something entirely different to offworlders. 'Peace' usually comes at the cost of those in the way of explorers. What is the cost of this 'peace', offworlder?"

"Her name is 'Rita', mother." The young Davan said, sheepishly from behind, to which the elder simply shot up an eyebrow and glanced back with a light smirk, in a way mothers let children know to speak when spoken to. There was no implied threat of punishment in the glance, just a clear reminder of boundaries as the mother turned back to Rita, waiting for an answer.

“The cost of peace is universal, ma’am,” Rita replied without rising, instead choosing to remain in the squatting position she had adopted with the kids. Giving the woman literal higher ground would be less threatening or intimidating, and Rita understood these subtleties. “Trust is the cost. It is always the cost of peace… for both sides must find a way to trust one another sufficiently for honest discussion and compromise. In this case, the colony has extended their trust for these talks. There will be the trust of those who move forward with this idea of reunification, wherein they must trust their distant cousins, and trust they will extend that same trust. But with that trust shared, peace can be possible.”

Spreading her hands, the Earth explorer shrugged slightly. “Trust isn’t easy to come by, and we understand that. So we talk, and we address fears, and we try to find a solution that will bring us closer together. By finding our commonalities, rather than our differences. I understand you have survived by remaining hidden, and we’re not asking you to compromise that. We represent parties who want to give peace a chance… and it starts with all of us… with trust.”

Tilting her head, the woman was still taking Rita in, evaluating the strange alien with narrowed eyes. But as she did, she also removed that hand from her daughter's shoulder and her posture lightened ever so slightly. "I fear for them... Rita. For the future of my children. I fear that this land my family and I have cultivated will lie burnt and scorched one day, for the one mistake which brings the Sseikea's to our door. But..."

As she spoke, she cast her eyes down behind her for a moment and looked at the young girl, "What did Surak say of fear, Rhae?"

Standing up a bit straighter, the young teenage girl stepped out from behind her mother slightly and recited, "Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear."

The older woman smiled lightly, then looked back at Rita. "They defied me, and sought you out when they saw you. But they did so without fear. There is folly there, but also a path to that future without old fears. I would be foolish to not see both, and I would choose to not be foolish. I choose… trust."

Gesturing with her head for Rita to stand, the woman continued, "I am called Chian. What is it you would have us compromise, for this peace of which you speak?"

Rising smoothly to her full height, Rita Paris smiled- an understanding expression as she stepped forward to offer her hand. “For you and yours, there is no compromise needed. Only trust- in the future, in the good of all of our peoples, in the fact that despite their actions, the Tal’Shiar love their children, too. They act out of fear- fear of losing control, fear of losing their way, fear of losing their culture. The compromise is on their part, for they must overcome that fear and be willing to see a brighter future for us all, rather than more anger projected at the universe. As Surak said, Where fear walked, anger was its companion.”

While culturally, Rihannsu were hesitant hand-shakers, the woman called Chian glanced down at the offered hand while raising an eyebrow. Hers was a look of genuine surprise while her daughter seemed to perk up excitedly at what Rita had said. "Mother, she knows the teachings of Surak!"

"Indeed." Chian said, glancing down at her daughter with a bit of a mildly chastising expression, before taking Rita's hand. "Though today, may you find neither fear nor its unwelcome companion by your side. You will find none here. And if I may... because I know my daughter is bursting to ask... how did you come to learn of Surak's words so well?"

“That warms my heart to hear,” the alien adventurer replied with a smile, shaking the hand then letting it go. “As for how I came to know the teachings of Surak… many years ago, I met a most remarkable individual- a Vulcan. A master of Gol, a Kolinahr- one who has purged themselves of all emotion, and embraced pure logic. He was the most amazing soul I had ever encountered in my travels, and he taught me many wondrous things… not the least of which was, of course, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.”

“That is how I came to know the teachings of Surak, although I must admit, I know very little of those teachings,” the human woman explained, being a bit hedgy with the whole truth, as she did not want to seem biased by pointing out their relationship. Although she certainly was not lying- every word was true. “In fact, the Kolinahr of whom I speak is here, as the Vulcan delegate in these negotiations, representing the Vulcan High Council. His name is Sonak, and if you wish to speak with him, to know more, to learn, to ask… he welcomes every mind that comes to him seeking knowledge. After all, There is no other wisdom, and no other hope for us, but that we grow wise.” she finished, dropping another Surak quote she had picked up through her association with the Kolinahr who held her heart.

While the boy, Davan, still seemed skittish and shy, Rhae seemed fit to burst at Rita's description of her Vulcan spouse. "Mother!! Mother!! Can we?!? Can we meet him?!?"

"Well, as you can see, we are still quite a… passionate people." The Rihannsu mother said with a sigh as she turned to her daughter. "You, little one, have chores, and I'm sure our visitors have much work to attend to while they are here."

Turning back to Rita, Chian nodded. "In truth, we have only the texts that the Artan ships bring us. Books and teachings. The children have never seen a Vulcan before. Never seen the truth of Surak's teachings in action before. We strive for an ideal that is almost… abstract to us now."

"Today is another day of talks, I think. But you have a point. When we break for the afternoon, come to the town square. Any who wish to meet, to talk, and to ask the wisdom of Vulcan, I believe Sonak will oblige them." Reaching for him in her heart, as she had no power of her own to reach for him through their bond, Rita asked the question of him, although she was already certain of the answer. His reply was of no surprise to her, for she had spoken truly of him. Even as they spoke, he himself was already in the town square, making contact with the locals populace curious and hungry for answers.

"I stand corrected- he's in the town square now. So if you wish to meet him, come now, or later. A Kolinahr will always strive to bring enlightenment to those who seek it," the nubile navigator narrated.

Looking down at her children, both clearly excited by the prospect of meeting not just a real Vulcan, but a Kolinahr, Chian rolled her eyes. "I would be doing them the greatest of disservices were I to deny them this."

"Davan, go to the south field. Tell your father we are going to town square." She said to the younger boy, who immediately took off running into the field. "The chores will wait. This is more important "

"Bring your neighbors if you wish," Rita offered. "I'm glad you will come to meet him As for me, I need to get a shower and put on something a bit more dignified if I'm to start meeting people today..."

With a wave, Rita started jogging down the road, then once she was sure the conversation was over, she broke into a run, her long legs eating ground as she finished her morning run.

Her thoughts, as they so often were, of the Kolinahr.

The morning air was cool and crisp as Mnhei’sahe Dox looked out to the nearby hills, framed by the dawning light cresting the rolling hills of Mol Krun’chi. The sky was a golden sapphire color that seemed to stretch out forever above her.

The negotiations, debates, and discussions of the past day had made the young Rihannsu Starfleet officer’s head feel as though it had been filled with so much cotton, and the break for evening and some rest was exceedingly welcome to her. In truth, she had no idea what she was doing, trying to represent the interests of a homeworld she hardly knew, thanks to the position of her grandmother in the Rihannsu senate back on ch’Rihan. But she was doing her best, saying what came to her heart in the interest in fostering peace between the reunification colony and the Hearthworld they had left to practice their beliefs and try and reconnect with their Vulcan roots. HER Vulcan roots, as well.

There was distrust and fear built over seemingly countless generations and she knew that she, Commander Rita Paris and Lieutenant Commander Sonak alone would not solve all of the problems in a single visit, but she at least hoped she was making some progress in the task she was wildly unqualified to manage.

Walking through the small village of ch’Saithe, Mnhei’sahe wondered just how much like ch’Rihan this small world might truly be. It was a largely agrarian culture here, favoring farming and simple pursuits that allowed the small population of just under four thousand to study and grow. The houses that lined the small avenue from the center of town were small, mostly single-story dwellings made from the red clays farmed from the nearby hillsides. The people had modern accouterments such as a centralized energy grid and hover flitters for transportation. Advanced tilling machines, plows and the most up-to-date security and defense technology available, but still the village felt like a throwback to a different era. For every flitter Mnhei’sahe saw hovering about, she saw someone riding a wheeled carriage pulled by Shaill. The horse-like mounts were native to ch’Rihan, but the colonists clearly brought enough with them to serve their needs and the animals were well integrated into the lifestyle like something out of a picture book.

And it was a world that Mnhei’sahe now knew was where she was born. From the woman named Nurema ir-Korthre the night before, she had learned that this was the world formed by the survivors of the reunificationist colony her mother went to prison to defend. And when Jaeih had been pregnant with her, this is where she came to give birth. For the first year of her life, this world had been her home. It was a shocking revelation, but not an unwelcome one.

There was a sweet smell over the wind that Mnhei’sahe couldn’t quite place that, nonetheless, gave her a smile as she walked by herself through the edge of the village. Scent memory was, of course, a powerful thing and the blossoms of the nearby trees were perhaps a smell she knew as an infant. Rita, Sonak and the rest were, no doubt, preparing for the day in their own ways. But Mnhei’sahe needed some air and a little quiet to think. And quiet was something that Mol Krun’chi had in abundance. After cleaning herself up in the morning, she decided to go for a walk wearing a long green, hooded coat that covered her crimson uniform and similarly bright hair that wasn’t an uncommon thing to wear in the colony.

The day before, there had been small groups of protestors outside the assembly chamber, but with the dawn, the town had seemed to calm down and there was a serenity that the anxious young woman had wanted to soak in for herself. This had been her home once, and she wanted to get to know it again in the brief time before they were to leave again.

Walking, she was not completely alone, a few locals passed her as they walked and they exchanged friendly greetings and hesitant smiles for the stranger from Starfleet AND ch’Rihan. But Mnhei’sahe welcomed the moments to connect with faces that looked a bit more like her own than she was used to these past sixteen plus years of her life.

On the edge of town, she walked along an old, wooden fence. On the other side, a field of lehe'jhme trees grew in perfectly ordered rows. It was a flowering plant that was native to ch’Rihan that yielded a tart, almost sour fruit used to make wine, juice and various treats, all of which the red-headed Rihannsu woman loved, and it was yet another sign of how well this colony had flourished in the four decades since her mother had freed these people.

Pausing, Mnhei’sahe leaned against the fence, looking out into the field with a light smile as the morning breeze washed over her face. On her first day here, she didn’t understand why she felt oddly comfortable. Why it seemed almost familiar. But now that she knew, it only enhanced her feelings about the place. Here, on this hidden world in Rihannsu space, her people proved that they could thrive and succeed. They proved that they could embrace the lessons of their Vulcan ancestors and find a way to integrate logic into their lives without abandoning Rihannsu passion. There was a sense of contentment that she felt, that she knew she would have to let go of soon enough.

She may have been born there, but it was no longer her home. Her home was the HERA, and she was there with a job to do. And to protect this world and her people, she would have to return to the Hera. And she would eventually have to return to the other home she had learned to fear: ch’Rihan. Taking a breath and letting out a long sigh, Mnhei’sahe knew that when her grandmother had named her to represent the Senate in these talks, that it was, no doubt, also partly the clever Senator’s way of ensuring that Mnhei’sahe would have a valid and positive reason to return to ch’Rihan. A purpose worth fighting for and a purpose that would link her to the Hearthworld in a way she couldn’t say no to: responsibility. There was something both insidious and noble in what her grandmother had done, and Mnhei’sahe knew it.

Kidnapped and forced against her will, Mnhei’sahe fought to escape ch’Rihan. That way, she would never stay and once Verelan knew that, she shifted her tactics. The two women mind-melded and in doing so, discovered the truth of each other’s hearts. Verelan t’Rul meant everything she had said to her grandaughter. She truly wanted the best for her and she truly wanted to see her again on ch’Rihan. And in naming Mnhei’sahe as her voice in these meetings, she provided a means by which to see her again where the young Starfleet officer wouldn’t have to give up her life or wife or duty. Verelan provided a path ironically, towards reunification of her own family and Mnhei’sahe smirked as she thought of how clever it really was.

As she thought, she kept walking. The village was designed from what was called a wheel and spoke design, where the streets radiate from a central point at the center of the city. Ch’Saithe radiated like that from the government plaza. The building constructed using the ship that had brought the colonists here about forty years ago looked far older than it was, as did most of the homes and buildings. Once of the ruling council members said that the winters here were particularly harsh and weathered things considerably and Mnhei’sahe could see that in the pitted exteriors of the faded red clay walls of the nearby homes. This far from the center of town, about three miles, the houses were the smallest and most modest, none taller than a single level, with large stretches of land between them devoted to small farms and community land. This place worked.

In many cases, like in Nurema’s home, the houses had independent generators for basic electricity and very few seemed to have access to much more beyond that. Living simple, she was told, not only allowed them to focus on their study of Vulcan history and the teachings of Surak, but served the more practical function of making the colony that much harder to detect from space. And considering that until Mnhei’sahe’s motion had passed in the Rihannsu senate, this world had been classified as illegal, it was a very prudent precaution. But in her heart, Mnhei’sahe deeply hoped that their efforts might eventually allow these people to reveal themselves freely.

Sooner or later… Mnhei’sahe thought, someone smarter than me will fix these problems. Someone like Sonak or Char or Rita will say the right things and make the right decisions to help.

Walking, Mnhei’sahe began making her way back towards the city center and the government plaza, constructed using the remains of the ship they had used to travel here. It was a wonderful symbol of the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the people that she wanted to do all she could to protect. But as she made her way down the pitted, cobblestone path, she heard raised voices ahead and knew that more protestors were likely collecting, also on their way to the capital.

As she approached, a few of the protesters noticed her. Given that the colony was so small, visitors were easy to spot, even with her overcoat. While they were arguing with one another, those who noticed her drew the others attention to the approaching newcomer, and the small crowd of protestors turned to confront her.

“Here, this is the one! The Starfleet officer who purports to be representing Hearthworld in these ‘reunification talks’. The talks that are yet another attempt to betray our colony to the Tal’Shiar!” Another protestor added their own thoughts. “You wear a Starfleet uniform and claim to represent ch’Rihan in negotiations. You don’t even have a clue what this is all about, do you?”

Maintaining a neutral stance, Mnhei'sahe stepped up calmly to the small group. She had known that something like this was all but inevitable, and in fact, on some level she had to admit that she wanted it happen so she could see for herself where the people of ch'Saithe stood. She met the eyes of the person who had questioned her and did her best to reply calmly, thought anxiety was twisting at her insides.

"I know that the Tal'Shiar wants to destroy this place and every colony like it. You are all proof that Rihannsu people can reconcile our differences with Vulcan and function without the control they want to maintain." Dox replied, "I also know that there are voices in the senate that want to see what can be accomplished if our people are free to explore your path. I will be making my report the them. Letting them know that we can be more as a people together."

“What do you know about it? You’re Starfleet. You don’t represent the Senate. You don’t represent us. You represent the Federation, just like the Vulcan and the Human,” one protester added, even as another chimed in, mockery clear in his tone. “Another hollow promise from the benevolent Starfleet, deigning to help those in need by pretending to represent all sides, when really all they want to do is subsume all other cultures into their own bland brainwashing.”

"You're right, I am a Starfleet officer. And I don't know exactly what all you've accomplished here. But that's what we're here to discover." Mnhei'sahe said, nodding slightly. "So, yes, I'm Starfleet. I'm also Rihannsu and here on the request of the Senate. And I also grew up knowing the fear of the Tal'Shiar and know exactly what they're capable of."

"Ultimately, it isn't the goal of this mission to bring this or any other colonies into the Federation, but to allow you all to be a protected part of the Imperium, free of the fear you currently live under." Dox continued, "And the Federation has had peace with the Klingon Empire now for decades without subsuming them in the slightest."

"You," one of the small crowd sneered derisively. "You speak for the Senate. We're to believe that the Senate of the Star Empire sent you. Not a senator, not an ambassador, but you, Starfleet, to represent their interests. You can't even see how offensive that is, can you? How insulting to our intelligence, forget about how dismissive it would be if true. The Star Empire cannot speak for themselves. They must send the Federation to cross the Neutral Zone and speak for the Senate of the Imperium? That's really spectacularly tone deaf if it's true, beyond how amazingly unlikely it is to BE true."

The tone of the crowd was becoming more than a little disturbing and Mnhei'sahe began to realize she might be in a little trouble. Tactically, she was looking at the numbers and trying to suss out routes if she had to run, but she was hoping it wouldn't come to that. But that might all depend on her, as she struggled to find the right words, and knew that meeting their anger with anger would only make the situation worse. So, when she responded, it was with calmness and certainty, her anxiety well covered. "You have every right to doubt me and my mission. Were I you, I would do the same. Who is this Starfleet girl that thinks she can come and speak for the Imperium?"

"The senator who proposed these talks... the senator that put forth the motion for the experiment of peace knew that she needed someone who would be independent of any influence from the corruption of the Tal'Shiar, which has permeated too much of ch'Rihan. Someone who has the most to gain from peace." Mnhei'sahe relaxed her stance and looked around at the angry faces, so much like her own. "I was chosen because Senator Verelan t'Rul trusts me and knows that I need this to work as much as she does to help fix the problems that kept ch'Rihan isolated and, like me, she believes that reunification may be the key to that."

"She chose me because we are blood. She is my grandmother. She chose me because together, we suffered at the hands of the Tal'Shiar, and together we overcame them. She knows that if these talks fail, I can never return to ch'Rihan. Because before I was Starfleet, for half my life I was a smuggler who, with my mother, rescued those who sought freedom from the Imperium to worlds just like this in the cause of reunification." Mnhei'sahe said, impassionately, praying she wasn't making the situation worse, "I'm here because my mother... Jaeih t'Aan... spent seven years in prison to ensure that THIS colony didn't die before it could take root back on Furvas VI at the hands of the Tal'Shiar. Because you are worth the risk to protect at all costs and because I will fight for you."

At that, while the crowd seemed to want to turn ugly, the words penetrated their collective anger. With the addition of guilt to the mix, what had been looking like a forming angry mob began to disperse, muttering amongst themselves, even as an old woman stepped up. "Is her blood not green as ours? If you prick her, does she not bleed green as do we all? Shame on you all... this one has come far and braved many dangers to be here, to try to sue for peace. For us not to be outcasts. To not live in hiding, in fear from our own people. If you do not give peace a chance, then you are cowards. Cowards, says I!"

Wanting to let out a sigh of relief, Dox instead kept her face neutral and calm as the tension began to release in the early morning street.

Turning back to Dox, the aged and wrinkled old woman turned a bleary eye up to the young pilot, and when she spoke, it was in a hushed tone, that all could hear all the same with their sensitive hearing. "You had best be true, young woman. You come bearing hope, and that is a dangerous thing. Because when there is hope, people begin to look up, to consider more... and it is that much greater the tragedy when hope is dashed."

Looking at the woman Dox offered a respectful bow as she replied somberly, remembering her own time in captivity and the power of what the woman had just said, "Believe me when I say that I know the value of hope and the cost of hope lost, telaet." Using a Rihan world for a respected elder, she continued, "I and those I came with will do everything in our power to protect the peace you have made here and allow it to grow. And I will take what I've learned here... and what you've shown me... back to the senate so they will know as well what our people can be. You honor me with your trust, thank you."

“I give you that trust, yes…. So be sure to earn it,” the old woman poked the Romulan Starfleet officer with a bony finger. “There are more colonies than this, and they will be watching what happens here at Mol Krun’chi. So you had best be as good as your word, because there are lives in the balance.” With her reprimand of the crowd and her reminder of duty complete, the old woman wagged her finger at Dox before shuffling off to finish her morning chores.

"On my mnhei'sahe." The young officer said with a light smile as she turned to resume her walk back to the government plaza. The old woman and the other protestors never heard her name, so here it meant nothing more than what it did to all Rihannsu: the name of their Ruling Passion. The honor they chose to live and, if necessary, die by.

As for the young woman burdened with that virtue as her given name, she looked around her at the homes she passed as she walked, taking stock of the lives that had been built here that would be in risk if they were to fail. Like many she had taken on since joining the Hera, it was a responsibility she would shoulder to the best of her abilities.

At least she knew it wasn't one she would be shouldering alone.

The sword was raised at Jaeih Dox's throat as the Romulan Intel Agent raised her arms up. "Well well well. It appears you have won this day. I yield to the greater swordswoman. All I ask is that you not strike me down this day... I BEG you... mercy, mighty warrior."

On the other end of the stubby, bright blue plastic sword, Moira Artan sat on her diapered rump and giggled at the dramatic performance of her unexpected godmother who knelt before the spotted, green baby. Bouncing up and down, little Moira puffed up her cheeks and made a sound not unlike a fart, which made her just giggle that much more intensely as she waggled the plastic sword at her target.

Without ever actually being touched, the 75-year-old Romulan woman in the gray Intel tunic adorned with a comm badge in the shape of the Romulan sigil flung a hand to her forehead and called out, "I am undone! Bested on the field of battle this day! And now... I shall perish before you!"

Allowing herself to flump to the deck in the lavishly appointed quarters of the Hera's Captain and her wife, Jaeih laid on her back, pushed up against the tiny tot with a warm smile. "I hope you're happy, dear heart. This is the third time today that you've killed me. It's quite an inconvenience, I'll have you know."

The young baby flumped over the elder Romulan woman's chest, hugging her and giggling. As she did, from the kitchenette, one of the tots two mothers, the photonic life form Maica came out with a tray for lunch.

"Yoohoo! I made some lemon bars and some coffee from real Romulan beans we got a little while back." Maica set the tray down on the coffee table and stood up, clasping her hands in front of her. "I also have a bottle for Moira, though I'm not sure the temperature is right. I keep messing that up. The instructions say to test the fluid temperature on your wrist, but I have no thermal senses there... so I have to use the cabin internal sensors... And they aren't the most reliable..."

Pulling herself up with a slightly exaggerated grunt for a woman in as good of shape as Jaeih was, the elder woman smiled softly as she replied, "Ah, thank you. Leave it to Enalia to procure the best."

Then she raised an eyebrow to Maica and pondered what she had said. She was well aware of the issues the photonic woman had, but also didn't want to simply do it for her and take her agency. So she pondered the problem for a moment, sipping her coffee. "Where else do you have personal sensors that can detect temperature? You are quite the cook, after all."

"The kitchenette has a small sensor palette built into it for me, but they're tuned for cooking rather than biological..." Then Maica started processing the data a different way and looked back into the kitchenette. She then picked up the bottle and walked back into the kitchenette before splashing a few drops on her wrist, staring at it for several seconds as she accessed and recalibrated the kitchenette sensors.

After several long moments, Maica wiped the milk off her wrist and headed back into the main room. "Thirty-five point eight degrees celsius. Is this acceptable?"

A light smirk graced Jaeih's face slightly as she was happy to see Maica work it out for herself. As she sat down and took a sip of her coffee and raised an eyebrow. "I would say yes, that's in the range. I have a similar issue, you see, that requires a bit of creative application of technology as well for preparing her bottle. Romulans have much thicker skin and a higher body temperature. My wrist isn't all that sensitive."

"If you do not mind the observation, you seem… stressed." Jaeih added, leadingly.

"Stress is something I try to account for... But my subroutines have been running in circles more than usual lately." As she replied, Maica picked up a few dishes on Enalia's desk and started tidying up a bit.

Taking the dishes gently, the elder Romulan nodded to Maica. "Here. Enalia made me your daughter's Theirr’anov. That gives me license to mother you a bit, my dear." Taking the dishes to the small kitchenette and putting then in the reclamator, she turned to Maica and continued.

"Even a brain with subroutines needs a break and needs to account for stress. You clearly experience it, so you must learn to manage it. Enalia has all the responsibilities of this ship, but you are responsible for her, little Moira, and ultimately, yourself. So, stop worrying about what needs to be down around the house here for a moment, sit and relax. Moira is fine and you need to tell me what's going on in those subroutines of yours."

"I... What?... Sit?..." For a moment, the sexy holographic life form looked around confused before she headed over to the couch and just... Sat down. She clasped her hands in her lap and thought about it a moment before speaking. "Well... I'm supposed to be this perfect wife... A perfect life form... I try to meet Enalia's every needs and anticipate every desire... And she does her best to do the same for me. It may sound weird, but we really do love each other - it's not just the subroutines talking."

"But knowing something and having the experience to use that knowledge... That's the one thing that the original Maica found was necessary to differentiate between us. So that we could grow into unique individuals and so that some virus wouldn't wipe out our whole family someday. But at times... I really wish I didn't have to learn how to do some things from scratch. It's like being able to read a manual and still having to figure out how to assemble an IKEA dream house using your memory of that manual."

With a blank expression, Jaeih picked up little Moira, cradled her in her arms and gave her the bottle Maica had brought. And as the tiny, green spotted baby began to drink, the Rihannsu godmother simply spoke. "Allow me to attack that all one point at a time. You are a sentient being, correct?"

"Rhetorical, I know full well you are." Jaeih replied, cutting herself off in an unusual manner as she raised and eyebrow and smirked. "Which means you are supposed to be noting but what you choose. You owe nobody perfection, only that which you choose to give. And you love Enalia and Moira, so you choose to be a wife and a mother."

"You see what I am doing now? I had no idea how to do this with Mnhei'sahe. It took someone else to teach me and I still failed at it more often than not." Jaeih looked down at little Moira, who she was holding like an old pro. "I too wish I could simply know what to do, but it doesn't work that way for me, and clearly not for you. So, you have chosen a path of challenge. And when challenged earlier, you showed that you are more than capable of rising to the needs. But, I suspect, you are fighting against more than just a lack of knowledge. It seems as if you are fighting against your fear of failure?"

"Yeah... I think you might be right..." Maica said softly. "I mean, after all, I had to learn how to cook, starting with how to boil water, right? Then again, a recipe is easier to follow."

"Well, congratulations, then. You are struggling with the same concern that has gripped every parent ever. And, in regards to your analogy regarding building a house, few build houses by themselves, my dear. You have Enalia and you have me and likely many others onboard that can help you move from boiling water to baking pies, as it were."

"That was a bit of a strained metaphor, to be sure." Jaeih smirked a bit more. "But the point is, there is nothing here you cannot achieve. And you can always ask for help. Believe me, I wish I had had help with Mnhei'sahe. How she survived my rearing is nothing short of a miracle. And yet here she is, so much more than what I 'programmed' her to be."

"And a fine woman and officer she is," Maica confirmed with a smile and a nod. Then her countenance turned thoughtful again. "You're right though. I've been trying to learn everything on my own. I've been employing my five-point learning process, but I haven't been asking for help learning. This is a failure... No... Not a failure... A point of pride... That I need to get past."

"Is it pride... or do you feel you need to excel beyond expectations due to your nature? To the preconceptions you must deal with?" Jaeih asked pointedly.

"I think the normal reply is to say I'm not programmed with pride, but that wouldn't be right. I've grown into a wider range of emotions, including pride, jealousy, and stubbornness. So I'm going to say it's a bit of both?" Maica fidgetted a bit, wringing her hands as she sat there, looking a bit uncomfortable as she made that admission. "My pride as a photonic life form is on the line and I should be able to pick this sort of thing up with ease, right?"

"My dear, lifeforms from every corner of the galaxy have been trying to figure out how to raise children since time began, and for every generation, it never gets any easier." Jaeih leaned over and handed the comfortable baby, still drinking her milk, to her photonic mother. "Here, let us take turns. I would greatly like to try those lemon bars. They smell delightful."

As Maica took Moira gently into her arms, Jaeih sat back with her cup of coffee and a lemon bar, examining it in her fingers as she continued. "Soooo, jealousy?"

As she cradled her daughter, Maica nodded. "A bit. Fiona and Briaar are wonderful mothers and I can't help but be a bit green with envy at how naturally motherhood comes for them. Then again, I'm only... Well, I guess I'm almost four now, aren't I? I guess I didn't realize it but I'm older than I thought."

"And here I just turned seventy-five. Heh." Jaeih chuckled lightly as she continued, "Miss Gavarus is the middle child of SEVENTEEN. Miss O'Dell has, I believe six brothers and a multitude of cousins. They both had little choice but to learn the basic skills at young ages. But it doesn't stop them from making mistakes or driving themselves insane with doubt." Jaeih said as she took a sip of her coffee. "And they have a book apparently written by a goddess to help them. But they, like you and Enalia, love their child. And you, like they, will work out what needs to be done."

"Tell me about this five-stage process you described?"

"Documentation, study and adaptation, experience, mimicry and imitation, direct education, and guestimation. I go through each layer looking for clues, finally landing on guestimation to actually perform the task. If I'm missing data from any of them, I'll try to seek it out if I can, but often it proves either unobtainable or worse, unreliable." As Maica spoke, she waved a hand in the air and summoned a holographic flow chart that laid out a basic subset of her learning methods.

"It's not every day your spouse comes with a manual and though Enalia's read parts of it, she's... Ah, she's skipped over most of it. She says she prefers to think of me as a person than a program and if she reads all this, then she might not think of me as her wife anymore." The green woman grinned a bit sheepishly as she motioned towards the floating display.

"So, as I understand it, you work things out in... essentially the same fashion any other functional adult organic, sentient being does? You just have a pull-down menu." Jaeih said, almost dismissively as she sipped her coffee and crossed her legs. "And, as we saw earlier, you can adapt and try new things and experiment for better results. Sounds like a person to me."

"And anyone who doesn't believe we all... organic or photonic... don't function on programming should try punching my daughter in the face and see how that works out for them. We are all the sum of how we were programmed, and we all take that and exceed it as needed as circumstances dictate." Jaeih continued. "Indeed, did we not just complete a rather lengthy tribunal process so Enalia could prove she was more than what Arenara programmed her to be? How is that any different than you struggling to be a better mother? The pure fact that you are struggling and continue to push yourself is proof that you are most certainly a person, my dear. Never doubt that."

"That's..." As she looked down at her daughter - as genetically hers as any being could possibly be and truly her own child, she thought about what Jaeih just said. She had never really questioned her sentience before, though she had been envious of how easy others made things look. Now she realized that it was all because of life experience and she was building all of that now. Compared to the rest of the crew, she may look and act like an adult in many ways, but beyond her maturity, her experiences were still that of a four-year-old woman.

"I see what you mean. I think... Along those lines... What I've really been jealous of, is the vast difference of levels of experience between myself and the rest of the crew. I just have to be patient and keep working towards my goals, don't I? And ask for help when I'm stuck."

Nodding, Jaeih smiled. "Indeed, Maica. Trust me, I wish I had not..." There was the slightest of pauses as Jaeih stopped herself mid-sentence before continuing, "I wish I have had more resources to call upon when I had Mnhei'sahe. I had no experience to draw upon and no ship like this filled with those willing to help. Now, I have both and it has fooled a great many of you all into thinking I know what I'm doing as a parent. You understand this, just don't be afraid to ask."

Taking a final sip, then setting her empty cup down, Jaeih got up to clear the dishes off of the table, letting Maica simply sit and hold her daughter without worrying about serving anyone else. "It is as Commander Paris is fond of saying, we are all stronger together."

The day was hot and sunny with a small breeze. Yet it felt cool, tranquil and comfortably lighted to Sonak. Despite decades aboard cold, dim-lit Human-manned starships, the Vulcan was still conditioned to the harsh, burning and overbright days of his homeworld. But the terrain itself, the community established between those distant and massive rock formations sculpted by sand and wind, reminded him much of the quiet small communities of his planet, despite being obviously built from out of the dismantled hull of starships. As expected, this one was mostly agrarian by choice, well supported by advanced solar and helio technologies by necessity but isolated and hidden not by a wish for peace but by a feeling of fear.

In a very traditional manner, the layout of the place was radiating from a center place where most business and official places were conducted; the so classic ''village square,'' a large open expanse surrounded by colorful buildings and filled with tents, stalls and pens, benches, fountains and shrubberies, all circling and wide circular space smoothed out of the living rock to a glassy shine with controlled wide-beamed disruptor fire. Those disruptors beams had then been narrowed to surgical precision to etch on the dark blood-green ground the Shavok, the falcon of Romulan pride, in exquisite details, down to the lining of every feather of it's spread wings.

There was one glaring difference from the imperial symbol though. Instead of the twin orbs of the Empire's core worlds, the talons of the raptor held them both in it's left; and in it's right was the IDIC symbol.

It was truthfully eloquent as it was quietly bold; the perfect expression of the nature, drives, and hopes of the people living here.

At the moment, Sonak stood alone before an empty plasteel bench, studying and reflecting upon the deeper meaning of the carving spread wide before his feet. He was not wearing his customary Starfleet uniform but a black slightly shimmery tunic made in one piece of a tight pair of thick socks and pants and an ample flowing vest with large folds dropping from his shoulders to his belted ahn woon, hiding his folded arms. Silver runes ran from the collar to his waist in front, and the IDIC symbol made of a platinum triangle pointing to a round ruby inside a thick circle of gold hung from a silver chain around his neck. A bit surprisingly, his modern Kolinarh attire blended him with the local population, making him look like some traveler from another community.

And thus he stood quietly in contemplation of the novel symbol, apparently in silent awe. However, all his attention was on the populace around him, studying their attitude, their behavior, listening to their voices... but restraining his awakening telepathy, both out of respect and out of safety.

As an infant, he had almost lost his mind drowning in the continuous errant and deliberate thoughts of everyone in earshot. Only the disciplines of Kolinarh had insured his sane, stable growth and a keen awareness of and control of his faculties. And so it was only through body language and attentive hearing that he observed the locals who were starting to notice him.

All reactions were not all smiles. And the bold engraving on the open ground of the town square kept one thought at the back of his mind; not just that there was pride and fear and boldness and passion in the people of this warrior culture, but also something much more practical.

There were weapons here.

It wasn't to be unexpected in a world under constant threat from the Tal'Shiar. But at the moment, no weapons were clearly visible among the crowd. At least so far.

The faces of the people in the town square were a mix of different emotions. There was fear and trepidation on some of the older Romulans on the edges of the plaza, dressed in simple robes or traditional tunics. But there were younger faces in the crowd as well, and those faces had the air of curiosity about them.

The colony had been here for four decades, so the young people were those born here and they were Romulans born knowing of their Vulcan ancestors bit never having seen one. And that curiosity could be heard in murmurs and whispers of surprise from the youth in the gradually growing crowd.

"Is that really a Vulcan?"

"What is that strange garment he is wearing?''

"I have heard it said that he is… a Kolinahr."

''Why are they here? Vulcans are Federation. They will bring the Tal'Shiar."

"They should not be here."

"I can't believe a Vulcan is here!"

The voices began getting a bit more audible, with a mix of skepticism and what could only be described as awe.

