After the recent meetings, of which Enalia still disliked, but saw the need for in this case rather than sending out a mass message, the Captain of the USS Hera was feeling particularly under the weather so rather than taking the stress home, she decided to try and unwind in the ship's lounge for a few minutes first. Ever since they'd found themselves in this unusual layer of space, she'd felt a pressure in her mind. It was almost like a whisper. She'd heard tales of a poorly matched symbiont driving hosts insane with voices in their heads, but she was fairly certain this was far from that. It felt... Darker... More sinister...

As she sat at the bar and the barkeep poured her usual, she turned around to look out over the large bay windows. Thankfully, the staff had overlaid them with holographics depicting scenes people had requested of home. Right now you could look out over the night time cityscape of New New Seattle from the vantage of one of the floating cafes. As Enalia reached for her drink, she shook her head as she thought over the fondness of reusing names Humans had. For a moment she mused over their history that even in Roman days, if twins or triplets were born, they'd name the first something like Maria, then the second Not Maria, then the third Definitely Not Maria or Not Not Maria.

Humans were odd like that, but she had to admit that they had a way of working their way into your third ventricle. She wouldn't be where she was today if not for a great number of them giving her support, strength, and courage.

Then as she brought her glass to her lips, the pressure in her head pounded into her like a Mugatu on a drum. As her eyes went glassy and her drink fell from her fingers, she collapsed onto the Ten Forward bar as if in slow motion, as the world around her began to go black. The last thing she saw was the bartender and several crewmembers beginning to flock over her, shouting words she could no longer hear.

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

When Enalia's eyes opened, she was no longer aboard the Hera. She was sure that she remembered being there, in the conference room of her Starship. She remembered her crew and talking with her friends and feeling… something. Something she couldn’t remember that felt wrong. But as she tried to remember, the thoughts began to fade from her mind like gossamyr wisps. Shaking off the sensation, she knew she was aboard her father's sleek, fast Trill Gravity class Corsair ship, the Third Star, cutting through the warp lanes. Feeling now as if she had never been elsewhere, she was in the Second's seat with her father to her left on the raised dias and his Second standing over her shoulder giving her a lesson on the seat's control systems.

Looking up, he was exactly the man she remembered, though from her position he seemed so much larger. He was a handsome man with a rugged air about him as he sat in the command chair, leaning slightly to the side. There was a crooked, rakish smirk on his weathered, sun-stained face. Lost in the moment, Enalia stared at the face that was so familiar to her and yet somehow seemed a lifetime away as she squeezed what she was holding on to. What her mother had given her. In her right hand was a brass tuning fork and in the back of her mind she thought she could hear voices... Whispers...

She glanced around, trying to figure out where they were coming from, but couldn't. She could almost swear they were saying things like 'she can't change anything, she won't, she doesn't want to' and worse.

Then her heart twisted in her chest and her blood froze as she realized that this was the exact moment right before...

Right before her kidnapping…

The ship shuddered and the hull groaned sickeningly as if something had reached out and plucked it from warp forcefully. Looking back, it was fairly obvious that this was orchestrated by her mother, but living in the moment, her mind raced with panic as memories eluded her grasp. She could remember this moment, but she was trapped within it and couldn’t act on those memories. As they reverted to real space, the sight of a large Syndicate cruiser and half a dozen smaller ships made her heart sink just like it did that day. By the sound of the grapplers, it was again, too late.

Her father and his crew were working furiously to try and escape, but it was already too late. With a few well placed shots, the small corsair ship's shields were gone and Baro and his crew had beamed aboard, firing disruptor bolts straight through most of them with little hassle.

As the shimmering beams coallessed, her father reached over, with fear in his eyes as she grabbed Enalia by her shoulders and shoved her under the console. “Do not make a SOUND, dear heart. No matter what you see, do not make a sound.” In all of her young life, she had never seen that kind of fear in her father’s eyes. It was fear, not for himself, but for her as she silently nodded back at him.

Baro was a giant of an Orion, standing two meters tall and half that wide. He alone looked like a wall on the bridge of the tiny ship and with five other Orion men now aboard, the space was a bit cramped. From where she hid, Enalia couldn’t see what happened, but she could hear everything. She heard her father lunge at the mountain of a man only to be beaten back. She heard brutish fists make hard, wet sounds against her father’s body as it fell to the deck behind the console where, finally, she could see him. Then she saw Baro’s boot.

Still, as Baro stood over Enalia's father, one boot on his abdomen, his voice echoed in her mind. From his mouth came the words she had heard in her mind every night for years since this all happened and she was frozen, hearing them again for the first time. "So sorry, mate. It's just good business, ye' see." And then he pulled the trigger in that old Warmonger 392 disruptor, the whole thing moving as if in slow motion.

It wasn't a normal disruptor. It didn't use pure energy. Baro wasn't a kind man like that. He preferred his victims to bleed out. And Enalia's father, Havren Artan, took a full six seconds to bleed out through the gaping hole in his chest as he reached out and struggled to say something to his daughter, who only a meter away had been stuffed under a console to try and hide her.

The sound was sickening and seemed to fill her ears like the loudest sound ever as she could hear his shallow, rapid breaths begin to gurgle as his lungs filled with blood. There was a light, squeaking rasp as his quick breaths began to slow, the pauses between each getting longer each time, until they stopped.

As the life faded from his eyes and he lay still, the tears ran down Enalia's 15 year old face, the brass tuning fork still tightly clutched in her trembling right hand. She could hear the laughter of Baro and his crew as they kicked at the corpses of her father and his crew. As they spat upon them. As Baro kicked at the command chair that was too small for him.

The men were saying things now. Cruel things that would boil her blood if she could still hear them, but their voices seemed distant and drowned out now. The whispers in her head were back. Those she could hear clearly and a darkness was eating at the edge of her vision.

They were telling her to kill.

And so something in her snapped.

She rolled out of hiding and with a fluid motion, stabbed the first of the five in the neck with the tuning fork. With a tug, she pulled it free as a thin jet of blood sprayed across her face, feeling warm on her angry cheeks as she flipped over the helm to bury it into the eye socket of another of Baro's men.

The burly pirate let out a shrill scream as he lurched back, blood gushing out between his fingers as he clutched the hole where he once had an eye as Enalia screamed out all of her pain and anguish at them. But, before she could get any further, something hit her hard and she was thrown against the wall hard enough to shatter bone in most people. She knew because her mother had broken hers so she knew how much force it took. She was a bit augmented though so she could take more than that, but the impact was still more than enough to force the wind from her lungs as she let out a wheezing gasp. She shakily got to her feet, only to be met by another blow from Baro's boot, slamming her into the wall even harder. This time her bones really did break.

The sickening crunch rang in her ears as she clenched her jaw and ground her teeth, forcing herself not to scream. Be silent in pain. CHILDREN scream, Enalia. The voice of her mother echoed in the back of her mind. You are not a CHILD. You are my daughter. You are the heir to my crown, and if I ever hear a scream leak from those pretty little lips again, you will learn entirely new reasons to scream.

Not only did they kill her father and his crew, but they'd kill her as well. And even then, all she could think about was how her mother would judge her for her failures.

But they didn't. They hadn't. The giant of a man picked her up by the hair with one meaty fist and grinned that toothy grin of his at her. "And you're the other piece of good business. Hopefully you'll fetch a price worth the cost of two of my best men, ya filthy whore."

With the green transport sparkles and being thrown into a cage, Enalia faded back and forth between consciousness and awake just like she did back then so she was beginning to wonder if this was actually her remembering the past or if it was a dream. One thing she knew for certain was that the pain was all too real as she faded in and out of awareness, time seeming to no longer make any sense to her.

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

It had felt like days, but she couldn’t be sure. Sometimes it felt like some kind of horrible montage of pain and torment as the most minimal of medical care set her broken bones and ensured she would live. Sometimes each moment of isolation felt like an eternity onto itself as she sat inside the tiny cage.

But she remembered the hands. The filthy hands of Boro’s crew that ripped the clothes from her body and locked a collar tight around her neck, like a common beast. She remembered every set of hands, and the faces that belonged to them. As she sat in the cold, trapped in her memory, she couldn’t remember what happened. She could take no comfort in knowing how many of those faces would die looking at her eventually.

At the end of the last day, Boro came to her again, and pulled her out of the cage by the leash on her neck and glared at her. He spoke, but she couldn’t remember hearing the words. Her mind was a muddle of pain and anger as she was beamed away. But not to freedom. She was beamed to an even worse prison.


Staniding now on the bridge of her Mother’s ship, she felt the eyes of everyone on the bridge staring at her. At her failure. With her mother's disapproving glare staring down at her beaten and battered nude body, she once more heard words she'd again never forget.

Shaking her head with disgust, Arenara Artan spoke, but there was no mother’s love in her empty, cold voice. "You beast. You even lost the tuning fork I so graciously gave you. So utterly useless. You can thank your younger sister for your rescue. She's not nearly as incompetent."

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

With a start, her eyes snapped open again. With a heavy sigh, she found herself in her own bed aboard the USS Hera, the same darkness of the void she remembered they were trapped in just outside the windows. She thought about calling for the lights to come on or to feel to see if she was alone in bed, but she just laid there looking up for a long moment.

Without even thinking about it, she climbed out of bed and headed to the refresher, grabbing a uniform on the way. It was odd, but she didn't see any signs of Maica or Moira. She could hear the sounds of that new Aiva One in the kitchen preparing breakfast, but that was it. As she made her way across the room, she began putting her uniform on, slowly, but she didn’t speak. Didn’t call out for her loving wife. As she closed the flap of her crimson tunic and affixed her Starfleet badge to her breast, a strange feeling began to set in as fear began to ear at the back of her mind.

Then she realized why, when she was staring into the bathroom mirror, preening herself. The eyes that stared back weren't hers. Not really. They looked like hers, but they were clearly her mothers. The way she arched her brows, even on Enalia's own face, was distinctive. The face then leaned in towards the mirror, that distinctive, sadistic grin widening.

"You're still in there, aren't you, Enalia? I can feel you, you know." She tapped the side of her temple lightly. "Up here... and in the symbiont. It's odd... I gave you this perfect body and mind and you were such a disappointment. But now that I have it, I feel so much more free."

Watching from behind her own eyes, Enalia tried to scream, but there was no sound. She tried to hold up her own hands or do ANYTHING, but all she could do was watch her own body finish getting ready in the mirror, moving out of her control.

“Perhaps I can even correct the mistakes of this foolish little life you’ve made for yourself. After all, my ship has so much more memory now without that abomination you had the audacity to call a wife taking up space in it.” The grin widening, Enalia headed out of the refresher, now dressed and ready for the day, sword on her hip and a disruptor at her back where she'd normally have her phased pistol her father gave her. Without a word, she headed out of her quarters and towards the turbolift, heading towards the bridge.

The trip seemed to last an eternity as Enalia tried to call out for help. She had erased Maica? Where was Moira? How had this happened? Her mind raced as the turbolift climbed the short trip from deck 8 to deck 1 as she tried to work it out. It was impossible. It couldn’t be true. Rita Paris had killed Arenara and saved her from this horrifying fate.

Within moments, she was leaving the turbolift and surveying the command crew, unblinkingly licking her lips.

"Computer, bridge emergency lockdown, authorization Enalia foxtrot niner niner alpha lem gamma delta." As the bridge locked down, the Trill woman crossed over to where Rita stood up in confusion and pressed herself close to the buxom first officer, whispering in her ear. "How do you work this thing again?" Suddenly, there was a shrill cry as the point blank blast of Rita's own phaser straight to her gut disintegrated her. “There. No more endless, sanctimonious speeches.”

With almost practiced ease, Enalia turned the weapon on Sonak, barely missing and slicing a huge gash in the console behind him. There was no time to think though, as now she had to draw her sword and defend from Dox, who had rounded on her with a pair of Caitian assassin's swords. Dox was fast and skilled, but Arenara outstripped even Enalia’s teachings as she took advantage of the young pilot’s confusion and hesitation. With a quick flick the Rihannsu woman's head was soaring through the air, the body splattering across the helm controls. With a couple more shots she was able to blow up an EPS conduit and burn Petty Officer S’Rina Wil’I’Ams alive as she crossed to the engineering station and dropped the phaser behind it set to overload. The resulting explosion brought Chief Engineer Thex out of hiding and right to the tip of her sword, which plunged straight through the blue Andorian's heart.

From behind her own eyes, Enalia Telvan could only watch helplessly as her own BODY systematically killed those closest to her. At her own feet, puddles of blood, red, green and blue, mixed on her boots as the woman trapped withing couldn’t even weep for her lost family. Lost at her own hands.

By now, however, her miss on the Kolinahr master was repaying dividends and she found the tip of an An Woon protruding from her belly.

With blood trickling from her lips and darkness creeping in, she could hear herself speaking. "Well, Enalia, that went well. Let's see if we can do a little better next time."

Then with a start, she woke up in her own bed again. And again, she quietly got up and made her way across the room and began to get dressed as if nothing had happened. And as she tried to scream again, she realized Arenara was indeed still in control and she was about to watch herself kill her own people over and over again. As her heart sank, she could hear her own laughter in her ears even as she strapped on her sword and several more weapons this time.

“Oh, my poor, pathetic daughter. You will finally fulfill your usefulness to me. One way or another.”

Dr. Mah felt the ship pass through a disturbance as she waited for patients to come trickling into sickbay from the recent consequences of their red alert activities. She immediately knew her medical area would look chaotic with roaming and disheveled patients. Dr. Power, herself and the nurses would work through the crowd quickly despite the onslaught of patients.She knew from the murmurs of what seemed to be a crowded sickbay, but when she looked around the noise level exceeded the people present. She focused to realize these were ephemeral voices, not those of the people around her. She could hear the whispers of voices with no distinct words or conversations, merely an underlying hum of background noise.

Tova quickly did a med scan to ensure she was not suffering from stress, hormonal imbalances, or other medical issues that might be interfering with her cognitive senses. Her body had increased cortisol levels in line with her stress level, but was not above acceptable levels. It seemed her murmurs were coming from somewhere outside of her. She looked around at the sickbay crew, saw it was under control, and went to her office. She sat at her computer and going over patient files as the humming of voices grew louder and she was becoming light sensitive. Her head was beginning to throb and she closed her eyes to regain control of her senses before going for something to relieve her headache.

As she opened her eyes she no longer heard the voices. It was blessedly quiet, though the change in ambient sound however was discordant for her so she went into sickbay. It was empty of all personnel, but had been cleaned up. She was surprised at how quickly her staff was able to clean up after the mass of incoming injured. She wasn’t ready to close up her recent reports for the Captain so she called up to the bridge to check on the current status of possible incoming wounded.

=^=Medical to Commander Paris=^= she waited

=^=Medical to Commander Paris=^= she waited

=^=Medical to the Captain=^= nothing

=^=Dr. Mah to Security =^= still nothing, she was beginning to get worried

=^= Dr. Mah to Security=^= she headed to the bridge as she called to other departments

=^= Dr. Mah to Engineering=^= she had no answer and was now running to the turbolift

The turbolift arrived at the bridge where she found the entire crew gone. The main viewer showed nothing but a nebula in space. She looked around and went to the science station, looking for the readout of life signs onboard, it showed none.

=^= Dr. Mah to Dr. Power=^= still nothing but a weird buzz

=^= Dr. Mah to Emergency Medical System=^= the results were the same

She looked around stunned and then felt Rei, her friend also known as Death behind her. Tova turned around relieved to see a familiar face. “Thank the gods, you are here. Do you know what happened? Where is everyone?”

Rei looked at Tovanna with sadness, “Yes, I know where they are and what has happened.”

Tova’s face dropped, “Rei, what’s going on? Why are we alone?”
Rei looked down, “My time has come Tova and I need to entrust you with a sacred duty, a favor.”

Tova stepped back shaking her head, “Rei you can’t ask this of me. I’m a healer, a doctor.”

Taxes stepped up beside Rei, “I had another chosen to take my place, but the cost right now would be a loss to her partner, her children, and her crew. You have no one, are bonded to no one, you are alone. You are a long lived species and can serve in this duty longer than most avoiding others this fate for centuries, nay millenniums. You can save her, you can save others this pain and you know the impact of what you are doing. You will honor those who blink out of the existence and remember them as they do. You will mourn them and can bear the burden. I ask this of you because you can shoulder the weight of such a responsibility. You have given up so much already for your family, your species, your friends, even strangers, now I ask you to do so one last time.”

Tova sat in one of the bridge chairs hearing Rei’s well stated plea. She shook with the knowledge of her decision and looked up at Rei. “Why now?”

Rei placed her hand on Taxes, “I have fulfilled my duties after the Hera entered the vortex and this place is one of transition so it can be done with greater ease here.” She walked up to Tova, “You are the best candidate Tovanna, you are already extinct and you know it. Being Death will make no difference.”

The truth of Rei’s last statement broke Tovanna. She felt more alone than ever and absolutely useless. There were students coming out doing what she was every year at Starfleet Academy. She was never going to save anyone of major importance; she would never make a real difference. She was just a listener watching others live their lives with none of her own. Tova held back her tears and stood before Rei with resignation nodding, “You have served your time. I will not cost another their life when I have no one who will miss me. What do I need to do?”

Rei looked at Tova, “Do you want to know who it is you are saving? What you are giving up? The future you might have had should you chose differently?”

The doctor’s head cocked to one side, “Does it matter who I am saving? I am giving up nothing at present other than a career I have had for over half a century and family back on Earth who are strangers. As for my future that is always a series of what if, not what is so there are no guarantees. Why are you asking this if your time is up and you need to pass on?”

Rei’s face turned dark, “I wanted to take measure of the person who would replace me. Would you give up so easily? Would you give life away so easily? Are you so hopeless and easily swayed, so spineless?” Her face shifted to the more neutral face of the bony plated featureless creature from her culture’s view of Death. Uncaring, unfeeling Death now looked upon their more true to form and no longer the warm creature known as Rei. “Life is a gift, which you value for all but yourself. Can you find any value within yourself beyond the service you render to others? Are you so worthless?”

Tovanna Mah stepped back as the presence of Death grew before her. “N..no, I just meant I was willing to save another…”

Death swept their hand before them, “Enough woman. I’ve heard such arguments before, the nobility of self-sacrifice, the aspirations to help others. I am asking you Tovanna Mah, what more is there beyond doctor and daughter? I swept through your people with ease and left a mere handful scattered in the galaxy, is there anything worthy within you to be kept among their number?”

She looked confused, “But I thought you said you needed to find a replacement, that I…”

Death cut her off again, “Do you honestly think you are the only worthy option in the entire universe?” Death’s hollow laugh was harrowing, “How arrogant of you Tova, there are others. There are others of planets untold who are just as worthy if not more so. They value life starting with their own. You value everyone’s life but your own. How sad and pathetic you are Tovanna Mah. All you have are titles and only two at that.” Death shook its head, “No, you will not do. You should have died with the others in the Nexus. It is merely a shame you did not exist until after. There were so many others more worthy than you….” Death faded away into nothing with Taxes.

She was left on the empty bridge alone looking into a nebula shaken by what had transpired. How would she go anywhere? Was she doomed to the ship and for how long? She looked at the ship’s heading as best she could gather and it seemed they were at a full stop. She set up a distress signal per regulations and attempted to return to Medical. When she stepped off the turbolift however she was near her quarters. Upon entering she found a ghostlike vision of herself, reading a book alone nothing more. She backed out only to see herself alone again and again around the ship in the same ghostlike fashion never interacting with anyone, never speaking to anyone, just alone.

It seemed like days of this went on as she explored the ship finding no one, not being able to interact with the ghostly versions of herself and never seeing Death return. Her heart grew heavy as time passed knowing she had only time, endless time to learn how to operate the large ship alone. Nothing changed, no one came, the world was much like her world before only now there was no family to call on her, no patients to define her life. The El-Alurain listener had no one to listen to.

She returned to her desk at sickbay with a headache from the deafening quiet after a long day and closed her eyes before getting something for her headache. She awoke to a hypo applied to her neck while lying on an exam table, looking up at Dr. Adam Power. When she saw him she burst into tears at the overwhelming emotion of no longer being alone and the realization she needed to change some things within her life. She sat up and hugged the poor hologram fiercely not give one iota about professionalism, “It’s good to see you again.”

"It's only been 5 minutes since you lost consciousness at your desk Dr. Mah," Dr. Power looked confused.

She pulled away shaking her head, "I'm sorry, I had the worst nightmare."

"That would match your neurological readouts," Adam nodded.

She slid off the biobed, "We should check to make sure I'm not the only one with this issue..." she continued almost hitting the floor as Dr. Adam Power kept her from landing on her butt.

He nodded, "After you can stay on you feet. We have a great number of incoming injured and will need all hands possible, including yours."

Dr. Mah nodded her head with a look of great concern toward Dr. Power and let out a deep breath, "I fear we are going to have a great deal more than on our hands than we even realize."

”We’ll be back in regular space in no time.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ensign O’Dell knows what she’s doing.”

“It will be okay, Ensign Gavarus.”

But Ensign Briaar Gavarus wasn’t feeling okay at all, in spite of the reassurances from her superior officers. The Hera was still stuck in some kind of spatial rift with no stars, surrounded by a bizarre, roiling blackness that she couldn’t bear to look at anymore, which had made Ten-Forward unbearable to even think about for the alcoholic Tellarite engineer.

Not that she could stomach the idea of going there without her unlikely life-partner, Fiona O’Dell. But Fiona was gone. Or rather, SHE and the ship was the ones that were gone. Fiona had been in the Silver Banshee when the Hera had been sucked into a spatial anomaly, and they lost all communication with the rest of reality.

Sitting in their expansive, family quarters, the portly porcine was still wearing her blue R&D uniform, with the front flap open and a noticeably large beer stain across her prodigious belly as she paced back and forth, bouncing her and Fiona’s adopted daughter, Minerva O’Dell, on her significant hip.

“Yeah… I know.” the anxious engineer muttered to the fussy Minotaur toddler, “I know you want your Mum. I want her too, Minnie Moo. But for tonight, it’s… it’s… j… just you an’ me. Uh… i… i… it’s like a little mini-adventure. It’s an away-mission. Right?”

Taking a swig of her mostly empty beer, her third of the night since she left the R&D department earlier, the two-meter tall Tellarite was grinding her jaws as she tried to calm down her distressed child, who could tell something was seriously wrong with both the ship and her mother.

Tossing the empty bottle in the reclamator, Gavarus ran one of her thick, three fingered hands through her wiry, platinum blonde hair and let out a long sigh. “O… Okay. Maybe we should just try to get some sleep, right kiddo?”

Little Minnie squirmed slightly in Gavarus’ arms as they stepped over the minefield of toys that had been strewn across the deck over the last couple of hours as the overwhelmed woman tried to distract their daughter. Blocks, balls, soft Lego-like building sets and stuffed animals littered the ground beneath them like fallen soldiers as they stepped into the bedroom with the large bed that seemed entirely too empty. As she put little Minnie down into the center of the bed and began to take her uniform off, her mind raced.

I’m… I can’t handle this. I can’t handle not knowing if Fee’s out there. I don’t even know if she’s still… what if those f***ing Romulans caught her when we got sucked into this effed up nightmare. She thought to herself as she kicked her clothes into the messy pile in the corner and grabbed a plain, white nightshirt. On the bed, little Minnie was looking around, half expecting a mop of red curls to come around the corner and hop onto the bed with her but the two were very much alone. Fiona was gone. Jaeih Dox, who often babysat for them, was off the ship as well. Even Ethel Jablonski, who was the unlikely parent’s friend, had gone with Jaeih and the goddess Hera to oversee Mona Gonadie and Lieutenant Commander Dox as they left to have their own babies. In one moment, Gavarus’ entire support structure had all but vanished.

“Computer, lights to ten percent.” She said, as the computer chirruped and the lights dimmed. Taking a breath, Gavarus crawled next to Minnie in the bed and did her best to smile. “C’mon, wriggler. Let’s get some sleep, okay? Just you an’ me. Okay?”

Looking over, Minnie’s big brown eyes were damp and her lower lip was quivering as she leaned in and hugged Gavarus tight. “No sad, Momma. No sad.” the tiny tot muttered as she sniffled with Briaar’s thick arm holding her tight.

“I… I’m okay, Minnie Moo. See! No tears, okay. You just get some sleep. I gotcha.” Briaar nodded as she looked deep into those big, wide eyes and put on the best smile she could. “I gotcha.”

Holding her adopted daughter extra tight, the portly porcine did her best not to cry as slowly, exhaustion kicked in and she drifted off to sleep.

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

“Fee!? Minnie?!” Briaar said as she shot up in bed, no idea what time it was. All she knew as she padded her hand across the bed was that she was alone in it. Fiona was still gone, but now, so was Minerva.

Sitting up stiffly, the rotund engineer squinted as she tried to focus in the dimly lit room, but she couldn’t see her daughter anywhere. “Minnie Moo? Where did you go, kiddo? Come back to bed?”

But there was no answer.

As the fog of sleep began to fade, it was quickly replaced by a mounting feeling of dread as she crawled out of the bed and stood up. “Computer, lights.”

Looking around, nothing happened. The lights remained a dim, hazy thing and the whole room had a dull quality to it. Nothing seemed to want to focus for her as she began looking around. Once the bedroom and the refresher were checked, she lumbered into the living quarters, which were just as dim. The room was smaller than she remembered it to be. The toys she was sure she had left all over the floor were nowhere to be seen and instead of the large couch, there was the smaller affair she had in her old, single-occupancy quarters. There were beer bottles all around and greasy engine parts on a tarp in the corner.

“Minnie! Stop playing around! You… you come right out this minute young lady!” She yelled a bit louder and more stern sounding, but there was nothing. No reply. No anything.

“Gods DAMN IT, Computer. Frickin’ LIGHTS!” Briaar shouted, but still nothing happened. The room was still dim and hazy as she got on her knees and began scrambling around the room, looking under everything she could, but still, Minnie was gone.

Clamoring back into the bedroom, she lifted up the corner of the bed to make sure Minnie hadn’t inexplicably crawled under it, to no avail. Then she began to tear through the closet in a panic, now. As she tossed her clothes that had piled up on the floor, she felt something furry at the bottom of the pile. Something furry that was cold and wasn’t moving.

“Oh Gods, No! No! No! NO!!!” She called out in a panic as she dug through the clothes only to find, at the bottom of her closet, her white-furred Tribble, Cueball, dead.

“C… Cueball? But… Why aren’t you in your… This isn’t right? We found you and you were okay?” She said, her eyes darting back and forth as she nudged the cold little ball of fur in her hand until she heard a squishing sound. Pulling her fingers back, her stubby, hooved nails were longer and unkempt. And they had blood on them.

“Gyaaagh!!!” Briaar shouted as she leapt back up, slamming her back hard against the bulkhead. Her platinum hair was out of it’s ponytail as she looked down. The piles of clothes and Cueball were gone, as was the blood on her fingers. But as she looked at her hands in the dim light, something else was wrong.

Her nails were untrimmed and jagged. Her arms had thick, wiry stubble all over them. Feeling up to her own face, she felt more curly hairs coming out of her chin as she felt herself go cold. Feeling her mouth, the two thick bottom tusks that she had to regularly have ground down were jutting out of her mouth, jagged ugly horrible things. “Nononononono! This… this isn’t… MINNIE!!?! WHERE ARE YOU!?!?”

Going over to the mirror over the sink, she saw her reflection. Looking at herself, she was what she had worked so hard not to be. Her body was covered in wiry hair. Her tusks protruded prominently out from her jaw. She wasn’t a woman. She was just a hog, like everyone always said she was. A filthy farm animal who lived on and in garbage, a thing. “Fee…” She whispered, tears in her eyes and fear rippling through her voice. “Where are you, Fee? I can’t do this by myself.”

"Wahhhl, isn't this joost a fookin delight? I been gone fuir less than a day, ye lost our daaaater, ye killed poor Cueball and noow ye forgot how ta shave already. Ain't you a fookin sight?" came O'Dell's voice, seemingly from out of nowhere.

The words didn't quite register near as much as the familiarity of the voice. That familiar, Irish brogue she knew well, but that somehow sounded wrong as Briaar jerked around from the mirror. "Fee!? FEE!!! Are you back!? W... What's happening, Fee!?! Where are you!?!"

"I'm a ghost, ye dim circuit," came the voice from nowhere and everywhere. "Ye canna figure oot if I nivvir was in yuir life or nivvir shoulda been, but yuir damn sure I'm done for this time. All because ye left me ta die oot there all alone in space. Because ye said ye'd protect me an ye didn't, and noow I'm a deader, boo hoo. Lot of the O'Dell's, apparently. S'what we're good at- dyin' tragically, aye? Cheers."

There was no glass to clink against, no freckle-faced drunken grin. Just the voice in her head that sounded like memory, but... disappointed.

Tears began to streak Briaar's cheeks as she slammed her hands against her ears and screamed. "No!!! It's not TRUE!!!"

Shaking her head, she broke out in a run towards the door to the main corridor as she continued to protest. At the door, instead of opening automatically, the door remained closed and the towering Tellarite slammed into it hard. "AGGH! N... No! You're NOT DEAD! You're NOT! I don't believe you!!"

"Loook at ye? "Ye disgust me." The voice of Fiona said as it echoed in the dark room. "A fat, their beast. Ye belong in a baaaarnyard, not a bedroom. Or did ye really think it was me brother that made me cringe at the thought'a ye touchin' me? Yer a thing, nae a woman. An' a thing that got me killed wit yer incompetence."

Clutching her shoulder, she flumped hard to her knees, and instead of the worn carpeting of their quarters, she felt the cold bite of metal deckplates. "I'm... I'm sorry. I... I... should have been... I should have built it better. Made it stronger for you. Made it better!"

"It's... It's my fault. I'm sorry, Fiona." Briaar sniffed as she slowly looked up to find herself on the flight deck of the R&D Department. But it too was dark, with only the sim, red emergency lights flickering in the distance.

"Fee? Fiona? Please don't be dead. I... I need you." She sniffed from her knees, wiping snot from her snout. "I can't do this without you. I can't..."

"What about us?" came the familiar voice of Mona Gonadies from a distance, as Lieutenant Commander Dox joined in. "You screwed up the maintenance check on the Khallianen and we never made it back from Miradon. Me, Mona, my mother and our three chicks.... all nothing but frozen space dust because of you, fatso."

"Congratulations." the voice of the stern, Romulan flight chief echoed around her, a gravely hiss. "You lost your family... and killed mine. Excellent work, Ensign. This is why Thex kicked you out of the Engineering department, obviously."

"Briaar." Came the voice of Mona, the brilliantly inventive, nurturing department chief that had taken Briaar under her literal wing, "We trusted you. I thought you were better than this. I thought you were good enough. How could you, Briaar? My chicks?"

Turning with a jerk, Briaar looked into the darkness where Mona Gonadie's office should be, and in the shadows, she could swear she saw shapes moving. The outline of figures just out of view, if only the light would turn on fully. "What? No. No, I didn't. I m... mean... I did. I DID do the maintenance check right! I d... did it twice! I c... couldn't have! You... you can't be dead too!? No! You're lying!"

Then, she heard the sound of footsteps. Or more accurately, hoof steps, coming from the edge of the platform overlooking the rest of the flight deck one level below. Hoofsteps, and more tiny steps along with it. Slowly, Briaar turned away from the shapes that condemned her from the corner, as she heard a small, familiar voice. "Hullo, Mommy."

"Oh no. No, no, no, no..." Briaar muttered as she looked, and there on the edge of the platform was little Minnie. But her fur was matted and graying and her big, brown eyes looked foggy and glassy. Sitting on the deck in front of her was a horrific sight that turned the young engineer's stomach. Three young children, thin and emaciated, wrigging on the deck. Splotchy, mottled feathers on their mottled, greening blue skin. When they opened their mouths, a sickly and weak squawking sound. 

"Thank you, Mommy. Now I'll have friends to play with." Came the eerily clear, shuddering voice that seemed to almost float out of her mouth. Clutching her mouth and shaking her head, Briaar was frozen in place for an instant. But only for an instant as, from behind the girls came a wrenching sound of metal on metal as the massive space doors flung themselves open, pulling the now limp bodies out into the nothingness. 

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!" Briaar screamed, a hoarse and broken sound like a squealing as she bolted up in bed, covered in tears. Her heart was beating a mile a minute as she clutched the sheets next to her as she looked around in a panic. There, at her side in bed, she could see through the dim, hazy light, Minnie still sleeping as she had been, seemingly oblivious to the screaming.

