1

NEW BEGINNINGS I

Federation “Skunkworks” Testing Range: Caleb System
Stardate: 52861.2 (five weeks after the Second Battle of Chin’Toka)

“We’ve arrived at the starting line, Captain.”

“Hold position here, Mr. Lexington.”

“Aye, Sir,” the clean-cut Human lieutenant said as he set the USS Pershing’s thrusters to station keeping.

“Ms. Stone, get me Range Control,” the captain said, leaning back in his new chair and doing his best to keep the excited grin off his face. It was his first command and possibly the best in the fleet. Space trials had been delayed while Starfleet installed the new countermeasures against the Breen energy dampening weapon, but they were finally out here…in the stars. This could be the ship that finally won the war, and it was time to see what she could do.

“Hailing frequencies open, Sir,” another lieutenant said from tactical behind the captain’s right shoulder.

“Test Range Control, this is USS Pershing, standing by to begin Maximum Warp Field Test on your mark.”

“Acknowledged, Pershing,” a female voice said over the bridge’s speaker system. “Standby, we’re still getting our telemetry sensors set for your run.”

“Hold on to your alicorn’s reins, Captain. We’re not ready until I say we’re ready,” came another rather annoyed voice through the intercom.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Scharr?”

“I don’t know yet, Captain,” said his Andorian chief engineer. “I’m still running another diagnostic on the secondary inertial dampeners.”

“Annabeth?” the captain said, turning toward the first officer’s chair.

The tall, blonde commander punched a few keys on the display attached to her armrest. “All systems indicate functional and ready, Sir,” she said with the slightest of German accents. This time, the captain couldn’t hide the smile.

“Mr. Scharr, everything up here says we’re good. You aren’t nervous, are you?” 

Down in engineering, the lieutenant commander’s blue antennae contracted and pointed inwards in his species’ universal sign of annoyance.

“Sir, this is a two kilocochrane, class 10 warp drive,” he said pointing at the huge, glowing cylinder directly in front of him. It didn’t matter that no one on the bridge could see his exaggerated gestures. “It’s the most powerful engine ever put in a Federation starship. If all systems aren’t precisely balanced, the acceleration will tear this ship apart as soon as you say ‘engage.’ Now, if you want to have all your severed limbs scattered from here to the Klingon frontier, by all means, keep rushing me.”

“Understood, Mr. Scharr,” the captain said on the bridge while leaning back in his chair. “Glad to know all my limbs are in your capable hands.”

“Pershing, this is Test Range Control. All sensors read green. The track is clear for a quarter light-year in front of you. As soon as you give us your sensor safety verification, you’re cleared to start your run. Good luck.”

This would be the final and most important test of their space trials. It would be the first time the Federation’s most advanced design would be pushed to its absolute limits.

“Ms. Amira,” the captain said, pulling down on his black and gray uniform jacket. Silence. “Ensign Amira?” he said again with no response. Slowly, he turned his chair toward the science station behind his left shoulder. He bemusedly leaned his chin on his fist.

The young Bajoran ensign at the science station looked like she might faint. He could see her white knuckles from across the bridge as she gripped her console. Her wide eyes stared at the starting markers on the main viewscreen.

“Ensign Amira?” he said a little more forcefully to snap her out of her trance.

“Sir?” she replied, suddenly turning downwards to him.

“Could I get my sensor scan of the test track now? We’re about to accelerate to almost eight thousand times the speed of light in less than a second and I’d prefer not to run into anything that might scratch the paint job. It’s brand new after all.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said nervously, putting a loose strand of brown hair behind her earring. With a few quick keystrokes, she brought the Pershing’s sensor array to life. “No sign of subspace eddies, cosmic string fragments, or temporal anomalies. Space dust at less than 20 particles per cubic meter. Safe to proceed.”

“Thank you, Laria. Are you feeling alright? I don’t need to bring Doc Hunter to the bridge do I?”

“No Sir, I’m fine,” Ensign Amira said, trying to keep from blushing with embarrassment. “It’s just…I’ve never been past warp 7 before.” An audible groan emanated from Lieutenant Stone at the tactical station. An exaggerated throat clear from the first officer silenced it.

“There’s an old Vulcan saying I like, Ensign: ‘For everything there is a first time.’ It’ll be just fine…but you might want to hold onto something,” the captain said, turning his chair back towards the viewscreen.

“Diagnostics complete, Captain.” Lieutenant Commander Scharr said over the intercom. “You’re clear to punch it.”

Daniel Tigranian keyed the shipwide address system on the right arm of his chair. A whistle echoed across the ship’s 12 decks. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain. Your performance on these space trials has been outstanding, but we have one more test to complete before we’re certified for commissioning: a quarter light-year drag race between us and the clock. We’re gonna open the throttle and find our maximum warp. The current record holder is the Enterprise-E with a time of 16 minutes 49 seconds and a speed of warp 9.98. I know we’ll do better. Qapla’!” He turned back to his first officer. “Annabeth, the honor is yours.”

Commander Geist knew her captain’s background, but it was still strange to hear a Human speak Klingon as comfortably as he did.

“Aye, Sir,” she said, punching a few more keys on her chair’s display panel. “Test Range Control, sensor safety verification complete. Begin maximum warp field test 10 seconds from my mark…Mark!”

“Ten, nine, eight,” Lieutenant Lexington counted down from the helm. “Three, two, one…”

“Engage!”

The Pershing disappeared from the starting line with a streak of blue light and a white flash. Despite the inertial dampeners, the entire crew felt themselves pushed backwards. Captain Tigranian couldn’t help but look back to check on Ensign Amira. She was indeed holding on for dear life as she watched the stars fly by as blurs on the viewscreen.

“Matter antimatter reaction at maximum!” Mr. Scharr’s voice echoed through the bridge. “Everything’s still looking good.” Down in engineering, his antennae stretched out nearly vertical as he smiled. He loved the thrumming of a warp core operating at peak efficiency.

“How’re we doing, Phil?” Tigranian asked his helmsman.

“Handles like a dream, Sir. Pretty amazing for a ship this big. Almost like my old fighter.”

“That’s by design, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, our speed is currently–” Tigranian cut Lexington off before he could finish. “I don’t wanna know, Phil. All that matters is the official reading from the telemetry beacons. Just fly it like you stole it.”

“With pleasure, Sir,” the helmsman said in his polite Yorkshire accent

Soon, the Pershing was nearing the end of the course.

“Finish markers coming up in four, three, two, one…”

“Take us out of warp,” Tigranian said nervously. With another flash, the ship slowed to impulse. He knew it would be close. “All stop.”

“Answering all stop, Sir.”

“Pershing, this is Test Range Control. We verify that you completed the course. Standby while we calculate your official time.”

“This is where you find out, if you knock Jean-Luc Picard out of the record books,” Commander Geist whispered as she leaned towards Tigranian.

“I’ve never met him, but I think he would probably be annoyed considering he’s been commanding starships almost as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Pershing, this is Test Range Control…” The entirety of the bridge crew held their collective breath.

“Sixteen minutes…38 seconds. Warp 9.989. Congratulations.”

Nine Months Earlier
Starfleet Headquarters: San Francisco, Earth
Stardate: 59153.4

“Do you really think this new design can make a difference?” Admiral Suval asked the other flag officer briskly walking beside him down a wood-paneled hallway.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have called this meeting with Admiral Paris.” 

Suval raised an eyebrow to Vice Admiral Murphy as they entered the Starfleet staff’s briefing room.

“It is true, the Chief of Starfleet Operations could guarantee the success of the project, but he could also order its termination today.”

“That would be a mistake. We’ve already laid the keel. We’ve just reached a point where we can’t proceed without his permission.”

“A bold move, Admiral. When he finds out your activities, it could very well cause the opposite effect you wish to achieve.”

“I hear Paris likes confidence.”

“True, but he is also quite logical with his delegation of limited Federation resources during wartime. You will have to convince him that a new class of starship antithetical to Starfleet’s core mission is worth it.”

“Without this new class of starship, there might not be a Starfleet to carry on that core mission, Suval.”

“A promising start to your argument, Peter,” Suval said, taking a seat at the large, oak conference table with about a dozen other members of the Federation’s top brass. Murphy walked across the thick red carpet to a podium at the front of the room.

A lieutenant commander opened the conference room’s side door.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the chief of operations,” he announced, holding the door open. The room rose to attention as Admiral Paris walked to the head of the conference table to take his seat.

“As you were,” Admiral Paris said calmly. The rest of the room sat down in plush leather armchairs with the exception of Admiral Murphy bringing up his notes.

“Well, Peter, what do you have for us, today?”

“Yes, Sir,” Murphy said, trying to sound confident. He knew it was more than his career at stake here. “This briefing is classified, please place all communicators into the shielded compartments in front of you.” Tiny doors opened on the table’s surface. Everyone pulled the Starfleet insignia from their uniform and placed them inside their respective boxes. Murphy did likewise into a container on the podium. Once there was no chance of Dominion electronic espionage hacking into the proceedings, he continued.

“Dim the lights please.” An image of the USS Defiant appeared on the holoscreen behind him. “Gentlemen, almost 10 years ago, Starfleet began development of the first purpose-built Federation warship. It is not a secret that the results of this class have been disappointing.

“While the prototype has proven itself suitable for relatively short duration operations, it is mechanically unreliable, lacks the mass, armament, or crew complement for extended combat, and despite being designed to fight the Borg, it was nearly destroyed during that species’ last incursion into Sector 001 two years ago. In short, it is a gunboat: a brown-water solution to a blue-water war…”

“Admiral Murphy,” Admiral Paris said, raising his hand. “Please spare me the sales pitch. We know why the Defiant class never entered full production. I don’t mean to sound crass, but what is your point?”

“Yes, Sir,” Murphy said, refocusing his train of thought. “Currently, the most effective starship design of the war has been the Sovereign-class.” The screen shifted to a picture of the Enterprise-E. “However, despite its advanced offensive and defensive systems, the ship was designed for deep space exploration, not combat. Building a Sovereign requires huge amounts of resources, materiel, and a crew prohibitively large for current Starfleet manning levels.

“So, how do we take the advantages that Sovereign provides and streamline them for the requirements of fighting the Dominion?”

“I assume you boys at Advanced Defense Programs have figured it out?” Admiral Paris said with more than a hint of patronizing tone. A chuckle erupted from the other admirals in attendance.

“Indeed, we think we have, Sir.” Suddenly, the screen shifted to a computer generated image of a new starship class. It had the elongated saucer section of a Sovereign-class starship, but no lower hull. Pylons connected its long warp nacelles directly to the rear of the saucer: a design reminiscent of the NX-class of two centuries ago. “Gentlemen, the USS Pershing: the Federation’s first purpose built fast attack battleship. Computer models indicate that by eliminating a drive section and consolidating the warp drive with a low-profile deflector array in the saucer, we have reduced the vessel’s mass by almost 50 percent and increased its maneuverability by almost 70 percent. Also, borrowing from the Miranda-class, by placing the quantum torpedo launchers in a turret on an auxiliary strut between the main warp nacelle arms, we save further space in the saucer section while also increasing their field of fire almost 40 percent from the Sovereign…”

“It seems like you just cobbled together previous designs into a Frankenship,” Admiral Jenkins said condescendingly.

“Externally, yes,” Murphy replied. “We have taken several proven characteristics and melded them together into one spaceframe. But internally, the Pershing is a completely new ship.”

“Alright, you have my attention,” Admiral Paris said leaning back in his chair. “However, ‘battleship’ to me implies some serious firepower. What’s her templated specs?”

“Sixteen Class XIV phaser arrays, three multi-shot, autoloading quantum torpedo launchers located in the upper turret, Class 16 hull conformal regenerative shields, and 12 centimeters of tritanium ablative armor. Standard crew complement of 24 officers, 96 enlisted, with a marine detachment of 40.”

“There’s no such thing as Class XIV phasers,” said Admiral Fletcher from next to Paris.

“With respect, Sir, there are now. Advanced Defense developed them for this project.”

“What’s her torpedo basic load?” Admiral Jenkins asked.

“She has storage for eight hundred casings.”

There was an audible gasp in the room.

“Eight hundred?” Admiral Paris said in disbelief. “Now, you really have my attention. How quickly can you begin constructing a prototype?”

Murphy steadied himself at the podium. “Actually, Sir, using the resources currently at our disposal, we…already have.” Murphy could immediately see the rising anger on Admiral Paris’ face.

“You mean to tell me that you began construction on a completely new class of starship without letting my office know?”

“Yes, Sir,” Murphy said, trying to sound confident. “However, we’ve reached a point in the construction process where we need a decision from you.”

“Oh, I see!” Admiral Paris said, barely hiding the fury in his voice. “I guess the decision to divert key wartime resources on building an unproven spaceframe doesn’t require my attention, but the color of the wardroom’s carpet falls into my purview!” The room fell silent. Murphy could feel his feet sweating, but he didn’t break the admiral’s steely gaze for a moment.

“No, Sir,” he said calmly from the podium. “But there is an additional tactical component of the Pershing’s design that could have…diplomatic…ramifications.”

“What?” Admiral Paris replied with a concerned look. Murphy cleared his throat before explaining.

“Since the Romulans entered the alliance against the Dominion, certain provisions of the Treaty of Algeron have been suspended. Currently, the Federation is the only member of the alliance that does not field a capital ship equipped with a cloaking device–”

“Now, hold on, Admiral!” Jenkins said, cutting in again. “I thought we agreed to bury the Federation stealth program with the Pegasus…”

“Sir, this is not an interphasic design,” Murphy said as the image on the screen changed to a schematic. “It is a domestically produced, conventional cloak on par with contemporary Klingon and Romulan models. It will increase the ship’s effectiveness, narrow the technological gap we have with our allies, but most importantly…it is completely legal.”

Admiral Paris rubbed his eyes. “Have you begun construction of the cloaking device as well?”

“No, Sir, it’s only blueprints. We didn’t want to start assembly on an item that sensitive without express permission.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” Admiral Paris said, relieved. Murphy felt like his stomach had turned to stone. Project Pershing might die right here in this conference room. “Tell me, Admiral Murphy,” Paris continued in a slightly more optimistic tone. “If you’re this far along, you probably already have some suggestions for who should crew this radical new type of vessel?”

“We have some recommendations, yes, Sir.” Murphy punched some keys on his PADD and the holoscreen changed to an officer personnel file. “There are very few command rated officers in Starfleet that have extensive tactical experience with a cloak capable warship of this scale…”

“Potentially cloak capable warship…and for that matter ... .still a potential warship,” Admiral Paris interjected.

“Of course Sir,” Murphy replied before turning back to the personnel file, “Commander Daniel Tigranian…”

“I’ve heard of this guy…” Admiral Fletcher said, trying to remember. Suddenly, it clicked. “The gagh-eater!”

“Correct, Sir,” Murphy ignored the pejorative nickname for his candidate and continued. “Academy Class of 2366: Double Major in Advanced Tactical Theory and Klingon Language and Culture. Immediately volunteered for the officer exchange program and spent five years of detached service to the Imperial Klingon Defense Forces as the weapons officer on the bird-of-prey IKS Sk’oh. Recalled to the Federation when Gowron withdrew from the Khitomer Accords…”

“Five years on a bird-of-prey…I wonder what that does to a Human?” Admiral Mizukawa muttered while glancing over the file.

“I heard when Starfleet picked him up at the border, he had gone feral: Klingon armor, beard, the whole package. Even smelled like burned dog hair…” Jenkins said with a chuckle.

“Well, he must have done something right, Bill.” Admiral Paris interjected. “The captain of that ship adopted him into his house and let him perform the Rite of Ascension to become a full warrior. As far as I know, he’s the only non-Klingon to ever survive that ritual.”

“Since his return to the Federation three years ago,” Murphy said, trying to get the meeting back on track, “he served briefly as an advisor with Starfleet Intelligence during the Klingon War of ’72-’73 before being assigned as tactical officer of the USS Halcyon. He received the Christopher Pike Medal for Valor for his actions at the Battle of Ronara Prime.” Everyone in the room nodded in recognition. “Since the Halcyon’s destruction, he has been on detached service to the Starfleet Marine Corps in the Iron Triangle Campaign.”

“Certainly gets around, doesn’t he?” Fletcher said. “I wonder what it’s like to get zapped with one of those painstick things?”

“It’s excruciating, Sir,” came a confident voice from the back corner of the room. An officer stepped forward and took a seat at the table. He still wore the black shirt of the Starfleet Marine Corps under his uniform jacket. “Also, have you actually had real gagh, Admiral?” he said, turning toward Fletcher. “I know a great restaurant in Pacific Heights down the street from the Klingon embassy that gets it shipped live directly from Qo’noS. We could have lunch after the meeting.”

“That’s quite alright, Commander,” Admiral Fletcher said, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve already got plans…”

“I’m sure you do, Sir.”

“I asked Commander Tigranian to join us today in case you’re interested in hearing our other recommendations for the Pershing’s senior staff.”

“Welcome, Commander,” Admiral Paris said diplomatically, “You’re more clean-shaven than I thought you’d be.”

“I might be a Klingon warrior, Admiral, but I’m also a Starfleet officer. The beard just doesn’t really work with this uniform.”

“I was very sorry to hear about the Halcyon, Commander. Captain Zelas served under me for a very long time. It was tough to hear that she was gone.”

“She died…well, Sir,” Tigranian said respectfully. Admiral Paris nodded.

“The Cardassian Velkath attack cruiser you captured also proved an invaluable treasure trove to intelligence.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“This file says you’re still in command of 1st Battalion, 2nd Marines out in the Aschelan System…”

“Until two weeks ago, Sir. When Admiral Murphy approached me about this project, I decided it was something I wanted to be a part of.”

“You might have been a little premature, Commander.”

“With respect, Sir, the Federation needs this ship. I’ve been on the front lines. I’ve seen what types of vessels the Dominion possesses and what they’re capable of. Even with the Klingons and the Romulans, victory isn’t assured. 

“I just came from Caleb IV. Pershing can be a reality…and rapidly. All you have to do is say ‘yes.’ Plus, Admiral Murphy and I combed through hundreds of crew dossiers to find the best veterans possible. We’ve settled on recommendations for all key positions except for the science officer…”

“Yes, we have settled on the science officer, Commander,” Admiral Murphy said firmly. “She’s been a part of this project a lot longer than you have,” he then shot Tigranian a look to drop it. Admiral Paris raised an eyebrow.

“Regardless, Sir,” Tigranian said turning back to Paris, “we’ve lost too many good men and women not to give this war effort our all. We’re not gonna win playing it safe.”

“And if I do say ‘yes,’ Commander. What are you gonna do with that ship?”

Tigranian leaned forward and stared Admiral Paris directly in the eyes. “By Kahless the Unforgettable’s hand, Sir, I’ll make the Founders regret the day they ever came through the wormhole.”

“And that, Mr. Tigranian, is the first thing said in this briefing that I have utter confidence in.” Paris motioned to his aide for a PADD. He immediately entered a series of orders. “Effective today, Project Pershing is given the full approval of the Chief of Starfleet Operations. Exception to Article VII of the Treaty of Algeron is allowed.” Paris then made one more entry. “Finally, Mr. Tigranian, get yourself a red shirt and another collar pip. Congratulations, Captain.”

Federation “Skunkworks” Dry Dock: In Orbit of Caleb IV
Stardate: 52889.9

Captain Tigranian examined a PADD as he walked up to the replicator in his ready room aboard the Pershing back in spacedock.

“Raktajino, two sugars,” he said without looking up from his work. A mug appeared in a flash of light. He took a sip of the steaming liquid on the way back to the desk. He always missed the real Klingon coffee he had while serving on the Sk’oh, but at least Federation replicators made a decent facsimile.

The door chimed.

“Come in,” he said looking at the chronometer on his wall. “At least she’s right on time,” he thought. Ensign Amira stepped inside and walked toward his desk.

“Ensign Amira Laria, reporting as ordered, Sir.” He chuckled a little bit at her stiffness.

“You’re not at the academy anymore, Laria. You’ll find the fleet a little bit more informal than you’re used to. Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the couch. She complied, but was still very tense. “Jeez, please relax. You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry, Sir,” she paused. “Sir, before we begin, I’d just like to apologize for what happened on the bridge yesterday during the test.”

“Apologize for what?” Tigranian asked.. Ensign Amira brushed the hair behind her earring again. He was starting to notice that it was her nervous habit.

“That I froze up before the run. I know you don’t really like me, and that didn’t help the situation…”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Tigranian said, holding up his hand. He sighed before continuing. “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just that I don’t really know you.” He picked up the PADD he was working on and gently tossed it to her. She caught it and stared down at its contents. “You’re probably wondering why I saved your initial counseling for last. Well, there it is right there. It’s a standard list of expectations I have for every member of the senior staff. Feel free to read and sign it later. What I really want is to start a dialogue.” He paused while he chose his next words carefully.

“You’re the only member of the staff I didn’t get to select. Admiral Murphy refused to compromise on your appointment as science officer.”

“I never thought my sensor array design would ever be built, but when the Admiral said he wanted to install it on a new starship…”

“Yes, the fact that you not only helped design this ship, but you did it as your junior thesis at the academy is pretty damn impressive. You have degrees in astrophysics and subspace dynamics and your technical skills are at the level of an officer twice your age…”

“But…” Laria said with a concerned look at her face.

“But…” Tigranian said while continuing his train of thought. “This isn’t a science vessel. This is a warship. That sensor array wasn’t installed to map stellar nurseries. It was installed to acquire targets. Every other member of this crew has a proven combat record. They’ve shown that they can be depended on to keep fighting when the torpedoes start flying and the shields fail. Now, I ask you, can you say the same? Are you going to be able to perform when people around you are scared, wounded, or possibly dying?”

Laria looked flustered. Tigranian knew he might have crossed a line. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, trying to sound more supportive.

“Kava juice, please.”

“Sure,” he said, walking over to the replicator. “Kava juice.” A glass appeared and he walked it over to her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. He sat down in a chair next to the couch.

“I could never handle that stuff. Too sweet.”

“I grew up with it. Kava is one of the things my parents grow on our farm.”

“I read your file,” Tigranian said, trying to gently steer the conversation back. “I know you’re no stranger to hardship.”

“It’s my parents who are no strangers to hardship. I was five when we left the refugee camp on Riklos for Gault. I barely remember the place.”

“Still, you were born there.”

“Better there than on Bajor, Sir. It’s why my parents left when my mother found out she was pregnant.” Laria looked down into her glass. “Can I be honest with you, Captain?”

“I would expect nothing else, Laria.”

“Do you know why I accepted Admiral Murphy’s offer to serve on this ship?” Now, Tigranian was intrigued. “It wasn’t because of my sensor array. It’s because I wanted to fight the Cardassians.”

“Well, you’ll certainly get that chance.”

“I did some reading about you too, Sir. Your first assignment was a Klingon ship, right?”

“It was.”

“Did you know if you were up to the challenge then?” Tigranian couldn’t help but laugh.

“Point taken, Ensign.” Tigranian smiled and extended a hand. “Welcome aboard, Laria. I look forward to serving with you.”

“You too, Sir,” she replied with the beginnings of a smile.

“Have you been practicing for the commissioning ceremony tomorrow?”

“Oh, the ceremony,” Laria said as if she was remembering something unpleasant. “I still don’t see why I have to do it.”

“It's a naval tradition, Ensign. All you have to do is say the words right and get it in the transporter. Physics will take care of the rest."

Dr. Alexandra Hunter sat at the desk in her new sickbay going over the equipment efficiency reports. She fully expected to be going into heavy action as soon as the Pershing left spacedock and didn’t want to be caught unprepared. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a large Bolian man standing in her doorway.

“May I help you, Nurse Zol?”

“Do you know what time it is, Doctor?” In fact, she did know. She was just trying to ignore it. “You were off duty almost 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m almost done.”

“It’s just I thought you might want to change before your date.”

“It’s NOT a date. It’s just a glass of wine with an old friend who happens to now be stationed on this ship.”

“Call it whatever you want, I just thought you still might want to change.” Alex looked down at her uniform. “Are you trying to say that this isn’t good enough? I’m at least going to take off the coat.” 

Zol chuckled.

“You’ll look great no matter what you’re wearing. I’m just saying that I would probably want to be comfortable before seeing my ex.”

“We’re friends now. THAT’S ALL.”

“Okay, okay, it’s just you’re supposed to be there in five minutes…” 

Alex checked the chronometer.

“Damn, you’re right.” She hopped up and hung her green lab coat behind her desk. “Be sure you keep checking the incubators through the night. That crop of Xylian fungus is tricky. If it doesn’t germinate at precisely the right time, it won’t produce the right amount of…”

“Doctor, relax,” Zol said. “Go and enjoy yourself for one evening. Sickbay will be here in the morning.” Alex forced a smile onto her face and ran her fingers through her dark hair.

“How do I look?”

“Ready.”

As she stood in the turbolift heading toward the officers’ quarters on deck two, she didn’t know why she was so nervous. She’d known this person for six years. Granted they hadn’t spoken in almost four. The doors opened and she headed toward the second to last doors on the right. With a final calming breath, she pressed the chime.

“Come in.” The doors parted and she walked inside. Immediately, Alex was confronted with a white tablecloth, lit candles, and two place settings. Definitely more than she was led to believe this was. “Hello, Alex.”

She looked over to see Commander Geist in a tight red dress that immediately brought back some wonderful, yet still raw memories. She even wore her hair down over her shoulders just the way Alex loved it.

“What is this, Beth? When you invited me over tonight I thought it was just for a glass of wine between old friends.”

“If I told you it was more, would you have come?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, then until you’re ready, it’s just a glass of wine between old friends,” Annabeth said, gesturing to her couch. Alex cautiously took a seat while Annabeth grabbed two glasses of Chardonnay from a sideboard. Alex took a guarded sip as Annabeth took a seat next to her.

“It’s been a long time, Alex.”

“Yes, it has,” Alex said, trying to keep her guard up while simultaneously doing her best not to look at Annabeth’s long legs.

“You can imagine how surprised I was when I saw your name on the crew roster.”

“It’s a small Starfleet. We were bound to run into each other again.” Alex sniffed the air. “You’re making eggplant lasagna?”

“I remember you said it was one of your favorites.” 

Alex suddenly downed her entire glass of wine and jumped to her feet. She walked over to the window and stared off into the stars.

“What exactly do you think is gonna happen tonight, Beth? That we’ll pick up exactly where we left off four years ago and live happily ever after?”

“Of course not.” 

Alex heard Annabeth get to her feet. She spun around to make it clear she didn’t want her close right now.

“I used to dream about this,” she said looking down at the carpet. “That it was somehow all a giant mistake and you would come to your senses,but then I gave up.” Alex felt on the verge of tears, but she took a deep breath and steeled herself. “Do you have…ANY IDEA…how much you hurt me?” She realized she was yelling, but she didn’t care.

Annabeth collapsed back down on the couch and placed a hand over her face. “Would it make you feel better if I told you that choosing promotion over us was the biggest mistake of my life?”

“No, but it’s a start,” Alex cautiously stepped back towards Annabeth. “I was so young, Beth: an intern just out of Starfleet Medical. I thought I had found the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with,and then you said you were leaving. Two years…two years! And you just threw it away.”

Now, it was Annabeth’s turn to be on the verge of tears. “I was young, too, Alex. Young and stupid and thought that my career was everything. When Captain Terry offered me the second officer position on the Jackson, I thought that another opportunity like that would never come along and that if it was meant to be, we would find each other again one day, but I was wrong and stupid.” Alex realized that Annabeth was moving towards her. Her mind told her to step away, but she just couldn’t. She felt Annabeth’s arms wrap around her and then Alex realized her head was suddenly resting on Annabeth’s shoulder.

“God, I missed being here,” Alex whispered. Annabeth squeezed her tighter and she melted into her arms. Both of them were crying now.

“I missed having you here,” Annabeth whispered back. “Until right now, I had no idea how much I missed having you here.”

Annabeth gently lifted Alex’s chin so their gazes met. With a much more mature touch than Alex remembered, Annabeth wiped away the tears from her cheeks.

“Alex, I’m not gonna make the same mistake again. I will leave Starfleet before I leave you. That’s a promise.” Looking into Annabeth’s blue eyes, somehow she believed her.

“Oh, the hell with it!” Alex exclaimed as she leaned forward and met Annabeth in a kiss. After a few seconds of bliss, she leaned back and grinned. “What do you say we see if your eggplant lasagna is still as bad as I remember?” The two of them laughed like they had when they first met.

