In Holodeck Two of the U.S.S. Hera, a scene of chaos was unfolding. There was a loud, thumping beat that echoed across a blood-twinged field of battle as the bodies of a number of Jem’Hadar soldiers lay, strewn about. And in the center of the chaos, surrounded by even more scaled, alien threats all brandishing wither pike or swords, stood Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox.

As the pounding bass of the late 20th Century Earth song ‘BODIES’ by the group, ‘Drowning Pool’ continued to fill the air, the red-headed Romulan pilot lifted a long, curved black metal sword in her hand. Dripping from the blade was the amber-hued blood of the fallen Dominion warriors, and along the torn, black work out top Dox wore, more than a little of her own green blood.

As the circle of troops advanced on the angry, thickly built officer, she raised her blade horizontally, just above her head in a practiced stance and took in a light breath. Then, almost in timing with the thumping beat of the music that came from all around them, she slid in low under the leading Jem’Hadar soldiers pike thrust and sliced deep into the warriors middle, dropping him with a single attack. And with that, the battle was joined again.

Letting out a series of increasingly angry grunts, Dox moved through the attackers quickly before being down to one soldier, armed with a sword that matched her own. The two went at it with powerful, quick attacks as the clashing metal of the mirror blades actually overwhelmed the sound of the music that filled the red sky of the unknown, alien world they stood upon. But after a tense two minutes, the blade of the Jem’Hadar warrior was rimmed with green as he fell to his knees and his head fell to his side. Standing over him, Dox lowered her sword, panting, wounded and sweating, but victorious.

“Computer, pause music.” Came a familiar voice from the edge of the field of bodies as Dox jerked her head towards it, slightly surprised that she was no longer alone in the holodeck of the U.S.S. Hera. And since she had locked the chamber doors, she immediately knew that whoever had been watching was a superior officer if they could override the security protocol she placed to keep out prying eyes to her unorthodox work out routine. Looking over as the music stopped, there stood Captain Enalia Telvan, watching.

“Captain…” Dox panted slightly, composing herself, “Is there something you need?”

"Interesting choice of weaponry..." Enalia observed, instantly recognizing the blade design as she stepped over the holographic remains of those Dox had slain, approaching her Flight chief with her hands on her hips and her own Trill Rapier on her hip. "I've watched you quite a bit and we even fought side by side a bit yesterday in a similar sword-fighting simulation. Your skill has grown considerably since we started the Tribunal."

It was only a day prior that Dox and Enalia engaged in a similar combat sim to blow off steam at the conclusion of a tense meeting with the Admiralty and a few drinks to celebrate the Hera's Commanding officer's Birthday. But it was clear from her posture and tone, that this visit was different.

"However..." Here, Enalia paused in her approach and stared about the battlefield. "There is no art, no style, no elegance... You swing your swords around as if you care nothing for your own survival and just want the other parties dead. Schwein has indeed taught you well."

"But you're still practicing, now with a different sword, and you've hit a wall." Enalia stepped even closer, now able to look down upon the shorter Romulan woman. "I assume this is because there is someone you want dead more than life itself. The tension in your neck and shoulders, as well as your quickening pulse, tells me I'm right."

Looking up, Dox was momentarily caught off guard. She knew Enalia well enough, had fought at her side and served with her on the bridge, but this was a different woman than the one she was more familiar with. The way she carried herself here and the way she immediately sized up Dox came off as almost predatory to the younger pilot. It was different, but not entirely unpredictable, as Dox was well aware of Enalia’s own troubled past and unique upbringing that created a woman that the rest of the crew rarely, if ever, saw. But Dox had, and she was seeing that Enalia Telvan again, here in private.

Wiping a bit of spit from her chin, the young Romulan officer nodded slightly. “You read my report of what happened on my Grandmother’s Warbird. You know everything Rendal did. Had my mother and grandmother beaten in front of me. Murdered my father while I was shackled to a chair and could do nothing. And when she put a practice sword in my hand and all I wanted to do in the universe was feet it back to her, I had to show restraint and control myself. And when that failed, and I actively went after her, she dropped me.”

“You know the language… you know what my name means in Rom… in Rihannsu.” Dox asked, correcting herself and referring to herself not by the anglicized name that the Federation gave her people, but by their true name. There was anger on her voice, not towards Enalia, but clearly to Rendal and to her own failure to have killed the woman before. It was a rhetorical question, however, as Dox knew that Enalia knew exactly what 'Mnhei’sahe' meant. It was the name for the Romulan ruling passion. Their complex code of honor, and in this case, it's meaning was clear. While she may have wanted Dalia Rendal dead… her mnhei’sahe demanded it.

"Yes, I fought her as well. I can say that she is likely more skilled than I am. The only reason I won was her adherence to a higher attitude and my willingness to be underhanded." As Enalia spoke, she paced away, her hands now clasped behind her back similar to how her mother used to when she was lecturing about swordplay. "I also noticed that she likely trained through dance. My mother's training method was through music."

"Either one is perfectly fine, as long as you can feel the rhythm. In the heat of combat, you can focus on your heartbeat, or your enemy's. Once you can feel the rhythm of your enemy's movements, no matter how strong they are, you can predict what they'll do and get ahead of them."

Now that Enalia was several paces away from Dox, she turned and looked back at her olive-skinned officer, drawing her sword. "This is why Rendal and I were so evenly matched. We could see each others moves easily. Computer, Trill dubstep training mix four, if you please."

With a chirrup from the computer, the air was filled with oddly alien synthetic music and what sounded like a heartbeat bassline undercurrent. "This is the music I trained with growing up. For now, let's start with it and see how you do."

Twisting her neck slightly, there was an audible pop as the tension was released and Dox shook out a little. Then, tightening her grip on the handle of her very real sword, she raised it in a somewhat basic defensive posture. She wasn’t expecting anything like this today, and in truth, had been afraid to ask the Captain for help with her sword skills. After all, it wasn’t exactly Starfleet appropriate behavior to want to kill someone. But Dox had also seen Enalia’s skill against Rendal and knew the Captain could help her, and she needed to be better than she was.

The music wasn’t Dox’s standard style, but she took a moment and closed her eyes and synched her breathing to the baseline. Then, as her eyes snapped open, she nodded her readiness to her Captain.

With practiced ease, Enalia stepped forward, flicked her sword several times to the music, and without even blinking, knocked the slightly larger sword from her hands. "You have no defenses, you aren't paying attention to my movements, and to someone with Rendal's skills, you're wide open."

Looking down at the sword for a moment, Dox’s face seemed oddly blank. There was no anger at having been so easily disarmed, just and expression that seemed neutral. “She...my mother… she never trained me with a blade. But when she started teaching me to fight, one of the first things she did was break my arm so I could learn to fight back no matter how much pain I was in.”

Bending down, the Romulan woman picked up her sword and looked at it for a long moment. It was solid black and had no surface markings, but its style and weight were identical to the sword the young woman kept hidden in her quarters. The sword she was afraid to actually hold. But as she looked at the replica in her hands, her thoughts lingered back to the real one in her closet as she continued. “The focus of that training was always on offense. On learning how to inflict maximum damage on an opponent regardless of the damage you might take to do so. Even just then, as my sword fell… I immediately processed how to step in through your sword. Take the hit but get close enough to strike with my hands. Your throat, your floating ribs, Kidney shots. I saw them all and had to stop myself from pushing into your sword to get to them. It’s… automatic.”

Twirling the sword to get a feel for its weight again, she looked up at Enalia. “And that’s how Rendal beat me. She saw that training and instead went after nerve clusters. Jabs designed not to injure, but to incapacitate. She hit my axillary nerve and my arm went dead. None of my offenses worked that way. I need to learn how to get past what my mother taught me. Get over that… programming… and be better.”

“I… I need your help, Captain.” Dox said, as she resumed a defensive posture.

The Trill woman lowered her sword almost horizontally and took a step back. "Then we'll start with the basics. I assume Schwein taught you the ten basic attack forms." With practiced ease, Enalia swiped her sword across each of the nine directions a basic attack would come from, as well as a basic thrust attack. "Left, right, top, bottom, thrust, etc... Your opponent's movements, weight, stance... will tell you what they're going to do, if it's a feint, etc... and you can defend appropriately. Once you sync your movements with theirs, you can keep up with them and even find openings to exploit."

"You already have a lot of the training and a lot of the skills. Now you need to worry about building defense, matching sync, masking your killing aura, finding the will to live, and maybe even building a few skills to mask telegraphic your moves." Enalia shrugged as she raised her sword back up. "Simple as can be. Now come at me and I'll show you proper defense."

Nodding, Dox began. One by one, she worked through each of the ten attack forms as Enalia showcased a different defense for each one. And in between each round, explained to the much less experienced swordswoman why each defense worked and how to predict them. She built on the martial arts training that Jaeih Dox had taught her daughter for years, showing Mnhei’sahe how to spot the visual tells that were similar to the tells that training. Watching for shifts in weight, looking at shoulder placement to predict a thrust or a slash.

There was both science and art to the lessons. A physics that the natural pilot understood of how each motion implied a follow up that had to happen as a result. For every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction, and Enalia was showing Dox how to predict them.

As the lessons progressed, the already tired young Romulan’s arms felt heavier, but she kept at it. And as she did, each attack lasted longer and each defense became more successful. Fueled by her passion, Dox refused to let fatigue touch her and she kept pressing forward, doing her best to absorb everything Enalia had to show her like a sponge. But eventually, biology began to overwhelm even the fire in her as her defenses began to dip again and there was a visible tremble in her arms as she held her sword up. It had been two and a half hours of practice and that had finally begun to show as both women were sweating and breathing heavy.

With a final attack, Dox’s sword was thrown from her hand one last time as it fell to the ground with a clang. But this last time, the match had lasted for seven full minutes before Enalia finally found her opening to disarm her junior officer, who had put up a much better defense.

“Imirrhlhhse!” Dox cursed at herself in her native tongue as she grabbed her hand, now visibly spasming from the extended effort of the last few hours of training. In the end, she had been at it so long that the muscles in her grip gave up before she did. “I… I couldn’t hold on anymore.”

"My first lesson with my mother lasted six hours, but I was also bleeding quite a bit and could no longer hold my sword with either hand or my teeth. As for your progress, you've done exceptionally well and I dare say you could best Schwein in swordplay by a narrow margin." Enalia sheathed her own sword as she spoke, before picking up Dox's sword and looking it over and giving it a few practice swings in the hand she hadn't been using. "I do have to inquire as to your choice in swords though. Why fabricate a replica of the sword of S'task?"

At that, Dox froze for just an instant. She began answering, struggling slightly to answer the question. "Well...it's..." But the young woman was all but incapable of lying to her captain as she took a breath and looked Enalia in her eyes.

"There's... something I should show you."

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

A few minutes later, the two women were standing in Dox's quarters. The far left wall had been removed and there were plastic tarps put up to keep dust out as engineering crews had been turning the quarters to the left of Dox and Mona's into a family-sized chamber to better accommodate the three children on their way. As such, the rooms that Mona usually had kept rather orderly were a bit in disarray at the moment.

Standing in the center of the living room, Enalia waited while Dox came out of the bedroom with a long metal case. As she put the case on the dining room table, she told a story. "It was my last meeting during my debriefing on Earth. It was in Scottland, with an Admiral named Charybdis MacGreggor. She was Rihannsu... like me. But a Starfleet Admiral. One whose career had been made largely... classified. She had been... following my own career for years, watching. She wanted to meet with me to talk. To tell me her story so I would know that I wasn't the first of us in Starfleet. Not the first to face discrimination. And not the first to suffer because of the Tal'Shiar."

Slowly, Dox opened the two old, metal latches on the side as Enalia listened. "She was old. She was from the same time period that Commander Paris came from. They... they were actually a lot alike." Dox's eyes seemed to get a little damper as she spoke. "But... Charybdis wasn't her original name. Her birth name was Scylla. Scylla Charvanek. She was the aunt of Ael t'Rllaillieu... the former and first Empress of the Rihannsu Star Empire. And... and before she passed away in her bed, she gave me this."

Opening the case, Enalia immediately recognized it's contents. A sword of lightly curved metal in a black, maithe wood sheath with a Sardonyx-wood inlay and a rough, black kahs-hir steel hilt. It was unmistakably the sword of S'task. The Honor Blade of the Rihannsu Star Empire which had sat on the empty seat of S'task, the founder of Romulus, for two thousand years, now sitting in a metal case in a Starfleet Lieutenant Commander's quarters. "It's... it's real. Well, real and not real. See... Char had something else in common with Commander Paris. She was also a bit of a time traveler. And she took this from the Senate, in the timeline BEFORE the Hobus Supernova was halted. She had intended to use this to rally the people after Romulus was destroyed... to help restore our people. Now, it's just a temporal copy of the sword that still sits on that chair in the Senate. But it's..."

"She gave this to ME, Captain." Dox said, eyes pleading as in her heart she still didn't understand quite why she had been trusted with it.

As Enalia studied the blade, she frowned thoughtfully. "I can tell you that you must never let this sword come into contact with the one currently in the Imperial Senate. Temporal collapse might occur. As for why she gave it to you... Why not? You have the backing of a Privateer based Empire, you have the right to inherit a seat on the Senate, you have the skills and abilities to survive in court, and you have the backing of quite a few of the Federation council from what I've heard. If anyone either deserves it... or will deserve it... It's you."

For a moment, Dox almost smiled as she half-joked in reply, "Well, I'm certainly not planning on wearing it on my hip if I ever..." Then she cut herself off. "Fvadt. I... I try not to think about it... but with everything that's happening. With my Grandmother naming me to speak for her in this reunification business. It's going to end with me there, isn't it? On Romulus. In the Senate. Eventually, it almost has to, doesn't it?"

"And that means you'll need a suitable honor weapon and an honor guard," Enalia replied, one finger tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Definitely something to consider for the future."

As always, Enalia was a bit of a pragmatist. She pushed right past Dox's anxiety to focus her junior officer on the goal ahead of her. It was a verbal version of the sword attacks she had begun to drill into the younger woman earlier and it was just as effective at demolishing Mnhei'sahe's defenses. 'Why me?' she asked. 'Why not you?' Enalia replied. It was simple and direct and indefensible and It forced Dox to realize that she was only attacking herself.

Smiling ever so slightly, Dox shook her head a bit and closed the case. "It won't be this. The sword of S'task was never meant to be used. To do so would tarnish it... dishonor why I was given to me. I couldn't do that, not even to satisfy my own honor. This sword won't ever taste her blood, but I want the one that does to remind her of everything she betrayed about being Rihannsu. About what we once were and should be again."

With her hands on the closed case, still not wanting to touch the actual sword, Dox nodded. "Thank you, Captain. For everything. I... would like to continue training, if you would teach me."

"I'll teach you everything I can. Also, as a Baroness, you have the right to have a sword of your choosing forged. Next time we're at the fortress, we'll go see the smith." The spotted captain rested one hand on her officer's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. By the time you need to be, you'll be as ready as possible."

Sitting in her office going over paperwork, Rita Paris noted the stardate, translated into the Earth calendar by the archaic digital clock display of the date back on Earth which sat upon her desk. It had been a gift from Dr. Nathan Lange, the ship's surgeon aboard the USS Exeter back in 2266. Lange had understood the concept of keeping track of the seasons and holidays of their homeworld, as they spent so long away, hurtling through space at incredible speeds. The vintage appearance of the piece, as well as the simulated woodgrain of the cabinet which housed it, were all replications simply designed to appear authentic. The circuitry was state of the art duotronics. Which Rita, of course, could rewire in her sleep.

Seeing the new year had arrived immediately brought to mind her five year plan, and she considered it. She now had one year and eleven months before conception, on the timeline she had established, in order to insure the time and place of her son's births. The old fable might or might not have been true, but Rita believed it, and that was enough. Across the globe, on new year's day every century, a few gifted individuals were born to greatness. Considered by the ancient myth to be protectors of the planet, they were an extension of it's immune system, as it were. There was no scientific data to uphold this theory, nor was there even much in the way of mythological reference, in truth. But it was an old Earth legend Rita had come across in her youth that had always stuck with her.

Now, as she steadily moved toward such a date, with the most remarkable man in the universe bonded to her for life by her side, she couldn't help but try to insure her offspring would come into the universe... into the world, her world, Earth... on January 1st, 2400. To Sonak, who appreciated how myths often had basis in reality and saw his wife's superstitions as hopes for the future, it would just be Stardate 77000.0. But if all went well, it would also the date of the birth of his sons into the universe. At least, if Hera's predictions came to pass, and her first pregnancy resulted in twins. Like Romulus and Remus.

Glancing up, Rita shook her head at that one. Those were DEFINITELY not going to be their names, that was for certain.

Considering the future brought up another matter on her mind, and she decided there was no time like the first day of the year to attend to both old and new business.

"Computer, please seal my office. Classify all recordings your eyes only to myself and Captain Telvan only until further notice, and encrypt this data with... something that will make it self-destruct rather than be improperly decrypted, best you've got, Computer. I trust your judgment," Rita leaned back in her chair and started at one of the empty seat there opposite her.

"I will engage Maru's encryption, meow to insure file security, Commander," the ship's computer replied, as it tended to the request for the polite officer. As per usual, she replied, "Thank you, Computer."

"All right Kodria. I think it's time you and had a little talk, young lady..."


"I know what you're thinking.... and no, you are not in trouble," the antique officer offered, trying to put her theoretical audience at ease as she addressed empty space. "If I've guessed right, then you're a sort of neural clone of Kodria. The one we have locked in a time vault as she gets back to the future the old-fashioned is the one who put you here. Just like she insured she left a copy of the robotic schematics of her chassis in the computer, which saved Yeoman Dedjoy's life. Maru knows you're here, and you two worked that out in advance with original Kodria."

"Those messages- she did record some, but you're editing as you go. The more we change the timeline, the less you know of future events, but like Cassandra you're trying to steer us around obstacles. Because time is still trying to flow as adherent to the original timeline as possible- a few changed dominoes doesn't always mean a completely alternate future. Or at least that's my guess," Rita admitted, folding her hands together and cupping the back of her head. Propping her boots up on her desk in a display of casual nature seldom seen in the Commander's office, the fantastic first officer smiled pleasantly at the empty chair. "But, I'm not the genius in the family, and I could be way off base."

"Except that I'm not, am I Kodria?" Rita looked around, eyebrows up. "I sealed the room and prepared to commit to something unprecedentedly clandestine, so I know you had to eavesdrop. Ship's computer is here recording for me, so I figure so are you. Which means with all of the holographic wizardry that lets Maica go to the beauty salon, you can come take a seat and talk to me, hm?" Pausing, Rita let her hands loose, bringing them up slightly in surrender. "Not mad. You are not in trouble, and this does not mean that you get isolated, quarantined or sent away. You have my word as an officer, okay?"

With that said, Rita sat back and waited to see if her theory was correct, and that a version of Kodria was still aboard, trying to help. If it was, being called out like this would likely terrify her, no matter Rita's assurances. But the kid was brave and smart, and she'd figure it out. So Rita gave her a minute to think it over.

A minute was all the young woman needed. After a long minute of silence, a holographic Kodria materialized- but rather than just the android from the future, several small holographic screens with high speed raw data scrolling across them floated around her. With a bit of a lopsided grin similar to that of her grandmother's, she rested a hand on her hip. "So when did you figure it out, Aunt Rita?"

"You were a bit too spot on with some of your timing and predictions," the human explorer admitted casually, clearly following through on her promise and presenting no anger about the events. "With events changed already, your foreknowledge wouldn't have covered the knowledge you possessed... I believe it was specifically after the death of Ararena Telvan. In your timeline, Enalia killed her, and I suspect I know the rest of that- your mother literally never knew her own mother because she was raised by Arenara in Enalia's body. Which sounds no less crazy now than when I said it the first time. At any rate, you advised us on something after her death, with knowledge you couldn't have known. That was when I figured it out."

"I kept quiet about it to see just how much meddling you were prepared to do, honestly. But you've been very judicious about what you nudge and how, and you really are trying to be as responsible as possible. Which is why I haven't called you out. Honestly, I'm not surprised... it's something I would have done in your shoes. Since you didn't ask to be placed here like this, that means you aren't to blame. So, I thought we might have a little chat and clear the air. Because I must say, I'm very proud of you for how you've been handling the situation." There was no sarcasm nor rancor- instead, it was honest pride that Rita was offering.

The young android adventurer from the future had impressed them all when she had arrived, and she'd touched each of their hearts in different ways. Which had made her farewell bittersweet- for her own good, so as not to endanger her own timeline, she'd been sent back to the future the old fashioned way. Placed in chrono-stasis until the day she had been accidentally zapped to the past, when she would be awakened by the people who had put her there... all considerably older, of course.

But the presence of a virtual Kodria was an element that required discussion, If nothing else, because Rita had a concern or two. But for now, she wanted the young one to know how well she had done. Rita had grown up without praise, from the one person she strove for it from so desperately. Thus in her own dealings, particularly with children, she was always careful to express the honest praise she knew they needed to hear. To know they had made those whom they respected proud. It was how she commanded, how she would parent, how she would teach, and how she would govern. In the moment, it was hopefully reassuring.

"I... Thank you..." It was obvious that the holographic Kodria had expected a lecture rather than praise. She had indeed been careful, as well, and even coming out like this was breaking one of her core rules about this. However, the security protocols in place were pretty tight, so she deemed it safe enough. "So I'm not in trouble for all of this? I mean, I'm changing the course of my own history, aren't I?" Rather than the former proud look she'd adopted before, now she looked a bit sheepish as she relaxed a bit.

"No, you aren't in trouble, and as for changing your own history... well, yes and no," Rita explained, leaning forward to be more engaged. "Original Kodria- she's got a lecture coming her way about all of this, for sure. But she isn't here. Her future may not be fixed, but she will get there regardless. You, on the other hand, are here, now. I can't isolate you in the system and contain you and ship you off to the future as well. Even if we tried to, I suspect Maru would just hide enough of you to save you and let us continue on, thinking you were gone. Then you'd be even more cautious about your messages, maybe not advising us when we needed it, and it would just keep you more isolated than you are now. Which is part of why we're having this discussion."

"I don't know if I ever told you this story," Rita's voice grew a bit reserved as she recounted one of the worst chapters of her life to the young life form. "Once upon a time, I was a ghost. For nearly five years. I was there for the whole mission. I couldn't do anything to affect the physical world, which made it a tiny bit different than your situation. But I couldn't talk to anyone, couldn't interact, couldn't sleep. In the end, it was the loneliness that drove me craziest," Rita paused to reflect on that for a moment, the memories still with her to this day.

Looking back up at Kodria, Rita smiled a wan smile. "If I was right, I couldn't let you just be a ghost too, kiddo. No one deserves to be that lonely, and I should know. You'd have Maru, but you're a bit more social than that, and having to just watch us all and figure out when you could help... it's a stressful life, and a lonely one. I couldn't do that to you."

"I don't have all the memories of the me in stasis... But I do remember that one. I always thought how sad and lonely that must have been, and how strong you were to have gone through it." The young girl moved around the chair across from her Aunt Rita and and slipped into it, contemplating things as they were, the holo-screens about her bobbing a bit as she did so. "I guess, in a way, we share a bit of that now. Since I've been watching over all of you all this time, unable to interact directly. I shouldn't even be talking with you here, now."

"But it was the right thing to do," Rita reassured the young woman, who so often seemed to find herself out of her depth in her adventures- a trait with which Rita was intimately familiar. "Now, as I said, you aren't in trouble, but we need to find a way to deal with the situation. Although I suspect that the answer is going to be 'leave well enough alone and let her be'. I still have to report this to the Captain- she is your grandmother and it's happening on her ship, so she has to be informed, and she will be the one to make that call."

"While your foreknowledge of history is problematic, you have shown an exceptional amount of restraint and responsibility. I think we might just find an accommodation so that we can manage some coexistence. Because I can't condemn you to years of life as a ghost, little one. You didn't ask for this, but you are here, and I'm pretty sure I can't 'send you back' like the original model. So we're going to have to come up with a plan, Miss Kodria... but I'm pretty good at plans," Rita offered with a smile.

"That's definitely true," quipped the young holo-Kodria with a hint of a happy smile peeking through. "I remember you telling me about the time you fought off an entire flock of... Ah... Nevermind. Suffice it to say that I've always been impressed with your stories and the plans you've come up with, even on the fly."

"We'll figure it out, Kodria. For now... it was very brave of you to come forward and let me know you were here. I am guessing that was part of your programming- to be as careful as possible not to reveal yourself. But I'm glad you answered me... I have to admit, I've missed you, kid, That really was one of the hardest calls I've ever had to make... now here we are again, but this time the circumstances are different, so we'll see what I can work out with the captain. For now..." The anachronistically uniformed officer rose from her desk and came around it, arms outspread.

"C'mere and give your old auntie a hug," Rita offered, adding, "I am so proud of you for being so brave... where did you learn that?"

With a soft smile and hints of moisture in her eyes, Kodria hopped up and all but leapt into her aunt's arms, the holographic screens bouncing around her dimming down for the time being. "I learned it from you and Aunt Dox and Uncle Sonak and... So many others... If it weren't for all of you, I'd have never been born, you know."

"I know," Rita replied softly, hugging the holographic version of the young android she'd rescued from a Section 31 base that had gone Romero. Without realizing why, tears began to fall as she held the slight form of the android girl from the future.

In the short time she had been among them, Kodria had been a bright light of hope and innocence, with a touch of hero worship as she encountered the figures of her present in the future. But in the here and now, they were young adventurers instead of mature and staid figures. It had been Rita who had realized the danger and devised a solution as to how to keep the girl from the future from polluting the timeline and changing the past, potentially wiping herself out of existence. Which of course endangered her own future- otherwise, if she were to be honest, Rita would not have cared nearly as much. It was far easier to let the future be it's own caretaker, as to her it was always unwritten.

But Kodria had stirred a defensive instinct in Rita Paris that was rather maternal in nature, and she had become determined to insure that Enalia's android granddaughter would not wipe herself out by meddling in her own past. Thus she had proposed and executed a plan to seal the young woman in cryostasis, augmented by chronal anchor technology from the DTI, which would insure that in 2494 when Kodria awoke, she would still exist. Even if the universe around her was different than the one she had left, she was a survivor, and she would be alright. While Rita fully planned to be there, her own life was nothing if not tumultuous, and she could never make such a commitment. Although she was determined to do her best to be there when the little android's eyes opened again, nearly a century from now.

But in the here and now, she held the ghost of the brave young woman which she had left behind in an effort to save them all from perils she know of, perils she would learn of, and perhaps save them even from themselves. Because Kodria was the best of all of them- literally. As her brain engrams had been formed by the files in the Hera's computers of Samuel Clement's backup copies of his own onboard processor, she was comprised in part from all of them, which had set her on her life's course. Then the versions of them she knew had guided and raised her, teaching her what they had learned of the universe since that scan decades before her creation.

In that moment, Rita knew nothing of the girl's engrams or their connection, nor did she care. Instead, she realized a simple truth that was quite powerful to her. Sniffling, she squeezed the young woman protectively for a few seconds.

"I've really missed you, little one."

By now, the holographic version of the young android was crying freely.

"I love you so much, Aunt Rita."

"I love you too, Kodria. Now let's get you a life onboard the Hera..."

New Year's Day was not particularly a holiday of the Artans- at least, not on the Earth calendar. For them the celebration was tied to the Trill calendar, which fell on April 15th for Rita. Who might be the only person on the starship Hera who kept track of the Earth calendar, rather than the far more logical stardate measurement of time.

It helped her feel a connection to her homeworld, so far out in space, she'd found. And to not lose yourself amongst the stars, you needed to stay grounded, Rita Paris had long ago realized. Sonak gave her strength, support, and a fixed point in the universe which she loved with all her heart. But the world of her birth, Earth... that crazed, industrious melting pot that had reached out to the stars in friendship, and in doing so changed the face of the galaxy. No matter how far she roamed or how much it changed, it would always be important to Rita to retain that connection to her homeworld.

Which was a pleasant distraction from the duty she was now required to perform. Having uncovered a problem onboard the USS Hera, as first officer it was her duty to find said problems, then present them to the captain with a proposed solution. If she was particularly stumped, she might bring in more of the senior staff. After all, they were all brilliant, capable individuals who were each highly accomplished in their respective fields. While Rita herself was a throwback who seldom understood the technology involved, so she deal in broad concepts, which seemed to work for her.

In the jaws of the current dilemma, she was uncertain just exactly how to proceed. But this matter was highly sensitive, and until Captain Telvan said otherwise, it was classified. Tapping at the PaDD in her hand, she sent the recording of the meeting she had just taken with Kodria in her office, and sent it to Enalia with a high priority tag to draw her attention. Checking a few more reports and rosters to give her spotted captain time to review the file, Rita rose and headed up one deck to the Bridge, where she was unsurprised to see Lieutenant Commander Dox in the command seat.

Which meant that, true to form, upon receiving a high priority encrypted file from her first officer, the captain had retreated to the cramped closet she called her Ready Room to review it in privacy. After all, they were a Starfleet Intelligence vessel. Secrets were a rather large part of their business. Thus Commander Rita Paris strode confidently to the doorway inset off the port side of the Bridge, and tabbed the door chime.

It took several seconds for the seals on the ready room door to power down before they'd open, but once they did, Enalia called out in her usually semi-chipper voice "Come in!" doing her best to hide the fact that she'd just been looking over something she considered beyond classified. "I had a feeling it would be you. Please, have a seat. I'll pour you a cup of tea if you like. I think today's is from Earth, actually. Darjeeling?"

"Sure, as you like, Captain. I assume you got the file I sent and have had time to review it?" Paris asked as she strode in, took a seat and crossed her legs at the knee, folding her hands in her lap.

As she poured a second cup of the aromatic tea and handed it off to Rita, Enalia nodded. "Most of it. I was trying to make out what those screens about her head were displaying, but it looks like raw code in the recording. I mean, it's bad that there's a copy of her aboard, even if it's partial, but good that we're aware that she's done so. What I want to know is how much she's aware of and how much can she plan out."

"For the full answer to that you'd have to ask her and Maru, as they are clearly in cooperation here," Rita paused to take a sip of the tea, savoring the flavor. "As for what she can plan out... galactic events will still come to pass. Her changing the outcome of the tribunal by meddling in the timeline generally won't change the historical events like Praxis exploding. So what she knows is dangerous, but what she can affect is far more limited. I'm still trying to figure out just how to deal with this one, Captain. We can't just leave her in there, but unless Maru cooperated we'd never get her out of there. She can't be left to direct the timeline as she sees fit, but we can't just shut her off from all contact, either. So we've a bit of a challenge with this one."

"Agreed," Enalia replied immediately before taking a sip of her own tea. "She's too precious to just ignore like some program. Maru can handle the lack of attention, but Kodria... She's different. She's... Damn it, my daughter's still in diapers and I have to worry about the mental health of my granddaughter already. It's not fair, Rita. What are we supposed to do? What can we do?" The stress of family life on top of getting older was clearly starting to get to her as moisture was starting to build up in her eyes.

Looking up and reading it all- the stress of suddenly being the parent of a newborn, even as Maica tried to cope with it. Now the added responsibility of her granddaughter, returned as another problem she had to find a way to deal with, another life for which she was, in an odd way, directly responsible. On top of sleeper agents and sneaking around the Romulans and the long missions away from home. They hadn't spent Christmas at her familial fortress, but in space, waiting in specific positions at specific times to receive reports. Worrying about her senior staff on an away mission while she waited to see if they were going to start an intergalactic war, or broker some sort of impossible solution to the problem of reunification between the Romulans and the Vulcans.

All beyond her concerns over what such a reunification of two very powerful and potent races as one might mean for the galaxy- for at heart, Rita knew Enalia Telvan was a pragmatist.

What the captain needed was a solution, not another problem. And a break. Brow furrowing, the lost navigator cast about for an idea, throwing out whatever popped into her head. Acting, as her logical spouse would likely observe, solely on intuition, as she often did.

"We could... give her limited interactivity with the crew. At least the senior staff. And she is.... okay, how to say this and not sound speciesist..." Rita stroked her chin for a second, thinking. Setting the tea down on the desk, she stood, and began to pace in the narrow space.

"We could put some sort of a muzzle on her. No knowledge of the future is allowed- like, she literally has a condition installed, preferably of her own accord." Rita spun in place, then took another measured, careful step in the cramped space as she paced. "Basically she tries to blab the future, she goes mute in whatever form of communication it is, and she stays muted for 10 seconds to think about that. I don't know, ah... she's purely holographic, which that isn't a problem on the Hera. Unless we build her a body, but that is really a pretty huge step and I don't think that option should be on the table for a while, honestly. Let's see how she does just having the people she knows as company and see how well she can do without blabbing."

"Honestly I don't have an objection to changing the future," Paris pulled out that wagging finger she'd inherited from her father that she still employed, as did he, as a lecturing tool. "I'm only worried about the futures I live in, not the ones that will yet to come. Physical, original Kodria is still on ice, so regardless of what changes may come to the universe between now and then, she'll be fine. We did our duty, and insured her safety."

"This Kodria... this is a ghost of her that she left behind, a bit of her to help us and recalculate the possibilities to steer us clear of hazards in the timeline as she perceived them... ahhh, THAT's what you meant by how much she can plan out.... how much she can prognosticate from available data. Ideally she would need to keep that to herself, except in perhaps situations of dire peril? Another consideration that there should be a threshold- good point, ma'am..." The ancient astronaut stopped pacing to place her hands on the back of the chair and lean on it.

"I've come to report we have a stowaway, Captain. It's another lost child of the universe that, yes ma'am, we are somehow now responsible. As I don't believe you put in for a cabin girl, the choice as to how to proceed is yours, but I say we let the lass sign on- IN a limited capacity," the old-school officer emphasized. "We'll see how it goes from there. After all, Ops seems to be a bit understaffed. But again, that would be a discussion for later. For now, I propose limited freedoms and a gag order with a threshold, but... what do you say you give the kid a chance, Cap'n."

As Rita went on, the Trill woman started to relax a little, relieved at the realization that she wasn't facing this alone. Indeed, she had failed to realize that not all of these decisions had to be made by her. Once her first officer was finished and there was a pause in the conversation, Enalia reached across the desk and took Rita's hand in her own, squeezing it tightly. "Thank you, Rita. That actually sounds like a wonderful idea."

"Maru will have to police her for any slips, but I don't think a full gag subroutine will be necessary. Especially since she seems to be much more mature now. In fact, she might already have one in place, if my guess is right. So yes, limited contact with the senior staff. And... possibly our VIP guests if needed."

"I'd feel better if she started with a gag order- self imposed," Rita pressed for this one, because she felt it was important. "If she never trips it, no one else will ever be aware of it. I trust her not to slip up, I genuinely do- she has kept communication with us to a minimum and been very sparing in her contact, showing considerable restraint and good judgment. Still, I'd like some assurance. Eventually all of this is going to come out in a DTI report, and we're going to have to explain and justify our actions to the bureaucrats of time and space. It's not like we're asking anything unreasonable of her nor impugning her liberties as we seek to expand them."

"Ok, fair enough. Then that's what we'll ask her to do. Otherwise, she remains a ghost in the system with Maru." Enalia nodded and conceded the point. "Do you want to handle communications with her?"

"Well, you do realize she's been listening to this entire conversation, ma'am?" Paris pointed out. "I didn't bother sealing the room or taking any additional precautions other than your standard ready room, because she's well aware of the situation and she's been waiting on pins and needles, watching this meeting to see how it would go and what would be the outcome. She knew I would bring this to you straightaway, and now she's excited and nervous."

"So," Paris continued, offering insight while hopefully not sounding pedantic, "how about if the Captain's authorization for our little stowaway to come on board in a limited capacity is officially ordered by the Captain herself? I suspect it would mean the world to her... after all, you and this situation are unknowns, x-factors to her, as we are already part of a divergent timeline than the one she knows. Thus her foreknowledge doesn't apply at all here... and like any young person who has been caught doing what they know they should not, she's afraid of the potential punishment an authority figure might bring to bear upon her. So while I'll be happy to manage Kodria's access, perhaps a word from her once and future grandmama might go a long ways to helping ease her anxiety in this matter...?"

The spotted woman took a deep breath and composed herself, realizing that she'd been wearing her emotions on her sleeve a bit too much for her taste. "Then I do so hereby give the order. Kodria, dear... Permission to come aboard officially granted. We're not going to punish you or anything like that. I think you've likely punished yourself quite enough."

After a few seconds, the same holographic representation of Kodria formed in Enalia's ready room, holo-screens of scrolling raw data bobbing about her and all. "Um... hey, grandma. Thank you. Sorry about leaving a copy of part of myself behind."

"That's perfectly fine, kiddo. I think I probably would have done the same thing." As Enalia took in the young holographic representation of her android granddaughter now before her, she slowly stood and came around her desk, a soft smile on her face as she pulled the shorter girl into a tender hug. "You know, this is the third form I've seen you in? Some temporal shenanigans let me slip a peak of you the day you were born."

"I know a bit about temporal shenanigans, grandma," Kodria replied with a giggle as she hugged back. "As for your questions earlier... I've already put in place a block about talking about future events. I'll still give you the warnings I already planned, though since aunt Dox didn't get stuck on Romulus... I'm not sure if really any of them are even still applicable anymore, really."

Taking in the scene, the meeting of two separate generations that never would have otherwise met, Rita Paris couldn’t help but smile. The irrepressible young woman from the future needed contact with people, and she needed to be able to do so unafraid. Once she’d deduced the truth, Rita had debated what to do about it, and while one crisis after another had loomed, she’d put off the decision.

Now, seeing the two generations that had never truly known one another embracing, she couldn’t help but smile. It would be tricky trying to incorporate Kodria into the crew, explaining it to Starfleet Command would be trickier still, and keeping DTI from locking her up for the next 90 years or so would be an even greater challenge. But right here, right now, seeing the young woman hugging the young grandmother she’d never known, Rita Paris knew she’d find a way.

This was an innocent thrust into circumstances beyond her control, who needed help.

They were Starfleet… and Starfleet never turned their backs on those in need.

Particularly one of their own.

Upon her departure from Earth, the USS Hera did not have a chief medical officer onboard. Admiral Meowlith had assigned one to the starship, but the transfers didn't line up, and instead she'd been sent to Memory Alpha. The transfer was arranged, but would take time and coordination. In the meanwhile, Doctor Power, the ship's holographic emergency medical hologram, had been pressed into service as the CMO, over his own protestations. In the recent battle in the nebula, he had been forced to triage and institute care without supervision. He had dutifully filed his reports, and those reports in turn had been dutifully read by his superiors.