"Oh... Oh, Minnie. You're okay. You're safe." Briaar whispered in the dark as she covered her mouth. Feeling, her tusks were ground down as they usually were and she only had the normal amount of stubble she was used to at the end of a long day. "Oh, thank gods."

Then, as she sat there, trying to catch her breath, she whispered to the room. "Computer, lights to 35 percent." 

But nothing happened.

Nothing but the slight sound of someone walking in the other room. Slowly, that knot in her stomach started to return as she looked down to make sure Minnie was still there and still sleeping as she called out. "F... Fee? Is that you? Are you back?"

"BRI-A-A-A-RRRRR," came the distorted reply as the Thunderchicken tried to wedge itself through the bedroom door, the groan of straining metal intensifying as it pressed on, shredding the bulkheads in the process. The voice was hollow and empty, an electronic echo of Fiona's voice, like it sounded when the Thunderchicken thought it was Fiona and crushed Briaar's ribs in the process.

"C'MERE AND GIVE US A HUG," the monstrous version of the experimental craft lumbered toward her, metal hands outstretched and snapping together in a rather threatening version of Minnie's 'grabby hands'. As it lumbered into the room, destroying every item of furniture it encountered, it moved to scoop Minnie's sleeping form off the bed.

In that instant, the gut-wrenching panic Briaar was feeling was immediately replaced with purpose as she lunged as quickly as she could onto the bed, scooping the tiny, sleeping Minotaur toddler in her arms as she rolled off the bed and slammed hard into the far wall as the metal hands slammed into the bed, crushing it into pieces. 

But the lungs had forced Briaar into the corner of the room with Minnie in her arms as the THunder Chicken swiped the remains of the bed across the room.

"DOOOOAN RUN, LEMME HUG YOOOOO..." the mechanoid rumbled as it closed in on Briaar Gavarus and her child.

Scrambling into the corner, Briaar clutched the still sleeping Minnie tight as the massive Thunder Chicken filled almost the entire room. The top of the canopy scraped the ceiling as its shoulders rammed against the bulkheads as it lumbered forward. It's clanging metal hands inched closer as the portly porcine let tears streak down her face as she shook her head.

Looking down, she couldn't believe how peaceful Minnie looked as she somehow was still asleep in her arms. Shaking her head, she kissed her daughter on the head and whispered, "It will be over soon. I'm so sorry. I failed you. I... I failed you and Fiona. I failed the Chief and the L-C. I f... failed everyone. I'm so sorry, Minnie Moo."

As the massive, metal arms began to wrap around her, Briar curled up into a ball and as the cold tritanium touched her bare arms, she let out a squeal of a scream/ "EEEEEEE!!!!!!"

As she did, the tiny tot In her arms snapped her eyes open wide and looked up. "NO!! No, Momma!! No sad! Wake up!"

"What?" Briaar said, looking down as darkness wrapped around her and she felt a pressure closing in on her chest making it hard to breathe. Looking up, Minnie's big brown eyes were bright and scared looking as she put her tiny, three-fingered hands on Briaar's cheeks. 

"WAKE UP, MOMMA!!!"

Blinking, Briaar was laying on her back, still in her clearly intact bed as Minerva had climbed up on her chest, her weight pressing down a bit hard as the toddler had her hands on Briaar's cheeks and was shaking her mother's head. "Momma?"

"M... Minnie? Oh, Minnie... you're safe. You're okay, oh thank gods, I was so scared." She said, sitting up with a grunt and squeezing Minnie so tight that the tiny tot gasped for a moment. Then. after looking deep into those big, brown eyes for a second, she looked up and spoke to the room. "Computer, lights."

With a chirrup, the lights gently returned to full illumination as Briaar squinted. "Oh, I'm sorry I scared you, honey. Mommy... Mommy was just having a bad dream. But... But you got me. You woke me up. You brought me back."

Looking up, the miniature Minotaur put her tiny hooves hand on Briaar's forehead. "I find. I find Mommy."

"Y... you did, didn't you? You found me. You found me and I got you. And we'll find your Mum, too. I promise, sweetheart." Briaar said as she held her child tight, sitting there in their quarters together. 

With the lights on.

The largest cabin on the Golden Ghost was still relatively small by Federation standards, especially for a family of now five, and Mona was still having a hard time wrangling the three newborn chicks to get them fed as they did their very best to fly around like chickens. They'd make it up to the lower shelves with a lot of flapping, then from there, flap their way across the room like it was a game to another set of shelves, then to the couch, then glide to the floor and repeat.

And poor Mona was running around no longer filled with pregnancy hormones and without her heightened bond-awareness so they were evading her fairly easily, leaving her somewhat frazzled.

Eventually, she finally put her foot down, rested her hands on her ample hips, and scowled. "It is time for all good chicks to eat and if you don't eat, you can't grow up to be big strong birds like your parents. So that means you all need to stop playing and line up, right now!"

All three ignored her and kept playing and laughing as if she weren't even there.

"So help me..." Mona muttered under her breath as she flopped down on the couch just in time to catch Tala. "Finally..." Then she felt Dox through the chicks' bond coming back to their quarters, possibly with bad news as she felt rather grumpy.

The chicks' mental abilities were still strong. Extremely strong, it seemed, as the quietest of the three girls transmitted her senses to Mona through touch. Looking up with her big, bronze-colored eyes, the young girl with an already brilliant plume of greenish-blue down and feathers crowning her head, said in a gentle voice. "Ri’anov?"

It was the Romulan word for mother, that the chicks used when referring to the other half of their parents. The decidedly Romulan half, that was stepping through the door with a PaDD in her hand and a scowl on her face. Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox might have only been the flight chief on the Hera, but on the Artan-Run GOLDEN GHOST, her rank as an Artan Baroness put the ship under her uncomfortable command.

Unfastening the neck of her crimson Starfleet uniform, which she preferred to wear on the Ghost so that the crew would remember that the young, redheaded Romulan woman WAS a Starfleet officer first and foremost, stepped over to Mona and smiled as much as she could. "Sorry, I'm late getting back. My attempt at contacting Starfleet and the Admiralty... took longer than I thought and didn't exactly go well."

"Then you can tell me about it while you help me convince these three it's time to eat," Mona replied, leaning back on the couch, exhausted. "They listen to you more than me for some reason."

"Right. Okay, I'll see what I can do." Raising an eyebrow slightly, Dox took a slight breath. As always, she had a thousand things on her mind, but ultimately the four people in this room needed to be her primary concern before other considerations. In truth, she was far more frustrated trying to be an officer in charge of a situation she could do very little about than she was trying to adapt to being a mother, which as a concept still seemed so unusual for her.

A Mother. She was a mother. The three amazing, beautiful girls in the room where her and Mona's daughters. Her mind could barely wrap itself around the idea. In the day since the Golden Ghost had left Mona's homeworld of Miradon, every time Dox closed her eyes, she was half-afraid that when she opened them again, this would all somehow have only been a dream, it was still all so surreal to her. But it was real and it was wonderful and she was determined to not screw it up.

Mona was still sitting calmly in Mona's arms, though her eyes were fixed on Dox with that kind of deep focus that had become commonplace for her in these, her first days of life. On the edge of the bed, the slightly chunkier Hlai'vana was bouncing up and down on her hands and knees. Of the three, she had the least amount of feathers and looked the most Romulan, with mostly dark black plumage on her head, pierced by two shocking streaks of crimson red that stretched back from her eyebrows to the nape of her neck. And she was leaning over the edge of the couch, poking her other sister, Amihan, on the forehead, giggling each time.

For her part, the golden-plumed Ami, who had almost complete coverage of feathers and looked the most Miradonian of the three made a rythmic ringing sound every time her sister booped her. But when Dox cleared her throat and spoke, all three fixed their attention on her with the same intensity that Tala had. "Really? Are you three not eating? Are you not listing to your Nona?"

For just a moment, Dox was taken aback by hearing what sounded like her OWN mother's voice coming out of her and she tensed up at the idea, before shaking it off and picking up the two, wayward birds and plopping them on the couch next to Tala, on Mona's side. "When your Nona says it's time to eat, it's time to eat, young ladies."

Using the Miradonian word for 'mother' to mean Mona, Dox went over and opened a small travel container of the golden Miradonian paste-meal that, for now, was the primary part of the chick's diet, along with a plant-based milk-like drink that was extremely high in sugar that they had gotten a few kegs of from Miradon that they also needed. Preparing a large bowl and a small, rubber spoon, Mnhei'sahe walked over and sat on the floor, cross-legged in front of the couch, handing the PaDD that she had tucked under her arm to Mona.

While she began to start feeding the children small spoonfuls, one at a time, she kept her eyes on the fidgety girls, while talking to her beleaguered wife. "Again, I AM sorry it took so long. With the Ghost not just being an Artan ship, but a repurposed Romulan Bird of Prey, the comm frequency isn't considered as secure at a Starfleet intel one, so it took a while just to get through. Eventually, Admiral Meowlth replied, but she wasn't particularly... direct."

As Hlai'vana pushed a little forward, trying to snipe an extra spoonful from Tala, Dox leaned in and narrowed her eyes at the little girl that looked so much like her Romulan mother it was a little creepy. "Hlai'vana ir-Quen'toukie t'Sendatu-onay GoDox! Wait your turn."

While the children were only a little over a week old, they were extremely developed. While their telepathic bonds often meant that Miradonian children learned a basic grasp of language in the womb and came out muttering, they seemed to be advanced beyond even that. They could speak a few words already, in three different languages, and seemed to completely grasp when their mothers spoke to them. And, in this case, the utterance of Hlai'vana's full... and extremely long name, had the desired effect of restoring order as Mona looked at the PaDD that replayed the one-way message from the Starfleet Admiral.

"So she can neither confirm nor deny anything, except..." Mona began with a frown as she began playback of the message. "You know most people would assume she's a Vulcan and that everything she's saying is the truth," she mused, adding her own notes to it on which phrases were lies and which were truths or partial truths. "So there's no contact with the Hera, she doesn't know why, Rendal's ship escaped back across the neutral zone, the Persephone is likely investigating. That's what I gather from her pulse, breathing, and eye dilation."

"And I can't really tell her what Hera and Rei told ME over the same frequency." Dox sighed slightly as the chicks continued to take their tiny spoonfuls that she gently presented to each, one after the other. As they ate, they began to thrum gently with happiness.

"But, the reference to the Persephone tells me that they're likely already there. At Warp 7.5, we should arrive in the system in about six days at the most. Maenek t'Liun said she was going to see if she could milk a bit more speed out of the engines, though." Dox said, the frustration clear in her voice as she spoke. "As for the Admiral, she's V'gelnian. Vulcanoid Rigellian. She's as Vulcan as I am as a Romulan, where lying is involved."

After another few moments, the bowl was empty, and the girls sat back up and began fidgeting slightly. "Once we get there, I can find out more about what's going on, I hope. It's just... frustrating. I'm sorry, Jhu Dhael."

Putting the bowl on the deck, Dox pulled herself up, picked up Vana and Ami and sat next to her wife and bond-mate, who she called 'Angel Bird' in Romulan. The three girls were sitting, spread out between the two women's laps, and now all five were physically touching again, reconnecting them all emotionally and telepathically.

The brightly plumed Miradonian woman leaned into her snuggle with her bond-mate as she thrummed softly. "I really miss being able to tell where you are from across the galaxy, let alone across the ship. Promise me you'll never leave my side again, my Minay?"

"I wish I could. I truly do." Dox said, leaning into Mona as the Chicks began trying to climb up on the both of them rather gently, but forcefully. "And it looks as if they agree. All I can promise... Is that as long as I'm able, I'll always come back."

As Dox spoke, Hlai'Vana got just a little higher than the other two and began planting her feet into her Romulan mother's chest quite firmly, a determined look on her face. Raising her eyebrow and smiling slightly, the Romulan pilot could feel the waves of thoughts and emotions through their link and saw an image of flight in her mind. "Oh, I know what this is."

Putting a hand behind the black and red feathered little girl, Doc caught her as she tried to kick off into the air. "Gotcha, Wild Bird. We certainly named you correctly. They're still trying to fly, I see. How's that been going, Mona?"

"Unless we can convince them to reduce gravity in here to Miradonian standards..." Mona began, rubbing her hand through the feathers on her head in frustration as Tala also started climbing up her to try and take off. "I doubt they'll grow out of it any time soon. They're also refusing to wear the boffer belts Briaar made. On the bright side, they at least know to go potty in the refresher..."

Sighing, Dox could literally feel Mona's frustration through their bond and it hurt her just a bit. Especially since it was her DNA that was limiting the children's Miradonian abilities due to the increased bone and muscle density of Romulan biology being a part of their make up. "Well, I know the specs well enough for a T'liss class Bird of Prey, and unfortunately that wouldn't be feasible here."

Holding them all a little tighter, the kids could also feel their mother's emotions and calmed down just a little, trilling in unison. "The sensors, weapons and engines are all modern, but the substructure and gravity generators, while in excellent condition, are still largely a century-plus old. This ship isn't designed to be able to regulate individual rooms for specific gravity, and the crew would likely... freak out to bouncing around the ship."

Looking down at the chicks, Dox ran a finger through Mona's feathers, massaging her head a little as they talked. "But back on the Hera, we will be able to adjust the gravity in our quarters, and the shipwide holo-emitters can be adjusted to generate a little extra padding on everything. Plus, the holodeck can replicate almost any gravity scenario. They will see through the visuals, but I figure we can design something fun for them with that in mind." 

"How long, under normal circumstances, would they be able to fly? You said you grew too heavy after a little bit." Dox asked gently.

"I was able to fly until I was three, so I figure they should be able to until they're two." Mona pulled out a small PaDD and pulled up some medical readouts. "They'll still be able to do about what they're doing now until they're four since I was able to until I was about six. As for seeing through holos... The docs on Miradon did an eye test - standard procedure for mixed parentage. Though they all have compound eyes like I do and they're still developing, they're pretty sure only Ami will have the full racial abilities. Vana likely sees things more like you do, since she only has three sets of receptors like you do rather than the full twenty-three like me. And Tala looks to be about halfway, with about 14 receptors."

At which, the golden-feathered Amihan began humming a bit to the rhythm of their mutual thrumming. It was a melodious sound, like a literal songbird that was remarkably soothing. "I think she likes us talking about her. heh."

"Though, they all react to Hera as though they can see her aura. I wonder if that's more their extrasensory abilities, though." Dox said, a quizzical expression taking over her face. "Mona, I know you told me about how Miradonian's mature... but... they seem to be so... developed. They're moving like toddlers."

"Yeah, they should be able to feed themselves in a few months. I understand that that's pretty fast for a sentient race, but that's just how we evolved. Some say guided by the twin goddesses themselves into the perfect race. Some say by chance." The brightly plumed Miradonian woman stroked a hand over Tala's feathers as she leaned her head against Dox's shoulder.

"You know, Ami has my mother's plumage? She had beautiful golden and silver feathers as well. She was descended from the arctic tribes. Father was a tropical blue mix like me and Tala. He was a Chronicler from Quen'quen when he met my mother in the frozen Quen'adia. Then, rather than start a family in either of their homes, when the call for volunteers to start an experimental colony came up, they jumped on the chance."

It was rare for Mona to ever speak of her birth-parents, considering her traumatic past, but Dox listened and did her best to share her love through their bond, and through that bond she could almost see what Mona was describing. While Mona spoke, Ami nudged her head up under Mona's hand and tried to co-opt some of the attention Tala was getting. Meanwhile, Hlai'vana tried to take the moment to sneak off of Dox's lap to no avail.

Pulling the seemingly most adventurous of the trio back over, the red-headed Romulan looked at the raven-black plumage on Hlai'vana, with streaks of crimson and ran a finger through her own red bangs. "Of everyone I saw on Miradon, I don't remember anyone with colors like her, though. I mean... it looks more like... she got this from me. Is that... possible?"

The tiny tot giggled slightly as she reached up and put her hand on her Romulan mother's hair, a curious look on her face as she explored the similar color, but completely different texture difference between feathers and hair.

"Red of any sort is rare on Miradon and black is non existent except in mixed-race pairings like ours," Mona replied, giving plenty of attention to Ami as well. "So yeah, I'd say so. I'm betting there's a lot of your lineage in them that we haven't noticed yet, as well. Like the way they grump about just before bed? Just like you after a long day at work."

"Oh, very funny." Dox said with a grin and a light chuckle. "I'm not grumpy, I'm... Romulan."

As she thought about it, her grin faded slightly. The children would have to deal with all of the slings and arrows that come with being Romulan, in spite of being half Miradonian. That, and the baggage of her own family history that was now theirs as well. "I try not to think about that, honestly. I... hoped the entire time that they would be so much more you than me."

"I've not met a single Rihannsu with feathers, though several have earned them," Mona replied with a grin. "Including you."

With a tight-lipped smile, Dox blushed. Mona saw her in a way nobody else seemed too, and it was still something that she sometimes had a hard time accepting. As such, a decidedly green color filled her cheeks which, this time caught Tala's attention, as the green and blue feathered newborn raised a very Romulan looking eyebrow to touch Dox's warm cheeks. As she did, she looked at Mona and smiled. 

The three chicks still thought largely in images and feelings, not really in words, so DOx could only wonder what was specifically going through the most observant and curious of the three's mind as her daughter examined her cheeks with her hand, only to then look at her own hand and smile even more broadly.

"I wonder what she's thinking. What she's seeing." Dox said, in a low, hushed voice to Mona.

"When you blush you have the exact same aura she does because your blood is warmer and closer to the surface," Mona explained, leaning in to plant a birdie kiss on her bond-mate. "And I'm betting she can see it quite clearly. When she grows up, I think she'll have your aura normally. She's also probably figured out that they have your blood. I can tell blood base and type just by looking at people blushing, you know."

Smiling, Dox leaned into the kiss and tucked into the couch a little tighter. "I shouldn't be surprised. What can't those beautiful eyes see?"

The brightly plumed aviatrix grinned wider. "Plenty, I assure you. Like our guest on deck eight that you visit every so often? I hear she has a horse that I equally find completely invisible. Then again, it's said that when we're old enough to finally see the great Bone Dragon Vhel'kur, it's our time so I'm in no rush to see her or anything related to her."

"I can understand that. And yeah, her horse is named 'Taxes'. I think it's an earth joke, or something. I used to be scared of horses, but he's... unusually sweet."

There was a moment where it was silent in the chamber but for the sound of the chicks thrumming, which Mona had joined in on. With one arm tucked behind Mona's back, Dox was holding Vana and Ami on her lap while Mona had Tala.

"I know that it's difficult for you not still having that level to your ability to sense our connection like you did when they were still in you. But, otherwise, I know we weren't able to spend as much time on Miradon as we planned, but... how are you doing? Are you... okay?"

"Other than being tired, yeah. I'm happy they're finally here where we can both enjoy taking care of them." Mona paused a moment as she booped Tala and Ami happily. "In fact, I don't think I've ever been more content in my life. I mean, I'm looking forward to getting back on the Hera, but overall... Yeah, I think I'm still on an emotional high."

"Content... that's a good word. And less frightening than saying 'happy'. But I am. I am... happy." Dox said with a smile. "Sometimes I feel afraid that I'll somehow wake up and none of this will be real. But..."

As Dox was talking, her commbadge chirruped. It had been patched into the Golden Ghost's communication system. Rolling her eyes, she groaned a bit as she tapped the badge and replied. "Yes?"

"Commander Dox. It's Maenek t'Liun. Would it be possible to discuss the list of vessels available from Baroness Sarika. I have some thoughts I'd like to go over with you." Came the voice of the Ghost's Commander and Chief Medical Officer.

Looking at the children in her arms and her wife beside her, Dox paused and shook her head slightly. "It would be possible, Maenek. At Oh Seven Hundred Hours in the morning, please. This evening, I'm spending with my family. That said, I'm interested in going over your ideas. Thank you. Dox out."

"Ie, Commander Dox. Thank you. t'Liun out."

Letting her head fall back against the back of the couch with a sigh, Dox smiled and turned towards Mona and chuckled lightly.

Mona chuckled as well. "I see you've taken Char's lesson to heart. I can say that I wholeheartedly approve." While she couldn't interact with it, since they were sleeping all together and Mona was still high on pregnancy hormones, she had been privy to that particular dream visitation of the spirit of the elder Romulan Starfleet Admiral that had taken Dox under her proverbial wing. "Though if you wander off in dreams like that any more, I'm going to start demanding that you get paid for it."

"In my defense, I was asleep at the time, and she was a ghost." Dox said as she scootched up on the couch a little. "But... I needed to hear what she had to tell me. That as important as our duties are, my primary duty needs to be to you. To you and to them."

"Not to the Artan fleet. Not to Starfleet. Not to the Rihannsu Senate or my Grandmother. To this. To our family." Dox said, a tear in her eye for the woman she had only met once who came across the veil from Vorta Vor to impart this lesson. 

"And that's what's most important on Miradon as well. Nothing outweighs family to us. Jobs, careers, schedules... They all revolve around either being single and helping you find family or having family and making concessions for it." Mona smiled brightly as she gave her bond-mate another kiss. "And I intend to make sure at least a little of that heritage is brought to the Hera."

Tanaak and five others had been chosen for an expedition to the other side of Itthakor, the Oriasi home world. The journey there had been somewhat of a blur. They’d had to cross the equator in a ship built to withstand the deadly heat and had emerged on the other side in full masks and armor. Desert succulents had given way to grass and shrubbery, to woodland trees, to jungle ferns as tall as clock towers, and finally to the vaasi’tenger or forest-sea; the arboreal ocean.

Tanaak didn’t know his traveling companions well, and with their masks on, they were only distinguishable by their body and horn types. There were two women and, including Tanaak, four men. One of the men and one of the women were hornless, but the rest of their features were hidden. The masks even disguised their voices.

“Ready for adventure?” asked one of the women; the one with horns. They were elegant, with an elongated corkscrew pattern.

“Right behind you,” replied the hornless male.

Another Oriasi whose horns swept back around his head like the brim of a sunhat stood close to Tanaak as they took in the scenery. The trees grew so close to each other that they could only venture on foot from here, and they were tall enough to dim the sun’s light. The trees were so old that the bark had petrified and turned to pearly white scabs that cracked and decorated the trunks in spiral patterns. The filtered light from overhead turned into a dreamy emerald haze around them, turning to a murky blue in the distance. “Things are about to get dark,” warned the man with the sunhat horns. “There’s a dead zone between us and the deepest part of the forest where light will no longer reach us. The atmosphere will be stifled by the heavy canopy, but the plant life won’t be dense enough to sustain anything with lungs.” He tapped the mask he was wearing. “Make sure you breathe through this until we pass through the dead zone. After that, they say the plants create their own atmosphere.”

The confidant woman with curled horns stepped forward, followed by the eager hornless male. Sunhat put a hand on Tanaak’s shoulder briefly and stepped in front of him, heading into the heart of the forest. Tanaak followed, looking over his shoulder to see their other two companions bringing up the rear, speaking to each other in hushed tones. He couldn’t see the ship they came in, and he couldn’t remember exactly how far back they had abandoned it. Time seemed to stretch and bend in this place. He faced front again and picked up his pace to catch up to Sunhat.

They walked for what felt like hours, but they never tired. They didn’t hunger or thirst. They barely spoke. The flowers began to lose their vibrant colors as they grew to be the size of people, but the fungus only became more creative. Plush purple shelves sprouted through cracks in the tree bark, and occasionally, Tanaak would step on a low fungal platform that would rupture under his weight and appear to bleed.

The sounds also changed with the darkening scenery. Nearly all avian noises above them had ceased, replaced by the groaning of the massive trees and scraping of insect wings as schools of bugs the size of children made way for the band of intruders.

“Lights” said Sunhat, and Tanaak and their companions turned on the headlamp features of their masks.

“Is mine on?” asked the curly-horned leader, turning around.

Tanaak’s light shone on her, but her mask remained dark. “It isn’t,” he said, holding out his hand. “I can check—”

“No,” Sunhat interrupted. “We’re in the dead zone; leave her mask alone. She can rely on the light from everyone else’s.”

Tanaak began to lower his arm, but Curly reached for his hand. “I’ll walk with you,” she said. Her tone was authoritative and decisive. She wasn’t afraid, and she certainly wasn’t showing weakness. Tanaak was impressed by the strength of her will and nodded.

The group pressed on through the dead zone. Tanaak became more and more disoriented. Sound flowed sluggishly through his ears, but the volume of everything was amplified. His companions resorted to speaking in whispers, but even these scratched uncomfortably at the corners of his mind. He caught glimpses of movement with his headlamp; movement of big things… ocean things.

Curly coughed next to him and squeezed his hand. “It smells like blood,” she murmured, “My mask…” She struggled to draw breath, and the wheezing sound she made pierced Tanaak’s soul and grated against his heart. He hadn’t ever wanted to hear those sounds again.

Tanaak pointed his light at her and saw her lift her hand to her face. “Don’t,” he said, but she reached behind her head and unfastened her mask. Tanaak’s heart hammered as the mask fell to the ground. “Maagus?” he whispered, recognizing his sister immediately in the harsh spotlight from his headlamp. “How are you here?” His knees felt weak. “Where have you been?! We thought you were dead!” His nose stung as tears welled under his eyes.

Maagus drew a long ragged breath and let go of her brother to wretch into the bushes, waving a hand behind her to keep him from hovering. When she was done, she spit a couple of times, stood up straight, shook her dark hair back and smiled at her brother. “I’m alright now.”

Tanaak felt his heart twist. That’s not good enough! How are you here? How can you breathe without your mask?!

“We’re past the dead zone,” Sunhat said from a few meters away, but his filtered voice sounded so much closer. “Leave your masks on if you can. You’ll still need your lights.”

Tanaak took his sister’s hand again and held it tightly. He felt a tear slip down his cheek. He couldn’t stop the expedition to ask for an explanation; he’d have to get one later.

Although she relied on his light and held his hand, Maagus walked a little ahead of Tanaak. She’d always been like that: fearless. Even when her body failed her and the sickness took hold.

It was a claustrophobic feeling, traveling through the undergrowth. Tanaak couldn’t see the stars, and he hated that, but little by little, unfamiliar pinpricks of light appeared. He thought they were hallucinations at first, wishful thinking on the part of his optic nerve, but they grew in number as the group traveled, illuminating the leaves and branches around them in a ghostly glow.

“Bioluminescence,” Sunhat murmured, the voice seeming to come from inside Tanaak’s ear. He paused, and the rest of the group came to a stop behind him. He pulled his mask down and let it hang around his neck. Tanaak followed suit and was suddenly hit with a dark, wet smell. He nearly gagged. It wasn’t particularly foul, but it was incredibly thick, making it hard to breathe. As he recovered, he turned to see how the rest of the group was faring.

“Spirits…” breathed Tanaak as a cold shock ran through his system. Every single person in their group was a member of his family. The hornless male was his brother, Harkos. The hornless female, their mother, stood next to their father. Tanaak took two big steps toward his father that he’d also believed to be dead. He was overwhelmed with emotion. He was ready to cling to the elder Sado and weep, but… something was very wrong.

Their father’s face was warped just slightly. It wasn’t enough to make him unrecognizable, but the skin seemed to pull at the edges. His mouth was too wide. His eyes bulged uncomfortably… and his features wouldn’t sit still. His whole face was like the surface of a lake, disrupted by gentle ripples that constantly obscured something just beneath the surface.

“Father…?” murmured Tanaak.

Their father opened his mouth, and Tanaak strained to hear his voice, longed to hear his voice. The man had been gone so long that Tanaak barely remembered the sound of it, but… all he could hear was the hollow raspy sound of an old man’s dying breaths.

Tanaak took another step closer. “Speak to me,” he pleaded.

The elder Sado’s face twisted in response, but he made no more sound.

“Please, speak to me!” Tanaak begged. He couldn’t remember his father’s voice. He needed to hear it one more time. He took another step, but this time, his father seemed to recede into the shadows. “Don’t go! Speak to me!” Tanaak shouted, running forward.

Their father’s face contorted in the dim light, then seemed to pull and burst. Shadows enveloped him, and then he was gone.

Tanaak turned to face his family. His mother had fallen to her knees, her other two children crouching next to her and whispering words of comfort that sounded to Tanaak like insects clawing at his skull. Then he noticed the man standing behind them. The man with the sunhat horns had revealed his face at last. Vandor! Tanaak’s heart leapt as he set his sore eyes on the face he loved most. There were so many questions on the tip of his tongue. Why are you all here? What did we just see? Does anyone remember why we came here and what we have to do? All these questions and more were lost before Tanaak could speak them. Something about this place where treacherous bioluminescent stars shifted their positions suppressed Tanaak’s capacity for logic. He took a few steps towards Vandor, whose gilded horns swept back around his head like a halo.

Vandor raised a hand to stop Tanaak. He slowly pointed above their heads. “Do you hear that?” he asked in a whisper. Even Vandor’s elegant voice gnawed at Tanaak’s brain.

Tanaak listened. He heard the creaking of the trees and far off rustling, the sounds of life. He closed his eyes and concentrated. There. He could hear something like gentle, rolling waves overhead. “What is that?”

“It’s a swarm,” Vandor replied. “It’s the biggest thing down here, made up of billions of tiny organisms. They move together in the dark like liquid shadow, and this swarm is most certainly what took your father.”

Tanaak began to sweat. “What can we do?”

Vandor shook his head. “We shouldn’t move now. Listen for the waves to crash. As long as you don’t hear that sound, we’ll be alright.”

“Crash?” Tanaak repeated.

“That will be when they break formation to strike. If you hear that—run. Put your mask on and run back to shore.”

“Won’t we be safe if we make it to the dead zone?” Maagus asked.

“The swarm doesn’t need to breathe the way we do. Just get as far away from it as you can,” Vandor replied with authority. “Take your scanners out and let’s get what we came for while we can. When the swarm moves on, we should head back.”

Tanaak activated the scanner on his gauntlet. It was of Oriasi design, and emitted a golden glow as it analyzed the forest around him, but he couldn’t concentrate on the readouts from his mineral samples as the sound of the waves lapped at the corners of his mind. Now that he’d heard the sound, he couldn’t stop hearing it. That gentle rolling sound meant that they weren’t safe. They would never be safe as long as they could hear that sound.

Crash.

It sounded so far away. Surely—

“RUN,” Vandor instructed. He put his mask back over his face and shone his light onto the return path. He gestured frantically for Tanaak’s family to follow, and soon all five were sprinting through the forest.

Tanaak could hear something buzzing behind his head. He could hear his own breathing in the mask, terrified panting. Then he heard his sister start to wheeze. She’d left her mask on the ground. She stumbled. Fell.

“Maagus!” cried their mother, stopping and turning back for her daughter.

Tanaak bent and lifted his sister over his shoulder. The buzzing grew louder. He tried to keep pressing forward as the sound concentrated next to his head. It was coming from his sister. He glanced at her and saw that her skin was pulling the way his father’s had. With a trembling heart, he set her body down among the leaves and backed away as his sister was consumed by shadow.

“What have you done?!” howled Tanaak’s mother. Her voice had deepened and cracked with despair. She ran for the place where Maagus had been devoured, but Tanaak caught her arm. Although the buzzing had stopped as soon as he released his sister, the gentle sound of waves was still close overhead.

“Come on, Mother,” Tanaak said gently but firmly.

Harkos came to comfort their mother and spoke up. “We can’t wait for it to go away. We have to put distance between us while it’s getting ready for another attack.”

Although Harkos had addressed Tanaak, Vandor answered him. “You’re right. We should keep moving.”

Tanaak’s mother walked with Harkos, unwilling to look at Tanaak or speak to him. Tanaak walked as close to Vandor as he could, hoping Vandor’s presence could comfort him, but Vandor didn’t speak to him either.

They walked until the bioluminescent lights faded behind them.

Still they heard the waves.

They walked until they could see light that didn’t come from their masks.

Still they heard the waves.

The amplified sounds of the forest and Tanaak’s own breathing had faded, but the waves sounded louder than ever. Tanaak ran a hand through his short hair and made a fist, pulling at his scalp. “What if it follows us all the way to shore?” he groaned.

Harkos stopped walking. “Is that possible?”

Vandor’s calm demeanor shifted to one of troubled thought. “It shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be possible.”

Tanaak’s mother sat down. “I’m not losing any more of my children,” she said. “I’m staying right here.

