The instances of disorientation were getting extremely tiresome even as the sights, sounds, and even SCENTS of this new reality began to flood Mnhei'sahe Dox's senses. As always, it took a few seconds to get her head back on and try and process where she was.

The first thing she realized was that she was outside and that it was night. The ground beneath her feet was soft and a bit uneven and there was a bit of dew on what looked like the crops brushing her thighs. Around her were rows and rows of ripe lehe'jhme fruit on thigh high vine stalks. On the cool breeze, she could smell the sweet smell of sserayl trees in the distance.

The night sky had an almost purple quality and the smell alone told Dox where she was. It had felt unusually familiar the last time she had been here and, at first, she hadn't known why. The smells and the sounds. The slightly thicker air, it was all familiar to her even before she had met the old woman named Nurema ir-Korthre, who had explained to her why it was all so familiar.

It wasn't Romulus, though the teal skies in the day looked so similar. It was the hidden world of Mol Krunchi she had returned to, in the farming village of Saithe.

The village she had been born in.

Looking around, it was quiet. There were still lights visible in the small village at the edge of the farm she seemed to have appeared in the middle of, so it probably wasn't that late. Then, the dimensional explorer felt a blast of hot air down the back of her neck and a loud snort that immediately reminded her of the spectral horse named Taxes, who was the ethereal assistant to Death herself. And for a moment, as she turned around to see, she wondered if Masato REI was there

Instead, she saw a Romulan animal called a Shaill that resembled a Terran horse. The Shaill was, however, longer in the middle with a thicker, coarser coat and a larger, wedge-shaped head. It was staring at her and began sniffing the slightly nervous pilot.

The creature sniffed Dox up and down for a moment before jerking back, seeming to be more than a bit confused. Then, she again heard the familiar voice she had heard in all of these leaps: her own.

"Khallianen! What are you thinking, running out here like that? I've half a mind to skip your…. treats?" This reality’s version ran down the slight hill after the Shaill that ironically had the same name that she had given her former Artan ship back home that meant 'seeker'.

Stopping short with a start… as she caught sight of Dox.

Speaking in Romulan, this version of Dox had a much thicker build overall. She was rounder in the face and belly, but also thicker by far in the arms. She had a mid-length mop of thick, black hair and was wearing a dark beige sundress over thick-soled boots and work gloves stained with grease.

There was that now-familiar moment of awkward silence as both women looked at each other. Looking over her local counterpart, Dox was getting used to the deductive reasoning that each leap had forced her to do. This was the colony world that she was born on. Nurema ir’Korthre had been Jaeih’s Hru’hfe as a child. The head servant and governess that had raised the elder Dox for years before escaping Romulus as a colonist and refugee and finding her way here. And when Jaeih herself ran from the Imperium years later and was pregnant with Mnhei’sahe, found her old governess and came here to give birth.

And here, on this bucolic colony world, Mnhei’sahe had spent the first year of her life where Nurema had been her Theirr’anov: her godmother and nursemaid. And looking at her counterpart, it appeared as if this version of Jaeih had not left after that first year and taken her daughter from this world. There was no evidence of the genetic overlay of human DNA that had given Mnhei’sahe her freckles or red hair. This counterpart had a farmgirl’s build. This was clearly her home.

The sound of another familiar voice broke the silence, as across the field, Dox heard her own mother’s voice come from the small, single story farmhouse at the top of the hill next to a mid-sized barn. It was her mother. “Mnhei’sahe. Get that animal secured. I’m preparing the evening meal and you need to get cleaned up.”

This was the first reality Mnhei’sahe had visited where her mother had been present, but at the sound of the voice, the local counterpart winced and her eyes went wide as she bit her bottom lip. Whispering, she lightly waved her hands at Mnhei’sahe, gesturing her to hide behind the thick-bodied Shaill. All the while the counterpart was staring, not at Dox’s clearly familiar face, but at the Starfleet badge on her breast.

“Yes, mother. Khallianen just needed to stretch, it seems. He’s getting a little restless again. I’ll take him for a run in the morning.” the counterpart called back.

“Well, if you must. Just remember that the harvest festival is at the end of week and the irrigation condensers are malfunction again. You had better have those units in the South Ridge repaired by midday, or there'll be Areinnye to pay.” Jaeih called back.

Ducking behind the large animal, Dox peeked out under its legs and could just make out the shape of her mother on the porch of the house, backlit from the door, before the elder Romulan matriarch walked back inside. As she did, her counterpart looked over and held a finger up over her lips, indicating silence as they began walking up to the barn.

The walk up the hill to the barn was a short, quiet one as the local counterpart lead the large Shaill by its bridle gently. Occasionally, the large creature would look at its mistress then back to Dox, and let out a confused sounding snort at the unusual circumstance.

After a minute, all three made their way into the long but narrow barn. It was mostly black wood all around with stalls for six Shaill along the left side, though most of them were filled with crates or bails of dried grasses for feed. There was a short upper loft area that seemed to also be over-stacked with crates and assorted tools. Along the right side, was a number of the antiquated, and rusted over manual plowing and field tending tools. There were a few gas powered lanterns along the walls that THIS reality’s version of Mnhei’sahe lit as she led the animal to it’s lone, empty stall.

In the far corner, was what was more interesting. A mid-sized, but clearly broken down tractor and a large collection of machine parts on a tarp that looked to be for some kind of wheeled vehicle. Some things seemed to be a constant in most realities, and Mnhei’sahe’s status as something of a proverbial grease monkey was among them.

As soon as the Shaill had been secured and given it’s feed for the night, the local Mnhei’sahe turned to her crimson-clad counterpart with almost wild eyes as she spoke in a somewhat strained and heavily accented Federation standard. “You… you are starfleet? You are… me? I do not understand?”

With a light smile for the local farmgirl, Mnhei’sahe nodded as she replied in both women’s native tongue to, hopefully, make the conversation easier. “I am, yes. I… know this will be difficult to explain, but I’m not here to harm you in any way. I promise you, my presence here is simply an accident.”

Sighing a bit of relief, the thicker built and dark haired Romulan woman nodded. “But… how is this possible? You have… my face. My voice. But… you’re different. And you’re STARFLEET. I know the symbol.”

“I am, yes. I… I AM you.” Mhnei’sahe pursed her lips as, once again, she tried to summarize her bizarre situation. “I come… from a different reality. A timeline where our life was… different from your life here. I was exposed to interdimensional particles that are bouncing me across the multiverse and have been encountering different versions of myself as I go.”

“Dimensional…” The other Mnhei’sahe’s eyes narrowed and her brows knitted as she pondered her counterpart’s words. “I’ve… read about things like this, but I never thought it could be… true.”

The eyes of the local counterpart were wide with wonder and Mnhei’sahe began to wonder just how sheltered this version of herself was on Mol Krunchi. In her own universe, her mother Jaeih had gone to extreme lengths to keep certain truths from her, including but not limited to covering up her own Romulan DNA with the human overlay that gave her the red hair she still had. It wasn’t hard to imagine that this Jaeih would have considerably limited this Mnehi’sahe’s knowledge on much of the universe if she thought it would protect her.

But her mother also taught her how to fight and how to fly a starship as a child. She taught Mnhei’sahe multiple languages and of multiple cultures and the Starfleet pilot was curious as to just how ignorant this farmgirl really was.

“Yes, I am from a different dimension. One that diverged from yours when I was a child, I am presuming. MY mother left this planet when I was only a baby. I grew up on a smuggling ship before… running away to join Starfleet. Have you been here your whole life?”

At that question, the alternate Mnhei’sahe looked nervous but also slightly annoyed. It appeared as that innate, Romulan suspicion was taking hold as she brushed her black hair aside slightly and stepped across the barn’s interior with narrowed eyes. “Of course. We have no ships here. No technology that could create energy signatures that the Imperium could detect. And even if I tried to leave when the Artan supply ships come… Mother would… Mother would never allow it.”

“Mother won’t even let me refurbish the old, solar powered harvesters even though we have the parts and I know how.” She continued as Dox began to realize what the annoyance she detected truly was. This version of her clearly felt stuck on the quiet little colony world.

There was a bittersweet quality to the woman, who acted a bit younger than her years and looked at her red headed counterpart with what might be best described as awe. She had longing and curiosity. She was frustrated and wanted to get out and get away. It wasn’t particularly hard to understand, though. With their longer lifespans, Romulans tended to mature a little slower than humans, and someone in their thirties tended to act a good bit younger for a while. Being forced to grow up much sooner than the woman before her had a major effect on Dox’s maturity level and seeing a version where she WASN’T being trained as a soldier from childhood, the differences were stark.

This Dox, it seemed, also had basic happiness. She had a past free of most of the worst experiences Dox had encountered. This Mnhei'sahe didn't seem to know the tortures Dox and her mother has endured. Then Dox thought about the silhouette of Jaeih that she saw on the porch of the modest farmhouse.

"I'm sure that's frustrating." Dox said sympathetically to her counterpart, who was starting to pace anxiously. "Is that what you want? To leave here?”

The black-haired double looked just a bit excited to talk about it. So much so, that she seemed to no longer care about the absurdity of the situation. Alternate reality doppelganger or not, someone wanted to listen, and the words began to flow out rapidly. “Of course! We… Mother and the others… Aunt Nurema… all of them… we came to this world to be free. To be free of the Fascism of the Star Empire. To be free to rediscover our Vulcan roots and explore what it means to be of both people. To learn to harmonize those heritages and simply BE!”

“Mother says… ‘to be Rihannsu is to be of the Declared. Our ancestors chose their OWN path that led them from the bonds of Vulcan dogma. And now, we choose to declare that we can be both.” The other Mnhei’sahe said, with more and more excitement as she went. “And I study. I know the languages and the histories and the cultures. We have SO much more that connects us. But I can only learn so much here. I can only DO so much here.”

“How… how can I believe in reunification when I am removed from the worlds I wish to see joined?” She finished, dropping her arms, which had been gesticulating wildly as she talked. “You… you understand. You are… Starfleet! You… you explore the GALAXY!”

“I do. And… it is not without its risks. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve almost died just today.” The red-headed officer said honestly. “But out there, I can also make a difference. I’ve helped save entire worlds from very dark fates. And out there, I am working to aid in the goal we both share.”

“Re… reunification?” The counterpart said, her eyes widening again.

Nodding, Dox walked over the the woman and tilted her head with a light smile. This version of herself was frustrated and shared her wanderlust, but by and large, seemed happy. “But what about here? Do you have nothing you want to stay here for?”

It was a question that, in truth, the dimension hopping woman was more than a little curious about. This reality represented a thought that she had lingered on many a long night when her mind was fitful, after learning that she had once lived on this idyllic world. It was only for a year, but it was enough for Dox to imagine what was now standing right in front of her.

The other woman hemmed and hawed for a moment, running her hand through her shaggy mop of black hair. “Well… yes. Mother needs me for the harvest. Without the use of proper machinery, it would be impossible to tend to the farm by herself.” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

“And… though Aunt Nurema has passed beneath the wings of Al’thindor, I still have friends here that I would miss. Even…” This time, the young woman blushed slightly, and Dox couldn’t help but smile a little, figuring that her counterpart had feelings for someone else in the colony. “But it would be impossible. Mother would… I couldn’t.”

Looking down, Dox smiled at her nervous counterpart, feeling almost like what she imagined a big sister might feel like. But she also felt the rush of the Bulukiya particles beginning to surge within her again, so she spoke quickly.

“Listen… I’ll be leaving here in a moment. My time is up, and I wish we could talk more. But… whatever your heart tells you, listen to it.” Dox said as she felt the energy rippling around her. And as she did, her counterpart stepped back slightly in surprise. “And I know you look at me and see your dream, but for what it’s worth… I’ve long imagined what it would have been like to have grown up here. Exactly as you are. So, in a way, we’re both each other’s dream.”

“As for Mother... she can be stubborn and intractable. But she loves you immensely. And… no matter how much you think she won’t understand that you have feelings for a woman…” Dox added as she began to fade, suspecting she knew what was troubling her double. “Just know… that NOTHING is impossible, Mnhei’shae.”

With a wry smile, she held up her right wrist and pulled her sleeve down to show off her Romulan ceremonial wedding bracelet. Watching as Dox vanished, the dark haired Mnhei’sahe’s eys were wide and she had a massive smile on her face.

For a moment, she just stood there, processing the impossible thing that had just happened. Then, after a moment, she heard her mother’s voice calling from the house. “Mnhie’sahe. It’s time for evening meal. Please bring the toolkit in with you, we need to fix the loose hatch on the cellar door before it gets to late.”

“On my way, Mother.” Mnhei’sahe ir-Saithe t’Aan said as she stepped over and latched the stall door for Khallianen and filled his feeding basin with grain from a bag in the corner. Then, she walked over to the door to the barn and looked up to the stars for a moment and pondered her dreams, watching them twinkle in the dark lavender sky of her home.

A shooting star streaked across the silent sky, leading those yearning eyes away from the stars and down to the small city in the distance, past the far edge of her family's farm. Smiling, she thought not of space, but of the young carpenter and sculptor she had been seeing in secret for almost two years. She thought of her dusty, brown hair that always smelled of the maithe wood she worked in at her shop in town. She thought of the way she smiled when Mnhei’sahe said her name. She thought of her, and not the stars.

It was the unusual counterpart that her mind went to next. The woman from those very same stars who vanished and what she told her. Smiling, Mnhei’sahe walked up to her home, deciding that tonight might be the night to finally talk to her mother.

To Be Continued…

“Come to order. Let the record show this is the testimony of Spaceman Ignatious Jones, transporter technician USS Constitution. Inspector, you may proceed.”

“Crewman Jones,” the military officer in the gold uniform said to the jumpsuit-clad enlisted spaceman. “Describe your encounter with the intruder on June 16th, 2270, in your own words.”

“Yessir,” the nervous crewman gulped, then he spoke, quietly. “It all started when this officer I’d never seen before came walking into transporter room 3, where I was on duty.”

“How do you know you’d never seen her before?” the inspector asked.

“Ohhh, you’d remember seeing her, sir.” On the viewscreen, a still image of the woman came onscreen, clad in a miniskirted gold commander’s uniform, striding purposefully with a tricorder in her hand. She was strikingly beautiful, with short blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a figure that seemed better suited to burlesque than space exploration.

“She was a commander, and there are only two of those on the ship, sir, and neither of them look like that, believe me. Plus her leggings were too dark, and there were those things on her collar. But I guess what really set me off was that she was talking to the air, sir. I mean,” the enlisted man hastened to add, “ it wasn’t that she didn’t know I was there, it’s that she was talking to somebody who wasn’t there.”

At the silent encouragement of the inspector, the transporter technician continued. “She seemed to be trying to convince whoever she was talking to, for them to get on the pad, and when she came over to the control panel was when I said something. She just started plugging the tricorder in and making adjustments to the controls like I’d never seen before. She turned the gain all the way up, instead of focusing it? Like she was picking up particles from within a wide area. Looked like, when we ran the diagnostics later, she had mapped the entire warp field bubble as the transporter parameters.”

“Well, I mean, she was a Commander. She said her name was Commander Rita Paris, and I asked if the transporter chief was okay with what she was doing here, and it looked kinda complex, might maybe we ought to call science before she pulled the plunger on whatever she was doing there. She explained that there had been an officer, a navigator that had been lost, a decade ago, on that pad. There was a way to save her, but she needed more power. As she was rerouting power, Security burst in and told her to stand away from the panel.”

“The whole time she kept working, trying to finish, until they came and grabbed her. She fought like a wildcat, pushing people away to try to finish what it was she was doing. As they dragged her away, she begged me to energize, to save that lost officer.” The young man took a sip of the glass of water that had been provided for him, then continued.

“When she was gone and it was all over, I went to disconnect the tricorder, but I figured Security or Science or somebody would want to see what she’d been doing. But... there was just...”

“There was something in her voice, sir.” Crewman Jones looked up at the Admiral, his eyes pleading. “She was desperate, SO desperate. I never seen a girl fight like she did, and those security guys are big, and she was like a pin-up model, but... when she begged me, I...” the young serviceman faltered at that, but then he brought his eyes up with resolve.

“I believed her, sir. If it gets me kicked out or demoted or whatever, I believed her, sirs.” Looking at each of the officers on the board of inquiry, the transporter technician defended his choice. “I believed her, and if it could save one of ours, I was willing to take a chance. She didn’t sound like a saboteur or a spy. She sounded... like an officer. An officer who’d do anything to rescue one of ours, sirs. So before I disconnected it or called Science, I reached out, and, like she’d asked, I... I energized.”

“That’s when the same woman... well, pretty much... appeared on transporter pad 3. She looked at her hands, then she looked around the transporter room. Then she looked at me. She asked me if I could see her, and I asked her if she was Commander Paris. But she had a Lieutenant’s stripe, and she started crying. Then her knees kinda gave out, so I went and caught her, and she held onto me and she cried. Security came back to do a follow-up report, and they were kinda surprised to find the same woman they had just hauled off to the brig holding on to me. She wouldn’t... it seemed like she couldn’t stop crying.”

“Turns out, by the time they got the second one carried to sickbay, the first one in the brig had vanished. Her cell was empty, and no trace of her was found. Except for the science officer and the engineer she locked in their quarters. But that was the first one, not the second one.”

“I mean, I heard a rumor that the first one was a time traveler, and the second one was the lost navigator? From 2259? The ghost of the Constitution?”

“Uh, is she okay?”

“I just... she seemed nice, you know? The one who wasn’t crying, from the future. The other one seemed nice too, the one that we saved. Lieutenant Paris. I hope she’s gonna be okay.”

The world began to swirl back into existence as Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox felt more than a bit of disorientation.

With her eyes shut tightly, her head was still spinning for a moment even though she was sure she wasn’t actually moving as she knelt down and held tight to the familiar, cold metal deck plating that felt like it was cutting into her knees. The leaps from a stationary location like her last leap to the colony of her birth, to a ship in motion, tended to cause a bit more disorientation. Ugh. You just HAVE to be really sensitive to being able to feel a ship in motion, don’t you? Dox thought to herself.

The sensation under her hands was cold as she struggled to open her eyes as nausea, worse this time than any leap before, began to quickly fade. This wasn’t her first leap to a ship, but something about the shimmy of this ship and the vibration of it’s engines seemed to affect her a bit more. As she focused on that shimmy and vibration, she heard a sound that was entirely too familiar and sent a chill down her spine.

It was a series of knocks and thuds that resonated up through the deck and made her arms shake ever so slightly as she finally opened her eyes. The lighting was dim, but she immediately recognized where she was. The cold, metal deck plate below her was a dark greenish, gray and the bulkhead to her side was a jury-rigged series of welded panels and old, rattling pipes that spat out the occasional burst of steam into the stale, damp, recirculated air.

“Bhudt'e…” she whispered, a Romulan expression of disbelief, as she stood up on unsteady feet. “Not here.”

She was standing in the cargo hold of the smuggling ship she had grown up on. The ship that was confiscated and presumably dismantled by Starfleet almost seventeen years ago. The Forager. Her former home and her former prison.

Looking around as her head cleared, the red-headed Romulan Starfleet officer didn’t see anyone, and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to exactly what was in store for her in this timeline. This was the place that she had first contemplated suicide in all those years ago, before betraying her mother to escape it. The anxiety had twisted itself into a tight knot in her stomach as she heard bootfalls in the corridor heading toward the door to the cargo hold.

Of course… Dox thought to herself, You never leap in far from yourself.

Looking around, the layout of the room came right back to her as she remembered the smugglers hatch under the deck plate in the corner that she used to hide in as a little girl. It was a grated, metal panel that would allow her to see whoever was coming. Stepping as quietly as she could, she gently lifted the panel.

Sighing, she slipped into the thankfully empty crawlspace that seemed much larger when she was a teenager. But she still fit as she quietly lowered the hatch back into place and slowed her breathing just as the thick double doors to the cargo bay opened.

“No, dammit. We moved those crates three weeks ago. I told you I made that deal with the Nausicaans we ran into.” Came her own voice, as in walked a version of herself that seemed somehow familiar and alien all at the same time. Through the grated hatch, Mnhei’sahe watched as a version of herself stomped through the bay towards a hidden panel against the far rear bulkhead that her mother had used to store weapons. The other her was wearing black boots, a dark green jumpsuit, and a head full of thick, wavy curls pulled into a long ponytail that extended to the middle of her back. And even though she was on the other side of the room, the young Romulan pilot could clearly see those very round, human ears she used to have.

“Well, that’s not exactly going to make the clients waiting for us on the other side of the zone happy, is it Mellie! This little scheme of yours is going to be expensive and how are we supposed to pay them?” Came a voice that Mnhei’sahe hadn’t expected to ever hear from again. When she hid in the hatch, she half expected to see her mother, not him. Not Declan Dox.

For most of her life, she believed the fat, redheaded human to have been her father. The truth was that the man she once bitterly believed to have simply been an absentee father was just a greedy smuggler her mother had used as the source of human DNA that had been applied in a genetic overlay to hide the identity of her true father. It made the fact that her future grandson was using that name all the more unusual.

With a raised eyebrow, Mnhei’sahe watched her counterpart and the man that she once believed to be her father standing together across the cargo bay. The man she hadn’t seen since she was a little girl.

“Calm down, Dad. I have it all under control.” Her counterpart said, which was a shock to the hidden Romulan to hear her own voice call someone ‘dad’.

“Then why are you going for a disruptor? Wait… what are you looking for?” Declan said, looking confused as he hiked up his slightly saggy pants up over his prodigious belly.

“I’m NOT looking for a disruptor.” She said as she pulled open the hatch that hid the rack of weapons only to lift a second hatch hidden behind the weapons and pull out a small metal case about the size of a tricorder. “I’m looking for this, Dad. This is what’s going to get us across the border. Would you just trust me for once.”

“What the hell is that, Mellie? What are you playing at?” Declan said as they started heading to the door and into the corridor back towards the bridge.

“You know the plan. You know what this could get us if it pays off. It’s going to stop all this penny-ante crap. If this works, no more scraping the bottom of the barrel, dad. This is our key to bigger things!”

As the door clanked shut again, Mnhei’sahe quielty made her way out of the hatch and went over to the weapon locker they had just been going through. The panel had locked as they left, and as she pulled on the small under latch, it refused to budge. But this ship had been her home for almost half of her life and she still knew it very well.

Feeling around the underside of the latch, she found what she was looking for. A series of small buttons. Six in all. And thinking about it for a moment, the muscle memory came back to her and she pressed the buttons in the sequence she still remembered. In the sequence her mother had trained her on for years, and the latch popped open.

“Thank Al’thindor you never changed the combination.” She whispered as she looked at the weapons. Some were ones she didn’t recognize. Newer models. But there were a few that she remembered even from back when she had lived here. A small greyish green modified Romulan Disruptor that she knew well. Taking it off the rack, it felt as familiar in her hand as it did the last time she held it over sixteen years ago.

She hated how familiar it felt as she closed the hatch and went over to the main door. Taking a breath, she knew the ship too well and knew that from the bridge, there was no way she could open the large, heavy doors without being heard. So she thought about it. Her curiosity was piqued, and while there was a part of her that considered just going back to her hiding space and waiting this leap out, she had to know why she was here. She had to know what had happened here.

In everything that she saw and heard, the one thing she didn’t see or hear was any evidence of her mother. But as she thought of how to get out of the cargo bay without being noticed, she heard a familiar hum, and within seconds, was engulfed in a stream of green light swirls. She was being beamed. ”Imirrh…”

”...lhhse!” She called out, cursing in Romulan as she reappeared in what she recognized as her old room. Standing in front of her, was Declan with a disruptor raised and charged.

“Told you it was a good idea to put sensors on the weapons lockers. Ever since we had that damn Ferengi on board that kept trying to… what the F***!!”

“What is it? Sensors said a damn… Romulan?” The raspy voice Dox knew as her own replied as the doppelganger stepped into view in the narrow doorway behind Declan Dox, weapon also raised.

Dox had the repulsor she had stolen raised as well, but the human smuggler didn’t seem overly concerned. “Is this part of your clever ass plan, Mellie? What the hell is going on? We’ve got a goddamn Warbird en route to meet us on the other side of the Neutral zone in half an hour and… I’m getting tired of you leaving me out of the details of whatever you’re playing at, girl? Who the f**k is this!?”

“Dad, this has nothing to do with my plan. I got a deal set up with a Warbird Commander to escort us to Romulus. The most high end Kali-Fal. Cloaking tech. Disruptors. You KNOW the plan, I’m not keeping anything from you. This score will have us set for life. I… this... “ The human-looking Dox said, confused as she raised her own weapon high, shouting at the strange woman in the Starfleet uniform.

“You! Talk! Who are you?! What is this? You tell us willingly or we stun your ass, strap you to a chair and beat the truth out of you.” She shouted from outside what used to be her room as a child. The Forager didn’t have a brig or any other cell, but her childhood room could be locked from the outside, making it as ideal a prison cell as anything else.

“What, you can’t tell who I am, Melanie? I’m you. Put down your weapons and we can talk more on that.” Dox replied, only now noticing that this other version of her didn’t have even the slightest hint of the accent she worked at covering up.

“Yeah, no. Sorry. But I don’t care how good of a job the Tal’Shiar did trying to… make you look like me… or how you figured out what we’re doing, but the weapon you stole is biometrically locked. It won’t work for anyone but me or him. So… what leverage did you have, again?” The human-looking Dox said with a slightly smug smirk that only partly covered up her obvious anxiety.

“Biometrically locked. How inconvenient.” Dox said sarcastically as she squeezed the trigger of the weapon set to stun, and with a burst of green light, Declan collapsed unconscious and fell backwards right into his so-called daughter. The overweight, human smuggler’s full bulk flumped into Melanie, knocking her back against the deck as her weapon fell out of her grip and across the platform to the other end of the corridor.

“DAMMIT!” She shouted as she tried pulling herself out from underneath the stunned Declan, only to look up into the glowing green business end of a disruptor.

“Like I said. I’m kreldanni you. I know this was modified with biometrics and with a stun setting.” Dox said, with narrow eyes as she stepped out of the small chamber and kicked both weapons even further away. “Now… let’s swap and we can continue this little talk.”

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

From inside the locked chamber, Declan Dox slammed his pudgy fists against the small plastisteel window on the door, his petulant shouting barely audible from the bridge of the Forager. And on that bridge, up the rusted metal steps, Mnhei’sahe looked at the familiar chamber where she had learned to fly and shook her head at the condition it was in.

She hadn’t stopped to really notice how sloppy the cargo bay had been, but now that she had a few moments to process it, she realized that the ship that she grew up in had truly started falling apart. Which answered at least one of the questions she had. Clearly, Jaeih Dox had not been here in a long time as the stern, Romulan taskmistress had her young daughter keep the ship in pristine condition. Or, as clean and orderly as such a ship could ever be kept.

In the navigators chair, her human looking counterpart was very effectively strapped down with a full roll’s worth of sealant tape from the cargo bay. “I’ll get out of this, and when I do, I will kill you, you Romulan piece of…”

“Hnaev?” Dox replied from the pilot's seat with a raised eyebrow, noticing a slight lack of recognition from her counterpart. How long has Mother not been here that she doesn’t know that? Dox thought as she turned the seat to face her counterpart, disruptor in hand.

“Draomn mnekha, ke'rhin. Narihu Mnhei’sahe arhem, Viduus au paeti. Veisa notht?” Mnhei’sahe said, in what should have been both women’s native tongues. Across from her, the very human looking woman wrinkled her brow slightly looking even more confused as she seemed to be trying to remember the language.

“Sorry. It’s fed standard or nothing. You turned off the Universal Translator, Romulan.” She replied with a hiss.

“I said, ‘Good morning, fellow Romulan. My name is Mnhei’sahe, pleased to meet you. How are you?” Mnhei’sahe said plainly. As she did, there was the slightest moment of recognition at the name that caused her doppleganger to tilt her head slightly.

“I’m not one of you. I’m human, thank you very much. Now what are you supposed to be? Why do you look like me? What the hell…” She shouted before Mnhei’sahe cut her off.

“I am you. I only have a couple more minutes here, so long story short, I arrived here from an alternate timeline, and with any luck, I won’t be here long. But while I’m here, I do have a few questions.” Mnhei’sahe said, leaning forward in the chair. “Such as, where is Jaeih? Where’s your mother?”

“What are you talking about? My mother is named Aileana. Aileana Dox. She’s from the Mars colony. Haven’t seen her in… twenty five some odd years.” She replied, a seemingly practiced calm on her face. But no matter how divergent this version of her seemed, Mnhei’sahe could see through her own tells when lying easily enough.

“Nice. Is that what you tell people so they won’t look at your DNA close enough to notice the alterations. The damage?” Mnhei’sahe said, looking her other self over. “You know it’s damage, right? It’s more than halved your lifespan. Or do you not actually know?”

“Know… what? W… what are you talking about?” the other Dox said as she wriggled slightly, testing the tape that had her stuck very well in place, her hands stuck fast to the armrest of the seat. The expression and tone seemed to indicate that she wasn’t lying, though the Hera’s Dox couldn’t be certain, so she pressed the issue.

“Where is your Mother, Melanie? You’re real mother? And what’s Declan doing here?” Dox asked calmly as her counterpart’s eyes narrowed and a scowl settled on her face.

“He’s my father… our father… if I believed that you are who you say you are, Romulan.” The round eared Dox hissed loudly, still struggling and shaking the chair she was strapped to.


At that, Dox narrowed her eyes as she watched herself and saw the tells she knew so well. This version might have had a lot more experience as a con artist, but Mnhei’sahe knew her own tells. “You know, don’t you? You know he isn’t your father.”

Scowling, the woman called Melanie glared across at her smug double. “Yes. I found out 8 months ago. I was making a drop at a Klingon smuggling outpost and had to go through their scanners while Declan stayed on ship. They were… a bit more advanced than I was used to and I found out… a lot.”

“As it turned out, the Klingons had detailed files stolen from Romulus and when they ran my DNA through the security sweep, it told me I had three sets of DNA. My mother’s, an overlay of Declan’s human DNA and my Father’s. A high ranking Tal’Shiar Commander.”

“Dralath tr’Rul.” Mnhei’sahe added, which elicited a bit of surprise from the counterpart.

“Dralath tr’Rul… who was quite interested, it turned out, for information about the smuggler who gave up his… intended... to Breen mercenaries years earlier.” Melanie replied with a sneer. “Mother had a bounty on her from the Romulans for her crimes there, and dead paid off as good as alive. He sold her out for thirty five percent.”

“Declan?” Dox asked with a raised eyebrow, which was answered only by an angry snear and a side eye down the corridor where they human smuggler and the man that had, in this reality, betrayed Jaeih years earlier, was locked up.

Piece by piece, Dox was getting a better view of the picture here and, feeling that now familiar surge of energy inside of her, got up and put a small utility knife in her counterpart’s hand. “I’m guessing that’s who is coming to meet you. And I’m guessing Declan has no idea you’re selling him out to your real father. What’s in the case?”

“The flight logs that show Declan’s meeting with the Breen mercenaries twenty five years ago.” Melanie hissed. “The proof of his guilt. That… and my own blood samples and genome information to prove who I am to him.”

From the chair, Melanie tried to spit at her Romulan counterpart, but Mnhei’sahe stepped back out of the way, shaking her head. “Just a bit of advice… if you think you’re really going to scam your way into the house of Rul… you have no idea what you’re in for, Melanie. If you think I could see through you, our Grandmother will eat you alive.”

With a flutter of blue light, Mnhei’sahe was gone. For a moment, there was only silence before the human-looking woman chuckled. Melanie sat in the chair, beginning to work at the sealant tape and muttered back to where her counterpart had just been, in perfect Romulan, “Rhifv Areinnye daeohre.”

“When Hell Freezes.”

To Be Continued…

Thex felt all the breath leave her lungs as the Bulukiya particles washed over her. She could feel herself being ripped from this time and scattered to the solar winds untl with a thump that echoed around her and in the room.

What appeared to be heavy fog filled the room as the andoiran picked herself up from the ground. This appears to be the Hera engineering room, but something was very wrong.The air felt cold even for her and the eerie green light

She missed the claw like arm emerging from the fog to grab her own. Without thinking she pulled away yet the claw was to strong. It tore in deep leaving a large bloody scar on her arm as it almost served at the elbow.

The face said arm was attached to emerged from the green fog and Thex screamed at what she saw. Her own lifeless dead eyes stared back at her one replaced by a borg implant.

Desperately trying to pull away from her with the lifeless eyes the blue girl felt the particles overcoming her as she once more faded.

Aboard the borg cube the drone once know as Thex paused for a moment as it wondered what had happened. Filing away the event to be investigated later it returned to it’s regeneration bay. A lost sole in this dead galaxy.

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

With another thump Thex felt herself materialise again on another cold floor. She was sobbing from the pain of her nearly severed arm as she managed to stagger to her feet. She was standing in the middle of a twisted version of the hera’s bridge. In an odd choice the whole bridge was dimly lit other than the consols which seemed to be… was that a lens flare?

The twisted versions of her ship mates finally looked up from there consols. Just as terrifying as the borg they glared at her in the strange blue and gold jumpsuit uniforms. Her own was staring at her. A morphed pale thing with what appeared to be horns coming from her chin.

Instead of the normal reaction to a clearly injured stranger appearing on the bridge of a federation starship the twisted version of the captain stood from her chair pointed and yelled. “ Kill that £$£$£$£ thing.”

Thex instincts kicked in as she sprinted for the turbolift. Even with one of her arms nearly severed she was faster dogging round some strange creature that looked like a klingon had mated with one of the orcs out of the holodeck.

Slamming against the turbolift wall she slammed her hand onto the control panel closing the doors. She could hear them burning through the door with phasers as she felt the universe fading for a second time.

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

Thex head span as she found herself becoming solid once more. Fortunately for her she appeared to be alone in a dimly lit version of the Hera’s sickbay. With her heavily bleeding arm and her head beginning to spin she blundered over to one of the biobeds.

Pulling the medical kit from under the cabinet her fingers gripped the emergency field dressing that she began to wrap around her arm before injecting herself with the painkiller.

The sound of someone quietly sobbing made her lookup. As her eyes moved over to the source of the sound at which her heart stopped. She recognized her golden clad friend anywhere or at least this reality’s version of her. The earth woman was sobbing over a biobed were someone lay draped in a white sheet.

She recognized the blue hand dropping out of the hand. It was her’s covered in blue and black blood. This must have been back during the black blood crisis. One where she didn’t make it. A faint glimmer shone in the darkness as the hera’s blue-eyed engineer as to her horror she saw the scalpel in her friend's hand. One that was pressed against her neck.

She could feel herself beginning to fade again, but she knew she had to do something. Running through the sickbay she slapped the scalpel out of this rita's hand before wrapping her in a massive bear hug.

“ It’s not your fault Rita it was never your fault.” She spoke to the very startled version of her friend who stared at her before returning the hug as Thex faded back into the universe. With one final “ It not your fault.”

And with that, she was gone.

So it’s June 16th, right? Will’s Birthday, exactly. It’s his 35th birthday, and so of course we’re having a big to-do, and Daddy’s invited over all of the best officers and it’s going to be a lovely fleet party, so long as Admiral Yamamoto doesn’t bring along his horrid third wife Buffy. That woman is an absolute nightmare in Louis Feragamos, and could she buy a dress that fits already?

Since Will’s actually home for this one, it’s really going to be a super big deal. Matthew’s home from the Brentwood Academy, and he’s growing up to be tall and handsome, just like his father. Cliffy’s been underfoot in the kitchen of course, but I keep shooing him out to go mingle with the menfolk. He always gets shy around big parties like this, especially when it’s fleeters. Not really sure why that is, but he needs to get over it. Then there’s Malcolm, of course, the little scamp, and dear little Thomas was everywhere being his usual irrepressible self.

At 17:45, I’d had my cup of coffee- might have to eat some of the finger foods later, so I had to watch the calories now, you know? After four kids Daddy was quick to point out when it looked like I was regaining that baby weight. Now I had fifteen minutes before the guests who show up an hour early started arriving for the party at eight. Which wasn’t a problem- the walk-in cooler was stocked, the platters and table decor were all arranged, a gift table was near the door for all the bottles of scotch that would be presented as birthday gifts. Everything was prepared. Rita Decker, on deck and on duty. There was no way that this party wouldn’t be a smashing success. Especially once everyone heard Will’s big news. I could barely contain myself I was so proud. Practically beside myself.

Then, as I stepped into the pantry, just exactly that happened.


I mean, you should have seen her HAIR.


It looked like that rat’s nest Matthew’s hair grows into by the end of the summer. And that figure! I mean, I might have indulged in a bite or two of cake tonight. This girl looked like she’d eaten the entire bakery! I mean sure, you know, I’m ‘gifted’. But this girl looked like she could feed a village! And that fat butt, those thick thighs. And to top it all off, she was wearing a UNIFORM. Can you believe that? In command gold, no less! Same as Daddy and Will!

Well, except for the fact that this one barely covered that big round rear end of hers. I swear, the girl WAS her own chair.

So the funniest thing about all of this is how SHE’S looking at ME with this sort of shock and horror look. Right? Like, you popped up in MY pantry looking like THAT and I’M the one who looks out of place? I mean, it was me, but I barely even recognized her she was so fat! She’s shaking her head like she doesn’t know what to say, so I figure I’ll fill in the conversation for her. I start to inhale nice and deep to wind up for a scream that’ll put all hands on deck. That’s when she steps in and clamps her fat fingers over my mouth, her thumb squishing off my nose as she pins me up against the shelves.

Apparently she knew what I was winding up for. Go figure.

“Look. I’m you,” she whispers in my face. “I’m Rita Paris, I’m from another dimension. I’m here by accident, and I think I’ll be here for about a half an hour. I come in peace, I mean you no harm. If I let you go, do you promise not to scream?”

When she took her thumb off my nose, I inhaled experimentally, then exhaled, nodding. I mean, she had my eyes. Same as Daddy and Albert and the boys, but those... I know my own eyes, and I saw them looking back at me. So I believed her.

Besides, it’s me. What weird thing doesn’t happen to Rita?

Taking her hand away from my mouth, she let me up and gave me a little room. As she looked around, her eyebrows furrowed. “Is this... the pantry in Daddy’s old house, on Bleeker Street?”

“What did you do to your HAIR?!?” I asked, covering the far more relevant ground. I kid you not, she runs her fingers through it just like Albert does and she grins at me. That’s when I figure out that this version of me is a lesbian, just like Daddy always said would happen if I shipped out on a starship. Then I realize she’s looking over my body, and suddenly I am really uncomfortable in the pantry.

“Okay, so, sure, tell you what, I’m hosting a party tonight. It’s Will’s 35th, so-”

“Will? Will Decker?” she askes me, with a little surprised smile.

“Yes, I’m married to Captain Will Decker,” I replied, maybe a little more haughty than I should have. Plus I was spilling the beans about Will’s promotion, but for some reason I kind of felt the need to rub it in her face. Probably because she was wearing Commander’s stripes on her sleeve. EXACTLY. Just like Will and Daddy. She looked like a gender-bent version of Albert, and it was just...ugh!

So.

I tell her this, and her face gets this haunted look, and I swear I could see her doing the math. When she asks me for the date I’m rolling my eyes. “June 16th, 2270. What, are you from the future, too?”

“As a matter of fact, I am... oh no, Rita...” Right then Malcolm was chasing Cliffy through the kitchen, and her eyes get big as saucers as she turns back to me and I can see tears welling up in her eyes. No, real tears! “Kids... you have kids, oh my stars, Rita...”

“Okay, look crazy lady from another time and dimension, I don’t have time to play Dr. Who with you right now-” I started to say as I start to march out of the pantry, before she grabs me with those beefy arms and swings me back around again like I’m some kind of rag doll. The woman was an Amazon, I tell you.

“2270.... He’s getting the Enterprise, isn’t he? They’re giving him command of the Enterprise, and he’s going to see her through the refit, assemble the most diverse crew in all of Starfleet and be prepared to lead them all to the stars, and Jim Kirk is going to use a threat to Earth to take it all away from him, and... Will isn’t coming back from that mission, Rita.” She tells me all of this, and she’s still holding me by my shoulders and shaking me a little bit. I feel kind of dazed, like when Will kisses me.

“So... whatever you do, stop him from taking the posting. If you can’t stop him from taking the posting... crap... if he’s not there Kirk will destroy the Enterprise with the phasers in the wormhole, and while the Earth might dodge V’Ger, it won’t survive the whale probe. Damn... time travel really is a thorny path. Do what you will with it, Rita, but... I thought you ought to know.”

Now, can you believe she has the nerve to look contrite after throwing out all that nonsense at me? Kirk taking back the Enterprise and Will dying on a mission. “Fiddlesticks. Clearly wherever YOU come from, you never figured out to settle down and get a husband,” I said as she held up her ring finger and, no kidding, there was this ugly grey band, like a man’s, but like a dove grey.

No stone. Right? How weird is that? Lesbians.

“Okay fine, but if your name’s still Paris you didn’t marry Will. So this is a different universe with different rules, and you don’t KNOW anything. You might know what happened in YOUR timeline, but this is MINE. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like for you to keep all of that to yourself and not ruin my husband’s party. Mostly by staying in here and staying out of sight.”

“Wait... if this is a birthday party, that means the fleet’s going to be here, which means... Daddy’s here, isn’t he?” The way she asked. it was like she was looking for a fight, but sad at the same time. Which was weird, in all the rest of this weird episode.

That was when I told her that technically he still owns the house, so yes, he’s here, and I could see there was a lot was going on in there. “Haven’t you seen Daddy lately? Too busy out in space being a lesbian...?”

“No... no, I wasn’t kidding about the future. I haven’t seen Daddy in years... do I even want to? Should I?” she started asking herself, and I answered for her.

“No. No, you should stay in here and think about that for, oh, maybe another half an hour until you astral project or beam or phase shift or whatever you do to get out of my life,” I said, backing out of the pantry as she started pacing. “I’ve got to go answer the door, so would you excuse me?”

As it turned out the doorbell was ringing, and it was that dashing Lieutenant Stivers, bringing over a courier pouch for Daddy. I sent him up to the study, then broke up a fight between Matthew and Cliffy, then got the boys to go upstairs to get themselves inspection ready. I made sure Daddy was alright and Will was still working in his study. By the time Lieutenant Stivers was coming downstairs, I had actually forgotten the overfed version of me was in the pantry.

I guess I didn’t expect her to stray far from the food.

It was weird that Stivers kept checking over his shoulder, but I’d found a stain on the parquat floor that wouldn’t do with company coming over, and I just sort of absently waved. Then a few guests arrived, and I was in hostess mode, and I forgot all about her.

Until nearly a half hour later, when I found my fat twin talking to my brother Albert. Standing there pretty as you please, a glass of good scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other, like she was an officer and a gentleman. With those feedbags in front, right? I couldn’t make out what they were saying, because right then that horrid Buffy Yamamato found me to pester me about who had done the tile mosaic in the downstairs bathroom. By the time I finally got free of that horrorshow, Albert was giving lady lumps a hug- a hug, can you believe it? She had headed out the door by the time I reached him, but when I did, he was watching after her.

“Albert? Do you know who that was?” I asked suspiciously, and he shook his head as he grinned.

“Damned if I know,” Albert says, the forever Lieutenant. “But something about her, y’know? Pretty girl.”

Ew.

I let that one pass because that’s why I pay a therapist, and I find my twin and a half out in the backyard, looking up at the sunset through the trees.

“Thanks for letting me visit, Rita. This was.... Nice. To see everybody again, to reconnect with the old house, the skyline I remember.... Thank you.” She turns around, and she’s got tears in her eyes. Some rough and tough space girl, I figure. “I wasn’t kidding... I live in the year 2397. I haven’t seen the family in years. Daddy’s still a stubborn sexist pig, and so’s Albert. But still... it was nice seeing them again. Thanks for that.”

“You’re a great hostess, Rita Decker.”

Then she’s gone. Just, like, vanishes- one second there, the next second not. So I shake my head and I go back inside, and someone’s spilled on the couch and needs a rag, and Daddy’s out of ice in the study by now, and Albert’s probably trying to corner some pretty ensign and the boys are roughhousing again.

But it’s fine, I’ve got this.

Rita Decker on deck- extradimensionally recognized great hostess.

Reality coalesced around Mnhei’sahe Dox again as the Bulukiya particles saturating her body moved her to another timeline with the same telltale moment of disorientation as the increasingly more weary Romulan pilot blinked for a few moments.

Looking around, she wasn’t immediately sure WHERE she was this time, aside from that she appeared to be on a space station of some sort. Or, at least, it was no ship class she was familiar with. She was standing in what appeared to be the corridor of a docking arm, based on the shimmy of the decks beneath her feet and the general construction, which immediately brought back memories of her time on the Smuggling ship she had been raised on. Taking a breath, she had just been to a reality back on that particular ship and she hoped this wasn’t a repeat performance.

As she walked down towards the open hach at the end, she could hear the sounds of bustling individuals and a concourse or promenade of some kind, and the location was beginning to seem familiar. But the one thing she was sure it wasn’t, was a Starfleet station.

Taking off her tunic as she reached the hatch, she folded it up in reverse and tucked it under her arm, hoping that the black undershirt and pants were nondescript for her to escape notice wherever she was. But the only thing she was fairly certain of, is that she would be encountering a version of herself before too long.

Looking out, she had been right. Outside the docking hatch, she was clearly in the promenade of a space station of some sort. The architecture wasn’t immediately familiar, but as she looked around, she began to realize why. Wherever she was, appeared to be a mishmash of building styles from places that all seemed familiar to her. The hatch itself looked like a Vulcan docking port she remembered stopping at as a child. To her left, the bustling area seemed partly constructed from a Cardassian station. Some pieces and parts looked like Starfleet construction, while others were Romulan, Breen and even Klingon. It was like a galactic bazaar.

The promenade was packed with people, seemingly from all over the galaxy. Every kind of being she had ever seen was wandering to and fro. An Andorian and a Trill she couldn’t quite see the faces of passed in front of her, and a group of Human Starfleet officers were down the corridor to her right, laughing.

Well, wherever this is, my uniform shouldn’t be a problem. Dox though, pulling her tunic back on, though leaving it unfastened as she slowly stepped out into the crowd. The promenade was very busy and the sounds of the crowds reminded her of the kinds of ports she and her mother stopped in often when she was younger growing up on the Forager. There was lots of drinking, dirty dealing and general activity all around her.

After a few minutes, she also noticed that more than a few faces seemed to stop on her’s as they passed. Which brought the Starfleet pilot’s mind back to where in this din her counterpart was. The answer came quickly as she heard the sounds of a fight breaking out on the mezzanine directly above her.

Stepping back to look up, there was a raucous crowd chanting and cheering for something happening in the bar on that upper level. Seconds later, there was what sounded like the sound of a cracking bone as the crowd seemed to call out “OOOH!” in near-unison. Then, stumbling back HARD, a fairly large Chalnoth with an unkempt mane of reddish brown hair doubled back, flipping over the railing and falling back to the deck right in front of Dox with a loud thud.

Moaning, the large warrior’s lower tusk-like teeth had been broken, and he was lying prone and defeated. Then she heard that familiar sound of her own voice coming from the bar on the upper level. “I kreldanni TOLD you not to touch me, Heqquis! Remember THAT... next... time...?”

Pausing, mid sentence, the counterpart came up to the railing and looked down to meet Dox’s eyes. She was a good degree leaner in the waist, with a somewhat more developed musculature overall. She was wearing black cargo pants, a black tank top and what Dox immediately recognized as her own favorite green, denim jacket. On the left sleeve of the jacket, appeared to be an ARTAN patch. Her nose was bleeding a light stream of green and her hair was significantly shorter, in an almost buzz cut that made her already large-for-a-Romulan ears stick out even more.

“Kreldanni Areinnye!” The other her muttered from the mezzanine, cursing in Romulan as she locked eyes on her Starfleet counterpart.

A few moments later, Dox had made her way up to the bar on the mezzanine as the assembled crowd seemed just as confused as her counterpart. Said counterpart, however, had made her way to the bar and was slamming down a shot of what smelled like a poor vintage of Kali-Fal.