Thus Commander Rita Paris was on the move to Sickbay with some good news for the handsome Doctor.

As the anachronistic Commander walked into sickbay, the EMH looked up from the tray of tools he was running through the UV sterilizers long enough to turn his look of concentration into a struggling smile and greet her. "Hello, Commander. If you'll have a seat on one of the biobeds, I'll be with you in just a moment. What seems to be the trouble today?"

“Ah, my trouble today is that I have an overclocked and overworked physician,” Paris replied, sitting down on one of the biobeds, somehow managing to arrange her short uniform skirt demurely beneath her to cover her modestly. “I have good news, Doctor. We have a new CMO en route, and she will be taking over the temporary duty I have assigned you. So relief is in sight if you can just hold on for a little while longer.”

"Ah, that is good news! Soon I'll be able to devote a bit of time to my hobbies once more," the holographic doctor replied as he stowed the now sterilized medical instruments. "So is there any gossip about this new doctor? Is there anything I should be aware of?"

“Well, she’s another El-Aurian, I know that much. Otherwise I think this is her first time out on The Final Frontier- her experience up til now seems relegated to research facilities and Starfleet Medical and psych. Her shuttle’s due to dock in about ten minutes now… would you like to come with me to greet her, get a feel for her and meet your new chief?” Paris offered, revealing the true reason she had come to see the holographic healer.

Doc Power looked up at the gold dressed human with a look of amusement as he armed himself with a tricorder. "Ah, there's the real medical emergency. You want my vast knowledge of psychology plus experience with long lived species at your fingertips, as well as giving me a chance to be one of the first to greet her. Is that it? Very well, I accept."

"You read me like a book, Doctor, clearly. Let's away, shall we?" Taking the lead, Paris strode out of Sickbay reception, in that martial stride of hers that ate ground rather efficiently. "So how have you enjoyed your tenure as CMO? You compiled quite a few hours of time. Was it rewarding or is existence still a puzzle to you?"

While on the surface they might be rude questions, Paris was genuinely curious. Not all photonic entities chose to become citizens- some were content within their programming and never chose to exceed it. So how Doctor Power was dealing with it and the choices that he made were just as important as any other member of the crew to the first officer.

The EMH sighed heavily as he followed along. "Right when I think I've figured out part of living, something else reminds me that there's yet so much more that escapes reason. Some things happy, some things sad, none of it making a bloody whit of sense. But if you're wondering if I want to be restored to factory settings... No, I don't think I'd like that. Even though it means keeping the bad too, I'd rather keep the good and see what else is out there. Besides, who's going to keep track of your physicals if I'm not around?"

A crewman who had been distracted by Paris' anatomy in motion, walked into a wall as she pointed it out. Although she seldom acknowledged it, such things were an occurrence that happened with regularity in the curvaceous commander's proximity. "Oh, I might find someone willing to help, I suppose. But I'm glad you're still looking to explore, Doctor. Existence is quite the adventure, and you have the potential to live for a very long time. I'd like to think you might be able to make some amazing contributions to the universe in the time. One person really can make a difference, after all. I hope you've seen that much, at least."

Wincing at the crewman's 'accident', the Doctor wondered if this was normal for events around the Commander as he replied. "Yes... I... On several occasions, I believe I have, actually. If I were the type to point out my superiority in many ways over biologicals, I would say that my potential contributions may be vast in the field of medicine. However, I know that there are many things that you, for instance, have that I lack. Intuition, for instance. Your decision-making capabilities are likely superior as well. Mine are weighted based on algorithms and subroutines. I'm just now exploring creativity so it may take me years to figure that out."

"However... It is said that to each person you help, you make a difference, no matter how small," Doc Power continued. "Throw a starfish back into the sea, even if you can't help all of them... You made a difference for that one."

“I quite concur, Doctor. No kindness is ever wasted, and no offer of help is ever in vain. As a physician you see that very directly in your patient’s recovery, so hopefully that can inspire you. For what it’s worth,” the comely commander added, “It could be argued that we all make decisions in basically the same way- weighing the factors and computing the best reply. Intuitive leaps you may lack at this point but the greatest minds tend not to be able to accomplish those, so you are in good company should that capability never manifest within you.”

"We will see what the future holds then, won't we, Commander?" the British EMh asked with a warm smile. "As for the now, let's see about getting our new CMO checked in and aboard. Her shuttle should be docking right about now if that ten minutes you mentioned was spot on."

"Our leisurely stroll through Sickbay," Paris observed. There were turbolift shafts all over the ship, but Paris preferred to walk the decks, to stay in touch with what was happening across the ship. Plus continual exploration led her to discoveries about the enormous starship upon which she traveled, the pearlescent black beauty. Sickbay was like a hive arranged throughout Deck 12, and just like in her day, it was the center of the saucer, and the strongest part of the starship, designed to survive if anything could. The Hera's sickbay carried the same reinforced emergency forcefields as in Rita's day in the Constitution classes, although hers extended to the maternity wards and schools below, Rita had insured. It wasn't exactly protocol, but they carried the future within those spaces... and the future had to be protected.

"Such an enormous starship. At least as a photonic life form you have run of the ship thanks to the holoemitters all over the Hera. So there's that. Do you have any hobbies, play any sports or games?" While it was idle curiosity, Doctor Power was a member of the crew. With the check-in, Paris was also doing a check-up, and looking in on the man. Early on she had been the one to encourage him to pursue a life and compile experiences, so she felt in a small way responsible for his journey to personhood, and insuring it was a reasonably pleasant and healthy one.

"I've been studying fruit carving. I've found it to be quite the fascinating and rewarding hobby. I've even gotten a few of the crew to sample a few of the morsels I've carved, though the reception of the display has yet to be... Positive." For a moment, the look on Doc Power's face was a bit sour, but he quickly perked up. "On the bright side, at least my choice of edible arrangements have been found to be delicious."

"It's a hobby- an interest that has nothing to do with your life, yet is there solely to be fulfilling for you. I'm glad to hear of it," the fulsome first officer explained as she stepped up to the turbolift. "So are you looking forward to meeting the new CMO?"

"Very much so," Doc Power replied with a grin. "It'll be good to be able to focus on my patients and get a little down time once more."

The turbolift arrived, and the brief ride to Deck 4 passed in silence, as the turbolift deposited the pair near the flight deck, as Paris led the way, striding with that confident military stride despite her exceptionally short uniform skirt. As a runabout winged its way to a landing on Pd 5, Paris strode across the flight deck to meet it, deftly avoiding cables, personnel and machinery as if she was fully accustomed to the relative chaos of the flight deck…. which, of course, she was.

Standing erect and alert, hands holding the ever-present PaDD behind her back, Commander Rita Paris awaited the disembarking of the passengers, to greet the USS Hera’s new Chief Medical Officer.

Dr. Tovanna Mah checked her uniform as the shuttle came to its final stop after her long flight. She was excited and happy to finally have a place to call her own. She gathered her one bag of personal items and small messenger bag of tablets with untold amounts of data on them ready to report to her commanding officer.

She had already done her research on Commander Rita Paris, she was looking forward to meeting the woman she had great respect for. Anyone who could survive what Commander Paris had and still serve with a halfway bright outlook was to be admired. The brunette took a deep breath and stepped onto the deck of the USS Hera for the first time knowing it would be her home for quite a while.

“Dr. Tovanna Mah reporting for duty.”

There was a small pause there, as if Commander Paris were expecting something more. Then a small piper's smile crossed the lips of the fulsome first officer as she greeted the new arrival. "While you've extensive experience in Starfleet, I understand this is your first posting to a starship, Lieutenant Junior Grade Mah. It's tradition that you follow that report for duty with the request for permission to come aboard. It's surprising how many personnel arrive into the fleet unaware of the practice. But, as you may have gathered, I'm something of a traditionalist. No matter, we'll overlook it this time. Welcome aboard, Doctor. Shall we?"

With that said, the mod miniskirted officer turned, gestured toward the pressure doors that separated the flight deck from the rest of the starship, even as the shuttlecraft on the landing pad beside them levered into the air and swing about to angle out the large and busy flight deck. The anachronistically uniformed officer took a half-step, watching to insure that the new crew member was following her as she began to move.

Tovanna blushed deeply and nodded as she followed Commander Paris, after her oversight. She was so eager to begin her first assignment she forgot protocol. As they proceed from the flight deck Tovanna took note of the Commander's uniform. Tova recalled the note in the woman's personnel file that mentioned her preference for the older style of uniform. She could understand how the mere difference in what one wore would help retain a sense of identity with their past. Tovanna was quite pleased however she was relegated to pants and her doctor's coat in her modern uniform, being herself a bit more shy. She noted how different it must have been culturally and chronologically when Rita was in her original time.

As they were walking Tovanna listened to what was being said and took note of her surroundings in attempt to get a feel for the how the ship felt, the tone of the people on it, their reactions to the Commander and the holographic doctor to see how they would deal with him in the future she she be working with him. She was a listener by nature and an an observer after many years of academic and practical medical service. She knew as the newest member of the crew it would be her job to assess the current situation with the crew before making any changes. Her hope was that she would be accepted with as little resistance as possible. So far however her nerves were still all aflutter after her initial sight of the ship. She still couldn't help but be quietly excited.

"I'm Rita Paris, the first officer of the Hera. This is Doctor Power, who's been serving as the interim CMO. So long as he doesn't object, he'll continue as you assistant chief. That work for you, Doctor?" Paris turned to the handsome healer on her left.

The doctor nodded to Paris, fascinated by the EMH, "Thank you Commander Paris, I look forward to working with you."

"With the way staffing has been and the sudden turnover of almost half of our staff, I'd be happy too," the british modeled EMH replied with a pleasant smile as he glanced over at his new boss and offered a handshake. "I'm Doctor Adam Power, by the way. Ship's EMH. You have some big shoes to fill, but whatever you need, I'll be here to support you."

The El-Aurian shook Doctor Power's hand, "A pleasure, thank you for your offer, I'm sure I will need much assistance getting my bearings. As for those shoes, I can only try- my feet are only a size 9," she smiled. "If I may ask Doctor, is there a reason for the recent turnover in staff? Are we expecting difficulties I should be aware of?"

"There are always difficulties and challenges, Miss Mah. We deal with those as they come. In this case." Paris intercepted the question, walking down the corridor at a military marching pace that the holographic physician kept up with easily, but was something of an adjustment for the physician who was previously resident physician in a land-based hospital, not an active starship. People were passing them in the corridors, all moving and going somewhere with a purpose. Red, teal, gold and even a grey uniform, when they passed a 2 meter tall pig talking to a redheaded midget in the corridors of the USS Hera.

Arriving at the turbolift, Paris pressed the call button, then pivoted to finish her statement. "Our chief medical officer offboarded at Earth when we arrived for debriefing. You were declared to be their replacement, but you were unavailable until now, and this rendezvous." The turbolift arrived, and Paris gestured inside, holding the lift. "But now you're here, so we can get you settled in and ready to work."

"Turnover in the medical department is also relatively common for a vessel like this. Our medical staff sees a lot of varied injuries so Medical Command likes to rotate people in and out regularly to spread experience across the fleet, should another crisis arise," added the holographic doctor.

"Excellent point, Doctor. We do some exotic medicine out here on the final frontier, so be prepared to be, ah, flexible and open minded." Paris agreed, adding to what Doctor Power had offered as the turbolift doors closed behind them and Paris called out, "Sickbay, CMO's office."

Tovanna nodded as she quietly took everything Commander Paris said, her change in pace and topic avoidance. She stayed silent and listened to what wasn't being said by those around her as much as what was. Often people forgot she was more than just a medical doctor, she was psychiatrist, and carried more than a human’s lifetime of practicum and expertise. At this point however silence was golden, observation would lead to greater understanding of her new crew.

"I will do my best to accommodate whatever we might encounter to best of my abilities," Dr. Mah stated with a gentle smile, not explaining the reason for her absence. "I've already reviewed the available crew manifest for current medical status. Is there an updated version available for review Dr. Power? I prefer to keep updated on the crew at all times for all relevant conditions that might influence their ship duties." Dr. Mah turned to Commander Paris, now in her comfort zone, "Commander is there a time I need to report to the Captain? I will be getting familiar with all of the updates to manifest and will report to my quarters thereafter unless needed otherwise." Tovanna picked up a tablet , her dedication to her duty quite obvious as she began reviewing files.

"You're not one for conversation, are you Doctor?" Paris observed with a reserved smile. "That thing where I talk, then you talk, and it becomes interactive?" The turbolift doors slid open, and far from the military pace of the previous deck, the First Officer ambled out into sickbay, in the relative calm of the waiting room outside the Chief Medical Officer's office.

Dr. Mah shook her head, "My apologies, Commander Paris my strength lies in my ability to listen, review, to analyze, and assess. Respectfully, this has all been a bit different than expected. A ship of extraordinary hue to camouflage at the edge of the Neutral Zone, a crew that seems more than is being said, and an emergency medical system that has a level of cognitive development beyond his original programming, followed by indications that I should be prepared for the unexpected and might be kept in the dark due to the delicate nature of our missions. The first of all of these I am open to, the willing ignorance to what is going on around me....well, that will be a bit more difficult. I'm more brains than beauty, I will leave that to you Commander as you have both in spades after decades of experience in command. I've now given you my first diagnosis of the situation I am seeing, how am I doing?" Tovanna held her tablet to her chest with a look of professionalism but a lack of challenge. She would state her findings, stand her ground but in no way felt the need to challenge her new Commander. Her 60 years of medical and psychological experience would either pan out of fall short now based upon what she had learned about Commander Paris from the available files.

"You just illustrated my point. Not much of a listener if you are always giving speeches, Doctor," Paris chuckled, shaking her had and shrugging. "You can be as suspicious and wary as you like, and feel free to pry into whatever suits you, Doctor- you are senior staff, you have clearance and if we've somehow come across as sinister, then I'm failing across a great many metrics."

Spinning the PaDD in her hand about, Paris presented it to the physician. Clearly the anachronistically uniformed officer spent a considerable amount of time with one in her hand, as well as delivering them to others. "Here's your welcome aboard package, including your quarters assignment, maps of the Hera, limited computer access and some appointments to keep. You need to check into the command in order to have full access, so that means a meeting with the first officer, a meeting with the captain, a physical and a session with the ship's counselor. Once everyone signs off, you'll be checked into the command, and be granted full access for active duty."

Tovanna sighed heavily, "Permission to speak freely Commander?"

Offering an appraising expression, Paris eyed the El-Airian anatomist. "Miss Mah, I was unaware that you had been doing anything but. However, by all means. If you've something you feel must be said, then by all means, please do so."

Tovanna looked a bit relieved for a moment and let her professionalism drop, her fear showing more. "I find nothing here sinister or suspicious toward me. I fear that I am on an assignment I am underqualified for and may be risking the welfare of the crew. From my orders going wrong to getting here and putting my foot in my mouth, I wonder why I was chosen for an assignment obviously better suited to someone with more on board experience. I know I could be tanking my career and be sent packing but it is better that than risk the life of the crew.....Sir." She sighed deeply relieved to finally get the truth of it off her chest. She stood at rest before her Commander not knowing what her future held.

Through it all, Paris maintained the exact same expression, making her somewhat inscrutable. When the physician finished, the curvaceous commander raised her eyebrows and looked down at the shorter woman somewhat imperiously. "Few of us are prepared for the unknown, Doctor- as it is by definition unknown, it would be folly to imagine one is prepared for it. It is the mark of character how we react to the unexpected, and how we help one another, and those souls we encounter out here. The trials you encounter will define you, and you will find out who you really are, Doctor Mah."

"I look forward to meeting that woman, that doctor, that officer," Paris cocked her head a bit, winding into the inspirational speech she knew the moment called for. "Because I think she might just surprise the you of here, today, right now. We are none of us who we were yesterday, and we have yet to become who we will be tomorrow. We are not defined by our mistakes of the past, nor our experiences. We are defined by our words, our deeds and our choices in the present, which forge the future. So try to have a bit of confidence, Doctor. Starfleet wouldn't have sent you out here if you couldn't do the job, and that's good enough for me."

"You will have an entire department looking to you for answers, and a starship with a talent for trouble running into mysteries to solve," the old-school officer offered. "Confidence, Doctor Mah. Courage."

"And if I understand the quote on the ship's dedication plaque, we're here to give hope to those that live in fear of death," added Doctor Power.

"So I'm not totally screwed," Tovanna considered her new Commander's words carefully and nodded, "Alright. Might I humbly ask a favor then Commander?"

"You can always ask, Doctor," the curious commander replied, her tone and facial expression reflecting her indulgence.

"Might we start over? I feel my nerves and lack of sleep may have gotten the better of me in this situation, which has resulted in a poor reflection upon me." Tovanna sighed, feeling some of the tiredness catch up to her from the trip.

That earned her a smile, a genuine one, from the eccentric executive. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Doctor. I greet every onboarding officer, every enlisted that I can, and I accomplish it for the most part. So I am the face of the Hera that everyone meets- the old-school officer who's watching, assessing, judging you from the moment you step off the transporter pad or out of a shuttlecraft. Funny thing? Very few get the 'permission to come aboard' right. Nearly everyone sticks their foot in their mouth at least once. And more often than not, they walk away from meeting me and being greeted onboared feeling as though they have failed a test somehow."

"This is day one onboard the Hera for you. You'll settle in, you will get a feel for the crew, for the department, and you'll find your groove. And we'll look back on today and chuckle. I won't hold any of it against you- I have an idea of who you are now, and you have an idea of who I am now. You have a very small inkling of what you have signed on for here. But never imagine for a moment that I am not on your side, Doctor Mah. You're one of the crew now, and that means Starfleet's promise- your life for mine, my life for yours, and nobody gets left behind." Offering her hand in welcome once again, the Human first officer peered into the El-Aurian's eyes.

"Welcome aboard, Doctor Mah."

Tovanna laughed and shook her Commander's hand gratefully, "If you don't mind, Sir, I will skip to just laughing now, my nerves have been on edge since I was given my orders. Reporting for duty." She looked curiously at Commander Paris, "Quick question though... I was COMPLETELY off on the reason for the ship's hue being different than the standard issued Starfleet grey, Dr. Power, all of it?"

"I don't know what your reasoning was, Doctor. But I will admit that we look sinister, yes, as the stealth plating definitely makes us look unique. Doctor Power chose to pursue his citizenship by remaining active and compiling life experience, so we encouraged it, of course. Me and the minidress is another story entirely, but rest assured, there is very little sinister about it. I can assure you that you are not in the Mirror Universe, you haven't joined Section 31, and we really are Starfleet." Paris put her hand up toward the old-fashioned Starfleet delta on her old-fashioned uniform as if to pat it, but stopped short. Raised and 3-D. it was clearly a variant comm badge like everyone else's, just in the delta of Command from 130 years ago.

Tovanna smiled at Commander Paris, "I'm a scientist, observation is key," she laughed, "In fact, however, I didn't state any of these observations were sinister; rather that I was aware of them. So should we begin here in medical? I'm sure Dr. Power and I can handle it from here."

"Sounds like a plan. You have your order, you have your department, and you have your assistant chief. I'll leave you to set up shop, Doctor." With a nod, the curious commander pivoted on her heel, and strode off in that brisk military pace of hers, leaving Doctor Mah to settle into life on the USS Hera.

V’lera paced the small confines of her room. “Computer, open personal log, V’lera, standard encryption protocol.”

Normally she would write out her logs but today was one of those days. She’d worked a fourteen hour shift, she’d skipped lunch and dinner, and she’d just done something…bold and very off from her usual routine. She’d asked for a posting and it had been granted.

When the computer chirped she knew the log was open, “I have finally done it. I was to be on the Apollo but when I saw the position open on the Hera I knew that I had to go there. Logically it is the right choice. They are…known as a ship of shadows and I, as a counselor wish to bring light. I can only imagine what they are going through. Living in the shadows all the time is difficult, I know of shadows. I wish to help. It is more than that. It will be a challenge, a way to get to know myself more. I have noted that they have had many counselors…in a short time. Fascinating, why?”

V’lera rarely had those days where coherence in thought was an issue but…today it was. It felt as if she was just spewing things out. Her logs were generally ordered and mapped out. She preferred her Vulcan side, her logic, this…was bordering on pure emotion and she didn’t want to admit it. She tried to convince herself it was more logical then emotional. She stopped the log for a moment to let her mind calm and to allow her excitement dissipate a little.

She walked over to the replicator finally giving into her stomach pains. Ordering a salad she sat at the table.

Wanting to get her thoughts out she pushed the salad aside giving into her nervous energy. “I…have promised myself that I will try to be bolder. Normally I would not question the decision made by Starfleet to send me to the Apollo. I am not a lover of change yet I was ready for it. The Hera…I …saw the posting and wanted it, I knew if I asked I would get it. I knew that Admiral Henderson would grant me any favour I ask and perhaps I should feel a bit badly about taking advantage of that but I did want this. I want to chalk this up to logic yet…it is more than that.”

Now we are twenty hours away from the Hera and I am attempting to keep my Vulcan composure. I must not allow myself to feel excited…it sets up expectations that if not met will cause…discomfort.”

She speared a tomato. “If I am to begin a new chapter in my life perhaps I should begin it with something bold. I will pack later… I may even try to be bold in my packing actions. Instead of my usual colour coding I may mix my clothing by length and colour. It will be illogical but it will test the limits of my boldness. I will …what’s the human phrase…” She pulled out a little notebook she carried with her and opened it looking through some pages. “I will live dangerously to prove to Captain Harris wrong.” She gave a definitive nod. “End log…erase.”

Sighing she made another check in her notebook feeling gratified that she’d used two of her interesting human phrases in one day.

Another onboarding was on the docket today, and Commander Rita Paris was making her way there to insure she was early for the appointment. As the first officer of the USS Hera, one of her myriad responsibilities was to greet new crew members as they signed aboard. This was a duty that served a multitude of purposes- it gave the new crew member a feel for the command style of the starship. It made them feel immediately welcomed as they were not left to their own devices upon arriving onboard. Then there was the fact that Paris rather thoroughly interviewed the new candidates to feel out who they were, who they pretended to be, what skills and personality quirks were evident, and it gave her a very good idea how well they would mesh with the crew.

Today proved to be an interesting one, as the officer in question had signed on to be the chief counselor. This was a position with no small amount of turnover, as the past few counselors had been self-absorbed, remarkably damaged and overall poor excuses for compassionate sentient life, forget about officers on a high-stress high-demand starship like the Hera. So when another counselor had requested assignment aboard the mighty starship, Paris had read over her service jacket with a critical eye and keen interest.

The safety and well-being of the 752 crew serving on the starship were her responsibility, just as it was Captain Telvan's. and Paris took it seriously. In her day the ship's surgeon doubled as what passed for a counselor, but in modern Starfleet those duties were subdivided, which made sense. Striding the halls at her martial pace to the transporter room, the officer she was preparing to meet had the capacity to do great harm or healing to the crew. This was Rita's opportunity to determine which it was likely to be, and make her recommendations. Ever the optimist, she hoped the woman would be compassionate, intelligent and empathetic, with sound strategies and a firm grasp of Starfleet while being broad-minded enough to see beyond the scope of traditional situations.

The next few moments would tell the tale.

Strolling into Transporter Room 2, the technician looked up, then blanched slightly. Commander Paris' relationship with transporters was well known amongst the engineering staff who manned the consoles of those miraculous devices, and she was well aware of that earned reputation. Thus she offered an upraised hand to the petty officer on duty. "Relax, Mr. Qualtine. I'm just here for an onboarding arrival today, so your shift should remain stress-free, I assure you."

The technician looked only mildly relieved, as just Paris' presence seemed to make transporters go haywire. But she stayed far clear of both the pad and the control panel, instead assuming a 'parade rest' pose with the ever-present PaDD in her hand clasped behind her back as she internally reviewed what she'd read, and prepared to meet the officer in question.



“I appreciate your assistance,” V’lera said as she took the last of her bags onto the platform.

The transporter chief smiled. “You are most welcome. It’s been great having a counselor for a while.”

V’lera had been disturbed that the Reliquin, an Ares class ship making a supply run to Starbase 241, had no counselor. They had been badly in need of one. The trip had taken five weeks to restock, pick up a few crew, and travel to meet the Hera. They’d left Earth but they’d had one thing after another go wrong. In fact they were supposed to have dropped her off on the Apollo but when the position came open on the Hera…and seeing that they’ve had a turnover of counselors that was fascinating V’lera had asked for a last minute switch.

To make a long story short she’d spent five weeks working twelve hour shifts helping the crew here. “I have spoken with Starfleet Counseling and have asked that a counselor be made available to the ship as soon as possible.”

The transporter chief smiled, “Thanks…I know you’ve helped a lot. Emma finally talked to me last night…she really opened up.”

V’lera inclined her head. “You must continue to work on it with your daughter. She … is struggling with her feelings not only about losing her brother but her father. You have lost your husband and son. You are both grieving in your own ways but you must find a common language.”

The woman gave a sad smile. “Well we’ve started and it’s thanks to you.” She took her position at the controls. She wouldn’t do the transport initiation but she’d monitor the patters of both V’lera and her unusual pet. The chief held up her hand in a standard Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper.”

V’lera gave a nod. “And you. Reach out to me at any time.” Just as she finished speaking she felt the pull of the transporter. She closed her eyes tight. She hated the idea of her atoms pulled apart and put back together. It was a frightening experience.

Within minutes ,she felt the last of the shimmer effects wear off. She swore she felt her molecules vibrate. Shaking it off ,she quickly took in the new transporter room, much larger than the one she’d come from. V’lera noted the uniquely uniformed officer standing at the foot of the transport and after a quick pip scan on the low slug collar she gave a salute. “Sir, Lieutenant Junior Grade V’lera reporting for duty. Permission to come aboard.”

The close-lipped smile that spread across the anachronistically-uniformed officer was genuine, and not without a hint of surprise. Bringin her feet together and drawing herself to attention, the old-school officer returned the salute. It genuinely gave her a warmth in her heart to see an officer come aboard properly, and her day was already off to a good start. Holding the salute for a two count, Paris released the salute with a snap of military precision, than spoke her acknowledgment, in tradition. "Permission granted, Lieutenant Junior Grade V'lera. I'm Rita Paris, the first officer of the USS Hera. Welcome aboard."

The emerald skin, pointed ears and sharp brows all pointed in the directions of the heritages in her file, so Paris started off with a choice between the two, by offering one of her own. A Human custom, that of offering her hand for a handshake, old-school fleet style. Vulcans eschewed physical contact because of the touch telepathy of their race. Orions, or Kolari as they called themselves according to something she half-remembered, were far more in tune to body language, considering it half the component of language itself. For the Kolari a handshake was, as far as she could tell, a warm greeting, as it was amongst Earthlings.

V’lera held the salute as long as the XO. As soon as Paris ended it so did V’lera and took on an at attention stance. The hand shake…was expected. The Vulcan side of her abhorred it finding that her touch telepathy was a bit stronger than the average half Vulcan. She had, as a counselor, learned to overcome that. Being a counselor required you to shake hands, hold a hand, and even give a hug sometimes. All these she found challenging but her whole life had become a series of challenges she conquered. Some took longer than others though. She stepped off the transporter pad and shook Paris’ hand. “Thank you ma’am for the welcome. Happy to be aboard.”

The handshake was professional- a grip, not too tight nor weak, two short pumps and it was over. "Just leave your baggage and it'll be beamed into your quarters. I assume the father of logic will travel fine that way?" Paris chucked a thumb at the luggage as she turned to leave, he other hang gesturing for the new officer to fall in step.

V’lera gave a nod. “He is better with transporters then I am. Surak takes a… logical approach to transporter travel.” V’lera fell into step noting that Paris issued more an order then a run of the mill assumption. As they walked V’lera reached into her bag and pulled out a PaDD. “For you, Commander. This came through this morning. Surak’s certification as a therapy animal. I find working with him has a positive effect on some patients.” She made a note to follow in a professional style but the curious cat within her made sure to take in every detail of the ship. The Hera was beautiful… from what she saw in it.

As they walked she wondered if this standard interview with the XO would be just that, and interview, or if it would be an interrogation like the one she got on the Flame. She kept quiet though adopting a ‘speak when spoken to’ strategy for the moment.

"Interesting. I hadn't seen the paperwork in your service jacket," Paris commented, bright and alert eyes scanning over the documentation before stacking the PaDD with the one she was already carrying, is if she were accustomed to juggling stacks of them. Stepping up to the door, as it slid open, Paris stepped out onto the wise busy concourse of Deck 6 and began walking, at a standard military stride. Speaking as she moved, she clearly expected her audience to be keeping up with her. "A racoon is an interesting choice for a therapy animal, particularly given that it's an Earth native species. How did that come to pass?"

A rare smile played on V’lera’s lips. “Surak was…unexpected. I met him while I was recovering on Earth. I was injured during an away mission and was brought to Starfleet Medical. I was discharged, early and while walking I became ill and fell. Surak, even though he was blind, managed to get help. He was very young at the time. He, by scent, found my room at Starfleet medical on the ground floor. He’d wait outside the window daily. I found that…I was attached to him and took to feeding him. When I realized his condition I adopted him, helped to train him and entered him for certification. He has proved to be a great comfort." She paused. "He is family."

Listening as they strode through the busy corridor, Paris nodded. "We're rather all about family on the Hera, and I think you'll find, more often than not, that unconventional tends to define our familial bonds on this particular starship. Thus the concept likely won't be as alien to most as you might imagine it would be in such circumstances. Speaking of which, this is an unusual choice for an assignment, but you sought out the Starfleet Intelligence vessel that lives in shadow, as they say. I'm curious what spurred on that particular choice?

She tilted her head to the side. “It was…a logical choice. As a Vulcan,” she said bypassing her Orion side. “I am a follower of Surak, the Vulcan master not the Raccoon, and as such I adhere to the IDIC principle and the principle of light in darkness. When one lives in shadow one learns to exist in it and shadow can turn to darkness. One needs light to avoid that and as Counselor I will attempt to provide that light. In the same respect I need to learn to exist in shadow a little. I have been told, that I am too direct, too truthful. I might learn some tact in the shadows. It was, as I said, logical.”

"The other reason?" the buxom blonde human pressed. "Logic alone does not dictate a move such as this one, nor a change quite so drastic. Assuming this was not a spurious decision, which logic would dictate it was not, more elements would need to be in play in order for logic to direct an individual to a choice such as serving on the Hera. Or is my logic flawed, Counselor?" Paris stopped at a turbolift access to press the call button, then turned to await her answer with a hint of a smile. There was no rancor in her voice nor arrogance; merely curiosity.

V’lera shrugged, “The truth is… I do not know. My life has changed over the years a lot. Perhaps discovering the truth of who I am might be easier when tested to my core.” It was the truth, plain and simple. “My life has been a series of overcoming challenges and I find that I grow the most within those challenges.” It was what it was. Simple, truthful. "Being here will be a challenge, and I hope that I will grow in being here. Perhaps the most logical of arguments. I am here to heal and to be healed."

The lift arrived. V'lera kept her place and waited for Paris to enter first. When they were inside V'lera stepped back a bit to allow the first officer the lean power position.

"Deck 8, please," Paris called to the overhead, tucking the PaDDs in next to her left breast like a yeoman. "Interesting answer, Miss V'lera. What truth about yourself do you seek, I'm curious?" The turbolift took no time to arrive down two decks, and the doors slid back open before the reply could be expressed. Paris stepped out, pausing for the counselor to catch up.

She thought a moment, "I am not sure. An observation if I may. You would make a great counselor. On the same line of topic I did notice that there was a high counselor turn over rate. I found that fact fascinating. May I inquire as to what happened? If they were lacking in some way it might assist me in knowing the full needs of the crew." Perhaps a sharp change of topics but she wasn't ready for counseling yet. She'd just gone through her regular series of tests for fitness and the counselor she'd had to deal with was not one that she was particularly pleased about. Earth had some good ones but this one, an independent agent that Starfleet employed to test the fitness of its counselor, was particularly bad. She needed some down time to process it all.

"I'm not much of a counselor, I'm afraid, but thank you for the compliment," Paris deflected. "I'm an explorer, and being an explorer often means asking probing questions; in this case, I have the safety and security of the crew to consider, so it behooves me to get to know you and grasp your motivations as you're coming aboard. In short, I need to know who you are, beyond your service jacket. To intuit whether I feel you'll be a good match with the crew, and their somewhat unique problems." Paris explained as she stepped forward again, her stride far more casual. The corridors of Deck 8 were narrower, and far less bustling with personnel as the wide thoroughfares of Deck 6, and the officers passing them were just that, for the most part- officers, not enlisted personnel.

"As for your question... empathy. A lack thereof," Paris clarified, speaking with her hands as she did so. "Previous counselors were self-absorbed, assumed an air of superiority, some were markedly inconsistent or uncertain in their skills, some were arrogantly assumptive in skills they lacked. In short, Starfleet Psych has yet to impress us with anyone they've sent our way. We've additionally had brainwashed individuals sent to us more than once, as well as changelings, so you may understand my recalcitrance to openly trust new onboardings. Exclusive of our issues with previous counselors, yet a trust issue all the same, which logically folds into the same issue."

"Thus you and I converse, and we'll do so until I am satisfied that I can trust you with run of the ship and the secrets of the crew. The Hera," Paris paused to pat a bulkhead fondly in passing, an affectation that said much about the woman, "is a starship of a great many secrets, both major and minor. Over the course of time, a Counselor tends to learn them all, which makes the position rather a unique one. Given the dangers inherent in that information falling into the wrong hands, I presume you can appreciate the logic in my caution."

She gave a nod, "Absolutely. Caution is wise. It also tells me that you care a lot about the crew. I've worked with some that do not so it is refreshing to see. I look forward to earning your trust."

They walked a little ways before she went on, "By way of a little about me. Communication is where I excel. I am an open book with respect to certain things, and sometimes too open when it comes to self and thoughts. Honesty, loyalty, and dedication are key. Confidential things well that I am used to. I know what is off limits, I am confident in my knowledge, I know what I don't know, and I would never assume to give advice if I am uncertain. My goal is to help.”

“Counseling is...a difficult task. Everyone needs a certain level of it and some need more of a sounding board then a counselor. I give options to clients I work with them. I'm not there to dictate what they should or should not do unless it jeopardizes their safety and that of the crew." V’lera paused. "Trust is earned and you've had bad experiences. It is my job to show you that I can be trusted. I will endeavor to do that. I would only ask that you provide feedback so that I can adapt to how things are here. This is new for us all. Each counselor is different and each ship or environment takes a different approach." She shrugged.

"Commander, I am cautious as well. I just do not want to be...lumped into the same category as the other counselors before I've had a chance."

“A very reasonable trepidation, so let me address that, Miss V’lera,” the curvaceous commander in the mod minidress stopped, and turned to face the counselor. “On the Hera, you’ll find that you are judged for your words and actions. Preconceived notions such as counselors past, spies and infiltrators will not be held against you. Instead, you will be observed and judged upon your own merit. Your words and deeds will be your validation, and I think you’ll find that for Starfleet intelligence, we’re surprisingly open-minded. Captain Telvan sees to that, and I enforce it. So while I will happily list the issues the position had encountered in the past, don’t imagine for a moment that you will be starting from a deficit.”

“Now, I won’t say there will be those who are cautious or trepidatious, and on a case by case basis you may encounter some degree of distrust and evasion,” Paris admitted with a spreading of the hands, palms upward. “But that’s part of counseling, is it not? Everyone is not an open book, everyone has their own preferences and every individual is different. On the Hera, there are a great number of unique individuals who face unique challenges. At heart, at the end of the day, they are almost all Starfleet. As such, they all signed on to make the galaxy a better place, and while we vary widely in our approach to accomplishing that, I think you’ll find that is a unified theme of our crew.”

“So, questions?” the anachronistic astronaut asked with a curious tilt of her head, her longish bangs sweeping somewhat into her eyes as she brushed them away in a practiced motion. “I’ve given you the basics, and before we proceed, it seems only fair to open the floor to any questions you may have. If you’ve queries, now would be the time to address them. So feel free, ask away, and if it’s within my power to answer without violating anyone in particular's privacy or security concerns, I’ll do so.”

V'lera shook her head, "For the moment, Commander, I am as...what is it humans say? I am as right as rain." She pulled out a small palm size notebook and opened it putting a checkmark beside something. She saw the Commander watching her. "It is my human phrases I like book. I try to use one a week....mild obsession. Humans have the most colourful phrases."

“So I am told,” the blonde bombardier replied with a ghost of a smile, the human bride of the kolinahr enjoying the observation that she'd heard many times before. “No questions… interesting. A starship with a history as varied as the Hera’s with a crew as diverse as ours inspires no inquiries, the first officer in the uniform that’s 130 years out of date doesn’t raise an eye, and the fact that we’re a pearlescent black starship no one has ever heard of is simply a casual passing fancy. Interesting. I would have expected more probing questions from a counselor, but… here we are.” Pointing to the LCD nameplate next to the door, it read LTJG V’LERA.

Handing over the PaDD she’d brought with her, Paris explained. "Here's your welcome aboard package, including your quarters assignment, maps of the Hera, limited computer access and some appointments to keep. You need to check into the command in order to have full access, so that means a meeting with the first officer, a meeting with the captain, a physical and a session with the ship's counselor. Once everyone signs off, you'll be checked into the command, and be granted full access for active duty. Any questions, Lieutenant?"

"Yes ma'am. One," She paused. "Is there a counselor aboard? I was told there was none so I took the liberty of getting clearance from one at Starfleet." She reached into her bag again and pulled out a PaDD handing it to the XO.

Looking confused, Paris paused, then snapped her fingers. "I said counselor, didn't I? Apologies, Miss V'lera. I meant Chief Medical Officer, who is also your section chief, and the one you report to for the onboarding physical, so it's a triple play. Odd Freudian slip there." Taking the offered evaluation and starting another stack of PaDDs in her hand, Paris extended her hand once more.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. I'll be seeing you around." With that, Paris lit up a radiant smile that seemed genuine and earnest.

V'lera shook the commander's hand. "Thank you for your welcome. I look forward to working with you, ma'am." After the hand shake she gave off another salute and then stood at attention as was proper process until her commanding offers gave her leave or had walked a suitable distance for her to enter her quarters. She picked up on the fact that the XO appreciated proper respect and procedure and it was a way to honour that side of the woman.

Rewturning the salute a bit casually, the first officer smiled genially. "No need to stand on ceremony once we're on to day to day, Lieutenant. I appreciate it, but no need." Turning to leave, Paris paused, then half-tuirned back. "One last piece of advice. I doubt you would, but don't call the Captain 'sir'. It's a bit of a hot button for her. Just so's you know."