Harkos bent next to their mother. “No you’re not, get up.”

“Hurry,” she pleaded, pushing him away. “You have to live.”

Crash.

“Grab her!” Tanaak yelled at his brother as he and Vandor started to run. Harkos was fast. Harkos was capable. Tanaak didn’t look back.

They ran until they couldn’t hear the waves anymore.

Tanaak took off his mask and took a deep breath. The forest was still dim, but enough natural light filtered through the trees that Tanaak could see. He could hear birds again. He grinned at Vandor. “We did it,” he said. “We escaped.”

Vandor was quiet.

Tanaak looked for Harkos and their mother, but they were long gone. Did I sacrifice them? Did I purposefully leave them behind so that I could escape? he wondered. His heart was heavy and his mind was foggy. “Vandor…” he called weakly, holding out a hand, but Vandor turned and walked away. “Vandor!”

“You can see the stars, right?” Vandor called over his shoulder. “You don’t need me anymore.” He wandered farther from Tanaak until he disappeared into the dreamy emerald haze. “And I don’t need you.”

Tanaak found himself alone.

He made his way towards the shore, but guilt and loneliness tore away at his spirit. He heard a deep awkward choking noise and turned to see if anyone was with him, but there was no one. The sound came again and this time he realized that it had come from him. Sleep reluctantly withdrew her fingers from Tanaak’s mind as he scrambled for a foothold in reality where sat up, opened his eyes, and wiped the tears from his face.

~~~end

The stone woman known as Malana rarely slept as most would know it, but often as she lived among biologicals, she meditated and sat motionless for hours on end, paying no attention to the outside world. Instead, she focused on the inside and assessed what she had learned.

A literal mountain of a woman, she wasn’t particularly tall or even that wide. If seen in silhouette next to the Hera’s security team, she would seem smaller. But her anatomical structure was silicone based and her body itself was nearly 270 kilos, being made of mostly stone, and as such was extremely dense physically. But to simply look at her, most would only see a tall, well built woman with steel blue hair and eyes like black marble.

On this day, as she sat in her quarters, various rock samples on the shelves and heavy steel furniture scattered about the room, her meditations were a little different. There was something that she cold not define that seemed to pull at the edges of her consciousness. Something drew her mind off of her reflections and deeper into what she could only assume was what organics would think of as slumber.

Slumber... and a dream.

It was a unique and fascinating sensation. She had never dreamt before. Not the way organic beings did. But in her long conversations with her newfound friend, the Edosian Ensign Wieaex, she had heard much of that woman’s dreams, both metaphorical and literal. And as a scientist, she was quite intrigued. However, those thoughts began to become muddled. After all, Wieaex often spoke of how one was often unaware they were IN a dream, and it appeared that this dream was having a similar effect as she soon found herself lost in the moment. She found herself back on her homeworld, in the old senate building that the biological race that had long died off had left behind. The walls were a strong, solid stone that even they couldn't reproduce and though the ceiling had crumpled away, they used the building as a governance spot.

The ancient structure had long ago been reclaimed by the elements of her homeworld, with generations of ivy and organic vegetative growth winding across all surfaces and the cold, cracked floor.

Around her, the colors of fall were abundant, covering her elders - grand statues of biological Ashravenians long since dead now in the modern living stone forms silently, motionlessly judging her for her crimes. Her people could communicate on a level most organics could never understand. And though there was no motion of any kind in the ancient chamber, but finding herself standing in the center, in her blue Starfleet uniform, Malana knew the assemblage of beings appearing as nothing more than statues frozen in place were there to condemn her. Wordlessly, they each debated her punishment for not only mingling with biologicals on their level...

That was taboo enough...

But she had also had the gall to make emotional attachments with them. And most heinous of all, to harbor thoughts of procreation with one. It was the thought she shared with no one. The thought she had long meditated on. The idea that was a crime to even consider among her kind. But an idea she could not escape interest with.

It was a scandal that none of them could condone and so as the yellow and orange signs of fall gave way to the snow of winter and then the signs of spring, then summer, they debated her punishment. An amount of time that would seem impossible to bear for an organic, felt all too brief for Malana. And it was in that span of time that she also thought of the cause of her judgment. For while the lifespan of the organic known as Wieaex was but a blink in her existence, she relished the fleeting moments she shared with the woman. The conversations where she could experience the passage of time almost in the same way that organics did. The moments she missed, trapped in the senate chamber of her people. Then once the leaves began to fall once more and a bit of the great senatorial dome crumbled, they came to a decision.

The great protector gargoyles finally moved after aeons of stillness and silence. There was a great din of noise as the build up of old, worn and dead vines cracked and the dried corpse of leaves rustled off of them. As joints that had not moved in many lifetimes stretched and groaned, there was a scraping sound as the stone figures moved and grabbed their great steel hammers as Malana was held down. The decision had been made and once the ruling body made a decision, they acted upon it.

She was to have her limbs removed and scattered into the rivers while she was to be tossed into the sea.

Slowly, and with a sensation Malana could only describe as utter contempt and almost disgust, the ancient stone hands tore the uniform she wore with pride from her form. Another symbol of her crime of integration and interaction. A cloak of her shame that she felt no shame in. But she gave no resistance.

With the first blow, a silent scream escaped her. She felt cracks spidering through her left arm and chips flaking off. It was a feeling of impossible coldness as she could feel the interior of her arm splinter into fragments and the air that rushed in between those fragments stabbed at her, blinding her mind as she struggled to remain focused. A few more strikes and her arm was no longer a part of her. Even though she could no longer control it, she could still feel it, which was the horrifying part. This was what all of her people feared. Losing parts of themselves like this.

Soon they had broken off her other three limbs and the protector gargoyles were making quick work of smashing them into small, irreparable pieces. She could never walk among the biologicals she called friends or worse... Lovers... She could never again see their smiling faces. If she was capable of tears, they would be flowing freely down her cheeks as she lay there in physical silence, but mental anguish. As they dumped her into the sea, the only biologicals she would get to be with are the fish. The only comfort, the kisses of sea life searching for food among the shards of her crushed limbs in a nearby river.

This would be how she would spend the rest of her aeons of life - slowly being worn away by the water's currents. And as she closed her marble eyes, she thought not of her physical pain. Not of the sensation she could still process from her shattered limbs. Instead, she thought of the one she had left behind. The one that she would never see again. She thought of Wieaex. She was condemned. Punished. And now, she had no reason to shield those thoughts any longer, which in a way, gave her a kind of freedom.

Then she awoke with a start, jolting awake so quickly she could swear she could hear a pop in her back or neck, her eyes wide, gasping for the breath her people commonly only need to reproduce sound.

She was back in her quarters on the USS Hera. It had been almost a full day since she began meditating, but she was still whole and solid and nothing could have made her happier right now. Nothing, save the cause of both her fears and her warmest thoughts. And as she had those thoughts, she buried those fears and tapped her commbadge. “Malana to Ensign Wieaex. Would you care to share a midday meal?”

Walking down the corridor of Deck 10 of the U.S.S. Hera, Ensign Wieaex wasn't her usual, hyper-talkative self. The orange-shelled Edosian pilot was walking slowly on her three legs, her three arms being held close to her as her head hung low, trying to ignore any other crewmembers she passed in the otherwise empty hall.

As with most everyone on the starship that was trapped in a starless realm of the unknown, she had been suffering from broken sleep, punctuated by nightmares. As such, she was actually relieved and a bit happy when her unexpected friend, Ahreva Malana, had called to invite her to a meal. The two couldn't be more different. Malana was a woman literally made of stone from a near-immortal race of watchers who had a rule of non-interaction among their people. A rule that Malana was breaking by serving on the Hera, and in Starfleet. But Wieaex was glad that she did. 

The generally chatty pilot enjoyed being around the stoic, contemplative woman. She liked feeling like she could slow down and just be herself around Malana. She genuinely liked Malana. And she was fairly sure Malana liked her as well. But right now, everything was a source for doubt in the Edosian officer.

Nervously, she eschewed the chime on Malana's door, and instead rapped lightly on the door as she arrived.

"Enter," came the well-paced reply of the stone woman. Inside, Malana had begun preparations for something that she wasn't even sure was possible, yet here she was. On the table were tiny sample portions of Edosian foods on unfinished ceramic tiles. There were also several small cups of Edosian drinks in similar earthenware glasses. The lighting had been reduced to half and there were several lit candles on the table.

"I hope that the meal I've prepared for us to share is... pleasing. I had hoped that you could eat the biological components while I eat the ceramics." If she could blush at the intimacy this implied, Malana would have. As it was, the slight fidgeting in her fingers was enough to give away the nervousness she felt.

Stepping inside, Wieaex's first reaction was to relax just a bit. She had been in Malana's quarters only once before, but it had looked completely different. And it had smelled completely different. "Mmmm, that... did you make? You did!"

Stepping over, Wieaex was a bit more herself as she looked at the tray of samples from her homeworld, prepared with obvious care. Most of the foods were the consistency of various pastes of different colors. One was a small bowl of bright green bean pods but it was the gray paste in the center that the Edosian pilot took a long sniff of. "I haven't had Taron meal in forever. Wow, Mal. This is..."

At this point, the usually much more talkative woman's eyes went a little wider and she stopped talking as she began to take in everything else: the dim lights. The candles. The light, scraping sound of stone-on-stone that came from Malana's fidgeting. "Mal... uh... are you... okay?"

"Because this is... uh... actually way romantic." Wieaex herself was starting to fidget a bit, two of her hands trying to find a place to rest on her hips, failing, resetting and trying again. With a carapace of slightly more rigid material itself, she couldn't really blush much either, at least on the surface. but the sensation was there nonetheless.

"I believe I had one of those Night terrors that have been spoken of recently and it has revealed certain... feelings of..." Malana paused a moment, now unsure of how to word her feelings. "They are... I enjoy your company in a manner befitting that of a couple and I hope that you would entertain the idea of exploring such feelings with me." In the end, she blurted out a long-winded version in the hopes that it didn't sound crazy, but to her it did.

Tilting her head, Weiaex stopped dead in her tracks, her shoulder-length silver hair bobbing to a stop. "Wait, you had a NIGHTMARE and it made you... want to date... me?!"

"Uh..." Suddenly, FAR more nervous, at least her mind was off of her own issues for the moment as she stammered a bit. The inexplicable New York accent that she had picked up growing up on Earth with her parents, who emigrated there for work, got a bit thicker as she spoke. "Why me? I mean... I like you too, Mal. I like spending time with you n' all... but... I mean, at this rate I don't even know if they're gonna let me stay on the ship after what happened. I'm a mess! I screw things up. I talk too much. I... I went back to that stuck-up statue that gave you crap on Earth before we left and stuck a bunch of gum up under her when nobody was lookin'. I mean... me?"

Malana nodded solemnly, taking a tentative step forward. "Yes, I... In the nightmare, I was forced to come to terms with and realized that I have feelings for you and I want to try to live as a biological would with you. All of you. Perhaps more so because of the gum."

"Wow. Uh .. believe it or not, I think I'm speachless." Wieaex said, chuckling slightly as she ran a hand through her hair. "Well,not literally. But, ya' know. Figuratively. Which is to say I still can talk I just don't know what to say, ya'know? It's... A little overwhelming, I guess. Which is not to say I don't... Uh .. I'm not saying that I don't have, ya'know, feelings too. I do. Holy crap, I do. I'm just... I don't know what to say, Mal."

The standard level of verbosity Wieaex was known for had returned in force as she rambled on. "I just don't know what to think. I mean, I'm happy, I guess. But, uh, what does 'live as a biological would' mean?"

Motioning towards the table full of food, Malana did her best to explain. "It means that I do my best to live at your pace and share your life and learn about these emotions. Rather than observing, take part in. As best I am able, that is. Even to the point of procreating with you, if we decide to. So... Shall we eat?"

Listening, Wieaex's eyes widened again and her jaw fell open. "Ah... uh... yeah, so, about those emotions. They, uh... tend to ramp up at comments like that. Also... we need to talk about how to do a smooth conversational transition, cuz... that was not it, Mal. And... uh... Procreate!? With ME?! Uh... how is that even possible?"

The stone woman lowered her head and rested it in her hands. "I don't know... None of the shared experiences of my people prepared me for anything like this. My observations of people do not include such things. I've only ever observed wild creatures procreating from afar... I am older than biological kingdoms and yet... I lack... so much experience..."

She then looked back up at Wieaex, stone dust forming in her eyes. "I don't know if I can experience these things with you. But I feel things for you and I want to explore them with you. Things that I don't think that anyone in the history of my race has ever felt before and I feel so... lost and inadequate."

"Oh, shit. No! no no no no no. Oh, crap, no." Wieaex said in a mild panic as she rushed over, giving the stone woman a hug, which with her shell-like skin, was a sound not unlike tap shoes on concrete. "Oh, crap, I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinkin'. I'm just... I'm feeling so damn inadequate lately myself and I screwed up. No, you're NOT inadequate! At all!"

"It's just, like you said, your people DON'T ever get into relationships, so you only have your observations to go on, and on this ship there is a HELL of a lot of observing to do. You should see the Leprechaun in R&D with the Tellarite. Those two are so weird, but it's kinda sweet. But anyway, it's not about... biology, I think. I mean. There are all kinds of couples on this ship. And... what do you call it when it's, like... right, a threesome? There's gotta be a less awkward word for stuff like that. But there are a few relationships like that too. It's all... I think we ALL feel lost, Mal."

"I... I know I do. But I don't feel so lost when we hang out, so that's gotta mean something, right?" The orange Edosian said with an awkward smile.

"I do. I think it means that these feelings are correct. Plus, I was able to slow time with you, which means something to my people. It means we are compatible in many ways. I can not ignore that at the very least." Taking two of the Edosian's hands in her own, the stone woman raised them to her lips and pressed them lightly in what she knew to be a kiss, making a light klink of carapace against granite.

With her third, center arm, Wieaex covered her own mouth as she, once again, was momentarily speechless. At the same time, all three legs wobbled slightly. Her pulse raced and her eyes went even wider. "Mal... I... I... I..."

"I got nothin'." Wieaex said with a chuckle and a sincere smile.

Malana glanced over at the meal she had prepared which was now slowly getting cold. "I have food for both of us. Should we eat and discuss our feelings further?"

"Huh? Oh, crap. Right. Food. Yeah, totally. Food. Heh heh!" Wieaex said, in truth more than a little happy for the distraction as she stepped over, her hands a bit flustered and waving about. "I... I like food."

"Well, of course, I like food. You've seen me eat before. Heck, I've seen you eat before. Dinner is awesome. It smells great so of course, we should eat. Food. Which is what you made. And the little plates are what you dig, which is really cool. So, we can actually share the meal in a way, which is thoughtful too. You made, like, Tapas and everything, which is sweet and I should probably stop talking and sit down or something, right?"

Without further prompting, Malana guided her Edosian friend over to one of the more normal chairs and helped her into it before settling into one of her heavy steel chairs built to support her weight. "Now we're sitting down. Which one do you want to try first?" With a soft smile, she waited for Wieaex to pick one.

Looking over everything, she picked up the small, unfinished ceramic tile that had the Taron meal on it and took a small bite off of it, holding the tile like a cracker. "Mmmm. wow."

Taking a second bite, Wieaex finished off the gray pasted, running a finger through it to get it all off the tile. "This is... really good, Mal." Gently, she handed the tile to the stone woman sitting across from her with a warm smile.

Malana took the tile and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Thank you. Though I replicated the ingredients, I wanted to do my best to make everything by hand for you, Wieaex." It was not in her people's nature to use the names of things or people, and indeed her own name had been almost randomly chosen as it had been a philosopher that she had modeled herself after from the now-extinct biologicals from her home planet.

Still, having used her friends name for the first time, it sent a small thrill through her and she couldn't help but smile.

In the corridors of the Romulan Warbird IRW Third Star, Commander Arnia t'Rekd walked in silence. Both she and her crew were exhausted, pushing to stay awake in the bizarre and unnatural realm that their ship had become trapped in. It had been over 50 hours since she had last lay her head on the thin pillow of the small bed in her chambers. Thirty hours since they were pulled into the artificial singularity they had become trapped in with two other Warbirds, the Hwi and the Mne, and a Starfleet vessel.

In truth, her ship’s name was really simply the number ‘three’ in her native tongue. The other two ships called ‘one’ and ‘four’. It was a sign to come of the situation they found themselves in.

Nobody would say it directly, but she had heard the whispers. She had thought the same herself. They must have been in Areinnye.

In Hell.

Walking, she tried to put those fears out of her mind, however impossible it seemed. Out the windows, there were no stars. There was no subspace where they could call for help or hear the voices of their loved ones back among the hearthworlds. No, they were lost. Alone with the enemy in an endless void where the space itself would devour them, if the nightmares didn’t claim them first.

Every crewmember that tried to sleep, described unspeakable horrors upon waking. The more horrifying nightmares claimed all who tried to slumber. So she did what she could, and ordered her crew to stay awake as long as they could. Those who couldn’t were sedated and given chemical blockers to inhibit sleep, but it didn’t seem to work as those sleeping Romulans tossed and turned as if trapped within their nightmares. T’Rekt didn’t know what to do.

Which wasn’t surprising, as the twenty-six year old woman had only been a Commander for less than a week. Promoted, seemingly at random, to command a ship not given a proper name. An old superstition, but one she now believed in with all of her heart.

As did the Trill woman in command of the Starship who re-dubbed her ship ‘The Third Star’. The woman she conceded to. The woman she allowed to treat her wounded and repair her engines. The woman she betrayed the Star Empire, accepting the word of.

Traitor.

Nobody would say it to her face as she walked the corridors of the ship she had been mistress of for less than a week. Each face as young and raw as her own. Each as unprepared for the burdens of duty. Each picked to be expendable from the Empire. But there was one that she knew thought the word hard. Her SubCommander.

The young man named Taron ir-Faan was four years older than her, and protested on the bridge when t’Rekt agreed to Starfleet’s assistance. He protested when she allowed the enemy ship to dock with them and take their wounded aboard for treatment. And now, whenever they passed, even silently, his narrow eyes judged her.

So she did the only thing she could thing to do. Aboard the Starship Hera, she warned that ship’s own second-in-command… a woman t’Rekt didn’t like at all… of her concerns. They had asked about any that t’Rekt might believe would be problems, and the young commander had complied. Like a Sseikea without honor, she complied. She gave up her people… for the chance to save them.

If she ever returned to the Star Empire, her crew would be interrogated. Her ship dismantled for evidence of espionage. But her orders to her people we absolute. Their only crimes were in obeying her, and it would be her that would stand before her superiors and die so that her crew might have a chance to live.

Walking down the crew corridors, the chambers were small, each containing at least two bunks where crewmembers lived in close quarters. It was unusually quiet, in spite of the hour. But in the nightmare realm they were in, time seemed to not matter as much, and the silence was almost deafening to t’Rekt as she drug her feet, feeling fatigue settling in. At least until the sound of screaming snapped her out of her seemingly endless moment of introspection.

The scream froze the green blood in her veins as she snapped her head around, struggling to hear which direction it was coming from. Which chamber. Then, after a moment, t’Rekt took off down the corridor, almost slamming into the doorframe outside the chamber. Entering her command code into the wall panel, she ran in and slapped on the lights.

On the lower of two narrow bunks, a young crewmember was writhing in place, flailing about wildly as he screeched. He was still in his duty uniform and must have tried to rest his eyes and fell asleep. Running over, t’Rekt caught a fist against her temple which set her ears to ringing as she fell against the bulkhead. She didn’t directly recognize the young man, but had only truly met a small amount of the crew of her ship in the last few days.

Shaking off the slight dizziness, she glanced up at the name tag on the side of his bunk and, timing it between his swings, lunged in under his flailing arm to grab him by the shoulders. “CENTURION MARTIK!!! CENTURION!!! Wake up! To attention!!!!”

After a few seconds of shouting, the young man stopped struggling and his eyes snapped open with intense panic still in them as he tried to reorient himself. “C… Commander? C… Commander? What… what happened?”

Immediately, the color drained from his face as he tried to sit up in his bunk, but t’Rekt still had her hands firmly on his shoulders. “Calm yourself, Centurion Martik. You fell asleep, and fell victim to whatever it is that plagues us all here. But you are safe and well. Now… listen to my voice. And breathe. Slowly. Do you understand?”

“Ie. Ie, Commander. I… I must have… I did not mean to fall asleep. I have failed to…” he said, still filled with wild anxiety, not at the contents of his nightmare, but now at the fear of authority on a Romulan ship. But t’Rekt would not have it.

“I ordered you to be calm, Centurion. And I expect my orders to be obeyed. You have done nothing wrong. We all feel the effects of this realm. And we must all work together to escape it. Now, stand.” She said, letting him go and getting off her knees, adjusting her checkered gray uniform top.

The young Centurion stood up in front of her, feet together and arms straight at his side, at attention as t’Rekt continued. “You must be strong, Centurion. We must all be strong. Because our strength is what will ensure our survival and our escape from this realm. But only together will we achieve this. We are loyal subjects of the Romulan Star Empire, and our strength IS the Empire’s strength. And it’s strength, our own.”

In truth, her head was still wringing, but she had her training and her own resolve to get her crew home alive, and she was drawing on that to keep going. “Feel that strength, Centurion. It is the strength of every one of your fellow Romulans aboard this great vessel. It is yours to draw upon, as yours is theirs. Together, we are glorious. Together, we are the might of the Raptor’s wings. We are the Declared.”

“Now…” She finished, evoking the meaning of her people’s true name: Rihannsu. Of the Declared. Those that left the world of their ancestors to forge their own path amongst the stars. The words seemed to have the desired effect as the young Centurion’s eyes sharpened and his chest heaved ever so slightly. “... return to your post. Focus your mind and your spirit on your duty. And remember that it is in all of our hands, to get each other home to the hearthworlds once more. Dismissed, Centurion.”

Slapping his hand against his chest and jutting it forward, the young man saluted his Commander and departed the small chamber, leaving t’Rekt alone again.

After a moment, she pressed the pad and closed and locked the door of the small, two-bunk room and leaned back against the bulkhead. Her head still throbbed from where he hit her, but it was feeling a little better. Letting out a breath, she slowly slid to the deck and slumped with her hands on her knees. She was exhausted, and being strong for Martik had taken from her the last of her reserves.

Taking a breath, she closed her eyes to rest.

For only a moment, she said to herself.

For the Hera's chief of engineering, the day had been long and hard as she tried to keep her own ship going as well as dealing with the romulan team they were working with. She'd not let on to the team who thought by stacking romulan that she could speak some of their languages. She'd deal with them later after they were out of this pit.

She was so tired she was in a daze as she reached her home. She gave a smile at the sight of her girls fast asleep in their incubators. Oribiar was asleep in the chair next to them a book of andorian bedtime stories fallen onto the floor.

Not wanting to risk waking any of them she crept into her quads main bedroom stripping out of her uniform which she dumped on the floor before collapsing in the bed.

She quickly whished she stayed awake.

The moment she hit the pillow the andorian felt cold as the feeling of a freezing muck surrounded her as she struggled to clear her eyes. She tried to bring her hands up to clear her eyes only to find they wouldn't budge. Her legs refused to move either as with all her might she tried to open her eyes.

Nothing was before her as utter blackness filled her eyes. Whatever or wherever she was in total darkness. She tried moving her limbs, but they seemed held out away from her against her will. She'd have called out for help, but something was forced into her mouth and down her neck.

As if something could sense her struggling something was pumped down her throat. She almost gagged as the foul bitter tasting stuff was pumped down her throat and into her stomach making her which in pain.

" We need to increase production. The effects are getting weaker." Echoed a voice so cold it made Thex own blood freeze.

" It barley lasts six days nowadays. More effort must be placed into finding a new source." Came another as two hood figures strode past the tube.

" There are no new sites. Those primitive idiots destroyed the rest of them. We must increase genetic research to try and make it stronger. "

" With what. Despite are efforts the federation isn't budging so we'l...." The second figure said before it's hooded face turned staring right at Thex.

" Oh look this one awake. Have it prepared for harvesting. " It said rasing a shriveled skeleton looking figure and running it over the tube.

Thex's heart was pounding in her chest as she struggled to breath as the figures drifted into the darkness as the light's faded down a line of tubes filled with copies of her that seemed to stretch on to the horizon.

As the light faded into blackness and her eyes swiveled as something slipped into view. Whatever it was it was blacker than the blackness as it seemed to slide across the floor towards her. She desperately tried to close her eyes as something that should not be strowed towards her.


" Amazing creatures Andorian's. " Came the voice as it's face morphing across species and faces she had never seen. It ran a finger across one of the tubes causing the unconscious copy's eyes to flick open a look of pure terror on her face. As it withdrew the figure the copy seemed to scream as her body being to shrivel and fade as if the life had been drained from her.

" I give you the answer to your prayers and what do you do with it?" it said turning to face Thex. Even with the tube forced down her throat, the Hera's chief engineer screamed at what was steering at her.

It had her daughter's faces staring at her with an evil grin on their faces. " You copy it, breed it, harvest it and use it to extend your own precious moments of the dream just to stop you fading into oblivion." It said coldly as it faces flowed changing to that of loki with somehow an even more evil-looking grin.

" Even as it fades from your grasp and sends you all into the oblivion." It said raising its arms as it's face morphed again becoming an old roommate of Thex from the academy. With a flash of blue lightning, the room lit up causing Thex to scream again at the endless horizon of tubes that were pilled as far as she could see in every direction.

" All this slaughter... It's exquisite. I don't know how you can sleep at night after being killed so many times." it said as it's face flowed into that of Rita's with the same grin on its face all of its teeth gleaming in the night.

" You have no idea what's happening do you?" it's voice turning into a mocking laugh as it's faced changed yet again becoming that of the captain. " You have no idea what you even are?"

It gave another mocking laugh as it faded back into the darkness leaving the Andorian alone in the dark.

" Take care of the girls for me. I have plans for them." Its voice said directly into her ear as she felt it's hand grip her shoulder.

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

Thex let out a blood-curdling scream as she fell out of the bed giving a heavy thud as she hit the floor. Her heart was racing and she was finding it hard to breathe as she felt arms wrap around her. In her panic, she began hitting whatever was gripping her it's voice being lost in her panic until a few words drifted through her panic mind.

" Sh'za it's okay it's me..." Oribiar voice broke into her head. Instead of calming the chief of engineering, it terrified her even more. Without thinking, she elbowed him in the face causing him to realize his grip as she ran to check. Her panicked mind and breathing lessened at the sight of her two girls still sleeping peacefully as she collapsed to the floor sobbing as she hugged herself tightly.

" Sh'za it's all right." Oribiar voice echoed in her head as she felt him gently pick her up and sit her down in the chair. Through tear socked eyes she forced them open to look upon the face fo her bandmate even with his bleeding noise a look of total concern on his face.

She wrapped her arms around him holding him tight as she continued sobbing. He gave her a reassuring tight hug hoping that his touch could heal whatever his mate had just been through.

Sam smiled wolfishly, as he carefully, precisely, spread his hand, face-up, on the table.

The game was classic five-card stud, nothing wild. The highly-distilled essence of hard statistics meeting the atomic buildup of brass alloy in the reproductive organs of the participants.

The five Kings stared at one another in their two-dimensional domain, as the cool Mississippi breeze rolled into the salon from the deck.

His opponent slowly raised an eyebrow, as one side of his pencil-thin mustache matched its movement. A deft flip of his wrist, and his own hand floated to the table, laid bare for all to see.

A sharp intake of breath, from behind Clemens.

A booming chuckle from his esteemed competitor- the sound of struggling to the side.

The steamship's engines coming to a halt, with the telltale grinding of ruined mechanisms.

The setting sunlight glinting off the other five cards- all Aces.

A whiff of sulphur, and crackling flame.

"You *really* shouldn't have bet the entire farm, Mister Clemens- I learned my lessons well from my last two mortal challengers," he chuckled. "I'm *well* past the 'shame on me' stage, now. Webster never let me forget"

The ruddy light of the flames reflected in his eyes, The Devil Sam Knew came to his feet, languidly. With a snap of his clawed fingers, the rack of struggling Starfleet officers, and, somehow, his beloved Rei, swung into view behind him, on display for the Spook Of the Hera.

Sam struggled to move, frozen in place. The sheer futility enraged him, while the sight of his crewmates trussed up, swinging from hooks, struck horror into his heart.

...the screams were all his fault, as the flames licked upward to consume them.

The sky above was as red as blood where it could be seen between the inky, black clouds, as the worlds seemed to rock back and forth. In the distance, there was the sound of lapping waves and the wailing of the Kos'Karii calling out with the voices of the long forgotten.

Creaking below were the ancient wooden planks of the great barge. The barge of the dead that carried dishonored Klingons to the dread gates of Gre’thor. The final destination for those who fled from battle. Those who cowered while others rushed into the blades of their enemies. And those of the bloodline of the hated family Duras.

The family that murdered the great Chancellor K'mpec in a failed claim to the head of the Klingon High Council. The family that betrayed the Klingon people to the Romulans at Khitomer. The family that tried to sell the sovereignty of the Empire to Romulus for power and wealth. The family whose misdeeds and dishonor would stain the honor of its progeny for every generation before, and every generation after.

Including the sisters known on the U.S.S. Hera as Petty Officers V’Nus and S’Rina, who claimed the false family name of ‘Wil’I’Ams’ to try to hide their family shame. Who joined Starfleet for a chance to earn enough of a measure of honor to avoid the fate of their family line, to suffer without honor in Gre’thor.

“There is no sleeping upon this barge, worms! STAND in the presence of Kotar!!” Shouted the voice of an old Klingon man who stood scarred and ragged, at a great ship’s wheel. Kotar, the first Klingon. He who, with his mate, killed the gods that created him and was tasked with ferrying the souls of the honorless for all eternity.

Sitting up, slowly, V’Nus blinked slightly. She could smell the salty mists of blood in the air. She could feel the splintered wood beneath her calloused hands. She could feel the barge rocking as it sailed along the great river of blood. And as she turned to look around, she saw her sister, sitting on the deck beside her. “This… this… cannot be.”

Snapping awake with a snarl, S'Rina took in the sight, then turned to face the ferryman. "We are not without honor! We are stained, yes, but we have striven to make good, to be honorable warriors! We have coup and we have victories! We have never fled! So turn this boat around right now, old man, or I'll-"

"You will do nothing, because you are nothing. You think you are the first I have ferried who cried foul? You think you are the first honorless cowards I have carried across the waves to their eternal shame? Sit down and be silent, p'tak." As he spoke the snarling Klingon warrior rose, arms bowed and flexed, before she launched herself at him- and through him, impacting on the keel of the ferryboat with her forehead as he proved to be intangible. "I am a ghost- you cannot hurt me, you cannot change the course of this vessel, and you cannot change your fate."

"Look- there, is the shore. And lo, your ancestors come to greet you," the Ferryman declared, as on the shoreline they approached stood two female Klingons, wearing distinctive armor that the two Klingon sisters knew all too well- the Duras sister, Lursa and B'etor. Their most hated, dishonored relatives. Their mother, and their aunt.

A low growl started in S'Rina's throat as she considered leaping out of the boat and swimming the rest of the way to see if her ancestors were as intangible as the ferryman of the damned. But a restraining hand from her sister stayed her impulsive nature.

"Let us wait until we are on the shore, sister. Then we will have an eternity to make them suffer for what they did to our house," V'Nus advised. Always the cooler head of the two, she noticed they were still clad in their Starfleet Security uniforms, which seemed odd they would be identified as such in Gre'thor. The dishonored were usually stripped of all arms and armor, and forced to spend eternity using tooth and claw as weapons, while clothing themselves in what rags they could scavenge. But their ancestors appeared as they last saw them, and she and her sister were still uniformed. Which would likely make the taunting that much more pronounced from their forebears, as the ferry pulled into the dock.

The barge shuddered as it shook hard against the dock. Not far in the distance, stood the hellish gates of Gre'thor. But it was what stood before those gates that were of the most immediate interest. Lursa and B'etor stood between the gates and the boat, standing with an unearned pride for the two Klingons that were arguably the most responsible for the fall of the House of Duras.