“Nine,” Katherine Stone said as she dropped down for one last rep in her favorite spot: the Pershing’s gym. With the cacophony of Nausicaan death metal blaring in her headphones, she exploded up in the squat rack, pushing the barbell on her back to the up position. “Ten!”

With an experienced touch, she placed the weight back onto the rack. She grabbed her towel and wiped the sweat from her face. Some strands of dirty blonde hair had come loose from the ponytail behind her head. She pulled them back and secured them with her hair tie before taking a deep gulp from her water bottle.

“Hey! Hey!” she felt like she heard the muffled sound of a man’s voice behind her. She pulled an earbud out and spun around. It was Lexington, the Pershing’s helmsman. “Are you good?” He asked, pointing at the rack.

“I got one more set, but go ahead. It’ll be a few minutes before I’m ready to go again.” She grabbed her water bottle and stepped out of the squat rack. Suddenly, he got a slightly embarrassed look on his face as he stepped toward the barbell. Katie was confused until she saw him remove one of her 20 kilo plates and replace it with a 10 kilo plate. She got a grin on her face as she pulled one of the heavier weights off the bar’s opposite end and set it up for him.

“Thanks,” he muttered hoping she’d let the issue drop. Luckily for him, she did. “You look like you’re here a lot,” he said, trying to be amiable.

“I am,” she said tersely. “Helps me work stuff out.”

“Oh,” he said, lifting the bar off the rack. As he went down into a squat, Katie had to bite her tongue. As he fumbled back to the up position, he looked like he was about to fall forward into a face plant. The remaining of his five reps were not any better. As he reracked the barbell, Katie couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You know you’re doing that wrong…”

“Excuse me?” Lexington said incensed.

“You’re putting all your weight on the balls of your feet. You should be keeping it on your heels.”

“This might surprise you, but it’s not my first time in a weight room, either.”

“Sure, looks like it is,” she replied with a chuckle.

“Alright, Ms. Olympia,” Lexington said, stepping out from the rack and replacing her heavier weights, “Would you care to demonstrate?”

“With pleasure, Sir” she said in a mock British accent parodying his. “The key is the beginning of the motion,” she said, lifting the bar off the rack. Engage the lower back, and then drop down on your heels,” she went down into a flawless squat. “Then explode up through the floor!” She lifted the barbell back up and completed the rest of her set.

“Impressive,” Lexington said as she stepped out of the rack.

“Yeah, I had a really good coach on the Trinity…” 

Suddenly, Lexington looked more somber.

“You were on the Trinity?”

“Yup.”

“At Betazed?”

“Yup…”

“I thought there were only nine survivors…”

“You’re looking at one of them. Three weeks in an escape pod to get back to Federation lines. Told you I had stuff to work out…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s alright,” she said, trying to politely change the subject. When Lexington looked down he saw the t-shirt she was wearing.

“You were on the Academy Martial Arts Team?” he asked.

“I was,” Katie said, taking another drink from her water bottle. “My specialty was Aikido, but I also competed in Ambojitsu.”

“That’s a rough sport.”

“I like it rough…” suddenly she paused. “I’m sorry, that came out completely wrong.” They both laughed.

“It’s alright,” he replied, trying to be reassuring.

“What sport did you play at the academy?” she asked.

“I was in Nova Squadron. We were exempt from the athletic requirement.”

“Ah, of course you were, fighter jockey.”

“I prefer Phil,” he said, holding out a hand. “It’s Katherine, right?”

“I prefer Katie,” she said with a firm shake back.

Federation “Skunkworks” Dry Dock Observation Deck
Stardate: 52890.1

 The booming strains of the Federation Anthem concluded.

“Order Arms!” Captain Tigranian announced to the collected formation. They dropped their salutes back to the crisp position of attention. He looked out at the sea of white and gray as two hundred Starfleet personnel in dress uniforms looked up at him on the temporary stage. Silently, he spun around on his heels and nodded towards Admiral Murphy. The flag officer approached a podium, removed his speech from his pocket, and spoke calmly into the microphone:

“At Ease. During times such as these, as we fight for our very existence, ceremony can seem archaic and very out of place. Some might ask ‘why do we waste time dressing in our best, saying antiquated phrases, and performing ancient rituals? After all, a ship is just a collection of tritium and plasma conduits?’ Well, to those detractors, I say, our traditions are what set us apart, for we acknowledge that a ship is much more than its hull plating and stem bolts. A starship is as much a member of its team as its helmsman, its engineer, or its captain.

“Anyone who has ever served in Starfleet understands that the vessel which carries us into the unknown is alive. It has its own temperament, its own essence, and its own attitudes. A starship becomes a crew’s home just a crew becomes that ship’s family. They are bonded together in a manner that is completely mysterious to all except those of us who have experienced it.

“This ship,” he said pointing out the windows behind him, “is named for an ancient earth warrior: a general who some historians claim arrived late to another great war, but whom all agree brought that war to a quick and decisive end. It is our hope that the vessel that bears his name will serve the same purpose in the current great war.

“Today, the United Federation of Planets commissions a new vessel that serves a new purpose. For while most starships are given life to explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations, and boldly go where no one has gone before, the USS Pershing will instead safeguard that mission. Its protection will allow the future of Starfleet’s finest to continue boldly going forward for many generations yet to come. Thank you.”

A round of applause echoed across the observation deck.

“Now, to complete one of the traditions we spoke of, it is customary that a new ship receives a civilian woman as her sponsor. However, due to the clandestine nature of her construction, the Pershing will instead be sponsored by the youngest female officer serving aboard. Ensign Amira, will you come up here please.”

Laria stepped forward from the crowd and joined Admiral Murphy and Captain Tigranian. The admiral reached down, picked up a mahogany box, and opened it. Inside was a green bottle marked with the words, “Dom Perignon: Vintage 2365.”

“Ensign,” the admiral continued, “I brought this all the way from Earth. Now, would you do the honors?”

“Yes, Sir,” Laria said nervously, picking up the bottle. Two of the dry dock’s engineers appeared and set up a black box on the bulkhead behind her. Laria took a deep breath and announced to the crowd, “I name this ship ‘Pershing.’ May the Prophets bless her and all who sail in her!”

Laria heaved the bottle towards the black box. In an instant, the micro-transporter energized and the bottle disappeared in a sparkle of blue light. Outside, in the vacuum of space, the bottle rematerialized a few meters from the Pershing’s hull. It glided silently into the plating and shattered against the tritanium. Another round of applause echoed through the deck.

A somewhat tedious reception followed. After what seemed like a century of small talk, chit-chat, and finger sandwiches, Tigranian finally got Admiral Murphy alone.

“Alright, Pete, when do we leave for the front?” Murphy sighed, looked back and forth, and then gestured for Tigranian to follow him. They stepped into another compartment away from everyone else’s earshot.

“There’s been a change of plans, Dan.”

“What do you mean?” Tigranian asked aggressively.

“Sisko, Ross, Martok, and the Romulans saw an opportunity and took it. They’re pushing on Cardassia Prime as we speak before the Dominion consolidates their defensive line.”

“What? We need to leave now, then!”

“Calm down, Dan. Even at maximum warp, you would never make it. The fleet’s already left Deep Space Nine.”

“The most powerful warship at the Federation’s disposal and we’re not even going to be at the battle for Cardassia Prime! Qu’vath guy’cha baQa!”

“I said, calm down!” Murphy said, trying to get Tigranian to lower his voice.

“You do have a very important mission, Dan.”

“And what is that? Be a float in the victory parade?”

“Hardly. The offensive, though bold, is by no means a sure victory. There’s over ten thousand Jem’Hadar, Cardassian, and Breen ships holding those lines. If the allied fleet fails, you will be the only thing standing between the Federation core systems and an all-out Dominion counterattack.

“You’re gonna take the Pershing and maintain position between Vulcan and Alpha Centauri. Run silent, run deep, and await further orders.” Tigranian closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

“Understood, Sir.”

The next morning, the crew of Pershing took their departure stations.

“Mr. Scharr, are we set?” Tigranian said speaking into his intercom.

“Yes, Sir. Warp core online and stable. Impulse engines standing by.”

 “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, I know this isn’t the mission we prepared for, but it's an important one nonetheless…” He did his best to sound convincing, but he wasn’t sure if his crew believed him.

“Katie, get me the dock master.”

“Frequencies open, Sir.”

“This is USS Pershing, requesting permission for departure.”

“Acknowledged, Pershing. Clearance granted. Good luck.”

“Running lights on, Sir.” Lexington said from the helm.

“Clear all moorings.”

“All moorings cleared.” Suddenly, Tigranian felt a hand on his shoulder. Commander Geist leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“This is your ship, Sir, leaving on its first mission. Even though it might not be the mission you wanted, savor it.” Tigranian felt himself smile.

“Thank you, Annabeth,” he whispered back. “Mr. Lexington, aft thrusters.”

“Aft thrusters, aye.”

“Ahead, one quarter impulse power.”

“Ahead, one quarter impulse power, aye, Sir.”

From the dock master’s tower, Admiral Murphy watched the Pershing pull out of the slipway and into open space.

“We are free and clear to navigate, Sir,” Lexington said, monitoring his console.

“Full impulse power.”

“Full impulse, Sir.”

“Ms. Stone, engage the cloaking device.”

“Aye, Sir, rigging for silent running.” The bridge lights dimmed as an alarm echoed through the ship. Outside, the Pershing disappeared in a shimmering wave.

Inside the control room, Murphy watched the ship vanish from sensors.

“Sir,” a technician said from behind him. “I’m picking up a distortion wave in subspace. They’ve gone to warp.”

“May the wind be always at your backs. Godspeed,” the admiral whispered just loud enough for only him to hear.

Eridani Expanse: Three Light-Years from Planet Vulcan
Stardate: 52930.4

Two weeks passed. The war ended, and with the signing of the Treaty of Bajor, the guns finally fell silent. It now seemed the Pershing would never get to fulfill its purpose. The crew continued on with their routines much as they had in spacedock, all the time waiting for the inevitable order to return to port.

Captain Tigranian already had his mug of raktajino in his hand when he stepped through the turbolift doors.

“Captain on the bridge,” Annabeth said, rising to greet him.

“Good morning,” he replied, trying to sound chipper.

“Good morning, Sir,” she returned.

“Anything interesting in the duty officer’s log from last night?” he asked.

“No, Sir, quiet as a Benzinite Temple.”

“I suppose we should be thankful for that,” he said, sounding almost disappointed.

“I know warriors are always eager for battle,” Annabeth replied, “but how about we compromise and say we’re still celebrating victory?”

“I’ll drink to that,” he said with a forced smile before taking an exaggerated sip from his mug.

Tigranian looked around the bridge. Stone and Lexington were quietly manning their stations, but Laria was busily examining something on her display. It caught his interest.

“You look like you’ve got something going on there, Ensign,” he asked approaching her console.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, not even looking up from the screen. “The sensors detected a Class IV comet passing through the sector this morning.”

“A Class IV? Those are pretty rare if I remember my ‘Intro to Astronomy’ class correctly.”

“Extremely rare, Sir.” She said grinning from ear to ear. “The amount of venderite in the nucleus actually makes them generate a wake in subspace. This new sensor array is more amazing than I hoped! The resolution is so sharp, I can actually examine each individual vortex eddy in the ion trail separately.” He wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about, but her enthusiasm did a lot to raise his spirits.

“Of course this new sensor array is amazing,” Tigranian said, taking another sip of raktajino. “It was designed by one of the most promising young scientific minds in Starfleet.” She laughed.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Sir,” Stone said from across the bridge. “Incoming subspace transmission. Admiral Murphy at Starfleet Headquarters.”

“And here it is…” he muttered to himself. “In my ready room, please, Katie.” He looked over to Annabeth who flashed him an understanding yet nervous look.

“Good luck,” she silently mouthed.

Tigranian stepped inside his office and sat down at his desk. With one last breath, he turned his computer monitor towards him and hit the “receive” button. Murphy’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hello, Pete.”

“Dan, how’re things?”

“Going just fine, but I don’t think you called just to make sure we’re alright.”

“No…”

“Let me guess, immediately return to spacedock, mothball the ship, and begin reassigning the crew…” Tigranian said, leaning back in his chair.

“You’re not very good at this game, Dan.”

“What?” he said, leaning forward again.

“All Dominion forces have returned to the Gamma Quadrant and the Breen are back in their Confederacy, but the Cardassian Union has become the ‘Sick Man of the Alpha Quadrant.’ In accordance with the Treaty of Bajor, the Allied Powers have established a provisional civilian government under Prime Minister Elim Garak…”

“Garak?” Tigranian said, tilting his head. “The tinker, tailor, soldier, spy from Deep Space Nine?”

“The very same,” Murphy continued. “He’s one of the few Cardassians that both Starfleet and the Klingon High Command have any trust in. The Romulans weren’t so willing to accept him, but Ross and Chancellor Martok were able to finally convince them.

“He’s establishing himself on Cardassia Prime with the remains of the Second and Third Orders as his provisional constabulary. However, he doesn’t have enough vetted troops to safeguard the planet much less the entirety of Cardassian territory.

“The Romulans, Klingons, and the Federation have divided the empire into three zones of occupation. President Zife has ordered Starfleet to keep a substantial military presence in our area of responsibility to show that we’re committed to rebuilding Cardassia, and that we wouldn’t respond very well if our allies attempted a land grab.”

“Now, I’m intrigued, Pete.”

“Admiral Paris wants you and the Pershing there, Dan. There’s no other starship that can safeguard itself as well as you can…and no other captain who can deal with the Klingon occupation forces better than you.”

“What about the Romulans? Are they gonna keep their end of the bargain or are they going to revert to their old habits?”

“That’s yet to be seen. Don’t worry, we’ll figure that out together.”

“What?”

“I’ve got my new orders as well: Chief of Starfleet Occupation Forces,” he said, picking up a box from the table. He opened it to reveal two sets of full admiral’s rank. “Promotion ceremony is tomorrow. Sorry you won’t get to be there.”

“I’ll have a drink for you, Pete. Congratulations,” Tigranian said with a big smile.

A few minutes later, Tigranian stepped back on the bridge. Everyone else fell silent as they waited for their new orders.

“Mr. Lexington…”

“Sir?”

“Set course for Cardassia Prime.”

“Cardassia?” Annabeth said, almost leaping out of her chair.

“It seems we haven’t outlived our usefulness quite yet,” he said sitting down in his chair. “Ms. Amira…”

“Yes, Sir?” Laria said from behind him.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to leave your new comet behind.”

“That’s quite alright, Captain,” she said. “I’m sure there are plenty of comets to study where we’ll be headed. Maybe even a few stellar nurseries, too.” 

Tigranian couldn’t help laughing.

“I’m sure you’re right…”

“Course laid in, Sir!” Mr. Lexington said from the helm.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Tigranian said, looking around the bridge. “Let’s get down to work. Engage!”

2

NEW BEGINNINGS II

Five Light-Years from Atbar Prime: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 52983.6

“Alright,” Katie said walking across the mat on the floor of the Pershing’s starboard holodeck. She was dressed in a bright white gi and pleated, black hakama pants. “The ability to defend yourself is extremely important. We’re in a dangerous line of work, and you could find yourself in a rough situation without a phaser very easily.”

About 20 students, including Annabeth, Alex, and Laria, gathered around her. They were dressed in their own white uniforms, and intently listening to every word. Katie’s self-defense course had become Wednesday morning’s most popular onboard event.

“The key to effective fighting is using as little effort as possible to do maximum damage to your opponent. It’s amazing how much you can do by using their own energy against them. Computer, activate Stone Sparring Opponent Level 1.”

A large Human male appeared on the mat next to her.

“The most likely way you are likely to be attacked is from behind.” She turned her back to the hologram and announced, “Begin program.” The Human charged from behind and tried to wrap his arm around her neck. Effortlessly, Katie locked the hologram’s arm inside her own, used its momentum to heave it over her shoulder, and sent it careening into the mat. “Now, the key here is to maintain control of the wrist…” she said, holding the hologram’s arm vertically, “because then all I have to do is come down with just my body weight.” She dropped her knee directly onto the hologram’s elbow which snapped with a loud crack. Everyone winced as her practice dummy started screaming. “Computer, reset opponent.” The figure disappeared and reappeared in its original stance.

“Another possibility is the direct frontal attack. You never want to stand still and take the full force. Remember, redirect their energy as simply as you can. Computer, begin program.” The Human charged directly at her and threw a punch. Katie raised her hands in front of her, gently deflecting the blow as she stepped to the side. With a gentle move of her right foot, she knocked her opponent’s feet from under him. The hologram fell backwards into her left knee before dropping to the mat unconscious.

“But what if the opponent is a lot bigger and stronger than you are? Won’t they just grab you and toss you around?” asked a female crewman standing next to Alex.

“That’s actually a really common fear among the women I train. They think that they’re at a real disadvantage in those situations. The reality is, the bigger the opponent, the easier it is to hurt them. They have to use more energy to come at you which is more energy you can use against them,” Katie replied.

No one paid much attention to Captain Tigranian. He was already in duty uniform as he walked onto the holodeck and leaned against a wall to watch.

“Computer, activate Stone Sparring Opponent Level 5.” The unconscious Human on the ground disappeared, and three fully grown Nausicaans surrounded Katie. Each one was at least a meter taller and 75 kilograms heavier than her.

“There’s no way!” Laria whispered to Annabeth off to the side of the mat.

“Just watch,” Annabeth said.

“Computer, begin program.” The first Nausicaan charged forward and attempted to wield his fist like a hammer to a nail. Katie sidestepped again, grabbed his wrist, and flipped him over onto his back. A quick strike to his face with her heel put him out of commission just in time for her to duck underneath the punch of the second Nausicaan. Katie raised her palms in front of her as he reared back for another strike. Effortlessly, she redirected his arm underneath her own, locking it with her elbows. A minor shift of her weight sent him flying down into the mat as well. The final Nausicaan attempted to grab her around the waist. She reached up behind his neck, dropped to one knee, and sent him tumbling down like a sack of dirt. He hit his head with his full body weight and went limp.

Everyone in the crowd started applauding. Tigranian stood in the back with a smile on his face.

“Computer, delete opponents. Never underestimate yourself or what you can do with the right training. Now, let’s pair off and start practicing some of the wrist locks we learned last week.”

The rest of her students started their drills. Katie started coaching them while Annabeth walked over to the captain.

“She’s really good,” Annabeth said to Tigranian.

“I can see that,” he said with a grin. “She was the academy champion two years in a row…”

“Three years in a row, actually,” Katie said walking over to the pair. “You know, Sir, there’s always room for one more here if you’re interested.”

“No thanks,” he said with a chuckle. “I prefer training on my own.”

“You’re a Mok’bara grand master, aren’t you?” Katie said curiously.

“Just a master,” Tigranian said, shaking his head. “Never been able to get past chenmoH’Itlh.”

“Fought a lot of different styles over the years, but never met anyone proficient in Klingon martial arts. Really like to spar. I think it would be good for them to see, too,” she said pointing to the others.

“I don’t know,” Tigranian said skeptically.

“Sir, c’mon. You aren’t scared are you?” Katie said, trying to edge him on.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Katie,” Annabeth said, turning towards her.

“No, Commander,” Tigranian said, unzipping his jacket and removing his boots. “Now, I’m curious, myself.” Katie grinned from ear to ear.

“Alright everybody!” Katie announced to the class. “We have a special guest today. Captain Tigranian is going to help me demonstrate some interstellar mixed martial arts. Circle around.” Everyone cheered and ran to the center mat.

Tigranian stood across from Katie.

“Don’t hold anything back, Sir,” she said, looking him in the face. He nodded in reply.

Suddenly, they lunged at each other. Katie grabbed the captain’s wrist and sent him flying into the mat. She dropped a knee into his chest and raised her fist into the air.

“Dammit, Sir,” she whispered. “I told you, don’t hold anything back. I’m trying to teach them what it’s like to be in a real fight. They need to see it…” She dropped her fist and offered him a hand.

“Okay,” he said, grabbing her hand. They took their positions again. This time, Tigranian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Gracefully, he extended his right leg behind him, and leaned his weight onto his left foot. In a circular motion, he brought his arms around over his head, alternating his palms up and down directly in front of his chest. His fingers curled like a saber bear’s claws. Katie placed her own hands, palms out, in front of her.

“Are you ready, Sir?” she asked confidently. Tigranian slowly opened his eyes.

“En’chA,” he replied before flying forward, striking at Katie with large circular blows. She used her hands to deflect his strikes, but was unable to get a hold of him this time. Finally, he reared back and struck her face with an open palm strike. She flew backwards several feet. A slow trickle of blood began from the corner of her mouth. She grinned as she wiped it away with the back of her sleeve.

“Better?” he asked calmly.

“Much,” she said before charging forward again. This time, she was on the offensive. Punching, kicking, throwing elbows, all at full speed.

“They’re going to kill each other!” Laria said to Alex and Annabeth.

“They know what they’re doing…” Annabeth replied just as Katie sent a knee flying into Tigranian’s stomach. He doubled forward as Katie backhanded him across the face. He saw stars and tasted blood, but kept fighting.

“Are you sure?” Alex said, raising an eyebrow.

Katie tried getting a headlock, but Tigranian spun around and attempted a strike into her side. Katie dropped to the mat and somersaulted sideways, barely avoiding a nasty set of broken ribs.

She jumped back to her feet, spun around, and roundhouse kicked towards Tigranian's head. He deflected it, and attempted another palm strike with his left hand, but Katie had learned from her last mistake. She raised her palms and deflected its energy sideways, allowing herself to get a grip on his wrist. Before she could throw him, Tigranian wrapped his lower leg around her heel, effectively locking the two of them together. With a pair of screams, both reared back with their right fists.

“That’s enough!” Annabeth yelled from the sideline.

Katie and Tigranian paused, both breathing heavily. Suddenly, they both started laughing. The captain threw his arms around Katie and gave her a big hug.

“Great job,” he said.

“You too, Sir,” she replied as the assembled crowd breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Alright, everybody, that’s all the time we have for this week, but I’ll see you next Wednesday. Be sure you practice forms one and two on your own so we can test out on them.” As the rest of the students dispersed, Annabeth and Alex stepped up to Katie and the captain.

“Don’t you think that was a little much?” Annabeth asked.

“Not at all,” Tigranian said, placing his hands on his hips. “I really needed that.”

“You have got to teach me that circular move you need with your arms, Sir. That was awesome!” Katie said, reaching for her water bottle. Her mouth was still bleeding and she was walking with a pronounced limp.

“It’s called way’gho,” Tigranian said with another smile. “It lets you carry straight into majQa’.” He suddenly realized his left eye was starting to swell shut. He finally let himself wince. “But you’re pretty good in the strike department already.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex said, walking up to the two of them. “You can talk about ways to injure each other later, but right now the both of you get to sickbay, chief medical officer’s orders.”

A few minutes later, Katie and Tigranian sat meekly on a biobed next to each other like children in the school nurse’s office after a fight.

“You’re both pretty lucky,” Alex said, putting away her dermal regenerator. “I’m a fantastic doctor, but a terrible dentist. Two centimeters to the right or left and both of you would be walking around without front teeth.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Katie said sarcastically. Tigranian chuckled.

“Despite my best efforts, you’re probably both gonna be a little bit sore tomorrow.”

“Not the first time, and won’t be the last…” Tigranian said cheerfully. Alex just grumbled.

“Captain,” the intercom came to life. “Priority one message from Admiral Murphy at Starfleet Command.”

Tigranian tapped the communicator on his chest. “I’ll take it in my ready room.” He turned to Alex, “Unless…”

“Oh, we’re done here,” she replied with a look. Tigranian hopped off the bed and walked out the doors.

“I need a shower,” Katie said, stepping down.

“Yes, you do.” Alex said with a laugh.

An hour later, the senior staff assembled in the wardroom behind the bridge for their daily meeting. Taking their seats at the conference table, Katie was still bragging to Phil about the fight.

“I would have had him,” Katie said confidently.

“Really?” Alex said, cocking her head to one side. “Because I was standing right there, and it looked like you were about to render each other unconscious.”

“Been punched in the face plenty of times and kept going before,” Katie said proudly. “Laria, back me up on this.”

“Oh no, not getting involved,” Laria said, raising both hands in the air.

Tren Scharr, the Pershing’s chief engineer, chuckled to himself at the end of the table.

“Obviously, Lieutenant, you’ve never been punched by an Andorian before. Back home, we train by shattering blocks of ice with our bare hands.”

“Which I’m sure is very useful if you ever have to get in a fight with a snowman, Sir.” Phil laughed and Annabeth just shook her head.

Suddenly, the doors opened and Captain Tigranian walked in.

“The captain,” Annabeth said as everyone climbed to their feet.

“As you were,” Tigranian said, taking his seat at the head of the table with his ubiquitous mug of raktajino.

“Lieutenant Stone was just regaling us with the story of your mighty battle this morning, Sir,” Annabeth said as everyone took their seats again.

“Really?” Tigranian replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ll be sure to have her tell me what really happened when we have time.” He flashed Katie a smile which was returned with a grin. “However, duty finally calls!” Tigranian punched a few keys on the control panel in front of him. The image of a star system appeared on the holoscreen on the wall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Telarak, a gas giant located 25 light-years from here. One of its moons is Class-M…barely…and supports a small native population of sentient lifeforms in a few scattered settlements. Before the war, Telarak was a rather unremarkable Cardassian possession, a stopover on the Lissepian and Ventaxian trade routes between Cardassia Prime and Romulus, with only a minor presence of constabulary militia. However, after its occupation by Romulan forces, it has since become a major military transportation hub due to its proximity to the Romulan frontier as well as large deposits of meladium gas located in the atmosphere of the gas giant…”

“I’m sorry, Sir, meladium gas?” Phil asked. “I’ve never heard of it.” Tigranian glanced over at Laria who picked up on her cue.

“It’s a rare molecular compound that’s not very common in most warp-capable societies. However, the unique characteristics of the Romulan D’Deridex-class warbird’s quantum singularity drive mean the ship requires it as a stabilizing agent. It is one of the few substances that can absorb Hawking radiation without being ionized and the Romulans use it as a sort of ‘control rod’ in their warp drives.”

“I knew there was a reason we kept her around,” Phil said, causing Laria to blush.

“I keep her around because all you know how to do is drive, Phil, and not very well at that,” Tigranian said, taking another sip of raktajino. The whole table laughed before getting back to the topic at hand. “The Telarak System has since become the home of a Romulan gas mining station, a small spacedock, and a garrison of about 800 legionnaires in the moon’s primary settlement. It is also the base of operations for one of the Romulans’ occupational governors, Promagistrate Kival…”

“As you’ve said, Sir,” Scharr interjected himself. “Telarak is in the Romulan Zone. Why does it concern us?”

“And that brings me to the point, Mr. Scharr,” Tigranian continued. “According to Article X of the Treaty of Bajor, all surplus Dominion, Cardassian, and Breen weapons are to be immediately collected by occupation authorities and turned over to the Central Authority on Cardassia Prime for registration and disposal. Telarak, however, has been turning over a surprisingly low amount of weaponry for the amount of Dominion activity that occurred in that sector.”

“They think Kival might be skimming off the top? Selling weapons on the black market?” Katie asked.

“Yes, but Starfleet can’t prove it. They’ve lodged two separate requests for an official inquiry to the Romulan Senate, but predictably, nothing has been done. Apparently, Kival is pretty well connected with the Tal Shiar.”

“And I’m guessing Starfleet Intelligence wants us to find a way to prove it,” Alex said.

“How?” Annabeth asked, concerned. “Even with the cloaking device as soon as we activate transporters, Romulan sensors will detect the signature, and I doubt they’ll let a Federation runabout just park at the spaceport without being watched like a hawk.”

“We’re making a quick stop at Cardassia Prime. The field office in the Federation Embassy has acquired a small, civilian cargo shuttle. We’ll launch it just outside of their sensor nets and it will take in the three-man away team.”

“Who exactly is on this away team?” Katie asked.

“Well, you of course,” Tigranian continued.

“Naturally,” Katie replied with more than a bit of smugness.

“Then, there’s Laria.”

“Me?!” she asked surprised. “What value to espionage do I possibly have?”

“The team needs an experienced sensor operator to use the listening devices Starfleet Intelligence is providing us with. You’re the best I got.”