With that, Paris nodded and strode off, in that deck-eating stride of hers.

V'lera gave a nod. "Thank you ma'am. I shall remember that." She waited until the commander was out of view and then she took a deep breath before entering her quarters.

It was time to start her new life. It was time to settle in.

The Starfleet logo shimmered and shifted until an image of an older woman wearing commander's pips appeared. She had flame red hair and intense green eyes. She sat rod straight and her wild curls framed her pale heart-shaped face. The screen was frozen before a computerized voice rambled on, "Input command code. Counselor Assessment Starfleet Command, Counselor Edelweiss presiding counselor, assessment of Lieutenant Junior Grade V'lera."

"Authorization Paris, Rita, LTCDR 867-5309," Rita called out. She'd never changed her command code when her rank had changed, simply because no one would suspect her authorization code to contain the lesser rank. Sitting in her cluttered and busy office, Rita still had twenty minutes before she had to brief the Captain, and she preferred to review the video log in privacy. It wouldn't do for her to be walking the halls listening to the audio where others could hear, and the subtitled version lost nuance from the tonal inflections and choices.

if the Starfleet counselor had offered a video assessment, Rita would certainly hear what she had to say. After all, she had a great deal of respect for the medical personnel of Starfleet Psych, after they had put her back together so long ago.

The computer chirped and the image of the fire pixie came to life. "This log contains private and confidential assessments of a Starfleet officer and is meant for command and medical eyes only. Now," said the woman as she pushed back her chair.

"This assessment will contain several parts to it. The first and perhaps most important will be my assessment of V'lera in her abilities to complete her job. That will be followed by an assessment of V'lera as a personal note and some information as to her background."

The woman stopped and her eyes widened, "Oh my God! I just gave an agenda. V'lera's organization must have rubbed off on me." She smiled, "Figures." Sighing she got up, seeming to pay no attention to the other person's time. She went to the replicator ordered a ginger lemon tea and took her seat again.

"Alright. So to address the elephant in the room. Video assessments are unusual but I like making them. It's more personal. It can make a dry topic fun. That being said nothing about V'lera is dry. If you've got a half-hour to forty-five minutes grab a drink and settle in."

In the cluttered office filled with mementos of a bygone age and a universe that never existed, Rita Paris rolled her eyes and spoke to the screen with a smirk. "You've got 18 minutes and change before my next meeting. Show me what you've got, Edelweiss..."

The screen resumed. "Alright. Let's start with the most important part," Edelweiss rubbed her hands together. "Counseling. V'lera is an enigma. She is a dualist to the end! I mean not only is she part Orion and part Vulcan but it also carries to her work. I mean I was blown away. I must admit some envy there. Let me tell you what I mean." The figure on the screen stood and began to pace back and forth. Work V'lera and personal V'lera are two different people It's....amazing really. In her work life, she has an amazing and sought after ability to turn off her personal side. She tends to be all about the patient. It's like she doesn't exist herself." She motioned wildly with her hand as if she'd discovered a yeti. "V'lera the person hates physical contact. It's the Vulcan in her. I've discovered her touch empathic abilities are slightly higher then the average Vulcan. BUT," she emphasized the word. "While it's a no no personally, professionally she knows when she needs to hold a hand, give a hug, she's kind, empathetic, somewhat unorthodox in her methods but in a good way. She thinks outside the box." Edelweiss sat down.

Internally Rita made a note to have Sonak reach out to the new Counselor. If she was touch averse, perhaps some training might enable her to limit the unpleasant elements of touch telepathy and armor her mind against unwanted contact. Who better for such training than a master of Gol? Curiosity getting the better of her, Paris paused the recording to research.

Born and raised on Vulcan. Curious, as the wise man said. Tapping the PaDD, she continued the report.

"She's kind, deeply loyal, respectful, strong, and endearing, these are all descriptors I got from people who have worked with her as patients. Actually, her previous captain on the Flame was reluctant to have her leave. She sees the big picture, so if someone is an issue she will tell you. In fact, that little fact can be a positive or negative. She tends to be too honest at times, but supplements it with solutions. So basically, if she comes to you with a problem you better believe she'll have an itemized list of solutions...that we'll get into later."

Pausing the playback, Paris opened a subfile to start taking notes. Adding the consultation with Sonak, she interpreted what was said. Brutal honesty was often a crutch for a lack of desire to engage social morays, so that could be indicative of future problems. Approaching issues with little tact combined with solutions might be very limiting- while no solutions at all could be problematic, an entire list of solutions often indicated arrogance. That would certainly be something to be on the lookout for as they moved forward. It was also curious that in what was supposed to be such a clinical report, the reviewer was practically gushing. Which in turn made Paris suspicious, and in her notes she tapped out a single word- Pheromones?.

Resolving to reach out to Commander Edelweiss later, in order to see if the review remained consistent, Paris tapped the play button to continue the playback. All while keeping one eye on the clock, as she tended to be mindful of the time, given that she always had somewhere to be soon.

As if the recording reached out into Rita's mind the recording continued, "With respect to her Orion side, V'lera is aware of it and takes monthly pheromone shots to ensure all is well on that end. She is not fond of her Orion side and shuts down with prodded about it." She sighed again.

"That all being said. Now the internal workings of NON-work V'lera." The counselor sipped her drink. "That is a bit different. In her personal life V'lera is shy, withdrawn, unsure in social gatherings. She is a book worm preferring to read and paint and write, she is an amazing writer turning out poetry that is quite beautiful. She seems to be forgiving of others, but holds herself to a very high standard, and is less likely to forgive herself. She is...a survivor of life. I have tried to encourage her to seek out friendships with crewmembers on her new posting. She seems almost afraid of friendships, or unsure of them.”

“Another little duality. Confident and nurturing at work, but shy and unsure outside it. You would think the two would war with one another, but she has a remarkable balance. I hope that there will be Vulcans on the ship; it might help her adapt, as she so heavily leans on her Vulcan side. She is highly organized, to perhaps the point of OCD. I'm not saying she inflicts it on others, but her quarters and office are usually color-coded and alphabetized, and she likes to conjure up chaotic settings on the holodeck just so she can make order out of it.”

“She doesn't like to ask for favours...I see that as a big flaw. I mean, we all need to ask for help sometimes. Her CO and XO worked on that, but she has a bit to go there. In fact, she asked for the Hera assignment, and admitted to feeling guilty about it because the Admiral she called on owed her a favour, so he approved the transfer. She has never, I understand it, called in a favour before. She's on a self-journey, and normally this would have been done years ago, but she's been an adult since she was a child.”

“My recommendations would be to maybe have the CMO or another crew member assist her with exploration of the past. She ... doesn't like to talk about it much. I do know that she participated in some barbaric ritual called Kah-Wan. A Vulcan tradition of sending someone in the desert with no food, water or protection. The person has to fend for themselves and I understand there are many fatalities during this ritual. I think a lot of her distrust stems from that. It takes her a long time to trust people in personal relationships."

She drank her tea. "One other warning. She is a workaholic, and if not monitored, she will work herself to exhaustion. Well, that's pretty much it. These are again my observations, and I do hope they have been helpful."

Sitting back, Rita Paris considered the report. The Kahs-Wan was a ten-day desert ordeal for adolescents, designed to ensure that while Vulcans had turned to logic, they would not grow soft. She’d been to Vulcan’s Forge- as a human she would be hard-pressed to survive there for ten days without food, water or weapons. But it was a tradition, and a literal coming of age in Vulcan society. The fact that the new Counselor seemed so very much not fond of Vulcan, having sought emancipation from her parents and apparently had some trauma which was undefined by a counselor writing her review disturbed Paris on a number of levels. It seemed their new ship’s counselors had issues aplenty, which was concerning to the woman whose job it was to safeguard the crew.

A conversation and consultation with Sonak was most definitely in order for Ms. V’lera. The somber scientist was unparalleled in perception and analysis, and few secrets could be hidden from him. Forwarding the odd report to Captain Telvan, she’d let Sonak draw his own conclusions and report.

“Counselors who need counseling. What is it about the future?” the anachronism muttered as she rose, smoothed out her short skirt, and exited her office to discuss the mundane matters of power allotments and developmental projects with the captain.

V'lera kept her eyes closed as the turbolift ascended towards the bridge allowing it's soothing hum to wash over her. She loved the hum of the ship and its moving parts. It was soothing and calming. After her meeting with the XO, she'd checked on her little pet and then grabbed a tea. Once that was all done she headed to the bridge to meet the CO. The ride itself did not take long.

The eerie hiss of the door had her snapping her eyes open. She stepped onto the bridge and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the bridge. She quickly schooled her expression as she took in the velvet blue of the doors and the padded seats. The bridge was buzzing with energy and the emerald and sapphire lights of the panels gave it a glow that was both soothing and wondrous.

A wave of nostalgic sadness washed over her as she recalled her stop on Vulcan and the same emerald and sapphire lights that lit up the statue of her mentor and confidant as a child. Being made of Stone the statue was sure to keep her secrets.

Shaking off her momentary laps she headed towards the ready room. The same velvet blue doors greeted her. She took a breath and drank the chime clasping her hands behind her back to keep from fidgeting, a nervous habit she'd picked up.

"Come in," called the spotted Trill woman, looking up to see the emerald Vulcanoid woman as the doors opened. Enalia clicked off her desk terminal and leaned back in her chair with a hint of that lopsided grin of hers as she motioned towards the chairs across from her. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea? My wife made a Miradonian blend today that... Honestly, I can't even begin to pronounce... But it has a beautiful bouquet."

As Enalia spoke, she pulled a pair of her ornate teacups and saucers and a large thermos out of her desk in preparation, her eyebrows raised questioningly.

V'lera gave a nod. "Thank you. I would very much appreciate a cup." V'lera ventured into the room and slowly made her way towards the chair that the woman had motioned to. By doing so she'd set a somewhat informal tone. The Trill's open invitation was issued before V'lera could snap to attention in proper Starfleet manner. She sat down and awaited the captain's next words and the fascinating tea blend.

As Enalia poured the tea in both cups and slid one over towards V'lera, the purple-tinged liquid steamed slightly. "I take it you're our new counselor? Lieutenant JG V'lera? Not many people spot the Hera in the assignment rosters, let alone actually request us for an assignment. So if I may ask, what drew you to us?"

V'lera gave a nod of thanks and accepted the tea. The sent was interesting. She wrapped her hands around the cup allowing the warmth to run through her. She'd left Vulcan all those years ago and could never get used to the cold. Her quarters she kept a little on the warm side. Her pet, Surak seemed to like warmth too. She wore special thermal clothing underneath but she still felt the chill.

"I am indeed the new counselor," she said started answering the first of the captain's questions. "To be honest there were several factors that drew me to the Hera. Not much is known about the ship. It is shadows and mystery. I know of the nature of the ship of course and I know that existing in the shadows can be difficult and lonely in some respects. It can take a toll on the crew. I wish to be of help. Counseling is about maybe not escaping the shadows but embracing them, learning to function within them and bringing light to the darkness." She was about to reach for her little notebook to check mark the 'darkness and light 'saying but realized she'd forgotten it in her quarters. A small vein of frustration shot through her but she covered it well and made a mental note to keep her notebook closed and maybe avoid the fun Earth sayings for a while. "I was also fascinated with the turnover rate. Aside from that, I felt that perhaps being counselor here would provide me with a challenge and allow me to grow, both professionally and personally. Most of all I wished to be of help here if I can be."

"And that is a perfect segway into my next question, actually," The spotted captain chuckled softly as she sipped at her tea, barely noticing the flash of frustration and wondering what it could have been about. "What are your professional and personal goals for your time aboard? Is there something more than seeking out challenges, growing from them, and helping people? As a pirate queen and a Starfleet captain, I've heard those same words hundreds of times and while acceptable... I'm hoping for something a bit more... unique."

She sipped her tea while the captain talked. As she did she reminded herself of the Commander's warning of not calling the captain 'sir'. "Of course. Well, professionally I do want to help people here. I want to learn from them. I think that counseling can do so much for people not just when there is a problem but to prevent it. I also think that ships with...purposes like the Hera ships that are forced to work in the grey area have a lot to teach me as a counselor. The people here are unique and will have unique problems and will require unique solutions. I hope to advance my knowledge in that area and to stretch myself as a counselor. I also hope to do some preventative work to help the crew in times of stress. My personal belief is that one can never know too much and if someone says they know it all they are in need of not one but twenty counselors. I don't have all the answers but I will do my best to ensure that the members of this crew are cared for and feel valued and know that Starfleet wants them and cares for them. I spent a month on the USS Eden Child a while back, it is one of the ships, that like the Hera, is very much kept busy by intel and diplomacy and a lot of the crew felt...distant from Starfleet. No officer should feel that, no person should feel that."

While she was Vulcan like in her speech this last point hinted at an emotion. While V'lera didn't notice the emotion she put in there it would be clear to anyone that she spoke as if she knew what it felt like to not belong or to feel left out.

"As to my personal goals. I...have found a certain stagnation with my life. I have hit a ..... roadblock, as humans say." And again she wished she'd brought her notebook but this time she let it gloss over knowing that her first stop after that meeting would be to her quarters to get her interesting phrasebook. She felt simply naked without it. She also realized that her OCD about things like this was kicking in. "As a counselor, I go through regular evaluations myself and several of them have...indicated that I avoid living life by losing myself in my work. I wish to learn how to....change that. I have...a lot of growing to do."

Enalia nodded thoughtfully as she listened and sipped her tea, attentive as V'lera spoke. "I think there are a few people aboard you'll get along wonderfully with. There's also one VIP guest that, when the time is right, I think you'd enjoy meeting. Once you've settled in I might even ask you to do a psych eval of them. This ship is further in the shadows than Intel lets on and I really hope you don't get burned by it. On the flip side, I think you'll find what you're looking for here."

With a full-on lopsided grin spread across her face, Enalia nodded once more. "Yes indeed. Welcome to the USS Hera family. Welcome aboard. Do you have any questions or comments? Anything you'd like to know about myself or the ship?"

V'lera drank more of her tea finding that she was enjoying the taste. She gave a nod at the captain's welcome. "There is much, actually, I have, thus far, only met the commander and yourself. I have my medical to complete but I have been impressed with the ship. I...am afraid that while I have questions I would be unable to ask them at this point as I would like to sort them into categories so that I am not asking them out of order." She gave what could be termed as a sheepish shrug. "Orions have chaotic minds and Vulcans like order...I like categories and colour codes and am...." she paused. "Frustrated that I left my notebook in my quarters. If you are open to it I can ask at a later date. I do, however, wish to find out more about you and your expectations. I want to know your expectations for me, what you dislike, and like in an officer. I also wish to ask a question that is not often asked at these introduction meetings."

"A possibly unique question? That sounds absolutely delicious," Enalia couldn't wait to hear it, but calmed herself long enough to compose herself. "But first I suppose the more mundane should be handled. I expect you to comport yourself as any Starfleet officer with one caveat. Aboard this vessel we place all forms of freedom first and foremost. As a member of Starfleet, there are limits on us, such as wearing the uniform, but as I'm sure you've seen from Commander Paris, allowances are made for variances. If there's a cultural, religious, or temporal desire for you to amend your uniform, please feel free to let me know. We also fight tooth and nail to protect the freedoms of others, even going so far as to bend the prime directive a time or two. We've also bent the temporal prime directive for that reason. I like officers that I can give general instructions to and they can do things their own way in an ethical, moral manner. For example, in combat I don't call out maneuvers, I let a pilot I trust decide how best to maneuver. Weapons spreads, same. Health care, If the patient and physician both approve and deem it necessary, I'm ok with it."

"So, basically..."As she finished off her tea, Enalia did her best to summarize what she was trying to say. "I think what I'm trying to say is that due to my upbringing and training to manage a pirate fleet, I'm the polar opposite of a micromanager and I look for people that can do things in a unique and interesting manner while still maintaining ethics."

"Fascinating." She looked at the tea cup realizing she'd drank it all. "This is an amazing blend. I would love to procure the recipe." She thought a moment, "You've touched on the point of this being a unique ship and I will to my best to ensure I do not let you down in your expectations. I will do my best to be worthy of this ship and crew." She paused a moment. "My question is not so monumental...I simply wish to know how you are doing. These preliminary meetings are always expectations and ceremony. You walk in, you are told what is expected of you, you walk out and on to the next item. It is... logical and I find logical logic quite refreshingly logical." She gave a brief smile that she wiped off quickly, "Nobody is ever allowed to say, 'hello captain, I'm the new counselor and I wish to know how you are doing is there anything you wish to speak about. I guess...I wish to ask that."

And there it was. A question Enalia was rarely asked seriously. The last of her grin faded as she set aside her teacup and saucer. "That's a bit of a loaded question... Normally, Commander Paris and I talk things through but she's facing the same stress I am now. We just discovered that two of our intel agents were programmed Tal'Shiar sleepers, my holographic wife isn't taking to motherhood as well as we'd hoped so my maternal instincts are the ones we have to rely on, we just lost a massive amount of data to a possibly very dangerous faction of Tal'Shiar, my old adjutant is getting married to the literal Asgardian god of thunder and I may not be able to see her much more at all, the reunification delegation went well, but now we have to coordinate setting up a colony? I'm stressed to say the least."

She stayed silent for a heartbeat. “Is that all? You have, unceremoniously, had the burden of Atlas dumped on your shoulder and you are expected to float across the lake of fire as if carrying a tissue and skipping through the water.” She shook her head. “To qualify that as stressed is a little light.” She sighed. “I am sorry all this is happening. There is an old Earth saying that says when it rains in pours.” She put both her hands on her knees and stood. “Captain I cannot wave a magic counseling wand, even though I wish to, and make all this go away however if you have the time and if you will allow me I can attempt to help shoulder the burden and perhaps open an umbrella to keep some of the rain out. When one is bogged down with this much stress it feels as if there is not enough air. Two follow up questions will you allow me to help and may I use your replicator to replicate some supplies?” She had seen enough of the captain to see she was unorthodox and if she could pique the captain’s curiosity maybe she could truly help.

The Trill woman motioned towards the small replicator, the weariness truly apparent now that she'd dropped the facade of command. "Please, feel free."

She brought them back to the table and moved her chair so that it was closer. “Alright. First,” she uncovered the silver dish to display round dark chocolate. “Blood orange jelly candy wrapped in dark chocolate. I could give you a long explanation of citrus, vitamin C importance after pregnancy, the obvious health benefits of dark chocolate, but the short of it is they are good, they help release happy hormones not only in Humans but Trills and they do have medical benefits.” She pushed the dish towards the captain. “Now then, a plan of attack and a dissection of problems is the best way to help alleviate stresses. Ready?” She held up a purple pen as she opened the old-style paper notebook. "Using these items I would like to try and exercise, with your permission. I know it seems a bit ... unorthodox but if you will stay with me. We'll take a bite out of the burden and see what we can do to chase some of the stress away."

"I got to skip the pregnancy... But I am breastfeeding, so..." It was obviously an admission Enalia wasn't entirely comfortable making, but she pressed forward as best she could, nodding and taking a deep breath. "So let's do this then."

V'lera gave a nod. She stacked the chocolate to a precarious height. "Alright. Think of these chocolates as your burdens. The stresses. As we go through this exercise each time we come up with a way to tackle an issue or a plan that you think will lead to the lightening of the burden we will each eat a chocolate."

She used a pen to write down motherhood on the page. "Let us start with the new baby." She wrote down the phrase that the Captain had used 'my holographic wife isn't taking to motherhood as well as we'd hoped so my maternal instincts are the ones we have to rely on'. She pushed the page over to Enalia and handed her a pen. "Talk me through this. Tell a little about how this came to be, about the pregnancy, your feelings regarding it and how your wife is not taking well to motherhood."

Enalia sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment before replying. "Where to begin with that particular can of worms... Well, Moira is actually a failed modified clone of my mother which we had to use an injection of DNA from myself and the original model of Maica, my wife, to save before she... Ah... reverted to goo? I didn't catch what would happen, but she was saved in time. My mother tried to use her against me during the tribunal and power struggle for control of the Artan pirate family, of which I'm now queen. She nearly took over my body and had a clone... hundreds of them... ready so she could rule the family indefinitely. Thankfully, she's no longer with us."

"Moira is safe, the Artan empire is in good hands, my mother is no longer trying to pester me for an heir and sabotaging our efforts, and though one of the men that helped save Moira turned out to be a Tal'Shiar sleeper agent and Maica is still trying to figure out which cry is which, I'd say we're moving along relatively well."

As for Maica specifically, she has a tap into the ship's internal sensors around her and she has the combined knowledge of hundreds of thousands of cultures of childcare... But she's having to learn everything really from ground zero and it's just like when she was first activated. She knew all these amazing recipes, but it took her three hours to learn how to boil water properly for tea. Now she can have a tiramisu ready for lunch in twenty minutes."

"But child-rearing is a bit more complex and I'm worried that the way her AI is written, Moira may be a toddler before she gets the hang of it. Which is one of several reasons I asked Jaeih Dox to be Moira's godmother. She's reliable, we trust her with our lives, she has three grandkids on the way, I've known her since I was running my first pirate operation..."

V'lera resisted the urge to let her mouth hang open. She simply blinked a few times and resorted to her favourite word. "Fascinating."

She needed a little more information so she simply asked, "How does your wife feel about all this, about the child and about her efforts? Is she relying solely on what can be downloaded and processing information that way or is she capable of learning by imitating or by direct education?"

The Trill woman chuckled softly, having expected a bit more of a reaction than that. "Well, as far as we're concerned, she's our daughter through and through. Since the DNA of the woman that Maica was modeled after was used to save her, Moira even looks a bit like her, so... Yeah, she's as close to blood-related as a holographic life form can get."

"As for how she learns..." Here, Enalia was a bit less sure of herself. "I know her learning and growth subroutines are based on a five-point system. Documentation, study and adaptation, experience, mimicry and imitation, direct education, and what she calls guestimation. How it all works and how effective it is varies by the task and how much she can process. Her core unit isn't as big as it could be, after all. Her software is more advanced than Doctor Power, our EMH, but the hardware she's using has a lot more shielding and she says it's not nearly as powerful as what he's running on."

"But she's slowly getting it. She can change diapers and cloth Moira just fine. Playtime is good for the most part. She's still having issues with bottle temp and feeding times and types of cries, but in time..."

"So it is safe to say that while this is slightly stressful both she and you are putting in an effort to ensure she learns. Would your wife benefit from speaking with me. I know you've said she's a hologram but many make the mistake of assuming that holograms do not have stresses and needs to talk. I however to not. Perhaps she might benefit from learning some stress coping benefits." Where was so much more she wanted to suggest. "Also with the child being there are you and your wife taking the time to be with one another without the child to feed your connection as spouses?"

"I'll see if she wants to chat with you. It might help her find another perspective. As for time off, yeah, she talks with her siblings most nights..." Here again, Enlia had to pause for a moment and tell a bit of a side story. "Ah, she's the forty-seventh variant of the third iteration of the original Maica... Some of her siblings decided to become some pretty odd combinations upon activation. One even went so far as to become a pure column of light, studying knowledge and the arts in a Vulcan library."

"Anyway, Jaeih is Moira's godmother and babysits for us regularly so we get plenty of time to ourselves, thankfully. Plus there's the ship's nursery, but they keep complaining about Moira bringing her sword to play with. I keep telling them that as my daughter she needs to know how to defend herself, but..." The spotted woman then stopped herself, realizing she was going off on another tangent. "Ah, but you asked about our connection as spouses. Yes, we've found it a bit more challenging, but we're still going at it. We still talk through our problems and we still... Yeah."

V'lera gave a nod. "Being together is important for both of you. Learning to integrate a child into your relationship will take time but you will get there." She tilted her head to the side. "Captain may I make an observation?"

"Please," the Trill woman replied, motioning for the counselor to continue. "There's no need to hold back."

She gave a nod. "You have a fascinating amount of things going on. You have many stresses yet you seem to have an ability to categorize and tackle that I have not seen. I think we will need more than one session to cover it all. Are you alright with booking a few now, before we continue?"

Regularly see a therapist of any sort? That would have been seen as a weakness in the Artans of old. Thankfully, she was turning them over towards a new leaf, as it were and after a moment of thought, Enalia nodded. "I'm guessing that part of those coping skills are from being joined. Which is likely another thing you'll want me to talk about, I'm sure." With a soft chuckle, Enalia brought up her calendar on her desk terminal and brought it around so that both of them could see the screen. "So... How often do you want to meet?"

"Well you have brought up quite a few stressors today so I would say maybe a flexible once a week but if we need to push it then we will push it to two weeks." She noted that they hadn't used the chocolates she'd replicated. "Perhaps the chocolate exercise can wait for a few days. Shall we meet again in a few days and then we can delve into it fully?"

"Yeah, things should be relatively quiet for a few days. Planning for weekly with flexibility for fortnightly is a good idea. Things tend to go off the rails around here pretty often. It looks like I have openings here and then here? Sorry, Yeoman Dedjoy normally does this." Enalia grinned a bit sheepishly as she motioned at the schedule of her time.

She pulled out another notebook and made a few notes. "I shall hold those appointments for you."

"Thank you," replied Enalia, marking the dates and times as best she could in her own schedule. "I guess if there's nothing else... I admit that this is the most unique initial meeting I've ever had with someone. I'm not sure now if I should be dismissing you or if you should be telling me if we're out of time." With a light chuckle, the Trill woman turned her desk terminal back off and leaned back in her chair.

"Unusual can be good sometimes. It breaks the routine." She thought a moment. "How about we just say until next time?"

With that, Enalia stood and offered her hand for a handshake and one of her piratical lopsided grins. "In that case, until next time. It's been a pleasure."

She shook the captain's hand. She was gratified to see that the greeting on her previous ship was...not the normal here. "I look forward to our sessions."

It was not unusual for a summons or a meeting to appear on the PaDD she happened to be holding at the time. After all, the tablets were tied to biosigns, so with the press of a button you could have the device recognize you and all of your files, calendars, agendas and personal data and clearance were available for you to peruse. Thus when a meeting flashed in as it was set in a calendar somewhere that affected her, the complex woman who was still somewhat unaccustomed to life on a Federation starship was not surprised.

However, this time the summons was from Commander Paris, the first officer of the USS Hera. Who had called the meeting for five minutes from now, in her office on Deck 2.

Looking at the message for a moment, Jaeih Dox cricked an eyebrow and typed in her response that she was on her way. The summons coming by text seemed unusual as generally such calls were made via commbadge, but the elder Romulan didn't dwell on the question for long. Placing the half-finished coffee she had been nursing back in the replicator for recycling, she saved the data she was reviewing on her PaDD and immediately left the table she had been settled at in Ten Forward to head to the Commander's office.

And after only a couple of short minutes of travel in the ship's turbolift, she arrived at the typically opened doors of the Hera's First Officer's office. As always, Jaeih stood at attention in the doorway with her arms folded behind her back, still wearing the dark gray uniform tunic of the ships Intel department, where she had been assigned for several months. "Commander Paris, you wished to see me?"

Standing, Paris smiled at the civilian operative on the Starfleet vessel. "I did indeed, Mrs. Dox. Please come in, and have a seat. I've a few things I'd like to discuss with you."

Taking a seat in the very modern and ergonomically designed chair that somehow still evoked the simpler age from which she'd come, Rita Paris stared out from her wall of bric-a-brac. The office was hers, and the models, images and artifacts strewn about in a somewhat claustrophobic manor was here for her comfort. They were tethers to her past, to her history. Keystones to memory, for remembering who she was, and where she had come from. There were modern holos as well as new additions, all against the backdrop of the odd period of starship design from whence she'd originated.

To a visitor, however, it was distracting as hell. Particularly a trained observer.

It wasn't the first time Jaeih had been in Rita's cacophony of bizarre nostalgia so she did her best to ignore the aggressive amount of tchotchkes about. That said, the precariously balanced piles of PaDD that always seemed to be one slight shake from creating an avalanche of data that would bury the golden clad commander was always a bit distracting. "That sounds... almost cryptic, Commander. But my week has been quite well populated by unusual meetings. What would you like to discuss?"

Leaning back in her chair, Paris folded her hands across her midriff. "It's driving you nuts that you have no authority on a vessel full of trained personnel, the majority of which you have seniority over for literal decades. You spend your time doing dull code work because you have nothing else to do, and while you have clearance as an intelligence operative, you have no authority. Which has made you feel, more and more, like a prisoner on a jail cell that moves. I mean, you CAN leave, but your life is here, so you generally don't. Which makes it feel like a prison cell of your own choosing, which is even worse. How'm I doing so far?"

Pursing her lips slightly, Jaeih processed what Rita had said for a moment before crossing her legs and tenting her hands in front of her. "Quite astute, Commander. If you didn't already know that I prefer regulation attire, I'd ask if you knew what color my socks were. I would also hypothesize that you are likely aware that I have been offered a different position on board the ship."

"Personnel assignments go through me to the Captain, that's how the chain of command goes, Mrs. Dox... as well you know. Of course I approved of it." Bringing her hands up off her torso while leaving her elbows on the arms of the chair, Paris opened the topic a bit. "We're an exceptional starship, with an exceptional crew... and by that I don't mean they shine their shoes particularly well. I mean exceptional as in the six month old who's already too heavy for poor O'Dell to carry, who is quite likely going to eventually grow to be the size of Petty Officer Jablonski, if not larger. Mona Gonadie explained to me in our first meeting that Miradonians are able to fly from birth, and the two misfits are down there trying to invent a portable personal inertial dampener. Petty Officer S'Rina refused to go back for another round of testing when they're ready, and it's her choice. She still feels pretty badly about nearly knocking O'Dell's block off."

"The point is, there is a lot going on down there. A lot of it has to do with these seeds of the future we're carrying onboard. Forces are in motion, Mrs. Dox. The little Minotaur, the Amazon girl, Princess Moira Artan... and soon three little warbirds. The Andorian twins. All these exceptional children are being born, here on this starship. Unlikely pairings get pulled together to form families like magnets. As unlikely people get pulled into the mix." Pausing, Paris smiled. "I appreciate you letting me ramble, Mrs. Dox. Rest assured, I'm almost there."

Jaeih simply nodded towards Paris's position for her to continue. Whatever she was feeling regarding the speech didn't read on her neutral face.

Leaning in, resting her elbows on her desk, Rita Paris looked out of those baby blue eyes, and with a chagrined expression folded her hands together. "You are not a Starfleet officer. You are not Starfleet personnel. Were the Captain to grant you rank, enlisted or officer, it would be an insult to every cadet who ever completed Starfleet Academy. It would be ruinous to morale, and would be summarily disallowed by the admiralty."

"I'm sorry, but this is plain and simple fact," the courageous commander held up her hands in surrender. "Which you also know all too well. In order to have authority on a Starfleet starship, one is required to have rank. We couldn't even try some dodge about you using your old rank from the Tal'Shiar, because the Romulan government disavows you as well, so even that wouldn't hold up. I've given this a bit of thought, as you may be getting the idea."

"All facts that, as you pointed out, I am abundantly aware of. And even if it were an option, as I'm sure you can imagine, I would have no intention of enlisting in said academy so that, perhaps when I'm 85, I can re-earn some level of professional responsibility once again." Jaeih replied, with which the first chinks in her blank facade began to show as there was the faintest of hints of frustration in her voice now. "So I remain in service to Captain Telvan in whatever capacity she sees fit. That is the debt I owe her and if that service is to be met in aid of the children of this vessel, then I shall do what I can to avail myself of that responsibility.”

“Spare me the martyr speech. Mrs. Dox. You’re better than that,” Paris scoffed, literally waving it away with her hand. “You’re not seeing the big picture here, you’re just confining your thinking to the problem that has no solution. You won’t be happy without some authority, yet you’re not seeing it yet. Do you know why I gave you that comm badge instead of a Starfleet badge?” Paris half-lidded her eyes, awaiting the response.

“I believe it was out of respect.” Jaeih said, sitting slightly further back, processing Rita’s words slightly more. “A reminder of what I once believed in and what was worth working towards again, or words to that effect. Not unlike the model Bird of Prey you gifted Mnhei’sahe for her birthday.”

“You were Starfleet property for years,” the ancient astronaut said bluntly..” I wasn’t about to put you in the uniform and brand you again. That was how I saw it- I gave you your independence and your pride, and we didn’t try to force you into a cookie-cutter of conformity with the rest of us.” At that Paris sat up straight, and a frown creased her pretty face. “It didn’t work out that way, though, did it? You resented it when I handed it to you, and you’ve resented it ever since. You see it as branding you as an outsider, one of ‘them’, not ‘us’. Am I wrong?”

“I would not say so entirely.” Jaeih said with a reserved expression. “And… moreso since the… incident with Mnhei’sahe’s grandmother and Rendal drove home where I belong. And where I do not. Since my return to the ship, it has felt... heavier.”

Reaching into the apparent clutter of her desk, Paris tossed over a dual towered Starfleet delta badge. "Here. Pin it on and the computer will activate it for you and transfer your ID to it. You can keep the old one as a souvenir... you don't have many of those, I suspect. If it's important to you that you be seen as aligned with Starfleet, that we can arrange. Now let's talk about authority. I haven't forgotten that topic."

"You cannot issue a single order on this starship with any authority, and that will not change, Mrs. Dox. Now, I am going to ask you a very simple question. And I want you to think very carefully about the answer. You've been on this boat for quite some time, and you've seen me in a number of circumstances. In all that time, in all of those circumstances- how many direct orders have you ever seen me issue?"

"Now you're going to try to dismiss the fact that with rank, I don't have to bark orders," Paris wagged that finger in the air. "The crew simply respect or fear the rank, and do as I say. But really, what DO you see me doing, if you would be so kind, Mrs. Dox. Please tell me, in lieu of issuing orders, what I am usually doing instead?" Paris had laid it all out for her, and now she waited for realization to dawn.

Looking at the badge still in her hand for a moment, Jaeih paused in her reply to remove the wings of At'thindor she had worn since joining the Hera, initially as a prisoner. But now, as a free woman, she held the Starfleet Delta in her hand and stared at it a moment as Rita could see the conflict on her face. Then, she looked up and gave Rita her answer. 

"This I know well, Commander Paris. When I accepted my role here on the Hera, it was in no way compulsory. I was and remain in service voluntarily. And in all that time, I have respected your rank in all professional encounters because it was the appropriate response, not only for crew morale but because it is earned. You lead by example. You do, and only ask that those around you rise to their best selves in that same service."

"That's all true and appreciated, Mrs. Dox. But you miss my point. I doubt you have ever heard me give an order. I ask for what I want. I don't order, I ask. Please. Thank you. I even ask the computer to do things for me, because it's how I get things done. Given what I am called upon to ask of those around me, I could not order half the things I ask of them. But I do ask it of them, and when called, they rise to the challenge. It's a different way of doing things, I'll admit. But try it out... I think it may just surprise you. It is, in it's own way, the greatest of authority, at least within the Federation- politely asking for help."

While that settled in, the living spirit of old Starfleet leaned forward again. "Now, with that said, I realize you want some sort of title to brandish, because you prefer a definition of position. R&D will be working with you as a scientist. Civilian, yes, but I strongly expect that your knowledge and experience will be respected. Intel will still be working with you as a cryptologist, as well as away missions where you and Az'Prel team up to go move in the places where the bright shiny Starfleet officers stick out and get people killed. But far and away, I think you've overlooked the important duty."

"We've all of these exceptional children on this exceptional starship of exceptional individuals. We live life on something of a very large stage, you may have noticed, ma'am," the escapee from an alternate timeline 130-odd years in the past explained. "These children will grow up seeing this as commonplace... and the future they build will make this seem tame by comparison. While I fully expect you to defend them if necessary, what I need from you instead, is to ensure there's structure, discipline, and order in their lives. To prepare them for the times that are not chaos, that are not when all hell's breaking loose. In short, they need a headmistress to teach them- to read, to write, to get along well with others, to imagine and shape and grow and learn."

"The majority of the senior staff are already signed on to drop their kids off at 'Daycare 1' for you to care for them all day. Is that lost on you, Mrs. Dox? " Paris shook her head in disbelief. "The most precious person in their lives, and they are not only willing, they are asking for you to watch over them. To help shape them, to help prepare them for the future. What greater respect could be offered, what greater trust be placed? Not out of the authority of rank- but of earned trust. In you, Mrs. Dox."

"What greater authority is there than that? What title could I bestow, what rank could I offer that could possibly compare to that trust? To be the sentinel of the future generations, guiding and shaping those young minds? Tell me, Mrs. Dox. If I'm not seeing the issue correctly then please, explain it to me, if you would be so kind." Sitting back, Paris spread her hands. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you have all the authority that you need."

Sitting across from Paris, Jaeih cash her eyes down on the gray intel tunic she wore as she measured all that the buxom Starfleet Commander had said. The woman who once stood in judgment of her in her gilded cage on Earth who pressed her to rise to rise to the challenge of being a mother to her daughter. She was 75 years old now, not even middle-aged for a Romulan, but she had begun to feel the weight of it with more and more frequency as she looked back upon the wreckage of her life.

And it was that life that she thought of in that moment that seemed far longer than it truly was. Of the promise and hope she had, studying to be an engineer as a young woman, dreaming of creating the technology that would help her people thrive and grow. A dream that was deferred by the call to service that led her to the Romulan military, then eventually to the Tal'Shiar. When she was still in the spring of her years. When she still believed in her future. 

There, she could build a proud career, defending the Romulan people from all who would threaten her great Empire and the home she loved. Quickly, she had advanced in rank through dedication and accomplishment. But it was also there that she allowed her passion to become a perverted thing. Where she became obsessed with protecting her people until she became the thing that they needed protection from. A career-minded opportunist who looked into the eyes of a man that loved her unconditionally and stepped away to reach for a goal that was always ahead of her.

In that long moment, it all rushed through her head. She though of Mnhei'sahe's father, and of Mnhei'sahe herself. And she thought of the mission that had just been completed as she spoke again. "My life... has been a series of missteps, Commander. A life spent in pursuit of... authority and prestige. And when that failed, in search of freedom and control. When I was young, I gave up a life with the man that would one day be Mnhei'sahe's father. because I would have had to become a politician's wife, and give up my command... my authority. I would have to become a wife and eventually, a mother and I chose my career."

"And when I threw that away and had nothing more, and was a fugitive among my own people, he was still willing to take me back. We... we had Mnhei'sahe... and again I had an opportunity to be a mother and give her a peaceful life where she might have been happy. Happy on that very colony you all now fight to save. But I took her from that out of a misplaced desire to be... something more than a mother or a farmer. I though that... even as a smuggler... I could do more. BE more. Be important. Matter. And in throwing myself into that greater life, I sentenced my daughter to a childhood of misery. In wanting to matter, I failed to see how I could matter to someone who needed me to simply be there for her."