"Look, B'etor, the spawn of your indiscretions have finally come home." Lursa sneered. The taller and older of the two looked across at her unlikely kin with contempt in her eyes. 

"Wastes of blood I should have killed along with their stain of a father." B'etor hissed through a gritted grin, leaning forward to take in her unwanted children. "They could have been great, had they not followed the fool's errand of seeking honor."

"All honor has ever granted a Klingon was a slightly different view of hell." Lursa scoffed, the two talking quickly in a back and forth cadence.

"But a better view, at least, then the one THOSE children's rags would have afforded them. So pathetic." B'etor replied with a mirthless chuckle.

"You... are a plague upon our house!" S'Rina snarled as she climbed out of the boat and sprinted for her hated ancestors. The growl in her chest rising as she did so, by the time she launched herself in a tackle with which she intended to take her mother to the ground, there was considerable momentum built up. Thus when she flew through the apparition to faceplant in the black sands, there was only mocking laughter to be heard from her target.

"HAAA! How foolish are you, child?" B'etor chuckled, rolling her eyes Lursa shook her head and continued the thought, "As easy to move into action as any mewling infant, really."

"Easier even, than poor, empty-headed Toral." B'etor mocked, referring to their nephew that they manipulated into trying to take over the empire as their puppet.

"In truth, it's hard to believe they are our kin, much less your daughters. As the humans would say, these apples fell oh so far from the tree. They lack any of our vision or cunning." Lursa said, standing defiantly, casting her eyes to the more level headed of the sisters, and her own niece, V'nus.

"No idea what it is to be a real warrior." Lursa continued, her eyes locked on V'Nus, while B'etor focused on the more rageful S'Rina, their speech bouncing back and forth from sister to sister, speaking as if one.

"To move pieces on the board from afar."
"To see the game for what it is."
"To understand that only power matters, not victory."
"That honor is a crutch for those too stupid and pigheaded to know how to play the game."

"Yet here you stand, the stain of your dishonor having dragged us down with you. Damning us, as it will damn all of our descendants moving into the future," V'Nus observed, as S'rina raged.

"You think we WANT to work in Starfleet?" she asked as she pitched a rock through the two ghosts, continuing to satisfy herself that the two could not be torn limb from limb. "To spend our time being restrained, told not to hit so hard, not to be so aggressive, not to be Klingon. Because thanks to your overreaching ambition and incompetent treachery, we had nowhere else to go. Because we have no home in the Empire, because of your two honorless targ droppings. So mock away, dishonored ancestors. You cannot do more to us than you have already done."

"Indeed. You lecture us, yet you lecture on points that were your failings. Your cunning, your treachery, your games... they brought you here. They brought us here. Had we any children, they too would be damned to end up here. Because of your unwillingness to earn what was yours, and instead seek it through craft and guile and the tactics of a gleeze'Or," V'Nus added haughtily, comparing the two ancestors to slimy creatures who dwelt under rocks whose touch was highly poisonous.

With a smirk, B'etor let out an expression of mock indignation. "Tsk tsk, we have been shaaaammmed, sister."

"Indeed. Wounded, so. Yet here we stand, on this side of the gates to Gre'thor. Clad in our armor. Not fighting madness in a neverending horror within. And oh so many years after our deaths." Lursa smirked, ever so lightly. "Perhaps, foolish niece, the hell beyond those gates is only for those self-flagellating Klingon's who believe they deserve it?"

"Perhaps you think you deserve it, daughters?" B'etor followed up with a contemptuous grin, as Lursa picked up her thread. "After all, even here you dishonor your station. Mock your duties as being beneath you. What kind of Klingons do that? And you blame us for being here."

"They must want to be here, sister." B'etor sneered.

"Or perhaps. like you, we deserve to be here," V'Nus replied as S'Rina turned with a confused grunt. "We are your dishonorable spawn. We joined Starfleet under false pretenses, we find the work we do beneath us and often without honor, and we speak disrespectfully of our command. Perhaps we recognize that we are honorless, and will bear your taint forever.:

While deep thought, contemplation, and matters of honor were not her strong suit, S'Rina had to admit, her sister had a point. "There is truth in your words, sister. Besides, they have been too cowardly to enter Gre'thor. Perhaps they plan to stand outside the gates for eternity, mocking all those who are stained by their dishonor in the generations to come... for they are too cowardly to enter and seal their fates."

"Come, sister," V'Nus took her sister's burly arm in her own, and strode past the ghosts of their despised ancestors. "We have business amongst the damned, and we have no time for cowardly shades who cannot fight, cannot be harmed and have only empty words to hurl at us... the only weapons with which they were ever proficient, I might add."

A barking laugh was the reply, as S'Rina got into the spirit. "Aye, sister. let us be damned and accept our fates, whilst these two cowards blather on about how much better off they are on this narrow strip of beach that will be their eternity... a coward's hell for the greatest of cowards."

Now, it was the specters of the Duras sisters that began to fume, anger boiling up as they turned to face their progeny as V'Nus and S'Rina strode towards the massive gates.

"No!" B'etor called out, her voice a shrieking, petulant thing. "We are the Duras sisters! We are the rightful heirs to the Klingon Empire! And you will not ignore me, you ungrateful wretches!"

"Quiet, B'etor. Let them go. They are failures in life, and failures in death," Lursa added with a snort. "Go, then. Embrace your doom like the fools you are. Too weak to accept that you could be more!"

"What will you do, now?" B'etor screamed, ignoring her older sister. "Walk arm in arm through the gates of Gre'thor? Face Fek'lahr together?! It is forbidden! You must both walk that path alone!!!"

Half turning as they reached the gate, V'Nus sneered at the ghosts of the great traitors of the Klingon Empire, whose names had been stricken and house laid low.

"If we break the rules, then what will be done to punish us? Shall we, perhaps, be consigned to Gre'thor?"

Mocking laughter was all that was heard as the sisters entered the gate.



In their quarters on the USS Hera, the sisters tossed and turned, in their dreams consigned to fighting losing battles in Gre'thor.

Through those losses, they consoled themselves that at least they were better than their ancestors- who lacked the courage to even enter the gates.

" Taanjo, I don't care if the waste system isn't your specialty. If it's broken I want it fixed." The very annoying Andorian chief of engineering yelled into her coms as she looked over the mess that her girl was in. Whatever effect this mess had had the crew it seemed to have affected the ship as well. Every system seemed to be encountering errors and many had broken.

Worse was the Romulan hack attempts that she kept finding. Could they stop being sneaky bastards for once in their lives?

To top off her bad news was the medical monitor on her neck and the taste that was hanging around in her mouth. Despite the two tubes of toothpaste and many strong flavoured foods, she could still taste the gunk being pumped down her throat.

A knock on her office door made her look up and yell. " What is it? "

Stepping in, the towering, tubby Tellarite Ensign Briaar Gavarus has a small stack of PaDD's in her hands. As a member of the newly minted R&D department AND a member of the engineering department, she had been bouncing back and forth during the current crisis, and that combined with the lack of sleep showed on her exhausted-looking face.

Her eyes were a bit sunken and there were a few random, wiry hairs jutting out of her chin that had clearly been missed in the morning. She had a toolkit slung over her shoulder and a few stains on her dark blue tunic from the R&D department. "Uh... sorry Chief. I... uh... got the EPS conduit taps cleaned off and the power flow is back up to... uh..."

Looking at the PaDD, she squinted slightly, "Uh, 96 percent. Ensign Shain said that they need a few extra hands in the port nacelle to lock down a minor leak."

Thex brain was already halfway into a yell before it stopped itself. Even a small spark of good news was some news." Did you run a security check to make sure the Romulans haven't slipped anything into the programming code?" She asked as politely as she could as she poured herself another cup of coffee from the flask on the desk. She wasn't going to let herself fall asleep again until they were out of this pit.

For a moment, Briaar tensed up slightly before answering. As she spoke, the stutter that she had a hard time controlling when she was nervous began to bubble up. "Uh... y... y... yeah. Yes, Commander. I ran the systems through security protocols, and I t... t... talked with K... Kodria when I d... dropped Minnie off at the R&D Daycare, and... and she's going to be... uh... running extra security sweeps of the computer system to keep all that crap out."

Speaking of the sentient holographic copy of the Captain's Andriod Granddaughter from the future who now lived within the Hera's computer core and helped monitor it for things like infiltration, Gavarus was a bit twitchy around the irritable Chief Engineer and a bit more tired as her eyes began to droop a bit. 

" Good at least...." Thex began before the blue girl's face turned into a look of utter disgust. Turning she partly spat partly threw up into a bucket under her desk as the taste came back with a fury. A string of words which didn't translate for several polite reasons, filled the room as the chief of engineering grabbed some towels t clean her face with. " My apologies. I can't get that rancid taste out of my throat. What about the teams working on the backup life support, have they finished?" The Andorian asked breathing in heavily through her nose.

"Y... Y... yeah. Yes, Chief. T... Th... the life support back ups are all in place. And they away team is back from the Warbird and got their S... Singularity core stabilized so they won't implode while we're parked next to 'em." Gavarus replied, looking over everything that was on her to-do PaDD, trying to put Thex at ease that she was on top of her responsibilities. And in truth, she was overworking to ensure that everything she was in charge of was being handled properly, as the fear of her failures as an Engineer had been at the heart of more than one of the night terrors that had plagued the portly porcine.

But here, in Thex's office, she was looking at her Chief and getting past her own internal issues and needed to act on that. "I... I'm sorry, Chief. I... I don't mean t' overstep my pl... place, but what's wrong? Is there anything I can do t' he.. help?"

Part of Thex head wanted to just scream just as she wanted to scream at reality for doing this to her. Fortunately for the ensign, the part of the brain that wanted to get out of this pit shoved her packing self-loathing brain to the back of her head. She had work to do and an example to lead. " Not unless you have something to get a rank taste from hell out of my mouth. I know we're all having to deal with nightmares, so let's get out of here. Is there anything that needs prioritizing? " She said standing up from her desk.

"I... I think we got the programming all set for using the deflector dish as a graviton generator. Th... the teams are all working to make sure everything else is set and ready to go. Priorities should probably be for bolstering the shields once we fire that up so we don't get torn up by the graviton shearing." Gavarus said, biting her bottom lip and wishing she could just sit and hold her adopted daughter, wishing she was anywhere but where she was at the moment, irritation beginning to overwhelm her anxiety. "As for getting funkmouth out, lots of mouthwash gargling helps when I've got a wicked hangover. Saltines. The replicator can also get you some ginger tablets for the nausea, for whatever that's worth."

" Well let's get it bolstered. As for the mouth wash, I've tried that along with several very aromatic kinds of cheese. I just hope when we get out of here it will go away by itself. " Thex said grabbing her toolkit from its shelf.

Nodding, Gavarus stepped to the side of the door to Thex's office to let the Andorian Chief engineer by. "Maybe when shifts over, you can try some of that Romulan blue crap that can strip the stealth coating off of the hull. Mrs. Dox.... has a case in her... shit. Uh... sorry. Never mind."

Clenching her jaw slightly, the two-meter tall Tellarite Engineer had forgotten for a moment, that the Hera's resident Ex-Tal'Shiar agent, intel operative and new ship's nanny, was off ship, her own fate unknown at the time and weighing on Gavarus' mind among everything else. "Yeah, we should just get to that shielding."

" We're all getting out of this Gavarus. " Thex said in her best reassuring voice she could muster as she gave the ensign a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

Nodding and putting on a slightly forced Smile, Gavaraus did her best to believe the Chief Engineer. "Yeah. Thanks, Chief. So... let's do this and make sure we can."

" Yeah so let's get the shields reinforced so we can get out of here. The only way I'm getting answers is if we get out of here." The Andorian said as she led the way doing her best to keep her gag reflex under control.

As they stepped out into the body of Main Engineering to get to work, quickly making their way to two of the work stations, Gavarus sighed slightly and turned to the chief, hoping she wasn't making a huge mistake. As she spoke, she could almost imagine Fiona's voice in her head, chastising her for her hesitance, "Uh... Chief. I'm... I'm sorry. Just... tell me to shut up if I'm speaking out of turn... but 'answers'? What's going on?"

Thex paused as she breathed in slightly and tried to think of how to reply. " I've had a nightmare, Gavarus. About how many of me there could be. I feel weak and smaller than I ever have." she said slowly.

"Nightmares, I know all about, Chief. But... what do you mean, how many of you? Sorry, I just don't get it?" The confused Tellarite admitted.

" In my nightmare, I was in a facility full of thousands of me. Stored in jars like we're a fucking production line. With our recent incident with the heiress I need to ask my Thavan about what the hell is going on." Thex said trying to remain calm.

Listening, Gavarus was opening up an access panel to beging working on the power connections as she cricked an eyebrow, trying to follow along. "The heiress? Oh, right. On Risa. That obnoxious little diva kid that... huh. Yeah, I guess she did really look a lot like you. That WAS a little trippy."

"I mean... in the scale of weird shit that went down that night, it was about a five, but yeah." The Engineer in the blue R&D tunic said, digging her thick, three-fingered hands into the open wall panel as she worked. "And your Tha... ThaVAN... that's, like, one of your dad's, right?"

" Yeah one of them. " Thex said pulling out a few tools as she got to work. " And the Diva kid didn't just look like me. She was me. Her DNA pattern was identical to me."

Hearing that, Gavarus jerked her head out of the panel, smacking her rather large head on the frame of the wall. "Gyaah!! Ow... wait, what? She was... she was your f***ing CLONE!?!"

" That's what the Risian security scanners were saying. The thug's ones as well. One hundred percent complete identical DNA. Probably why they started following me in the first place." Thex replied feeling very very small.

"Okay, that's... that's effed up. I get that. I'd be screwed up if I found out that someone had cloned me too, not that there's a big demand for more me's." Gavarus said, trying to focus on her task, but finding it difficult to process as her mind kept going back around to what Thex was saying.

"Wait a sec... Chief... There's more, ain't there? Your nightmare. You said it was like an assembly line. Are you worried that... you might be one too?" Gavarus said, almost wishing she had not as the words fell out of her mouth.

" Yeah. I don't feel like me anymore. If I'm a copy what am I a copy of and why was I created? " The Andorian said slowly.

Listening, Gavarus didn't know what to do or what to say. She was still terrified that Fiona, who was left on the other side of the rift, might very well be dead. Still scared that Mona and the Doxes, who left on a ship that she was responsible for the maintenance of, might never have even made it to their destination. The fears of her own nightmares still loomed large in her own brain, chief among them the fear that she, alone, will inevitably fail her adopted daughter, Minerva.

And then, almost without thinking, the two-meter tall Tellarite, began to speak again as she walked over and sat next to the much shorter Andorian. "Chief... I don't know. I mean, I'm sure the doc could tell you an', I'm sure the Captain would do whatever we needed to to help you find out what you want to know as soon as we can. I mean, every time one of us has a crisis, she keeps turning the ship around to deal with it, ya' know? Like we went into the frickin' neutral zone for Lieutenant Commander Dox. She brought us to Mariposa to help out what Fiona's family crap. So... maybe when we get home, you should talk to the Captain about this, ya' know."

Then, Gavarus chewed on her bottom lip for a second and fidged slightly as she kept talking. "But, whatever al that turns out to be, you're... you. I mean, you've got that quad of yours. And you've got your kids, that are totally your own, ya' know. And you're a frickin' CHIEF engineer who can kick ass and dance and shit, and you're nothing like that spoiled little crap we saved on Risa, ya' know. I mean, yeah, so you're genetically identical. Whatever. That obviously don't mean shit because she was a frickin' obnoxious idiot. So... whatever your DNA says, you're still you."

"I know your right Gavarus. " the Andorian said with a weak smile on her face. " But what if the answer to this mystery is worse than wondering what it could be. What did that human horror author once write..." She said thinking back to her days in the academy library. " that if we learned the truth of reality we'd all go mad? " She guessed not able to remember the correct quote.

Man, she had to get out of this dump and hold her girls tight to her. This whole pocket space seemed to be making everyone depressive.

"I dunno. On THIS weird-ass ship, the truth just makes things weirder. That party was proof of that. N' at least that way, you won't have to wonder anymore, you'll just know." Gavarus said, stepping over to the panel she had been working on. "I mean, it's like an engine, ya' know. You hear a knock in the engine and it could be anything. It could be a warp core breach or just a loose bracket rattling. And until you know, you can't fix what's wrong. So, let's get these shields maxed so we can get outta here. Then you'll be able to find out what's up and I'll find out if Fiona's okay or not."

"And we can both stop tearing ourselves up wondering. Ya'know?" Gavarus said, putting on a weak smile of her own.

Thex thought for a minute before replying. " Indeed. Let's get the girl ready to go and get out of here." With that, she stood up and got to work on her girl. She wanted out of this pit.

A long two days passed, with Enalia lost in a light coma where time had no meaning for her. Her Trill mind and her Symbiont mind trapped in a fight to survive against madness. Laying in sickbay, Commander Rita Paris had been in charge of the Hera and the entire crew had been suffering with terrible nightmares, but it appeared that the dual nature of her consciousness, being a joined symbiont, had caused the condition currently plaguing to crew to be augmented for Enalia Telvan.

---

Finally, she awoke to find herself covered in sweat, held down by a forcefield on a biobed in her private room in the USS Hera's sickbay. She was sore all over and her voice felt like she'd been screaming for days. The last time she'd been in here, she'd been almost burnt to death by temporal radiation. Was this yet another part of her dream of madness? Or was the dream now reality? Was anything real in this world?

She at least felt more in control of herself, so there was that at least. Other than being held in place by the biobed, that is.

Turning her head as much as she could, she blinked her eyes to try and clear them and tried to figure out how long she'd been in here or at least what was going on. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Dr. Mah came over to where the Captain was, relieved she was coming around. The doctor knew in their current situation the options for both Enalia and the symbiont were limited and potentially deadly. She felt the Enalia's hands, colder than they were, a good sign of recovery, "Good to see you again sleeping beauty, how are feeling?" Dr. Mah used the Trill diagnostic tool to check the symbiont and its neural interface and then checked Enalia's to ensure both were synchronous. If the two were kept within normal ranges and together then the Captain would be fine. That level of homeostasis however had been tricky to maintain.

"I feel as though there's a darkness hanging over me and like I've been tortured for days. Does that mean I'm no longer trapped in that nightmare?" Enalia furrowed her brows, trying to remember if the darkness was in her nightmares or not now. Her memories of it were starting to fade. "This isn't more dreaming... Right?" She then narrowed her eyes at Tova, wondering if this was a dream and she was actually here to be tortured for days on end.

No, she was in control of herself now, unlike in her nightmares. Her mother hadn't taken over her body and she wasn't about to kill her entire crew repeatedly. Her CMO wasn't about to leave her locked in a stasis field and torture her. This wasn't a new part to the nightmare.

Closing her eyes and doing her best to take a deep breath to clear her mind while locked in the biobed, the Trill woman opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. "So when can I get out of this stasis field, doc?"

Tova smiled at her Captain relieved she was looking more like herself. "Now you and your symbiont are on the sane same length both figuratively and literally as well as being awake I think we can get you sitting up to see how you do. To be clear you are not cleared for duty yet. I need to see that you two are working together again before I can release you. You're basically two patients in one and both of you are in charge of this ship and the many lives on it. I lose one of you right now while we are stuck wherever I lose both so I'll taking no chances." She looked at the Captain, "Besides, I know you Captainy types you makes horrible patients not listening to your CMOs and I live a long time, I'm not risking making your wife angry and getting stuck on a ship with her. Nope." She shook her head looking at her PaDD. Despite the firmness of the doctor's words which conveyed the seriousness of Enalia's condition there was also playful undertone of potential banter that was indictive of a wonderful bedside manner. "Now are you ready for me to call your poor wife who has been worried sick about you so I can go over your care plans for the next 24 hours?" She released the Captain from stasis and had her sit up on the side of the bed not removing the neural devices.

Sighing and stretching as she sat up on the edge of the bed, Enalia glanced up at Tova. It seemed that this was most likely not a dream at least. "Yeah, after all that, I could use seeing Maica and Moira. And I'll leave the medical advice in your hands as long as Commander Paris is able to stay in command of the Hera. After all, one of us needs to put on a good diplomatic face for the other three crews, right?"

The Trill woman then held up a hand to forestall any medical protestations. "But I'll take it easy and make sure I get plenty of rest and not stress my selves out should that happen. I promise."

Tova nodded with a smirk, "A well behaved Captain who listens to their doctor? Maybe I should check you over again. Alas, seems you do check out though so I guess that means other than resting in here for another 2 hours before returning to quarters after removal of your neural devices and then light duty there is only one last thing for you." She handed the Captain a lollipop having found out her preferred flavor profile based on prior dietary selections. "Nurse will you let the Captain's wife know she may come in now."

With that the doctor went to see her next patient damn thankful for all her years of trauma medicine.

Not even an hour into the space beyond space, where time did or apparently did not flow and the crew of the USS Hera was pretty darned screwed, that's when Enalia Telvan's eyes rolled back up into her head at the bar in 10-Forward. Which is when command of the USS Hera fell to Commander Rita Paris.

Which was not a problem.

The Hera had an excellent sickbay and scores of brilliant doctors, and they would figure out what about the psychically oppressive space ye not space in which they had found themselves. Odin's repository, where he dumped something he didn't want anyone coming for, to keep it safe. Which no longer included Starbase 336, but did include 3 D'deredix class battlecruisers, and the USS Hera. Which was not a problem, because the Romulan commander had seen the wisdom of cooperation, and they were all acting in concert in their preparations to generate the effect to bridge space between here and where they had previously been. Existed.

This was.... not existing, somehow, and it seemed to be putting everyone a bit on edge. The psychic sensitives were all going a bit bonkers, except Sonak, of course. He was shielding himself, and reinforcing bulwarks in her own mind against the onslaught, as her connection him left her somewhat vulnerable. But they were tandem, and he could maintain booth with no appreciable strain. But 3 fights had broken out in 10-Forward within three hours in the anomalous space.

That's what she'd call it in her reports. Anomalous space. Catchy.

The manufacture of and coordination of stringing together four starships, to anchor one another against the drift and to generate the energy required to generate a wormhole. The smarter people in the room kept referring to it as a singularity, but it looked like a flat wormhole- just an intersection of two points of the multiverse. The math had to be crazy on the navigational coordinates. Which she'd figure out as they got there.

Arguments with the Romulan crews. Sending out the support craft to assist in the cable installations and finding out O'Dell and her one-woman squadron didn't make it back. Maybe she was too far from the event to be sucked in, and she's coordinating with the USS Persephone, Rita thought, following the logic that was not unfeasible. Of course, it was also possible that one of those disintegrating clouds had done her and her cohort in. But Paris didn't believe it. The loudmouthed little leprechaun was a survivor, and she had a lot to live for on the Hera. She'd find her way home... even if home had to get back to her.

At hour sixteen, she was already three hours past the start of her sleep cycle. But there was more and more to do, and less and less time. With Enalia down, Rita was not only handling the negotiations with the Romulans, but also coordinating with the science teams to effect the hardware they would need to have ready to pull this off. There were reports coming in from Sickbay that the crew were having nightmares. To the point that three of them had self-harmed in the process.

Which was a BIG problem.

Striding off the bridge, Rita Paris began making choices. Leaving the conn to Sonak, she rode the turbolift the one deck to her office. Which still seemed ridiculous to her, but hatches meant if she used the one on the bridge, it involved unlocking it, which was a pain. Thus her ride of one deck took her forward to her office where she tapped her comm badge. "Paris to Doctor Power, please report to my office."

"I'll be there momentarily," came the reply from the ship's EMH, followed by the sound of the shimmer of a hologram to right outside Rita's office so he could meet her on her way in. "Commander Paris! What seems to be the trouble?"

"Doctor, we've got about thirty-six hours, give or take, until we can make the attempt to get clear of... wherever we are, and get back to normal space," Paris gestured out the viewport in her office, that showed the starless void in which they currently dwelled, with roiling shapes that might have been clouds of particles or alien unknowable beings in the distance. "With the Captain incapacitated, I don't have time for sleep. Besides, the crew seem to be experiencing nightmares because of this region and... well, frankly given the life I have led, I'm very much not interested in discovering what this place might dredge up from my own subconscious list of horrors. So I would like a stimulant, please- I need you to help me press on past my human limitations and keep going, so I can stay the course, and guide the crew to get us out of here."

The holographic doctor pursed his lips and thought over the situation for a moment, before nodding and heading to her replicator and punching in a series of medical overrides. "Even though I'm giving you this, I cannot condone the use of it for more than twenty four hours as it can lead to yadda yadda yadda... You need rest, even if it's not good rest, blah blah blah... Something about command personnel not listening to medical advice..." As he spoke, the English modeled EMH seemed rather distracted as the replicator slowly produced one small vial filled with a purple fluid.

Doc Power then went over to the medkit on the wall, pulled out one of the hypos in the dispensor and loaded that evil looking vial into it, setting it to the minimum dose. "This is based on a cocktail that Schwein gave me when she first came aboard for emergency life saving procedures. There's enough in here to keep a narcoleptic awake for a week if rationed properly. I understand the severity of the situation so I'm going to assume you know the risks of crashing from such a medically induced high. Just promise me that once this is over, you'll sleep until your body tells you it's done sleeping."

"I give you my word as an officer, Doctor. As soon as the Captain's on her feet and the ship is out of danger, I'll report in that I'm going down for the count, and taking 24 hours of sick call to sleep it off. I appreciate this, Doctor," Paris' tone softened, and the weariness in her voice was evident. "They need me more than ever right now, because with the Captain down, the crew have to be able to look to somebody to hold it together. Someone they can see and hear. Minimum dosage, refresh as needed. Sleep as soon as it's over."

With all that said, her choice made and course set, Paris held out her hand for the hypo.

"Alright. If you notice any adverse side effects, let me know immediately. No more than one dose every four hours. Every two hours in an emergency." With a serious nod, Doc Power handed over the hypo.

"Whew, that's a short term dosage... right. Thanks Doctor, and I appreciate the housecall... and your discretion," Paris didn't say it as a threat, so much as a request. But that was Rita Paris- even when calling up the medical hologram, she still said please and thank you, and asked for discretion when she could just order it all. But that was her way- a request was an order, although she was willing to hear your side of things. Because you might just change her mind.

"It was originally meant as a lifesaving measure in extreme circumstances... but with the Baroness's aid, I made it more viable for shipboard use. You'll metabolize it fast, but not nearly as fast as the original." With a polite nod, Doc Power stepped through the office doorway. "If you'll excuse me, Commander." Before the door had even finished closing, the holographic man had vanished, presumably to return to sickbay.

Taking a shot from they hypo, Rita felt the fatigue vanish and sharp focus return to her mind. Picking up a PaDD, she went back to the work of saving the starship, while one window monitored the beleaguered captain, comatose in Sickbay.

"C'mon Enalia, this thing can't beat you. I'll have us ready to get out of here before you wake up. just you wait..."

Hours had passed as Paris worked, taking a shift on the Bridge to insure she was seen and visible, working from the command chair. At one point they had to move the entire flotilla, using thrusters to avoid a gravitational eddy that tried to veer them far off course. Which meant coordinating all four ships, which was challenging, to say the least. But Rita persevered- there was an easy way out, but she wasn't going to take it. Better to get the crews of all four vessels in concert now, rather than later when things would be critical.

Another shot. Another. Another. Another. She remembered to stop and eat, take a shower and get on a fresh uniform. Without chronometers she was relying on her internal clock, which, having been taught to her by Sonak, was usually reasonably accurate, occasionally needing to adjust to local time every few days. But it was all getting harder, She'd gone back to her office, sat down to read a report and nearly dozed off. Another shot. Keep moving. The systems were nearly charged, the plan was nearly coming together. They just needed to work out how to navigate, but there were Starfleet's best and brightest working on that, so Rita had faith they would come up with a solution.

Captain's log, First Officer Rita Paris reporting. Captain Telvan is still in a coma in Sickbay. She's stable, but it seems she and her symbiote are allergic to this region. I'm going to take another shift on the bridge, being visible, trying to keep morale high. But the crew are all so tired too, now. Everyone looks terrible- dark circles under their eyes, ill-rested, irritable. Security is breaking up fights with surprising regularity, and even domestic disputes. Sickbay confirmed no one is sleeping well, from any race, regardless of telepathic propensity. I've been pushing myself to get us out of here, and I think we're almost ready. Mr. Sonak says his simulations look promising, although she is still dubious of our chances unless we have some sort of navigational assistance. I'm hoping we come up with something soon, because I am out of ideas. Paris out.

Having recorded the log entry, Paris laid her forearms and hands on the desk, the reproduction of the old conference table she favored to use as one at least, and rested her head on the back of her hand. "C'mon space hero... think of something brilliant to save the ship. Enalia's out for the count and Dox is off making babies. It's just you out here, blondie. So think of something brilliant."

A minute later, the stims she had forgotten to take wore off sufficiently for her to be sound asleep at her desk.



In her nightmares, there was no horror to be found, at least not in the conventional sense. There was no giant parody of her father taking a wrecking ball to her self-esteem as she struggled for his approval in a Sisyphean quest. There was no sensation of beaming, or painful, wrenching beaming, or the sensation of nonexistence as a ghost. There was no pain of loss over friends and loved ones, or the pain of loss she had known when separated by space and time from Sonak. There was no sense of filure, which drove her so often.

There was simply the void- dark, bleak, unending, and filled not with the wonder of stars, but the emptiness that went on forever. A void of no places, no people, no things. No life. For where there were none of these things, there was no hope.

For such as Rita Paris, who strove the light the darkness with the beacon of hope, there was no greater nightmare.

As her hope slowly drained from her, so too did bodily function begin to slow. Her system, already overtaxed by the overuse of stims, was exhausted already. As the forces that governed this place drained the hope from the explorer, so too were they sapping her will to live, quite literally.

* * *

Curious...

Sonak was in a senseless, lightless, featureless void his mind could not at first grasp. This was like being in a sensory deprivation tank; an experience he had once attempted and which had resulted in a very sharp spike of his mental faculties. It had threatened the whole Gol plateau at the time, as his mind screamed for sensory input and thus shot out with his extrasensory perceptions to reach nearby minds.

But he was aware of the time elapsed since then; of his mental powers having been significantly reduced when crossing universes to reestablish his mating bond with the Human woman he shared it with.

That's when it hit him.

This is not my mind; this is Rita's.

Somehow, through their shared link, he was for the first time experiencing what humans defined as a nightmare; a disjointed mental imagery brought from the subconscious emotional state during sleep; emotions, mostly repressed or sublimated by the conscious mind, but that could not be fully denied by the brain, thus released when consciousness lapsed.

This is how she felt when she was dematerialized, left as a disembodied consciousness by a transporter malfunction.

This had never happened before. And his kolinarh training had purged his own being of any and all emotions, he was literally a blank slate to her own, now suddenly amplified by the yet unexplained nature of the other reality they were currently trapped in.

All this he understood even in his own unconscious state. And something else; he was totally unequipped, defenseless, against what he was about to experience. Mental shields were meaningless when within your own mind.

And worse still, even cognizant of the situation, he found himself like in a healing trance; unconsciously placing himself in a state to protect himself... but unable to wake himself up.

The nightmare became his own.

Which was when she became aware of him.

There was nothing in the void- no light no sound no hope... but there was Sonak. Which meant, as he had promised her a universe away and decades before, that he would always be there for her. With no physical senses, she could not see, hear, nor feel him.... but in her heart, she knew him. Knew his proximity, knew the sensation of his soul when it was close to hers. Knew him, so she reached for him, breaking the hold of entropy. She could not call his name, for she had no voice. But in her heart, where he dwelt, she felt him- so with that language that needed no words, her soul sought his, as ever it would.

And Sonak was aware of her.

It was not like their usual telepathic link. Their conscious minds were dormant, leaving only their subconscious active. There was little deliberate thought, mostly random impressions and remnants of reflexion trying to order themselves without the guidance of the self or inputs from the external world.