As Dox walked over, she hesitantly sat on the stool next to herself, which caused the short haired counterpart to groan and sigh audibly. “Well, this is new.” She said, her voice a bit more gravely than Dox’s own raspy tones.

“Pardon?” Dox asked with a raised eyebrow. As she did, the weary looking woman in the green jacket with an Artan patch on her sleeve help up two fingers and tossed a thumb at Dox.

“You know. You. Looking like that.” The haggard Dox grumbled her reply as two shots of pale, blue Kali-Fal were slapped down on the bar, and without missing a beat, she picked it up and tossed it back. “I don’t have time for this Hnaev, so get to the point, please? What do you want?”

Clearly a bit confused, Dox looked around a little to notice that the patrons were no longer paying any attention to the unusual scene. “I… I don’t want anything, really. Except… I don’t really know what’s happening. Where are we? What are we doing here?”

“We’re doing... whatever I want. Isn’t that the rule? Isn’t that how it works.” The other Dox said as she grabbed the other shot, slammed it back, got off her stool and stepped right into Dox’s face. Inexplicably, she seemed to be a good couple of inches taller as she scowled at her not-quite-double. “Storytime is over. I have work to do, so tell me what you want or get out of my way.”

“I just want to know where we…” Dox started to say, before the other her brought her fist up with great speed and connected across Dox’s jaw. The world went black for what felt like only a second as the red-headed pilot felt cold deckplating pressing into her cheek. Shaking her head pushed herself up off of the deck of the mezzanine with wobbly knees.

“Imirrhlhhse…” She muttered, cursing to herself as she looked around, didn’t see her double anymore, and the crowd was pressed tight in every direction, seeming to pay very little notice to the short, Romulan woman who had been on the floor.

Seeing an empty chair, Dox climbed up on it to try and find where her double had gone, but she could barely make it over the crowd of faces that seemed to get denser the more she tried to see over them. Being nudged by a tall, blonde woman, Dox almost fell of the chair before quickly hopping down and trying to see where the woman vanished to. “Rita? No, It couldn’t be.”

Backing up to the bar, Dox rubbed her sore cheek which stung to the touch as she muttered to herself. “Fvadt... how long was I down for?”

“Just for a minute,” replied the bartender as he hustled to open a few bottles and deliver them to the waitstation. “But the redhead, she doan’ like nobody, so be glad she only hit you once and didn’t break nothin. You want a drink? On the house. Maybe some ice for that shiner you’re gettin?”

Turning with a bit of a start at the voice of the bartender, Dox paused for a moment as she processed what he said. “Uh… yes. Some ice would help. And, yes. A Kali-fal, please. So, you know her? She’s in here a lot?”

“She is in here a lot... drinkin’, skirt-chasin’, startin’ fights. So you got me- what’s in a Kali-fal?” The bartender smiled, his all too human looks bland and uninteresting as his job. He looked like a Security officer you’d expect to see at Starfleet Command.

Raising a curious eyebrow, Dox sat down at the barstool. “Romulan Ale. What she was just drinking before she hit me.”

“Rest a’da universe that don’t speak Romulan just calls it ‘Romulan Ale,” the bartender muttered under his breath, stepping off to fetch the bottle of pale blue ale.

Looking over her shoulder again at the crowd, something was bothering Dox that she couldn’t quite put her finger on as she scanned the room again. “Any idea where she went, then?”

“That one? Who knows? Could be Iceland or the Philippines or Hastings or...or this place!” The bartender smiled, revealing a dazzling array of white even teeth, which seemed somewhat out of place on his face. Although the smile somehow looked familiar to Mnhei’sahe as warning alarms started going off in her head, even as he poured her drink.


Watching him pour, she didn’t know what specifically was bothering her, but nothing about where she was felt quite right. “Those are all on Earth. I doubt she’s going there if she can avoid it. So… ‘this place’? What exactly IS this place. Where are we?”

“This? Worldship Bar and Grill,” the bartender gestured about grandly, his arms wide as if to encompass his description. “Best burger this side of Vega, best liquor without tariffs in the galaxy. Truck stop, intergalactic hookup hotel and smuggler’s paradise. I guess you ain’t from these parts, neh?”

“You could.... Say that.” Dox said, freezing mid sentence as she took in what the bizarre bartender was saying. The beleaguered Romulan knew the term ‘Worldship’ very well. Flying the Hera to and from the massive, planet sized realm of the extradimensional being known as Log’yerm/// was one of Dox’s first assignments as the mighty starship’s pilot. And it had also been her first encounter with the truly fantastic.

Looking at the unusually nondescript, seemingly human bartender that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, she began to form a frightening suspicion in her mind. His rhythmic speech pattern and turn of phrase. Those oddly perfect teeth. The vague way he answered questions. It all felt far too familiar, reminding Dox of the first so-called ‘cosmic entity’ she had encountered in the corridors of the Hera.

The entity she still, in spite of herself and her wealth of experiences since, feared to speak the name of.

Doing her best to conceal her mounting anxiety, Dox continued, though the color leaving her cheeks betrayed her. “So… about that drink.”

“Here ya go. Top shelf for the out of towner,” the bartender set down a tumbler, then his eyes met hers as he poured the kali-fal flawlessly. “So... what’s your story, morning glory?”

Talking the tumbler, Dox held it up as if to drink it, but didn’t just yet as she glanced around the bar again. The faces of the crowd all seemed somehow familiar, but never specific. The hodge podge of architecture. The mercurial mannerisms of the bartender. And that both the bartender and her other self both used the same word, which was ringing in her mind: ‘Story’.

“My story... is that I’m just passing through from somewhere extremely far away. Other than that, it’s likely not all that interesting to hear…” Dox paused with the drink at her lips as she met his eyes, resolve replacing the momentary fear. “... unless one was the type to collect such things? Stories.”


“Awwww, now you know I doan collect stories. I AM stories.” As he said the words, the bartender spun once in place, on his heel, and when he stopped, he was no longer the drab and boring bartender, but the dapper-dressed, long limbed and brightly smiling god of stories, Anansi.

“Thanks to you, the one I know at least, I’m the god of dreams and stories now. So her story got real interesting, and she got everything she ever wanted. Happily ever after, as it were,” the mahogany-skinned trickster god smiled benevolently, fluttering his lashes.

“That didn’t exactly look ‘happy’ to me.” Dox replied, putting the glass back on the bar as she frowned. As she looked at him, she took a breath and thought about their encounter. How he appeared to her and Yeoman Dedjoy in the corridors of the Hera, offering to dig up all of her long forgotten secrets and give her all the answers she had wanted about her own past in exchange for the neural sensory expansion helmet that Mona Gonadie had invented. The device designed to help her navigate the swirling nebula that surrounded the original Worldship almost two years ago now. The helmet that somehow opened up her mind’s perceptions, drawing him to her.

He wanted the helmet, and offered a reward for her if she gave it to him. And when she said no, he forced his way into her mind and pulled out that reward anyway. The childhood memories that she had repressed of the surgeries that had been performed to hide her as half-human. The memories of her true name that had been taken away.

The experience had almost killed her, but that wasn’t directly caused by Anansi, but rather by the nanobots in her head that had been put there to help her mind process the input from the helmet that had malfunctioned when Anansi went diving in her brain.

Sitting there, Dox remembered all of this, and also remembered the threats she had faced since him. She had since stepped onto a much larger, cosmic playing field, and refused to hold on to fear or let it control her now.

“She gave you the helmet, didn’t she? You made your deal and she took it?” Dox asked flatly.

“That she did. Unlike your story, I see. Oooooh, you scared a’me? All I ever did was tell your story, give you da trooth. For dat you afraid of me? Hmf,” the gangly god of stories poured himself a shot of the kali-fal, and tossed it back with a wince.

Immediately, Dox wanted to protest and snap back that she wasn’t afraid of him. After all, in the time since then, she had seen and experienced so much that made her memory of what frightened her seem small in comparison. She had been in the mind of a Titan and once held a piece of that being within her. She had traveled through both time and now the multiverse. She had stood beside Goddesses and dined with Death herself. She had ridden on the back of Death’s spectral mount, traveling with her beyond the limits of the known galaxy and back in the process. She had seen the other side. But still, on some level, she hadn’t let go of that fear of the being before her, clinging to it like a child and she didn’t quite understand why. But she also knew lying about it would do her no good.

“I suppose I am. You showed me the truth against my will. Entered my mind without my permission which, while not your direct fault, caused a particularly painful and damaging reaction in my brain. When I continued to deny you your prize, you did not exactly take it well.” Dox said, working a first to maintain her calm before it began to set in for real as she spoke. In finding her calm, she made sure to center herself enough to focus on the mental defenses that she had learned and developed under Sonak’s training. Anything she gave the God of Stories now, would be her own choice. “But that was then, I suppose.”

Picking the glass back up, she took a swig of the shot and nodded at the being that she was considering now with new eyes.

“I ain’t mad. You got your story, and you made your choices. If I hadn’t told you that story, I wonder who you’d be now?” the trickster god replied. “Ain’t you learned yet that no matter what anybody tells you, most people don’t like the truth. It HURTS. The truth is never easy, it ain’t never pleasant and usually it comes in a big dose you got to swallow all at once, or it’ll choke ya. But I think mebbe somewhere along the way, you mighta figured that out fo yoself.”

Polishing the glass he’d taken a shot out of with a rag, Anansi then poured another shot and slid it down the bar to another patron, who downed it without hesitation.

“I did. I learned a lot of truths since then, and I’m learning even more uncomfortable ones now.” Dox replied, nursing her drink and realizing she was now just casually talking to the being she once feared so much. The red-headed Romulan looked down at the now empty barstool where her counterpart had been sitting as she considered what little she did know of the woman, before turning back to Anansi.

“So, she gave you the helmet and that helped you become the God of DREAMS?” She said plainly. “Is that what made it possible to make her dreams happen. I mean… this isn’t a dream, but it isn’t quite real in the traditional sense, either. This is… this came from her mind, didn’t it? It’s why everyone feels familiar, I’m figuring.”

“It is... at least, this place. Part real, part dream, definitely outside of reality, but close enough to cross over when she wishes,” Anamnsi replied with that devilish grin. “That’s why everybody looks familiar- they from yo own mind. Out there, the universe is what it always was. She just likes comin in here to start trouble and complain about her life. Seems gettin everything you ever wanted ain’t quite the same as havin’ it. Leastways to hear her tell it.”

Taking the last swig of her drink, Dox looked at the empty glass and raised a brow slightly. “I didn’t exactly get the chance to ask her about it, but I know what I saw.”

Looking back at Anansi, Dox pondered her own life’s paths and nodded slightly as she considered it all. “I remember where I was in my head when we met. I was a lot angrier and a lot less happy with the path my life was taking. Fvadt… I was a few months away from just quitting Starfleet when I came aboard the Hera. She was wearing an Artan patch, so I have to guess that she picked that easier path. That illusion of freedom.”

“But she keeps coming here… punishing herself for realizing her dream life wasn’t what she really wanted.” Dox finished her train of thought. In truth, much of it was just her working through what the God of Stories had already said, but without her counterpart still being here, she had to process it all second hand.

“So… you’re the God of DREAMS now? What does that mean?” Dox asked, genuinely curious.

“Dreams are just stories that ain’t happened yet is all... it’s all interconnected,” the God of Stories explained, humoring the request as it interested him. “So really not much of a change... old Morpheous is gone, so I didn’t have to change anything, just take over what was there and get it all workin again. Not that big a deal... but dreams are a lot further than stories. Dreams are unlimited, after all... “

Nodding, Dox looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “Then since this is part of her dream that went wrong… can you help her make it right? Get it working again?”

The animated astral entity clapped his hands and did a silly little dance before he spun in place. “THAT, my girl, would indeed be a story to tell. Because she don’t listen to me. She thinks I lie and twist what she wants, ‘perverting her wishes’. But I ain’t no genie, I’m just stories. The character in the story is the one who chooses her adventure. Problem is, she got no compass, no star to guide her. Everything she ever wanted, but it’s hollow, cuz she can’t figure out what to do with it. Even with havin it all, it ain’t happily ever after. Because ‘ever after’ has another page, and another, and another.”

Looking down for a moment, Dox fidgeted with her empty glass a bit as her mind worked its way through what Anansi was saying. Of the idea that while this version of her was given everything she wanted, it rang hollow and false to her. Dox wished that the other her hadn’t rushed off the way she did, but she was gone. So all the displaced officer could do was ponder the problem from a distance. And ponder the unexpected behavior of the being she once feared.

“Back in my reality… I was offered a lot from a lot of people. A lot of directions pulling at me. One was the path it looks like she too. The Artan fleet. Fly for the pirates, save reunificationists, be free.” Dox said as she looked back into the faceless crowd. “But I knew it was a dead end. Sure, I could have my own ship… my own FLEET. I could have it right now and be important and matter. It’s been… tempting.”

“If the story you gave her was anything like that and she took it, then she didn’t learn what I did back on the Hera. That an unearned life would be a life without value.” Dox said plainly. “But that’s my story.”

“Your story long and interesting, girl,” the god of stories intoned. Then seeing the look on her face, he rolled his eyes. “Girl, I ain’t even given you a spot a thought since that day! Doan look at me like dat, I’m just sayin your story ain’t a dull one. Maybe the story here was ‘careful what you wish for- might not be as good as you thought’, no?”

As Anansi spoke, Dox found herself letting out the slightest of actual smiles at his somewhat obvious declaration of disinterest that revealed quite the reverse to the observant Romulan. Not pressing the point with the enigmatic entity, she instead responded to what he said as she began to feel that now familiar build up of energy as the Bulukiya particles began to decay again.

“That’s a good lesson. And… I dearly hope she learns it eventually.” Dox said as she stood up from the barstool, presuming that wherever she ended up next, it was unlikely to also be on top of a chair of any kind. “After all, learning that lesson the hard way and finding a way to move forward? That would be a good story too, right Anansi?”

It was the first time she had said his name aloud since she had to give her official report on the encounter almost two years ago now, but this time there was no fear in her. That was her lesson to learn, here.

“That makes one of my favorite kindsa stories- the ones what teach a lesson... Mnhei’sahe.” It had been the revelation of her true name, buried in the trauma of her childhood mutilation and identity concealment measures taken by her mother to protect her from her grandmother., that Anansi had brought to her, and the coin he had paid in advance for the helmet which he was denied. Idly she wondered, as she spun off into the multiverse once more- was this the same god of stories, or the local version. Or since they were all stories, were they all just one being across multiple dimensions, multiple stories, all occurring concurrently.

A vast spider, seated at the heart of a great web, comprised of the stories that interconnect us all.

To Be Continued…

As Enalia shimmered into view once more with a sparkle of blue energy, she felt like she was starting to get a handle on this whole dimension leaping thing. The last hop was two minutes so since they were doubling in time, this one should be four. As she looked around, she wondered how many more leaps she'd be subjected to.

The place she was in now was definitely in the Artan fortress, but it looked far different from anywhere in it she recognized. Outside the bay windows was the outer landscape she knew and loved, but the inner area looked more like one of the lounge decks had been converted into a warehouse for... Glancing over a few of the inventories, it looked like the place was filled with medical supplies.

"Excuse me, are you Captain..." came her own voice from behind her. Turning around she came face to face with herself wearing a blue Artan jumper and a white lab coat with gold detailing on the shoulders - far less ostentatious than the imperial looking uniform she was used to wearing herself. "You... You look like me..."

"I'm you from another universe," Captain Telvan tried to explain while donning her best 'fleeter smile, hoping she at least didn't have to fight. "One where you joined Starfleet in the hopes of helping people there rather than suffering under the oppressive rule of my... your... our... Mother..." Trailing off, her smile faded a bit as she glanced around the room a bit more. "Thanks to this accident... Anyway, I should be gone four minutes after I arrived so you can just forget I was here."

"Ah... That explains a few things," The local Enalia tapped the PaDD in her hands against her hip a few times before continuing. "I never really knew Arenara. Not long after I was born, she challenged Grandma to the throne and lost. I'm told it was an epic battle that lasted most of the day, but I always wondered what things would have been like..."

"I guess now we both know," Captain Telvan replied with a soft smile. They then shared a moment of silence together before the other-universe captain felt the tingle of the Bulikaya particles once more. "Good luck..." She added as she faded away to be whisked off to another universe.

--------

This time when Enalia looked around, she was in a wholly strange place. It reminded her of a cross between a Klingon station and Deep Space Nine, but with a decidedly Artan twist. It was still the fortress she grew up on... but it was a dark and twisted place with what looked like slave pits, black market auctions, and a sprawling city where the forest, lakes, and various activities were before. Even the interior decorating inside seemed to be the polar opposite of what she had come to know and love, with spikes and bondage gear replacing swords and antiques.

“I know that uniform style. You’re from that Starfleet universe that the Alliance is in an uproar over, aren’t you?” came a rather sinister version of her voice from not far behind her.

Turning slowly, Enalia had to blink a few times before she could believe it - there she was, almost all her spots on display, her boobs somehow bigger, a savage hyena grin on her face, was what had to be her mirror universe counterpart wearing what amounted to a red and gold pirate bikini, a serrated whip at her hip.

“And you would be my mirror universe counterpart,” Enalia replied with grim determination. Eight minutes. She just had to stall for eight minutes. “Sorry for intruding. If your life is anything like mine, a lot of crazy things happen.”

“I had heard that the crossover technology, whatever it is, required at least a transporter in the same place on both sides,” the mirror Enalia mused as she got closer, licking her lips as she inspected herself curiously. But you appeared nowhere near one. Why is that?”

“An accident with an experimental particle from the future. It isn’t the most stable thing and it went haywire when a thief tried to steal it.” She figured it was best to at least tell part of the truth rather than flat out lie - after all, this was herself and she would most likely tell when she was lying. “Rather than the normal transporter effect, I’m bouncing between universes a few minutes at a time to visit myself. Unfortunately, I have no idea how many more jumps I have left.”

“Very interesting... And how long do you have in this universe? Is it long enough to have sex with yourself?” As the grin widened on the Mirror Enalia’s face, Captain Telvan noticed something else about the woman in front of her. As an augment, she had originally been male but flipped to female in her mother’s womb and even when she had visited that unaugmented Commander version of herself, even she had been flipped wholly to female.

The woman before her was not entirely female.

As sweat started to bead on her forehead, she felt it once more - the telltale tingling of the particles about to whisk her away once more. “This time, eight minutes,” she replied as she vanished in the blue Bulikaya particle sparkle.

The old Merchant Marine Cemetary Vista Memorial had long ago been appropriated as a Starfleet graveyard, where often markers were placed for bodies that would be drifting as frozen dead voyagers for eons to come. Here, if remains made their way home, they would be interred. For even in 2270, graveyards were for the living to memorialize the dead.

As the flare of the incandescent faded, Rita paris found herself back in San Francisco. Not in the backyard of her father’s home, but facing her own tombstone.

Lt. Rita Paris
2233-2259
Ad Astra Per Aspera

Since she’d appeared here, logically that meant there were material remains here, which likely meant that instead of a warp ghost, she had died here as Sonak would in a few years. A transporter accident that did not turn her to energy and not bring her back, but apparently, this accident brought some of her back. Enough to bury, at any rate, Briefly she considered contacting the local Sonak to warn him, but the only way she could do so was through official channels. If he had personal contact details in this era, she didn’t have them.

Here, she was dead. A nonentity. As he was still on Vulcan, she could just as easily contact Santa Claus.

Reaching out, Rita ran her fingers over the smooth plastic of the headstone, which was porous and designed to catch rainfall and grow moss on the edges, while the surface was smooth. Bowing her head, she sighed. “I’m sorry, Rita. I hope you didn’t suffer.”

Realizing that she would be here for about an hour, Rita began to walk into the city, considering what to do with her time while she was here.


When the doorbell rang, Clifford Paris was surprised. He didn’t expect any couriers, nor deliveries, nor visitors. As he opened the door, the last thing he expected was to find himself face to face with his dead daughter, gone over a decade now. He particularly did not expect her to grab him by the lapels and manhandle him back into the house, slamming the door behind her with a one foot, in a motion she’d practiced for years.

“Long time no see, Commander. I’m the ghost of murdered daughters through sabotage,” she growled, before punching the old man in the face, putting her hip into and giving it a lot more power. While he was struggling and she was not a fighter by nature, in this particular instance, Rita Paris was perhaps not at her best. Bouncing through alternate realities and timelines was damaging her calm, and the encounters themselves were beginning to wear on her. So when the old man began to sputter out a reply, smacking him in the mouth was not exactly the compassionate thing to do.

Right now, Rita Paris was not feeling particularly compassionate.

“Get off me!” Commander Clifford Paris roared, in a voice of command he’d emulated from better men. Which did him absolutely no good, because the crazy woman, while uniformed, was apparently not taking orders from him as she slapped him in the mouth again, much in the manner of an abusive parent.

Much like the many time their roles had been reversed, and Rita had been the one to receive a sharp slap as a rebuke for speaking.

“Does it feel good, Commander?” the angry amazon demanded as she continued slapping the elder Paris, who struggled and fought, but to no avail. The last combat training he’d done was to learn judo at the Academy 40 years ago. His very angry daughter, however, appeared to have brushed up on some more combative techniques in the afterlife, and it appeared that an upbringing consisting of absorbing Clifford's emotional and physical abuse had finally passed the boiling point for the woman. It seemed she had been granted a rare opportunity to act, on what had once only been a dark contemplation in her imagination.

“Did it advance your career, playing the sad father of the dead daughter when nobody knew you orchestrated the accident? Did you ‘use the moment’, Commander?” Again, she slapped him across the face, perhaps with a bit more force than necessary. But revenge tended not to know a gentle hand. “Did you turn the situation to your advantage? Did you manage to shed crocodile tears at my goddamned FUNERAL?”

By this point she had collected his uniform lapels in her hands, and was supporting him, as his legs had sagged beneath him. Looking down, she glowered at him. Looking up with confusion clear on his face, he finally recognized his attacker, and his skin turned ghostly white.

“You.... it can’t be you, you’re dead... the accident...” he muttered in disbelief as the avenging spectre shook him.

“YOU set up the accident, paid the Syndicate boys to make it look that way, when really YOU sabotaged the damn platform. All to convince me to do what YOU wanted, to get me to stay close to home, to pump out babies for you to dote over, as long as they were boys. Instead you killed me, Clifford, you collossal moron!” The hand reared back for another slap, but the dimpling of the chin indicated the waterworks were about to start.

“Hera’s sake, Clifford. I worked so damn hard to be a good officer, to make you proud. But I never could, because I had committed the cardinal sin of being born female. My original sin, for which you would never forgive me. All you ever gave a shit about was the family name, and the tradition.”

“So rather than give me a chance, and actually judge me by my accomplishments instead of my gender, you killed me. How could you, Daddy?” The tears were flowing now, and while she’d had this discussion with her own father before; here, the Rita Paris of this reality would never get that chance. The realization of which filled this Rita Paris with a fury unlike any she had ever known.

“You were always worthless and weak,” Clifford started, but Rita slapped him in the mouth again. As a career bully accustomed to doing his damage with words, if it didn’t involve children to whom he was physically larger and stronger, Clifford Paris was quite unaccustomed to being manhandled like this, and was not taking it well at all.

“Try again. Because I raised Albert after you killed Mom. I put myself through school, I put myself through the Academy despite all your little ‘incentives’ to my classmates to undermine me. So you don’t get to tell me I’m the one who’s worthless and weak, you spineless jellyfish. So try again.” Leaning in close, the brows came down and the angry officer’s eyes narrowed.

“See, Cliff, you might not realize it, but I’m not YOUR Rita. Yeah, I’m still dead here, Father of the Year. I’m actually from another reality, just dropping into this dimension for a few minutes. Know what that means?” Letting the elder Paris go, to fall into a heap on the floor, Rita glowered over him. When she spike, her voice was an angry hiss of menace.

“That means that if I end you tonight, the crime will never be solved, the murderer will never be caught, and the killer will never be brought to justice. Just... like... what... you... did... to... me,” she finished, stepping over to the fireplace to remove a poker from the rack, and heft the iron rod in her hand.

“You’re insane!: Clifford sputtered from the floor, as he crabwalked back away from the spectre of his murdered daughter, returned from a nearby dimension to take her revenge a decade after the fact.

“You know, maybe I am...” Rita grinned, a maniacal gleam in her eye. “Maybe I am insane. Hell, I’ve been through half a dozen dimensions already in the past few hours. But then, that doesn’t make you any less of a cowardly, snivelling, pathetic excuse for a man who murdered his own daughter. Admit it, Clifford Paris! Confess your sin, you murdering bastard. Admit you paid the saboteurs to rig the transporter on the Constitution and that’s what killed me. ADMIT IT!”

“All right! I admit it! Yes, I paid those idiots, but they screwed it up! It was only supposed to short out and scare you, Rita! It wasn’t supposed to kill you!” The old man sobbed, climbing to his knees to plead with the infuriated spirit of vengeance, his crime made flesh and blood and rage. “I never wanted you dead, Rita, I swear...”

The expression of disgust on the woman’s face was pure and contemptuous, as she dropped the fireplace poked on the hardwood flooring with a clang and a clatter. Shaking her head, she sighed. “Why, Daddy? Just answer me this... after all these years, maybe now you can finally answer me. Why was I never good enough? Every turd Albert made was golden, and no matter what I did all you had was contempt for me. Why? What was so wrong with me that you couldn’t love me, father?”

As Clifford Paris began to realize his dead daughter was likely not going to murder him in revenge tonight, he regained a bit of his composure. “Pshaw. I was only hard on you-” he got out, before a finger was swiftly in his face, pointing- another favorite trick of his own, of which he was unaccustomed to being on the receiving end.

“If you try to bullshit me with ‘I was hard on you to make you tougher’ or better or any other adjective, I swear I will spend the rest of the time I have in this reality insuring your babymakers never work again,” Rita pointed down to the man’s crotch, and he swallowed hard. Clifford Paris was a master liar, after all, and he could always sniff one out.

This wasn’t a lie.

She wasn’t bluffing.

He swallowed hard again.

“So don’t con me, Clifford. I’ve known you too long, and trust me, this is NOT the first time we’ve had this conversation,” she said cryptically. But then, your decade dead daughter likely had a few surprises up her sleeve when she burst into your home to attack you. “It’s just the first time I have a shot at getting an actual honest answer, since I am currently responsibility free. That whole ‘perfect crime’ thing. So really Commander.... just once, in your miserable, misbegotten life, tell me the truth.”

It was clear there was a debate raging behind the eyes of Clifford Paris, as he considered the words of the woman who was, and yet, was clearly NOT his daughter, His own daughter had been anxious and neurotic, perenially unsure of herself and a people pleaser. This woman was strident, confident, and while still emotional, clearly she knew exactly what she was doing, and he believed that she did not lack the will to kill him- she was instead wrestling with her conscience, to see if she could live with it.

In the end, Clifford Paris knew his daughter, in this reality or any other. So he knew that, deep down, despite all she may have grown and changed, Rita Paris was no cold-blooded murderess, and she would not commit patricide simply because the opportunity presented itself. She was far too moral for such a course, and in realizing that, he stepped away from his fear, and took a bold step. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough.

“I killed your mother because she was going to leave me, you know?” he began, looking up at those blue eyes he never expected to see again. “She’d had enough and she was going to leave, take you and Albert and head to Stalingrad where her family lived, then probably on to Mars or who knows where. I tried to talk her into just taking you, but she thought I’d ruin Albert, and she planned to take him too. I wouldn’t allow that, so she ‘tripped’ and fell down the stairs, so tragic.”

“Then I had you. You’re right, I made you raise Albert- that’s women’s work. That’s what you were good for, though you never realized it. Now here you are... ten years later, and there’s still a version of you gallivanting around the galaxy. Taking a job a MAN ought to be doing,” Clifford Paris said, his voice dripping with scorn and contempt. “Holding an officer’s position that should be held by a calm, rational man, not some woman who has to figure out how she feels before she makes an order. Women don’t belong in Starfleet- I said it then, I still believe it, and you’re proving it right now.”

“You want to know why I couldn’t stand you, Rita? It’s quite simple. Because you were determined to follow me into the Fleet. Because you wanted to take the post of some deserving man, because you think women are just as good as men. If you had just been content to be a damn girl, then you would have been fine. But no, look at you. Boy’s haircut, fat, lost in the universe... you’re a mess. Can’t even find a man.”

At that, a funny little smile settled onto the face of the Lost Navigator, here in her childhood home, finally hearing the truth from her father. “So all those years, spending time around the boy’s club, learning everything I could... to be like you... was what made you hate me? All that work I did for your approval, just hoping that someday you might see my value... all of that just made you hate me more?”

“Basically,” the elder Paris chortled, as his daughter sighed and shook her head.

“You’re a cockroach, Clifford, and I’m glad I live in a universe where Albert’s grandson is the closest thing I have to a blood relative.” With that said, she pulled a communicator off the back of her uniform, then flipped it open, although it did not chirrup. “So you get all that?” she said into the communicator, and the voice from the other end was choked with emotion.

“Y-yeah... yeah, I heard it... Rita,” came the voice of her brother Albert, who at that moment walked in the front door. His face was pale, and his expression one of ultimate heartbreak. “She had me on mute, but.... the channel was open. I heard everything, Dad. How.... how could you?!?”

In that moment, Rita’s heart went out to her little brother. He was a pig and a moron, and a terrible officer, just like his father. But it was a devastating thing to learn that your father was responsible for the death of your mother AND your sister. Discovering it because your sister who’s been dead for 11 years calls you out of the blue definitely didn’t make it any easier. But at least the truth was out there, now.

It was a truth that even the dense Albert Paris could no longer pretend he hadn’t wondered about, in his darkest thoughts over the past decade. In that moment, he could no longer allow himself the luxury of the preferred reality he had let himself believe, drowning his lingering doubts in drink and the false praise he enjoyed in his unearned career.

It seemed that for his part, Clifford Paris was in shock. As he’d never planed for his only son to ever hear anything he’d just said, even now his mind worked how to turn this situation to his advantage..

“Albert?” Rita asked, and her brother took a long few seconds to look her over, weighing the options in his mind. This could not be his sister- he’d seen the photos of what rematerialized on the transporter pad, and it still gave him nightmares. Hell, it made him squeamish about taking transporters at all. It had taken him a few minutes to shuttle across town to get here, in fact.

It can’t be her. he thought. In the few minutes since she had contacted him, telling him things that ONLY his sister cold have known, he had wrestled with the unbelievable truth. But when he heard her voice in person, and saw those deep blue eyes, he couldn’t pretend to not recognize the girl who had always picked him up off the ground when he fell and scraped a knee. The girl who made sure he studied as a child, was fed and cared for. For all the physical differences between this woman and his memory of the big sister he had eventually learned to resent, just as his father had wanted, he couldn’t help but recognize the unconditional love he felt from her.

In the end, whether this was really his sister or not didn’t matter to him. Hearing his father’s confession had been a bit too much for him, and right now, what he really needed was a hug from his long lost sibling. As he stepped toward her, she opened her arms and embraced him.

“Hey little brother... sorry I can’t stay- it’s complicated. But you know the truth, now. What you do with it is up to you, but your comm call was recorded. It’s inadmissible as evidence, given that it’s coerced. But it’s enough to get a board of inquiry started. It’s enough to get people talking about it. And it’s enough to make sure he never gets the chance to do this to anyone else, ever again.” Stepping back, the eyes of Rita Paris sought those of her brother, whom she had now seen twice in one day- quite the feat for the time traveler who lived 127 years into the future.

“I leave it in your hands, Albert,” Rita said softly, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You decide what happens to him, because this was just a visit... I’m leaving now, and I won’t be back. But... do what’s right, Albert. Don’t be another Clifford- be your own man. Be better, Albert Paris... I love you, little brother.”

With that said, she was simply gone- vanished as if she never was.

As the silence took hold of the room once more, Clifford Paris rubbed his sore jaw where the ghost of daughters past had belted him a few times. Groaning as he tried to get up, he realized his rather angry offspring might have cracked a few ribs in her enthusiasm. Reaching out, he held his hand out to his son.

“Albert, that was a crazy woman, and I don’t want you to believe a word you heard. I was playing along to keep her talking while I tried to get to the security panel. Now help me up- I need to go to Starfleet Medical.”

The expression of contempt that the father received from his son was one that looked oddly familiar to Clifford Paris, as it was one he himself often employed. As the corners of his mouth turned down, Albert Paris’ eyes narrowed.

“What was it you always said?” Albert replied, his voice cracking with emotion. “Oh, right. Get up yourself. Stand on your own two feet. Nobody likes a quitter.” After which, Albert turned on his heel, and marched back out of the house.

He kept marching until he reached the JAG office, in fact. Resolve emboldened with each step, the words of his impossible sister ringing in his memory: “Be better, Albert Paris.”

“I’d like to start an inquiry into a wrongful death,” he explained. “I have a confession...”

The vista for Mnhei’sahe Dox had shifted from a dark, smoky bar somewhere upon the Worldship where the God of Stories dweled, to a decidedly sunny day as the beleaguered pilot squinted against the dramatic change in light between leaps. Her eye was still sore from where the version of herself there had knocked her out cold with a particularly fast and strong sucker punch.

Any disorientation she had felt in past leaps was brief as she shielded herself from the light of the sun, wishing the inner eyelids Vulcans possessed weren’t vestigial in Romulans. After a second, her eyes adjusted and she looked out what she now realized was a window. An ornate, wood-framed window that stretched up to the ceiling showing her the teal-tinted sky she immediately recognized as Romulus.

As she took in the view, she was apparently in the center of a large city, though the buildings looked fairly old, with old stonework, columns and streets of smooth cobblestone that radiated from wherever she was outward, intersected by concentric rows of elevated archways. This wasn’t just any city. This was Ra'tleihfi. This was the Capital of Romulus. Which meant that she was in one of the offices of the Senate of the Star Empire.

Jerking around, she realized she was alone in the chamber, but she recognized it immediately. She had seen small sections of this room before. It was the Senatorial officer that she had seen in many of the holographic messages she had received from her Grandmother, Verelan t’Rul.

With her back to the great window, she saw that same, ornate wooden desk to her left with the shelves upon shelves of books running up to the ceiling. Old books with worn spines showing that Verelan clearly was well-read, and preferred the experience of feeling the paper to the cold light of a PaDD. For a moment, she considered that back on the Hera, even before Mona had moved in, of the few items she had put on display in her quarters, many of them were old books. Perhaps it was something the two women had in common.

There were two large, leather-bound chairs in front of the desk, and across the room on the far wall, a series of paintings of old Romulans Dox recognized from her time with Verelan on the Warbird all those months ago. When the noble Romulan senator had worked to educate her granddaughter not simply on the politics of the Star Empire, but on her own family lineage.

Three paintings in total lined the wall, with an image of the pudgy but stern face of Verelan’s now deceased husband, Gorath tr’Rul. With the thick but high-boned cheeks, she could see the ever so slight resemblance. His face looked old and thickly lined with very little gray hair left lining only the sides of his proud face.

The next was her great grandmother, and Verelan’s own mother who held this seat in the senate before her, Kalena t’Rul. There, the resemblance to Verelan herself was undeniable, with severe, high cheekbones and the same intense eyes and regal countenance.

Then, was a portrait, not of family, but of literal royalty. The next painting was of the First Empress of Romulus. The woman who once stole the sword of S’Task from the Senate floor and declared war on the Star Empire to set it right and, for a time, succeeded. Empress Ael i-Mhiessan t'Rllaillieu. Great Aunt to Charybdis MacGregor. A woman Dox had been hearing the stories of since she was an infant.

On the right wall, was the door to the chamber in the corner, and above that a closed over viewscreen just below the sigil of the Imperium, seeming carved of a jade stone that glistened slightly in the sunlight. The floor below was a brilliant black and gold marble that was polished to a high shine.

Looking around, Dox didn’t notice if there was a secondary door anywhere to a closet or private refresher, though she suspected there was a hidden panel obscured by that aggressive amount of moulding in the woodwork on every wall. For the life of her, however, she couldn’t easily see where any of it might be as she considered that, since the window was 7 stories off the street, if anyone entered the room she was trapped. Trapped and in a VERY obvious Starfleet uniform where the local authorities would have an hour to do with her as they pleased before the Bulukiya particles would decay enough again to pull her away from this reality.

From outside the old looking wooden door, she heard footsteps and faint voices coming down the corridor as she scrambled for a place to hide, but there was nothing that would do for any length of time, so she tried ducking down behind the furthest chair as the wooden door slid into the wall with a woosh. Clearly, the ornate detail was for show over more modern accommodations her in an official building within the capitol.

Doing her best to hide, she heard two people stopping in the doorway. The first to speak was a slightly familiar, male voice obviously speaking Romulan. “Mistress t’Rul, your schedule for the day. You have two meetings set. The first for an hour and half from now with Senator ir-Rahhn and another with the council after that. Once complete, I shall escort you to the academy after midday meal.”

There was a brief pause as Dox realized, when she heard the man say the word ‘mistress’, that it was Pajom tr’Sahe. The young Centurion on the warbird where Dox had been held prisoner, who remained loyal to Verelan, and had helped her while she was there. In her own time, tr’Sahe remained Verelan’s loyal aide and bodyguard, and it seemed he held the same place here. Until Dox heard the voice that responded.

“Yes, Thank you, Centurion tr’Sahe. That will be all for now. I will… call for you when I am ready.” Came her own voice as the door closed and Dox heard the feet step closer to the desk. But instead of walking behind them, the counterpart sat in the other leather chair across from the desk, fixed for a moment on the PaDD in her hand. She knew that versions of herself were the focal point she was drawn to in each reality she was visiting, but it was still a bit of a surprise each time.

As she knew it wouldn’t, her hiding place didn’t stay that way for more than a few seconds as the other Mnhei’sahe quickly spotted her trying to compress herself behind the large, leather chair. With a start, she shot up from her chair and quickly assumed a defensive stance with wide, shocked eyed. In that instant, each woman was clearly taking in the other with quickly darting eyes. The shocked looking woman’s mouth was clenched tight. Her hair was in a standard military cut, and appeared to have been straightened and dyed black, and she was wearing a gray, high necked tunic with long sleeves and a series of overly large buttons down the right breast, black pants and boots.

Standing up, Dox held her hands up and tried to not make the moment worse. “Uh… I know this looks strange, but I can explain.”

Speaking in Federation Standard, however, might not have been the best call as the counterpart sidestepped over to the desk, slapped her hand on the top and with a beep, a drawer slid open and she pulled a disruptor out and trained it on Dox, hissing in Romulan. “Then do so… now.”

While the woman scowled, her eyebrows knitted showing just how much this bizarre encounter had her shaken. But it was the eyes that Dox noticed the most, as they were tightly fixed on the Starfleet Delta on her chest.

“I know it’s going to seem… impossible. Trust me, this is not my first attempt at explaining myself today… but… I… I am you. Another version of you from a different timeline. A different reality.” Dox said, switching over to her native tongue to try and de-escalate the situation as best as possible. “Like RITA.”

Watching the counterpart’s eyes, Dox saw what she was looking for as there was that quick flash of clear recognition of the name. The other woman tensed up even further as she took in a sharp breath at the name. As she did, Dox continued, “I was… exposed to these particles that have been… moving me across different timelines where I keep encountering alternate versions of… myself. Well… just like you. Different versions of me that had lives that went in different directions. I have no control over it, and double my time in each reality. This is… I think my 8th leap and I’m not quite sure how long until I vanish again.”

No matter how many different ways she tried to explain it, it always seemed impossible to believe even as she said it and hoped that she was at least mildly sincere. Meanwhile, the counterpart began sidestepping a bit closer to the door as she narrowed her eyes looking at Dox. “If I believed you… and it doesn’t matter if I do or not… what are your intentions here? I have to report this.”

Holding her hands out towards the counterpart that the Centurion called by her house name of t’Rul, Dox called out a bit. “Please, don’t! Wait! I… I’m not here to do anything. I’m not here for secrets or infiltration. I just… appear in each timeline, near some alternate version of myself, and once the time is up, I leap out. In the meantime, I am just trying to not get killed and find out… how each version of me ended up where they are.”

“And how different is this for you? You’re in Starfleet, after all. This is not a good place for you to be.” the counterpart said, a bit of sarcasm in her voice.

“Well… this is actually the…” Dox thought for a moment, her eyes glancing up as she did. “THIRD timeline where the other me had a disruptor trained on me, so… that’s getting tiresome, I’ll admit.” Pointing at her slightly green, bruised eye, Dox chuckled awkwardly. “And look. You’re not the only one that hasn’t liked me. So… in comparison… we’re off to a somewhat better start.” Across the room, there was no reaction whatsoever.

“Get used to it, your circumstance isn’t changing until it’s decided what we’re going to do with you.” The other woman in gray said with a bit of coldness in her voice.

"And right now, I am disinclined to believe your explanation as plausible.” The woman who had clearly claimed the family name of t’Rul replied, standing firm and giving up nothing in her voice or body language. “It’s far more likely that you are another Starfleet operative here to try and extract me against my will. Surgically altered to attempt to manipulate me or simply assassinate and replace me as Starfleet likely refuses to believe I can serve here and maintain my oaths to not betray them. I’ve seen and heard nothing else to convince me otherwise and I doubt the Centurions will either.”

There was a long pause as Dox considered the implications of what her counterpart was saying as she tried to form a proper response. “What do I need to do to convince you, Mnhei’sahe? Do you want me to tell you things we both know? About the time we… merged with the shard of a goddess and were beamed into space? Maybe tell you about the time Asa found us in our quarters with our hands broken because we were taking out our anger on our old practice dummy after the security team on Castillo de Muerta was executed by their supervisor under our watch?”

If any of the tidbits of personal information was having any effect on the counterpart, it hadn’t shown on her face. The earlier surprise and uncertainty was either completely gone or being concealed with professional skill. Looking at the scenario and working things out, this was clearly still her Grandmother’s office, but the other her seemed comfortable enough here and had some degree of official duties, which raised a host of questions.

“How did you end up here? On Romulus? In the Senate offices?” Dox asked, her hands still held out.

“We have not yet entered the phase of this interaction where you ask me questions.” The counterpart said, tipping her disruptor slightly, a not that subtle reminder that she had it very well trained on Dox. “Nothing you’ve said is particularly difficult information to have acquired from the officers that I know for a fact you spoke of these incidents with.”

It was a telling reply that gave up a bit more information to Dox about her counterpart. This version of her had clearly been in Starfleet as well, and wasn’t some version that had been on Romulus for years. This version served on the Hera and this indicated that it was possible that she had been kidnapped as well to have ended up here.

“Fine…” Dox replied. “You want something specific? Something we never told anyone?” For a moment, the young Romulan pilot thought deeply on everything. On the secrets that she told Rita or Asa in their more quiet moments. Of things only ever shared with Mona. Of every dark or embarrassing thought she had ever harbored during her life, both on the Hera and before joining Starfleet. And as she did, a bit of frustration began to show as she began rambling off a litany of details for her counterpart.

“I can tell you that we used to… sell Kali’Fal we got from old smuggling contacts to the human’s when we were in high school on Earth. I can tell you that after our Exobiology teacher at the Academy outed us as Romulan, we hacked into his personal files and found out he was having an affair on his wife. So we sent the travel records of his little trysts to display on his comm screen at home for her to see.” Dox stepped forward just a little as she rattled off random bits of information. “We tried to buy charter on a smuggling ship to run away to HERE when we were nineteen and couldn’t. Or maybe that every now and again, when we’re sparring with S’Rina on the Hera, we get turned on because sometimes we secretly wish Mona was more… aggressive in bed? How’s that?”

This time, the counterpart couldn’t conceal her feelings as the capillary response of a slight flush of green to her cheeks revealed just a bit of embarrassment, as she slowly loosened her stance. She didn’t quite lower the disruptor, but the tension had let up just a bit in the room.

“That will do.” She replied flatly as an eyebrow went up and another question came from the woman in gray as her eyes went to the slight bulge of a Romulan wedding bracelet on her Starfleet counterpart’s wrist. “You said “wish’, present tense? You and Mona?”

Suddenly, pieces began to fall into place as Dox slowly reached with one arm to pull the sleeve down slightly on the other to show the pearlescent black band. “Yes. We’re married. Did… you never?”

“We tried, but it didn’t last, no.” The counterpart replied, a hint of anger tinged with sadness evident in her voice. Now it began to make sense and Dox could try and put together the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that had left a version of her here studying under Verelan. Her bond with Mona and the Miradonian having been discovered to be pregnant just prior to the kidnapping had been the main thing that had kept Dox focused on returning to the Hera. It had been the one thing that kept her from fully accepting what her grandmother had been offering.

Without that relationship, it was now easier to imagine how there could be a version of her standing here like this. During those weeks under Verelan’s tutelage, she had come dangerously close to accepting the Elder Romulan Senator’s offers of family and a chance to rejoin the world she had been denied as a child. It was knowing Mona was waiting… pregnant with her future… that had kept her from conceding and it was her bond with Mona that gave her the strength needed to resist Rendal’s Neural Extraction Converter.

The machine also called the Ju’Rot that had been used to begin rewriting her Grandmother’s mind when the renegade Tal’Shiar Commaner, Dalia Rendal, took over the ship. The same machine that almost broke Dox herself. Remembering what had happened, it began to occur to the dimensional traveler that she could very well be talking to a victim of that horrible machine.

“So, now what? Can I ask you a question or are you just going to call security to come in and take me away?”

“I have already answered many of your questions, haven’t I?” The other Dox said, the slightest hint of satisfaction on her face. “I confirmed my own memory of your stories in my reactions. I let you know that other Starfleet infiltrators before you HAVE been discovered. I have given you a wealth of information.”

“As for security, it isn’t coming. At least not yet. Not until we’ve decided what to do about you, as I’ve decided that, as implausible as it still sounds, I believe you are telling the truth.” The other Mnhei’sahe said, straightening up slightly as Dox parsed out her words a bit and raised her eyebrow slightly.

“That’s the second time you’ve said “we”.” Dox said quizzically.

“This room is monitored. Security would have already been alerted to your presence and taken you if that was what the Senator wanted. Since they are not in here… it means that they have not been alerted to your presence. Which means that the Senator is still deciding what she wishes to do about you.” The other Dox said flatly as, behind the desk, a wall panel to the side of the bookshelf to Dox’s left opened.

Stepping out, with all the nobility she remembered, was her grandmother. Hands folded behind her back and dressed in regal, greenish black robes, out she walked out as the secret door hidden in the wall panel slid closed behind her.

“Well well well, my adventurous granddaughter. You do turn up in the most surprising of places,” The elder stateswoman remarked, looking over the newcomer as she walked about her in a wide circle, given plenty of berth. She knew better than to get within grabbing range, after all.

“I have been watching your little exchange from my sanctum, and it has been quite interesting. So we have two of you for an indeterminate amount of time, after which one of you will vanish without a trace. An intriguing concept,” the silver-haired egalitarian exclaimed. “So, granddaughter, explain to me how this could be turned to our advantage. I’ll start- we can very convincingly fake your death right now. Next?”

“An ideal decoy to lure out your enemies.” The dark haired doppelganger said without missing a beat. “There have been six assassination attempts on you and I since your motion towards decriminalizing the reunification movement. Put her out in public with a sufficient gap in security and we may very well see just who it is on the Senate who has plans against you.”

“Excellent. Demand that she be held by the Tal’Shiar for questioning, then we have political leverage when she disappears from their custody,” the quick-witted old politico tossed back, gesturing for her aide de camp to take a turn.


Pausing for a moment to think, the counterpart tilted her head and her eyes fixed on her redhead counterpart, but listening to what they were saying, Dox cricked an eyebrow and dropped her hands as she interrupted her counterpart.

The back and forth between the two seemed designed to rattle her and show a clear and united front, but it had told Dox a bit more of the story that she hadn’t known. “Wait. A motion to decriminalize the reunification movement? Political leverage against the Tal’Shiar?”

Both were things that Dox’s own grandmother were working towards in the Senate in her own reality. A reality where, with Sonak’s help, Dox was able to break the Tal’Shiar’s control over the silver-haired Senator.