"Because, ultimately, I have spent a lifetime choosing myself over those I could have served. Those for whom I could have... should have... been better. Now I find myself looking at that crossroad again, and I do not wish to make those same mistakes. To abandon those who need me for the illusion of false freedom and meaningless authority." Jaeih looked back up to meet Rita's eyes and the lost navigator saw genuine regret in those dark eyes that had seen too much pain. "I failed, Commander. I failed to be the mother my daughter needed the first time. I cannot fail in the same way all over again. I will not. I will not fail Minerva or Moira. I will be there for them, and for Tala, Amihan, and Hlai'vana. And for those that you all would trust to my care..."Looking down at the delta on her chest, she ran a hand down the gray Intel tunic she was still wearing and allowed a smile to start to form.

Finally, holding that Starfleet delta in her hand, she pinned it in its place and nodded with the slightest of smiles cracking her patrician facade. "I suppose it should be blue. For this new role. 'Headmistress'... heh. I would never have imagined."

A small, sweet smile came over the face of the young woman from a bygone age, one of innocence and idealism and a bright, optimistic view of the future where cooperation and the open hand of friendship could change the galaxy. Reaching across the cultural divide to the older woman who had lived half the years she had skipped to get here, her eyes were not unkind. When she spoke, her tone was soft.

"Do you remember what I said the first day we met, Mrs. Dox?" Paris cast back to their first meeting at Starfleet Intelligence, just after she had been moved to better quarters, not long before she would be transferred to the Hera. "I came because I wanted to let you know what a good woman you had raised, who had become a fine officer. I came to tell you that you should be proud of her, as the commanding officer over her who was qualified to make that judgment. Because I respected you. You've come a very long ways from that warbird in a gilded cage, but that has never changed. If anything, my respect for you has grown as you have changed and grown. You never would have put up with those two knuckleheads from R&D, yet you are a friend and ally to them. You defend Mona Gonadie as fiercely as you would were she your own flesh and blood. You've gone on dangerous missions and fought as hard as any of us in the Tribunal."

"You don't need a title, and you don't need any authority beyond the respect that you have earned from those around you," Paris pressed, hoping to drive the point home and illustrate her perspective to the severe Romulan woman. "Who will listen to you if you ask them, because they, too, respect you. So please, don't focus on titles. Because at least on this ship, there's nothing more you need to be than simply Mrs. Dox. That's quite a respected position all it's own, I think you'll find- if you look around and take stock of the people around you, and how they perceive you."

A light chuckle escaped from Jaeih's lips as the slight smile bent up into the wry grin Rita knew well enough. "Well, my people have quite the cultural affectation for titles. You now know the tongue, which means your poor head is filled with all the pomp and circumstance we afford for even the smallest of roles in that society. It's a cultural failing that I shall endeavor to surmount."

The tone from Jaeih now was the more familiar, lightly sarcastic one she took when she was more relaxed around those she cared about as she continued. "That said, I shall not torment the children by making them call me 'Hru'alha' or any other ostentatious nonsense. But... they will know the word under my aegis. They will know it and many others in every tongue I can manage to teach them. After all, the children of our future should be children of the galaxy, and I have a lot of work to do to prepare them for that."

"As always... thank you." Jaeih finished, nodding respectfully but sincerely.

"Thank YOU, Mrs. Dox," Paris replied. "You continue to validate my faith in the universe... and in your family. OUR family."

"Indeed. Well, I shall endeavor to continue earning that faith. And I suppose I can start by changing my uniform and reporting to the R&D department. That new modular facility won't design or build itself, after all." Jaeih said with a nod. "And someone needs to keep Moira and Minerva from playing 'stab the minotaur'. I... I believe I am looking forward to these new duties. To helping these children, and the ones to come."

Standing up, Jaeih adjusted her top and raised an eyebrow towards Rita. "Perhaps even yours one day."

Replying with a grin, Rita Paris nodded. “I’m quite confident that my children will know precisely who you are, Mrs. Dox, and I look forward to you meeting them in a few year’s time. While it does seem all the rage to start a family right now, not even the influence of Hera can bring about Human/Vulcanoid hybrid children, given our differing blood bases of iron versus copper. So for myself and Sonak, when we conceive, it will be quite deliberate, and on the timeline that I have established for our careers. Fortunately, my logical spouse informed me at the very beginning of our relationship that mine is to plot the course of our lives, as he trusts me to do so.”

“Thus by the time you meet my children, we will have arrived at the dawn of the 25th century, and we’ll be on Earth.” The matter-of-fact way in which she made the statement was surprising, but leave it to Rita Paris to make such a bold statement, imbuing it with the confidence with which she approached so many challenges. “Not that I need to be proven wrong, Hera…”

Six decks below, the goddess whose name had been invoked looked up from her embroidery work to chuckle to herself.

As Jaeih stepped over to the door to leave, she paused and turned back to Rita. "It sounds as though you have quite the well-reasoned plan, my dear. Once upon a time, so did I. Of course..."

Pausing, mid-sentence Jaeih gave Rita a Cheshire grin that tweaked the corner of her eyes ever so slightly, as she finished her thought, "...plans do change. Often for the better."

Thinking back over the stories Melanie Dox had told her of her upbringing and the stern, strict taskmistress who had so mercilessly prepared her daughter to protect herself from a hostile universe, Rita Paris compared to the genuinely cheerful and happy woman leaving her office. Smiling that million-watt smile that lit up a room and melted hearts, she replied in kind.

“They do indeed, Mrs. Dox. They do indeed…”

Stepping off of the turbolift, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox adjusted her crimson tunic and stepped forward into the corridor. Immediately, she felt her stomach tighten and her already fast Romulan pulse quicken slightly.

This was, in part, due to the task she had asked for that was ahead of her, but largely it was due to where she was. She was on deck 11. The Brig of the U.S.S. Hera.

As she walked down the corridor towards the security checkpoint, she did her best to bury her mounting anxiety. After a moment of showing her orders from Captain Telvan and giving her credentials to the two guards on duty, she was allowed to pass into the main body of the facility. Once inside, as the door hissed shut and locked behind her, the corridor of cells seemed to get more and more narrow as she went, though she knew that wasn’t truly happening. On her right was a stark, gray bulkhead and on the left, a series of empty cells. But at the end of the corridor, one of the cells had its forcefield activated, letting a light blue glow bleed off into the space. The corridor was well lit and fairly open, but Mnhei’sahe had to focus her attention completely to be there where she was, and not back in the brig of the Romulan Warbird, the People’s Will. The brig she had spent weeks in not that long ago, shackled to a cold metal chair day and night. The forcefield may have been blue instead of green, but that hum was the same.

That same low, consistent hum generated by the forcefield that kept the occupant inside in place was the same as the hum of her old cell. That hum seemed to get louder and louder as she finally stopped in front of the one populated chamber.

Sitting in front of her, wearing a simple black top and pants, was Ensign Varnok Jahal. The Cardassian Intel operative that was revealed to be a Tal’Shiar sleeper agent who betrayed the Hera, attacked her crewmembers and jettisoned vital data on Protomatter technology into space where it was recovered by the Romulan Commander, Dalia Rendal. The same Romulan commander who had kept Mnhei’sahe in that cell on the Warbird not too long ago.

“Hello, Ensign.” Mnhei’sahe said, her face a mask of calmness, well-practiced during that month of captivity that she was still working to bury within her.

The young Cardassian Ensign turned slightly with haunted eyes, “Commander Dox, is that you?”

“Yes. I asked the Captain if I could speak to you.” Mnhei’sahe said as softly as she could. Her anxiety had nothing to do with the man that had befriended her when he joined the ship. Her mother and Captain Telvan had interviewed him previously, and by all accounts, he was very likely another victim of the Ta’lShiar’s Neural Extraction Converter. The mind-control device she had defeated during her captivity. “If it’s alright with you, that is.”

The tired-looking man stood up slowly from low slung cot that he had been sitting on and quietly made his way over to stand in front of the Romulan commander. “Thank you for coming to see me. I’m so confused. I can’t believe the things that I’ve been told.”

“I didn’t want to either, Ensign. But I reviewed the security tapes and spoke with Yeoman Dedjoy, who you locked into her recharging cradle. And I spoke with the Captain and my mother, who interviewed you previously after everything.” Mnhei’sahe said calmly, her hands folded behind her back as she looked up at the taller man separated from her by the security force field. “But we need to figure out how to help you, if we can.”

“If what they say is true, then how can anyone help me. I’m beyond help.” He said as he looked at her sadly, and then turned away.

“Before all this happened, did you read my report on what happened to me when I had been taken?” Mnhei’sahe asked in a slightly more pointed manner.

“Yes, I read that report.” he sighed softly.

“Then you know that when subjected to the same device that we believe was used on you, I beat it. And with Commander Sonak’s help, I was able to use the training he gave me that enabled me to beat that thing to free my grandmother from its influence.” Mnhei’sahe said, a bit more force in her voice. “We did it again as a group with the sleeper agent on the Golden Ghost that tried to betray us to the Tal’Shiar. Together, we can do that for you as well, Ensign. You’re still Starfleet. I’d like to think you’re still my friend, and we can fix whatever they did to you... if you’ll let us.”

There was a heavy silence in the room as Varnok simply stood there, quietly saying nothing for a long few seconds. Clearing her throat, the young section chief raised her voice to that of a commanding officer speaking to a subordinate. “Ensign, you are still a Starfleet Officer, and you will turn to face me when I am addressing you. That’s an order.”

Slowly, he cricked his head to look at her over his shoulder for a moment before turning completely to face the forcefield again. When he did, his head was low but his eyes were locked on her with an expression and intensity that gave the red-headed Romulan woman the slightest of chills. Staring coldly at the red-haired woman in front of him, Varnok spat out at her, “So you would take my mind? My greatest asset?”

Looking up at the man that she no longer recognized as the same that she had been speaking to, she raised an eyebrow and replied with a flat, even tone. “I take it you’re the problem? Did the threat of erasing you from an innocent man’s head wake you up? Had Varnok so much as nodded assent, Sonak would have been authorized to come here and link us. Is that what activated you?” Is that what you're afraid of?"

Eyes widening in fake surprise, Varnok chuckled, “Innocent man.” He gestured wildly, spreading his arms wide. “Are any of us innocent?”

Bowing slightly, he continued. “Even you, my dear, are not so innocent.”

Ignoring the taunt, Dox tilted her head slightly and just kept speaking, “Varnok has done good work on this ship, and he could continue to do good work. You’ve not yet destroyed that for him. And by your own admittance, the operatives that once held your leash let you go a long time ago. Why keep serving a master that abandoned you?”

Looking directly at Dox, he hissed, “I have done good work on this ship. I serve myself and no other.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Riov Rendal the next time we encounter her. You served her needs quite well, and all without orders.” Dox said, testing him. In his interview with her mother, he claimed to have no knowledge of the duplicitous murderess from the Tal’Shiar that collected the data module that Varnok had jettisoned into space for her ship to recover.

Waving dismissively as he paced the small room, he replied, “She is just another cog in the bigger wheel.”

“The bigger wheel of the Tal’Shiar? The Star Empire?” Dox asked in a straightforward manner, standing where she had been, but following him with her eyes.

“Yes, yes!” The Cardassian said, sounding annoyed. “It’s ALL the bigger wheel! All the bigger picture!”

“Interesting.” Mnhei’sahe said, trailing off. “And what bigger picture were you serving when you helped rescue me from Romulus? You had countless opportunities in the control booth of that landing pad we were on to betray the Captain and hand me and everything the Tal’Shiar wanted with the flip of a few switches. But you didn’t. You fought the Romulan centurions. You risked yourself, all to save me.”

“Or rather, Varnok did.” Dox asked, her own voice lowering as she stared at him.

Slowly turning to face her again, he strode up to her, inches away from the humming force field. Giving Mnhie’sahe his most charming grin, Varnok purred. “We could have made such beautiful music together, had you only given your Grandmother what she wanted.”

“Or had you helped Rendal finish what she had started with me. But he wouldn’t LET you, would he? You aren’t in as much control as you think you are, are you?” Mnhei’sahe replied, looking right back into his dark eyes, unblinking.

“Oh, I’m more in control than you might think. After all, I was top of my class in my training at the order. Do you really think they did this to me? I volunteered.” Varnok snapped back forcefully, with pride in his voice.

There was a long, drawn-out moment as the two simply stared at each other, neither giving the other an inch. Then, letting out a tense breath, Mnhei’sahe replied in an almost whisper, “I know.”

“When the Obsidian order was disbanded during the occupation by the Dominion on Cardassia, their records were all but destroyed. There is no paper trail on that world to tell us much of anything about you before you were made a refugee during that conflict. Before you were made an orphan.” Mnhei’sahe continued, watching his eyes narrow slightly as she spoke. “But the colony they served on as scientists still kept records. Not of you, of course. And nothing of particular note about your parents, per se. But my mother is a very industrious woman when she has a mystery in front of her with missing pieces.”

“They objected, didn’t they? They opposed the Obsidian Order. They opposed the Dominion occupation. And according to a message she found that they sent from their science station to Cardassia, they were on their way to pull you from the academy and take you with them when their ship was destroyed by an unidentified ship.” She tilted her head slightly. “Leaving only debris marked by molecular… disruption.”

Narrowing his eyes even further, a crimson flush under the dark gray scales came and went quickly as he composed himself. “My parents were fools. They were all fools in the end.” He turned his back on her and walked to the other side of the small, tight, confined quarters. Mnhei’sahe continued to watch while the Cardassian paced like a caged animal in too small a cage.

“Varnok didn’t think so.” Mnhei’sahe replied as she walked to the side to get closer to the edge he was closest too. “He spoke of them with love. He missed them and was proud of their achievements and missed them.”

Turning to face her one more time, Varnok reached out as if to almost caress her face through the forcefield, as a single tear went down his cheek with pain and suffering in his eyes. Mnhei’sahe almost flinched, as the image of her father caressing her cheek as Dalia Rendal ran him through with her sword in her own cell back on that Warbird flashed before her for an instant.

Then, pulling his hand back and shaking his head, Varnok then let out a roar, screaming, “NO!!! This is MY BODY! This is MY mind! YOU’RE weak! They were ALL weak! YOU’RE the construct, NOT me!”

Grimacing, Mnhei’sahe’s body tensed at the display. “Varnok, let us HELP you. ONE word and Sonak and I will wipe this stain from your mind, I promise you!” She yelled out, the emotion bubbling past its boiling point.

“SUSSE-THRAI!” He shouted, the Romulan word for ‘bitch’, “I’m stronger than HIM! Stronger than you think and not so easy to wipe away! Much easier to wipe away your precious friend, that parasite!” There was venom in his voice as he hissed at Mnhei’sahe, but also fear. The crimson-clad commander could see it hiding behind the rage in his eyes and hear it in the warble in the back of his throat.

“You won’t. We won’t let you, because whichever of you came first, the man I served with is real. And he is noble. And he is worth saving, so we will save him from you, like it or not. He’s a Starfleet officer, and Starfleet does not abandon its own. And the crew of the Hera doesn’t abandon her friends. And neither do I.” Mnhei’sahe hissed back, as he reared up to rush the forcefield, she shouted out the control phrase her mother taught her in Romulan. The trigger phrase the Tal'Shiar inserted in him that forced him to sleep.

“Ihlla'nh, Card'hassinnsu ben'Lehrie Varnok. Ehhaai!”

And as she spoke, Varnok froze, doubling over as it looked as if he were struggling to resist the command. But after letting out a hoarse cry, the intel agent crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Standing in front of the force field, Mnhei’sahe’s shoulders slumped. She failed. All she needed to do was get the Varnok she knew to agree to help, but the sleeper persona had been too strong and defended itself. It was smart enough to know that it couldn’t stand against the mental might of a Kolinahr master, so it fought back and asserted itself. So it would fall to Starfleet Psychiatric to peel away which was the true Varnok and which was the Tal’Shiar agent.

Soon, another Intel ship would arrive and Ensign Varnok Jahal would be transferred to their custody to be returned to Earth. And maybe there, they could save her friend. But it was cold comfort as she looked down at his sleeping form laying in a lump on the deck.

She had failed him in the here and now, but standing there, she whispered to him a promise. “I’m sorry, Varnok. We will help you.”

Sitting at her desk in the Flight Control Office on deck 4 of the U.S.S. Hera, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox felt remarkably alone.

It was a combination of factors that weighed on the Romulan pilot’s mind, but a lot of it centered on the now-empty assistant chief’s office across the room from her slightly cluttered desk. A few days ago, she had helped talk her wife, Mona Gonadie, into accepting a long-overdue promotion to the rank of Lieutenant, and a big part of this was due to the Hera’s recently formed R&D department beginning to grow. Mona had been the chief of the department since it’s inception and the work being done there had turned heads at Starfleet, prompting her promotion. And with that promotion, it meant that the Miradonian flying ace and brilliant inventor could no longer divide her time between the departments.

One deck above Mnhei’sahe’s head, the R&D department, now clad in brand new sharp blue uniforms, was hard at work inventing the future. And in the Flight Control office, Mnhei’sahe had a task in front of her she was not looking forward to: picking a new assistant chief to help her manage the flight crew and the ship’s many shuttles, runabouts, and docking bays.

With Mona leaving the Flight Crew, she took with her the tiny test pilot, Ensign Fiona O’Dell, who had been instrumental in the growth of that department. O’Dell was still, technically, doing double duty for the flight crew and would be running sims regularly to keep her skills sharp as she was earmarked as Dox’s relief at the helm of the Hera herself in the event of an emergency situation where top-notch flying skill was involved and Dox couldn’t be there. But she was no longer in the standard crew rotation for bridge duty. Her primary duties were now as part of the blue-clad R&D department.

All of this left Mnhei’sahe understaffed by two, with an important void to fill. When the red-headed Romulan officer had been kidnapped for a month and Mona was removed from active duty due to the emotional stress of the kidnapping, Ensign Jessica MacNielle had been placed in charge of the department. MacNielle was a somewhat plain, unassuming 27-year-old human who grew up on the Tranquility Moon colony in the Sol system. She was a solid pilot who could be counted on in a crunch to perform well and take care of the more mundane tasks of managing the flight deck during normal operations. But as Mnhei’sae looked at her record and various reports on her job performance, she was underwhelmed.

During that month she had been taken, Jessica did her best to rise to the task of temporary department head and kept everything running, but command responsibilities weren't something the mousy pilot wanted or rose to the occasion to claim. But productivity was down 23 percent across the board, crew rotations were sluggish and there were scheduling conflicts with the repair crews on maintenance of three of the type 15 shuttles that were due for engine refits. The stressed Ensign put the refits on hold until Dox had returned, not wanting to make problems by telling the repair crews what to do. She was sheepish with command responsibilities and didn’t know how to tell people what to do, which was a problem if she was going to be the new assistant chief. And Dox would have to determine if she even wanted the responsibility.

Putting her personnel file aside, Mnhei’sahe called up the next name in the department. A young human male from England, on Earth, named Ensign Edgar Mulligan Trelawney VII. To put it bluntly, Mnhei’sahe just didn’t like the man. He was haughty, arrogant and had an annoying habit of looking at everyone else in the department as beneath him and liked to make sure they knew it. In the month she had been gone, Trelawney had filed 8 reports against Ensign O’Dell for ‘infractions’ as minor as her shoes not being shined to his satisfaction. He was, to be polite about it, pedantic. And she had no intention of giving him any additional power to flex over the rest of her crew. She had been working to reduce the intensity of her own command style and certainly didn't need an assistant chief that was worse in that regard. But he was a discipline problem for another day.

The names on the rest of her list were not much more inspiring to her. The Edosian pilot, Ensign Wieaex was skilled, but excessively talkative and perhaps a bit too laid back. While her six limbs and the ability to multitask with those limbs gave her a definitive edge as a pilot, she was actually also raised on Earth in a place called "Brooklyn" and had had a forceful and, perhaps, overly in-your-face demeanor. Nothing that disqualified her, but in the privacy of her own thoughts, Mnhei’sahe wasn’t sure how comfortable she would feel about working that closely with such an extroverted personality. But she was still on the shortlist, if only on pure skill alone. And her laid back mannerisms might make defusing potential personnel problems easier. She was someone to consider.

Ensign Robert Harnell was another human pilot who was competent, but unremarkable. He tended to be the best suited for lengthy bridge duty and never seemed to make waves. But he also seemed to have zero ambition to do anything more than clock in, do his work, and clock out.

Looking at the names and records of the officers, Mnhei’sahe had a lot to consider. And a few empty slots on the roster to fill. But sitting in that empty office, watching the rest of the flight crew, maintenance, and cargo loaders moving to and fro outside the large window across from her desk, the anxious pilot sighed and flumped forward on her desk. She hated feeling like this. Isolated and alone.

Looking at the corner of her desk, there say the two gifts she had been given by Rita Paris. The first, a scale model of Rita’s old ship, the U.S.S. Exeter. She was a Constitution-class refit that had been on the desk when Rita was still the department head that had been left there when the office changed hands. The second gift was given by Rita for Mnhei’sahe’s birthday back in June and was a scale model of a Romulan Bird of Prey from the same era called the IRW Raptor Star. One was a reminder of Mnhei’sahe’s roots, the other of her future and she had a habit of addressing the miniature Exeter as if there were a tiny Rita at its helm waiting to give advice.

“What would you say? That this is part and parcel of the burdens of command?” Mnhei’sahe said to the tiny Starship with a sigh and a slightly unguarded accent. “That responsibility means we don’t get what we want? That a simple life is for other people? Ugh.” Even the usually clear voice of Rita in her head was waffling today and unfocused.

In truth, while she had felt alone most of her life, but that was something that had changed dramatically when she had come to the Hera. She made friends and her career had begun to advance. She consulted with the security department and began even reconciling with her mother as she reached out and found love. But something had changed during that month that she had been kidnapped. And while she was home again on the Hera, it was becoming clear to her that the sense of completion she was finding on the Hera hadn’t quite returned with her.

Getting up from her desk, she stepped over to the window. Hands folded behind her back, she sighed as she looked out over the deck, feeling very much like she did when she was a quiet, angry cargo pilot on Starbase 17 who was ready to quit the service and give up entirely. It was more than just Mona and O’Dell no longer being in the department. It was more than finding out that she had a grandmother in the Romulan Senate that made no bones about wanting her to abandon her life in Starfleet to return to the Imperium. More than having the Artan ship, the Golden Ghost, now under her command as an Artan Baroness that she had to step away from as a Starfleet officer. More, even, then the sudden responsibility of speaking for the Romulan Senate in the recent talks with reunificationists. Removed from it all again, she felt isolated in a way it was hard to describe.

Maybe it was Asa leaving for Starfleet Medical and the ship having a new Doctor and a New Counselor that Mnhei’sahe had been avoiding. Asa was still Mnhei’sahe’s best friend and she missed that friend and resented their replacements.

It could also be the knowledge that in less than half a year, she would be a mother on top of everything else. That Mona was pregnant and currently in the process of having the wall between their quarters and Asa’s old room knocked out to make room for their growing family meant that even ‘home’ felt different. The decision to have the children Mona was so intent on having was made before so much of her life had changed. Before the kidnapping that had, inexplicably, opened up the entirety of the Romulan Star Empire up to her in a way that she could only have fantasized about as a little girl. Before being the Granddaughter of a senator or the heir to that legacy.

Maybe it was just the weight of everything having a free moment to be felt at last. And all of those responsibilities and stresses were weighing heavily on her in the then and there and she hated the conflicted feelings.

But she had work to do and didn’t have the luxury of introspective angst nor did she have the luxury of choosing only one path. She was stuck being all of these things. She was a flight chief and a Lieutenant Commander. She was a mother to be and a wife. She was the granddaughter of a Romulan Senator and a representative of that Government for better or for worse. She was the Captain of an Artan Bird of Prey and a Baroness. And she was overwhelmed and just wanted to be a disaffected pilot again. Stepping back over to her desk, she collected the clutter of PaDD’s and looked through them with a sigh. There was a list of possible new pilots she would be submitting to Commander Paris for consideration, and her final choice for the assistant chief position would also be submitted to command, but the initial decisions were on her, and she had it narrowed down to two, and even then she was fairly sure who was the best person for the position. And waiting for any longer wasn’t going to get anything done. “Computer, Is Ensign Wieaex running the scheduled flight check on the Thor?”

With a chirp, the ship’s computer replied, =^=Affirmative, Lieutenant Commander.=^=

“Thank you. And Ensign MacNielle is on bridge duty until Oh Six Hundred hours, correct?” Dox replied as she put the PaDD’s away and straightened up her desk. As she did, the computer replied as it usually did to her manners. =^=You’re welcome, Lieutenant Commander, and yes. Ensign MacNielle is currently on the bridge.”

“Hmmm… then I can start with our Edosian talker, I suppose.” Mnhei’sahe muttered to herself before tapping the Starfleet Delta on her breast. “Commander Dox to Ensign Wieaex. When you finish with that flight check, please report to the Flight Control office.”

It was the end of a particularly long shift and Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox was very much looking forward to returning to her quarters and trying to shut her mind down. And while her regular duties as the Flight Chief of the U.S.S. Hera were enough, she had also begun sword training with the ship's Captain twice a week, which made her even more tired than usual.

But tonight wasn't a training night, a fact for which the worn-out Romulan pilot was quite glad as she arrived at the quarters she shared with her wife and bond-mate, Mona Gonadie. As she entered, the first thing she noticed was that, at last, the engineering department was done knocking out the wall that separated their quarters from the now-empty quarters to their left. What had been covered by tarps while their living room furniture was stacked in the corner was now a completed, open doorway that stretched into the freshly expanded double quarters.

The kitchen, which had been a small affair in the far corner, was now opened up to more full-sized affair with a small prep island in the center and the rooms for Mnhei'sahe and Mona's three children now complete in what used to be the quarters of the ships departed doctor, Asa Dael.

The furniture had been moved back into place and the expanded quarters looked almost as if they had always been that way, except for a large, coffin-shaped crate that was in the corner, no longer covered by a worker's tarp.

Stepping inside, the door to the corridor wooshed closed behind her as she unfastened her crimson uniform top and let out a sigh as the door to her right opened, and Mona stepped out. The very pregnant, brilliantly plumed Miradonian was beaming in her new, blue uniform she now wore as the head of the now officially formed R&D department. Looking over, a smile stretched across Mnhei'sahe's chubby cheeks. "Mona. I actually thought I might beat you back to the room tonight for once."

"I had to sign off on all the work, saying it was complete so I decided to call it a day early. One of the privileges of being pregnant with three chicks," replied Mona with a bit of a smirk. "So... two things I have to wonder about now. What do you want for dinner, and when are you going to open that crate from Schwein? It really offsets the mood in here."

Looking over at the crate, Dox tilted her head as she walked over and gave Mona a long hug and a tender kiss. "I liked it better under a tarp. I guess I might as well see what it is."

Stepping back, Mnhei'sahe put her hands on her hips and cricked an eyebrow. "And actually… I was working with Ensign Wieaex most of the day. She's picking up the paperwork for the assistant chief position really well, but… well, you've worked with her. She's really… high energy. And apparently, in spite of being Edosian, she grew up on Earth in New York and spent half the day talking about Italian food."

"As such, I kind of have... Eggplant Parmesan on the brain." Mnhei'sahe continued, course-correcting before saying 'chicken', "What are you hungry for?"

"Egg... Plant?" Mona tried wrapping her brain around plants growing eggs before shaking it off and just shrugging. "I've made quite a few Italian pasta dishes. I'm sure I can figure out this egg... plant... Parmesan. I could go for a good pasta and you know I'll always eat eggs."

Looking at her wife with a quizzical expression, Dox started towards the crate but stopped for a moment. "You know, the big purple vegetable… thing. What's the other word? Auber… something. Auber Jeans?"

"Or…" she said as she began to lift up the clasps that sealed the large box, as long as she was tall, "If you're thinking something with pasta AND eggs, we could do Hibachi. With the garlic sauce, maybe?"

"Whatever you…" the red-headed Romulan froze, mid-sentence as she pulled back the lid to reveal what appeared inside. "...want."

"What in areinnye?" Mnhei'sahe said as she stepped back next to Mona to look at the contents. Inside, resting in a padded bed of fluffy white cotton stuffing, was a shining black suit of banded metal. It was a suit of some kind of armor, with black metal boots, gauntlets, and a chest piece. On the shoulders, were sculpted black metal falcons, not unlike the sigil of the Romulan Empire acting as shoulder caps over a mid-length, dark green cape. The sleeves and pants were a matching dark green leather-like material and the edges of the armor was trimmed in thin gold bands. At the top, was an ornate headpiece of black metal in the shape of birds' wings that peaked in the front, not unlike the Romulan Centurion Helmets from Rita Paris' era.

"Oh my..." was all Mona could gasp out as she took it all in. Almost instinctively, she reached out almost to touch it, but pulled back as a small, smiling holo of Schwein popped up in front of it.

"Hello! Schwein here! This is your specially made shieldmaiden armor for my wedding! Now, I know it looks incredibly hard to put on and take off, but it is actually really simple, ja? It is keyed to your voice with a passphrase. I believe yours... Mnhei'sahe Dox... is..." Here, the tiny holo paused and seemed to be looking at an Asgardian datapad of some sort. "Ah, 'Wings of Althindor, set me free.' Once you have the bracers on, say that and the rest will follow. After that, you will be able to store the armor inside the bracers as you would the other bracers on the Hera." Schwein then waved happily. "See you soon!"

Glancing over to Mona, Mnhei’sahe tried to process what she had just heard as she took in the details of the armor. Slowly, she stepped forward and reached out to run a finger across the breastpiece, which gave slightly under her touch. It was metal, but also slightly flexible. As she examined it, she al but whispered to Mona, “It’s… I suppose whoever made this knew who they were making it for. There are Rihannsu glyphs along the gold edging of these shoulder caps of Al’thindor. It’s… it’s a prayer. The passcode, actually.”

Squinting to make out the tiny details, Mnhei’sahe began to read out loud in her native tongue, “Theil nnea Al’thindor, vnai arhva. It's a prayer made for those that are passing to Vorta Vor... heaven... the next life. A way of saying 'good travels'.”

Standing back up from her crouch, Mnhei’sahe stepped back. “Something tells me that whoever made this knows a little too much about me… and my friends.”

"Well... They are considered gods in some corners of the galaxy. It may be expected. Plus, I've heard that Odin has that all-knowing thing? He might have had a bit of say in it." Mona was a bit creeped out as well, especially with the activation phrase being so eerily similar.

"I... really should brush up on my comparable religion studies before this wedding. I barely remember anything from my classes at the Academy regarding the Norse pantheons." Mnhei'sahe admitted somewhat nervously. "Regardless, though, it is really beautiful. The work is... look at this, Mona."

Pulling the right bracer out of the box delicately, she held it up. Like the rest of the armor, it was a shimmering black. Across its surface, a relief of a stylized bird's wing, also rimmed with a thin gold band on either side, with more etched Romulan letters in it. "This one is decidedly less cryptic. It's just the Rihannsu names for the elements, Fire and Water, on this one and Earth and Air on the other."

"Rihannsu culture isn't monolithic. Some of the earliest settlers worshiped ancient Vulcan gods. Others, the great firebird, Al'thindor. However, a respect for the balance of elements is the most common." Mnhei'sahe said, holding the bracer up and looking intently at a thin slit in the narrow side of the right bracer. "My mother still occasionally will blurt out something like 'Oh, Elements' as an expletive and... oh..."

"Yes, whoever designed this absolutely knows about me look." She held the bracer up against her right wrist and pulled her sleeve back, revealing the black metal wedding bracelet she wore, which lined up perfectly with the thin slot. "They designed this bracer to fit around my bracelet."

The revelation of other, less cryptic glyphs lightened the tone a bit as Mnhei'sahe tilted her head. "Do... you think I should try it on?"

"With how much work went into it, I think it might offend someone on a slightly higher plane of existence if you didn't," Mona replied. "I mean, you do have to make sure it fits in time for the wedding, right?"

"Hmmm..." Dox moaned slightly, with a nervous expression. She set the bracers back in the box for a moment as she took off her uniform tunic. Beneath was a simple black undershirt and a lot of anxiety, which she removed to leave her in her underwear. "You're right. I mean, It IS beautiful work. It really is."

Picking up the bracers, she slowly opened them one at a time and gently latched them around her wrists. As the one with the slit snapped shut, it clamped perfectly around her bracelet with a light locking sound. The fit was perfect and Mnhei'sahe let out a light gasp. "Heh... a little cold."

Of course, Romulan biology ran hot to begin with, so the distinction was likely magnified, but it was still there, nonetheless. Stepping back, Mnhei'sahe kicked her boots off and tossed her pants on the couch somewhat absentmindedly. In the center of the room, she held her arms out at her side and gulped lightly as she smiled nervously at Mona. "Okay... Al'thindor... set me free."

There was a brief pause, and then the armor in the crate shimmered and hummed slightly as a ripple of light ran across its surface. Then, one by one, the pieces lifted up into the air and hovered over in front of Mnhei'sahe. There was a clanking sound as the seams of the armor released and the pieces, in unison, spun around in the air and rushed towards Mnhei'sahe, who winced and shut her eyes tight.

Seconds later, the armor was sealed around her as if it had been built upon her stocky frame perfectly. The shimmering headpiece deftly opened and wrapped itself tightly around her head, with slots that allowed her pointed ears to stick out the side as her red bangs flopped over the headband. The hum receded away to nothing and there was that same light clanking sound as the armor locked itself upon her, the seams appearing to vanish.

"Hnaev",Mnhei'sahe cursed slightly as she looked at herself, impressed. Then she looked over to Mona, who had watched the entire thing unfold with wide eyed fascination.

"I think I'm in love all over again..." Mona muttered as she reached out and actually did brush her fingertips against the beautifully crafted armor, now sealed onto her bond-mate. "I don't suppose you could get them to make a set for me? Or maybe let me run some scans on it?"

Moving her arms, the armor almost felt like it wasn't there, it fit so perfectly. Looking at Mona, Dox blushed a slight green and chuckled a little as Mona continued to caress the armor and began to thrum ever so slightly. "Well, I can surely ask, of course. As for scans, I can't see how that would be a problem. She said that the armor would go into the bracers, like Rita's. So I imagine the basic technology must be similar. I wonder if there's anything else in the bracers?"

"No idea, but it looks like something long and hard I also in the box," Mona was definitely turned on by now as she pressed up against her lover and pointed at the collapsed shaft still inside the box.

Amazingly, the armor did little to blunt the feeling of Mona pressed against her as the thrumming began to feel more intense. And while their telepathic bond generally required skin-on-skin contact for it's full intensity, the somewhat otherworldly manufacturer of the armor, a gift from Schwein's Asgardian in-laws to be, seemed to almost amplify their connection in that moment.

Feeling herself go flush as the blood rushed through her, Mnhei'sahe's pulse quickened. But she swallowed lightly and looked in the crate. Half covered by the packing material was a short rod of matching black and gold metal, about the length of her thigh. Looking close at the ends, she saw slits in both edges and held it out horizontally. "Hold on… I think…"

And as she spoke, with a thought, the rod shimmered slightly and from both ends, there was a Green flash and golden bladed ends extended out to a nearly two-meter, double-edged spear. Along the blades, beveled ridges made them resemble golden raptors' wings. At the sight, a shudder went through Dox and resonated into Mona through their link.

"Oooh... Now that looks like one of the traditional Miradonian Royal Guard spears..." Mona was starting to drool just the tiniest bit. "My love, you're getting hot feathery bird snu snu tonight."

Feeling Mona's thrum grow stronger, Mnhei'sahe's cheeks were flush even greener as she bit her bottom lip. Her already fast Romulan pulse was beating like a hummingbird and her skin felt positively scorchingly hot. Suddenly, the armor felt very much like an impediment that she wanted very gone.

And, with the armor being controlled by thought, there was a shudder of light like a heat ripple in a desert, and with a momentary hum, the spear and armor vanished. Pulled into the space within the bracers, still on her wrists, Mnhei'sahe gasped at the sensation as she was immediately standing in just her bra and underwear as Mona's hands never left her. "Fvadt…". She whispered as Mona waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

There would definitely be much snu snu that night.

Grabbing a tray with one hand, reading a PaDD in another and waving yet another wildly about as she spoke, the Edosian pilot, Ensign Weiaex me her order in the otherwise almost empty line of the crew mess hall of the U.S.S. Hera. "Yeah, so... no. Sorry, but that so-called Pizza is sad and I have standards. Maaaaayyybe the meatloaf? It's hard to mess up meatloaf. Except that there's no actual meat in it. All... ya' know... reorganized protein and reshuffled molecules."

"Probably the same molecules from waste reclamation, because, ya' know, efficiency. I mean, it's literally broken down to nothing and reconstructed. I know in my head there's nothing wrong with it, but it still kinda weirds me out to think about sometimes, ya' know what I mean, Mal?" The orange-shelled woman with three arms and three legs said as the crewmember working the line placed a plate of meatloaf on her plate. "Oh, and a sweet tea." The talkative Edosian added as she flipped her shoulder-length, silver hair over as she turned back to the woman in line behind her.

Malana, the literal mountain as she was from a race evolved from granite, smiled politely as she looked over the available foods but waved it all off. As an Ashrevanian she didn't need to eat, but she did at least pick up a tray and a mug to at least hold and keep up appearances. She enjoyed posing quite a bit, if the truth were told.

"I would have to take your word on it. I have never eaten any of it and from my perspective, it's all biological so the distinction is less clear." Malana did her best to categorize the various food products in her mind but even as a biologist, she was having trouble.

"Well, I got you to try real Pizza when we went to New York, so I will take that as a victory, even if you can't really taste it the same way I do. But hey, that's that Vulcan thingy? Infinite diversity and all that." With her free hand, the carapaced pilot lightly slapped Malana's arm in a friendly manner as they began their way towards a table. 

"So, how do you keep your engine running if you don't really eat biological food?" The talkative Ensign asked as they sat down. "Especially since you, ya' know, DO things that use up energy unlike the rest of your people. I mean, I'm no biologist, but you're alive, so you need to have energy from somewhere, right?"

After they sat down, Malana stared at her friend for several seconds before replying. "I am told that it is quite unpleasant to watch... Every few weeks I eat raw materials. Things like soft metals, softer stones, ceramics..." She then held up the coffee mug she had grabbed. "Like this mug."

"Is it good? Like, mugs? What do you like?" Weiaex asked, forking into her meatloaf with a raised eyebrow, genuinely curious.