Chaos.

Dreams were chaos. And the best tool against chaos was logic.

Of course, logic was a construct of the conscious mind; but not exclusively. It was also the actual correspondence of thought and action to stimuli; it burns, you remove your hand; you're thirsty, you drink; what is is, what is not is not. The basic of logic was simply that. For a human like his wife, logic was in conflict with emotions and needed her consciousness to impose itself. So it was also for a Vulcan. But not for him.

He was Kolinarh. He was not controlling or even suppressing emotions; he had no emotions at all. The kolinarh ritual had purged him when he was still a child. The dramscape had nothing in him to build upon. Hence, the void.

But that left him too devoid of any tool to face it.

But there was Rita. The bonding link between them had matched his void with that of her own nightmare, her emotional state. Thus, she could draw him out of it with her. But she needed a tool to oppose the chaos of her own disjointed thoughts and wayward emotions. And that she could take from his mind. The only thing that existed in his mind, even in a subconscious state.

Logic.

It was a void, but that made no sense. Because she could sense him, and he could sense her, and both were aware, not only of one another, but of one another's thoughts. because Rita was starting to get a hunch that this wasn't real. Which was when a haze of lavender slowly penetrated the void, as her innate curiosity began to pick at the fabric of reality she percieved. It could not be a void of no form and dimension if the two of them were there, ergo, this was likely not reality.

While the current situation might seem oddly hopeless, she was working on a plan, she recalled. They all were, each of them doing their part to extricate themselves from their current predicament. Sonak's calculations, cool blue and irrefutable, made themselves known to her, and her determination was emboldened.

This was a dream. Despite her best efforts, she had fallen asleep, and she was dreaming. This was a nightmare, just as the reports she had received from all over the ship had indicated the rest of the crew was suffering, she realized. But Sonak had been pulled in too... this was no shadow of him in her mind or a subconscious reproduction or even the portion of his katra that dwelled within her. In her distress, she had called to him, as she always had, and always would. In response he had offered her the tools to save herself- logic.

Fedepedia, the Federation encyclopedia, defines dreams as follows:

A dream is a succession of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that usually occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep. The content and purpose of dreams are not fully understood, although they have been a topic of scientific, philosophical and religious interest throughout recorded history. Dream interpretation is the attempt at drawing meaning from dreams, and searching for an underlying message. The scientific study of dreams is called oneirology.

This was a dream. A nightmare of her subconscious' own devising, which, now that she was aware of the dream structure, enabled her to transition the dream from a helpless captive of a narrative, to the mistress of her own internal domain. Reaching out, she envisioned the right hand she knew so well, and pictured it grasping the warm, dry hand of the man who was not a man, but an alien from a world light years from her own. The pinnacle of intellectual, physical and spiritual philosophies older than any surviving civilization on her own planet, who had come to know her, celebrate her and bond with her.

There were so many words she could use to describe him, and should she find herself lacking, his own mind, shared so generously with her, could propose literally hundreds more in various galactic languages and concept all stored in the vast repository of his dizzying and organized intellect. But to her, there was only one word that encapsulated him, that described him and sparked in her heart the strength to pull free of this emotional mire of the subconscious, with the gift of logic. As her hands formed in her dream, she grasped the hand of her balance, the yang to her yin, the anima to her animus, the logic to her emotion- her t'hy'la.

"Sonak," she said in her dream, even as she mumbled it aloud, still asleep at her desk.

Rita, answered a thought that was not her own. Apart and never parted. This is the realm of emotion where I am powerless, blind, paralyzed by my lack of it... I cannot face it. I cannot deal with it. My emotionless mind is without tools, without defenses. But not you. You can master this realm... with both your emotions and my logic. Only this can I offer you... through our bond... like a Lirpa. But you alone can wield it... for the both of us. My mind is to your mind. My thoughts are to your thoughts. My life... is in your hands.

Spurred and inspired, the lost navigator, so often reliant on instinct and intuition, moved to action within her own mind. If this was a dream, then it was HER dream. In her own dreams, she could revisit friends of the past, as the bridge of the Exeter came into view in their mind's eye, as they stepped out onto the bridge to see the handsome face of Captain Michael Stuart there to greet them. There too was Clifford Paris and Albert Paris, both looking on disapprovingly. Yet beside them stood T'Pring, serene and solemn, and beside her young Jim Kirk stood, eating an apple.

All people from their past, memories, pieces of her subconscious. And if she could see them here, then she knew she was dreaming, and that it was time to wake. There was no void, save that which we envision within ourselves. There was hope- there was ALWAYS hope. This was Rita's firmly held belief, perhaps her strongest one, and that realization gave her even more strength as she struggled to reach consciousness, to force her mind to override her exhausted body and awaken.

That was when Enalia decided to stop pressing the door chime on Rita's office door and walked right in to find her sleeping almost peacefully at her desk. Or at least peacefully compared to what everyone else seemed to be reporting. Without hesitation, the Trill woman gently shook her first officer in an attempt to rouse her, initially without success. That was when she saw the hypo laying nearby filled with a rather suspicious... and oddly familiar... stimulant cocktail.

With a sigh, the spotted captain shook up the hypo and gave Rita an injection, knowing that it would take effect within seconds if it really was what she thought it was.

Sitting bolt upright, eyes wide awake, Rita looked around quickly to take in the sight of the Captain and her surroundings. The absence of Sonak's physical presence was expected, as he was no longer held hostage by her nightmare turned exploration of the subconscious. Once again, she'd gotten off lucky. Thank you, T'hy'la. Always there with me when I'm in trouble.

As you are for me; touching and touched; apart and never parted.

In their quarter, he was also sitting up, looking at her across the vessel. Yet, it was the thought that came out, even if they were beds apart.

And as it was said, it was the thought that mattered.


"So... you're up and okay again, that's, that's good. What time is... ah, we're a little behind schedule," Rita frowned as she picked up a PaDD off the clutter of them on her desk, apparently the one she needed. Pausing, she looked up a bit hesitantly to the Captain, the dark circles under her eyes telling the tale. "Couldn't sleep, there was too much to do, and... I guess I missed a dose. Sorry Captain... I was asleep on duty, guilty as charged. I appreciate you waking me up... we were having a little trouble with that part. But I... I was asleep."

"Perfectly fine," Enalia replied with a soft, slightly sheepish smile. "I ah... I don't think I can exactly berate you for that, given how long I was out for. All we can do now is get things back on track, right? After all, we've got four crews counting on us. Ready to rip this place a new hole?"

The smile that spread across the face of Rita Paris was one of relief, of devil-may-care boldness and determination. Rising from her chair, smoothing out her miniskirt as she did so, the first officer of the USS Hera nodded firmly.

"Like a bat outta hell, Captain."



''Colloquially put, and not entirely accurate... but basically correct, '' Sonak commented with his usual deep monotone.

The escape pod was barely any larger than a photon tube. It had a narrow window in the front, but with its power devoted exclusively to life support, the only light visible was from the two, small lit bio-readouts on the sides of the window. Outside of those readouts letting the occupant know their own vitals and where they were in space, there was no other source of light anymore.

After the first few hours, the limited power in the pod flickered and the sensors stopped functioning. The occupant still had breathable air, but the light was gone. Because out the window, the stars were also gone.

Sub Commander Arrenhe t'Suil did her best to stay conscious in the tiny tube as she hovered in nothingness for hours after her escape from the Iurret before the Warbird of her former mistress, Riov Dalia Rendal lept to warp with her prize, the Deleth Station. Running over anything she could think of to keep her mind occupied, she thought of her failure on the Iurret and how it had cost her her right eye in combat with her former commander. She thought of her time in the brig of the Warbird until a momentary power loss during combat with the Starfleet ship, the Hera, deactivated the field and allowed her to attack the guard on duty, overpower him, and make her way to an escape pod.

But there was something more. Something in the darkness, as her eyes adjusted, that t’Suil was certain was looking back at her. She strained her eyes to see anything, and after a time she thought she could see swirling shapes in the darkness. Was it her eyes playing tricks on her, or her mind? She was having a difficult time concentrating in that tiny tube with nothing to focus on except her memories and trying to not lose consciousness.

The only thing she was sure of in the silent darkness was that she needed to stay awake. As long as she was awake, whatever was out there couldn't get to her. That presence she felt couldn't hurt her. But something told her that she needed to stay awake. And for a time, she did. But before too long, exhaustion coupled with the creeping cold inside the pod to sap away what strength she had left to fight off the void, and she slept.

First, she was back on the Iurret, a sword at her eye. That's how it began for her. Again and again, she relived her duel with the women who had been everything to her. And again and again, she relived the pain of having her eye sliced out by her mistress's blade. And again and again, she remembered the even worse pain when Dalia Rendal turned her back and walked away from her, all for the crime of trying to protect her from the shadowy figure that had been giving them their orders.

The sequence repeated itself, every time attacking her from a different angle. A different way she could have failed brought to life. A different wound inflicted. But every time, the ending was the same. Her beloved mistress turning from her in disgust. The woman she would have gladly died for, abandoning her to pain and darkness and failure.

Then, the nightmares deepened. T’Suil found herself a young girl again in the slums of Iuruth on Romulus, working as a house servant to a wealthier family where she was degraded and beaten for her failures. Where she struggled to rise out of her station for years. And here, in the darkness, it felt like years all over again. She felt the blisters on her hands and knees from scrubbing the blackstone floors of the great house she served. She could smell the old leather of the whip that cut into her for dropping the family tea set when she was but nine. She remembered crying herself to sleep in the straw-lined cot she sleep in in the small room behind the kitchen, where she spent her childhood watching the great family she served. Watching as their children that she grew up beside went off to finer things, leaving her behind in the grime of her station.

Day by day, her childhood unfurled itself out for her in what felt like an impossible eternity. A nightmare that stretched time before their in an unending torment. She couldn't remember if what she was experiencing was the truth anymore, or an exaggerated marathon of pain and humility. But as she bore reliving each horrible memory as if it were the first time, she didn't care anymore. But there, even the realm of the nightmare, someone seemed to care.

It was the youngest of another noble family that came and purchased her and the other house slaves as her great house fell into ruin. And that youngest saw something in Arrenhe. Showed her mercy. Taught her to carry a blade. How to act above her station. And eventually, it was this woman. Dalia Rendal, who saved her. She was shown compassion and taught strength, and awarded a sponsorship from the family to attend the Academy of the Great Art for her efforts.

Slipping in and out of sleep, time lost all meaning to the woman as she drifted further and further from reality. Reliving her childhood in what had to have only been hours, t'Suil barely remembered who she truly was anymore. But she refused to give up. As the air in the pod began to thin and grow stale and the heat bled off into the void of nothingness outside. t’Suil found it impossible to hold on to her already fragile grip on reality. The only thing she could focus on was the pain in her bandaged but otherwise untreated eyesocket. The cold had begun to settle in and her every move caused the broken skin to crack, so she began to purposefully wince and furrow her brow to keep the pain going.

For a brief time, it helped her wake back up in the darkness and her green blood began to pool on her face before she finally succumbed again to the nightmares. And this time, she found herself on the flagship of Senator Verelan t’Rul, the People’s Will. In the sparring chamber where her mistress rejected her after so many years and took the Starfleet traitor under her wing.

”Apprentice” she heard, echoing in the darkness, over and over. First from Riov Rendal. Then from their shadowy benefactor. Again and again, the word bit into her. The label that was once hers had been bestowed upon the soft, spoiled traitor to the Star Empire. A Romulan who denied her blood and the honor that was her namesake for the lies of the Federation. The woman who stole her place in the mind of her mistress.

”Apprentice! WAKE UP!”

The voice in the darkness snapped her to alertness, and t’Suil opened her eyes and looked around. Struggling, she was still in the pod, but there seemed to be something on the other side of the glass, watching her. Then, a bright light snapped on illuminating a figure outside of the window.

“R… Riov? My Mistress? Have you… have you come to… forgive me?” t’Suil muttered weakly in the pod, looking at the shape of a woman outside, just a few centimeters from the glass as her tired eyes tried adjusting to the light.

Standing, somehow, in the void of space, it was not Riov Rendal. It was the traitor, Mnhei’sahe Dox. But she stood, not in the colors of her child’s uniform, but in the gray and black of a Romulan SubCommander’s uniform. “N… no.” t’Suil muttered, shaking her head.

“Hello, Arrenhe.” Dox said, tilting her head slightly. “No, our mistress is not here to forgive you. She has tasked me with dealing with you, and frankly, it’s a long-overdue task I am happy to carry out.”

‘W… what do you mean? I… I don’t understand?” t’Suil said, her brow wrinkled and confusion in her eyes. “How are you here?”

“Where, here in your place? In your uniform” With your rank at our Riov’s side? This is where I belong, Arrenhe. Serving nobly at the command of my noble mistress. Serving where you failed.” Dox said looking at the tube. “Quite the coffin you’ve found yourself in, isn’t it? More, even, than you likely deserve, for betraying our mistress.”

“I did NOT betray her! I tried to SAVE her from that pretender! That shadow, playing us against the Federation! I know what it is, but she wouldn’t listen to me! She abandoned me for YOU!!!” t’Suil raged, spit dripping off the glass.

“And what are you to be worth the attention of royalty? A common sewer thural?” Dox said, leaning closer to the glass. “I am the daughter of House Rul. My blood has sat upon the senate for generations. My family matters, little slave girl. You are NOTHING!”

“I am LOYAL! I am a true and loyal daughter of Romulus!!! I tried to PROTECT my mistress! And because of YOU, she took my station. Took my EYE! Took everything from me, because of YOU!!!” T’Suil screeched into the pod, her eye gone again. Her eyesocket bleeding again as green blood trickled down her cheek in a stream.

“No, you betrayed her out of simple, base jealousy, Arrenhe.” Dox said, shaking her head judgmentally. “You were jealous of ME. Of a Starfleet officer who had walked away from my home and my responsibilities to the Star Empire.”

Blinking through the tears, t’Suil shook her head in confusion as Dox now stood in a Crimson Starfleet uniform. “You were so angry. So petty, thinking that your mistress had truly abandoned you when she only ever saw me as a tool that could be used to increase her power. You would have lost nothing had you understood that all you needed to do was support your Riov and let go of your child's envy. But you couldn’t, could you? Even here, in this dark afterlife, you still try and blame me for your failings?”

Sniffling, t’Suil shuddered in the darkness as the lights behind Dox dimmed back to nothingness. But her raspy voice continued to echo in the frigid shadows. “Welcome to Areinnye. Welcome to Hell. Perhaps here, you will finally remember who you were, SubCommander.”

In the reality of the escape pod, she tried to scream, but the tin air only allowed a ragged squeak. And again, the darkness reclaimed Arrenhe t’Suil.

The trip from deck two to the bridge in the turbolift was short, but to Enalia, it felt like it took forever after the eternity of nightmares she'd had to endure. She had watched herself, controlled by her mother, murder her crew in creative new ways over and over again, each time resulting in her own death. This time she was in control and she knew herself to be unarmed as she had left everything with her wife when she went to Commander Paris's office.

But now they were on the bridge, where most of those sequences had taken place.

As the turbolift doors opened, Enalia first glanced to Rita, Who offered a nod of support, the dark circles under her eyes evidence of her exhaustion, but she pressed on because there was work to be done. Then Enalia gingerly looked out of them across the bridge. The yellow alert lights were still flashing, and the crew that was present looked bone-weary, as if they too hadn't gotten any decent sleep in a few days. On the viewscreen, rather than the roiling black clouds, they were displaying the current status of the four ships and the connections between them.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Enalia took a step forward just in time for the turbolift door to get tired of waiting and start to close on her, catching her shoulder as she did so. With a slight yip of surprise as it retracted and she stepped fully through it, she tugged down on her uniform jacket to compose herself.

Patting the captain on the back, Rita stepped in behind her, headed for the helm station. Or 'flight control' as it was known in this more enlightened age.

Cursing internally at her lack of composure her nightmares had given her, she quickly crossed the bridge to the command chair and slipped into it as normally as she could, ignoring the stares she could feel on her. "Status report." She could see pretty much everything between the viewscreen and the readouts on her chair, but for some reason, she wanted a more in-depth explanation of their current situation and where they were in relation to escaping.

"All four vessels are in position, the linkages are holding sound, and we're prepared to activate the graviton generators and open the stargate- oooh, I like the sound of that- to bring us back to normal space, Captain," Paris reported from the helm.

Sonak didn't turn from his station, his brow furrowed as he rechecked the data from his sensor readout as he spoke.

''Captain; sensors are detecting a graviton emission which does appear to originate from the expected coordinates of the transdimensional aperture. Sensors cannot find any astronomical bodies or phenomena that could be the source of these particles. It began to manifest itself and grow in intensity when we implemented our emissions. There is no indication that this is a refraction of our own emissions. And it does not correspond to what would be expected of this universe's gravitational universal constant and spacetime curvature.''

He knew he had distractedly spoken in a too much specialized manner to satisfy his commanding officer. He turned towards her to provide a more concrete answer.

''I hypothesize there is a specific source for these gravity waves; one which, like our own current efforts, might not be natural in origin.''

Enalia turned to listen to Sonak's explanation, nodding along as she did her best to understand it. "In other words, there's likely someone on the other side trying to open a stargate like us? Well, I can only think of one ship that might be trying to do that and one Mariposian that would talk them into it. Fire a graviton beam at the source of the fount, and let's give them a reply."

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

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the USS Persephone

"Captain Naraan, I'm picking up something in our sensor sweeps," Lieutenant J'haran reported from the Science station. "In the flow of graviton particles that we're firing into space, there... seem to be errant stray particles that are rebounding, or pushing back... no, the computer says they're unaccounted for. They aren't traveling in the same direction, and their point of origin appears to be a point in the particle stream we're generating."

"That's them! They're doin' the same thing on their side, I'd bet me last piece a'gold!" crowed O'Dell as Captain Naraan rolled her eyes.

"You're certain it's not just 'our' particles reflecting or rebounding somehow, Lieutenant?" the commanding officer clarified.

"No, Captain," the science officer answered hesitantly. "These aren't behaving like our graviton stream. I think they might be from the other side of the anomaly."

"Ah need moor power!" O'Dell declared in traditional Starfleet style, though usually NOT spoken by the visiting Ensign on the bridge. Turning to eye the Captain, who, seated, was at eye level with the picayune pilot, the impulsive officer pleaded with the Captain.

"Ah know it's them, mum, they're tryin' ta find us," the pale-skinned freckle-faced unlikely officer intuited. "They're prolly firin' as much at it as we are. But if we're g'win ta help we've got to give 'er all she's got, aye?"

As the XO moved to put the junior officer back in her place, the Captain surprised him. "You may just be right, Ensign. Auxiliary power to the deflector, and let's intensify this stream, Lieutenant."

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

Meanwhile, back on the USS Hera

"Captain... I'm picking up something in our sensor sweeps." Ensign John Jones called out from the Ops station. "It read as debris, but now that it's closer to the edge of the cloud front, I'm reading a faint Romulan life sign. I believe it's an escape pod. Without subspace, there's no way for it to transmit a distress beacon, so I think they've been out there for the past two days."

Enalia nodded solemnly, unable to imagine being trapped in a tiny duranium can in this nightmare place for two whole days. "That would be a good reason for it to have slipped past our scans. Have them beamed aboard and escorted to sickbay by security just in case."

"Captain..." Ensign Jones said with a touch of hesitation and more than his own fair share of fatigue in his voice. "Transporters are still non-functional in... wherever here is."

"Right..." The Trill woman glanced down at her command chair readouts for a moment. "And it's too far for a tractor. Send out a runabout then. I think the Thor has the most resilient power systems, but the Danu has regenerative power systems... Use your discretion."

"Aye, Captain." Jones replied from Ops, sending a written order to the Main flight deck, where Ensign Jessica MacNielle was acting as temporary Flight Chief in Lieutenant Commander Dox's absence. A moment later, Jones called back to the command chair. "Captain. Flight Control confirming that the Danu is already prepped for flight and can have the pod in bay 2 in... 9 minutes."

"Make it six, we're on a time crunch here," Paris countered as her fingers danced across the controls, taking in the sensor data of the graviton fount to give her a frame of reference. As she worked to lay in a course for four starships in coordination in a realm of no landmarks- another first in a long and storied career. "All right, Commander t'Rekt, are your vessels ready to begin the final countdown?"

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

On the IRW Third Star, the Romulan Warbird flanking the Hera that commanded the other two ships, it’s young Commander, Arnia t’Rekt, was pacing about the bridge nervously. The workstations had been repaired and, while the ship was operating with a skeleton crew as nearly a third of her crew was currently recovering from injuries on the Hera, but she would do her job. And if t’Rekt had her way, her people would all have the chance to go home.

"We are, Commander Paris." t'Rekt replied with a nod.

That was why she had chosen to work with Captain Telvan in spite of all of her training telling her not to. She knew that if this worked and the ships made it home, she would likely be executed for her betrayal to the Empire in assisting their enemies. But she was willing to make that sacrifice. Her people were being loyal to her. Following her orders. They would not be punished if she took the complete blame, and that would have to be enough as she looked at the screen.

Tapping a button on the command chair she was still walking around, but not quite sitting in, t’Rekt opened a comm channel. “Bridge to Master Engineer. Be prepared. We shall be engaging the graviton beam at the Hera’s command.”

“Ie, Commander.” Said a voice over the comm as she pushed a different button on the same panel.

“Crew of the IRW Third Star. This is Commander t’Rekt on the bridge. All hands to duty stations. We will, Elements willing, be returning to normal space. I swore on my mnhei’sahe that I would bring you home to your families, and we are prepared to make that happen together. And together, we will earn this proud vessel that proper name. You have my word.”

As she spoke on the ship-wide frequency, she looked around at those on the bridge, most even younger than she was. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes tired, but focused. “We will be going home.”

From the opps station, the young Arrain raised a quizzical eyebrow as she looked over her control panel. “C… Commander. That channel shut down while you were speaking. I… I cannot explain what…”

And as she spoke, the two turbolifts on the left and the right of the main viewscreen opened, as four, armed Centurions rushed out with disruptors drawn to each station on the bridge. As they did, Commander t’Rekt shouted, fear in her eyes. “STAND DOWN, CENTURIONS! That is an order! What is the meaning of this?!”

Then, from off of the lift, stepped her SubCommander. Taron ir'Faan, with a cold expression on his young face.

"Commander t'Rekt, in the name of the Tal'Shiar, you are hereby placed under arrest for the crime of colluding with the enemies of the Empire, providing them with state secrets, and conspiring against the interests of the Romulan people. I hereby commandeer this fleet in the name of the Senate and consign you to the brig so that you may contemplate your future execution. Centurions, take her away."

As they hauled the Commander off of her own bridge, SubCommander ir'Faan settled into the command chair and pressed the comms button. "Attention crew of the IRW Sei... This vessel is now under the command of the Tal'Shiar. Prepare to leave this miserable place immediately." He then cut the comm and pressed another. "Attention commander of the Federation starship. This fleet is now under the command of the Tal'Shiar, SubCommander Taron ir'Faan commanding."

"It is only my personal mnhei'sahe that demands me to give you this warning, but your destruction is now assured now that we have taken over the fleet. Commander t'Rekt has been deposed for her treachery... Her blatant disregard for rules and regulations... For conspiring with the enemy! The treasonous whore will get what is coming to her!"

It was obvious that he was more than a little unhinged at this point, but he was able to compose himself after a few moments and continue. "I demand that you detach all cables and cease all graviton emissions immediately before we begin our plasma torpedo bombardment upon your pitiful Starfleet garbage scow."

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

Back on the bridge of the USS Hera, Enalia rested her face in the palm of her hand at the incoming transmission before giving Rita a knowing look that almost said 'Please take his toys away from him.'

"Subcommander, please," Rita Paris implored across the audio channel, her tone earnest and hopeful. "It's in all of our best interest to work together. Won't you please reconsider your course, and work with us to all get back to normal space? Surely you can see the benefit of cooperation in this case?"

As she spoke, the nimble fingers of the time-tossed temptress were busily punching in alphanumeric strings of character, preparing them for transmission.

Over the ship's speakers, you could almost hear the sputtering of the SubCommander as he replied. "You sycophantic, lying, brainwashed dogs! I see you for what you are! You preach cooperation and peace with sickeningly sweet words to placate your victims just so you can disarm your prey and strip them of their dignity. Then once they're defenseless, you warp them into just another mindless, peacemongering, cookiecutter society just like the rest. Well, I'm not falling for that! In the name of the Empire, you'll never have my soul! Prepare all weapons! Fire at will!"

There was a pause as there seemed to be a panic on the other bridge. "What do you mean none of your commands are working?"

While she considered explaining, Rita Paris wasn't particularly inclined to explain that Commander t'Rekt had anticipated this, and actually handed over the command codes of the three D'deredix battlecruiser. Because Romulan treachery was boundless, and everyone had anticipated this... except, of course, for Subcommander ir'Faan.

"Subcommander, all three of our vessels are moving into position, and we have been locked out of helm, weapons, navigation... we have no control over any of our systems, sir. They seem to be overridden... and we've even been shut out of the overrides!" the centurion at the helm station reported, frustrated beyond all measure.

"Are you having issues SubCommander? Is your mutiny not going so well? I'm sorry, but we expected you to try and sabotage our efforts to save us all. Now be a good boy, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride while we make sure your asses survive long enough to regret your actions." Still leaning against her hand, Enalia tapped at her chair controls to close that channel and open a ship-wide one across all four ships.

When she spoke, rather than speaking in Federation common, she spoke in Romulan out of respect for the other three crews and let the UT translate for her own crew. "Attention all crews. We are now engaging our plan to escape this non-space. Man your stations and prepare for reversion to normal space. Elements be with us."

Closing the channel, the Trill woman took a deep breath and motioned towards the viewscreen. "Engage all generators and take us in as soon as the stargate is stable."

Sonak reported from his station.

''I will be sending our sensor scans to them as a back up to ensure accurate telemetry and monitoring for the transition.''

Over the Hera's comm, a chirrup was heard. "Captain. This is Ensign MacNielle on the Flight Deck. Our runabout has returned and docked. The escape pod is locked down and security and medical are taking care of its occupant now. Outer doors are closed and the flight deck is secure."

The spotted woman grinned wryly, hoping they weren't leaving anyone else behind. "Thank you MacNielle. Just in time to not get left behind."

"At your pleasure, Captain. We're in position, powering up graviton generators," Rita reported from the helm, guiding all four starships simultaneously as she directed them to open a stargate between them. Muttering to herself as she often did on the bridge, Rita grinned in bemusement. "First time for everything..."

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

On the bridge of the USS Persephone


"Captain! The Graviton readings are spiking. SOMETHING is definitely happening. We are beginning to experience gravimetric shearing." Lieutenant J'haran reported, as the blue-furred young man ran his fingers across his console.

"Helm, compensate." The Persephone's Captain said as she tapped the control on her command chair. "Persephone to Captain Garnak. Please lock your towing tractors on now, we believe it has begun."

At the rear of the Intrepid-class starship, was a much smaller Romulan vessel. An almost miniaturized version of the classic T'liss class Romulan Bird of Prey, it activated a shimmering green beam that locked onto the Persephone.

"Freight Eagle to Presephone," Came the voice of the Romulan pilot of the small ship that the Persephone had recovered after the initial rift had collapsed. "Towing tractor is secure. Engines at full thrust. We shall not be moving this day, I can assure you."

It was an act of colossal trust on the part of the Persephone's mistress as her people had repaired the tiny craft. Ensign O'Dell of the Hera had given the man star charts. With all of that, once that singularity was opened, there was nothing but the word of a Romulan to keep him from disengaging the tractor and letting the Persephone be pulled in while he escaped. The thought was going through a few crewmember's minds at that exact moment, as Captain Naraan looked over to Ensign Fiona O'Dell, the young pilot that fought to convince everyone to trust one another.

"The Starfleet way, Ensign O'Dell?" the stern-looking Cervan said with a light nod and the slightest hint of a smile on her lips.

"Aye mum, that's what the Commander calls it," O'Dell replied, not looking away from the screen as her right hand gripped the back of the flight control station's chair. "We come wi' the open hand, not the clenched phaser. We offer trust to get trust, we try to understand other cultures and respect 'em, while we try to show we're the good guys, not say so. Leastways, that's how the LC put it when she explained it to us, but it seems to be the decent thing to do, aye?"

While her answer was thorough, it was clear that while she had comported herself in a cavalier fashion up til now, with the actual arrival of the event, she was nervous for her shipmates. After all, her family was over there... the closest ones she had at least, even if some of them were off making babies. You two had better've taken care of each other over there or else...

Finding that she could not finish even contemplating that outcome, O'Dell's grip on the chairback tightened a bit as concern showed on her face.

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

USS HERA

"Graviton generators at maximum power, activating synchronized sequence... now!" The lost navigator pressed the virtual button, and the activation code went out over the makeshift network. Ionization and static energy crackled along the cables as they hummed to life, and space... rippled, flexed, and like a magic mirror coming into focus, there beyond the singularity, was the twinkling of stars in normal space, and the view of the prow of an Intrepid-class starship waiting for them on the other side.

Without waiting for a command, all four vessels began a roll maneuver Paris had designed, which would keep the cabling of the stargate structure stable, while the vessels, in a graceful and coordinated maneuver, all slipped from the anomalous space, as Paris had described it, into real space, over the course of 23 tense seconds.

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

IRW THIRD STAR

On the turbolift of the Romulan Warbird, Third Star, Commander Arnia t’Rekt was flanked by the two armed Centurions under the command of her former SubCommander, Taron ir-Faan. On her way to the massive, but largely empty starships brig as her ship had been seized from her control. But even still, she knew the traitor would not get far, for she had foreseen his betrayal and had the foresight to warn the Captain of the U.S.S. Hera and make preparations for the inevitable.

The Commander was a young woman. Extremely young to be a Commander, especially by Romulan standards, but she was no fool. "Did ir-Faan promise you power? Rank? Did he say that the Empire would reward you for your treachery?"

"Quiet, traitor. We all know what you've done. You've sold us to the Federation for your own skin, and when we return to the Herathworlds with the shattered remains of that Starfleet, we will be heralded as heroes." One of the two guards said, with a contempt sneer.

"You presume that you will ever see the skies of the hearthworld again. That is short-sighted, Centurion." t'Rekt said, as the doors to the lift opened. Suddenly, the lift was alight with the green flash of disruptor fire and the halted shouts of shock as the two centurions fell on either side of t'Rekt, who stood and hung her head for a moment.

Meanwhile, back on the bridge of the Third Star, the Centurions that had removed the officers from their control stations were struggling to regain control of the vessel. "SubCommander ir-Faan! Nothing is working! All of our command codes have... have been rewritten. All of the consoles are useless."

With almost every other word, ir-Faan smashed a fist into his now useless command chair console to try and punctuate his point as he railed against the hand fate had dealt him. "Those filthy human bitches! I knew they were treacherous. The whole Federation is full of animals like them. They fill your ears with sickeningly sweet platitudes of peace and diplomacy, all the while removing your fangs and leaving you defenseless! Secure the database at all costs! Purge our systems and prepare for self destruct! This is one Rihannsu they'll not find so toothless! For the glory of the Empire, they'll not have our secrets!"

"I cannot access the databases! I cannot access the self-destruct protocols, SubCommander! We're completely locked out! They've changed our command codes! Came the voice of a Centurion frantically pressing inactive buttons on a panel. But with all of ir-Faan's Centurions working stations on the bridge, nobody was watching the lifts.