Sonak became aware of the effect of his presence. His first impulse was to quietly walk away to end the disturbance his presence was provoking. But then, this would be illogical. His presence and that of the rest of his delegation was already known all across this world. Avoiding contact would be counterproductive.

And so, he sat on the stone bench behind him and resumed his contemplation of the plaza symbol. He composed his face to show quiet acceptance and openness without searching anyone with his grey eyes and provoke anything. Like the sail of a sandskimmer, he would accept the wind and redirect it to move things forward.

On the edge of the town square from one of the many cobblestone avenues came a small family. A mother and her younger children, all dressed in simple farmers garments, clearly worn and weathered from working their fields. The two children, an older girl, and her younger brother looked to be no older than 14 or 15, but the girl bounced with the energy of a much younger child as she caught sight of the Kolihahr master sitting on the stone bench.

"Mother! That's him. The one Rita spoke of! Her friend!" She tried whispering, thought failed, while tugging on her mother's arm, though the sound carried wall across the courtyard over the murmurs, elevated by the volume of her enthusiasm. 

"Calm yourself, Rhae." The mother said, a hit of hesitance in her voice as she raised an eyebrow at her exuberant daughter. "Balance your passion. Yours is curiosity unbound, but it need not overwhelm you. Look to your brother's calm."

"Davan's not calm, Mother, he's scared. The girl said with the telltale smirk of an older sister, mocking her younger brother's behavior, "He's always scared of something."

"I'm not scared, Rhae! I'm... I'm..." The younger boy protested weakly as they moved as a unit across the outer rim of the bustling open plaza towards where Sonak was sitting.

"Fear has its place, Davan, when it informs due caution. But it need not be here." The mother said in a calming tone as they stopped. She knelt down to their level and looked the children in the eyes as she continued. "You need not fear knowledge, and that is what your friend Rita said he offers. I have tried to teach you what I know of our roots from the time before the Sundering. When Rihannsu and Vulcan were one people. But there is much I too am ignorant of as well. There are things we can only learn of our Vulcan ancestry from a Vulcan, and what have I taught you of ignorance?"

Sheepishly, the older Rhae answered, her eyes cast down as she recited a lesson she had clearly memorized. "Ignorance is only the absence of knowledge and only a fault when one chooses to embrace it in the face of learning."

"Very good, children. Now..." The mother stood straight again and turned towards where Sonak sat and took a breath, clearly a bit nervous herself, and spoke again. "Let us go and expel our ignorance."

As a group, the small family made their way to the side of the stone bench where Sonak sat and stood quietly for a moment. Rhae looked up at her mother, who simply nodded as the young girl stepped forward, folding her arms in front of her. "P... Pardon me, sir. A... are you... are you Rita's friend?"

''I am he who is her husband,'' Sonak said, rising his grey eyes to hers then looking at each child in turn.

He remained seated on purpose. He was of a good height and built and with his emotionless demeanor, his black garment and his steel-colored eyes, he knew he could be intimidating to emotional people and even more to their children. And Romulans were a most emotional people. He didn't need his reawakening telepathy to perceive their apprehensions, bordering on fear even.

Here of any place, he realized how his Starfleet career, decades among Humans, Andorians, and Tellarites, served him so well in this, possibly the smallest yet most significant moment of their whole mission; of the whole dream of two cultures.

He raised his hand in the well-known salute of his planet, addressing the woman and her children.

''I am Sonak. Peace and long life to you... and you... and you, '' he finished looking at the goggle-eyed boy.

Immediately, the older girl's eyes went wide and she froze. The younger boy fidgeted in place slightly before looking up to his mother with a searching expression, as if asking permission. As he did, his mother smiled lightly and nodded. With a gulp, he stepped slightly forward and looked at his own hand to make sure he was doing it right as he returned the gesture. "Live long and... um... prosper? I... I'm Davan. This is my sister, Rhae and my Mother."

''That is the correct ritual response,'' the Vulcan acknowledged the boy. ''You are well educated already, young warrior.''

"I am called Chian, sir. We welcome you here." The mother said, interjecting for her nervous children. "My children met your friend, Rita Paris, earlier this morning and she spoke of your presence here and that you might speak to the children regarding the principles of logic. Those of us that have tried have only... words on paper to call upon. The writings of Surak, but scarce further knowledge to share. An idea, but little more."

''In truth, there is but little more,'' Sonak answered. He looked at both children. ''What do you know about logic?''

The two children, acting a bit younger than their actual years which was common among Romulans who tended to mature a bit slower due to their longer life spans, hemmed and hawed for a long moment. Clearly, they were digging through their brains for what they hoped was the correct answer so as to not embarrass themselves. 

The older of the two, Rhae, began getting her courage up and cleared her throat nervously to answer first, "Mother said that... that... logic is the process of using rational thinking... reasoning... to come to conclusions and make decisions instead of relying on how you feel about something. Things either are or aren't something and logic tells us what is true by... uh..."

As she spoke, Davan blurted out loudly and enthusiastically, "DISCIPLINED THINKING!" Which caused a couple of light chuckles from the growing crowd of onlookers due to the irony of the moment.

Sonak nodded.

''So, you know what logic is. Now, do you understand what logic is? Can you use it?''

At that question, Davan started to answer and then stopped himself when he realized that he had no answer. As he looked down, slightly embarrassed, Rhae thought for a long moment before swallowing hard and replying. "I'm... trying to use it now to not be a... afraid to answer. Because... I know that there's nothing wrong with... with not knowing something if you keep trying to learn. But I'm still... scared of being embarrassed. But..."

Glancing back at her mother who nodded lightly, the young girl continued with a little more confidence as she worked it out in her head, "But Rita said you were here to help... and to teach. So... logic says that there's no reason for me to feel afraid. So... so even though I do feel afraid... I can still answer. And... that helps me feel less afraid when I do."

As the young girl spoke, more people began collecting around them curiously. A few sat on the ground in a circle near the bench Sonak was sitting at to hear what was being said better while others still stood to the outside, still skeptical of the mysterious Vulcan visitor. But skeptical or not, they stayed and they listened to hear what he would say next.

''You have presented a clear assessment of your position,'' Sonak told the girl. ''So, let's address it. There is an answer to find here; can you use logic? To answer the question, let us put that to the test if you will. Let's start with but one simple observation; did the sun appear from the east this morning?''

The children both nodded their assent, already frowning. Sonak went on.

''Was it the first time?''

Again they both reacted the same way at the same time, now shaking their heads.

''Are there any facts or observations to consider that it will not do so again tomorrow?''

They looked at one another, then at their mother before, once again, shaking their head.

''So, the sun appeared from the east this morning, as it did every time before that. No new fact or observation has come about to question this observation. What can you conclude from all of this about tomorrow?''

"The sun will appear in the east tomorrow morning too." Rhae answered, her confidence rising slightly while Davan nodded assent.

Sonak nodded.

''And so, you have used logic.''

"It establishes a pattern... that provides... data! To form a, uh, a.... a hypofesis!" Davan stammered as he attempted to frame the answer in a logical structure.

Again the Vulcan nodded.

''Indeed, a hypothesis; a possible logical answer to a question, based on observed fact.''

His grey eyes went to them both.

''You know and understand logic well enough to use it. Well done.''

Davan beamed with pride at the accomplishment while his sister tried her best to look impassive. It was clearly the face of a child trying to look like she could control her emotions which was not lost on their mother who smiled at them lovingly. 

But as Rhae was opening her mouth to ask a question, a voice rang out from the middle of the crowd. It was an older Romulan man, dressed in the garb and apron of a baker with short, curly brown hair and a thin beard on his round face. "So, children know the sun will rise. Will that enlightenment keep the Tal'Shiar from our borders? Is there any LOGICAL way that these TALKS won't end with them discovering we exist and coming for us again!?"

Sonak's face registered absolutely nothing. But he stood up slowly and his steely gaze went straight to the eyes of the man who had spoken.

''Come, Sir; let us try to find that answer together.''

The man was hesitant, knitting his eyebrows with the hints of anger about him as he did. "How is your logic supposed to protect us? We came here seeking logic, many of us believing it was the way, but here we are again, facing the same threat that almost killed us all then. How is knowing the sun will rise tomorrow supposed to..."

As he spoke, the pieces of the puzzle began to click in his mind as he saw the pattern through the fog of his fear, if only for a moment before his fear returned. "How will your logic protect us? Protect our children? Protect their future?"

The Vulcan gave him time to let his frustration out before replying in his usual calm, steady voice.

''That is a good question. Can a thought protect anyone? Can a thought shape the future?''

"One cannot build what one cannot first conceive," the young shy Romulan boy spoke, not with confidence but with rote, having recalled the lesson when asked the question.

The suspicious old man's brows furrowed at that. "Well... you can't bake a cake without a recipe. Somebody had to have the idea to bake a cake. That... does kinda make sense. But how's logic supposed to protect us from the secret police?" The old man redirected, voicing his true fear.

''By making all of us face reality with reason, '' Sonak answered bluntly.''Is it logical to assume that your secret police is here already?''

"Because of them, my crops failed last season!" called a farmer from the back of the crowd.

''You have evidence of this?'' the Vulcan asked then.

As a few murmurs passed through the parting crowd, the farmer tried to press his point, though it took him a bit. "Well... I uh... I guess..." A look of consternation crossed his face as he bit down on the farming implement he carried. Then it struck him. "Ah! It's 'cause we got no powered farm implements or chemicals! It's because of them Tall Shiar!"

''And what evidence do you have that the Tal Shiar is responsible for your needing materials missing?'' he insisted again. ''Is there no possible other cause for your lack of those?''

While the farmer did his best to think it over, another chimed in cheerfully. "It's 'cause of all the watchin' they do! Tryin ta brainwash our supply lines into betrayin' us!"

A third farmer pitched in his two credits as well. "Yeah, and we gotta stay hidden as well so they say we can't use no heavy machinery!"

"And if they find us they'll wipe our minds and turn us all inta gay miners!" declared yet another.

His flat tone was a sharp contrast to their excited voices.

''Let us assume that you are right; they know where you are; they have brainwashed your allies; they deprived you of what you need to live here. Why aren' they openly here among you? How is it that you are still here, free to voice your resentment and your fears? How is it that you are still free... still alive?''

There were a few of the dissenters that began to protest, only to find the words locked in them as the impact of Sonak's logic began to sink in, if only a little. But before any of the adults could say anything, the young girl Rhae raised her hand as if in school and spoke as her mother gave a hesitant nod, "We... we wouldn't be, sir. If they knew where we were... they would have come for us already, like they did when they found the founders of our first colony."

"You know she speaks the truth." Her mother said in a chastising tone to the irate farmers. "I was younger than she is now when our first colony on Furvas VI was discovered. When the Tal'Shiar came for us and tried to either brainwash us into compliance or destroy us. How many of our brothers and sisters did die in that attack before the rest of us escaped to found THIS world in secret?"

"You speak from fear and unfounded suspicion." She continued, staring at each of the fearful farmers in turn and calling them out, "You would blame a long winter on the Tal'Shiar? You would blame not rotating your harvest properly and letting your lands grow infertile on the Tal'Shiar? And you! You trust your aching knee over the seasonal forecasts and disregard them in favor of your feelings and are continually surprised that your fields yield poor crops when you plant too early or too late in the season? Logic can only work if you don't disregard it in order to feed the comfort of old fears."

"It's hard to get news out in the fields... We're only in town today because we saw the weird ship landin'... Thought it was a bad omen..." The first farmer admitted sheepishly as they all grumbled and admitted she was right. "Never seen no Federashun ships afore..."

"Now we all have, and it is for quite the occasion." The somewhat weary mother replied, choosing to not rub in that her farm is quite far from the city as well and she made herself aware of what was occurring regardless. "And we have a unique opportunity laid at our feet. The Federation is here, in Romulan space, on an invitation to help us broker peace with the Empire. And we have a Vulcan Kolinahr master to learn from. It is a grand day the Elements have given us ad I would avail myself and my children of it."

She stepped slightly back, placing hands on the shoulders of Davan and Rhae, deferring to Sonak to continue.

Sonak nodded to her then let his grey pupils scan the crowd.

'' I have nothing to teach you that you do not already know. The fact is, fear is the Tal Sh'iar's first, best weapon. If you fear them, they defeat you before striking the first blow. But logic dictates that, if there is no evidence of their presence or action, then there is nothing to fear. If you are attentive to their possible presence or action, then there is no need to fear. If there is evidence of their presence or action, then you can face it; thus, there is no reason to fear.''

He stopped his gaze in the eyes of the man who had first voiced their concerns.

''This is how logic can protect you.''

The simple farmer met Sonak's steely gaze and raised an eyebrow as he pondered the Vulcan's words, letting them sink in deep. As he did, murmurs and whispers spread amongst the interested crowd that had collected in the plaza. After a few moments, the farmer replied, quizzically. "So... it's the fear that's the... the real enemy? And LOGIC... keeps us from letting it get to us... so we can control it."

The Vulcan nodded to him.

That, Sir, is the first logical step.''

After two days of meetings, debates, and discussions, the delegation from the U.S.S. Hera’s mission was complete. Commander Rita Paris, Lieutenant Commander Sonak, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox and the Vulcan Intel Operative Az’Prel had met and talked with the ruling council of the hidden Romulan Reunification colony world known as Mol’Krunchi and a plan was now in the works.

Ferried from Mol’Krunchi on the Artan-run Bird of Prey known as the Golden Ghost, after days of diplomacy and then covert travel through the Romulan Neutral Zone, the away team was glad when their escort vessel had finally brought them back to rendezvous with their home on the USS Hera. Getting to Mol’Krunchi had been fraught with peril, but the return trip had been blissfully uneventful. There was significant relief at being back in their own starship, on the Federation side of the Neutral Zone once again.

Commander t’Liun and the crew of the Ghost had bid their farewells to the crew of the Hera once more, and the returning officers made their reports to Captain Telvan, and prepared to settle back into their duties. But there was one unique duty left to Rita Paris. On the mission to Mol’Krunchi, the lost navigator of a universe that never was had served as a representative of the interests of the United Federation of Planets. Now it was time for her to present their official reports to Starfleet.

The subspace channel had opened, and on the small screen on her PaDD, Commander Rita Paris was mildly surprised to see the Starfleet twin towers delta replaced by the symbol of the Federation. As the call connected, she found herself viewing a panel of individuals. An aged Andorian female, a somber Vulcan male, a dark-skinned Humanoid woman, a squat, grey-haired Tellarite male and a dignified Efrosian all sat peering at her from behind a rather nice table.

“Good day, Commander Paris,” the Andorian woman greeted the time-tossed temptress, her high-pitched and reedy voice reminding Rita of an older Thex sh’Zoarhi. “The Federation Council is very interested in your report on the reunification colony, and the progress you’ve made toward reunifying the colony of Romulan expatriates with the Vulcan culture.”

While she had expected to report to Starfleet, having the call rerouted to the council chambers of the United Federation of Planets was a mild surprise. But given that the Federation was the body whom she was representing in this affair, rather than Starfleet, the change of audience didn’t faze Rita much. Noting the participants, Paris nodded, gathering that there would be no introductions. Instead, she immediately launched into her presentation.

As the council members listened, Paris summarized the negotiations. She explained the plan she had put forth which proposed creating a colony on the Federation side of the Romulan Neutral Zone, so that it could be patrolled and monitored by members of the Federation (given that her mere presence on a world on the Romulan side of the Neutral Zone constituted a violation of the treaty). The concept of including native Romulans in addition to colonists was put forth, as well as the acceptance that would invite Tal’Shiar interference and likely sabotage. The discussion of taking volunteers from all three groups- the Mol Krun’chi colonists, the Romulan natives and the Vulcan volunteers, along with the logic behind that idea was explained. Then the concept of the Organians as mediators was introduced, along with the fact that such a plan would be something of an undertaking.

As she spoke, Paris sent along files- the binary star system she had chosen for it’s proximity to the Neutral Zone, along with the diagram of a narrow aisle of neutrality she proposed so that the Romulan Star Empire would be free to come and go to the colony without violating the treaty. As she was preparing to launch into the hypotheticals of building and supplying the colony in advance, the Efrosian gentleman interrupted her.

“Commander Paris, this is all good and well. But at this point, these are all hypotheticals you are proposing. There is no firm agreement on any of these matters, is what I am gathering?” the white-haired dignified gentleman pointed out, to which Paris ceded.

“No sir, none of this is as yet formalized. These are the first days of talks. While I invented an experiment in order to test the feasibility of Romulan and Vulcan reunification, picked a suitable planet and worked on hammering out the details, I didn’t manage to get all parties involved willing to set aside a few thousand years of fundamental difference in culture to agree to reunify, even on a small scale,” the buxom bombardier explained, which got her chuckles around the council table.

“What of the Organians? This seems to be a logical choice for impartial third-party mediation, but do you believe they can be motivated to participate in the experiment as peacekeepers?” asked the Vulcan representative.


“I absolutely cannot speak to that, sir,” Paris admitted easily. “The motivations and interests of the Organians are a bit beyond my understanding. We can but ask- which is the current plan. Hopefully, we won’t be doing so ourselves, as their world is a considerable distance from our proposed colony, but if the Hera is to spearhead those negotiations, we’ll await orders and do our best. I will say I believe the distance may be a factor- the Organians may conceivably be uninterested given the distance from their world. But they are legendarily fond of peace, so… that will have to be proposed to the Organians, and their reaction to such a proposal remains to be seen.”

“What of the colonists?” the dark-skinned humanoid woman asked, in an accent Rita recognized as a North American, east coast regional accent. “If an independent colony is unfeasible, will they be willing to host on their own world?”

“Potentially, madame,” the old-school officer replied. “They are very interested in reunification- it’s why they struck out on their own years ago. However, once their location is known to the Star Empire, they may very well be in permanent danger. Even if the political tides are currently leaning toward reunification, according to reports there are elements who will continue to oppose it vehemently. Thus once the Star Empire knows of their colony’s location, they will be in danger. However, that may be a risk they are willing to take. I’ll propose that idea tomorrow.”

“So you plan to basically invite the Tal’Shiar into the experiment. How will you safeguard the colonists against the sabotage that is both entirely likely, and practically unavoidable?” asked the Tellarite representative.

“I was planning to leave that up to the colony, sir,” the out of date officer asserted. “We can shield them from fleets and orbital bombardment. But we cannot be everywhere, forcing everyone to get along. In that, I believe the colonists themselves will have to decide how to deal with such issues- likely through discussion and debate. They will have some of the brightest minds in the galaxy on hand, after all.”

That brought murmurs of assent around the table, which Paris took to be a good sign.

“In closing, I can offer my insights.” Sitting back a bit, the face of the lost navigator turned thoughtful. “The Romulan people have lived under fascism for decades. The Shinzon affair pointed out that their system does not work well, and the people seem ready for change. But the few who hold power are highly unlikely to willingly relinquish it, as tyrants seldom volunteer to step down, and tend to try to scorch the earth, as it were, as they leave.”

“So while this may or may not be actually feasible, if we proceed, it will be a path fraught with peril. The Tal’Shiar have been feeding the populace propaganda for a great many years now, and between those misconceptions and the likelihood of resistance from the secret police, Reunification will likely be a painful process. However, there is hope on all sides- hope that it may work, that it may come to pass, and that it might be accomplished bloodlessly.” Awaiting the response, the five council members exchanged thoughtful expressions, nodding to one another.

“You’ve given us considerable food for thought, Commander,” the dignified Efrosian intoned. “We’ll inform you of our decision, which will likely be dependent upon the involvement of the Organians as a neutral third party. In the meanwhile… keep up the good work.”

“Mister President, council members… I thank you for your time and attention,” the extradimensional explorer replied with a smile. “Paris out.”

Standing in the empty crew quarters that were next to hers, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox reminisced. The young, Romulan pilot and unlikely diplomat had just returned to the Hera from a mission to the reunification of Mol Krun'chi and was looking for her wife. She had been assigned for the Hera for over a year now, and the time had been something of an emotional roller coaster of incredible ups and devastating downs. And the room where she stood, that had once been filled with color and life and laughter, had represented both.

Not too long ago, these had been the quarters of the Hera’s former Chief Medical Officer, Lieutenant Asa Dael: Mnhei’sahe’s best friend. And in truth, the first friend that the often embattled young Romulan woman had made on the magnificent starship.

Walking through the now sterile and generic space with stock chairs where Asa’s old, brightly colored bean bags once sat, filled the young pilot with a feeling of deep sadness. Mnhei'sahe had just returned to the Hera from an emotionally exhausting away mission and her bond-mate Mona wasn't home, which lead her to the moment of introspection she found herself in now.

A smile threatened to crack Mnhei’sahe’s stern facade as she ran a hand across the window into space. She remembered that first night in Ten-Forward when the remarkably young El-Aurian physician gleefully introduced themselves with the boundless energy and compassion that had become their trademark. They talked and shared and even laughed that first night, and Mnhei’sahe had made the first real friend she had ever had in her Starfleet career. And now they were gone.

Shipped away to Earth to a promotion to Starfleet Medical to work on their radical genetic therapy procedures and develop the medicine that would be saving lives. It was a positive move in every respect, but it still made Mnhei’sahe feel miserable. Miserable and guilty.

It was Asa’s work as a doctor ON Mnhei’sahe that had opened the door that lead to the doctor leaving through it. Mnhei’sahe was, of course, Romulan. But she had spent most of her life believing that she was half-human. When she was no more than four, her mother had subjected her to radical cosmetic surgery and intense genetic modification that rewrote the woman’s DNA in an attempt to hide her true parentage from those that would seek her out. And so she was given an advanced DNA patch using the genetic material provided by the smuggler, Declan Dox.

The surgery made her pointed ears round and the DNA alterations changed everything else. It gave her Declan’s red hair and freckles. It lightened her skin to a pale pink and tainted her green blood to a sickly brown. And it did something else. It more than halfed her expected lifespan due to the damage it had wrought upon her. But Asa Dael discovered all of that. And Asa Dael worked exhaustively to repair the damage that had been done to their friend.

Surgeries, genetic therapy and DNA cleansing restored Mnhei’sahe’s true nature. Her ears were pointed again and her skin a thick olive. She had requested that Asa keep the gene codes that kept her hair red as she had become quite accustomed to it, but the blood in her veins was green again and she could now live well into her two hundreds. All because of the remarkable skills of her friend.

But all of that work got reported to Starfleet and, combined with the work that they had been performing on the crew, caught the attention of the higher-ups. And just like that, a transfer order was made, and Asa had left the Hera. And Dox had lost her best friend.

The morose Romulan woman had since made other friends. Her relationship with Rita Paris had become one of the closest sisters. And her friendship with the Miradonian pilot, Mona Gonadie, had blossomed into the deepest of loves and eventually marriage. But still, Mnhei’sahe looked at the pathetic empty room and missed her first, best friend.

They would keep in touch, sending the occasional hologram messages back and forth, but Mnhei’sahe didn’t even know where to start. Regulations made so much of what she would want to tell Asa classified. She couldn’t tell her best friend that she had been made a representative of the Romulan senate, meeting with a Reunification colony on her grandmother’s behalf. She couldn’t tell her what she had learned from Masato Rei about her own potential fate. She could tell her that she now knew where she was born. And everything she couldn’t say felt like a weight around her neck.

When she came on board the Hera, she was Melanie Dox. Since then she learned that even that was false. Her true name of Mnhei’sahe had been hidden and since restored. Names were extremely important in Romulan culture. One had their given name. A second locative name, given for where you came from. A third family name. And a fourth, hidden name. That fourth name was something Romulan only learned later in their lives, and it had yet to reveal itself to Mnhei’sahe. And she had THREE Family names now. Her Romulan family name of t’Rul, from her grandmother. The name of Dox, taken from her adopted Human guardians when she was a teenager. The Miradonian name of t'Sendatu-onay for her marriage with Mona that meant ‘mended wings’ in that tongue. And now, she knew where she was born.

Now, her name was Mnhei’sahe ir-Saithe… taken from the village of ch’Saithe where she was born… t'Sendatu-onay Dox t’Rul. Not that she was going to force anyone else to really have to learn all of that as it was a mouthful in any language, but it was something she wanted to brag about and with Mona not in their quarters, she was taking a moment to sulk and feel lonely.

A feeling that was wholly unnecessary as she heard the sound of her bond-mate, Mona Gonadie, standing in the open doorway. Turning, Mnhei'sahe felt that warm, familiar energy and her heart soared at the sight that she had missed so strongly while they were apart. Mnhei'sahe's eyes lit up and she smiled broadly as she ran to the doorway to embrace her very pregnant wife. "Mona!"

"My Minay!" Mona replied, pulling her lover into a tight hug, which caused a few feathers to fly free. "I've missed you so very much. Jaeih did as well, though I don't think she'll admit it. She's talking to an engineer about our request to remove the wall between these two quarters. They should be able to have it out in the next couple days."

"Oh, that's good. I was not looking forward to the prospect of having to move to Deck 14. The family quarters are huge, but there are no windows down there." Mnhei'sahe said with a slightly forced smile, betraying her internal conflict. Not that Mona needed to see that to sense something.

"Now... Something is bothering you and you're going to share it with me," Mona and the chicks inside of her were thrumming like a small chorus by this point, happy to have Dox home with them.

Sighing, Dox grinned again and chuckled awkwardly as she ran her finger across the side of Mona's cheek. "It's not fair that you always know when something's going on in my head. I'm a Romulan. We're supposed to be mysterious and impossible to read. You're ruining the mystique."

It was a light attempt at a joke, but not one she maintained as Mnhei'sahe took Mona's hands in her own so that their empathic bond was a strongly connected as possible as she told her love of what had happened on Mol Krun'chi. She told her of the late-night visit from Masato Rei's spectral horse, Taxes, who led her to the bedchamber of the dying Nurema ir-Korthe. The woman who once cared for Jaeih as a child and later helped Jaeih deliver Mnhei'sahe herself. She told Mona of how she learned, in that night, that she had been born in that small village and not on a freighter out in space. And then she told Mona that she watched as Rei led the spirit of Nurema for this life to the next. She told her bond-mate all the things she could not tell, in full detail, to anyone else without betraying the secrets that Masato Rei trusted Mnhei'sahe with.

Mona nodded thoughtfully as the images of what her love saw filtered in with what she was saying. "I have to wonder about a few things... Like if everyone goes to this same afterlife and all that... Or if we each see it differently... What I do know is that you've been given a great gift and the trust of a great and powerful being that provides a crucial role in this universe. I understand why the memories of this person are shrouded in your mind and why you have lunch with them."

"It is said that the Moon Goddess and the Trickster employ similar memory tricks to stay out of the minds of Miradonians. That being said, I would recommend leaving out most of the otherworldly details if you tell anyone else about this." Even the chicks inside of her were quieter than usual as Mona spoke. It was as if this was a taboo subject and they didn't want to get in trouble for listening in. "So... I assume you'll be telling Jaeih at least about meeting Nurema?"

Nodding, Mnhei'sahe sighed. She felt the three girls slow their usual thrumming and the sense of distance it created in their shared empathic link was distressing. "I have to. Aside from the fact that I promised that I would, I just... should. Before we left, I checked the colony's local newsfeed and found the listing for her... for her obituary. So I have an official reason for knowing. But... you're right. I know I can't tell anyone else about Taxes or any of that. It's frustrating, but I suppose I'm starting to understand the drive mother had in keeping so much from me for my own protection."

Mona nodded sagely, being reminded of something from the Moon Goddess Scriptures. "Few Miradonians pay heed to the Underlogs of our scriptures, but my foster parents made sure we knew even them. One of the proverbs in them was that some secrets the goddess must keep for herself or she loses the power of blessings. So to must we keep the secrets of our kin or we lose the covenant of our molt. I think I'm starting to understand it as well."

“Ie…” Dox said, agreeing and slipping into the Romulan word for ‘yes’ without thinking as she thought of what Mona had said. “Still, regardless of the details of how I know, I will need to tell mother.”

“Tell mother what?” Jaeih Dox said with a smirk, clearing her throat behind the couple. Standing in the still-open doorway, the skilled Intelligence operative and former Tal’Shiar agent was among the few people who could sneak up on the usually alert young woman, but Dox was uniquely distracted at the moment talking to Mona. “Good evening. Mnhei’sahe. I would have been here sooner, but I was just giving Mona’s room plans to the engineering department for her.”

Handing the PaDD in her hand to her Miradonian Daughter-In-Law, Jaeih nodded as she finished a thought from a conversation the two had clearly had earlier. “If you confirm, the department head has scheduled the construction for Tuesday at 0 ten-thirty hours and estimate it should only take a day to build out the floorplan for the children that you drew up, my dear.”

"Perfect!" Mona exclaimed, taking the PaDD and signing off on the schedule and plans and firing it off, handing the PaDD back in one smooth motion. "My Minay met someone interesting while on Mol Krun'chi and feels she should tell you about them." With a reassuring nod, Mona gave her bond-mate a gentle squeeze.

Raising an eyebrow, Jaeih smirked slightly and chuckled. “Indeed. How mysterious. I take it your excursion to Mol Krun’chi was…”

But as Jaeih spoke, Mhnei’sahe cut her off mid-sentence as she shook her head and squeezed Mona nervously. “Mol Furvas, Mother. The colony changed its name… twenty-nine years ago. From Mol Furvas.”

Immediately, Jaeih’s face blanched and she stepped back, eyes wide in shock. “Mol F… You went to… oh Elements… I can’t… I thought…”

Raising an eyebrow, Dox was genuinely concerned by the reaction as she stepped over closer with Mona at her side, gesturing to the bland couch behind her. “Sit down, Mother. What’s wrong? What did you think?”

The elder Romulan woman ran a finger over her ear. It was a nervous affectation she had passed to Mnhei’sahe as she sat down, composing herself. As she did, her daughter and daughter-in-law sat, flanking her on either side on the couch. After a second, Jaeih continued, eyes still wide. “I thought they were… I thought they were gone! I tried contacting them, but all the old communication codes were changed after..”

Then, the woman who had raised her daughter under a blanket of secrets and lies realized that yet another one had been revealed. One she had all but forgotten about. As she did, her face went flat and she took a breath. As she did, Mnhei’sahe finished the thought for her. “The codes were changed after you left… with me?”

“Sighing, the older woman nodded. “Yes. You know? If I could say, this bit of information I simply forgot that I kept from you.” There was the hint of a smile on her lips as she knitted her eyebrows nervously. “I.. I am sorry. This I kept from you to protect them. I knew… I knew we couldn’t return once we left, and when the transmissions stopped, I feared the worst. I hope you… Mona… please know I’m telling the truth.”

Mona nodded solemnly. She didn't even have to dilate her eyes to check as it was written all over her and she'd learned how to read her mother-in-law quite well by now. "And I can't blame you. Some things... Time has a way of covering up on its own."

“I understand, Mother.” Dox said, cutting her off again, placing her hand on her mother’s knee, reassuringly as she gestured with her face to the empty room. “I was just in here bemoaning that I can’t tell Asa about the mission over subspace for much the same reasons. I do understand this.”

Listening, Jaeih nodded as Mnhei’sahe spoke. Then, after a moment of silence, her eyes went wide again. “Wait? You know you were there? Tlhei nouhha… How did you know?”

In a rare instance, the master spy was at a loss for words and a dearth of information, looking over to her daughter. As she stared, Mnhei’sahe smiled lightly and replied.

“Nurema…” Mnhei’sahe said with a somber nod. “Nurema ir’Korthe wanted me to tell you that she always loved you.”

“N… Nur…” Jaeih’s eyes filled with tears to a level Mnhei’sahe could scarcely recall before in her mother. “Hru’hfe Nurema? She… she was… you met her?” Her lip quivered with emotions she scarcely knew how to process. Her head darted back and frother from Mnhei’sae to Mona and then back. With one hand, she gripped Mnhei’sahe’s and with the other, she squeezed Mona’s knee.

“Do… do you know about… did she tell you already? She… she raised me, Mona. She was…” Jaeih was in shock, crying openly in a display of raw, unguarded emotions that Mona had never seen before from her mother in law.

The brightly plumed and molting Miradonian was slightly taken aback for just a moment, but quickly overcame it, wrapping her arms around Jaeih and thrumming soothingly, the chicks within her sensing something wrong as well and singing as well. "She was the most important person in your life before my Minay, wasn't she?"

Clutching her daughter-in-law tightly, Jaeih choked back her tears for a moment. She could feel the thrumming and it brought her great comfort even though she had proved incapable of connecting in the same way her daughter was able to. Regardless, it was extremely soothing and helped her calm down. As she did, she pulled back slightly, wiping her face a bit.

“She was, yes. She… when my mother was killed and my father became… distant… she was there for me. She was the house servant, but served as my governess and nurse. She… she essentially raised me for years.” Jaeih said to Mona as she calmed her breathing.

“Pardon me, my dear. I was… unprepared for… Pardon me.” Jaeih said, slightly embarrased that she had let her emotions out so fully and unguarded. But as she spoke, before Mona could reply, Jaeih paused as her mind caught up and she turned with a start towards Mnhei’sahe. “Wait? ‘Was’? What happened?”

Bowing her head slightly, Mnhei’sahe gave Mona the slightest of glances before she replied. “She… recognized my name in the news feeds and asked that I visit her. Curious, I went to see her.”

Trying to quickly push past the part of the story that was a lie, the anxious Rihannsu hoped that her overall nervousness over what was to come would mask it sufficiently from the hyper-observant intel operative. If Jaeih caught the lie, she didn’t let it show as she let her daughter continue. “She had been ill for some time I think. She was weak and tired, but she told me everything she could. She told me what she was to you. She told me that I had been born in that same house and why you took me to leave.”

“We… we talked for a while.” Mnhei’sahe pursed her lips slightly as her own eyes began to tear up slightly. “She was glad to see me. And she wanted to tell me to tell you that she was sorry. She had regretted the harsh words that were exchanged before you left ever since. And she wanted me to tell you that she loved you very much.”

With a hand still over Mona’s back, Jaeih shuddered and clutched her daughter-in-law slightly tighter as she put a hand up over her mouth. “She… she’s gone, isn’t she? She passed away. Tlhei nouhha…”

“I didn’t even know she was still alive… but now I cannot help but feel more alone now.” Jaeih said, sniffling again, before looking over to Mona’s belly.

"You're never alone," Mona replied, hugging Jaeih tighter. "You're a nonala now. A grandmother. You'll never be alone as long as I have any say in it."