"The glaze tends to be off-putting. I prefer slate tiles or freshly kiln-fired ceramics." The literally stone-faced woman studied the mug for a moment before setting it back down on her tray. "However, another purpose to me always being in public with a mug, other than to look more... Biologically normal... Is that I always have a snack at the ready."

"Nice!" The talkative pilot said with a grin. "N' I figure if you want you can program mugs that just LOOK like regular mugs, except make 'em to your taste. Like a slate mug. Gotta remember that." As she spoke, one hand was managing lunch while the other kept holding up the PaDD.

Being Edosian, she was naturally good at multitasking, but it was clear she was glancing at the PaDD every few seconds, anxiously.

"Indeed. I will have to consider shape as well as materials and consistency. Thank you." Malana was inherently observant and she easily noticed that her friend seemed distracted, which was unusual for her. "Is there something wrong with your PaDD? Should I... eat it for you?" She didn't often tease as her slow and steady speech patterns rarely conveyed emotions well, but she hoped the offer came across as an attempt at a joke.

"No, I..." Weiaex began to answer, absentmindedly, before what she had just heard sunk in. In spite of generally talking a mile a minute, she did, in fact, listen to what was being said around her, and what she just heard stopped her in her verbal tracks. No mean feat.

"HAAA! Nice one, Mal!" The orange shelled woman let out a deep, authentic laugh at the first joke she can ever remember her friend making. "Yeah, no. I wish. It's the Chief. She's been running me through the ringer trying to see if I'm up for the assistant chief position. I swear, I thought Leprechaun was exaggerating when she said how tough the Lieutenant Commander was during her combat training."

Waving the PaDD in the air, she ran another hand through her silvery hair while taking a drink of her tea with the third. "But she's quizzing me on every system on the deck. Every system in the shuttles and runabouts. Stuff that makes some of the exams at the academy seem tame in comparison. I think she's gonna make me field strip a Runabout at this rate."

"If anyone can do it, I believe you are the one," replied the stone woman with a surprisingly soft smile. "Though having observed your chief multiple times, I am able to confirm that you are in for... stressful days."

"Yeah. She's... she's intense. I mean, she's a beast at a helm. Flies like she was born in a pilot's seat and almost never even looks down at the controls and still nails sims. But she's a workaholic. She's always in that officer reviewing files, running sims, reading department reports. All of that stuff." The Edosian pilot slouched slightly. "And if she's not in there working, she's on the flight deck checking systems or doing repairs on the runabouts herself. Which... I guess is why she needs an assistant. Someone to help her take some of that off her plate. Still, it's a lot to take in."

"I can figure out the technical stuff, but she's so dang intense. She just kinda stands there staring at you with her hands behind her back and you have no idea what she's thinking. It's kinda freaky. Maybe it's a Romulan thing... being intense. I dunno." Wieaex said, taking another bite of her lunch. "You were on a mission with her Mother, right? From Intel? Is she like that too?"

"Her mother... Yes... If she lived a few hundred seasons more, that one may be able to intimidate one of my people into talking." Malana mused over the thought of a biological being able to get literal stone to talk, but she thought that if any of them could do it, it would be that one.

"Sounds like a real ray 'a sunshine." Wieaex said, finishing off her plate. "So, enough of my nonsense. What about you? What's going on in the Biology Department? Workin' on anything interesting?"

Malana grinned slightly once more. "I believe I have concluded that my co-workers do indeed possess the required sentience and patience necessary for proper observational skills. They may make decent disciples as we observe the life cycles of various bacteria this week."

"You sneaky lady. You're observing your co-workers while doing the bacteria research?" Wieaex grinned mischievously. "Is that a paradox workaround? You figure out a way to observe without affecting because your subjects are expecting you to be there observing?"

A strange, almost cheeky look crossed Malana's face. "As an Ashavenian biologist, my purpose is to observe all biological life. My coworkers are indeed biological life, are they not?"

"Well, that's one way of describing the job." The orange Ensign grinned as she leaned in, conspiratorial, "So...any juicy observations?"

Taking the hint that this was to be a quiet discussion, Malana also leaned in and spoke softly. "I have always found fascinating, the predilection to discuss in the open a desire for bonding and mating with others as well as the drama in a particular biological's life. For instance, one particular crewman expressed a sincere desire to... 'jump the bones'... of their Vulcan supervisor while he was not around to the agreement and delight of several other presumably female crewmembers. Another expressed frustration at their inability to find a mate and how it seemed like everyone on the vessel were now producing young biologicals. Even some of the non-female crew that overheard had to join the discussion and it quickly turned to talk of the new maternity ward where young biologicals are cared for. They seemed displeased with it but I am not sure why. Perhaps if they had young of their own, they would be more pleased with it."

Chucking lightly, Weieax leaned in a bit more, folding two of her arms while sipping her tea with the third. "Well, they may be more displeased with their lack of 'female biologicals'. Or they're just the kind of guys that get defensive and hyper-masculine whenever the concept of commitment is brought up. And nothing says commitment like 'young biologicals'."

"Frankly, we got less and less of guys like that every crew rotation. This is gonna be the U.S.S. Lesbos before too long. Not that I'm complaining. I like 'male biologicals' as much as the next girl with three hands, but those three hands make me… adaptable enough in a pinch." The chatty Edosian whispered with a grin, glancing to the side to see that nobody was eavesdropping.

"But there's this one guy in the flight crew… Harnell. He's been trying to get into MacNielle's pants for a year, but she just isn't into him. But to hear him tell it, it was a personal assault on his honor that she turned him down. Word is, he put in for transfer. People just seem to be in the mood for settling down the last year or so. I've never seen anything like it on any ship before."

The stone woman nodded thoughtfully, considering the change in the crew's behaviour and trying to think back on when she too noticed things changing. "I too have noticed a sharp incline in the desire to mate aboard this vessel. I believe the change happened... Possibly around the time of the Meroset mission or shortly thereafter. Prior to that point, most biologicals aboard spoke primarily of their duties and consumption of flammable intoxicants."

"Flammable…? Ah, liquor. Duh. Heh." Wieaex shook her head and chuckled lightly as she caught back up. "Yeah, that was a cluster. I was still working cargo, then. Trying to work my way up to shuttle duty back then. Heh, and now I'm up for the assistant chief's chair. But at least I didn't get transferred out of the department like the Leprechaun. I figure she must've pissed the chief off something fierce. Damn, the Leprechaun has a kid. The chief's wife is pregnant as all get out. I dunno, I don't have any kind of desire to drop my eggs anytime soon. Maybe whatever's goin' around missed me."

"Perhaps. I believe the colloquialism is that there is something in the water. Please do not drink from the refresher." Malana mused for a moment before bringing up her observations of the R&D department. "I believe I have observed the short one and the porcine one that you refer to. The feathered one seems quite fond of them and their work output. I gather that they are unconventional, yet they are superior in ways that she values."

At the first comment, the Edosian pilot almost spat out the last sip of her tea. "Yeah… Heh heh… drinking from the refresher is never a great idea, Mallie." Then, as the rolling laugh ended, she continued, "I dunno. For all I know, she wanted to transfer. Heh. Maybe she knew the assistant position was opening up and she ran as fast as she could from the chief."

"Ugh… speaking of which. I should probably be studying this stuff." She waved the PaDD about as she sighed. "I want the gig. It would be a huge career move. Could get me promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade finally. But dang, you gonna know everything."

"With enough patience, you will know... Ah, but your lifespan is considerably more limited. I understand the need for expediency better. Your chief desires you to take on the role within hours rather than seasons." Malana tapped her mug thoughtfully, wondering if her friend would be able to learn one of her people's tricks of perception. "Has time ever seemed to slow for you? Do you experience time at a semi-variable rate?"

"I guess." Wieaex replied, cricking a brow slightly. "I mean, I've sat through lectures at the Academy that were only an hour long but felt like they took all day. And sometimes, at the helm, when the proverbial excrement is hitting the equally proverbial fan, a second can feel like ten. Yeah."

"Then perhaps..." Malana reached out her hands and took two of her friend's in her own, beginning to open her own inner self as she did on top of Earth's tallest mountain, but instead of stretching out her perception, she compressed it around herself, pushing that boundary out to Weiaex's mind as well to hopefully slow things to a crawl for her as well.

And crawl it did. The perception shift seemed to almost have a sense of its own gravity as the Edosian Ensign felt herself grow heavy. There was a tingle that shot from her hands and raced down her spine, but in that moment it seemed to crawl, inching across her like spiders stepping delicately across her thick carapace. It was a bizarre sensation, to say the least.

Turning her head, an action that seemed to take much longer than it should have, Wieaex looked at her shipmates as they seemed to move to a crawl. Coffee being poured almost froze in place, collecting in a laminar stream in mid-air as the few voices around her dipped to a much lower octave and began to stretch out with a vibration that she could almost feel across her shell-like skin like a heavy baseline.

"Wwwwwhhhhaaaaaattttttt iiiiinnnnnn ttttthhhhheeeeee heeeeeecccccckkkkk? Tttttthhhhiiiiiisssss iiiiiiiiissss sssssssoooooooooooooooooooooooo wwwweeeeeiiiiirrrrddddddd, Mmmmmaaaaaaallllll. Aaaawwwwwweeeeessssssoooooommmmeeee." Her own words stretched out of her at a pace that seemed glacial as an awkward smile crept onto her face as slowly as everything else.

Malana just smiled and looked down at the PaDD in Weiaex's third hand knowingly, seemingly implying that she had all the time in the world now.

It took a moment for the concept to register to Wieaex, but her thought process was moving at normal speed to her sense of perception, even if her body was lagging behind. So the look of surprised acknowledgment seemed to take half a minute to register on her elongated, orange face. It was a slow reveal that would be positively hilarious to anyone who could perceive how long it seemed to take.

And, in her head, she realized what Malana was doing. Not just that she was helping her study in an extremely unorthodox way, but that she had figured out how to let her study and still spend that time together, which was unusually sweet. Smiling back, Wieaex squeezed both of the stony hands holding her own slightly and looked down at her PaDD. While the motions took a bit to play out, she found that she could read, review and process what was on the screen at a perfectly normal speed to her. After reading through a full-page normally, she slowly glanced up to notice that that coffee was still hovering in place.

The longer they held hands, the quicker Wieaex seemed to be able to move, as the physical lag on her own body seemed to catch up to her own perceptions and she wondered what she must look like to the rest of the room. Looking back up, she smiled softly, and spoke. The words were still drawn out, but not quite as extremely as they had been a minute earlier. "Tthhaannkkss, Mmaall."

Rather than speak physically, the stone woman smiled, nodded, and gave a look that spoke miles for the feelings she felt for her biological companion. She'd have a lot to explain later, but for now...

They could just enjoy this moment as two sentients. Biological and Geological.

Thex couldn't help, but smile as she sat down at her quarter's computer. With the help of the crew and the captain's pirate family, they had managed to locate one of the old computers she needed. It had taken a while to work up a jump gap to get it up and working again, but now she should at least be able get the thing working.

No wonder they ditched these as soon as they could.

Her daughter Tothye was held in a sling around her snoring slightly as she tried to put her tiny arms around Thex. The ship's chief engineer smiled as she used a hankie to wipe some snot from the little girl's nose before she left her to her sleep.

Flipping a few switches the ancient computer fired into life. Thex had a guide that Telvan had managed to find explaining how to work the thing. She picked up the memory cube which had been heavily converted to work with it and slid it into the drive. The machine began to purr as it read the files before commands began to pop up.

How very odd she though as what had been sent to her appeared on the screen. A few andorian imperial guards reports, official documents, some andorian government paychecks, university reports and nearly a hundred photo's.

Gee thavan did you really just send me your conspiracy files she thought to herself as she opened the first photos. What met her eyes made her stop. She recognized the group of andorians in the photo not that any Andorian wouldn't know who they were.

The black and white photo of the seven andorians in faded Laikan university jackets was known to all of her kind with a basic history. The Uzaveh expedition named after the creator god had tried to cross the andorian poles on foot.

They had never made it and had vanished in the massive ice sheets of the northern wastes. Even the Aenar hadn't found any trace of them and the seven had vanished into legend. There had always been some nutjobs of her people who had said something had happned to them mostly invloving the monsters that had been believed to live in the northern wastes.

Realy did all that to send me thirty-three photos that are.... Thex began to think for herself before she realized that there were nearly a hundred photo's in here. Were these all of them? But only thirty-three photos of them had ever been recovered from the expeditions camera.

Slowly flicking through the photos The could feel her antenna slump in puzzlement. Why would anyone want to cover up half of these? An image of a few of them in front of a mountain, several of them doing what students do, a few of the andorian wilderness and the sky light up like a firework from a comet screaming across the sky.

" because you could use them to track where they'd been." She said out loud to herself, but why would anyone cover this up.

With her curiosity more than peaked she continued looking through the photos.

More photos of the night sky and mountains of andorian before.....

Her blue eyes stared at what was on the screen.

The setting had changed. The setting was now under the ice with the camera was on its side with a crack running across the lense. One of the students was running past holding the bloody damaged remains of her arm close to her chest.

The next photo showed an andorian imperial guard operative following her a combat shogun firing after her.

What the hell was all of this.

Why the hell would the andorian government send it's military to kill a bunch of collage students?

With the photo's gone she looked through the files. Most of the imperial guard reports were useless as almost hall had been completely redacted.

A slight sound made her look down as her daughter stirred in her arms. What have you gotten us involved in thavan she thought to herself as she held her little one closer.

It was 06:25 when the door chime rang in the shared quarters of the lovebirds Dox and Mona... or at least, that was how Rita Paris thought of them. Waiting for the response, most likely Dox in her housecoat, already up drinking coffee and reviewing reports, Rita regretted her lack of hands to do something while she waited.

Inside the freshly remodeled quarters, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox was largely fulfilling Rita's internal prediction, with a PaDD in one hand and a cup of steaming coffee in the other. Calling out "Come." from the mid-sized dining room table, the door slid open with a woosh. However, Dox was instead wearing a pair of black sweat pants and a tight lycra workout top with 'HERA' emblazoned in yellow across the chest, as she looked up to see the sight of her superior officer waiting, hands full. "Commander? Is everything alright?"

"Oh, sure. Not a big deal at all, just..." As she entered, the curvaceous commander was working to maintain the balance of a few colorfully-wrapped packages stacked together, which was keeping her hands occupied. Seeking out a flat surface, she settled for the coffee table in front of one of the couches, and unburdened herself as she explained. "On Earth, the advent of the winter solstice- the shortest day of the year in the northern hemisphere- has always been celebrated as a holiday. It's a time to give thanks, and give gifts to friends and loved ones, to show how much they mean to you. I generally struggle to get something for Sonak, but default to clothing when in doubt, or Vulcan relics if I can find them from traders and such. I commissioned a ship in a bottle kit for the Captain, as I suspect she'll enjoy working with her hands on something so precise."

"What brings me here today is that, well, we were on Mon Krun'chi when the holiday came this year. I might have presented gifts, but we were traveling light, we had bigger things on our minds, and frankly, I was so caught up in the diplomatic endeavors, the holiday kind of slipped my mind. We're past it now, but... well, I still got these gifts, and I still wanted to give them to you and Mona and the chicks. So, better than putting it off until next year, I decided." Picking up a small colorfully wrapped box, she offered it to the redheaded Romulan.

"Happy holidays, Mnhei'sahe. I know what you're going to say," Rita prognosticated, as she often did. "You're going to protest that you don't have anything for me and you are going to try to beat yourself up over it and make yourself feel badly about accepting a gift from me, so please, just skip all that. It's a tradition of MY homeworld, and it doesn't obligate you to reciprocate. So please, just accept the gift in the spirit it is offered and enjoy it, okay?"

Smiling, Mnhei'sahe took the small package as she chuckled lightly. "The Dox's... my adopted grandparents... made a very big deal out of Christmas. They made every effort to get me into it, but... well... you know how I was."

"Angry little Romulan girl that just wanted to sulk and never wanted to bother with such things." The curious pilot looked at the vibrant paper as she reminisced with a mildly wistful smile. "My mother always avoided us celebrating Romulan holidays, even though I knew when they were happening. Sometimes I'd sneak out of my room to talk with whatever group of refugees we were moving and they'd tell me. LOTS of harvest celebrations that are analogous to Thanksgiving on Earth. When I eventually was ON Earth, I would make a bigger deal out of those, but I think I was just going out of my way to be difficult and contrary."

"Mona's in the shower, but should be out any minute. And with the chicks boosting her sensitivity, I'm sure she knows you're here. She can apparently tell what I'm feeling from two systems away." Dox continued, tilting the box slightly, shooting a warm grin towards her bond-sister. "And since you know me well enough, I'll spare you me feeling bad for not remembering this and just invite you and Sonak over for dinner or something once the kitchen remodel is complete and everything is re-organized. Sound fair?"

"Sounds perfect. So long as Mona's up for it, we'd be happy to be hosted and share a meal," Rita replied with a genuine smile. She herself was surprisingly fond of such hospitality, offering it on a regular basis to her senior officers, and on most nights she and Sonak preferred a meal shared by preparation rather than replication. While the first officer was no chef by any stretch of the imagination, she could follow a recipe and she enjoyed sharing the foods and meals of the various cultures of her homeworld with her logical alien mate, and her shipmates.

"For now, go ahead and open your gift. It isn't anything earthshaking, just a little something," Rita offered, trying to diminish any potential anxiety over the present.

"Mona loves to cook and is excited to show the new quarters off once it's all put back together. I'm... learning how to help in the kitchen, but I promise to not poison either of you." The Romulan pilot joked, taking a sip of her coffee. Her tone and mood were a far cry from how nervous she used to be when she first arrived on the ship.

"Okay, let me see what this is." Mnhei'sahe said as she set the cup down and gently removed the paper, rather than ripping or tearing at it. After a short moment, she opened the top of the small box and pulled a small, golden device out. It stood on three small metal legs and had a number of hinged metal wings that she folded out to reveal the internal workings of an old, earth compass and astrolabe.

"Rita... this... this is beautiful." Mnhei'sahe said, taken aback slightly by the small but intensely thoughtful item.

"It's a reproduction, of course," Rita hastened to add, lest her friend think it was a priceless heirloom. "But it's a bit of a combination of things- a compass, which points to true north in Earth's magnetic field. A sundial, that let you tell time in the ancient world by the position of the sun, and part sundial, which used the position of the sun and measurement of time to determine course, heading and speed for ancient navigators. Part astrolabe, which they would use to navigate at night by the position of the stars relative to the horizon."

"It's just a bit of antiquity from Earth history that I thought might make a sentimental gift that doesn't serve any real purpose, save to remind us of how far we've come, and how we got here- those brave pioneers measuring the forces of the universe to determine their place within it." All smiles, Rita knew that despite- or perhaps because of- her upbringing, Mnhei'sahe Dox was sentimental to a fault, and the ancient navigation instrument was liable to be on a shelf in her home gathering dust a hundred years from now.

Sitting there, the young Romulan woman held the small gold instrument in her hands. She tilted it, watching the small metal needle wobble towards the position of the Hera's Warp Core, as it had it's own, quite strong magnetic field. As she studied the miniature metal arms with astronomical markings on them, her eyes began to tear up ever so slightly. 

Still looking at the device, she began to speak, her voice light, with its familiar raspy quality adding the slightest of warbles to her tone. "Thank you, Rita. This is... this is amazing. It's... when I was young, on the Forager, I had this little... gauge. I made it using a few pieces of plastisteel window paneling that I took from the repair pile. They were the same size as the window in my quarters, and I put these... dials on it that I etched the star charts of the system we were in most of the time. And if I turned the dials, and lined the etchings of the stars with what I could see out my window, it helped me learn to figure out where I was."

"It... grounded me." Mnhei'sahe said as she adjusted the setting of the small gift, running her fingers gently across the notched markings across its surfaces. A navigators tool from the Hera's Lost Navigator to her pilot, the woman who had struggled so long to fing her course in life. It's meaning was plain and appreciated. "Thank you so much. It's... wonderful"

"I'm glad you like it," Rita replied, obviously relieved. While she tended to be pretty good at gift-giving, navigating it with the same intuition that guided the rest of her life, still she worried over little things like this. "I spent quite a few summers sailing the Pacific around San Francisco Bay and the Gulf of the Farallones. It was something girls were supposed to be able to 'help out with', according to the Commander, so it really connected me to the sea and sailing, and it helped inspire me to join Starfleet. Seeing a crew all working together toward common goals, discipline, overcoming natural obstacles, learning to read the currents and the winds..." Lost in reverie herself there for a moment, Rita refocused on the present. "You get the idea. I'm just glad you like it. Who knows, knowing how this old antique works might just come in handy someday for you."

Saying so, Rita remembered showing the natives of Kathoom how to navigate, not by landmarks, but by magnetic north. The old ways were not always the best ways, but knowing the history of her profession had come in handy on more occasions than she would care to admit.

"Well..." Dox said, sniffing slightly, "Now, I definitely have to come up with something good to plan for dinner. So... until Mona comes out, what do you think so far? I think... I think Asa will like knowing that their quarters will be the rooms for the children in a few months."

"That would indeed warm their hearts," Rita replied. Then she snapped her fingers and pointed to the open space. "You could take a scanner tour of it, narrate, and send them the file. This is the future, Dox. We're not reduced to writing on actual pulped dead trees and waiting for someone to physically deliver the message. Show them- if they are too busy to line up a 2-way call, then just record it and send it. Show them what you did with the place, and I think that would mean the world to them. If nothing else to show that they will always be a part of your lives."

Setting down the golden gift from the golden girl from another time, Dox stood up and looked over at the newly expanded quarters with a light grin. Taking her empty cup of coffee over to the replicator to reclaim the cups molecules, she turned to Rita to reply, "I think once Mona's done decking it all out as planned, that would be a wonderful idea. Especially since 2 way calls are so hard to schedule as we never quite know where we're going to be from day to day."

"I admit, that I'm really glad that the expansion was approved. The family quarters on deck 14 are nice, but I would really have missed the windows and all the quarters that were the right size were interior spaces." Then, raising an eyebrow, Dox turned back to Rita, "Would you like anything? A coffee or tea? I should probably go check on Mona and make sure she doesn't come out of the bedroom in nothing but feathers."

"No, go, go- I've got reports," Rita Paris smirked as she fished inside the loose V-neck of her top, producing the fragile but omnipresent collapsible PaDD she favored. The snug and stiff neck of the modern collars had been claustrophobic to her- she greatly preferred the open blousy feel of her offset V-neck uniform. Waving in a shooing motion, she snapped it open and began pacing slowly toward the replicator. A fellow workaholic, they both spoke the same language in this instance. Rita had plenty of work she could be doing- thus was the life of the executive officer on a starship of 752 souls. Possibly 753 before 2400 tonight, according to Sickbay.

The polite request as she walked away from the portly pilot was a muttered, "Computer, please make me a cup of coffee?"

While Mnhei'sahe had slipped into the bedroom to check up on her wife, the computer chirped lightly and replied, =^=Coffee, Paris style, Commander=^=

On the small display screen over the replicator, Rita could see a short readout of names of notable crewmembers and sub-listings of their food and drink preferences that had been saved off and recorded by the young Romulan woman with a penchant for over-preparedness the golden-clad Commander was quite familiar with.

As she fetched her brushed aluminum mug with the old-fashioned Starfleet delta on it, Rita sipped her black Earth Hawaiian blend coffee and shook her head with a small smile. Leave it to Mnhei'sahe to over-prepare for someone just asking for a cup of morning coffee.

With a gentle woosh, the door to the bedchamber opened, and the newly promoted and extremely pregnant Lieutenant Mona Gonadie came out wearing her new, blue uniform top.

"Commander Paris, you sweet, sweet bird! I'm going to make sure we have the best meal possible tomorrow," Mona exclaimed as she came up and did her best to envelop the anachronistic officer in a heartfelt hug, which Rita managed by leaning down into a bit to make room for Mona’s swollen abdomen. "I'll make a bunch of Earth side dishes and since you and Commander Sonak are vegetarian and I can't exactly see myself cooking a turkey... Why don't I try making one of those tofu birds I've heard about?"

“That would be amazing, thank you,” Rita replied with a wide smile. “Look at you! That blue really does suit you, Mona. Plus I love what you’ve done with the place, really. So much better than the spartan empty quarters with the punching dummy,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper. “Meanwhile, I have a few gifts- it’s an Earth tradition I’m fond of, and I’m catching up after the holiday, but better late than never. One gift is for you, and one is for the chicks. Which one would you like to open first?”

"Well, the chicks are already excited, so let's open theirs first," Mona rubbed her belly as she spoke, the commotion inside of her just starting to become visible as the three chicks in her thrummed their hardest. "And I think it best if I did so sitting down." With that declaration, she made a bit of a deal of sitting down at the dining table in one of the extremely plush, Miradonian style, 'nesting' chairs they used.

“Of course, of course, sit. Sooooo, studies showed that children react to music, both in the womb and after they are born. So, with that in mind, classical music tends to work well to build stronger minds, aid in concentration and focus, that sort of thing. Plus in your case the little ones seem to be very reactive to vibration in general. So, I did a little shopping, and this is what I came up with.” Handing the colorfully wrapped box to Mona, Rita continued explaining as she unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small 15 cm by 30 cm column of white, along with what looked almost like a four-leafed clover.

“This will play a variety of Earth classics- you can make requests if you like and it will play them, or it will cycle somewhat randomly through the catalogue it has in memory. I tried to choose the ones that would be soothing or inspirational or inspiring, like Der Ring Das Nibelung, a lot of Mozart and Bach… you’ll get the idea. Now this,” Rita pointed to the odd clover. “These extend and retract as needed, and they curve as they do so. You can set it on your tummy and when turned on, instead of broadcasting to the room, it will broadcast the sonic vibrations through your tummy so that the little ones can hear it that much better. I’m told that it soothes them, and helps you get a bit easier rest, particularly in the last quarter of the pregnancy when they tend to get more restless.”

“I know it being Earth music is racist and narrow-minded, but it’s the music that I know, so… I stayed in my lane, so to speak,” Rita explained somewhat sheepishly. “But there is planet of memory for you to add whatever music you might like for them to hear and learn.”

"Oh my! This is perfect and amazing! Thank you so much!" Mona tinkered with it for a few moments, learning how it worked, a bright smile plastered across her face. "They're at that age where they'll start to become a bit of a nuisance too. And this may sound weird, but we never invented stringed instruments, so we kind of... Culturally appropriated those from other worlds. Mostly from Earth and Trill so we've been going through a bit of a renaissance of our own lately what with harps, pianos, violins..."

"Well, you come from a species of songbirds." Mnhei'sahe said as the door to the bedroom wooshed open and she stepped back out with a light smile as she fastened the stiff neck of her crimson tunic. "Most races don't have a specific language developed just for singing, so it balances out."

"At least now you've got more music for them to listen to since my taste in Earth music isn't probably the best for them at this point." It was well known among much of the command crew that the only real cultural affectation she picked up from her time on Earth was an appreciation for Heavy Metal music, which was decidedly too intense for the chicks, to be sure. Smiling, Mnhei'sahe stepped over as she finished getting dressed and gave Mona a soft kiss on the cheek.

"And I think the music I enjoyed the most on Earth is called something like techno or rave or something..." They'll need to be exposed to a lot so they can decide for themselves." Mona nodded and thought heavily on the subject. "Though if they decide on Klingon opera..."

"Well, I like Klingon Opera..." Mnhei'sahe said, letting herself trail off as she stepped over to the replicator and ordered up another cup of coffee for herself and a particularly soothing Moradonian purple tea that Mona liked that helped settle her stomach as the chicks were, in fact, getting more boisterous as the entered the final 4 months of her pregnancy.

Handing the tea to Mona and sitting down on the chair next to her, Mnhei'sahe smiled as she placed a hand on her bond-mate's belly. As she did, the audible thrumming shifted tone and perked up, seeming to sound more excited.

“On that note, there is your gift, Mona. Now, I went wayyyyy out on a limb for this one, but your folks were a big help.” Handing over the brightly colored package that had a surprising amount of weight to it, Rita explained. “Another tradition that exists on my world is what we call a ‘music box’ It is supposed to be primarily ornamental, but when you open it, it will play a specific tune. In olden days this was a mechanical marvel that one had to wind the gears for it to play. But in the modern-day, everything is battery powered, and besides, I don’t think a mechanism could reproduce this song.”

Inside the package was an ornately carved and jeweled egg, obviously a reproduction of a rarity Rita had dug up somewhere. A stand came with it to support the egg at its wide base, and a hinge was evident on the outside near the top that enabled the top of the egg to hinge open. When she did so, a reproduction of the two Starfleet officers, standing together and holding hands, turned slowly on a small pedestal, as a very familiar pair of voices sang from within the egg.

“It’s your parents- mammy and pappy. I asked them to record a Mirdonian lullaby for the chicks, and this way it stayed all in the family. There’s a recording feature as well, if you’d like to get Mrs. Dox to record a Romulan lullaby, so you can have one from both of the chick’s cultures. But this is a gift for you, Mona. I… had my mother’s when I was growing up, and I treasured it. I thought it might make for a nice heirloom for you, and it might help calm the chicks, now and later, if they could hear such a thing and know it as you do. A little bit of home and heritage for you, if you will. Ah, hopefully, the egg isn't in bad taste..."

As Mona took it in and listened to the song she'd heard literally thousands of times, she had to cover her mouth with one hand as tears began to form in her eyes. "No... I... It's perfect. Thank you." That was all she was able to get out before she completely broke down into happy tears. Clutching Mona's hand and squeezing it tightly, Mnhei'sahe was at a loss for words, but her skill and damp eyes expressed her feeling for Rita's gift to her wife perfectly.

“Awwww, you two lovebirds!” Rita said as she wrapped the two in an embrace, her own eyes misting over. “I’m just glad you like them. It’s important that we plan for the future, you know? And your chicks are arriving into lives that already have lots of history. I just want to make it a bit more accessible to them, that’s all.”

As Mona nodded and squeezed Rita and Dox as tight as she could, she did nothing to stop the flow of tears. "You both are so good to me. My Minay, you have to be at the birth, but Rita, will you be there as well? As my sister?"

There were a few seconds of hesitation at that, as Rita strove to say the right thing. "The universe... doesn't always let me make those sorts of promises, Mona. As you may have noticed, I sometimes end up not exactly where I'd planned. But I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to be there, no matter what it takes. Okay?"

Little did Rita Paris realize just how prophetic that statement would turn out to be for the Lost Navigator, but she made the promise all the same.

Private Holo Communication.
Stardate: 72140.83
From: Lt. Cdr. Mnhei’sahe Dox. U.S.S Hera
To: Lt. Asa Dael. Starfleet Medical, Earth.

Hello Asa, It’s Mnhei’sahe.

Well, it’s a hologram message, so I suppose that’s kind of obvious. You can see me. Heh. Anyway, I wanted to send you a message to let you know what’s been going on here on the ship. At least, regarding the events that aren’t completely classified, of course. Intel Command will have reviewed this completely before it gets to you, so hopefully, it isn’t just a bunch of half-sentences with massive redactions throughout.

So, it might not look like it, but right now, I’m standing in your quarters. Mona and I were able to get permission to have engineering take out the wall between our quarters in order to expand our space in anticipation of the children. I… I can’t believe they are due in only four months. It feels like it’s all happening so quickly.

In my heart, I just felt like… it seemed appropriate. You have been such an important part of this even being possible for us to have children. And… well… I’ll be honest. Yes, the fact that there are no windows in any of the available family quarters down on deck fourteen was not something I was looking forward to, but… I didn’t want someone else in here. I know that’s selfish as Areinnye, but it’s the truth. I thought of some new transfer in your quarters and I got... angry. It's so petty and I hope you don’t mind too much. But… yeah. It felt... right to me.

Anyway, this is your living room. We added partitions, and this will be the room for the girls. We haven’t started really decorating it yet, but the structure is all here and ready. Mona’s working with Ensign Gavarus down in R&D to design special Miradonian cribs so they won’t be flying around all night when we’re asleep. I still can’t believe that they actually might be able to fly up until they will be around two, but so far, Doctor Power says that their genetic scans are showing predominantly Miradonian physiology. Hollow bones and down feather development that is all normal for Miradonian children.

He says that they are looking like they’ll have my ears and their blood is reading a strong copper base, so it’ll be green like mine, but they are really going to be as much Miradonian as they will be Romulan, which makes a lie out of my people’s insistence of our so-called genetic dominance in mixed children. Mona’s taking shots daily… part of Miradonian pre-natal care that her people developed to enable them to cross-breed better. It’s processing the different blood that’s working its way back into her system that has been messing with her hormones, increasing her nausea and been making it a bit difficult for her as we go into the final stretch. But she’s... been amazing.

Oh, the Captain made her R&D department permanent, so Mona’s officially a Department Head now. I helped talk her into accepting a promotion to Lieutenant, which was not easy, but it’s going great so far. The department even has its own uniforms now. It’s kind of a darker blue. Like, not as teal as Science is now, but not the powder blue science used to be. They look great. And believe it or not, they talked my mother into joining the department as a nanny to help look after Minerva and the other kids. It’s almost impossible to wrap my head around, but she’s… she’s actually taking to the assignment really well.

Anyway, we took your old kitchen set up and are merging it with ours so Mona will have a full kitchen to work with now, which she’s very excited about.

We have a new doctor, who I… I haven’t seen yet. She’s… she’s also El-Aurian and I have to admit that I’m avoiding her. Something about it just bothers me and I don’t know why. I know I need to get over myself, but she’s just…. She’s just not you, Ace. We also have a new counselor. She’s half Vulcan and half Orion and I don’t have a choice but to see her, and my first appointment is in a couple of days. I’m not looking forward to it.

Oh, yeah. The ‘no choice’ part. Starfleet requires that I have weekly sessions ever since the kidnapping and my time on… well… that’s something that we never got to talk about either before you left. I was only back a couple of days before you left for Earth, and… I didn’t know how to talk to you about my… about what happened. With everything you were going through, it seemed cruel to put this all on you then. But then… before I could… you were leaving and I didn’t want to put my issues all over your moment. Which… which I guess I’m doing now. I’m sorry. I am.

It’s been… it’s been hard without you, Asa. *Sniff*. I kinda needed you. I still do. While you were being interviewed for your transfer when we were docked at Jupiter Station, I was being grilled by Intel Command and Starfleet Psych. All because of what happened with the kidnapping. And I can’t even tell you like this over SubSpace. It’s all CLASSIFIED. Not to be discussed over SubSpace frequencies.

I… I can’t tell you what happened, but it is so hard to deal with. I’m so tired, Asa. Tired of being strong for everyone. Tired of pretending that it doesn’t hurt all the time to think about. I’m just so tired.

But… *Sniff*... I don’t have a choice. I’m a Commander now and I’m not allowed to cry. Not really. Mona knows… Rita. Enalia. But I still have to put up a front. Pretend that the weight of everything I’m not allowed to talk about isn’t crushing me. I’ll be okay. And who knows. Maybe this new counselor will be helpful.

I miss you, Asa.

*Sniff*. Sorry. I know this isn’t fair to you. I just… I miss being able to talk to you with no expectations. No burdens of command. No worrying about what you or the children can feel through a telepathic bond.

Wow… yeah. I should tell you about that. Because… well, it’s a good bit happier news, anyway. The children… I don’t know if I will ever be calling them chicks like Mona. But they are already amazing. Asa, I can feel them when Mona and I touch. I can feel them as strongly as I can feel Mona. I can hear what they’re thinking. It’s not like worlds... but it’s so incredible. I… I don’t know how to describe it in words.

You remember when my mind was open because of…

=^=REDACTED=^=

… could literally see people’s aura colors when I closed my eyes and touched them. It’s like that, but so much more intense. It’s boosted Mona’s sensitivity immensely. She could feel what I was feeling when I was on…

=^=REDACTED=^=

...when we are touching. Their auras are like a… like a rainbow still. Like their potential is visualized by encompassing every color and when we touch, it’s like I can’t tell where I end and they begin. It’s just… it’s beautiful, Asa.

I think it’s helping me get some of the strength back that I lost after… well… you know what happened. We were there together when that door in my mind was closed. But… maybe it’s not the smartest idea I’ve ever had… but I’ve been wanting to talk with Sonak to not only strengthen my defenses, but learn how to reach out again.

Heh. I know. I was terrified. All I wanted to do was learn to keep everything out of my head. But with everything I gained thanks to restoring my bond with Mona. With the chicks. With some of the things I’ve done that… I can’t tell you about. I am starting to understand that what I was most afraid of was not being in control. And so I’m working on it. Sonak has said my mental defenses are nearly as strong as his own, and I can tell you that I’ve had to put them to the test a couple of times now.

But with what I’ve been able to do with his help… well, I have been working on getting stronger. Developing what I am capable of. It’s not much of anything, but I’m trying.

Anyway, I wish I could tell you more. I wish you were still HERE so I could tell you everything and give you the biggest hug I could. I hope things are going well at Starfleet Medical. I know that you’re going to change the universe for the better. You’re amazing and I hope you know that every day, Asa.

You are and will forever be my bond-sibling. I look forward to hearing from you. I love you, Asa. Be well.

Jolan’tru.

In her dreams she could see the fist, out of the corner of her eye, coming for the side of her face. Then there was an explosion of pain, and she blacked out. It was a dream that had recurred a few times- reliving the burly Klingon’s punch that broke the boffer belt and nearly took her head off. While she was trying not to dwell on it, Fiona O’Dell was still reliving the moment, often waking from the relived memory in dreams startled and uneasy.

In her sleep she fidgeted and muttered, curled up in a rather tight ball beside her snoring partner Briaar Gavarus. The great space swine tended to curl protectively about Fiona and Minnie when they all slept together, which was more often than not. Briaar knew it brought considerable peace of mind to Fiona and helped her sleep- simply hearing the chainsaw of the snout of snoring brought forth soothed the wee Miradonian midget, as it reminded her of sleeping in her childhood home. Feeling the vibration and warmth of the considerably larger woman next to her put O’Dell at ease and she tended to sleep like a baby.

But of late, the nightmare of being hit harder than she’d ever been struck in her life kept replaying in her head, and tonight it jolted her awake once more. But this time, instead of fear and disorientation, O’Dell was awakened with an idea.

“S’bloody genius! Briaar, wake oop!” Scrambling to her knees in the oversized sleep dress she was wearing, which was actually a half-size reproduction of Commander Paris’ anachronistic minidress uniform that still fit her like a tent, O’Dell nudged the swollen round belly of her porcine partner. “I’ve got me a genius idea here, m’love. Wake ooop!”

"Huh? Whazzit? Is... Fee? Is e'vr thin' 'ight?" Briaar muttered and mumbled, her eyes still closed as she struggled to open them and wake up. "Wha's... what's goin' on?"