"They left YOU fanged and defenseless, Taron." Came t'Rekt's voice as her own centurions rushed the bridge from the turbolift, getting the drop on ir'Faan's men. "No more of our blood need be spilled this day. Open your eyes and LOOK, proud fools!"

The young, exhausted Commander waved her arm towards the viewscreen, and where had been the endless, roiling void of nothingness was again, a familiar cornucopia of stars. "We are free of the madness of that realm! That realm that our command had abandoned us too once they had their prize." And for a moment, all on the bridge of the Third Star, all young and all inexperienced, stared in awe at reality, restored. 

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

USS PERSEPHONE

Across the distance, from the bridge of the Persephone, there were gasps as the leading edge of the Hera and then three Romulan Warbirds pressed through the visual distortion in space. 

"There they are, Captain! It's the Hera!" Came the call from the Opps station as Captain Naraan replied with her trademark, nonplussed countenance, in spite of the massive forces that were shaking her ship harshly. "We can all see that, Ensign. Thank you. Helm, prepare to pull us back to a safe distance as soon as they are fully clear and the singularity is closed. Science, disengage the graviton beam immediately and Captain Garnak, as soon as we signal you, disengage the tractor beam and pull to a safe distance."

All stations and the voice of the Romulan on the towing vehicle replied in the affirmative as they watched the ships clear the rift.

Silently, Fiona O'Dell mouthed a prayer, whether out of habit or actual faith, she couldn't say. But her shipmates had made it back. So hopefully, so too had her little family. Don't be dramaaaatic, Fiona. Of course they're alreet.

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USS HERA

"Captain!! Sensors show all ships are 60% of the event horizon of the rift!" Ensign Jones called out from the Ops station as the mighty starship shuddered with the gravimetric shearing from the singularity they were still generating. "Sub-Space frequencies are re-establishing and... what is that? Sensors show... something approaching from the other side of the rift, Captain?"

Staring at her own readouts, Enalia almost had to do a double-take at what she was seeing. "Please tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing. Are those... Tentacles? Or... Mister Sonak? Clarification please."

It took a moment for the Vulcan to make sense of what his scanners conveyed to him. In the end, he could only transfer the data to the viewing computer of the bridge so that they would all see what he was seeing.

''Captain; I am unable to clarify. What our sensors are recording... it is defying all known laws of science. For lack of a better term, it is... beyond our comprehension of reality.''

On screen it was like looking into the depths of an ocean; green waves of alternating darker hues with shades of a color no one could name. It gave a feeling of depth beyond the very notion of a void, a deepness that went from the eyes to the soul. The sight of it defied the senses, stirring a hurtful silence from one's ears and a vague stench and foul taste of vomit as if one's entrails were festering.

In the deafening silence of the limitless void, something was heard. A shrill echo, like the whistling of someone's last breath.

It was a flute.

And amidst this unfathomable abyss, something stirred.

Their eyes wanted to shut yet they could not tear away from the slow, sickening undulation of the cosmic sea. The movement of the waves slowly tried to take shape.

'Tentacles' the captain had suggested. For a moment, it indeed looked like slimy tendrils dancing towards them. that is what best the rational mind could make out of the chaos of form and movement, of color and mass that was slowly filling up the screen. But then, they coalesced at the edge of everyone's vision like the closing of long goo-dripping fingers grasping at their flesh to tear it away and clutch their souls, ripping it out to present it to the heart of the abyss.

And the center of the void was opening like a maw, star-sized jaws piled one within the other into infinite depth, with rows and rows of serrated teeth licked lustily by bloodied tongues burning red like wild comets; a maw was opening, one maw for every soul on board. An around every maw was a circle of pale flashing orbs liker blinking eyes looking at their bared thoughts with pure hatred, and hunger, shedding tears of blood and pus from a thousand open wounds on a writhing, putrescent mass of decaying flesh that was coming towards the ship, closer... closer... closer...

And the flute sang madness looming closer to their minds, to their souls, closer... closer... closer...

Enalia, the only one with two minds, forced herself to tear her eyes away from the viewscreen and looked down at the status of their escape from that nightmarish place. The last warbird was just now clearing the event horizon of the realspace side of the singularity. "Collapse the stargate... Collapse it... Shut off the graviton generators."

But no one was responding.

They couldn't hear her.

She could barely hear herself.

With the flute still drowning out most of her thoughts and refusing to look at the viewscreen, she launched herself at the helm controls, past Rita and tapped at the controls almost sluggishly, shutting down the generators herself even as the world seemed to slowly spin further away from her.

But the stargate wasn't closing fast enough.

Even as the three warbird graviton generators shut off, rather than shutting off the Hera's she programmed it to send a feedback pulse at as high of a power range as it could and initiated it so that at least this end would collapse and seal up. Without hesitating, she initiated the pulse, almost immediately frying the generator and several EPS conduits supporting the deflector, taking it offline.

But it had the desired effect - this side of the hole was no longer open.

Slumping on the helm controls for a moment, Enalia let out a sigh of relief as her mind cleared. "Status report."

Sonak, not having to reassess his mind from any emotional disruption, was first to answer. But his tone of voice betrayed how deeply he was confused still by what he had experienced.

''The aperture is... closed. The singularity... has collapsed. We are back in Einsteinian Space. Spacetime has resumed it's course along established parameters. There is no trace detected of... whatever we experienced in the other reality.''

"Ah, sorry Captain," Rita began to snap out of it, realizing Enalia was at her station, and that she had been sucked into the void of chaos from beyond the stars, by an entity that defied their three-dimensional laws of space in time. They had escaped the colour out of space, and from the whisperer in the darkness, the haunter of the dark, the horror out of time, who dwelled beyond the wall of sleep.

The Unnamable, from beyond.

"All four vessels report damage to the graviton generators from a feedback surge, Captain, but minimal damage reports coming in. It looks like we did it, ma'am. Minor residual graviton particles detected, but nowhere near the concentration for a transdimensional event." It was a bit beyond her conventional scope of reporting, but Paris was overcompensating just a tad for having been paralyzed at her station. "Should we discuss turning over control of the battle cruisers back to the Romulans now, Captain?"

"Yeah, let's see if they're willing to hand control back over to Commander t'Rekt," Enalia replied, returning to her command chair. "And please stand down from alert status and signal our safe return to the Persephone. I have a feeling there are a few people over there that were a bit worried about us."

And as if on cue, Ensign Jones turned and called back to Enalia. "Captain. We're being hailed by the Third Star now."

Seemingly with great enjoyment, Enalia motioned towards the viewscreen and took her time saying the words, "On screen."

On the screen, the Commander t'Rekt stood, looking a bit more haggard than the last time Enalia saw her, but she was sitting in the command chair, where she belonged. "Captain Telvan. You have the thanks of us all in fulfilling your promise to return us to normal space. During the incident, thankfully our preparations were fruitful, and I have control of the ship once more. My mutinous SubCommander is on his way to our brig as we speak. Thankfully, I still had my share of loyal crewmembers who..."

Glancing down to the view of where Rita was sitting at the Hera's helm, t'Rekt didn't quite smile, but the feeling was there nonetheless. "... who still had hope we could succeed. We owe you much."

"I swore on my honor that you would be returned home safely, Commander. As I see it, that job is only half done." The Trill captain settled into her chair and considered her next words carefully. "If you would give me a bit more time, I'd like to make sure that you'll be welcomed back to the Empire. Last we had heard, Rendall was a rogue agent and all of her assets and privileges stripped from her by the Senate."

"Thus I would negotiate on your behalf for your safe passage and return to your homes." Enalia continued. "If you would allow this."

There was the slightest hint of a change of expression on the young, but still decidedly Romulan commander. The indication for Enalia to read that the idea what Riov Rendal was a renegade was unknown to the woman. "I have... had my suspicions regarding this operation and it's... dubious planning... for the last few days, Captain. And your words... confirm, to some degree... those suspicions."

"I will discuss this with the Commanders of the First Star and the Fourth Star, but I believe they will agree with me that... negotiation may be in order. That said, I would like to discuss this at greater length once we have the opportunity. Thank you." t'Rekt finished with a respectful bow.

As she did, Ensign Jones spoke back quietly, "Captain, we are also being hailed by the Persephone."

"Thank you for your trust, Commander t'Rekt. It has been an honor serving with you and I look forward to doing so in the next few days as well." Enalia then motioned for Ensign Jones to switch the viewscreen over to the Persephone. "Unencrypted so there are no secrets between our new allies."

As the captain of their fellow intel ship appeared on screen, another familiar face appeared next to hers, and Enalia could almost feel the relief spread across the bridge. "It's great to see you both," she said with a wide smile filled with relief.

"As it is to see you all safely returned, Captain Telvan." The tall, usually stern-looking Cervan woman said, with the hint of a proud smile upon her lips. "And while we were pleased to be of much-needed assistance, I would be remiss were I to not say that the actual plan of how we would actually help came courtesy of your own Ensign O'Dell and the pilot of the Romulan Freight Eagle parked at our side."

As she spoke, Captain Naraan stepped slightly aside to let Fiona take center-screen.

Grinning ear to ear, the stunt pilot sprite waved gaily from the main viewer. "Aboot time ye got here, mum! I was afraid alla me big talk aboot ye and the Hera was g'win ta turn oot to be joost hot air if ye dinna show oop! This here's Cap'n Garnak," she declared, pulling the somewhat reluctant Romulan into frame with her. "Him and me was the ones what figured oot how ta light a candle in the window for ye, and he even held the Persephone from gettin soocked into the rift. A right hero, me friend Garnak, aye Captain?"

"Captain Garnak, Ensign O'Dell, Captain Naraan, you have played a key role in the rescue of the brave crews of four vessels. We and our families are eternally in your debt." With those words Enalia bowed her head respectfully.

"Your words honor us, Captain Telvan. For us, we are simply glad that all are well. And Indeed, Mr. Garnak was... as invaluable in our efforts, as Ensign O'Dell says. And while you are her superior, and such factors are at your own discretion, my report will attest to her service, and my recommendation for commendation in these unique circumstances." Captain Naraan said, allowing just a bit more of a smile out.

The Trill woman now had a wide smile once more on her face as she replied. "Pending your report, I see no reason not to hold up any commendations. I'll be generating quite a few for those among both of our crews as well as requesting them for several members of the Imperial Navy crews for valorous conduct during cross-cultural rescue operations. That includes you as well, Captain Garnak, though I don't know your actual affiliation."

"I am no Captain, I am afraid. I am... allkha. Conscripted into service. I have no rank or military affiliation, save that the military owns the vessel and my contract for services." Garnak replied neutrally, not quite raising his eyes to meet Enalia's. "But you have my thanks."

Enalia's smile faded as she knew that word well and she suspected it went far further than she liked. "Then I'd like to debrief you at the same time as Fiona, and perhaps we can discuss things in further detail, if you're willing. I believe your future, as well as the crews of those aboard the three warbirds that we have become friends with, will need careful diplomatic negotiations if we are to reunite you with your families safely."

"As you wish, Captain. I shall assist however is needed." Garnak nodded, a light bow, then stepped back. 

Stepping back to the center, Captain Naraan spoke. "Excellent. We shall make the necessary arrangements then, Captain Telvan. Your support vessels are safe and in optimal condition, so Ensign O'Dell will be overseeing their, and her own, return to the Hera presently. Once again, it is good to see you are safe."

The spotted captain chuckled softly, that piratical grin finally gracing her face. "It's good to be safe and sound on this side of... Wherever we were. Next time we meet up, the first round of drinks is on me."

Glancing down at her PaDD once more, the spotted captain furrowed her brow worriedly. "SubCommander Arrenhe t'Suil. Formerly of the Romulan Navy and Tal'Shiar. If you don't mind, we'd like to ask you some questions about your former Captain."

The EMH, Doc Power interjected softly. "I've healed her body as best I could for now, Captain, but her mind is far from recovered. I must ask you to be gentle, if possible."

With a nod, Enalia tucked the PaDD away and rested her hands on her hips. "Then I'll use Federation questioning methods. I'll simply ask."

Sitting in the mid-sized, white-walled chamber in the Brig of the U.S.S. Hera, t'Suil had slightly more room than not, as this was the medical wing. Outfitted in a basic Starfleet one piece, light blue outfit, she just sat, quietly.

Her shoulder-length, black hair seemed a bit more gray than not for a Romulan in her mid-40's, and she still had a bandage across her face where her left eye used to be. The Hera's holographic healer had done his job well, and if t'Suil could still feel the lingering pain of the frostbite or oxygen deprivation from when her escape pod's life support had begun to fail, it wasn't visible. Instead, she simply looked at the wall opposite her with her remaining eye, a blank expression on her face.

Looking at the wall. Looking beyond the wall. Looking at something Enalia couldn't yet know. But she said nothing.

"Since all we know about you and Captain Dalia Rendal is from Intel reports and Commander Dox's debriefings, we would appreciate your cooperation in these matters," Enalia prodded, hoping for a response.

And a response she got, though only in the slightest sense. At the utterance of the word 'Dox', t'Suil's hands twitched ever so slightly. It was virtually invisible, but as obvious as a red alert klaxon to the keen eyes of the Pirate Captain. And it was a reaction that was reinforced as the medical readout of the sensors that were trained on the Romulan captive noted the slightest of spikes in her otherwise minimal, Vulcanoid blood pressure.

But still, t'Suil said nothing.

And Enalia pressed. "Honestly, we can't even be sure if you're Rendal's lapdog or not. Sure the DNA testing says you are, but unless we bring Mnhei'sahe Dox in here to look at you..."

"Loyal..." t'Suil muttered, a hoarse whisper, barely audible. "I am loyal. I will not betray my mistress. She will never match my loyalty." As she muttered, she leaned slightly over, putting her arms around her knees and rocking in place. 

Enalia grinned slightly as she leaned in closer. "Good. Then we need you to confirm who you're loyal to. Is it Dalia Rendal? Is it the Romulan Senate? Someone else?"

"I am no blood traitor! I serve the Imperium. I serve the imperium!" t'Suil cried, shaking her head as she spoke, her voice now a cracked but week shout of protest. Then, she shrunk back down and began muttering again. "I am a loyal Romulan. She is a blood traitor."

"NO!" t'Suil shouted, jerking around on the padded platform she sat on, as if reacting to a voice nobody else heard, her eyes fixed on empty space next to where Enalia was standing. "I betrayed nothing! I will never betray my mistress! You will never earn that uniform!"

"Who? Who won't earn what uniform?" The Trill captain wasn't sure if she was getting somewhere or if the woman before her had gone completely insane while she was in that escape pod. She was going to do her best to find out though.

"I am her Apprentice, NOT you!" t'Suil said to the space next to Enalia. "I am loyal to my mistress. I never betrayed her. I would never betray her! You are nothing!"

Then, the ranting Romulan shot up from her seat and came so close to the forcefield she was kept behind that her loose hair caused the energy to ripple slightly. But this time, she wasn't talking to open space and was, instead, talking directly to Enalia. "You trust her, but you don't know. No one escapes. No one escapes my Mistress. Not for long. Her grip is long. Almost as long as his."

"His? Who is he? Is your mistress working for him now? What does he want?" Enalia stared deep into t'Suil's good eye, wondering just how far off the deep end she'd gone and if she was going to get anything useful out of her.

Shutting her eye, t'Suil winced and covered her ears as she stepped away for a moment, muttering seemingly to herself, "I will say what needs be said, usurper. Be silent.".

A moment later, she sat back down, seemingly calmly. Then, she looked back up at Enalia, shooting the slightest of glances to that same empty space before speaking again. "My mistress thinks she is in control, but I fear she is the one being controlled. She wishes to save the Star Empire, but I fear she may unknowingly become the instrument of our doom."

"Then tell me what I need to know to prevent that," Enalia replied with a brief glance to where t'Suil kept looking. "And know that no one could ever replace you. No one."

Entering the brig, Commander Paris was clad in her traditional anachronistic uniform minidress of a dozen decades ago, and moved at the martial pace that was yet another unique trademark of the distinctive and unique first officer of the USS Hera. As she spoke, she did not look up from the PaDD, or even acknowledge t'Suil's presence- quite deliberately. "Captain, I have some readings from the Doctor. According to this, she may very well be a quick clone, crafted and programmed to throw us off the trail. He believes it may be possible that Rendal literally cloned her, brain-fried her via Jurot device, and dumped her in an escape pod for us to find. I mean, it is awfully coincidental that she'd disappear without a trace, but leave behind her sniveling toady. Looks likely that this is just a red herring and you're wasting your time here, Captain."

"You're suggesting she cloned her SubCommander and dumped a mad copy just so we could find it to throw us off the trail? That sounds far too elaborate and convoluted even for her. Unless this is either a former clone or a failed clone and she's just running through clones of t'Suil and throwing them away when they're no longer any good." Enalia paced across the room, thinking over the possibility. "The Dominion does that with Vorta, after all. The Tal'Shiar might be secretly doing that with people like her."

Rushing back up to the force field, almost slamming against it, the ragged and damaged woman screamed at Enaila and Rita, and as she did it was uncertain if she even believed her own words. "REAL!!! REAL!!! I AM REAL!!! I am not a clone! I have stood by my mistresses for years! I have supported her unwaveringly for... I cannot be a... no!!!"

Then she turned to the empty space to the side of Enalia and scowled. "SHUT UP!! I AM real! I AM loyal!!! And I will prove it be doing what you will not!!!"

"I will save my mistress from herself!" t'Suil said, stepping back and staring at her captors with disgust. "Even if I must betray myself."

"Mmmm, good drama. I believe this is the part of the plan where she 'levels with us' to give us the invitation programmed into her, to lead us into the trap her creator has constructed, Captain. Let's see how THIS plays out, shall we?" Paris openly scoffed at the madwoman, without a hint of compassion or care for her as an individual. Instead, Paris was already treating her as less than a sentient being, speaking of her instead of to her, not making eye contact and dismissing her status as a person.

"I'd like to hear what she has to say at least. After all, why waste the resources on a clone just on the hope that we would find it? We almost didn't before the escape pod was dissolved." Enalia turned back to t'Suil thoughtfully. So what say you? How can you prove you're real?"

Stepping back from the field, t'Suil scoffed as her eyes darted around her cell. Then, she looked at Rita calmly, once more. "You, she will see dead on her blade for what you have cost her already, HEVAM.

The word was a Romulan slur for 'human' that t'Suil hissed out before turning back to Enalia. "I give you nothing. I will prove nothing for you. For there is nothing you could do to stop my Mistress. She will rain fire, and blood, and death upon you and your federation!"

Shuddering in place, she shot a glare towards the empty air next to Enalia and simmered for a moment. Then, in a quiet whisper t'Suil spoke again, not to Enalia or Rita, but to the vision only she could see. "No, you won't. You won't. You will never be her apprentice. You will never stand by her si... no. Stop it. You're not REAL!"

Looking more and more agitated, t'Suil began shaking as her voice raised. "You... you aren't... you're one of them, aren't you? Like him!?Like the one my mistress serves, unknowingly! You wear this face to make us betray our own! You'll not have her!!!"

And as she began to shout, this time the wounded Romulan woman ran face-first into the force field, which flared to life in a burst of shimmering blue and a crackle of power. And as she did, she was thrown back against the wall of her cell from the force of her impact redirected back upon her, where she flumped to the ground and curled into a ball. And from the ground, she began to mutter to her self in Romulan, "Kaol'nen... Ataen'dænn Kaol'nen."

And even before the universal translator compensated, both women knew the word. 'Kaol'nen'... the Romulan word for a Changeling. Meanwhile, on the floor, t'Suil began to cry as she continued to mutter to herself, in Romulan. "Make it stop. Make the nightmare stop. Please... please let me wake up."

The two flag officers exchanged expressions, and each knew what the other was thinking. Lowering the forcefield, Paris hunkered down on her haunches. While her skirt rode up indecently, she covered her modesty with the tablet in her hand. When she spoke, her voice was low and calm, and her eyes sought those of the wounded Romulan woman.

"t'Suil? I know you don't believe it, but we really are here to help." Seeing no response in the broken woman, the old-fashioned officer sighed, and shook her head. "If Captain Rendel really IS working for the changelings, then we've ALL got big problems. Particularly given the technology they're using, and what they're pursuing. t'Suil, please... share what you know with us, and help us try to save your mistress from something far worse."

Chuckling, Paris acknowledged the facts. "She might want to see me on the end of a blade, but I'd rather see her not destroyed by a Dominion plan. After all, we hevam are that way, aren't we?"

"She... she doesn't know." t'Suil whispered, still curled up on the deck as she tried to scooch away from Rita. "I... I have no proof. Just... a suspicion. She believes him to be of royal blood. Of one of the old houses, but it is a lie. I know it."

"With the Deleth Station, she will have the power to open singularities at will. She has your protomatter data. She has the data from your Blood Traitor's mind." t'Suil muttered, "What can you do to stop her? How... can you save her?"

"We can try, t'Suil. We might fail, but we will damn sure try." In those words might well have been the woman's life mission statement, given the existence Rita Paris had led thus far. Looking back to the Captain, Paris rose from the crouch she'd been in to stand next to the commanding officer, to present a unified front once more. "Where is she going now? What's the next step in her plan, do you know?"

"She's proven her superiority and gotten what she needs from us already... So if I had to guess, she's planning an attack on Asgard next." Compared to Arenara, Rendal's movements almost seemed suddenly simplistic at this point and Enalia had a hunch that Odin, who also had wronged the Royal Riov, would be her next target in some way. Then another thought struck her. "You were the tactical genius behind her plans, weren't you? She made the grand sweeping gestures and you made sure there was subtlety and guile. A perfect pairing, if there ever was one."

Slowly and hesitantly, t'Suil pulled herself up off the deck, clutching the edge of her cot, and eventually, she worked her way back to her feet. Leaning in the corner, she rubbed her face where she had slammed into the force field and flinched as she gently touched her bandaged eye. 

Pausing, she remembered purposefully aggravating her wound in the escape pod to keep the nightmares away. To keep her awake by focusing on that pain, and with that memory fresh in her mind, she clawed off the bandage. Her wound had been well healed by Doctor Power, but the freshly regrown tissue that had covered over where her eye used to be was still green and raw to the touch, but it was a pain that told her something. That this was real. That she was finally awake again.

"Captain Telvan, Commander Paris. You tell me something first... and I will answer your question." t'Suil muttered, still leaning against the bulkhead as her good eye focused on that still empty space next to Enalia, she realized that neither of the other two women had acknowledged anything that the third woman had said or done. "Where is she? Where is your little pet Romulan?"

Enalia's eyes narrowed at the insinuation that she'd keep anyone as a pet, but she answered anyway. "She's on another assignment far from here and won't be returning for some time."

Tilting her head, t'Suil again spoke with her eyes fixed on that blank space. "Just another nightmare, you are. A phantom that followed me back from that black realm. That's all you are, pretender."

Still clearly seeing a vision of some dark version of the Hera's Chief Flight Control Officer, t'Suil looked back to Enalia and continued. "Ie, I served my Mistress as her SubCommander for near two decades. My service was absolute. And yes, that involved enacting her idea and making them actionable tactics. Crew rotations, maintenance schedules, navigational management. Picking the locations where we TESTED that formula we ripped from your little pet's head. So, yes. I know where we have been and likely where she is going. I know the moons that no longer exist to prove our power. Pulled into that nothingness and devoured along with all upon them."

"As for your question, I cannot say where she plans to go next. She knows that I escaped, and thus any specifics I was a part of the planning of have been changed. All I know is that ALL that have defied my mistress and the truth of the Star Empire will fall victim to her wrath, including the so-called Gods that stripped her of the station." t'Suil said, her eye bouncing back and forth from Rita to Enalia. "And the two of you as well. But my mistress does not need me to enact her plans. She will have her revenge, and I will die for betraying her, as mnhei'sahe demands."

"Well, then unless there's anything else you'd like to tell us, I suppose we should leave you alone with Doc Power and your demons," the Trill woman replied, nodding with a stoic expression, looking around as if to locate said demon. "Where is it again? Over here somewhere?" As she asked, she waved her hands around where she guessed t'Suil had been looking, hoping she was going through the vision.

Stilling the mocking of the Captain, Paris stepped forward, her face a mask of concern and compassion. "Your loyalty to your commander is admirable. t'Suil. I know how that is, being the one what makes things work and making it all seem effortless. Pulling strings, cajoling, threatening... all so that their plans succeed, and they never know how close it all came to catastrophe."

"I don't know what came between you, and I won't ask. That's your story to tell, in your own time. But I want you to know... right here, right now, this version of you... I pity you. A faithful retainer abandoned and cast aside after years of loyal service. Your entire life's purpose swept away in the most unimaginably cruel rejection you could image, come to pass. You are wounded and desperate and hating us because that's what she thought is the only thing keeping you going. Under ordinary circumstances, I imagine you are a rather amazing woman, Ms. t'Suil. This version of you, though... this abandoned dog still whining at her master's door when she has moved on... I pity you, t'Suil."

As the rant began, Paris stepped back to the Captain and the two slowly walked away, leaving the madwoman to rant in their wake.

"WILL YOU PITY ME WHEN THE BOOT OF MY MISTRESS IS ON YOUR THROAT, YOU PATHETIC HEVAM!?! WILL YOU!?!" t'Suil screamed as she slammed back against the force field over and over again. Each time, it flared and shocked her back until, finally, she fell back against the deck with a hard thud and a trickle of green coming from her nose. "I... will pity you all when you are bloody ashes. All of you. All of us."

Leaning back against the bulkhead of her cell, she continued to rail to the empty room, "You will all fall! All die when my mistress comes for you! And she will KNOWWW!!! She will know of the nature of her enemies. She will study the files I studied. She will see what I saw and learn what I could not TELL her! She will destroy you ALL!!!"

Then she looked back on the other side of the force field, and saw what she had seen the whole time. The red-headed Romulan pilot of the Hera, Mnhei'sahe Dox, standing there in t'Suil's own Romulan SubCommander's uniform, smirking at her. "Oh, you have made your mistress proud this day, Arrenhe. Rambling like a psychopath. Telling her enemies your secrets. How far you have fallen."

"Quiet, traitor." t'Suil hissed at the phantom in her mind, though for anyone watching, she was simply sitting quietly, not saying a word. "I told them nothing that will save them. They... they will doom themselves trying. And when my mistress comes for me, I will give her what she want's more than anything else."

"I will give her you, oh noble blooded." The madwoman's eyes narrowed, looking at nothing. "And then I shall be her apprentice once more... when you are dead."

The Trill captain and mistress of the USS Hera sighed as she stared out the massive bay windows of the plush conference room behind the bridge. As she relaxed in the high backed chair and breathed in the aromatic Romulan tea she had prepared for the upcoming debriefing, she almost reconsidered moving her office to the much larger, curved room. It wouldn't even take that much renovation.

Still, she had gotten used to the smaller office and the close proximity to the bridge. Plus the side view of the ship was far nicer than the rear view with the pod and pylon dominating the scenery. Still, it felt wonderful being able to see stars again. She had slept through most of it, trapped in her nightmares, but even in the dreamscape there were no stars when she had looked out the viewports.

But soon she'd have to debrief not only Ensign O'Dell, but her new friend from the Freight Eagle that had been left behind as well so she composed herself and went over the records once more in preparation.

As they arrived on the bridge, O'Dell, was still talking to Garnak in hushed, excited tones. "She's a rum sort, but dinna call her 'sir, nivvir ivver, aye? She likes 'mum' or 'Captain', but she's nae formal s'long as ye show her respect, y'ken? And joost be honest wi' er- she can smell a lie like a three day old fish. Be yuirself, speak the truth and ye've naught to fear from the pirate que- ah, Starfleet captain, alreet?"

Nervously, the Romulan freight pilot in the simple, gray cargo jumpsuit glanced around him at the bridge, taking care to not let his eyes linger, knowing his actions were being well and truly watched by the ship's security. "Thank you for your... preparations, Fiona. I shall do my best to keep that all in mind. But so far, this vessel is even more unorthodox than the Persephone, it seems."

"Wahhhhl, we're a bit more cuttin' edge. Dinna worry though, Herself'll set ya right." As she spoke O'Dell approached the Hera's conference room, extending her finger to activate the door chime, only to have the door slide open at her approach, causing her to flinch slightly, before striding into the 'office' like a conquering hero.

"Ensign O'Dell, reportin back to command, Captain Telvan, mum. I believe ye know me associate Cap'n Garnak?" O'Dell grinned widely, mostly operating on bluff and bluster, as per normal.

"Jolan tru, Captain." Garnak said with a sharp bow.

"Jolan tru," the captain replied as she motioned towards the tea on the conference table. "Please, have a seat and help yourselves to some tea. We had some leaves from ch'Rihan in storage that I thought would be fitting for today."

"Right nice of ye, mum. So, as I'm sure ye gathered, I made Mr. Garnak a few promises aboot cooperation and protection and sooch. Ah knoow it was nae me place to speak for ye mum, but I know ye wouldnae fail to do right by an ally, and Cap'n Garnak here risked his life, his family and his future to help us oot there." While his contribution, up until anchoring the Persephone, could be argued as negligible, O'Dell's was a simple creed- one did not let innocent people perish by their own hand because they were fortunate. One also trusted in one's Captain to do the right thing, and care for those allies when their time of need came.

In this, O'Dell was surprisingly unconcerned. She had long observed the Captain, like a shark moving amongst minnows, and had seen the way she treated those who served under her, those who opposed her, and those who allied with her. Thus she had volunteered and done, in truth, what she felt her Captain would have done in her stead. A demonstration that Enalia Telvan's leadership was indeed inspiring the crew- at least this particular crew member.

For his part, Garnak was nervous and stayed quiet, following Fiona's lead. The two formed an unlikely trust out there in space for a few hours before the Persephone arrived, and while he was impressed with the Captain's knowledge of his culture, he wanted to see how the Trill woman responded to Fiona's statement.

"You did the right thing, Ensign," the Trill woman replied with a kind smile before sipping her own cup of tea. "One of the promises of Starfleet is that you're never alone. One of my promises is that we take care of each other and those that consider themselves our enemies as equals, should they ask for it. No strings attached."

"And Captain Garnak, you mentioned you are not a captain but something else... Something that I suspect my honor will not let go of." The spotted captain set her teacup aside and got down to business. "You and yours are slaves, aren't you?"

The tired-looking Romulan pilot was taken slightly aback and went tight as Enalia spoke. Then, he looked down at Fiona with a pained expression. Of all the things the two spoke of, this was the one detail he had worked hard to avoid. "Ie, Captain. I can speak not for the crews of the other ships, but... yes. I... have no house name or holdings. I am... conscripted into service to the Star Empire. As... is my family."

"I... apologize for not saying so, Fiona." He admitted, reluctantly, to the tiny test pilot he had befriended unexpectedly.

"S'nae yuir fault, why would ye apologize?" Fiona O'Dell asked, big green eyes looking up at the none-too-tall Romulan. Reaching over, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder and offered a mild squeeze. "Nae tellin me yuir a slave, well, who would say sooch a thing? Not that it sits right wi'me, but... that's nae me call to make, aye? Dinna ye worry, Garnak. I dinna think inny less of ye, cuz yuir a good man who did the right thing, and likely ye saved me from doin somethin stupid oot there, y'ken?"

While she did not say it, the understanding was there, at least for the Captain. Left to her own devices, O'Dell, ever the daredevil, likely would have tried following the Hera, which would most likely have been an unsuccessful venture which would likely have gotten her lost, killed, or both. But the Romulan who needed her help had restrained her from leaping into action with no plan or consideration, which she now acknowledged.

"You should never apologize for the circumstances of your life. However, being who I am, it would not sit well with me unless I did everything within my power to improve your lot, and at the very least gain you and your family freedom. Especially in light of the aid you've rendered us." The crimson-clad captain let a grin grace her face.

"Fortunately, we have quite a few options available to us. First and foremost, we count the granddaughter of a Romulan Senator among our crew, and that gives us an avenue of negotiation. As for your freedom, in my eyes at least, you've earned a name this day. In the Artan Empire, that would be enough to start a new life with your family if you so chose."

"Captain, you offer me much. But all I truly wish is to return to my home. To have it known that I did what I did to save lives." Garnak said, finally taking the offered seat, somewhat hesitantly, as he turned to O'Dell, "This Romulan. This is the woman you spoke of? Your... L-C?"

"Aye, that's the one... the Warbird herself, Lieutenant Commander Dox. Which," O'Dell turned back to the Captain, her body language apologetic and a bit pleading. "Ah know we're all hoosh-hoosh an' top secret and classified and alla that, Cap'n, but the circumstances were a bit extreme. Apparently, orders are if cut off from the fleet to self-destruct, so... Ah may have been a wee bit fast and loose aboot the LC and how Ah knoow a few Romulan swear words and sooch."

At that O'Dell looked around nervously. "Speakin a'which, should Ah actually report mum, professional-like? Or ye know what happened and you'll read me report later?"