Looking deep into Verelan’s dark eyes, Dox saw none of the conflict she had seen after Rendal had subjected the elder Senator to the Ju’Rot device. Whatever had happened, her mind was her own and Dox decided to show one of her cards. “In my reality… Commander Dalia Rendal took over your ship. Mutinied and subjected you to her Neural Extraction Converter. You were bent to the will of the Tal’Shiar.”

“How unpleasant. Then obviously she should have been more wary- dealing with the Tal’Shiar always comes at a price,” the elderly Senator breezily dismissed the topic.” As for what we’re working on, assuming you are what and whom you say you are for a moment- which I don’t believe but are willing to entertain for the now- you’ll pardon me if I am not overly inclined to share Homeworld’s political situation with an supposed extradimensional doppelganger.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, really.” Dox replied to her alternate grandmother. “Nor is it my concern, really. But it caught my attention. My version of you was freed from Rendal’s control and has been involved in similar actions in the Senate.”

“In my reality, your interest in reunification was only truly ignited after you were freed from Rendal’s grip.” Dox added, leaving out her own role in helping to free the elder Senator’s mind, “It tells me that this… whatever your relationship with each other here is… is not a wholly one-sided one.”

As Dox spoke, she was doing her level best to tap into the same observational disciplines that her own version of Verelan had drilled into her during their interactions.

“Well, she’s not unintelligent at least,” Verelan remarked, tapping a forefinger thoughtfully against her lips as she paced. “Alright Granddaughter, what can you tell me about her? Cold read, size her up. Go.”

Taking a step back and looking Dox up and down for just a second, the dark haired double raised an eyebrow. Her face remained largely impassive and blank. “She had been avoiding eye contact with me ever since you came into the room. Her shoulders dropped and her arms relaxed just a bit, the more you’ve spoken. She’s still on guard, but slightly less so. She’s showing deference to you. She has a strong, emotional need for familial approval, and clearly holds considerable respect for you.”

“She has my same combat training. She’s shifted her stance in regards to my own movements regularly, keeping her left shoulder more towards me to favor her stronger arm in the event she feels the need to strike.” The alternate Mnhei’sahe continued. “She is a poor liar. She said she had lost track of how long she had before she… lept… from here earlier, but when she said that, her eyes darted slightly and she paused for a beat. She knows how long she has here and wanted to keep that information to herself.”

“She spends the majority of her time speaking Federation Standard as her accent is still slightly muddy, and…” The doppelganger leaned slightly in, “She does not like me. No… she’s… jealous.”

“Fascinating. Now what are the differences? If she is an alternate of you, what differences aside from the physical do you note?” Leave it to the canny old senator to turn the extradimensional intrusion into a lesson for her eager protege. After all, this was a supremely Romulan exercise- reading a person in the room, objectifying them as if they were neither present nor sentient, and making observations freely to read the reactions.

“Her impulse control now is better than mine was when you and I first met, but is still largely unrestrained comparably.” The counterpart replied, keeping her eyes on Dox and clearly taking in every non-verbal reaction the red headed visitor made to each observation. “She has not yet been broken of that unearned sense of self-righteous superiority that comes with the uniform.”

Narrowing her eyes slightly, Dox’s jaw tightened with each slight dig from her other self. In spite of herself she couldn’t quite keep those internal reactions as internal as she would have liked which only proved to buttress the dark-haired woman’s points.

“What can you tell me about her personal life?” the Senator asked. Clearly she was enjoying this- a rare opportunity, and her star pupil was making her proud, even if her visitor was less than appreciative.

“Well…” The other Mnhei’sahe said, taking on a slightly haughty, half lidded expression that seemed to mirror her Grandmother’s a bit, “...as previously observed, she is pair bonded. She overworks, as evidenced by how she keeps her hair and her general… twitchy posture which shows she doesn’t sleep well. And, from her general level of defensiveness, I would say that she’s drinking as an emotional panacea again. Or… at least over inflating the ‘struggle’ for herself.”

“The clinging to that need for familial approval tells me she likely still doesn’t socialize well on that ship either.” She finished, seeming to be more actively trying to get under Dox’s skin by picking at what she knew were scabs for the Romulan pilot.

It was an effective strategy as Dox clearly took a bit of a breath to center herself and push back against the anger that was starting to get a bit more intense.

“Still got an anger management issue I see, still unchecked, still violent,” the silver-haired senator observed, making sure to keep her desk between the simmering Romulan refugee from another dimension and herself. Wisely, given her words.” Now, what’s the difference between you? If this is indeed a variant of you from another reality, where did your lives diverge?”

This time, the answer came from the crimson-clad Starfleet officer, as Dox spoke up, cutting off her counterpart before she could speak. “She never committed to her life in Starfleet by forming the stronger bonds that I made with my crew. She never ended up in the brig of your Warbird, suffering Dalia Rendal’s tender mercies. Meaning she didn’t have to trust that her crew would come for her…”

“To help me rescue you.” Dox said, turning to Verelan slightly. “My time on your ship was split down the middle. Two weeks under your aegis. Two weeks under Rendal. And…”

Pausing, Dox worked through the sequence of events that happened ten months ago now as she realized what had to have been a key difference. “And she didn’t watch Rendal execute her father right in front of her. She didn’t have his blood dry on the deck at her feet.”

Across the room, this time the counterpart's facade loosened for just an instant, her eyes going just a bit wide for a fraction of a second before they locked back up.

“Mmmmm, yet clearly my tutelage was not wasted. Well, as interesting as that has been, we are still left with the problem of what to do with you for the.... How long did you say you had left here?” It was obvious, but again, it was a Romulan tactic- asking the question you were certain the other party could answer although it had already been denied.

Replying with a slightly raised eyebrow and the lightest of smiles that she allowed to show, Dox turned back towards Verelan. “Long enough to talk, not quite long enough to use me in any elaborate schemes with the Senate that would require any kind of set up.”

“Mmmm, an indeterminate answer in order to theoretically prevent us from putting you forth in any scheme we might enact in the short term. Well, I suppose there’s no help for it then,” the aged Romulan stateswoman, tapped a few buttons on her desk tablet, then looked up with a smile. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering us some lunch. I heard your stomach growl a few minutes ago, and there’s no benefit to poisoning you if your corpse is just going to vanish. So you may as well share a meal with us.”

As always, there was little actual question to the statement, more of an assumption of compliance which was so very Romulan authoritarian and elite that it actually brought a half-smile to Dox’s face.

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

A few moments later, Verelan’s personal Centurion and loyal guard, Pajom tr’Sahe entered the chamber pushing a large, rolling tray with three plates, a pitcher of water and what appeared to be a bottle of Lehe'jhme wine, which was a common mid-meal staple within the culture.

Wordlessly, the young Romulan man with the severe military haircut placed each plate down on the desk, looking like he had done so countless times before, indicating to Dox that the two women likely ate while working quite a bit. What was more intriguing, however, to the redheaded Romulan, was that the Centurion she had a measure for from her own encounters with him during her captivity in her own timeline seemed to be completely nonplussed by the presence of two Mnhei’sahe’s.

Either he too had been monitoring everything in the room, or he was simply so well trained that he knew not to ask such questions. But there was something in his posture and expression when he set down each plate of what appeared to be wild roast Hlai bird served over a bed of a dark brown ricegrain in sauce. The aroma immediately caused Dox’s stomach to betray itself slightly with another audible groan as she watched the centurion’s face.

The man was as professional as always as he stepped back to full attention. “Noble Deihu. Mistress. At your order, I shall return to my duties and collect the trays when you are complete.”

There was the most infinitesimal shifts in tone on the word ‘mistress’, which was aimed at this realities version of Mnhei’sahe that made Dox wonder if he harbored feelings for her counterpart beyond loyalty. If it was reciprocated, it did not show on the dark-haired double’s face, which remained impassive and professional as they all sat around Verelan’s desk.


“Most appreciated, Centurion. We will summon you when we require your service once more,” Verelan offered, then watched the newcomer before snapping out, “Analysis?”

As tr’Sahe left and the door wooshed closed behind him, Dox considered the question. She realized that, just like on the Warbird and even now in their relationship across holographic communications back in her own reality, most everything was a test of some kind. An opportunity for a lesson to be imparted.

Looking back at her grandmother, Dox found that unusual familiarity oddly comforting as she replied. “He likes her. Your Mnhei’sahe.”

“During the period in which I had been held in the brig by Rendal in my reality… after you had been taken as well...he secretly remained loyal to you. Assisted me by ensuring that I was properly fed. Without him, it’s likely Rendal would have succeeded in re-writing my mind as well.” Dox added, giving a bit of context to the moment by elaborating on the man’s immense loyalty for Verelan’s benefit. “But here, I think he might be… more than loyal to you.”

That last comment was aimed at the dark haired double in the plush leather chair to Dox’s right, as the counterpart actually allowed a bit of emotion to show on her face. In this case, a very mild bit of irritation that Dox had picked up on it.

“I think you may be right, much to your own consternation in a bizarre sort of way,” Verelan admitted, praising one Dox while commenting on the irritation of the other. In that moment both of them could see her subtly convincing them to compete with one another. Yet both knew themselves well enough to know that they would continue to do so, because both sought that maternal approval denied them in their childhood, even after all these years. As one, both inhaled and sighed in unison at the realization.

“He’s a good man. Brave. Loyal beyond a fault. Selfless. Even in my reality, he is your most trusted protector.” Dox said, replying first as Verelan picked up her napkin and placed it on her lap with practiced precision. To her right, her counterpart did the same, taking her cues from their grandmother as the elder stateswoman nodded, indicating that they could begin eating.

Picking up her utensils, Dox looked at the dish which Verelan clearly knew was one of her favorite Romulan meals. “When I was a prisoner, he laced our meals with nano trackers so, in an emergency, we could be beamed away.”

It was more a basic statement of tr’Sahe’s character than any kind of accusation as, without hesitating, she took a bite of the tender Hlai. A particular delicacy she had been denying herself since mating with a woman from an avian species.

It was, as expected, exquisite and she made no attempt to conceal her enjoyment of that first bite, before swallowing and continuing her thought. “Though… one would think… not particularly our type.”

And then, Dox scored her first solid hit on her counterpart by hinting at the fact that both women were lesbians. Sitting next to her, the dark-haired Mnhei’sahe’s face remained perfectly neutral, as if she had heard nothing. But her capillary response betrayed her in the moment as her cheeks flushed green ever so slightly.

The silence from the local Dox made the point, and Verelan, shook her head. “Irrelevant. When are arranged marriages ever arranged with the tastes of the arrangées in mind?”

The silence that followed was palpable, and the eyebrows of the silver-haired Senator rose. “A sticking point, I see. Well, it seems one of you won’t have to worry about such things while the other will have plenty of time to consider it before any such thing comes to pass.”

For a moment, Dox sank ever so slightly as she glanced over to her counterpart, who looked fairly calm and neutral, but who had been reminded of something she didn’t want to think about. One of what had to be one of many such concessions this version of her was forced to adapt, in order to live on Romulus and serve house Rul. A pang of guilt crept into the red-headed pilot’s stomach at prodding this reality’s Dox in such a fashion.

Then, as she thought on what Verelan had just said, she knew that her own potential, upcoming meeting on Romulus that had been put out there containing an unspoken possibility of getting stuck there herself. That realization brought the feeling back home. She looked over at Verelan, who took a delicate bite of her own lunch, and reminded herself that while she was going to be pulled away from this reality before too long, back home she had her own Verelan t’Rul with very specific intentions for her as well.

“I… apologize for making you uncomfortable.” Dox said lightly to her counterpart. “It was… petty of me.” It was an admission to assuage her own guilt as much as it was for the benefit of the dark-haired doppelganger who Dox realized she was experiencing something she had never felt before in her life. The closest comparison, in truth, would be sibling rivalry, and it was wildly uncomfortable for the young officer as she took a sip of her water.

“I do not require your apology.” The counterpart replied with a hint of a chill in her voice. “Nothing you said was unknown to me.”

The counterpart’s posture returned to normal as her voice became more even and confident sounding again. “As you have said, Pajom is a good man in every capacity. He is noble and loyal. He is also smart, hardworking and has a distinguished service record. Should it be decided that we are to be paired, it would be a strong pairing for us all, and for our House.”

The tone was practiced and a bit formal, even for her, sounding much more like a prepared answer that Verelan might have taught her for use with others. Listening, Dox realized this was something her counterpart had clearly been struggling with for a while, but also a fact of life which the woman was working to resign herself. She suspected that this might be a point that the two women had argued about in the past, from their individual reactions. As she thought for a moment of Mona and their three beautiful girls back on the Hera, Dox at least hoped that on top of his other qualities, Pajom was also understanding and kind. He had seemed as much, and if this was to be her counterpart’s fate, she hoped it was a pleasant one in the long term.

That was when the now-familiar tingle of the Bulukiya effect began, giving her the hint that she had only a few seconds to prepare before departing this reality for another where her life would have taken on different twists, different possibilities.

Immediately, Dox stood up from the seat, as she realized that she had lost track of time in the moment. Looking around at the two women in the room and not quite knowing what to say, but being fairly certain she didn’t want to show up somewhere in a seated position. “It’s happening.”


“Get a scanner and record it, we may be able to use some of the data,” Verelan ordered the local Dox, even as she herself stood and took a step back. Clearly she did not want to be caught up in the effect, however it might manifest.

As the local counterpart got up from the chair, Dox sighed and hooked the leg of the chair with her foot, and pulled it a bit. A second later, her foot had become immaterial, but it had served its purpose to cause her dark-haired doppelganger to stumble out of the chair for a moment.

“I am sorry, Grandmother.” Dox said, as she started to fade, “That wasn’t what I was hoping the last things we said to each other would have been.”

Then, as her voice began to echo, she turned to the women who had accepted her place as the heir to house Rul, “If this was truly your choice… make it count for something. Change things.”

With those words, she was gone.

There was a moment of silence that hung in the room for a moment, as this reality’s Mnhei’sahe straightened herself up and adjusted her top before turning to her grandmother and smirking ever so slightly. “So… you were watching from your ‘sanctum’, Grandmother? You turned having been in the refresher when she arrived into an advantage?”

“There is advantage in every position, my young apprentice,” the elder Romulan woman declared sagely as she smiled. In point of fact, she had expected weirdness to accompany her traveled granddaughter, but not to this magnitude. Internally she wondered what else might make itself known over time. But that was speculation, and inapplicable to the moment. Instead, while their impressions were fresh and their memories of the encounter sharp, she pressed her protege for more, as she always would, to see what wonders the young woman could accomplish when it was but asked of her.

“Now, let us analyze this situation life presented us with today. We shall determine what it means, and how we can apply the knowledge we have gained today to our advantage...”


To Be Continued…

With another bump Thex found herself back in reality. Or in this case a few centimeters above it. She crashed onto a table which broke under her weight splitting the wooden table down the middle. Staggering to her feet she looked around her new environment.

She oddly recognized this place. It looked similar to the captain's quarters only with less starfleet memorabilia and more pirate gear, artwork and alien treasure. A figure moved in the bed sitting up and looking straight at her.


Striding over from the bed was another her. Clad in nothing, but a pink semi-transparent robe, and a thin golden collar around her neck the other thing about this version of her that stood out was a tattoo across the right side of her face that was clearly one of the designs of the Artan pirates. A confused smile was on her face as she knelt down beside Thex. “ Now this is unexpected.” She said in an oddly calming voice. Her eyes glanced at Thex bandaged arm. “ What did you pick a fight with to cause that.” She said before she stood up and returned to the bed and pulled a medical kit from underneath it.

“ A borg drone. I was exposed to Bulukiya particle and i’ve been jumping from dimension to dimension. “ Thex replied as the mirror returned and started properly treating her damaged arm.

“ Well from the uniform your clearly starfleet.” her mirror said as she worked.

“ Yeah, I escaped andor and set of to join the fleet. Was that your plan?” the hera sapphire girl answered.

“ Well, i did escape from andor and wanted to join the fleet. Only the ship i was on was captured by Artan pirates. Captain Telvan claimed me as her share of the booty and i’ve been with the crew ever since. Learned how to keep the ship’s running, learned the way’s of being a pirate and how to please my captain. “ the mirror explained.

“You're her slave?” Thex said feeling slightly shocked.

“ Was. I bought my freedom long ago, but Telvan had made me her captain's woman long ago. The collars are own little plaything” the mirror version of her responded sincerely as she placed with the leash clip of the golden collar.

Thex could feel herself starting to fade again. “ Well, that’s me out of here. “ She said flexing her arm. It was still hurting and she’d need to see the doc about it, but she was unlikely to lose it. “ Thanks for the fix.”

“ Just do the same for me if we ever cross paths again.” The mirror replied as she gawped as Thex shone in a bright blue light before disappearing. Corsair Thex face turned into a smile as she put away the first aid gear before looking at the broken table. How was she going to explain this?

That now-familiar moment of dizziness that overcame Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox as she reached out for purchase as the world swirled around her. Finding a cold metal surface to her side, the redheaded Romulan slowly righted herself and waited for everything to stop spinning, and after a few seconds, it finally did.

Blinking to clear her head. Mnhei’sahe looked around slowly as her stomach began to settle itself. The walls were a cold, gray metal with gold chevrons on the panels and white strips of light on the columns along them. There was a ring of green light near the ceiling of the room and a long, angled desk behind her with a tray of bottles and glasses on the end. Kali-Fal, from the looks of it. And a small window looking out into space to her left. The room itself wasn’t specifically familiar, but the architecture certainly was. She was on a Romulan ship somewhere.

Wonderful. She thought to herself, First the offices of the Senate ON Romulus, and now this.

It didn’t look like the People’s Will, the d’Deridex class Warbird she had spent a month on over half a year ago. It was definitely a different ship, as this looked like a commander’s ready room. Possibly a SubCommander’s office. She had been in the Command Office of the People’s Will and it was a little different and a bit larger.

Thankfully, she was alone in the room, at least for the moment. But there was only one way in or out, and that door was likely guarded and Mnhei’sahe was wearing a VERY red Starfleet uniform. Moving behind the desk, she pressed a button on the edge and a small screen slid up from the desk and a panel opened with a biometric security padd. The kind you press your hand on to activate.

There’s no way that it could work. No way… Mnhei’sahe thought to herself, biting her bottom lip nervously as she considered her options. In all the other realities she had lept to, she had encountered an alternate version of herself. Why would this be any different?

Slowly, she lowered her hand onto the PaDD and held her breath, half expecting security klaxons to start going off. Instead, she heard a chirp and the screen came to life. Immediately, her stomach started to twist as she had half been hoping that she was going to be wrong. But whatever ship this was, the version of her from this reality belonged there. On a Romulan ship.

Rather than just wonder, Mnhei’sahe sat down quickly and started looking through the available data on the screen. The ship was a Leosa Class warbird called the IRW Iurret.

“Imirrhlhhse…” Mnhei’sahe whispered a curse under her breath. The Iurret was the ship commanded by Riov Dalia Rendal, and the name on the screen read Erei’Riov Mnhei’sahe t’Rul’ This was probably still Rendal’s ship, but this was Mnhei’sahe’s office… as the ship's SubCommander. The Second in Command. Second in Command of a Romulan Warbird.

“How did this happen?” Mnhei’sahe whispered as she tried to navigate the computer. There were multiple files each organized in folders on the side of the screen, and one marked for logs.

Clicking on the icon for logs, there appeared to be months worth of logs. Counting back on the Romulan stardates she was less familiar with, Mnhei’sahe determined that this realities version of her had been making logs as Erei’Riov for months. Nervously, she clicked on the first file, which opened a separate video file simply marked “Statement.”

Glancing up at the door, she hoped there were no suspicious ears on the other side as she clicked the video and on the screen appeared an image of herself she immediately recognized from back then. From when she was a captive. She was wearing a simple black turtleneck and her expression had a forced blankness to it. The trained, practiced face she had learned to use during her month of captivity that masked the mounting depression within her.

=^=”My name is Mnhei’sahe t'Sendatu-onay Dox. A Lieutenant in Starfleet. United Federation of Planets. Service Number, SC414339-797064.

I am also the Granddaughter of the honorable Deihu, Verelan t’Rul, and as such, heir to the house and holding of the Rul family of Romulus. I am recording this message to dispel the rumor that I have been taken by force by representatives of the Romulan Star Empire and am a prisoner. I am not.

I am, and have been, a guest of the Imperium, here under my own free will. I have chosen, after much consideration, to retire my commission to Starfleet in order to return to the Hearthworld and take up the responsibilities and station that is mine as a member of a noble house of the Imperium.

I apologize for the confusion surrounding my leaving and wish to make it clear that I hold no ill will toward Starfleet or the Federation, nor does this action represent a threat to Starfleet security. I shall remain loyal to the oaths I have taken, but must now embrace the path I was meant to. I am Romulan, and a loyal daughter of the Imperium and I belong with my own people in service to my home. And that is the path I have chosen and have been embraced by this world and my people, whom I will endeavor to serve with honor, as I once served Starfleet.

To those, I have served with… to my friends, family, and to my wife, I can only hope that one day the tensions that exist between our peoples will become unnecessary and we may see each other again. But until that day, it is a goal I must now work for from my true home.

My name is Mnhei’sahe t’Rul. And I am where I am meant to be. I ask that no efforts be spent to remove me from my home as the Imperium would consider any such attempts to remove me from my home an act of aggression which will threaten the tenuous peace between our peoples.”=^=

Leaning back in shock, Mnhei’sahe cupped a hand over her mouth as the video ended. This was the message Rendal wanted her to make that never happened. The message she would have been forced to make from the Tal’Shiar complex on Romulus she never made it inside of in her reality. The final message to Starfleet, the Hera and Mona. A curated, practiced, and scripted defection letter that the other her had read with just a hint of bleakness around the edges.

Turning off the video, Mnhei’sahe felt sick. She hoped that at least that version of her had been compromised by the Ju’rot device to make that video, but she had no way of knowing. She did see a bit of the desperation behind the eyes of a woman fighting to get out that Mnhei’sahe had seen in her Grandmother’s eyes after her first ‘treatment’. She saw herself, but broken. She realized that this version must have been subjected to the Ju’rot device again. Enough times to finally break her defenses. Enough times to remake her however Rendal saw fit.

Remake her as the apprentice of noble blood Rendal had wanted and could use to fuel her own desires.

Hanging her head for a moment, the Romulan Starfleet lieutenant Commander heard bootsteps coming down the corridor towards the door. As they got closer, she stiffened up in the seat and simply waited. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and no weapons in sight. Nothing to do but wait. And she didn’t have to wait long.

The door wooshed open, and in walked a somewhat leaner, short-cropped, red haired Romulan woman in a checkered, black and gray uniform. On the belts crossing her shoulder, the silver sigil of Al’thindor with the Hearthworlds in its claws. The symbol of the Star Empire. On her collar, the rank of Erei’Riov. On her belted waist, a disruptor on one side in a holser. On the other side, a black sheathed, curved sword so very much like the one Rendal wore on hers. She had a stern expression as her head was buried in a PaDD for just an instant. But in that same, split instant, she glanced up, dropped the PaDD and drew the disruptor at her hip towards the intruder sitting in her chair.

With wide eyes, the woman identified by her computer as Erei’Riov t’Rul stepped quickly up as the door shut behind her, whispering with barely contained rage in Romulan, “What ARE you!? How did you get in here?”

“Hello, Mnhei’sahe.” The Crimson Clad version said, speaking in Federation Standard as calmly as possible with a disruptor hovering only inches from her face. “I think you know what I am. Who I am.”

The other woman’s eyes narrowed as she looked her doppelganger over. “Stand up and step around the desk to the front.” She said flatly, still speaking in Rihan with a hiss of venom in her voice.

“And if I don’t? Will you call security on me, Mnhei’sahe? Send me to the brig? Shackle me to a chair to make me talk?” The Starfleet officer said with an edge of sarcasm as she recalled her experience in the brig of the People’s Will to fish for a reaction. To see what experiences they shared. And a reaction was exactly what she got.

Moving faster than Dox would have expected, the furious Erei’Riov’s eyes widened as she swung the butt of the disruptor which smacked against the side of Mnhei’sahe’s face, hard. Letting out a restrained grunt at the impact, Mnhei’sahe’s head whipped back quickly before snapping forward. As it did, she found the SubCommander’s free hand clamped tight against her neck and felt herself being shoved out of the chair, up to her feet by the effort and slammed against the wall, the disruptor now dug deep into her cheek.

“Do NOT play with me!” t’Rul hissed as Mnhei’sahe realized that this version of her had likely been fighting and training hard under Rendal and she wasn’t quite as strong as her enraged counterpart. Shaking her head, t’Rul leaned in closer and all but whispered, still in Romulan, “How did you get here? Hera? Gaia? Rei? Tell me what I want to know or I WILL call security, have you dragged back to the brig, beaten within an inch of your life and then I WILL have them start over every day until you talk. You think that was hard before? That was shore leave, little girl. Am I understood?”

“I’m just an experiment gone wrong. A cross-dimensional accident that’s left me moving through different realities. Realities where, clearly, things went badly for me.” Mnhei’sahe answered through a compressed throat, hoarsely, but still speaking English. As she did, she slowly tried to reach for the hilt of the sword on her double’s hip. Seeing the attempt, the other her simply tilted her head as her eyes went into a half lidded expression.

“Really? Was I ever this slow?” the irritated looking erei’Riov sneared as she kneed Mnhei’sahe in the stomach and stepped back. Hunched over, gasping, Mnhei’sahe heard the sound of that very sword slipping loose of its sheath and an instant later, the flat edge of the tip tucked up under her chin and began to steadily but firmly press up.

With sword in hand, the erei’Riov stood straight, forcing Mnhei’sahe back up and against the wall as the tip began to press in. Not enough yet to break the skin, but enough to demand attention. “You wanted my sword? You know full well you’ll have to take it. And judging from what I’m seeing, you have zero chance of doing that anytime soon.”

“So… an experiment gone wrong. A cross-dimensional traveler. I assume from your uniform and expression, you are disapproving of where you find yourself?” She said, with just a hint of bitterness in her voice. Her counterpart may have been living amongst her own people for months now, but as always, Mnhei’sahe knew her own tells when she saw them on her own face.

“That implies that you do approve, Erei’Riov. Would that be true? Are you enjoying life here? Alone? No Mona. No Children?” Mnhei’sahe said, careful to not move her jaw too much or risk puncturing her throat. She was trying to goad her other self into anger, and from the narrowing of her eyes, it would seem that she had succeeded.

“What a child I was.” The erei’Riov hissed, and as she spoke, she brought a boot around and connected hard with Mnhei’sahe’s cheek, whipping her head hard to the side.

In an instant, the world went dark.

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

Slowly, the darkness began to fade to a sickly, green light as blurry shapes began to form in Mnhei’sahe’s vision. Two voices spoke from what felt like a light year away. But after a few moments, reality began to coalesce once more. Unfortunately, it was the same reality she had been knocked unconscious in.

She was laying on her back on a table, and felt her arms and legs strapped down. Above her a light of some kind that looked as if she might be in the ship’s Medical Bay. Then, a face stepped over her. A face she knew entirely too well and hated with a passion.

The face of Riov Dalia Rendal.

“Good morning, Mnhei’sahe. I understand that you’re the version of my apprentice who was actually rescued or some such.” The grin on Rendal’s face was not one of friendliness, but one of a predator with fresh prey in her sights. “And you’re going to tell me all about it.”

Looking around the room as much as she could, she saw her counterpart standing behind Rendal, watching with that same anger in her eyes. Then, looking back at the woman who killed her father, tortured her and her grandmother and, back in her own reality, was still trying to get her hands on Dox, the redheaded Starfleet officer’s eyes narrowed. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Well, I could guess aimlessly rather than make you tell me. I feel like I’ve gotten pretty good at reading you, after all.” Rendal stepped back and nodded to SubCommander t’Rul. “Perhaps instead of being stopped from mounting a rescue by Starfleet, your pirate captain was able to mount that rescue, fly straight to Romulus, and somehow board the People’s Will, and get you back.”

“Or perhaps they waited until you were being transferred to the ground facilities,” the royal Riov mused thoughtfully as she watched Dox closely. “After all, that’s how I would have done it.”

“Why do you care how I got away? You got your little slave.” Dox replied, venom and sarcasm in her voice as she looked for any reactions from her own counterpart in the Romulan military uniform. But rather than anger, the SubCommander simply sneered slightly, an ugly thing on her face.

“Because safety and security is important to me. Every life is precious and we need to strive to protect every member of the Empire, loyal or not. You yourself taught me that lesson.” With an almost caring look, Rendal turned and placed a hand on the shoulder of Dox’s counterpart. “Isn’t that right, Apprentice?”

“Ie, my Riov.” The counterpart said, nodding as she met the glare of her Starfleet doppelganger. “I assume you believe I have no mind of my own. That I am just some puppet. But that lack of understanding is your loss. You wanted to affect change within the Star Empire. I have.”

“You have enacted no less than seven major policy changes within the Tal’Shiar alone with my guidance and for that, you have bettered the Empire and strengthened our people as a whole.” Rendal then turned back to the crimson clad Starfleet version. “You see, my apprentice isn’t just the learner, but the teacher as well.”

“She has taught me that you don’t have to fight Federation superweapons or the Borg with superweapons. You find counters to them.” Riov Rendal explained in a calm tone. ”Simple, ingenious, mass-producible, counters. One in which anyone is able to use for defense and salvation rather than only a few ships in the fleet to gain retaliation.”

“That’s why we’ve shifted focus to studying the effects of our enemies’ superweapons as they seem to be keen on using them and finding ways of preventing or stopping them with minimal loss of life to the Empire,” she concluded.

“So… even turned on that machine… she told you much the same things I did in that cell on the People’s Will. That there were other ways. And to think, all it took was a leash locked on her to make you listen.” Dox said, the anger gone from her voice as she spoke flatly now.

With a slight scoff, the redheaded SubCommander shook her head. “Does it make you feel better to assume that I am a victim, Lieutenant Commander? That I was broken under the Neural Extraction Converter? Have you ever considered that I am here because it is what I chose. For the betterment of my home. For the betterment of those I left behind to save from themselves. For the Romulan people that I know you care about.”


“I tried quite a few times to no avail,” Rendal added, shaking her head remorsefully. “Eventually, I gave up and found that you were already the perfect apprentice. Your mental strength proved far too great for the device, your physical strength was almost on par with my own, and you only lacked in stealth and guile in the political front, which I am proud to say you have taken to admirably.”

Listening, Rendal’s words cut deeper than Dox would have liked, mirroring sentiments that the young officer’s Senator Grandmother had made in the intervening months where Dox found herself embroiled in Romulan politics in spite of her escape. Words that, from Verelan t’Rul, inspired pride, gave her only revulsion now coming from Dalia Rendal.

“So, that’s all? You just… decided to betray your oaths to Starfleet? To your FAMILY? To your CHILDREN!?” Dox hissed through gritted teeth, realizing she was likely giving Rendal the exact kind of reaction she wanted. But in the moment, she didn’t care.

At the words ‘children’, the Romulan SubCommander had anger behind her eyes again as her lip curled derisively for just an instant. But as quickly as it had swelled in her, it was quashed. And with a controlled, steady voice, she replied flatly. “My Children will one day be able to return to their home, when we have made it a better place.”

“And you will help that happen, but answering my Riov’s questions.” She finished, turning back to Rendal. Dox could read the emotion behind the cold facade of her twisted double. There was still rage and anger in those eyes. Emotions that she was struggling to control.

“And the first question is still… How were you rescued?” Rendal pressed, leaning in closer, her demeanor growing more serious.

“Nothing I tell you will be relevant. Different timeline. Different reality.” Dox said plainly, her face as impassioned and neutral as she learned to make it when she was Rendal’s prisoner once before.

“Perhaps… Or perhaps now I have two perfect apprentices One in this universe… one in yours.” With a grin, Rendal motioned towards a rather familiar control system. “Shall we see if you’re as resilient as my apprentice?”

Immediately, Dox felt her pulse race just a bit more as her counterpart reached behind her and pulled a series of wires out. It was a set up she knew all too well. She was already strapped in to a Neural Extraction Converter and hadn’t realized it.

Before she had lept out of the last reality, she felt the process begin. She felt the energies begin to build as she disconnected from that reality to move to where she was, but she wasn’t feeling that yet, so she knew she had to stall. Having been knocked out, she had no idea how long she still had left. “I thought you weren’t turned with this thing, Mnhei’sahe?”

Referring to her counterpart by name, Dox kept talking as Rendal’s SubCommander began hooking the small nodules up to the base of her neck and temples, one by one. “I thought you were here by choice? So why try and turn me with the machine if it didn’t work on you? Or did she just make you forget that this is what happened? That THIS is what broke you?”

With no response from the black and gray clad SubCommander, Dox’s pulse was racing. The last time she had been in this chair, she had been as prepared as possible. She had spent days meditating and practicing her techniques of mental defense. Now, she was tired and completely unprepared. Her mental defenses were strained and weak from her confrontation with the version of herself who had had her own mental abilities cosmically augmented, so she tried to stall them as long as she could. “A pity you turned your back on MONA. She could tell you with a TOUCH if you were really still YOU!”

At that, the simmering anger in the counterpart finally began to boil over as she reached down and slammed her strong hand over Dox’s mouth. “There are other ways to break someone, Lieutenant Commander. And right now, I would dearly like to employ one of those, so be silent. And obey.”

Readjusting the leads to Dox’s head, the scowling counterpart stepped away, composing herself and adjusting her uniform. “She is prepared, my Riov.”

Feeling panic set in even further, Dox bit her lip and tried to calm herself down. She had escaped this fate once before, and now she was looking directly at what she feared almost more than anything else. Worse than the loss of life, the loss of self. Met by those cold, angry eyes where she could no longer see anything of herself, she knew that she could well become exactly that if she couldn’t defend herself this time.

But as she began to brace herself for the worst, she felt it. The tingling of what she hoped was the Bulukiya particles within her began to flare up again. That feeling she had felt at the end of her last leap that let her know it was about to happen again as Rendal began to speak.

“As an enemy and proven rebel element of the Empire, you are hereby sentenced to corrective actions to be carried out immediately. You will then answer all of our questions, including how you escaped and how you got here from your other dimension.” Rendal then nodded to her apprentice, SubCommander t’Rul. “I feel it is only fitting that you carry out the procedure, don’t you? You have more than proven your loyalty, however this will silence any doubters in both the Senate and in the Federation.”

“You honor me, my Riov.” The counterpart said as she stepped over to the control panel, Rendal stepping over to the side of the Table to look over Dox. On that table, Dox began to control her breathing as best as was possible, not 100% sure if what she was feeling was the Bulukiya particles or the Ju’Rot device itself.

Then, at the control panel, without hesitation, the woman called SubCommander t’Rul finished her adjustments and began to turn the knob slowly. As she did, from the table, the sensation was both familiar and immediate. Unlike before, Dox had not relaxed enough to focus on the image of Mount Selaya on Vulcan. There was no calming image in her mind to focus on, just the sight of Rendal’s face over her and the dark reflection at the controls as a wave of blackness slammed into her mind.

It felt like going to warp on the outside of a starship, as if the weight of the gravity of all things began pressing in around her from all sides. And in that pressure, she felt what seemed like fingers pushing steadily into her mind, pressing hard up against what mental defenses she could muster. It was like being drown by an impossible wind, but through that wind, she heard a voice cutting into her like a blade. Dalia Rendal’s voice.

“Soon I will have two perfect apprentices at my beck and call…”

In her mind, Dox began to scream as she felt the pressure continue to build. In the darkness of her mind, she tried with all of her might to keep her mental defenses up as Rendal’s words echoed into her mind like a million tiny blades. Then, like a wave crashing, she felt the energy of the Neural Extraction Converter begin to no longer press against her, but through her.

As her defenses shattered against the power of the machined, Dox’s head snapped back on the table and she let out an ear piercing scream in the chamber, “EEEAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Opening her tear streaked eyes, she could see Rendal and her counterpart looking confused and, while they appeared to be shouting, she couldn’t hear them anymore. And as the light of the room began to blue-shift around her, they and her were gone.

One the warbird, the table where Dox had been strapped was now empty as the crimson clad officer had vanished away. Looking at the console, t’Rul flipped switches frantically, but the expression was one not of anger, but of concentration. Then, after a few seconds, she looked up and nodded. “Riov. While we were unable to penetrate very far past her mental defenses, the leads were able to collect a significant amount of data as she vanished. Including readings of an energy signature… unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. You will want to see this.”

As the royal Riov looked over the data, she mused over the implications of what she was looking at. They hadn’t gotten the data they wanted, but instead gathered data they may have needed nonetheless. “Send this to the researchers for extrapolation. We need to know if this is a threat that needs to be countered or if it’s a way to counter existing threats.”

Rendal then turned to her Apprentice, a sympathetic look on her face as she reached up and gently squeezed the redhead’s shoulder. “Also, since we didn’t get the data we specifically needed, unfortunately you’re going to have to continue the scans. We need the complete Gaia data buried in your mind in order to understand it and counter the Federation’s use of it. I’m sorry.”

If there was any hesitation in the heart or mind of the woman now named Mnhei’sahe t’Rul, it was invisible as she nodded matter of factly to Rendal. “I understand, my Mistress. However deep we must go, we will find whatever we can that was hidden in my mind.”

“For the Imperium and her people.”

To Be Continued…

The first thing she noticed, as the flare of the incandescent faded, was it being replaced by lens flare. Reflecting off the polished shiny surfaces of the bridge, so unlike the one recorded in the history books where she now lived. Technology had run on an entirely different course in their universe, and in many ways was more advanced than what existed in Starfleet in the 2390s.

Of course, she was back on the bridge. Standing next to her old chair, looking at Captain Michael Stuart, there in his command chair... her handsome captain, ever struggling to restrain his darker impulses and strive to be a better captain, a better man. At the science station stood Sonak, and there beside her was the closest analogy to herself she had run across yet.

“Hello, Rita,” the visitor said as Captain Stuart popped the console on his command chair and produced a phaser. Rather than calling Security to the bridge, he was choosing to handle it himself- typical of the maverick captains of his day. Raising her hands, Rita smiled.

“Commander Rita Paris of the USS Hera, requesting permission to come aboard, Captain Stuart,” she explained. “I come in peace, only for a while. And do I have a story to tell you...”

An hour later, she, her local analogy, Sonak and Stuart sat in her old office, which, paradoxically, was identical to her current office, through a twist of cosmic fate. A fact which still amused Rita every time she saw it, yet made her grateful to the forces of the universe that had conspired to make it so. A career’s worth of mementos and souvenirs and trinkets, models and photos and action figures decorated the walls, while the triangular conference room table that served as her desk was still cluttered with PaDDs, flimsies and an alien artifact or two that was still in need of cataloguing.

While it was a bit odd to be on the other side of the desk, it didn’t surprise her that this was where they brought her to interview her and test her, to see if she was indeed another Rita Paris. Their adventures had diverged back on Ajilon Prime, when her Sonak had opted not to transport, but to call for a beam-out, which he had estimated to have a slightly better chance of success than his hastily rewired transporter control panel. Thus they had beamed out, safely, and life went on for them in the 23rd century.

Having relayed her own fantastical tale of adventure, she could see the reactions. Sonak asked probing questions, and attempted to trap her in a logic puzzle a few times during the conversation. Which most likely would have exposed a fraud, save that he was the one who had taught them to her- children’s games on Vulcan, but for the human girl they had been challenging enough. Now they helped serve to verify her bonafides.

Initially Michael Stuart had been suspicious, with a touch of aggressive confrontation peppered in. But he was calmer than he had been, better able to restrain his temper. Only once or twice did he make a threat, each time accompanied by eyerolls from both Ritas. It seemed that a few more years with the junior officer, now a Commander, had continued to mold the young captain, demoted back down from Admiral. Now it seemed the Exeter had two Captains, yet still one master and commander.

As for the local Rita Paris, she asked the occasional clarification question, but otherwise she seemed quiet and observant. At first it struck Rita, as she did not expect that behavior. But watching the dynamic of the three officers interacting, Rita realized that here, she had the luxury of not having to take the lead. In this universe, with a Captain and a First Officer above her, Rita could be more observant, removed from the command spotlight, and focus on supporting the command team.

It had been a long time since she had seen this pattern... two years now, in fact. Stuart, headstrong, rash, and impulsive. Sonak calm, cool, observant and of course logical. While Rita seemed to be the bridge between the two of them- the id, ego and superego.

Fedepedia, the Federation encyclopedia: In Freudian psychiatry the Super Ego is the most complicated of the 3 parts of Freud’s version of the psyche. The Super Ego served not just as the conscience, it is also the part of the psyche that embraces and believes in the power of human potential. It is the part of us that believes in the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few. It governs behavior from a moral and socially relativistic position. If the Id represented the emotions, and the Ego represented logical actions, then the Super Ego represented the spirit of humanity.

Let it not be said her psychology courses at the Academy were a waste.

Seeing the old dynamic, here, in the office where they always gathered to talk, to plan, to convene... it was nice, Wonderful, really. In the two years she had been living in the future, she still ran into something every day that reminded her that she was unfamiliar with- the technology, the geopolitical landscape, history, current events. All this time she realized how she had put those feelings of inadequacy she felt, in a future she still did not completely understand, on a back burner to try to cope with it. Yet here, back in her own element, she knew the technology, could work on just about any system on the starship, knew the spaceways and who was who.

It felt nice to be that secure in her own knowledge again, if even for a brief respite.

The truth of the matter was, despite the suspicion, she was happy to be here... one of the few leaps she could say that about. While Sonak was with her on the Hera- ever her implacable and unrelenting hero, he had crossed time and space to return to her side, making good on the simple proposal that had mapped out their lives. The course that you plot I shall follow, for I trust you to guide us both through this undiscovered country. That was what he’d told her, the night after they had returned from Talos IV, when she had spoken plainly and truthfully to him, and they had begun their relationship while condemned to a death sentence from Starfleet itself.

I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but also believe we are only fated to do the things we would choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, on a hundred different worlds, in any version of reality.

That had been her response, and seeing him and herself, of a sort, here on The Exeter, where they belonged, still together, still the trio of space explorers working together as a crew, made her both happy and wistful.

Which made the next conversation that much harder.

“Okay, since no one is pointing a phaser at me I’m assuming you believe me,” Rita quipped, and Stuart chuckled. It was odd meeting a version of Rita who was so confident and strident. But apparently, living at the close of the 24th century had done worlds of good for her self-esteem and confidence.

“Which means that we need to have a rather uncomfortable conversation about spacetime, alternate realities and how one can create a bubble ‘pocket’ universe that will inevitably collapse in on itself. I can explain, but honestly a lot of the science is over my head. There’s an easy way to relay the information, of course, but... I think that’s between Sonak and Rita here.”

“Meaning what exactly?” the local Rita spoke up. She’d been quiet through a lot of this, and through watching and listening to her doppleganger, she was feeling something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was definitely bothering her.

“Well, a mind meld. Were Sonak to meld with me, he would-” Rita began, only to be interrupted by herself.

“No,” the Second Officer of the Exeter stated quite firmly, then directed her attention to the ship’s commander..”Captain, if you buy all of this that’s fine. But even if we take her word for all of that, melding with Sonak is not something to be undertaken lightly, and she’d know that if she were really... some version of me.”

As Sonak prepared to reply, the visiting Rita interjected. “Captain? Commander? May we have the room for a moment? I think I need a moment with myself, if you don’t mind. Mr. Sonak will still be quite aware of Commander Paris, so she will still be safely monitored. But I think she and I need a moment, if you don’t mind, sirs?”

Referring to both of them collectively as ‘sirs’ was an old habit, one the visitor had long since fallen out of practice using. After all, in her reality, she was first officer to Enalia Telvan, and she wouldn’t call Enalia ‘sir’ on a bet. But it had the desired effect- the familiarity of the request made Stuart smirk, and he looked to Sonak.

“The logic inherent in the statement is sound, Captain,” Sonak intoned calmly, as he always did. His steel grey eyes bored into the blue eyes of the visitor, the same blue eyes that he knew so well. “I would be immediately aware of any danger, and we would be right outside, ergo close enough to immediately affect the situation. I see no reason not to humor the request, assuming Commander Paris is in agreement.”

While the local Rita Paris looked less than pleased at the suggestion, she nodded her acquiescence. As the two ranking officers left the room, the door slid shut behind them, and immediately Rita Paris was on her feet behind her desk.

“Okay, look, you. I don’’t know what your Sonak is like, but this one is.... with me,” she explained, stumbling as she tried to put into words her feelings, and frame them in a logical framework. Years of life with a Kolinahr meant that if your argument was solely emotional, then it wasn’t going to get very far with the the last Master of Gol.

“We’re not married yet, because we still serve together, but we have plans after the five year mission. Wherever you come from, whatever your deal is, I don’t want some impression of you that’s too much like me haunting my Sonak’s mind for the rest of our lives. I mean, you know how this works. You wanna pop in and tell us your fantastical story, fine. But leaving a lasting impression in the mind of the last Kolinahr... that’s just unacceptable. I can’t tell Sonak whom to meld with and whom not, but, really... put yourself in my boots, Rita.”

“I get it,” Rita replied. “I want you to have that future, Rita. I genuinely, truly do. Being here, seeing the old girl, seeing Michael again... we were happy here. It wasn’t the best assignment, but we were a good team, the three of us. I miss Michael... in the reality I ended up in, time and events flowed differently, and... he died with the crew above Omega IV, and the Exeter was scrapped.”

“That’s... part of it, but... Rita, look,” the extradimensional explorer levelled with herself. “This is a pocket universe, cause by Spock’s time travel along with Nero’s. The thing is, it’s NOT sustainable. You have maybe a dozen years at best, from Sonak’s calculations, assuming they hold true here, which, I’ll trust Sonak’s math in any universe,” Rita admitted, as they both chuckled in unison. “I need for him to know what I know, because he’ll listen to himself. I mean, not that he DOESN’T listen to us, but... you get it.”

“I don’t want to ruin your life, Rita, and I swear I am not here to interfere in your relationship. I know what you want... I want the same things too, remember?” Her expression softening, Rita admitted it aloud.

“I want a home, I want to raise a family, I want to see our kids off to the stars and make sure the tradition continues- there’s been a Paris in Starfleet since before it WAS Starfleet. I know you want that, as much as you want to be out here exploring, and the closer you get to the end of the five year mission the more you are planning it out. Convince Sonak to take a teaching position at the Academy, join him there when the kids are old enough, and shape the minds and ideals of the next generation. I understand, Rita. I really, truly do.”

“There is no way in this or any other universe I would mess that up for you. But I think you might have to alter your plans a bit if the universe is collapsing and you’re all doomed. So, how about it? Mind if I convince your man to believe what I’m telling you, so you can start to take action before there is no future left to look forward to?” It was a gamble, but Rita know exactly what to say to motivate herself. Which the other Rita knew, of course. And in truth, jealousy was what she was feeling, she recognized. Safe and secure as she was that Sonak was with her for a great many reasons, the appearance of ANOTHER Rita Paris had thrown her off a little. Having her ask to bond with the love of her life had made her paranoid and territorial, and she recognized it.

After all, here, they were not wed. While the bond they shared was more intimate than any legal formality, in the heart of Rita Paris, it made a considerable difference.

“Okay... alright. Fine. But just the relevant information, understood? No messing around with how your Sonak does things or comparing lives. I’d like as little of you in there to be confusing as possible,” the 2270 model muttered, even as the visitor shook her head.

“You know Sonak and how he works. He can compartmentalize my katra that he carries, as he does with almost anyone. When was the last time you ran into Ronald Tracey in there, right?” Rita pointed out, as Sonak had indeed mind melded with the insane captain, and carried a Talosian in his mind for his troubles. Neither of which were presences she had ever encountered in years of telepathic contact with her logical mate. His mind was vast and enormous, and he controlled her access to what she was exposed to within it. So intellectually, she knew all of this to be fact, even if emotionally she still didn’t like it.

But then, how many women had to deal with themselves as potential competition?

“I promise, I will keep it to just the facts. Beyond that, it’s Sonak, Rita. Really.” Offering a dubious expression, Rita inclined her head at her other self. “You know better, Rita. Calm down, okay? I get it, I do. But I swear... I’m here to help.”

It was the line Rita generally defaulted to on away missions- ‘I’m Commander Rita Paris, Starfleet. We’re here to help’ was a standard in her lexicon, and using it here reinforced to the other woman that while clearly there were differences, it was obvious both women were cut from the same cloth.