"I know, my dear. I know. It's just... knowing the one last link to, perhaps, the only good thing of my childhood is truly gone has... affected me more than I would have expected." Jaeih said, putting her hand to the side of Mona's face.

As she did, a couple of feathers came free where she had brushed them and fell in between the two women. Jaeih's eyes went wide and she pursed her lips in surprise. "Oh dear, I'm sorry. I didn't think I had pulled on those so."

"Oh no, I'm molting," Maica replied, frowning a bit as well at the floating feathers. "It's my body's way of telling me what to make a nest out of for the chicks. Speaking of which... Do we really want them born on the Hera? Or do we want them born under an open sky? I mean... That's another long-standing Miradonian tradition and since we're talking about where you were born and I figured we'd do it here and maybe holographically replace our ceiling with sky..." Now Mona was looking a bit sheepish as very few of her people were even born offworld, let alone not under the Miradon sky.

Looking over at Mnhei'sahe, Jaeih smiled softly. "Nurema told you the lengths to which I went to make sure you were born under a free sky with real air in your lungs. I would wish no different for my grandchildren."

Smiling back, Mnhei'sahe nodded slightly. "We both have leave coming. I'm sure we can make arrangements with the Captain."

The molting Miradonian then pulled both of them into as much of a hug as she could. "Thank you both for understanding. So the question then is... Do we go to Miradon or Mol Krun'chi? They're both close by and once I'm done molting, these chicks are coming out."

Running a hand over one of her hears, an old nervous affectation she still did from time to time, Mnhei'sahe chuckled slightly. "Mol Krun'chi was... beautiful. I wish you could have seen it beyond our link, Mona. But it's still in Rihannsu space, so just getting there would be a bit on the dangerous and moderately illegal side. So, Miradon is probably best "

Then the red-headed pilot smiled a bit broader and she referenced Moan’s foster parents with an additional comment. "Plus, that means Milla and Mardo can be there as well."

"Then I'll start making the arrangements and reserve us a good spot in the Aerie." Mona couldn't help but give her bond-mate a goofy grin as she poured images of the sacred birthing grounds through their bond. "I know you'll love it. It's a bit like a grand coliseum and the chicks that can fly fill the sky at times."

“As clear as the images were for Mona when Dox told her of Mol Krun’chi, the images of the Aerie of Miradon filled the Romulan’s mind’s eye for a moment as Mnhei’sahe shut her eyes and smiled. Sitting between the two, bereft of any ability to join in their telepathic connection, Jaeih enjoyed the moment between the two regardless. Opening her eyes, Mnhei’sahe nodded and smiled, “I can’t wait to see it for real. I know it will be the perfect place. And…”

Turning to her mother, Mnhei’sahe nodded and smiled, “And I know why you had to keep this from me. If I knew, I would have done anything to find it and probably end up getting them discovered or something equally stupid. But… thank you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jaeih tilted her head slightly as she replied, “For what?”

“For making that choice. For going there when it was time to have me. At least now I know that I come from somewhere. And knowing that now means a lot. She was happy for you and happy to get to see me again before she left. She did love you very much, Mother.” Mnhei’sahe replied, putting a hand over her mother’s hand.

Listening, Jaeih was clearly working to keep the emotion off of her face, but smiled nonetheless as she replied, “We were there for over a year, Mnehi’sahe. Before I left to return to the stars… but she was there for you that whole time, and she loved you too.”

Leaning in, Mnhei’sahe gave her mother another hug that Mona, of course, joined in on. And after a time, when the moment had past, and the elder Intel Agent said her good evenings, Mnhei’sahe and Mona were on the bland, generic couch in the otherwise empty quarters that once belonged to Doctor Asa Dael and were soon to become the rooms for the three chicks on the way. And as they sat there, leaning against each other for a moment, Mnhei’sahe squeezed Mona’s hand as another thought went through her mind.

The last thing that Nurema had said to her resonated in her mind. Because Masato Rei was there in that moment, the memory was closed off from Mona through their bond, but it lingered in Mnhei’sahe’s mind nonetheless. “Mona… there was more. Something there’s no way I could think of the tell her…”

"Something that your dark friend said or that was said while she was there?" It was only a guess, since Mona wasn't getting the usual empathic details, but she hoped it was a good guess. Those memories were really the only ones that either didn't come through their bond, or faded from Mona's mind not long after as if they were from a dream.

There was a strange quirk to Mnhei'sahe's tone. It was an odd mix of somber and hopeful at the same time as she gripped Mona's had a little tighter on the couch. "It was something Nurema said, just before she crossed the river. Before she got on the boat. When she was young again. She smiled and said... she said..."

Knitting her eyebrows, Mnhei'sahe thought hard, trying to remember the exact words. "She said, 'You have more family than you know, little star. More than Jaeih knows. And you will find them.' She didn't say anything more." Then Mnhei'sahe chuckled, "Even Rei joked that that was a little vague."

Mona's brows furrowed as well, wondering about the words and trying to keep them in her head. "Yeah, they are pretty vague... Do you have any idea what they mean?"

"Not really, outside the most obvious implication. And I haven't talked to Rei since then." Mnhei'sahe replied with an awkward expression. "Honestly, what happened has really hit me hard. Not just her passing, but my part in it. Being the witness to someone's passing. Hearing their last words. Being brought there the way I was. I mean... when I held Taxes' reins, nobody could see me. I don't know what that means. I don't know how to feel about that. And I don't know if I'm ready to know what Nurema meant. Not really."

"Well, on this ship, things tend to happen whether we're ready for them or not. Odds are good you'll find out from either Rei during one of your lunch visits or another of our run-ins with overpowered higher order aliens." Mona smiled softly and pulled Mnhei'sahe into a tighter hug, doing her best to comfort and support her bond-mate. "Or maybe this mystery family will come aboard and introduce themselves. That's just as likely."

At that, Mnhei'sahe couldn't help but chuckle. "Indeed. Rei does have a tendency to just... blurt things out as they occur to her. Maybe I'm just scared about who they are. My grandmother may care for me, but the way she went about showing it was... more than a little brutal. Maybe I don't want to know anything more about where I come from. The picture it paints isn't... always a pleasant one."

"Well, this time you found out where you were born and your name grew a little," Mona countered. "And from the sounds of it, the colony was really nice. Perhaps this surprise family will be nice as well."

"Perhaps." Mnhei'sahe said as she leaned in against her wife gently, "Oh, Mona. I wish you could have seen it. Not just through my memories. It was beautiful. They live simply there with very little technology... but it was... it's hard to describe. I apparently was only there for a little over a year. I have no real memories of it, and yet it all felt so familiar anyway. The smells in particular."

"I dearly hope we can eventually go back. That it can be safe one day." Mnhei'sahe said, closing her eyes as the children thrummed to her through Mona.

"Then take me there in our dreams tonight, my Minay," Mona replied, closing her eyes as well and planting a soft kiss on her lover and bond-mate.

The thrumming resonated from within Mona and flowed into Mnhei'sahe. And as it did, it brought with it a wave of calm that allowed the young Romulan woman to calm the anxiety in her while they held each other in the largely empty room. The room that would, in just a few more months, be the home of their children. And in that space where their family would grow, that was once the home of a friend, they sat together. "I will, Jhu Dhael. I will."

- USS Hera gets secret authorization to cross the Neutral zone from Verelan and SFI for the sole purpose of meeting with the reunificationist colony
- Stealth plating must be maintained
- They meet with Vara's ship and are escorted the last distance
- While there, the Dox's meet with distant relatives
- Sonak acts as a mediator and ambassador
- They have dirt on Rendal and Co
- At the same time, Verelan is making a speech on the Senate floor - she'll have been put under the machine a few more times, gone along with it, and then on the senate floor, when she's supposed to declare Rendal as her heir... NOPE
- she'll open some reformation referendum motion instead

The wind blew across the soft lavender grasses of the hills of i'Ramnau. The countryside was lush and faded to a deep green the further back the hills rolled and Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox stood, looking at the large, old mansion at the end of the property. It was a large, three-story building with great columns at the front that went from the steps of the main entry to the portico. The columns were a shined black marble framing weathered, pale tan walls that seemed to glow almost gold in the waning light as Eisn set behind her.

In the distance, lights began to twinkle from the great city of Ihhliae, seven kilometers to the south. But here, far enough from the city, the sounds were quiet and there was a peace to things. This was the land owned by Dox’s Grandmother, Senator Verelan t’Rul. Her ancestral home on Romulus.

Except it wasn’t. Walking in the ankle-deep grass in bare feet, Dox stood and sighed. Closing her eyes, the illusion became more apparent to her senses as the wind felt more hollow. The light more artificial. This was the holodeck of the U.S.S. Hera and the house simply a recreation from Starfleet intelligence scans and archival images collected by spies. The real house was light-years, and was a place she could now very likely never go and had only seen for real in holo-images her Grandmother showed her and in her grandmother’s mind, thanks to a mind-meld made possible by Lieutenant Commander Sonak.

Months ago, this world was offered to Mnhei’sahe. By right of inheritance, this house and the land she pretended to stand on would have eventually been hers. Were she to abandon her life in Starfleet, it could be hers still, but that wasn’t an option.

Standing on the hill, bathed in the perpetual, artificial sunset of a home Dox had finally seen with her own eyes, the young woman allowed a tear to crawl down her face as she looked around at what she had given up for her home on the Hera. The family she had built here and the children on the way gave her no choice but to walk away from a dream she had fostered since childhood. Which meant that even now, she struggled with the decision, as impossible as that seemed.

She could never abandon her bond-mate and wife, Mona Gonadie, nor their children. Then, when she was finally reunited with Mona, it filled her with an impossible sense of completion that still gave her warmth and brought the hint of a smile to her otherwise somber face. But in her imagination, she dreamed of a life where she could have had both. Her chosen family, embraced by her blood on the world she had longed to be on her entire life. But that was a fantasy. The dreams of childhood, and Mnhei’sahe was no longer a child.

Walking around the side of the house, it’s windows were dark. No internal scans existed to create interiors from, so the dream was just that: a hollow facade to pine for. But Dox knew what the interior looked like. She stood there in her grandmother’s memories with the woman and knew the house as if she had lived there. The large, central hall with stairs on each side heading up. The rich, red woods of the doors and marble sheen of the floors. The paintings along the walls hinting at the house and her family’s lengthy history. She remembered it, but it was gone. Unreproducible with only the satellite data the Holodeck had to draw on, so she continued to walk the outside perimeter. Dox wore her crimson uniform, pressed and pristine. Two solid gold pips and one hollow black one to show her recently promoted rank of Lieutenant Commander shined in the artificial sunset. Her Starfleet comm badge rested, still, on her breast proudly. Looking up at the tall walls, she stopped to rest beside a small Maithe tree and sat.

It had been months since she was rescued by her friends and returned home to the Hera. Her mother had been rescued as well, much to her amazement. Thanks to the intervention of Rita Paris, fate had been averted. As it turned out, when the person who would invade a hostile planet to rescue you is a refugee from another universe outside of fate’s influence, nothing truly is written in stone.

After her rescue, there were questions and examinations and tests and weeks of interrogations at Starfleet Intelligence on Earth to restore her rank and commission. But now, things were beginning to become stable again.

Or, at least as stable as was possible for the woman, now both a Lieutenant Commander in Starfleet AND an unlikely diplomat, representing her grandmother’s voice in talks with Romulan reunificationists. Which was why she stood in the recreation of that abandoned home: a reminder of something she was working towards. A reminder of what she could possibly see again, if she was strong and good and smart. So she prayed to the elements and Al’thindor that she could be all of the things everyone expected of her, as she prepared herself for what was to come.

In a few minutes, the Hera would be positioned for a live, subspace holographic communication with Romulus. With her grandmother, the Senator Verelan t’Rul, where Mnhei’sahe would tell her and, perhaps the Romulan Senate, what she had seen and learned on the hidden colony world of Mol Krun’chi.

“Computer, save program: Dox, Romulus, 001. Then, end program, thank you.” She said, standing back up and brushing herself off. As she did, the vista around her rippled and then vanished, returning to the black and gold, gridded room that was the empty holodeck. As it vanished, the computer replied with a chirp as it always did, “You’re welcome, Lieutenant Commander.”

Alone in the center of the room, she tugged down on her uniform top, fidgeting nervously as she waited for the message to begin. Time seemed to linger for a minor eternity as she stood at attention before the computer chimed. =^=Incoming private message. Security level Alpha priority from Senator Verelan t'Rul, Romulan Star Empire.=^=

Taking a breath, Mnhei'sahe centered herself for what she had to do. Slowly letting the breath out, she let herself relax for a moment as she spoke. "Computer, please initiate secure communications. Authorization Dox, M. Lieutenant Commander. Access code 795-X9E."

As she did, the room began to flicker as the holographic systems engaged, and the young pilot found herself in a perfect recreation of the domed senate chamber of the Romulan Star Empire. Surrounding her were the black marble seats of power that commanded the Imperium, with shining columns that stretched from the top of the steps to the green metal arched ceiling. And standing three meters in front of her on the other side of the etched sigil of the great firebird Al'thindor on the floor, appeared the simulated image of her grandmother.

"Jolan'tru, Senator t'Rul." Mnhei'sahe said, her voice steady and even as she greeted her grandmother. Her face was a well-practiced facade of calm, though her stomach was twisting itself into a knot as the holographic representations of the rest of the senate populated into the chamber as the image completed.

"Jolan'tru, Mnhei'sahe Dox," the dignified, silver-haired Romulan woman greeted her granddaughter. "You address the full Senate of the Romulan Star Empire. This august body is anxious to hear your report on the Runificationist colony, and their stance on reunifying with our cousins the Vulcans. What news do you bring, Representative Dox?"

"Greetings, noble Senators. I... I thank you for the opportunity to address you today." Dox said, bowing to the assemblage before returning to a posture of full attention internally chastising herself for the minor stutter. A full month of learning how to control her emotional reactions in the face of Commander Rendal of the Tal'Shair, combined with weeks of meetings with the Admiralty of Starfleet Intelligence made it much easier for her to maintain her professional composure under the circumstances. 

"What I witnessed on my mission, was a thriving and predominantly agrarian colony that has worked for many years to incorporate the basic principals of Vulcan logic and discipline to their lives. But in those lives, what I saw were Romulans. Passions intact but measured to create a balanced society that embraces the full range of our heritage and history." Dox said, moving her attention across the room from left to right, speaking to the full assembly as best as possible. To her own internal surprise, she had recovered from her initial stammer quickly.

"However, the circumstances and their prior legal standing, combined with a reasonable fear of reprisal from the most extreme factions of the Tal'Shiar have stunted their cultural growth and development and they are eager to expand and become a part of the galaxy again. Without open communications, they have exhausted their own knowledge of Vulcan culture and I witnessed a desire to both reach out to our mutual cousins while also being able to retain their cultural identity as Romulans. As such, our discussions with the colony ruling council were positive, and there is hope that the efforts of this noble body can be fulfilled." The red-headed Romulan Starfleet officer was tremendously out of her depth, but hoping she wasn't stumbling over her own words as she paused for a breath.

There was a slight rasp to her voice as she realized how dry her throat was becoming as she spoke, but she pushed past it, clearing her throat as quietly as possible. "As such... the representatives for the Federation, the Vulcan High Command and the Colony Ruling Council discussed possibilities for moving forward with the experiment of reunification."

As the murmurs passed around the senate chamber, a few cries of 'Romulus First!' and 'Reunification is folly!' were heard from some of the conservative Senators, which somewhat overrode the general murmur of assent.

"Will the lost colony reveal itself to us then, so that we may embrace her once more beneath the raptor's wing?" came a measured and clear voice from off to the left of Senator t'Rul.

"The floor recognizes his most august personage, the speaker of the dead, Senator Ehl’ein," the dignified Romulan politician gestured graciously. "His query bears merit- will they rejoin the glory of the Empire in order to be a part of this reunification effort?"

Listening to the voices of dissent and the question from the other Senator, Mnhei'sahe's throat tightened again and she swallowed hard as she thought about how to answer, realizing that her wording may have lead the conversation to somewhere she hadn't intended. Keeping her face neutral, she replied, a rasp to her voice as she spoke, "Senator Ehl'ein, I... I believe that in time, that may be an option. But with the current threat of Riov Rendal's rogue faction actively seeking out these colonies along with doomsday weapons, the threat of reprisal remains too strong to risk innocent Romulans. An attack on a single colony of the Imperium is an assault on the entirety of the Star Empire."

Doing her level best to muster up whatever confidence she could manage, Mnhei'sahe looked at the stern-faced politicians. "Instead, during our time there, we discussed alternate options to extend this experiment in a way that will allow the Empire and this grand body proper involvement in fostering these efforts to bring our people together. We are proposing the joint creation of... a new,  independent colony. One populated by members of the existing colony world, with volunteers from Vulcan itself and members that would be hand-picked here from the Hearthworld. A new colony located in a strip of space located along the edge of the current Neutral Zone that could be designated to allow visits from ships from both the Federation and the Star Empire. A proving ground where this experiment can exist with greater support and protection from all sides to ensure its safety and proper development."

"You would invite outsiders to freely violate the borders of the Star Empire at will?!?" One could practically hear the off-screen senator clutching at his pearls, and the scandalized gasps about the chamber echoed that sentiment.

The anxious pilot folded her arms behind her back and began wringing her hands together nervously as the tension began to mount. She knew that regardless of what Commander Paris or Lieutenant Commander Sonak said to the Federation Council or the Vulcan High Command, this mission would live or die based on what the Senate of the Romulan Star Empire would decide, and that decision was to be based on what she said. That put the freedom of four thousand Romulans on her shaky shoulders, and she was feeling that weight immensely at that moment as she swallowed hard.

"No, noble Senators. Our proposal would set the colony on a world on the Federations edge of the Neutral Zone. In effect, what this would achieve would be quite the reverse. A mutual agreement would allow ships of the Star Empire to venture further than our current borders. And if this newly proposed colony is successful, it would be a first step towards the expansion of those borders." Mnhei'sahe said, trying to reword the proposal in a way that would be more appealing to the traditionally minded Senators. 

The speech had the desired effect. The warhawks amongst the Senate were pleased with the concept of expanding their borders, of course. The reunificationists all saw it as an enormous step forward. The moderates saw no change to the status quo, and for the most part, the Senate was mollified.

For the most part.

"So we'd be sending our people to go mix with those who have lived as scavengers at the fringe of the Star Empire, and the Vulcans... all in a grand experiment for which the Federation shall sit atop like a great mother hlai?" asked Senator Ehl’ein, followed by a mirthless chuckle. "This is a wonderful plan, one which will serve the interests of the Imperium well. We condone this plan- the Dead have spoken."

Ripples of talk followed in the wake of that pronouncement, as the venerable Verelan t'Rul redirected the attention of the hundred members of the Romulan Senate. "There are yet details to consider and plans yet to be discussed. There will be quite the reckoning of a treaty to agree to terms for all of this, between three worlds and a Federation. For now, let us consider the logistics and discuss the ramifications of what we have learned."

A general hubbub once more ensued, and the sharp old politician leaned into her granddaughter. "You were magnificent, granddaughter. Words cannot convey how proud I am of you right now, but we shall talk. For now, go- there is Senatorial business to tend to that prying eyes and rounded ears need not be witness. Jolan’tru, Mnhei'sahe," the dignified stateswoman offered with a wry maternal smile.

“Jolan’tru, Grandmother.” Mnhei’sahe nodded, speaking softly as she was using a more familiar farewell in that moment. Then, to make her more official sign off, she spoke a bit more clearly. “I take my leave of this august gathering that you may consider my report. Jolan’tru, noble Senators.”

Offering Verelan the slightest of smiles, Mnhei’sahe nodded as she was dismissed and the transmission ended from its source. Moments later, the holographic representation rippled away back to nothingness and she stood alone again on the holodeck.

Standing in silence in the stark, black room with its gold-lined grid, the young Romulan Starfleet officer took a long breath and let it out. For now, the matter was out of her hands. The ambassadors and officials on both sides would now be able to hammer out the specifics and negotiate for every centimeter, but she had done her job. The Senate was pleased, the colony was safe, reunification continued to inch forward, and her Grandmother was proud.

Still, the eerie chuckle of Senator Ehl’ein reverberated in the back of her mind. The so-called Speaker of the Dead left the young pilot feeling uneasy, and she prayed that her inexperience hadn’t created an entirely new problem yet to be revealed. As she thought of it all, her posture slumped, she hung her head and let out a long sigh as she muttered to herself.

“Being Romulan is kreldanni exhausting.”

Packing up her quarters was taking quite a bit of time, it seemed. Beyond serving alpha shifts on the bridge, which meant no chasing after the wee one on breaks, what time she did have was spent with Gavarus and Minnie, taking care of the baby. So in her spare time, Fiona O'Dell was taking an hour a night to pack up her old quarters in preparation for the move. The transporters could relocate everything, but not all of the adhesive strips on the walls, or the magnets. Most of her instruments traveled in cases, but getting the harp in her case was a bear to manage in the small quarters.

Of course, Gavarus had offered to help, but Fiona was doing it herself. Not that she didn't trust her porcine partner to be careful, nor was she overly concerned that her bouncing bovine baby would wreck her fragile and delicate keepsakes. Instead, Fiona was taking the time to look back over her life, and to prepare herself to face it again.

All of her life, she had been surrounded by men. Large men, for the most part. The O'Dell boys were the shortest at 5'9", and that was William, who they called Bull because he was as broad as he was tall. The O'Dell brothers were all a large and stocky lot, firm hands and full heads of hair, handsome and charming and from a well-to-do family. Particularly after Willoughbee married Gavina, a Miraposian clone gal with quite the fancy house and manor, with standing in the community.

No one had expected another child, but along came one randy old man and a woman who appreciated the attention, and along came wee Fiona. Wee was an understatement- the child was born prematurely, and the genetic infusion of the hardy native stock of the O'Dell's seemed to have been diluted in the small and sickly infant that clung to life. For the first six months of her life she lived in an incubator, denied her mother's touch for fear that germs would destroy her fragile immune system. When finally she was released to her mother's arms, it was already clear that the child was abnormal, and the odds of survival were low.

Already thirty-five colonists had successfully reproduced with the Bringloidians, although a number of the children demonstrated genealogical abnormalities. But from a culture known not to frown on inbreeding and a culture built on cloning techniques, there were bound to be some hiccups along the way. Fiona O'Dell was another of those 'hiccups'.

Staring at the photo of her mother holding her, already six months old yet looking much like a small newborn, the adult O'Dell sighed. Mum hadn't approved of Starfleet. All those hours of lessons from so many tutors to teach her all the old ways skills her father had insisted on so that she would carry their culture and pass it on to her children, to raise Mariposians who would not forget their proud Bringloidian roots. It would make her father happy, and that was always supposed to be motivation enough for Fiona, who dutifully obeyed. Until Angus took her up in his cloud skimmer, and showed her the controls, and let her fly. Sitting in her big brother's lap, powering and twisting the aircraft through the air was a thrill unlike any she's ever known, and in the moment she knew her destiny would not be one of needlepoint and pie baking not cheese fermenting.

Nor would it involve babies, she recalled with a chuckle.

They hadn't spoken in years, not really. Eventually, it was just Da answering the calls, often from his bed. Fiona loved her mother, but the irreconcilable differences between them had driven them apart, and she had regret for that. But she couldn't be the perfect little Gaelic princess they wanted betrothed to some dunderhead from a good family to use her body as an incubator for the next round of genetic experiments.

Starfleet had accepted the diminutive daredevil as part of an outreach program. Only one applicant per year per colony world could be guaranteed to get into Starfleet Academy, and for the year 2388, the only applicant from Mariposa was one Fiona O'Dell. In point of fact, she remains the only applicant to the Academy from the planet thus far, which has an average of 10 breweries and distilleries per square kilometer higher than any other planet in the Federation.

Despite having an engineer for a life partner, Fiona had not built nor maintained a still. It was a lot of work, was illegal without authorization from Science and Ops, and she was busy chasing after a baby while doing testing all day. Which she found gratifying. Chief Gonadie had let the set up a playpen in the R&D break room, where the child could be somewhat close, but safe behind reinforced transparent aluminum. She and Gavarus traded turns chasing the child, who only seemed to be fussy when her diaper needed changing. So far they were remarkably lucky parents with a gleeful baby who was quickly learning to walk, which was leading to little bursts of speed.

Charges.

Calmly wrapping up her delicate breakables, Fiona placed them into durable packing tubs. She'd keep a few mementos out, but for now she'd pack away her hoard of treasures. When the time and place to unpack them were right for her, she'd know. Now was the time for sturdy furnishings and no irreplaceable breakables. Plastic. Lots of plastic.

Glancing around, the picayune pilot noticed a PaDD with flight analysis from the LTCDR. Picking it up, she held in her other hand the framed image of a sensor image of her father at her high school graduation. he was holding her in his arms, his grey and silver hair slicked back, with 4 of her brothers arguing behind them.

Picking up the PaDD, Fiona sent a request to the bridge. To comms, to place a personal call.

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

The old man stirred in his sleep, as the ringing of a bell sounded from the tablet on his bed. It was the sound he'd chosen, with which he was most comfortable. It still took him a moment to gather his wits once awake, then pat about on the bed looking for the contraption. Finally finding it and tapping the surface, he wedged himself up in bed to be ready to deal with whatever news this brought with a grunt, which was when the call connected.

"Da! Da, s'me, yuir wee Fiona!" O'Dell grinned down at the PaDD she was still holding as she navigated the hallways. Communications worked quickly on this boat. "Long time since we 'ah a chin wag, aye? Ah miss ye, Dad."

On the screen, the dimly lit face seemed older and gaunter than the last time Fiona had seen William Angus Joseph Campbell O'Dell. His silvery hair seemed wispier, and those deep wrinkles cut harder into that still proud face. But that face had an all too familiar expression on it as he answered the call. It was somewhere between annoyance and judgment. "Ach, an' who is this, now? 'Fiona'? I've a daaahhter named Fiona? Tis hard t' remember seein' as how I don't ever hear from her since she up and went off to go tryin' t' break her wee neck flyin' rocketships like one'a her daft fool brothers."

"I curse th' day yer idiot brother put you on that infernal contraption 'a his. Ruined ye' it did. Hullo, Fiona." The irate sounding man grumbled as his tone lightened slightly.

“Hello Da. It didnae ruin me, it taught me the one thing I’m good at that mad me happy instead ‘a everybody else. I’da thought we wanted that fuir me, seein’ as how you were allays goin’ on aboot how me happiness was so important to ye.” Fiona pouted slightly at the statement as she was closing in on Briaar’s quarters. “How’s mum?”

"Ya' coulda been right happy settlin' down here at home. Marryin' a good local boy and makin' me a gran'pa, ya' ken?" The elder O'Dell said with a light scowl on his weathered face. But as he spoke, the scowl was replaced by a more reserved expression as he shook his head.

"As fer ya' mum... we tried messagin' ya', but y' jus' had to go off galavantin' around space. We called, but bluddy STAARfleet said yer ship was 'unavailable'. Bluddy blatherskite." The expression swung around as he spoke from emotional to upset and back to a scowl. "If ya' stayed home  like ya' shoulda... Fiona... yer mum..."

"Yer mum's gone."

Entering into the cramped quarters she shared with its occupant, the midget Mariposian staggered a few steps before sitting heavily on the couch, eyes wide and desperate as the pit of dread grew in her stomach. “Gone? What’dye mean gone? As in she left ye, or… d’ye mean… GONE gone…?”

Tears formed in the eyes of the little lass as she spoke, and realization was driven home, written across her father’s face- now twice widowed.

"No, Da..." she managed before the tears took her.

On the screen, the craggy lined face furrowed deeper as the elder O'Dell stifled his emotions with nothing more than a sniffle. And as his daughter cried on the couch, the door to the small bedroom wooshed open as Briaar Gavarus came out in a pair of pink shorts and a black t-shirt that said in bright pink letters, 'BACON', holding the miniature minotaur that was the duo's adopted daughter, Minerva, up at arm's length.

The porcine engineer was turning the cooing baby back and front, inspecting her handiwork. "Yessiree, diaper changed and looking cute as hell. That is one clean ass... baby?"

Stopping mid-sentence, both the bovine baby and her tall Tellarite mother immediately noticed the crying Mariposian and rushed onto the couch next to her, oblivious to the PaDD or the image of Fiona's father on it. "Fee? Holy shit, what happened, Fee? What's wrong?"

“It’s… it’s me mum, she’s… she’s gone, Briaar.” Clinging to the much larger rough-skinned Tellarite, Fiona pulled the grabby-handed minotaur toddler into her lap and clutched her as she tried to compose herself.Through her tears, she managed to address her father on the unsteady PaDD in her lap. “How, Da? What happened?”

"Your mum... she came down wit th' fever somethin' terrible. N' ya' know how she... she was. She didn't pay doctors no mind n' wouldn't listen when I tried to get her to go. It was only a few days and... and she was just..." he said, in a low voice, his eyes down as he spoke. But as he paused, his eyes raised up to look at Fiona, and instead saw his daughter wrapped up in hugs out of nowhere.

On the screen, Angus was trying to angle to see what was happening with a Minotaur butt taking up most of the screen as Briaar leaned in and began gently rubbing Fiona's head and whispering, "Oh my gods, Fee. Oh, Fee. I'm so... I'm so sorry."

"Wat in th' NAME a'... Fiona! Wat IS That in the center a' th' screen?!" Angus shouted, trying to make heads or tails of the literal tail in the screen.

With the bad news, Fiona reached for her father as Minnie the minotaur baby smushed her face into the PaDD at the old man onscreen. "Hold on poppy," the litlle leprechaun tapped her comm badge, "Ensign O'Dell to bridge communications. I have an allotment of long distance time and signal as I recall, and I've nae used a whit of it. We've got balls holographics, Briaar said so. Kin we hook me an' me Da up wi' a holographic subspace call? Tis bad news, and me family needs me."

There was a pause on the other end of the call as O'Dell the youngest looked to O'Dell the senior, taking in her father's heartbreak written across his face. Her own heart went out to him and she struggled for something to say, some words of comfort in the miasma of her own grief as the Hera dropped out of warp.

"Your father needs to be in a holographic reader of some sort for this to work, Ensign. Does he have access?" came the call from the overhead. Holding the Padd out so she could look at her father at eye level, Gavarus behind her, Fiona asked urgently. "Da! Have ye got a holobooth? Somethin keepin the grandkids occupied?"

"A holo... ya' mean that fool nanny-booth that yer brother Fergus put in fer the wee ones?" Angus said, still trying to get a clear view of everyone in the room. Meanwhile, Minnie was doing her level best to grab the PaDD for herself to identify the source of the voice while Briaar angled awkwardly behind Fiona's mop of curls nervously. 

Groaning and grunting, the elder O'Dell leaned up, pulling himself upright in bed. It was clearly a significant effort to do so, and he made it known as he did. "Ach, that contraption is probably filled up with toys and who know what other mess. Hold on, girl. I swear yer brother jus' puts 'em in there so he don' have to deal with 'em. Lazy, the lot of 'em."

"How many grandkids noow Da? Cynthia stopped publishing the family newsletter so I fell behind oot here," Fiona asked, distracted as she had distracted her own father, getting him to shuffle across his bedroom and down the hall to the playroom.

Kicking a ball out of his way, he stepped none too carefully around the bricabrack scattered across the floor. "Twenty-seven. And greet grandkids noow. Yuir brother's boys are cut of the same mold, and the Mariposian maidens are ever willing, as they say..."

"Daaaaaaa, stoop." Fiona protested as the old man found the colorful and festively decorated nanny booth, and he opened the door, picking his way in carefully. Closing the door behind him, the surroundings lit up as a green field with a herd of shaggies off to one side, and a barn to the other. On the bridge of the Hera, the PaDD signal picked up on the nanny booth signal, and the Hera locked onto the house, projecting into the holobooth to bring to the elder O'Dell the sensation of being in the small and messy quarters of his daughter's family. And for her, there in holographic glorious flannel pajamas in the O'Dell red, white green and gold plaid, stood her aged father.

Bolting off the couch, Fiona fairly tackled the holographic representation of her father as he stood, and only the holonannie's safety features kept him from being thrown off-balance.

"Dad... m's'sorry... Ah wish Ah coulda been there fuir ye. M's'sorry, Da." Tears flowed as the grieving young woman tried to comfort herself for not being there for her father, with apologies, as one in grief does.

"Ah know, mah wee Fiona. Ah know," Angus said as he patted and stroked her tangled mop of hair, which hadn't changed a lick, he noticed. Then, he looked around to take in the cluttered and crowded quarters, as well as the other two occupants, who were now perfectly delineated for him, holographically represented.

On the couch, Minnie Moo stared up in fascination at the elder O'Dell. The one who sounded so much like Mum, as he stared back at her, she smiled, shyly at first, then she giggled and waved at him.

"Ahhh... Fiona, me daarhling... You've a wee cow and a giant pig woman there behind ye." The perplexed patriarch said, tilting his head at the sight. "Ya'... ye ken that, right?"

"Yes, Da, I know," Fiona detached herself from her father, taking his hand in the process. Leading him across the cluttered floor, she gestured and made introductions. "Da, this is Briaar Gavarus. She's an able engineer and the best friend I've ivvir had. She saved me life an' I saved hers and we're partners in crime. The wee bebeh here is Minerva Moo Mary Margaret Mona Carrot- she's an orphan, a one of a kind who's touched by... well, not exactly angels, but she's a touch of the fae to her, shall we say. She and me, we adopted her, because, well..."

As her father took in the sight and Minnie turned up the cuteness, Fiona fetched a chair, then set it behind her father . As he was a bit stunned, she led him to sit down. As he formed up what to say next, Fiona darted back in to cuddle up to the tall Tellarite on the couch, taking the big rough hand in her own small and pale grip of both hands. "She and me... Ah loove her, Da. She makes me happy, and we've a wee one who's just as odd as we are, and... m'happy, Da. I've got this great big life out in the stars and me best gal and a wee happy bebeh, and... I know tis nae what ye wanted fuir me ta do, but she's s'good to me, Da, and I make a decent... mum."

Remembering the recent news of her own mother's passing, Fiona's smile faltered a bit as her eyes filled with tears again. She gripped the three-fingered hand tightly... well, for her.