“Who’s the third member of this away team?” Annabeth asked, concerned she already knew the answer.

“Me,” Tigranian said. Annabeth sighed in frustration.

“Sir, you do realize there are at least half a dozen Starfleet regulations that I’m required to remind you of about captains not going on risky away missions?”

“Save your breath, Commander,” he replied. “I can handle myself pretty damn well.”

“I knew this assignment was going to be fun…” Annabeth said trailing off.

“Where do we start on that rock, Sir?” Katie asked.

“Not far from the headquarters building there’s a local watering hole pretty popular with the soldiers. Since the Romulans moved in, it’s been renamed ‘The Raptor’s Claw.’”

“What makes Starfleet Intelligence think that Kival is doing these transactions in a bar?” Scharr asked incredulously.

“Because, Mr. Scharr,” Tigranian said matter-of-factly, “it’s a known front for the Orion Syndicate.”

The Jem’Hadar disruptor blast slammed into the hull. A console beside her exploded in a shower of sparks. Petty Officer O’Reilly was hit and fell to the ground dead. Lieutenant Junior Grade Stone stayed at her post as the officer in charge of Trinity’s starboard torpedo bay. The targeting computers were offline and she had no choice but to manually arm and load the casings one at a time.

Two more crewmen slid another shiny, black photon tube up the launch track. As they pushed it towards the firing chamber, Katie removed a key from around her neck, opened the guidance panel, input the appropriate codes, and then sealed the casing again. As the interior breach sealed, Katie slammed her fist into the intercom.

“Bridge! Starboard torpedo! Locked and loaded!” There was no response. “Bridge! Starboard torpedo!” Suddenly a massive explosion rocked the entire torpedo bay. A huge, metal beam fell from the ceiling and pinned Katie against the floor. That’s when she felt the hull plating rip away, opening the compartment to space. As the air sucked from the room, she heard the muffled screams of her entire team as they were pulled into the void. The only thing that saved her from joining them was the beam trapping her.

As the vacuum overtook her, she instinctively held her breath, not allowing the pressure differential to pop her lungs. The pain was terrible as the capillaries in her eyes and nose burst. Then, the emergency force fields engaged and the bay repressurized. Katie gasped, but she was still on the verge of unconsciousness. She didn’t have enough strength left to free herself as fires started spreading through the compartment.

She stared off through the hole in the side of the Trinity as the Battle of Betazed ended in catastrophic defeat. The Dominion invasion fleet had broken through the Starfleet lines. The Federation ships were already burning hulks adrift. Katie’s scattered mind registered that they were the only ones left…

A computerized alarm echoed through the compartment.

“Warning: antimatter containment field integrity loss in five minutes. All hands abandon ship. All hands abandon ship.” She snapped back to her senses. She had to find him and get to the escape pods. She had to move this beam. Katie pushed with all her might, but it barely budged. She heard someone prying open the door to the compartment.

“Katie!” screamed the sweetest voice she ever heard. “Katie, are you in here!?”

“Paul!” she replied. “Under here!” A muscular lieutenant JG in command red pushed his way through the debris towards her. He grabbed the beam and lifted with his legs.

“All that time I spend coaching you in the gym, and you can’t lift a damn beam…” he joked. After he pulled it off of her, he lifted Katie up and they embraced. “I just came from the bridge. They’re all dead. Survivors are scattered all over the ship. We gotta get to the escape pods.” Katie nodded and let him lead her into the dark, smoke-filled corridor.

“Warning: antimatter containment field integrity loss in four minutes. All hands abandon ship. All hands abandon ship.”

All around them were dead bodies. These were the people she worked with every day. She screamed when saw Ensign Talis, the engineering officer she liked to eat lunch with on Tuesdays, cut in half by a sealed emergency bulkhead.

“Izzy!” she screamed trying to run toward her.

“Katie, she’s gone!” Paul said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her forward.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached the escape pods.

“Warning: antimatter containment field integrity loss in three minutes. All hands abandon ship. All hands abandon ship.”

Paul shoved Katie into the lifeboat first. She turned around and motioned for him to join her. But he just stood there.

“I love you, Katie. I always will. But there’s still time to get other people out… I just had to make sure you were safe first.” Before Katie could say anything, he slammed the activation control. The force field engaged and the launch hatch slammed shut.

“PAUL!” she screamed, banging on the hatch, tears streaming down her face. “PAUL!” Suddenly, the magnetic interlocks disengaged and the escape pod shot away from the Trinity at a thousand meters per second. Katie found herself alone. She curled into a ball and sobbed until the shockwave from the ship’s exploding warp core slammed into her…

Katie bolted awake screaming, her sheets soaked with sweat. She buried her head in her hands before stumbling over to the bathroom. She ran her hands under cold water and washed her face before heading back to bed.

Her hands trembling, she opened the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a framed photograph. She and Paul were standing at the rim of the Grand Canyon on Earth. Katie was holding her left hand up to the camera, proudly showing off her new engagement ring.

Now, in the lonely darkness of her quarters, she looked down at her empty ring finger, and felt tears streaming down her face again. She pulled the photograph into her chest and cried.

Very few things upset Katie. However, one of the things that genuinely sent her into a rage was when people complained they didn’t have enough time to do something. In the three minutes after he put her in the escape pod, her fiancé, Lieutenant Junior Grade Paul Montgomery, had saved the lives of four other people. He was saving his fifth when the Trinity’s warp core finally breached.

The next morning, Katie walked into sickbay wearing a sand-colored robe and the civilian clothes of a Ventaxian merchant. It would be her uniform for the away mission to Telarak.

“Hey, Katie,” Alex said, pulling a vial out of one of her machines. “I wasn’t expecting you guys for another 15 minutes.”

“Yeah,” Katie said quietly, “I wanted to talk to you first.” Alex nodded and motioned for her to come into her office.

“The dream again?” Alex asked softly. Katie just nodded fighting back tears. Alex wrapped her arms around her.

“That new stuff you have me on isn’t working,” Katie finally managed to get out.

“We’ve only been trying it for a week. It takes time.”

“Don’t you have something stronger?” Katie asked hopefully.

“Let’s give it another five or six days. Then, we can try lexerin, but I want to avoid that if we can. It can have some pretty substantial side effects.”

“Okay…” Katie said.

“Have you been keeping your appointments with Counselor Yuvich?”

“Yeah, talking with her helps for a while, but then it just comes back in waves.”

“Katie, I’m going to be honest with you,” Alex said. “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder isn’t like the common cold you can cure with just a hypospray. It takes a lot of time and treatment. It’s going to be a lifetime battle…”

“I know that!” Katie said, snapping at her. “Believe me, I do!” She stopped herself. “I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay,” Alex said, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. “We’re gonna get through it together.” Just then the front doors to sickbay opened. Captain Tigranian and Laria stepped in, also wearing the sand-colored robes.

Alex and Katie stepped out onto the main floor.

“There you are,” Tigranian said.

“Sorry, Sir…” Katie said trailing off. Tigranian saw her eyes and looked over to Alex. She nodded that it was alright. He changed the subject.

“Doc, have you synthesized that compound?”

“I have,” Alex said, picking up the vial she was working on earlier, sticking it in the end of a hypospray. “Took a little digging through the Starfleet medical archives, but I think it will work just fine.” Tigranian pulled down his collar and Alex injected him with the drug.

“Why are we doing this?” Katie asked when it was her turn for the injection.

“Bolar, the owner of The Raptor’s Claw, also owns several lodubyaln. They can be very useful for acquiring information and manipulating patrons with their chemical charms. This will keep our heads clear when we’re inside.”

“Don’t the Romulans know that?” Katie asked, confused.

“Romulans and Vulcans share a common physiology,” Alex said interjecting. “They’re immune to the pheromones.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Laria asked. “What’s a lodubyaln?”

“It’s the more politically correct term for an Orion slave girl.”

“Slave girl?” Laria asked. “Isn’t slavery illegal in the Romulan Empire?”

“Telarak isn’t in the Romulan Empire. Plus, it’s only illegal among Romulan citizens. Every other species is fair game,” Tigranian replied. “I don’t have to tell you, Laria, that most Federation citizens live in their naïve little world of equality and plenty. Most other species’ reality is a bit different.”

Several minutes later, the three of them stepped into the Pershing’s shuttlebay. Mr. Scharr was finishing the checks on their transportation: a tiny brown craft barely larger than a shuttlepod.

“What do you think, Tren?” Tigranian asked. “Will it do the job?”

“It’s a death trap, Sir, but I’ve spruced up a couple of the systems. Hopefully, it will hold together long enough to get you to the ground.”

“I’ve got confirmation from Starfleet Intelligence. Your landing permit has been approved with Romulan Occupation Authorities,” Annabeth said entering the shuttlebay. “You, Sir, are William Oglesby, a civilian merchant who no longer resides within the Federation due to some questionable cargo shipments five years ago. Katie, you are Lizzie Appleton, his business partner running freight between Ventaxia and several of the newly acquired systems in Cardassian space, and Laria, you are Essa Ita, their Bajoran warp engineer and cargo specialist.”

“Thank you, Annabeth,” Tigranian said confidently.

“Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?” she said, still flashing him a look.

“Afraid not,” he said as Laria and Katie climbed into the cargo shuttle.

“Well, at least take this,” she said, sliding a small, silver cylinder into his palm.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” he said.

“I don’t care, take it anyway.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said sarcastically. “Don’t worry, I’ve got two more old friends coming with me,” he said, pulling open his robe. He had his Klingon d’k tahg on his right hip and a disruptor pistol in a cross-draw holster on his left. “They’ve never let me down before.”

“I’d be happy, if you went down there and found out it was all just a big misunderstanding. In any case, we’ll see you at the rendezvous in 36 hours.”

“We’ll be there,” Tigranian said, climbing into the shuttle’s cockpit.

Two hours later, the cargo shuttle was approaching Telarak’s moon. It was a tiny ball of brown sand standing in contrast to the blue gas giant behind it. The first thing the three of them noticed was the green orbital spacedock with two massive D’Deridex warbirds in port. They also counted on several more cloaked Romulan vessels hiding around the rest of the system.

“Look at the size of those things,” Katie said, staring at the viewport.

“They’re meant to be intimidating,” Tigranian said, making a course correction. “A Galaxy–class starship can fit inside them.”

“Ventaxian shuttle,” the comm system suddenly blurted out. “You have entered the Telarak Military Protectorate’s defensive perimeter. Present landing clearance or be destroyed.”

“Certainly don’t mince words, do they?” Laria said, sounding a bit concerned.

“Romulan authorities,” Tigranian responded. “Clearance transmitting now.” After a few tense moments, the Romulans responded.

“Clearance granted to land at Spaceport One Alpha. Do not deviate from your present course or you will be fired upon.”

“Acknowledged.”

Tigranian maneuvered the shuttle to the landing bay. After shutting the systems down, the three of them disembarked, raised their hoods over their faces, and made their way towards the city. In the spaceport’s dilapidated entry hall, an audio recording of a happy female voice played in several languages, including Federation Standard.

“Welcome to the Duty Free Trade Zone of the Telarak Military Protectorate of the Romulan Star Empire. Uniformed personnel are here to assist you. Please familiarize yourself with the legal codes and prohibited areas prior to exiting the spaceport. Any lawlessness will be severely punished. All personnel are subject to arrest, interrogation, and indefinite detainment at any time. Thank you, and enjoy your stay! The Romulan Star Empire: Peace, prosperity, and progress.”

As they stepped into the street, the burning trinary suns immediately started cooking them. The superheated winds carried sand and grit with them, irritating whatever skin they touched. The three of them wrapped their cloaks around their faces to provide a small bit of protection.

“This place is literally hell,” Katie said, barely able to breathe in the oppressive heat, swirling winds, and stench that could only be described as a mix between Human excrement and rotting meat.

The street was barely five meters wide between the mud brick and sandstone buildings. Massive iron gates in front of the buildings concealed hidden courtyards in front of the private residences. Both sides of the thoroughfare were crowded with vendors, food stands, and drinking establishments. Fifty different languages shouted from every direction as the mocha-skinned Telarak natives, with a glassy third eye in the middle of their forehead, mixed with Phebens, Ferengi, Romulan traders, and even a few of the remaining Cardassian colonials that had survived life under the Dominion in relative isolation.

Laria barely missed stepping in a puddle of unremitting foulness that was putrefying in front of a local butcher. He was slaughtering a creature that looked like a green, meter-long Earth slug.

“I think I’m going to throw up, Sir,”

Tigranian turned back sharply and spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t call me, Sir. That goes for both of you. I’m William or Bill, got it?” Laria nodded somewhat nervously.

“No, problem…Billy.” Katie smirked. Tigranian ignored her.

“I’m surprised they didn’t check us for weapons,” Laria said, trying to keep up with the other two in the crowd.

“Look around, kiddo,” Katie said as her eyes darted back and forth. “I don’t think a few more weapons would be noticed in this place.” Laria finally realized that every single sentient being around them was armed to the teeth with everything from disruptor pistols to ancient phaser rifles. One tall Nausicaan standing in the courtyard of what Laria assumed to be a local hotel, even had a fully automatic disruptor machine gun strapped across his chest.

“Yeah, this place is a little rough. I doubt the Romulan authorities do much to secure people who don’t have pointy ears,” Tigranian added.

After a few more blocks of winding streets, they emerged into a large square surrounding the former Colonial Administration Building, now Romulan Military Headquarters. Its crumbling architecture was a monument to Cardassian bad taste in building design, but the Romulans had added a few, mostly tactical quirks of their own. The walls were now ringed with electrified razor wire and anti-vehicular obstacles were spaced evenly around the perimeter. Four Romulans in desert combat fatigues and red sand goggles were lazily standing guard at the gate, their disruptor rifles slung across their chests. A large banner, with the blue and green bird-of-prey emblem, fluttered in the breeze behind them.

“The Raptor’s Claw is on the other side of the compound,” Tigranian said beckoning them to follow. “C’mon, I don’t like being here either.”

Behind the headquarters building was a large, walled compound with a fountain in its courtyard. Two native Telaraks were drinking a pungent purple liquid from tiny ceramic cups and playing some sort of game involving dice, wooden markers, and a carved, circular board. A large poster hung next to the building’s entrance depicting a smiling Romulan soldier extending his hand to about a dozen different races huddled at his feet. The word for peace in each of their languages was written over their diminutive, bowing heads. Tigranian spit in the dirt when he saw that both Humans and Klingons were among them.

“Is this the place?” Katie said skeptically.

“One way to find out…” Tigranian mused. The three of them passed through the gate and across the courtyard, before entering a large airy room. A large stage with a concrete post was in the center of the club surrounded by plush couches. Romulan officers lounged on the couches while enjoying various intoxicating beverages from around the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. A long bar on the other side of the stage housed the non-Romulan patrons. Doing their best to prevent the legionnaires from noticing them, they found an empty spot.

A meek Pheben approached from behind the bar and asked for their beverage choices. Katie and Laria declined, remembering their safety classes on non-certified interstellar eating and drinking establishments back at the academy. Tigranian pulled a strip of gold-pressed latinum from his pocket and slammed it on the bar loud enough to make the Pheben jump.

“Wahlida Kheeru-Romulani, Anja.” Both Katie and Laria looked at Tigranian with surprise. The Pheben nodded, causing the tentacles on his head to bounce. He quickly reached for a bottle of blue liquid and poured it into a glass. Before he could take a sip, a voice came from behind them.

“Your Orion is very good…for a Human.” A heavyset Orion male, his leather shirt and pants revealing far too much of his green skin, now stood behind them. “You don’t meet very many of your race who can speak our language.”

“I’ve had dealings with your race, before,” Tigranian said calmly, taking a sip of his Romulan ale. “My name is…”

“William Oglesby,” the Orion man said with a devious smile. “That would make you Ms. Appleton and Ms. Essa.”

“You apparently have me at a disadvantage, Sir,” Tigranian said through his poker face. “However, I also know that in your culture, if you speak to women under a man’s protection without a formal introduction, they cut your testicles off and shove them in your mouth…I ask you extend me the same courtesy.” He leaned back on the bar with his glass of ale just enough so that Orion could see his disruptor.

“My apologies, Mr. Oglesby,” he said bowing down. “My name is Bolar, and this is my establishment.”

“Attan Aku-Bolar, Wali-Kiva Esha-lalu,” Tigranian said, bowing forward and placing his right hand on his forehead. Bolar couldn’t help laughing.

“Absolutely wonderful! You have dealt with us before. I make it my business to know whoever gets landing permits on Telarak. Usually the more important players on this little moon find their way to The Raptor’s Claw eventually.”

“I’m not sure we fall into that category,” Katie said, pulling Laria closer to her. She did not get a very good feeling from Mr. Bolar.

“Well, for two Humans and a Bajoran to be this far from their homes, speaking to a humble Orion business owner in his own language, you must.” The three of them definitely didn’t like the way he completed that sentence. “Tell me, Mr. Oglesby, are you interested in buying or selling?”

“That depends on the merchandise. I’ve been burned before by the Hida Talme Oryan.”

Laria stood there, doing her best not to give the ruse away. Aghast, she wondered who was this person her captain transformed into now going toe-to-toe with the bald green giant?

“And what makes you think this bar belongs to the Hida Talme?”

“Don’t insult me. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t connected to the Syndicate.” Tigranian slammed his empty glass on the bar and stared Bolar in the eyes. The green giant clapped loudly and the Pheben dutifully refilled the Romulan ale to the brim.

“If you’ve been burned before, why do you come here now?”

“You don’t exactly file a customer service complaint against the Hida Talme. I’d be vaporized and these two would be in chains pouring kanar for some old, rich Cardassian pervert.” Laria grabbed Katie’s hand under her robe and squeezed. Katie squeezed back to reassure her she was still safe.

“How much you know about us yet how little you respect us, Mr. Ogelsby. Why are you here?”

“I have a friend who’s looking for something very particular. I’ve heard I can get them in this bar.”

“And that is?”

“Breen plasma torpedoes.”

“Do you see any plasma torpedoes in this bar?” Bolar said with a laugh. “Maybe you should go ask the Breen?”

“Since the end of the war, it’s been a little hard to get them to cooperate with outsiders, especially of my species. However, I heard I might be able to help my friend courtesy of your local promagistrate…for the right amount of latinum, of course.”

“You have heard wrong, my Human friend. Promagistrate Kival has nothing to do with it. If you have not been witnessed by either the Hida Talme or by Devek, then there is nothing I can do to help. However, for your previous inconvenience, please enjoy some free drinks and fine entertainment.”

Bolar pointed to the corner where a much skinnier Orion male was leading a figure on a long chain draped in a black, sequined lace cloak to the stage. He pushed the figure down to the ground and fastened the chain to the concrete post. The Romulan officers on the couches began to clap and cheer. “I suggest that once the show is over, my friend, you go back to your shuttle and take your leave of Telarak or else that scenario you spoke of earlier might become a reality,” Bolar said looking at Katie and Laria. He turned and took a seat on the couches next to the Romulans.

The figure in the black cloak slowly moved to a kneeling position. Sensually, she extended a green hand holding a pair of zills. She slowly began to hammer a beat on her finger cymbals faster and faster, causing the crowd’s excitement to reach a crescendo. Suddenly, she threw off her cloak and twisted to her feet as a drummer and flute player in the corner began to play in a loud, pulsing beat. The crowd was cheering so loud the walls were almost shaking.

The Orion woman’s long black curls were intricately braided down her back. Strategically placed leather bands barely covered her green body, and her eyes were so bright it was almost like they were made of fire gems. She rhythmically moved her body to the music, rotating and swaying towards the crowd, the chain just short enough to prevent her from touching them. She gently blew on her wrist towards the noses of the Romulans, keeping their attention focused on her hand.

“I thought Alex said Romulans were immune to Orion pheromones?” Laria whispered to Katie.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Katie whispered back. “It’s not the pheromones that are doing things to those men right now.” Laria and Katie looked down at Tigranian, who was watching the performance while nursing his Romulan ale.

The Orion woman dropped back to her knees, and slowly bent over until her head almost touched the ground, swaying her arms to the rhythm of the music.

“Bill,” Katie said to Tigranian with no response.

“Bill!” Katie repeated more forcefully.

“William!” she shoved Tigranian in the shoulder, knocking him out of his trance.

“What?” he asked, annoyed.

“Look,” Katie said pointing across the room. Promagistrate Kival walked in followed by a Cardassian in civilian clothes. Instantly, Bolar was on his feet and walked over to greet them. He gestured for the skinnier Orion man to come with him and they disappeared into a back room.

“C’mon,” Tigranian said, shaking his head and placing his glass on the bar. “It’s show time.”

The three of them stepped into the courtyard and down a passageway between two buildings.

“Will that thing work through stone walls?” Tigranian asked Laria.

“Like you said, si…Bill, one way to find out.” They snuck behind the main building of The Raptor’s Claw. Laria took out a small rectangular box she attached to the top of a standard issue tricorder. She passed out three small earpieces which they placed inside their hoods. “Triangulating their position inside…and…got ‘em.” Suddenly, the voices of Kival, Bolar, and another man…presumably the Cardassian, began speaking.

“The Syndicate has signaled. They’re ready for the next shipment. The buyer is very anxious to receive the small arms,” Bolar said.

“I’ve changed the location of the rendezvous point,” the Cardassian replied. The old one was too close to the Federation Zone. They’re getting suspicious. I will be leaving within the hour to meet your freighter in the Corvallia System.”

“Yes, there are two Humans with a Bajoran in the bar right now asking questions. Don’t worry, they won’t be leaving Telarak alive. We placed a surprise on their shuttlecraft at the spaceport.”

“Guess, we’ll need to find another way off this moon…” Katie said trailing off.

“I thought you said that you would keep this operation safe from outside entanglements, Promagistrate,” the Cardassian said angrily.

“I said no such thing, Devek,” Kival said in reply. “My 10 percent cut only gives you protection in this sector. Anything that happens beyond that is your problem to deal with.”

“Corvallia is just across the border in the Klingon Zone,” Tigranian said. “We’ll be able to intercept them there.” Suddenly, they heard someone else whispering in the room.

“I just received word back from the Syndicate. Apparently, the Human male is named Daniel Tigranian, a Starfleet captain and pretend Klingon. The Human female is Katherine Stone and the Bajoran girl is named Amira Laria, also Starfleet officers.”

“It’s too risky to let them get back to their shuttle,” Kival interjected forcefully. “They could find the device and disarm it. Kill them here, now. Romulans can’t harm them. Ostensibly, we’re still allies.”

“I will have to confirm with my Kishra. It will be her decision.”

“Let her know that if she still wants to operate here, she will make the correct one quickly.”

“Understood, Promagistrate.”

“Also, do it quietly. The legionnaires are supposed to keep the peace. Public executions are hard to explain.”

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Tigranian said.

“You won’t get any argument from us.” Katie replied.

“Where will we go, Sir?” Laria asked nervously.

“Anywhere but here…”

They slipped out of The Raptor’s Claw’s courtyard and into the streets, heading in the opposite direction of the spaceport. Somehow the buildings became even dirtier and dingier the farther they got away from Romulan headquarters.

“How are we getting outta here?” Laria gasped.

“Don’t worry about that,” Tigranian said, trying to sound reassuring. He took the tiny cylinder out of his pocket and pressed a button on the end. “Annabeth is never gonna let me live this down…” he muttered.

“Right now, Sir, I would just be worried about living at all,” Katie replied.

Suddenly, Tigranian became noticeably tenser in his movements.

“Laria, how good are you with anti-nadion fields?”

“I read a paper on them once in high school, why?”

“Because we’re being followed, and it looks like you have about 60 seconds to become an expert.”

Laria quickly looked over her shoulder. In the crowd, she noticed a group of hooded figures about 30 meters behind them and keeping pace step for step.

“Prophets, protect us,” she exclaimed, pulling out her tricorder and furiously pushing buttons.

“Just stay calm, and follow me. Katie, put yourself between me and Laria.” He handed her the cylinder. “If they make a move, get her out of here. I’ll slow them down.”

“Not without you,” Katie replied angrily.

“That wasn’t a request, Lieutenant.”

“And I responded, not without you. You put yourself in this position, and your security chief is gonna make sure she gets her captain back safely, Sir.”

“If this was a Klingon mission, I would kill you right now.”

“Luckily for me, this isn’t a Klingon mission.”

The three of them rounded a corner and were confronted with an open courtyard. Its far gate was locked. “Go back!” Katie said, but it was too late.

Five large men blocked their path.

“How much longer, Laria?” Tigranian whispered over his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “Keep them talking!”

“Talking? What are we gonna talk about? The weather?” Katie said indignantly.

Their adversaries pulled down their hoods and revealed themselves to be a collection of hired mercenaries: two Nausicaans, a Cardassian, a Gorn, and a Klingon. The Klingon carried a bat’leth over his shoulder. Tigranian instantly recognized the crest he wore on his chest.

“You were a bekk of the House of Duras? Funny, how they keep popping up in the strangest places. Guess, after Lursa and B’etor were killed at Veridian III, you had to find another way to pay the bills.”

“What do you know about it, Human?” the Klingon replied. Tigranian answered him in fluent Klingon.

“I know that you served an honorless group of ‘urwI Ha’DibaH! It was a privilege to send your kind to Gre’thor.”

 The Klingon roared and raised his bat’leth to charge.

 “No, Karnok!” A female voice screamed from behind them. “That would be too quick. I want them to see the face of their imminent deaths.” He stopped. The Nausicaans parted and the same black sequined cloak they had seen in The Raptor’s Claw stepped towards them. Bolar was right behind her.

“I wondered if you were his Kishra,” Tigranian mused as she dropped the hood of her cloak.

“Her? The dancing slave girl!?” Katie exclaimed. Laria continued working behind them.

“Orion culture is quite interesting,” Tigranian said to Katie. “The men own the women, and the women own the men right back.”

“It’s quite easy to understand, Human. Bolar owns my body, but I own his soul.” She motioned for Bolar to step forward. “You pleased me today,” she said, running her fingers across his lips, “I will reward you later,” she said with a seductive smile.

“Yes, my Kishra,” he said bowing his head respectfully.

“It’s too bad, we have to kill you all now,” she continued. “We found out the Hida Talme still has a reward on your head from your days as a Klingon pirate.”

“Funny, the empire looks at it the other way around.”

“Unfortunately, it’s only for you alive, not dead.” Suddenly, he felt Laria tap on his back.

“Aww shucks,” Tigranian said sarcastically, snapping his fingers.

“I do not know this word,” the Kishra said, “but I feel like you are mocking me.”

“Very good, tiny dancer.”

“Fine! Die now then!” She stepped behind her mercenaries who each raised a disruptor pistol. The away team took a deep breath…

“CLICK…CLICK…CLICK.” Nothing happened. The mercenaries stared down at their weapons in disbelief. Laria held up her tricorder from behind them. It was stuck in the “cycle” position.

“Dampening field,” she said. “It makes any particle weapon useless. Sorry,” she added, shrugging her shoulders.

Karnok threw his disruptor to the ground, shattering it. With a scream, he hoisted his bat’leth and charged straight at Tigranian. With the calm of an experienced warrior, the captain side-stepped, grabbed Karnok’s wrists, and wrenched the bat’leth from his grip. With another turn of his upper body, the captain separated the Klingon’s head from his body. It fell to the ground next to his shattered pistol. Laria gasped and grabbed Katie.

“GO!” Tigranian screamed as he charged straight at the mercenaries, swinging the sword. Katie grabbed Laria’s wrist and followed.

“KILL THEM!” the Kishra said diving out of the way. Tigranian managed to slash open one of the Nausicaans and Katie broke the Cardassian’s neck bones with a well-timed punch. After they cleared a path, they headed back for the street.

When they saw a crazed Human carrying a bloody bat’leth followed by two equally disheveled women, the crowds on the street scattered in panic.

“Where do we go?” Katie said.

“We’ve got to get some place higher!” Tigranian quickly looked around and saw a three-story apartment building a block away. “There!”

“Are you sure it’s been long enough?”

“I hope so or this is gonna be the galaxy’s shortest escape attempt of all time.”

Suddenly, alarms started ringing through the streets.

“Civil Disturbance in Sector Bravo Two. All personnel immediately clear the streets.”

The crowds parted in preparation for the arrival of the Romulan riot troops. The three of them reached the apartment building. People were streaming inside but Tigranian raised his bat’leth and motioned for them to get out of the way. They immediately complied.