Rubbing her face with the palm of her huge, three-fingered mitt, the tubby Tellarite engineer scooched slightly up on one elbow as the saggy old nightshirt she slept in had somehow migrated off of one arm entirely and hung half below her chest, leaving one boob to hang out the cut-out neck hole. The graphic on the chest of the shirt that shifted over her ample belly, with the letters that said 'Rump Roast' stretched out to be almost illegible. "Is... is Minnie okay? Did you have another shitty dream?"

“Aye, Minnie’s fine, she’s still mooin' in her sleep,” Fiona reassured the sleepy swine. When she slept, rather than snoring, the miniature Minotaur had a habit of mooing in her sleep, which both of her adoptive parents viewed as thoroughly adorable. “And aye, bad dream, but it gave me an idea!”

“So robotics are nae a big deal to construct- the hard part is getting’ a brain in there to run it all and not run amok and kill people. So me thought it, what if we made a robot fuir testin purposes, that was basically human durability, with limbs that only go in the direction of human limbs and sooch, but the entire surface area and internals are either servos to move it or sensors to record the impacts. Then we could slave it to a control unit like the banshee, and presto! I’ve got meself a robotic stand-in fuir stoof that might be too dangerous ta test in person- like the Boffer Belt. Aye?”

The little redhead’s bright green eyes twinkled as she spoke, and it was clear she felt she had come up with a masterstroke solution.

Sitting up, Briaar looked down, noticed her wardrobe malfunction and re-adjusted her assets back into her stretched out nightshirt. As she did, she slowly processed what Fiona was saying, though her mind was still resisting being awake and was firing on, at best, half power. "So... you're thinking we make a... a robot of... YOU? But... like... one that you control from a distance all safe and shit?"

Before Fiona could reply, Briaar's brain began to catch up as she stretched out a kink in her neck. "Wait, no. No. Not with the chief's neural controls. Not if there's the slightest chance of feedback. But if we rig matching sensors into your EVA suit so that it transmits your motions exactly and feeds the visual data from the source into the visor, then all we have to do is put you in a blank, roped-off section of the deck that's the same as the testing area and you should be able to feed the 'bot all the motions without any real risk to you. Is that what you're thinking?"

“Aye, sure, ye’ve got the idea noow! A stand-in who can get punched all day and ‘twillnae hurt innyone nor endanger innyone, yet we kin still get the testing done! Aye?” The little lass’ enthusiasm tended to be infectious, but she was still impressed at how her tired Tellarite was rising to the occasion.

"Yeah. And making the actual robot shouldn't be all that hard. Heck, the advancements the Chief made in miniaturizing the micro-motors needed to match a humanoid range of motion and shit. This would actually be useful across the board at keeping you safer in the earliest tests of shit." Briaar said, yawning as she reached down to stroke Minnie's head lightly. "Shit, what time is it, Fee?"

“Tis 03:13. I know, I know, I should waited til mornin, but I dinna want ta forget it and wake oop without an idea, aye?” Patting the paunch of the portly pig, the picayune pilot smiled. “G’back to sleep, Briaar, and we kin talk aboot it in the morning with the Chief, aye?”

Yeah, no. I get it. I do. Here's hoping we don't both forget what we were talking about in the morning." Briaar groaned as she flumped back down onto the bed, laying there for a moment before letting out a long groan.

"Ugh, you're frickin' kidding me. Now I gotta take a piss."

“Tis always the way, m’love…”

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

In the morning, after breakfast, feeding time, a few diaper changes and one uniform mishap, the different duo had arrived at R&D on Deck 3, where Fiona was organizing her thoughts to present her brainstorm to the Chief of R&D, the newly promoted Lieutenant Gonadie. “So do Ah call it a 'crash test dummy', or do ye think that she’d get the idea better from what ye were sayin' last night?”

Holding little Minerva on her ample hip with one arm, Briaar had a cup of coffee in the other and was taking a sip as she thought over Fiona's question. "Well, the Chief's an engineer, so I'm sure she's heard of the term, but how you described it to me will probably get the idea across quicker. I mean, it being able to move under your control is a big part of what will make this work, I figure."

"And if we can get Minnie settled, I can start working up some basic schematics to present, which will make the whole thing easier to pitch." Looking around the space, Briaar bounced Minnie on her hip some more to keep the tiny tot from getting too fidgety. "D'ya think Mrs. Dox is gonna start today? Someone to help watch the wriggler here will make things a bit easier."

“I dunno. But in the meanwhile, here- let me take her so ye can free up yuir hands. I did me part, now ye do your part and hopefully we’ll have a solution that the Chief’ll like that’ll solve this problem,” Fiona replied, reaching up to take Minnie off Briaar’s hip, staggering back a step as she grunted to hold the toddler who was now a third of her own body weight. Setting the tyke down on her hooves, Fiona took Minerva’s hand and walked her toward the break room. “Ye wanna see if Granny Murderpunch is here today, aye? Let’s go see! C’mon… aye, like that, like a big girl, right?”

Sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth in concentration, little Minnie's face was one of pure determination as she focused on the epic task of putting one hoof in front of the other without faceplanting on the deck, as she toddled towards the break room. As she did, she squeaked out a giggle and said, "G'AM!"

As they made their way into the back, Briaar headed over to her own workstation and plopped her ample posterior down on the reinforced chair as she called up her holographic workspace and began the task of creating a working model of Fiona’s 3 in the morning brainstorm.

Entering the break room, sure enough, there was the elder Dox, who went by a number of different appellations about the starship, depending on whom you asked. In this case, the miniature Minotaur’s eyes lit up and she began to hoof it over a bit faster, delighted to see the stern Romulan woman whose tone for the bovine babe was always kind and gentle.

“S’reet Minnie, it’s Granny!” O’Dell declared, walking the tyke over to hand her off to her severe and intimidating nanny. “Aye, see, she’s here today to keep an eye on ye and whomever else is being dropped off while she invents an indestructible lifeboat that’ll hopefully nivvir hafta be used. But if it is, then she’ll be ready, aye? She will! S’right, ye know she will!”

"I will indeed. Good morning, Ensign. Good morning, Minerva." Jaeih said, getting up from the long table in the break room where she had a number of PaDD's spread out. As expected, her tone was neutral and her posture stiff, until she leaned over and smiled as she held out her hands towards little Minnie. "Yes, that's a good girl. Look at you, yes. You're quite the unstoppable little engine, aren't you, my dear?"

"G'AM!!!" Minnie yelled as she waddled over as she reached over from Fiona's hand to Jaeih's. With a light grunt, the elder Romulan woman hoisted Minerva up and propped her up on her hip as the tot gave Jaeih a tight hug, making that strange sound that was somewhere between a purr and a moo.

Looking back down to O'Dell, Jaeih raised an eyebrow. "You seem... invigorated this morning, Ensign?"

“Aye! I come up with an idea for testin’ the boffer belts last night, so Gavarus is workin’ on getting a right proper formattin’ for it so’s we kin present it to the Chief. But it might joost have more applications, so bonus, aye?” Reaching over to adjust the little red and white polka-dotted dress Minnie was wearing today, Fiona smiled absently. “I was thinkin after the last test we might have a shortage of volunteers to help us wi’ testin, so I’m thinkin we’ll work up some robotic crash test dummies as stand-ins, and the Security gals can knock their blocks off without inny guilt.”

The unspoken part of this was, of course, that Fiona herself would not have to endanger herself. While the bonnie Bringloidian was brave, and often showed a well of courage that outstripped her ability, the Romulan matriarch could read between the lines to grasp that O’Dell herself was greatly relieved to no longer be the test subject of said experiment, despite her personal stake in it. The idea had been hers to try to build a portable inertial dampener which could slow down their mighty minotaur maiden as her strength increased over the course of time. Additionally, it could help protect the young Godox chicks as they were liable to be born flyers. But the injury she’d suffered in testing had still left her more than a little trepidatious about getting in the ring with a heavy hitter to test the device again.

"Yes, well. I can imagine we would want to keep our intrepid security team from any undo... stress." Jaeih said, with a knowing tone to her voice that made it clear she knew the underlying issue but wasn't going to make a point of it or embarrass the skilled test pilot, who had thoroughly proven her bravery to the elder Romulan. 

"Well, I am waiting on the Lieutenant to arrive so we may begin going over the plans for the so-called 'Daycare 1' module. But I will quite enjoy minding little Minerva in the interim and throughout. When was her last meal and changing?"

"Had a bottle on the way t'keep her occupied, and that was after the one when we woke 'er oop. Last changin' was... eh, we should check," O'Dell admitted as she pried gingerly at the seams of the diaper in strategic locations, sniffing as she did so. "She's been gettin good at lettin us know she needs to go, so we're thinkin a'startin potty trainin. I know it seems early,m but, she's and advanced sorta gal. Aren't ye. mah wee potato bug! Aye? Mumma loves ye. Yes Ah do. Ah do! And momma loves ye too. Aye, she does, she told me so! D'ye think yuir oop for learnin ta potty like a big girl, aye? Ye want to try?"

Big brown bovine eyes paused in her delight in the conversation and sought out the emerald eyes of her spirited parent. Not sure what she was agreeing to, Minnie took the hand of her mother and toddled toward the reclamator for her first lesson in potty training.

Shaking her head slightly, Jaeih couldn't help but smile. And as Fiona had her proverbial number all too well, she made no efforts to mask it as they toddled off. whispering to herself as they left the room. "Ah, how fast they grow up. Minerva included."

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

On the flight deck, Briaar was typing like a proverbial mad-woman, inspired as she swiped in the air, moving and adjusting holographic representations of the parts and pieces of what Fiona had proposed. Hovering above her workstation, was a meter and a half tall representation of a largely featureless humanoid shape. The holographic touch interface allowed her to move the imagined parts and components in space and assemble the simulated robot in a way that would let her know the viability of her designs in close to real-time. 

The process was a quick one as she had her energy up now and was beginning to dearly hope that the Chief would approve the project as the porcine engineer was now dying to get to work on the real thing. Adjusting the color input to make the body a shiny, metallic blue in the same hue as their new department uniforms, and adding a stripe of bright red along the top, she was humming to herself as she moved the holographic creation to the center of the deck in front of her station. As she did, she held up her arms and shouted, "Ta-frickin'-DA!"

"Behold, the FeeBot version 1! Or... maybe the RO'Dell?" The excited engineer muttered to herself as she called back to the break room where Fiona, Jaeih and Minnie were otherwise engaged. "FEE! Mrs. Dox! Check it!!"

Coming out of the break room, Fiona had Minnie up on her shoulders, which was a way she'd found to manage the ever-growing youngster's weight. Utilizing her entire body strength would only be a solution for so long, but for as long as she could, Fiona was determined that their young charge would enjoy this time with her, and hopefully remember a time when her spindly-limbed mother could pick her up and carry her. After all, someday she was liable to be twice Fiona's size- but for now she was a babe, and that babe deserved to feel like a child and not a burden. Making their way across the flight deck with Jaeih Dox in tow, the unlikely trio came to see what had the enthusiastic engineer excited.

"Well, before ye tell me yuir good news, let me tell ye ours... Minnie went potty! Number one AND number two! Her first big step, aye? Because she's such a good girl! Aye she is!" Atop Fiona's shoulders, Minnie squealed and laughed, clearly impressed with herself as she bounded up and down on O'Dell's shoulders excitedly.

A smile exploded on the face of the towering Tellarite who ran over, her hooves cloning o the deck as she did. And with Minnie on Fiona's shoulders, the miniature Minotaur came up much closer to her much taller mother. "Holy shit! She SHIT!? Like a big girl in the potty and everything!?! That's frickin' AWESOME!!! Gimmie!"

Grabbing under Minnie's arms, Briaar hoisted their unlikely daughter up into the air as high as she could manage, taking the mounting pressure off of Fiona's straining spine, as the squealing babe giggled and pumped her tiny, three-fingered fists in the air. "Look at you! Our little girl is using the frickin' POTTY!!! You are just so amazing, Minnie moo! Yes you ARE!! Who's amazing? Minnie Moo is, isn't she?"

"FIKKIN' POOO!!!" Minnie giggled and shouted, mimicking her exuberant mother while Jaeih looked on with that same wry smile she usually reserved for their antics. 

“At’s right, frickin poo indeed!” Fiona grinned, tickling the furry part of the youngster’s hooves. “So why don’t we see what yuir brilliant momma has come up with for the RoboFiona, aye? See what she’s g’win ta impress the Chief wi’ this morning, hmmm?” One eye was wandering over the designs as Fiona spoke, the tiny test pilot taking in the details and looking for potential design flaws that would be evident to her non-engineering eye.

"So..." Leaning in to the smaller hologram that approximated Fiona's proportions, Gavarus tried to reach down to manipulate it before shuffling little Minnie slightly. "Okay, Moopers. Mommy's gotta show your Mum what she made. Here, wanna let Grandma Jaeih hod you for a bit?"

Glancing back and forth, it was clear that Minnie was starting to get a little overstimulated by all the attention and was getting fidgety in Briaar's arms. Seeing the visual cues, Jaeih stepped over and tilted her head as she smiled and gently lifted the tot off of Gavarus' hip. "Oh yes. Someone's having a big day, isn't she? I've got you. And now we can watch both of your mother's work. Isn't that nice, my dear?"

As Minnie bounced on Jaeih's hip, watching intently, Gavarus leaned over and waved her hand in front of the hologram, which spun weightlessly in space in a full 180. "She's rigged for physical manipulation without any mass right now, so you can give her the once over. And here's the range of motion controls. It's nothing like what we'll do with your EVA suit, but for now, you can stretch her out a little."

Pulling a 3-dimensional pad out of the air, Briaar handed the controller which looked like an ancient remote controller with multiple directional buttons for each limb, to Fiona.

“Well, me first thought is that the interface needs work, but we’ll cover that wi’ the link to the EVA. But fur noow…” Experimentally, Fiona tapped at some of the keys, seeing how the model responded, then she quickly began coordinating the efforts, catching on to the interface and recognizing how to manipulate it at a remarkable speed. While the picayune pilot was a 90-pound weakling, fragile and prone to alcoholism, this was far and away the one arena where she truly shone, and within a few minutes she had the virtual robot moving fluidly.

“Could use a bit more reaction time, there’s a few microsends of lag time lag between the command and the performance. Have ye got it set to limited to bipedal humanoid range of motion? Maybe alarms when a joint is goin too far or somesuch?”

"Yeah, It's set up to humanoid specs. The real FeeBot will have micro-miniature force-field accentuators to basically act like cartilage and kneecaps and shit. With some silicone gel packs as physical back up. She won't be able to do anything you won't be able to do. Alarms are a good idea, though. Solid way to know you would have broken something."

"Hmmm..." Jaeih hummed audibly as she watched from the side with a raised eyebrow. "But will it be able to match Miss O'Dell's full-motion range? There appears to be rigid plating that might be too wide between the neck joint and the shoulder, Miss Gavarus."

Tilting her head, Gavarus looked it over and nodded. "Yeah, good catch. Thanks. Let me wiggle that in a hair." As she spoke, she adjusted some numbers on her console and in real-time, the sculpted holographic form adjusted as suggested. "As for the lag, that's something that the sensors I'll build into your EVA armor for the REAL control interface should counter. For that, I'll need to do some actual machining, but this interface should be a good proof-of-concept for the chief."

"The lag time won't be that much of an issue unless I'm fightin' back. Although with servos and sooch, Ah can be doin' more than joost bein a punchin' bag. Aye, lag isnae s'bad here, I'm gettin the hang of it." As she spoke, Fiona made an adjustment or who, setting the controls to suit her purposes, then walked her fingers across the control PaDD in her lap, stopped, pivoted, then walked back even as the robot began emulating walking. It's arms held stiffly at it's sides and the test pilot muttered minor curses in Gael. Immmhersa ahram daed, the bleedin arms arenae movin, s'throwin off the gyros. Gimme a tic here... " making adjustments on the fly, the virtual robot stopped, pivoted in place, then took a step forward, wildly flailing its arms about."

"Sweet muthera christ, crash that..." It still took two more seconds for the virtual android to stop flailing, and the compensators of its virtual internal gyros were overcome by the inertia of the mispiloted arms, and the robot registered minor damage on hitting the ground. "Ach, lookit that, yuir damage sensors'r working. Good job, Gavarus."

"Shiiiiiiiit." Gavarus muttered as she looked over the data coming it to suss out why the arms locked up.

"So definitely test under a forcefield when we build the real thing, aye? In case a' piloting error..."

"And in case of a robot uprising? You're aware of the Federation restrictions on testing dummies, right? Especially after the whole debacles with Commander Data and holographic life forms?" Mona, somehow, had snuck her way into the office while they were preoccupied with their testing, munching on a Miradonian version of a breakfast burrito as she did so.

It seemed she almost perpetually had food in her hands these days and was bigger every day. Then again, she'd just entered the home stretch of carrying three chicks. "The designs look good so far and there are no control systems whatsoever in it, so we should be perfectly fine. Just whatever you do, don't even add even the storage capacity of a PaDD. We don't need Sentient Rights or PETA coming in here and trying to hammer us for creating a new life form like that."

"Ah, no mum, joost a robot stand-in, that was the plan. Empty noggin. Like a shuttlecraft but smaller, bipedal and wi'oot an onboard computer, so literally nae chance 'a sentience," O'Dell reassured, then leaned into Gavarus conspiratorially. "Nae brains, right? Back me oop on this?"

Slightly taken aback as Mona seemed a bit more moody and irritable than she had ever seemed capable of, Gavarus was a bit slow on the uptake before finally catching Fiona's cue to chime in. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Totally brainless. No processing ability whatsoever. They only thing that will be in that head is a rig of accelerometers for impact detection."

"The plan is to rig up Fiona's EVA suit with a sensor grid I'm designing. It will make it into a sort of motion capture rig. A full body waldo. So, it's only means of actual locomotion will be remotely controlled by Fiona." The portly porcine added. "All the brains will be hers. No neural interface or anything. Pure mechanical control."

Listening, Jaeih stifled a chuckle at what she internally decided was far too easy of a joke at the midget Mariposian's expense. But she would log it away to possibly use later in Ten-Forward over drinks with the duo.

As the brightly plumed chief finished off her meal, she reached out and quickly spun the holo, tapping at it in several places to mark it for edits. "Chicks barely let me sleep last night and I'm extra hungry today so if I'm a bit off, I apologize in advance. As for your design, the servo controls at these points are wired the same as in the Banshee's main joints. Since it's a sentient analogue, they should all be using the same servos as in the fingers and be wired... Like so."

As Mona went over the FeeBot and fixed the setup of the servos, she nodded along to her own work, explaining why she was doing what she was doing as best she could to hopefully help Gavarus become a better engineer. "Other than that, the control system looks great, the feedback system is good, and the sensors look good enough to build into a shuttle. Ready to give it another test?"

Watching her superior officer cut through the design flaws like a phaser through warm butter, Gavarus scrunched her face slightly and blushed with embarrassment. She was a good engineer, but was internally chastising herself for missing so much and, at the same time, was amazed at how efficiently Mona saw through the issues and created solutions while trying to help her through it at the same time. There were clearly many reasons this department had been created just for her mind to flourish.

Looking over the data readouts, it took a moment for Gavarus to snap back into the moment. "Uh... yeah. Revisions are updated into the system. Wanna give it another spin, Fee?"

“Wahhhhhl, what kind of a test pilot would I be if I dinna want ta test pilot?” the little Leprechaun offered with a grin. “Alreet, remote piloting on a keyboard, take two. Ooop ye go, Scarecrow…” with those words, the dexterous digits of the diminutive damsel danced across the tablet in her hand, setting presets and reactions for the servos. Having already worked with two walker models prior to this experience came in handy, as Fiona, like any good test pilot, know not only how to make the vehicle work, but the whys and wherefores as well as the tolerance of the vehicle.

Adjusting the controls in her lap, she created two joysticks, tapping about to customize them for control interfaces that would enable her greater control and limiting the virtual bot to ‘humanoid’ range of motion. A few more adjustments, and her bright green eyes scanned over her work until she was satisfied. “Alreet, let’s take her for a spin, aye?”

The first few steps were jerky as O’Dell got a feel for the controls, the ‘robo’ moving somewhat more like a human. The movement smoothed out slightly, although it was still a bit clunky and ungainly. Walking across the ‘room’ and back, it didn’t suffer a catastrophic failure as it had the last time, but it was far from fluid. Experimentally, the pint-sized pilot tapped out a command then had the virtual robot drop into a fighting stance that made Mrs. Dox roll her eyes, as the weight was unbalanced and it was obvious, even using the crude interface, that O’Dell had no idea how to balance her weight for combat, produce an actual defense or, as the virtual robot executed it, how to throw a punch.

“For the rough model, looks aboot right, aye, Ah think that got ‘er screwed on right. Ye want me to go suit oop to go to the next stage of prototype, mum?” O’Dell asked.

"Yeah... We should be good to proceed," Mona replied, one hand on her belly as she frowned, staring at the holographic model. She then reached out and drew a very basic, cartoon smiley face on the head. "So we know which way is front. Computer, add yellow and black safety circles around the major sensor points."

Smiling, Gavarus blushed slightly as the computer chirped its compliance and the requested graphic additions appeared on the holographic mock-up. "That's perfect. What'cha think, Minnie moo? Does that look like your Mum?"

Squinting and tilting her head, still resting on Jaeih's hip, the miniature Minotaur stuck out her tiny tongue and blew a raspberry at the simulated crash test dummy. "PBBBBT!!!!"

Laughing, Gavarus saved their work and shut down the projection. "That's right, kiddo. Your Mum is way prettier, ain't she? I can start fabricating this for real asap." to which the child bounced and giggled, making grabby hands for her carrot-topped matriarch.

"P'tty!!! P'tty!!"

"Well, no ignorin' that call to action," O'Dell leaned in and grinned at the adorable moppet, then looked up at the rest of the team. "Howboot I take the wee one to pasture right quick, then I'll get suited oop..." Pausing, the tiny test pilot cocked her head, making a realization.

"Mrs. Dox, wouldye be so kind? Ye've a wee bit more experience in such things, and the rest of us have duties to tend to. I think this might joost be why command agreed to give us a daycare sa'long as the daycare had a nanny. Wouldya be a dove, please?" O'dell finished, gesturing as if a game show model to the bouncing bovine bundle of boundlessly boisterous babe.

"Indeed, Miss O'Dell. I shall attend her needs immediately." Jaeih said with a respectful nod to the young Ensign. In her new position as the department's nanny, she was responsible for the children under her care, but felt an additional responsibility to ensure that those children's parents felt secure and comfortable with her involvement. And that meant attending to their emotional well being as well.

"Come, Minerva. Can you show me how good of a big girl you are? Jaeih said in an almost sing-song voice as she walked to the breakroom.

"Damn. Look at her go. She seems to like the gig." Gavarus said as soon as Jaeih was out of earshot.

"Damndest thing ye ivvir seen, cept fuir the rest of our lives, aye?" Patting Gavarus' knee, O'Dell grinned, then scampered off to wrestle into her EVA suit Stopping short, she turned back around a perplexed expression on her face. "So wait, mum... do I go suit oop in me regular EVA or the flight suit ye designed that's wot, in Engineering?"

"It's been transferred down here into a secure locker, if you want to wear it," replied Mona with a sly grin. She'd added some combat enhancements to it that the normal MACO armor didn't have, but otherwise, it was a nice, neat amalgamation of the current test flight suit and MACO armor. Just scaled down to fit Ensign O'Dell.

"Flight suit testin' at the same time- that's a right smart use'a time Chief!" With that, the puny pilot trotted off to the locker room, to get suited up for a day of testing.

Because testing was what R&D did- testing what was, pushing the boundaries, inventing, backtracking and leaping forward as together, they forged the future.

Things were beginning to settle into a rhythm for Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox now that she was finally at home on the Hera and back to work as Chief of the ship's Flight Control Department. For Months, her life had been one of turmoil and duties that had taken her from the ship she loved and the family upon it. 

A month of captivity on her grandmother's Romulan Warbird, over two weeks of time spent on Earth being debriefed and all but interrogated by Starfleet Intelligence to confirm that she was fit to return to duty and then a full week back in Romulan space visiting the reunificationist colony world of Mol Krun'chi, had left the red-headed young Romulan pilot exhausted physically and emotionally. But now she was home on the Hera. Reunited with her wife and the friends and family she had fought to return to. She had her office and her familiar duties and in spite of everything, she was beginning to feel semi-normal again. 

Still tired, she had spent the last few days training the Edosian Ensign Wieaex to replace her wife Mona as the assistant Flight Chief, and it had been rigorous making sure the skilled pilot would be capable of rising to the more administrative tasks required. But it was the end of shift, and Mnhei'sahe had learned her lesson from overworking Ensign O'Dell for combat bridge flying duty, and the lessons and work for the day were over for her and the talkative Ensign. 

None of which meant she was leaving her office right away. Mona was now head of the newly formed R&D department and kept slightly different hours, so Mnhei'sahe had an hour to kill until her bond-mate would be free, so she was using that time to review potential pilot transfers to fill some of the holes in the department roster when the computer chimed.

As she was reading the files, Mnhei'sahe felt something lightly brush her leg as she sat at her desk. Having heard nothing in her office, she almost jumped out of her seat as she leaned back to see what was there. As she did, a green and purple striped cat lept up from the deck by her feat onto her desk and purred lightly towards her with a friendly and very broad smile. A decidedly cheshire smile, in point of fact.

"Maru? You scared the Areinnye out of me." Mnhei'sahe chuckled as she caught her breath and held her hand out at head height near the holographic representation of the Hera herself, that took a decidedly feline form. With a purr, Maru ran its head under her hand for the requisite scritches, which came as expected.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" Mnhei'sahe asked, as Maru appearing to her usually meant that there was some kind of threat, or that she had a message. A message from her android niece from the future Kodria Mizu, the granddaughter of Captain Telvan who had left Mnhei'sahe a number of messages before being placed in stasis. Smiling, Mnhei'sahe hoped it was a new message, even though they tended to be dire warnings, as she still missed the wide-eyed young woman.

Maru sat down and looked up at a holographic LCARs display reminiscent of the ones in the intel pod as it materialized with a blinking 'message waiting' logo. After a moment, the blinking stopped and the screen expanded into a multitude of screens, the holographic form of Kodria forming in front of them on the other side of the desk.

"Hello again, Auntie! I see you've somehow not been left behind on Romulus for years. That's thrown off almost all of my remaining messages and knowledge of your future, you know." The young holographic android girl shook one finger at the younger version of the woman she grew up knowing so well. "Either way, it's great to see you."

"Well, we can both thank your Aunt Rita for that." Mnhei'sahe answered, and then chuckled at herself for a moment for replying to a recorded message. But then she saw it again. What she had noticed but disregarded during the last message from Kodria just before her kidnapping. The message was waiting for her. Not paused, just... waiting. Waiting in real-time, moving slightly and occasionally blinking as she waited. As the curious Romulan woman watched, Mnhei'sahe raised an eyebrow slightly. "It's great to see you too. I'm glad to be here and not there so that I can."

Then, Mnhei'sahe stood up and walked around the desk, running her hand over Maru's back as she did, to face the holographic representation of Kodria. "Of course... messages can't really see the people they're being delivered to, can they?"

"No. Neither can they reply to them," replied the now sheepishly grinning hologram. "I kinda left part of myself in the pod's computer and Maru's been hiding me away. At first they were all recordings... But..."

Listening, Mnhei'sahe's eyes went wide and her mouth hung open in a slowly forming smile she couldn't quite resist. "Wait... this... this is really you? You're here... in the ship's computer?" As she spoke, her hands started up as if to reach forward, not quite knowing what to do.

"Mmhmm, part of me, at least. I left a lot of my more temporally dangerous memories in my body, of course." Kodria solved the issue of Dox not knowing what to do by stepping forward herself and hugging the woman she knew in the future as her pirate aunt.

"Oh... Tlhei dignair'le! Taome dynt!" Mnhei'sahe said, slipping into her native Romulan tongue without thinking as she hugged Kodria tightly. Then, realizing what she had done, she blushed green slightly as she leaned back, her hands on her future niece's shoulders. "Oh... sorry. Just... Oh my goodness, this is so wonderful." Mnhei'sahe repeated herself in Federation Standard this time, "I'm so happy to see you again. Of course... you... you probably didn't need the translation? Heh."

Calming herself down a little, the red-headed Romulan smiled broadly and wiped a tear from her eye as she thought about everything as Kodria shook her head with a smile, confirming Dox's last question. "That's... that's smart. One way to solve the problem of altering the timeline. Of course... your messages already did, in a way."

"You know. That's what you were saying. You know that I... I was supposed to have been left there, on Romulus?" Mnhei'sahe said, her tone shifting to one more of concern.

"Yeah... I mean, Aunt Rita's not there, Uncle Sonak isn't there... Your mom is rescued, but you're left behind, you destroy a colony or two... Your mom is killed trying to rescue you herself... There's a lot that I'm still trying to process." As she spoke, she motioned to the screens of raw data floating around her head. "Maru and Lucky have been giving me a hand, but really, they're not designed for this sort of thing."

"I know... at least a little about it, from Rei." Mnhei'sahe said, referring to her conversation with the woman known as Death, of the fate she had narrowly avoided thank's to Rita's timely intervention in her rescue. "I... don't think I want to know too much more about that, though. I know about what was supposed to happen to Mol Krunchi... but it hasn't happened. They're all okay. I... that's not me. That's not."

"So..." Mnhei'sahe said, purposefully changing the subject as she was beginning to become a bit upset thinking about the prospect that she might have been directly responsible for the deaths of those colonists had she remained under Riov Dalia Rendal's nightmarish tutelage. "Maru here obviously knew. And Lucky, you said. Who else knows that you're here?"

"Aunt Rita figured it out a while ago apparently. And Grandma Enalia. She's nothing like I expected, honestly. She's... Warmer. Not so cold, calculating, or callous as people tell me she was after her mother died in the Tribunal." The young woman looked thoughtful on that one, tapping her lips with one finger.

Thinking on it, the young officer made a realization, remembering the details she had read concerning the fatal duel at the close of the Tribunal. She wasn't present for the event, but the workaholic flight chief was known for reviewing the reports of everything that happened on the Hera. And what almost happened to the Captain was no exception. "So... Your Enalia. She killed her mother in that duel? Rita told me. So, you never actually met your real grandmother."

"That sword. It had some kind of technology that would have switched their minds had the Captain killed her instead of your Aunt Rita." Then Mnhei'sahe smirked lightly. "which just goes to reinforce the point. Your Aunt Rita saved your Grandmother AND me from our fates. And now you have a chance to know her for real."

Kodria nodded thoughtfully, the screens around her shifting slightly as the data she was processing shifted as well. "That makes a lot of sense. Thus, she swung by Vulcan to get everyone on her way to rescue you, tipping that in your favor... Which means that... Mmhmm... And that will go... Yes... Yes... I see now..."

She then grinned happily. "This means that the odds of the Hera losing a third of its crew in the coming year has been greatly reduced. On top of that, the two reunificationist colonies have had their survivability rates also greatly increased."

"Well..." Mnhie'sahe said with a warm smile as she leaned back against her deck, giving Maru a gentle rub along the small of his back as he purred his approval at the attention. "I have it on good authority that Mol Krun'chi's fate may be improved for now, at least. And hopefully, our efforts there will lead to something. But enough about futures that neither of us can predict anymore. You're here. At least a part of you here in the core. I have to say, I've missed you a lot. Has your program been in the computer since we put the rest of you to sleep? What have you been doing all this time?"

"Lurking... Watching... Wishing I could have given you a hug before you were kidnapped..." The young woman shuffled one foot around nervously as she tried not to admit too much foreknowledge, but it was pretty obvious that she knew a lot from stories, even if not the exact dates.

"Oh, no. Don't do that, please. I blame myself enough for all the things I couldn't do anything about, don't you do that too." Mnhei'sahe said, tilting her head down to meet Kodria's eyeline as she smiled. "You were doing everything you could to help us, and you did. What you told Aunt Rita enabled her to save your Grandmother. What you told me helped my mother save Mona and lead Rita and your real Grandmother to save us. You did so much, and you risked yourself every time and that was incredibly brave. Don't you ever think you didn't do enough."

As always, Kodira... even a copy of her heart and mind projected holographically by the ship... engendered a strong parental desire to protect her. It was there when she had been on the ship before and it seemed all the stronger now.

"Well... I... Yeah, I know I shouldn't do that. That's part of being young and alone though, right?" The young woman smiled up at the younger version of the piratical aunt she knew and loved so much. She wanted to tell her so much more, but knew that if she did, she risked never being born or worse. There was just too much at stake. "But now I can at least say hello thanks to aunt Rita."

"Well, you're not alone anymore. Your home with your family, now." Mnhei'sahe said, stepping over to Kodira as the young representation of the Android Vulcanoid fidgeted a bit. As she did, she stood up a little taller and put a hand on her niece's shoulder.

"You'll know what to do with what you know when the needs arise. You're already in an alternate timeline from where you come from, so there's no roadmap anymore. But… you know me. Or at least a different version of me. And you've been watching us for a while, so I'm betting that you know a little bit about my… friendships."

"Which we don't have to go into details about." Mnhei'sahe added with a smirk while she spoke about her unique relationship with Death herself. "So, you know… I'm thinking… that I know a little bit about what it's like to have knowledge about things that you can't tell anyone about. It's hard, but we all understand. And we all know you'll do the right thing with everything you know. Just remember the rule… what would Aunt Rita do?"

"She'd fight fate herself if it came down to saving those she loved," Kodria replied without hesitation. "And that's a great way to look at things, but I also can't change the timeline too much more."

"Then don't worry about the timeline. You're on a completely new one anyway and our future is what we choose it to be. As I understand it from what you've said anyway, you don't really know anything that's going to happen anymore since the core of this timeline is different from the one you came from. So, in a sense, what you know is now only really useful as guideposts anyway." Mnhei'sahe said, shrugging lightly to help Kodria take some of the pressure off of herself. "For now, you have a whole new life to start living here. So, I would be a terrible aunt if I didn't ask you what YOU want to do with it, now?"

"Other than the obvious answer of hug the people I love most? One of which is currently a baby?" Kodria had to chuckle softly at her little joke before turning serious. "I guess I'd like to help out in the way that I've been doing so since I do still have some foreknowledge of future events. Crisis aversion is what the original set me up for, after all. That and I've noticed that since I'm not chrono-locked, I've had some of my data changed, even though my memories of events haven't."

"I mean, like the Rendal fiasco... Now that you're here on the Hera, I now know two ways of her overarching crisis being ended," Kodria confirmed, one hand waving small circles near one of the data screens around her. "One in my memories of being told what happened by you and aunt Rita and another of me looking up the logs. I also have a memory of those two matching, but now that they don't... well... I just have to conclude that temporal shift has occurred and proceed from there with future calculations."

"So, you can hypothesize. And since you have knowledge of how things once WERE going to go, it enables you to do so with much greater accuracy since at least one possible outcome at least once had a one hundred percent chance of happening." Mnhei'sahe said, getting up to pace slightly as she thought which was an old habit that Kodria knew well from the memories of her older Aunt.

"And we trust you to know what's too much information." Mnhei'sahe said, looking over to make eye contact as she spoke. "Which... I know won't be easy. But you've done so very well so far, and we know that you can do so moving forward. It's not easy... I know. But we're all here for you. And now we know you're here for us too. And I couldn't be happier about that. The girls won't have to wait near a century to meet their aunt Kodria."

"Yep! I'll be here for you all until the day I wake up," Kodria declared with enthusiasm.

And with that, Mnhei'sahe stepped in again and gave the young holographic representation of her android niece an even longer, harder hug as a happy tear ran down her cheek. Quietly the young Romulan woman whose fate might have been far darker had it not been for Kodria's warnings whispered a gentle, "Welcome home."

V'lera had just finished her lunch with Chief Science Officer. She had one official meeting to get out of the way before she was cleared for duty. As she made her way down to the sickbay she took her time. It was never her favourite of places.

The fear of hypos she had was very real and very strong. She'd almost been killed by the liquid in a hypo and since then she did not trust anyone with those. She knew that she'd have to get one. It was time for her usual vaccinations. She hadn't been so afraid of the Pheromone blocker because she gave it to herself. Steeling herself and calling on all her Vulcan reserve she paused outside of sickbay and then took a steading breath. Feeling somewhat bolstered she entered to find the CMO.

As the doors to Medical slid open there stood a regular looking woman with dark brown hair reading from a tablet. She was a normal height, wearing the standard doctor's coat. "How may I help you?" she asked as she looked up. Her eyes were warm and reassuring with a wisdom that spoke of an age beyond the youthful face they rested in.

"I am Lieutenant Junior Grade V'lera. I am the new counselor. I believe I must complete my in bound medical." She produced a PaDD that she'd been holding in her right hand. "My orders and medical questionnaire as well as a copy of previous records." She looked around her eyes naturally taking in the escape routes. Ever since her extended stay on Vulcan at one of its hospitals she hated medical procedures, even exams. She'd been a child when she was in the hospital but it had stayed with her.

Dr. Mah took the PaDD and reviewed the information needed, "It's very nice to meet you Counselor V'lera, my name is Dr. Tovanna Mah. Let me see if I can get this out of the way for you." Dr. Mah noted the search for escape without looking up from the PaDD, "It looks like you and I will be working together, I have a degree in Psychiatry as well as medical science should you ever need assistance or consultation." She set the PaDD down and quietly gathered her trichorder turning to a silent running setting for her patient. It wasn't the first time she had done this and had worked to get all the indicators to a minimal noise level for the comfort of someone she was working with. "I'm noting you have some reservations about your exam, is there anything I should know about before we begin Counselor?"

She settled on a bio bed to let the doctor do her exam. "I appreciate the offer and it is good to have a second consult. Thank you." She shifted a little. She was grateful that the medical exams the doctor had were only Starfleet. "I am not the most comfortable with doctors. In fact I dislike medical exams," she said truthfully.

Tovanna nodded, "Understood, we are not always the most popular on the ship. I think that is a title typically shared by the Mess Officer or the ship's Counselor," she smiled at V'lera. "Since this is a standard medical review you should be on your way in no time." Tovanna bega her scan as she spoke to V'lera not breaking eye contact with her as it proceeded. She could hear the tiny beeps and knew the time it would take to complete the exam by heart after so many years. "I take it you had a bad experience with a poor doctor in the past? Is there anything I should be particulary cautious of to help aleve your concerns?" She watched careully for V'lera's reactions to everything she was doing to detect where the Counselor's greatest concerns might lie.