Tabbing the control on her desk, Rita activated the comm panel outside her door. “Were done, sirs- please rejoin us.”

As the door slid open, Sonak’s hands were before him, his fingers steepled together. It was a customary pose of concentration that he often adopted prior to melding with another mind, and seeing it, on the hands of Sonak in his old classic uniform, still brought a smile to Rita’s face. Realizing her counterpart was glaring at her a little, Rita toned it down, and addressed the situation.

“If you are willing, Commander, Sonak had all of the relevant calculations and facts, so that you’ll be able to draw your own conclusions. This should be much more efficient than me trying to walk through the equations... plus I don’t know how much time I have left before I leap out of this reality,” Rita admitted. “I’ve somewhat lost track of time, but I think I should have about two hours here.”

“At present, you have existed in this reality for ninety seven minutes and forty-two seconds,” Sonak responded, offering the facts when estimations were bandied about. Some things seldom changed, and this was a constant of the universe that never failed to please Rita.

It seemed Sonak was consistent in most realities, which Rita found to be greatly reassuring.

“You’re sure about this, Sonak?” Captain Stuart asked, concern in his tone. “We could always just stun her and you could read her mind then, if it would be safer?”

As Sonak explained how that was not actually the best course of action, Rita smiled and waited for the familiar scene to play out. The hotheaded captain wanting to cross the line, the logical, calm first explaining why not, then the impassioned pleas from the second to convince him to embrace his better nature.

It was a familiar dance, and one she could wax nostalgic over, while realizing that she didn’t much miss it. Enalia may not have known how to be Starfleet all that well, and she had her frustrating moments. But she was never blinded by anger like Stuart, nor was she rash and impulsive. If anything Enalia was far more careful with her ship and crew, determined to protect them at all costs- even her own life. It was something Rita deeply respected about the woman.

In the here and now, seeing Michael again and seeing those patterns, she realized why she had never compared the two Captains., because they were as different as night and day. Captain Stuart needed Paris to calm his rage and keep him on the side of the angels. Captain Telvan needed Rita for diplomacy, and to do things the Starfleet way.

Lessons on compassion for her crew and others was a lecture Rita had never needed to have with the Trill pirate queen turned starship captain. In that moment she made that realization, in comparing the styles of her two most recent commanding officers. She’d have to pour Enalia a drink when she got home, and talk with her about it.

When she got home, not ‘if’.

Because this was the multiverse, challenging Rita Paris to survive. It was a challenge she often faced, and she was still standing. When this was all over, she was determined that would be the case. She would make it home, safely, to return to the ship and crew that were her home, and to the logical man who was the center of her universe. In the challenge of Rita Paris vs Death, she’d been knocked down a few times, but she hadn’t lost yet, and she didn’t intend to start now.

For now, Sonak was prepared, and she stood to face him, as it would be easier. Placing his fingers at her temples, he did not speak the familiar mantra of the telepathic Vulcans. It was a ritual he had never needed to initiate contact, and he tended to dispose of them when dealing with a mind perceptive to his contact.

What followed was a very quiet thirty-three seconds as Sonak raced through the information in Rita’s mind, reviewing the relevant data, correlating it, verifying it, crossreferencing it, and ensuring that what he was encountering was in no way inauthentic nor manufactured. Memories could be implanted, but making life experiences realistic to telepathic inspection meant connecting those memories to dozens of others, a laborious process. One with which Sonak was quite well versed to recognize, and in this case, he ended the contact, then addressed his shipmates.

“Mrs. Paris is correct. This reality is indeed a bubble, and it will collapse, according to my calculations, in nine point oh three seven standard galactic years. However, it seems she has a potential plan to relay.” While of course he knew the plan, having seen it in her mind as it was in the forefront as he scanned her.

As usual, he left the floor to the emotional executive, as he never took credit for her work or ideas.

Another thing that made him the perfect man in the eyes of Rita Paris.

“I don’t think you can save the universe... since it’s an anomaly, wedding it to a stronger timeline or perhaps phase shifting it seems highly unrealistic. But you do have nine years to work on it, so maybe that fact will change. But for all of you, at least, I do have one potential out. Rita, bring up a chart of the Alpha quadrant, would you please?” While she wasn’t entirely sure where her counterpart was going, Rita shuffled through a stack of flimsies on her desk and produced the requested map. Glancing it over, Rita shook her head. “Wow... lot more crowded in the future.”

“So here,” Rita pointed to an empty spot on the map. “There’s a star called B’hava’el, and the seventh planet that orbits it is called Bajor. Near Bajor is a wormhole that’s triggered by proximity- you can choose to enter it, and it will deposit you in the Gamma quadrant. One of the only stable wormholes in the known universe. The local worship it, and the beings who reside within it. They call it the ‘Celestial Temple’, and the beings who dwell within the wormhole itself, ‘the Prophets.”

“I’ve met them- the Prophets, or Wormhole Aliens, or whatever you wish to call them, because frankly, they don’t care. They exist outside of spacetime, so their perceptions are very different than ours, as are their sensibilities. It’s theorized that they exist in all alternate dimensions simultaneously, so maybe that’s why encounters with them seem so strange to us mere mortals. The first time I met them, they handed off a refugee from the mirror of my universe- my original universe, like this one,” Rita qualified. “So that demonstrated to me that they are multidimensional, and they can act as well as observe.”

“If you can’t find another solution, and you can’t save this reality, that’s my advice- head to Bajor, hit the Wormhole and seek an audience. Because they aren’t the best hope you’ve got, but they may be your court of last resort, if all else fails.” It was meddling with other realities, and in theory one day there might be a Dimensional Prime Directive. But in the here and now, Rita only knew that were she in their position, she would want to be told, so that she could take action, formulate a plan, try something to save the universe... or at the very least, the two men most dear in the universe to her.

Listening to the debate, that ensued, the exchange of ideas, Rita sat quietly and listened to the three of them bat their ideas around, discussing, strategizing, considering. It was, again, a familiar pattern to her that she appreciated. One that was now permanently in her past, as was the USS Exeter.

Current circumstances notwithstanding.

When the tell-tale tingle of the particle’s half-life decay made themselves known within her, Rita considered saying her goodbyes. Other Rita would get over her jealousy and chastise herself about it, even as Sonak explained it was a reasonably emotional reaction. Stuart would write it up in his logs as yet another bit of weirdness that Rita seemed to attract, but at least this one seemed benign. But saying goodbye to Michael Stuart was something Rita had done two years ago now. Seeing him here, as she remembered him, she was glad for the opportunity.

Instead of saying good-bye, she silently disappeared. Because in the end, she couldn’t find it in her heart to say goodbye to her friend Michael Stuart one last time... this time, forever.

As Enalia shimmered into existence, this time in what appeared to be the middle of a busy war room with a circular dias displaying a holographic star map, it didn’t take her long to be piled on by several Baronesses that she recognized. Now on the floor, face down, she was in no position to fight back as this universe’s Schwein held her down with ease.

“Meine Empress, this must be an attack by ze Federation!” Came the thick accent of the Baroness on top of her.

“Unless they have cloaked ships to get past the patrols, or some new long range transporter tech, and found a way past the transport scramblers, I doubt it.” This voice, Enalia recognized. She’d heard it many times before in a few different variations over the last half hour. Her local self was in charge here as well.

“I can explain,” Enalia began, working out that she’d have to make it through sixteen minutes here while causing the least amount of damage. “I’m you from another universe...”

“As if I would believe anything that came from the mouth of Federation scum!” the local Enalia yelled back, slamming the heel of her boot down on her shoulder. “After the crimes you pigs have committed? You’re lucky we haven’t killed you already!”

She then kneeled down to inspect the intruder closer, removing her heel as she did so. “You came here unarmed, beamed right into our war council, and even wore that tacky Starfleet uniform. You even look a bit like me. You are definitely getting a special interrogation.”

“Like I said, if you scan my quantum signature, you’ll see that it doesn’t match yours,” Captain Telvan insisted, wiggling a bit to see if this Schwein was as strong as hers. Unfortunately, it seemed she was stronger.

“That can be faked,” the local Enalia insisted, standing back up and turning away from them. With a wave of her hand, she motioned for Schwein to return the intruder to her feet.

In less than a moment, Enalia was lifted to her feet, shackled, and able to clearly see her local self as well as everyone else. The Enalia before her was obviously battle hardened and judging from the glowing map, from years of combat her whole life thanks to the Dominion war. It looked like the white and gold robed warlord held around a third of the territories as the Federation, but thankfully the Dominion was no more.

In fact every Baroness here, only half of the two dozen she recognized, showed some sign of combat injuries. It made her wonder just what kind of sacrifices this universe had to make to boot the Dominion out of the Alpha quadrant.

The local Enalia then pushed her face into Captain Telvan’s and she could see clearly the decompression damage as well as the fine lines from poorly treated scars. “Did you get a good long look, Federation? Or would you rather stare some more at what it takes to win a war? To keep people protected and fed?” Not waiting for an answer, the Empress waved one hand at the gathered Baronesses. "If you will please excuse us. This interruption has prompted a recess."

For her part, Captain Telvan did her best to remain stoic as everyone but her counterpart and the local Schwein filed out, but it was a lot to take in. “So I take it the Federation of this universe is a bunch of spineless cowards? They’re rather soft in my universe as well, though the Borg taught them some heavy lessons.”

The local Enalia furrowed her brows at the mention of the Borg, doubt crawling into her convictions. “The Borg you say? They attacked the Romulans. What would the Federation learn from that?”

Mild surprise finally registered on Captain Telvan’s face at the realization that even that detail had changed. “So if the Borg attacked the Romulan Empire instead of Earth... They didn’t join the Alliance during the Dominion war, did they?”

Empress Enalia scoffed as she took a step back, now wondering just what this intruder’s game was. “How could they when their sun, Eisn, was all but destroyed by Starseed to get rid of the Borg?”

“Ah... That explains a few things then,” Captain Telvan replied. “When the Borg attacked Earth, a fleet of Federation and Klingon ships wasn’t enough but through sheer luck we were able to somehow hack the cube and put it to sleep right before it assimilated Earth. Romulus then joined us in the later years of the Dominion war and we were able to push them out right as they collapsed the wormhole minefield.”

The Empress scoffed at such a fanciful history. “With only the weak Federation and the Klingons trying to lead the charge against the Dominion, Cardassians, Breen, and Tzenkethi, there really wasn’t much hope so my mother formed a pirate’s alliance under the Artan banner.”

“Wait... The Tzenkethi joined the war? But they’re...”

“Isolationists. Yeah. But the changeling promised them protomatter technology and that was something they couldn’t pass up.” As she spoke, the Empress was eyeing the intruder, studying her for any hint of duplicity. However, every reaction seemed genuine and there wasn’t a single telltale sign of deception that she was used to in programmed spies. Besides, the transport inhibitors, even if they had found a way past them, any intruders would have been redirected to the brig.

The suspicion that this person was who she claimed to be was now starting to eat at her. “But all of this is taught in your history classes, Federation. You should know it already.”

Here was where Captain Telvan put on her best pirate grin. “Sorry but I was taught by a private tutor on the Artan Orbital Fortress. Being Enalia Telvan, daughter of Arenara Artan, I was trained to be a pirate queen. I joined Starfleet for personal reasons, one of which is to see if I could make a change in their policies and steal what’s good about them to bring back to the Artans.”

“Telvan... I haven’t heard that name in years...” mused the Empress. “The more you talk, the more I want to believe you.” She then turned and stared at the star map, slowly rotating in the middle of the room. “Which means you’re just here to make me doubt myself. Take her to the brig, have the Master of Gol interrogate her, and execute her.”

With a bow of her head, Schwein complied, shoving Captain Telvan towards the nearest turbolift doors. Once inside, the glowering pirate kept a firm grip on her as they descended.

Enalia, on the other hand, was pretty sure she’d been there for a bit over half of the expected sixteen minutes. She wasn’t sure if the binders would go with her or not, but she wasn’t keen on finding out.

“You know, after all the training and fighting we’ve done side by side, it feels odd being on this side of your strength,” Enalia offered with a grin. Since all Schwein did was grunt back in reply, she pressed on. “My Schwein hooked up with Thor and is betrothed to him. The wedding is planned for around seven years from now. As I understand it, in Asgardian time it’s only a week or two.”

“I do not wish to hear of your delusions,” Schwein growled, lifting her eyepatch as she did so. Her scans so far had shown that this woman had no signs of lying nor delusion. Neither was she artificial. She was definitely a conundrum.

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep my stories to myself.” It only took Enalia a moment longer before she spoke again though. “Is Cetlik Seven ok in this universe?”

“Ja, the infestation was wiped out and the colonists... Hmph...” The silver haired pirate could see the honest concern on the woman’s face and it distracted her just a moment as she looked away.

And that gave Enalia just the moment she needed. These binders had keypads on them and if she were herself, and she was pretty sure she was, then they would open if she could get her finger on it and let it scan her.

With a click they opened, releasing her hands and dropping to the floor behind her.

With a look of shock, Schwein stared at her prisoner, expecting an attack, which didn’t come.

“Sorry, they scanned my DNA and popped off,” Enalia said with that piratical grin of hers. “I’d put them back on, but I don’t think they like me.”

With another growl, Schwein flipped Enalia around and just held her to the turbolift wall, her feet slightly off the ground, for the rest of the ride down to the brig.

"This is slightly uncomfortable," Enalia muttered against the wall.

"Your comfort is not meine concern," Schwein replied harshly, sliding Enalia up a little further and popping several bones.

"Yeah... I can tell..." Enalia replied with a gasp. She was glad she never got on her own Schwein's bad side now.

"So I'm guessing that war room was close to the top of the castle and the brig is in the middle of the primary support and supply structure. That's how it is in mine." Enalia was still having a hard time breathing against the wall, but she could at least get words out well enough.

And since her lift companion didn't seem particularly talkative anymore, she continued. "And that means about a five minute lift ride as long as there are no stops, right?"

Again, no response so she pressed. "So how about we talk about something? Anything you want? Maybe your love life?"

"I am not here for your amusement, Federation!" That got her fired up, but unfortunately Enalia was now pressed harder against the lift wall and over a foot off the ground.

"Ow... Ok... Silence is golden... Unless you're floating in the vacuum of space waiting for rescue that may never come..." Enalia admitted that that was a bit low, but it was an experience that she knew both of them shared. Or at least hoped this one had that experience.

It seemed she had at least to some extent since Schwein eased up and wasn't pressing her quite so hard into the lift wall anymore.

"Thank you..." Enalia gasped out, trying to get a bit more air into her lungs. She figured another minute left to get to their destination and a few seconds less than that and she'd be gone.

"No more words or I break your limbs," Schwein added for good measure and Enalia believed her wholeheartedly.

However, by the time the turbolift opened Enalia had vanished once more, leaving a confused Schwein and an otherwise empty lift.

If there was any dizziness this time, Mnhei’sahe Dox didn’t feel it. Instead, with her hands now free, she flailed a bit instinctively, doing her best to stifle the scream as the pressure in her head completely faded away. An instant after she appears, she felt a slight rush and slapped hard against the ground below her. Feeling around her, she was laying on her back looking up at what appeared to be an ornate, green dome two or three stories above her. Under her hands, she felt warm wood.

Feeling the sides of her head, there was a minor moment of panic as she checked to make sure she wasn’t still wired into Dalia Rendal’s insidious machine, strapped to that table. The pain and pressure she had felt as the neural extraction converter activated was now completely gone, but there was still a dull pressure not unlike a hangover from the experience. Concentrating, she tried to center herself as much as possible, trying to make sure she wasn’t still in that reality. Still in that machine that had threatened to rewrite her mind twice now. After a moment, she took a breath. She was still herself.

At least, she hoped she was. After all, that was the nature of mental manipulation, she thought. She wouldn’t necessarily know if her thinking had been changed. But that was the kind of train of thought that would lead her down a proverbial rabbit hole of self-doubt, and she couldn’t afford that, considering that she was still leaping from dimension to dimension.

Slowly standing up and shaking off the disorientation, she was in a long corridor of an old, but ornately beautiful house. Antique lighting fixtures lined walls with old paintings on them down a hall with floors of dark, polished maithe wood. She knew this room. She had seen images of it many months ago. She had seen it in a Mind Meld. This was the grand hall of the home of her grandmother, Verelan t’Rul. Mnhei’sahe’s own ancestral home on Romulus. Looking around a moment, she took it all in. The old wooden doors and hand-made architecture. The high, domed ceiling three stories up as staircases lined the sides of the walls heading up to the bedchambers. The home that could have been hers but for a different choice.

Okay, what’s THIS going to be? I’ve seen the life I would have led had I went with my Grandmother? How else could I end up here of all places? Mnhei’shae thought to herself as she looked down and remembered from her Grandmother’s stories of home that this house had a full staff of servants, and she was still very much wearing her Starfleet uniform.

Listening, she could hear shuffling at the room near the end of the hall that she was fairly sure was the kitchen, but little else. At least until the sound of a mag-lev flitter came down behind her, outside the main doors. Suddenly, she could hear much more activity in that kitchen and voices behind her outside. Looking around, she slipped through the large wooden door to her left as quietly as possible and listened at the door as footsteps came down the hall walking to the main entrance. She appeared to be in a fairly large study. There was a large, ornate wooden desk with a computer on it and a shelf of books to one side and behind the desk itself, and large windows looking over the grounds to the other side.

Outside the windows, the light was streaming in with a stunning, golden twinge indicating that it was very likely afternoon here. She could see the long, soft red leaves of sserayl trees swaying outside in the breeze, and she couldn’t help but feel all of those feelings she had been struggling with all of her life. That desire to be here, on the home she had been denied all of her life.

“Mistress t’Rul, you’re being ridiculous. It’s bad enough you choose to spend half your free days making a mess of yourself out in the garage or in the kitchen fussing with me, but if your father learns of where you’ve been, it will be both of our hides. Or worse, if your Department Commander found out...” Came an older woman’s voice as two sets of steps could be heard. Confused, Mnhei’sahe kept listening.

Then came the other voice. At first, Mnhei’sahe was almost expecting her Grandmother’s voice as she could not imagine anyone else being called ‘Mistress t’Rul’, but instead she heard, again, her own. Raspy and slightly lower than not, but all too familiar... as her own. “Oh, hru’hfe Firahne, you’re worrying for nothing. It was a simple rally in the city, not an illegal protest. And all I did was help organize things, very behind the scenes. And my Commander is a self-absorbed fool that barely pays attention to his own business, much less how I spend my time on holiday leave.”

“I am a model officer. I file my paperwork and polish my unit crests and sigils and am a good little drone.” she said, a hint of contempt in her voice. “There is no problem. Father would understand.”

Father? Mnhei’sahe thought from behind the door. She couldn’t see out but someone was coming up the steps to the door. A few other sets of feet, for sure. My… my father? Could it... be?

Listening, she heard the great doors open slowly with a creek and listened to a not-so-heated argument already in process between two voices. One she was familiar with, and the other one she had only heard once as an adult… moments before his death. “Really, Mother. Do you honestly believe that the Praetors will realistically allow that motion to even be considered? It’s madness.”

“It is only madness because too many fear to be considered mad, so don’t say it. You are far too timid on the floor, Dralath. You need to show a stronger presence and not look so ready to compromise so often. It is seen as weakness and will lead you to a knife in the back before too long if you are not careful, my son.” It was the voice of Verelan t’Rul, her grandmother. She knew the voice well and she found that, in spite of the circumstances of their relationship in her reality or having interacted with her in another reality earlier, she liked hearing it.

Especially here, where she sounded somehow different in a way Mnhei’sahe couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“But enough business for the day… Okhala! How is my light this day?” Verelan said, a smile in her voice.

Leaning a bit closer to the door, Mnhei’sahe recognized the name. Okhala was the name her mother told her that her father wanted to give her. The name for the Element of fire in the Romulan belief system. The name that was almost hers once upon a time. “I’m well, Grandmother. How was the session? Were you able to get the needed votes in the council to move forward with your initiative or did they table it again?”

Clearly, it was also her name here.

Through the door, Mnhei’sahe listened to another life. A life on Romulus where she was clearly part of a happier family. She didn’t know what divergence created this world, but she couldn’t help but smile a little as she heard her own voice talking with the family that fate had denied her.

“Your father’s work and my own is not something you need concern yourself with, my dear. At least until you have completed your service to our grand military. Still, your passion for it warms my heart as always. When your time comes, you will be great.” Verelan said. Her voice was so different here. Warmer and less hardened. And it was almost a shock to hear her trying to discourage this granddaughter from an interest in the senate, all things considered. After all, in her own reality, Verelan had kidnapped Mnhei’sahe to try and get her to accept her place in Romulan politics.

“Mother…” The voice of Dralath tr’Rul said, somewhat sternly, “You coddle the girl. She is no longer a child. She is an officer in the Imperial Navy… believe it or not… and she and I are due to have words. Go, wait for me in my study, Okhala. I will be in presently.”

“Hnaev…” Mnhei’sahe whispered from the other side of the door to that same study she was currently hiding in. She looked around, trying to find a different place to hide. She didn’t want to be seen in this reality if she could avoid it. There was a small closet in one corner that would have to do, and the red-headed Romulan Starfleet officer moved as quickly and quietly as she could. As she slipped in, leaving the door open a crack, she heard the main door open and close again, and a set of shuffling footsteps come into the room. In the study, she could hear slightly muffled voices that sounded tense.

Peering through the ever so slight crack, Mnhei’sahe saw herself. She was wearing a pair of what looked like stained riding pants and a dark green blouse. She had long, shoulder-length hair that was a little wavy and black. The girl was the same height and the same age, of course, though a good bit heavier. A rounder face and middle, but no red curls or freckles. Clearly, Okhala t’Rul was born and raised here. No human DNA overlay given to her when she was four that gave Mnhei’sahe her current hair or freckles: the genetic affectations Mnhei’sahe had asked Doctor Asa Dael to keep in her genetic structure when her DNA had been repaired almost two years ago now.

Watching, the more portly version of her other self paced in a circle in the room, her eyes looking down at the floor with an irritated expression. Her mannerisms were much more... immature, which when she thought about it wasn’t at all uncommon for Romulans, really.

Thinking of her experience with the version of her born and raised on Mol Krunchi who also had never had human DNA overlaid into her genetic code and who had lived a more idyllic life, she too seemed somewhat more immature. It was something she thought about for a moment as she was reminded that, as a general rule due to their extended lifespans, Romulans tended to develop emotionally a bit slower than humans. In spite of cultural pressure to serve in adult roles early, her people tended to retain the emotional maturity of teenagers and young twenty-somethings well into their thirties. At least compared to humans. It was a factor that was clearly evident here.

In her own life, Dox had been forced to grow up VERY fast as a smuggler in her own reality, making adult decisions and dealing with adult responsibilities as early as 10, and it forced her to develop emotionally a bit faster than not.

That was clearly not the case here as the just 33 year old woman was moping like someone barely out of their teenage years. As the door to the chamber opened again and she heard her father’s voice. “Have a seat, Okhala. I would be heard, and you shall listen.”

He sounded stern and serious and the other version of herself snapped to attention nervously and sat down, biting her lower lip. From inside the closet, Mnhei’sahe couldn’t help but smile slightly to watch. In both realities, it was clear that she was a troublemaker, but this version clearly got caught more than she ever did during her more rebellious years on Earth. Then she saw as he stepped into the center of the room and sat down, not behind the desk but in the large, plush chair opposite Okhala. It was an action she had clearly had to take many times and she flumped slightly as a result. This “Okhala” didn’t act at all like an officer.

This was a Dralath tr’Rul far closer to the scant few memories she carried from her own childhood. Tall and a little thick, but with a strong face and short, black hair. He wore a well-groomed beard and moustache and had the same deep, piercing dark brown eyes she had seen before. He looked more like the faint vision she had seen of his spirit in the moment after Dalia Rendal had killed him, but Dox put that horrible thought out of her head. HERE, that had clearly never happened. HERE, he was the man he could have been. HERE, he was a noble senator. A leader. Her father. “Do you know why I’m cross, Okhala?” He asked seriously.

“No, Father.” The other version of Mnhei’sahe replied, clearly lying. It was almost funny to the Romulan Starfleet officer how badly this version of herself was at lying, moreso even than herself.

“Really? So… you were in your chambers last evening gently sleeping? You hadn’t gone into the city with agitators? You didn’t help organize a political rally to speak out against the ban on reunificationists?” His tone never wavered or shifted. This was very much a man that took his mother’s seat in the senate as he was supposed to and knew how to talk.

“What? How did…” Okhala’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped as she hemmed and hawed, fidgeting in her seat as Dralath leaned forward, hands tented under his chin with elbows on his knees. “Did hru’hfe…”

“Enough, Okhala!” he snapped sharply, shutting down the protest, mid-sentence. “And no, hru’hfe Firahne said nothing, though I suspected she’s been covering for you. She and I will have words as well, but you should know I’m disappointed in you, not her. HER loyalty will be honored. That woman has served this family loyally for years. Especially since your Mother returned to service when you were still young. That you would ask her to cover for you is dishonorable, Okhala, and I expect better of you.”

In the time she had been here, the absence of Mnhei’sahe’s mother had been noticeable, but she hadn’t given it thought until now. She knew that in her own reality, her mother bristled at the idea of being a political wife and it led to her and Dralath’s relationship faltering for some time. But here, it seemed, things went differently. Here, it seemed, that Jaeih had accepted the role, at least for a time.

“I don’t suppose I need to tell you how dangerous what you did is? You’re a brilliant young woman, so clearly you know. I don’t need to mention what would have happened had that rally became a protest? I don’t need to mention the scandal that you could have put upon the steps of the house, had you been picked up by the security forces? It would have led to your expulsion from service, which would have ended your career before it had barely begun. You know the backlash that could have been caused to your Grandmother and myself in the Senate. And you know it would have effectively ended any and all chances of you following in public service yourself. You know all of that, and yet you chose to do so anyway.” Then, he leaned forward and his tone softened. “Why, Okhala? Why would you risk yourself so?”

“Because it is important, Father.” Okhala said, trying to muster the strength to speak up to her stern Father. “You say that it is important to have passion. To follow that passion. And… mother believes in it as well.”

Leaning back, Dralath ran a finger across his temple and sighed. “Again, it comes back to her. She filled your head with stories of our distant cousins who… I remind you… abolished those passions you so cherish. I wish she were here to help me explain that what you are seeking must be pursued with the greatest of cautions, but she chose to return to service in the military. It is a… noble calling and she serves our people with mnhei’sahe.”

The statement shot through Dox like a phaser blast. It was the first time here that she had heard her father say her name, and even used in its true context, it made her eyes water slightly. But she also heard a hint of pain in the man’s voice as he spoke. Clearly, Jaeih’s absence was felt here and was having an impact on the family.

There was a moment of silence between the two as the young woman in the chair hung her head slightly. “I want… her to be proud of me, Father. I want her…” Then she paused again and Dox knew the body language well, as Okhala struggled against her own emotions and that anger Dox fought against every day.

“She chose to leave, Father! She chose to… to…” The other version of the woman Dox might have been, shuddered slightly in the chair and sank. “Why… why did she leave us? Why… why wasn’t I good e…”

“No!” Dralath said as he reached across, putting his hands on his daughter’s knees. “NO, I will not hear you finish that thought. And if I could, I would pluck it from your mind so it would never trouble you again, Okhala. Your mother loves you. Your mother loves this family. And your mother IS immensely proud of you, as am I. But your mother is as she was named. As you are my fire, she is as the wind. The element that must be free and she needed to be. She will be home again for the Eitreih'hveinn festival come the harvesttimes, and I know she misses you. But she had a call to her duty to our people that she needed to answer as well.”

“It is a duty I know you understand, or else you would not still follow your grandmother about, with all the passion you had as a child. You would not still follow the newsfeeds and lose yourself in her stories of our day’s work. You would not care enough to try and effect change, even if your methods are foolhardy.” Dralath said pointedly. “Do not begrudge your Mother’s passion. You have your own, after all.”

From the closet, Mnhei’sahe could hear the twinges of pride in her father’s voice, along with his obvious pain at not having his wife at his side. In any reality, it seemed, Jaeih had a problem serving more than her own needs and freedoms. And it had put a chink in what was otherwise like something out of a dream for Mnhei’sahe. She put her hand against the door frame, tears building in her eyes as she sniffled.

Immediately, the red headed Starfleet officer cupped her hands over her nose and prayed that her slip had not been heard. Glancing out the crack, she saw no evidence of it and her heart rate started to slow down a bit.

There was another long moment of silence in the chamber as Mnhei’sahe could see her other self try and fail to stifle a cry for a minute. Then as the tears slowed, Dralath got up and handed her a tissue from his desk and kneeled next to the chair, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Now, were it up to me, you would be in much greater trouble, young one. BUT, I have long ago accepted that while this may be my house, I am its master in name only. We talked on the ride home and your Grandmother has agreed to a proposal that will give you far less idle time to pursue your passions in… dangerous ways.”

“I know your bristle in your current service. I know how you feel regarding our military, considering your mother’s passion for it. But you have also served as is required of all among us. You have fulfilled your obligations and… since your little transgression has gone undiscovered… you have done so without any blemishes upon your record. So… I have spoken with your Commander and, if you so chose it, you shall be transferred from your current position in the regional guard, you will be accompanying your Grandmother and I into the senate chambers where you will be serving as a clerk and her aid over the warmer months.”

Regional guard? Dox thought from the closet, realizing that this version of her had clearly used her political connections to perform what was literally the most basic form of military service.

Listening, plump little Okhala’s eyes went wide again, but this time framed by the largest smile her round cheeks could manage. “You… you mean it, Father?”

“Yes. You clearly need to focus your passions, so I will be allowing you to take the position with your Grandmother’s Council you’ve been pestering us about. Military Service is a requirement for service in the senate, and you have fulfilled your requirements… however reluctantly... and Verelan agrees that this is what you need.” Dralath had a blank, judgmental expression on his face as he spoke. “What you believe is commendable, Okhala. But it is dangerous. Your grandmother can teach you how to navigate the great game. How to play the passions and prejudices of those in power to make them believe that what you want is what they want.”

“You are young. You have much to learn, but with the proper teachings, you may yet one day do great things.” Dralath said, looking down with a raised eyebrow. “This will help you along that path. It is your time.”

“Oh father, thank you!” Okhala looked like she was going to reach out and hug him, but he stood up and adjusted his black top and put his arms behind his back. He had that same wry smirk, but wasn’t going to give her the hug that easily. Clearly, he wanted her to know he was still cross, but that it wasn’t a permanent state.

“Oh, you won’t be thanking me when you see how much filing your grandmother will be having you do. She may have passed her Senate seat to me, but she still works harder than any two other senators since she took the position as the head of the Senate Judiciary Council. And if you want to thank someone, go thank her. She’s no doubt listening at the door anyway.”

From the hallway, Mnhei’sahe heard a muffled voice from the other side of the door. “What a slanderous accusation. I am shocked, Nobel Deihu. Shocked.”

In the closet, Mnhei’sahe almost let an audible laugh out at that, as she had never heard Verelan so happy. So much of the grim weight that had seemed an intrinsic part of the woman was absent here and it felt truly wonderful to hear. As Okhala got up and ran out into the corridor, closing the doors behind her, Dralath stepped over and sat behind his desk. He put his head on his hands and let out a long sigh and whispered. “Jaeih… we are doing all we can for her. But the hole you left…”

Trailing off, he composed himself and turned on his desk computer as Mnhei’sahe simply stood there watching him work. She didn’t want to do anything to taint this reality, so much like a fantasy come to life. The life she had always wished for that existed here. Okhala may have had her issues, but she seemed happy overall. And as much as she wanted to step out and speak to him, Dox knew that if they knew she was there, it could only lead to ruin and pain. Unneeded questions. Unwanted reflections. So she simply watched him work. She watched him work for what had to be another two hours, absorbing every detail. Every expression. Every smile and frown and wrinkle of the face of her lost father.

To Be Continued…

The first moment was panic.

Because there was no air, because she was outside the boat, and she was naked to the elements in the void. Z

The universe did not count a miniskirt as ‘dressed’ when it came to the hard vacuum of deep space.

Summoning her EVA armor from the extradimensional armory in her bracers, slowly exhaling to keep her lungs from bursting as she froze, Rita toggled the power on. As light and heat began circulating, so too did pressurization, and blessed air. Gasping in like a drowning victim, against her training, Rita hyperventilated. Crying out, she unsuccessfully choked back tears. Being exposed to hard vacuum was a danger inherent in any spacegoing exploration. But in the ongoing experiences of this particular expedition, being dumped into hard vacuum was a bit much when she was already worn a bit thin.

“Thanks, Hera. You saved me again,” Rita patted the bracers of Hera she’d taken from the Amazon captain on Meroset 347. She had suspected then she’d end up wearing a pair, and they had once more saved her life, as they had countless times before.

Given the sensor readings, she would have been frozen solid through the rest of her leaps, unlikely to thaw. This was deep space, and as she started scanning the star charts, she quickly triangulated her position. Eyeing it curiously, she made the realization why she had appeared here.

“This... is where the Hera hit me. I was discorporating... I was going to just fade into the background radiation of the universe, but they hit me. The warp field collected me, and that saved me. But here... they weren’t here for you. When Sonak beamed you here, Enalia didn’t run into you. So I’m here because... this is where you are. What’s left of you.” Tears dribbled out of Rita’s eyes, activating little suction vents in her helmet as the tears flowed free of her face in the zero G.

“Oh no, Rita, I’m... I’m so sorry. Wow, I... talk about a fate worse than death. I... I just, I can’t, oh, stars above...” In that moment, the enormity of having nearly been killed a moment ago, combined with the realization that she was once again meeting a dead version of herself, drove Rita Paris to tears. For a good 20 minutes she cried, out there alone in deep space, hugging herself and in general feeling rather miserable. This hopping through dimensions was not for the timid, to be certain. But even the brave and the bold were having a bit of trouble keeping up at the moment.

Eventually the emotional executive dried her tears and noseplugs cleared her sinuses, and the hazards of wearing a spacesuit in the future were still decidedly swell, Ms. Paris believed. Composing herself, she checked her EVA armor’s chronometer.

“I think I’m going to be here for a few more hours at this rate. So, if you’re still here... somehow... and you can sense me... somehow... I’ll tell you about my life.” Rita spread her arms. Broadcasting on local frequencies, so that she would be ‘speaking’ to the electromagnetic spectrum at least.

“I’ll tell you the story of what happened to me after I got hit by the starship Hera, right about in this spot. About how I met a space pirate turned Starfleet captain, and a Romulan girl who was a starship captain, but didn’t know it yet. About the bravest young immortal I’ve ever met, and the goddess who reformed, because I asked her to very politely. About the little Andorain and Samuel Clemens and the bird who was born to fly, and the midget and the pig and their cow. Of the satyr and Death, of the Baroness and the god of thunder. Such a story I have to tell you, me of another reality. So settle in, and I’ll tell you all about it...”

Three hours and forty-two minutes, eleven seconds later, Rita was still telling the story as she felt the first tell-tale tingle of the particles, that tug of the multiverse she had learned was the sign that she was leaving.

“Well, I set my wrist comm unit adrift here, and if anyone runs across it and tries, if you’re still here, they might find you. I gave them some idea of how to reincorporate you, so hopefully...” Rita paused, then spoke quickly, knowing her time was limited. “I hope you get found, Rita. I hope you didn’t die out here, and that someday the stories I told you today are part of your story... the strange visitor who left you a beacon. I hope in the ballad of your life, this is just a skipped beat, before it starts again.”

Then she was gone, and there was once again silence in the vastness of space.

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


It would be the year 2734 when the research vessel T’Pring would find the comm unit, batteries low but still pulsing a message on a slow repeating cycle. Retrieving the archaic device, they studied the data and listened to the ancient human astronaut’s account. Extrapolating from those concepts, the experiment proceeded with much interest.

Of even greater interest was when, on the transporter pad, a vintage 2268 Starfleet officer materialized. Looking around, her bright blue eyes eagerly searched the crowd, as she asked for Sonak.

There was no Sonak aboard, of course.

Presently, she would explain her experience, a fascinating tale. Eventually she would propose a transdimensional experiment, to transport her communicator back to her native time and dimension, in order to bring closure to her existence for the survivors. After all, Sonak was t’hy’la to her, and the Vulcans respected such a bond as sacred. As part of the experiment, she included their spatial and chronal coordinates, as well as the quantum resonance of the reality. It seemed she had undue faith in the kolinahr to whom she was wed, and was determined to give him every opportunity to find her.

After a quaint Earth tradition, she called it a ‘message in a bottle’.

As the light of Eisn began to dip in the far window, Senator Dralath tr’Rul closed down his computer, shut off the lights and stepped to the door of his study. Out of her sight, Mnhei’sahe listened to the sound as the door opened and then shut again. And after a minute of silence, she slowly stepped out of the closet she had been hiding in for a few hours now, being as quiet as she could.

The sunset light streamed in still and the room was just light enough to see everything. She stepped over to the desk, running her fingers across the surface, feeling the wood of the desk and sighing. Then she saw, on the desk something that made her gasp. A small gold-rimmed frame. And in the frame, a 2-D photograph of Dralath, Verelan, Jaeih and a much younger Okhala. The family that she had lost almost completely. The family that could have been in a life she found herself coveting in that moment. But as she picked up the picture and sniffled, she heard something else.

What she heard was the cold metal clank of the door locking from inside followed by a click and hum from the shadows behind the main door to the room. Stepping silently out, Dralath tr’Rul stood with a furious expression and a disruptor held high as he whispered with venom on his lips. “To my HOME. They would send a spy or an assassin to my HOME.”

Putting the frame down slowly, Mnhei’sahe’s heart sank and her stomach twisted. She lifted her arms and bit her own bottom lip nervously. She had been praying to Al’thindor and the Elements both that she would shift realities again without being discovered for fear of contaminating this reality with her presence. “I’m not a spy or an assassin, sir.” She said quietly.

But it was not quiet enough to mask so familiar a voice. Dralath’s furious expression shifted to one of confusion. “Who are you? Step slowly to the side of the table towards the window. Step into the light… now.”

Sighing, Mnhei’sahe stepped slowly where she was instructed. “My… my name is... Mnhei’sahe.” she said as the light illuminated her golden Starfleet badge and shined golden rays of the sunset across her face and red curls.

“Mnh…” Dralath was confused as he stepped to his desk to put his hand over his comm panel, ready to press it and call security. But he hesitated as he kept speaking. “You’re Starfleet? But… Mnhei’sahe? Your name is… Mnhei’sahe?” The man was making mental connections quickly. He knew her voice, and though leaner and freckled, he knew her face as well as he knew his own. “That was what she wanted to name… what kind of trick is this? Tell me now or I’ll simply call for security and they will pry the answers from you, and you will not like how they do so.”

“It’s… It’s not a trick. I’m… it’s extremely hard to explain. I’m… Yes, I am a Starfleet officer, but I’m not here with Starfleet or in any capacity in that regard. I’m… It’s... “ Mnhei’sahe struggled with the impossible truth and how to either get around it or try and explain it. As she did, she nervously bit her lip again, which made his eyes go wide with realization.

“O… Okhala? This is impossible?” He muttered.

“Yes and no.” Mnhei’sahe said. “I know how difficult to believe this will sound, but… I… I am your daughter. But… but your daughter from… from another time and place. Another… another reality. I’m... Mnhei’sahe.” She tilted her head slightly and smiled awkwardly. “M… Mother won the name argument in my reality.”

Stepping back slightly, Dralath kept the disruptor aimed but pulled his hand away from the panel. “This… this… this can’t be real. This can’t be… you can’t be her? She was… she’s here. She’s in the house with her grandmother.”

“I know. I saw. I… she… she looks… happy.” Mnhei’sahe said, a tear breaking out and running down her cheek. In spite of everything, in THIS reality, she was having quite possibly the hardest time containing her emotions.

“If you are a spy, you’re a horrible one. I would inform the Tal’Shiar that their training is extremely lax from my days in service. If I was half deaf I could have heard you in that closet trying not to be heard.” Dralath said, still confused as his face softened almost imperceptibly at the errant tear running down the mystery woman’s face. “Step over to the chair and sit. Keep your hands out and then place them on the arms of the chair.”

At the desk, Dralath tapped the comm panel and spoke. “Hru’hfe Firahne. I need to take a call from the Senate. I am not to be disturbed. Thank you.”

“It shall be, Master tr’Rul.” Came the gentle voice over the comm. As she spoke, he pressed a few more buttons on the control panel and there was a light hum that the young Starfleet officer recognized as a shield being activated in the room. They would clearly not be interrupted or eavesdropped on.

With the disruptor, he pointed to the same chair Okhala had been in. As she slowly walked towards it, her eyes on him the whole time, Dox made her way to the chair and sat down. As she did, he turned on the lamp on the desk and she could see him clearly again as he sat down opposite her, weapon at his side but still at the ready. It was a surreal experience, mirroring what she had watched just hours ago. There was a long moment of silence as he just looked at her, taking in every detail with a mix of confusion and understanding.

“I have seen… evidence of dimensional incursions before. More than a few, really. But how do I know you’re not lying? And if you’re not, how did you get here? And why?” He asked after a long pause.

“I don’t know that I can say anything to prove who I am to you, or that I truly mean no harm.” Mnhei’sahe replied, her eyes still watery and her jaw clenched. “I was exposed to some kind of… particles… and I’ve been being moved from one reality to another for some time now. Each one, a different version of my own life, had things gone differently. But I have no control over how I got here, nor do I know exactly when I’ll leap out again. I’ve spent a twice as long in each reality. Also, if there’s a reason I'm here, I don’t know it.”

“But… I was hoping I would have lept without anyone knowing I was here this time. I am sorry.” She said, trying not to fidget in her seat, feeling very much like a child.

“Why?” he asked pointedly.

“This… as you can probably tell… my own life went very differently. But this… seeing this… is difficult.” Mnhei’sahe said, a crack in her voice as she had to say what she was feeling. “This reality… is something I once dreamed of. A life I would have killed for once. I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Listening, his face softened more as he began to inexplicably believe the bizarre, alternate reality version of his daughter. “You… you’re telling the truth, aren’t you? Somehow… you’re really… really another her. My daughter.”

Hearing him call her ‘daughter’, Mnhei’sahe fliched and her jaw locked up tight as tears welled up again and she nodded. As she did, he tilted his head and relaxed his grip on the disruptor. There was disbelief in his eyes. Disbelief not in Mnhei’sahe, but in himself for believing her as he asked simply, “What… what happened to you there?”

“I… I was watching you from the closet for so long, I… I lost track of how much time I have. The details are long and… well. Mother ran. She ran… hard. She didn’t want to be a politician’s wife and she pushed herself hard to be the perfect Tal’Shiar operative, taking assignments further and further away from here.” As Dox spoke, Dralath listened and lightly shook his head.

“That sounds… very much like her. Continue.” He said, still working to maintain some degree of emotional distance in spite of how familiar the story felt to the woman he knew and loved.

“Eventually… she…” Dox paused, not wanting to press the issue of her Mother’s act of betraying the Star Empire when she realized it’s inequities, realizing it would derail the conversation. “She… bristled under Grandmother’s command. Because she had not married you, they… did not get along. She tried to leave the Imperium and… ended up in hiding on the run. Verelan… Grandmother… you and her had a vicious falling out over her… over Mother. You eventually found her and together and reconciled. You both had me… in secret. But things were… different.”

“There is… much you are omitting in this telling.” Dralath said, his eyes narrowing. “You know I was a Tal’Shiar investigator. So, I assume you know that means I do not like gaps in a story.”

Looking down for an instant, Mnhei’sahe took a breath. She didn’t think she was going to get away with that but wanted to nonetheless. While she had a disruptor trained on her, she didn’t feel threatened. Instead, what she was feeling was an experience that was much more alien to her. She didn’t want to disappoint her father, and in that she realized that she and Okhala were much more the same woman than she had thought.

“Mother…” Mnhei’sahe said, lifting her head back up to meet her father’s stern gaze. “She threw herself so hard into her task that she… eventually began to notice that she was disregarding her own morality. She was doing things she was beginning to find… reprehensible. And when she was asked to forcibly recondition a small colony of reunificationists, she refused. She committed mutiny.”

“A capital offense. As was supporting the reunification movement to that degree.” Dralath said flatly, giving up nothing of his own feelings. “Hence my concern in the conversation you were not-so-stealthily eavesdropping upon. So, this is why she ran? And this is why my Mother and I came to oppose each other?”

Looking across at her father, Mnhei’sahe took a breath and told him everything she could. Of her mother’s betrayal to protect the colonists. Of Jaeih’s imprisonment for 6 years before escaping and becoming a smuggler. Of she and his reunion when Dralath learned Jaeih was still alive and tracked her down in the infinite reaches of space and how together, they had her. Then, reluctantly, Mnhei’sahe told him of how they chose to hide her. Of the overlay of human DNA and of how he had been discovered and eventually punished for not giving them up to the Tal’Shiar.

There was a long moment of silence as Dralath considered the detailed story of Mnhei’sahe’s very different life. Mnhei’sahe sat as still as she could but felt very much like a child in spite of herself. Her emotions were a whirlwind, wondering what her father was thinking.

After a moment, he leaned back slightly in his seat and nodded. “I am… under no delusions regarding the shortcomings of our government. The flaws that have become systemic that continue to harm the Romulan people…”

As she spoke, Mnhei’sahe’s heart swelled ever so slightly as the man that was also a Senator was now speaking. “Much of this is why I serve. Why my Mother… your Grandmother… has worked to teach our Okhala in the hope that over time, we can all bring back at least some small measure of what has been lost over the centuries.”

“How… why are you in a Starfleet uniform?” Dralath asked, genuinely interested now.

“I found out about everything… only about two years ago. Found out my real name… found out about you. I didn’t know almost anything until… really… not too long ago. Mother and I were… well… smugglers for years. It was the only way to get by and… it was not an easy childhood. When I was sixteen, we got caught and because my DNA read as half-human because of… this is even more complicated.”

What followed for the next half hour was a detailed description of a painful childhood, as Mnhei’sahe went through the bizarre steps that lead to her joining Starfleet. From the genetic modifications and surgery her parents had performed upon her as a toddler that were designed to hide her as half-human, to the trials and tribulations of a childhood raised as a soldier, pilot and criminal. To her own betrayal of her mother to protect her own sanity and her eventual years spent on Earth with the kind and loving couple that never knew that she was not their blood. Then, the topic went to her admission to the academy and her troubles there, eventually coming to the service she was proud of on the ship she considered her home, and the family she found there.

No names were spoken, but the details were too outlandish to be invented and too convoluted to be anything resembling a spies cover story. When the long tale ended, there was silence again as Dralath took it all in. If he felt anything in the telling, it was invisible upon his stoic facade, but when he finally did react, it spoke volumes.

Taking the disruptor in his hand, he turned off the weapon and placed it delicately on his desk. “The life you describe… should never have been.”

Watching, Mnhei’sahe smiled. “It’s okay. It’s been… it’s been difficult. The family that believed I was a part of theirs on Earth. They were good people. Honorable. They did their best to do right by me. And since then, I’ve managed to make a good life for myself. I know who I am now… I know where I’ve come from. I… I met grandmother finally and we speak on occasion. I have a wife and we have children now. Three little girls that are more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. I’m… I’m happier than I've ever been… father.”

Listening, she might not have been his Okhala, but Dralath tr’Rul still knew when that face and voice weren’t telling the whole truth. “That may be true… but there’s more, isn’t there? You mentioned your grandmother… but not me.”

“And… and I’d rather not… but.” Mnhei’sahe raised a hand to wipe her face and Dralath made no motions to stop her. “You were… taken from me not too long ago. Executed in an attempt to break me by a Tal’Shiar agent named Dalia Rendal.”

“Yet here you sit, unbroken. As for Dalia Rendal, I know that name. A power hungry woman with delusions of royalty, as if such a thing existed here. This is good to know.” Dralath said, as always absorbing anything that might be of use to him and cataloging it as such. And in truth, on some level, Mnhei’sahe had been thinking of just that. She remembered her Grandmother’s words about turning things to your own advantage a few leaps prior, and they stuck in her head. If Rendal were a threat here, her family would know of it from her, and if this Rendal suffered for the crimes of her version, so be it.