"Uh… h… he...he….hel… 'sup." Briaar said, stuttering with an awkward smile as she waved with her free hand, blushing deeply. "I'm… I'm…"

"A pig? Is that a.... That's a pig, Fiona. I don't… a PIG!?" Angus' confusing and emotions bubbled up as his face scrunched up.

As he did, Briaar muttered nervously, "Uh, Tell… Tellarite."

"I thought ye were on a Staaaarship, not a flyin' barnyard!" Angus continued, starting to shout over the anxious engineer who started to sink in the couch slightly. "A pig n' a cow?! Is yer bluddy CAPTAIN a Chicken?!"

"Well… actually…" Briaar raised a finger to talk then pulled it back and snapped shut as Angus glared at her.

"That's right Da... a pig and a cow," Fiona replied, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Me girl and me bebeh, they are indeed a pig anna cow, and Ah do, coincidentally enough, work for a chicken, though she's the chief, not the cap'n. Cap'n's a gel with spots like a giraffe. Ah know, s'a bit mooch ta take in at once." Still holding Gavarus' hand, Fiona picked her chin up and eyed her father. She wasn't spoiling for a fight, but she'd not back down from one either. For now, she gave her old dad some time to think about it, this being the first he'd learned of her somewhat unique relationship status.

"A bit mooch indeed, it's..." Angus stammered as he looked, talking in the sight of the bizarre family projected before him, built around his own baby girl, all grown up. The Elder O'Dell's mind raced for a moment as he looked around the holographic projection of the room, taking in all the details.

Then, his eyes paused, locking on one of the piles of machinery at the foot of the couch. One of the many piles of seemingly random engine parts strewn about the room. "Ach, what a bluddy mess this is. Tis worse than yer brother Duncan's idiot garage, Fiona."

Darting up to meet Gavarus' nervous gaze, she shot her a question in as stern a voice as her could manage, "You, BriaAAAr, wuz it? Is this all'a yuir flotsam and jetsom lyin' about? Wit a bebeh ?"

"Uh, y... yeah. YES! I'm mean, yessir. Mr. O'Dell, sir, yes." Gavarus stuttered as she answered, her hand clenching on Fiona's a bit tighter than expected, causing the tiny test pilot to stifle a wince for a moment. But after a second, the grip loosened and Gavarus continued.

"Yeah. I'm... I'm an engineer and I... I like to... tinker and work on stuff. Most of this is stuff that was gonna be discarded from shuttle repairs and... and stuff like that. And Minnie... we'll sit on the floor and... and it's ALL cleaned and de-greased and..." The portly porcine ran her free hand through Minnie's hair playfully, causing the tiny tot to giggle and lean into her larger mother's ample tummy.

"And Minnie will sit and play with her blocks, watching me work. I'll show her what all the pieces are, and tell her what they do, and she plays along, making little things with her blocks or screwing two pieces together." The quivering Tellarite was getting a bit bolder as she spoke. "And she's really tough. She can chew on this stuff and scratch IT. There ain't NOTHING she can hurt herself on in here."

"Indeed." Angus simply said in a sharp response, still eyeing her judgmentally. Then he turned towards his own daughter and knitted his brows. "And I don't see a lick a' your things about? No family pictures or yer instruments? If that wee one's t' be an O'Dell, how's she g’win ta know it?"

“Daaaaaa,” Fiona responded, rolling her eyes. “We’re movin’ into family quarters, because we’ve been operating oot’a Gavarus’ quarters. But all me instruments, me clan tartans, me pictures and holos of the family- they’re all in me quarters, believe me. I was packin’ em all oop ta move ‘em when I realized I... needed ta call ye. Have no fear- she’ll know all aboot the Irish and Brigloidi and the Mariposians, the potato famine an’ her long and storied history of relatives. She’ll know everything ye taught me, and I’ll keep our traditions alive even oot here in the middle ‘a space.”

"W... well, she's already been to Ireland when we were docked in the Sol system a few weeks ago, so that's a plus, right!" Briaar nodded with a nervous grin, though Angus just stared at her blankly while she did. Internally, he felt a pang of jealousy, as he himself had never been to the wellspring of their clan.

“And she’ll know she has kith and kin on Mariposa,” Fiona added softly, fetching the babe with a grunt and parking her on her mum’s knobby knees, so she could reach out to her adopted grandfather, her big brown eyes alight with wonder and joy.

Usually, little Minnie seemed to have an almost magical knack for seeing through holograms or glamours. During their aforementioned trip to Ireland, a cloaking hologram couldn't hide her favorite babysitter, Jaeih Dox from her keen senses. And the magical glamour of the goddess Hera to conceal her true age didn't fool the tiny tot either. But in this instance, it seemed as if the opposite were occurring. Rather than seeing through the hologram as if it weren't there, it felt for all the universe like Minnie could truly see the man on the other side of the quadrant as if he were right in front of her.

Minerva tilted her fuzzy, brown-furred head to the side and blinked those enormous, deep brown eyes a few times. As she did so, the elder O'Dell tilted his head to match her motion while her mothers watched. After a moment, he slowly reached out his own hands and gently lifted the babe off of Fiona's lap with a strained grunt.

Setting her down on his lap, the holographic aged patriarch looked over the miniature Minotaur as she reached up and gently stroked his face, smiling. For a long moment, the two just looked at each other before her finally spoke. "Ya' say her name is Minerva? That's a fine name. Ah don' know aboot this 'Carrot' nonsense, though, cuz' ye look like a right O'Dell t' me."

A grin cracked the lined, old face as he said so, to which Minnie began to bounce excitedly on his lap and start giggling like crazy.

“Well, that… could be discussed,” Fiona looked to Briaar, shrugging and nodding their acquiescence that they could discuss it. Turning back to her father, the wee wonder of the Hera reached out to place a hand on the holographic reproduction of her father’s knee.

“I know tis different, Da. And I know tis not what ye wanted, nor is it helping Mariposa. But… well, we certainly dinna plan it at all, but we’re a family, Da. A family needs roots, and… I’d like fuir Minnie to know hers. I’ll teach her the pub songs and the traditions, and she may nivvir be able to play the harp like me,” Fiona admitted, as her father held the three-fingered hooved hand in his own. “But she’ll know to honor those that came before, and she’ll know of her proud ancestors, and she’ll make ye proud of her. Joost like I’ve allays tried to do.”

Unable to keep a dry eye, Fiona just let the tears tumble as she plead with her father not to reject her unusual family although to anyone else it was clear her explanations were wholly unneccesary.

The old man holding Minnie shook his head and smiled, a crinkly thing that sat crooked on his face. "Fiona, daarlin'. Ya' picked a path I would never have picked for ya', an' I may miss ya' something fierce. But I ain't never been anythin' but proud a'ya. And that ain't changed."

"YOU, on th' other hand…" he turned his attention to Gavarus, who about leapt out of her skin when she heard him. "You think I'm gonna let jus' innyone take care a' my Fiona an' her wee one, then ya' best pay me some mind."

"Uh… yessir?" The portly porcine said, thoroughly confused as he continued.

"You treat her right! You treat this wee one right! N' ya' don't give me NO reason t' git on no staaaarship t' come an give ya a whoopin', an' we'll see." Angus narrowed his gaze and pointed at her, to which Minnie simply grabbed his finger and tried to suck on it before relinquishing the tasteless hologram digit.

"Yes sir. I will, sir. You have my word, sir." Gavarus said, completely flummoxed.

"It's his joab ta be sterrrn ta the suitars," Fiona whispered, although it wasn't much of a secret. With a refresher from her dear old Da, the ginger jockey's broughe was bordering on another language. "T'put the fear'a God innem so's they'll think twice aboot mistreatin his daater. S'a guid sign, it means he approves, at least fuir now. So no great row wi' screamin an' hollerin and drinkin." Pausing to look at her now lonely father, playing with their adorable daughter, O'Dell's eyes filled with tears once more. Her mum was gone, just like that. It had been just an accident of timing that had caused her to call, to seek out her family after packing up the pictures in her quarters. Otherwise she might not have known for months yet.

"M'sorry I dinna call s'often, Da..." Fiona began, then gestured at her daughter sitting on his holographic knee. "I canna do a call like this every day, but I kin send ye photos and notes and keep ye oop on what yuir smallest problem is up to in ooter space. Joost because I'm far away shouldnae mean I canna be in touch, aye?"

"Me smallest problem..." Angus said as he looked Briaar up and down again, "N' clearly me new biggest one." Then he brought his attention back to Minnie, who was bouncing on his holographic knee. "Ye' better. I want pictures and r'gular updates on this wee little monster. N' I wanna see ye' all fer real as soon as ye' c'n git some leave frum that shippa' yiurs."

"It's nae easy papa... ye know Mariposa awfully far from the rest'a the Federation. But aye, we'll come to visit proper, I promise. Meanwhile we kin keep ye oop on things, aye?" At that, a chime sounded, and the Comms officer came online.

"Ensign O'Dell, we've been sitting dead in space for five minutes for this call. The Captain's patient, but she's not THAT patient," the voice on the other end said, as O'Dell realized that she'd put the entire ship on hold just so she could have this conversation with her widowed father. Bouncing up from her seat, tugging Briaar's hand with her as she went, Fiona O'Dell moved to hug the hologram of her father, while back on Mariposa, her father had the unique sense of hugging his daughter, although she and her family who moved in with the hug were light-years away. As Gavarus wrapped them all in her burly arms, Fiona scooped an arm around Minnie, then kissed her father's cheek.

"Ah loove ye, Da," she whispered, cupping her free hand to his unshaven cheek. "Be well, and know that yuir farthest star still thinks of ye often, aye?"

"Ah love ye too, my wee Fiona. I'll be lookin' farward t' yiur next message n' some pictures. Yer brother's r' guina have a right holiday with this, ye' well know." Angus said as he placed a holographic kiss to her forehead. "An' ye' best brace yerself, Briaaaar. If'n ye think I'm a haaardarse, ye ain't seen nuthin' yet."

With his tone much more pleasant, Gavarus relaxed just enough to respond with a bit more of her usual style, "Yeah, well, I don't have to pretend to not be a bitch with them, now do I?"

"Ah, there ye are. I might end oop likin' this'n, Fiona." Angus said as he gave Minnie one last hug that the tiny Minotaur returned with all of her strength, letting out a squeaky grunt as she did. "N' this one, I'll be seein' agin soon. Here ye' go. Back t' yer... t' yer..."

Pausing, Angus held Minnie out for Fiona to take and his voice choked a little as he smiled. "Back t' yer mum."

"G'bye Da..." Fiona choked out as the holographic image of her father faded, then the Hera leapt back to warp. Turning slowly, the bright emerald eyes of the little leprechaun sought out those of her porcine partner.

"So that was me Da, eh? Not the worst first meetin... I think he likes ye. I dinna..." Fiona pursed her lips as she hefted the toddler onto her hipbone. "We were raised catholic, and there were strict rules aboot who ye could loove, and what ye couldnae do oota wedlock. I was afraid me family... well, me Da... might object to... well, pig and a chicken and a cow and life in the barnyard in space. M'nae even g'win ta mention the goddess part, or the kids wi' er blessing or nunnathat, because pretty sure that's heresy..."

"Yeah, I think that's probably info best kept to ourselves. We'll keep the heresy to ourselves." Briaar said as she walked over to the replicator to order up two beers and a bottle for Minnie. Seconds later, in a swirl of golden sparkles they appeared and the portly porcine carried them over, giving Minnie her bottle. Then, handing the extra beer to Fiona, Briar flumped down hard on the couch. It groaned in protest under her prodigious paunch as she let out a groan of her own.

"I guess he still might object when he actually meets me for real, give him time." the Tellarite engineer sighed out. "Still, I don't think it's possible t' not love this little one, right Minnie Moo?"

"Ye kin hold yuir liquor and ye've a lifetime's experience dealin wi' drunks. Ye'll get along like houses," Fiona dismissed, bending at the knees to let Minnie off. "Has to happen sooner or later young missy, so let's get ye used to it noow, ayte?"

Saying so, the slender, puny pilot set the stocky little Minotaur toddler on the ground. "Accordin to the manual, she grows up aboot 4 times faster'n a human child. So she kin walk... the problem is she's g'win ta go from 'walk' to 'run' in no time flat, and the rest'a the world ain't quite ready fuir that. Ye still pootin' tagether that force field belt, Briaar?" Setting little Minerva on her feet, Fiona looked at her daughter, knowing the times she could pick her up and hold her in her arms were done. "Time ta be a big girl, aye? Kin ye be a big girl fuir mummy?"

Little Minnie nodded emphatically.

"Yeah, It's comin' along. I'm havin' trouble getting the power supply small enough, but I'm almost done with a version that'll work perfect on the ship." Briaar said as she took a big swig of her beer. "It's using a subspace juice transfer, n' can work off the ship's grid. I guess I can make a portable battery for her diaper case in the meantime if we're off ship that'll have a decent range."

Taking the hand of the babe as she wobbled a bit, getting used to being on her own hooves, the wee spitfire turned to her partner in life, the unlikely love the universe had sent to her. As Gavarus smiled nervously around a long draught of her beer, wondering what was up, mummy led the child over to embrace her momma in a group hug whose dynamics would change over time, but remain a tradition.

"I'm still g'win ta have ta cry a boonch about me mum. But I've me family here, and that'll see me through. And I've still family back home," Fiona turned to look at the empty chair where moments ago the holographic representation of her father had sat. "An' maybe da's right... mebbe she should be an O'Dell?"

Putting her beer down, Briaar leaned into the hug. "You cry as much as you need to, Fee. We'll both be for you all the way."

Then, the portly porcine blushed slightly as she smiled and looked down at Minnie, hugging on Fiona as hard as her little arms would let her, then over at the pint-sized test pilot she fell in love with harder than she ever thought possible. "Yeah, maybe. She's got a lot of family all over the quad, and they ain't Carrot's. Maybe this is an... O'Dell family."

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

In the nanny booth in his rather expansive home in the M sector, William Angus Joseph Campbell O'Dell stared in the darkness of the deactivated booth, on the plastic bench that had felt like a soft chair beneath him as he'd bounced an adorable baby with cow ears, horns and a tail on his lap. This as his youngest daughter, the one who'd never quite finished growing up on the outside, yet was the one most like he himself, described her life with the pig girl and their cow baby on a starship where their boss was a chicken and the captain a giraffe. The daughter who had called when he hadn't gotten out of bed save to relieve himself for the past week, held immobile by grief for his dearly departed Margaret

Everyone had always called Fiona a leprechaun, with her pixie grin, irrepressible good cheer, and her fun-loving soul. But as it settled on him that he was out of bed for the first time in a week, William O'Dell realized he needed a shower, a shave, and some food in him. His wee Fiona had somehow kenned the moment she was needed, and had roused her old dad to get on with his life, with the oddest family visit he had ever experienced. Me little good luck charm, me own wee leprechaun. Shaking his head, he rose from the bench, to face the day for the first time in many days.

"Like a call from bluiddy Brigadoon."

"I've got it!"

Cracking open one beer then another in rapid succession, O'Dell tossed a beer to Gavarus, who caught it neatly and had it in her mouth as the suds came churning out, sucking away the foam. Vaulting over the arm of the couch against the rear wall of their new, much more spacious family quarters, the petite pilot landed squarely on her ass in a comfortable pose. Raising her beer, Fiona made a pronouncement.

"So, this belt," Fiona paused to take a wee girly sip of her beer. "All it really needs to be is a personal inertial dampener. Everything she reaches for, everything she charges at, it'll just make her like a greet big marshmallow a' dampening field, so she's far less likely ta hurt inny thing. We could try turnin it inward to try ta overcome her strength, but that'll just be like cripplin her for a few years, then she'd be s'strong when we turned it off she'd ha na fine control. So I think that's a turribul idea. Boot the boffer belt, aye? Ehhhh?"

"Okay, okay, okay, so check this out!" The portly porcine said excitedly as she leaned over the arm of the couch facing her unlikely life partner, beer in hand, "So, yeah. It's an inertia dampener, but it's kinetically activated. I've got the sensor rig almost completely worked out so that if she's just walking around or touching things normal, nothing. UNTIL Minnie starts moving faster OR something's moving fast towards her, then the field should activate and match it's field strength inversely against the incoming input."

"Ah, that's bloody brilliant that is. Ye g'win ta offer these to the Flyin' Doxes when their brood take to the air too?" the lightweight drinker, the original 90-pound weakling, was clad in a 'Saint Ognrfltrtz Day' t-shirt, showcasing the face of a Lovecraftian horror wearing a green derby hat with a four-leaf clover sticking out of the brim, and a pair of black bike shorts that came down to her knees, and somehow managed to be baggy on her.

Crawling over the arm of the couch, Briaar grunted as she flumped upside down next to Fiona, amazingly not spilling a drop of her beer. Around them in the room were a number of boxes with their various possessions, still unpacked from the move while their adopted Minotaur babe slept soundly in her nigh-indestructible crib in her own room for the first time. Across from the couch, Briaar's fluffy white Tribble, Cueball cooed in it's colored, plastic habitrail. "Yeah. I figure if her lil' nuggets are really gonna have hollow frickin' bones, then we can refine the tech before they're finished baking."

"There's just... Uh... oooooooonne problem." The Portly Porcine looked up at the miniature Mariposian and fluttered her eyelids in an exaggerated fashion, smiling with a toothy grin.

"Ye make that face when ye've brought home a bottle of whiskey. What? What're ye grinnin aboot like a cat who ate a canary- oh hell, that's Dox and Mona, ennit?" O'Dell chuckled at her own joke as she nursed her beer with another small sip.

Pressing her rather large head up against Fiona's side softly, Briar was hemming around what she needed to say a bit nervously and was clearly trying to soften Fiona up to it as she cleared her throat. "AHEM... Okay, well... the prototype is using a subspace relay like the ones in our comm badges to draw it's power from the ship's grid right now. I'll get something worked out for portable applications, I'm sure, but I've... uh... I've completed the initial holographic testing phase."

"So far, so good. There are no more energy feedback issues and the field strength is now variable so it can let oxygen through and shit... but..." The Tellarite engineer knitted her eyebrows slightly, "But it's going to need to be... thoroughly tested out on an actual... person before it's cleared for use. It needs... well... a test pilot."

“Yuir workin’ awfully hard ta try to talk me into doin’ what I do for a livin innyways, porkchop,” O’Dell wisecracked, testing out a pet name for her ham hock housemate. “So what’s the catch, aye? What’s the bad news of this particular testing regiment? Ye need me to test it in a diaper or soomesuch?”

Raising and eyebrow and smiling warmly at the adorable use of 'porkchop', Briaar chuckled a bit, which shook the couch slightly. "Well, you might WANT one. I mean... it's not like you'll be in any kind of ship or anything. It'll just be... you and a completely invisible force field."

"And... uh... me. Trying to make sure it won't fail." The rotund engineer dragged herself with a grunt to a seated position and shrugged as she took a long swig of her beer. "Ya' know... aggressively. Which... I'm frankly not sure I could even bring myself to do. Plus, like I said, I've got the sensor rig almost... note the emphasis... worked out. We will need to dial it in to make sure you're not getting any feedback in this rig. I'm... nervous. It's not like you'll have a cockpit between you and whatever we're... hitting, you with."

“Wahhhhhhl, could I wear me EVA armor, me flight suit? That’s pprotect me from most stoof, aye? Or that would skew the test results, because Minnie wouldn’t be wearin’ one…. Aye, okay, NOW I get why yuir tryin’ ta butter me oop.” Taking another small sip of beer, O’Dell lay back against the prodigious protruding paunch of her porcine partner. “Alreet, so we joost need fuir me ta be endangered, by runnin’ at stoof and having stoof thrown at me. We could get one of the Klingons? They’re allays ready to hit something. That likely won’t traumatize me near as much as havin the L-C come after me.”

"That would traumatize you, ME and probably the Lou too. I mean, she's tryin' t' NOT freak us out anymore. Murderpunching you on PURPOSE wouldn't be fair to her either." Then Briaar took another swig, finishing off her beer with ease.

"And... Honestly... I can't." She said, leaning in closer. "I know it's my own tech and I trust it or we wouldn't even be talking about it... But I just thought about having to do that and I started freaking out. So, yeah. Maybe one of the Klingon chicks would volunteer to help."

"Aye," the picayune pilot of peril turned on her side a bit, laying her cascade of crimson curls on the bristly-haired leg of the thick Tellarite. Bringing up her hand, the brave little test pilot patted her partner's thigh and snuggled against her before taking another small sip of her beer. "S'nice ye dinna want ta hurt me. It's sweet, an'... tis part'a why m'with ye, I suppose. Wi'you, I always feel safe, y'ken?"

"Ah'll joost hafta make sure that Klingon gel understands what a 'safe word' means..."

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

Stepping into the ring, O'Dell was clad in oversized bright white running shoes, a black pair of bike shorts that somehow hung loose off her toothpick frame, and a bright red t-shirt style athletic shirt. Her thick and curly mane of hair had been drawn back into two poofy pom tails behind and to the side of her head, which made her freckled face look that much more juvenile. Experimentally flexing the boxing gloves she was wearing, Fiona O'Dell looked to all the world like she was fine and excited for testing. Joking, jovial and patient as the sensors in the gloves and boots were calibrated.

The Klingon Security officer assigned for this particular duty- volunteered, to be precise- was Petty Officer S'Rina. The opportunity to cut loose and try to do some damage to an opponent was appealing to her, to put it mildly. The fact that it was the puny pilot was of no consequence. S'Rina saw her in the gym most mornings training for endurance and struggling to lift what weights she could. The gimpy girl gave an effort to better herself, and persisted- that, the warrior could respect.

Although she was still going to see just HOW miraculous this portable forcefield belt worked, she thought as she pummelled a heavy bag, waiting for the test to begin.

Setting up a portable computer station around one of the ringside benches, Briaar was nervously connecting a series of leads from an array of specialized Tricorders and monitors as she muttered to herself. "Okay... got the leads in... Signal strength is at 98 point... No, the power curve should... AHHH, frickin' duh. Okay. Okay. Good."

The towering Tellarite engineer was clearly anxious and was trying... and failing... to conceal it as she got up and carried a silver metal case over to Fiona in the ring. Opening it up, she pulled out an inch thick black belt with a series of black metal rectangles affixed around the entirety of it. In the front was a fairly large, gray metal buckle with a small LcARS display on it. "Okay, Fee... Uh... Here, put your arms up. I need to get this on and calibrated to your proportions. All this shit will be padded in that same coating we used on Minnie's crib so it'll be safe."

"Briaar, relax," Fiona whispered, hoping the Klingon hearing wasn't as acute as Romulan hearing. "Tis yuir invention so I hae faith in it, joost as I have in ye. Besides, this is an experiment, not a prizefight. She's nae g'win ta hurt me, she's just here to test the effectiveness. And I'm doin' it for Minnie, so we kin be sure tis safe for her, so relax. Tis part of the risk of bein' a test pilot, aye? I'll be fine."

At that, S'Rina laid three punishing kicks in quick succession to the bag, all of which not only moved the bag but made sharp thwacking sounds

"Aye," the brave little test pilot swallowed a lump in her throat. "Fine... so, eh, how will Ah know tis powered oop...?"

Clicking the belt into place, Briar locked the control panel down and punched in a code with her thick, three-fingered hand. As she did, there was a slight humming sound that quickly vanished. But in that moment, there was a mild flash from the belt that moved across Fiona's form before becoming invisible and she felt the hairs on her arms stand up. 

Looking at her life-partner, Briaar Gavarus smiled and blushed lightly as the two poofs of red hair out of the sides of the pint-sized pilot's head began to stand up and friz out. "Uh... that will happen. It will subside in a second."

"Wot?" Feeling the poms on the top of her head bouncing near weightlessly with the static buildup within the field as it activated, O'Dell bounced about a bit. "Git me a mirror, aye?"

As Gavarus pulled out her pocket PaDD, she quickly spun through the options to forward sensor display. Holding it out to O'Dell, the small stunt pilot squealed in delighted surprise.

"THAT'S BLOODY BRILLIANT! Kin ye yae a setting fuir that, cuz it could revolutionize frizzy hairdos, that!" Grinning and watching her reflection in the face of the tablet, the pipsqueak pilot stepped forward into the ring, only to bounce off Petty Officer S'Rina's taut brown abs.

"GYAH! Fooksake, ye tryin ta be the death a'me, woman? Jayzis christ on pogo stick," O'Dell clutched at her bird chest as she spoke, playing up the fright as the Klingon warrior looked down at her somewhat predatorily.

"I am wearing the boots and gloves with the sensors, so they should dull my blows. We will spar- quarter speed, then half-speed, then full speed. I will try not to hurt you. You are welcome to attack me." The last statement she accompanied with a toothy smile, which O'Dell realized wasn't a friendly expression, but the baring of teeth to show just how dangerous one is in the wild.

Gulping, O'Dell pointed to the large and muscular woman with the oversized boxing glove- well, at least to her- that she was wearing. "Ye ken the meanin' of a safe word, aye? I say the word, ye back offa me?"

The toothy grin slowly morphed into a somewhat sly version. "Yes, Ensign O'Dell. I am well acquainted with the meaning and use of a 'safe word'."

Both Gavarus and O'Dell exchanged looks, as they would in a bar hearing some gossip. Both nodded in unison, then O'Dell turned back to the rather imposing Klingon in the yellow and black Security workout uniform. As S'Rina cocked an eyebrow, the picayune pilot did a double-take, then narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "Me safe word's 'marshmallow'. Alreet, we ready to test this rig oot?"

"I was born ready," Petty Officer S'Rina slid easily into an intimidating combat stance, to which O'Dellwaved, turning back to Gavarus.

"So it does work, aye? Otherwise, at quarter speed, I think she might still knock me head off'n me body," the mostly fearless test pilot asked her engineer.

"Yeah, it's working... hence your bounce off of her a second ago." Briaar said, making some final adjustments. "Ideally, you'll feel the impacts, but the field should absorb and redistribute the kinetic force outward. It will reduce any whiplash or concussive force significantly, but not so much that you're unaware of the contact."

Standing back up, the tall Tellarite rubbed the back of her neck nervously as she fidgeted in place, not wanting to embarrass Fiona with a hug, but wanting to do so regardless. "So, uh... I'll be monitoring all your vitals, but audible feedback will be vital to making sure you're okay. And if I have to, the belt has the equivalency of a manual full force for emergencies. Basically, an insta-bubble that nothing is getting through if I hit the button."

Holding out her glove for a fist bump, Fiona O'Dell grinned like a carefree daredevil. "Well then that's all I need ta know. Maybe work a strain sensor into it that cranks oop the field as pressure increases on it, aye?"

"Oooh, yeah. T-that's a good idea. That's going in the revision notes for sure." Briaar stammered with an awkward grin on her face as she looked down at Fiona, over to S'Rina, then back to Fiona. "Okay... I'll be monitoring. The safeword is 'Marshmallow'. We're good to go. Okay... it's all you."

Going over to the bench with the workstation set up around it, the anxious engineer sat down checked the readings and gave a thumbs up.

“Wahhhhl, me and this great musclebound menace right here,” Fiona joked as a foot came at her head with slow deliberation, connecting slowly but firmly with her carrot-top curls. Rather than striking with sudden and deliberate force, the quarter-speed strike was blunted that much more by the field, which essentially just nudged the little pilot to the side. Shaking it off and blinking in surprise at the sudden attack, O’Dell hadn’t quite registered it when a pair of rapid kicks were coming in at her midsection.

Again, they merely pushed her back, with no actual damage to the Bringloidian babe. As a punch came at her face, she raised her gloved and winced, but as the blow landed on her forearms it was slowed down further, the impact fully blunted. Peeking back out from behind her very basic guard, O’Dell didn’t anticipate the sweeping leg coming her way, and it dropped her to the mat with a light thud. While the belt was not negating the effects of gravity on her, it did still blunt the impact of her 90-pound body weight hitting the canvas.

Rolling backward, the feisty fighter came back up onto her feet, raising her dukes to actually fight. “Alreet ye great beastie, let’s see-“ O’Dell managed before she was hit in the face by three successive short punches, from which she rebounded once more, ending up in the corner of the ring. “M’Still okay- it works! She’s pooshin me aboot but she’s nae hurtin’ me!”

Flumping back with a sigh, Briar felt suddenly a hundred kilograms lighter in that instant, hearing her chirpy partner maintaining her energetic and happy tone in the face of, without the belt, would have been a brutal beating, proportionality. Checking the vitals on one screen and the power curve readings on another, the Engineer nodded and held a hand up, making a swirling up motion with her finger. 

"Okay! This is fantastic. Vitals barely look like your even walking fast, aside from the obvious momentary bp hops that come with you anticipating the impacts, but that's nothing more intense then if I'd just goosed you. And the belt readings are steady and constant. No unusual power drains or anything out of the ordinary so far. Ramp it up whenever you're ready, Fee."

“I’m nae the one to-“ O’Dell replied as the Klingon warrior grabbed her by the shoulders and tumbled backward, to hurl O’Dell over her body to pancake flat onto the mat. A frightened squeak escaped the little lass, but again, she rolled back to her feet, unharmed.

“That was greet! I dinna even get the wind knocked oota-“ she managed before she was suddenly being pummeled by snap kicks, as the security officer stepped up her game, moving to half-speed attacks and beginning to put more power behind them as well as frequency. As for the tiny test pilot, she just kept up her guard and tried to weather the storm of blows. She was feeling the impacts, but they didn’t hurt- instead they just felt like taps on her body as the blows landed on her forearms, her ribs and her waist.

“Still nothing?” the muscular fighter asked as she swung a backhand knuckle strike in the pushed the smaller woman halfway across the ring. “You are as yet uninjured, Ensign?”

“Aye, this thing works bluiddy great! S’amazing!” O’Dell replied jubilantly. Which was when Petty Officer S’Rina stepped up with a growl and an attack at full-strength and speed. The right cross she drove across the leprechaun’s jaw sprayed blood and spittle out the side of the little lass’ face as she spun around and hit the deck.

Looking stricken, the Klingon blanched and immediately rushed to the side of her opponent, who planted her arms on the canvas and struggled to rise. “Ensign O’Dell, are you…?”

“M’alreet,” Fiona O’Dell muttered. "S’joost a scratch, I kin… I... kin…” Trying to rise, the world refused to stop spinning and O’Dell collapsed to the floor of the ring once more.

"FEE!!! Briaar screamed across the gym in panic as the blood rushed from her face. There was no warning that the field would fail, but fail it did, letting one of S'Rina's strongest blows through. The sensors registered that the blow was still reduced in power down significantly, but it was still enough to overwhelm the dampening effects. 

But the porcine engineer wasn't paying any attention to readouts as she launched to her hooves, upending the entire table of equipment as she stomped across the floor to the mat where O'Dell had fallen. "GET THE F*** AWAY FROM HER!!!" she screamed, not caring in the slightest that she was yelling at a Klingon warrior as tears began to streak her cheeks.

Sliding to the mat on her knees, she gently put her hands on Fiona's shoulders. She touched her partner delicately, as one would the most fragile china plate, terrified. "FEE!!! Ohmygod! I... I don't know how that HAPPENED! I don't... Ohmygods!!! Ohmygods, I'm so sorry!!! I can't!!! I didn't!!!"

"Sickbay! Someone call sickbay!!" The Tellarite Engineer cried out as she panicked.

"Calm.... calm your teats, Briaaaar..." O'Dell mumbled woozily. "S'alreet, she dinna hit me that..." O'Dell tried to sit up, failed and as the world spun around her she passed out again.

"Petty Officer S'Rina to Sickbay, two to beam, site to site, concussion injury," the dark-skinned thickly muscled petty officer growled, maintaining her distance from the pair. She understood the instinct, and she understood the response. At this point, while she was disturbed that her first full-strength blow had penetrated the field, she was more concerned about the fragile test pilot. Also grateful that her partner had not attempted to attack her in response, as that would have only exacerbated the situation. As the duo disappeared in a shimmering column of blue light, she tapped her comm badge again. She was angry at the situation and frustrated- she had not meant to hurt the little humanoid, and the unsuccessful test had emotions churning within her that required release.

"S'Rina to V'Nus. Please report to Gymnasium One on the double. I require a sparring partner..."

There were sounds, but they all smeared.

There was light and dark in front of her eyelids, but only dimly perceived flashes.

Briaar was there. She was upset and cursing a lot. Fiona wanted to wake up to get in on whatever row she was having, but she realized it was because she was hurt again.

Stewwwwwpid. Yeww were stewwwpid and ye let yer guard doown. Klingon nailed ye like hittin a tree at 90.

Like havin a tree hit ye.

Hah! S'funny.

Wish I could tell Briaar.

I've got to wake oop or ah'm g'win ta slip into a coma.

Alreet, git oop ye lazy layaboot! Slackerr! Guid fur noothin! G'wan, ye scallywag, shove off and get a move on!

Calling up the memories of her father rousing the household, the Mariposian maiden struggled to rise to the surface, to consciousness. Even as her arms came up a bit and she tried to rise off the biobed, her eyelids fluttering.

"Okay, so she's got a concussion! You're a super hologram frickin' SPACE doctor! UNconcus her for f*** sake!" Briaar Gavarus shouted, her cheeks still wet and her eyes red and puffy from the tears that were still flowing. "Shit!!! She's coming around! She's moving and shit."

Nudging the photonic doctor without thinking, the towering, two-meter tall Tellarite engineer went to the side of the bed in a panic, biting her bottom lip as she wanted to touch her tiny, red-headed life partner but held her hands back out of fear of hurting her further, "Fee! You're gonna be okay. The doc is here and he's gonna fix you right up, okay?!"

"FIX HER RIGHT UP!!!" She shouted at the photonic physician, her porcine puss contorted with emotion and tears.

“Briaaaar,” O’Dell managed to croak out. She wanted to tell her poor girl to calm down, let the doctor do his job, to stop beating herself up over the testbed failure. But struggling toward consciousness, she lacked the capacity. Instead, she pawed at the darkness until she felt the rough, calloused three-fingered hand of the temperamental Tellarite. Gripping it with all her strength, she held onto that lifeline as she fought against the pounding in her head, to rise and wake.

No O’Dell was ivvir a quitter, and ye dinna get ta be the first! the memory of her father groused in her mind, and Fiona O’Dell tried to push back against the pounding in her head. Git oop, ya drunken sot! Briaar needs ye!