“Where are we going?” Laria asked.

“To the roof!” Katie replied.

They climbed the uneven stone steps for three flights before the trio finally burst back into daylight. Before they could do anything else, they heard footsteps behind them.

“STOP!” the Kishra said, holding up a strange looking pistol. Bolar, the surviving Nausicaan, the Gorn, and a very angry looking Cardassian in serious pain followed. Tigranian motioned for Katie and Laria to slowly back towards the edge of the roof.

“What have you got there?” Tigranian asked, returning to his mocking tone. The Kishra got an irritated look on her face, pointed her weapon at the ground, and fired. A loud chemical explosion propelled a solid bullet straight into the roof. She pointed it back at them.

“Antiquated and crude,” she replied angrily, “but effective even in a dampening field.” Tigranian realized he had only one shot before the Kishra took hers. He took a deep breath and thought to himself, “I hope you’re ready, Annabeth.”

“Any last words more poetic than ‘awww shucks,’ Human?” the Kishra asked.

 “Heghlu’meH QaQ jajvam.”

She laughed.

“‘Today is a good day to die’? Couldn’t you have thought of something a little less stereotypical?”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about me…” Without warning, he slung his bat’leth straight at her. She gasped, looked down, and saw over a meter of baakonite sticking out of her chest. She dropped to her knees.

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” Bolar screamed as she died. He leaped forward and ripped the pistol from her hand. Before he could aim, Tigranian slapped the communicator under his robe.

“Now, Pershing!” he shouted as he grabbed Katie and Laria by their collars and rolled backwards off the roof. Katie and Laria screamed as they all went airborne. The surviving mercenaries rushed forward and looked over the edge…but no one had landed on the ground below.

In orbit, the three of them materialized midair in the Pershing’s transporter room. They dropped to the pad with a soft thud.

A very annoyed Lieutenant Commander Scharr stood behind the controls.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be moving, Sir. I almost lost the lock on you. Just be glad I’m so damn good at my job.”

“That’s why I picked you, Tren,” Tigranian said, climbing to his feet and dusting himself off. He helped Laria up and looked her up and down.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“We are fine, Sir.” Katie said from behind him.

“Bridge to transporter room, did you get them?” a very concerned Annabeth asked.

“We’re here, Commander. Remind me to promote you later for giving me that emergency transponder beacon.”

“Well, Sir, don’t celebrate yet. Those two warbirds in spacedock are powering up and two others have decloaked. They’re using active tachyon beams to try to detect us.”

“Get us out of here. Set course for the Corvallia System, warp 9.”

“Corvallia?” she asked, confused.

“Just do it!” He said heading for the doors. “We’ll meet you on the bridge as soon as we change.”

A small Cardassian transport dropped out of warp barely a hundred kilometers from the Romulan/Klingon Zone Demarcation Line. The Monarch–class freighter was already waiting for it.

“Are you ready to commence transport?” The Cardassian asked as soon as he was within range.

“Ready,” the freighter captain replied. Within 10 seconds, over a hundred cases of surplus Cardassian disruptor rifles, plasma grenades, and 10 photon torpedoes were located in the freighter’s hull.

“Transport complete.” At that moment, the two ships detected a huge energy surge as the Pershing decloaked less than a thousand meters away.

“Unidentified Vessels,” Tigranian announced over subspace. “This is the Federation Starship Pershing. You have committed a violation of Article X of the Treaty of Bajor: trafficking in illegal weapons. Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded.” At that moment, both ships engaged their warp engines. The freighter headed for the nebula on the other side of the planetoid. Devek’s ship headed straight back for the Romulan Zone.

“Let him go,” Tigranian said, referencing the freighter. “Small fish. I want this Devek. He’s the source.” The Pershing immediately prepared to cross the border after him, but before they could re-engage their cloak, six D’Deridex warbirds decloaked directly in their path.

“Sir, they’re raising shields and arming main disruptors,” Katie said from tactical.

“Red alert! Raise shields.” Annabeth said from her chair.

“Sir, the lead warbird is hailing,” Katie added.

“Put him onscreen,” Tigranian said through gritted teeth. Sure enough, it was Kival.

“Greetings, Captain, from your allies in the Romulan Empire! I am very happy to see this…spring thaw…between our peoples is being used so productively. I was unaware that the Federation had built its own heavy starship with a cloaking device.”

“It seems you’re unaware of many things, Promagistrate. Most notably the criminal who just crossed the border right behind you? Are you also aware of your government’s stance on weapons smuggling? Maybe I should remind your superiors on Romulus?”

“Please, Captain,” Kival said, rolling his eyes. “Remind my superiors all you wish. I could also remind your superiors that a Federation ship violating the Romulan Occupation Zone without formal authorization could be considered grounds for nullifying our obligation to the Treaty of Bajor!”

Tigranian leaned back in his chair.

“Yes, Promagistrate, you are correct.”

“I’m glad we understand each other. Oh, and Captain?”

“Yes?”

“Next time you visit The Raptor’s Claw, be sure you try the Villa Trallikii Special Reserve kali-fal. It’s my personal favorite. Opens the sinuses.” The transmission terminated and all six Romulan vessels cloaked.

“We can’t get Devek today, but we can still get that freighter!” Triganian shouted angrily.

“No, we can’t, Sir.” Phil said from the helm. “They made it to the nebula. We’d never be able to find them in there.”

“K’PEKT!” Tigranian said, banging his hand into his armrest. Now, he had lost both ships. He started rubbing his eyes when a voice came from the science station.

“Sir?”

“What is it, Laria?”

“You know we have a supply of viridium buoys aboard for marking the edges of subspace anomalies?”

“That is very fascinating. Thank you, Ensign.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of beaming one into the freighter’s hold when the Cardassian ship activated its transporters. I can track it from two sectors away.”

Tigranian looked up at Laria with a look of amazement. She just smiled back.

The freighter dropped out of warp in neutral space. This time, the Pershing didn’t waste any time. As soon as the Federation starship dropped its cloak, Katie had the ship in a tractor beam. It wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hailing frequencies open, Sir.”

“Orion freighter, this is the Pershing. I’m only gonna say this once. Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded? Do you understand?”

“They’re powering down their warp core, Sir,” Laria confirmed with a sensor scan. “Sir, I’m picking up three more ships dropping out of warp! Ferengi D’Kora-class marauders.”

“Of course, the Ferengi are involved…” Tigranian muttered.

“The lead marauder is hailing,” Katie said.

“Onscreen.”

The bulbous brown face of a Ferengi captain appeared.

“Federation starship, I am DaiMon Glent of the marauder Latinum’s Shimmer! That freighter contains our cargo. Release it immediately!”

“DaiMon, you do realize that the Ferengi Alliance and the Federation are allies, right?”

“We are independent businessmen. This is neutral space, you have no jurisdiction here.”

“This ship is smuggling illegal weapons from Cardassia. I have every right under the Treaty of Bajor to seize it.”

“I said release our cargo.”

“Sir, they’re raising shields and powering weapons,” Katie announced.

“Red alert,” Annabeth said, not even sounding the least bit concerned.

“DaiMon,” Tigranian said, turning his chair forward. “I have had a very bad day, and you are not the first person who has tried to kill me. Ms. Stone, would you care to give these ‘independent businessmen’ a small sample of what they’re up against?”

“Gladly, Sir.” Katie brought the phasers to life. Three quick blasts from their primary array slammed into the Ferengi ships.

“What are you doing!?” DaiMon Glent screamed in shock.

“Their shield generators are destroyed, Sir,” Katie said. “They’re defenseless.”

“Lock a quantum torpedo onto each of their warp cores!”

“You can’t do this!” Glent screamed in panic. “You are Federation!”

“The Federation’s getting a little inpatient with whiny little tyrants who think they can go around intimidating us because they view compassion as weakness, DaiMon. Now, are you going to play nice or should I tell my tactical officer to turn your ships into a debris field?”

The transmission cut off and the Ferengi marauders disappeared into warp.

Chin’Toka System: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 52989.2

“Don’t get down on yourself, Dan,” Admiral Murphy said from Tigranian’s desktop monitor. “Starfleet Intelligence is ecstatic about your report. They think it will encourage Starfleet Command to open up a whole new anti-smuggling section.”

“The bad guy got away, Pete.”

“We’ve got plenty of time, brother,” Murphy said reassuringly. “A new Cardassia won’t be built in a day.”

 “It will take a lot longer with Kival as promagistrate.”

“Romulans are fickle, Dan. He’ll fall out of favor sooner or later and then he’ll be disposed of. By the way, is this the Cardassian you saw on Telarak?” A picture appeared on Tigranian’s screen. It was a Cardassian glinn in military uniform.

“Yeah, that’s him alright.”

“Glinn Devek, a rather unremarkable officer during the military government years and the war. He conveniently switched sides just as the hostilities were coming to a close to avoid being investigated as a collaborator. His name has appeared in more than one INTEL report. Apparently, he’s involved in more than his fair share of criminal activity in all three zones of occupation.”

“I want him, Pete. I want to take him down.”

“Don’t worry, Dan, you’ll get your chance. By the way, be sure to congratulate Laria for me on her promotion.”

“You got it.”

Tigranian stepped through the doors of the Pershing’s port holodeck with his personal bat’leth over his shoulder. Instantly, he was transported to a dark Klingon cavern illuminated by torchlight.

“No! You must make the bat’leth an extension of your body! It must flow off your arm like water down a rapids”

He turned the corner to see the young Klingon Dahar Master, Koloth, teaching Laria basic bat’leth form. “Yes, better, better…” he said as she practiced a beginner’s spin.

“I figured you’d be celebrating right now, Lieutenant Junior Grade Amira?”

Laria dropped her bat’leth to the ground as she turned around in surprise.

“Sir!” she said embarrassed.

“You!” Koloth shouted, turning towards Tigranian. “This is a private lesson! Wait your turn.”

“Computer, delete Koloth.” The Klingon disappeared as Laria picked up her sword.

“I was never much of a party girl, Sir,” she said. “The formal reception this afternoon in the mess hall was quite enough.”

“Still, didn’t expect to find you here. This is where I go to relax…”

“Yeah,” she said, brushing the hair behind her earring again. “I saw what you and Katie did down on Telarak and realized I wasn’t much help. I found this program and decided to try to learn some skills.”

“It’s a good one. Had a friend design it to my personal specifications. I never got to meet the legendary Koloth while he was still alive, so I figured I’d make him a sparring partner. Kor and Kang are in here somewhere too,” he said looking around.

“It’s yours, Sir?”

“Laria, who else on this ship would have a Klingon hand to hand fighting program?”

“Right…stupid,” she muttered to herself.

“Hey, you’re doing it again,” he said, walking over and gently taking her bat’leth. He placed it against the wall of the cave. “Your performance on the mission was spectacular. I never would have thought to use the viridium buoy as a tracking device. Not to mention your improvised dampening field. Can’t speak for Katie, but I for one am very happy I wasn’t vaporized.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Laria…”

“For what, Sir?”

“For ever doubting you were the right person for this job.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You shouldn’t start with a bat’leth, by the way…”

“What?”

“You want to learn the basic forms with something lighter than a full sword to get your technique right. Computer,” he said, holding his hand out to the side. “Klingon mek’leth,” he looked Laria up and down. “I’d say 46 centimeters long…exterior hand grip diameter of…10 centimeters, blade: composite baakonite.”

The weapon appeared in midair. He grabbed it and handed the short sword to Laria. “Try that.” She swung it back and forth a few times.

“Feels good.”

“Alright, slowly bring it back behind your shoulder…good. Now, come down in a fast strike towards my head.”

“What?”

“Trust me,” he said with a smile.

“I do trust you, Sir.” She swung the mek’leth down and Tigranian parried it with his own sword.

“Good! That’s the start!”

“I have a long way to go, Sir,” she said with a chuckle.

“Yes, but I’m here to teach you if you want to learn…and we’ve got plenty of time.”

3

FAMILIES

Historian’s Note: This story takes place approximately two weeks after the conclusion of the DS9 episode “What You Leave Behind.” Its narrative runs concurrently with the J.G. Hertzler and Jeffrey Lange novels, The Left Hand of Destiny: Books One and Two. Other referenced works include The Klingon Art of War: Ancient Principles of Ruthless Honor, translated from the original Klingon by Keith R.A. DeCandido.

Zarias Cluster: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53108.5

Tigranian picked up the bottle of bloodwine from his shelf and poured himself another tankard. His quarters were quite unique – a combination of mementos, photographs from his friends and family, and on the wall across from the metal slab he called a bed, hung his most prized possession.

Torlek commissioned a master smith at the K’vel’kar Foundry on Qo’noS to forge a bat’leth exactly to Tigranian’s specifications: polished baakonite folded a thousand times till it was resilient as duranium, blades sharper than one of Alex’s laser scalpels, and handles wrapped in krencha skin for grip. The old warrior presented it to his adopted brother after Tigranian had served a full cycle on the Sk’oh. It must have cost more than most Klingon commoners made in a decade, but none of Torlek’s other crew batted an eye. They knew their beloved captain felt the Human earned it: not just by honoring their ways, but by also by proving himself in battle.

Crossing back over to the slab, Tigranian laid down on his thick klongat fur (the only comfort he allowed himself while he slept), and returned to his book. He had first read the qeS’a’ in translation when he was 10 years old. That edition, somewhat erroneously titled as The Klingon Art of War by its Federation editor, had enraptured young Daniel so much he immediately found an old candle, lit it, and completed his own version of the First Rite of Ascension. He even attempted the Klingon wording until his mother stopped the ritual, afraid he would burn the house down.

That day was when Daniel decided to become Klingon. qeS’a’ spoke to him, and made him realize that being a warrior wasn’t about his genetics, but about how he chose to live his life. 

He pushed himself to fluency in tlhIngan Hol. The first time he was able to get through the entire ancient text in its original language, the mysteries contained within qeS’a’s volumes struck him with an even greater relevance. He had since read it dozens of times, but forced himself to reread it every few months to keep its lessons fresh.

This particular copy, over a century old and bound in brown targ leather, was another present from Torlek on the occasion of his official ascension. Tigranian looked at the sharp letters etched into the yellowing parchment:

Dictum: The Arduous Path
Warriors must keep their feet on the road to strife. Honor can be found along the wayside, an honor borne of sacrifice. Beware the prize won easily. It is a stone hung around your neck, and it testifies only to the fact of its own irrelevance. Comfort summons indolence, inaction, and insignificance. To shrink from danger is to shrink from duty. But righteousness demands more than holding one’s ground. It calls the warrior to run into the whirlwind, for this is where glory dwells. Let struggle – never prudence, never what is merely reasonable – be your criterion, rigor your law.

He meditated on that for a second before his concentration was shaken by the sound of laughter coming through the bulkhead. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little. Annabeth must be having another “girls night,” in her quarters.

Every few evenings, she gathered the women of the senior staff for what she termed “bonding,” but as far as Tigranian could tell, the event was just an excuse to lounge around in sweatpants, drink wine, and watch bad teleprograms on the Starfleet Network feed. He didn’t really understand it, but it kept some of the key members of his crew happy. That’s what mattered.

On the other side of the wall, Annabeth, Alex, Katie, and Laria were huddled around a glowing monitor. Annabeth lay on the couch with her arms wrapped around Alex. Katie, wearing a sweatshirt emblazoned with “Starfleet Academy Fighting Phoenixes” in big gold letters, was sprawled in an armchair with a bowl of popcorn and a ridiculously large wine glass. Laria sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Annabeth and Alex. She wore her favorite “Starfleet Science: From the Stars, Knowledge,” t-shirt and pair of flannel pajama bottoms. She had her arms wrapped around a stuffed plush Bajoran pugabeast resting in her lap.

On the screen, an enlisted Starfleet crewman walked down a corridor and into a starship’s engineering section.

“Hey, could you recalibrate the dilithium chamber?” the ship’s chief engineer said before hurrying off to another task.

“Sure, ma’am,” the chipper crewman said before heading to the warp core.

“Hey, Lexa!” Another crewman said waving. “Did you enjoy playing dom-jot last night?”

“Yeah, Tobey! It was fun,” the first crewman replied, not paying attention to what she was doing. She opened the access panel without engaging the containment field. A flash of blue light filled the compartment as both crewmen screamed in pain. The screen faded to black and the words, “Staying Safe is Staying Starfleet Strong,” appeared in bold letters.

“God, I hate SFN commercials,” Katie muttered while taking a sip from her glass. “They’re so stupid. This spring wine is amazing by the way, Laria,” she said changing the subject. “It’s like a cross between kiwi and banana.”

“Thanks!” Laria answered cheerfully. “My dad makes it. He sends me a couple of bottles after the harvest each year.”

“Anyone mind if I change the channel?” Annabeth said from the couch.

“Go for it.”

“Computer, what’s on SFN: Movie?”

“The film “Against the Grain,” is currently playing. Forty-seven minutes have elapsed.”

“Oh, I love that one,” Alex said. “Computer, change channel to SFN: Movie.”

Suddenly the image of a confused twenty-something Lumerian girl appeared on the screen next to a muscular Human male standing over a table saw.

“You’re an empath, aren’t you?” he said, measuring a piece of lumber.

“Not a very good one,” she replied. “I can only sense those I’m comfortable with…”

“Well, can you sense what I’m feeling?”

“What is this movie about? I’ve never seen it.”

“That’s Uma,” Alex said, explaining. “She moves to New York to get her dream job at a fashion magazine. However, she’s already engaged to her father’s business partner’s son back on Lumeria. Against his wishes, she falls in love with her nextdoor neighbor who runs a carpentry shop that restores old buildings.”

The screen changed to a shot of Uma talking with a Vulcan in an office.

“Who’s the Vulcan?” Laria asked.

“That’s Mr. Suvek. He’s the editor of the fashion magazine.”

“Why would a Vulcan run a fashion magazine on Earth?” Laria asked, confused.

“Laria,” Alex said annoyed, “if you start pulling at the threads, the whole plot will fall apart. Just watch the movie.”

“I just don’t know what to do, Mr. Suvek,” Uma said sitting next to him.

“Logic dictates…that you follow your heart.”

“Ugghhhh,” Katie said, feigning disgust. “Really, Alex?”

“Don’t judge me.”

“Too late,” Katie said, taking another sip of spring wine.

“You are such a woman,” Annabeth said, kissing the top of Alex’s head.

“Yeah, but I’m your woman,” Alex replied before retreating deeper into Annabeth’s embrace.

“This movie does bring up an interesting epiphany though,” Katie began.

“And that is?” Annabeth asked.

“There is not a single man on this entire ship that I would consider dating.”

“What?” Alex said surprised.

“I thought you and Phil had something starting?” Annabeth chimed in hopefully.

“Oh no,” Katie said, shoving a fistful of popcorn in her mouth. “First, you two wonder twins over there don’t get to lecture me on dateable men. Second, he’s a friend. That is all. He’s not terrible looking, but a man I can out deadlift is a serious turn off.” She looked down to the carpet and briefly paused before perking back up. “What about you, Laria? Is there a guy onboard who warms up your warp core?”

“No, no…” Laria said, shaking her head. However, her cheeks started to turn a slight shade of red.

“Wait a second,” Katie said leaning forward with a grin, “our little Bajoran’s lie detector is going off. There is someone onboard isn’t there?” Laria kept shaking her head. “It’s Lieutenant Mendez down in Engineering, isn’t it?”

“Ewww, Katie, No!” Laria exclaimed, “He has a tail.”

“Hey, don’t discount a guy just because he has a tail,” Alex said from behind her. “It’s the 24th century, after all.” Laria’s cheeks continued to grow brighter.

“Okay, then, who is it? C’mon it’s just us girls.” Katie refused to let up. With a trained eye, she kept watching Laria for signs of breaking. In a glance that would be imperceptible to anyone but a trained security chief, she saw Laria’s eyes glance over to the bulkhead.

“No!” Katie said almost gleefully, “THE CAPTAIN!?”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Laria exclaimed, burying her face in the stuffed pugabeast’s fur. “He’s right on the other side of the bulkhead and he might hear you,” she said, dropping to a whisper.

“Oh, he’s not gonna hear anything,” she said leaning back in her chair. “Funny, I never pegged you for someone who goes for older guys,” Katie said.

“He’s only 30,” Laria said, turning around, and now burying her face in the couch cushions. Annabeth leaned forward and reassuringly tousled Laria’s hair.

“Stop making fun of her. It’s completely normal to have crushes.” Laria calmed down and turned back towards the monitor.

“I’m not making fun of her,” Katie said, taking another large sip of wine. “I think it’s cute. Plus, totally get the older guy thing. Lost my v-card to a senior when I was a freshman at the academy before I met Paul…” Katie paused again when she said his name. She took another drink.

“Do you think you should slow down a little on that spring wine, Katie?” Alex asked, a little concerned. Katie put the glass down on the table, but still kept talking.

“How about you, L?” Katie said, turning back to Laria. “Who did you first give up the card to?”

“Is that a Human expression I should be familiar with?”

“You know,” Katie said, sitting up again. “The v-card? Your first?” Somehow, Laria’s cheeks grew even redder. She awkwardly looked down, brushed the hair behind her earring, and gazed at the floor. Suddenly, Katie realized. “Oh, honey…”

“I was always studying or working!” Laria said, reaching for her own glass of wine on the coffee table. “Plus, the guys I knew never…warmed up the warp core, like you say.”

“That is perfectly fine,” Annabeth said, flashing Katie a look.

“Yes, if you haven’t met the right guy yet…it is totally fine,” Katie said, starting to slightly slur her words. “However, ladies, we have a new mission,” Katie said, now moving to the floor next to Laria. She wrapped a supportive arm around the little Bajoran’s shoulder. “Can’t promise you the captain, but we’re gonna get our baby sister laid!”

“We’ll get Laria laid later!” Alex said, cutting in behind them. “Right now, let’s just watch the movie.” Everyone except Laria laughed.

On the other side of the bulkhead, Tigranian heard the laughter. He looked up from his book again before taking another sip of bloodwine.

“What could possibly be so funny?” he thought to himself. He didn’t think long before the intercom chimed.

“Captain, you have an incoming transmission from Klingon Military Headquarters on Ty’Gokor. A General Torlek wishes to speak with you.” 

Tigranian immediately sprang toward his desk.

“Put it through to my quarters.” Tigranian knew that today was Martok’s formal installation as Chancellor of the High Council. It was a holiday across the entire Klingon Empire. Torlek probably wanted to chastise him for not being there with him to celebrate.

He keyed his terminal, and the battle-hardened face of his old commander appeared. However, it was not the sly, grinning, and sometimes inebriated expression that he always expected on the face of his older brother and mentor. He immediately knew something terrible had happened.

“My brother, what is wrong?”

“You’re still very perceptive, Daniel,” he said before letting out a terrible sigh. “There has been a coup on Qo’noS. The Great Hall has been destroyed…”

Tigranian nearly collapsed. Though Qo’noS was no stranger to political upheaval, the Great Hall had never been touched in over five centuries of conflict. It was a sacred place for Klingons.

“Who would do this? Who stands against Martok, hero of Cardassia Prime?”

“His name is Morjod: a petulant youth who speaks with the poisonous tongue of a wam serpent. Many have already fallen under his spell of lies and treachery.”

“Where is Martok making his stand against this traitor? Where do we gather our forces to the true chancellor’s banner?” He had no doubt that his house, the House of Torlek, would ally with Martok. They had always stood with the legitimate government going back centuries. Torlek’s grandfather had even fought to install Chancellor Gorkon against the Romulan collaborators, the House of G’Iogh. Torlek and Tigranian themselves had fought together against the House of Duras during the Klingon Civil War shortly after the young Starfleet officer arrived on the Sk’oh.

“I don’t know, Daniel…” The way he paused made Tigranian’s blood run cold. “The chancellor is missing.”

“Missing?” Tigranian said in disbelief.

“It is no longer safe on Ty’Gokor. There are too many here who are corrupted by the words of this Morjod. I am taking my fleet to the Avenal System in the Klingon Zone of Occupation to determine our next step.”

Tigranian didn’t even hesitate.

“I will see you there in 12 hours.”

“Understood, Qapla’, my brother.”

“Qapla’,” Tigranian replied as the screen went blank. He immediately pressed the communicator lying on his desk. “Tigranian to bridge.”

“Lieutenant Hawkins here, Sir.”

“Set a course for the Avenal System, Mr. Hawkins. Maximum warp.”

Eight Years Ago
Two Light-Years from the Donatu System (Federation/Klingon Border)
Stardate: 44246.9

“Bridge to transporter room two, The Klingon bird-of-prey, IKS Sk’oh, has just decloaked off the starboard bow. They’re signaling they’re ready to take Ensign Tigranian aboard. Is he prepped?”

A young ensign in a gold uniform took a deep breath and slung his Starfleet standard-issue duffel bag over his shoulder. He turned to the transporter chief behind the console and nodded.

“Bridge, transporter room. He says he’s ready.”

“Acknowledged, but I highly doubt he’s as ready as he thinks,” the first officer replied. “Standby to transport.”

Tigranian stepped up on the transporter pad and turned around.

“You really chose this as your first assignment?”

“Yes, I’ve been dreaming about serving with Klingons for a very long time.”

“Dreaming about serving with Klingons?” the chief said incredulously. “Ensigns…”

“What's wrong with Klingons?”

“Look…Sir…” the transporter chief said with the derision of a senior enlisted crewman with decades more experience than the junior officer in front of him. “I once served on a starbase where Klingon ships would dock for shore leave all the time. I don’t think you’ll be dreaming about serving with them for very long.”

“We’ll see, Chief,” Tigranian said, trying to sound confident. The way the chief glanced back at him made him think his tone probably came off more as arrogance.

“May I offer you one piece of friendly advice, Sir?”

“Of course.”

“You look nervous. Don’t look nervous.” A light started flashing on the console in front of him. “Energizing.”

Tigranian was instantly surrounded in sparkling light. As it changed from warm blue to tingling red, he knew that he had indeed stepped through the looking glass. As it dissipated, he found himself standing in a dimly lit metal chamber staring at a very large and very perturbed looking Klingon warrior.

“I am Commander Kentok, first officer of the Imperial Klingon Ship Sk’oh and you are a pathetic Human infant that I am dishonored to be a nursemaid to until the captain sees fit to throw you out an airlock.”

Kentok began the conversation in Federation Basic, but Daniel looked him in the eyes and responded in Klingon.

“I am a Starfleet officer.” A surprised expression crossed the commander’s face causing his braided beard to twitch. Slowly, he stepped towards Tigranian.

“You speak our language?” he replied, keeping the conversation in tlhIngan Hol.

“Yes, Sir.”

“So you know our ways?”

“Yes, Sir!” Tigranian said proudly. Without warning Kentok slugged Tigranian in the stomach. He doubled over gasping for breath. Then, a leather-clad fist caught the ensign’s jaw, sending him tumbling down to the metal transporter pad.

“Then you should know better than to speak to a superior officer in such a tone!” All Tigranian could do was nod in reply. “Next time, I will not be so gentle. Follow me!”

He turned and headed out the doors. Tigranian picked up his duffel and stumbled after him as the enlisted transporter operator chuckled.

The first thing Daniel would always remember about Klingon ships, besides his lesson on tact from Commander Kentok, was the smell. He had always read about “the stink” of Klingon ships in accounts by Federation citizens, but the scent dancing under his nose right now could only be described as marvelous: an aromatic mixture of grease, sweat, and what seemed to be petroleum oil emanating from the deck plating itself. It reminded him of the ancient Earth warships he visited as museums in his childhood. This was not the sterile, filtered air of Federation starships. No, this ship was alive.

 He followed his new first officer through the narrow, winding corridors illuminated only in a dim red and yellow hue. Finally they stopped in front of a metal door which opened at Kentok’s command. He pointed inside.

“This is where you sleep, Human. I hope it’s to your liking,” he said with a laugh. Tigranian stepped forward and looked inside. The compartment (no one raised in the Federation would even consider calling this a room) was less than two meters wide. Its only fixtures were a bare metal bunk and one empty shelf. Tigranian threw his duffel bag inside.

“All moved in,” he thought to himself. He now knew better than to say that aloud in front of Kentok. “They are more than adequate, Sir.” Kentok narrowed his brow and growled.

“I’m so happy to be of service,” he said sarcastically. “We now go to the bridge!”