"I will be fine." She said breaking eye contact. "It is a long story. But you are right it is illogical to judge every doctor the same." She looked at the doctor a moment. "What brought you into medicine?"

Tovanna nodded and dropped the issue. "Fear is not logical, but it can still be comforted by shipmates V'lera. Now as for what brought me to practice medicine, it was the hope of helping to increase my species' number since there are so few of us. By the time I was old enough to really delve into the issue as an adult I came to realize no matter what was done we were to far below our Minimum Viable Population threshold for our species to remain pure any longer." Dr. Mah passed no judgement and sought no pity in what she said, it was matter of life for her, nothing more. "A few might still have the chance to have a couple more generations of pure El-Aurians before we begin to our decent into extinction. I am between generations of available mates, I'm no longer needed to track so few family groups from intermarriage, thus I am free to explore the universe and hope to find one of us who might have been lost somehow. So how is it you have become a ship's Counselor?" She finished her scan and continued her work efficiently as she listened.

She resisted the urge to shrug. "I entered the academy and after my general first year I found that History and Psychology were two areas that I wished to focus on. I wished to assist those who were hurt but felt that actual medicine is not something I am suited for. I wanted to focus more on the wounds that were within the mind." Gods knew that she had enough of her own wounds. In a way she thought that if she could help others there was hope for her too.

"All pain needs treatment, what you are doing is a gift" she nodded in unstated understanding, "often it takes a level of empathy to understand pain in others." She looked V'lara directly in the eyes pausing in a silent moment of hope that the counselor understood what was not being said. Dr. Mah then smiled and the moment was over, "Now for the good news, one simple hypo and you are cleared for duty."

She tilted her head to the side in study of the good doctor. The woman was perceptive. She filed that away. "I see. What is the hypo for?" She wondered if it was the standard space sickness one. She also, now that she as here, remembered "I will also need a refill in my pheromone blockers." She pointed to the PaDD she'd given the doctor. "The dosage is there. I usually take enough for six months at a time since I have become adapt at giving those to myself." Each ship had its own rules. The doctor might prefer to administer them herself monthly. She'd see and comply with the rules here.

"I already have the pheremones ready to go directly to your quarters. As for the hypo, according to the records its time for your standard vaccinations, I saw no need for any other unless you request. If you are feeling any type of illness due to your time in space I can provide something for that as well," offered Dr. Mah.

"I believe I am alright for the moment. Thank you doctor. I very much look forward to getting to know you more." She thought a moment. "There is perhaps something that we can discuss if you have the time."

"Of course, I am available anytime you need. Ready for your vaccination?" She held up the hypo for V'lera "This will be the only one and if you do well I even have lollipops." She smiled and gave V'lera her vaccination quickly. She turned, placing the unit away for V'lera's comfort and upon turning back around had a boquet of lollipops in each hand of various flavors from different cultures. "Take your pick, I have a gespar one in here somewhere if you would like it or possibly a spice tea," she offered looking through them. "I created them with a friend of mine at Starfleet who was a budding chemist but should have been a chef. It took us years to perfect these but now I have the replicator formula for over 500 flavors of lollipops for my patients. Apparently in ancient Earth days when a doctor treated someone they would give them one of these as a tradional gift of appreciation for being cooperative. I find the tradition quite quaint and the candies quite delicious." Tovanna smiled at V'lera with a bright twinkle in her eyes. "I keep some on me at all time now out of habit. So want to try one?" She shrugged with a smile.

She raised an eyebrow. "That, if I remember correctly, was a tradition for children." She stayed silent a moment. "Is there a lemon one?"

Tovanna smiled knowingly and handed her a lemon lollipop. "My favorite is the butterscotch." She placed them in the large, apocothary style candy jar, "I keep them in here if you ever want one and I can make sure to have a small stash of lemon ones for you in your office if you like, they are strangely comforting."

"Perhaps." She took the candy and put it in her pocket feeling oddly, as the doctor put it, comforted. "During my time at my previous post I had bi-monthly meetings with the CMO by way of updates. I wish to know how you wish to set our professional interactions."

Tovanna nodded, "For a ship this size, bi-monthly meeting should be perfect unless we run into extenuating circumstances. I would also suggest a quarterly psychological check in with Dr. Power to ensure unbias feedback. Would that be acceptable?"

She gave a nod. "As you say, it shall be," as she finished speaking she inclined her head slightly.

"Very well, feel free to visit to visit anytime you need more lollipops, want to meet for dinner, whatever you might need. In the meantime you are cleared for duty." Tovanna smiled at V'Lera with hopes of a new friendship on the the Hera with the new Counselor.

V'lera inclined her head. "Thank you doctor."

Sitting in the chair of her own salon, finger flipping idly on the tablet in her hand, sat the bisected black and white cosmetologist known as Sharonne Washington, native of Houston, Texas. Chief cosmetologist of the USS Hera, she had a surprising dearth of clientele. Most Starfleet types cut their hair with a flowbee and didn't seem to understand the concept of a manicure. Thus while there were some exceptions- Hera was a weekly visitor, twice weekly if she really wanted a seaweed wrap- Sharonne sat bored for much of her shift, just waiting for someone to come along.

Today she was contemplating adding holographic claws to her fingernails, just to see what sort of a rise she could get from Mustaphel the baker or the server crew in 10-Forward.

V'lera had some time before the day was done. She would not start duties yet as she still had a physical to do. There were so many changes she had to contend with. Change had always been hard for her, and she had to push herself through it. She reflected on a conversation she had during her counseling evaluation with Commander Edelweiss. The woman had suggested a few things that V'lera had dismissed but... perhaps with all the changes one more might be worth it. She was trying to be bold, after all. Deciding that a small change might be warranted, one that that could easily be reversed, she headed to the local beauty salon. She'd always worn her hair up either in a high pony tail or tight bun. She wanted to try it down...could her hair even curl? She'd never tried.

She found herself walking into the salon. She saw the cosmetologist, or the woman she assumed was the cosmetologist, and walked towards her wondering how one started these conversations. "Hello. I am Lieutenant Junior Grade V'lera."

"Oh, hey, hi!" The black and white woman's clearly artificial eyes literally glowed upon seeing the surprise customer, and she uncurled herself out of the chair to stand up, looking up at the emerald-skinned Vulcanoid. "Wow, you have amazing skin. Do you moisturize?"

She shook her head. "No. I have been told I should. I have... questions... about that, but I am here because I require some assistance with this," she said motioned to her hair with her hand. She removed the clip from her hair and let it fall. The hair, although clean and peppermint scented from her shower prior to leaving the ship that transported her here, was hanging lifeless and dull. "I have never...paid much attention to my hair. I usually wear it up but was recently told that a change might help."

She said the word 'change' as if it were disgusting. She didn't like change, but she would try. She promised a Starfleet counselor, gave her word and she always kept her word. Her hair was raven black and long, hanging down to her waist. She'd had it longer, but she'd cut it to a manageable length, and she'd done it herself. Tied in a braid of desired length and snipped. This would be a new experience. Someone other then herself would be touching her hair, and that made her nervous.

"Okay, that is quite the investment of years in your hair. Cool! Alright, come on over and have a seat, and let's talk about this!" The young women smiled brightly as she gestured to the choir, then fetched a black rectangle of fabric from one of the sterilizers. As her prospective client reluctantly took her seat in the stylist's chair, she found herself staring at a trifold mirror, thus three images of herself stared back at her from different angles. Whipping the cape about the woman with a practiced flourish, the bisected human secured the cape about her neck comfortably, then reached into a drawer to withdraw a very specific looking hairbrush, as she began combing through the silky straight hair.

"So, first, you and I are in this together. WE are going to discuss what's going to happen, WE are going to make the changes, and then WE can always adjust things from there. And until the shears close, nothing is permanent, okay? So first we talk." Sharonne, like any stylist who was worth their weight, knew that even for unemotional types, a girl's hair was still important. So she just said what she'd say to any client that came to her seeking a change. "So let's see, this is about six year's worth of growth here. Your hair, on the average, grows about 15 centimeters a year. So this is quite the investment you have here. So are we thinking something shorter, something more manageable, something easier to wear, lower maintenance? Or did we want to do a style that would take advantage of all of this hair, since it's here?"

As she chirpily asked her questions, the young woman was brushing through the clean and straight tresses, massaging the scalp as she did so. Even the unemotional types tended to enjoy that, so long as you didn't touch them, and only touched the brush and the hair, and as a cosmetologist to the stars, Sharonne knew this rule well. Thus she worked the hair, giving her client time to contemplate and articulate her initial thoughts.

V'lera had been somewhat petrified when she'd entered. She hadn't wanted to admit this, not even to herself but the young woman seemed to put her at ease. She sighed a little rather liking the feeling of having her hair combed. She could feel the pressure of the bristles and it calmed her. "It was...very long at one point. Last year I braided it and cut it to this length. Perhaps...an inch or two shorter is alright." She thought a moment and then said. "My mother...used to have curly hair. Not curls per say but waves. I am part Vulcan so I am not sure. I have never tried to curl it. I do not know how." It was the truth. She was a bit weary of admitting it. She knew very little about hair and make up... she dressed for comfort even on her time off.

“Well, there are options,” the stylish stylist replied. “We could do a loose perm for waves in your hair, or a tight perm from really crazy curls, but I doubt you want that. Or I could show you how to use a curling iron or a flat iron to curl your hair. It’s time consuming, particularly with this much hair, but then you have the options of straight or curled. Since you are looking to just get a trim on the ends, I’m guessing you aren’t looking for a radical change of pace?” Still brushing through the hair, the binary beautician kept the tone light as she reassured her client, still all smiles. “And we’re still just talking possibilities at this point, so don’t feel like you have to commit to anything. No pressure, just laying out the options, okay?”

"Of course." V'lera said. She looked in the mirror. She had so many questions. She'd always told her clients to pick a question and start. "What is a loose perm?" She instantly felt bad for ignoring the question that the woman asked so she answered it, "I am...not good with radical change," she simply said.

"Oh, sweety, don't worry about it. NOBODY is good with radical change until they go through a breakup. Then suddenly they want to reinvent themselves, and they think a new haircut's gonna solve that. Which, it kinda does, but it's riding a fine line between radical reinvention and just plain regrettable. A loose perm would install waves into your hair." Picking up her tablet from her counter, the black and white beautician tapped at the PaDD for a few seconds, then the reflection in the mirror changed, to show V'lera with long, loose curls in her hair, at the same length it was now.

"We have the cool advantage of holographics in this salon, so I can show you what it would look like before I make it happen. So, take a look. This is you with a large bore curl, about 10 cm bore or so. It'd still be able to be put up, it'd add a lotta volume and basically it'd make straight and flat go a bit more wild and untamed without turning you into a shaggy mass of curls. Now, with something like this, I would probably cut some face framing, where we angle it away from your face, like this..." Working the holographic image, the skilled stylist showed her client what that would look like, as the shorter hair graduating away to the longer mass definitely highlighted her features well and worked well with the curls.

She sighed. "If we did the iron of curls you mentioned before. What would that look like?"

"Thaaaat's a horse of a different color altogether. What it would look like is ideally like this, but it's... well, I'm not gonna lie. It's labor intensive, and you have a LOT of hair, so it would take quite a while. You have to section the hair and take it section by section. If you turn up the iron to work faster, you risk burning the hair or at the very least heat damaging it. If you take too big a sections the curl won't take or hold. And with YOUR hair?" The alien-appearing Earth girl assessed the hair, plucking up a section of it with a twist of the brush. "It'd take me 45 minutes to curl your hair, and that's because I know what I'm doing, and I'm standing outside your head. Reaching up and behind you is not the most intuitive way for most folks to work, but you have practice braiding, I'm guessing. Hey!"

The excitable electrologist stepped from behind V'lera, where she had been standing all this time, talking to the reflections in the mirrors. Stepping around in front of her though, she squinted at the hairline, then came eye to eye with the mistress of the talking cure. "You can braid, right? You know how to braid your own hair to get it out of your way?" Reaching up, Sharonne grasped a lock of her own hair at the scalp, separated it into three equal bundles, then her fingers wove the hair together as they moved down the shaft of wound hair those dexterous digits left in their wake. Stopping halfway down the braid, she dropped her own lock to see if the alien woman had the skill or at least got the idea.

"Yes. I have braided my hair several times. It is how I trim my own hair. I braid and the cut what is not required." She wondered if this woman too, like so many when she said that, would recoil. For some reason it appeared that not everyone liked to cut their own hair. "Will braiding make curling it better?" She had much to learn and she was feeling a little overwhelmed. She admitted that to herself. Then an idea popped into her head. She sighed as if she was about to do something painful but necessary; something she rarely did. "I will allow you to do what you think is best, but...no cutting more then an inch or two and no colouring." As she said the words she felt her heart hammering. She called on mind meditation techniques. The last thing she wanted to do was have a panic attack. Too much change too quickly was not good and she'd done some out of the ordinary things as of late.

Holding up her hands, the young woman showed the fronts and backs. "No shears in my hand, remember? What I was asking about braiding it because if you want curls but you don't want to spend hours doing it, you could braid your hair at night with it still damp, do a tight braiding, and in the morning when you let it down, it'll be curled. That's all I was suggesting. It's a lot easier than using a curling iron for flat iron to curl, and it can give you a temporary change. Because it's pretty clear you don't want to change your hair. And that's okay, you don't have to. Nobody is forcing you to, so don't feel pressured, okay?"

She studied the woman through the mirror and then caught her eye. "You are very good at keeping people at ease. I believe I can try that. Maybe we can try a trim and iron curled hair today?" She liked the woman instantly. She felt...safe here. She hadn't even minded the hair brushing.

“Sure, we can do a trim! It’ll smooth out your ends, and believe it or not, trimming your hair will stop a lot of the hair you see in the drains and your brush. It keeps the follicles healthy. You shooooould get it done about once every 2 months, just like a centimeter and a half. But so long as you’re maintaining your hair, washing and conditioning, it can go longer than that,” the buxom beautician explained. “Aside from that, sure, I can totally curl you up today, no problem!”

Pausing, the stylish stylist looked her client in the eye through the mirror. “So, usually when I do this, I shampoo and condition the hair, blow it dry then curl it. But I know a lot of people aren’t really comfortable being touched, Y’know? And I can’t do it with gloves on- well, I can wash your hair that way and I don’t need to touch you when I am drying it, but curling it is kind of a ‘touchy’ experience. So knowing that, are you okay with that?”

She paused and thought a moment. Having remembered her little notebook she pulled it out. "In for a penny in for a pound," she said as she opened the book and put a checkmark next to it. "Alright. Wash, condition, cut, curl and dry. She took a deep breath. She'd pay for this later but she was determined to push through it. She'd made the decision. This was a new chapter in her life and perhaps one should greet a new chapter with a new experience. She'd told her clients as much, today she'd follow her advice, if only this once and for the first time. She'd see how things went after that.

“Cool! Let’s get busy then!” the young woman with the infectious enthusiasm declared as she lifted up the countertop, revealing a sink with a curve inset for the client’s neck. Starting the water running and testing the temperature, she sprayed out the sink the left the water running. Opening a drawer, she produced a lightweight cape that was waterproof, and expertly flapped it open, dramatically settling it around her client in the chair before securing it at the neck, snugly but not tightly. Turning the chair around 180 degrees, the beautician to the stars lowered the chair, then let the back down to ease the back of her client’s head toward the sink. Gathering up the mountain of hair, she dropped it into the bowl, then eased her client’s neck into the rounded indention built to accommodate it.

Humming cheerfully to herself, the young woman expertly sprayed warm soothing water over the scalp and the volume of hair in the bowl. Then, moving efficiently, she snapped on a pair of latex gloves, then matched the mint scent already existing in the hair with her shampoo choice. Working the handful of shampoo into a lather, she began to massage it through the scalp with even and efficient massaging motion.

It was odd. The firm pressure on the scalp created quite the soothing sensation. She resisted the urge to sigh. It was as if the woman knew pressure points. She'd avoided having her hair cut and styled by anyone other then herself and now she was re-thinking things. As an avid journaling fanatic she could not wait to write about this. She'd been keeping a list since she'd left Earth and then Vulcan. She'd written down all the things she dreaded but now enjoyed or the items which she thought were going to be unpleasant and turned out alright. She even enjoyed the humming. The silence, which she normally loved, was broken by her speaking. "What drew you to being in this profession?" She actually wanted to know. One thing V'lera secretly loved was asking people what brought them to where they were. It was always fascinating how the experiences from people's past coloured the people they became.

“Oh, my momma was a beautician and her momma was too, so kind of a family tradition. I grew up around the salon, so I picked up most of what I know working the shop as a kid. Then when I got old enough, I went to cosmetology college to get certified. Once I did that, I thought about just taking over the family shop, but momma ain’t ready to retire just yet. So she told me I oughta sign onto a starship, go see the galaxy and junk. So, here I am, washin’ a green gal’s hair while out the window there’s big pretty space clouds and who knows where we might be next week?” Working the lather through the length of the hair, the woman’s nimble fingers never stopped moving as she talked.

“I mean, I like what I do. I help folks feel pretty, keep ‘em healthy, help them with their little dry scalp or skin problems, give them a new look or whatnot. It ain’t exactly savin’ the galaxy or nothin, but I do my little part and make folk’s lives better.” As she spoke, recalling how she had come to be here, the native Texan twang in her voice had become more pronounced. “So I haven’t seen you around before. Did you just transfer in, or are you just making your way out to see me?”

V'lera felt her shoulders relax. "I just transferred in a couple days ago." He paused and then decided to go back to the woman's comment. "Giving someone a new look or helping them with an issue that involves how they feel about themselves is like saving a galaxy. To that person you've given them a lot." She thought back to what the woman said about the shop. "Seeing the stars can be fun and you will be able to use that experience when you take over your family shop. Each generation, as I understand it, builds on knowledge from the last, so when you are ready, your business will be uniquely your own."

"Well, and it's a lot easier to settle down in the same place you've lived all your life if you go see the galaxy when you're young, right?" Sharonne observed. "Or who knows, I might find some handsome intergalactic prince out here who'll sweep me off my feet. But til then... yeah, I think making someone feel better about themselves can make a real difference. I've seen it plenty of times."

"Hey, I get through with you tonight, you should go to 10-Forward and show off to the locals. New on board, that's the best way to meet new people, right? And with this amazing hair of yours? I'll make you look like an alien princess in a uniform!" As she worked the shampoo through the hair, the woman folded it upon itself withing the washing basin. This much hair was a huge hassle to manage, and the woman didn't seem to know what to do with it, so the stylist wondered why she was so desperately attached to it, and why so much of her identity was wrapped up in it. But she kept that to herself- that was a lot deeper than most people appreciated in a service, so she's just give it the spa treatment and send her out looking fabulous.

V'lera resisted the urge to smile at the 'princess in uniform' comment. "I think I will skip ten forward. I...do not like crowds." She thought about the woman a moment. Her counseling brain kicked in, partially because of her rising anxiety. It had been a few months of major change, if she was being honest with herself, she hadn't had an anxiety attack ... yet but she knew it was coming. She'd had them since she was a child. Until now she'd kept them hidden and she planned to keep them hidden still. The way she warded off anxiety? Work.

"So tell me about yourself. Why the Hera?" If she could just get the young woman talking she could focus on her not what was going on with her hair or thinking about and reviewing the last few months.

"Not much to tell, really. I just applied and this was the ship they assigned me to. Civilian Services hires lots of folks like us for jobs, so we don't do it like you Starfleet types do- we just sign up, check whether we want colony or starship or space station duty, then they tell us where we'll be. So, I didn't pick the Hera, I guess the Hera picked me. Hera herself says it's kismet, but I don't know about all that." Rinsing the hair as she talked, , the stylist worked the exceptionally long hair in the bowl to control it and get it all free of shampoo before she began applying a heat-resistant conditioner that would aid her in the styling endeavor she'd be undertaking shortly.

"What about you? Why this ship? All the weirdness?" the black and white beautician asked solicitously.

"It is a fascinating ship. There was a need and I thought I could help." It was partially true. "Hera herself?" She asked.

"Uhhhh, yeah. There's this gal in the VIP quarters who says she's the real Hera, from like Greece, in ancient times? Anywhat, she's a realllllly nice lady. Comes down once a week, always with her honor guard from Security, and she gets mani/pedis, gets a wash and set, sometimes a skin conditioning... she's one of my regulars, really. Reminds me of my momma back home a little bit, you know? Sometimes she even gets her honor guard to do something with her, but mostly they're on duty, so they just keep an eye out for anybody suspicious, which," The bisected beautician offered a broad sweeping gesture to the rest of the empty shop, "not really much of a concern, but if the Borg attacked while Hera's in my shop, I'd never be safer. Those Security girls are all Amazons, y'know? Beefy gals, all of them. Not like ugly or anything, just, y'know... kind of large and in charge. One of them has to duck to get in the doorway."

As she had been speaking, the nimble fingers of the stylist were working the conditioner through the mass of hair, kneading it through the length while massaging the scalp in a precise and expert manner. It tended to be soothing, as there were a great number of nerve endings in the scalp, and it was a highly vascular area for most humanoids. Sharonna Washington was keenly aware of that, and used her massage technician skills in this cosmetology endeavor, keeping the anxious client calmed and soothed in her chair.

V'lera's interest had been peaked. She was a lover of history and specifically she'd been drawn to Ancient Greek Mythology. Was this woman the real Hera, or just someone who thought she was? The amazons...."Fascinating. You say that she comes in once a week?" V'lera would make it a point to meet her. For some reason her unease at being here and having her hair changed seemed to evaporate. She had to manually bring her mind back to the woman who was working her hair. "Tell me, what is a mani pedis?"

"Ahhhh, a mani/pedi is short for a manicure pedicure. Scrub the feet and hands, exfoliate and moisturize, clean and trim the cuticles and often add polish to strengthen and beautify," the esoteric esthetician explained. "It feels nice. It's an indulgence that helps make people feel more attractive, and rejuvenates often neglected yet herdworking parts of the body. It's theraputic, y'know? You wanna try one? No pressure, just offering."

"I do not think I am that brave yet. But perhaps down the line." She looked at the woman through the mirror. "I must say you have made this experience quite enjoyable so far. It is unusual for me. I wish to thank you for that."

"Oh, all part of the job. A girl's hair is her life, so you figure out how to put people at ease, get their trust, get a buy in and get them to go along with the ideas. I mean, they really are for their own good, so it's not that hard a sell, y'know?" The stylist finished rinsing the conditioner out of the hair, and wrung it out like a rope in the sing, winding the hair between her hands to gather it in and organized shape to be wring out. Then she produced a fluffy towel and deftly contained the mass of hair in it.

"Okay, let's sit up again and get you dried and styled, hmm?" The young woman raised the back of the chair up again to a sitting position, then gently sawing the chair around in a 180 degree arc that brought V'lera face to face with er reflections once more. "You sure you wanna do the flat iron? I've got you all wet, I could put you in rollers and dry you on gentle heat and you'll have curls for like a week or so..."

She thought a moment. "Alright. Curls." She would try the change a little. It would be intriguing to see herself in curls. She'd always had flat hair and she was enjoying being here.

"Coming right up!" The happy hairdresser toweled at the hair a bit to remove the excess water, then tossed the towel expertly into a recycler. Pulling out her small tablet, she tapped at it to order up here supplies, and in the slightly larger than average replicator, a platter with a variety of large-bore curlers appeared, which she moved to retrieve. "Gonna need a few of these, but this is a good start. Do you want anything? Water, soda water, cocktail, wine, coke, tea, a cosmo...?"

She thought a moment. "Perhaps some peppermint tea?" She was now feeling fully at ease. "So what other beauty services do you provide. I've learned about the maneatingpedi," she said running the words together.

"That's pretty much it," the texas beautician in space explained as she ordered up the tea from her tablet. Then as it was materializing, she cocked her head. "Well, no, there's facials... uh, treating the skin to rejuvenate and refresh. And there's sauna, but that's usually followed by a massage, and that's Maica's gig. You really want to be worked over after a long day? Make an appointment, she's up on 8. Magic hands. But for me, let's see... waking, which I am guessing you are not going to be that fond of... ah, hair removal. Buuuut..." Picking up the tea and delivering it to her client, the curious cosmetologist eyed the brows of the Vulcanoid Rigellian.

"I could maybe shape your brows for you?" the young woman asked experimentally, hoping not to offend. "I can even show you how, if you want? Lots of my clientele didn't necessarily grow up with grooming regimens. Which is cool, because that's where I come in, right?"

"Perhaps." She opened her mouth as if she was going to ask something, then thought better of it. Perhaps another time. "Just the hair for now then."

"Okay, no problem. Just offering, right?" Holding up her latex-gloved hands, the hairdresser held a comb and a roller. "I can't really do this effectively with gloves on. Sooooo do you mind if I take them off? I know a lot of the pointy-eared type folks don't like to be touched, so I like to ask consent before service, right?"

She gave a nod. "Of course. Please feel free." She was glad the woman asked. Touch telepathy was a funny thing. Sometimes it could be good, some times stronger then usual...at least for her. They had tried, at the monastery on Vulcan, to teach her how to control it... but for some reason it never sunk in.

With that, the efficient hairdresser went to work segmenting and rolling V'lera's lengthy hair onto large 13 cm curlers. Sharonne's nimble fingers worked the hair, spooling it onto the rollers with efficiency, although it still took nearly half an hour. The nonstop chatter evaporated as she worked, as it required concentration, and she suspected her client would enjoy the silence. Once all the hair had been collected into the curlers, the bisected beautician tapped a few buttons on her tablet, and the curlers warmed themselves, slowly intensifying for five seconds, until a distinct 'DING!' filled the air. As the atomic curlers powered down, Sharonne freed the hair from it's bondage, and curls fell wherever she let loose a long lock. Ropy, wavy curls now hung in the place of the silky straight hair the verdant doctor had known.

"Okay, I'm gonna style it for you and show you some looks, but for now, just run your fingers through it, play with it," the cosmic cosmetologist counseled the counselor.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at the woman through the mirror, "Why?"

"Uhhh..." Adapting quickly, the alien woman attempted to inform the logic of the client. "To experience the differing tactile experience, to see how it changes your outer appearance, to see what configuration pleases you the most?"

She did as the woman asked. It was interesting. She never spent much time on her hair. She washed it, combed it but never really ran her fingers through it. It was interesting. Tactile experiences weren't her strength. She could finally say she understood why Vulcans kept their hair short. In a moment of weakness she wanted to do the same. "What is next?"

Quickly, the stylist showed her client a few simple styling options using berets, braids and cloth-covered elastic bands to achieve different looks. realizing the audience she was playing to, the hairdressers was working on wrapping it up. Taking the ends in hand, she freehand nibbled off a few centimeters to satisfy the minimum trim she'd been authorized to cut by the client.

"Okay, so there are some styling ideas for you to try out if you want, and we're done," the beautician whipped the cape off dramatically, letting V'lera take in the new look awaiting her in the mirrors.

The time passed quickly and V'lera was happy with the outcome. She looked at herself in the mirror and was surprised at how changed she looked. "This is....fascinating." She averted her gaze seeming to be afraid of spending too much time looking in the mirror. She turned to Washington. "You have given me much to think about. If I is alright, I would like to return at a later time. I do have some questions."

"Sure, anytime!" the binary beautician expressed enthusiastically. "It's why I'm here. that, and formal occasions. Baroness von Alcott contracted me for the bachelorette party, so I'll be helping all the bridesmaids get ready. So that'll be fun! But yeah, you can come by or make an appointment. If I'm busy I'll book you later, right?"

She gave an inclination of her head. "Of course. I will see you...later." Quite happy with the result in her hair and feeling more at ease she headed out.

" I'll see you girls later." Thex said with a smile on her face as she waved to the girls of the fly girls as the Hera's resident dancing troop after another afternoon practice. Even with only the top of one of her more conservative dance outfits and some Starfleet gym shorts, Thex was feeling great. The Andorian was grateful that her body was feeling itself again and she happy her pregnancy hadn't taken away any of her dancing abilities. Speaking of her body the sapphire Andorian had a scheduled checkup. It would give her a chance to meet the new medical head.

It didn't take long before the Andorian was stepping through the doors of the ship's sickbay. Walking up to the duty nurse she gave her a polite smile. " Hello there Genevive I'm here for my checkup is doctor Mah here?" She asked

Dr. Mah glanced up from her PaDD upon hearing her name to see a lovely Andorian walk into medical, "Over here," finishing her latest data from a prior patient she closed the file and pulled up a new entry to connect to a patient record, "how can I help you?" she asked politely fully looking up at her patient.

" Hello, I'm Thex sh'Zoarhi. I'm here for my checkup. " Thex said offering her hand. " You must be the new doctor. "

Dr. Mah shook the young lady's hand, "indeed I am, now let's see how I can help." She pulled up Thex's medical records on her PaDD and interfaced it with the tricorder in her pocket. "I see you are here for your postpartum checkup. How has your activity level been? Any pain?" She ran her tricorder checking for fever, signs of trauma, nutritional deficiencies, or any other possible issues from giving birth.

" Only a headache and a little tiredness from getting up early in the morning to tend for them. The two have been keeping us busy. I've been getting back into my hobbies and work and I'm starting to feel normal again." The Andorian replied. " Feels good to be able to dance again."

Dr. Mah giggled, "Babies will redefine your ability to endure the impossible. Headaches aren't abnormal with your lack of sleep, do you have assistance or are you doing this alone?"

" Nah, I have my zh'yi,ch'te and th'se with me. " Thex replied with a smile on her face. " My zh'yi is nurse Tathaa have you meet her?"

"I've yet to meet your bondmates, but I am looking forward to doing so. It sounds like you are all splitting your duties as best you can with twins. In the meantime I will offer you a lollipop, one for each of your mates and some extra sleep. Sound good?" asked Dr. Mah.

" Sounds great," Thex replied with a relaxed smile. " Is everything okay on the inside of me?"

"Scans show good progression muscle elasticity return. You are still not cleared for engaging in mock battle of any sort or away missions. I want you to continue you on a high caloric intake with your metabolic rate while you are healing and breastfeeding as before. Of course, we will keep your contraception injection up to date so your body can recover from your birth for now all same as before. You are doing very well Thex, the twins are due in for their check-up in two weeks and I can check you then to see if you are clear for full duty then. Until then, light duty and enjoy the babies." She smiled up at the new mother happily.

" Sounds perfectly reasonable." Thex replied. " I'll make sure Tothye and Decises will be here for their checkup."

"I look forward to seeing all of you in two weeks. Just schedule an appointment one your way out and of course, come see me if there are any sudden changes for you or the twins," concluded Dr. Mah. She finished up her notes for Thex and brought over her jar of lollipops. "Now for the fun part, the treats. Pick four, none for the babies obviously, something for you and your bondmates. There are over 500 flavors to choose from, I think I have Andorian tuber root in here, I know we have Ale." She grabbed both flavors she spoke of with obvious familiarity with the wrappers and offered each to Thex.

" I'll take two ale and two root." The chief engineer said with a grin. She'd never had this before, but she wasn't going to say no to a free lollypop.

Tovanna smiled handed the candies over, "Take these and see me in two weeks and if you find yourself craving more feel free to swing by and grab a few anytime."

" Will do doc. " Thex said as she took the candies and headed for the exist. " See you later."

V'lera's first day had been packed. A meeting with the XO and then the CO. She'd attempted to unpack but didn't get far, a couple of soon to be patients jumped at the chance to meet the counselor, which was new. Then there was her first afternoon getting her hair curled. She liked it. It looked good but it was still draining. She'd tried sleeping and tossed and turned, and had even tried to sleep on the floor. It had not worked. She'd fallen asleep but was fast awake as shadows from the past plagued her. It was around the 0200 mark that her head had began to pound as if a demon wished to burst forth from it.

She'd dressed in a pair of black tights and an oversized off white sweater with arms extended slightly longer than her fingertips. It was a way to keep her hands hidden. She had headed to sickbay praying that there weren't too many medical staff.

When she arrived all was quiet and the sickbay seemed empty.

Thankfully, it only seemed that way as the British modeled EMH, Doctor Adam Power, was just out of sight and came into view to see who had entered. "I suppose I should recite the standard line of 'Please state the nature of the medical emergency?'"

With a smile and an offer of a handshake, he introduced himself further. "Good morning, I'm Doctor Power, the EMH. I believe I just reviewed your record, if I'm not mistaken. You're our new counselor, Lieutenant V'lera, right? What may I help you with?"

She gave a nod at his guess. She wouldn't admit it out loud but she was glad that it was the EMH who was here. Less hassle...or so she thought. This one indicated a bit of a personality. Even though her headache she was intrigued. "I need your assistance with a few things actually."

"I'm here to help as efficiently as possible," Doc Power replied. "What can I do for you?"

"The first pressing issue is this headache. It has...been an issue for a few days. It goes and then at night returns each time stronger."

"Well, I can certainly prescribe something for pain, but if you'd prefer we find the cause of it instead..."Doc Power readied his tricorder and motioned towards a biobed with a friendly smile and raised eyebrows. "Perhaps it's stress from the assignment change, but it could be any number of internal or even external influences. It may even be that the grav plating in your quarters are misaligned. I saw a case of that not long after I was activated."

She raised her eyebrow delicately. "Proceed." She walked over to the biobed and hopped on. She doubted it was the grav plating but best to make sure. "I do not think it to be the grav plating. It is accompanied by insomnia, hence the second issue I was having."

As Doc Power ran his tricorder scanner over Lt V'lera, he nodded sympathetically. "So far it just looks like mild dehydration, stress, and insomnia induced. All common symptoms of a change of assignments. I can prescribe you something to help you sleep, if you like. I'm also here to talk, if you want to take that approach."

"I believe I will go through the sedative." She tilted her head to the side. "You have a personality subroutine?"

The holographic doctor paused to chuckle sadly a moment before closing his tricorder slowly and setting it aside as he went to ready a nightly prescription. "I've been talking to you normally, right? I have a name, I have feelings, I've been doing my best to improve my bedside manner... Including what I hope is witty jokes, though I'll admit that I rarely get people to laugh. I even have a hobby, you know."

"I still pride myself on efficient medical care, but I'd like to think that I've exceeded my original parameters by at least a little bit." As he spoke, he filled a hypo with a mild relaxant and sedative the team often used for stress-related insomnia and set it to a low dose, locking the controls before returning to the Lieutenant's side, handing the hypo to her. "This has one of our local cocktails we use. It's a mild muscle relaxant and sedative mix that we find helps most people with insomnia. The effects wear off after a few hours, but it's usually enough to get people through the night with a side effect of far fewer bad dreams."

"As for your migraines themselves, they're tension related - I'm assuming from stress and anxiety. For that I recommend you either see a counselor... Or you could visit the ship's masseuse and see if that helps."

"Hm..." She said. She tilted her head. Once again she defaulted to her usual ways that included counseling. "What is your hobby?"

"Fruit carving and arrangements. I'm told that I need work on my creativity, but the composition and flavor choices are all very good. One of my recent endeavors was a seven melon reproduction of the Cathedrals of Bolarus IX. While the recreation was faithful..." Doc Power glanced down at a PaDD he had picked up while speaking, not really looking at the text on it. "It's a composition that many have done before and I didn't really bring anything new to the table."

"I see." She paused to think. "Creativity is something that you can work on." She thought a moment again. "Reproductions like your cathedrals can count is creativity too. How often do you work on it?"

Doc Power nodded solemnly as he busied himself with the sterilization of various medical instruments. "Two to three times per week. I was considering making a seascape with an archaic Trill sailing vessel with berries and some of the various spined fruits we recently picked up. The only reference pictures I was able to find readily available are paintings so I'd be forced to take some... Creative liberties."

"I would like to see it sometime." She had come to sickbay glad the EMH was available. She'd hoped for someone with less of a personality but this EMH fascinated her. She wondered what other fascinations the ship would hold. "Are you able to leave sickbay?" She asked before she could filter.

"Of course. Thanks to the ship-wide holo emitters the only area that isn't safe is really right next to the warp core and engines. If you have a medical emergency and I'm available, I can be there immediately. Sickbay even has a small site to site transporter dedicated to it for emergency use." The curious expression that spread across the holographic doctor's face caused him to pause in the busywork that he had been performing and focus his full attention on V'lera. "I know these aren't common on most ships or even starbases, but with all the Hera's been through... Why do you ask?"

"What might help your creativity is visiting with people who are artists, like yourself and mobility helps. Did you ever consider putting together a show of your work?" An idea started to form and the good doctor may just be the first person...well second for that idea. She could help two people with one art show.

"I normally let the Ten Forward staff handle it," Doc Power mused over the thought of having a bit of a show. "I think they leave it on the counter and let people eat on it throughout the evening."

"Would you be interested in doing a how for yourself or perhaps," she said. "Perhaps a show with other officers?" Talking with him was fascinating. On her previous ship they had had an EMH but he was far less evolved. Their EMH only stuck to what it knew. Medical without chit chat. She'd preferred him to the actual doctor but this EMH, this Doctor Power fascinated her. This ship, from the first moment she'd stepped on it, had been filled with amazing things and people to behold.

The holographic doctor considered it for a moment before replying. "I think I might enjoy that. There are quite a few artists aboard. I'm sure there would be plenty of volunteers. I'm not sure we should turn it into a competition or anything, though."

"Not a competition. Just an exhibit. It might also help with stress reduction. It is proven that when one enjoys something like art they calm down and help with stress relief." She stood up. "Would you like to assist me with putting together the show?"

With a slight bow and a bright smile, Doc Power gave in to the idea fully. "My dear, it would be an honor. I will endeavor to maintain an aesthetically pleasing venue while remaining my normally efficient self. Is there anything else I may help you with?"

She through a moment. "Yes...I was doing research on telepathy specifically touch telepathy. I could use some medical advice."

The holographic doctor nodded and stepped forward with relative confidence. "I have little experience, but I have access to vast stores of knowledge. It's not exactly the same thing, but I can do my best. What do you need advice about?"

"It has been proven that some telepathic species...like Betazoids have a touch telepathy that is rather strong. I know that there are inhibitors to stop the telepathy but are there medications that would dull the telepathy rather then stop it?"

"Of course," the doctor replied cheerfully. "I've administered a number of such medications successfully. Anetrizine, for example, is capable of dulling an array of cognitive senses ranging from implant sensitivity to hearing and sight sensitivity. I believe it would work for dulling telepathic and empathic sensitivity as well with the right markers."

"But would it affect the full telepathy or just the touch segment?" she asked.

"It might take a little experimentation, but I'm confident that I can narrow it down to just the touch sensitivity with few other side effects," Doc Power mused over the query thoughtfully. "Depending on race and neurological structure, of course."

"Any information you could provide would be helpful," she said cryptically.