In Sickbay, the little redhead groped about until she found the hand of her partner, and wrapped her small pale fingers about one of Gavarus' fingers.

Feeling Fiona's tiny hand in her own, Briar leaned over and lightly cupped her own thick hands around that week grip as gently as possible. "Fee, I'm right here. The doc'll have to have security pull me out of here. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere, just relax. It'll be okay."

Then she whispered under her breath, trying to fight back the panic at the circumstance she blamed herself for, "It'll be okay... It'll be okay... It'll be okay...

"D... D... Doc... Make it be okay." She pleaded with the holographic doctor. "This is all my fault. I had the forcefield regulated but it reached the upper level of its input vector and it didn't compensate like it was supposed to by increasing its power output. I... I missed something in the sensor input or... I don't KNOW! But I screwed up and this shouldn't have happened! That hit never should have gotten through! I thought I accounted for everything!"

As she spoke, running through the scenario in her head and trying to figure out what went wrong, her anxiety continued to spiral, sobbing. "This is why I should have never left Tellar Prime! My mom always told me I'd screw something up and someone important would be hurt because I don't know what I'm doing. S... S... She was right. I'm just a f*** up. I shouldn't be here. I... this is all my fault. Fiona's... she's so much better than... She deserves better... This shouldn't have happened."

"Ensign Gavarus, you do your race credit with your contributions to this ship and with your... rough demeanor. However, I insist that you allow me to do my job as I see fit," Doc Power, the EMH, berated her as he readied a hypo and injected it into the midget Mariposian. "Her physiology is quite unique even among her own people and if I overdose her, she'll pop out of here like a mad squirrel on espresso and hurt herself more than she already is, not that a mild concussion is anything to worry about in this day and age."

Sliding aside just enough for Doctor Power to get in, but not relinquishing her grip, Gavarus sniffled and nodded. "O... O... Okay, Doc. Sorry... I... She's gonna be okay, though, right?"

"Perfectly fine. Just no heavy lifting, no alcohol, and limited duty for at least a day," Doc powers added as he studied the biobed readouts before adjusting the hypo and injecting just a tiny bit more of whatever cocktail was in it. "Her brain was pretty rattled so if any signs of dizziness or nausea crop up I want her back in here immediately."

“S’alreeeet… Briaaaar… m’okay…” O’Dell managed to get out as she struggled to open her eyes. “Joos a lil… hard ta… wake oop… ana doozy... of a... hangover...”

"FEE!!! You're okay!!! Oh, thank gods! And the Doc! Holy f***in' SHIT!" Briaar exclaimed as she leaned in and hugged the tiny test pilot on the biobed.

"Mrrphrglr," O'Dell responded, smothered in the hug. Gingerly she reached up and patted the thick meaty arms of the prickly pig who'd been through the emotional wringer. "Course m'okay, m'a test pilot. S'what we do, aye? Figger out how ta break stoof so no one else can, aye? Shhhhh, s'alreet, s'okeee, nae harm done. M'in one piece- she dinna knock me block off, and the Doc'll git me back oop ta snuff. Shhhhhh, saaaalreet, there there."

Trying her level best to stop crying, Briaar leaned back just enough to give her Lilliputian life partner a little air and wiped her porcine snout on her sleeve. As she spoke, the words were stilted as she gasped between each word like a child trying to talk and cry at the same time. "I... I was... *HORK*... so... *HORK*... so... *HORK*... worried! I'm... I'm... *HORK*... so sorry, Fee. I'll... I'll... *HORK*... figure out... figure out what went wrong."

"Ah think it was too many comin too fast, and when the big gel switched to full strength the compansators weren't ready, an' they reset. If I understood yuiur technical manual on it, that's what happened. We joost need to tewak the compensator's variable for a wider variable of input. least, that was me thought." As a test pilot, O'Dell read the technical manuals and understood what she was testing, in order to be able to effectively push it to it's limits. Thus when the technology failed in testing, she had input, instead of simply shrugging and leaving the work to others. Which was part of what made the unlikely duo such an effective team- both respected and contributed to one another's craft.

"S'nae yuir fault, Briaar. S'okay, I'm alreet, and we have ta get back to testing, aye? And we have to let Petty Officer S'Rina know she dinna kill me with one punch, aye?" Patting her emotionally overwrought other half, O'Dell patted the emotional engineer. "Doc, kin we go now?"

While she most certainly did not feel up to it, Fiona O'Dell was often determined to prove herself, and this occasion was no exception. If the doctor cleared her, she would return back to work. It would reassure all parties involved, and it would increase the odds that the project would continue, which was her idea to begin with.

The holographic doctor rolled his eyes as he moved off to take care of some other busywork. "You'll make a wonderful senior officer, Ensign O'Dell. You're already ignoring medical advice. As much as I'd love to keep you under observation and make sure you get another few hours of rest... Just please do your best not to strain yourself, hmm? If I see you in here again because of foolishness, it's going on your record. And remember, no heavy lifting, no alcohol, and limited duty for at least a day."

"And you," He fixed Briaar with a scowl and a pointy finger. "If she so much as looks dizzy, I want her back in here. Understood?"

Straightening up, the towering Tellarite wiped her snotty snout on the sleeve of her uniform again, sloppily as she sniffled. "Y... yessir, Doc. I will. I'll keep an eye on her for sure. Both, even. I promise."

Rolling over to get out of bed, the wave of dizziness that struck her had O'Dell clinging to her partner's beefy bicep for support, and her stomach began to rebel. Trying to push through it to make a show of being fine, the background headache came crashing to the forefront and spots danced before her eyes. Easing herself back onto to biobed, Fiona mustered a sickly grin as she spoke in a particularly strained and squeaky tone.

"Wahhlll, maybe I should listen to the Doc and give it a few hours layin' doown, joost ta be sure, aye?" Eyes closed to stop the room from spinning, O'Dell scooted over in the biobed and patted the empty space. "C'mon, Briaar. I dinna think there's inny regulation against it, and I'll sleep better if yuir here, so climb in, aye?"

Biting her bottom lip, Briar tried to conceal her concern and emotions, but let out the lightest of sighs, glad Fiona was deciding to rest, rather than push herself too far, as was her habit. And though the biobed was small and fitting her massive posterior on it next to her partner would be a struggle and a half, she did so happily.

Tucking a meaty arm under Fiona, Briaar awkwardly scooched onto the biobed, which creaked slightly in protest at her prodigious girth. "W... we're gonna have to lash together like frickin' otters to not fall off this shit, but yeah. Y... y... you need to get some rest, Fee. Here go."

As awkward as the fit was and with much of her ass hanging off the bed, it just felt good to know Fiona was in her arms and was going to be okay, so Briaar let out another sigh, and a legitimate smile crept across her face for the first time in hours. "Crunching the data can wait until tomorrow, and I'm sure Jaeih won't mind watching Minnie a bit longer."

"Aye we'll bribe her with a night oot or somethin'," Fiona agreed as she yawned, snuggling against the portly panic-stricken porcine. It took all of three minutes for Fiona to have curled up, as was her wont, tucking herself in close to her paunchy partner in a compact fetal position. It gave Gavarus more room on the narrow bed, and in short order Fiona was out light a light, sleeping soundly- secure with her bestie beside, her, making her feel safe from harm with her reassuring presence.

With a hint of a smile, Doc Power activated the privacy screen around the biobed and dimmed the lights. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll let command know you'll not be back to work today."

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

Hours later, two Klingon warriors strode through sickbay, bickering in whispered Klingon.

"I do not wish to do this thing, my sister. I do not think you are right about how it is supposed to be handled in Starfleet. They have... HR." S'Rina invoked the dread subsidiary of Ops that transferred, assigned or reassigned based on 'the needs of Starfleet'.

"Nonsense, sister. Nothing occurred that will require the involvement of that department, particularly if you address the situation now." V'Nus said as she walked slightly ahead of her reluctant sister that had inadvertently injured the tiny test pilot during the test earlier in the day. "And you and I can grapple all day and all night, but that will not quell the voices that are vexing you, sister. This must be done and there will be no better time than now."

"This is an honor thing, isn't it?" the thick and muscular Klingon woman growled in her native tongue, spooking a nurse as she passed.

"It's simply how these types deal with things, sister." V'Nus gestured with her head to the biobed where Fiona was tucked tight against Briaar's belly. "They are... emotional creatures who need reassurances. And we work with them, so their ability to trust us is essential to our tasks in security. Thus... you need to... speak... to them."

"So SPEAK." V'Nus rose her voice and pointed to the biobed, where the space swine was snoring rather loudly behind the sound-dampening privacy screen. Rolled onto her side out of practicality. O'Dell was curled up between Gavarus' belly and snout, with one hefty arm laid protectively over the ginger girl.

"They are both sleeping. I should come back later. You know how they get when they get woken up by a Klingon," S'Rina began, mimicking the surprise, shock and often terror on the faces of their humanoid shipmates upon waking up in surprise to a Klingon. Head tilting, her ridged brow furrowed in consternation. Eyeing the scene, the warrior without a house attempted to understand the tableau. "So the big one protects the little one, while the little one takes the risks, is that how it works? I do not understand these two, but... this. Seeing this, I think it makes sense."

"Indeed. They are... strange. But we have seen them work in the gym, argued with them. The large one builds the contraptions the small one tests. They fight for each other with honor and let their passions drive their... odd behavior. And for one so small, she has little fear." V'Nus said with narrowed eyes and a smirk, "I shall wake them if you fear her reaction, little sister."

"I fear nothing!" S'Rina snarled, then lowered her voice to speak again. "I know of what you speak... I could see the fear in the little one's eyes when she faced me, but she did not shirk nor avoid the danger. They are odd, but in their own way, they are honorable. As ill-equipped as she is for battle, the big one was ready to fight me had I not stood down. It was worthy." Sighing and shaking her head, the younger of the two sisters growled in her chest, frustrated by the demands of honor and the fact that she felt badly for accidentally injuring the little one, which had clearly traumatized them both.

Stepping in through the privacy screen, Petty Officer S'Rina debated how best to wake them, and settled on calling them by rank, as both were the same level of junior officer.

"Ensign. It is Petty Officer S'Rina," she barked lightly, trying to find a line between her authoritative 'Security' voice and something not quite so intimidating, which was most certainly not her strongest suit.

"SNORT... Huh, whazzit...." Briaar muttered groggily as she began to stir. As she did, she began to lightly roll and her ample ass started to slip off the biobed. "Ohshit!"

Reaching over her diminutive partner, she grabbed the other end of the bed and stabilized herself, noticing the Klingon woman with the strange expression while she inadvertently buried Fiona's face in her ample bosom trying to not fall. "Shit... What? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Mmmphhrrnngrndrmrph!" O'Dell shouted in muffled tones into the ponderous breasts of her partner, each of which was roughly the size of her head. Squirming her left arm free, Fiona 'tapped out', a pre-arranged signal that they both knew 'back off, I can't breathe/you're going to break some part of me/Staaaahhhp'. As the tubby Tellarite gripped both sides of the bed she shifted her weight to roll off the midget Mariposian, O'Dell gasped in a seemingly exaggerated grateful, sucking, groaning breath of air. When she slept, her respiration was shallow and she needed far less oxygen than when awake and frantic.

Despite herself, and despite her reason for being there, the eyes of the Klingon warrior opened wide and she laughed at the sight. It was comical on a number of levels, but the interplay between the two was genuinely comical to her, and she could not help but laugh, which in turn brought both of the parties on the bed's attention to fix back to her. Then it was O'Dell's turn to pop her eyes open in recognition, and she reached out a hand to the Klingon security officer, waving the hand in a lassie-faire manner.

"I know, ye feel terrible and ye dinna mean ta hurt me. Nae, nae, nunna that. ye did exactly what ye were supposed to do, and in the test the equipment failed. At a bad time, aye, but twas nunna yuir fault by any measure. I dinna blame ye and ye're nae allowed to either. Ye stopped, didn't ye? Soon as the field failed? Then there ye go. Ye followed orders. Well done, Petty Officer."

"I asked ye ta do it because yuir good, and I trust ye. I still do, and I want ye in on the second round of tests, aye? We figure oot what went awry this time and we fix it, then we try again. Tis the way, nae?" The scrawny experimental engineering aeronaut nodded with a cheerful smile that sold the sincerity of her words. To her it was simple practicality. "Besides, now I can claim to have taken a full punch from ye and lived, aye?"

Scooching up a bit, Briaar put a leg down to the deck to help support her not insignificant bulk a bit easier as she rubbed the back of her neck, which was more than a little stiff from sleeping awkwardly on the biobed, "Well, I think the field was still absorbing some percentage of kinetic energy, but I'll have to look over all the... uh... the data. Yeah."

"Sorry I freaked out at you, Petty Officer." The anxious Tellarite hemmed and hawwed. "Thanks for not knocking MY block off for it."

Looking at her sister with a raised eyebrow, V'Nus simply nodded and deferred to the more emotional of the two sisters to decide what to say.

Raising her chin, S'Rina looked down at the space hig who was struggling to manage a graceful egress from the biobed. "You... spoke with passion, and... there was strength in your words. I... respect you for coming to the defense of your... other. You owe no apology for acting..." S'Rina shot a questioning look to her sister, who half-shrugged, half-nodded.

"Honorably. You acted with honor, so owe no apology. I followed orders and also acted with honor, and should not feel guilty about harming the Ensign. I sought to make it right if there was bad blood, so my honor is still intact." S'Rina listed it all off, attempting to navigate the maze of Klingon honor structures as her sister, ever the expert, nodded to the affirmative at each point.

"Aye, so coom back to the gym in the mornin' and we'll try agin, aye?" O'Dell grinned as she helped push her pudgy partner off the biobed. "In the meanwhile, Ah think I need to git Gavarus here to a proper bed, or she'll be a pretzel in the mornin. We're cleared by the Doc- kin ye let the powers thet be know we're off to quarters and checkin' oota Sickbay fuir us?"

Watching the odd could lean on one another as the little one took care of the big one, S'Rina shook her head. "Yes, Ensign. I will check you out of Sickbay." Turning to her sister, S'Rina switched back to Klingon.

"Honor is complex, sister. But love... love, it would seem, is very, very odd."

In an odd twist, the Captain's wife was the ship's masseuse, so it left O'Dell in the unique position to call her for an emergency session for Gavarus, who had done her best to comfort her injured partner in the night by curling up on a biobed that could barely contain her, forget about the both of them. Now, as they had managed to stagger to their quarters, Gavarus' spine was in knots, and her mostly-recovered partner was having none of it.

"Aye, her back and shoulders are all knotted oop and in the mornin' I know she'll be barely able ta move. I know tis late and not a decent hour, but kin ye help? We kin get back to work in tomorrow if she can move agin, and it'll make her feel worlds better if she can fix what went wrong with the experiment yesterday. Otherwise she'll be stiff and in pain and she willnae be able to function, and 'twill joost make her a grouchy swine all day," O'Dell explained in hushed tones as Gavarus relieved herself in the reclamator.

With a soft and kind smile, Maica replied happily. "I can be at my parlour right away if you can convince her to come in. I have a tonic to start her off with and can have her a big pile of goo in no time. Have her come in pajamas so it's easier to undress for the treatment, ok?"

“Aye mum, I’ll have her in her jammies and ready ta be worked oover,” O’Dell replied, turning away from the comm station to gather some fleece pajamas out of the drawers in which they were kept. Pursuing her achy partner on the reclamator, O’Dell appeared with a bundle of comfortable pajamas and a pair of fuzzy pink-snouted pig slippers.

"Fee? Who in the hell were you talkin' too out there?" Briaar grumbled, a little confused as her somewhat sensitive hearing had picked up the quiet conversation clear in the living section of their much larger new family quarters.

“Oi! Ah made ye an appointment to see the ship’s masseuse, Briaar, so she’s waitin on ye on Deck 5. She said ye should wear yuir jammies for easy on and off, so get dressed and I’ll help ye shuffle oop there, aye?” Seeing the objection raising, she pointed her finger at the snout of her porcine partner. “Nae arguments- ye curled oop wi’me on that tiny bed and yuir back will be oota whack and yuir shoulders’n neck’ll hurt fuir days if ye dinna. So yuir goin’, and that’s the end’a that, aye?”

The tone of the Mariposian midget was clearly not one to be argued with, as she was most definitely in ‘mom mode’. Minnie couldn’t argue it and neither could Gavarus.

The portly Porcine on the potty protested as she rose from her posterior position. "I'll be fine. I'll just take some pain meds, have a beer and... GAAAHH!

Wincing as she stood up and cleaned herself off, which required bending the aforementioned spine at a less than ideal angle quieted Briaar's complaints rather quickly. "Well, that shut me right the frick up. Gimmie."

Reaching for the provided jammies and mock-sneering at the pleased expression on her pint-sized partner's face, Briaar stiffly slid on the expansive garments. The two-piece pajamas were light pink, plush felt with a pattern of cartoon strips of bacon with angel wings all over them. "Well, this is a classy look. Lead the way."

“She’s nae g’win ta joodge ye, Briaar. And dinna forget, tis the middle of the night and she agreed to meet ye right away, so tis clear she has yuir best interests at heart. So c’mon,” O’Dell hefted Minnie out of her crib and with a series of grunts got the fussy toddler into the stroller, ignoring the doctor’s orders about heavy lifting and immediately regretting it as her head pounded with the cruel beat of a Thunderchicken dancing a jig in her brain. Meanwhile, Minnie, fussy at having been awakened, was not cooperating with being strapped into her pram.

"Ach, Minerva Moo, dinna ye start wi’ me. I know yuir unhappy and I am too, but we canna joost leave ye here, and I need to help yuir momma get some help… nae, ye spit that buckle oot… OOOT… alreet, that’s better,” Fiona sighed wearily as she struggled with the fussy toddler.

Sticking her disproportionately small hooves into the provided piggie slippers, Briar rolled her eyes and cricked her neck slightly with a wince. "Minnie, be good. Listen to your mum ya' little terror. She got punched out by a Klingon and I tried sleeping on an ironing board sideways. We're all a little cranky."

The fussy little Minotaur babe tugged against the belt in the pram wobbling back and forth and making tiny little grumbly grunts as she pouted groggily in the seat. Sighing, Briaar looked around the room, picking the small white puffball of a Tribble that had been cooing in its colorful plastic habitrail. "Do you wanna play with Cueball? You like Cueball, right?"

Smiling a little more, the sleepy little baby reached out her three-fingered grabby hands towards the trilling tribble and started mumbling, "Coo... Coo." Trying to say 'Cueball', the Tribble that she had thankfully been extremely gentle with whenever she was allowed to hold it.

But when Briaar bent over to give Minnie Cueball, she locked in place and winced. "AHHHH! Oh, for F***s sake! Yeah, that's not good. Yeah, this is probably a good idea, Fee."

“Aye… alreet, lean on the pram, since ye designed it sturdy, because unless I’m g’win ta fetch the banshee, I’m nae big enough or strong enough to set yuir spine back to right. Ach, me poor dear,” Fiona darted about her larger and slower-moving partner, grabbing blankets and the diaper bag with a grunt and a groan.

“Let’s get this cripple caravan moovin’, aye?” Fiona grunted, squinting against the headache that had quite suddenly made a comeback when she had disobeyed the doctor’s orders. Patting Gavarus on the hip to indicate to her to start leaning on the pram to push it forward. O'Dell began shuffling forward as well.

"Okay, we're moving." Briaar grunted as she leaned into the heavy-duty pram and started, very slowly, into the corridor. "Fee, put that shit on the tray at the bottom. You're not supposed to be lifting shit and I can see you squinting. Just take it easy, stop lifting things and let's... shit. Where are we actually going? I don't even... who IS the ship's masseuse?"

"Accordin' ta the ship's registry, tis Deck 8, one of the inner rooms near the lifts, not one of the big ones with the nice views the senior officers get," Fiona groused as she grunted the diaper bag onto the pram as Minnie dropped Cueball's 'hamster ball' off the side of the stroller. Inside the sturdy ball, the albino Tribble just squeaked in surprise, then cooed a bit. Coming around, O'Dell bent to pick it up, then felt more blood rush to her head. Grasping the ball and rising, the puny pilot opened her eyes wide as she grimaced, then visibly took a shot at calming herself to hand back the ball to the child with the pet inside.

"Ye have ta be careful wi' Cueball, m'wee girl," the unlikely mother explained to her child. "His carrier is toough, but inside it he is not. He's a vurrah soft an' fragile creature, aye? Wee and delicate, like your mum, aye?" Holding up her fingers, Fiona spread them apart as Minnie spread her own three-fingered hand. Already her stubby hands were wide and sturdily connected to her wrists, which were not at all delicate. Whereas Fiona's hands were perhaps twice the size, but pale and thin and spidery.

In reaching out, Minnie lost her grip on Cueball and accidentally dropped him again, with a cry of dismay. But standing right there, Fiona O'Dell was ready, and as Cueball trilled in a frightened tone, the dextrous damsel caught the ball on top of her foot like a futbol player. Reaching down to take it from her foot to hand back to Minnie, she winced again, but turned it into a smile, as mothers do. "S'alreet, we'll do better, aye? Yuir mums will help ye."

Looking up at Gavarus wearily, O'Dell side-eyed the pram.

As they slowly made their way down the hall to the turbolift, O'Dell lay slumped exhaustedly over the sunshade of the pram Gavarus had engineered for their particularly challenging childrearing, as the space pig gradually eased them on their way. Looking down, in spite of the pain in her back and neck, Briar smiled at the sight of her ginger partner splayed, face down, on the canopy right under her, finally not trying to pick things up. They were ridiculous and weird and in spite of it all, the odd, makeshift family simply worked as they slowly crept to the lift and to Deck 8 

Following the instructions on which way to go, which Fiona made by pointing while lying flat across the canopy of the pram, they eventually made their way, one stiff step at a time and finally arrived at Maica's masseuse parlor. The tense Tellarite was glad that their path lead them in the opposite direction from the two VIP doors that were perpetually guarded so she wouldn't have to explain the somewhat ludicrous sight. "We're here, Fee."

As they arrived at the door, it opened and Maica poked her head out wearing nothing but a red velvet robe tied around her waist and barely concealing her prodigious 'assets' which were a match for the first officer's. "Please, come in. By the looks of it, you both need treatment."

As she helped them inside, it was as if they stepped into another world. Incense had been lit, every surface had been covered in either deep, burnished mahogany or red crush velour, and there was a pot of aromatic tea brewing just in case on the counter. The thing that was most unusual though, was that every last scrap of ship noise had been silenced as soon as they crossed the threshold. Not even the cycling of the grav-plating could be felt.

"What the effin' f***?" Briaar muttered as she looked around the room, wondering if they were still on the same ship. She moved like a woman in a full-body cast, tilting at the waist, not the neck to do so, and as she did, little Minnie took this moment to chime in with a garbled, "F**K! He he he!!"

Turning as red as Fiona's hair, the portly porcine gave an awkward grin towards the green-skinned photonic life form, "Heh! Frickin' kids, right? Heh. Sorry, we kinda couldn't get a sitter this late."

"S'alreet, Briaar," O'Dell opined as she slid off the pram and back onto her feet, only to crouch down to begin unsnapping Minnie from her safety harness. "She kin only work on one of us at a time, so ye go, I'll mind the wee one and joost relax. fetch us oop some bee- ah shite, I canna drink, doctor's orders. Phooey."

"Phooey!" Minnie mimicked, and Fiona leaned close to grin in the child's face, then stuck out her tongue. "Aye, that's reet! Phooey!"

"Phoey!" Minerva mimicked, then squealed with delight as Fiona tousled her hair, up in bows as usual. Taking the large tot onto the plush carpet with her, Fiona found a floor cushion to place beneath her bony butt, spread her spindly legs and kept the little one between them as Minnie played with Cueball and sucked on her pacifier.

Still leaning on the pram, Briaar grinned and let out a snort of a laugh as she turned to look at Fiona and Minnie, but the laugh quickly turned into a grimace. "GYAAAGH!!! Yeah, forgot not to move my frickin' neck! Shit!"

"Uh... so... I guess... what do you need me to do, uh, Doc?" Briaar knitted her eyebrows as she addressed the thinly robed woman.

"Please, just Maica is fine," the well endowed holographic woman insisted as she pulled back the curtain to the inner massage parlor, revealing the massage table, a large tank built into the wall containing two large Bolian squid, and a pair of tables full of mysterious-looking bottles. "If you'll come back here and disrobe, I'll have a relaxation tonic ready for you in just a moment, then we can get you on the table so I can work you over, ok?"

"Dis... uh... yeah, right. Okay. I can... uh... I can... uh..." Gavarus hemmed and hawed slightly as she stepped into the chamber, looking around and taking in all the unusual fixtures and details. "Yeah, and... um... disrobing. Right."

Nervously, the two-meter tall, one hundred and ninety-five-kilogram Tellarite pulled the pajamas off stiffly, tucking her arms and legs into her soft and wide middle to try and cover herself up as best as possible, self-conscious about her large body in the moment.

"No, don't be self-conscious," Maica insisted as she finished mixing the small fizzing concoction and handed it off to Gavarus. "Now drink up. It'll help relax you. And if it'll help you relax, I'll disrobe as well." Without a second thought, Maica shed her robe and tossed it aside, the red holographically generated fabric dissolving before it could hit the floor.

On the floor, O'Dell's eyes shot wide open as she took in the sight of the holographic hottie whom the pint-sized pilot did not know was actually photonic. What she did know was that a number of emotions were colliding at the same time.

Sins, to be more precise.

There was most certainly envy. Tall, lithe graceful, long of limb and perfectly formed as if a sculptor had carved her then airbrushed her green. Hair that fell in cascading waves, falling effortlessly into place even when she completely changed it's direction. A butt that literally was heart-shaped, with her tiny waspish waist which very clearly never saw a sandwich. Or a beer, the thought of which made O'Dell's stomach gurgle. making its desires known. Feeling envy confused O'Dell a bit. Fiona had seen plenty of humanoid bodies, in all manner of undress. While she might not wish to be as she was, she never really looked at others wishing for their gifts. She had hers, and by and large, she was content with her lot in life, secure in who she was.

Maica III 47, however, was no ordinary woman.

The superheroic physique she sported kindled something to which O'Dell was unaccustomed- wounded pride. She could see Gavarus was trying awfully hard not to look, but sneaking guilty glances. As she had no interest she'd offered an open relationship to Briaar, who had refused, deciding she could live with 'alone time' and wanted to be devoted solely to her sexless wee Fiona. Seeing the effect it had on her gal somehow still struck at her, and she felt jealousy for the first time in their relationship. Which was odd for her too, because she still didn't care if Briaar got her rocks off elsewhere.

Yet that pang she felt, with her envy and her wounded pride as Minnie loomed up in her vision, forgotten briefly in the little lass of the heather's contemplation of something a bit beyond her experience.

Taking the small cup, Gavarus downed it like the seasoned drinker she was as her eyes went wide and her cheeks went as red as the robe that had dissolved into nothing. Gulping the drink down it got caught up in her throat as she began to hack and cough slightly, turning towards the table to lean on it as she coughed, clearing her throat and looking anywhere but at Maica's endowments.

"*KAFF* Yeah... *KAFF COUGH COUGH* Much... much more relaxed." The ponderous porcine hacked. As she did, her small curly tail flexed up with each cough.

"Shhh... there there..." Maica rubbed Gavarus's back as she coughed, leading her over to the massage table. "Most people take it a little slower, you know. But that's ok. You'll be ok in a moment. As soon as you're ready we'll get you face down on the table and I'll start working you over, ok?"

Stiffening up slightly at Maica's touch for a moment out of nervousness, Briaar gulped loudly. The Tellarite engineer was a lesbian with a decent sex drive in a relationship with an asexual woman, and while she had more than enough means to handle her urges, she was nonetheless, not immune to Maica's attractiveness.

"Okay, Doc... Sorry, Maica. I'm... I'm good. But I don't know if that mickey of yours is gonna really have much of an effect on me. I mean, I'm... well... you can see how big I am, and I've got a pretty strong tolerance for..." Then she paused and her eyebrows raised high as a slight smile crept across her lips. "Ooooor not. Okay, I feel that. Nice. That's some good shit."

"Okay... table. got it." Gavarus, starting to feel the effects of the concoction, smirked a bit as she drug her leg up on the narrow table and slid awkwardly on to the top, dragging her belly across the surface, roughly. "Damn lower nipples. Ow."

As Maica helped Gavarus up onto the table, she explained a bit. "I'm linked into the room's scanners and took into account your height, weight... Alcohol tolerance... You should be a big rubbery, relaxed, space piggy for me."

Having gotten her porcine patient on the padded place of palpation, Maica began with slow, even circles at the top of Gavarus's neck, working her way down towards her shoulders. "And soon we'll have you right as rain with a rainbow shine."

As the green-hued masseuse worked on her porcine patient's neck, Briaar winced slightly. "Yeah, AAAAGH! That... That's the spot. Well, one of the spots. Tryin' t' sleep on that bio-bed all crooked really screwed my back up. Feel like I got hugged by the Thunderchicken all over again."

"Aw, fer crissakes," O'Dell muttered under her breath as a spark of anger lit within her. The time she'd damn near killed her partner was a weird haze of exhaustion, which was and yet was not her. Still, guilt stabbed at her whenever she thought of it, and remembering how scared she was that she'd killed Briaar. Kind of her. Whichever it had been, the guilt lived on, and the mention of it churned the esoteric ensign's emotions. Which in turn made her reach for the furry child that was a third her size now, and pull her in close hugging her like a rather adorable doll.

Nothing was missed by the holographic hottie as she studied the feed she was getting from the parlour's sensor feeds. As she cracked Gavarus's neck and realigned it, then moved on down her spine, she decided to pepper in a bit of light conversation. "I couldn't help but notice how cute little Minnie is. Enalia mentioned she's growing up fast, but I think she might be a bit more adorable than our little Moira."

"Damn Skippy! Minnie is the cutest little girl in th'... Ooh... In th' galaxy." Briaar said, slurring slightly but still with pride in her voice. "But we're biased when it comes to our little Manure machine. She's... She's jus' one's th' best things that ever happened t' me. I love that little cheeseburger so much."

It was clear that Maica's muscle relaxer was having a considerable effect on the tipsy Tellarite. "One'a the best.." she muttered, smiling and trying to look over towards where Fiona sat with Minnie, though her snout was wedged in the small opening in the table and she couldn't quite turn her head to do so as a result.

"We both have pretty amazing families, don't we? Though I'm not sure I agree with Enalia already trying to teach little Moira swordplay. I mean, it's a plastic sword, but still... Isn't that a bit much?" With a quick press and a pop, Maica realigned several of Gavarus's vertebrae before moving further down to her lower back. "Did you want a hooficure as well?"

"I dunno." Gavarus mumbled, groaning slightly as the massage felt really good. "I mean, I show Minnie when I'm working on an engine or a part in our quarters, and she plays along with her li'l blocks n' shit. An' Fee's brought her in th' simulater a couple'a times showing her how t' fly. I mean, she don' understand any of it yet, but it's a way t'... ya' know... commect an' shit."

"So, she's connecting with a toy sword. I bet the L-C'll teach her and th' chief's li'l birds how t' fight event'lly. It's all good." Gavarus had been going on, finally remembering the other question asked. As she did, she bent her knees and stuck her disproportionately small hooves in the air and wiggled the around. 

"Nah, they're fine. An' b'sides, Fee needs t' get taken care'a too. I'm feelin' much better, but she's still hurtin' more than she wants me t' know, but I saw." Gavarus muttered, a little louder, yelling through the hole in the table. "I saw you wincing! I know your head still hurts! It's yer turn, Feebers. Y' gotta g't better, too."

“Feeber? Ugh, dinna call me that,” grumbled the lilliputian lass. “Take yuir time… Doc said 24 hours til I kin return to duty innyhow, and if yuir nae able to work we canna get innything done. So get yuir hooficure, I’m foine.” As she was wont to do, Fiona lied, trying to cover for her physical infirmities. In point of fact, her head was pounding, the three breaks in her jaw the doctor had mended were still sore, and while the soft tissues had been regenerated, the discs in her upper vertebrae were still swollen with fluid, leading her to said migraine. But she didn’t want to be thought incapable, so as always she lied to pretend she was fine as she hugged the bovine babe, who was now reaching for the hamster ball containing the family pet.

"Uh... o... okay." Briaar said, suddenly noticing Fiona's mood as she tried course correcting her previous statement. "S.. sorry. I... I didn't mean a... anything, Fee... sorry... Fiona."

Immediately, the engineer on the table tensed back up as her nervous stutter kicked in. The cricks in her neck and back were gone and she wasn't in pain anymore, but a high tolerance for intoxicants meant that the groggy effects of the muscle relaxer were easy enough to shake off when she picked up on Fiona's tone. Immediately, she tried to figure out what she had done wrong, running through the last few minutes to the best of her recollections and failing to figure anything out.

Pulling her hooves back down, Briaar scooched off of the table and grabbed her pajamas and held them up in front of her as she stood behind the table. "I... I'm done. I don't need a hoofa... thingy... to work the numbers on the belt or anything. I can watch Minnie... uh... Min...Minerva. But you should probably get looked at. I'm... I'm worried about you."

For someone so large, Briaar immediately looked like the smallest person in the room, holding her pajamas up in front of her like a child afraid of making her parents angry. She didn't understand what was wrong, but she knew enough to know Fiona was upset... and upset at her. Continuing, Briaar was struggling to not make another mistake or say the wrong thing again. "I c... can see it. You're too pale and you keep squinting. I... I know what headaches and p... pain look like." 

"All right then, it's your turn, Fiona. Disrobe and I'll help you up on the table," Maica patted the table as she waited for the slightly smaller woman to comply. "I'll do what I can to help with your condition as well, unless you'd rather go to sickbay."

Looking over at the emerald-skinned bombshell and feeling acutely aware of the differences between them, compounded by Gavarus getting nervous and unsure just made Fiona that much more miserable. She had no desire to disrobe in front of the woman who was so very, VERY clearly a WOMAN, as opposed to O'Dell's pre-adolescent build. Of course, she didn't want to get yelled at by the doctor either, and possibly grounded for even longer for disobeying doctor's orders. Rising from the floor with a wince, the midget approached the buxom beauty, looking up at her from beneath her brows, trying not to stare at the nipple that was roughly eye level with her.