Watching, he stood up with before her and raised an eyebrow. “I believe you… Mnhei’sahe.”

Hearing him say her name again, to her this time for real, broke the damn she had been trying to maintain. She took the tissue as she began to cry for a moment, trying to keep her voice down so as to not call any more attention to them in the locked room. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Standing by the table, he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked down at the woman he now understood was also his daughter and had the same stern, critical gaze he gave Okhala earlier. Changing the subject, he looked at the rank pips on her unfamiliar uniform, that he clearly understood as a Romulan Senator. “A Lieutenant Commander. Hopefully, when you do return to your... Starfleet… you will work to improve that.”

A smile cracked her face as she looked up at him and nodded. “Yes, sir.” She said, like a daughter replying to a father for the first time in her life. “I will.”

“Then stand up. I want to see you.” he said, that same authority in his voice. “What are you in Starfleet? I would hope that they are not wasting your talents.”

“A pilot. Chief Flight Control officer on my ship.” She said, standing up and coming to attention as if spoken to by an Admiral.

Listening, he nodded. “That’s A command position, if not full command. Acceptable, but limited. A pilot is a piece of a machine. You are the granddaughter of a Romulan senator AND a Starfleet officer. You have, in that, the power to do far more than fly a starship. When you return, know I expect you to do better still. Starfleet is… not without its merits... and it is good to see that even removed from the Imperium and your home, you have chosen a life of service to a cause. That is the strength… of our family.” He was maintaining his facade, but in that moment, his words revealed his thoughts to Mnhei’sahe.

“You have given me many things to consider. I have… allowed Okhala to coast through her life, here. In some respects, you have been spoiled here. Seeing you, I see living, breathing proof that my own Okhala can excel once she puts her mind to it. Clearly, my earlier decision is wise, and she will be pushed to excel even further. You have given me a great gift in this, and… I would do the same.” Dralath looked and saw a slight shimmer beginning to slowly collect around Mnhei’sahe, and he suspected that he knew what that meant.

Reaching to the table, he picked up the small framed picture he saw her looking at with awe earlier, pulled the back off and removed the photograph of his family. Stepping over, he held out his hand with the picture in it. Blinking, Mnhei’sahe slowly and hessitatingly brought her own hand up and gently took the image. As he spoke, his voice was strong and everything that she ever imagined it would be, but there was now a softness that smoothed down the edge, revealing her own emotions. “Mnhei’sahe… that is a good name. But it is a name that compels you to a life of great honor. Know that, and wear it well, daughter. Know that wherever your travels take you, that you have a proud father here… and a family... and that can never be taken from you.”

As he spoke, he reached forward and ran his hand through her hair gently. Mnhei’sahe shuddered standing there, the picture in her hand and tears running down her cheeks as she began to realize she was going to leap at any moment. She could feel the energy building within her again, and for the first time during all of this, she didn’t want it to. In that moment, she wanted to stay as long as she could. She wanted to reach out and grab him, but already felt this reality begin to fade. Instead, she did the one thing she was too late to say to her own Dralath tr’Rul, “I… I love you, father.”

And in the split instant, before she vanished, she heard him say with a smile and a tear in his eye, “I love you, too, my daughter.”

Moments later, Mnhei’sahe was gone. Dralath tr’Rul stood, alone in his study, staring at the space where something impossible had just happened. Clearing his throat, the dignified Senator of Romulus straightened himself up and looked down at his hand. In it, a few strands of red hair remained. For a full two minutes, he stood there staring at them. The evidence that what he experienced was real. She was real. Then, he stepped over to the desk, and placed the hairs carefully in the small, gold-rimmed frame and closed it back up.

Putting the frame back where it had always sat… a reminder of a daughter lost… he put the disruptor away in the hidden drawer in his desk that it was kept it, deactivated the security screens, composed himself and went back out into the house.

He had that hug to give to Okhala that somehow seemed a lifetime overdue now.

To Be Continued…

Again, the momentary disorientation had begun to fade, faster and faster with each leap and Mnhei’sahe was alone in darkness. It wasn’t quite total darkness as the swirling shimmering on the edges of her vision began to fade slightly and coalesce into something more tangible. Feeling her pocket, Dox sighed as she could feel that folded square of the photo her Father had given her in the last timeline. That memento of a life unlived that had successfully traveled between dimensions with her. It was at least some relief to her now as she called out, “Hello?”

Hearing only her own voice echoing back as her eyes began to adjust to notice that she was somewhere underground, she did her best to orient herself. There was a dripping sound, like water off of pipes and it was cold and damp. Finally, after a few minutes, she could start making out shapes and had some idea where she was. It was a tunnel of some sort. Old stone walls dripped and pipes and tubing ran overhead. Under her feet was some kind of metal plating and a railing on either side of her. She was, perhaps, in a sewer or under a building somewhere, but she couldn’t place where. But she could see clearly enough to walk, so she started walking.

Wherever she was, she was learning that she there for a reason, so she started walking down the tunnel slowly. As she did, she heard her footsteps echoing back at her as there seemed to be a dim light around a corner at the end of the corridor she was in, about twenty meters ahead. Walking slowly, she reached the corner and peered around to see more corridor, with a greenish-gray metal door at the end. The kind with an old, manual latch on it to keep it locked. And along the wall next to the door, a flickering old light fixture over some kind of sign.

Being able to see just a bit more clearly, she stepped over to the door a bit quicker to see the sign. It was old and covered in a layer of grime that made it impossible to read, so she hesitantly raised her hand to wipe it clear enough to see. As she did, she let out the slightest of gasps.

It was a sign that read in Romulan, her native tongue, ’Iuruth Water Reclimation Facility 2’.

Back on Romulus again. Dox thought with a sigh. While the dimensional hopping that the Bulukiya particles in her system had caused were disorienting, she was doing her level best to keep track of her travels, and this was now her third leap to Romulus itself. Another two lives were being lived on Romulan Warbirds and another on the Romulan colony world of Mol Krunchi where she had been born. So many of her fates seemed linked to her blood ties to this world and her culture, and only one alternate life had been lived in Starfleet. And a very bleak one, at that. For a moment, she thought of what that might represent before returning to focus on the moment.

She knew that Iuruth was one of the poorer cities near the Capitol, but she had also never been there. As she stepped back slightly, she heard her footfalls echo yet again, but this time she also heard a breath.

A breath right behind her.

Before she could turn, Mnhei’sahe heard the click and hum of an activated weapon and saw a green glow from behind as she felt the front of a disruptor press firmly to the back of her neck. Freezing in place, she began to breathe a bit faster as she slowly raised her arms. This was becoming a very familiar sensation in these leaps and she thought to herself to remember to look behind her next time if she survived this one.

As she did, she heard a voice… raspy and low… almost whispering in Romulan. Clearly her own voice, yet again. “Who are you? What are you doing here? Talk if you enjoy having a head.”

A chill went down Mnhei’sahe’s spine at the voice she knew all too well. It was cracked and tired sounding. It had a harsh edge she knew all too well from her weakest moments. Familiar in all the wrong ways.

Slowly, she replied back in her native tongue. “My name is Mnhei’sahe.”

Now the gasp came from behind as the tip of the disruptor was pulled away and she heard a series of steps backward as her own voice replied. “No! No, that’s… Your name isn’t Mnhei’sahe! You’re LYING!! Turn around… slowly… NOW!”

Complying, she turned slowly, her hands still raised, to a startling sight. Standing two meters away in the dimly lit tunnel, was herself. Thinner with a slightly gaunt face, but it was her. Mnhei’sahe Dox.

The other her held a glowing green Disruptor up high with an almost panicked expression she was doing her level best to conceal, but Mnhei’sahe knew her own tells too well to be fooled by them. The other her was wearing almost all black. Black military boots half a size too big. Black cargo pants, a black shirt and a torn and grimy dark green jacket. Her eyes were a little sunken and there was a faint, 6 centimeter long scar running up the left side of her lips, crossing from top to bottom. But her hair was perhaps the most different. It was short-cropped, maybe an inch long, and dyed jet black.

It was different, but it was still her. The black hair automatically brought to her mind the old pictures she had seen of the face of her grandmother, Verelan t’Rul, to whom Mnhei’sahe bore a strong resemblance. This was not the first version of herself with such a short haircut she had seen, making her consider the look for a moment. Taking in the strange reflection, the other her did the same before speaking, still in Romulan. “You aren’t me? What is this? The Tal’Shiar sent you to mess with my head? Some kind of… altered agent? That’s a new one. Talk!”

Calmly, Mnhei’sahe kept her arms up. “Not the Tal’Shiar. It was a scientific accident that brought me here.”

Immediately, the other Dox stepped back further, dropping her guard ever so slightly. Then her eyes dropped to Mnhei’sahe’s crimson uniform tunic and the pips on her chest. Two solid and one black.

“Lieutenant COMMANDER, Dox?” She said, eyebrow raised as she slowly lowered the disruptor further. “She was a Lieutenant… not a commander! Nice try!”

“She?” Mnhei’sahe said softly to the twitchy, distorted reflection. “We were promoted shortly after returning to the Hera after being kidnapped by...”

“What?” Her reflection said, slightly confused and surprised, cutting Dox off. “You… you got back?”

As the disruptor slowly lowered, so too did Mnhei’sahe’s hands. “Yes. I…”

Then she paused as she realized what she was seeing. “Al’thindor… you didn’t… you weren’t rescued, were you?”

“Rescued? They didn’t even try” Then the other woman’s guard went back up and the disruptor raised. “No! This is some kind of trick! Another Tal’Shiar sweep of the underground trying to find me! Flush me out or replace me!”

“I’m not Tal’Shiar! I’m just… I’m you, Mnhei’…” Dox tried to say, but was cut off as the other woman came up quickly upon her, shoving the disruptor hard up to her face and shoving her back against the door with a stiff arm to her neck. She was faster and stronger, the reflection. Faster and stronger than Dox was currently, she thought as the woman hissed. ”NO! You’re not me. Not even close.”

The sound echoed down the corridor and back for a full five seconds before silence returned.

Very slowly, Dox turned her head and pushed the disruptor off of her cheek as the other-self breathed heavily in the corridor. After a moment, the other Dox spoke again. “Be careful saying that name, Lieutenant Commander. It’s not a safe name anymore. Not on Romulus.”

“Okay…” Dox said calmly as her other self stepped back slightly, Disruptor still raised. “So… what do I call you?”

“You know! That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? You’re hunting down the ‘disruptive influence’. The terrorist. Mnhei’sahe t’Aan.” She said, sounding agitated again.

“Mother’s house name?” Dox said at the sound of t’Aan, a name she recognized immediatly. “Look, I’m not hunting you. I’m not Tal’Shiar. And this isn’t a trick.”

Tilting her head, the woman with the Disruptor narrowed her eyes, slightly. “Min. Just... Min. The other one… I only use when I need to. The Tal’Shiar… Rendal… they have sensors. Audio sweepers that listen for it. Few that can penetrate this deep, but no reason to keep tempting fate. This was… safer.”

“Okay, Min. Let’s just talk for a moment. I can tell you things. Things that nobody else knows, especially not the Tal-Shiar. Okay?” Dox said, working through things that had worked in past leaps, struggling to come up with something.

“Convince me quickly, or I pull the trigger, and nobody will even find the remaining particulate mass.” The other woman said, barely contained rage in her voice as the green glow of the disruptor tinted their faces to reinforce her point.

“If you’re here… then you escaped at some point, but I know what you didn’t give them on the warbird.” Dox said, fumbling through her own memories. “You kept your secrets close. You tried warning them against probing your mind for any of the things we had learned. Things about our contact with Gaia and how we allowed the shard of her that was trapped on the Hera to merge with us. And even when Sonak beamed us out into space so we could return that energy, in those few minutes, we felt complete for the first time in our lives.”

“We hated giving that up. We could see Rita and Asa’s SOULS. We could see the threads that contained all of reality.” Dox said, picking something uniquely personal. “It was something that we lost… until we bonded with Mona. And then, when we could see her beautiful glow, it gave us back the taste of that gift we had been given. With Mona, I can still touch that bigger piece of the universe that we lost when…”

Pulling apart, both women fell back slightly. Mnhei’sahe into the cold, metal door, and Min into the railing behind her in the corridor. “M… Mona… Mona. She’s… she’s still… They’re still...” Min whispered, tears beginning to well up in her eyes that she forced back down with an angry sneer.

In that moment, both women became intimately aware that both were who they claimed to be. And while the momentary connection was purely emotional, Mnhei’sahe felt the impossible sense of loss from her counterpart. “Your Mona?”

The reply was a cold glare, with eyes that have seen too much loss stared back and the other Dox’s face was a mask of barely contained rage, as she whispered. “She… they... were killed by the Tal’Shiar agents that attacked us. I failed. I got taken down and didn't save them. I felt them die in my mind. I can still feel that hole. EVERY second of every DAY.”

There was silence for a long moment as Min sniffed and collected herself. Crying was a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time and she had no intention of breaking that there. Watching, Dox realized that her story had convinced her counterpart, but also opened a very raw wound for the angry woman. Then, after the long silence had become too heavy, Min holstered her disruptor in her belt and gestured down the corridor. “Follow me, Lieutenant Commander. And watch your step.”

The rank was said with the edge of bitterness as the other Dox turned sharply and walked into the darkness with bizarre confidence. Quickly, Mnhei’sahe followed suit, coming right up behind herself as the light faded completely. The pair kept walking, Mnhei’sahe keeping her hands on the railing and listening to the echo of Min’s footfalls until they stopped. In the almost total darkness, she almost walked into herself. “How can you…” She started to speak but was cut off.

“I can’t. I listen, count the deck plates and remember. Now be quiet, sound travels a long way in here and we’ve been far too loud already.” Min said curtly in a hoarse whisper as Mnhei’sahe heard her bend down and pull up the deck plate in front of her. Then was the sound of a metal door in the concrete floor slide back. “You first, I need to lock the hatch behind us. Feel with your feet for the first rung and go slowly. There are 27 rungs total before you reach the bottom.”

“Okay.” Mnhei’sahe replied as she heard Min step over the panel to let her in. Feeling, there was a tunnel going straight down under the now raised deck plate and she felt for the rungs. They were cold and metal and slowly, she began climbing down the hole, counting. From above, she could hear the metal door slide shut and beyond it, as it shut, she heard the deck plate slide back down into place. There was a hard, clanking sound that must’ve been the lock mentioned.

After a slow minute of climbing, Dox felt her feet touch down on the bottom of the tunnel with a slight splash. There was standing water for sure, and a slight smell that said probably not just water. Hearing Mnhei’sahe sniff, Min said bluntly. “You’ll get used to it. Trust me, I know. Step to your left one half a meter and no more.”

Doing as instructed, Dox heard her unusual companion touch down and simply start walking in the total darkness. “Follow me.” Min said simply.

Walking, every couple of minutes, Min would shift slightly and whisper, ‘right’ or ‘left’ to indicate a turn in direction. It was another ten minutes of this before they stopped in front of… something. Mnhei’sahe couldn’t see a thing, but she was adjusting enough to feel the flow of air stop abruptly in front of them. There was the sound of a hatch opening and the rustle of old fashioned, metal keys. Then, after another moment, came a loud clang of metal on metal and a door that slowly was being pulled to the side. As it slid, a soft amber light came through the opening that, while dim, seemed almost too bright for a moment.

“Come on. Hurry up.” Min said as she stepped through the door. Mnhei’sahe followed, nervously into the dimly lit space. Once inside, her eyes still adjusting, Min slid the door closed again with a grunt and turned a large metal handle that locked it again.

As her eyes finally adjusted, Mnhei’sahe took the unusual space in. It was not unlike an underground bunker. The walls were curved stone, no more than three meters high at the highest with piping crisscrossing the ceiling. Along one wall were several green, metal crates with disruptor rifles sticking out. Behind them, more crates that appeared to have canned food of some kind in them. On the opposite wall was a small, tattered couch with a thin linen blanket and a rolled-up pad for a pillow. Next to that, a travel case with a few piles of unfolded clothes peeking out. On the wall above the bed, the source of the light: a small repurposed toolkit light bar strapped to one of the pipes.

On the floor, were several pads crisscrossing to provide some relief from the otherwise cold, stone surface. There was a small corridor to the back that she couldn’t quite see down, and against the far wall, a rotten wooden desk with piles of equipment on top. One piece of which resembled the comm unit of a Romulan shuttlecraft that had been pulled out and rewired. Which turned out to be exactly what it was as Min stepped over and punched in a code Mnhei’sahe couldn’t quite see. As she did, there was a light snap and hum of power and a green light came on. “T’Aan to tr’Maerk. False alarm, Drop back to green. Just another Set'leth in the tunnels. Stand down. Out.”

Over the comm, a man's voice replied, “Ie, Vriha'Erein. Out.” Mnhei’sahe knew the word, the Romulan equivalent of the rank of ‘Lieutenant’.

Turning, Min took her disruptor out and placed it on the table, turning off the jury-rigged comm unit before sitting in the rickety chair in front of it. “It’s not powerful, and doesn’t have any of the components that would allow me to get a message off-world, but it serves its purpose. You made a lot of noise in the tunnels. You’re lucky it was me that found you and not tr’Maerk. He would have just slit your throat and checked who you were later.”

Still standing, Mnhei’sahe folded her hands behind her back and nodded. “This is not my first one of these dimensional leaps. I’ve encountered 10 other versions of myself, and I always arrive somewhere near the other me.” Dox said, offering a bit more information before continuing. “As for your tr’Maerk, he sounds lovely.”

“Don’t be smug, Lieutenant Commander. And sit down. This isn’t a cadet review.” Min said sarcastically. “And yes, it’s been a while, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t have infinite patience for you doing your saddest attempt at pretending to be Rita.”

“Looks like you forgot why I… why we bother doing that.” Mnhei’sahe said as she sat on the weathered couch.

“I forgot a lot of things. I had to. But I remembered other things and learned plenty of new things, so it’s balanced out.” Min said. “And everyone else forgot about me, so… balance.”

“Is that what happened? You were forgotten here?” Mnhei’sahe asked, pointedly.

“WE, Lieutenant Commander. WE were forgotten here.” Min replied with a raised tone to her voice. “Which, I suppose isn’t fair, but you won’t begrudge me a little bitterness, all things considered, will you?” The follow up was said with dripping sarcasm and an uncomfortable smirk that showed off the long vertical scar that went across both of her lips.

“This?” Min pointed at the scar, noticing her other self staring. “Mother was there on that platform when they were to transfer me to the Tal’Shiar facility, in a Scorpion. She tried to rescue us, but she was shot down and killed. In the chaos of the moment, I broke away and leapt off of that platform when it became obvious that... nobody was coming.”

“Enalia and Rita? They… they didn’t try to rescue you?” Mnhei’sahe said, confused, but her strange, angry double narrowed her gaze as she listened.

“Heh. No. No rescue. Enalia… negotiated. She made lip service to trying to get me back, and Rendal had even let me see the holo of Enalia barely trying. Honestly, she looked bored having to make the effort. It was deemed a… political liability to rescue me.” Min hissed as she shuffled uncomfortably before continuing as Mnhei’sahe processed what she was hearing.

“As for the scar… t’Suil gave it to me. She dove in after me into the river and we were swept away. Turns out she didn’t appreciate my trying to drown her for her efforts, but I needed what she had, and I needed her dead. A month on that ship of playing nice. Of trying to do it the starfleet way, and Starfleet abandoned me. This was my last chance and all that anger built up and exploded. I couldn’t let Rendal or her people get their hands on me again, or get me into that facility where they would have broken my mind for sure, so I drown her little lap-dog in the river while she clawed at my face. Then, I took her clothes and ran. The complex was in the middle of nowhere, so I hunkered down in a series of caves I found in the woods that would block sensor scans and I waited. I had her comm badge, so with a little work I was able to deactivate the transponder. They couldn’t track it, but I could hear their comm traffic. You remember when Mother taught us how to do that, right?”

Mnhei’sahe simply nodded as she listened and Min continued. “And I waited… and waited until I couldn’t wait anymore. The nearest city was the Capitol, so I picked the other direction and started walking down river. I checked in five times a day for comm chatter about me, the Federation, the Hera, anything. But nothing. It was a three day walk to the next town, but I was able to get by with… animals in the woods. I learned what I needed to those first few days to not starve, thought it took a while for my stomach to agree with my choices.”

At that, Min cracked the slightest of smiles. “Anyway, you don’t need those wonderful details. To be blunt, what Starfleet had taught me proved useless in very short order and it became a matter of remembering every trick I learned as a smuggler. Stealing what I needed as quietly as possible, learning how to not be seen. So I found some better, less obvious clothes. Turned out that remembering how to steal things came back to me a little easier than I thought. Cut my hair and did my best to blend in as I walked the streets of Romulus for the first time… as a vagrant. It was… an eye opening experience.”

“But, the smaller villages… are like what they taught us about Earth in the early 20th century. Antiquated homes, almost non-existent technology in most. Pumps for well water, for Al’thindor’s sake. But the smaller, rural villages also were never shy for needing extra hands. So, I did what I could. I can still fix flitters and jury rig engines, and that became a… useful skill to farmers with equipment six generations old and I... got by. Found places willing to put up a woman as a farmhand and didn’t ask many questions. I was able to get my hands on hair dye and was able to blend in a little better.”

The tone turned somber. “Turns out the media services were… quite busy telling everyone to report the red-headed Starfleet spy for a hefty reward. ‘Mnhei’sahe Dox’ had a reputation and a well known face for anyone who could afford a computer to get the news feeds, so she couldn’t linger anywhere for long. I mean, red hair isn't nearly as rare as the presentation that the Military makes would have the rest of the galaxy think, but it was rare enough to stand out.”

“That was… the first few weeks.” Min ran her hands over her short cropped, black hair waiting for a reaction from her other self. Across the small room, none came as Mnhei’sahe simply sat and listened. Having already seen other versions of her life on Romulus, this version was a slap in the face and a reminder that when you don’t have the benefit of a noble house, the world was a very different place here. “living in barns and storage sheds, fixing flitters and tractors for room and board and trying to avoid the houses with enough money to decide I was useful enough to buy. Very hard to maintain a cover and keep your hair dyed when somebody owns you. But I got by. I kept listening when I could. Grandmother was still in the Senate, doing Rendal’s bidding. The military locked down hard on off-planet transit in the wake of the ‘federation incursion’ to attack a government facility. My escape was used as an excuse for the Tal’Shiar to crack down ever tighter on the population. I knew that the Hera wasn’t coming for me. They couldn’t. It would have been virtually impossible. And getting off world… even harder.”

“I… tried a few times. Found a vinter in the first week of my second month here that smuggled Kali-Fal off-world and tried to make a deal and almost got caught.” Min’s head dipped slightly as she recollected. “Which is to say I almost got caught. He did get caught. I… I tried not to think about what I saw the Tal’Shiar do to him… after I ran again.”

“But… actions have consequences, here. Mine… ours in particular.” She straightened up again and slipped the facade of control back on that Mnhei’sahe recognized too well. “Romulans that tried to help us died, Lieutenant Commander.”

“So, I had to adjust my course again. I wasn’t leaving any time soon, so I had to figure out how to stay and not get caught. Not get anyone else killed. So, I made my way to Iuruth.” She waved her arms dramatically for wasted effect. “One of many cities I’ve stayed in during my time here. It’s a poor city with little government oversight and vast farmland on its outskirts. It made it… easier to blend in. It is very much the kind of city poor enough to have very few within it to question my false names or invented stories. The media feeds needed screens to be seen, and the poorer towns simply didn't GET the news as a result.

A few more odd jobs got me lined up into the service of house Krahhlae of Iuruth a month and a half into my time here. He let me show him my skills and he hired me. Tr’Krahhlae owned the most successful farms in the provence who needed a young house servant with a strong back for his home and skills with engines to help keep the antiquated equipment on those farms running. And that’s what the master of the house got. I had a meager income with a room and a place to sleep so long as I serviced his needs.”

Now, Mnhei’sahe looked concerned. The tale digging in deeper than she could have imagined as her stomach turned. Seeing the reaction of the officer nowhere near as good as hiding her feelings as she had become, Min smirked and chuckled lightly. “Oh, calm down, your Starfleet is showing. It was manual labor. Scrubbing floors, doing laundry, cleaning out the dish trough, getting under the top of his flitter in the mornings and evenings. Farm equipment and technical maintenance work most of the day. Nothing lascivious, if that’s what you’re thinking. I got… fairly decent at it. And I learned a few other valuable lessons. Like how to keep that expression off of my face.”

“Of course, I had no papers. No real name to speak of. He looked the other way, but also made it clear that once… employed… I couldn’t simply quit and go on my way.” She continued. “As you well know, indentured servitude and a drastic class system are still very much in place here, and in my desire to get away, I stepped right into it.”

Pointing across the room at her double, Min sat forward. “There were… however… advantages. Tarjn tr’Krahhlae had money. He wasn’t rich by the standards of the bigger cities, but he had enough to waste on occasion. And he was easily manipulated into wasting it on some of the bigger and better toys to show off his modest station. Better computers and a modern comm-net interface for the house. And guess who installed and maintained it? His loyal new housegirl, Min.”

As she spoke, she got up and walked over to the crate and grabbed a can without a label. Pulling out a small pocket knife, Min carefully but quickly removed the lid of the can and picked up a small utensil that had been resting on a rag next to the lid to the crate. She started eating something that Mnhei’sahe couldn’t quite see or make out by smell, that almost looked like beans. As she ate, she kept talking. “So, I had access to decent communications equipment. Nothing fancy and nothing that could be made to communicate off-planet, but a far cry better than the repurposed comm badge that only got frequencies from one specific military channel. For a while, all I did was follow the planetary news cycles. No need to move too quickly. I needed more information, anyway.”

“So I watched when I could, which wasn’t often. Servants don’t get much leisure time, after all.” Min said as she pulled out a small travel container, emptied what was left in the can and sealed off the top. As she put the travel container aside, she stepped over to a small, portable matter replicator and tossed the can in. There was a hum for a second and a small light on the unit blinked green twice. “But I bided my time, learned, listened and waited. And over those few months, I worked. I worked as hard as I could… so that I became irreplaceable."

"Anyway, I had a roof over my head and was building that degree of… comfort… out of nothing. I could finally start acting. And start learning for real. And one of the first things I learned was that Grandmother was gone. Dead. Likely assassinated. But not before she named her… successor. Renal.”

“That was my last piece of family left. Starfleet abandoned me. Mona had been killed. My mother was dead. Then, Verelan was gone.” Min turned away from herself and leaned against the weapons crate. On the couch, Mnhei’sahe leaned forward, crossing her hands, trying to process the life that was hers and not hers. The decisions that she knew were her own under the circumstances described.

“What else did I have?.” Min’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Saving Verelan… getting revenge on Rendal… they had always stayed in the back of my mind while I was here as justification for… for not trying harder to leave. With that gone, I wasn’t able to pretend anymore. Pretend that I was… content… being someone’s property. Content living as I had been for what seemed like a lifetime in so little actual time. So I started to plan. I was going to escape or die trying.”

Then, the clearly weary, angry woman dipped her head. “Look… I have things I need to do, beyond telling you stories. There’s a spare cot in the other chamber that isn't comfortable, but if you need to sleep, just… whatever. Stay out of my way.”

It was clear that it was the emotion of trying to recount the tale far more than anything else that was getting to her, but she maintained the facade. “I’m on scanning duty right now, and I need to get on it. So… that doorway. I’ll tell you when I’m done.”

With that, Min turned her back on Dox and went back to the ramshackle communication station and put a pair of taped together old headphones on and began whatever ‘scanning duty’ meant. For a moment, there was a lingering silence, before Dox stepped through the narrow, stone doorway into the described chamber. There were easily a dozen crates of various size and aged distress stacked around her and a very small, moldy looking cot in the far corner under another, wall mounted emergency light that flickered dimly in the space.

Having listened, Dox suspected that her counterpart’s story had only begun, as she had to have been stuck on Romulus for almost a year now. But it was a year that appeared to have done significant damage to the young woman both physically and mentally and it ate at Dox as she wondered why THIS Enalia and Rita hadn’t come to rescue her as they did in her own reality.

Looking around the chamber, it was nothing more than a stoned off section of an old sewer station that had been turned into a room. Old pipes overhead dripped onto the damp floor with a drainage stopper in the center. It was no place to live, but it seemed to be all this version of herself had.

How could Rita and Enalia have left her… ME… here? Like this Dox thought to herself as she sat down on the rusty old cot and leaned back against the cold, stone wall that felt like a prison. As she tried to imagine what things must have been like for her here, she realized how easy it would have been for her to have become who Min was now. The counterpart in the other room lost everything, one after the other. And worst of all, she lost hope. That seemed to be what Romulus did best.

It killed hope.

To Be Continued…

Again, the now-familiar flare of the ultraviolet faded, and once again, Rita Paris found herself facing herself.

Albeit only for a brief second, before she was forcibly driven to the deck, where an armored boot was promptly placed against her helmet, and she heard the distinctive ‘k-chak!’ of the TR-116C2 loading a heavy duty specialty round package.

“Red alert, intruder alert! You’ve got five seconds to tell me just what you think you’re doing here, or I’ll splatter your brains on the deck and we’ll interrogate your corpse,” her own voice snarled at her.

“Commander! What’s the meaning of this?” Enalia’s voice rang out, even as Rita decided to stay pinned to the deck and try talking her way out of this.

“I come in peace! I’m a dimensional explorer! My name’s Rita Paris!” she broadcast through the external speakers of her EVA armor. Given the reception she’d received here so far, she was actually glad she’d been wearing it, or the deckplates would be giving her quite a bruise right now. There were a few seconds of silence that followed her declaration, then the two Security officers on the bridge hauled her to her feet to face yet another version of herself.

The hair was the same, she noticed. But the eyes were hard and guarded, the mouth downturned in a scowl that seemed somehow permanent. While the helmet was retracted, it seemed she’d been on duty on the bridge in her EVA armor, which Rita couldn’t help but notice was not gold, but the same pearlescent black as the hull of the Hera- the stealth mode. The rifle in her hands looked natural there, and she wielded it almost casually as she shoved the barrel underneath Rita’s chin.

“Okay blondie. You talk a good game, but you’re not me. When’s my birthday?”

“February 13th. Daddy always said I was unlucky in love because I missed Valentine’s Day. Keep trying.”

“First pet?”

“Are you talking about Dust Bunny that Albert made me half as a joke, or the fact that I was never allowed to have a pet growing up because I ‘wasn’t responsible enough’. Look, by my reckoning I’ve got about eight hours here. So we can spend all of it playing Paris Trivia Night, or you can take my word for it and we can talk like civilized people.” As she spoke, Rita looked around the bridge. A crewman she didn’t know was at the helm, French was there, with Sexton arriving from the turbolift with a squad of armored security officers.

Captain Telvan had already left the bridge. Apparently this incident wasn’t sufficient to warrant her interest, and Rita’s final suspicion that Something Was Really Wrong Here kicked in.

“I’m taking off my armor, okay? I’m complying,” Rita explained, knowing French lacked judgment and Sexton lacked control. A few of the faces of the security officers struck her as familiar- then she remembered Castillo De Muerto, and the squad Sexton had led to their deaths. Shutting down her armor’s power systems, she shunted it into the dimensional space inside the bracers of Hera she wore.

Which in turn caused another 7 weapons to be pointed at her as she held up her hands.

“This is de-escalation on the Hera? Very impressive,” Rita snarked, peeved at her treatment before the realization dawned on her that if she left the bridge with Sexton and his goons, all of whom she had transferred off the Hera at the first opportunity, she was likely a dead woman. Fighting her way out didn’t seem particularly feasible, so she plotted a new course. “Look, let’s try another tack. Is this Starfleet?”

There were a few nods of acquiescence, as the black-clad commander narrowed her eyes.

“Because if this is a Starfleet vessel, then I am member of Starfleet, who is requesting aid and assistance,” Rita pulled out her command voice for this one. After all, this would either buy her some breathing room on this dark timeline, or it would get her murdered.

Time for a great performance, Rita.

“I am far from my vessel, trapped in an alternate reality and currently I have eight weapons pointed at me, and, assuming those rounds were to pass by and/or through me, pointed at both the helm and the engineering station. Given the amount of firepower currently aimed in my direction, I’d estimate at least three rounds would go through the primary and secondary hulls- I know how fond of autoburst you are, Jenkins. That’s per weapon, because I’d bet anything that as soon as one of you opens fire, reflexively, so will the rest of you. Ah, except whatsisname there,” Rita pointed to one of the men whose names she did not know. “The goober next to him hasn’t properly shouldered his weapon, and that first shot is probably going to take Whatsisname’s head off.”

The security team all looked over, and sure enough, Rita was quite correct. They all turned to look at the local Commander Paris, who rolled her eyes and turned back to her doppleganger. “Fine. We’ll render you aid and assistance, then.”

“Thank you. I would very much appreciate that.” Looking around the bridge, Rita asked casually, “Where’s Sonak?”

That was when the rather angry black-clad commander slugged Rita in the jaw, and the lights went out.

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

When Rita Paris came to, the humming of the forcefield was no surprise, nor was the soft lighting of a brig cell. Sitting in front of the cell with a grin on his face was Lieutenant Alex Sexton, who was currently sharpening a rather wicked-looking combat knife. Dragging the blade in long, slow strokes, it was clear that he was still the same psychotic testosterone junkie that she’d had transferred and brought disciplinary actions against.

Now he was eyeballing her as she rose, with a gleam in his eye that she suspected meant somebody gave him the okay for a torture/interrogation session. Idly Rita bumped her wrist against her breast as she picked her arms up to rub her eyes, and she realized her Hera bracers were missing. Which meant that she had no ace in the hole, and would have to be exceptionally clever in order to survive this particular leap.

“Well, looks like our intruder is awake,” Sexton smirked, dragging the blade across the stone for effect. Sharpening the knife was just another indicator to Rita of his overcompensation, but she let it play. “Captain said we get to decide what happens to you before we get to Starbase 227, and that’s still three days away. We could have LOTS of fun in that time. So whaddya say, girlie? You think you wanna tell us who you really are, and why you really here, or do I get to... play?”

As he sharpened the knife, Rita formed a plan. After all, this was no warp scientist she was dealing with here.

“Ohhh, Alexander, you really aren’t capable of putting two thoughts together that don’t involve sadism, do you?” Rita replied, sitting upright and taking a long, slow overhead stretch. “French’s connections kept all your little escapades hidden while she covers you on the paperwork, but you’re still trying to work through it, aren’t you? That urge to kill you have so much trouble resisting. I really thought the modern society would have spotted you sooner, but you just kept working to get to position where you could indulge yourself, then you settled right in.”

“Looks like French is willing to look the other way, the Captain is too busy to care and my local equivalent clearly gives you leash when it suits her. So what do you say, doggie? Gonna be a good boy and rough up the new gal for your mistress? Who’s a good doggie? Who’s a good dog?” Under ordinary circumstances she wouldn’t taunt the psychopath. But she needed to get out of this cell, and she knew she was being observed. They wanted to see how she’d play it, here in this dark timeline. And if she didn’t want to spend the rest of her time in this dimension with Sexton as company, she needed to end this, and quickly.

The face of the security officer became a snarling mask of rage. “I ain’t NOBODY’S dog!!” Sexton shouted as he lowered the forcefield and came at Rita. While she was no fighter, Rita was no amateur, either. Months on Kathoom had honed her hand to hand skills, and she had seen Sexton fight before. Dox had once pointed out his tell- he always feinted with the left, before attacking with the right.

Apparently it had worked for him once, so he’d never changed his pattern.

As he rushed her, however, Paris didn’t need intensive combat training, or tricks, or even weapons. He grabbed at her with his left, grabbing at her shoulder as he trailed the knife, apparently planning to bury it in her stomach. Which he might have accomplished had he not been charging and overbalanced. After all, basic Starfleet Academy Judo was taught for a reason- to turn force against itself. Spinning, pivoting, checking her hip into it, Rita added a bit of her own muscle to the throw, and let Sexton’s face collide with the bulkhead behind her with a rather pronounced ‘klung’.

Stepping out of the cell, Rita reactivated the cell door, then tapped her commbadge. “Paris to sickbay, medical emergency in the brig, cell 5.”

By the time the security team arrived with a medical response team, she was perched on the chair Sexton had abandoned waiting for them. The Security forces were understandably upset at the injury of one of their own, and were beginning to discuss just how they would take their creative and entirely unreasonable revenge for their leader’s right hand man, who had clearly been tricked, maybe seduced. The ideas were moving beyond cutting off body parts and toward creative insertion of weaponry into orifices when her black-clad counterpart arrived, and instantly all such ‘locker room talk’ was silenced. Rita suspected her counterpart let it happen, but not within earshot. The picture of just what was happening here was coming together for her, but she was still in considerable danger, and she had to play this cool if she wanted to survive.

“Seems your boy needs more training. Maybe some anger management courses. Looks like the lot of them do,” Paris offered to her local counterpart. “So do you plan to turn me over to the rape gang that you call security officers, shove me back in a cell to see if ignoring me works, or were you thinking of maybe keelhauling me? Enalia’s a pirate, so she might go for it.”

Stepping into Rita’s personal space, the black armored commando who wore her face glared at Rita, trying to stare her down. Which was an interesting experience for her, given that the visitor who shared her eyes was in no way, shape, or form about to back down from herself. Eye to eye, nose to nose, they stared one another down.

“If you are so far gone that you’d murder an alternate reality version of yourself because she showed up and asked you about your husband, then you really need to reevaluate who you are, Rita Paris,” the gold-clad commander in the anachronistic minidress whispered, low enough for her double to hear, but not loudly enough for the Security forces to hear.

The anger that sparked in those eyes was fierce, and for a moment, Rita feared she had gone too far. But then a cloud passed over her face, and she pulled out a pair of manacles, cuffing her counterpart. “She’s with me.”

“Nuh uh, Commander,” said a singsong voice. “She’s an intruder, we don’t know where she came from or what she’s doing here, and Starfleet regs say she stays in the brig, period,” French intoned, leaning on the corner as she watched Sexton returned to consciousness. “She wants to fight with Security, she’s gotta take her lumps.”

Stepping into the personal space of the willowy redheaded lieutenant, the black armored anachronism argued. “I outrank you and hold a higher position. I’ll handle the interrogation, and if you don’t like it, go cry to your ‘uncle’. But I want her to survive the night, and too many ‘sensor failures’ have resulted in ‘suicides’ down here, French. You and your pack of lunatics won’t get anything out of her- you had your chance, and you blew it. Now it’s my turn.”

“The Captain can’t protect you forever, Paris. I’ll get my turn...” French crooned smugly, as Paris stepped back into her space, pinched a rather significant handful of French’s left tit in her armored hand, then squeezed and twisted.

“Threaten me again... ever... even remotely,” she said, twisting a bit harder as French gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out in pain in front of her men. “They will not find your body, French. I give you my word. I’ve experienced a lot of nasty ways to die, and if you ever say a single solitary word that I think even hints of a threat from you or your goon squad? You won’t see it coming, and you won’t even know you’re dead until it’s already done. And for the record?”

For this Paris leaned in close to whisper in her ear. But whatever she said, made the redheaded security chief blanch that much whiter. When she released the chief, the Security personnel had crowded in a bit, and Paris began shoving them out of her way.

“Gangway! Make a hole! Fuck off, you deck apes!” Paris shoved a few of the armored figures out of her way, and the rest parted to let her pass, her manacled and minidress-clad counterpart being dragged in her wake.

“This was fun, we should do it again sometime,” the gold-clad Rita called out to the Security force. Something told her she wasn’t done with them just yet, and taunting them would keep them unbalanced. It dawned on her how quickly she’d adapted to this dark timeline. But now that she’d seen enough, she suspected she knew what was going on.

All she had to figure out was how to fix it.

Looked like her office was still on Deck 2, forward. Apparently even here Enalia had still given her the big office with a view, but as they approached, the commando commander barked at the overhead. “Computer, unseal hatch 17F, authorization Paris, Rita. CDR, ampersand ampersand E-A-R-T-H 2233.”

=^= Acknowledged =^=

The door slid open to reveal that this Rita had rather different ideas of decor. Weapons racks lined the walls, from large scale pulse rifles to small arms, swords, pikes, cestes, spears and buzzknucks. The walls were a dark greenish-grey, with the racks custom built to hold each weapon. A spare suit of armor stood in an alcove, which apparently had much greater strength augmentation systems and armor plating, as it was taller, and much wider.

It was somewhat inescapable, as Rita couldn’t help but notice that the heavy duty EVA was also the stealth black Hera hull plating, as were nearly all of the weapons in the room.

“Love what you’ve done with the place...” Rita quipped as she took it all in, before she was shoved into a rather uncomfortable plastic chair with no seat cushions.

“Alright smartass, cut the crap,” armored Rita growled as she dropped herself heavily into a high-backed reinforced chair that Rita had a sneaky suspicion was bulletproof and phaser resistant. “How did you get here?”

“Bulikaya particle- it’s some old weird tech that Dox inherited from an old Starfleet admiral I think-” Rita got that far before her counterpart interrupted her.

“Dox? What, the fat little shuttle pilot? Are you kidding me?” the dark-clad commander barked. “What admiral would have anything to do with that sad sack? She cuts herself, for fucksake. There’s a betting pool on the flight deck to see if she offs herself, or if she takes a shuttle with her.”

Shaking her head slowly, Rita Paris snapped the final piece of the puzzle into place. “You... monster. Sweet Hera, you’ve lost your damned mind, but more importantly, you’ve lost your compassion. You’re letting her cut herself and not getting her help? You’re taking bets on suicide?”

“Look, sunshine, where you come from it may be different. But this universe, this future? I used to say the universe is not unkind... well, it is EXACTLY that. Unkind,” the dark-armored avenger growled. “Give it a chance and it’ll kill you, maim you, chew you up and spit you out. You can condemn me all you want, but you don’t know. You aren’t from here. Fucksake I had the XO try to kill me on an away mission. It might as well be the goddamn mirror universe.”

At that, she reached into a drawer, pulled out a bottle of scotch, unscrewed the cap and took a swig directly from the bottle. A rather long one, with a few swallows, Rita noted, before she lowered it and offered it across the desk.

“Aren’t you on duty?” Rita asked as she held up a hand to decline, and her local equivalent snorted.

“Duty. Yeah, there’s another dirty word here,” Rita responded, taking another swig off the bottle before setting it under her desk, where it clanked against a few empties hidden by the desk. Apparently this version had not just gone back to drinking, but full on alcoholism. Which did explain a bit, but not everything.

“What happened on Meroset 347, Rita?” the visitor asked the local, whose face at first blanched of color, then she began to snarl again.

“Admiral had her plan, and I had this stupid idea that maybe we could negotiate. We sent the counselor down because she insisted, and that went as you’d expect. Then it was me, the goat and the new kid, the damn babyface Command sent us as a CMO. We were fighting our way across town when I got driven through a wall by a Minotaur. I was stunned, had the wind knocked outta me, and the goddamn satyr, the XO of the boat, steps up and tells me just how happy he is this opportunity presented itself, and he levels his assault rifle at me. I can’t breathe, I’m barely conscious, and he would have killed me right there- Starfleet pride my ass.” Reaching down below her desk, Paris picked up the bottle again and unscrewed the cap, considering.

“If that harpy hadn’t carried him off, he would have murdered me. My own exec. Then he would have blamed it on the locals, and no one would have cared and they’d have pinned a medal on him so long as he took out Hera. I’d already clashed with him and figured out the Captain wasn’t on my side, so in this case, I made a choice. He wasn’t going to stop trying to off me, and I wasn’t going to live watching my back for when he decided it was time to try again.” Taking a drink from the bottle, the local Paris let that settle in.

“So you murdered him?” Rita clarified, wanting to know the truth.

“Nope. I let Meroset 347 murder him. I just didn’t stop it,” the combative commander admitted as she took another drink.

“Hey- could you at least slow down? I’m gonna be here for a while, and I’d really rather not deal with you being both drunk, belligerent and bitter all at the same time?” Rita asked, which got her a nasty look from her counterpart, who took one more drink then hid the bottle once more.

“Fine, whatever. Anyway, he died there, the kid died in the explosion, and I put a bullet through Hera’s brains, and whoopie, I’m a hero. I get promoted, we go on to more exciting wartime adventures and I try to lose track of how many people I’ve lost on missions.” Paris eyed her rather Pollyanna opposite number across the desk. “This is a cold, hard universe, lady. If you were in my shoes you’d see that.”

“Is it? Is it really, or did you just lose your faith in it, Rita?” the gold-clad commander asked gently. The relationship she had built with Hera was one of the factors of her belief in the redemption of the universe, after all. Hera had changed so much from who she had been on that brutal world, and in her redemption, Rita’s faith in the universe had been somewhat justified....as had her faith in Hera herself. But here, the goddess had never gotten the chance to rehabilitate, because like she herself had done to Hera’s general, in this reality, Rita had simply followed orders and murdered Hera like a common assassin.

Suddenly Rita wanted that drink.

“All because they never came for you. Sonak and Stuart never came for you, so you just ‘dealt with it’. You put your head down and stopped caring, and you got angry and bitter and drunk and you spent your time nursing your wound from your ‘most tragic backstory-”

It was at that point that the combative commander sprang to her feet, a phase pistol on her hip clearing in a smooth motion, to come to bear pointed between the eyes of the woman in the minidress, who stared down the barrel of the pistol with contempt.

“Don’t like what I’m saying, so you react with violence. IS this the mirror universe? Advancement through murder, psychotics running Security... I’m not entirely convinced it isn’t, at this point,” Rita said cooly and calmly. When she spoke next, her voice was soft, and her eyes compassionate. “So if you’re going to shoot me, at least look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong. Tell me nothing I said was true. Tell me, truthfully, that you aren’t lost in the woods, and you’re just reacting moment to moment. Who can blame you? It’s been two years now, without him. Anyone you might have tried to care for was killed. You have no one here. You are so lonely and so scared. No wonder you’re so wounded.”

The pistol wavered as the angry astronaut struggled with herself, then the arm dropped, and the pistol lowered... as did the woman’s eyes. “No, damn you... you’re right.”

Dropping heavily into the chair once more, the blonde battalion combed her hair out of her eyes. “I waited... I was sure, y’know? It’s Sonak. But... they never came. I got lost good and proper this time, and... they can’t find me. Seems nobody can stick around, either.”

“Nobody answered your message in a bottle?” the golden girl asked, as her dark counterpart’s head turned slowly, looking bewildered.

“What the hell is a message in a bottle...?”

TBC

Opening her eyes, Dox felt a pinch in her neck as she awoke from her seated position on the cot, having no idea how long she had dozed off for. From the heaviness she still felt in her eyes, she didn’t think it could have been all that long.

Stretching, she lifted off of the cot and walked back into the main chamber of the subterranean bunker her counterpart lived in, but it appeared she was alone. The makeshift comm station was turned off and there was no sign of the other her in the small room. Walking over to the heavy, metal door, she gave a tug on the latch, but it was clearly locked as it refused to even budge. She was alone.

The comm equipment was all familiar to her and if she had to, she could probably call for help. But anyone who could hear her wouldn’t exactly be showing up to rescue her. The disruptor was also gone and Dox wondered if there were any weapons in any of the crates before she heard the massive door thud. After a few seconds, she heard the latch open and the door pulled open gently. In the darkness of the tunnel, she saw that familiar green glow of her double’s disruptor.

“Good, you’re awake. And you didn’t do anything stupid.” Came her own voice from the darkness as Min stepped back in. Tossing the weapon back on the table, she pulled what looked to be a fairly heavy duffle bag from her back and dropped it on the concrete ground.

Leaving it there a moment, she turned around and re-secured the large metal door. “You were out hard, so I had to lock you in. Sorry if that was… an unpleasant way to wake up, but I couldn’t take any chances.”

“How long was I asleep?” Dox asked, stretching out the kink in her neck.

“Hour and a half, tops. I wasn’t gone long.” Min said as she pulled a small electrical component out of her jacket pocket and wedged it into the side of the comm unit. Clearly, she had made sure that it wasn’t going to work while she was away either. “Couldn’t have you mucking about and giving away my position.”