Minutes later, a pair of large metal doors parted and Tigranian set foot on the bridge of a Klingon warship for the first time.

“Captain Torlek,” Kentok said, pushing Daniel aside. “Your new weapons officer has finally arrived.”

“And what do you think of him?” the captain said, still sitting in his chair with his back turned.

“It is worse than I feared. However, at least he speaks tlhIngan Hol. It seems you can indeed teach a grint hound to talk.”

The captain climbed to his feet. The intimidating metal spine armor along his back glinted underneath his long, knurled black mane. He slowly turned to face Tigranian, the eyes underneath his massive forehead crest burning a hole in the young ensign.

“I ask the High Command to send me a weapons officer, and they send me you. By the hand of Kahless, what have I done to deserve this dishonor!?” Torlek roared toward the ceiling. He stepped out from behind his chair and walked forward, sizing Daniel up the entire time like a piece of meat. “I would be happier if you actually were a grint hound. At least they are ferocious and loyal! This pathetic creature that stands before me now in that child’s uniform is skinnier than a ramjep bird!”

Daniel stood motionless with his shoulders back. He knew that this was a test, but he still was panicking inside. “What if they don’t accept me? What if they don’t teach me their ways? Or, worse yet, what if they send me back to the Federation?”

“This…thing…standing on my bridge has no name, has no house…and has no honor!”

Suddenly, Daniel heard a deep, guttural growl. After a moment, he realized it was coming from him.

“I may have no house, Sir,” he said, spitting through his clenched teeth, “but my name is DANIEL, Son of Tigranian, and I have honor!”

Kentok drew his d’k tahg, but a raised hand from Torlek prevented him from running Daniel through right there on the bridge. The captain grinned at his new weapons officer, baring his yellow fangs.

“We shall see, Daniel, Son of Tigranian.”

Avenal System: Klingon Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53108.6

“Don’t do this to me, Dan!” Murphy screamed through the monitor on the desk in Tigranian’s ready room. “We’re too far along for you to go off on a side quest like it’s the damn middle ages! Paris can still pull the plug and send the Pershing to mothballs.”

“Then let me take the Pershing to Qo’noS and end this now!”

“Dammit! Internal matter to the Klingon Empire? Starfleet cannot become involved in a Klingon civil war? Sound familiar? Please tell me I didn’t pick a captain who needs refresher training on the Prime Directive…”

 “I fought in a Klingon civil war before, Pete.”

“That was on a Klingon ship and you were wearing a Klingon uniform! Now, you’re in command of a starship. You can’t go off getting into fights based on your own personal beliefs.”

“After everything that Martok did to secure the safety of the Alpha Quadrant? After every battle he fought to prevent the Jem’Hadar from raising the Dominion Flag over the Golden Gate Bridge? The Federation is really willing to turn its back on him?” Tigranian said disdainfully.

“Klingon Chancellors come and go, Dan. Azetbur signed the Khitomer Accords, but we didn’t beat the war drums when she was assassinated.”

Tigranian laughed and then looked back at the monitor.

“When was the last time I took leave, Pete?” Tigranian asked, cocking his head to the side. Admiral Murphy rubbed his eyes on the screen.

“If you want leave, go to Risa, go to Niagara Falls, go to the Hoobishan Baths on Trill, just don’t go to Qo’noS.”

“Is that a request or an order?”

“What does it need to be?”

 “He brought me into his family, Pete. He made me Klingon.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what this means to you. I’m just gonna ask, point blank, is this worth your ship and your career?”

“It’s worth far more than my career, Pete. It’s worth my soul.”

“Now, he thinks he’s James T. Kirk…” Murphy knew there would be no stopping him. It was just a matter of how much he could limit the damage.

“God help you, Dan, because if this goes south, the Federation sure as hell won’t. However, let me make two things PERFECTLY clear: the Pershing doesn’t leave Cardassian space, and you take off that uniform until you come back from ‘leave’. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, Sir.”

“Murphy, out.” The screen went blank.

“Bridge,” Laria said, stepping inside the turbolift. Just before the doors closed, Katie stepped inside.

“Hey,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey,” Laria replied quietly.

“Look,” Katie said, crossing her arms in front of her. “I’m really sorry about last night. I know I probably got way too personal and awkward. Your business is your business.”

“Katie, it’s fine. It’s not like you announced it over the comm system. Plus, you had a lot to drink. Spring wine makes everyone act a little funny.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“It’s okay. We all know what’s coming up soon.” She gently wrapped her arms around Katie and squeezed supportively. “Just let me decide when someone goes in my bedroom, okay?”

Katie chuckled.

“Okay…and thanks.”

“No problem. I’m your baby sister, apparently.”

The doors opened on the bridge and they took their stations. Annabeth sat in the captain’s chair tapping her fingers on the armrest. She hated being uninformed. When the doors to his ready room opened, she leapt up and walked straight to Tigranian.

“Alright, Sir,” she whispered in his ear. “What the hell is going on? I have the entire crew wondering why they’re now in the Klingon Zone 20 light-years from where our orders say we should be.”

“Patience, Annabeth,” Tigranian said grinning and sitting down in his chair. “Everything will be explained once our guests arrive.” Annabeth took the first officer’s seat next to him. She leaned over. Despite her best efforts to maintain a whisper, she was sure the rest of the bridge could hear.

“With respect, Captain, I am the first officer of this ship. I am responsible for its safety and the safety of its crew, to include its commander. I need to know: what are we doing here?”

Suddenly, Tigranian froze as an old instinct kicked in. A slow smile crept across his face. “Do you trust me, Annabeth?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good!” He turned his chair to the empty blackness on the viewscreen. “Ms. Stone, open hailing frequencies.”

“Sir?” Katie asked, completely surprised. He glanced back at her to silently reinforce his order. She started pressing buttons. “Hailing frequencies open, Sir.”

“Sir,” Laria said from the science station. “Sensors don’t show any ships within two light-years.” Tigranian ignored her. He started speaking in Klingon.

“You’re getting sloppy, my brother. I know you’re there.” The rest of the bridge crew froze when there was a response.

“Don’t count on it, mu’qaD. I just expected your senses to be dulled from living among non-Klingons for so long. Suk’Valt Strike Fleet, disengage cloaking devices!”

The collision alarm sounded as the Vor’cha-class attack cruiser HoS appeared less than 50 meters from their bow, its main disruptor cannon pointed directly at them. Four more K’Tinga-class battlecruisers and eight more B’rel-class birds-of-prey materialized in every direction, their weapons all aimed at the Pershing. They were surrounded.

“Yellow alert! Shields up!” Annabeth shouted, jumping to her feet.

“No, it’s alright,” Tigranian said, trying to calm them down. “They’re predators just trying to intimidate us.”

“It’s working, Sir,” Phil muttered from the helm.

“Bridge, main engineering, what the hell is going on up there?”

“Calm yourself, Mr. Scharr. They’re just saying ‘hello’ in their own way.”

“Forgive me, Captain, if I don’t exactly consider their way very polite.”

An alarm sounded at the tactical station.

“Sir, the attack cruiser is accessing our site-to-site transporter interlocks! They’re attempting to beam someone directly to the bridge. I’m trying to lock them out!”

“Katie, stop. Let them do it.”

“Sir!” Annabeth said, showing genuine concern.

“I asked if you trusted me, Annabeth…” Tigranian said, climbing to his feet.

A transporter beam engaged, and a Klingon in full armor appeared directly in front of him. Instantly, Tigranian and the Klingon both screamed and wrapped their arms around each other.

“It is good to see you again, Daniel.”

“You as well.”

“We must act quickly. Things have gotten much worse since we last spoke.” Tigranian nodded before turning to the rest of the bridge crew.

“Everyone, may I introduce General Torlek, commander of the Suk’Valt Strike Fleet, and my brother.”

Annabeth got up from her chair and walked toward them.

“Welcome aboard, General,” she said, not even trying to conceal her annoyance.

“It seems I’ve tried my crew’s patience long enough, General.” Tigranian tapped the communicator on his chest. “All senior staff to the wardroom.”

Eight Years Ago
Interstellar Space: Klingon Empire
Stardate: 44258.3

 “Disruptors locked!” Tigranian said from the Sk’oh’s weapons station.

“Steady…steady…” Torlek said slowly, raising his right hand. The captain waited until his ship was in the perfect place for the kill. “BaH!” he said, clenching his fist shut.

Tigranian let loose the full brunt of the bird-of-prey’s main cannons. A brilliant orange explosion appeared directly off their bow.

“Second target bearing 280 mark 3.5. Distance 780 kellicams.” Tigranian said refocusing the ship's scopes.

“Ready photon torpedoes.”

“Torpedoes loaded, all warheads armed.”

“Helm adjust heading to 280 mark 3.5.”

“jIyaj,” the Sk’oh’s pilot said, bringing the bow around.

“Torpedoes locked.”

“BaH!”

Tigranian fired two torpedoes. Both red spheres found the center of their mark and exploded.

“All targets destroyed! Qapla’!” Tigranian exclaimed in exaltation. The rest of the bridge crew chuckled.

“Calm down, Son of Tigranian,” Torlek said leaning back in his chair. “They were only practice drones. Save your celebration for an enemy that fires back.”

“The drill is complete. Stand down from alert status. Main shift, you are relieved until tomorrow morning,” Kentok said, flashing Tigranian a sneer.

The bridge cleared except for Kentok and the captain.

“I must admit, his skills at the weapons station are growing rapidly,” Torlek said, glancing over at his first officer. “You look like you wish to say something, Kentok. Don’t hold back.”

“He stands there in that Federation uniform pretending to be one of us. He says the words of a warrior, but he is not one. It makes a mockery of all that I stand for.”

“A true warrior respects another who tries to be more than he is, Kentok. You would do well to remember that.”

“Yes, Sir…” the first officer said, stopping himself before he finished his thought. Torlek growled.

“But?”

“But, I hope you feel the same way about the Human when we do face an enemy that fires back…”

Down in the Sk’oh’s mess hall, Tigranian picked up a large metal plate. Sliding down the food line, he grabbed a handful of wriggling racht, a side of zilm’kach, and a few taknar gizzards. After how the others reacted on the bridge, he wasn’t that hungry.

After dipping an empty tankard into the barrel of bloodwine, he took his seat at the end of the officers’ table. He poured some grapok sauce onto the still-moving mass in front of him and started shoveling it into his face with his bare hands.

It still bothered him that the other Klingons gave him a wide berth. It bothered him even more that they talked about him like he wasn’t even there.

“I heard it was another glorious day for Daniel, Son of Tigranian on the bridge. Is it true that he single-handedly slew two target drones?” Vrox, the Sk’oh’s engineer said in a mocking tone.

“He did indeed,” K’vresh, the helmsman said, chiming in. “He stood there, facing those ruthless machines like a legend of old. It made me proud to alter our course 15 whole degrees so that he could obliterate them. I just hope that my unworthy accomplishments will be mentioned in the song that will be written about this day.” The Klingons at the end of the table snickered. Tigranian took a sip of bloodwine.

“If all the warriors of the Federation are as mighty as this Daniel,” Cholmek, the operations officer, said, turning to look at Tigranian, “then perhaps we could learn a thing or two about battle from them!” At that comment, all of them burst out laughing.

Tigranian shot to his feet and hurled his plate into the wall with a tremendous crash. Racht flew everywhere and grapok sauce began dripping down the metal bulkhead. The entire mess hall fell silent. In the awkward silence, a Pheben jeghpu’wI steward appeared from behind a partition and began silently cleaning up the mess with a bucket and rag.

Before anyone could say anything, Tigranian stormed out in a rage.

Vrox reached down to his own plate and grabbed a handful of stewed bok-rat liver.

“Temperamental creatures those Humans are…” he said calmly shoving the food into his mouth.

Tigranian stormed into the Sk’oh’s sparring room and grabbed a bat’leth off the wall. With a deep breath he began spinning it around his head at incredible speed. He became so engrossed in his form, he didn’t even hear the door open behind him. As he spun around to deliver a killing blow to an imagined enemy behind him, he was shocked when an actual bat’leth stopped his blade.

“Defend yourself!” Torlek snarled.

Tigranian slashed at his head, but the older Klingon easily parried blow after blow. Tigranian stepped back, spun the blade in front of him, and then leaped forward again. Torlek actually had to exert himself to stop this attack, and Daniel pressed on. The two fought back and forth for another minute, blades clanging in the darkness until finally Torlek managed to stop the rain of blows. Tigranian breathed heavily, completely tensed by rage.

“Your swordsmanship, much like your skills on the bridge, continues to grow everyday…” Suddenly, Torlek twisted his wrists and sent Daniel’s bat’leth skittering across the floor. He stepped forward and placed his blade at the Human’s throat. Its gentle kiss drew a drop of blood from Tigranian’s neck, “but anger is only the beginning of strength. It can never be the end.” He dropped his sword to his side and looked Daniel in the eyes. “What troubles you?”

“Nothing that is your concern, Sir,” Tigranian replied.

“EVERYTHING on this ship is my concern,” Torlek roared.

Daniel paused before he spoke.

“They will never accept me, will they?”

“You have only been onboard for a month. Give it time.”

“I do know something that might speed up the process.”

“Really, and that is?”

“Grant me Ascension, Sir!”

“Ascension?” Torlek huffed. “You think you are worthy of Ascension? That honor is something that even many Klingons cannot achieve. Besides, you are Human. It would probably kill you.”

“Don’t you think that should be my decision, Sir?”

“No, I do not!” he said angrily. “I will not let you die chasing some foolish childhood dream.”

“My only dream is to be what you are, Sir.”

A sound halfway between a sigh and a growl escaped Torlek’s throat.

“I will teach you the skills of a warrior, Daniel. I will even teach you our ways, but I cannot make you what we are.” He turned away.

“Why not?”

“Because you are not Klingon!” he said, spinning back around. “You were born what you are, and that is not your fault, but that is your fate.”

Tigranian didn’t break Torlek’s gaze.

“Did Kortar the Mighty accept that it was his fate to live as a slave when he decided to climb the qo’sor?”

“No, but he did suffer greatly for it.”

“I never said I wasn’t willing to suffer, Sir.”

“A bold statement from a bold heart.” Torlek said, trying to sound as comforting as he possibly could. “However, my decision stands.”

Tigranian’s shoulders dropped.

“We have received new orders,” Torlek continued. “Three Klingon freighters have been attacked and plundered by Kreel pirates in the last month. Imperial Intelligence believes they have located their base of operations on a small planetoid on the edge of the Kavrot Expanse. In 12 hours, we will arrive to dispense justice in the name of the empire.

“We go into battle in the morning. Therefore, tonight is a night for wine and song. We do not know how many fine warriors will cross the River of Blood tomorrow, and I will not have my weapons officer hiding in the shadows sulking like a whipped grishnar cat. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Tigranian said, holding back his disappointment and anger. Torlek headed for the doors.

“Sir, if I die tomorrow, will I too cross the River of Blood to Sto’Vo’Kor, or am I doomed to pitiful mediocrity in the next life as well as this one?” Tigranian asked in a tone dangerously close to disdain.

Torlek looked back once more.

“What does your bold heart say?”

“It tells me that if there is any way a Human can enter the gates of paradise to sit at Kahless’ table…I will find it.”

“If that is indeed possible for a Human, I am starting to believe that you will.”

Avenal System: Klingon Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53108.6

“So this Morjod really thinks he can depose one of the most popular leaders in Klingon history?” Phil asked skeptically.

“Worse,” Torlek said somberly. “He knows he is starting to succeed. He’s even crowned himself emperor. The people fall under his spell like some kind of demonic magic. Many wish to return to the power and glory of the old days, but few possess the discipline to keep their honor in the face of the blood rage. Barbarous things once thought extinct return from the darkness and people cheer in madness.” He signaled to Tigranian who began playing a recording on the wardroom’s holoscreen. “This was broadcast live on the Klingon information net this morning.”

“Footage of an execution, and only by the hand of Kahless, did it remain an attempted execution.” A huge square was packed with people. An improvised wooden stage was erected in the middle of the crowd. Masses cheered in deranged howls. In the center of the stage, there was a strange contraption that appeared to be four massive posts bent towards a wooden bench. A victim would be strapped to the bench and their limbs attached to the posts. When the signal was given, the posts would snap straight, ripping the victim’s limbs from their torso.

“What is that thing?” Alex asked horrified.

“It’s called a cha’ta’rok.” Torlek said without looking away from the screen.

“Klingons view it with the same fond memory as Humans see the guillotine,” Tigranian clarified.

“Is that the Imperial Plaza in the First City?” Tigranian asked in shock.

“It is,” Torlek said with a hint of shame.

Two figures were led out towards the platform. A woman was strapped down to the horrific device while a man was forced to kneel at her feet and watch.

“Lady Sirella!” Tigranian said, watching the continuing descent into madness.

“And that’s Martok!” Annabeth said, glancing down at the figure at the poor woman’s feet.

“Chancellor Martok, Commander,” Torlek said, correcting her.

The boy tyrant, Morjod, strutted around the platform as if he were already invincible. A woman in a cloak behind him simultaneously encouraged his strutting while also taking the opportunity to ridicule the chancellor, still stoically kneeling at his lady’s feet.

“Freeze, and enhance grid C-07.” Torlek said. The computer zoomed on the face of the woman.

“She seems to be pulling the strings, even with Morjod,” Mr. Scharr said.

“I think it’s far more than that, Mr. Scharr,” Tigranian said leaning forward. “Look at her crest and the crest of the traitor…they are the same.”

“What does that mean?” Katie asked.

“It means they’re related. Very closely related,” Laria answered.

“Impressive, Lieutenant,” Torlek said, turning to Laria. “We believe they are mother and son. The search of the facial database revealed her name as Gothmara, Daughter of Kultan.”

“Kultan died in disgrace if I remember correctly,” Tigranian said. “Something about covering up illegal biogenic experiments.”

“Yes, biogenic experiments conducted by his daughter. She disappeared when their ship was destroyed under mysterious circumstances: a ship that a young Klingon lieutenant named Martok served on,” Torlek said.

“You mean, Chancellor Martok, General.” Annabeth interjected. He growled, but also grinned at her cheek. “The plot thickens…”

“You have not seen anything yet. Computer, continue playback.”

Suddenly, all Gre’thor broke loose. A hooded figure dove from the crowd and began cutting the Lady Sirella’s restraints. Martok climbed to his feet and grabbed a bat’leth, before Morjod thrust a mek’leth into the hooded figure’s chest. An armor plate kept the figure alive, but the figure was revealed to be Ferengi. Just as it looked as if the execution would proceed without interruption, a dozen red transporter signatures materialized around the chancellor and Sirella. Two of them were instantly recognizable as Worf, Son of Mogh, Federation Ambassador to Qo’noS, and Drex, Son of Martok. A bird-of-prey with the name Rotarran hovered above them.

A mighty battle erupted as Morjod’s guards were cut down by the troops loyal to Martok. The chancellor himself grabbed a bat’leth and began slashing at the guards when suddenly half a dozen creatures, at least three meters tall appeared from the catacombs beneath the Imperial Palace. Ostensibly loyal to Morjod and Gothmara, they begin killing whatever stood in their way: friend or foe. They were obviously sub-intelligent, barely able to use the weapons in their massive claws, but they were lethal nonetheless. They roared with terrible fangs and beady, black eyes. Just as Martok moved to slay Morjod, another hooded figure grabbed him, and the crowd of loyal heroes beamed away, the bird-of-prey streaking back towards orbit. The transmission ended.

“What the hell is going on in the Klingon Empire?” Alex asked in disbelief.

“I wish I could say for certain, Doctor,” Torlek said with genuine anger in his voice, “All I know is that it is treacherous.”

“Do we know where Ambassador Worf took the Chancellor and Lady Sirella?” Tigranian asked hopefully.

“No, my brother,” they disappeared again as quickly as they were found.

“What were those animals?” Katie said, turning to her captain and the general. “They seemed to be dreaded by every Klingon there.”

“Hur’q,” Laria said matter-of-factly. Everyone at the wardroom table turned to her in shock. She met their gazes with her own. “A race of aliens who invaded Qo’noS four hundred years after Kahless. They plundered the planet and then disappeared after the ancient Klingons finally fought them off. However, by that time, they had completely decimated the planet. Klingons took the remains of their technology and used it to develop spaceflight.”

“Even more impressive, Lieutenant,” Torlek said with a grin.

“Am I the only one who paid attention in Professor Salome’s History of Alien Races class?” she said, climbing out of her chair.

“Apparently so,” Scharr said flatly. Laria rolled her eyes as she walked toward the computer terminal next to the holoscreen.

“Until this terrible calamity began,” Torlek added, “everyone in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants thought the Hur’q to be extinct.”

“I think they still are, General,” Laria said, punching a few keys.

“But we just saw them on the screen in front of us, Laria?” Phil said, confused.

“And that’s why science is about paying attention to details…”

“I like the little Bajoran one, Daniel,” Torlek said leaning next to his ear. “She has spirit.” Tigranian had to smile to keep from laughing.

“What are you thinking, L?” Tigranian asked her. She was too lost in her train of thought to acknowledge anyone else yet.

“Computer,” Laria said. “Access Federation Archeological Database. Display sample of known Hur’q DNA from the excavation site on Keldis II. ” A double helix appeared on the monitor. “Alex, could you use the medical computer to display a postulated image of the species with this DNA structure?”

“Sure, just give me a few minutes,” Alex said, joining Laria at the monitor. As Alex worked, Laria turned back towards the group at the table.

“The Hur’q were an advanced, warp-capable race that spread their influence across at least three known quadrants of space. Whatever those animals were on the screen, they had to use the entirety of their cognitive function just figuring out how to use a disruptor rifle.”

“Got it,” Alex said. A bipedal creature appeared on the holoscreen, it shared the fur and eyes of the demonic things in the plaza, but that’s where the similarities ended. The actual Hur’q was a full meter shorter and at least hundred kilos lighter.

“Those things were genetically engineered using Hur’q DNA as a starting point, but they aren’t Hur’q,” Laria said, returning to her seat with Alex.

“No, instead they were created to be the nightmare that every single Klingon child was raised to fear,” Torlek said.

“The perfect shock troops for someone who wishes to rule by terror and intimidation. All the more reason to stop him,” Tigranian said clenching his fists.

“It’s not that far of a stretch from biogenic experimentation to full genetic engineering. It looks like the daughter of Kultan is up to her old tricks again,” Annabeth said.

“It would take some pretty substantial resources to create that many full-size creatures from spliced DNA,” Alex said, shaking her head. “Most notably, an absolutely tremendous supply of biomimetic gel. We’re talking hundreds, maybe thousands, of liters.”

“That stuff is tightly controlled in the Federation,” Katie said.

“In the Klingon Empire as well. She could not acquire that much without being noticed.”

“Then she must be getting it from outside the empire,” Laria concluded.

“The Lissepians,” Scharr said. “They’re the only ones that could provide that much gel no questions asked. Since the end of the war, they could haul it straight across Cardassia to the Klingon Empire without any border guards or customs agents interfering.”

“The Lissepians must be providing it, but they’re cash and carry on something that hot. They wouldn’t risk getting caught by anyone. It's bad for business. There’s something more going on here,” Tigranian said thinking aloud. “If we could cut off her supplies of biomimetic compounds, it could prove a very damaging blow to Morjod’s forces.

“Computer, how many star systems are along the most direct route between Lissepian space and the Klingon Empire through Cardassian territory?”

“There are four star systems located along that specified route.”

“That’s where we should begin, Brother,” Tigranian said, turning to Torlek.

“You will take command of the battlecruiser ghargh and begin checking those star systems. I will take the rest of the Suk’Valt back to Klingon space and begin engaging forces loyal to Morjod. We’re running out of time and must distract them from their search for the chancellor.”

“What happened to Captain Yaghnetza?” Tigranian asked.

“Before we left Ty’Gokor, the head of her house declared his fealty to Morjod. Rather than betray me, she came to my quarters and asked for Mauk-to’Vor. She now sails with the Black Fleet, but still has her honor.”

“You killed her?” Phil asked in disbelief. “One of your own commanders?”

“Don’t try to apply Federation values to it, Phil. It was the right thing to do,” Tigranian replied calmly.

“I’m sorry,” Laria said, raising up her hand. “Was I the only one who heard the phrase, ‘take command of the battlecruiser’?”

“You don’t miss a thing do you, Laria?” Tigranian said with a grin.

“It’s a good question, Sir,” Annabeth said concerned.

“You and the Pershing can’t come along, Annabeth.” Tigranian said. “The Federation refuses to get involved and won’t let anyone from Starfleet get involved either.”

“Excuse me, Sir, but aren’t you a Starfleet officer?”

Tigranian gently removed the combadge from his uniform and placed it on the table.

“Not right now,” He looked towards the ceiling. “Computer, this is Captain Daniel Tigranian. Effective 1750 hours, Commander Annabeth Geist assumes command of USS Pershing, NCC-19860. Transfer all command codes, authorization, Tigranian Omega 3-6 Tango.”

“Authorization accepted. All command codes transferred.”

The entire table sat in stunned silence. Torlek climbed to his feet.

“I am returning to the HoS. I will signal the ghargh to prepare for your arrival.” Tigranian stood to meet him. They locked hands.

“If we do not meet again in this life, then in Sto’Vo’Kor, my brother.”

“Qapla’” they uttered simultaneously. Torlek headed for the transporter room.

Tigranian looked around the table. He made eye contact with each speechless individual before following.

Tigranian stepped off the bridge and into the turbolift.

“Deck two.” As the doors closed, a hand reached inside and forced them open nearly knocking the sliding portal off its tracks. Annabeth stepped inside and allowed the lift to close.

“You’re mad aren’t you?” Tigranian asked not turning his head to look at her. The turbolift didn’t make it more than ten centimeters.

“Hold!” Annabeth screamed, bringing the car to a screeching halt. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

“Yup…you’re mad.”

“You’re goddamn right I’m mad! After all the work we did to get this ship spaceborne, you just walk away like it’s all meaningless.”

“Resume,” Tigranian said calmly. “That cannot be further from the truth, Annabeth, and you know it.” The lift made it almost a whole meter this time.

“Hold! Then tell me why you just let a foreign military leader waltz onto the bridge of the Federation’s most advanced vessel, used Federation resources to fight a coup directly contravening the Prime Directive we all swore to uphold, and then turned over command of the ship without so much as asking me first?”

“I really don’t have time for this, Annabeth. Every second we let Morjod grow stronger could be another week before I return. Resume.”

“Hold!! Computer, lock Turbolift Alpha, command authorization, Geist Whiskey 8-2 Bravo!”

“Command Authorization accepted. Captain’s override required to reactivate turbolift.” 

“Touché…Captain.”

“Shut up, Dan! I’m not the captain. You are! Or have you forgotten about your responsibility to this crew because a Klingon from a past life tells you to pick up a bat’leth?”

“No,” Tigranian said, looking away, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Oh, you look upset, Sir! I guess we should be careful because the way you were talking to Phil in there, you might send us all to the Black Fleet as well!”

Tigranian slowly turned to face her.

“I haven’t forgotten about this crew at all, Annabeth. In fact, I left them in the care of the person on this ship I trust the most.” It was Annabeth’s turn to look away, “and Torlek is by no means from a past life. He’s my family and needs my help. I seem to remember a certain commander telling me a little over a month ago about how she corrected her mistake of choosing career over someone she loved?”

“That’s a low blow, Dan.”

“So were all of yours.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Could be a long time. Possibly the longest time.” She had seen Torlek’s reports on the size of Morjod’s fleet and knew what he meant.

“Tell me, Sir, if it does come to that, would you like us to mourn you with a Federation or Klingon memorial service?” she said, her voice dripping with scorn. “I thought I had performed enough of them for friends during the war, but what’s one more for old time’s sake?”

“Klingons don’t mourn, Annabeth,” Tigranian replied. “They honor their dead with celebration because they know they gave their life for something they believed in.”

“Computer, unlock Turbolift Alpha and resume, authorization, Geist Whiskey 8-2 Bravo.”

“Authorization accepted. Turbolift unlocked.” They started moving again.

“Then, you better make damn sure you believe in it, Daniel. Because I don’t!” The lift reached deck two and the doors opened. Annabeth stormed out leaving Tigranian alone.