"Um... do I hafta take me clothes off...?" O'Dell asked, one hand crossing her body to grasp her elbow in a stunning display of self-conscious body issues. "I'm really nae comfortable wi' nekkedness..."

"It would certainly help and we're all women here..." Maica rested one hand on O'Dell's shoulder as she continued speaking. "Sweetie, I'm sorry, I know I'm a bit much to take in at times, But believe me when I say that clothed or nude, biological or photonic, it's what's in your heart that matters. My origins may have been for sex... And I won't lie, there's still a lot of those subroutines in me... But with the captain of this vessel, I've found something truly wonderful that I wouldn't give up for anything. Just having seen you a few times in passing and meeting you here and now? I think you both might know what that something is. Don't you?"

Maica then bent over just slightly so she could look the slightly shorter woman in the eye. "Now tell me if I'm wrong, but I don't think that some holographic masseuse is ever going to get in the way of that something, now is it?"

Pulling back a bit and screwing up her face, O'Dell looked confused. "Wot? Nae! Nah, noo, s'not..." Waving her hands before her and taking a step back, the pipsqueak pilot tried to qualify her feelings. Which was a process normally aided by alcohol. but in this case, it was not, and that wasn't helping. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as she did so, Fiona O'Dell attempted to articulate her emotions.

"Mum, if she 'twas on the table and ye offered me partner a 'happy endin', I'd be fine with it. She's got a hella sex drive, and I respect it. I dinna want ta watch, mind, but I just dinna get the bodies slappin thing. But... ah, see'in ye in the, ah, altogether and all... I think ah maaay joost have an idea what it;s supposed ta be aboot. I mean yuir... uh. Yuir like... sex that walks and talks and has it's own parlor and joost...." Looking down, O'Dell rubbed her elbow a bit more. Her headache was pounding and she felt frustrated, though she couldn't define why. Glancing back at Briaar, who was still hoofing on eggshells, Fiona offered a smile she hoped would put her partner more at ease.

"Seein ye makes m'feel like..." Mariposian maiden looked frustrated as she struggled to find the words to define what she was feeling. "Ah mean, I knoow m'not a woman s'mooch as a child, joost... mostly adult sized and in me thirties. I know I'm short and small and generally annoyin on account of me chirpy disposition and me accent which is the dogs's boolocks, I'll have ye know. But point bein', I dinna dislike meself. I know what I look like wi' me big frizzy mop and me pale skin and me knobby knees and bony elbows. I'm alreet wi'that, because s'part'a who i am, and part'a what lets me do what I do."

"But seein ye... I mean like, alla," O'Dell waved a hand in the general direction of Maica's hourglass torso and prodigious bosom, then looked up to the full ppouting lips, perfect teeth, straight nose, flawless skin and practically glowing eyes, O'Dell looked as she felt- a bit lesser. "Alla ye. Ye joost make me feel... not good aboot meself. S'not your fault, m'nae sayin that. Joost me, an'... that's all. I joost had ta get that offa me chest was all." Looking down at her bird chest then back to the twin ripe melons currently staring at her in perfect symmetry, a frazzled smile tried to settle in on the face of the leprechaun who'd been knocked out by a Klingon that morning.

"You should never compare yourself against other people." The holographic vixen couldn't help but smile warmly and pull O'Dell into a tender hug. "Especially when those other people are sculpted from the depraved minds of Ferengi and doubly so when that holographic sack of flesh you're comparing yourself to has trouble feeding her own child and doesn't have a tenth of the accomplishments you do. I'm only like a year old, after all. I can play the harp, piano, and violin perfectly... But there's no emotion in it. It took me a week to figure out the kitchenette in our quarters. I still don't understand the plumbing in the refresher. I'm still not even sure what purpose diaper rash serves or what it even is. I'm sorry I have no shame and you're uncomfortable. If you want, I'll put something on."

"It's not that ye hae na shame, mum. I mean, ye dinna, but tisn't ye, tis me, that's all. It joost... I dinna compare meself to other people but, uh, ye... help me oot, here, Briaar?" the blushing Bringloidian looked back and waved her hand in a circular motion at Gavarus.

Having listened and having fully sobered up, Briar had a more pronounced frown on her face that punctuated her wildly conflicting feelings and as she spoke, it was clear that she was becoming less frightened and more upset. She was upset that Fiona had taken her emotions out on her earlier. She was upset that, in spite of what Fiona said, Briaar knew it wasn’t the complete truth. And she was upset to see Fiona talking poorly about herself.

Stuttering at first, the panicking porcine tried to express what she was thinking and defend Fiona’s emotions at the same time. "Shit. You aren’t upset because you’re comparing yourself to her. I… I think you’re upset because you think I’M comparing you to her?” It was a frightening statement slash question for the normally emotionally guarded Tellarite to say in front of someone else and she was terrified at how Fiona was going to react. “Are… are you… jealous?”

"Nae, m'not jealous... well, s'nae true, I AM jealous," O'Dell admitted, still struggling to quantify her feelings. "Not because I think yuir comparin me ta Miss Maica, Briaar, joost... comparin' meself to her. I almost never feel self-conscious, boot... yeah, in this case it joost kinda snuck up on me. I know tisn't fair at all to ye mum, and I apologize, joost... I dunno. I got punched in the head by an angry Klingon today. S'not me best day."

The anxiety Briaar was feeling was starting to crack finally as she listened. And realizing she was still standing there naked, she quickly threw her pajamas back on awkwardly as she replied. "Well... F***. I get THAT! I mean... look at that shit."

Then she glanced over to Maica, "No offense."

"She's frickin'... well. look at her. Like she said: Ferengi programmed sex doll... no offense. She makes me feel like.. like a 200-kilogram sack a' shit too. Uh... no offense." Gavarus grimaced nervously. "But I think we're making her feel self-conscious too in a lot of ways. I mean, we all kinda feel inadequate in a bunch of ways. I'm fat and ugly and hairy and a literal pig. But you like me anyway. And I like you. And she's a program with no experience with kids and she's looking at us with Minnie and feeling like 'less than' too. I think we're all beating ourselves up here and we don't have to. And in your case, S'Rina did that damn well enough. So... it's okay. We can feel shitty sometimes."

"Yeah, no offense taken," Maica replied with a wave of her hand. "I'm custom-designed for sex so obviously I'm great at it... But the two of you, you're naturals when it comes to childcare. Don't deny it, I saw the approval for Minnie's adoption cross her desk at home. Miss Fiona, you're one of the best pilots this side of the Barzan wormhole and a woman that definitely knows who she is and what she wants. Miss Briaar, you're an engineer that could give anyone in the Federation a run for their money and you stand up for those you care about."

"So yeah, the sex hologram is saying that looks don't matter and it's what's inside that counts," Maica rested one hand on her hip jauntily, the same way Enalia did. "But you know what? It's still true. Isn't it?"

“Aye mum, that it is. I know that, it joost…” Rolling her eyes, Fiona exhaled. “I’m sorry, yuir nae catchin’ me at me best today. I guess it was joost…” the midget Mariposian gestured to Maica’s impressive physique. “Seein it in alla it’s glory kinda… aye, yuir right, mum. Tis the insides that count. Especially when it comes to me family,” O’Dell looked over at her porcine partner and smiled, a weary but happy smile. “Ah do see the beauty in ye, and tis why we’re together, aye?”

"Damn skippy. And I know you do. You... you snuggle with my legs when I've not shaved in a MONTH. You don't care that I'm all bumpy and hairy and weird. And all I see in you is beautiful, Fee." Briaar said, allowing a smile to leak out of her face. "To me... you're frickin' Perfect. I love your big, green eyes and your soft, wild hair and I love holding you when we're together. It... you make me frickin' stupid happy." Gavarus said, trying not to let herself get too emotional. "Because I can sleep on a tiny ass biobed if you're in it. Because I want to raise a frickin' BABY with you. Because I write 'Briaar O'Dell' in my notebooks in the lab like a thirteen-year-old when I think about you. I frickin' love you."

At the mention of the word 'baby', Minnie waved her arms from the floor where she was rolling Cueball's ball around gently and squealed, "B'BY!!!" Which just made Briaar blush and chuckle more.

“Aye, bebeh,” Fiona replied, bending down a bit to eye Minnie with an encouraging smile. Then she straightened up and eyed the tall Tellarite with something of a squint, as her skull reminded her of her migraine. “Briaar O’Dell, huh? I thought we were keepin' all our last names? Ye want to make it more official-like, is that what yuir tellin me…?”

Turning beat red, Gavarus glanced over to Maica for a second then back to Fiona as she swallowed, "I... I dunno. I've been... I've b... been THINKING about it since we talked to your dad and.. I dunno!"

"MAN, my back feels better. Miracle worker she is, you should let her fix you up, Fee. Yeah, magic hands and shit, because we're talking about you, not me and you can probably just keep your clothes on and she can just amp her sensors a notch and shit and right? That's a thing, right? Yeah... MasSAGE!" Briaar started rambling nervously, having not realized what she had said until Fiona tossed it back to her. And like the proverbial hot potato, the Tellarite engineer was trying to toss it back, fidgeting like a little kid. It was, quite frankly, adorable as she mugged slightly at Fiona and side-eyed Maica trying to convey that it was something she would much rather talk about later.

Picking up on her cue, Fiona O’Dell deftly changed the subject. “Aye, aye, yuir right as usual, Alreet mum, if ye dinna mind, I would like to take advantage of yuir magic hands. I got knocked out by a Klingon this mornin’ and me head hurts, me body aches and to be honest I feel like someone ran over me with a shuttlecraft. So if ye wouldnae mind, I’d vurrh mooch appreciate a bit ‘o help. Also, if, ah, ye wouldnae mind, I’d… rilly like to not get nekked. I’m… I know we’re all girls here an’ all, but… if ye kin believe it, it makes me more uncomfortable than Briaar even?”

"I can work with that," Maica replied. "But I'll have to tweak my emitters to go through them so my touch will feel a bit weird, ok? Now if you could hop up on the bed please? And at least loosen your top so I can administer some topical medicines to your neck and upper back?"

As Maica spoke, Gavarus flumped onto the deck next to Minnie, and began playing with the fuzzy toddler.

Brightening with relief, O’Dell smiled. “Aye mum, I kin do that. And I kin do this at least,” Peeling off her loose t-shirt, O’Dell was wearing a snug sports bra she clearly didn’t need beneath it. Climbing up onto the table, the skinny stunt flyer grunted a bit at the resultant discomfort, but she settled into place where indicated. “Alreet mum, work yuir magic, if ye please.”

Waving at Minnie and Briaar with the hand on that side, O’Dell tried to relax and enjoy the experience.

Maica busied herself with her work, running two fingers across every vertebrae in Fiona's body before retrieving some medicated ointment and really getting down to it. With her thumbs and fingertips, she rubbed the ointment into the back of Fiona's head and the back of her neck, the pungent and minty scent filling the room as she massaged out the excess pressure, worked out the tension in the muscles, and popped every single joint expertly on her way down. "You'll feel a bit light-headed for a bit, but that should pass relatively quickly. Doc Power is good, but he isn't a massage therapist. You really should have come to see me after he released you."

A gentle snore was Maica's reply as chakras aligned and the pain relieved, O'Dell was lightly that quickly asleep, fully able to relax. But Maica's melodious voice had roused the picayune pilot. "Hah? Wazzat? Ach, I think yuir right. Ye should deeeefinitely get worked inta that process. I'll certainly be seein ye next time I coom oota Medical. Aaaaach, that's bleedin wonnnderful... oh aye, right... zzzzzz..."

"And that's how Enalia sleeps so well at night..." Maica mumbled as she finished with Fiona's neck and shoulders and worked her way down the shorter woman's spine, popping each one back into place with relative ease and rubbing the medicated ointment in as she went.

When she was done, she left her patient on the table and took a jar of the pungent ointment over to Briaar. "If she ever has trouble sleeping, rub some of this on her neck and shoulders, ok? It works wonders on most human-type races for breathing issues, aches, and insomnia."

Taking the jar, Briar took a whiff with her snout as she replied. "Usually, she sleeps like a cat. Ya' know, except when she's been cold-cocked by a Klingon during testing." As she did, Minnie took a sniff, crinkled her fuzzy nose and let out a squeaky sneeze.

"Oop. That got right up your nose, there. Didn't it, Minnie Moo? Here, I gotcha." Without missing a beat, Gavarus bunched up the sleeve of her pajama top and wiped Minerva's nose clean with a quick swipe. "But, ya'know, thanks. Thanks for everything, Doc."

"I'm not a doctor. You can just call me Maica," she replied with a warm smile. "Now... Do you want to stay here a while and let her rest? Or dare wake her and get her back to your own bed? Or maybe try something crazy like a site to site transport?"

Getting up from the floor, Gavarus walked over to the table and pondered as Minnie wobbled behind her, grabbing her pant leg for support. "Well, a site to site would wake her up AND freak her out, probably. And staying here would have me sleeping somewhere weird and jacking my back up again. Soooo..."

Running her arms along the bottom of the pad on the top of the table, with a light grunt Briaar simply lifted the entire pad from the table, with Fiona on in, in her arms with ease. "I've carried her back to our quarters more than a few times after a fun night. D'you mind if I borrow this? And d'you think you could help me out and push Minnie in her stroller. We're just down on deck 14."

"Definitely," Maica replied with more than a little cheer as she hefted the baby minotaur and plopped her into her stroller, doing her best to buckle the horned babe in before getting behind it to follow along behind Briaar.

She then snapped her fingers, remembering something incredibly important. "I almost forgot..." Snapping her fingers again, Maica materialized her robe around herself, tying it in front so that she was at the very least no longer nude and presentable enough to be walking the corridors of the Hera. "I rarely travel via corridor, so... yeah..."

"Yeaaaaah, that will probably be better. Heh" Gavarus blushed for a moment as she whispered over her shoulder, careful to not wake Fiona, who was practically purring like the proverbial kitten as she slept in Briaar's arms. 

As they made their way into the corridor and towards the nearest turbolift, Gavarus kept whispering so as to not wake Fiona, who had begun to curl up tight towards the towering Tellarite's chest. "So, this looks perfectly normal, right. Just me carrying my sig-ot on a massage table mat down the corridor while the Captain's wife pushes our baby in her pram. Nothing court martially about anything here, right? Yeesh."

"Parents of the year, we ain't."

"Perhaps not, but we are far from the worst," Maica replied as they rounded a corridor and watched a crewman slam face first into a bulkhead at the sight. The holographic woman winced and wanted to reach out and help him, but decided that it would likely only embarrass him further. "Ah, but let's get home as quickly as possible..."

"Yeaaah, I... I think that's a good idea." Gavarus replied as, in the pram, little Minnie giggled, bouncing up and down at the crewman who walked into the bulkhead, pointing and squeaking, "A'GIN!"

The mod minidress clad maiden of the USS Hera, the lost navigator who served as her first officer strode into the galley, to the clattering of at least one pan as someone got nervous around the line officer. While Paris was known to be gregarious and chatty, high ranking officers strolling through any section of the starship where they were seldom seen tended to make the enlisted personnel nervous. Gracious and calm, she asked for directions to the petty officer she sought until she located the head chef, then she waited for him to finish what he was doing and notice her presence.

How could one not admire such beauty? thought Cicero to himself as he finished mincing some exotic bulb vegetable, definitely in the Allium genus. It had a similar look, scent, and feel of a bulb onion from Earth with the exception its elongated bellish look which made it look closer to a shallot than that of a rounded bulb onion. It had skin, layers, and when cut into released syn-propanethial-S-oxide, but the starship's environmental systems helped combat the liquid being exposed to the air.

Once finished mining, he had set them aside to mingle with the starships displaced Executive Officer. "I hope there wasn't a complaint about the scent. They are rather pungent, but I assure you they are perfectly safe and will be absolutely delicious when I'm through with them" he said promisingly. "Just not something I'll be offering to the Vulcans less I be dealt with a nerve pinch or two" he teased.

"I have absolute faith in your abilities, Chef," the first officer offered with a winning, easygoing smile. "So far I've heard all good things about what comes out of your kitchen. So, I'm coming down here on a multiple mission today. See how you are settling, see how you are finding our facilities and crew, and maybe pick up a recipe or two from you. While I'm not the worst cook, my meals tend to be rather provincial- intergalactic cuisine wasn't nearly what is is today back on Earth in my day. So, while I understand a number of vegetarian dishes, I'd like to expand my repertoire if you have the time and inclination. For instance, what are you making here?"

Cicero smiled and gestured for the woman to come around into the galley. "Well, if you're here to learn you certainly aren't going to be doing much learning from that side of the room" he said teasingly. "I'm glad nobody has filed any complaints or negative reports about me yet, but I appreciate your faith nonetheless" he said genuinely as he started showing her what he had been doing.

"So, I'm mincing this vegetable here and I'm going to use it in a vegetarian dish. It's very much like a bulb onion from Earth. So, please excuse the odor from it as it is rather pungent, but believe me....delicious in stuff, but I don't advise eating it by itself unless you want to have a fierce case of prospering from your pores and a burning sensation on your tongue" he informed her.

He then gestured to an area where he had big balls of dough. "Don't tell the Italians, but the French boy is going to be making some pizza" he whispered. "With those" he added gesturing once more to the pungent foreign onion-like vegetable. "With cheese, spinach, and a little broccoli" he noted.

That got a laugh out of the nubile navigator as she came around the table. “Aside from ratatouille and a few casseroles, my actual French cooking repertoire is nowhere near as extensive as Italian cuisine. Since most of their recipes tend to be easy to make without the addition of meat, I rely on pasta dishes pretty heavily. But I’ve not really done pizza so much, so color me interested.”

Leaning down, she took an experimental sniff of the onion, then came back up, eyes watering. “Ohhh, you were not kidding about that… alien onion, that’s strong all right. So, color me engaged. What’s the plan, Chef?”

"When it comes to food, Commander, I rarely tease" commented Cicero. "French food can be nice, but when it comes down to it I don't like to cage myself. The culinary world is ever-expanding. The more worlds we visit, the more ingredients we acquire and can use" added Cicero.

He pointed at the dough. "First things first...we stretch that dough out so we can get our pizza going. Have you ever wrestled dough by hand, Commander?"

"Can't say as I really have, Chef. Biscuits and cookies and such, but never a yeasty dough like this, no. So what's our first step, a little flour sprinkled for non-stick?" The commander was engaged, clearly unafraid to own up to what she didn't know, and was an eager pupil. "I'm all ears, tough!"

"You don't look Vulcan or Ferengi to me" he replied teasingly "But being a good listener is half the battle. Following directions and knowing your ingredients is another part of it. You're right though" he added. Cicero gestured to a stack of boards in the corner. "We need to wrestle with this dough a while and get it out of ball form until it is decently thin, but not paper-thin. You'll want to throw some flour onto the boards then slap your ball of dough onto it. Feel free to sprinkle more flour onto the dough if needed or onto your hands...sometimes it has a tendency to want to stick to you."

"Sound advice," Paris grinned, skimming some of the flour over her hands and coating the palms and sides efficiently. "Dough slapping is definitely not in my skillset, so this seems the perfect time to learn." As she mimicked his motions, following his example top learn the technique, the friendly first officer changed the subject.

"So how are you finding the Hera?" Paris asked solicitously. "Getting out much, or just waiting by the river here and getting to know your shipmates, since they do come to you, after all."

Cicero smiled and chuckled with a gleam in his eyes. "Not to knock your position, Commander, but I have a wonderful job aboard this starship. I get all the socialization with the crew that you do and more; However, I don't get the pressure of command decisions. My primary concern is keeping the crew well-fed, not getting cited during inspections, and staying in the good graces of dieticians" he replied.

He was truly happy aboard the USS Hera. It was everything and more than what he could have dreamt of. "I get to see the crew through good times and bad. We travel through the stars and sometimes when we are in orbit of a planet or moon, I have a splendid view from up here."

“Not a whit of offense taken, Chef,” Paris replied with an easy smile. “All your points are true and valid. It takes an entire crew to keep her running, and your job may be more important than mine. You feed us, keep one eye on our health, maintain the barometer of the crew and officers, and you got to be everyone’s friend.”

“I’d say that I envy you, but we all have our strengths, and we all have our jobs to do. Mine is just insuring everyone does their jobs, and that the crew have what they need to do their jobs, both in tools and materials and personnel. Given how starship life has changed in the last century and a half, it’s comforting to know some things haven’t really changed a bit.” Flipping the dough, Paris continued to knead it as she spoke- never concentrating too much on one task, but watching, working and talking all at the same time. It was clear that multitasking was a high priority on the Commander’s skill list.

"And to be fair, the vistas and views are pretty darn spectacular," she agreed.

Cicero gestured to a container. "Had some free time last night after most everyone turned in and the skeleton crew had night watch. So, I thought I would sneak in and get a head start on things" he confessed. "That is part of the magic of how I'm getting everything done...a few extra minutes to an hour when I'm supposed to be 'relaxing' or 'sleeping'" he noted. "That would be the sauce in the container. Just need to pour it on once our dough is stretched and spread it thinly, but leave some room at the edges. That's going to form our crust" explained the culinary specialist.

"You have a lot of duties and responsibilities, Commander" commented Cicero. "Don't think for a moment that it goes unnoticed. You do far more than keep the crew in line and ensure we are all doing our jobs; Without you, the ship falls apart from the inside out. You take command of away teams and in a heartbeat assume command of the starship when the need arises."

“You are unsurprisingly well-informed, Chef,” Paris replied with a piper’s smile. “A wise man once told me that the best first officers are those qualified to command, yet choose to support their captain instead. Captain Telvan saved my life, in more ways than one. Back in my day a lady captain or first officer were practically nonexistent. But in the modern-day, I’m entrusted to do all of those things… and I’m happy to have the opportunity to contribute. Much like yourself- we all have our gifts, but we excel when we are called upon to rise to the challenge, no? And this ship certainly has challenging missions.”

"Back in your day they thought it a good idea to have an archaic revival of fashion and other things" said Cicero. "That's the only way I can account for the Starfleet uniforms of the time. Not that the skirt uniform looks bad on you, but it was a strange, strange time" he said with a smile. "Then again they did try it once more in the 2360s with unisex those skant things, no thank you. I like my trousers just fine."

"Mister Sonak has a theory on that one, which I can easily subscribe to. Society, when not run purely by logic, as most societies are not, tends to operate on a pendulum. Human society in particular. So we will swing all the way toward respecting everyone's personhood, eliminating discrimination, rising above our petty differences just to look at one another as equals, all important, all exploring the universe in our own way." Kneading the dough as she spoke, the Commander was clearly enjoying the topic.

"Then with a sufficient bent to some fascism, and a recovery from that, you're back to men wolf whistling at lady officers who are called upon to bare their legs in hosiery and knee boots with heels. A man has to crawl through a duct? No problem. A female officer hasd to crawl through that duct? It's like watching a Miradonian plumage display. Floomf!" Paris laughed musically at her own joke, then her kneading slowed as she slid a bit into reverie.

"That was the thing, though... I owned this uniform. It was sexist and degrading and I made it all work. Loot at these heels," Paris bent her leg at the knee and extended her thigh back a bit to bring the heel of her chunky high-heeled boot into view. Her black-clad legs were defined, but hard to see as more than a shape in the inky black tights she wore. "I can walk up a wall with these things... kind of. They have gravity magnets in them, so I can at least secure myself. Plus those treads really are amazing- I almost never slide, and no matter what angle they land on, these heels get a grip."

Putting her hoof back beneath her with a runner's side-step, Paris gestured to the rest of the uniform. "All I have are the reinforced slits at the waist and gravity magnets at the hip and back for the phaser and the tricorder, so since I can fish around in my top, I use it for storage. I know, dignified officer TMI, right?" the first officer made a face and finished her thought. "Point is, I worked hard to make this mod minidress, which was a throwback to one of the most chauvinistic times to be alive for which I will happily report I do not miss in the least, no matter how nostalgic I may wax upon it."

"But the pioneer spirit that drove those space-exploring madmen, those starship cowboys... they laid the railroad tracks for civilizations to grow, and grow they did. That's why the miniskirt, and the old delta of command, Chef Delacroix. To honor the generation of which I was a part, and the ideals they represented. The good and the bad." At that, Paris rolled her eyes a bit, then tossed in, "Plus I'm a bit of an exhibitionist, and I want to make people aware on meeting me that I'm a throwback. This is all a high-tech future to me, and I often don't understand things other people take for granted. So I give them a big hint up front. I think it works... well, honest question time, Chef. Does it work?"

Cicero sucked in his bottom lip for most of the woman's monologue. She was a starlet and there was no denying that. Earth had it's Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburns, and Josephine Bakers; Cicero had learned about them from his time on Earth. He had an acquaintance who was somewhat of an aficionado of all things old and glamorous. This is way more than I wanted to ever know about a superior officer, let alone about the First Officer he thought to himself. "Uh...like headlights...big voluptuous headlights, Ma'am" he said responding to her. His eyes locked onto her breasts like a Borg cube's holding beam onto a defenseless vessel.

He reversed thrustered himself back into his work station and thumped his tailbone against the edge. "Com...com..com COMMANDER!" he said in a slightly raised voice. "I'm very interested in everything you said about logic and civilizations reverting back to times past. It was all very fascinating, but I must admit I am a little uncomfortable with....this" he struggled to explain as he regained his footing. "I'm here to make food and maybe some friends. I do not mean to offend you" he said calming himself.

He brought his voice down a few octaves and gulped. "You are a very beautiful woman...and my superior. I have nothing but the highest respect for you" he said, his cheeks rosy as he blushed. "I'm just...oh this is kind of embarrassing. If you are coming onto me...I'm not interested, Commander Ma'am."

Those bright blue eyes narrowed, as clearly the man hadn't been listening to what she said, and he'd been choosing to infer what he wanted from what she'd been saying. When she spoke, gone were the friendly lilting tones she'd been employing, replaced by the unmistakable steel of a commander who was making it abundantly clear to an enlisted man who was laboring under a misconception just exactly what was going on. "I am married, Petty Officer Delacroix. Even if I weren't, I wouldn't fraternize. Apparently my frank and casual conversational style has led to misinterpretation. Let me make this abundantly clear, then. I am not 'coming on to you'. Nothing in this conversation has been intended to give you that impression in any way, shape or form. I was discussing the anachronistic and sexist nature of my uniform, which was not intended to sexually harass you whatsoever. if you feel that you have been subjected to harassment, you may feel to file a complaint and we can settle this matter through military justice channels."

Dusting off her hands, the first officer drew herself erect, her demeanor far from the casual and friendly ease of a moment ago, now quite the picture of rigid military discipline. turning abruptly and without another word, the Commander performed an about-face and marched out of the kitchen, clearly insulted and aggravated by the encounter.

Petty Officer Delacroix would find himself rotated off the Hera the very next day, to be assigned to Starbase 23, on the border of the Klingon and Romulan Star Empires. It seemed that insulting a superior officer often came with a price, and it was now taking form in a duty assignment in a very hostile sector of space. As for Commander Paris, she learned not to mingle with the enlisted and try to have actual conversations with them. She continued to learn her recipes from cookbooks, which suited her just fine.

It was, she decided, her own recipe for happiness.

"Okay, Fee. I know this is gonna sound weird, but I actually need you to do a little dance here." Ensign Briaar Gavarus said from the control console off to the port side of the elevated flight deck where the R&D Department of the U.S.S. Hera made its home.

In the center of the deck, the red-headed Ensign, Fiona O'Dell, sat in the snug but comfortable cockpit of the silver-skinned transformable mech called the Banshee. A variable mode fighter designed by the R&D Department chief, Ensign Mona Gonadie, and built by Gonadie and Gavarus. The canopy of the cockpit was retracted into the body, which was angled slightly to the deck, but mostly horizontal as the mech was its most successful mode: The "walker" mode where the body of the ship was in fighter mode, but the arms and legs were extended. In the cockpit, O'Dell was decked out in her crimson-hued EVA Armor that enabled her to better interface with the ship's customized controls. The helmet, like the canopy, was retracted.

"I just installed new internal enhancements that should make the joints smoother and inertial dampening fields throughout the leg joints to make walking even smoother and quieter. You should be able to sneak up on shit in that baby now." Gavarus grinned proudly as she entered some data into the decks tracking sensors. "But we need to see if they're working, and a little dance should do the trick."

Their chief, who had been removed from active flight duty, thanks to being almost five months pregnant with three girls, was in her office working on some revised designs while her favorite Engineer and Test pilot were largely free to build and test as needed. It was a freedom both women did enjoy, and a perk to working in the recently formed R&D on the Hera.

A mischievous grin crept across the face of the pixie pilot, and the right arm of the mech shot up to the overhead with one finger pointed at the sky. Even as it did so, the ’hips’ of the mech shifted, and music began to stream from the external speakers as an ancient ballad of O’Dell’s people began to play… and the silver experimental spacecraft began to perform the dance associated with the song, ‘The Hustle’. Which was quite the energetic dance, involving complex foot maneuvers as well as animated hand gestures, all of which were highly improbable for a mechanoid fighter to be performing.

However, while Gavarus’ engineering had helped bring the project to life and continued to improve it, the skill of it’s pilot could not be denied as she put it through it’s paces. Spinning in place then dropping the mech in a split, the tiny test pilot was slowly raising the banshee up from said split when she noticed the Chief Flight Officer on the Deck 3 R&D flight deck, Lieutenant Commander Dox. Hastily she cut the music off, and urgently made eye contact with her partner to warn her of an officer on deck, in the silent communication the pair had mastered over time.

Immediately, Briar's eyes went wide as she began moving her hands over the console, pretending to push buttons in a desperate attempt to somehow look busier that she actually was. As the stout Romulan Flight Chief in red walked past the console to the center of the room and the Banshee, she raised an eyebrow at the portly porcine and nodded, "It's a good thing you're not actually pressing those, Ensign. You would have just vented the room into space."

"Huh?!" Gavarus muttered, looking down at the console controls as it slowly dawned on her that the notoriously stern chief they once nicknamed 'Lieutenant Murder-Punch' had just made a joke. But Dox didn't linger at the console as she stopped right in front of the Banshee which, as it usually did, was perfectly matching Fiona's own movements and thoughts. As such, the enormous silver mech had its arms folded behind it's back and seemed to be fiddling it's thumbs as it shifted it's weight from foot to foot, looking for all the world like it had to go to the reclimator. For her part, Mnhei'sahe's hands were folded behind her back as they usually were, as if she were hiding something.

Looking the machine up from the feet to the cockpit, Mnhei'sahe smiled lightly as she looked at O'Dell. "Ensign O'Dell, just the person I wanted to see. I hope I'm not interrupting the motion tests?"

“Ah… well, no mum, y’see, ah…” The mech spread it’s hands and, palms up, it began pleading with the flight chief. “Ensign Gavarus had asked me to put her through her paces since she joost installed some joint enhancements, so she wanted to ta poot ‘er through it, and since dancin’ seems ta be somethin’ she shouldn’t be able ta do, but she can, I joost, ah figured if she could do the Hustle, that ought to give all the stress test data needed, mum. It was, uh, twas me who did it mym, so dinna blame the engineer, aye?”

Tilting her head slightly, Dox smirked a bit but kept her attention on Fiona the whole time. "Blame her for what, Ensign? You're both doing your jobs very well. The way I see it, sooner or later a pilot like me is gonna be in one of these cockpits and I'll need to know I can punch or kick with ease and fluidity, and as I see it, those particular moves seem an ideal way to prove it's range of motion. Miss Gavarus, did that dance get you good data for what you're doing?"

"Uh... yes Sir... ma'am... Chief... Commander?" Gavarus said awkwardly shooting a look at Fiona and shrugging her shoulders. As she did, Dox shook her head slightly and decided to shift her approach a bit.

"Please, at ease Ensigns. We've been over the names thing. Any of those except for 'sir' I'm fine with. I promised you both that if I had an issue with either of your performances, I would tell you. And this is not me telling you that." Dox said a bit more casually as she walked up and ran a hand admiringly along the nose of the cockpit. In her heart, she was still a pilot, and she couldn't help but love the work they all put into the craft of which the miniature Mariposian was the test pilot. "I'm actually here for quite the reverse. Specifically, in regards to you and your performance at the helm during the battle in the Aldeberan Nebula, Ensign O'Dell, from which I just finished reviewing the reports and files."

The Lilliputian lass’ natural reaction was to be suspicious and defensive, but in truth, she’d done pretty well in that battle, except for letting the other vessel get away. Given that the L-C was trying to take a less scary approach these days, O’Dell took what she was saying at face value, and grinned. The mechanoid parked one fist on it’s hip and offered a thumbs-up. “Aye mum. I did alreet then? I dinna embarrass the department in front of the captain, then?”

"The only person embarrassed is me, Miss O'Dell, for never having considered a move like that three sixty axis rotation for firing." Dox replied with a significant laugh. As Dox spoke, Mona came out from her office to watch with a smile as her wife had come to deliver well earned praise to the tiny test pilot of whom she was quite fond.

"You not only performed above and beyond the call of duty, you performed beyond any expectations I could have set, Miss O'Dell." Dox said with a sincere smile. "So, how did you like flying her for real?"

Bringing the hand of the mech up under the nosecone, O'Dell considered the question. "Twasn't quite the same as the simulations, ye know? And twas different havin the captain give orders, and be workin' with tactical to maintain firin' arcs. But that interface, it's like flyin' one 'a these instead of a great bloody starship." As she spoke, the mech's ringer tapped the nosecone just for of the cockpit.

"Indeed. Simulations are very useful, but they simply can't really replicate the feeling of moving something like the Hera through space, where you can feel the engine hum through the deck plates and your console." Dox waxed poetically, speaking that emotional language that pilots tended to about ships when they loved them.

"Ah hafta admit, alla them drills ye had me do did coom in handy. I dinna hafta consider which control did what, which control accessed which system. I nivvir got lost in the controls, so that was huuuuge to joost keep in the zone, aye? Nothin like looking for the aft inertial dampeners when ye want teh do a drag maneuver, and ye canna remember where they are, aye? So I got ta admit, ye were toof on me, but it paid off, y'ken? So thenkye, Chief!" The walker mode mech raised it's arm up to the canopy in a salute.