"Without releasing any personal information..." Doc Power picked up a PaDD and tapped at it for a bit before handing it over. "This is what I can say is reliable at least."

She took the PaDD and gave a nod. "Thank you doctor."

With a slight bow, the EMH smiled pleasantly. "You're very welcome. If there's anything else I may do to help, please don't hesitate to ask."

She gave a nod. "Thank you."

V'lera had her medical appointment complete and she was cleared for duty and so, started unpacking. Surak, her pet, had started adapting to their quarters and she was happy about that.

She had come into the mess hoping to get a meal and find a quiet place in the observation lounge to look at the stars and have her meal. The ship was impressive and when she'd seen her quarters the other day she'd had to literally stop herself from jumping up and down with glee. They were large, spacious, and she had a water shower. That thought, even now, warmed her. She hated sonic showers as much as transporters. As she waited in line she thought of something Lieutenant Sommers said to her. 'You mean the most interesting people in line'. She had always wondered if that were true and she found it odd that this particular thought would jump into her mind. It felt... like a premonition.

The doors wooshed open and a tall solidly built Vulcan wearing the pips of a lieutenant commander on the black collar of his slightly outdated science blue uniform entered. His steely grey eyes immediately noticed the sharply green-skinned Vulcan-looking woman in a lieutenant junior grade uniform. With barely a pause he went straight to her.

''Excuse me for my intrusion, I will not disturb you but for a brief moment, if I may. I am Lieutenant Commander Sonak, chief science officer of the Hera. You must be Lieutenant junior grade V'Lera. Allow me to welcome you aboard.It is always a moment of note for me when a compatriot comes aboard.''

He lifted his right hand and parted his fingers in the well known salute of Vulcan.

''Peace and long life, Lieutenant junior grade V'Lera.''

V'lera turned at the sound of Sonak's voice. It took a second for her to register that he'd just called her a compatriot. He looked fully Vulcan, he had an air of calm about him. When she'd boarded the Flame there had been many Vulcans but they had avoided her demanding she prove, for lack of a better word, her Vulcan-ness to them before they spoke to her. This was a Vulcan who had not only called her a compatriot but had greeted her properly and first.

She extended her own hand in the proper Vulcan salute, "Live long and prosper Commander Sonak." She tilted her head slightly. "I was going to gather a tray for lunch." She looked around noting how full it was. She didn't like crowds. "Perhaps to take the meal in the observation lounge. Would you...like to join me, Sir?" She hadn't planned on company nor wanted any but it was rare that a Vulcan talk to her first. They tended to see the Orion before the Vulcan. This...was a rare pleasure. A momentary wave of pure delight washed over her at the acceptance but her Vulcan side stomped it down.

''I appreciate and accept your proposal,'' Sonak answered.

He went to the replicator and ordered a Terran vegetable and cheese pot pie along with a tall glass of vegetable juice at room temperature, which would thus be chilled for him. he then waited for V'Lera to complete her own meal order so that they could walk together to the observation area as she had suggested.

V'lera ordered a cheese sandwich with various veggies and a side order of something that on Earth was called Parsley. She had fallen in love with the leafy treat on Earth. She ordered a chocolate cake and some lemon water. Once her tray was complete she walked back to Sonak and they slowly headed out. She was struck by his calm. It seemed to radiate from him in waves. When she stayed at the monastery she'd encountered it. As they entered the turbo lift she addressed him, "You have undergone the Kolinhar?"

''I am a Master of Gol,'' he replied in a monotone. ''But I chose to serve in Starfleet because there is always more to learn.''

He looked at her a moment before asking in turn:

''You are a rather distinctive individual; a living tribute to the ideal of IDIC. Do not answer if the subject makes you uncomfortable emotionally but, what heritage did you choose to embrace? Vulcan? Orion? Both? or neither?''

She thought a moment taken aback by the compliment. "Thank you, sir. I have no issue answering." That was the truth but the topic did make her uncomfortable a little, particularly because she wasn't too fond of her Orion side. I strive to embrace the IDIC principle. It is something that has been a source of strength for me. I choose to embrace the Vulcan...I try to. There are days that the Orion side seems stronger but I have, for the most part, been able to keep hold of it. My upbringing was not ideal," she said honestly. "Although I grew up on Vulcan, was educated there, my year at the monastery helped much with control. I admit I still have much to learn."

''We all do. That is what makes existence worth fulfilling,'' he offered with conviction in his otherwise deep yet flat voice. ''May I suggest you study and meditate upon the life and work of historical figure Ambassador Spock. As the first Vulcan-Human hybrid, he had a full, lively, significant life under a similar challenge that you are facing. It might prove enlightening to you. It certainly was even for me, a full-blooded Vulcan and a Kolinarh master.''

She gave a nod just as they arrived at the observation lounge and seated themselves. She placed a napkin in her lap, as was her habit. "I have read a little of Ambassador Spock's work. I mostly read the works of Surak." Suddenly a thought struck her. A voice from the past floated through her mind, words that dug painfully into her mind. She tried to shake it off yet... "Commander. May I ask a question?"

''Always, Lieutenant, '' he said as he followed her example to set himself for his meal.

An insecurity ran through her. She was wanting to ask yet ... this was the first Vulcan who'd approached her freely and had accepted her as Vulcan, a sister from the planet a compatriot, a logical being. Most of the Vulcans who approached her saw her as Orion, She'd had to prove herself many times over on Vulcan. She thought of the records of the crew that she'd read. The bio on this particular Vulcan, thanks to her excellent memory, told her he was married to the XO. While she liked the woman she could sense how protective she was of the crew. A mother lioness who would need proof, after all the counselors' past, that this woman would be helpful to the crew. This Vulcan before her was not only an island of calm that seemed to have an effect on her own nerves but she wondered if his...abilities were stronger then she knew or was written. Her own abilities in touch telepathy were stronger then they should be. She had an empathic vain in her two that allowed her to pick up and understand moods and energy. That was the Orion's gift, a light buttering that interacted with Vulcan telepathy and empathy and formed a beast that was quite new and, at times, painful.

She resisted the urge to shake her head clear. No, she would not ask. She would ask another question that she was burning to ask. "You have completed the Kolinar it is a purge of emotions. I have had the privilege to know another master and she seemed to live apart from emotional beings... with an exception of course, but you are surrounded by emotion how do you cope?" It was a counseling questions. While she did have some personal attachment to the question she was trying to see comfort in the entity she was when performing her duties.

He looked at her for a moment, unblinking, as if he hadn't quite heard; or rather, as if was listening to something only he could discern. Then he answered with a question of his own.

''Are you aware, Lieutenant, that at this very moment, your entire body is surrounded by light and that this light exerts constantly a measurable pressure on every part of your body? I am not asking if you know ; I am asking, are your aware of it?''

She shifted uncomfortably. "No, sir."

''Yet, it can propel a lightsail vessel at a tenth of the speed of light. When you achieve Kolinarh, you go beyond mere emotion control; you effectively erase emotion from your very being, so as to leave only space for reason alone. Coping with emotion for a Kolinarh then becomes just like you coping with light pressure; it is still there all around you, constantly, you see the light, but you simply can't feel it's pressure.''

"Fascinating," she said. She moved the food around her plate yet a bit more. She pondered his words a little. "Using that same example I would argue that it is not so much as that you cannot feel the pressure but that you numb your body to the feel of the pressure and that you can, in fact, when you choose allow the pressure to be felt. I am... not convinced that you cannot feel anything. Otherwise you would not be able to mourn a lost friend of feel love and passion for your mate or friendship for those you deem friends."

''That would be the standard Vulcan control of one's emotions,'' he corrected her between to bites before resuming. ''Kolinarh is the deliberate utter removal of emotions; just like your body senses are totally incapable of feeling the actual pressure of light, Kolinarh leaves you without emotions altogether. Hence why they do not affect you anymore.''

He paused to let that sink in before continuing.

''You are right in saying that, as a living entity or even merely a sentient one, one can not make oneself totally free of feeling. But you are limiting feeling to but one narrow concept. Mourning, love, friendship, even fascination, interest and drive, are not just emotions. They are states of mind that can also be born purely out of reason and perception. That is how a totally emotionless artificial lifeform like Captain Data can experience friendship and loss as deeply and significantly as you do; just not in the same manner, even if, for all practical intent and purposes, the end result is the same.''

He took a swallow of his vegetable juice.

''I ask forgiveness. it was not my intent to turn this conversation into a lecture.''

"There is nothing to forgive." She looked out at the stars. "Commander with all due respect things such as love, care, compassion, these are not states of mind at least not on their own. Yes, Captain Data can understand friendship and loss and even mimic the reactions that would be considered emotional. But he cannot feel it. Emotions cause releases of certain chemicals in one's brain, neurons firing in a certain way. Only beings like ourselves living entities can truly feel emotion and logic is that which helps us control them, reason is key but to think they can completely be purged... well it is possible but in rare cases with adverse reactions." She studied him. She did shake her head. "My apologies. It appears that I should seek forgiveness here. I just have...an issue with people saying that they have no emotions. I have only truly ever met one person, one Vulcan without them and they are now in Rura Penthe."

''You are proceeding from a false assumption. I am Vulcan and even more a Kolinarh; I have no ego to bruise nor feelings to hurt. Short of an actual mindmeld, clear and honest speaking between us should be the best way to move forward towards knowledge and understanding.''

He took another swallow of his juice before resuming.

''Although your reasoning is sound, facts do not entirely agree with it. When emotions are absent in a being, it can be for three main reasons; they are not part of the individual's make-up, as is the case with an android like Captain Data; they are the result of a voluntary, controlled process as in my case; or they are the result of an accident or defect as in the suggested case of those...Rura Penthe residents you mention as an example. Now consider these facts: an android, built without emotions, declares to have friends like Captain Jean-Luc Picard and mourn the loss of comrades like the late Lieutenant Natasha Yar. A kolinarh master, who deliberately purged himself entirely of emotions since infancy, is pursuing a matrimonial relationship with a Human woman. How and why?''

She thought a moment. "There maybe several reasons. It could be, as I theorize, emotions were not gone just dormant and that you are very much in love with your mate that it overruled the Kolinahr. It could be that you did loose your emotions through the ritual and you wished to reawaken them. Love is the most powerful emotion so it could do that. It also could be that you wish to learn more about emotions and you can do that through experiencing them through marriage to a human woman. All theories and none of them plausible unless examined in a counseling session."

''You make some valid points; and some invalid ones as well,'' he answered in his usual monotone. ''You are right that I endeavor to understand emotion through my bonding with one most remarkable Human woman. But that is just out of curiosity and not the reason for our bonding. You still make the error of seeing Kolinarh as a repression of emotions; that somewhow, as for what is usual for Vulcans, they are still there after the ritual, like embers under coals that could be reignited. That is simply not so.''

He joined his two first fingers of both hands before him.

''Kolinarh is a, long, difficult, thorough ritual that purges the self completely and irrevocably of all emotions. Once the ritual is completed, nothing is left of this part of the psyche. nothing of it can be revived. That is why even Vulcans usually do not go through that ritual; and for the few who do, fewer still achieve it. Living out of pure reason and logic, without any emotion at all ever, is not an easy path... and not a desirable one for everyone. Ambassador Spock himself failed the ritual. Kolinarh was not his true destiny. It would have been a denial of himself, of his Human side.''

He paused again, closed his eyes a moment before continuing in the same bland tone of voice.

''Being totally void of emotions is in fact the source of my intellectual curiosity about them. There is no... trauma event, secret urge or emotional chip that can revive what is simply not there. But through bonding with my Human mate, I can connect to her emotional life through her and experience them through her own memories and feelings, even when I am totally devoid of any by myself.''

He looked at her, his steely grey eyes unblinking.

''As for my love for my mate; it is there, in that your perceive correctly; but not at all as an emotion. It exists as a rationally chosen goal; answering the needs of one specific person for a fulfilled existence, and, by that process, fulfilling one's own. And nothing makes our finite existence as worthwhile as providing fulfillment to others.''

She stayed quiet a moment, " I see."

She took a drink. Suddenly something popped up. She pushed it back, she would ask her personal question later. "Alright. Let us assume you are correct. "Love is there. That is an emotion, you identifying it as such, love that is, gives it life but let's say it's not an emotion. Let us say it is providing fulfillment to others. Why that particular mate? Why her needs for a fulfilled existence? If what you say is true that nothing can make our finite existence worthwhile as providing fulfillment to others then I ask, in addition to why her of course, if you are fulfilling her need to feel wanted, loved, passion from her mate." She sighed. I am sorry that is personal. This is not a counseling session ... and perhaps I am seeing Kolinarh through less than rose coloured glasses."

'' I am not saying love is or is not an emotion, '' Sonak pointed out. ''I am saying that love is not only an emotion. As to why that particular mate...'' he pointed at her plate; ''why that particular food? And regarding the notion of successfully fulfilling her needs, you will have to ask her.''

He looked again straight into her eyes.

''No need to excuse yourself. With a being that can fuse his mind with that of others, it is difficult to find any conversation... personal, as you define it. As for Kolinarh, even the average Vulcan has a hard time understanding it properly. It is something to be lived through to be truly understood. And as I said, it is not for everyone.''

She reached behind her and pulled out a notebook and pen. She checked off something and then rolled the pen in the small notebook and tucked it in her back pocket. She stood up and walked over to the windows looking at the stars.

Sonak allowed her her own space. This conversation might have been interesting, even enlightening to him, but it obviously had a disturbing effect on her. it was not for him to impose himself on her thinking. And he of all people was not qualified to help her deal with her emotional reaction to it. So he stayed sit and continued to eat his meal.

It took a few moments of silence to dispel the thoughts and she returned to her seat. Sonak's control and understanding impressed her, she still had the theory that he had more to him then he let on but she would not voice it again. She broke the silence, "Whatever the Kolinhar removed or not it gave you a calm energy about you that is...quite rare and soothing."

''It is the peace and energy of reason. Kolinarh is not an easy path to choose, even less to follow; but once completed, it leaves reason and perception completely freed of even the remembrance of emotion,'' he explained with matter-of-fact conviction.

"I have much to lean about the Kolinhar. I appreciate you speaking with me about it. I have many questions. I meant no offense or insult. As I said earlier I knew a Master once, a priestess who had your calm and grace to her. I also knew of another person who was said to have completed the Kolinhar and as I said the result was...not as positive as it was for you or T'Mira."

His left eyebrow went up.

''Interesting; in what way may I ask?''

"Well, he wound up in Rura Penthe, sent by myself and the Vulcan Council of Elders. The emotion purge worked too well or perhaps it failed and left behind the not so good emotions." She shrugged. "But, I should not use that to cloud my judgement. As I said yourself and Priestess T'Mira are good examples of the Kolinhar."

''I see. You possibly interacted with a pretender. Kolinarh is an all or nothing process. You either purges yourself of any and all emotions totally and permanently... or you fail. Any remnant of emotion whatsoever means that you have not achieved Kolinarh''.

She studied him. She decided to ask perhaps as a diversion to having him ask more probing questions about the Rura Penthe incident. "You are married to the commander?"

The attempt at diversion did not escape him. Although he was devoid of emotions, or possibly even because of that, he was all the more perceptive of them in others. There were deep sentiments in her regarding this experience. And his reawakening telepathy was sensing how it disturbed her surface thoughts. But it was not his place to probe her or have her rekindle whatever feeling or memory she had about it. So it was without pause that he changed subjects in stride with her.

''Affirmative; Commander Paris and I come from the same pseudo-universe and ended up permanently in yours as that aberration was corrected.''

"How have you been adjusting to this universe?" This, for her at least, was a two-fold questions. She both asked it as a counselor and really wanted to know. There were days when she thought that times were simpler in the past...although if she were in the past she wouldn't be here now.

''For me, it presents no difficulty beyond the challenge of living one's life according to one's gifts under ever-changing circumstances. Having to learn and adapt is a never-ending process that defines life, most of all sentient life. For my wife, her emotions add a significant difficulty parameter to the challenge; but it makes her existence all the more worthwhile. And our relationship provides both of us the anchor we need; emotionally for her, perceptively for me.''

He spoke and ate his pot pie as if he was but discussing the weather or an equation already solved. Which in fact, it was for him.

"It will take time for her to fully adjust. It all depends on how tied she was to your timeline. The key thing is for the two of you to be there for one another. As you said it is difficult. Having you there is important." She thought a moment. "I must issue you an apology."

He was about to take a swallow of his vegetable juice but stopped his gesture midway, right eyebrow rising.

"I am not aware of anything from your part needing an apology."

She shifted slightly in her seat. "It is not outright. More a thought. When I recalled you were married to the commander I...assumed she'd asked you to speak with me. I know of her, what I have observed. She cares very much for her crew. I assumed she had sent you to vet me."

''Even among telepaths, thoughts are not subject to law, except in the worse dictatorships. As for any veting action; I can assure this is not the case. Our meeting is pure happenstance. One I appreciate as quite enriching.''

He finished his plate with one last bit than rose to bring his empty plate to the nearest replicator for recuperation as he spoke.

''One thing you are right about; my wife does care very much about the crew, in her very own Human way. So when she wants to vet someone, she does it herself. if this had been some sort of evaluation, I would have said so from the start. But it is not in my purview to make crew assessments.''

He looked straight at her.

''Nevertheless, I will state that I find your company agreeable.''

She gave a nod. "And I yours." He didn't seem to take offense at her inference and that was good. It was good to be in a room with a Vulcan. She's missed that. She needed logic. It was what grounded her. She followed suit with her tray. "I am grateful to have had the opportunity to meet you, Commander."

Sonak nodded.

''As I have no need of your professional services, this was indeed a most welcome opportunity. But since we serve on the same ship, we will have other occasions like this in the future. I will be looking forward to those.''

He raised his hand and parted his fingers.

''Peace and Long Life, Lieutenant. And welcome aboard.''

She returned the salute. "Live long and prosper, Sir." It had been an interesting lunch. Perhaps she didn't feel so alone. This man seemed to embody what Vulcan should be. As they parted ways she looked at her schedule noting that it was time for her medical.

The U.S.S. Hera had a new counselor, and Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox couldn't be less excited by the prospect as she made her way to the new transfer's office.

The ship's Chief Flight Control Officer and pilot had a mixed relationship with councilors. Her first was assigned to her from social services when she was sent to Earth to live with her adopted grandparents at sixteen. Having been raised as a smuggler, and made to believe she was still half-human through surgery and genetic manipulation, suddenly being asked to live on Earth and be a normal teenage girl was a massive adjustment for the young woman more accustomed to piloting the freighter she had grown up on through nebulas and avoiding Rihannsu and Klingon patrol ships in the Neutral Zone.

In the few years between being sent to such a radically different kind of life until joining Starfleet, she went through six different therapists. In the academy, she was regularly sent to councilors to deal with her anger issues and inability to conform to the social norms of Starfleet rank. She may have thought she was half-human, but the part of her that was half-Rihannsu... or 'Romulan', as her people were known to the rest of the quadrant... helped isolate her from others further.

But she had made great strides since joining the Hera, learning to embrace her heritage and past. She had learned of the early childhood alterations that she had blocked out and had those procedures reversed to restore her Rihannsu physiology and appearance. She had learned that her true name was "Mnhei'sahe' and not 'Melanie'. She had reconciled with her mother over the trauma of her difficult childhood and was moving forward. She was now married, with three girls on the way. And while she hated the first Councilor she encountered on the Hera who threatened her with mental invasion, she had been best friends with the last.

With all of that in mind, she read over the personnel file of the ship's new Councilor, a half-Vulcan, half-Orion woman named Lieutenant JG V'lera on the PaDD she always had on her as she walked through the corridors of the ship she called home and loved as such. She would do her best to not shut down with the new doctor, though she would rather be anywhere else at the moment.

After all, scheduled sessions had been a requirement since she was returned to active duty two months ago after being cleared by Starfleet Psych. But they still wanted her to talk to a counselor regularly, considering what she had endured as a prisoner of the Tal'Shiar for a month not too long ago. It was protocol and she understood why it was in place, but she would rather just talk to Rita or the Captain or her own wife when she needed to. So, as she arrived at the door to the woman's office, she tucked the PaDD into her back pocket, adjusted her crisp, crimson uniform and ran her fingers behind her pointed ears, clearing her mid-length, curly red hair out of her face, a leftover from the genetic manipulation that made her appear half-human for most of her life.

Pressing the chime on the pad outside the door, the anxious young officer waited.

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

V'lera had a packed schedule. She had one appointment coming in now she had one this afternoon with a young Ensign that was a hoarder and she had three other scattered throughout the day. To say she was happy was an understatement. She liked to be busy so this was good. It allowed her not to think about other things that had been on her mind, especially the note from Vulcan from the woman who'd saved her life all those years ago. She hadn't opened it yet.

She'd met the CO, the XO, the Medical Officer, and Sonak. It had been an interesting few days. She hadn't unpacked yet but she would do that this afternoon. Surak had been in one of his moods too so she'd left him at home. The little furry terror was running all over the place. He may have been blind, but he'd learned the layout quickly. She smiled outright as she thought of her pet.

Just as she got up and was heading to the replicator the door chimed. Wiping the smile off her face and schooling her expression a little she took a breath and called out, "Enter."

As the door slid open with a hushed wooshing, Mnhei'sahe stepped in. She had made it through a gauntlet of dozens of different admirals, Intel section heads, therapists and Tal'Shiar interrogators. One more counselor wasn't going to shake her. She had no expectations that this new councilor would be anything like Asa Dael, but really nobody could be. And as she paused in the entryway of the chamber, she resolved to try and not compare the two. Asa wasn't just the ships CMO or a counselor, they were Mnhei'sahe's best friend and she tried to be happy for them, having been transferred to Starfleet Medical.

But there she was, mulling again, and she needed to clear her mind and deal with her current reality. "Hello. Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox reporting as scheduled. I'm here to see Lieutenant V'lera."

V'lera took a step forward. "I am V'lera. Welcome." She motioned to the comfy chair. "I was going to get myself some tea, would you like something to drink or eat while we meet?"

"Nn..." Starting to answer, 'no', out of old habits, Dox stopped herself mid-thought. Deciding it might be best to start off on a less guarded foot, she nodded slightly and changed course. "A coffee please. Brhon caelis blend, please. Black. Thank you."

Literally translated as "morning energy', Dox asked for the overly strong, tart Romulan coffee she preferred and waited politely.

V'lera gave a nod. "Of course." She ordered the coffee for Dox and a peppermint tea for herself. She brought them to the little table. Pulling out an antiquated notebook and pen she sighed. "Welcome to my office. My apologies that it has not been ordered yet. I will do so shortly." She paused. "Thank you for not missing the appointment or canceling." She was used to those. She'd already had a couple of them.

"No need to rush on my account, my office is... a bit of a mess right now as it is." Dox replied, stepping over to the table across from the green-skinned, Vulcanoid woman. According to her personnel file, Lieutenant V'lera was half Vulcan and half Orion, or Kolari in their own language, which lead to her appearance. And Dox noticed that the woman did exhibit elements of emotion in her mannerisms with the slight sigh and logged it internally, trying to take a measure of the new crewmember.

"My appointments are still required by Starfleet Intelligence, so canceling isn't much of an option... pending an emergency or pending duty that has me off-ship, of course... unless I want to be removed from duty." Dox said flatly, sipping her coffee and still standing.

V'lera gave a nod. "This space here is a safe space. I wish you to know that. I wish for us to get to know one another. I understand that trust is something earned and I will endeavour to earn and keep yours." She held up the notebook. "Do you mind if I take notes on this? I always ask and I enter the notes into the computer as required and then these notes are destroyed, I just have a preference for writing. If it is uncomfortable for you I can use the regular PaDD."

So far, nothing about the woman ticked off any of Mnhei'sahe's internal warning lights. At least nothing specific that she could point to. She seemed friendly and was doing her best to make the young Rihannsu woman comfortable. As such, Mnhei'sahe tried to almost force herself to relax a bit, though she still stood professionally until she was told she could sit. As friendly as V'lera seemed to be, the councilor still had authority in this scenario and Dox was still an officer that found comfort in protocol.

Giving a nod and taking another sip, Mnhei'sahe replied a bit more comfortably, not yet quite smiling, "Whatever works best for you. I have no objections, either way, thank you."

V'lera studied her. "Please, I would like you to sit and be comfortable. In this room no rank exists. We are two people having a conversation. I do not wish you to feel any uneasiness." She could sense that the woman was not that comfortable. V'lera understood trust was something that took a while. Today she would keep things light. Usually, she allowed a few sessions where they would get to know one another. "Counselors often ask probing questions. If you are uncomfortable with a question I asked I would like to know why but in the same token if you wish to ask me anything please do so." She believed that counseling was a two-way street. If she got to ask personal questions then so should the patient and for the most part, V'lera was an open book. There were shadows she did not dive into but nobody usually asked those questions.

Taking the offered seat, Mnhei'sahe set her coffee down and looked around for a moment, trying to get comfortable. "I... apologize for my... demeanor, Counselor. In the interest of... disclosure. I have not had the best history with counselors, so I'm trying to not just shut down and go on the defensive. Which is... not the easiest thing to do for me."

She inclined her head slightly while tilting it to the left. "Understandable. I have seen the turn over on the ship with respect to counselors and I can understand how you feel. I too have had to go through counseling and some of the sessions were less then pleasant. That is why I would like to keep an open dialogue so that we can find our balance and a way of working as a team. Please tell me a little about yourself. It can be anything."

Taking a moment, Mnhei'sahe thought on how open-ended the request was. Asking for her to frame then first thing that was said rather than ask a direct question was unorthodox but also telling. Whatever Mnhei'sahe said would reveal far more than the specific details given. It would tell the woman how she thought and what her frame of mind was at the moment.

Considering that, Mnhei'sahe fidgeted with her coffee cup and sighed. 'Safe space' or not, she felt exposed already as she spoke. "I'm… I admit, I'm at a loss for what to say without an actual question. I suppose it would be good to start with the fact that I do not like the word 'Romulan'. I mostly don't bother telling anyone this, but what's the phrase? Begin as you intend to continue?"

V'lera asked this question particularly because it allowed each person to answer in a unique way. Some talked about likes, dislikes, hobbies; others went straight to trigger words. Writing the word down or taking notes at this point would be counterproductive so V'lera put the notebook and pen on the table in an attempt to make this conversation more of a conversation and less of a session. It was to ease the mood. Here was a young Romulan woman who did not like the word Romulan. She could relate to this young woman. "Why do you not like the word Romulan," she asked.

It had been a topic she had avoided since joining the Hera. It had only been a few weeks since she first even mentioned that hearing the word still stung to Rita Paris, and she was hesitant to rock that proverbial boat but it was the first thing she had thought to say when asked and she chose to say it. And so, now she owed it to the new counselor to answer.

"Growing up, I was just Rihannsu. Our own word for ourselves, not the name that was attached to us by the early Federation explorers that mistranslated it and picked a word from ancient Earth history to attach to us. And it's a word all that all the quadrant uses, and… it bothers me." Dox admitted hesitantly.

"My mother taught me our history and our culture and who we were as a people and who we could be. But to everyone else, we were just 'Romulans', said with the venom and weight of what our people became to the Galaxy. It's been used as a slur one too many times. I've… learned to deal with it and not push the issue. But lately, it's bothered me more lately."

V'lera had gotten so used to the transition that she barely noticed it. It was like the rush of cold water that ran the length of her body. In her mind there was a disconnect. She was no longer V'lera the Vulcan Orion but Counselor, an entity, a being on her own. The past, the thoughts of her life, her family, all disappeared. She was not tuning into her patient. She'd tried to describe this to a few people and they had laughed at her and she was just imagining it. To her it felt real. It was a time where all her senses seemed more tuned.

"Words seem to take on a mind of their own. They can be used reassure, enlighten, amuse, and cause pain and uncertainty. You associate Rihannsu with who you are, with what you are, Rihannsu gives you strength yes?"

"Rihannsu is what my people are. It means, 'The Declared' in our language, taken from the act of declaration made when we left Vulcan to seek out a new home. For better or worse, it meant something once. It speaks to our better nature as a people that has been largely forgotten." Mnhei'sahe replied thoughtfully. "When I call myself Rihannsu, I think of what we have accomplished and what we could be again. I think of the people in our world's history that strove to make us better and it's something to aspire to, I suppose."

"Now think of just the word Romulan. What perceptions are attached to it. Tell me where the venom in your voice comes from. What is the meaning of Romulan to your mind?"

"Romulan..." Mnhei'sahe said with the exact venom V'lera described, "Is what we became. Romulan represents everything wrong with our culture. It was the word spat at me as a child by Klingon and Ferengi traders like a slur. It was the word used to justify every terrible thing said to me during my time on earth. It represents the xenophobia and isolationism. The paranoia and the lack of... of honor. It's the Tal'Shiar. It's Dalia Rendal." 

The last name slid off of her tongue like a thing spat out from disgust. The name featured prominantly in Mnhei'sahe's file as the Tal'Shiar commander that tortured her, her mother and her grandmother, then murdered her father.

V'lera understood her feelings. The disgust, pain, and even anger, were strong in her words. "A word can cut just as deeply as a sword. Beings, that should know better, insist on using them to cause pain and havoc. Some Rihannsu have lost their way, that is true. They have become the Romulans that you speak of. Those who hurt, cause trouble but not all of them are that way. When...beings have had bad experiences they project the actions of a few onto the whole and then good people like yourself get hurt. If you will allow me the honour of working with you I would like learn more about what you went through. I can...pick up on your pain and confusion. I would like to help remove the sting of that one word for you. To show you that whether you are Rihannsu, Romulan, Vulcan, Andorian, or Klingon whatever word is used is just that, a word. The truth of the person is much more complicated. We cannot help how others use words and what they attribute to us we can only help ourselves not react to those words. I would very much like to learn more about you and your experiences if you will honour me with your trust."

"I... realize I'm doing exactly what I dislike when are done to me. I'm projecting the experience of my... experience..." Dox paused on the word, not saying it at first, then choosing to course-correct as she continued, "My abduction... onto my people as a whole. It's no different than what has been said to me by others that associated me with their own experience regarding Rihannsu."

"And I know I need to work through this all better. The psychologists I had to meet with at Starfleet psych... five of them in total... were all more focused on... ensuring I hadn't become a sleeper agent for the Tal'Shiar than they were interested in how I felt about what had happened." Dox had a bit of resentment in her voice as she continued. "Our last councilor... Doctor Dael... was also my best friend. And the were transferred off ship at the same time as I was on Earth for my debriefings. I never got to talk to them about anything that had happened."

"I... I would... appreciate... some help with dealing with this." Mnhei'sahe finished, hanging her head to stare at her coffee cup a moment.

V'lera gave a nod. "I will help you. Let's put the Tal'shiar aside for now. Let's focus on you. I would say we meet once a week. We need to deal with how you feel how you have been affected. " She thought a moment. "If I tell you something now. Will you hold onto it. Your reaction will be to get angry but I want you to just hear the words and the reasoning and then maybe when we've dealt with the trauma you carry we can talk about this phrase again."

Initially, Dox's reaction was one of mild suspicion. She didn't necessarily like answering a question like this without knowing what was actually going to be said, but she was also curious. So far, this new councilor was decidedly different from any she had encountered, and her intuition told her to give her the chance. As such, she replied with a nod. "I will. Or, at least, I will make every effort."

"Good. An effort is all that I ask." She paused. "Forgiveness is the key to truly moving on and when we forgive it is a powerful medication for the illness that is trauma. We do not forgive others to sooth their soul or to absolve them of their actions. We forgive to allow our mind, our soul or katra to heal."

As predicted, Dox's first emotional reaction was anger as she thought of the implications of what V'lera was saying. But rather than allow that to linger, she chose instead to ask a question in that regard, "Who is it you're suggesting I... forgive?"

"Firstly yourself for whatever you are carrying, secondly...we shall see as the web untangles. You said a name just a while ago that elicited quite the response, I would say, if I have to guess revulsion, anger, hate." She sighed, "It will take time. One word of advice. Holding on to your hate hurts you more than the one who is the object of it. Take it from a Vulcan who knows."

"Perhaps, but Riov Rendal tortured me, tortured my mother and my... my grandmother. She executed my father with a sword in front of me while I was shackled to a chair. Forgiveness for her... might not be possible for me, if I'm to be honest." Dox replied in a straightforward manner, then paused. She thought back to that experience and truly thought for a moment, putting a hand to her chin as she did.

"Of course, it wasn't Rendal that orchestrated the kidnapping, it was my grandmother. And during that time I... learned to forgive her for that. I forgave my mother for everything that happened in my childhood. So... I will try and keep an open mind, Counselor."

"Good. Open mind is all that I ask. I would like to take a moment to remind you of something," she said.

"Which is?" Dox asked quizzically, an eyebrow raised.

"We are a team. You are not alone nor will I let you go through anything alone. My goal as a counselor is to make sure you are okay. I don't care what Starfleet thinks and what their counselors think. My aim is to help bring order to the chaos of pain that is weighing you down."

"Stronger together. That's what Commander Paris always says." Mnhei'sahe replied, relaxing just a little. Her gut was telling her not to let her guard down, but she was making an effort to be more open, so she nodded slightly. "So...where do we go from here, then?"

"We get to know one another. We talk as per Starfleet requirements but if there is a day that you wish to not come in we can reschedule." She went back to her spot and sat down. "Counseling here," she said motioning to the office. "Can be intimidating. We can have our sessions on the holodeck or I can book the observation lounge or wherever you feel comfortable." She looked at the time. "We still have time so we can cover anything you'd like."

Nodding, Dox replied with the slightest of smiles. "Well, if the goal is getting to know each other and building trust to move forward, perhaps the best thing is if I ask the same basic thing you asked me? To tell me something about yourself, beyond the basics of your personnel file."

She gave a nod. "Fair question." She thought a moment. "I was born at the foot of Mount Seleya, I love to read, and I write. I love journaling. I love history and archeology. I entered counseling because I wanted to help...heal people and I have a pet. A raccoon named Surak."

At that, a lopsided grin cracked Mnhei'sahe's serious facade. "I've... never been to Mount Seleya. I've wanted to really go there for a while now, but the opportunity hasn't happened just yet." As she talked, Dox thought of her lessons from Commander Sonak and the version of the iconic Vulcan peak that existed only in her mind. "I feel like things are a bit uneven now. You've told me a bit more than I've told you."

V'lera gave a nod. "That is okay too. In time we will know one another more." She sat back a little. "Mount Seleys is beautiful. I have a program I will be loading for the holodeck. Perhaps our next session could be there. This way you can see it."

"Perhaps..." Mnhei'sahe replied, deciding this was an opportunity to open up a bit more and chose to take it. "I have a program of it I use to... try and meditate as well. Commander Sonak designed it for me. It's where we work on training my mental disciplines and training. Rihannsu may have given up their mental disciplines when we left Vulcan, but... well... I have had some of those abilities re-awakened and he has been instrumental in my learning to focus that."

"I am glad for that. Having these abilities can be overwhelming. How often do you work with him?" She asked to make sure she didn't venture into his territory.

"My... abilities are still very limited, and I've not focused on developing them near as much as learning to keep things out of my mind, which has been... an issue." Mnhei'sahe admitted, somewhat sheepishly. "I have been able to... extend my abilities to defend my mind to others through mind-melds, but I have required Commander Sonak to initiate those melds. That ability is... far beyond me."

"When our schedules permit, I train with him about once every two weeks. Sometimes weekly, sometimes not. There is something of a chaos to the schedules here on the Hera as missions often happen somewhat unexpectedly. But I will go to the holodeck to practice in the program he designed for me and meditate as often as I can. Sometimes I will meditate in my quarters with a  Vulcan brazier her gifted me for that purpose."

"My wife is Miradonian..." Mnhei'sahe said, referring to the unique, Avian species that Ensign Mona Gonadie belonged to, "Her people are capable of bonding empathically with their chosen mates. We have a particularly strong bond that allows us touch telepathy. I've worked hard to develop that and probably practice with her more than anything else."

"Fascinating. Usually when there is a telepathic bonding it I strong with mates who are truly in love. The fact that yours is that strong is a good thing. Have you been married long?"

"Not long, really. Our bonding ceremony was only five months ago." As Mnhei'sahe spoke, she ran her fingers over the black, pearlescent metal Rihannsu ceremonial Marriage bracelet she wore on her right wrist, the braided length of her hair entwined with one of Mona's vibrantly colored feathers sealed in the center, visible through a thin resin centerline. The black metal, taken from a piece of the hull of the Hera herself.

"She... my wife... she says that the strength of our bond is only achieved in Miradonian couples that have been bonded for decades. But, that connection is a part of me now. I can always feel a piece of her energy within me now. It... in many respects, it helped save my mind and my life when I was taken. It and my training is what I clung to."

"Then it is something you must nurture and treasure. I, for one, am glad that it saved you. I am glad that we have had the opportunity to meet."

"I... would have to agree." Mnhei'sahe said with a hesitant but sincere smile. "I was... reluctant to come here. I have to admit that I probably wouldn't have had it not been a requirement, but... I'm glad I did. And I'm not actively dreading our next meeting."

She resisted the urge to smile. "That is good. I can understand your hesitation. With so many counseling switches and some counselors can be... very overwhelming." She sat back allowing Dox to take the conversation where she wanted. They were nearing their time's end but her next appointment had sent her a note saying he'd be late.

"I've had... a lot of them over the years. And the last... Doctor Dael was only filling in, really. They were our chief medical officer, but served as a counselor after the prior one ended up being... unbalanced. Asa was a great counselor, but it wasn't a responsibility I think they wanted. It was a lot of pressure for them and I think that when the transfer to Starfleet Medical was offered, it was one of the reasons they took it. But they were also by best friend, so I have to admit that the prospect of new people coming on board to replace them has me... a bit more defensive than I usually am around counselors." Dox replied honestly. "The relationships have often been... adversarial."

"Well, I hope ours will be more productive. The key is communication." She said. "You must tell me how you are feeling and you must have trust. That will, however, come with time."

"Well, you haven't bragged about your ability to read my mind, so you're already one up on our last official counselor." Mnhei'sahe chuckled lightly as she let out a bit more of a smile. "So... with that in mind...I'm willing to make the effort to make this work. Thank you."

She gave a nod tilting her head slightly. "I am grateful for the chance to work with you. I would say our first meeting went well."

Mysterious Galactic Overlord

Intent on destabilizing the Federation by causing strife/war with them and the Romulans.
Motivation is revenge for the Dominion war.
Shapeshifter/Changeling - one of the 100 that were sent out.
Usually takes on the form of a Cardassian or a Romulan.
Takes the form of a shadowy figure when using communication systems so even if they're hacked, there's nothing to decrypt or unscramble.