“Makes sense.” Dox said, looking down at the bag. “What’s that?”

“Chemical fuel pods. A dozen of them. The kind used to power the older kinds of flitters in the city. The bigger cities haven’t used them in… easily three to four decades… but they’re still common in the poorer districts and provinces.”

“They help us keep the lights on down here. They also work as powerful, but compact explosives with a little reworking.” Min said with a mirthless grin as she took off her jacket and sat back on the couch.

“Is that what you are, now? The kind of person who blows things up?” Dox asked, a little more smug sounding than she had intended. It was a tone that her counterpart clearly did not appreciate.

“Does that offend your delicate sensibilities? Is that not the Starfleet way?” The dark-haired counterpart asked, leaning forward. “The Starfleet way is a privledge here, Lieutenant Commander. And getting anything done here requires more than strong words and noble intentions. So yes, I got my hands very dirty, if you must know.”

“I would certainly like to know? How did you go from working on someone’s farming business to…” Dox said, as Min cut her off, rising to her feet.

“A terrorist? Is that the word you’re trying to avoid?” She said, hissing out the words. “It took a bit of doing and a little more time. And a little more to lose.”

Turning, Min went back to the chair by the comm station and sat back down, almost flumping in the chair as she picked up the story from earlier. “Tr’Krahhlae’s business had been growing steadily… beyond just farming. He was having me oversee repairs for other local farmers. He was beginning to build a respectable business on the skills of the girl whose mother taught her how to maintain a Romulan Singularity Drive when she was ten. I knew how to keep real engines running. I mean, I was no chief engineer, but for where I was... I was overskilled.”

“And with that extra freedom I had earned, he began… renting me out to larger businesses in the Provence. Public transportation systems that needed tuning… the local manufacturing plants… I had become… valuable.” Min shook her head and chuckled. It was that same, humorless laugh as before, her eyes fixed on her other self sitting in the clean, crimson Starfleet uniform.

“One such plant, three towns over, produced warp capable shuttles for the military.” Min leaned forward, tenting her fingers before her. “It took a little convincing… but I had tr’Krahhlae’s ear and even without a name of my own, I could use his by this point if it served him. I had helped him build a skilled staff of maintenance workers to keep his farms running well without my direct oversight. Rita’s command training paying off. And the Shuttle plant was willing to pay him VERY well for the services of his chief maintenance servant. So, after a while, another couple of months, I had a new job. One that might eventually have given me the means to get off of this planet.”

“And I was good at it… too good.” Mnhei’sahe’s eyebrow went up at that cryptic comment as Min kept talking. “Tr’Krahhlae wasn’t an idiot. He started questioning this girl he bought, now. A girl with the thinnest of pasts, no family name, no work records, and too many skills. I could fly, repair basic farm equipment OR elaborate, modern engines and computers? And… as you well know… our people are nothing if not suspicious by nature.”

“So, I returned home after a particularly long day and was called into his study. And there… standing behind his desk with a disruptor in hand, he gestured down to the two items on it. He had searched my chamber… found what I had thought I had hidden better. And old, damaged Romulan military comm badge that didn’t work anymore. The black hair dye I used to maintain my appearance… and my hairbrush. And in that brush… a single…”

The haggard-looking woman trailed off as Mnhei’sahe finished her sentence for her, “Red hair.”

“A red hair.” She replied with a nod. “There was still a healthy reward out there for the Starfleet spy, Mnhei’sahe Dox. And his curiosity was enough to call up my old pictures and that was IT. I was found out. He threatened to contact the security forces. I…”

For a moment, Min dipped her head as she thought and then shook it off and continued. “I begged him not to do it. To show me… mercy. I pleaded with him that I wasn’t a spy… told him about Grandmother and that I had been abandoned here. That I was just trying to survive. And… for a moment… I actually thought he might have been listening. I was… desperate. And in that moment… if he had offered to keep my secret… I really believe I would have stayed. Accepted my fate, kept my head down, and been a good servant.” She looked up with a reserved expression and said ironically. “If I’m to be honest with myself. THAT was how far I had fallen.”

“Then… he put his hand on his comm system.” Min sat back, a cold expression on her face. “He had pulled out a disruptor and trained it on me and began to call the security forces. He said… I remember it word for word, burned into my memory. ‘I like you and you’ve shown me loyalty, Min. I extended to you the benefits of my house and my name and you served both honorably… but the reward for you is worth what you earn me three times in a year, and if you’re caught, it would be my head and the heads of everyone else under this house and that is too high a risk to take. I am sorry’.”

“He made the call, and as he did, I simply… moved. I grabbed the disruptor and twisted it until his wrist popped and I could feel his bones grind against each other. Pulling him forward, across the desk, I dug my free hand into his throat and twisted again. He… he started turning this color… I had never seen a man’s face turn. Like a deep turquoise gray. His eyes went wide and the whites... filled green. He tried to claw at my arm with his free hand and pull away. He scratched me and drew blood, but no matter how much it hurt, I didn’t budge. I just twisted that much tighter. He couldn’t speak and honestly… I doubt I could have heard him if he did. All I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding so loud in my ears as he died right there in my hands.”

Suddenly, her eyes betrayed her heart as Min had genuine regret behind her facade. “Yes, he had purchased me. Worked me like the slave I was. But in many respects, he had been a good man. I was given certain luxuries for my loyalty over those months and he had never tried to force himself on me or any of the other servants. He was what he was… but as he died in my hands… I mourned him. And I mourned what was left of YOU in ME. I could have just disarmed him and ran. The call had already been made… the security forces would come regardless. Had I ran, he would still be alive. But I killed him.”

Standing back up, Min walked over to where her shocked doppelganger sat. “That was it, I ran. I grabbed a bag with the few bits of clothing I had and threw… threw some of his more expensive serving utensils. So of the latinum I knew he kept hidden in a secret drawer in his desk I knew the combination for. Whatever I could carry with value. Then, I disabled the reception circuits in his flitter so it couldn’t be remotely deactivated or tracked, and I left. But I knew where I was going.”

“All my work was… gone. I lost everything I had been building. My false identity was useless and flagged. The Tal’Shiar knew that their lost prize was still alive. At first, all I had left was my desire to not be caught. To not end up back in the Ju’rot until they finally broke my mind. I wanted to finally find a way off of this… Elements-forsake planet.” She rolled her head back and chuckled again. “Yes… a lifetime of wanting to be here and only then did I really understand what Mother had been trying to warn us about. Only then did I realize that this entire planet is a prison. I wanted off. But there, running that flitter through the woods on low power with no lights, hoping I didn’t fly into a tree while the security forces were overhead, it came to me.”

“Mnhei’sahe Dox was a spy. Min ir-Elehu was a murderess. And I wasn’t leaving.” Min said, her eyes dipping low and her voice cracking a bit. “No. This world took everything from me. I had no family here and nobody to run TOO even if I escaped. So I decided to fight, instead.”

“I took that flitter to the plant. At night, it had low security, but nothing in there would fly even if I could crack the access codes. But they could still explode, and I was… fed up. Tired of running and hiding. Tired of playing nice and just existing. Verelan waned me to stay on Romulus to make a difference, and I decided then and there, that I was going to.” She continued while Dox listened. “I had been keeping track of it’s security and the lax defenses and it was easy enough to slip in. I took the disruptor and set it to overload and got back out. I ran through that courtyard to the gap in the fence that I came in at.”

“To my surprise, it worked!” She said, with an angry grin as she shook her head. “Then, the few guards on security came running, and the holo cameras all trained on me and that burning building. I used what I knew to disarm those guards as quickly… and as violently… as I could. I was being recorded, after all. Rendal and her lackeys would see. See what they had made. So, I stood there in the center of that destruction as I could hear the security forces coming in the distance and I SCREAMED into that camera. I screamed the one word that said EVERYTHING I needed it to.”

“Mnhei’sahe.” She said, raising an eyebrow.

“I started something, there.” Min continued, leaning over and tenting her fingers. “Yes, the security forces came, but I was long gone by the time they did, with all of those guards weapons, and a purpose. And what I did and said had been seen, as well. He Tal’Shair saw it. The SENATE saw it. RENDAL saw it. But somehow… so did the people.”

That comment elicited a raised eyebrow from Dox, surprised by that, to which Min nodded. “I hadn’t expected it either. But… somewhere along the chain. Somewhere, some Romulan citizen working in the government copied that recording and put it out there. Broadcast it on pirate signals. Plastered pictures on walls. Suddenly, I was a revolutionary, not just a fugitive. And when I saw how that had spread, I realized I was not alone, here.

“But the crack-down had been… very effective. Very little was getting off of Romulus and almost nothing was getting in.” Min continued while Mnhei’sahe just kept listening and learning. Learning who she truly was when she had nothing else to lose.

“I still had nowhere to go, and a painfully famous face. So I ended up on the streets again. There was… a family. They had been chased down… the alley I had taken to sleeping in. My hair was a bit longer then, and mostly red again but for the old black ends still holding on from the last time I had been able to dye it. Anyway, the family… a man, a woman and three children… the oldest couldn’t have been more than 13… they were reunificationists. As you may know, not a welcome group on Romulus. They were on the run and were being chased down by two local security officers for spreading illicit literature. Literature about the former Starfleet officer who had returned to the Hearthworld to bring it’s people freedom. Dangerous literature. They got caught in my alley. Not ten feet from where their hero was praying to Al’thindor that nobody would look.”

“Praying… until they hit the youngest girl for screaming for them to let the mother go. She… looked to be about… four. Maybe five.”

After a long moment of silence, the dark-haired doppleganger continued. “Before I even knew it, the first officer… I threw him against the far wall. Hard enough to crack even a Romulan skull on impact. The second raised his disruptor and… Well. That’s when I added ‘murderer of security forces’ to my growing record. But… it had been seen. Not just by the family, but by a security pod that had followed them down the alley. And I stood there… staring at the camera with the dead man’s disruptor in my hand and I screamed my name again. Then I fired. Destroyed it and went to run… but the girl. The girl called out for me to stop and I froze like a child myself.”

“They… they knew a place to hide. It was where they were running when they were caught. Where there were others. More reunificationists in hiding, beneath the city. And they told me to come with them.” Min said flatly. “And being very out of options, I said ‘yes’ and followed. There were dozens of Rihhansu down in the sewers. Whole families huddled together for warmth, desperate for freedom. Desperate to escape Romulus. And there I stood, with nothing left.”

“No hope of rescue. No hope of escape. No hope of finding any kind of safety on my homeworld. I was a murderess. A criminal. Labeled a spy and a traitor, and now a terrorist. I had no property. No family. No name. I… had nothing left. Nothing except what I could do. So… I gave it to them.” Min said with a reserved sigh as she stood back up again.

“And here I am, I am a terrorist member of an underground movement to free Romulus for the Romulan people. I had a lifetime of training as a smuggler. Training in starfleet. Training as a Baroness. So… I used it for the only thing I had left, and I traded up to my final name. The name that nobody would take from me. MOTHER’S name, that the government stripped from her for the crime of not murdering reunificationists. So now... now I’m Mnhei’sahe of house Aan. I took it, hoping maybe they would hear it and know back in the Federation that I didn’t die here. That I’ve been here the whole time waiting for a family that let me go. And that I found a new one that needed me more.” The hardened woman looked down at the image of herself from another life.

“So, now you know, Lieutenant Commander. This… accident has let you see what you could have become… and let me see what I might have been if the Hera had bothered. And I wonder who has it worse now?” Min said as Mnhei’sahe stood back up to look into her own eyes.

“Yes, in my reality, they came for me. Enalia and Rita. Mona was unharmed during the kidnapping and the children.... they’re beautiful, Min…” Mnhei’sahe said, slowly raising her hand to hold it out to herself… to offer to connect again. At the sight, Min’s eyes went wide and she shoved Mnhei’sahe back away from her, screaming.

NO!!! No! That’s not my life anymore! Those aren’t… how dare you!!! How DARE you come here and bring me this! As she shouted, she horked back and drew out a spit that slapped at Mnhei’sahe’s boots. “Enalia could have come to me. REI could have come to me. She came to let me see my FATHER DIE, but not to HELP ME!!! NONE OF THEM CAME FOR ME!!! So I don’t need them now!”

“You know that everyone did everything that they could. Everything they were capable of doing. And they likely still are. You may want to pretend that it isn’t true, but you know it is, even if it hurts that they haven’t found you yet.” Looking down for a moment, Mnhei’sahe looked at her feet, and then at the Starfleet badge on her chest. As she did, she felt the now familiar shimmer surging withing her again.

“I know your Mona is gone. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. And I know there’s nothing I can do… but I Know that Enalia hasn’t given up on you. There’s NO way that… she...” Dox said, knowing her time in this reality was almost up. But in that moment, the pieces finally fell into place and she knew where she was. This was the reality that Kodria came from. Meaning that Enalia left her on Romulus because it wasn’t really Enalia.

Feeling that her time was almost up, Dox’s mind raced as she remembered the events of the Artan Tribunal, where Enalia and her Evil Mother crossed swords and, had Enalia WON, that sword that her Mother had planted for her to use would have caused both women to swap minds. Enalia would have died IN her Mother’s body, at her own blade. But Rita stopped it by killing Arenara Artan with her phaser. Meaning that the TRUE divergence in this timeline was THAT. Rita must have failed to save Enalia. The Enalia that made a half-hearted effort at a diplomatic solution was really the Captain’s mother, living in that body. Which meant there was something Dox could do.

“Wait… Kodria. You remember Kodria?” Mnhei’sahe asked, the need and rush in her voice now, as she began to shimmer again, about to leave.

“What? Y… yes. What about her?” Minja asked, a look of genuine confusion on her face.

“This… your life here. This is HER timeline. She changed things in mine. RITA changed things in mine. But Enalia… did your Enalia kill her mother in a swordfight?!” Dox shouted, feeling that wave overtaking her.

“Yes? Why?! What’s going on?” Min shouted back, picking up her disruptor out of habit at the unusual outbursts.

“Then she’s NOT Enalia! That’s why she didn’t come! It’s HER MOTHER!!! Arenara STOLE Enalia’s body, Min!!! But you can do something!!”

As reality began to come undone, Mnhei’sahe did the only thing she could think to do and snatched the Comm Badge off of her chest and tossed it at Min’s feet. “Remember Rita! She called and Sonak found her through her old communicator. Across TIME and SPACE, he found her! They ARE looking. RITA is looking, I know it! And now… you can tell her where…”

Then, the tunnel and her other self vanished again into the swirling mists as she felt herself moved through time and space again. In the now silent, dimly lit chamber buried deep on Romulus, the woman who had given up the name of Mnhei’sahe Dox leaned over and picked up the gold and silver Starfleet Delta on the floor. The commbadge with technology she could use to call for help, with just a bit of work. The compass that pointed away from what she had become given to her by a mirror of the woman she used to be, who left behind the one thing that the woman who called herself Min had thought she had lost…

Hope.

But she had something else now, as Mnhei’sahe t’Aan smirked ever so slightly and tucked the commbadge into her jacket pocket. Here, at the end of her hope, she found a different purpose. Different people who needed her. Maybe one day, she would use that badge and reach out through subspace to those old friends. Maybe one day, she would be ready to escape. But for today, there was work to be done if her new home would have any of the hope that she felt in her heart again.

To Be Continued…

Three hours later in the Intel Pod, a fully organic Dedjoy was tuning the Section 31 transporter. “I mean, it’s an interesting idea, and really, I suppose we could use it to establish communications between dimensional barriers by altering the ionization of the annular beam to redirect the vibrational frequency of the target, thus rendering it native to that iuniverse. I suspect that’s what the Bulikaya particles are- an attempt to map the multiverse, in order to define vibrational frequencies by traveling through them.”

“Blah blah blah, are we ready yet?” the hardshell hottie was pacing impatiently, as her minidress-clad counterpart eyed her, then turned to Dedjoy.

“Ila, we really appreciate you doing this for us. It’s not the easiest trick in the universe, and I suspect you’ll need the power of the fortress-” Rita began, but Dedjoy had brightened up when the visiting Rita spoke to her, and in her enthusiasm, interrupted her.

“Oh no, I have a singularity imploder that should release a sufficient burst of energy to get it there. That part’s easy. And I still have the destination from the beam we caught Commander Paris in, so I have the landing spatial coordinates. Matching the chroonal coordinates- that’s the tricky part. But I think I’ve pinpointed it, so.... are you ready?”

In the bright blue eyes of the embittered executive, there was something Rita hadn’t seen since she landed here- hope.

That was when the power dimmed, and both Paris’ comm badges chirruped.

As the dark armored and angry version produced a rifle from her back that expanded when she activated it- apparently her inventive streak had taken a different turn here- the visiting Paris tapped her comm badge. “Paris here, go ahead.”

“So the question is WHICH Paris is it? The one who admitted she murdered Commander Xustos, or the one who’s an intruder from the Mirror Universe? Just which Paris would... that... be?” French’s singsong ‘little girl’ voice chirped on the other end, even as Dedjoy scrambled to operate systems. But before Rita could respond, her local equivalent was already answering.

“This is the version that’s gonna shove her foot so far up your ass you’ll be coughing up my toenail polish in the morning,” Paris snarled. “What’s the meaning of this, French? What are you playing at?”

“Wellll, you were the one who confessed to murder,” French giggled like a sociopath as suddenly Paris’ voice came through the comms. “ I murdered him. I let Meroset 347 murder him. I just didn’t stop it.”

When French’s voice came back on the line, she literally giggled again, which made both women’s teeth grind. “So I have one murderer who is part of the crew, and I have a mirror universe version, who, according to Starfleet regs, is supposed to be contained and segregated from the crew and brig population. Now here you are up there plotting to open some sort of dimensional breach, with poor Dedjoy hostage-”

“I’m not a hostage!” Dedjoy called out, but was ignored.

“...So we’ve sealed off the pod and cut power, because whatever you bitches are cooking up in there, the Captain wants it stopped.” French finished with a little titter there at the end.

“The captain, or just you?” the local Paris growled. “Because she’s still in the dark and she doesn’t know what you’re up to, does she, Frenchie?”

“Mmmmm, might be her comm’s off and she hasn’t noticed she’s locked in her ready room...” French replied, her voice in something of a snit. “And don’t call me Frenchie, I’ve told you about that.”

“Sure, you want to shoot us, but don’t call you names. Noted, Ms. Mental Stability,” the visiting Rita quipped. “So what’s your long game here, French?”

“Welllllll, it looks like somebody sealed the pod, se we can’t get in. Welllll, at least without cutting our way in, so we’re doing that now. There are a few heavy hatches between us and you, so I’d say you’ve got asbout ten minutes before you’re all shot resisting arrest. So make peace with your gods or whatever, because Alex and the boys are coming for you, and they really, really have been waiting a long time for this. Oh no, we couldn’t tell which was which so we shot ‘em both. Hee hee!”

“Miss Dedjoy, give us a security seal, please. Cut off all signals until further notice- I don’t want them eavesdropping on us,” the gold clad commander asked, and the doll-eyed Ila Dedjoy blinked a few times, then went to work.

“The pod’s sealed, Commander. Do... are they really going to kill us, ma’am?” Dedjoy asked, the fear evident in the quaver of her voice.

As the angry embittered combat commander turned, she ran into the open hand of her minidress-wearing counterpart, who had already interposed, leaving her to ‘talk to the hand’ in a literal sense.

“No, Miss Dedjoy, they most certainly are not. Those are some sick people out there who need help, and we’re going to get it for them. But right now, we need to work together to get out of this.” Turning to regard her hard-charging alternate reality self, the compassionate commander said, with conviction, “ALL of us.” Turning back to Dedjoy, Paris sought her eyes. “So I need for you to be brave, and to work with us to get out of this jam. Can you do that, Ila?”

Hearing her first name from the Commander, even if she wasn’t the real one, buoyed the spirits of the Illaran scientist, and she looked up, perhaps for the first time since they’d entered. As Paris reached out to clasp the slender woman’s shoulder, a small smile spread across the delicate features of the frightened young woman.

“Y-yes ma’am... Commander. I’ll... I’ll do my best,” Dedjoy said, those big dark eyes seeking the blue eyes of the anachronistic astronaut, who smiled and nodded.

“I know you will, Ila. You’re one of the bravest, most selfless women I know. You’ll do fine. Now, I need to find a way to open a secure channel down to the flight deck, and I need you to find Mona Gonadie. She should be in flight control?”

At that, the local Paris cleared her throat, and the visiting Paris looked back.

“Ah, there was a dimensional rift we took the Hera into, and out of. Gonadie had this idea that she could see all the energy wavelengths and surf them, but... something she saw... it broke her mind. She’s been a vegetable ever since. They sent her home to Miradon,” Paris relayed, and for the first time, Paris heard regret tinging the woman’s voice. It was clear she still felt guilt over the fate of the amazing aviatrix, and seeing the expression on Rita’s face seemed almost painful for her.

“Where you come from... Mona’s still okay?” the negative navigator asked, as Rita Paris nodded.

“Yes... she’s alive, well, and very happy,” Rita replied quietly, as her counterpart nodded, obviously restraining strong emotions.

“That’s good... That’s... I’m glad for her.” In that statement, Rita suspected that perhaps she and Mona had been more than coworkers here, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned back to Dedjoy.

“How about Mnhe- ah, Melanie Dox? Can you find her for me?” Rita asked Dedjoy, correcting herself on the fly. Asa and Rita had been instrumental in Dox’s realization of her true heritage and identity. Emotionally crippled as she was here, Rita was in no shape to help anyone. And if Dox and Asa had become friends, when Asa died on Meroset that would have just pushed Dox that much further into her shell. Right now, though, she might just be the only chance Rita had of surviving the next few minutes. “Hopefully she’s hiding in a shuttlecraft somewhere. You can do that, right?”

“I... well, if I... yes! If I use the... right, then...” Dedjoy began to mutter and mumble to herself, as she sometimes did when engaged in the fervor of creativity that was often the hallmark of her inventing. As Rita turned, her counterpart seemed baffled. Taking the woman by the arm, Rita guided her to the other side of the lab, then called to the overhead.

“Lucky, do you copy?”

No response.

“XJX-233A, do you copy?” Paris asked, and a chirrup answered, followed by a disembodied voice.

=^ Yes Commander? How may I help? =^=

“Whew! Lucky, thank goodness,” Rita sighed in relief, then looked up at the overhead quizzicaly. “I guess I never named you Lucky here? Well, it still fits, so Im naming you Lucky, XJX-233A. Got it?”

=^= That designation is acceptable. Thank you, Rita Paris. =^=

“Give us notifications as the Security team manages to cut their way up here, please,” Rita said to the overhead, her voice friendly and warm. “I need to know how many remain hatches between us and them, understood? Can you do that for me, Lucky?”

=^= I’d be happy to, Commander Paris =^= the suave British voice replied.

"Forever more... He'll be even more incorrigible now..." Ila muttered.

Turning to face her local model, Paris was surprised to see the expression on the woman’s face- one of bafflement and shock. Leaning back a bit, Rita frowned. “What, do I have spinach in my teeth or something?”

“No, it’s just...” The other Paris shook her head. “It’s nothing. So what’s your plan?”

“If I can get through to Dox, she could bring a shuttle around, and we could exit the pod before they get up here. Then double back around, and flood the pod with gas to anesthetize... wait, nope, those clowns wear their armor all the time. We’ll have to blanket stun the pod. The phaser ring can do it, but you’d have to override the controls, and we’d need to be on the bridge or auxiliary control on Deck 11. Once we’ve got them pacified, we can start working on damage control for your maniac security officers. Thoughts?”

There was that moment of chagrin on her face as the embittered executive considered her cosmic counterpart. Shaking her head, she inhaled deeply, then sighed. “I could just go out the airlock by myself, double back and take them down, but you’re trying to get everyone else involved- which is a good way to get everyone killed. Let me just do my thing, then you and her can do your little experiment and I’ll be fine.”

Now it was the other version in the velour minidress to look at her counterpart strangely. “So because you lost people, is that it? The universe just kept taking more and more, and you didn’t have anything to refil it... damn, Rita. I’m starting to understand how you got this way. But no- we’re going to get out of this together. With a little help from our friends.”

=^= 5 bulkheads to contact =^= Lucky reported.

The way the woman said it, with earnest and absolute conviction, made the local Paris’ eyes roll, as she grumbled, “Better hope you’re right about that. Cuz I’m the only one with a spacesuit.”

While that did bring up the topic of her bracers, before Rita could broach that subject, she was interrupted by a yip of excitement from Dedjoy, who was hopping up and down in place she was so excited.

“I found her! I found her! Just like you said, Commander, she’s in the shuttlecraft Danu!” Dedjoy was clearly quite pleased with herself, and Rita was all smiles as she rushed over to look. Patting the woman gently on the back, the cheerful cosmonaut beamed that million-watt smile at the geologist.

“GREAT work, Ila, I knew you could do it! You are a clever woman in any universe... Alright, so can I talk to her? Can we open a channel?”

“Um, sure, I can... right, and... if I... aha!” tapping at displays and flipping through screens, in seconds, Dedjoy had a comm channel opened for Rita.

Taking a deep breath, Paris launched into what was going to have to be one of the most convincing speeches of her life. “Melanie? This is Rita... Rita Paris. Yes, the Commander, but I’m not that version. I come from another universe... right now I am just visiting yours. And right now, I need your help.”

“I know right now you are freaking out, wondering if someone is playing a prank on you, wondering if this is the Commander setting you up to fail for something, or a whole lot of possibilities as you spiral about this. I say that because in my universe, I know you, Miss Dox. We’re friends... good friends. I know your mother, and I know what you went through to get into Starfleet. I know about the Forager and Jaeih and that guy at the Academy and your grandparents in Ohio and Mol’Krunchi. While I am sure there are some variations between you, I feel secure in saying that I know the quality of woman you are, Mnhei’sahe.”

There was still silence on the other end, as Rita was sure using her proper Romulan name was probably freaking Dox out even more. But at the same time, surely she had to know Rita clearly knew far too much about a junior lieutenant who was slowly washing out of Starfleet.

“Dox, I am calling you because I need your help. Yeoman Dedjoy, Commander Paris and myself are trapped up in the Intel pod. Security has sealed us in, and they’re cutting their way in. Once they get here, I am fairly certain they plan to murder us and claim it was self-defense, and they’ll get away with it if no one looks too deeply into it.”

“Frankly, I got better things to do today than die.”

“I need you to power up the Unlucky Lady there, the Danu, and I need you to fly her out of the flight deck, and around to the airlock on deck C of the pod, to get us out of here before they kill us, Miss Dox. I know you can fake the clearance- maintenance flight, right? Your favorite excuse. And you need to get up here quickly, because...”

=^= 4 bulkheads to contact =^= Lucky reported.

“We’re running out of time, Dox. Look- I know you don’t think you’re any good. That you are some kind of cosmic mistake, a joke the universe played on you, bringing you into it only to spend your entire existence kicking you for being here. I know you hurt yourself when you blame yourself, because you feel you need it. I know all of this, and I know, I KNOW, deep down inside you, there is a hero. I know, because she’s my friend, and I have seen her risk her life more times than I can count- not for honor or glory or medals or accolades. She does it because it’s what’s right.”

“So how about it, Miss Dox? Do you think you could come save my ass again, because I need you, and it’s what’s right?”

At that moment there was silence- a very long silence. After fifteen seconds, Paris asked, “Miss Dox? Are you still there?”

“Probably routed the call through to Security like she was supposed to, and they’re laughing at your pretty little speech right now.” Producing and expanding the assault rifle she carried, Paris’ helmet ratcheted into place around her head. “The kitten whispers and tickle fights stop now...”

Which was when there was a slight thump on the bulkhead, and the airlock requested a handshake. Paris looked at one another, then to Dedjoy.

“Open it,” they both said in unison, although only one added, “Please.”

As the armed and armored astronaut trained her weapon on the airlock, it cycled open to reveal the interior of the shuttlecraft Danu, with a portly redheaded pilot in the chair. The nervous young woman was looking around, clearly frightened but handling the small starship with ease. “They’re gonna figure out what I’m doing, so you’d better c-come if you’re coming!”

As the local version lowered her weapon in disbelief, Paris hustled Dedjoy onto the shuttle. “Come on, Commander. You heard the lady, the bus is leaving!”

“I don’t believe it,” Paris muttered as her golden-clad counterpart stepped up behind Dox, clasping her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Dox. Bring us in and park us on the upper flight deck on Deck 3, where R&D... ah, nevermind, just Deck 3, please?”

“A-aye aye, Commander,” Dox stuttered, then without even a bump, the hatch was sealed and the small starship was away, arcing gracefully back toward the aft of the saucer section where the flight deck was to be found.

Watching over her shoulder, the local Paris was impressed. “You knew she was this good a pilot?”

“I KNOW she is this good a pilot, yes,” Rita replied, patting the woman’s shoulder. “Nothing I said was untrue- in my universe, we’re the best of friends. Hell, I’m liable to end up serving under HER someday. I taught her what I know, and showed her that compassion will always trump violence, that an open hand and understanding can change a life, and that empathy is our most important tool in understanding others, no matter who they are. All she ever needed was a little guidance, some patience and a little compassion to help her through her journey of self discovery.”

That was met with silence all around, as the shuttle winged it’s way into the flight deck, and with remarkable precision and the barest of kisses, Dox touched the craft down in a flawless landing.

“Well... I dunno about the rest of it, but I’ll admit- you are at least a hell of a pilot,” the local Paris declared, which made the young woman’s skin blush, a somewhat splotchy brown affair.

Debating her own course of action, Rita followed her heart, as she always did, and went for it. “Thank you for saving me again, Dox. You stay here, keep Dedjoy safe- nobody hauls her off this ship but me or the Commander here, okay? Button her up and protect Dedjoy- can you do that for me? I know it’s a lot to ask from a woman you just met, but-”

“I’ll do it, Commander!” Dox blurted out, and Paris patted her on the shoulder again.

“Ask your mother about your father, Dox. Your REAL father. And ask her about Verelan t’Rul, and convince her to come clean with you. You deserve the truth, and to live authentically. You’ve always felt ‘not right’ for a reason, Mnhei’sahe. Talk to her- try not to fight and realize she lies to try to protect you, but... work it out. You need to- well, just trust me on this, okay?”

“I... will...?” Dox replied, as that was a lot of information coming at her at once. But the minidressed meddler was already off the shuttle and falling in step with her combative counterpart.

“So, can we override the phasers from your office?”

“Nope. Bridge.”

“There’s Security stationed on the bridge.”

“Yes there are.”

“Loyal to French and Sexton, I presume?”

“I presume.”

“So I suppose we’ll have to do something about that?” Rita said as they arrived at the turbolift, where a pair of enlisted men looked from one ot the other in confusion. Waving at them, she declared, “Can you tell if one of us is a hologram?”

That stalled them until they got into the turbolift and the local Paris grunted. “Deck 1, the Bridge. Yeah...”

As the lift arrived on the bridge and the doors opened, Rita threw a kick at the back of the knee of the Security officer on the left. As he fell, she slipped her arm around his neck in a sleeper hold, even as the other Paris cold-cocked the other officer by simply slugging him aross the base of the skull.

“That’s really unsafe, you could hurt someone,” Paris said as her counterpart repeated what she said, mockingly.

“Alright people, yes, just took out security, yeah, you can call them now,” the armored Paris said as she made her way to the tactical station, where the officer standing there was familiar to Paris, and she called out- “Paris- wait! Computer, seal off the bridge, authorization Paris, Rita. CDR, ampersand ampersand E-A-R-T-H 2233.” As her local counterpart stared at her, the anachronistically uniformed officer shrugged seismically. “What? It’s not like it’s hard to remember, and it is my voice...”

Strolling over to the security station, Paris held up her hands before her. “Hello, Jablonskil. I know you don’t know me... well, maybe in a way, but you don’t know ME. I’m Rita Paris, from another universe. I know you there, and if there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you are a defender. You took it on yourself to protect other people from harm. That’s why you became a Security officer. Because you want to help, to serve and protect.”

“But that’s not what Security does on this boat, is it? They’re overrun with toxic masculinity, think they are the law, and there’s a whole locker room mentality going on down there. French just lets it happen while Sexton runs the show, and he’s a sadistic, psychotic bastard that you can’t believe is even in Starfleet, let alone in Security. So you do what you can and help where you can and keep your head down and your mouth shut while you want for your first chance to get off this boat before you get murdered or raped or who knows what. How’m I doing, Ethel?”

The muscular maiden, who was only as muscular as perhaps Petty Officer V’Nus in this reality, flickkered her eyes between the two seemingly identical women. As the armored local version nodded her encouragement, she spoke. “Is that true, Jablonski?

Silently, Jablonski nodded, and the black-bodysuited bombardier turned away in anger, shaking her head at what had transpired under her watch while she hadn’t given a shit.

“Ethel, the Security team is cutting their way into the Intel pod to murder us right now, and I would really prefer to not have to endanger other officers just to get this rogue element under control,” the unarmored uniformed first officer explained. “We need to stun the lot of them, and we can do that from here, with the phaser ring. But we need access to the panel to do it. Will you help us?”

There was a moment of hesitation, as indecision was plain to see on Jablonski’s face. As she looked to the earnest version who had spoken, her sincerity was clear, but instead she turned to the first officer of the Hera, the one in her chain of command, and Petty Officer Jablonski waited for the command.

Realizing that leadership had once again been thrust upon her, the local Paris nodded. “She’s right, Petty Officer. Stun the pod... please.”

With almost a zeal for the work, Jablonski angled the phasers, adjusted the firing resolution, set for wide beam heavy stun, and fired three short bursts at the pod. One probably would have doine it, but Rita suspected this was the first opportunity Jablonski’d had to affect this situation, and she was just being... thorough.

“Well, assuming they are all stunned now...” Paris asked, to which Jablonski nodded in confirmation. “What do you say we unseal the Captain’s ready room and have a conversation with her about her Security team?”

That was when the red alert klaxon sounded, with ‘Intruders on the bridge. Red alert, all hands to battle stations’

“Isn’t this where I came in...?”

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



In this reality, Enalia had never been emboldened enough to call for a Tribunal, so she was still herself, fortunately. However, she was the withdrawn, socially awkward and odd version Rita had first met when coming aboard- the version she found alienating and frightening with her constant talk of space piracy and circumventing Starfleet. Apparently here, as Rita had made no effort to curb such enthusiasms, Enalia was still the pirate princess of the Artan Empire. As she listened to their story, Baroness Scwein von Alcott stood beside her, glowering protectively. It seemed to annoy her that the visiting version of Rita was happy to see her.

“So that’s the long and short of it, Captain. They’re just absolutely out of control, manufacturing evidence and casually murdering their own and calling it ‘acceptable losses’. I know you wouldn’t expect toxic masculinity on your own starship, but here it is.” The visiting Paris shrugged. “I threw the entire lot off the ship, took over Security myself and recruited straight from the Academy.”

“Ja. Douchebags, the lot of them, I must agree, Princesszin,” the Baroness nodded.

“Fine, Set a course for Starbase 227, warp 9.6. I want them off my ship. I also want YOU off my ship,” Enalia glowered at the visiting Rita. “You’re disruptive, and I don’t like it.”

“I should be gone soon enough, Captain,” Rita admitted. “By the way, could I possibly have my bronze bracers back? They’re rather important to me, and I’d appreciate their safe return?”

“Science Lab 16, Deck 7. They weren’t making a lot of headway in analyzing them, so I was going to pass them to Dedjoy next. Anything else you need to tell me?” Enalia was cold and direct, the way Rita remembered- how she preferred to deal with people she didn’t know. Which seemed reasonable, all things considered.

“Yes, Captain,” Rita replied, rising from her chair and smoothing out her skirt. “If your mother ever duels you, her sword is a trap for the weilder. Whatever you do, don’t pick it up. Nice seeing you, Enalia...” Rita fluttered her fingers over her shoulder as Enalia Telvan pondered just what the hell that was supposed to mean, as the eyes of the Baroness narrowed.

The security team were tossed into the brig, on isolation from the rest of the Security team, who were all currently under observation by the Ops team, who were watching for sabotage or insurrection. Enalia anticipated a mutiny- unsurprising, given her background- and given how the situation seemed to be shaping up, the Security team might just have finished convincing themselves of their cover story that would lend righteousness to their mayhem. All of which was being documented and logged by Ops, not Security, who were doctoring the sensor feeds in collusion.

The majority of the Security team would be facing court-martial by the end of the month.

The Science team returned the bracers, after which Paris explained the basic function and manner of execution, assisted the science team in their scans, and was generally helpful and friendly with them, sending them on their way with exciting new data. As she clasped them back onto her wrists with no small degree of relief, Rita had to admit. She had come to rely upon the options that having her EVA armor and a weapons cache at her fingertips had wrought. But she could still do it with no phaser, in just a minidress and her wits... so long her heart was in it.

“Dedjoy’s ready to send the communicator. I guess I... need to figure out what to say, huh?” the local Paris asked her counterpart.

“Speak from your heart, Rita. It’s your last report to Michael and the Exeter, so ask for your transfer and tell him a little bit about where you ended up. And... say what you need to say to Sonak. He might not find you, so say what’s in your heart. All that stuff you’ve been afraid to say for 2 years now. But you and I both know,” Rita wagged her finger at her doppleganger, “If he knows where you are, there is no force in this, or any other universe that can keep him away. He WILL find you, Rita. The course that you plot I shall follow...”

“For I trust you to guide us both, through this undiscovered country,” the local Rita Paris finished, her voice choked with emotion.

“Look, Rita,” the minidress-clad visitor said softly, “He’ll come if you tell him where you are. But... I know it’s been years, and it’s been hard. But maybe think about who you are, and who you’ve become here. Then think about who he’s gonna be expecting to find when he gets here. He’ll know it was hard, and he’ll know that you despaired without him. He does understand human failing, after all.” Both women felt that one, as both had fumbled and failed on occasion, yet the Kolinahr never judged her poorly for it.

“All I’m saying is, when you call for him... make sure he still recognizes his t’hy’la.”

If Rita Paris had a response to that, she kept it inside, even as her visiting counterpart rose from her chair, smoothing out her skirt and preparing to leap once more, hoping this time would be the leap home.

“Be better, Rita,” her cheerful golden-girl reflection said to the grouchy Calhoun-esque soldier, as she waggled her fingers in farewell, then simply vanished.

“Be better...” Rita grumbled, remembering the simple philosophy taught to her by a Deltan doctor on a Risan beach at dawn, a very long time ago. It had been a long time since she’d heard it, and just as long a time since she’d thought about it. Be better a little bit, every day, Fail sometimes, but then, just do better than that. So long as you strive to be better, you WILL be better.

A little bit, every day.

It seemed it was time for her to remember who she was, to learn to trust again. It had been a long time, but it felt like perhaps... Instead of walling herself off from the universe, convinced it would just hurt her, she could start believing in things again.

Believing in people again.

Reaching out she, tabbed the comm panel on her desk.

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox, come to my office... please.”

The disorientation of the earlier leaps was getting less intense as each successive destination stretched longer and longer. The last journey had taken hours, and by this point, Mnhei’sahe had largely lost track of how long she had been traveling on this particularly unusual journey.

Feeling a bit of movement, as reality began to form around her again and the light that filled her vision began to dim, the young Romulan pilot moved forward towards the blurry shapes forming in front of her, and found herself leaping forward onto the bridge of a Starship.

For everyone around her, it appeared as if she had stepped out of the viewscreen at the head of the bridge in a ripple of light before stumbling to a stop against a hard, grayish-black railing. Shaking off the momentary haze in her head, she could hear voices. A rush of voices calling out the exact kinds of things she’d expect to hear on a Starship bridge, like ‘intruder alert’ and ‘red alert’.

Calls for security, tri-corders, and more. Then, as she looked up she heard a Romulan curse in the voice she had grown accustomed to hearing in these leaps: her own. “Imirrhlhhse.”

Looking up, her head was clearing and her vision settled. She was on the bridge of a Federation starship, but it definitely wasn’t the Hera. Looking around, she saw the bridge of a Starship that looked to be from at least a century ago, though none of the other leaps had been in time. At the helm in front of her, she saw herself. Her curly, red hair was quite a good bit longer and the expression not quite as shocked as one would have imagined. But instead of her standard uniform, this version of her was wearing what was unaffectionately dubbed ‘The Maroon Monster’ at the Academy. The uniform last worn about a century ago.

At the tactical station next to the other her was a tall, human female with a strong jawline and dark hair in an updo who was, even seated, rather tall. Another officer in a gold turtlenecked version of that duty jacket uniform who did a double-take from one Dox to the other, then leaned over to the Dox at the helm and whispered, “Rruieh? Is that... you?”

But in between the other her and the tactical officer, it was the sight of the woman in the Captain’s chair behind them that made Mnhei’sahe eyes go wide. Sitting where she’d only seen her before in a dream, clad in the same uncomfortable looking uniform, with jet black hair, decidedly pointed ears and appearing to be remarkably pregnant, was the woman Mnhei’sahe knew as Charybdis MacGregor.

“Char?” Mnhei’sahe muttered as she stood at the head of the bridge in surprise.

An eyebrow rose quite high on the woman’s forehead as she took in the newcomer, and Dox’s mental defenses flared to life... even as the woman’s telepathy flowed, serpentine, through them, around them, over them, inexorably snaking past the erected defenses faster than they could be constructed, insidiously pressing forward. Until with a shock, Dox realized that her mental defenses had been penetrated.

“Mnhei’sahe. Alternate reality, further down the timeline... oh my, you are problematic, aren’t you?” Knowing precisely how much Dox did not care for uninvited mental intrusion, the very pregnant Captain rose from her chair, moving somewhat slowly but with a stately grace. “My apologies for the invasive welcome, but... Lieutenant Commander Dox, may I introduce Lieutenant Commander Dox, alternate reality traveler due to Bulukiya particle exposure. Late-stage, should be here for roughly 18 hours if my projections are correct. We’ll scan for the decay rate to predict your final leaps home, Lieutenant Commander. But in the meanwhile...”

The slender emotionless Vulcan woman with the non-traditional haircut appeared on the Captain’s right, the markings on the white shoulder strap of her uniform marking her also a lieutenant commander. At the science station, a white-haired human male boggled at the readings, looking over to Dox with a wobbling sort of nod. The slender Trill appearing out of the turbolift flanked by redshirted Security officers with phasers drawn- period inaccurate, she realized, as they were the same model Rita favored, from twenty years earlier. As an upraised hand secured the charge of the security forces, Captain Charybdis MacGregor smiled on the left side of her face, the left eyebrow rising with it to give her a grinch-like smirk.

“Welcome to the USS Victory, Miss Dox.”

The Victory. Dox had seen holos of the ship in Charybdis’ home in Scotland months ago, and again in the recreation of it in her dream where she spoke with the spirit of the version from her own reality. But this was real and tangible and, as far as she was aware, impossible. In every reality she had lept into, she had never moved in time. It was one of a cornucopia of questions she had as she tried to process what was happening and push past the anger of the mental invasion.

Glancing across the bridge from Char to the security officers to the alternate version of herself to the tall woman sitting at the tactical station before her own eyebrow cricked. “Uh… okay. It feels like you know a lot more about what’s happening to me than I do, like how I’m here, but… wait… ‘Rruieh’?”

The confused dimensional hopper ran a finger nervously over her ear as she finally processed that the tall woman had called the other her ‘my desire’ in Romulan.

“We should take this off the bridge. Dox, Dox, T’vyn, my laboratory, now. Before someone says something we all may regret, hm?” The arch and commanding woman was moving in that direction now, with something of a waddling gait that seemed somehow undignified, yet like the custom fitted uniform, it was making allowances.

While Dox didn’t know where the ‘Captain’s Lab’ was, apparently it was the starship commander’s ready room, judging from where everyone else was headed.


Walking around the circumference of the bridge, it was more than a little uncomfortable as the officers at every duty station were watching her. Except for the tall woman at tactical who seemed to be pointedly going out of her way to not look at Dox the newcomer. Doing her level best to ignore the unwanted attention, the traveler from the 24th century simply followed the order and caught up quickly with Char, the other her and the Vulcan called T’vyn.

Once into the Ready Room, Dox took a second to look around. The chamber was twice the size of Captain Telvan’s ready room, but seemed to be all casual space save for one table that seemed to dominate the room, a liquid crystal display table that she suspected was likely a rather thick and sturdy transparent aluminum. While the bridge was in dark hues, black screens covering the bulkheads covered in data with a dark blue carpeting, the ‘lab’ was bright and well-lit, in the pale blue of old Science department, and the darker blues of the bridge contrasting the off-white fixtures and features of this model of Constitution, known as the ‘Refit’. A column set against the wall held a crudely carved bust of Janus, the two-faced god of duality and duplicity. The chairs were four in number- none more ostentatious than the next, they were tucked underneath the work table, even as there were simple fabric upholstered benches alongside the port and starboard bulkheads.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the other Dox turned to the pregnant Charybdis, clearly a little disconcertingly. "Captain, this is… really another me? From further along in… my timeline?"

“Yes and no, Ms. Dox. Yes, she is Mnhei’sahe Dox, of house t’Rul nee Starfleet, betrayer of a smuggler mother and pilot extraordinaire. However, while chronologically you are the exact same age, as is the rule of the Bulukiya particle, your own timeline diverged with your Mudd escapade. Thus you ended up marooned in the past, a problem for Starfleet, while this Dox continued back to the Hera.” Turning to address the visitor, the captain slowly eased herself into a chair.

Listening, the Dox from the future stiffened a bit at the mention of her mother and their relationship, which the Victory's Dox noticed.

“I am well aware of your disdain for mental intrusion, Lieutenant Commander. However, when a threat appears on the bridge of my starship, I will act expeditiously. While I did glean a considerable amount of information about you in that initial scan, I will not violate your privacy moving forward. I do hope you understand, given the circumstances.” Before Dox could reply, she continued.

“I will ask one thing of you during the course of your stay on the Victory, Dox... hmm, 2397 versus 2286. Dox the visitor, you will be Dox 97 for ease of reference. Our local Miss Dox need have no such appellation, as she is native here. So, Dox 97, I would greatly prefer if you do your best not to deeply upset our Miss Dox with ‘what might have been’ in regard to her future life had she not become lost in the past. The life that you now lead. You will be gone and will not have to deal with the repercussions, so I ask you to consider yourself, your own mind, and temper your actions responsibly- as I know you will.”

Listening to this Char talk was a decidedly different affair from the much older, more casual woman Mnhei’sahe had met in her own time. And while there were no threats in her statements, it was clear that this Char knew this Dox well enough to know how she would respond to a simple reminder of her responsibilities.

Taking a moment to take everything in, the redubbed ‘Dox 97’ nodded, realizing that this Charybdis had made it clear that she was the master of this vessel and that Dox was expected to behave appropriately. After all, Starfeet was still Starfleet and a Captain in any era was still a Captain. “Aye, Captain. I understand, thank you. That is more than reasonable."

“So… you are familiar with these Bulukiya particles? So, this is something you have experience with?” Dox 97 asked, standing a little above parade rest, though not quite at full attention. She knew previous little about Char's experiences here since it wasn't Char herself that gave her the data on the particles, but her time-traveling Granddaughter, Liviana.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. It was before you joined the crew,” the Vulcanoid vixen gone to maternity directed to the local ‘Dox’. “A brilliant theoretical physicist, Dr. Bulukaya created particles that, when a body is exposed to them, will send the subject skipping through alternate dimensions, a sort of ‘what if?’ of the subject’s life. Unfortunately, his discovery killed him- we’re not certain which reality, but given the state of the body we suspect one of the Mirror Universes.”

“A more apt question is how you came to be in possession of them, which I am certain you’ll be happy to elaborate upon,” the pointy-eared captain said solicitously, although it was abundantly clear from her tone it was not a request. Captain Charybdis as opposed to retired Admiral Charybdis was much more... intense, it seemed.

“Captain, Miss Dox has been through a number of harrowing experiences,” the soft-spoken Vulcan women interjected. When she spoke, her voice was calm and even, emotionless, yet somehow compassionate. “You have satisfied yourself as to her bonafides- might I suggest that perhaps rest and refreshment might be in order? You recall from your own experience how traumatic and exhausting it can be, Perhaps instead of immediate answers, it would be hospitable to offer succor in, as you would put it, ‘safe harbor’?”