"No thanks required, Ensign. You handled the drills professionally and aced them, all without actively trying to murder me for putting you through them at all hours of the day and night." Dox returned the salute respectfully, then smirked a bit mischievously. It was a cockeyed thing that made the flight chief look remarkably like her mother, who the odd couple of R&D liked to go drinking with from time to time. "I wanted to let you know that I have written a glowing statement expressing my thoughts on your performance, with my recommendation that you be placed on the roster directly under me for any and all combat flight requirements from here on out. Along with a recommendation that you receive official commendations for your exceptional performance under intense pressure."

The mech's hands came together, fingers interlacing under the cockpit as the wide feet shuffled a bit awkwardly. "That's... vurrah kind of ye, mum. I appreciate yuir only reccomendin' me for whan fancy flyin's needed... because I'll still be assigned down here in R&D, aye?" O'Dell looked past Dox to where her very pregnant chief stood, eyes searching for confirmation.

While their relationship was improving, Ensign Gonadie was the one who had created the department, and to whom Gavarus and O'Dell both reported and still maintained a rather deep streak of loyalty. While the pipsqueak pilot was flattered, she also wanted to ensure that the position she loved, working with the genius innovator on experimental spacecraft wasn't going away, and that she would still be working with her engineer partner. The work which had brought them all together, forged the bonds of friendship between themselves and their chief, and eventually blossomed into a relationship between the unlike pair of the little leprechaun and the stocky space swine. Both the pilot and the engineer were both rather protective of the cheerful, warm and enthusiastic Miradonian, particularly now that she was heavy with child. Mona Gonadie had inspired that loyalty with her words and deeds, her encouragements and direction, and while being recommended as the chief pilot's second was an honor, Fiona needed to ensure it wasn't going to break up the good thing they had brewing here in Deck 3.

Reading the conflict on Fiona's face, Dox looked over to Mona and smiled warmly, and that same warm smile was turned back to Fiona. "Absolutely, Ensign. This team does amazing work, and doing anything to disrupt that is the furthest thing from my mind, or... I suspect... the Captain's. And I am more than aware that what you bring to the team here is above and beyond just being a test pilot."

"Ensign Gonadie's department reports are detailed enough for me to know that you are a vital part of the problem-solving process, having contributed many of the core ideas that she and Ensign Gavarus can then implement. As far as I'm concerned, you are a part of the R&D department, first and foremost. But, when the ship needs a pilot that can do the impossible and that's not me, the Captain and I agree that it should be you. That's all."

That settled the issue for O'Dell- the L-C had been straightforward and honest to a fault about everything, and her word was her bond. A smile lit up the face of the little lass they called leprechaun, and the nosecone of the mechanoid bobbed, nodding in agreement. "Alreet! that's settled then! When ye need me on the bridge... well, when I AM needed on the bridge, I'll be happy to serve, mum. At the Captain's pleasure, as 'twere. S'long as we dinna hafta stop improvin' the wave of the future doown here in R&D, that's alreet wi' me." The hand of the mech reached out to gently poke the shoulder of the tall Tellarite engineer, who, as she tended to do, was remaining silent as the ranking officer spoke so as not to draw attention to herself. The act was telling on a number of levels- it was Fiona trying to nudge Briaar back to calm now that the potential crisis had passed, it served as a demonstration of the precision control the pipsqueak pilot had over the mech as she could do such a thing with servos that could punch through the spanner jockey, and it reinforced that the two were a team, a pair in all things that it would be folly to separate.

The subtlety of the action was not lost on Dox, who raised an eyebrow, impressed with the dexterity and control O'Dell was exhibiting. Smirking a bit, the crimson-clad Commander had an idea to test that dexterity a bit more in a way that might help relax Gavarus a bit too. As such, she unfolded her arms from behind her back, revealing that she had been holding a bottle in them the entire time. "Indeed. We like you three where you are, making the ship and what we do better. Now, my Mother tells me she told you she had three bottles of Jameson from..."

Glancing at the old bottle for a second, Dox continued, holding it out just far enough to offer to the pint-sized pilot to take with the hands of the massive mech. It was a maneuver she had no doubt O'Dell could handle with ease and was a way of Dox showing that she trusted in the miniature Mariposian's incredible skills. "...2343... that were yours if you got the Hera through that minefield without taking a hit from one. You not only succeeded, but figured out a way to use those mines as weapons against our quarry. So she asked me to bring you the first of them."

As she held out the bottle to the silver-skinned mech, the Romulan pilot turned towards the twitchy Tellarite and nodded. "The rest, she said, she would like to present in Ten-Forward at the end of shift."

"Well this is a merry day fuir a celebration indeed, mum!" O'dell not only deftly plucked the bottle out of the hand of the commanding officer of the flight deck, but tossed it into the cokpit, where her hand disengaged from the controls to catch it out of the air. "That's a right beauty, right there! I'll hafta save a drop to share wi' me old dad when we swing oot that way sometime. but for noow..."

Pausing, the right hand of the mech frozen with a bent elbow and a hand closed in a fist, O'Dell looked about the small flight deck that served as the home of R&D, parked atop the maintained bays and the office of the lieutenant commander herself. The happy, brilliant inventor stood with her hand on the shoulder of her redheaded Romulan partner, the next generation coming along inside her. In the break room, Minnie was sleeping off a bottle in her playpen, which was expanding every day it seemed. tapping away, following the shutdown sequence her fingers were tapping out even as the took in the scene, remembering the moment, Fiona smiled at her off, tusky, prickly partner.

The midget Mariposian had never had a friend like Briaar Gavarus, and the more she'd gotten to know her, the more she'd realized she never would. They were an odd couple- a leprechaun and a leviathan, raising a monster of myth and legend between them, while becoming swept up in times and events two obnoxious drunks should never have qualified to perform.

Yet here they were, doing just fine. Doing great, really.

Catching the eye of the tall Tellarite, O'Dell grinned as she plucked the bottle from her right hand with the mech's left hand and high-lob tossed it to Gavarus, giving her ample time to catch it.

"I could be wrong, Gavarus me old mate, but I'm pretty sure that was the boss tellin' us tis quittin time today!"

The bottle thumped hard against the middle of the portly porcine who fumbled slightly, only barely not dropping it, awkwardly. "Whew... uh... I guess. uh, Is it, Commander?"

Chuckling lightly, Dox nodded slightly. "It is, indeed. I believe my mother has a table in Ten-Forward waiting." Then, leaning slightly into Mona, who was beaming a warm smile and proud of her team, Dox turned her attention back to Fiona. "Celebrate, Miss O'Dell. You've more than earned it. You and Miss Gavarus are a credit to the Hera and I wanted to make sure you both knew it."

Shutting down the mech, powering down the systems and setting the parking brake, the stunt pilot sprite slid out of the cockpit, to slide down the fuselage of the craft to land nimbly on the deck. Absently patting the spacecraft fondly as she passed, the helmet retracted and the curly-haired officer pulled off her cowl, which kept her mass of curls at bay. Scratching her head, she grinned at the flight chief and offered her hand. "Thankye, mum. Comin from ye, tis high praise indeed. With a party and liquor to boot? Tis... well, tis an honor, L-C."

"It's well earned, Ensign, and the honor is mine. You two have some fun." Dox replied, meeting the offered handshake with the customary two pumps. Across the bay, Gavarus saved her work data, filing the results as she shut down the control console for the evening.

"I'll put this in the diaper bag and go get Minnie Moo ready to go while you're getting out of your EVA suit, Fee." The towering Tellarite said as she headed off to the break room, bottle in hand.

As the deck quieted down with O'Dell and Gavarus away, Mnhei'sahe turned to her wife, and the department head, with a slightly awkward smile. And while they weren't physically touching, in her pregnant state, Mona's empathic bond to Mnhei'sahe was strong enough to pick up her feelings from where she stood with ease. "Well, that was easier than I was worried. I'm glad I decided to talk to her while she was in the Banshee. Like you said, she's got more self-confidence in there. Thanks, Mona."

"No, thank you," Mona replied, pulling her bond-mate into a gentle embrace. "You've supported my dreams and this new department from the start and if it weren't for you I'm not sure we'd be even a fraction as far as we are now."

Now touching closely, Mona could clearly feel that Mnhei'sahe was nervous for some reason, but as they hugged, that reason became apparent quickly. "Always. In fact, now that I've talked to Fiona, there's something that she brought up that's relevant to something we need to talk about. Something the Captain wanted me to talk to you about."

The brightly plumed Miradonian pulled back slightly - enough to look into the eyes of her lover and confirm what she was sensing. "Then you can tell the Captain the answer is still no."

The number of times that Mona had turned down promotions on the Hera had becomes something of the stuff of legend, remaining an Ensign when she likely should have been a lieutenant Commander by now. But it was a responsibility she had refused every time she had been offered. "Okay... I knew that was coming. But hold on."

Looking deep into Mona's eyes, Mnhei'sahe smiled. "You've told me many times that all you want to do is help people to fly. That you didn't seek promotions or command. But you are in command here and you're amazing at it. Those two rely on you and you've nurtured them remarkably well. This department and the work you all do here is turning heads and making a real difference that you saw all the way back on Earth. This is where the Captain thinks you should be full time, and I agree."

"She wants the R&D Department to move beyond the experimental phase and reclassify it as all three of your permanent stations. No more splitting duties unless absolutely necessary. Meaning, you and Fiona would basically flop your current responsibilities to Flight Control and this would be your primary duty: doing exactly what you love. Inventing the future."

Frowning, which was not a facial contortion that was common or natural to Miradonians, Mona could kind of see where this was going, but wasn't entirely sure so continued listening. "Go on..."

"All accepting an extra pip on your uniform would mean is that it's easier for you to do what you're already doing. Working in here with O'Dell and Gavarus and whoever else you need. You could pull more resources and personnel as needed and you would have the authority to make this department exactly what you want it to be." Mnhei'sahe tilted her head and smiled. In her heart, there was nothing but love and admiration for what Mona has achieved in the R&D department and she hoped that came across.

"It's not a demand, it's a request. The Captain and everyone involved thinks you deserve this and THEN some. You're already doing the job, this would just codify it."

Mona could feel the love and support through their bond and even the chicks were all for it, but she was still a bit skeptical. She realized that she'd been maneuvered into a position where she was doing the job of a full lieutenant, but she was worried about if she was transferred to another command and they didn't see things quite the same way. She'd have to resign and try to find a job with a civilian development corporation somewhere.

Pursing her lips, she debated it a bit further. She could always accept the promotion with the stipulation that she could refuse it at a later date. Sort of a probationary promotion. "I'm not saying yes... But I'll consider it... For now."

In truth, there was a part of Mnhei'sahe that was as scared as Mona was of their career advancements. The fear that transfers and the like might force them to choose between their careers and their growing family was a very real one for the young Rihannsu woman, but one she worked to control. But through their bond, Mnhei'sahe was aware of all of the thoughts and concerns Mona was considering as she leaned her forehead against her bond-mate. 

"I think that the Captain will probably be fine with that, though I can't speak for her, obviously." Mnhei'sahe said softly. "I'm just the messenger, here. It will fall to someone else to enact it."

"And that someone is?" Mona asked, glancing around expectantly. It felt like she was being set up for one of those famous Commander Paris speeches that would leave her questioning why she didn't accept a promotion sooner...

“Who else?” came the familiar cheerful voice of the full-figured first officer of the Hera, Commander Rita Paris. Climbing up the last few rungs of the ladder from the Deck 4 flight control office, either she had unbelievable timing, or she’d been waiting in the wings, listening and observing… which was not that hard to believe, somehow. As she stepped onto the flight deck of R&D, Paris smiled, that million-watt smile of hers that could light up rooms and melt hearts. Sashaying across the deck at a casual pace, she eyed the two officers, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yes, Miss Gonadie, the captain would like for you to accept promotion. While the two junior ensigns have never challenged your authority, your department may expand, and this will enable you to maintain military decorum. Additionally, the captain has been fielding quite a few queries as to why her aerospace developer who is making such amazing strides is ‘still an ensign’. And I suspect she honestly wishes to reward you for your hard work and ingenuity.” Gesturing to the experimental mech standing on the landing pad, and the unusual engineer packing up her child from the break room, Paris brought it back around.

“You’ve collected misfits to forge a cohesive team which has accomplished wonders, Miss Gonadie. You’ve created wonders, refined them and made them safer as you worked, and you have inspired those under you to be their personal best. You’ve worked wonders, and you deserve this. Just as Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox earned her way to Lieutenant Commander. Leadership, dedication, bravery, loyalty, honor… these are the earmarks of a great officer, not one destined to pass quietly into history without so much as a footnote.” Holding her hands out palms upward, Paris shrugged, somewhat seismically.

“You don’t have to accept. But you certainly have earned it, and I think our two roustabouts would agree. The Lieutenant Commander clearly agrees. The Captain agrees. While I appreciate your position… well, the best leaders are those who never wanted the job, but they did it all the same.”

"And I'm certainly already doing the job..." Mona sighed heavily and rested her forehead against Dox's forehead, her engineering mind going into overdrive, calculating every angle and possible outcome of such a future promotion. The parallel planning of scenarios and details was dizzying even to her, but she completed her scenario and looked back up at Commander Paris. "I'll accept on three conditions. We need double the lab space. The storage locker next to us is barely being used and that's not unreasonable. Second, I need another person of my choosing. I have a list that I'll forward you. Third, We get our own uniform color to differentiate us from the rest of the crew and our primary duties are to the R&D department. With that... I'll accept it. I'll accept your promotions for five years."

"Promotion, singular," Paris corrected. "Just to Lieutenant, I believe, was the discussion I heard. Double the lab space is pending approval from the flight control chief, who will do an analysis and report on it. But considering that any other option would have you move out of this space, I doubt it'll come to that. I think we rather prefer our experimental birds in their own roost, perched up here atop the chief's office," Paris grinned. "Submit the color- I'm rather fond of primary colors myself, but by all means figure out your department's unique uniform color. I strongly suspect the Captain will approve- she has been known to show considerable leeway in such arenas," the anachronistically-uniformed officer swept her hand over her own uniform, then wrapped it up.

"As for one more to add to your collection of uniquely skilled research and development team, again, please submit your request. The command team trusts your judgment, so choose your personnel. However, I'm assigning a nanny. If you are expanding, we're fine with the break room being turned into a nursery. But someone needs to be on duty watching the children, and I would prefer it not be R&D. Having the kids where you can keep an eye on them is a good plan. Particularly with our little antisocial missy, there," Paris waved in the direction of the break room, where Gavarus was holding Minnie aloft. "But with three more on the way, I want a dedicated nurse on hand. So add that to your recruitment list, please- exclusive of any medical personnel you assign as a flight doctor, or any other billets you see fit to fill. Agreed?"

Mona was serious as she nodded and reached out a hand for a handshake to 'seal the deal', as it were. "Agreed. And for the next five years, I won't decline any promotions that you or the Captain see fit to bestow upon me. As for the color... True blue - the same as used by Starfleet during your early career, if I'm not mistaken. As for added personnel, you'll have the requests on your desk in the morning."

"Five years, no more promotions- you have my word," Paris agreed, taking the hand to shake and seal the deal. "We were... well, Science and Medical were powder blue back in my day, so bear that in mind. Like I said, just submit a color choice to the Captain for approval, Miss Gonadie. I'll happily review your choices, but- as I said, the Command team has great faith in you, and we trust your judgment."

"We're looking forward to great things from your department, Ensign Gonadie," Paris said as she began to walk away, through the pressure doors to Deck 3. "Because what we've seen so far is pretty darned spectacular."

Suddenly weak in the knees and a bit light-headed, Mona leaned heavily on Dox. "Ooph... I think I need to sit down... Also, I think this means that my next experimental craft just got greenlit."

"I have you." Mnhei'sahe said as she helped her pregnant, soon-to-be-promoted bond-mate to the chair behind Gavarus' command console. "There we go. Just breathe, Jhu Dhael. You've got this."

The red-headed Romulan pilot was all smiles as she ran her hands across Mona's back, lightly massaging her. And as she did, she leaned down and gave Mona a gentle kiss and smiled, "But maybe... one bird at a time..."

Assembling in thew Holodeck meant more power could be more easily diverted to the transmission, which was utilizing a local naturally-occurring subspace corridor to manage the holographic call in realtime. But with the USS Hera parked in a stationary position relative to the rest of the universe, her considerable communications resources were, for the most part, concentrated on transmitting and rendering a thoroughly encrypted signal from their location back to Starfleet Command. The initial decor agreed upon was to be Admiral Meowlith's office, so as the call was being placed and connections made, the officers recently returned from a diplomatic endeavor to Mol Krun'chi were left to talk amongst themselves. Left alone, as it were, in the recreation of the Admiral's office on file from scans sent in advance.

"Any idea if there's a specific reason Starfleet wants the additional debriefing of all involved, Captain?" Paris braved the question. While many officers preferred to speak only when they knew what they were talking about, Rita Paris generally found that asking the questions and seeking answers tended to yield far more positive results. Besides, she never minded looking foolish if she was seeking the truth. In this instance, however, she was just curious, and she could be this bold with the Hera's mistress and commander with the senior staff. "Do you think it's a 'by the book' thing, because regulations do state that a debriefing occur post-mission. But you have our reports... so this doesn't seem to be the Admiral's usual modus operandi. Any idea what might make this one different, ma'am?"

The spotted Captain looked unusually straight-laced today for once as if all of her internal wires were aligned just like they were at the Tribunal. "With potentially galaxy moving happenings in our reports as well as a request to possibly disturb the Organians? I can only imagine the pressure from up top for her to take a more active role in this herself. As the Intel Command Mission Commander, I'd imagine this is the least she can do right now."

"Fair enough, Captain," Paris ceded easily, then addressed the other officers in the room. "Did everyone's individual reports back to their delegations go well?"

Standing at attention, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox was doing her best to keep her near-perpetual anxiety in check as she maintained a professional posture and demeanor, answering Rita's question. "The meeting with the Romulan Senate was… well… it's hard to describe the tone other than to say tense, but I believe I was able to successfully express a functional overview of the key points of our meeting and… It seemed to end positively. They are still willing to move forward and I was able to get them to agree to your basic proposal regarding the new colony, Commander."

"Though I think that more than a few of the Senators are seeing this as an opportunity for… traditionally 'Romulan' politics." Dox added with a slightly cynical tone.

"The open hand to seal the deal while the poisoned dagger slips between the ribs?" Rita asked casually. Romulan politics, like any dealing with the Romulans, tended to come with a certain expectation of treachery and betrayal. It was a reputation the Star Empire had carefully cultivated throughout the galaxy, and had doggedly proven it at every available opportunity.

"While I wasn't privy to the details, that was the impression I got, unfortunately." Dox replied, letting out the slightest of sighs as her head sunk ever so slightly, lowering her guard just enough for the depression she felt towards her notorious heritage to be seen by her friends.

"At least they're relatively honest about it..." Enalia muttered right before the computer chirruped and began connecting the long-distance secure holocall.

=^=Please stand by while security protocols are engaged,=^= came the voice of the computer.

Sweeping her hands over her uniform. Rita Paris stood. Coming into the presence of one admiral and possibly more, she was prepared to come to attention- after all, protocol could be dismissed by a superior officer, but it was always best to be prepared to follow it. being on her feet just saved her the trouble of standing to do so, and made her look ready for the meeting. A career fleeter, always.

Sonak was standing right behind her left shoulder, hands at the small of his back at perfect Starfleet attention stance. Discipline was effortlessly second nature to him and four decades in Starfleet, some years even as an instructor at the Academy, had certainly imprinted themselves on his demeanor.

Following the cue from her superior officers, Dox straightened back up and waited at attention as well.

Enalia was the last to stand at attention, being the one to normally forego such formalities. Instead, she had to remind herself that she wasn't the highest-ranking officer in the room today- not even close.

That was when the connection was finalized and all the security protocols were engaged, as the holographics of both rooms synchronized. Before them, on the other side of the Rigellian oak desk, was Admiral Meowlith. To the right of the assembled Hera crew was the familiar observer, Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette, also at attention.

Rather than letting them sit back down, Farenia read from a PaDD first. "As per request by the Diplomatic Corps, Intel Command, Medical Command, Civil Engineering, Starfleet Command, and the Federation Council, this meeting will be recorded for future reference and posterity."

The Admiral then set the PaDD aside and surveyed those assembled. "Those present are myself, Captain Enalia Telvan, Commanding Officer of the USS Hera. Commander Rita Paris, First Officer of the USS Hera. Lieutenant Commander Sonak, Science Chief of the USS Hera. Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox, Flight Chief of the USS Hera. Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette, Intel Stenographer and Observer of the USS Persephone. Computer, enter their names and roles into the records."

As soon as the computer chirruped on her end, she continued with a nod. "At ease. Please, get a drink if you need it and have a seat." With a hint of a released deep breath, Farenia sat down in her own chair. "Once you're ready, we'll begin with what went wrong on the Ghost."

Sonak never partook of food or drink while on duty, most of all during a meeting with officers. It required no effort on his part. His Vulcan physiology and training as a monk of the Gol plateau allowed him to go without sustenance for even weeks on end. And his training as a Starfleet officer would not allow him to have his mouth full when a senior officer could question him or require his input.

And so, as expected, Sonak simply sat and waited, his gaze fixed on the admiral

For her part, Dox was entirely too nervous to even consider trying to do something as simple as hold a cup of coffee and instead simply changed her posture from 'attention' to military 'ease', which was still somewhat stiffer than not as she waited for Captain Telvan and Commander Paris to take their seats before taking the remaining one herself only when she was sure that the superior officers had done so. The nerves, thankfully, weren't being overtly projected thanks to weeks of grilling from the Tal'Shiar and then Starfleet Intelligence helping her refine her so-called 'poker-face'. Although the memory of those experiences was still fresh enough to make this debriefing feel a little too familiar and a little too uncomfortable.

What went wrong on the Ghost? was an ominous beginning, and that's when Paris noticed that seated behind Admiral Meowlith were a number of additional officers. While she did not recognize any of them, and they appeared to be somewhat at the edge of the Admiral's office holographics which left them somewhat in shadow, this was definitely a sign that the meeting was to be more than just a briefing for the Admiral. This looked more like a meeting of the Corps Diplomatique, or a court-martial. Taking her seat and nodding at Dox to do the same, Paris smoothed out her skirt as she did so, crossing her legs at the knees and waiting to hear what was to be said. If their mission was considered a failure by Starfleet, she'd listen, take it in, hear what was to be put forth and THEN react- not before. Anxiety served no purpose here, although she was curious just where this was going.

As Enalia sat back down, she did her level best not to show the emotion boiling up inside of her. "By what went wrong, I assume you're referring to the exposure of a Tal'Shiar secondary persona that was hidden within the psyche of a member of Starfleet Intel, thus turning them into an unwitting sleeper agent."

With a slight nod from the Admiral, Enalia continued. "The secondary persona made itself known, the rest of the team and the command crew of the mission vessel dealt with it, and the crewmember in question has been cleared of all lingering effects of the foreign persona. However, the fact that this person was even assigned to the mission rather than someone from the Diplomatic Corps, as well as other events, suggests that there are further sleeper agents in Starfleet. Worse yet, it hints at the possibility of a willing agent in the admiralty, moving these sleeper agents into positions that would benefit the Tal'Shiar."

Sonak then looked at his captain before speaking, so that it would be a report to her rather than himself speaking out of turn during a senior officers talk.

''It is just as logical, captain, to assume that it could also only be a string of unwilling agents like Lieutenant Oulette, built to coordinate foreign influence through post-hypnotic keywords and behaviors. Starfleet and possibly the whole Federation political structure might need a psycho evaluation ahead of schedule to verify both hypotheses.''

While she herself had considered the idea some time ago, Admiral Meowlith had a bit of a show to put on first. "Bold words, Captain. Let us hope that they aren't true, and that those in the admiralty are faithful to their oaths. For now, let us proceed with this... debriefing. It has been requested that justification for several decisions be made."

Farenia then looked down at the PaDD before her. "First off is the decision to assign Lieutenant Ayamo Oulette to the mission. As that was Admiral Forsyth's decision and is not currently present, I will move on to the next point. The decision to use a third party vessel, while I agree with the decision, has been questioned by an 'Admiral Forsyth'. Captain, do you stand by the justification used in your report?"

"I do," replied Captain Telvan without emotion or hesitation. "Furthermore, in hindsight, I believe it to have been the best course of action and the only viable one for keeping the colony safe."

"Noted and logged." Farenia was definitely in official mode now. "Next is the decision to engage Riov Dalia Rendal's vessel in the middle of a minefield and a nebula simultaneously while not knowing the full capabilities of her vessel. Please explain."

"With my crew's and my own experience with mines and nebulas, I felt that while it may have been a trap, it gave us an edge that the enemy would not expect. It stripped them of the use of their cloak, while giving us the edge of greater sensor range as well as the potential of better weaponry skills. Few train regularly in those conditions. Fewer still have fought in them. We have done both."

"Noted and logged," Farenia replied again. "At the end of the battle, you were betrayed by one of your own intel agents. A Cardassian that transferred in by the recommendation of..." Here she paused a moment and looked over another PaDD for a moment. "Ah yes... Admiral Forsythe... Would you care to explain what went wrong there?"

"We are still attempting to sort through the psyche of the person in question, but the actions that were taken during the battle as well as immediately thereafter are in my official report. To summarize, he was another sleeper agent, activated, assaulted several crewmembers, and dumped a large portion of protomatter research data, which Riov Rendal was able to recover and escape with."

"Noted and logged." Farenia paused a moment, looking over the PaDD before her before looking up to Commander Paris. "As mission commander of the diplomatic mission, it was your duty to ensure the safety and security of the colony at all costs. Why then, did you allow the sleeper agent to return to duty after the incident previously discussed?"

"Lieutenant Commander Sonak is a powerful telepath, as has been noted both in his service jacket as well as amongst the Masters of Gol," Rita started out strong with her argument, as much of it hinged on Sonak and the assembled audience understanding just whom it was they were discussing, and why his word should be taken in this matter. "It was they who verified his qualification to be Kolinahr. Thus, in psychic examination, with foreknowledge of the 'sleeper' persona, Mister Sonak was able to empower the Lieutenant to bulwark her own mind against future sublimation."

"As the mission team was both present and participating in said mind meld, what Lieutenant Commander Sonak observed, experienced and determined from the meld was shared amongst us all. I do not think, suspect, nor imagine that Lieutenant Oulette is fit for duty- I know it to be indisputable fact," Paris asserted, her eyes seeking out those of the officer who had been so eager to prove herself, and excited by the events she had witnessed. "I also know that the best therapy for her, once freed, was to be trusted with responsibility once more, and put back to work as a Starfleet officer. As the mission commander, her well-being, career, and duties were my responsibility. So it was my call to put her back on duty. The Lieutenant gave me no reason whatsoever to regret my decision, and her reports were detailed, thorough and overall exemplary."

Again, Farenia replied with a stoic "Noted and logged," before proceeding ahead, this time focussing on Commander Dox. "As a Baroness in the Artan Empire and being a direct blood relation to a sitting Romulan senator, some... I believe it was Admiral Forsyth... Claims that your involvement in this is a conflict of interest for you. Interestingly, it was also at Admiral Forsyth's insistence that you be assigned to the initial diplomatic mission before we knew that an Artan vessel would be involved for... cultural reasons, if memory serves. Would you care to explain why this was not a conflict of interest once the Artan Vessel was involved?"

"My familial relationship to Senator t'Rul was a key factor in this mission being proposed in the first place. Her motion in the Senate to decriminalize and offer support to the reunification colonies on a probationary level was dependent on her ability to trust that my interests were not in conflict, but rather the opposite." Dox replied, her anxiety quickly dissolving into a professional calm as she focused on the questions. Though, internally, that calm was partially being fueled by a rising pit of mild anger at, once again, feeling as if her loyalty was under fire.

"The Senator knew she could trust me to act in the best interests and safety of the colonists first and foremost and not the Imperium. To that end, it was decided, on my recommendation, that we employ the Artan ship for transport. The Artan government is not a member of the Federation but has strong working ties along with legal rights to travel in... Romulan space and with cloaking technology that is not in violation of the Treaty of Algeron in order to protect the location of the colony. The Artan government also has a well-documented history with the Reunification colonies that enabled them to act as intermediaries to set up contact in the first place." The Romulan pilot continued, keeping her attention focused on Admiral Meowlith, to whom Dox made the initial proposal to directly to use the Golden Ghost. That knowledge, along with the repeated mentions of Admiral Forsyth, let Dox know that there was more going on behind the scenes then she was aware of.

"My connections to the Romulan Senate and the Artan government were resources that enabled this mission to move forward. The use of the Golden Ghost was beneficial in establishing trust with the colony. The Ruling council of Mol Krun'chi already had a strong and trusting relationship with the Ghost and her commander, Maenek t'Liun. Being delivered by her allowed us to speak from a stronger position of trust by association. With these factors in mind, it was decided that In order to ensure no conflict of interests influence the proceedings, the representation of the Federation's interests were entrusted to Commander Paris' superior experience while Commander Sonak represented the Vulcan government's interests. This ensured a proper separation of governmental interests was maintained at all times."

Barely letting herself relax, Farenia gave the same "Noted and logged," response as before, this time pausing a moment before moving forward. This time she focussing on Commander Sonak. "In your records, I have read that you are a Master of Gol, a Kolinahr Master, and at one time carried the Katra of Ambassador Spock. It also says that you have crossed the dimensional threshold to seek out the woman you're married to and in so doing, return that Katra to this universe. Some would say that is highly illogical. Others would say that there is no logic without life. As much as I would love to discuss those things with you, there are other matters that bring us here today and I believe you to be uniquely qualified to answer the two questions I have for you."

At the mention of his actions being possibly deemed highly illogical, Sonak's eyebrow rose but he said nothing.

The Admiral paused a moment, almost for dramatic effect. "I understand the need for fair and impartial third party security and arbitration for a new reunification colony. However, the admiralty requires justification for your recommendation to contact the Organians. After all, they aren't the most sociable of races and it took a war on their doorsteps for them to even make contact the first time."

The Vulcan stood to speak, hands behind his back in proper Starfleet attention stance when addressing a senior officer.

''Admiral, the recommendation is but just that; a recommendation, self-justified by simple logic.''

He was immediately aware that it is that logic that currently needed to be spelled out for the record. And so he did.

''The Reunification project between some in the Romulan Star Empire and the Federation member world of Vulcan is currently approved officially by neither the Romulan Star Empire or the Federation. The Romulan Star Empire and the Federation may not be currently in open conflict, but there is no official diplomatic, cultural or commercial relationship established between the two governments; only one official line of communication, subspace frequency K, exists between them since the establishment of the Neutral Zone on stardate 1200.5, for the sole purpose of ensuring respect of the Treaty. In these conditions, the only option to negotiate a possible accord to allow the Reunification project to go ahead requires a neutral third party as a mediator.''

His steel-colored gaze never wavered as he spoke to the admiral.

''There is currently no equivalent spacefaring civilization within reasonable travel range that both governments would reasonably accept as a neutral party. As for those civilizations of a higher level than ours, only one ever showed any openness for contact and involvement with the affairs of the Federation and comparable cultures, while at the same time expressing a genuine respect for sentient life and desire for galactic peace, and all this without any direct interest in those same affairs; the Organians, who established the Organian Peace Treaty Zone between the Klingon Empire and the Federation on stardate 3199.5.''

He paused a brief moment before concluding.

''As for the Organians' willingness to indeed accept this role; only on Organia itself can this be answered, Admiral.''

"My second question is about why we are here today." Now the Admiral was starting to get to the heart of why they were really there. "I assume you've reviewed all of the pertinent reports and data prior. What conclusion would you make about the true purpose of this meeting and do you believe there is enough evidence to launch an investigation into anyone or anything and why?"

Sonak's right eyebrow rose slightly.

''The obvious purpose of this meeting is to answer questions the admiral has about the endeavor itself and those who were involved. As for evidence, it is the very purpose of an investigation to gather any; and such an investigation would be justified if those questions still lack a satisfactory answer. Anything else at this point would be speculation. As I am sure you are well aware, Admiral, Vulcans do not speculate.''

He stayed up, waiting for the admiral to either end the exchange or pursue it further.

Perhaps it was the still lingering anger at being all but interrogated as a potential spy for two weeks by Starfleet Admirals still twisting in her stomach or just irritation at the verbal chess match being played, but it seemed obvious to Dox that Admiral Meowlith was fishing for a logical justification to start an investigation into what and who, to her, seemed very clear. But all of this churned in the young Romulan Lieutenant Commander's head as she uncharacteristically blurted out, "Romulans DO speculate."

Eyes flaring in mild shock for the briefest of instances as she realized what she had just said out loud, Dox realized she had just committed a fairly major protocol faux pax. But in her gut, she felt that she needed to continue, "I... apologize for speaking out of turn, Admiral. And I know that correlation does not equal causation, but it seems that there is a... significant amount of admittedly circumstantial evidence that points, at least, to a linking factor between a large number of events of interference in Federation affairs by the Tal'Shiar. Some proven, others largely speculative."

Swallowing as she dug herself a bit deeper, Dox took a light breath and continued, "I believe that we have enough cause to at least look deeper into this linking factor. The one name that keeps appearing in connection to every suspicious factor in this series of events."

Turning to Captain Telvan, Dox did her best to keep the mounting anxiety off of her face, but Enalia and Rita both knew the young woman too well to not see it, "And Captain, according to the Artan Legal Council that assisted me during our debriefings on earth, Dana Nyn, that same name was the one that was pushing to challenge your own ties to the Artans. The Tal'Shiar know that the Artan government is a wild card that can't be controlled in all of this and it is something, I think, that points to something larger."

"Indeed," Captain Telvan nodded, addressing Dox as if they weren't in the middle of a meeting. "And it was that same name that is attempting to bring charges of negligence against me now for allowing a spy aboard the Hera and allowing them to release potentially devastating protomatter data to an enemy combatant. They even had the paperwork ready for us when we arrived back on the Federation side of the neutral zone."

With a sharp bang, Farenia called the meeting back to order with a quick rap of the side of a PaDD against her desk. "Your further notes and speculation have been noted and logged. Commander Sonak, your responses have also been noted and logged."

The admiral then turned her attention finally towards the observer of the diplomatic mission. "Your time among the crew of the USS Hera as well as on the Mol Krun'chi colony has been logged in your reports. You have faithfully described without tint, glaring omission, or opinion, the majority of what you saw. You were even able to reflect semi-objectively on what occurred in the mind-meld with those present. One thing that did strike me as odd however, is how you chose to describe one event."