"I read the initial reports from Captain Naraan, so I have the general outline of what happened," Enalia replied, composing herself and returning to her tea, leaving the prior matter unsettled for now, much to her chagrin. "But I'd like to hear any thoughts the both of you have on the proceedings of the entire mission, start to finish. And when I mean start, I mean the very start."

"We had poor intel. We dinna know them big warbirds were oot there, and while they were otherwise occupied, those battle cruisers coulda been right deadly." O'Dell piped up immediately, ignoring the security protocols to answer the Captain's question directly. "If I'da nae been scattered as Ah was, I woulda been sucked in too, and tis joost luck of the Leprechaun I wasnae and could be here to help ye all back. Tactically this one was an bit of a nightmare, mum. We might shoulda had better intel and we coulda formed a better plan than 'shoot the generators holdin open the wormhole so we can stop 'em. All due respect and because ye asked, Mum."

"A sound assessment and one I agree with. If the situation were less dire at the moment and if the situation on the warbirds scanned any less stressful, I would like to think I would have called it off." The Trill woman nodded solemnly, taking the picayune pilot's words to heart. "Unfortunately, the rogue agent Rendal still got away with the station and trapped us in that nightmare place for some time. Perhaps it would have been best to have called it off anyway. We were lucky, but not lucky enough."

"Rogue agent?" Garnak said with a look of surprise on his face. "Then... this was not an approved operation of the Senate?"

As the idea rolled around in his head, his heart sank slightly. "That... explains much. Including my involvement as a Freight Eagle pilot. I had long wondered to myself why better-trained officers were not at the helm. Why the Warbirds were crewed by those so young." Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "We were fools, all of us."

"Which is why there's the need for negotiations with the Senate for you to return home," Enalia explained softly. "Because of your association with her, if you cross the neutral zone without approval, you will be attacked and imprisoned as traitors to the Empire. I would prevent that at all costs, and I believe the threat of all of your ships and crew falling into Federation or Artan Empire hands would be a considerable negotiating foothold."

"Do you have anything to add to the official report, Captain Garnak?" the Trill Captain inquired. "Your thoughts on the lead up to the mission, or perhaps during it? I understand you spent some time on the other side of the singularity as well. Were you there long enough to experience the nightmares?"

"As ye see things. Remember, she's me commandin' officer and I just told her the unvarnished truth. That's what she gives an' expects, aye? Joost be honest," O'Dell quietly encouraged the Romulan drone, for whom the past few hours had been a rollercoaster.

Looking down at Fiona in the seat next to him, Garnak took a breath and swallowed. It was clear he didn't want to speak, but knew it was important. "I was not. While securing the station and extricating it took many hours, we did so in under a day. Though the entire time within that... horror... I could feel... eyes upon me."

"But, in truth, my thoughts leading up to the mission we limited." He said, shaking his head. "I was given the most limited of information. Only what was required to perform the task provided of me. My vessel, as you know from Ensign O'Dell, was not equipped with the equipment to even return home without aid. In hindsight, I do not believe I was ever intended to survive. I, nor the crews of those Warbirds."

Then he paused. "But... if I may, Captain. You... discussed that there might be something you could do in regards to... my station?"

"Indeed, it seems likely that few were expected to return from this mission. As for your station, in the Artan Empire, you have a ship at your disposal and you've provided quite noble deeds to those that the queen of that empire consider to be..." Here, Enalia paused, trying to choose her words carefully as she was in her Starfleet uniform. "Irreplaceable to her. I have it on good faith that this would put you in an agreeable position to start your own name and company if you so chose."

"What aboot his family, mum?" O'Dell asked as the spotted commander's tablet pulsed, as a text message came across the PaDD of the captain.

From: LT IRONHOOVES, T
To: CPT TELVAN

FWD: MSG: Lt Ironhooves: Your search for Captain Telvan using the words 'Queen' 'Artan and 'Empire' in one sentence has yielded one result in the Hera sensor logs. Logs are secret and inaccessible by your level of access, however, your search has one positive result on Stardate 74319.67957255211

Quickly glancing over the message and silencing it, Enalia nodded. If she couldn't even talk about herself in the third person, Lieutenant Ironhooves was about to get a few extra sensor hits just for that. "That's where negotiations come into play. I believe the queen of the Artan Empire would never leave anyone's family behind. I've heard that she got her position as queen of the Artan Empire with promises of freedom and family and the like so even if she couldn't get her way diplomatically, she'd likely mount a rescue and no matter what it took, she'd rescue the families of every single person that joined her. Or at least, that's what I've heard about the queen of the Artan Empire."

In an appointment with Crewman Brobilox about their pending budding, the PaDD in the hooved healer's labcoat buzzed repeatedly, leading the cranky centaur to snicker as she continued with the consultation.

"Captain, all I wish for is my family's safety. My fear is that my compliance in assisting Ensign O'Dell in the rescue of this vessel and the Warbirds will mark me as a traitor, and that... my family would be punished." Garnak said with pursed lips. "However, if my actions are seen in service to the empire, it could grant me a measure of freedom and aid my family in my return. That is all I would ask. I would never ask for any to take action against my people or the hearthworld."

While it was clear that he was nervous, he was still a proud Romulan who feared his actions would be viewed negatively.

"Well, your actions were crucial in the rescue and recovery of three D'deridex class warbirds. The Federation was prevented in obtaining intel on quite a few Imperial vessels and in so doing, I would estimate that you would have a lot to be proud of, regardless." Enalia smiled reassuringly, hoping she could at least get him to relax just a bit. "I'll make sure to convey that to the Senate when I speak with them."

"Mum? Cap'n?" O'Dell leaned in a bit. "Sooo, it wasnae that long, and the federation report'll reflect alla the truth. Can we nae file our reports and have Starfleet Command contact the Federation ambassador to Romulus and..." the little lass faltered at that, until her eyes opened wide with the inkling of an idea. "We could maybe extend our formal thanks to Captain Garnak, if not for his heroic efforts all four vessels would have been lost. But with a cooperative effort from all parties, the ships were saved, through his heroic efforts?"

Stopping and sitting up, staring off to the left, O'Dell quirked her mouth in a peculiar little smile. "Be damned. salvation by press release. Ye think it might work, mum? If we make him famous enough the galaxy becomes invested in his heroic story. We give him full credit for the save, and we kin maybe pressure the Romulans into making nice for him?"

"Yeah that... might..." the spotted woman began before something struck her, her brows furrowing. "Computer, was there a time mismatch when we returned to normal space?"

The computer only took a moment to reply. "Affirmative. An adjustment of forty-four hours, seven minutes, and nineteen seconds was recorded against the standard galactic deviation and the internal stardate chronometers were adjusted accordingly. Approximately five hours, fourteen minutes, forty-seven seconds passed during our absence."

"Well, that's... criminy, mum, that's, ah... for the Science department to figure oot? Ach..." O'Dell was actually at a bit of a loss. The ship had been in another dimension where time flowed faster, apparently, which was a little more than she could really comprehend or address, so she redirected. "But... ye do think it might work, mum? Garnak's me friend. He trusted me oot there, and I think him bein there kept me calm by givin me something else- someBODY else to worry about. If ye think it'll work... are ye alright with it, Garnak?"

"I... I... if... if you think it can work... then I give my approval. Perhaps... Perhaps it can." Garnak was nervous, but Fiona's excitement gave him what her enthusiasm and optimism did for him out there in space when they were alone and he was preparing to destroy his own ship, hope.

"Time dilation issues aside, I agree. Where there is hope, there is life and a fighting chance at freedom." The smile returned to Enalia's face as she sipped at her tea. "And Ensign? I'm proud of you. That's a better idea than I had come up with. In fact, I think you'd be the perfect person for the Embassy and the Federation News Network to interview, should it come to that."

The little ensign puffed up subconsciously at the praise, and her eyes misted over a bit. When she spoke, her voice was a bit choked with emotion, which she was failing to suppress in a professional manner. "Thankye, mum. Ah joost... I did what you woulda done, cap'n."

It could easily have sounded like sucking up, or false flattery to her captain. But given her directness with the pirate queen turned starship captain was encouraged, so she had no need to gild the lilly, as it were. "Aye, I'll be happy to make statements or give interviews or whativvir's needed. As ye like, mum. I toldye she'd sort somethin' oot, eh Garnak?""

The Romulan pilot raised an eyebrow ever so slightly at his unlikely friend as she spoke. After all, the plan they were discussing was hers, more than her Captain's, but he didn't want to press the point, simply feeling an unexpected sensation of happiness again as he nodded and replied. "Indeed, Fiona. I am, again, in your debt."

"Nay, nunnathat. We helped each other oot there- that's what friends do, aye?" The warm smile she showed to the Romulan tug pilot was warm and genuine, and actually sold her stance more than anything else. "I'll have the full report for ye in the mornin, Cap'n, and I'll see aboot gettin somebody better with words than me ta get a press statement prepared, and I'll be sure to get a 'what to and not to say' from Commander Th-uh, Paris." The little pilot nearly used the colloquial nickname the curvaceous commander was referred to as on the flight deck's 'locker room' talk. She had leeway with the Captain, but not THAT much.

"All things considered mum, would it be alreet if I went to quarters? Ah'd like to see me pig and me cow agin, if tis all the same?" At the nod of understanding from the Captain, she turned to her unexpected Romulan ally in all of this. "Garnak, I'll be happy to introduce ye, but... if tis all the same, a wee bit of time alone, aye? Ah joost need to reach oot and make sure they're still there, if ye ken me meanin."

Replying with a legitimate smile, Garnak nodded. "Of course, Fiona. I'm sure the Captain will have more questions for me. But after your stories, I do... I would like to meet them."

"Well, I couldnae brag how cute me kid is and then not prove it, aye?" O'Dell grinned before turning back tot he Captain. "Mum? May we be dismissed?"

"Of course, Ensign. Go enjoy some time with your family," Enalia replied with a bright smile. "The R&D department is on official hiatus until your chief is off maternity leave anyway, so take all the time you need. Just try to get those experimental craft locked down and looked over sometime in the next week."

"As for you, Captain Garnak, you are correct. I have quite a few more questions for you. First and foremost being where and in what condition your family is in. Are they in any danger?"

"Garnak dipped his head slightly and nodded." My family is safe. My wife and daughter serve a fine and noble house, and enjoy the comforts of that station. They are well cared for and may one day be gifted the house's name, Captain. My wife is hru'hfe... the head of the servants for their house... which is a very honorable position."

"Then that is a very good thing." With a sigh of relief, Enalia leaned back in her chair. "I take it you would prefer going to work for this house if possible then? Especially now that you seem to be in possession of your own ship and have the starcharts to plot your own course?"

"They would have no use of my skills, Captain. I am a pilot and my family works for a Magistrate's house. Besides, if this idea of Fi... of Ensign O'Dell's bears fruit, the military will no doubt have far greater use for me," Garnak explained with a hint of pride in his voice. "But a rise in station would possibly allow me the privilege to see them with greater frequency. There are many possibilities, and I am choosing to focus on the positive ones for us all."

"That's the spirit!" O'Dell, mock punched the Romulan pilot who'd had the remarkable good fortune to be in the right place at the right time, to trust an alien from Starfleet. In one moment, his life was changed... for the better or worse had yet to be seen.

But for now, he was focusing on the positives.

It had been a long and stressful day, but a satisfying one. Fiona O'Dell, space pilot. Hero of the day, saved a good man, helped save the ship. Blew somethin VURRAH big oop- I get to stamp a D'deredix on the Banshee. Made the Captain proud. Not a bad day's work, Leprechaun.

As the Starfleet ensign made her way through the family quarters, she waved at her neighbors as she passed them in the corridor. Clad in her blue uniform top with her black pants, the diminutive test pilot strode at a slow pace, taking her time getting back home to her family. It had been a long day, and she looked forward to having a few beers with Gavarus and catching up, telling her story. Of course, there was Minnie, too, and the thought of her odd little family greeting her with a hug made the lass of the heather who'd taken to the stars misty-eyed, as a smile settled onto her face. As she turned the final corner, she stepped up to the door whose nameplate was a compromise between their eye levels.

ENS GAVARUS, B
ENS O'DELL, F
family quarters

The smile widened as she took a deep breath, and sighed. After everything that had happened, none of which had she freaked out about, it was a weight off her shoulders to arrive at her door, where the big pig and the giggling cow were waiting.

Stepping into the living room, Fiona announced, "Home, hail, the conquering hero?"

To no reply.

In the center of the room on the mid-sized coffee table, was what looked to be easily a dozen data PaDD’s scattered about, one still active with a video presentation or what appeared to be a step-by-step instruction for assembling an internal combustion engine.

Behind the table, Briaar Gavarus was hanging half off of the couch, with her legs on the cushions and her back splayed out over the side. Her left arm was still up on the couch and her right arm was up over her head as she snored loudly, a stream of drool running up the side of her face, pooling in her hair. Tucked between her left arm and her gently rising and falling belly, little Minnie was curled up in one of her green felt onesies snoring in what sounded like a squeaky moo.

Taking in the sight, there was the temptation to just let them sleep, but she couldn't. "Ach! me wee poor bairns, what've they done to ye whilst I was aweey? Whist! Come, come m'loves, this wilnae do a t'all. Wake oop, wake oop, let's get us all proper ta bed, aye?"

Slowly, Gavarus's eye's opened one at a time as the groggy, upside-down Tellarite engineer in the stained blue tunic that was flapped open, with a black tank top underneath. "Huh.. whuzzi... F... Fee?"

Then, as she processed what she was seeing, her eyes snapped open wide as she tried to sit up and, instead, rolled straight off the couch onto the deck as little Minnie rolled back onto the couch, still half asleep herself. But now, the two-meter tall, 190 kilogram Ensign was doing her level best to scramble in a panic, to her feet. "OHMYGAWDS!!!! Fee!!! Fee!! Is it really you!?!? Ohmygawds!!!"

Failing to get to her feet, the anxiety-riddled, portly porcine instead scootched around the coffee table, wobbling on her knees and all but knocked the tiny test pilot off of her feet with a massive, overly tight hug. "It is! It... It IS you!!!"

A stream of tears started down Gavarus' face as she started hyperventilating as Minnie slowly and groggily woke up, blinking and yawning as she looked at her wee ginger mother happily, "Mum? Mum!"

"Ohhhhh, me poor darlins, what happened to ye? Aye, tis me, I'm home, all is well! We're oota nightmare space and back to normal, and I'm here and I'm okay..." Stroking the frizzy, wiry blonde hair of her life partner, O'Dell held the pig-snouted woman to her and cooed reassuringly. "Shhhhh, it's okay Briaar, it's okay... I'm here, and I missed ye too, love. We're alreet noow. C'mon Minnie, c'mon over and give your wee mum a hug, aye? I've a space hero story to tell ye, aye?"

Extending her spindly arm out towards her bovine daughter, tears rolled down the cheeks of the midget Mariposan. During the mission, she'd had her work to focus on, then Garnak, then the problem of where the Hera had gone, the dealing witht he Persephone and convincing them to help. By focusing on other things, she had avoided considering her own plight, and stayed cool, calm and collected. But then she remembered what the Captain had said, and that what for her was a few hours, had actually been days here on the Hera.

Now, with her porcine partner, exhausted and crying, clutching at her desperately and her half-pint herder coming in for the family hug, she realized how terrified she had been of losing them all this time. Of how the hole in her heart had been cautiously closed, seeing the Hera and the three Romulan starships crawl out of that stargate. How relieved and suddenly exhausted she was to be back in the stout and strong arms of her odd little family.

"Shhhhh... s'alreet, m'loves, tis alreet. I'm here, we're safe,m we're all back together agin, aye? S'alreet, s'alreet... shhhh." Stroking the hair of her daughter and her partner, O'Dell squeezed both gently to her, muttering a grateful prayer to her god that they had been delivered safely back to her, along with the starship upon which they made their home.

Slowly, the raking sobs from the portly porcine finally slowed down and Gavarus reluctantly peeled her thick fingers off of Fiona's back that she had been gripping onto as if her life depended on it. Pulling back, she snorted and wiped he sloppy snout on the sleeve of her uniform top. Then, after a second, an awkward smile crept on her face. 

It was the kind of smile she rarely let anyone but Fiona or Minnie see, where the slightly extended lower tusks that she kept ground down could really show. But then, remembering the horrible things that the Fiona in her nightmares said, Briaar bit her bottom lip for a moment, forcing herself to remember that she was awake and this was the real Fiona. "Ah'm... sorry. It was... It was.. kinda effed up while we were in there. I did everything I could to keep us awake so we wouldn't have nightmares... but it was... like... super hard."

"What... what happened to YOU out there? You said... a space hero story?" Gavarus said, an awkward smile on her face as she craved the distraction, getting back up to her feet.

As she did, little Minnie, who was still clinging tight to Fiona looked up and squealed with a massive smile, "Pace H'RO!!! Pace H'RO!!!"

"Aye, that's right wee one, space hero, aye!" Fiona patted her daughter's head while she eyed her partner's sudden self-consciousness. Leaning in, she planted a kiss on her porcine partner's lips- nothing she'd ever done before, to be certain- and took Gavarus face in both hands, squishing her cheeks slightly. "Hey.. tis me, I'm really here. Cap'n said the place ye were in was some kinda nightmare dimension, but... This is real, I'm really here, and ye dinna hafta be afraid, briaar. I'm home, all is well, we're all safe. I promise."

It was unusual for Fiona to be the one doing the reassuring, but it was clear that her partner and their little one had been through the wringer, and they needed for Fiona to be the strong, reassuring one. Just like your old man, came the thought in her head, which she heard in her father's voice, and it made her smile. She was indeed her father's daughter, it seemed, in more ways than one. As she looked into the warm brown eyes of the Tellarite she'd devoted her life to, hoping to calm whatever fears remained in the woman, she stroked her the big woman's hair and kissed her forehead.

Stumbling slightly as her eyes went wide, Gavarus brought her calloused, three-fingered hand up to her quivering lips and smiled improbably wide as she just stood there blinking. She hadn't been sure earlier that she wasn't still in a nightmare, and now she had to wonder if instead, she was in a dream. But she nodded, accepting the truth that what had just happened was real. "Holy F@#$, I need a beer. Beer?"

"When in any universe do I NOT need a pint a' bitters? Besides, we kin get drunk to clean this place oop," Fiona wisecracked, flopping down on the couch and opening her arms for the toddler who was now easily half her size to come over and cuddle in.

"So... so what happened out there, Fee? I was working in Engineering with Thexy and I know we detected a graviton stream that gave us coordinates to use to get back. Was that you?" Gavarus asked, getting two beers from the replicator, and a sippy cup of grape juice for Minnie.

"Twas indeed, m'love, twas indeed!" With that, Fiona O'Dell took a few soips of beer, more than enough to get her buzzed- and began relaying the tale of her epic space adventure. How she had gone into single combat with a D'Deredix class Romulan balle cruiser, fired on and destroyed one, single-handed. Then how she'd warp hopped out to avoid the explosion and recalibrate her next attack run, when the fleet had been sucked into the vortex, all save for herself and the Freight Eagle.

The retelling of the tale was embellished by sound effects and the occasional turn of fancy, as most of O'Dell's stories tended to when she was in her cups. But she told the tale, beginning to end, for her rapt audience of two, organizing her thoughts for the report she'd promised the Captain.

"So Herself is g'win to do what she can to help Garnak, and I'm off duty at least until the Chief comes back with her wee ones on the ootside, finally, which is g'win to be of enormous relief to her I'd imagine." O'Dell shuddered at the thought- for a skinny, bony little gal like her, the concept of carrying one child was a nightmare she didn't want to contemplate, forget about three at once.

While Fiona told her tale, it made Briaar so happy just to have her back that she barely noticed that she was actually cleaning, picking up the scattered PaDD's and putting them on the side table in a much more orderly set of stacks, while picking up some of the assorted bottles scattered about. Bottles that were noticeably not from alcohol, or even synthahol. Instead, the empties scattered about the room were from energy drinks.

"Yeah... It's been... I was really trying to not fall back asleep. But anyway... " Looking at the small pile of them in her thick arms, Briaar blushed a deep pink as she dumped them in the reclamator for recycling. "I am so glad you're okay. That is seriously awesome. And I'm even happier that the CAPTAIN is really seeing just how frickin' amazing you are, Fee. And how damn smart and cool and capable. I mean, I file my reports on how important you are to everything we build at work in regards to troubleshooting and brainstorming and everything, but now she's SEEING it for herself. You're coming up with the IDEAS that saved the frickin' SHIP!" 

"Pffft. I was joost in the right place at the right time. Blind luck, Briaar, I swear. Seven seconds later and I'da gone wi' the fleet. And the graviton thing was joost a guess, really, but it seemed to work, so..." Taking another swig of her beer as she directed Minnie along, helping her pick up her toys, Fiona shrugged. "Honestly ye had it worse than me, Briaar. Ah wish I coulda been here fuir ye two, but, sometimes Mum's gotta work i guess."

That made Fiona giggle, which in turn made Minnie giggle. Making a crazed face and snarling, Fiona moved in on Minnie with her hands in claws. "Arrrr I'm gonna get ye! I'm the tickle monster RAWWWWR!"

With that, she fell to tickling the playful bovine, who ended up rolling on her back squealing in delight and as she protested delightedly. Which lasted until Fiona caught a hoof to the hand, which casually knocked it away, nearly toppling Fiona in the process. She didn't react, instead playing it off as part of the game, but it reminded her of a project they'd begun that wasn't finished- and the deadline was arriving.

"Shite. Briaar, we nivvir finished that boffer belt design, and Mona's coming back aboard in a few days." Scooping up the minotaur child in a hug and kissing on her, Fiona drove home the point, her tone light so as not to alarm Minnie, but get Briaar on the same page. "With babes that fly, remember? Fook, we were supposed to have it done... d'ye think Mona mighta left the plans? She was workin on the overload problems along with the refresh rate and the energy demands, aye?"

"Yeah. I know the Chief took some of the early prototypes with her to noodle with while they were on their way, but... hold on." Briaar said, going back over to the stack of PaDD's and shuffling through them and making a mess all over again. "Yeah, here it is. I was playing with the specs, trying to keep my head busy while... ya' know... and I had an idea for an excess energy recycling coupling. Something to bleed off the overload of juice back into the system with minimal loss."

Looking at Fiona, who was favoring her hand where Minnie kicked it, Briaar silently mouthed, Are you okay?

Silently, O'Dell nodded and shook it off, indicating that it was negligible but had reminded her that their wee bundle of joy was bound for considerable strength. Her all-too-mortal parents would have to be clever if they were to survive her childhood. And if the ship was to survive it.

"So... noow that I'm home and we've done a fair job of tidyin' oop here. What say we replicate a nice family meal, she can eat and we kin drink, and we'll all curl oop and pass oot together. As a family, aye?" Smiling, Fiona patted her doting daughter's furry belly while she reached for the three-fingered hand of her partner in crime.

There would be shepherd's pie- vegetarian, of course. There would be talk and hand-holding and drinking and laughter. There would be confessions and reassurances. There would be showers and bedclothes and a pile of a mismatched family gathered together in one bed- not recommended by most child care professionals, but it suited the unusual family unit, for now.

Together, the family slept... peacefully, happily, and safely- together.

Rendal, at the helm of her Cloaked Leosa Class Warbird,the Iurret, has used 4 undermanned D’deridex class Warbirds equipped with graviton generators to open a spacial rift using the data mined from what Gaia left in Dox’s head.


The Hera drops out of warp near the singularity to drop off the support craft, chafe and torpedos to attack the graviton generators and pull away. At this point, we KEEP Enalia’s “Sick Burn” scene where she taunts Rendal into following the Hera. We must add that there’s tremendous gravimetric shear from the portal making flying really challenging.

The support craft focus fire on one of the 4 ships. They have no active weapons as ALL power is being used to maintain shields, which are being weakened by the gravimetric shearing of the Gaia Singularity, and power the singularity.

The support craft attack is successful on the graviton generator and it explodes, causing a failure of the D’deridex’s engine core, leading to the collapse of it’s quantum singularity drive. The ship implodes with a dramatic death scene for it’s skeleton crew. Rendal sees her moment and does one of her patented 'warp hops leaving a sigularity in her wake' to further destabilize the singularity, because she is outta there. Thus Rendal and Starbase 336 escape while the Hera gets in trouble.

The Starbase and the Iurret warp out and, in their wake, the Hera and the 3 remaining D’Deridex was pulled IN.

This implosion had two effects. It creates it’s own singularity ripple which sucks in, then bursts outward like a huge gravity bubble of singularity which spreads outward and interacts with the singularity Rendal left on the other5 side of the rift, which in turn interacts with the existing rift as we put a handy haversack into a bag of holding as we toss them into a portable hole. This catches the Hera, enveloping her and pulling her in, while forcing the 3 remaining d’deridex ships to alter their configuration to keep the rift open as the universe groans at the strain they are putting on it.

O’Dell had already timed a warp jump to escape the explosion, so she is outside the gravity bubble as it expandsa, the only witness to what happened to the USS hera and the three surviving D'Deredix class. But the other support craft and the Hera are absorbed by that subspace doppler effect to be pulled into the vortex caused by the D’deridex implosion. The remaining support craft are recovered at the last minute on the Flight Deck.


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

O’Dell is left in normal space with one of the Romulan Towing vessels that escaped the collapse in a “Romulan Flight Eagle”. This is Romulan Space Mater, where both must wait for the Persepohne, which is apx. 3 hours behind and on it’s way.

Sometime during this all, off camera, t’Suil escaped in an escape pod and the Persephone picks her up BEFORE recovering O’Dell and Romulan Mater.

I'ma name him Nader. I have a whole bit ready for this.

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

On the other side of the now closed Rift, the Hera and the 3 D’Deridex are trapped in what we will learn is called Undrheim. A realm of nightmares Odin stashed the base in. “A Realm buried deep beneath the roots of Yggdrasill, the world tree. A realm where the old gods slumber.” And it’s that slumber that’s one of our ticking clocks, because their slumber causes nightmares to plague the crews with eventual madness.

The three D’Deridex had no more than 400 crewmembers between them, and the three commanders were ranked as two Lieutenants and one SubCommander. They were all picked and put on these ships only days ago without any knowledge of what they were doing. The Mission Commander was on the ship that blew up, whose name was blah and blah.

One of the ships is enveloped by the reality of Underheim and is slowly eaten by the sparkly space, leaving it’s crew to be beamed over to one of the other ships, so there’s a PHYSICAL threat as well that requires escaping from.

Because of her symbiote and essentially having two minds, Enalia succumbs FIRST after mentioning that, because the formula to open the Gaia Singularity was extracted from Dox’s mind, and Dox is off the ship, it might be recoverable from KODRIA, whose mind was made of the mental patterns of Dox, Sam, Rita, Asa, and Mona.

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

On the Persephone, O’Dell and Romulan Mater are recovered, along with T’Suil. (Aw, someone gave Dobby a sock.) and O’Dell has DETAILED scans on the Banshee she took during the attack that reveals that where the singularity WAS is damaged and thin, and the Persephone begins hitting that spot with Gravitons: The Hera’s “Candle in the Dark”.

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

Back on the Hera, the crew is beginning to succumb to nightmares.

OOC: Dee- We don't have to address Hera. I forgot, she will be OFF SHIP! D'oh!
Characters off the ship: Mnhei'sahe Dox, Jaeih Dox, Az'Prel, Petty Officer Ethel Jablonski, Mona Gonadie, Petty Officer Liu, Hera

Individual NIGHTMARE stories! Solo fun! Captain's challenge for the month, a solo story nightmare from each character.

Rita must talk to Kodria to try and figure out how to get the data she doesn’t know she knows out of her head. In the real world, it took Dox accessing enough of her mental discipline keeping the Ju’rot device from re-writing her mind to “activate” that hidden data. Perhaps we can do something similar by Rita diving into Kodria’s mind on the holodeck or something really cool to get the data. Keep in mind, the data was enough to fry a Warbird’s computers pretty well, so there’s a risk. But since Kodria is SENTIENT, she may be able to access the information better.

Rita has a plan. When does Rita NOT have a plan?

With the instructions in the ship's computers, Sonak can science our way out using the two remaining graviton generators, and we beam the other crews onto the Hera. Perhaps, the other ships are destroyed in the process of us getting home? I'm thinking two ships form a straight line, there has to be a third, so the Hera will have to rig a graviton generator to help out, they have to coordinate flipping out into realspace at the same time- a matter of trust. A theme for all of this, as the Romulan and Hera crews will need to trust one another to get out of this alive.

Meeting Notes:

Enalia goes to Ten Forward after the bridge briefing while Commander t’Rekt goes to sickbay to meet with her people and then return to her ship to oversee the procedures, etc.

In Ten-Forward, Enalia can comment to herself that she felt tired and weird the whole meeting, as if her connection to her symbiote was reacting to something external, then she passes out. The last thing she hears before blackness takes her is the barkeep calling for the Doctor. Then that can be a prologue of Enalia’s nightmare post.

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

The Captain in sickbay, asleep as Doc Power can explain to Rita she’s in a light coma and there’s no way to know when she’s going to come out. Sonak can be there to possibly hypothesize that it may be that same presence he felt and is defending himself from, leaving Rita in command to then have to go to Kodira and follow up on the Dox data that they HOPE is in her brain.

Two part holodeck Kodria story where they get, at least SOME part of the code. Or NOT, because we have the thin section that the Persephone will start bombarding with gravitons. Either can be how we’ll escape, so it might actually be interesting if the Kodria story doesn’t work so we have to replan. Your call, Sabrina and Az.

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

Rita gets hypos from Doc Power to stay awake when she begins getting reports of terrible nightmares afflicting the crew. Stays awake MOST of the time, but eventually succumbs to sleep near the end.

__________________

Rita wakes up in time to institute the “Christmas tree lights” maneuver, linked to the three Warbirds to open the gateway back as the eldritch horrors start to stir. On the Warbird, Commander t’Rekt and a portion of her crew betray her and take over the ship, threatening to abandon the Hera in the rift after the passage is open, but t’Rekt gave Rita all three Warbird’s command codes and can take control of those ships and the rift is re-opened and the ships escape back to reality.

It had not been quite the full two weeks of rest and recovery on Lieutenant Mona Gonadie’s home planet of Miradon that had been planned on for the birth of her three girls with the Hera’s Romulan Flight Chief, Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox, but circumstances dictated that the trip be cut short. The U.S.S. Hera had gone missing, pulled into a realm of space known as the Undrheim, and upon discovering this, Dox had collected her new family and their crewmates from the ship and took off in the Artan Bird of Prey, the Golden Ghost, to find their missing friends.

Thankfully, but by the time they arrived at the last known coordinates of the Hera at Galorndon Core, the mighty Nebula Class Starship had returned, along with three D'deridex class Romulan Warbirds that flanked her like an entourage.

The group from the Hera, which included Dox, Mona, Petty Officers Jablonski, and Liu, the Vulcan refuge Az’Prel, Dox’s mother Jaeih, the Goddess Hera herself and NOW, the three newborn girls, transferred back to the Hera in the smaller craft, Dox’s own J-Type freighter, the Khallianen. As the smaller ship came to a landing in the expansive landing bay of the great starship, the Golden Ghost and her mistress, Commander Helev t’Liun, bid their farewell and left back to their own business.

Parking on the deck, Dox was at the helm and began powering down the smaller craft as the group returning home from their pilgrimage began to disembark, one by one. There to greet them on the flight deck, was the Hera's Captain, Enalia Telvan. Her First Officer, Commander Rita Paris, and the two blue-clad misfits of the R&D department, Ensigns Fiona O’Dell and Briaar Gavarus. In Gavarus’ arms, their tiny toddler, the Minotaur, Minerva O’Dell.

After the rest had disembarked to greetings and hugs, where appropriate, Dox and Mona came down the ramp last, with the convertible, three-seat hoverpram holding their newborn triplets, Hlai’vana, Amihan, and Tala.

Sitting in a triangular grouping in the pram, all three girls were wide awake and looking around the massive flight deck with their big, copper-colored eyes, cooing happily. Looking over at Rita, Dox had a light smile at the end of the ramp as she spoke. “Lieutenant Commander Mnhei’sahe Dox and family, reporting for duty, Commander. Permission to come aboard?”

"Permission granted, Lieutenant Commander. I'll waive formality this time for the new little crewmen," Paris said somewhat stiffly, before her gaze betrayed her, and strayed to the pram, at which point her professional composure evaporated like steam, and she was bent over with her rear in the air, cooing at the newborns in a voice that threatened to give the children early onset diabetes. "Hello! Hello there, you three! Welcome to the Hera! I'm your Auntie Rita, and this is Auntie Enalia. Welcome to the universe, little explorers! Hello!"

Enalia tried to maintain her composure as well, but after a few moments, she too couldn't help but grin happily as well, leaning down to get a closer look at them. "Those have got to be the cutest kids I have ever seen. Welcome back, all of you. And to the three of you, welcome aboard. It's a pleasure finally meeting you."

Smiling, Dox looked at Mona and chuckled slightly as the most curious of the three, the blue and green feathered Tala reached up with tiny grabby hands to the two smiling executive officers and squeaked out, "Ann?"

"Holy Shhh...CRAP." Briaar Gavarus said with a start, while bouncing little Minnie on her hip, standing a bit back from the rest. "They can... like... sorta talk? They're, like, 2 weeks old!? You guys weren't trapped in a time warp or anything too, right?"

"Ah, no..." Mona began, glancing over at Dox with a chuckle. "Due to the bond, they already understand our first languages and can speak some basic words. It's a Miradonian trait."