Tigranian finished buckling his wide leather belt over his d’k tahg sheath’s chain and adjusted the disruptor holster on his left hip. He then reached for his leather gauntlets and slid them over his wrists. Walking over to his mirror, he checked the fit of his gray and black armor. Too tight, it would restrict movement during a fight, too loose and it would provide no protection. The rank bars on his right chest caught his eye. It was the first time he ever wore the rank of HoD, a captain, while in full battle armor.

Finally, he reached for two silver badges on the table: the first was the tIq ghob, or Heart of Virtue: the tri-foil symbol of the Klingon Empire and the Defense Forces. He attached it proudly to his right arm. Next, came something even more special. It was a simple sterling badge, about 10 centimeters across, composed of two downward facing claws superimposed on each other. That one was earned with pain, blood, and battle and went on his left arm.

His door chimed.

“Come in,” he said with a sigh, fully expecting another angry crew member to lambast him with accusations of abandonment. The doors parted and Laria stepped inside.

“Wow…” she uttered quietly, first glimpsing his new outfit.

“If you’re coming to convince me not to go, save your breath, Lieutenant,” he said, not looking away from the mirror. “I’ve already gotten an earful from Commander Geist, Dr. Hunter, and Lieutenant Lexington. Mr. Scharr said I deserved the Klingons because I was just as heartless as they were. I suppose that’s fondness in a cold Andorian way.”

“I’m not here to convince you to stay. In fact, I’m here to say that I’m glad you’re going.”

“And I thought Mr. Scharr was cruel in his goodbye.”

“No, no, Sir, that’s not what I meant.” Laria said, a little flustered. “I am actually glad you’re going.” This piqued Tigranian’s interest.

“Really?” he said, surprised.

“When I was growing up,” Laria began somewhat nervously, “my parents followed the Prophets very devoutly. I never understood it at the time. In fact, it made me angry. I wasn’t even sure if they were real, and if they were, why would they abandon Bajor to the Cardassians? I even stopped wearing this for a while,” she said, pointing to her earring. “But after I got to the academy, I had never felt so alone like I did that first year. Even though I was a Federation citizen, I still felt like an outsider that didn’t belong. That’s when I truly found the Prophets. They were of me, just as they were of Bajor. They gave me strength to complete my journey. I am Bajoran first, but still can be a Starfleet officer.”

Tigranian gently nodded in understanding.

“If you feel like your responsibilities to your Klingon family are this important, you have to go fight for them.”

“Thank you, Laria.”

“That symbol on your arm,” she said pointing to the claws. “I’ve never seen it before. What does it mean?”

“It’s the symbol of the House of Torlek: my house.”

“Well, may the Prophets guide you and your house.” Before he could say anything in reply, she turned and disappeared out the door.

Tigranian stepped over to his bed and picked up a worn Starfleet issue duffel bag. He then grabbed his bat’leth from the wall and headed down the corridor.

When he stepped into the transporter room, he stopped in surprise. The entire senior staff, including Annabeth, was standing there. Scharr himself was at the controls.

“We couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye, Sir,” Katie said. You’re still a part of this family too.” Tigranian smiled as he climbed onto the transporter pad.

“Sir!” Annabeth called out to him.

“Yes, Number One?”

“You look ready,” she said with a grin. “Qapla’”

“Qapla’, to you all. Energize.”

Eight Years Ago
Kavrot Expanse: Klingon Frontier
Stardate: 44258.4

“Sir, sensors are detecting two Kreel cruisers in orbit of the planetoid.”

“Have they scanned us?” Torlek asked Cholmek.

“Negative, Sir, they have not penetrated the cloak. Also, their warp drives match the signatures detected at the sites of the freighter attacks.”

“Alert status one, all hands to battle stations,” Torlek announced. A klaxon sounded throughout the ship. Everyone prepared themselves for action. Tigranian steadied himself behind the weapons console.

“Weapons status?” Kentok said from beside the captain.

“Torpedo bays loaded. Disruptors charged and ready.”

“Sir!” Cholmek said suddenly. “I am detecting the presence of System-5 Disruptor Arrays on both ships. Our shields are vulnerable.”

“Baktag!” Torlek said, slamming his hand on his chair. “Where did they get that kind of weaponry?” He knew that it was still possible to fight these marauders, but only with great risk to their ship.

“Sir,” Kentok said to Torlek quietly, “Perhaps it would be wiser to call in additional forces based on this new information. The attack cruiser, Kazada, is only two days away. With her weapons, this fight would be much more evenly matched.”

“Kahless himself did say, "The wind does not respect a fool,” Torlek begrudgingly admitted.

“But did Kahless not also say, ‘Battle delayed is battle lost’?” Tigranian said from behind him. ‘Warriors must kill the snakes that lie in wait. These are the tasks left unfinished, the challenges left unmet. Ignored, they grow…’”

“Silence, Human!” Kentok screamed loud enough to shake the bulkheads.

“It is you who will be silent, Kentok!” Torlek said, turning towards his first officer. “He may be Human, but he speaks the truth! If we wait we may be detected, they might call in reinforcements, or worse, they may flee and get away. We know these are the criminals we were ordered to slay, and honor demands that we complete our mission.”

“As you wish, Sir,” Kentok said, glancing at Tigranian, holding back the desire to kill him with all his discipline.

“However, Son of Tigranian,” Torlek said, crossing to the weapons station. “A single shot from one of those disruptors could cripple us. We need a better plan than a simple frontal assault.”

“I might have one, Sir.” Tigranian said confidently. “I know these kinds of disruptors from my studies at the academy. They’re Cardassian, probably taken from a surplus planetary defense system. They were designed to be hardwired directly into a planetary power grid, never mounted on a cruiser like this. They must be using some kind of high-energy conduit to redirect energy from their warp cores to the disruptor emitter. If I can place a torpedo here,” he said pointing to a silhouette of the ship on his tactical display, “it should be enough energy to overload the conduit and burn out their power grids.”

“You would only have time to fire two torpedoes before they could fire on us, and there’s two of those ships. You would have to hit both targets on your first attempt!” K’vresh said dubiously.

“A gunner would have to be very confident in his abilities to attempt such a feat,” Torlek said leaning forward.

“A gunner would not suggest a plan if he were not, Sir,” Tigranian flatly responded. A grin slowly crept across the old Klingon’s face.

“Prepare to decloak!” Torlek said, moving back to his chair. “Helm, attack course at the weapon officer’s guidance.”

“K’vresh, I’m sending you the coordinates between the two Kreel ships that will give us the best firing angle. Set course, 267 mark 5.”

“Understood…” he replied skeptically. He fully expected to meet Kahless that night with Tigranian’s plan.

“Decloak when ready. You’ll have three seconds before you can fire,” Torlek told Daniel.

“The Kreel will remember those three seconds dearly, Sir,” he replied, still inputting information into his targeting computer.

“We are set at coordinates,” K’vresh announced. The entire bridge crew with the exception of Daniel and the captain readied themselves for the afterlife. Tigranian began a countdown.

“Decloak in five, four, three, two, one…”

The Kreel were shocked when a Klingon bird-of-prey appeared out of empty space directly between them. They attempted to adjust course to fire, but it was already too late. The Sk’oh fired two torpedoes. The glowing red spheres flew through space, arced directly underneath the pirate ships, and detonated in a brilliant flash of light.

“Reading massive power fluctuations in the Kreel ships!” Cholmek called from the operations station. “Both of their primary disruptors are offline. The port ship’s shields are down to 20 percent, starboard ship’s shields are disabled!” A roar erupted from the entire bridge crew.

“Now would be an appropriate time for celebration, Daniel!” Torlek screamed from his chair. “You did it you filthy, Human, Ha’DI bah! Lock disruptors on the starboard Kreel ship and fire!”

Tigranian obliged. He fired a full burst from the Sk’oh’s wingtips and the Kreel vessel exploded into space garbage.

“Come about! Lock weapons on the second ship.”

K’vresh turned the bow of the Sk’oh 180 degrees in a little more than a second. Tigranian fired the disruptors again, dropping their shields to nothing. He then finished them off with another spread of torpedoes before Torlek even had to command it.

“Qapla’!” Tigranian screamed with the same blood lust as the rest of the bridge crew. No one laughed this time. He even swore he saw a smile creep across Kentok’s face.

“The second ship is destroyed, Sir,” Cholmek said, “but I’m detecting several transporter signatures on the surface of the planet. The crew beamed down to the surface.”

“We will not let our prey escape that easily!” Torlek said, climbing to his feet. “Assemble a landing party. Commander Kentok, Lieutenant Cholmek you are with me, Lieutenant K’vresh, you have the bridge.”

As Torlek, Kentok, and Cholmek moved towards the doors, Tigranian crossed to them.

“Sir, permission to join the landing party?” he asked. 

Kentok’s smile returned to his usual scowl.

“No, Daniel, you have proven yourself enough for today. We will dispatch these honorless petaQpu’ in a matter of moments,” Torlek replied while patting him on the shoulder.

“Sir…please,” Tigranian said even more emphatically. Before Kentok could deal with him, Torlek grabbed the ensign’s wrist and pulled him aside.

“I don’t know why, but I like you, Son of Tigranian. But there is a limit to how much I am willing to indulge your Human outbursts. Once I give a command on my bridge, I expect it to be followed or I will have to kill you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, return to your station.”

“Yes, Sir.” The rest of the bridge crew headed for the transporter room to join the landing party. Tigranian was left alone with K’vresh.

“You were doing so well, Human, and then you failed miserably. Perhaps, you don’t understand us after all,” K’vresh said without looking up from his console. Tigranian gripped the sides of the weapons station until his knuckles turned white.

On the surface, Torlek, Kentok, and the rest of the landing party materialized in the middle of a Kreel camp. Dilapidated shanties and half full cargo containers littered a clearing at the edge of a forest. The whole area was eerily quiet.

“Fan out, search for them!” Torlek said, raising a bat’leth. Kentok nodded and pulled a disruptor from his belt.

“Second squad, come with me. Cholmek, take third squad and search to the west. First squad, stay with the captain.”

The Klingons fanned out in every direction, searching for any sign of life. Torlek approached a hovel and kicked in the rotting, wooden door. It shattered into splinters at the kick of his boot. He stepped inside, a half-eaten meal still sat on the table. He poked at the scraps of meat and crusts of bread with the edge of his sword.

“Somebody was here just a few minutes ago. Where could they have all gone?” He returned outside. Kentok, Cholmek, and the other two squads returned.

“I can smell them, Sir,” Kentok said, sniffing the air. “But they seem to have vanished.”

“Baktag!” Torlek shouted again. “I will not be outsmarted by a bunch of filthy space thieves who live by stealing from honorable–”

Torlek’s words were cut short by a disruptor blast. It sliced into Commander Kentok’s shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground. Weapons fire erupted from every direction. Seven other bekks around them were cut down. They were trapped in the middle of an ambush, and there was nowhere to run.

In orbit, Tigranian cursed as he saw the sensor feed.

“Where are they coming from?” K’vresh shouted.

“The ground is full of dolomite,” Daniel said. “It blocks our sensors. There are probably tunnels and bunkers hidden over that entire encampment! They’ve activated some kind of jamming signal. We can beam down, but I can’t get a lock to beam them back up! They’re trapped.” He watched in horror as several dozen Kreel lifesigns appeared around the entire landing party. Sensors indicated that they were all heavily armed. Most of the Sk’oh’s soldiers and bridge crew were about to be annihilated right in front of his eyes.

Tigranian immediately turned to leave the bridge.

“Where are you going?” K’vresh screamed at Tigranian.

“To fight at my captain’s side.”

“He ordered you to stay here!”

“Things have changed,” Tigranian replied firmly. He didn’t stop moving.

“I AM IN COMMAND AND I SAY STOP WHERE YOU ARE!”

Tigranian slowly turned back around to face the lieutenant. K’vresh was holding a disruptor pointed directly at him.

“Are you really going to stop me from trying to help the captain?”

“What help could you give, Human?” K’vresh said angrily. “The last thing he commanded was for you to stay off that planet and I will not fail in my duty to see that it stays that way.”

Tigranian slowly stepped toward K’vresh.

“I know what you think of me, and I don’t care. If my choices are to stay here and watch like a BiHnuch while my captain fights for his life, or have you shoot me in the back while I try to help him, the right decision seems very simple to me.” Tigranian turned his back on K’vresh and walked away. He half expected to be turned into a cloud of ionized vapor after his first step, but somehow, he made it to the doors and walked off the bridge.

Back on the surface, the battle did not go well. Ten more brave warriors had joined the Black Fleet in the last five minutes. Though the Klingons had made the enemy pay dearly, 20 more Kreel continued to fight hand-to-hand from every direction. All that was left were the three officers and one five man squad.

Torlek turned to Cholmek. “Fall back to those cargo containers to regroup! I will cover you and then carry Commander Kentok!”

“Sir, no! You’ll be cut to pieces,” Cholmek exclaimed. Torlek reached over and held his bat’leth to Cholmek’s throat.

“I said go…” Cholmek nodded and retreated back with the other warriors. Torlek drew his disruptor and fired wildly at the Kreel as fast he could push the trigger. Four pirates fell to the ground during the barrage, but the rest managed to dive behind cover before the weapon’s power cell emptied.

With the enemy momentarily suppressed, Torlek grabbed Kentok, threw him over his shoulders, and started moving back himself. Kentok whispered through his pain.

“Leave me! I’m bound for Sto’Vo’Kor this day…”

“No, my old friend, today is not your day to die!” Just as he finished his words, he felt a massive blow to his knee. He dropped to the ground. Kentok went one direction and Torlek’s bat’leth went the other. He managed to turn around in time to see a Kreel towering over him with a battle axe raised over his head. Time slowed down, and a quiet disappointment passed over the captain. This was how he would meet his end: on his knees at the hands of an honorless thief in terrible defeat. It would be many years before his house would recover from his shame.

Torlek closed his eyes and waited for death. Then he sensed a transporter beam rematerialize someone directly next to him.

A bat’leth stabbed into the Kreel’s chest before its wielder slashed sideways and cut off the petaQ’s head.

“HoD peQan!” The Son of Tigranian screamed back toward the other Klingons. He stood over Torlek, placing himself between the captain and the other pirates long enough for Torlek to shake off the amazement of his rescue and pick up his own sword.

Once he knew his captain was safe, Tigranian charged straight into the Kreel, swinging his bat’leth with the fury of a Tarkassian razorbeast. The words of qeS’a’s Fourth Dictum ringing through his ears: “It calls the warrior to run into the whirlwind, for this is where glory dwells.” Kreel shrieked in agony as bellies were slashed and limbs went flying. Torlek screamed to Cholmek who was already leading the rest of the squad forward:

“Attack! The Son of Tigranian leads the way to glory!” 

With that exultation, Torlek dashed to Daniel’s side, and the two of them began fighting as one. By the time that Cholmek and the rest of the bekks arrived, momentum had completely shifted against the Kreel. The remaining half dozen or so threw down their weapons to the ground in a gesture of surrender. To them, a short lifetime of agony in Rura Penthe was better than falling here at the hands of these demons.

In a few minutes, one of the bekks located the source of the jamming signal and the surviving Kreel were beamed to the Sk’oh’s brig. A medic arrived and was able to stabilize Commander Kentok. He opened his eyes to see Tigranian standing over him with a bloody bat’leth and the ensign’s tattered Starfleet uniform covered in spatters of Kreel blood.

“By Kahless’ hand, I am in Gre’thor. It’s the only explanation of why you are here.” He whispered.

“Afraid not, Sir,” Tigranian said. You are still stuck with me a while longer.” At that moment, Kentok and the medic disappeared in a transporter beam.

Tigranian allowed himself a smile.

“You know the qeS’a’?” Torlek asked, waking up from behind him. “You quoted it very well on the bridge.”

“It was a very important book to me, Sir.” Torlek placed a firm hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

“Who taught you how to fight with a bat’leth like that?” Torlek said grinning.

“A great warrior.” Tigranian replied.

“Ha!” Torlek said, spitting in the dirt. “Not that great a warrior. He would be dead in disgrace right now if it weren’t for the hand of a foolish Human who disobeyed his captain’s orders.”

The next day, the Sk’oh proceeded back to the heart of the Klingon Empire at maximum warp to deliver the prisoners to authorities. Though he wished to celebrate, Daniel had pulled the duty officer’s shift that night. It would be a long lonely evening on the bridge while the rest of the primary crew continued reveling in their victory of the Kreel. He sat in the mess hall alone for an early dinner.

Just as he wrapped a piece of pipius claw in a gladst leaf, the ship’s intercom came to life.

“Ensign Daniel, Son of Tigranian, report to the sparring room immediately!”

“What now?” he asked, leaving the rest of his meal in front of him. He proceeded down the corridor. Captain Torlek stood in front of the doors to the sparring room.

“Hello, Daniel,” Torlek said with a grin.

“Sir?” he replied, confused. “I’m due on the bridge in ten minutes, but do you need me for someth…”

“I’ve instructed Lieutenant K’vresh to cover your shift tonight,” Torlek said, holding up a hand. “It’s the least he can do for sitting out the battle yesterday. Follow me.” He stepped into the sparring room and Daniel followed. He froze as soon as he saw what was inside.

Two raised platforms stood in the middle of the darkened room with an aisle in between. Four warriors stood on each platform, each carrying a meter long metal staff capped with an electrical prod: painsticks. The rest of the Sk’oh’s bridge crew stood on the other end of the aisle. Even Kentok was there, his arm in a sling.

A brazier burned like a small furnace directly next to the door lighting Torlek’s face in the shadows.

“Yesterday, you fought as a warrior. You saved my life, and I am in your debt. Perhaps, I can pay back some of that by giving you something you desire. That is, if you still want it.”

“Yes,” was all Tigranian could reply.

“I cannot guarantee you will survive.”

“Then I die a warrior.”

“Very well,” Torlek said, turning toward the rest of the assembly. “A Klingon’s Ascension Ceremony is one of the most important days in his entire life. Traditionally, the ceremony is conducted with his closest friends and family present. No one should go through this trial without their house standing with them, and today, Daniel, your house will stand with you.”

Torlek drew his d’k tahg and sliced open his right palm.

“SoS jIH batlh SoH…” He said before handing the bloody dagger to Tigranian.

“SoS jIH batlh SoH.” Daniel repeated as he cut open his own hand. He passed the d’k tahg back to Torlek. The captain wiped the blade clean on his sleeve and put it back into its sheath. He raised his bloody hand and Daniel grabbed it. The blood of the house of Torlek flowed into his own veins.

Torlek released his grip and grabbed Daniel’s left sleeve. He ripped it off effortlessly. Without a word, he reached for the brazier and pulled out a red hot branding iron. He pushed the glowing end into Tigranian’s flesh. It sizzled as Daniel gritted his teeth against the pain. When Torlek pulled it away, two downward facing claws were forever burned into his flesh.

“Welcome to the House of Torlek, Qapla’.”

He placed the iron back into the fire and walked to the other end of the room. Daniel now stood alone.

“Begin!” Torlek commanded. Daniel stepped forward between the first two warriors.

“Today I am a warrior,” Daniel said, facing the group. “I must show you my heart. I travel the River of Blood!” At that moment, the first two warriors thrust their painsticks into his side. The electrical shock was so strong, every muscle in his body clenched in a knot. Fire ripped through his innards. After what seemed like eternity, they pulled back. Tigranian tasted a warm, metallic ooze in the back of this throat. He spit a stream of blood across the room and almost passed out, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. Kentok moved forward with genuine concern, but Torlek held him back.

“No, he must complete this or die in the attempt,” The captain whispered.

Daniel took two steps forward, caught his breath, and shouted as loud as he could.

“The battle is mine! I crave only the blood of the enemy!”

The next two warriors shoved their painsticks into his ribs. The fire caused his vision to darken and blur. His legs wavered and he could barely steady himself to take the next steps forward. He took two massive breaths and screamed so loudly it echoed around the room.

“THE BILE OF THE VANQUISHED FLOWS OVER MY HANDS!”

The next two painsticks came. Daniel’s legs finally gave out. He collapsed to the ground on the verge of death. With every bit of his will, he pulled himself to his feet and took one more step forward.

The last two painsticks sent him back to the deck. Blood poured from his nose, mouth, and eyes. He put his still bleeding hand forward, gripped the ground, and pulled towards Torlek, not sure if he was alive or dead. However, it didn’t matter to him anymore. He was a warrior.

Torlek rushed forward and reached down to help him up.

“Ghobe’!” Tigranian shouted, refusing any help. He pulled one leg under him and pushed himself into a standing position. He saw his blood drip down from his face and splatter against the ground. As he was still trying to catch his breath, Torlek addressed the rest of the crew.

“The Human, Daniel Tigranian, died here today,” he said with steel resolve in his voice. “From this moment onward, when you look at him, you will only see a Klingon warrior: Daniel, Son of Tigranian of the House of Torlek: my brother.”

The next morning, the bridge doors opened. Despite his bloodshot eyes and gaunt face, Daniel confidently stepped forward. The rest of the crew looked at him and paused. He was wearing full Klingon armor, a d’k tahg and disruptor on his hip. The crest of the House of Torlek shined from his fur-covered left arm.

Torlek turned around as Commander Kentok stepped towards the newly minted SuvwI’. He stood before Daniel who raised his chin to look him in the eyes. Kentok reached up with his good arm and grabbed Daniel’s armor. He shook it to make sure it was adjusted correctly. When he was satisfied, he nodded.

“Take your station.”

“Yes, Sir,” Daniel said, moving to the weapons console.

“Son of Tigranian,” Kentok said after a few moments.

“Yes, Sir?”

“If you are going to wear that armor, grow a beard. With that clean-shaven face, you look like a newborn LIngta’ still nursing at its mother’s teat.”

The entire bridge crew laughed…including Daniel.

Outskirts of the Korma System: Klingon Occupied Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53189.4

Two weeks of searching the Lissepian trade routes and nothing to show for it. Two star systems went over with everything at the ghargh’s disposal: subspace probes, active sensors, even tachyon scans to check for traces of cloaked ships. Perhaps this was a dead end.

Tigranian had kept Torlek informed with regular reports. The general had as much luck as Daniel in making contact with the chancellor. Wherever he was, he was keeping clear of the normal Klingon Defense Forces. Torlek instead had been employing the Suk’Valt in attacking starbases, fleets, and supply convoys supporting Morjod’s forces. In yesterday’s transmission, Torlek said he felt more like a privateer than an honored warrior. When Daniel requested permission to break off the search and join him in Klingon space, however, Torlek flatly refused.

“No, brother, you can do more good there still searching for the witch’s sources outside of the empire. Another battlecruiser would be of little use now.”

Tigranian often disagreed with the head of his house, but he had always obeyed…almost. He knew the ghargh’s crew was getting restless. Unlike a Federation ship, Klingons thirsted for battle, and this glorified oogh hunt was fast losing its appeal. They needed blood and quickly. Their loyalty for Torlek was admirable, but there were already occasional grumblings in the lower ranks that Morjod’s appeals for a return to conquest and glory might not be so terrible. Of course, the Qas DevwI’ made quick work of those remarks before they got out of hand. However, Tigranian knew even his seasoned noncommissioned officers couldn’t keep Klingon warriors under control forever especially with a Human in the captain’s chair.

“Daniel HoD,” Loktan, the operations officer said. “I’m picking up a slight subspace variance in sector three.”

“Analysis?” Tigranian said, turning towards him.

“It is very faint. However, it could be the plasma coil of an older cloaking device.”

Tigranian knew that Morjod’s forces were bold and full of desire to engage enemy ships. He also knew they would be even more anxious for a fight against a vessel with a Federation citizen in command. For that very reason, they had been running loud and decloaked for the entire search.

“Helm, change course to 193 mark 3.”

“Sir?” Atvos, the helmsman asked.

“Are you deaf, helmsman?”

“No, Sir!”

“Then do it!” Atvos complied. “Loktan, status of the subspace variance.”

“It has just changed course to match, Sir.”

“Finally,” Tigranian thought as a grin crept across his face.

“Sir, incoming message from General Torlek.”

“Loktan, keep monitoring the variance. Put the general on main viewer.”

An image of Torlek appeared on the screen.

“My brother, glorious news! We have found the chancellor and he has located the traitor and his mother on Boreth!”

“Boreth, the planet of Kahless’ return?”

“Yes, the same! Martok is calling all loyal Klingons to his banner. The final battle is about to begin.”

“We are four days away at maximum warp. We will join you as soon as we can.” He flashed Torlek a look. Tigranian knew that ship out there was probably monitoring the transmission. He didn’t want to reveal he knew it was out there. Luckily for Tigranian, the Tova’dok between them was still strong.

“Good, my brother. We will arrive at Boreth in two days. We will keep a few honorless glob flies alive for you…if we can. Torlek out.”

“Sir,” Loktan interjected. “The subspace variance is changing course and pulling away at full impulse. I believe they heard the general and may be preparing to leave the system.”

“Options?”

“If we transmit a reverse tachyon pulse from the main deflector, it could destabilize their cloak as long as they are within 3000 kellicams.”

“Do it.”

“Main deflector charging. Initiating burst in five seconds.”

“They’ll be out of range in two seconds! Helm, match course and speed of the variance.”

“Understood!”

“Firing the burst.” A pulse of green light emanated from the ghargh’s deflector. It struck an object which slowly transitioned into view. It was a D12-class bird-of-prey.

“Sir, they’re raising shields and charging weapons.”

“Alert status one!” Tigranian ordered. “Shields up, power to forward disruptors, and arm photon torpedoes.”

“I’m detecting a large quantity of biomimetic gel in their cargo hold.”

“Got you,” Tigranian muttered. “Hail them.”

An angry Klingon appeared on screen.

“So it is true,” he said through a scowl. “This is how far Martok has let the empire fall. A Human, barely more than jeghpu’wI, in command of a Klingon ship. How do you warriors tolerate such dishonor?” He cried out to the rest of the ghargh’s crew. “Kill this worthless petaQ and join the banner of Morjod! Your emperor needs you!”

“My emperor,” Loktan sneered at the screen, “is Kahless. Yours is a traitorous fraud who will die very shortly.”

“Fine, you all die at our hands now!”

“You speak very bravely, but my ship is far more powerful than yours.” The other Klingon began laughing. Daniel felt something was wrong. “What is so funny?”

“That you think you can win against me, Human.”

Three more ships decloaked behind the bird-of-prey: all K’Tinga-class battlecruisers.

Tigranian looked at his tactical display as they moved to encircle him, but did not display a hint of concern. He looked back to the Klingon on the screen.

“Before this day is over, I am going to kill you.”

“Now YOU speak very bravely, Human.”

“Sir!” Loktan said from behind him. “Another ship is decloaking 10,000 kellicams to port!”

“Another one?” Tigranian thought. He knew he was way overmatched as it was, but now his bluff was just looking ridiculous. “What type? Bird-of-prey? Battlecruiser?”

“Federation!”

The Pershing pulled alongside the ghargh and raised its shields.

“The Starfleet captain is hailing both us and Morjod’s ships.”

“Put her onscreen,” Tigranian said with a smirk. The viewscreen split and Annabeth’s face appeared next to the other Klingon’s image.

“Klingon vessels, this is Commander Annabeth Geist of the Federation Starship Pershing. Drop your shields and power down your weapons. Federation and Cardassian constabulary authorities are en route to take you into custody for violation of Article XII of the Khitomer Accords and Article VIII of the Treaty of Bajor.”

“This is the Klingon Zone, Human!” The other Klingon spit at her. “We are representatives of the legitimate ruler of the Klingon Empire!”

Tigranian snorted in derision.

“In any case, this is none of your concern! Leave now or be destroyed with this ko’tal.”

“You’re wrong, Captain. It is very much my concern. My science officer has detected large amounts of illegal biomimetic and biogenic compounds in your cargo holds. Under the authority of the Treaty of Bajor, which was signed by the Klingon government, I have the right to confiscate your cargo and detain you. Any attempt to prevent that operation would be unwise on your part.”

“Kahless bless you and your sensor array, Laria,” Tigranian thought. At that moment the Klingon cut off the transmission. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Annabeth,” he said with a bit of annoyance.

“Sir, I…” Annabeth began.

“Later, when people aren’t trying to kill us. Take up a position on our left flank. They’ll try to get behind us.

“Yes, Sir,” Annabeth said as she disappeared from the screen.

“The bird-of-prey and one cruiser are coming to bear on us. The other two cruisers are heading to flank the Pershing,” Loktan said.