Looking from the dark haired lieutenant commander with the pointy ears to the redheaded lieutenant commander with the pointy ears, and the pointy-eared captain sat back and sighed. “Fine, you’re right... I apologize, Miss Dox. We have time for answers. Would you perhaps like to a tour of the ship? I seem to recall you are quite the fan of this era of starship design. And who better to offer you the tour...”

Those nebulous violet eyes settled on the Dox in the maroon monster uniform with something of a smirk. Looking back for a moment at her Captain, that Dox again ran a finger over her ear, glanced over at her counterpart, then back to Charybdis, quelching a bit of obvious anxiety before replying with an expression that radiated you’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?

But instead, she tugged on the duty jacket of her uniform and replied professionally, “Aye, Captain. I can show her the ship.”

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

A few minutes later, both Doxes and Lieutenant Commander T'Vyn were making their way down the corridor, on their way to the Victory’s sickbay. The corridors were significantly narrower than what the red-headed Romulan from the future was used to on the Hera, but she had jogged in holographic replicas of the same basic corridors with Rita Paris, so it also wasn’t completely unfamiliar. And ultimately, Charybdis was right. Dox was quite the admirer of the ships of this period.

But, considering the situation, she had more on her mind than the ship itself.


“So… if I’m here because you’re here, then… how is it that you ARE here? The Captain mentioned… something do do with Mudd? Davo Mudd?” The Dox from the future said with a raised eyebrow and a bit more frustration in her voice as they passed a particularly confused looking Ensign that almost bounced off of T’Vyn before continuing past them.

The long haired Dox in the maroon duty jacket took a nervous breath then let out a bit of a sigh. “I was piloting an away mission from the Hera with Rita, Sonak, S’Rina and Sam. We were chasing down Davo Mudd, who had traveled back in time in an attempt to pervert First Contact and bring about a version of the Terran Empire he hailed from. We went back to stop him. Does this all line up for you?”

The Dox from the future nodded as her counterpart continued. Watching her body language, it was clear to ‘Dox 97’ that this version of herself was fairly comfortable here, and based on the timeline as she remembered it, had to have been in this timeline for almost a full year. But she said nothing else, letting her alternate self continue.

“We were flanking the local bar, and he got the drop on Sonak with an Agony disk. I was the closest and took off after him. I chased him to his ship, and when he took off, I was on it with him. His ship’s autopilot was active, and this time, he had a pain rod and tagged me in the closer quarters. By the time I recovered and was able to fight him away from the controls, we had entered the slingshot maneuver around Sol. We were in time warp. I dropped us out of warp- slammed on the proverbial brakes, as I had no idea what his actual destination was.”

“For me, I’m the one that got tagged and Sonak was the one that got on his ship, but Sonak stopped him before they got to warp. That said, if his destination was anywhere between 2063 and 2396… then when you stopped the ship…?” Dox 97 commented with a raised eyebrow, interjecting.

“We slammed out of time warp in 2286. I didn’t know that yet, though. All I knew was that we were falling back into Earth’s orbit in a ship that was falling apart thanks to the torsional pressure I put on it by reducing our speed so quickly. I was able to land the ship… mostly in one piece,” the Victory native Dox said, running a finger over her ear and blushing slightly. “I was able to exert enough control to bring the ship to Starfleet Headquarters once I had the coordinates, and picked up their transponder. I… didn’t know when it was, but in the moment, it made the most sense to aim for Starfleet.”

“We crashed on the landing pad just off the main quad. Mudd was unconscious and I broke my leg in the crash, but I was still able to drag him out before his self-destruct sequence kicked in and his ship exploded. I passed out on the padd, seeing the security forces run towards me in uniforms I’d only seen in museums. The other shuttles on the level were over a century old, and I had a pretty good idea that I had… screwed up.” The Victory’s Dox said sheepishly with a nervous half-grin, as they arrived at the Victory’s sickbay.

T’Vyn stepped forward, taking the lead as the frosted transparent aluminum doors with the caduceus of Starfleet medical emblazoned upon them wooshed open. The doors she recognized, not as ornamental, but as 24 cm thick blast doors, as heavy duty as the ones on the flight deck of the Hera. Looking in, the Dox from the future raised an eyebrow at the unconventional sickbay. “This is… different from the historical records.”

Which was when she recalled Charybdis’ story of the tragedy that would befall this deck of her starship- and everyone in it.

”Siivas died a hero- he and that whole wonderful crew of Sickbay misfits, from the Sulamid color-changing tumbleweeds of pseudopods and eyestalks to Zhir, the noble Efrosian botanist. Andurean Velth was visiting that day that the Bulukiya particles mutated with whatever that virus Spotty brought back with him from his trip through the dimensions, and they became multiphasic entities. Which meant that they were a contagion that was transmittable through force fields, solid objects- anything."

As she took in the clean grey and white of the sickbay, which seemed to have an ergonomic curved design aesthetic to all surfaces and shapes, while there was the tinkling of chimes in the distance, playing a soft melody that for some reason struck her as Vulcan with it’s subtlety, Dox was reminded that this was the past- but not a past she had read about in her history books.

What looked like a nervous system that was ambulating like a 120 cm tall living tumbleweed rolled by, multiple eyestalks protruding from the mass of tentacles that comprised its mass, even as a few of the pseudopods rolled along holding aloft a tray of surgical tools. The being strobed sudden flares of fluorescent green with spots of yellow throughout its mass, like a sudden explosion of color in the room as it hurried towards its destination. A Sulamid...

“The Victory is as normal a Twenty Third Century Starship as the Hera was a normal Twenty FOURTH Century one.” The Dox native to this time said to her future counterpart with a resigned tone to her voice as the Victory’s Doctor arrived in the waiting area.

“Hello, welcome!” the Deltan doctor was slender, anot overly tall- perhaps only 172 cm. Hairless, save for the somewhat wiry and expressive eyebrows, while about his crown he wore a golden chain, upon which hung a single flawless teardrop-shaped emerald. But at this moment, his left eye twitched a few times, almost spastically, and he leaned on the wall for support.

“Oh my, you’re quite the anomaly aren’t... you...” While Siivas Mackenzie was a powerful, subtle and gifted telepath, so too was he a fastidiously polite one. Never did he enter a mind unbidden unless it was a necessity, and never to friends. However, as an empath, so too could he feel emotions. Thus, while the anomalous individual before him triggered a touch of his spacetime dysplasia, it was nothing compared to the sense of dread rolling off the newcomer, as if she were speaking to ghosts. Which, given that she appeared to be Dox, thus from the future, and given his understanding of the Bulukiya Particle, he quickly arrived at a few conclusions. As Yan arrived to press a hypo to his neck, to medicate his dysplasia, he straightened up, put on his warmest smile and extended his hand in greetings.

“My apologies, Mnhei’sahe- may I call you Mnhei’sahe?” The smile that accompanied the words was warm, and the man had a fatherly feel about him. Despite having grown up for most of her life without one, even Dox felt herself reacting to it. “ I’m Siivas Mackenzie, the ship’s healer. Or doctor or physician or chief medical officer or however you wish to define it. I suffer from a malady when it comes to space and time, and those little surprises in them tend to make me react a bit oddly. Not your fault and no harm done- as you can see, I am fine, and I apologize if I startled you. Hello!”

Noticing the strange reaction, The Dox of the Hera’s mental defenses were in place and she was more on guard than not, particularly after Char’s earlier intrusion. Still, she was trying to be as open as possible, given the unusual circumstances.

Taking the offered hand, she gave the customary two pumps and nodded. “No harm done, Doctor. And thank you, Mnhei’sahe is fine.”

The reply was enough to elicit a slight smile and raised eyebrow from the Victory Dox’s eyebrow, who was standing the furthest away from her counterpart. “The Captain’s calling her ‘Dox 97’ to reduce confusion. As in, 2397.”

“I understand the reference but... to be denied one’s name is to deny one’s personage. Have no fear, I’m sure if I call, you’ll know to whom I’m speaking. So, a trip in time to see the past? This must be exciting for you,” Siivas gently guided the three along as what Dox was reasonably sure was a different roiling mass of tentacles and eyestalks rolled by, this one looking at half a dozen of the clunky old PDDs of the era. Ahead, a dark-skinned Efrosian leaned out the doorway, his immaculately manicured distinctive hair and facial features set in something of a scowl.

“Exciting is… perhaps not the first word I would have picked.” The Hera’s Dox replied as she, her counterpart followed the Victory’s Doctor. “But it is… certainly interesting. And… enlightening. It’s not often one gets to see just how many different ways one’s life could have gone.”

“Indeed.” The Victory’s Dox replied, with a bit of a notable attitude towards her alternate selves' comment. “The Captain has an estimate of an eighteen hour window before her next leap, but is hoping to get a more specific countdown, Siivas.”

The Dox from the Hera noticed that her counterpart had softened up a bit every time she talked to the Deltan doctor and she knew why. She was no stranger herself to the Deltan doctor. She had met him once before in her own timeline when Char’s time traveling granddaughter, Liviana, had taken them to the past. To the warm, ancient castle of Eilean Donan on Earth where Char would meet the father to the children growing within her now.

That meant that even in THIS time, the meeting had already happened. But more importantly for this moment, the Siivas of that timeline’s mind was as powerful as this one’s was, and he could sense the presence of the three time travelers through the futuristic cloaks. And in that moment, Dox trusted that Siivas to enter her mind, unguarded. That Char trusted him had been enough. So it was no surprise to her that having been here for a while, this version of her would feel extremely comfortable with him as well.

“We can certainly analyze the particles and get an absolute answer in that regard. Assuming we can survive this encounter,” he said, stopping at a corner and flattening himself against the wall. Which was odd behavior until around the corner came one of the most distinctive and fashionable Klingon women Dox had ever encountered.

Standing a full two meters tall, with the distinctive forehead ridges that were strong yet finely shaped. Unlike most Klingons her ears were also upturned and pointed, while her brows, immaculately plucked and highlighted, were sharply angled, not bushy and low on her somewhat smooth nose bridge. Large honey brown eyes peered out from beneath long, fluttering lashes, on a face with fine bone structure augmented by expertly-applied cosmetics. The large and muscular frame was sleek yet curvaceous- an athletic toned physique, she was not musclebound, but her form was quite impressive and her prominent breasts were high-set and clearly quite firm, as they were somewhat bursting out of a Medical white and blue jumpsuit that looked to be at least one size too small for her.

The sleeves and legs were cuffed, which was more evidence of the poor fit, bit it all came together in a look that was clearly quite calculated to be flirty and fun, while reasonably practical if one desired to show off quite a bit of skin. Which was clearly acceptable on the Victory. Manicured hands with surprisingly long fingernails that were a delicate almond shape on the big knuckled hands of the mocha-skinned Klingon flew to her cheeks in surprise as she spotted the two different Doxes.

Those honey brown eyes grew wide, and she prowled in on the newcomer.

“This one’s not taken, is she, hmmmmmm?” As she spoke the big Klingon woman who smelled AMAZING stepped around the Hera’s Dox, tracing her fingernail over the crimson-clad shoulders, which sent what felt like a shot of electricity through the Romulan woman’s body, who remembered the seductive half-Klingon, half-Vulcan woman from that same, fateful night in the past.

“Qurka...” Siivas intoned gently, and the finger was removed from contact, and personal space was re-established as she leaned down in front of Dox, managing to somehow bring her eves and the deep and yawning chasm of her cleavage together in one frame of view for the visitor from another time and place.

“Hi, Dox. I’m Qurka Qurg, and I liiiiike you.” When she smiled, the teeth were whiter than most Klingons she’d seen, but the teeth, and the smile, both looked... dangerous.

Clenching her jaw slightly, the Hera’s Dox blushed a somewhat hot green as she looked up at the surprisingly elegant Klingon woman and couldn’t believe that her pulse was racing as much as it was. The momentary flush of blood and excitement Dox felt was followed quickly by a wave of shame for feeling it.

“Uh… yes. Yes, I’m taken.” She said, hoping to sound sure of herself, all things considered.

“Mmmmm, you don’t sound all that positive, Mnnnnnhei’sahhhhe,” Again, even the woman’s voice sounded like a prowling, velvety jungle cat stalking her prey, even as she kept her face at eye level to Dox. That spectacularly impressive cleavage that could have given Rita envy heaving slightly beyond those honey brown with flecks of green in them eyes, that really did seem quite warm and inviting. Particularly framed by the dark eyeliner and full thick and expressive eyelashes. Dox had never met a sexy Klingon who was TRYING to be sexy before, and the result that Qurka Qurg achieved was... impressive.

Behind her back, Dox was wringing her wrists as she let out a long breath. The initial flush of passion she felt was turning into anger, and she realized that anger wasn’t exactly going to make a Klingon stand down from their intentions since Qurka’s intentions were being expressed very clearly. So the embattled Starfleet officer from this ship’s future took a step back and replied as dispassionately as possible, “Then allow me to reaffirm my prior statement, Miss Qurg. I am quite taken, thank you. I’m simply here so Doctor Mackenzie can determine how long I’m going to be here before I leave, and nothing more. Thank you.”

“About that, Siivas? Can we get her scanned to suss that out?” The Victory’s Dox interjected, hoping to not see anything happen further between her shorter-haired counterpart and the Klingon temptress.

Standing up straight- which emphasized the height difference between the towering glamazon and the rather stout pilot, Qurka instead dropped into a formal bow. “I apologize if I have offended, visitor. I merely wished to tease, and see if you were of similar stock to our own Dox. I recognize the band you wear and respect the bond it signifies, and you have it on my honor that I would never seek to assault that bond.” Rising up from the bow, the body language once again shifted to flirtatious.

“Same stick up your ass, I see, Mnhei’sahe. Same lack of a sense of humor under stress, still very uncomfortable with her own sexuality. You should have a chat with her, Dox. Might do her a WORLD of good. Well, it was wonderful, we’ll do this again sometime.” With that said, the capri jumpsuit-clad Klingon woman sashayed away, in a cloud of perfume that smelled somehow like unfulfilled promises of debauchery.


The name of the scent was, in fact, ‘Battle Lust’, one of Qurka Qurg’s own unique pheromone-filled fragrances.

As Qurka left, the Victory’s Dox smirked slightly and chuckled lightly and very casually towards the towering Klingon, which elicited a raised eyebrow from the Hera’s Dox. They’re… friends? the Hera’s Dox thought. I wonder if they… oh, do NOT ask, Mnhei’sahe.

Turning back to Dox, Siivas smiled pleasantly, his bemusement readily evident. “I have it on good authority that Qurka takes some getting used to, as an acquired taste. She is... like a strong spice. A little goes a long ways, hm?” The physician said the words with no acrimony nor accusation, instead as observations about someone of whom he was quite fond. In this case, he was quoting the local Dox’s own words, in regard to her own first meeting of the impressive and unexpected Klingon woman.

There was something about how comfortable the Victory’s Dox seemed around this crew that made her counterpart even more uneasy. In truth, the only time she had seen the Dox native to this time seem openly uncomfortable was in how she dealt with the current situation, and Dox had to wonder what all had to have happened in the year the other Dox had spent here on the Victory.

Replying to Siivas, the Hera’s Dox nodded, trying to ignore the feeling that she had been more than a little tempted to engage with the seductive Klingon in spite of her bond. “That’s as… apt a description as any I could think of. So… I know I’ve lept… I think ten times. It’s hard to keep track, but what does that mean? Any idea how much longer I’ll be here?”

“According to the readings... Anuksamon?” Siivas looked to the overhead, when a pleasant female voice chimed in. “The anomalous version of Lieutenant Commander Dox’s Bulukiya particle rate of decay indicates dislodgement from this reality in sixteen hours, forty-seven minutes and thirty-three seconds. There are insufficient active particles in her body for another leap following this one, which will according to all documentation, be the leap back to the anomalous Lieutenant Commander’s own timeline.”

That was definitely not the harsh mechanical ‘WORKING’ computer voice of the era- yet another element of the past that she had to wonder if the historical records were inaccurate, or if it was simply the nature of the Victory’s unique crew and configuration.

“There. That should give you a little something concrete to hold onto. And while it may or may not travel with you, here’s a countdown timer. If it stays behind, at least it will give you some sense of control in this reality, knowing when you are expected to leap once more.” The smooth-pated paternally smiling physician offered the small device, even as he continued. “Your scans otherwise just indicate a lack of hydration, proper nutrition, and rest. I recommend a shower, a good meal, and six hours of sleep minimum, eight if you can manage it. I’d offer a sedative to help you sleep, knowing your unquiet mind. But you don’t trust us enough to accept it, and now you’re embarrassed that I realize that, and no, I’m not reading your mind- I would never do so uninvited. I’m just a student of humanoid behavior- and in your case, I have something of an unfair advantage in knowing you well, hm?”

Glancing over, the Hera’s Dox gave her counterpart a slight glare, again noticing how much more relaxed this version of her was. “Well, obviously you’re not wrong. And no, I’ve not gotten much in the way of rest, and very little else. I had a bit of a nap in one timeline, but I think I leapt as soon as I nodded off, and waking up in another reality was even more disorienting. So, thank you. Having a concrete idea of just when this is going to happen is… comforting.”

“We’re familiar with the phenomenon- done it myself. So we’ve been there, and we understand. If you would like some help, it is freely available to you, but I’ll understand if you’d rather pace and angst for half the night. Not judging,” he held up his hands in surrender with a smile. “Just... as I said, I have some insight into your behavioral patterns, is all. You are of course your own person with different values and choices, but I think dismissing the similarities between you might be something of a mistake.”

Pushing back against the voice in her head that told her it was okay to trust the caring looking Deltan, the Hera’s Dox bit her bottom lip slightly and resisted the urge to fidget with her ear. She found that the familiarity everyone here had with was many of her own affectations was unnerving. “Thank you. I… appreciate the offer. I will consider it.”

“Well, until then, we can stop by Engineering and we can show you the heart of this beauty.” The Victory’s Dox said with a hint of pride in her voice that the counterpart recognized easily enough. “Which will give the Captain time to finish planning dinner. Thank you, Siivas. Training at Twenty One Hundred hours tomorrow, still?”

“If you wish, of course. I’ll understand if you are otherwise preoccupied with your visitation. After all, it isn’t often one is literally visited by the life not led, and I suspect it may offer you some perspective, and perhaps some closure. Try not to judge yourself too harshly, Mnhei’sahe,” he said to both of them, which somehow both Doxes understood. “Whatever your path and choices, know that you have done your best, and be kind to yourself, hm?”

Both women nodded in almost perfect unison rather than saying anything as they turned to leave. Realizing that they both mirrored each other’s somewhat non-committal answer… a trait both obviously still shared when they didn’t quite know what to say… seemed to only increase the awkward tension. But the Dox in the Maroon uniform scowled ever so slightly and turned back as they were heading out.

“Thank you, Siivas. Hopefully, I’ll see you then.” The Victory’s Dox said with a legitimate smile as she led her counterpart out of the unusual sickbay and into the corridor as the group carried on.

To Be Continued…

.
History, when taught well, shows us how to improve the world. But history, when taught poorly, falsely claims there is nothing to improve. ~John Oliver



Appearing in darkness, Rita began to panic and immediately reached for her EVA suit. Summoning it from the pocket dimension in which it was stored, even as it wrapped about her, she could feel the heat of the place, and she felt gravity, so she knew she wasn’t in deep space. But the air seemed thick, and she wasn’t that keen on breathing it if she didn’t have to... which she did not.

Bringing up her sensors, they splashed about the room, painting it in rather vivid detail for her. Given the offerings, the placement and the central figure seated on a throne, she was in a tomb. As this was another Bulikaya leap, she reasoned the tomb must be her own. Which was lent credence by the Starfleet delta on the breast of the ancient mummy seated on the stone throne.

“Kathoom... Sonak never rescued you from Kathoom, and you lived the rest of your life here, over a few days in the real world,” Rita realized. Briefly she panicked- if sixteen hours had to pass in the real world for her to leap, she might just die of old age here as well. With a fatalistic acceptance, rather than panic now, she decided she’d find out in sixteen hours or so.

Looking around the tomb, she tried to piece together just who her local counterpart had been, and what she had done. How she had ended up enshrined here, with a simulation of her delta inscribed into the wall behind her, along with pictograms.

Since her story had been left here to be told, Rita Paris studied the history of her less fortunate counterpart, who had spent the rest of her life on the yellow desert world of Kathoom.



It had taken Rita a few hours to study the pictograms, to use the onboard computer in conjunction with the linguistics program, entering in the scans of the pictograms and characters and putting it all together. But she now had some idea of just what had come to pass on the savage desert world, where she’d been leading a revolt when she had been called back to the stars, by her love, who would always come for her.

On this Kathoom, the revolt had led to a council, composed of the seven of them- Ka’diq, whose quiet strength came from his compassion. Alar, whose hands and words ever sought to heal. C’Vhala, whose clever mind always saw a way out. Quvuk, whose anger was his strength and his weakness. Ta’ak, the builder in a word where no one built anymore. Ch’rup, the idealist who was the common man amongst the escaped gladiatorial slaves, swept up in momentous events.

With the Masters overthrown, she had formed them into a council. She had entreated them to form a federation of nations, all coming together with elected representatives who came to serve the interests of the people of their regions. It seemed her plan for government had been successful, and the world of Kathoom had passed a century under her watch. On the back of the sealing stone of the tomb was her final message.

The rise of the Federation as a religion is one which I wholeheartedly denounce.

I came from the stars, but I am above no one.

I pray Kathoom will rule itself wisely and justly.

Eyeing the mummified ancient- who, she noted, conspicuously lacked the bronze bracers she would have guarded with her life- Rita expanded the scan web to begin figuring a way out of here without destroying what was likely a significant archeological find for the world of Kathoom.

“Well, we’re both about to find out, Rita...”

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

The street was cracked and bleached by the beating sun, and wound down the narrow gap between the weathered stone buildings that were packed a bit too close together. Walking down the path, a young boy who seemed no older than 10 for a human, was carrying a makeshift, driftwood pole with two rounded shells lashed to it with old leather straps.

On his feet were old, worn and stained sandals that barely covered his dirty feet. He wore a thin, beige linen hooded cape that did it’s best to cover his head from the blistering sun. At the end of the narrow street, he peeked his head out and looked both ways, before he ran across the empty perpendicular alley. Filled with cracked stones and broken bits of glass and wood, he picked his way through nimbly as he made his way to the base of one of the twelve meter tall columns that seemed to act as a wall, to mark the border of the small village.

Above the street, at the top of the column was the great Aqueduct that flowed from the mountains of the northern region into the glistening capitol city of Konaar, passing high above the short, crumbling stone and clay houses of the impoverished slum the boy called home. As the life giving waters that ran down the channel above were only available to the residents of the town when the regional magistrates allowed them. But they didn’t know about the small crack in the chute that slowly trickled into the sewers, down the side of the column, down the end of this particular alley.

But the boy did. Crawling behind the column into the thicket of brush that grew at its base over the grate to the old sewer tunnels that ran beneath the slum, the boy tucked the first of the two shells under a crack in the column, and slowly it began trickling with clean water.

When the shells were filled, the lad adjusted his load and made to sneak away when he heard a grunt, and a grating sound behind him. Grasping fingers were coming out of the sewer grate, straining to move it. Then the grate neatly flipped out of place as a golden metal hand burst out of the sewer, shoving the grate up and off.

Startled, the boy froze, careful not to spill his precious cargo as he watched. Then out of the sewer, rose the form of a woman clad in a gilded armor that shimmered in the sun. Shimmered like the giant statue in the courtyard of the grand church in Konaar.

The statue of the first god-Empress in her holy vestments that he bowed before daily, when the sun was its highest in the sky. There, before the boy, whose knees began to shudder with fear and awe, was a sight he had been taught for as long as he could remember. With sun-blackened skin caked in grime and made rough by the brutal heat, the boy's eyes went wide and he dropped to his knees, the shells falling to the ground where their previous waters spilled around him.

"P… p… praise be to the will of the Ritaris. F… forgive me. P… p… p… please. I sought only to… to date The thirsts of my family who serve in your great honor." The boy said as he bowed on his shaking knees, his right arm folded on his chest, his hand spread on his shallow chest.

Like magic, the holy vestments of the god-empress vanished, and in their place was a woman. Her skin was so pale, like alabaster, and her eyes shone like the sky. She knelt beside him, hands outstretched, palms toward him. “Whoah whoah whoah, it’s okay, it’s okay... calm down, nobody’s gonna hurt you. Are you injured?”

Scooching on his knees, away from her, the boy was working himself into a panic at the sight that his mind was telling him was impossible and only his fear of bringing punishment down upon his family was keeping him as calm as he was. “N… No. I… I am… I am…. I beg forgiveness. I have spilled your gift of water. I am s… s… sorry, great one.”

“Gift of water?” The pretty face look puzzled, until she saw the shells, looked back to the aqueduct and the trickle that the boy was harvesting. “Doesn’t seem quite right, why aren’t there actual dispensing stations?” she muttered to herself before picking up one of the shells.

“Look, I didn’t mean to scare you- I’m sorry. My name is Rita Paris- I’m an explorer, I’m Starfleet- I’m here to help, and I come in peace. I think I was here a very long time ago...” Looking around, the woman offered her hand to the frightened youth, her tone soft, her smile welcoming. “Come on, let’s refill your shells. Your family needs this water, hm? Source of life for all, right?”

The intended effect of calming the child instead seemed to instead elicit the opposite response as he reared back so far on his knees that he fell back over in utter shock. With wide eyes and mouth agape, he stared at Rita. “R… Rita… Paris? I… It’s true. It’s… you ARE her. The Reckoning. The first of the Ritaris. S… She who brought our ancestors knowledge of the will of Fedra’shuun. You… you… you are HERE!”

As the boy spoke, his wide eyes began to show intense confusion as he didn’t understand the calm voice or the warm eyes he was being met with which clearly didn’t mesh with the descriptor he blurted out a moment ago of ‘The Reckoning.’ As he tried processing what he was seeing, he watched as Rita picked up the long wooden handle with the shells attached carefully.

It made no sense to him. The God-Empress was… helping him with his chores?
While the woman, clad in her odd golden vestments she was trying to hide with a burial shawl, looked confused. When she spoke, her tones were soft and soothing, albeit with a bit of consternation. “Look, I don’t know what you may have heard about me, but... I’m really not going to hurt you. I’m a stranger here, and it looks like I haven’t been here in a very long time. I mean, I discussed building aqueducts with Ta’ak, but there was nothing like this...”

Refocusing on the moment, the woman knelt, lowering herself down to the level of the frightened youth. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the local religion, or any Reckoning, or really much of anything. Let’s start with the basics- this is Kathoom, right? Desert planet, water, the stuff of life is a precious commodity and it’s a hard life. That’s pretty much all I got until the ancient history crash course... but my name is Rita. Just Rita’s fine, okay? What’s your name?”

The question was delivered with a smile and an outstretched hand. If she planned to raise the deserts as seas to claim all life, she was warming up slowly to armageddon, it would seem.

“B… B’Jen.” He muttered sheepishly, trying to look away from the gaze he had been raised to believe would vanquish him to the darklands below the sun, ruled by Sonak, He With No Pity. But there he sat, un-banished on his dusty rump under the beating sun, looking at the outstretched hand that he was taught would turn whole armies to dust with a wave.

Hesitantly, he reached out for the hand, not wanting to anger the God-Empress, but still afraid. And as he put his hand in hers, it was warm. Not so warm as to burn him to nothingness as the stories said she could do. Just warm like his mother or his baby sister. Warm like a person. Flinching slightly as he took the offered hand, he slowly opened his eyes back up to see he wasn’t a pile of dust on the dry wind. He was fine, and she was smiling.

“I… don’t understand, great R…. Rita?”

“Just Rita, B’Jen. I am no greater than you, hm?” she gently corrected him.

“ I was taught… we were all taught by the Priests of the Ritaris that your return would herald the great Reckoning. That you would… punish us?” B’Jen said, with the fear in his voice evident, but beginning to take a back seat to a child's curiosity.

“Hmmmm,” the pretty face scrunched up in a frown. “That certainly doesn’t sound like any message I wanted to send.Tell you what, B’Jen. How about I help you gather your water for your family, because they need it. And you can tell me all about this religion that has you so afraid of an avenging prophet from the skies- which I am very much NOT, I assure you- and maybe you could help me understand what’s happened to the world I knew?”

Even as she spoke the words, she suspected it was a statement that would be proven untrue in time. Kathoom was a world where the strong and the clever survived. More than likely, if she started sticking her nose into things, she would likely encounter resistance. Which meant that she might just do some avenging after all. In the here and now, though, she focused on the dark eyes of the frightened young boy who was doing very well, having encountered a mythological figure as part of his day.

Looking around, B’Jen saw no Magistrates watching for disloyalty. The street was still empty, but he knew it would only last for a short time as he looked at his water collector in Rita’s hand and spoke again. He had never wanted to believe that the stories could be true, even from his beloved grandmother long since passed. But this woman was not like the great doom the priests spoke of. This was the teacher. The Guide. The God-Empress that the old ones spoke of in hushed tones for fear of reprisal. But she had said the words, B’Jen though. The words his grandmother used to whisper to him when she tucked him into bed.

Thinking of her, he smiled in spite of himself, remembering what she used to say. A message passed down along the generations, that when the TRUE Ritaris would return… it would be with the words ’I’m here to help.’

“Come…” he said a bit less nervously. “We must be quick. The Magistrates decree is that this is the prayer hour. All are in the center of town praying to… uh… to you, Gr…. Rita. There is a crack here, at the base of the column where water leaks down.”

Moving back into the brush behind then, B’Jen moved it aside to show Rita with a little bit of excitement, the child showing through once again. “The Aqueduct is for the CITY, not us, but our water rations have been thinner and thinner. So… so I sneak out during prayer.”

Suddenly remembering he was speaking to his living god, he bit his lip slightly. “I pray… I have not angered you. The priests say it is against your will to defy their word. But… but I was… it has also been said that you wish for all to be content. And… I had prayed that my finding this crack… was your will.”

The pretty face saddened as he spoke, and when he finished, it was replaced by resolve. “Water is for EVERYONE, to share alike. Something tells me and the local leadership are going to have words about this... oh, I see, you wedge the shell lip into the crack so the water will fill the shell. Very clever B’Jen, well done!”

It was important to praise the young and encourage them, and while she found the situation distressing, Rita was very keenly aware that the dark-skinned and scrawny youth would take her words and actions to hear, so she was being a bit more careful with him than she might have normally. Which might excuse why, as they were finishing filling up the shells, they heard gruff voices behind them.

“This is the Prayer hour. All are to be in the circle in honor of the glory of Fedra’shuun.” The first of the two large, lightly armored men said. Standing behind them in the alley were two thickly built, stern faced men wearing dark red leather tunics and pleated skirts, looking like something out of ancient Rome. In their hands were long metal pikes with gilded tips, and strange writing down the shafts. Their unfriendly faces were visible through the open face plates of gilded helmets.

But what caught Rita’s eye the most was what was emblazoned on each of their chests: A raised metal badge in the center of their breastplates, in the shape of the Starfleet Delta.

As the second man spoke, his eyes fell upon the shells and the water within as B’Jen placed the shells down on the ground, carefully trying to avoid spilling it this time. “The Waters of the Aqueduct are for the splendor of the great Ritaris, child. Stealing it is a sin. Would you call the wrath of Sonak upon yourself and your family?”

The other Magistrate was less gentle in his words as he reached for B’Jen’s arm, anger in his eyes. “This sin must be punished! You thieves are to come with us.”

Stepping in front of the child, physically interposing herself with one arm guiding the child behind her, Rita Paris glared at the Magistrate. “Water is life, and it belongs to everyone. Whatever your religion teaches otherwise, I really don’t know, nor do I care. I’m going to give both of you an opportunity here to change your lives. You know keeping water from the people is wrong, and you know a child should not be punished for bringing water to his family. This is the most important moment of both of your lives, and I would consider my next choices very carefully were I you.”

It might have been a bluff- after all, the woman, while taller and overall larger than anyone in the conversation, was unarmed and unarmored. While it was abundantly clear from her fair skin and odd raiment that she was not a local, she didn’t exactly look all that threatening either. So telling the Magistrates to sort out their lives, on the surface, might have seemed a bit laughable. But the determination in the woman’s eyes told a different story. No harm would come to the child under her protection, and if one could read intentions, that one shone through clearly. Just as clearly as the mein that indicated that her words were quite true, and that she was indeed offering them a choice.

Sneering, the angrier of the two clutched his hand upon his pike and began to lower the tip towards Rita. “Take care, woman. To threaten the Magistrates of the Realm is a sin with a high cost, indeed. SUBMIT! On your KNEES! Both of you!”

One long black-booted foot came up in a high kick, knocking the pike out of the surprised man’s hand. People did not resist, after all, so the Magistrates were accustomed to compliance- resistance surprised them. As the weapon tumbled in the afternoon sun, it was caught by the woman in one hand, after which she took it in both, and with a grunt, she bent the metal pike over her knee.

“Once more, I come in peace. I ask you to reconsider your life choices, because I’m Starfleet- I’m here to help. But I’m not getting on my knees, you’re not arresting us, and I will absolutely NOT submit. Your move,” she finished as she tossed the bent weapon into the dust.

Watching, B’Jen’s face opened into a light smile that spoke to astonishment. The guards, however, were still trying to process the emotion they were entirely unprepared to deal with in the moment: fear.

“I… Impossible! None may handle a Magistrate’s pike in such a fashion!” The confused and overwhelmed man, used to being in a position of power, muttered like a child in school citing meaningless rules. The other, who still had his own pike, took a defensive step back, kneeling down out of Rita’s kicking range.

“Starfleet? Who… who are you to speak the holy words, woman?” He said, fear encroaching in his voice as he tactically assessed his weakening position.

“I’m the one telling you to rethink your life choices. I’m the one whose symbol you bear on your chest as your threaten children. I’m the one who can bend iron in my bare hands, and is very unhappy with what’s being done in my name. I’m Rita Paris,” the buxom blonde declared, knowing she was violating the Prime Directive like Jim Kirk in an intergalactic singles bar. “and you have now had your second chance to reconsider your life choices. I’ll give you one more, but after that, we’re going to get physical. With your lighter gravity and the fact that I’m not in the mood for your dogma, I doubt that’s going to go well for you. But I come in peace, as mentioned- I would rather not resort to violence if it’s unnecessary. Which is now up to you.”

Through it all, the stranger from beyond the stars kept the child shielded with her ample form. While she didn’t fully understand the situation just yet, the youngster had been kind and inquisitive, and she’d be damned if she was going to let any harm befall him.

Clutching the pike closer to his chest, the Magistrate looked at the delta visible on Rita’s ample bosom, where the wrapping she was wearing had parted, and his eyes went as wide as B’Jen’s had earlier. With trembling lips, he muttered. “T… The Ritaris? It… it… cannot be?”

Taking a step back, he grabbed his partner by the shoulder and pulled him back. “You… you cannot be!! This is some… some trick!” Looking Rita up and down, it was clear that he didn’t quite believe his own words as the two began to run back down the alley shouting. “The order will find you, blasphemer! You will perish in flames!!!”

Watching the men retreat, an upraised and appraising eyebrow in place, the stranger turned, crouching before the small boy. Taking his shoulders in her hands, she looked him in the eye. After all, it was scary watching people stand up to the absolute authority you’d known all your life. “Are you alright, B’Jen?”

The fear on his face was just one of many emotions that ran across his dark eyes as he watched the men he feared all his life run away. Glancing from them, to Rita and back, there was another emotion that Rita could see in those eyes beginning to emerge as well: hope.

Stepping back, B’Jen picked up the water carrier and placed it across his shoulders in a practiced move he had clearly done many times. “Come. More will be here soon, and it won’t be safe for you. I know a place we can go… but I must get this home before service is over. We don’t have much time.”

“Lead the way, my guide and protector,” Rita said with a warm smile, rising smoothly from the crouch.

“Come. The alley is safest.” B’Jen said, allowing a smile to show as he began to walk quickly but delicately down the alley between the two rows of old clay homes. “Our home is not far. I can drop this off and we can move more quickly.”

There was a little touch of nervousness in his voice, very much like the child he was, still afraid to give up a secret. “There are some… my grandmother was one, before she passed to the stars… who taught the word differently from the church. She taught me that you had come many thousands of years ago, from the stars yourself. From the realms of the travelers… and you helped our people. She said you came to show us the path. You were the Great… Navigator.”

The alley smelled of trash, and worse, and it was clear that the deeper groove down the center was where the houses dumped their waste. Coming upon a ragged, reclaimed wooden door hooked on with what looked like leather straps, the boy stopped and listened at it for a moment. “I don’t hear anyone.” Opening the door, B’Jen placed the water carrier inside gently and then closed the door again. “Is it true? Are you really her? The Great Navigator?”

Looking mildly embarrassed, Rita Paris realized she had to make a choice, here and now. She could not deny who she was, but at the same time, she was uncomfortable with being held up as a religious icon. However, troops in the streets, bearing a Starfleet delta and oppressing others in her name, was not something she would stand for. Prime Directive be damned.

“I don’t know about ‘great’, but... yes, B’Jem. I am Rita Paris,” she admitted softly. “I come from the stars, and I came here many, many, many years ago, and led your people in revolt against their cruel masters. I tried to teach them guiding principles to live by, to be better, to care for one another, and to uplift one another, together. As with lots of good intentions and ideas, it seems it went wrong at some point.”

“So it looks like I’ve got just under half a day to lead a revolt, bring down a corrupt and oppressive system, and take another shot at helping this world to be free.”

Looking up at the aqueduct above the small town, funneling water to the city in the distance while others lived in squalor filled her with a quiet rage. But for now, Rita Paris had work to do.

“B’Jen, if I follow that aqueduct it will lead me to the city? Where this ‘church’ is located, I assume?” In her head, Rita was already formulating plans, child endangerment not being one of them.

“Y…Yes. But that is also the headquarters of the Magistrates, and they are many.” B’Jen seemed nervous, the old fears taking root again.

Kneeling before the child, Rita Paris took his arm in her hand, to clasp it and lend her words strength with a touch. “Men will always seek to use force to subjugate, to cause fear, to compel compliance. But words are far mightier than any spear or sword, and they can change worlds.” Adding under her breath, “Not always for the better, it seems...”

There was a moment of understanding, as she spoke words of wisdom, and the boy felt his heart swell, like when his mother smiled at him or his father was proud of him. She was not what he had expected at all, but Riaris... or Rita Paris... was... nice. He wanted to like her, despite her strangeness and the dangerous things she said and did.

It was then that the young boy’s eyes grew wide with fear, as he saw Magistrates massing in the street outside the alley. Glancing over her shoulder at what the boy saw, the golden-clad commander made the decision. Scooping the young boy up in her left arm, she vaulted onto the roof of his neighbor’s home, and began racing across the rooftops at a rather remarkable rate of speed.

As the boy let out a momentary gasp, he quickly found himself in awe as he looked down un the meager village he had always lived in. Below, he could hear shouts of the Magistrates.

“Impossible! She bounds into the sky, almost taking wing.” One of the Magistrates said, astonished as he turned to the commander, a tall, broad shouldered man with a thick beard and dark, sun-cracked skin.

“How astute. Focus your observations on the task of catching them.” The Commander barked as he looked down the alley. “They head towards the center of town, but she will not stay that course. Go, my Phalanx. Six of you down the eastern path toward the center of town. You six, round the eastern perimeter. I shall take you six this way. I believe she will turn north.”

As the large cluster of leather armored soldiers took off in different directions, the Commander ran through the alley, troops at his heels, as the golden-clad figure bounded for the aqueduct.

“I’m sorry B’Jen, but I think I’ve endangered you through proximity... hold on around my neck, I’m going to sprint here,” from bounding across the low ramshackle rooftops, she hit the ground at the edge of the piazza. There, the faithful were still gathered about the dry fountain in the center of town, with the slender carved image of Riaris rising from the center, reaching for the stars. Sprinting, even with a child in one arm, the woman was surprisingly fast, and she easily bounded over the minor obstacles she encountered.

In high school and into her Academy days, Rita Paris had been a cross-country runner. Because she believed from an early age that the ability to cover distance quickly might just mean the difference between life and death on some alien world, lightyears from home. It was a theory that had been proven a great number of times throughout her career- today being yet another in a long line of such examples.

Ahead of her, a pair of Magitrates with their brush-topped helmetsvmaking a golden halo over their heads, set their pikes for a charge and prepared for her. In three long strides, she was upon them- then hurdling over them, track and field style. The lighter gravity worked in her favor, and she once again marveled at the restraint that Sonak showed in the lighter gravity of standard Federation vessels and worlds.

By the time the Magistrates got turned around, she was already a dozen meters distant and still in motion as she sprinted toward the aqueduct

In the square, there was commotion. The villages were still assembled, praying to the statue of their savior from the stars as the real deal leapt over their heads like a vision wrapped in gold that glistened in the midday sun. There was a collective gasp as they watched in shock.

“The RITARIS!!! She has returned!”
“Like in the stories, she can leap above the very STARS!”
“I saw her! I saw her!!!!”
“It cannot be!”
“THE RECKONING US UPON USSS!!!!
“ARMAGEDDDDOOONNNNN!!! We are DOOOOOOMMMED!!!!”

Then a man stood up from the crowd in shock as Rita vanished from sight behind the furthest buildings of the village and whispered, “B’Jen?”

Turning, the whisper wasn’t quite quiet enough, as the Commander of the Magistrates narrowed his gaze. “That man!! Bring him to me!”

Two of the armored men grabbed the middle-aged peasant, wrapped in a ragged linen cape and dragged him to the commander, who looked him in the eyes with a cold glare. “That boy. The one with the renegade criminal. You know him. Is he yours?”

The man froze in fear, not knowing what to do as his knees shaked. Leaning in, the Commander lowered his weapon and softened his face. “He is. He is your child, is he not? The woman who has him has taken him by force. We must catch her and protect your boy. But first we must know all that we can of your boy. WHY would a blasphemer take your son? What would he tell her?”

Over her shoulder, the boy pointed. “Papa!”

Pausing in her flight, the Starfleet officer rolled her eyes and sighed. Always expect complications, Rita. When do your plans ever go smoothly? Turning, as they stood perched atop a stacked stone chimney, she saw the tableau, old as time- the father had recognized his son. The oppressors had moved in, planning to leverage the family’s love for obedience.

A cold fury sprang up inside her at the sight of such a thing, in her name.

“That’s your father, the Magistrates have there?” she asked simply, and the boy nodded.

“Looks like it’s time to see if words are stronger than spears,” she said as she launched herself back toward the center of town.

Gasps started to roll through the humble assemblage of believers in the center of town. Turning, the Commander narrowed his gaze and watched as the crowd of locals parted, dropping to their knees, their hands over their left breasts as they began to murmur in unison, ”The Ritaris.

“Phalanx, form a perimeter around me.” The Commander said, bringing his pike to B’Jen’s father’s throat as two of his men forced the man to his knees. “Who are you to use the image that brings these people peace only to strip it from them with violence, agitator? We shall brook no false gods here. Show these humble and loyal citizens the truth and spare them the cost of your folly.”

As the Magistrate Commander spoke in a loud, commanding voice to the far end of the town center, the entire crowd was falling back on their knees, crawling away as Rita began walking through the parted crowd, a defiant expression fixed upon her face as the young B’Jen clung close behind her.

“My name is Rita Paris. I’m Starfleet, and I’m here to help,” she began, speaking in a loud, clear voice of command she had learned at the knee of some of the greatest starship commanders in history. “I represent the United Federation of Planets, an interstellar union of planetary governments that agree to exist semi-autonomously under a single central government, based on the principles of universal liberty, rights, and equality, and knowledge sharing for the betterment of all.”

As she spoke, she continued to stride, in her unhurried pace, toward the Magistrate, who had B’Jen’s father on his knees, with a weapon to his throat. Holding the child’s hand, she squeezed it a bit to try to reassure him and lend him courage in this frightening situation.

“I came here many years ago, and I taught equality, acceptance, the power of coming together to rule onesselves, not to serve masters. But it seems my lessons have been forgotten. You hoard water, which is for all to share. You threaten and rule through fear. You hold a father hostage, threatening his life so you may punish a child, and for what? Daring to not cower to you quickly enough?” Stopping in front of the man, Rita Paris continued speaking at the same volume, because she needed to be heard by all.

“This is not what I taught you. This is not the way. Drop your weapon and surrender yourself to your fellows of this village. You are all equals, and you should all live in peace, not under the rule of bullies and tyrants,” Rita directed, speaking to the crowd before she turned back to the Magistrate with his weapon at the throat of the terrified peasant.

“I give you this opportunity to see the error of your ways, and change your life. I wish to heal with words, not with violence. But if you harm that man, your damnation will be complete. Listen to your heart- it knows what you are doing is not right, and that this is not the way. Your heart knows we could all be better, together, and that you were never meant to rule over these people, but to defend them. Yours is to serve and protect, not to enslave and oppress. Remember that in your heart, and choose your path- here, now, today. Show these people what you truly stand for.”

The powerful words hung in the air with all the weight that Rita had hoped for, as the crowd seemed to take in a breath all at once and hold it. Waiting.

Holding Rita’s hand, the silence cut deep into B’Jen, who trembled as he called out, “I… I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t…”

But the older man with the pike at his throat cut the child off, his own voice cracked, but no longer afraid. “No, B’Jen. You have done nothing wrong. None of us have. You followed the way of Ritaris as your grandmother taught you… and you were right.”

While he spoke, the Commander’s eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted from Rita’s stern countenance to the ring of his men that surrounded him, keeping him separated from the gilded, pale woman standing against him, and then to the crowd of peasants on their knees.

Until his eyes fell upon the first of them to rise from those knees. It started with only one, frail looking woman at the rear of the crowd. As Magistrate Commander for this region, he knew the woman. She was soft spoken and reverent. A good, humble servant of the church who always knew her place. Now she was standing up, her chapped lips pursed and defiant.

Then another stood, a young woman of barely birthing age, her eyes confused but unafraid.

One by one, the crowd stood until nearly half of the village's meager population was standing, their eyes fixed not on the woman in gold, but on the Magistrate Commander.

The pike held at the neck of B’Jen’s father was ever so slightly shaking now in the Commander’s hand as the older, thickly bearded man in the sun-beaten red armor looked concerned. “Return to your homes! Do not defy the will of…”

“HER will!” Came a voice from the crowd, as pent up frustrations, generations in the making, made themselves heard for the first time.

The Commander tightened his grip on the handle of his pike, as he gritted his teeth in anger. More voices began to rise along with more people, until every villager was standing. Every eye upon him. Every voice beginning to elevate beyond whispers and murmurs. Cries to release his prisoner. Cries of anger. Cries of a population that had long since had enough.

Turning his gaze back to Rita, the Commander hissed back at her, “What I stand for? I stand for the rule of LAW! The rule of order and OBEDIENCE, which you twist against these good people!” He was doing his best to try and wrest control back from the increasingly angry crowd. But in his voice there was only anger and fear, and it could be heard.

“YOUR ACTIONS HERE WILL DOOM THESE PEOPLE, WOMAN!!!” He roared as he pressed the tip of the pike further against the man's throat, eliciting an audible choking sound that echoed across the plaza.


“My actions here are the truth. That’s why these people are not doomed, but in this moment, uplifted. Do not damn yourself, I beg of you.” Stepping forward, one hand still holding that of the child, she held out the other open hand to the Magistrate. When she spoke, her voice did not ring out in the tones of command. Instead, they were soft, and warm- the tones of a teacher, trying to reach a pupil. “Let that man go. Help these people, and help yourself. Be better than this.”


As the crowd’s resolve strengthened under Rita’s words, the Commander’s began to crack further. “Phalanx!!! Keep them BACK!!! SHOW THEM THE WAY!!!!!”

With the loud scrape of metal on dry stone, the first Magistrate did just that. Dropping his pike, rather than raising it against the villagers, one of them turned away from the crowd to face his commander, “Sir… I cannot.”