Farenia then held up a PaDD and read from it. "'Commander Sonak humbly sat among the colonists and studied them as they studied him, impassioned logic deep in his steely eyes, his strong features reassuring as he glanced between each of them, preaching the...' And it goes on for some time like that. Do you mind explaining the variance of this report over the others?"

As Lieutenant Oulette blushed clear out to her ear tips, she fidgeted in her chair as she tried to think of how to answer. "First off, I must apologize. I wrote that one differently because of... because of how dashing and handsome he was in the meld. I had written it that way to practice a different writing style as well. I had originally meant to rewrite it in my normal observational tone, but it seems to have slipped through."

"As it seems to have all the pertinent details... even though it makes Commander Sonak sound more like a romance novel messiah... It is sufficient. If you see fit to rewrite it, please do so immediately." Farenia then cleared her throat and moved onto her next question. "As for a slightly less embarrassing question for you... As a sleeper agent, are you able to recall who your handler in Starfleet was?"

This question elicited a lot of extra motion from the shadowy figures from behind the Admiral as Ayamo tried to formulate an answer. It was apparently not on the list of approved questions. "I've asked myself that several times, Admiral. Each time, I keep coming up empty and I just can't remember anything that the other personality did other than brief flashes like picking up a hypo or a PaDD. I'm sorry."

"However..." Ayamo wasn't done yet. "When I returned to the Persephone, I had a rather strange message from Admiral Forsyth. It began with a series of odd words, some odd questions, and instructions to delete the message. Since it was so odd, I moved it to secure storage. If you'd like, I'll submit it to you for further inspection."

"Noted and logged." Admiral Meowlith then looked down at her PaDD and nodded solemnly before looking back up at those assembled. "Do any of you have anything further to add? Any thoughts or... Speculation?"

“I’m not much of a spy- truth be told, I can’t lie worth a darn and the intricacies of falsehood and misdirection are not my forte,” Paris admitted before making her pitch. “But it seems to me that if the Admiralty has suspicions, the ideal answer would be to bait a trap and craft circumstances that were an infiltrator to pursue that line of logic, it would conclusively show that such a personage was compromised, and guilty. If anyone plans to ask, no, I don’t have an idea beyond that, as I am drawing no conclusions here and this is, as mentioned, not my forte. But there are others far more skilled in such pursuits than I, and I am confident that such circumstances could be created and executed in order to potentially save a dedicated officer from themselves- as with Lieutenant Oulette.”

Enalia also stood, placing one hand over her left breast. "I feel that I must concur with my First Officer. If you suspect someone, be they in the admiralty or otherwise, then I recommend either an investigation or set a logic trap that they must fall into if they are indeed guilty."

"Thank you both. If there are no further comments or observations, then this meeting will thusly be officially adjourned." Admiral Meowlith then rapped her PaDD against her desk twice to signal the end of the meeting. "On a personal level, I want to thank you all for your participation not only in this hearing, but in this mission. It is the hope of the admiralty and the Federation Council that it engenders a lasting peace and unity between the Empire and the Federation. As such, your names will all be part of future history books."

"Furthermore, Captain Telvan... Happy Birthday. It'll be a little late, but there should be a present for you on the next resupply ship." Farenia almost had a sad look in her eye as Enalia nodded her thanks. "Admiral Meowlith out."

With that, the connection was closed and the four Hera officers were left alone in the holographic recreation of the admiral's office.

"Part of the history books if we succeed. A different chapter of the history books if not..." Rita Paris muttered, then turned back to the senior staff. "So... maybe a compromised admiral, but not really something we need to deal with. Otherwise, as the Admiral stated, good work, all."

At Rita's statement regarding the possible different ways that history might remember them, Dox's stomach tightened as she stood there anxiously, her emotions still churning slightly. With a simple nod, while otherwise remaining at attention, she replied, "Thank you, Commander."

"History or not, this mission has been extra stressful. I for one am looking forward to a little rest and plan on having a drink when I get back to my..." Then Enalia remembered that she was a parent and drinking was no longer allowed in her quarters. "And that's not going to happen either... No drinking around Moira, Maica says. Swords are fine, alcohol isn't."

"Swords sound good to me. I think one of Baroness Von Alcott's training programs will be a good way to let out a little stress." Dox said, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, hoping that the more casual response wasn't a mistake in the moment.

"No one said you couldn't have a glass of wine anywhere other than home, Captain," Paris wrapped her arm around the starship commander's shoulders and gave a squeeze. "C'mon, I have it on good authority the Captain and assembled well-wishers have stocked a modest but impressive wine cellar in our quarters. Why don't we all go raise a glass in toast, then you two can go brandish blades at one another, and we can all find some way to shake off the tension surrounding this mission now that it's over. Sound good to everyone?"

Sonak bowed his head slightly.

''Of course I will not partake of the alcoholic beverage; but I shall be present to honor the life day of our Captain.''

As Enalia glanced around at those assembled, she grinned wryly. "Well then, I suppose the appropriate response to that is..."

"Make it so..."

The traditionally lazy, disorganized Ensign Briaar Gavarus was up and in the office working a bit earlier than usual. The last test of an experimental force field belt had taken a particularly bad turn late in the testing when the impact-absorption field failed somewhat spectacularly leading to its test pilot, and the temperamental Tellarite’s life-partner Ensign Fiona O’Dell getting punched extremely hard in the head by an increasingly aggressive Klingon security officer.

After a day in sickbay nursing a concussion and a long night of recuperation for both women, followed by a few days of reduced duty for Fiona to fully recover, Gavarus was intent on figuring out exactly what had gone wrong with the invention she had put so much work into. The belt was being designed as a protective measure for both the couple’s adopted daughter, the miniature minotaur, Minerva, as well as the three daughters of their department chief, Ensign Mona Gonadie. The Miradonian R&D chief’s children, in spite of being half-Romulan, were likely going to be able to fly as newborns and Gavarus wanted to perfect the belt before they were born to help protect them from crash-related injuries. But the failure in testing was sticking in her proverbial craw hard, prompting an uncharacteristically intense amount of focus this morning.

The portly porcine sat at her control console on the R&D section of the flight deck, going over the data from the test, with the testing computers hardwired into the console so she could make sure that there was nothing wrong with that equipment itself that might have caused the malfunction. The belt itself was in pieces on the deck in front of the console, as the first thing she did was disassemble every component to check for faulty wiring or physical connections, but found nothing. “GOD’S DAMMIT!”

Shouting, the angry engineer in a stained gold tunic slapped the console as another diagnostic came back with nothing of any use. “Computer. Diagnostic twelve, frickin’negative. Log it. This time I’m gonna check the inertial feedback sensors to see if they were picking up the data properly and match it from the sensors in Petty Officer S’Rina’s boxing gloves to make sure there’s no data sliding.”

Ambling onto the small flight deck with a horned toddler parked on her narrow hip, that was becoming increasingly difficult for Fiona O’Dell to manage with her narrow and spindly stick figure, one hand wrangled the toddler while the other was holding steady a plate bearing breakfast. Having recognized why her porcine partner was up at this hour and the underlying issues, Fiona had risen, gotten Minnie ready for the day and whipped up breakfast for all involved. Now, like a peace offering to the tall Tellarite, she came bearing food.

“Ye canna solve problems on an empty stomach, you,” she opened with a gentle nagging, as she held out the omelet as an offering. “Spinach an’ feta cheese omelet with a hint of Cajun seasoning fuir kick?”

Rolling her eyes, Briaar groaned and hung her head a little as she turned towards Fiona who, as usual, knew exactly what was bothering her, why, and what to do about it. And with her two stomachs growling in protest as her porcine snout caught a whiff of the provided breakfast, she rubbed the back of her neck and sighed.

"Thanks. It smells awesome. I just... I need to figure this out, Fee. It's driving me nuts that all that data and I still don't know why the belt cut out on you." The touchy Tellarite said as she hooved over to take the offered plate with a resigned smile for her unlikely but welcome family. "An' I don't want to show it off to the chieftain' say 'Yeah! We solved your flying babies with hollow bones' problem knowing that I screwed something up. It's NOT the power regulators and it's NOT the input sensors and it's NOT a dozen other systems I checked. It's like the field just turned off for no damn reason."

“Aye, alreet… so ye know what it wasn’t,” Fiona countered, sitting down on the bench alongside the outer bulkhead of the break room, positioning the miniature minotaur on her lap so the cheerful child could snuggle up to her less bony mother as she patted the spot beside her to get briaar to sit. “Might it be that the power generated by the battery is joost nae sufficient to withstand the force of the blow comin in? Like, S’Rina hit it s’hard she overloaded the field because it dinna have enoof power ta withstand it?”

Bringing her considerable bulk down, Briaar flumped onto the bench where Fiona had patted and as soon as she did, little Minnie leaned in against her prodigious paunch and hummed happily. Taking a bite of her omelet, Briaar half-heartedly muttered, "Yeah, I guess."

That was when Mona came in, sporting her new blue uniform and extra rank, carrying a box with two dozen iced carrot cake donuts. "Personally, I think that's a good lead to go on. The logs don't show anything but a shutdown, right? Then look for overloads in each component and make sure there's no feedback."

Not quite looking up to greet the department chief and newly minted Lieutenant, Gavarus took another bite while she thought. "I checked for overloads but... but the power wasn't coming from a battery pack. It was a wireless connection drawing power from the ship's grid. Maybe the problem is in... Chief? Holy crap! Look at you!"

“Waaaaaaitaminnit. I dinna recognize that shade a’blue, and ye been promoted, AND ye come bearin’ sweets,” the surprisingly observant O’Dell remarked, taking it all in as her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Yuir nae leavin’ us, are ye Chief? Wait, we’re still in business, aye? They’re nae shuttin down R&D, are they?!?”

"Well, yeah, I've put on a lot of weight... I am carrying three chicks..." The seemingly oblivious Mona set the box of donuts aside and looked down at herself before addressing what they were referring to. "Oh! The new uniform? This is our new department color. You'll both be wearing it tomorrow. It looks good, doesn't it? They finally talked me into accepting a promotion so we can grow the department. Something about new projects and all that."

For her part, O’Dell sagged a bit in relief. New uniforms and new rank were seldom heralds of good tidings in her experience, but this was different. This time it was Chief Gonadie who came bearing the news, and it was news that apparently their department would be growing. Which ideally meant that they were succeeding, since more would be asked of a larger department. But the key she was taking away from this exchange was that R&D was still in business… if anything better business/ Nudging her portly partner, O’Dell grinned. “Aye, ye’ll look good in blue, Gavarus!”

Tilting her head and allowing a smirk to crack her grumpy face, Briaar looked down at her slightly disheveled gold uniform. "I guess. It's weird but... Being an Engineer, I figured I'd be in gold my while career. Who'd a' thought we would be at the start of an entire... division."

Then, putting her now empty plate down and stifling a small burp, the porcine engineer leaned over so that Fiona's voluminous curls were in front of Mona. "OOH, you're gonna rock this too, Fee. What do you think, Minnie Moo? Will your Mum look awesome in blue?"

At the question, the tiny tot looked up at her pint-sized parent, over to Mona's blue covered belly which was at her eyeliner and then giggled, bouncing up and down. "BOO! BOO!

"Both her mums will rock a blue uniform, but nooobody's g'win ta wear it like the Chief. Look, the color matches some of her tips. Ye canna compete wi' alla that perfectly coiffed festive tropical plumage goin on over there," O'Dell was laying it on a bit thick, but she suspected the Chief might be a bit sensitive about her weight and appearance, which was less chicken and more hen these days. But still was she beautiful, as O'Dell would remind her. "That's sooo much better for ye than the red was, Chief. Or L-T now, aye? How aboot that? Which d'ye like, mum?"

"Ah... Let's stick with Chief..." Now Mona was definitely self-conscious as she adjusted her uniform and blushed slightly. "There's a lot to be done today, which is why I brought donuts in for everyone. Yeoman Dedjoy will also be stopping by. I asked her to lend her expertise to a couple of our projects. I'll also be going over the records of a few new additions to the department. First and foremost being a daycare specialist."

"I'll also be starting replication of our first custom hardsuit. Fiona, the armory will be expecting you after lunch for fitment."

"Aye Chief, as ye say," the wee test pilot agreed easily. Hoisting the hefty toddler over to Gavarrus' lap, O'Dell scooted inside to drop off the plate and utensils in the reclamator, then returned to the flight deck. Catching a donut and tossing it at her perpetually hungry handy-gal, the pipsqueak pilot looked up at the avian aviatrix. "Alreet, so what needs be done?"

"Yeah." Briaar said as she bounced Minnie on her knee while taking a bite of her donut. Talking with her mouth full, she continued, "An' who do ya' think can handle nanny duty f'r Minnie?"

"What aboot yuir mother-in-law? O'Dell quipped. "She already g'win ta be aboot once yuir chicks hatch, and Minnie loves 'er. Which is a consideration, because that nursery school teacher said wee Minerva's expelled, and she doesnae seem to get along with joost innyone. And given the temperment a' the L-C, yuir wee birdies might be a bit choosy aboot their caretakin as well. If ye dinna mind me bein' s'bold, Chief." While she was making a lot of presumption, the Mariposian midget had a valid point or two.

"Yeah, she's on the top of the list, if she'll take the job. As for the scientist, there's one I've had my eye on for a while on Earth. Being promoted does make my offer a bit easier though." Mona got lost in thought a moment before snapping back to reality. "Ah, but Jaeih also has her duties to Moira as well, so she might be an occasional guest as well. I've heard that she's already gaining proficiency with a sword and is also not the most welcome at the ship's daycare."

Finishing off her donut, Briaar looked down to Minnie on her lap, "What'cha think, Minnie Moo? You think you can turn on the cute and help talk Gammy Jaeih into coming to help babysit for you? And you can play with whatsherface maybe?"

Minnie scrunched her little cow face up and made a raspberry in the air, but then immediately giggled and squeaked out "GAM!!!" and smiled.

"I... Have no idea I that's good or bad, Fee." Briaar half-smiled at the adorable, if perplexing display.

"Aye, that's a good one. Have ye noticed we seem ta be raisin the generation that doesnae get along wi' innybody but the people they choose to be around? I wonder where they all get THAT from," O'Dell mused. "Alreet Chief- scientist back on Earth, get us a nanny fuir the auxiliary daycare next to the flight deck, Dedjoy comin doown from the pod to mix wi' us mere mortals, and ye've redesigned a pilot's hardsuit in yuir spare time. So what's first? Get our new spiffy uniforms on to pose fuir a holo?"

"That sounds like a good idea, actually. I had the computer replicate uniforms for you in the break room so they should be ready," Mona replied with a grin. "Hopefully the measurements on record are still accurate."

Blushing ever so slightly, Briar looked down to her prodigious paunch and bit her bottom lip. "Yeaaaahhh, we shall see. I'm, uh, not exactly keeping up with the working out as well as I should be, what with Minnie and... uh... yeah. Fingers crossed."

Looking up at the bigger of her mothers, little Minnie leaned in to hug on Briaar's belly, letting out a sound that was somewhere between a purr and a moo as she nuzzled into her mother's soft middle. "Okay, let's go do this, then."

Patting the prodigious paunch of her porcine partner, O'Dell hefted the heavy minotaur child off her mother's lap and down to the deck, where she helped the hooved heifer find her footing. Holding her hand, Fiona began leading her to the locker room to get changed. Pausing, she waited for Briaar- while she was a bit too tall to comfortably hold Minerva's three-fingered hand at her height, still she loved to be included in family moments like this. Thus the Mariposian maiden paused to wait for her, to give her a bit of joy as their lives changed a little bit, evolving and changing once more.

Grunting slightly, Briaar got up off the bench, wiping some donut crumbs off her top and looking at it for a moment. "Weird. Last day in gold. Okay." Then she followed after Fiona and the waddling Minerva who was still excited to be walking. 

Once back in the breakroom, there were a few minutes of silence, punctuated by the occasional grunting curse from the tubby Tellarite and the Gaelic tones of O'Dell telling Minnie to put something down followed by giggles and irritated moans. Then, after a few minutes more, the unlikely family unit emerged. On the flight deck, Mona was holding a PaDD and going over some files with the crimson-clad Yeoman Ila Dedjoy, who had arrived while they were changing. 

Holding little Minnie on her bony hip, Fiona was slightly adjusting the collar of her new, blue tunic as Briaar walked behind them, tugging down on snug-fitting R&D uniform that was just a smidge too tight on her rotund form. "Ugh, yeah. Back on the frickin' diet. What'cha think, chief?" the portly porcine muttered as they came out onto the deck and over to their smiling chief. Even the miniature minotaur had been changed into a matching blue onesie and was beaming happily along with the Miradonian Lieutenant and her red-headed Mum.

"I think I picked the right shade of blue. You all look outstanding in it. It really brings out Minnie's eyes, too." Mona wasn't exactly lying, but she may have been exaggerating a smidge as she picked up the holo-cam and fiddled with the timer. "And now we need a group photo, and no you're not getting out of it, Ila. You're technically one of us, even if you're not specifically assigned to the department."

"Thankye, Chief! It sets off Gavarus' blonde that mooch better, and it doos compliment me hair well. Aye, c'mon Yeoman, ye kin be our spot 'o red in the sea of blue, eh?" Setting Minnie down on the deck and steadying her, O'Dell waved the petite cybernetic doll-eyed researcher over, encouraging her to join them.

The doll-faced woman nodded and gave in. "I suppose I don't have any excuse not to. After all, it's not like it's going to suck my soul out or anything like some of the people on my homeworld seem to think." After an odd look from Mona, Ila continued. "I grew up on a rock farm. Some of the farmers are... poorly educated and superstitious..."

"And that's now at the top of my list of weirdest superstitions..." Mona mumbled as she finished setting up the holo-camera and waddled over to join the others. "Everyone say cheese!"

Tucking in between Fiona and Ila, behind Minnie and in front of the towering Briaar who was always in the back of group photos, Mona led by example with a beaming smile. Dedjoy's smile was much more measured, while Fiona's stretched ear to ear. In the back, Briaar made a half-hearted attempt at a close-mouthed grin to conceal the prominent lower tusks she tried to keep ground down while, in the front, Minnie was ecstatic. With a wide, open-mouthed smile, she giggled and looked up at Mona's pregnant belly. With one hand being held by Fiona, the miniature Minotaur put the other, three-fingered little hand on the Chief's belly gently and smiled as she cried out, "CEEEEESSEE!"

The holo, like the ones before it, would go on record, and travel into the future. Other R&D departments in deep blue would eventually become more commonplace on United Federation of Planets starships, and as the historians would note, this was where it all started- with one very pregnant bird, and her brood of odd ducks that she gathered together to build, to test, to improve and innovate. To build the technologies of the 25th century... together. Families forged out of the parts at hand who worked together to accomplish what no one had considered before.

The department was named Research and Development. But the truth was they were architects of the future, even though they were all unaware of that fact in the moment. In that holo, all of them smiling, cheerful, looking to a bright future, it was just Mona's band of misfits on Deck 3... and that was just fine for all involved.

Sitting in the small cubicle in the Intel Pod where she worked, Jaeih Dox was feeling frustrated. She had been busy working on a new model for an encryption code that would be harder to break and kept breaking her own codes. It was becoming slightly tedious and, in truth, her heart wasn’t quite in the task.

The Romulan woman was not a raw recruit, nor was she inexperienced. She was a 75-year-old former Tal’Shiar agent. A former Sub-Commander in the Imperial fleet, and she found that her tasks for the HERA’S Intel Department tended to lean towards code-breaking and tasks that would generally be considered paperwork. As a civilian asset, she also had no authority and she found that last fact was beginning to chew at her sense of pride.

While she was 75, by Romulan standards, she wasn’t even quite middle-aged, and her career was over in the Imperium. She was still legally considered a fugitive of the Star Empire, and while she served Enalia Telvan on the Hera with honor, she had no intention of flying to Earth to join Starfleet or go to the academy. She was still a very proud Romulan woman and, while she had betrayed that government, she would not betray her people. As a point of fact, her acts of betrayal were to serve the Romulan people who were being victimized by that oppressive government. But in her heart, she was not a traitor.

Sitting back at her cramped little desk, she let out the lightest of sighs and rubbed the bridge of her nose as her mind wandered. There was the Artan fleet to consider. As her daughter was a Baroness with her own ship, she had been named Mnhei’sahe’s adjunct. She had thought long and hard about transferring to Mnhei’sahe’s ship, the Golden Ghost. There, she could truly serve her people and have actual authority again. She could matter again.

But then, she would again be separated from her daughter. Separated from her new daughter-in-LAW, Mona, and the three grandchildren on the way, and she didn’t want that either. That was simply not an option. Turning off her workstation, she got up from the desk and adjusted the gray Intel uniform she wore that was emblazoned, not with a Starfleet delta, but the wings of the Romulan sigil as a comm badge. Stretching her back, she stepped away from her desk and muttered to herself out loud, “I need some fvadt coffee.”

The duty schedule for the day in the Intel Pod did not include her in it, but as usual Jaeih was working to avoid going back to her lonely quarters where she had even less to occupy her mind, so she put in extra hours on her tasks and overworked them, often on her days off like today. It was a trait that her daughter had inherited and one that was getting on her own nerves at the moment. Making her way to the empty break room, she ordered a tart, Romulan coffee from the replicator and sat down at the table furthest from the door to ponder her situation.

Of course, she didn't get to sit and ponder for very long before the comm badge on her chest chirruped gently, breaking the silence of her contemplation. As the call came in, she rolled her eyes and sighed as she tapped the badge, "Yes?"

"Jaeih, it's Mona. We here in the R&D department would like to speak with you about something and wondered if you'd meet us for lunch in Ten Forward. Ah... And yes, it's about official business." Though she was making a formal request, she also wanted to make it seem informal, so Mona hoped it came across that way.

There was a long pause as Jaeih considered the request. In truth, she was in a foul mood and wasn't feeling much like company and she knew that the reference to the R&D department and the words 'we' and 'us' meant that Mona was likely with Ensigns Gavarus and O'Dell. Regardless, she took a sip of her coffee as she got up to place the remainder of the unfinished cup back on the replicator pad for reclamation as she replied, "I shall be there presently."

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

"She sounded mad." Ensign Briaar Gavarus said as the R&D group settled into a large booth in Ten-Forward. Across from her was the department chief and freshly minted Lieutenant, Mona Gonadie and to her side was Gavarus' partner in crime and life, Fiona O'Dell. On Fiona's lap bounced their miniature minotaur babe, Minerva Moo. Next to Mona, was Yeoman Ila Dedjoy.

"What do you think, Chief? I mean, she's your mother-in-law so, you know her better than we do. Did she sound mad to you?" The twitchy Tellarite engineer asked nervously, still harboring more than a little fear of the intimidating Intel operative that was on her way.

"Pshaw, that's her default settin," O'Dell dismissed breezily as she held the bouncing boisterous bovine babe. "Granny Murderpunch's got R-B-F doown to a killin art. Hell's balls, when she's in a good mood she sounds like she's mad. Or aboot ta cut ye. Or snap yuir neck. Mayyybe alla the above. And that's when she's in a GOOD mood. She's as fine as she ever is, ye watch. She'll get doown here, look at us all disapprovingly as if we're all drunk on duty and wearin' party hats, then give that wee little smile that dinna reach her eyes and say somethin all dry an' witty. I'd bet the first round but we're on duty."

"We ARE on duty, aye Chief?" Fiona O'Dell, career alcoholic, checked just to make sure this wasn't a departmental outing including a 3 martini lunch.

"Definitely on duty. I'd normally say synthehol is ok, but not even that for you and you know why." As O'Dell shrugged to the fairness of the statement, Mona mused over the call for a moment, wondering about her mother-in-law as well. She had seemed a bit more grumpy the past few days, and she was barely middle-aged for her race. Perhaps she wasn't happy with what she was doing?

In the meantime, she ordered the usual round of entrees for the group from her PaDD so they wouldn't have to harass the wait staff, doubling her own order. "Our order is in so hopefully it gets here the same time she does."

The portly porcine engineer licked her lips as an audible rumble came from her stomachs. In between Gavarus and O'Dell, Minnie had begun to fuss and fidget slightly, leaning behind them and muttering as her heftier mother commented, "Well, if she doesn't get here soon, she may have to make another order because I'm about ready to kill me some lunch."

"And that's different from the norm how, Miss Gavarus?" Came the voice of Jaeih Dox, who walked up behind the touchy Tellarite completely undetected by the group at the booth. It was a stealthy entrance that elicited a shriek from Gavarus and Fiona, who both about leapt out of their respective seats.

"GYAAAAGH!!!! Sweet Christmas, where the hell did you come from!?!" Gavarus said, clutching her chest dramatically while little Minnie giggled maniacally. "Frickin' creepy-ass space Ninja BULL@#!+! Scared the hell out of me!"

Noting that Minnie was unfazed- if anything, delighted by the appearance of the Romulan soon-to-be-grandmother, the small stereotype settled down, deciding no harm had been done save to her hair, which was sticking out a bit more prominently after having been spooked.

Walking around the table toward the empty seat that had been clearly left open for her between Fiona and Ila, Jaeih sat down, crossing her legs and looking over the group. Aside from Yeoman Dedjoy, who was still in her Crimson tunic, the rest of the group were all decked out in matching unique hued blue uniform tops. Jaeih raised an eyebrow inquisitively, and let just the slightest twinge of the smile Fiona had predicted curl the edge of her lips. "Well... with the exception of Miss Dedjoy, you all seem to be decidedly more... blue than I remember. Even little Minerva. Is there something I should know about?"

"Other than the R&D department being officially recognized and organized under our own official colors?" Mona was grinning a bit as she let out a bit of the news. It was rare that she knew something that Jaeih did not, and she was enjoying it. "That's what we want to talk with you about. One of the conditions is that we have a full-time daycare person. We'd like you to be that person. Of course, you'll be privy to all of the tech that we're working on."

"Part 'a the team, aye? Get yuir own spiffy blue uniform, and run the daycare that's aboot to become a lot more crowded," O'Dell ventured, since the Chief had spilled the beans. "Tis orders, we have ta have a sitter fuir the kids, and ye know how choosy Minerva can be aboot whom she's left with. There's the Cap'n's baby too, I hear tell, as she an' Minnie like to tussle a bit. Rather fond of ye, named ye godmother, aye? Ah could be wrong, but it seems like yuir already headmistress of the nursery fuir exceptional children. We're joost puttiin it under one roof on the orders of the Captain."

At that, O'Dell beamed a wide grin that was meant to unsuccessfully imply innocence and the hopeful spread of good cheer. Plus she'd read somewhere that people were far less likely to punch someone when they were smiling. A minor part of her thought process, admittedly... but still lurking back there in her head nonetheless.

With a stone-like facade that gave away almost nothing, Jaeih looked at the faces around her. From Mona's loving smile to Briaar's slightly frightened grin to Fiona's aggressive over-compensation, they were all putting forth considerable efforts to convince her of this. Meanwhile, Ila looked slightly uncomfortable and Minnie had decided to read the tone of the table and was making with the biggest saucer eyes the tiny tot could muster. "You are all serious? You want ME, of all people, to run... a daycare? A daycare for actual children?"

There was a pause as she looked over to the bar and holding up a finger to the server with a half-lidded expression. "Coffee. Black. Now. Thank you."

"And I am... what... to forgo my... responsibilities to the intel department? In what capacity do you people think I'm fit to be around your children? "

"Are you happy in the intel department? Are you unhappy with children? Do you not want to see and have a chance to work on the things we're going to be creating in our labs?" Mona's smile faded as she turned more serious. "Go ahead and say no if it's the honest truth. I've seen how you actually smile around Minnie and Moira though. Yes, you smile. I want to see more of that smile and I want to see more of you. The chicks have already decided on you as well. They're not even born yet, and they've already decided that you're their best Nonala. I still have to tell my foster parents about that. I'm not sure how they'll take it, to be honest." Mona had used the Miradonian word for grandparent since that's how the chicks knew Jaeih and Mona's foster parents - actual names without sight were still abstract concepts for them at this stage, but they could tell the difference between people by thought patterns.

"Besides, yuir allays goin on aboot how bored ye are and how mooch spare time ye have as ye pace and look for more to do," O'Dell tossed in. "What's s'grand an' glorious aboot yuir intel job? Is it because ye dinna want to wear a brighter color...?" The last bit was a jab and she knew it, but O'Dell was a bit fired up. The Chief had a point, they'd all come into this thinking they were doing a good thing, and now it was looking like that wasn't so by Jaeih's reckoning. "As fuir yuir qualifications, ye raised the L-C and she turned out... good."

At Fiona's noticeable gap before saying the word 'good', Jaeih actually cracked a bit more of a grin and gave the Mariposian midget a side-eyed, sarcastic glance that said 'really?'. To anyone else, it might be interpreted negatively, but Jaeih, Fiona and Biraar had drank together enough for there to be at least the beginnings of an unspoken language and the red-headed pilot was beginning to get a firm handle on Jaeih's dark sense of humor. 

"Well... I shall spare you any further recriminations of my dubiously questionable parenting skills as you all have heard my protestations on that subject before, and have all worked quite diligently to debunk them as needlessly self-deprecating..." Jaeih said with a sigh as her coffee arrived and she took a long sip. "But... as you all have keenly observed, I am... unfulfilled in the duties I have accepted in the Intel Department."

Setting her eyes away from any of theirs and down to the cup in her hand, the elder Romulan looked almost wistful. "The missions where the Captain has need of my more... useful skills... are few and far between. And my duties on the ship feel... hamstrung by my lack of rank or authority. As I know better than to lie in the presence of my Daughter-in-law, so I shall not make any such attempt and simply say that yes, I am finding my work... frustratingly meaningless."

She didn't say as much in words, but there was an unspoken addition to that last comment that hung in the air between the group of women that seemed to say 'I need to matter again.'

"Tisn't spy work, and tisn't beating people oop. But... WE need ye," O'Dell volunteered, even as Minnie reached out for the severe Romulan woman. "We know yuir a spy and a smuggler and a dangerous woman... but maybe tis time for a new line o'work, aye? Havin authority over the wee ones might not be yuir dream job, but we all turn to ye for it, because ye've experience, ye dinna mince words and ye care. In fact, ye care s'much that should the ship come under attack, I'd worry least aboot our little ones- because woe betide any who came for yuir charges. Yuir a cross cranky scary old lady, and the kids love ye. There's no stranger we could assign who'd do the job better, nor keep the next generation safer, y'ken?"

With that, O'Dell hoisted Minnie up with a grunt, getting her off her bony lap and up toward Jaeih. A delighted expression on her face, the miniature Minotaur reached for the Romulan woman, making grabby hands as she cooed with anticipation of a hug from the grey-haired woman. O'Dell's skinny arms shuddered with the effort, as the bovine babe was getting too heavy for her to hold up for any length of time these days. But the alcoholic aviatrix refused to let the child down, literally offering her up as her final argument.

"Besides, where else can you go and immediately say that what you do matters? What's more important than the next generation?" Mona's innocent grin was widening just a bit. She wasn't psychic or bonded well to her mother-in-law, but the chicks were rather insistent, after all. And even without a psychic bond, Jaeih's sensitive ears were sharp enough to pick up on the rhythmic thrumming of the three children growing in Mona's belly that seemed to be directed straight at her.

Hesitantly, she looked from Mona to O'Dell and the furry bundle reaching for her and, after a long moment where she made Fiona's arms truly suffer for it, she let out an exaggerated sigh and gently took little Minnie in her arms. Immediately, the tiny tot cooed a strange sound that was somewhere between a purr and a moo as she hugged the Romulan spy tight.

"Far be it for me to argue in the face of such overwhelming odds. I would be a truly poor intelligence professional to not recognize what was directly in front of me, wouldn't I?" She said, looking over at Mona and legitimately smiling. That warm smile Mona had spoken of. The kind of smile that reached the eyes as she ran a hand across Minnie's head. "I... accept your offer."

That brought a cheer from O'Dell and Gavarus, half relief and half happiness. Minnie raised her arms in a cheer as well, articulating her emotional reaction to everyone else's reactions with a triumphant "Moooooo!"

"Noow, I've another thought to go along wi' this one,” O’Dell volunteered, surprisingly coherent for a change as she had not begun drinking yet. “The nursery... daycare... whativvir we're turning the breakroom into- needs to be spaceworthy, and ejectable like a lifeboat. On account ‘a I refuse to let our wee ones be a floatin target in case of emergency, so that lifeboat'll need thrusters, shields and weapons. Because if it comes to that, it’s another reason we chose ye, Granny. Because if they come on foot there’ll be pieces of ‘em scattered everywhere. And if it comes to the worst, ye’ll need a good sturd ship to get the children to safety, and damned if ye wilnae have it. They said we could have more space… let’s take oop some of it, aye? Chief?”

"Well, I have been working on a design for a saucer-shaped ship with arms..." mused the brightly plumed Miradonian. "It wouldn't take much to convert the nursery and lounge into it, really."

With Mona's loose description, Briaar's ears perked up and she smiled a bit. "Arms? Like... some kind of extendable servo arms or... retractable mechanical tentacles? And with where we're located, it would be easy enough to knock out the exterior bulkhead to space and install it as an ejectable component." The natural engineer was immediately interested.

As she bounced Minnie on her knee, Jaeih's own attention had been drawn into Fiona's blue-sky concept. After all, before she had been recruited by the Tal'Shiar, she was a talented engineer in training on Romulus and she too, was engaged. "I would like to review these plans, if possible. If I am, after all, to be a part of this team."

"Wot? Yuir nae joost the nanny on this one, yuir expected to fly the bluiddy thing. So that makes ye a test pilot, aye?" While her reasoning was simple, so too were the conclusions O'Dell drew. "So aye, ye get lots of input, as things go wrong and ye document and recommend solutions. S'a right loverly gig, and 'twill give ye somethin ta do between diaper changes and storytime, y'ken?"

The assurance from Fiona elicited the slightest of smiles and a light nod. "Very well, then. I shall endeavor to justify your faith in me in all regards. And for them. Is that not correct, Minerva?"

Looking down to the tiny tot, Jaeih's tone changed a bit to be even warmer as Minnie looked up and put one of her pudgy little, three-fingered hands-on Jaeih's cheek as she squeaked out, "Gamm!"

"I think that means the real boss has spoken." Gavarus grinned.