“Come right to 270 mark 3. Lock disruptors on the cruiser. Target their impulse drives and fire!”

Green bolts shot forward from the ghargh’s cannons and blasted into the nearest battle cruiser.

“Damage to their starboard impulse drive. Their aft shields are at 80 percent.” At that moment, the bird-of-prey fired a spread of torpedoes. They slammed into the ghargh’s superstructure causing the whole ship to rock violently.

“Report!”

“Heavy damage to the aft conning tower. Emergency bulkheads have sealed. Dorsal shields at 45 percent.”

“Keep firing on the cruiser! Once we have them disabled, shift to the bird-of-prey!”

“Understood!”

Daniel looked at his tactical display. The Pershing was taking a beating, but still holding her own. Katie had already landed several withering phaser hits that were starting to destabilize the battlecruisers’ structural integrity fields. She then fired a spread of quantum torpedoes which blew a warp nacelle off the battlecruiser to their port.

Another blast of disruptor fire caught the ghargh. A console exploded at the aft of the bridge.

“Hull breach on deck seven! Dispatching damage repair crews.”

“Helm, change course 285 mark 6, full impulse. Weapons, prepare a spread of torpedoes, deactivate arming safeties and prepare them for point detonation!”

“Sir!” Loktan exclaimed.

“DO IT!”

The ghargh charged forward and then turned 90 degrees: closing to point blank range.

“BaH!” Tigranian shouted. Loktan fired three torpedoes at the battlecruiser less than ten kellicams away. “Roll right, emergency thrusters!” The ghargh barrel-rolled away from the enemy cruiser as the torpedoes found their mark. Without distance safeties, they exploded with their full yield directly into the enemy’s rear quarter. The warheads exploded in a brilliant fireball that rocked the entire ship.

“Enemy ship destroyed. Our warp core is offline, major damage in the secondary hull! The bird-of-prey is still closing.”

Tigranian looked at his display. He evened the odds a little more, but it was at a cost. His ship was damaged and could no longer escape. The Pershing was still grappling with the other two cruisers that had also closed to point blank range with Annabeth.

“Lock disruptors on the bird-of-prey and fire!”

The ghargh and the bird-of-prey charged directly at each other, each firing as fast as they could. They passed each other keel to keel, barely avoiding a collision.

“Forward shields down to 40 percent.”

“Status of the bird-of-prey?”

“Their forward shields are at 50 percent. Minor damage to their port disruptor array.” Suddenly another shockwave hit the ghargh. The battlecruiser with the damaged nacelle had exploded after another torpedo barrage from the Pershing.

“Come about! Arm another spread of torpedoes and prepare to engage!” The ghargh turned around to face their foe just in time to see the bird-of-prey fire two torpedoes directly at their bow. With their forward shields weakened, it would cripple them. “Evasive” but Tigranian knew it was too late.

Suddenly, a gray streak appeared in front of them as the Pershing raced between the two ships. It took the full force of the torpedoes on its ventral armor. The starship rocked violently, but was able to keep moving.

“Damage to the Pershing’s primary deflector array. Their phasers are offline, but their structural integrity is holding,” Loktan said to reassure Tigranian.

“Hold together, Blackjack,” Tigranian silently prayed before he saw the bird-of-prey still directly ahead. “Fire full spread of torpedoes.”

Three glowing orbs shot from the ghargh and impacted on the bird-of-prey’s weakened shields. In an instant, it detonated into a pile of debris.

“Status on the third battlecruiser?” Loktan activated the sensors.

“Intact, but adrift. They are completely disabled. The Pershing is hailing.”

“Onscreen. Annabeth, is everyone alright?”

“Couple of minor scrapes and bruises, but nothing that Alex can’t cure with a dermal regenerator and a few lollipops. Though Mr. Scharr is already complaining about all the repairs he’s gonna have to make.”

“HoD, what is a ‘lollipop’?” Atvos asked Daniel, confused.

“It’s not important,” Tigranian said before turning back to the screen. Annabeth was chuckling. “I suppose I owe you one.”

“You could at least begin with ‘thank you for saving my life.’”

Tigranian glanced around to his Klingon crew. He knew he couldn’t be as emotional as he wanted to be.

“Thank you for saving my life,” he said with a little reserve. “However, I do have to ask. How long have you been following me?”

“Only a few days,” she said with a grin. “Things were pretty uneventful in the Federation Zone and if I remember correctly, Admiral Murphy’s orders were only not to leave Cardassian space.”

Tigranian couldn’t help but smile.

“Now, if I also remember correctly, the general’s transmission said you are due at Boreth, are you not?”

“We are, but our warp core is offline.”

“Engineering reports it will be repaired in four hours, sir.” Loktan added. “We can proceed at full impulse.”

“Very well,” Tigranian said. “Lay in a course.” He turned back to Annabeth. “Tell the crew how grateful I am, and tell Phil I’m impressed with that little bit of flying. I’ll see if I can get the ‘Lexington Maneuver’ added to the Advanced Tactics curriculum at the academy.”

“He heard you, Sir. Good luck.”

The ghargh had barely made it out of the system when they received another transmission from General Torlek. The chancellor’s forces were victorious on Boreth. All had seemed lost until a mysterious figure appeared on the battlefield carrying the Sword of Kahless, the legendary weapon that had been missing over five centuries. Then, the battle had turned as if the sword itself was guiding the fate of the Klingon people. The Hur’q fell, Morjod was slain, and Gothmara was dead. The empire was safe.

Pravash Belt: Klingon/Cardassian Border
Stardate: 53190.1

Tigranian sat back in his ready room’s chair with a mug of raktajino. He was still getting used to being back in Starfleet uniform. He also kept rubbing his newly clean-shaven face. Daniel had to admit, there were times when he missed the beard.

“I suppose I should welcome you back from leave, Dan,” Admiral Murphy said from his monitor.

“It was a fun trip, Pete. General Torlek was even kind enough to meet us at the border to pick up the ghargh and transfer me back to the Pershing.”

“Do you have any idea how angry Starfleet Headquarters was when they found out you left?”

“The 20 communiques I had waiting for me when I got back was a pretty good indicator.”

“It is very lucky for you that Chancellor Martok issued a personal statement of gratitude and commendation to you and the entire crew of the Pershing. He said it showed the Federation’s commitment to the well-being of the Klingon people and the strength of our alliance. It seems to have calmed the council and Starfleet down for now.”

“Gotta love politicians,” Tigranian said, taking another sip from his mug.

“Still I wouldn’t go upsetting Admiral Paris for a while.”

“I’ll be sure I lay low for at least a few weeks.”

“How did Annabeth like the big chair? Was she willing to hand the command codes back over?”

“Took a little convincing, but I finally managed to wrestle them away from her.”

“She’s a fine officer, Dan.”

“They all are, Pete. I’m lucky to have them.”

“Yes, you are. Just be sure you remember that next time something’s rotten on Qo’noS…”

The Pershing flew side by side with the HoS and the rest of the Suk’Valt Strike Fleet. The Klingons would be returning to Ty’Gokor in the morning, but tonight, they celebrated. Luckily, for the Starfleet personnel, most of the brawling and drunken mayhem had been confined to Torlek’s ships. By 2100 hours, only one Klingon remained aboard the Pershing.

 Qoy qeylIs puqloD!

Qoy puqbe’pu’!

yoHbogh malthbogh je’ SuvwI’

Sey’moHchu’ may’ ‘Iw

maSuv manong ‘ej maHoHchu’

nI’be’yInmaj ‘ach wovqu’!

batlh maH ghbej’jyoqIjDaq

vavpu’ma’ DImuvpa’reH maSuvtaH

Qu’ DamevQo’ maSuvtaH, ma’ov

Tigranian and Torlek both screamed in triumph as they finished the final verse of “The Warrior’s Anthem.” With another grunt they slammed their chests into each other, sending two empty bottles of bloodwine careening into the carpet of Tigranian’s quarters.

“To Chancellor Martok!” Torlek said, drunkenly raising his tankard into the air. “True leader of the Klingon People, Hero of Boreth, and Wielder of the Sword of Kahless!”

“To the chancellor!” Tigranian shouted before both men drank.

“My cup is now empty,” Torlek said through his intoxicated haze. “You’re failing in your duties as a host, Captain.” Tigranian forced himself up from the table, stumbled over to a cabinet, and pulled out another silver bottle.

“I was saving this for a special occasion, General,” he said, returning to his seat and picking up his d’k tahg. He quickly sliced the cork off in one clean motion and poured the deep red liquid into each of their metal tankards, “but since you challenged my hospitality…”

“Toasting victory with your brother and head of your house does not count as a special occasion to you, you toDSaH?” Torlek picked up his tankard and took a sip. As soon as the wine hit his tongue, he understood.

“Is this?”

“The last of my 2309. It’s a little hard to come by in the Federation.”

“I am honored, my brother,” Torlek said, taking another sip. “However, I think I have another case sitting in my cellar on Qo’noS I can send you. Though Elessa would probably cut off my moQDu’ if I gave it to you. She was saving it as well.”

“And what occasion would the Mistress of the House of Torlek have to celebrate? Your death?” Torlek laughed as he leaned in close. “That woman would not celebrate my death. She still craves shattering my bones in our marriage bed like our first night together.” It was Tigranian’s turn to laugh. “No, she is saving it for the day you finally stop being such a little Mak’dar and bring her a woman to judge!”

“This again…” Tigranian muttered, taking a sip of his own wine.

“Yes, this again, Daniel. A Klingon warrior has three sacred duties: bring honor to his house, bring honor to himself, and bear sons for the empire! So far, you have only achieved two of those.”

“You’re forgetting that I’ve met your wife, Torlek. Elessa would eat any woman I brought her alive. She’s the only Klingon I’ve ever met stronger than you.”

“plaQta’, and you know it! Elessa cares for you far more than she cares for me. You could bring home a mangy targ and she would welcome the creature into our house with pride.” 

Tigranian slammed his tankard back down on the table.

“Do not say such things! It brings dishonor to you and our mistress! No, my brother, when I finally bring a woman to Qo’noS, she will be worthy of our house and bring honor to our name! Until then, I will continue to bring that name honor on my own,” 

Torlek leaned back and smiled.

“Of that I am sure, Daniel. However, don’t wait too long. Honor gives little comfort to a man alone in his home, and in his heart.”

That brought Tigranian pause.

“Very true…” he said trailing off. “That maxim? It sounds familiar. Did Kahless say it?”

Torlek chuckled.

“Perhaps, I don’t know. It does sound like something befitting of him, though.” 

Tigranian raised his tankard.

“To my future wife, future daughter of the House of Torlek, and mother to my children wherever she might be!”

“To your wife, the mangy targ!” They both erupted in laughter and drank.

On the other side of the wall, the laughter drowned out the sound of Annabeth, Alex, and Laria’s current choice of movie. Katie was absent. General Torlek and the captain were singing, yelling, and arguing so loudly, the three of them could hear every word through the tritanium bulkhead. They just couldn’t understand anything because the entire conversation was in Klingon.

“Sounds like they just opened another bottle of bloodwine…” Alex said, rolling her eyes.

“How much longer can they possible go? They’ve already been at it for hours,” Laria said.

“Who knows with Klingons?” Annabeth said. “They’ll probably keep drinking till morning.”

“Should we move this to my quarters?” Alex said, getting up. “We could check on Katie.”

“Yeah, let’s go, but I already checked on Katie earlier. She’s not really in the mood for people tonight. Computer, monitor off.”

As the women got to their feet and headed for the corridor, Laria turned and glanced back at the wall.

“What could possibly be so funny?”

Katie lay on her bed mindlessly playing with the dog tags around her neck. She stared out the window towards the stars, lost in her thoughts. A full glass of Aldebaran whiskey sat untouched on the nightstand. She couldn’t stand the stuff, but it was his favorite…

“Lieutenant Stone, you have a transmission from Earth. It’s coded personal.” Katie wasn’t surprised. She knew she would call today even though she had asked her not to. Suddenly, she felt extremely selfish. It was a terrible day for her as well. The least she could do for the woman who was almost her mother-in-law was to take her call.

“In my quarters,” she announced as she moved to her terminal. The image of a smiling gray-haired Human woman appeared on the screen.

“Hello, Pam,” Katie said, trying to sound cheerful.

“Katie, I know you said not to call, but I had to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Pam.”

“I am worried about you, Katie. You are young, intelligent, beautiful, and still have a life to live. Please tell me you’re not spending the evening alone.”

 “It’s only been two years today, Pam.”

“Exactly, it’s been two years! How much longer are you going to punish yourself for something that wasn’t your fault?”

Katie rubbed her eyes.

“I guess I’m just not ready to let him go yet.”

“Okay, I can see you’re not in much of a mood to talk, but I’ll leave you with this,” Pam paused, fighting back her own tears. “My son loved you very much, which means I love you very much. He didn’t get you to that escape pod so you could spend the rest of your life suffering on his account.”

Katie fought back the urge to scream.

“Thank you for calling, Pam.”

“Thank you for picking up. Please visit the next time you’re on Earth.”

“I will. Bye.” Katie cut off the transmission and then punched the wall.

The door chimed. She ignored it. It chimed again.

“Unless you outrank me, go away.”

The door chimed a third time.

“Dammit, the ship better be on fire!” She walked to the door and opened it.

Phil was standing there with a six-pack of gold cans and a flat, white box.

“Go away, Phil.” She moved to press the “close” button, but he put a foot inside. “I will punch you in the face.”

“My face’s structural integrity aside, I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I let you be alone tonight. I brought supplies,” he said, holding up the items in his hands.

“Beer and pizza? Really?”

“Everyone loves beer and pizza.”

“I can’t deal with this tonight. Seriously…LEAVE.” She was about to physically throw him into the corridor when he interjected.

“I am here as a friend, nothing more. We can eat, drink, talk, watch SFN, tell jokes, cry, scream, shout, or just sit there in terrible, awkward silence. It doesn’t matter. I just don’t want you to go through tonight by yourself.” It caused her to pause. “And just to prove that I don’t have any nefarious ulterior motives,” he said holding up the cans, “this is literally the cheapest, lowest-quality swill the replicator was willing to produce. Any woman I was interested in would be disgusted if I brought this to her. You and I, however, are brothers and it would be an honor to drink this with you.”

He actually managed to get a laugh out of Katie.

“Also, this pizza has only one topping. One that most people hate: mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms are my favorite…”

“That is an incredible coincidence,” he said, feigning surprise. Katie turned and walked back inside her quarters. Phil stood in the doorway not sure if he should follow.

“Well, you might as well come in,” she said over her shoulder. “Pizza’s getting cold.”

4

WHAT HAPPENS...

Iktarash Cluster: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53208.4

“We’re stopping at DS9 for a quick layover before heading on to Cardassian space tomorrow,” Murphy said from his guest quarters on the USS Bogata. “I’ll see you on Cardassia Prime in three days.”

Tigranian leaned back in his office chair and deeply sighed.

“Wow, thanks for making me feel welcome, Dan,” Murphy said sarcastically.

“No, Admiral, it’s not that,” Tigranian replied somewhat apologetically. “The mission is fine, and it’ll be great to see you in person, but you know where they’ll want to go after we dock…”

“I do, and I don’t see a problem with it. You’ll have the time, and at least your crew deserves it. You, I’m not so sure of.”

“Are you sure you won’t order us to patrol the Badlands or something a little less risky?”

“Are you sure you aren’t being a touch melodramatic?”

“Oh not at all, Pete. I’ve been in Starfleet long enough to know what that place does to people, and trust me, nothing good will come of this."

“As you were,” Tigranian said before Annabeth had a chance to call the wardroom to attention. He took his seat at the conference table for the operations briefing.

“So, Sir,” Annabeth said jokingly, “what garden spot does Starfleet Command want us to patrol next?”

“That moon orbiting Gorvanna last week wasn’t so bad. At least it had an oxygen atmosphere,” Katie said with a smirk.

“Oh, I found the most incredible quartz formation about two kilometers beneath the surface on the sensors. It was the size of an entire city block! I was even able to beam a sample aboard. I have it down in the science lab and–”

“Lieutenant Amira,” Mr. Scharr said, cutting Laria off, “I mean this with the greatest possible respect for your scientific curiosity, but no one cares.”

“Be nice, Commander Scharr. Lieutenant Amira was merely hoping to expand your knowledge of geology,” Tigranian said, raising an eyebrow at Laria.

“I thought it was cool…” she muttered a bit crestfallen.

“Both the geology of Class–N moons and that of ‘niceness’ are not extraordinarily relevant to my people, Sir,” Scharr countered.

“Yes, we know,” Tigranian replied.

“Andoria: come for the blue ice, stay for the blue curmudgeons,” Alex quipped and the table chuckled. Scharr’s antennae curled in annoyance, but he didn’t say anything.

“Getting back to the matter at hand,” Tigranian continued, “In three days we will arrive at Cardassia Prime. The new Federation embassy is hosting a white tie gala for its grand opening. Distinguished visitors from the entire quadrant will be there, including Prime Minister Garak. We’re all invited, so get your mess dress ready.” A collective groan emanated from the senior staff. “That’s not all. The morning after the reception, Prime Minister Garak will travel to Earth for a summit with the Federation President to discuss further aid in rebuilding Cardassia.” Tigranian paused. “We will carry him as far as Starbase 12, where he will board the luxury starliner, Queen Mary 6, for the remainder of the trip as a guest of the United Federation of Planets.”

“Did you say ‘Starbase 12’?” Alex said, perking up.

“I did.”

“How long will we have at Starbase 12?” Katie asked, gripping the table. Tigranian sighed.

“We’re not due back in Cardassian space for five days.”

“That’s enough time for one, maybe even two nights!” Phil said.

“I haven’t said you can go yet,” Tigranian said sternly.

“Oh please, Sir,” Annabeth said, turning to him. “I haven’t been since before the war and the crew could use a little fun. It’s barely a light-year away from the starbase.” Tigranian looked around the table. With the exceptions of Mr. Scharr, who was never excited about anything not involving his engines, and Laria who was still sulking a bit after the quartz fiasco, everyone was staring at him. Their eyes begged for a “yes”.

“Okay, one night. However, I’m going to provide some adult supervision. We can’t get stupid.” A cheer erupted in the wardroom. “Mr. Scharr, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stay onboard to ensure things stay intact while we’re gone.”

“I prefer it that way, Sir. I have three wives back on Andoria and each one would kill me separately if I went.”

Tigranian looked over and saw Annabeth about to explode.

“Okay, Annabeth, I know you want to say it, so just say it.” She raised her hands in the air, closed her eyes, and shouted:

“RISA, BABY!

Federation Embassy: Cardassia Prime
Stardate: 53209.1

The site of the new Federation Embassy on Cardassia Prime had been chosen primarily because it was the structure that Starfleet’s Corps of Engineers could repair the fastest. Every other major building in the capital city had been decimated in the wake of the Jem’Hadar’s final rampage in the closing hours of the war.

The embassy had been the home of a large art museum in the days before the Dominion took control of the empire, but after most of the priceless masterpieces were destroyed in the conflagration, the new Occupation Authority decided it could better be served as a house of diplomacy. The Cardassian Provisional Government had little choice in the matter.

In the former great exhibition hall, now repurposed into a ballroom, a string quartet began the light notes of Lincke’s “Wedding Dance” to add a bit of levity to what was at best an awkward occasion. Cardassians, who a few short years ago had been one of the proudest, most arrogant races in the galaxy, now stood shoulder to shoulder with their conquerors and sipped cocktails in a building that once was a monument to their decimated culture. In the center of the crowd of local officials, Federation diplomats, Starfleet brass, and representatives of the various other allied powers, the crew of the Pershing and Admiral Murphy stood dressed in their finest.

“Might as well spread out and mingle a little bit, Ladies and Gents,” Murphy said, turning to the Pershing’s staff. “You all look so uncomfortable you’re making the other guests nervous.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a bar around here somewhere, Sir.” Phil said. “A little social lubricant couldn’t possibly hurt the situation.” He stepped off into the crowd.

“Definitely,” Alex said following. Katie and Scharr just shrugged their shoulders and left as well.

“You know they can crew a starship, Dan, but you might want to work on their social skills,” Murphy said, leaning close to Tigranian.

“Oh, social skills aren’t their problem, Pete. Tact maybe…”

“Either way, this is part of being an officer. It’s not all ‘first contact and phaser fire’.”

“Still, I think it’s hard for them to wrap their head around the fact that less than four months ago, these people were the enemy.”

“The war is over, Dan. The time for smiles, friendly anecdotes, and handshakes has begun.”

“Kahless, help us all.”

Admiral Murphy just shook his head before another admiral waved at him.

“Pete! How’re you doing?” he called from across the room.

“Mike!” Murphy said, disappearing into the mass of people.

Annabeth and Tigranian flashed each other a look before turning to Laria. She stood silently looking down at the floor. The young Bajoran reached up and pulled on the starched collar of her white jacket.

“What wrong, L? Not your kind of get-together?” Tigranian joked.

“It’s just I’d never thought I’d be on Cardassia Prime told to make chit-chat with Cardassian politicians. It makes me feel…” she trailed off, trying to hide the disgust behind her face.

He leaned in close enough for her to whisper.

“It’s okay. You can be honest with me,” he said reassuringly.

“There’s a very negative stigma among Bajorans about young women who play nice with Cardassians. I know. I’m a Starfleet officer and should be above such things but it makes me feel dirty. It’s like I’m being forced to pretend everything that happened to Bajor has been forgotten.”

“Laria,” Tigranian said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Just because you’re in Starfleet doesn’t mean you have to suppress what you feel. If anything, your feelings can make you a better officer. You just have to know when to follow them.” He leaned in even closer. “Plus, I guarantee you now that we’re here, the Federation will never let the Cardassians forget what happened to Bajor.”

“What nefarious dealings do we have going on here?” a chipper voice called out approaching them. It was a Cardassian in an artfully tailored earth tuxedo and white bow tie. The emblem of the new provisional government glimmered brightly on his lapel.

“Prime Minister Elim Garak of the Cardassian Union,” he said knowing full well they already knew who he was. He sharply extended his hand, “and you must be Captain Daniel Tigranian of the USS Pershing. When I saw you over here, I had to personally thank you for all the work you’ve been doing to keep the new Cardassia safe from anarchy.”

“I’m sure the tales of our exploits are grossly exaggerated, Prime Minister.” Tigranian said politely.

“Please, Sir, don’t be humble. Cardassia owes much to you and the rest of Starfleet.” He turned to Annabeth. “And you must be Commander Geist. Welcome.”

“I’m very impressed, Prime Minister. You have a gift for faces.”

“Oh, don’t be. It’s one of my many talents. Indeed, I make it my business to know all the relevant players in Cardassian affairs.” Next he turned to a very uncomfortable Laria.

“Enchanted,” he said with a slight bow of his head.

“Prime Minister, may I introduce my science officer, Lieutenant Amira Laria.”

“Very nice to meet you, Sir,” she said awkwardly shaking his hand.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Lieutenant. I’d also like to extend my personal gratitude for allowing me use of your ship on my upcoming trip to Earth. You’re doing so much to help get Cardassia back on her feet.” Tigranian swore he saw the hairs on the back of Laria’s neck stand up at that statement.

As a Cardassian cocktail waitress passed carrying a tray of champagne flutes filled with a viscous brown liquid, Garak waved her over.

“Now, as a symbol of our new friendship, you must try a glass of kanar, Captain. It promises to be one of our most profitable exports helping our recovering economy.” He grabbed two flutes and passed one to Tigranian.

“Thank you, Sir,” Tigranian said, barely masking his revulsion, “but I’ve never been much of a kanar drinker.”

“Oh, I insist, Captain. I admit, it is an acquired taste, but once you grow fond of it, you will never want anything else. Cheers,” he said, tapping Tigranian’s glass. Both men took a sip. Somehow, Tigranian managed to keep it down. “Now, I’m sorry but I must continue making my rounds. So wonderful to meet you all.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Tigranian audibly gagged.

“Oh dear lord,” he said, holding his fist over his mouth. “It tastes like Worcestershire sauce mixed with straight vodka…” Annabeth chuckled and Laria looked concerned.

“Looks like we finally found the mighty warrior’s weakness,” Annabeth said. Tigranian waved another waitress over and quickly put the glass on her tray. She looked at him with annoyance, but said nothing as she disappeared back into the crowd.

“Could this night get any more surreal?” Tigranian mused out loud.

“Captain Tigranian, we meet again,” said a familiar voice from behind them.

“Looks like the answer to that is ‘yes’,” Annabeth whispered before they turned around.

“Promagistrate Kival…” Tigranian said using every bit of Starfleet discipline not to challenge him to a fight to the death right then and there. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yes, I’m here as a guest of the Romulan ambassador’s party. To be quite honest,” he said slowly raising his glass of blue kali-fal to his lips. “I didn’t expect to see you here either. Romulans generally don’t invite their blunt instruments to civilized social gatherings. I suppose things are different in the Federation.” 

Tigranian looked like he was about to charge forward, but a firm grip on his wrist from Annabeth kept him back.

“I may be a blunt instrument, Promagistrate, but at least I have a sense of honor.”

“Ah, honor, yes I know of your Klingon fetish. Well, I do believe there is an old Earth saying I heard once that applies, something about ‘if you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas’. Is that how it goes?”

“Let it go, Sir,” Annabeth whispered through a feigned smile.

“I believe you would know, Promagistrate. How are the Orion and Cardassian fleas you keep in your company?”

Kival took another sip of kali-fal and smiled as the scent burned through his nostrils. “Well, get in what pathetic and ultimately pointless jabs you will. I know my place in this galaxy, Captain. At least I don’t hypocritically gallivant around the stars pretending I’m on a mission of peace, tolerance, and goodwill while I command a vessel powerful enough to wipe an entire planet clear of life and named for a Human who was notorious for his cruelty to minorities even in his own barbaric age.”

Tigranian breathed in sharply.

“One day, we’ll meet up there again. I just hope for your sake, you’ll still have the senate, Tal Shiar, and a squadron of warbirds to hide behind.”

Kival chuckled and leaned in close.

“I look forward to it, Captain.”

As the guests were enjoying the last few bites of their evening meal in the massive dining salon, the Federation ambassador finished his remarks. Admiral Murphy sat with the other flag officers near the front of the room. The Pershing’s staff sat together at a large round table in the corner farthest away from the podium.

“I guess we’re important enough to be invited, but not important enough to see,” Katie had quipped when they found their seats.

Tigranian placed his silverware on his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“Guess he does know how to use a knife and fork when he has to,” Phil whispered to Alex next to him. She chuckled.

“I heard that, Phil,” he said with a grin. “When on Romulus, do as the Romulans do.” Tigranian looked down and saw that Annabeth had barely touched her food.

“Something wrong, Annabeth?”

“No, Sir, it’s just I’ve never had Talarian grouse before….”

“You don’t like the taste?”

“No, it tastes fine. It’s just that I don't really like a bird that has four wings and six legs. It’s kinda off-putting.”

“And now it is my distinct pleasure,” the ambassador said from the front of the room. “To introduce the leader of the Cardassian Provisional Government, a great leader, soldier, and friend of the Federation: Prime Minister Elim Garak.”

There was a round of short, yet polite applause from the crowd. Garak took the podium and began his remarks. Tigranian noticed he didn’t take out a PADD, but spoke directly from memory. He was either very well rehearsed, or this was going to be completely off the cuff. Either way, it was unsettling.

“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, it is my distinct honor to be speaking here tonight. Though the Jem’Hadar turned this symbol of Cardassian art and culture to ruins, I’m very happy to see that the Federation saw fit to repurpose it for the important task of maintaining a permanent presence on our homeworld.”

“And so it begins,” Tigranian thought to himself.

“During my long expatriation, I dreamed of what it would like to finally return home and start anew. Tomorrow, I leave Cardassia once again for Earth to speak with the Federation Council and president on what it will take to make Cardassia rise from the ashes. Thankfully, my absence will be much shorter this time.”

“I hope that the president and council will believe, as I do, that to make Cardassia great again, we must be given the resources necessary to create a new union: one free of the self-serving political entities of the past, and one with the singular desire to become productive, peaceful, and equal partners in the Alpha Quadrant.” Suddenly, a huge smile crossed the Prime Minister’s face.