"As I understand it, they begin developing early in the womb and picked things up from the both of us telepathically," Dox said as she reached over and snatched up the black and red feathered Hlai'vana, who was rather quickly trying to climb out of the pram. "And this one keeps trying to fly a little more aggressively than her sisters, in spite of their bones being a bit too dense to pull that off, really."

But little Vana wasn't sitting still in Dox's arms as her eyes lit up and a massive smile crossed her face. With a musical trill, she spotted little Minerva in Briaar's arms and started laughing and pulling towards the fuzzy Minotaur. And as she did, Ami and Tala picked up on her excitement and started bouncing in place. 

For her part, Minnie seemed equally as excited, reaching for the chicks and tugging at Briaar's grip while Hlai'vana wriggled a bit more deftly, starting to get out of her Romulan mother's grip. "Hnaev... calm down, Vana. Let me just... put you... down."

As she juggled with the tiny tot, Dox grinned nervously towards the person closest to her, Rita. "Uh... heh... help."

With surprising deftness, care, and speed, Rita moved in to snatch Vana up, literally taking her up over her head then 'flying' the child around to distract her before settling the excited youngster on her ample hip that seemed rather made for the task. 

For a moment, the little chick with the jet black feathers with twin red streaks in it looked up at Rita with a tilted head, thrumming. Each new experience was something the children were absorbing and clearly fascinated by. For her part, Vana would always associate Rita Paris with excitement.

Stepping over toward Gavarus, Rita got the two close enough to interact a bit, keeping a watchful and wary eye on the situation as the child's mothers worked to free the other two. As Mona and Dox got control of Ami and Tala, Hlai'vana reached over and put her tiny hand on the end of Minnie's muzzle and began to thrum, rather loudly. And as she did, her sisters joined in.

For her part, Minnie seemed to be a combination of giddy and transfixed as she put her tiny, three-fingered hands gently over Vana's hand with a smile and a light mooing.

"You could just put Minnie in the pram, you know?" the ever-sensible first officer suggested.

"Indeed, Commander. A capital idea." Jaeih Dox said, stepping back onto the deck from the break room where she had taken some of the children's things. "Come, Miss Gavarus. That pram you built is large and strong enough to carry all four and even Miss O'Dell is the need ever arose."

The last line said with the slightest of smiles for the pint-sized test-pilot, who the elder Romulan was quite fond of and tended to show it through their occasional sharing of friendly barbs.

"Wahhhhl, I'm nae that drunk yet, but the night is young, Mrs. Dox," O'Dell shot back with a grin.

Taking Minnie from Gavarus' hands and giving her a quick hug, Jaeih carefully and delicately placed all four children in the pram, to which they immediately began to play, rather gently. As with the Captain's daughter Moira, the generally rough and tumble Minotaur was being exceedingly gentle with the chicks, even as they all seemed fascinated with her fur and horns. "There you go. I know you've wanted to meet them for quite some time, Minerva. Now, play gently."

The quantifiably adorable sight elicited a warm and unguarded smile from the seasoned intel operative before she caught the others looking at her. "Hrumpf..." Jaeih cleared her throat, resuming a more authoritarian posture, but almost looking ever so slightly embarrassed.

Sidling up to Hera, Rita Paris placed an arm over the elder goddess' shoulder, squeezing her gently in a side hug. When she spoke, her voice was low and conspiratorial, although it was pointless. Half the people in the immediate vicinity had heightened hearing anyway. but it was polite to speak de sotto, when attempting to be subtle. "Your doing, that they all get long together? They'll always have good coordination, good teamwork... they'll always be your children too, won't they? Your gift to the universe?"

"Well you know what they say about people like me working in mysterious ways," the matronly goddess replied with a wink and a return of the side hug. "But yes, it does warm the heart seeing children playing happily, does it not? That alone is a precious gift and a power unto its own."

Noting that her question had gone unanswered, which was in and of itself an answer, Rita Paris smiled, watching the future take root in the present as the trio of avian Romulan feathered chick met a playmate for the first time- a playmate so wholly unlike them. Furred, horned and hooved, she was durable and sturdy, bones thickening even as the pudginess she'd missed out on as a baby began catching up with her. The big brown eyes sought those copper eyes as the minotaur babe gently interacted with the, and they with her and one another, communicating in simple sounds and gestures that seemed almost instinctual to them all.

In the pram, the children of the Hera played as their natural curiosity was afire. They all seemed to mutter incoherently and Minnie seemed as fascinated by their feathers as they were with her horns and fur. The curious Tala was crawling around trying to get a look at the tiny Minotaur's tail while the more rambunctious Hlai'vana was excitedly trying to climb up Minnie's horns. As usual, the golden-plumed Ami began to let out a melodious thrumming while the adults watched happily. 

"Well, seems Daycare 1 might not be a battleground after all, Mrs. Dox," the ancient astronaut opined. "That should come as something of a relief, no?"

"Well, Minerva is getting stronger every day and can still evade the ship's scanners if she feels so inclined. And these three are still trying to fly quite regularly, so I think in spite of the extremely welcome lack of any animosity between them, I will have more than enough to keep me busy." Jaeih replied with a legitimate note of pride in her voice as she was finally embracing her role in helping raise the children of the future. It was a role she initially dismissed as beneath her, but was now understanding fully why Rita had suggested it to her. "It shall be quite the.. invigorating challenge keeping up with them, to be sure."

"That's the spirit, Mrs. Dox. I can think of no one better suited to the challenge... which reminds me, we should meet when you are settled back in. There have been developments while you were away, and I need to bring you up to speed." Raising her hands in mock surrender, Paris shook her head. "Positive development, Mrs. Dox, positive developments. We'll talk."

"I look forward to it, Comm.. Tala, that is a tail, not a chew toy," Jaeih directed, switching gears back to the children as Mnhei'sahe Dox found she needed to actively compose herself. Watching her mother who had been so cold and cruel in raising her, finally becoming the parental figure for which Dox had always wished for, was somewhat overwhelming as she squeezed Mona's hand. The life of love, a happy family, a successful career, and a caring parent now helping her raise her own children was far more than she'd ever dreamed, and she paused in that moment to appreciate that life was surprisingly good, and that she had much to be thankful for. Tucking the high emotions away for a moment, she straightened her crimson uniform top and composed herself professionally.

Looking up to the Captain and First Officer, the young Flight Chief had a more professional demeanor, "As soon as we found out that you were missing, we made our way back here. I'm extremely glad that you were able to get out of that predicament. That said, I have to assume there is a story and a half behind the three D'deridex-class Warbirds parked here with us?"

"Aye mum. Cap'n cut a deal with 'em, anticipated treachery, had an ace up her sleeve and forced 'em to play nice until cooler heads prevailed. Hell of a story, but I'll let them tell it," O'Dell volunteered as Ami chewed on her finger, her simple phrasing encapsulating the mission with a somewhat skewed but not wholly inaccurate summation of events.

Raising an eyebrow, Dox nodded slightly. "Looks like I have some reading to do on the department reports, to say nothing of my catching up on my own." Looking over, the returning flight chief had made a mental note that Ensign MacNielle had been at the dock controls and wanted to get caught up on what she had missed while away. "That said, I think I can speak for us all when I say that we missed you all and it's good to be back."

"Indeed," Jaeih said with an ever-so-slightly mischievous expression as she prepped the pram and took the diaper bag from Mona. "It is quite good to see all of you who could not make it. But rest assured, In spite of the cultural restrictions, we were still able to procure a significant number of holos of the trip."

There was a noticeably strange tone in the cagey intel agent's emphasis on the words 'could not', which prompted a slight and subtle glare from Dox, as it was to be kept a secret that Rita Paris had found a way to attend, albeit it briefly and from the gilded Commander's own future.

Maybe. Possibly. With time travel and Rita Paris, one could never be sure.

"Well, you have about three hours to read them and get briefed before our holo-call with Admiral Meowlth." the Trill captain interjected with a wry grin and a nod to her Romulan Flight Chief. "We're discussing the future of the crews of those three D'deridex as well as the captain of a Freight Eagle. They helped us immeasurably, and I don't want their involvement with Rendal to reflect poorly on them."

"Aye, mum. Me pal Garnak was vurrah instrumental in savin' the Hera, and if not for the courage of his fearless men, heroic bravery and cool head, the entire fleet here woulda been lost!" O'Dell chirped in somewhat unexpectedly. "Cap'n told me to be press-ready, L-C."

With her stomach tightening up ever so slightly at the idea of being required to be in an official meeting with the Admiral in just three hours, Dox shook it off and managed a smile for the tiny test pilot whose enthusiasm was still gratifying to see. "Sounds like quite the story, Miss O'Dell. I look forward to hearing it... and meeting your friend."

Looking over to Jaeih, Dox was already working out what all she needed to attend to. "Mother, could I impose on you to help Mona and the kids get settled?"

"Of course. Attend to your duties, and I shall attend to mine." Jaeih said with a smile as she put her hand on Dox's shoulder encouragingly and with no small amount of mostly hidden pride at her daughter.

Turning back to Enalia, Dox nodded. "I'll review the reports now, Captain. Thank you."

Pulling out a PaDD with all the data, Enalia handed it off to Dox and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Thank you, and don't worry too much. The reports that make it to the embassy and High Command will be curated by Starfleet Command first. This is just the first meeting, after all."

"Bridge conference room. Don't be late."

Waiting off to one side of the transporter control panel, Commander Rita Paris waited patiently. The Romulan 'tug boat' pilot, Garnak, was beaming in, as well as the fleet commander t'Rekt. The two had recently cooperated with the crew of the Hera, to escape a hellish non-space together. Now there was a plan as to how to sell this to the galaxy so that the Romulans were not all summarily executed when they got back to Romulus. Which would require a bit more cooperation, of which Rita Paris was reasonably well assured would come to pass.

After all, they had survived an adventure together now, and that tended to forge bonds, in her experience.

Skipping in as the doors slid open was one Ensign Fiona O'Dell, a firecracker of a little woman with a mop of unruly crimson curls, on something of a stick figure build. As she glanced over to make a wisecrack to the transporter technician, she froze when she noticed the tall, curvaceous and minidress-clad Commander Paris standing beside her.

Standing a full 145 cm, O'Dell's eye level was right about nipple height on the fulsome first officer, and the breast to which it was attached seemed to be about the size of her head. Taking a slow step back out of the woman's personal space enabled the diminutive daredevil to see her face again, now that it wasn't eclipsed by one of those moons she carried around in front of her. Breaking out in a nervous grin, O'Dell pulled up some gun fingers and prepared a wisecrack when the twang of the transporter kicked in, and the Commander's eyes went straight to the transporter pad, then to the console, then back to the pad. Her grip on that pad she always carried became white-knuckled, and the picayune pilot literally saw the forehead of the woman break out in a sweat.

In that moment, The Commander, the second ranking officer on the boat, suddenly became human in O'Dell's eyes.

Be damned. She really IS scared 'a transporters, lookit'er. Poor thing.

The urge to hold the woman's hand passed as Paris called out to Commander t'Rekt.

"Welcome back, Commander. All is well on the Third Star, I take it? The mutiny quelled, and the brig bearing those awaiting justice, so to speak?" Paris offered as she extended her hand to the Romulan commander.

Handshakes weren't common practice in Romulan culture, but neither was learning to trust Federation officers, so the lean young Romulan with the short-cropped brown hair stepped down and returned the shake with a fairly plain expression. "Any and all dissent was easily quelled thanks to our coordinated efforts, Commander Paris. And once we returned to reality, the tension that had helped fuel that insurrection faded quickly."

After the standard two shakes, t'Rekt folded her arms behind her back and stood before Rita and Fiona ramrod straight, with a posture both women saw on Jaeih Dox all the time. "My SubCommander and those loyal to him are confined to the brig, though I suspect justice on Romulus will be a good deal different than what would happen to mutineers in Starfleet."

"I'll joost bet-" muttered the Ensign before a sharp look from the Commander quelled any further inflammatory commentary. "I believe we're just waiting on Mr. Garnak-"

"Captain Garnak, mum."

"Beg your pardon, Ensign?" Paris looked down, moderately bemused bu this turn of events.

"Captain Garnak, mum. Tis important semantics. If I explain noow we'll hafta explain it all over again, but tis important, Commander. CAPTAIN Garnak," the short spitfire insisted, to which Paris frowned slightly, shrugged, then returned beck to Commander t'Rekt.

"Apparently we are awaiting Captain Garnak... and I believe that's him, ah, now," Paris stuttered slightly as the twang of the transporter began, and she fought her internal anxieties. It's fine, Rita. It's not going to get you, you're all the way over here and they solved all of your problems with transporters, remember?

Now if only she believed that.

Glancing down at O'Dell for a moment, Commander t'Rekt was curious as to why the small, impertinent human seemed so invested, but kept those thoughts to herself for the moment.

Seconds later, after the sparkles of blue light dissipated, the Freight Eagle pilot known as Garnak appeared on the transporter pad without incident. Unlike his counterpart from the Warbird, he was not wearing a crisp, black and gray checkerboard patterned uniform. Garnak looked to be easily twice t'Rekt's age in a simple, one-piece gray jumpsuit, standing nervously but casually.

Casually, until he saw the Romulan Commander and immediately snapped to full attention and offered the customary, Romulan military salute, slapping his fist off of his chest sharply.

"Shaoi kon, Riov," he said, which the Universal Translator immediately converted to 'Greetings, Commander.' Though even without the UT, Rita Paris had learned the language for the Hera's rescue of Dox some months ago, and caught that he had not said "Jolan'Tru' for t'Rekt, but instead the much more formal 'shaoi kon'. A greeting a subordinate used when one was speaking to their superior.

As he glanced about the transporter room, the anxious pilot was happy to see Fiona, whom had befriended him out in space, in what was his darkest hour. Behind her, a woman stood who exuded clear authority, though he did not know who she was, nor did he recognize what sort of uniform she was wearing, if that was a uniform at all. So unsure as to what her was to do next, he thought to take the safest path, speaking now in full, if accented, Federation Standard. "Greetings. I am... transport pilot Garnak, reporting as requested. Permission to board your noble vessel."

The wee O'Dell looked up with a flip of her hear out of her face to the Commander, who smiled warmly and stepped forward extending her hand in greeting. "CAPTAIN Garnak, it's very nice to meet the hero of the hour. Thank you for rescuing us, it's quite an honor to meet you."

Before the surprised Romulans could react, Paris turned toward the door, and gestured. "We'll give you the basics of the plan on the way, so that you'll be ready for your meeting with..."

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

"Admiral Meowlith?"

As the holographic image of Admiral Farenia Meowlith materialized in perfect holographic detail in the USS Hera bridge conference room, she was greeted by the assembled officers. "You of course know Captain Telvan, myself, Lieutenant Commander Dox, Captain Naraan of the Persephone, and you may know of our Ensign O'Dell. Also with us are Commander t'Rekt of the Romulan... fleet of four, I suppose, given the ship designations. As well as our Captain Garnak. So... Captain, how shall we proceed?"

"Admiral, It's good to see you again," Enalia began with a warm smile and a tip of her teacup. "You've read our initial reports, I assume."

"I have, and while it gladdens me to see that we as individuals are able to work together across the aisle, I have concerns about the ramifications, once our new friends return to the Empire." As usual, Meowlith did her best to be initially pragmatic and put up a stoic front. "I also see that you're finally moving away from that closet you call an office. I've told you before that you can accept a few more amenities in Starfleet and not..."

"Admiral, do you mind if we discuss my office preferences at a later time?" With a nod from the Admiral, Enalia continued. "While I planned on negotiating with the Imperial Embassy with the aid of Commander Dox on behalf of Commander t'Rekt and her fleet as well as Captain Garnak, I believe Ensign O'Dell has a far better plan that we may capitalize on. One that would singlehandedly improve the image of Romulans and the Empire across the Federation."

"Ah yes, Ensign Fiona O'Dell," Meowlith replied, reading something off of a PaDD before looking up at the Mariposan. "It is a pleasure finally meeting you, especially after reading so many promising reports with your name in them."

The Trill woman then motioned towards the picayune pilot with a wink. "Fiona, if you would be so kind as to elaborate on your plan?"

"Aye mum. Ahhh, Admiral," O'Dell felt suddenly like a very small fish in a very big pond. But the thing about being the smallest fish was that you had very little to lose- which was why Fiona preferred to stay a little fish. "Soo, me an' Garnak, we compared notes, we figured oot the gravitons bein the keys and the Persephone fired it oop when she got here and while we all worked together in a loverly Starfleet way, me thinkin is that if we paint alla this as one man..."

Tapping the light controls for the room, O'Dell brought up dramatic lighting as she intoned like a preview trailer voiceover. "One Romulan, alone, with only enemies surroundin him in deep space. Outnumbered, outgunned, he alone knows the fate of the fleet that was swallowed by a sudden singularity Starfleet was oot here investigatin, as well as them warbirds."

"He convinces the Starfleet pilot to trust him, figures out the readins, coordinates it with the Federation starship that shows oop, all so's he can do his duty and save his people. The heroic Romulan freight eagle captain, Garnak. Sure the Feds and the Romulans worked together on the other side to coordinate their efforts, kumbaya, that's the heroic story of Commander t'Rekt, and that's for somebody who was there to work oot, but the stories would be similar, because on both sides of the problem were one commonality- glorious Romulan heroes."

Leaning in, O'Dell, apparently unfazed by being the junior officer in the room, pressed onward, bringing the lights back up. "Me point is, spin control, mum. Taint lying- we're nae tellin a lick of untruth. We're joost skewing perception of events in a particular direction... so's it draws a spotlight on our bonny friends here, as heroes of the Romulan Star Empire. Who saved an endangered Federation vessel, no less. We kin afford to be the helpless victims caught in something too big for us to handle, and the noble Romulans swooped in to save the day with their quick thinking, resourcefulness and I dunno, cunning or somethin?"

"So that's the plan," the lively leprechaun spread her small hands wide "With any direction at all the free press'll pick up on it. The Romulans don't want to deny it, on account it makes them look good and us look a weeee bit inept. It's an instant propaganda win for them, and they get new heroes of the Star Empire to parade aboot and show off, which I assume they like? I dinna pay a lot of attention in that cultural overview class at the Academy. Innyways, that's me plan, Admiral. Spin doctorin, waggin the dog, people swallow big lies better, there's a sucker born every minnit or whativvir turn o' phrase ye like. We control the perception of the event, we joost might be able to save our friends by makin' em too high profile to be executed. Aye?"

Silence settled over the table while everyone involved considered the plan. That, of all things, made Fiona O'Dell nervous.

"Admiral," Dox said, knowing exactly how nervous was feeling in that moment, choosing to break the silence. "Ensign O'Dell is right in my opinion, and my... admittedly... limited experience with the Romulan political landscape. Controlling the perception of any given event is everything there. And selling the situation in a way that makes the Empire look good will open better doors of communication than trying to play leverage games with the Senate."

"My fear is that if we try and communicate with... Senator t'Rul directly and use our connection to try and get leverage, then we are inviting internal reprisals fom those looking for an opportunity. It's the kind of politics that get people assassinated on Romulus." Dox said, somewhat matter-of-factly as she tried to interject in a useful way. Half of the time she spent in captivity, after all, was spent as a rather intense crash-course on Romulan Politics from Dox's Senator grandmother, and she had paid attention to those lessons closely.

"We will still be interrogated. We will still be subject to a full investigation. But as the Ensign has said, our narrative IS, in essence, the truth." Commander t'Rekt added, stepping forward and glancing momentarily, first at the little spitfire that she was quite impressed with, then at the Romulan woman in the Starfleet uniform with curiosity, before continuing. "But the public perception of us being heroes of the Empire will make it much harder to make us simply disappear. We will be valuable, in theory."

The Ensign came up with the plan to save the day? Isn't this your job, Rita? Oh... wait, you hadn't gotten there yet, because you drove yourself for 50 hours on stims, and you were focused on one foot in front of the other to navigate back home. Right. Just be glad for the clever junior officer, old lady. Encourage and mentor, don't tear down to feed your own ego...

"I've got to admit, it's a good, simple plan, and those are usually the best. We can control the narrative on the Federation side, so it's got reasonable odds of success. So long as all of us in this room agree to that narrative, there will be some dissension. But again, even if the Romulans figure out the actual truth, the perception should be sufficient to save the crews. And one lone Romulan, against all odds," Paris nodded to Garnak with a smile.

"I have some concerns... However..." the Admiral paused to think it over, tapping on her PaDD for a few moments before continuing. "There's a bit of an underground news network over there that we can filter the story into as well. Leak it to the smugglers and have them transmit it across so that however your people respin it, they'd get our original version."

"Also, not that it matters much with the age of your vessels, but we don't have any stolen tech or plans from any of your ships, right?" Meowlith prompted, glancing between t'Rekt and Garnak.

"As soon as the mutiny upon my ship was squelched upon my vessel. Captain Telvan and Commander Paris enabled my to reset the Command Codes. And during the time in which the Hera had control of our vessels, nothing was accessed from our systems other than the direct systems other than what was used to enable our escape, Admiral." t'Rekt said with an almost defensive tone. Then she turned to Garnak to reference the clearly nervous Romulan man.

"Captain Garnak..." t'Rekt said, emphasizing the man's rank that O'Dell had insisted upon, which from her lips as the ranking commander of the remaining three Warbirds, made it a fact. "Was given emphatic assurances by Ensign O'Dell that his vessel would be untouched, and I remain confident that has remained so."

Then, the Romulan commander turned her attention from the admiral back to the red-headed test pilot. "While my position as a Commander within the Imperial Navy may be short-lived once we return, Captain Garnak has spoken extremely highly of your integrity, Ensign. And you have my thanks for all you have done here."

"Tis the Starfleet way, mum," O'Dell looked to the Captain, who nodded, and off the little lass from Mariposa went, on an inspired tear. "We dinna need credit, when it could help another. Glory is fleeting, but the friendships we make amongst the stars... that's why we're oot here, aye? To see an' explore, and to help others in need. I know, it may sound a bit suspicious, but it's our mission, Commander. So ye could say twas me duty. But really?"

Reaching over, O'Dell smiled and gingerly patted the hand of the Romulan she had met in a crisis who had shown her some of the bravest choices she'd ever seen. "Twas me pleasure, and I'd like to think we all made a few friends on the 'other' side. That's how things change, aye?"

"I... would have to agree with F... with Ensign O'Dell." Garnak said, allowing something of a smile to crack his well trained neutral mask. Across the table, Dox allowed an even less guarded smile crack her own face, happy with how the situation had unfolded while she was off ship. Or perhaps it was simply good to see those she thought of as her family, working so well with her people, in spite of centuries of mistrust. It gave her hope, and that was a good thing.

"Well said, Captain Garnak. Ensign O'Dell." t'Rekt said, nodding, then looking back at Enalia and the hologram of Meowlth. "To which I must ask, what is next? How do we enact this plan in such a way that the news will make it back to the Imperium before we return?"

"Uh, I figured the Admiral prepped the press release and got the story to FNN, the Federation news Network?" O'Dell pressed on again, wondering why senior officers needed things explained to much and so many times. "From there the story should get distributed widespread throughout the galaxy within hours, na? Twill take ye a few days for ye to get home, but by that time some high muckity muck of the Federation should have contacted yuir ambassador aboot givin ye medals or somesooch, and we publicize the hell oot of it on our side, because then the rest of the galaxy wants to know all aboot the new heroes, so the Romulan government hopefully will want to take advantage of good press, and to look smarter than Starfleet on this one. I'm noo Public Relations specialist, but I'm thinkin' tis simple enow to work, aye?"

Listening to O'Dell, there was a momentary flash of embarrassment on t'Rekt's face which was quickly concealed. "Ah, yes. Thank you, Ensign. I..."

Pausing for a moment, the Romulan Commander who was actually almost the exact same age as the tiny test pilot chose to admit her ignorance in the spirit of cooperation. "I must admit that I have... no Idea how this... Federation News Network functioned. Information Services are tightly controlled within the Star Empire. Even on the furthest colony worlds in the Imperium such as where I had been stationed, we know only what is told us. I... have never honestly even heard of yours... FNN... until just now. I thank you again for explaining the concept to me, Ensign O'Dell. Indeed, that makes sense."

Then, the young Commander blushed a light green, "I've... not been in my position very long."

"That's quite alright, Commander t'Rekt," Paris spoke up, nodding thoughtfully. "This is something of new territory for all of us, so learning all we can about the parts of the situation we don't understand is the only way to learn. Which is how we make better decisions. So... I agree, I think the Ensign's plan has merit. We can't try to ensure any protection for our friends here, nor can we directly pressure the Romulan fleet. But the Romulan senate can, and the diplomatic win would be nothing but positive currency for them. With the heightened scrutiny brought on by the clamor for Romulan heroes, that's the best defense we can offer. I think it can work. Captain?"

"I've seen the impact of a good publicity campaign so yeah, I think it has a great chance." Enalia was grinning that piratical grin of hers once more, as if plans and plots were already in motion in her head. "As for getting it across the border, I know a certain other Empire that can broadcast it to the colony worlds and spread it around like pirate radio. Coupled with pressure from the Federation News Network, the Romulan Embassy would have to make a statement and apply pressure to the Imperial Navy via the Senate."

"However, for now, I think we've covered all of our bases. Does anyone else have anything to bring to light?"

As the junior officer who'd already stuck her neck out for this one, O'Dell remained silent. The plan was simple and it might work... or it might no. But she'd given her word to the Romulan pilot she had befriended among the stars, and damned if she wouldn't do her best to do right by him.

Looking around and reading the room, Paris realized the assembled personnel were waiting to hear that the plan was approved, so she got it all in motion. "Alright people, plan is approved. O'Dell, get me that press release within the hour. As soon as we have an official narrative to work from so we can all be on the same page, the Captain can begin distributing it through back channels, and I will deal with Starfleet and the Federation to get the story out there galactically. Let's see if we can't inspire and change a few minds, folks. Dismissed."

After the ship had escaped from Undrheim Thex and the crew of the ship all seemed to be feeling better. True the blue girl still wasn't sleeping right, but the taste of the rank gunk had gone from her mouth. Still, she needed to talk to her captain about something she needed to deal with.

Stepping up to the captain's quarters the blue girl waited as the door let out it's familiar beep that she was there. " Captain, it's Thex may I have a word?" She said politely.

"Come in," came the call from the other side as Enalia handed her holographic wife Maica their daughter Moira after yet another diaper change, the supplies for which, as well as toys, were scattered all over the quarters. "Sorry for the mess. We're still trying to figure things out without Jaeih around to help out."

" No need to apologize, captain, I do have two of my own." Thex replied honestly wanting to go back to her quarters and hold her girls tight. " I've come to ask you something. In a few months, I'm going to need a leave of absence." She said calmly.

The Trill captain frowned a moment, trying to think back to the last time they had spoken, wondering if it had anything to do with the data Thex's father had left her. "I'm sure you have a good reason so I have no objection. Granted the engineering staff are up to not having you around and you leave someone in charge that can keep them in line."

" I can manage that captain. I'm also going to need some heavy-duty ice cutting equipment. I was wondering if the pirate clan can help with that. " Thex asked.

The Trill woman nodded thoughtfully. "I'd normally go through Captain Magnus for such a request, but Sarika is aboard and she's got at least three ships that I know of that are equipped for icebreaking. I'll see if she can have one of them rendezvous with us and loan us some equipment. Is there anything else you need? I'm sure she'd likely loan you a ship and a few people if you needed them as well."

" Yeah there is one thing and that going to take some time to prepare. If I'm right someone in the andorian government knows of this and has been trying to cover it up. I'll need a hole in andorian defence to make sure no one finds out what we're doing until we're long gone." Thex replied knowing this was getting very close to high treason against her home planet, but she needed answers someone was trying to hide.

Enalia nodded solemnly. "Ah, then you'll need a bit of help. I'll see if Sarika can do something. As a Starfleet officers, we can't actually do much, but she's got resources that we don't."

" Thank you, captain. I'll see if I can have a word with her myself, but I'm sure she'll be more willing to help if it come from you." The blue Andorian replied.

"I'll let her know then," Enalia replied with a soft smile. "If you need anything else, please let me know."

" No that's everything captain." the andorian said as she turned to leave. " Oh I saw that my Thavan has been transferred to the starfleet intel hospital on Dervano 3. Thanks for arranging that. I owe you one." The andorian said with a smile

"All I did was make a few requests and drop a few hints. Not much else I can do as a Starfleet captain, you know," Enalia replied with a grin. "After all, I can't have my Chief Engineer's family in a position where they might be threatened."

" Even still thank you. I'll see you all later." The blue girl said as she stepped through the doorway to the captain's quarters.

Having finished up her normal Starfleet work for the day, Captain Enalia Telvan took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair with a big stretch. Now she had one last important piece of business to attend to before she could actually call it a day.

Unclipping her comm badge and setting it on her desk, she headed over to the tiny closet where she kept spare uniforms and swapped out her normal Starfleet uniform top for her Artan uniform top and returned to her chair, tapping in a private comm code for her heir and successor to the throne of the Artan Empire. They had arranged for a call this evening, but she hoped that it was still a good time.

It was only a few moments before the spinning Artan logo was replaced by the smiling face of the Trill woman known as Elysius Magnus, interim queen and soon to be full queen of the Artan Empire. Her long golden brown hair and spots framed her thin face almost in stark contrast to her bear of a father and you'd never know they were related if they hadn't told you.

"Ely! It's so good to see you again. Congrats on graduating from the academy. How did everything go?" Enalia smiled softly, almost in a familial way as she spoke.

The woman on the other end returned the smile even brighter. "It went amazingly well. I can see where you're coming from in so many more ways now. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can see where your plan for the Empire was headed. You've already moved us from being pirates to privateers and the next step is to an actual empire... But in name only, isn't that right?"

"You're ultimate goal is to form another Federation, isn't it?" Elysius teased, her grin taking on a conspiratorial element.

"Well, that's the idea," Enalia replied with a chuckle. "Once we have enough systems under our protection that have been abandoned, the goal was to form an alliance and propose a dual governmental body. One for defense and exploration and one for governance similar to how the UFP does things. Then the old matriarchy would have to phase out or... well, that's for future generations to decide. It's a really long term plan."

"And it's all laid out in your care package you'll receive after your coronation in a few days," Enalia added with a more serious look.

The younger woman gave a nervous chuckle at the mention of her impending coronation. "Yeah, the coronation... Are you sure I can't just remain the acting queen?"

"No, you're ready for this. You've trained your whole life for a similar position and you have a good heart so I trust you and know you can do this." Enalia replied with that soft smile of hers. "Besides, I can do more good out here and you can do more good there. There are a lot of people in the Artans still that either trust me too explicitly or not at all and I can't lead like that. They can all trust you the right amount once they get to know you."

"That's true. Trust is important and there isn't enough of it in our line of work. There are far too many people in our fleet that are alone. That's one of the societal changes I'd like to spread, you know? No one fights alone." This time it was Elysius's turn to look serious.

"And that's why I trust you." With a deep breath, Enalia leaned back in her chair and studied the woman on the other end. "I'm sorry I can't be at your coronation, Ely. We're just too far away to get there in time and Starfleet orders..."

"I know, it's ok. Plus you're retired from here anyway, so it's not like I can demand it. You're like a sister to me." The slightly younger woman dropped her gaze for a moment before glancing back up. "You'll at least watch the live feed?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Enalia replied with her brightest smile. "And I'll make sure Sarika does too so she knows who to report to from now on."

That got a laugh out of Elysius. "Oh ho! As if she'd ever listen to anything I said. I'm surprised she's even going along with any of this."

Enalia couldn't help but return a chuckle of her own. "She knows her duty and I suspect she'll return to her fleet soon. She's ben getting a lot more messages than normal lately, after all. As for Schwein... I think you can mark her off as inactive or retired. I think she'll be staying with the Asgardians for the foreseeable future."

"I had read the reports. I'm glad she finally found happiness," Elysius replied, letting an awkward silence fall between them for a moment. "My final fitting for the coronation uniform is in less than twenty minutes. They say it's fine if I'm late, but you know my motto. If you're not early, you're late."

"It's been wonderful seeing you again, Enalia. Please feel free to stop by anytime. This is still your home too, after all." With an almost sad smile, the younger woman waved to her predecessor.

Enalia waved back as well, returning the same smile. "Thanks. Good luck. I know you'll blow them away."

With a click of the desk terminal, the connection was closed and the screen went blank.

With a glance over at the small closet a thought occurred to Enalia.

This was likely the last time she would be wearing her Artan uniform.