The Commander’s eyes went wide as the color blanched from his sweat-soaked face, and his clenched teeth trembled. Then, one by one, the sound repeated as one by one, each man dropped their weapons into the dusty stone of the village center.

“Strength is in unity, in helping one another. Not in forcing compliance from others. There is forgiveness if you seek it, and you are a part of this village, connected to us all. You don’t have to stand apart... you can belong,” the golden-haired heroine pleaded, trying to reach the man with her words.

She could disarm him, stun him, distract him- there were a dfozen different ways this could be handled to rescue the boy’s father and avert tragedy. But she’d told the child that words could be more powerful than spears, and now she had to prove those words true. Because the course of this young man’s life was being set, right here and now. The lesson she taught him here would echo throughout his life, and possibly throughout his civilization. So while there were options, today, Rita had to be better.

Hera help me, she offered in her mind to the one to whom she offered thanks and praise. While she might be the inadvertent maternal figure of Kathoom’s religion, the surrogate mothering Hera provided to her seemed almost cyclical to her, and she resolved to have a talk about that with the goddess when she returned home. Assuming she would.

Determined that she would.

The next voice came, not from the crowd of believers, the humbled Magistrates or even Rita herself, but from the man on his knees, no longer being held there by soldiers. With the pike still pressing into his throat, his voice was cracked, but steady. “Listen to her, J’Darrin, please.”

At the sound of his own name, the Magistrate Commander turned with a start to the man he was threatening, his eyes now a mixture of fear and confusion. “You are a part of this village. We have broken bread together. This is not who you are. We were friends, once.”

With his grip on the pike weakening, the Commander licked his dry lips and looked around at the crowd, who were now totally fixed upon him, waiting to see what he would do next. “T… the way is obedience. The… the way is reverence. The way is…”

“Peace.” B’Jen said, letting go of Rita’s hand and stepping forward as her heart swelled with pride at the brave boy’s actions. “We are stronger together. That’s what she said. That’s what’s written on the statues. This is what it means, sir. Please, let my father go.”

Shuddering, the Commander’s grip weakened and his pike fell from his hands. Dropping to his knees, the weight of his actions over the years settled upon him like a wave of shame. As he fell, B’Jen ran to his father, and the two hugged in the center of the village while a collective gasp arose from the crowd.

Stepping forward, Rita Paris offered her hand to the humbled commander.

“Rise up, J’Darrin of Kathoom. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” The platitude seemed a little trite, but in all her adventures, ‘savior of legend’ was a new one on her. So as usual, the lost navigator was improvising, plotting a course as the universe hurtled her onward.

Looking down at the pike sitting on the ground at his knees, J’Darrin’s shoulders felt pulled down by great weights. With tears being held back only barely, the Commander shook his head like a child caught in a lie. “I cannot… I do not… I have not served your word. I have done terrible things… believing them just. I cannot be forgiven.”

“Yes you can, J’Darrin,” the golden-clad pink-skinned woman explained as she knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder. “Every day, we make choices. We know the voice in our hearts that tells us the right one, and if we listen to it, and make our choices based on that, then every day, we are a bit better at being decent people. Every day we strive to be a bit better, to help our neighbor, to give of ourselves. You can be forgiven if you seek it, and live your life as a good man, J’Darrin. I promise.”

At that, she held out her arms to the man, inviting a hug from her vanquished opponent, in his hour of emotional crisis. When his worldview had been shattered, and his rationalizations for the life he had led now swept away. When the living figure of their religion he served had refused to kneel to him in submission, yet chose to kneel, to comfort him.

Slowly, he looked up into those glistening blue eyes that were filled with compassion and understanding, and blinked. In his mind, he had come to see the Ritaris as a figure of dread that created obedience through fear. Yet here was a woman reaching out her hand, and offering forgiveness.

Taking the hand, he bowed his head to her and squeezed her hand in his own. In that moment, he was touching his God ,and with that simple gesture, his worldview was shattered in a way he couldn’t have imagined. The silence was broken as the crowd began to cheer and smile. Throughout the people, various voices could be heard repeating ancient mantras and religious exaltations.

“Glory be to the Ritaris!”, “The True Word is reborn!”, “This is the Way!”, “Praise the Way!”

Rising, the Living Tarim looked around, and made a few decisions. “B’Jen, who tiles the roof of the town?”

As the boy pointed to a particularly dark-skinned individual, Rita made her way gently through the throng of hands that wanted to touch her, and spoke to the tile layer. Turning back, she made her way through the sea of people, smiles and touches for all, until she returned to B’Jen and his father.

“I’ve got some places to go and some people to see,” Rita explained. “But first, this village deserved water from the aqueduct. So we’re going to perform a little engineering, with the help of my friend Palum here. So B’Jen, let’s all go to the crack in the wall, shall we? It’s time this village got itself a cistern...”



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



The crack was widened, then as the tiles created a drainage flow system, a cistern was created in short order with the cooperation of the village, and a wedge was crafted for the crack, to seal it when no one needed water. Now the village would have water, the stuff of life, with plenty for all, and the great city would still receive their waters.

This is the way, the crowd murmured, and Rita Paris rather agreed.

Sitting on the edge of the fountain, whose centerpiece bore a likeness of her, Rita consulted with the people, asking her questions of this world she had returned to, and what was being done in her name. She made plain to them her plan to follow the aqueduct to the city of Konaar, there to confront the God-Emperor of Kathoom, and have a few words with him.

Helmet in hand, the Magistrate Commander was contrite and, at first, reluctant to give her specifics. But the guilt he was still feeling was evident as he pushed past his misgivings and answered Rita’s questions. He spoke of the city of Konaar as being heavily guarded, with a great wall at it’s edge that all the aqueducts of Kathoom led into. He told her of the palace at its heart where the High Priests of Fedra’shuun held their services and their rites where they claimed to speak the will of the Ritaris. It was something that, even as he spoke, he realized was another lie he had believed.

“Within those walls… there are thousands of Magistrates. The High City is controlled by the Priests and the Priests answer directly to the God-Emperor.” J’Darrin said, eyebrow raised with concern. “And the city itself in a full days walk at least, from this place. The sun is still high in the sky at this hour. You will need…”

Pausing, the military-minded man reminded himself he was speaking to his goddess and looked down. “Forgive me, Great Ritaris. I speak of the needs of mortals with one who can touch the stars.”


“You are considerate and you seek to forearm me with knowledge- no apology should ever be offered for such aid, my friend,” she smiled, knowing the humbled man was vulnerable, and trying to give him a bit of a bolstering. “But fortunately, some of the legends were true.”

Standing, she placed her hand on the shoulder of the magistrate Commander J’Darrin. “You have opened your heart, and today, your village rejoices, and is brought together as a flourishing community. I’m very proud of you for what you’ve done today, J’Darrin. Keep it up.”

As the man looked awkward and uncertain of what to say, Rita turned, eyes searching the crowd. “B’Jen, where is my first guide in this modern Kathoom?”

Standing near the statue, B’Jen was next to his father speaking, when he heard his name. “I am here, Ritar… Rita.” In spite of still having to remind himself to not call her Ritaris, he had a lifetime of his god being the ‘Great Ritaris’, and it was a hard habit to break.

Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, entrusting to him the location of her tomb, and how to safely access it without destroying the cultural significance of the archaeological find. When she had imparted the knowledge, she leaned back to look the youngster in the eye.

“You helped a stranger. You sought to provide for your family. You tried to protect me against oppressors, and reminded me that I cannot flee my problems, I must face them- with an open hand and an open heart. Thank you, B’Jen, my friend. I will never forget you.” With that, she hugged the young boy, clasping him to her prodigious bosom.

“I… none of us… will ever forget you either. Or what you’ve shown us.” The boy, who was a bit more mature than his age thanks to the hard life that he had lived here in the impoverished village. “You… you showed us the true way. You freed us.”

As he spoke, he hugged her back tightly, amazed at how warm and real his goddess was.

“You freed yourselves,” she replied. Letting the boy go, he returned to cling to his father, who offered a grateful smile. Holding out her arms, Rita cleared a bit of space. Grinning to the crowd, she couldn’t resist showing off just a little bit.

“Not all of the legends are untrue,” she said as she shunted her armor out of the pocket dimension in which it resided, then activated it, bringing up the lights and the HUD. Sensors online, she plotted her course, then waved to the crowd. “Be excellent to each other!”

With a chagrined grunt at her own line, Rita began to sprint out of town. The lighter gravity combines with the augmentations lent her by the EVA armor made her into something of a golden flea, and she ran, then bounded, the leapt into the sky and activated the anti-grav pack, to carry her in the rest of a rather spectacular leap onto the top of the aqueduct.


As Rita vanished into the horizon, the people of the small village marveled at what they had just witnessed. The Ritaris returned to them, a flesh and blood woman who was somehow greater even than the myths and legends upon which they had been raised. As some of the people of the village began to kneel again, trying to process what they had just experienced, the young B’Jen looked up and said with a smile. “No… remember. She doesn't want us to kneel. She wants us to stand... together.”

In time, he would be known as B’Jen, The First Guide. Many would follow.

Continuing the tour with a much clearer idea of just how long she would be on the Victory, the other version of herself continued leading the way through the Starship corridors, doing what seemed to be her level best to avoid looking at ‘herself’.

The Victory’s Captain had warned Dox to not unduly upset her other self with information about her own life back on the Hera, and she was sticking to that request, even though it appeared that she truly didn’t have to say much to distress her other self. Her mere existence was clearly enough. Still, with the three officers largely alone in the corridor, the silence was somewhat deafening.

Breaking it, the Dox of the future sighed slightly and spoke. “So… you told me how you ended up here, but not... why you stayed.”

The Victory’s Dox tensed up slightly and narrowed her gaze as she turned to look at her other self. “Meaning what? I need to justify myself to you?”

The question clearly struck a nerve that even T'Vyn noticed as all three stopped in their tracks. “Perhaps this is a discussion that should pass in private. When one is judging oneself, a third party tends to be unnecessary. I have duties to attend to- I will leave you.”

“My apologies, Lieutenant Commander. But, thank you. I’ll complete the rest of the tour and speak again later.” The Victory’s Dox said as the two officers exchanged their farewells and the Vulcan officer went on their way.

Taking a breath, The Hera’s Dox realized she was stepping in it, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She needed to know. “No, you don’t feel like you need to justify yourself, but I need to know. After all, we both are very well aware that traveling forward in time only really requires going to sleep for a long time. If Starfleet was willing to station you on a ship, I can’t imagine that wasn’t an option. The technology has been around for centuries.”

“Yes, that was an option.” The Victory’s Dox hissed, stepping up to look herself in the eyes and sounding remarkably like their mother in the moment. “If you ‘must’ know, after I passed out on the landing pad, I woke up at Starfleet Medical. I was patched up just fine, but under restraint and guard. After all, my only identification was a Starfleet Commbadge that didn’t yet exist and we are still very Romulan.”

The tension was thick in the corridor as the Victory’s Dox continued, clearly angry at having to tell the story. “Standing at the foot of my bed was a Starfleet Admiral. He talked to me for two days straight. I told him everything I felt I safely could. I told him who I was, and where I came from. I told him who MUDD was and how dangerous he was. I even told him about the implants and technology in Mudd’s body that they had to disable to hold him safely. I knew it was dangerous, but I had to trust that Starfleet would know not to do anything to disrupt history. But it turned out that... I already DID.”

“What happened?” The Dox from the Hera asked directly, her eyes meeting the glare of her other self.

“When I crashed Mudd’s ship, I was as careful as possible. We came down clean. Nobody was hurt. But when those security officers came running, it was along with a crisis management team, there to secure the crash so nobody got hurt. I passed out. I was unconscious. So, I couldn’t stop Mudd from activating the self-destruct device on his ship.” She said, grimly. “SIX Starfleet officers were killed, too close to the explosion. SIX lives that otherwise would have kept going.”

“When the Admiral that came to see me spoke, I asked their names. I… I needed to know WHO had died because of me. So... he told me.” She continued, her eyes narrowing even more. “Five of the names, I had never heard before. But one… one of the medics on the scene, I recognized. Her name was Ensign Marla McCafferty.”

Listening, the Hera’s Dox went white for a second as she recognized the name.

“You know that name, correct? You’re just now realizing what I realized when the Admiral told me, right? You remember him?” The Victory’s Dox said as her counterpart stepped back in shock.

As the Hera’s Dox’s mind raced, the Victory’s Dox continued. “So tell me. You took the SAME Temporal Mechanics Classes I did. You know the implications and the scope of what it means. So you tell me, Lieutenant Commander. WHY did I stay?”

There was the beginnings of tears in the Victory’s Dox’s eyes that she quelched as she waited. After a moment, the Hera’s Dox replied weakly. “Richard McCafferty. The academy student that we… slept with. The one who… bragged about being a Starfleet legacy kid. The one… the one we fought with when we found out he was just sleeping through every alien woman he could trick into it. We… put him in the infirmary when he tried hitting us.”

“For which we were put on academic suspension for SIX MONTHS.” The other Dox snapped back, “We were eventually cleared, and finished the academy at the end of what was now our FIFTH year. We graduated a year late because of someone who now wasn’t going to be BORN. We undid our own very specific future.”

Stepping away, the Victory’s Dox started walking back down the corridor as she continued, the Hera’s Dox walking faster to catch up as she kept talking. “Graduating early, without an academic black mark, would have changed the trajectory of my career in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Yes, the Admiral offered to put me into Cryosleep, but I would have woken up in a future where I was… who knows… dead, maybe? Or alive on a completely different ship from the Hera? A smuggler again? And that’s just accounting for McCafferty. Who knew what effect the loss of the other five officers would have on my future.”

“All I knew was that I was now in a timeline… this timeline… where the chances that I would wake up to… a wife waiting for me… for those friends glad to see me… were virtually zero.” The Victory’s Dox said.

Cutting herself short of saying the name ‘Mona’, the other Dox changed course slightly. “There was no way to know, and the idea of sleeping for over a century to wake up with even LESS of a claim to my own life than I had here… was terrifying.”

“Then, the Admiral introduced me to Captain MacGregor. We... talked for a long time, and as a fellow… ‘V'tosh ka'tur’ in Starfleet… she offered me something I couldn’t guarantee was ever going to happen if I’d gone to sleep: a purpose.” The Victory’s Dox said, dropping the term for what was known as a ‘Vulcan without Logic’. The cover that was used to allow Charybdis to function in Starfleet, at a time when hostilities with the Romulans would have made either of them serving openly impossible. It was something she had learned from her own version of Char, and Dox was taken aback at the realization that at that very moment, her counterpart had to lie about her heritage just to serve on the Victory.

“The Admiral made certain… accommodations. Like the Hera, the Victory is an Intel ship, and my status here is as top-secret as what we did back on the Hera. After I proved my qualifications by passing every Starfleet exam they could throw at me, I was assigned here to the Victory, and given a field ranking of what I was at the time, a Lieutenant.” Dox explained as they made their way to the Victory’s Main Engineering. “Does that answer your questions?”

The tension was still there, but a bit reduced as they kept walking. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Look… I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how difficult of a decision it was for you to make. And… I apologize for putting that on you.” The Hera’s Dox said, a conciliatory tone in her voice as she walked next to her counterpart. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just had to know.”

After a moment, the other Dox just chuckled slightly with a wry grin. “It’s alright. I suppose I know for a fact, now, that I would have done the same in your position.”

Coming to the end of the corridor, they stopped at the entrance to a turbolift as the Victory’s Dox tapped the control pad. While the wait wasn’t long, the Hera’s Dox pursed her lips slightly as she considered her next words. “Well… then along those lines… I do have another question. The officer at tactical who…”

Now it was the Victory’s Dox’s turn to turn a bit green in the cheeks as she closed her eyes and finished her counterpart’s thought out loud. “Who called me ‘Rruieh’... ‘My Desire’? Yes… I didn’t think we were going to avoid that particular topic, though I was hoping.”

“Look, I’ve been here on the Victory for a year. Longer now than I had even been on the Hera before getting lost in time. Things… happened. I’ve made… some very good friends here.” She said, nervously fingering her ear. “Her name is….”

As she spoke, the door to the lift slid open and inside stood the nearly two meter tall Tactical officer in question, with a surprised expression on her pretty face with the strong jawline, framed by dark hair worn down, but regulation.

“Uh… Jessica. Lieutenant... Jessica Valin” The Victory’s Dox said, stammering slightly. “Uh… meet… me.”

Those brown eyes went from one Dox to the other, then back again a few times as the titanic tactician looked between the two women, then took the Maroon Monster uniformed Dox by the arm to pull her off to one side.

“Excuse us for a moment,” she fairly growled as the local Dox was firmly and insistently pulled away by a somewhat unsettled Titan native.

As the Hera’s Dox turned away, stepping into the lift to give them their privacy, she pushed the button to hold the lift while they waited. Outside, just a bit down the corridor, the Victory’s Dox was biting her bottom lip, while being lead away to a distance both women were comfortable that even Vulcanoid hearing wasn’t going to pick up.

“I’m sorry, Jessica. The Captain asked me to give… her… a tour of the ship. Believe me, I know how uncomfortable this all is. I’m not happy about any of it, myself.” The Victory’s Dox said in a low whisper.

“Okay, look, the Captain vouches for her, so- whatever,” Jessica Valin grumbled. She was not overly fond of the Captain’s casual use of telepathy, often in place of actual evidence the rest of the crew could perceive. Chain of command meant they took her word for things, but it sure would have made it easier to do it the ‘mortal’ way. “But Charybdis said, on the bridge- about her hurting you? Look, why don’t you just stay away from her, okay? She isn’t you, YOU’RE you, and I don’t... want anything to happen to you.”

Generally, expressing her feelings was difficult for the recovered alcoholic who had instead become a workaholic, which was part of what made the two a good match. But when she felt strongly about a subject, she would find a way to communicate it to her lover. Particularly when concerned for her safety.

“I don’t want to be doing this, Jessica.” Dox said, putting her hand up on her lover’s face softly. “I don’t want to be… reminded of everything I’ve worked so hard to move on from. But orders are orders, and it’s clear that this version of me KNOWS the Captain too… She called her “Char”? How? Imirrhlhhse, she went white as a ghost in sickbay. More than just me is familiar to her, and I want to know why.”

“I need to know why.” Dox said looking deep in those deep, brown eyes that were there to comfort the time-lost Romulan woman in ways she never thought she would feel again. “Because if what she knows is something that can hurt us here… ANY of us… then I have to know. I’m not losing you if I can help it, Jessica. I promise.”

There was a clear war of indecision on the part of the tall tactician, as her 6’3” frame shifted, her shoulders rolling as she did when she was stressed, and she rolled her neck to try to keep the stress from locking it up. Drawing in a long breath, she closed her eyes and tried to quell the anger that such situations tended to bring to the surface for her, and act in a calm, professional manner, instead of hitting something.

“Alright... alright. I trust you, Minnie. I know you’ll do the right thing, for yourself and the Victory, but...” A glance at the ‘other’ Dox from under her brows could not restrain some hostility, however, and Valin’s brow furrowed as she whispered. “I just… I remember what you were like when you got here, how remote and cold you were because you were afraid to get close to anyone, and... I see it, all over her face. We’re all ghosts to her, because we’re history. She doesn’t see the hurt she can cause... just like you didn’t, wildcat.”

While the weight of what Jessica was saying hit Dox right between the eye, she couldn’t help but smile whenever the towering tactician called her ‘wildcat’. She was fortunate to have found the Victory and those on it, at a time when she had given up on ever living a life again. “Trust me, I remember. That… wasn’t exactly a time I’m proud of. It’s not someplace I ever want to go to again. But you saved me then. You pulled me out of that pit I was in. Helped me out of that bottle. I swear to you I won’t let her hurt you, or bring me back to that place.”

“She’s got the better part of a full day before she’s gone, so if I keep her occupied and away from the rest of the crew as much as possible, she can’t do any real damage.” Dox said, trying to build herself up as much as Jessica, “You helped show me how to beat my demons, Jessica. So I can deal with one more.”

The smile that spread across the broad woman’s face was a shy and hesitant one, particularly on duty. For all her professionalism and size, Jessica Valin had one soft spot, and it was the cute little redheaded Romulan who had made her feel strong, confident, and like she had all the answers, when she herself was just starting to figure it all out. But here and now, Minnie Dox meant the world to her, and in that shy smile, it could be seen as plain as day.

Even to the Dox of the USS Hera, who had literally just met the woman. But in that smile, she saw a glimpse of the emotionally vulnerable yet physically imposing woman, who was so concerned for her counterpart here.

With a warm smile, the Victory’s Dox reached up and gently pulled the dark-haired human woman down slightly for a kiss. On duty, they were always professional and kept their relationship where it belonged. But here, in the corridor where they were alone, and considering the situation, it seemed perfectly appropriate. And on some level, she wanted her counterpart to see. To reinforce that in spite of appearances, they weren’t the same person anymore. “I’ll see you soon, e'lev.”

Using the Romulan word for one’s beloved, the Victory’s Dox adjusted her uniform and pulled her much longer red curls out of her face. The smile that was beamed to her was one of blushing cheeks and awkward bashfulness from the biker girl from Titan, but in that expression, the visiting Dox could see just what her local counterpart meant to the woman.

Why that bothered her as much as it did, she didn’t know. But she watched from the turbolift as the two whispered something else to each other and her counterpart walked back over to the lift. Stepping in, the Victory’s Dox looked down where her counterpart was pressing the hold button and then pressed the override on her own panel, and the door closed and the lift began to move.

“I apologize if that was… uncomfortable for you.” the Victory’s Dox said, somewhat flatly.

“In truth, pretty much everything happening here is…. uncomfortable to some degree.” The Hera’s Dox said as she adjusted her own uniform tunic. “I’m simply trying to not be too disruptive to things. I’m not here to ruin anything for you.”

“I know you aren’t.” The Maroon-clad counterpart said as she hit the hold button on the lift again, putting her hand up to the bridge of her nose. “Look. I know I don’t owe you anything. But I can’t help but feel more than a little judgment off of you. I don’t think I’m entirely off base, considering that you and I were very much the same person a year ago.”

“We still are, in essence.” Was the reply, but it was a reply that the longer-haired woman seemed to be prepared for as she snapped back, still keeping her distance on the lift.

“No, we’re not. I don’t know what you’ve been through in your life back on the Hera since the Mudd Incident, and I don’t truthfully want to. Clearly, you and Mona are together, and I’m happy for that. I truly am. I’m happy that at least one reality has a Mona that got what mine didn’t and had you return to her. But that wasn’t an option for me. There was no going to sleep and waking up like nothing had ever happened. So I stayed. I stayed and I worked my ass off to make a LIFE for myself here. And yes, that meant eventually moving on.”

“It wasn’t easy. As you can gather from what you’ve been oh-so-subtly observing, I made all the basic mistakes you are so familiar with. I was cold and withdrawn. I was angry and I didn’t care who I hurt for a while, because it took the edge off my own pain. And there’s no kreldanni synthohol here, so I fell off that particular wagon pretty damn hard.” the Victory's Dox said with flush green cheeks as she glared across at the mirror of a life not lived.

“So no, we are not the same person. Not anymore. So, you can judge me from my choices all you want, but they’re my choices. This is my life and my career now. I am Second Officer on this ship. I have people that helped me up when I was at the lowest place in my life, when they could have easily just told me to f--- off. I have a career when Starfleet could have just locked me up as a spy. I have friends here. And yes, I found very unlikely love here. In spite of everything that I lost… I am happy. Maybe you can be happy too, if you stop judging me and realize that me being happy means you can be, too.”

As the Victory’s Dox ended her rant, she re-adjusted her duty jacket and re-fixed her frazzled, loose hair and hit the button, to instruct the lift to resume its course to the Victory’s Engineering section in the secondary hull. As she did, a bit of silence fell between the two women before the Hera’s Dox smirked slightly.

The Hera’s Dox considered everything her counterpart had just said, and realized where the angry words had come from. She also noted that her other self’s Romulan accent didn’t leak out when she got upset in the same way it did for her. “I realize that my being here represents something you’ve tried to move past. I’m a walking, talking reminder of the life you lost, and I am sorry that this is so upsetting for you. But maybe you’re not as angry at me for judging you for your decisions as you are at yourself for those same choices.”

“You are right. You don’t need to be.” Dox said, looking over and nodding slightly. “I’ll be honest. I’ve seen ten other versions of my life, and you’re the only one that was as close to the me that I am. So,I’m glad you’re happy. I’m glad it appears you pulled the… stick out of your ass. You don’t have to beat yourself up because you’re happy.”

There was no reply for a long moment other than the Victory’s Dox rolling her eyes slightly as she let out a breath. “Yeah, I don’t miss being read like a book. On that note, how’s Rita?”

But, before the Hera’s Dox could reply, the lift stopped and the door hissed open.

"Who's been holding up the damned elevator? Oh.” The dishevelled human chief engineer of the Victory, Commander Maur Weaver, shuffled onto the elevator before waiting for the twin Romulan woman to get off. If he noticed the similarity, he said nothing.

“Sorry, Chief Weaver. Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long.” The Victory’s Dox said with a wry grin at the ornery human, who muttered something incomprehensible to himself as he grasped the handle, and the doors closed behind them.


The history books showed vids and holos of the engineering sections of starships of the day. But never did they show warp cores- ‘dilithium chambers’ as they were known in the parlance of the time, as they were laid fore top stern in the ‘main body’ of the starship.

Not the Victory.

Before them stood a core, pulsing with crimson light, the energy of the release of antimatter and deuterium gas in a perpetually controlled fusion reaction, delicately controlled by dilithium crystals to convert the fusion into the energy driving the power needs of the entire starship, through electricity, plasma and matter conversion. Which would be impressive- erect vertical cores had only been around for a decade or so at this point, so it made sense that as a Refit Constitution, Victory would have one.

As she stepped around it, admiring the antique, she was unprepared for the sight of the second core, pulsing in blue not twenty meters from the first.

“The Victory has two hearts,” the local Dox explained as her counterpart stared up at the twin cores, in legitimate awe.

“This is… astounding.” The Hera’s Dox said. “I… knew that Victory was an Intel ship of a sort. I knew she had as many secrets, if not more, than the Hera. But I never knew about THIS. How fast…”

But before she could finish that thought, the Victory’s Dox cut her counterpart off, mid-sentence. “Fast. Faster than you would think possible. Not quite like the Hera’s Quantum leaping, but faster than anything else out here. Even on the revised warp scale, she’s still impressive for her day. But that’s not important. What I want to know is how you know anything about the Victory. I studied this period VERY well, especially after meeting Rita. The Victory is classified. Captain Charybdis MacGregor doesn’t exist on paper. So how do you know about this ship? How did you recognize Char on the bridge?”

“Ask her. I’m sure she got all of it out of my head when she broke in.” the Hera’s Dox said defensively, before her tone shifted to a bit more of disappointment. “Here I thought I had solid defenses. I knew she had been a powerful telepath, but she just got in there like it was nothing.”

“Is that what you think? Really?” The Victory’s Dox said, a smirk growing slightly on her face. “Mnhei’sahe… she KNOWS your defenses inside and out because she’s seen them from my mind. It’s easy to get through a vault door if you know the code. I’ll have you know, all she confirmed is that you’re really me, that you aren’t a direct threat and when you’re from. She wasn’t in there long enough for much more.”

“You know that because?” The Hera’s Dox replied.

“Because she told me so. Silently. Telepathically. When she tasked me with giving you this tour. Yes, she’s direct. She gets what she feels she needs, and worries about consequences later.” The Victory’s Dox continued, leaning casually against the railing as she changed the direction of the narrative for a moment. “I know how it feels. You feel violated. Invaded. It made you feel weak and vulnerable. It reminded you of him. I know.”

Both women knew exactly who ’him’ was. The entity known as Anansi, who had forced his way into both of their minds during their first few weeks on the Hera. The self-described God of Stories that clearly, both women still feared enough to avoid saying its name aloud. But at the simple evocation of the memory, the Hera’s Dox locked up just a little physically.

“I know this because when I first met the Captain, when I was still a… guest of Starfleet Security on Earth, and Admiral Jones needed to confirm my story to decide how I would be allowed to move forward, she was as blunt as ever.” There was a chuckle and a smile on the Victory Dox’s face as she recalled the moment.

“Think about it. I… we had never known of any other Romulans in Starfleet, especially this far back. Much less a Captain. So she had every reason to believe I WAS a Tal’Shiar spy. So our introduction was a rather forecful attempt to breach my mental defenses. And… in all reality… Sonak had trained me VERY well to keep him out of my head but… Charybdis is… a good measure stronger than he is... well, like the difference between a rock hammer and a sledgehammer, if you will. But my training was good. So good that when I told her it came from a Kolinarh master, she was inclined to believe me enough stop pushing, sit down and talk.”

“So we talked. We talked, in total, for roughly a day and a half straight.” The Victory’s Dox said with a much more serious expression. “I told her literally everything she could want to know about who I was. How I got there. My… heh… OUR time as a smuggler. What Mother did to us and how it was reversed. The lineage of my family that I could trace back on Romulus. Everything that wasn’t information sensitive to the timeline. But I even told her when I wasn’t telling her that. Which was not all one way- she told me about what she did in Starfleet. And… eventually… a bit about what she was. After a time, she told me what I could be with trust. That I could have a career and a purpose again. That here… I could matter.”

“Frankly, it was a speech that would have made Rita clap,” she continued, that smirk returning. “So… I made a decision. Hardest decision I had made in a long time. I let her in. I lowered my mental defenses, and let her in completely.”

At that, the Hera’s Dox’s eyes went a little wide. It was a difficult concept to accept, but the truth of it came across. “And?”

“It’s a two way street, that level of openness. I learned who she really was in the process. Which created a trust. An important trust. One that extends to the here and now. I trust her, Mnhei’sahe. Implicitly. In return, she trusts me. Yes, sometimes she rushes in headstrong. That’s where I can help. You see… now SHE has an obnoxious second officer to remind her what’s the right thing to do from time to time, and ask what needs to be asked more delicately. Someone who was taught VERY well what Starfleet is and should always stand for.”

“So, you’re Rita, now?” The Hera’s Dox said with the closest thing to a chuckle she had managed since arriving.

“I suppose you could say that, in a manner of speaking. If the Delta fits. Now, my questions, if you wouldn’t mind?” came the somewhat terse reply. “As I mentioned, it’s a two way street.”

“Short version… a few months ago, she introduced herself to me. My timeline’s version of Charybdis MacGregor. ADMIRAL Charybdis MacGregor. A much older woman. Retired. Who, it turns out, had been paying close attention to my… to our career. Curious about another Romulan woman in Starfleet. We… became friends.”

“What’s the long version?” The Victory’s Dox asked, rather pointedly.

“Maybe we should go sit down for this...” came the reply, before the communicator on the belt of the Second Officer of the Victory chirruped.

Raising it up and tapping the call button, she immediately adopted a more professional posture, “Dox here.”

“Lieutenant Commander Dox. The Captain has asked me to inform you that both you and our guest are requested at the Captain’s table for dinner at Oh Nineteen Thirty Hours.” Came a voice over the comm that the Hera’s Dox immediately noticed seemed to be nearly identical to the Hera’s Chief Engineer, Thex sh’Zoarhi.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Tivri. Please let the Captain know that we will be there.” Then the Victory’s Dox paused for a moment, as it seemed that just a bit of energy had left her and her posture loosened just a hair. “If you’re available, could you please meet us on Deck 5. I need to freshen up and I’m sure our guest does as well, and I would appreciate the assistance there.”

“Absolutely, Lieutenant Commander. On my way.” Came the familiar voice over the comm.

“Thank you again, Lieutenant. Dox out.” She replied, quickly noticing the confused expression on her counterrpart’s face. “Lieutenant Tivri is our Communications Officer. She wasn’t on the bridge when you arrived and… it’s extremely complicated. I... freaked out when I met her because what you’re hearing isn’t half as strange as seeing… her. You’ll... see for yourself. Just keep in mind, I freaked out on her already, so try and be professional. let’s just leave it at that for now.”

Adjusting her maroon duty jacket, the Victory’s Dox led her confused counterpart back to the turbolift entrance and tapped the pad to call the lift. After a few awkward seconds, the door opened and both women stepped in somewhat quietly.

As the Victory’s Dox grabbed the control handle and activated the lift, she turned towards her counterpart, and the empty spot where her commbadge would have been and raised an eyebrow. “Where’s your communicator?”

Without turning back, Dox recalled her last leap where she met a version of herself that had been abandoned of Romulus. Who was forced to endure a very long and painful year, eventually becoming a freedom fighter in the Romulan underground. The woman who Dox had given her communicator to, to give the nearly broken woman back a measure of hope and a means to call for help. As she thought of all that, she lightly touched the empty area where her badge had been and replied. “Very… long story. I… gave it to another version of me who… needed it more. I’ve met a lot of versions of myself, and in truth… most have been… very unsettling. Let’s just leave it at that for now, please.”

“Fair enough.” The Victory’s Dox replied with a nod. “Looks like we will be having some… interesting dinner conversation.”

“If by ‘interesting’ you mean ‘incredibly awkward’, I think you’re right...”

To Be Continued…

On a good day Rita could run thirty-nine kilometers, on a relatively flat and level surface, in two hours and some change. Once she was out of sight of the village, she stowed her armor and stretched, studying the long range scan data. It verified what she’d been trold, and showed a city with a population of 512,672. Which, by Kathoom standards, was enormous. The city of Durebahd, the headquarters of the Masters, was three thousand seven hundred and thirty-two souls, and that had been the largest gathering of life she had seen in nearly three months of surveying Kathoom.

Scanners also said it used to be here, and the village had shown no sign of having held the vast coliseum or the city that sprawled around it, the slave docks and barracks. All that had been wiped away by history, by sand and time and the memories of men.

Yet she had persevered, as an idea... but one perverted to serve the earthly will of men, not the betterment of the people.

The land as far as she could see was a hard, dry, sun-baked landscape. At a few of the pillars, vegetation sprouted, a rarity in the desert. She had discussed aqueducts with Ta’ak, who was excited to build them. Yet none of the villages in their shadow seemed to benefit from all this precious water.

It all just flowed to the city.

Two hours and change on a good day in 1G. 1/4 gravity gave her muscles considerably more spring, and the suit itself added that much more with amazing traction, no thigh chafing, and she could run in air conditioning.

Once she was limbered up, she suited up. She was approaching the city 32 minutes later.

Landing deftly and quietly atop the towering aqueduct, she looked out upon the city of Konaar.

The aqueduct led into a massive, circular wall that wrapped around the exterior perimeter of the city within. Looking at the wall, her suit’s sensors fed the dimensions to her in a running scroll on her heads up display. From her higher vantage, she could see that the desert ran up to the curved, stone and clay wall that ran almost featureless around the city at an angle, 35 meters high all around. At her best estimate, 18 to 22 kilometers in diameter if the curvature remained consistent.

Every half klik, there was a large, guarded wood and iron gate, but she had no intention of knocking and asking to be let in. From where she was, she could see at least one more of the aqueducts leading into the walls in the far distance that lead into different regions of the endless dessert that was Kathoom, and both flowed into the wall itself, too low to allow anyone walking along the top to enter the city. But Rita also wasn’t walking.

Another well-timed leap ,and she was quickly on top of the thick stone and clay wall. Using the memetic features built into her EVA suit, she changed the shimmering gold to a dull beige to match the clay of the wall to help mask her presence as she knelt upon the edge facing in. And she didn’t like what she saw.

The city of Konaar was built of what appeared to be three, concentric rings of elevated stone walls that separated the city into smaller, sub sections. In the center, some 10 kilometers in, was the palace that the Magistrate Commander had described to her. Shimmering, marble towers topped with golden spires and turquoise roofs showed an opulence in the heart of the city that did NOT extend into the outer ring that she overlooked. In the center, at the top of the tallest tower, she focused and saw what her sensors told her was a 25 meter tall golden statue. A statue of her.

Immediately below her, at the interior base of the wall, was a deep trench that seemed to be where a massive growth of dry, thorny thicket grew. Inside that, was block upon block of shorter, two or three story clay and stone buildings that seemed to be held together with lashed wood and hope. Frowning, what she looked down upon was clearly a slum. Shuffling 35 meters down, she could see many locals making their way between the buildings that seemed stacked upon themselves. On every other street corner, the leather armored Magistrates could be seen standing as living reminders to the population to keep in line.

Looking past the filthy slums, she could see the second ring. Within that, were what looked like more well constructed buildings. The beginnings of some form of industry. Elevated plateaus where citizens in rags worked fields of crops. It was the workers ring, worked by those that lived in the slums beneath her. All overseen by her own shining face. Looking over the city, Rita felt her stomach twist from anger to utter disgust. This was a world of terrible inequity, carried out in her own name.

Rule 1- boots on the ground. If you want to assess the situation, you have to get close to it. The villagers at Maaco had been kind enough to give her some simple garb to wear, and changing clothes could be accomplished rather simply. So, bounding across the rooftops at rather high speed, she came to the second ring. Scouting it out, she looked for where entry might be had into the third ring, but it wasn’t obvious. She’d have to make some friends first.

Or at least try, before she started a revolution.

Spotting some fruit bearers, carrying the baskets from the fields looked like a likely spot to start. Bounding behind a barn, she paused to scan and insure that she hadn’t been followed. Then she shunted her armor and her uniform into the extradimensional space accessed by her bronze bracers of the moon and sun. Popping out the shift, sandals and head covering the villagers had given her, Rita still stuck out like a sore thumb, and realized ‘blending with the populace’ wasn’t going to work so well. Standing in her rags behind the barn, Rita Paris struggled to formulate a plan.

Think, Rita. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to liberate a world on a tight schedule. You can’t blend with the populace, you do NOT look like the locals. And you can’t just walk in the front gate, announce yourself and start marching through the streets collecting the people until you beat down the doors of the last gate and force them to share with all.

Eyebrows rose as she considered that.

Or I could do exactly that, and let the people liberate themselves... In her mind’s eye, she tried to imagine how she would rationalize this to a board of inquiry. They were twisting the ideals of the Federation for oppression. Her first contact had been influential and she had a moral obligation to set things right. It was an injustice done in her name, in the name of Starfleet and the Federation.

It was wrong, and she would see it made right.

Trading out her peasant’s rags for her uniform, then her armor, Rita bounded back out of the city again, searching for the main gate. After all, it seemed she had an entrance to make.

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

“Again? You’re really going to try this again, C’Riss?” The lean, young guard said to his counterpart on the other end of the main gate to the second ring of the city. The gate that separated the slums from the farms and factories.

The two men were dressed in scuffed, red leather armor rimmed with slightly tarnished golden accents. Holding ornate, largely ceremonial looking pikes and freshly polished, but still older looking helmets, they were standing straight, but nowhere near attention as they talked back and forth. The gate behind them was a thick, old wood with iron filigree patterns around the edges that led from the first ring to the workers center.

“Yes, M’Raan. Why is this so hard for you to understand.” The shorter of the two replied to his fellow guard. “I failed my last test because you and I had too much ale the night before. But this time I will not allow myself to be distracted.”

“So you say.” The one called M’Raan scoffed before his partner continued.

“Look… I did not join the Magistrates ranks to guard a door. The deadlands is where the action is. If I can be granted admission into the warriors academy, I could be moved to a full ranking Magistrate. Assigned to a Phalanx and sent out into the wastes beyond the furthest cities.” C’Riss said, with enthusiasm in his voice. “I’m stifled here, guarding doors. Guarding the grain depots. Guarding the worker barracks. Guarding... things… all day long.”

“What’s wrong with our duties, C’Riss? We serve an important purpose. We serve the church and protect the God-Emperor. What we do here is important!” M’Raan argued, sounding irritated as this was a debate the two men had clearly had many times prior.

“We’re… statues. Nothing ever happens here, M’Raan!” C’Riss argued back. “I swear you try and sabotage my attempts at advancing because you don’t like guard duty with Jhoon Jarrin or anyone from his division?”

“Jarrin is an arrogant, self-important ass. No, I don’t want to be paired with him again. I’m paired with him every time you leave to take the trials. It’s annoying.” came the reply, as the taller of the two men rolled his eyes.

“Well… get used to it, because THIS time, I WONT fail my trials and I WILL be assigned to somewhere were something ACTUALLY happens for a change.” C’Riss said defiantly.

Then, as if on cue, they both stopped as they heard the sound of voices and marching feet coming from the main street before them. Narrowing their gazes, they both tightened their grips on their pikes with concern. Uprisings and civil disobedience was extremely rare, and had never occurred on either man’s watch, but they had the training beaten into them as they were taught that such things could happen at a moment’s notice. It was an ever present threat they hoped to never have to deal with.

But all that training couldn’t have prepared them for what they now saw rounding the corner and walking defiantly towards them.

A woman… taller than either of them… wearing a golden armor that seemed to glisten in the afternoon sun, striding like royalty. Behind her, a crowd of the local riff-raff all chanting something as they got closer.

“The way is life. Life is freedom. Freedom is choice!” Came the raised voices from the approaching mob. Then, as they got closer, the guards eyes went wide as the boy, B’Jen’s had earlier that day, so far from here, as they could see the features of the woman in gold.

“The… the R… Ritaris…” They both muttered in awe, as they saw the face of their godhead striding confidently towards them with stern determination.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. My name is Rita Paris. I’m Starfleet. I’m here to help. It seems your society has a bit of a wrong impression of me and my teachings, and I think it’s time we all had a talk with the God-Emperor together, don’t you?” The woman spoke with a smile, and her hands were open- she bore no weapon, nor did her followers. The rather impressively large mob were peaceful- excited, yes, but they did not brandish weapons or torches, as had been warned they would should the peasants, the Doles, ever rise up. Instead, this uprising seemed to be a peaceful one, led somewhat impossibly by the Ritaris herself, golden armor and all

It was not a situation for which either man had ever been prepared, and now, faced with it, they were uncertain as to how to proceed.

Nervously, both guards looked at each other, then at Rita and back to each other, completely flummoxed. C'Ress muttered first, blurting out the first thing that he could think of, which given the circumstances, was not the most well thought out of responses. "Uh… do… do you have… an appointment?"

Immediately, M'Raan all but facepalmed as he groaned in embarrassment. "Really?" He whispered across at the other man as Rita simply watched and waited.

Whispering, both guards began to shoot comments under their breath, back and forth.

"Yes, really! What!?"
"It's the RITARIS! She doesn't need an… don't be an idiot!"
"I'm not an idiot, it's PROTOCOL."
"There's no protocol for THIS?!"
"I KNOW that. You think I don't know that?"

After a few seconds, M'Raan cleared his throat, trying to smile as he worked out what to do, trying not to panic. "I beg of your grace, oh Great Ritaris. But… uh… our duties… uh… demand that your… PRESENCE… be announced?"

It was clear he was making the rule up in hopes of covering their own posteriors in the impossible situation as he smiled awkwardly.

“Tell me, gentlemen- what is the purpose of this gate?” The apparent prophetess asked, eyeing the large gate in a very large wall.

“The primary ring gate protects the people from invaders from the southern regions and the beasts of the deadlands.” C’Ress replied, in a tone that Rita recognized as an officer reciting a memorized regulation that had been ingrained in them. “The Second ring gate protects the vital fruits of the people’s labors from those that would betray their brothers for that which they have not earned. The Golden Ring gate is the passage through which only the greatest among us may pass. The Great Priests of the Riii… the… YOUR Priests… and their closest followers. And those that directly serve our wise God-Emperor.”

As he rattled off the meaningless list, M’Raan watched Rita’s face, which seemed thoroughly unmoved by the recitation. Nervously… he added. “The gates are to protect… uh… the people.”

As he spoke, it was clearly something he hadn’t given much real thought to until just now, as he looked at the throngs of the actual people, knowing full well that his orders were not to let them in, unless ordered to by an authority.

“The people should all be equal. All should share in the fruits of labors equally. Here and now, I think we need to make an adjustment to this social dynamic.” Stepping back a few paces, the golden armor-clad woman flicked her wrist, and a black device with a pistol grip appeared in her hand. Adjusting it, she pointed to the wall and a golden beam of light extended from her hand. Waving it in a wide arc, nearly as wide as the street that led up to it, she described a semicircle, that left the stone smoking in its wake.

Stepping up to the wall, she braced herself against it, then looked to the Magistrates M’Raan and C’Ress. With a smile, she asked politely, “I could use a little help, if you’re willing...”

At the sight of the phaser blast, both men stood, frozen in awe for a moment. Like the legends of old, this was the Ritaris made flesh. And the Ritaris wanted to go to the temple.

“Uh… uh… yes. YES!” M’Raan muttered, propping his pike up against the gate and nudging C’Ress in the arm.

Snapping out of his shock, the young guard who had craved adventure and wanted to be part of something more important was in very real risk of blankly staring his way through exactly that. Looking over at his partner, the young guard followed suit and both men walked over to the phasered section of the wall. Placing their hands on the section, they looked at Rita for approval for what to do next.


“On three... one... two... threeeee...” On the count of three, Rita strained and pushed with the men, but not nearly as hard as she pretended. This was, after all, the people’s movement, not hers. She was here to point the way and clear the obstacles, but it had to be the people’s will that moved these mountains.

The two young Magistrates put their backs into it and strained, and as they panted, M’Raan turned to regard the living savior. “We lack the strength, Great Ritaris...”

“No, my friend... WE do not lack the strength,” the golden clad vision of prophecy declared, as dozens rushed forward to place their hands upon the wall, to lend what strength they had to the cause. As the multitudes pushed and surged forward, Rita’s onboard scanners showed her the tipping point, and she added in her own higher gravity augmented strength in earnest, and the semicircular wall section fell with a thunderous crash, and a cheer arose from the crowd.

“Walk with us, friends? Shall we not all go speak with the God-Emperor this day?” the porcelain-skinned beauty asked the two Magistrates, the young men swept up in momentous events.

Passing through into the second ring of the city, Rita and her ever growing entourage of followers began walking through the center of the agricultural district. As they walked, they passed through rows of crops, as the hands working the sun baked fields stopped what they were doing at the impossible sight of their living god walking amongst them.

“The… the Ritaris… She has… she has returned to us!” Came the voice of a young girl with an armful of corn-like, blue grain that she dropped in shock. One by one, the group following her grew as they came upon the metal tubing that was spraying water over the fields of crops.

The people behind Rita stopped short as they approached, almost instinctively beginning to change course to avoid the raining water they had been taught wasn’t for them by their overloads. Their thirst was palpable as the oldest among them looked with longing eyes and chapped lips at the life-giving irrigation raining down upon the crops. Water that they had been taught to believe they were selfish for wanting.

“Please... water is for all. Quench your thirst, my friends. Water is life, and we should all share with our neighbors. Why is all this water brought from so far away, if not to keep us all alive?” Knowing full well that every word she said was liable to end up as scripture, Rita was choosing her words particularly carefully. “We are all children of the universe. We all have a the right to live, to drink, to eat and to be safe. To help our neighbors, to uplift not one above, but to uplift us all together.”

Taking it all in, it was clear that the irrigation systems had been crafted thousands of years ago, sturdy construction that had lasted the test of time- unlike the coliseum of the Masters. While there were spot repairs here and there, it was clear that runnels alongside the aqueduct were meant to bring water to pipes which led to the city, but no water flowed from them.

Also, all of the tools were simple- simpler, she noted, than they had been when last she’d been here. Thousands of years had passed, and a civilization capable of constructing such a massive undertaking as the aqueducts that flowed into the city should have advanced, not regressed. Judging from what she had seen, these people would be lucky to know how to repair the system should it break down, and maintenance she suspected was something of a lost art for the engineering marvel.

Learning had not been compounded. The common man, even most of the Magistrates, did not know how to read nor write. Hardly anyone owned a book, and learning seemed to have been handed down largely through oral traditions. This was a society whose development had been forcibly stunted, much like the world itself.

All this water could have been irrigating the land outside the city, giving birth to a lush verdant land. Instead, denied of life-bringing water, the earth was hard-packed sand. Dry and lifeless. It could have been shared with the people in the slums, along with the fruits of their labors. But like the water, all of it flowed toward the center of their society, the center of Konaar, the seat of the Ritaris religion.

Home of the current incarnation of the God Emperor of Kathoom.

The very first God Emperor of Kathoom was coming to have words with him about just that. And it seemed she was bringing most of the city with her.