“When I dream of this new Cardassia, I see Cardassian colonists living along the Federation border free from the fear of terrorist attack or military incursion. I dream of Cardassian worlds, once occupied by the Klingons, returned to the control of their original and rightful inhabitants. I dream of free and equal trade with the Romulan Empire where commodities leave our space in exchange for latinum rather than removed at the end of a disruptor rifle.” Despite his congenial tone, the tension across the entire room was palpable.

“I know this new Cardassia may be a long way off, but if all have the collective will and faith, I know it will be reality faster than we can imagine. Thank you again for inviting me tonight, and whether it is long…or short… I wish you only the best during your stay on Cardassia Prime.”

An awkward applause filtered through the room. Prime Minister Garak waved and stepped down from the podium.

“I think this evening has peaked,” Annabeth said leaning over to Tigranian.

“I just want to beam home,” Tigranian said, rubbing his eyes. The Federation ambassador quickly took the podium again, quieting the scattered clapping.

“Thank you, Prime Minister for those… inspiring words. Now, everyone, please enjoy coffee, hevrit juice, and dessert.”

Sector 25712: Federation Space
Stardate: 53209.4

“It’s good to hear you’re doing better than last visit,” Dr. Yuvich said reassuringly as she shifted her PADD from one knee to the other. Katie leaned forward on the couch across from the coffee table.

“Yeah,” she said, rubbing her eyes. These sessions where she was forced to confront her feelings were always mildly traumatic. “The meds Dr. Hunter has me on have started putting a dent in the dreams. Getting some real sleep is a big help.”

“Any side effects that I should make her aware of?”

“No, no,” Katie said, shaking her head. “Just some minor stuff. A little queasiness about 15 minutes after the hypospray, but she said that was normal.”

“That’s common with this class of antidepressant. As long as it’s not interfering in your daily life.”

“Yeah, it just means I have to wait a little longer to eat breakfast,” Katie replied trying to smile.

“Do you wanna talk to me about how things have been going with your personal life? Have you been reestablishing those key support structures like we talked about?”

“The girls have been a real help. It’s nice to have new friends.”

“Friends are very important. They can be a real resource in dark times. Also, they can help reestablish regular patterns of life.”

“I’m not sure there’s anything normal in Starfleet, Doc,” Katie said sarcastically. They both laughed.

“That is true. How about romantic interests? Have you thought about dating again?” Katie rubbed her eyes again.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” she said, more than a bit frustrated. “Everyone seems to act like if I don’t have a boyfriend that I’m somehow not complete or damaged!” Her voice started to rise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s calm down,” Dr. Yuvich said softly.

“No, I’m sorry…” Katie said trailing off.

“There’s no need for you to apologize, Katie. But if you don’t mind exploring this a little, why does that upset you so much?”

“I don’t know,” Katie said, grabbing a tissue from a box next to the couch. “My brain keeps telling me it’s just because people care about seeing me happy, but my feelings keep saying that they’re pressuring me to move on.”

“Sometimes, our brains are actually not the ones we should listen to. Are you ready to move on from Paul?” 

Katie hated when she said his name, but let it go.

“I don’t think I am. It’s like I’d be forgetting him. I’m also worried that I wouldn’t care enough for anyone else. Like I’d secretly always think they were second place.”

“That’s a big personal epiphany. I’m proud of you for making it.”

“Thanks, I guess,” she said, wiping the beginnings of tears from her eyes.

“The question of whether or not you’re ready is yours and yours alone to answer. No one should force you to do something that you don’t want to do. But I’ve gotten to know you pretty well in the last two months, Katie, and I don’t think you would ever do that to someone you truly cared about. You’re a good person. Once you learn to love yourself again, everything else will fall into place.”

“All senior staff to the bridge. We’re approaching Starbase 12,” Annabeth’s voice echoed through the intercom.

“Is that alright?” Katie asked, wiping her eyes one more time.

“We’re pretty much done for today. Same time next week?” Dr. Yuvich asked kindly.

“Yes, thank you, Doc,” Katie said getting up.

“Hang in there. It’s going to get better.”

“I know…”

Katie walked through the bridge’s turbolift doors and went straight to tactical. Everyone else was already at their stations watching the image of Starbase 12 growing larger on the viewscreen.

“Is it just me, or do all starbases look like giant floating mushrooms?” Laria mused out loud from science. The rest of the bridge crew chuckled.

“I admit there is a bit of a resemblance,” Annabeth said with a grin.

“We are really gonna have to work on your brain-to-mouth filter,” Phil said chuckling.

“Phil, don’t make me order you to pull this starship over,” Tigranian said, flashing him a look.

Suddenly, a massive ship appeared from behind the silhouette of the starbase. She was at least five hundred meters long; a gorgeous teardrop shape painted in three colors: red along the lower hull, black in the middle decks, and brilliant white along her upper promenade decks. The uppermost deck was covered with a transparent tritium dome that extended the entire length of the vessel, allowing her passengers to gaze up at the stars.

“There she is,” Tigranian said softly.

“I saw her in the Southampton Docks in geo-sync orbit over Earth, but never at sail!” Annabeth said as the RMS Queen Mary 6 turned directly towards them. “I’m so glad she’s started her Trans-Federation Crossings again since the war’s over.”

“She holds the Blue Riband, you know?” Tigranian said, turning to his first officer. “Earth to Vulcan in 91 hours.”

“That’s amazing!” Laria said, making no effort to hide her wonder.

Tigranian smiled as he pressed the intercom on his chair.

“Transporter room, is Prime Minister Garak and his entourage prepared to transfer?”

“Yes I am, Captain. Thank you again for your tremendous hospitality to me and my staff. I’ll be sure to mention it to President Zife when I meet him.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed your stay, Sir. I’m sure the crew of the Hood will be just as accommodating on your return trip,” Tigranian said, trying to keep the sound of relief out of his voice. He was ecstatic he would not have to hear the prime minister’s ridiculous anecdotes over dinner again in a few weeks.

As the Queen Mary closed in on their position, plasma flares shot upward from her port and starboard rails, bursting in huge plumes several hundred meters over her promenade: 21 in all.”

“What is she doing?” Laria asked, slightly confused.

“A very old Earth nautical tradition,” Phil said much more politely. “She’s saluting our ship since the Cardassian head of state is aboard.”

“A tradition that we will honor in kind,” Tigranian added. “Katie, ready three flares from the forward tubes. Fire when ready.”

“On the way, Sir.”

The Pershing’s own flares blasted out in the blackness and detonated overhead in brilliant white bursts. On the viewscreen, dozens of holocamera flashes appeared from underneath the starliner’s dome as the Queen Mary’s passengers recorded the event for their home albums.

“Phil, hold position here. Let them pull alongside.”

“Aye, Sir. Answering all stop.

The starliner pulled only a hundred meters away from their port nacelle.

“Sir, Queen Mary is hailing,” Katie said.

“On speakers.”

“USS Pershing this is RMS Queen Mary 6, we are prepared to receive Prime Minister Garak and party at your earliest convenience.”

“Wow, they sound even more English than Phil does,” Laria added.

The rest of the bridge crew laughed. Even if she hadn’t meant it as a joke, Laria had gotten in a jab in kind.

“Queen Mary, this is Pershing,” Tigranian replied. “Energizing now.”

“Bridge, transporter room. Prime Minister Garak and entourage have disembarked.”

“Pershing, this is Queen Mary. Transport successful. Pulling away at one quarter impulse.”

“Acknowledged, Queen Mary. Safe travels on calm seas.”

“The same to you, Pershing. Queen Mary out.”

“Channel closed, Sir.”

The entire bridge breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Alright, now that that’s over with, Phil, take us to the starbase. One half impulse.”

“Aye, Sir, one half impulse.”

Tigranian keyed his intercom again.

“All hands, this is the captain. Docking stations. Prepare for mooring operations.” A few seconds passed.

“All departments acknowledge, Sir,” Annabeth said, checking her display.

“Katie, get me the dockmaster.”

“On speakers, Sir.”

“Approach control, this is USS Pershing, ready for docking maneuver.”

“Pershing is cleared to dock.”

“Lock on.”

“Systems locked,” Phil said relaxing at the helm.

“Starbase 12, you have control.”

“Affirmative, Pershing. Enjoy the ride.”

“Pershing confirms,” Tigranian said leaning back in his chair.

The dockmaster took control of the Pershing’s helm and gently guided her towards the immense station. As they approached, two massive doors opened in the side of the space station and swallowed them up. The stars disappeared as they slowly entered the cavernous hangar bay. Two escort tugs pulled alongside and guided them to their mooring point. In just a few minutes, they stopped in one of the bays along the periphery of the circular dock.

“All stop, Sir,” Phil said, observing his controls..

“Standby gravitational and life support umbilicals,” Annabeth said.

“Moorings activated, all systems standing by.” Phil replied.

“Warp core is on standby, Sir. We’re officially parked,” Mr. Scharr said from engineering.

“Acknowledged, engineering. All hands, stand down, prepare shore leave reports for first officer review, and prepare to disembark approved personnel.” Tigranian shut down his intercom and climbed to his feet. He looked around to see his anxious crew.

“Alright,” he said, raising his hands. “The runabout leaves tomorrow at 0900 sharp. Be there or enjoy leave in your quarters. Dismissed.”

Laria lay on her bed playing with Rijo’s, her stuffed pugabeast’s, floppy ears. She watched nervously as Alex rummaged through her closet. Annabeth walked in from the living room and handed her a mug of Tarkalean tea.

“You have to have something you can wear for tomorrow night,” Alex said in frustration.

“What’s wrong with that one?” Laria said, pointing to the dress in Alex’s hands. Alex flashed her an exasperated look and pulled it out.

“Are you serious?” It was a rather demure number consisting of a dark blue circle skirt, fitted waist, and short sleeves.

“I like that one. I have a headband that matches.”

“Oh honey…” Alex said, throwing it back into the closet. “This is Risa, the party central of the Alpha Quadrant. You’ve got to dress to attract the right kind of guy.”

“And you think that dress will attract the wrong kind of guy?”

“Considering the only type of guy that dress will attract is a pedophile…yes.” Annabeth said, taking a sip of tea.

“What does it take to attract…the right kind of guy…then?” Laria asked completely out of her element.

“Well, we’re not exactly subject matter experts on that front,” Alex said, still pushing hangers aside. Annabeth chuckled into her mug. “However,” she continued, pulling another outfit out of Laria’s closet. “I think it starts when you stop dressing like you’re 12.”

Laria collapsed back onto her pillow.

“Why is this so hard?” she screamed, wrapping it around her head.

“I think that’s the question you’re supposed to be asking the guy after you’ve found the dress…” Alex said with a grin on her face. Laria picked up her pillow and threw it at her.

“Alex, that is sick!” 

The doc laughed in response.

“Okay, I give up. It’s not here.”

“I don’t want to go anymore.” Laria said. “I’m just gonna sit in my quarters and catch up on my reading.”

“Hey,” Annabeth said, rubbing Laria’s shoulders. “This is supposed to be fun. We’ll all be there. It’s just a chance to let your hair down.”

The door chimed.

“Come in,” Laria screamed toward the front entrance. Katie rushed in carrying a garment bag and a shoebox.

“Alright, ladies, relax. Once again, I’ve saved the day.”

“How exactly have you done that?” Annabeth asked incredulously.

“Because I knew that Laria’s closet looks like the wallflower section at a middle school dance.” A groan emanated from Laria. Annabeth started rubbing her back to keep her calm. Katie started unzipping the garment bag. “However, even the shyest girl in the world looks like a hundred kilos of latinum in a little…black…dress.” She pulled out a form fitting cocktail dress with a low-cut neckline.

“Now, we’re talking!” Alex said, her eyes opening wide.

“I think we have a winner,” Annabeth agreed.

“It’s a little short, don’t you think?” Laria said, more than a little concerned.

“Sweetheart, at this point, I think you need ‘a little short’.” Katie put down the dress and opened the shoe box. “Plus, with these babies you’ll be able to look Mr. Right Now in the eyes.” Inside were a pair of single-strap black heels.

“Okay, Katie, I have to hand it to you. You’ve got good taste,” Annabeth said.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this, guys…” Laria said, concerned. “I’ve never been to a place like Risa before.”

“You got nothing to worry about, L,” Katie said. “What happens on Risa, stays on Risa.”

Tigranian stepped into the shuttlebay wearing a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt and carrying an overnight bag. Mr. Scharr walked next to him still in uniform. The ship only had a skeleton crew aboard as most had already caught the starbase’s morale shuttle to Risa earlier in the morning.

“Now, I know you’ve been worried about the auxiliary plasma manifolds. This is prime time to recalibrate them. Plus, I think we have enough personnel left that we can get started on next month’s phaser emitter services.”

“Sir,” Scharr said, cutting him off. “Enjoy your shore leave. You don’t have to tell me my job. We’ve got things well in hand here. All you have to worry about is keeping the traveling roadshow out of trouble.”

“You’re right, Mr. Scharr. I apologize.”

“Of course, I’m right, Sir.”

The shuttlebay doors opened again. Phil and Katie both walked in carrying locked latinum cases.

“What exactly do we have here?” Tigranian asked.

“What we have here is a foolproof plan to liberate some Ferengi from their money. Shake!” Phil said, holding up his palm.

“And bake!” Katie said, slapping his hand. Tigranian looked concerned and confused at the same time.

“She’s ‘shake,’ and I’m ‘bake’.” Phil continued. “We find the right tongo wheel, and run it together. With us as a team, we can’t lose, especially with Katie’s secret weapon.”

“Secret weapon?”

“There’s no surer way to shake a Ferengi’s game than what we have planned, Sir,” Katie said confidently.

“It’s a good thing you don’t need money to survive in the Federation…” Tigranian muttered.

“Oh, ye of little faith, Sir,” Phil replied.

A few moments later, Annabeth, Alex, and Laria stepped into the shuttlebay carrying their bags.

“You all do realize that we’re only staying one night, right?” Tigranian asked, staring at their pile of luggage. Annabeth just flashed him a look.

“Do you realize how hard it is to get ready for one night on Risa, Sir?” Annabeth said incredulously. “Doing it right requires the right logistical support.” 

Tigranian sighed.

“Alright, everybody, get on the runabout,” Tigranian said, putting on a pair of sunglasses. “Annabeth, are you taking the helm?”

“Nope, I think Phil can drive.”

“Katie and I were going to work on our strategy in the aft cabin. We’re playing high stakes here.”

“Alex?”

“I’m a doctor, not a pilot.”

“Fine! I’ll fly.” Tigranian said, pushing them all into the runabout. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Temtibi Lagoon, Risa
Stardate: 53209.5

The six of them stood on the bright moving walkway leading from the landing bay up to the resort. Holographic signs appeared around them while a female voice narrated the sales pitch:

“Welcome to the Temtibi Lagoon Casino, Hotel, and Resort: where it never rains and the suns are always shining!”

“Here is your room confirmation,” Annabeth said, handing Tigranian a PADD. “We got you and Phil a double while the four of us are sharing one of the Waterview Suites.”

“Just a double? What happened to ‘Risa Baby’?” Tigranian asked sarcastically, curling his fingers in the air.

“Well, we figured Phil would be living down at the wheels and you’re not happy unless you’re miserable, so why take a good room away from someone who’ll enjoy it?”

“Visit the casino floor for the most exciting gaming experiences in the Federation…”

“I’m going straight from my room to the casino to scope the competition,” Phil said, turning to Katie. “Serious players should already be at the wheels.”

“Be sure you dress casually. Don’t want them to know we’re on to them,” Katie replied. Tigranian simply rolled his eyes.

“Make your hunger pangs vanish at the Three Canyons Buffet, where some of Risa’s finest chefs prepare delicacies from across the galaxy…”

“I’m thinking pool in the afternoon and clubbing tonight!” Alex said, shaking her hips.

“Visit the spa for a relaxing facial, manicure, or massage in the Argelian, Lauriento, or deep tissue styles…”

“Let’s just get to our rooms first,” Tigranian said curtly.

“We need to get a drink into this man…and rapidly,” Annabeth muttered. Tigranian flashed her a look.

“Temtibi Lagoon and Risa welcomes you with open arms. All that is ours, is yours.”

They reached the end of the moving walkway and climbed a flight of steps up into the main lobby. A Risian woman with a silver emblem on her forehead stood at the top holding a small wooden statue.

“Welcome to Temtibi Lagoon,” she said with a giant smile. She offered the statue to each of them as they passed. “Jamaharon?”

“No…” Tigranian muttered not even acknowledging her.

“No, thank you,” Annabeth said, waving her hand.

“No thanks,” Alex said following Annabeth.

“No, thank you. Here to play,” Phil said, holding up his latinum case.

“No, thanks, same,” Katie echoed.

“Ohhh, what a pretty figurine,” Laria said, walking up to take it. Katie quickly back tracked and grabbed her by the arm.

“No, honey. Just keep walking.”

“But that would look so cool in my quarters!” Laria said as they continued towards the front desk.

Laria lay in a lounge chair next to the pool in a one-piece swimsuit, floppy hat, and sunscreen slathered over her nose. As usual, she was lost in a book. Alex lay face down on the chair next to her, asleep in the suns.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Phil strolling up in an open shirt and swim trunks. Quickly, she hid the book under her towel.

“Hey, Phil,” she said nervously.

“Hey, have you seen Katie?” Laria pointed toward the blue water.

“She’s in the pool. Is Captain Tigranian with you?” she said looking around.

“No, he decided to head to the spa for a deep tissue massage. Said he had a lot of knots in his back to work out.”

“The captain went to the spa for a massage?”

“I know. Shocking isn’t it? Guess he’s part Human after all.”

“Guess so…”

“You think you have enough on there?” he asked, taking a look at her outfit.

“Bajorans are very sensitive to ultraviolet radiation compared to most humanoid species. It has to do with our planet’s proximity to our star and composition of our ozone layer.”

“You could have just said you burn easily,” he said with a smirk. Laria flashed him a look as she pushed her sunglasses back up over her nose ridges. “What are you reading there?” he asked before reaching under her towel. “Advanced Particle Physics or Applied Geometry of Planetary Gravitational Fields…”

“No, no, it’s nothing,” she said frantically as he grabbed the book and started reading aloud. Laria turned bright red.

“Cynthia slowly unbuttoned Selak’s white linen shirt and ran her hands over his pale muscles. He grabbed her passionately, the green blood in his veins pumping in anticipation, the logic in his mind giving way to lust…” Phil grinned. “Vulcan romance novels? Laria, I had no idea.” She angrily grabbed the book back from him.

“Why are you so mean to me?” she asked.

“It’s because I like you, L. You’re like the little sister I never had.”

“Why does everyone think I’m like their little sister…” she muttered putting the book back under her towel. Phil sat down next to her.

“May I make an observation?”

“If I say ‘no,’ does it matter?”

“Not really,” he continued. “The reason everyone sees you like a little sister is that you’re just so damned naïve and innocent that we are just naturally protective of you. If you want people to stop treating you like a baby, you need to show them that you can be grown up as well. Look at Alex there,” he said pointing to the sleeping doctor. “She takes care of every single medical need of the entire crew from major surgery to stubbed toes. Katie is a natural ballbuster and can handle herself in any fight she gets involved in, and Commander Geist runs the whole ship and makes it look effortless. We know you’re smarter than the rest of us combined, but last week you locked yourself in the cargo hold and had to call the bridge to send somebody to let you out.”

“I was examining that shipment of crystallized xanthium and tripped a radiation sensor! Deactivating the force field required a command-level access code!”

“I know…I know,” Phil said, raising his hands. “I’m just trying to let you know why people see you the way they do. If you want it to be different, go a little wild and show everyone who you really are. I’m only saying this because I truly care.” Laria pulled her knees into her chest.

“What are you doing, Phil?” Annabeth said, walking up with a tray of frozen drinks.

“Nothing…” Laria said pensively. Annabeth stared Phil down.

“If you don’t stop being mean to her, I swear I’m going to drown you in this pool, Lexington,” Annabeth said, handing Laria a glass with a straw in it.

“He wasn’t. He was just giving me advice,” Laria said, taking a sip. “What is this?” Laria grinned while turning to Annabeth.

“An Earth drink called a daiquiri. It’s strawberry.” Annabeth sat down next to Alex and gave her a peck on the cheek. Alex stirred and refastened the back of her swimsuit top. “Here’s your piña colada, Babe.”

“Thank you, Honey,” Alex replied through her relaxed haze. She gave Annabeth a kiss in return. She looked around. “Where did Katie go?”

At that moment, Katie burst through the surface of the water and climbed out of the pool. She whipped her blonde hair back and adjusted her white bikini. Phil looked at her and then looked down at the ground. Laria immediately picked up on his attraction. She felt even more self-conscious watching Katie walk over to them.

“Ah, Phil, there you are. What can you tell me about our competition?” she asked, reaching for her towel.

“I think I found our table for tonight: three Ferengi businessmen celebrating a mining deal in the Korvalis Cluster. They were flashing around a lot of latinum and bragging that they could take the house. Overconfidence, arrogance, and a celebratory mood: the three keys to success.”

“Hell, yes!” Katie exclaimed, raising her hand. “Shake!”

“…and bake,” Phil said, slapping her palm. Everyone except for Katie seemed to sense the awkwardness. “So, the rest of the plan remains unchanged?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you about 30 minutes, then we’ll set the traps.” Katie said with a grin.

“Sounds good.”

“I’m thirsty as hell,” Katie said standing back up. “Anyone else want something from the bar?” Everyone shook their heads. “Alright, then,” she said walking away. Phil suddenly stood up.

“I’m gonna go back to the room and get some rest. It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Good luck, Phil,” Alex said supportively. When he was out of earshot she turned to Annabeth and Laria. “That is almost painful to watch.”

“He knew what he was getting into when he started barking up that tree,” Annabeth said, lying back on her chair.

“I’ve heard Katie tell him a thousand times she just wants to be friends. Why doesn’t Phil just let her go?” Laria asked like she was examining some sort of scientific enigma.

“I may not know an enormous amount about them,” Annabeth said opening up a magazine, “but I can tell you that men are idiots. When they fall for a woman, no amount of common sense in the world will convince them to give her up.”

Laria considered that as she took another sip of her daiquiri.

As the twin suns set over the lagoon, Tigranian and Phil stood waiting in the lobby. The captain had chosen a black silk shirt and slacks while Phil had gone for a sport coat and a linen button down.

“You know you look like you’re going to a funeral, Sir?” Phil said. “This is–”

“Risa…I know,” he said, cutting Phil off. “Why can’t people accept the fact that I can enjoy myself without going crazy.”

“Because I’ve seen how Klingons party, Sir.”

“That’s different.”

“Why, because there’s less pointy objects and songs about eating the hearts of your enemies here?”

“On the nose, Lexington. Comfort breeds weakness. Kahless himself said that.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Sir, how was that massage this afternoon? Was it comfortable?”

“I hate you…” 

Lexington laughed but suddenly stopped himself as he looked across the lobby.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” he said as both simultaneously saw the ladies approach. Everything seemed to slow down as they approached. Tigranian kept silent but shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. He had spent the majority of his career avoiding physical attraction in the workplace like a minefield. The women he worked with were comrades-in-arms, fellow Starfleet officers. When he looked at them, he saw a uniform and he preferred it that way. Standing there, he suddenly remembered how painfully single he was.

“Dammit, stop. You’re their commanding officer and a Klingon warrior. Get a hold of yourself,” he thought, pushing some feelings back deep down.

Katie walked up to them wearing a bright red dress and carrying a matching handbag.

“See, Sir, I told you I had a secret weapon. Not a single Ferengi at that table will be able to keep his eyes on his cards.”

“I’m not actually sure how to respond to that, Ms. Stone,” Tigranian avoided any direct glimpses of her outfit. He couldn’t help but catch a view of Laria. She was standing there wearing a skintight black dress, her earring shimmering behind soft ringlets of brown hair. He felt his pulse quicken again.

“Laria…you are looking….very nice.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, still trying to get her balance in her shoes.

“Alright, ladies, it is 1900 hours. Commence operation dance our asses off,” Annabeth said, leading them toward the lagoon. Phil and Tigranian held back.

“I’m heading to the casino, Sir,” Phil said, catching his breath.

“Yeah, I’m going with them,” Tigranian said, pointing back to the ladies awkwardly.

“You do that, Sir…I’ll be…”

“At the casino…”

“Yes, at the casino…”

As soon as they knew the men couldn’t hear them, the four women started laughing.

“Did you see how uncomfortable they got?” Alex said through a smile.

“That was amazing!” Laria said almost giddy.

“Mission accomplished, girls. We look hot!” Katie said, pumping her fist in the air.

Behind the main building of the resort was a rock draw directly over the water. A transparent dance floor hung over the gulf with about two hundred party-goers dancing to electronic music. A stage built on top of one the stone cliffs housed a Ktarian DJ playing songs from behind a holodisplay floating in the air in front of his face. On the opposite side of the draw was a long bar where 10 Risian bartenders poured cocktails. LED lighting changed the color of the dance floor to match the beat of the music. Every few minutes, a massive wave would surge through the draw and up the sheer rock face next to the dance floor, bathing the dancers in a warm, sea spray underneath the bright glow of Risa’s two full moons.

Annabeth, Alex, Katie, and Laria descended a stone staircase cut into the cliff. Tigranian wasn’t far behind.

“Let’s go to the bar!” Annabeth shouted over the pulsing beat of the music. The others could only smile and nod.

“Alright, Alright, welcome to Club Horga’hn at the beautiful Temtibi Lagoon Resort. You’re listening to the beats of DJ Atomax taking you away from the ordinary and towards the extraordinary. What happens on Risa, stays on Risa! When they say ‘what’s ours is yours’ these beautiful people really mean it. So, leave it all behind and dive in head first!”

Up in the casino, Phil approached the tongo wheel and took an empty seat next to an older Ferengi.

“Is this seat taken?” Phil said politely to the Risian dealer.

“That depends, Hew-man,” another one of the Ferengi hissed at him. “Do you have latinum? Federation credits are worthless to us.”

Phil calmly reached into his jacket pocket and laid out five strips of gold-pressed latinum on the green felt in front of him.

“Not a lot, but just enough.”

The Ferengi laughed as they all thought they had found an easy mark.

“Tongo is a game that many lesser races find difficult to comprehend. However, if you feel like you could give us a challenge, you are more than welcome to try.” 

Phil turned to the dealer and smiled. He calmly placed his five strip buy-in into the bowl on top of the wheel.

“Then deal the cards, Sir.”

“What can I get for you?” The male Risian bartender said to Annabeth with a smile.

“Four Betazoid love potions”

“Coming up,” he said, disappearing underneath the bar. Tigranian walked up and squeezed in next to Annabeth.

“Interesting choice of music!” he yelled.

“Sir, I will not have you questioning this, not tonight!”

The bartender reappeared with four shot glasses that he filled with bright pink liquid from a blue bottle.

“Sir?” Annabeth said motioning to the drinks.

“No,” Tigranian said, shaking his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth said, turning back to the bartender. “Do you have any drinks that are suitable for a Klingon warrior? Maybe something with ‘blood’ or ‘gore’ in the title?” The bartender looked over to Tigranian completely confused.

“I’ll take a martini, please,” Tigranian said calmly. “Two fingers of Andorian gin, one finger of the driest vermouth you have, and a twist of lemon peel.” The bartender nodded and pulled out a cocktail shaker.

“Classy,” Annabeth said sarcastically before turning back to the other three women. She grabbed her shot glass and raised it in the air.

“We’re on Risa, ladies! No regrets!”

“No regrets!” the other three echoed as they all down their shots.

“Prophets! That is the best thing ever!” Laria shouted as she caught her breath.

“Oh, just you wait,” Alex said laughing.

“Alright,” Katie said slamming her empty glass back down on the bar. “It’s about time for me to make my move upstairs. You all have fun.” She winked before heading back for the stairs.

“I really hope they know when to quit. I don’t want to hear about how they lost all their money the entire trip back home,” Tigranian said to Annabeth.

“THAT'S IT!” Annabeth shouted before turning to the captain. “Sir, you are absolutely the wettest blanket I have ever seen on this planet. Now, either you can loosen the hell up or you can spend the rest of shore leave in your room. I just don’t want you spending it around me because you are killing my buzz.”

“Annabeth…” Laria whispered plaintively. Alex placed a knowing hand on the small of her back. The bartender reappeared and placed Tigranian’s martini in front of him.

“Ladies,” Tigranian said calmly, picking up his glass. “You have fun.” He turned and walked away. Laria stood up to walk after him, but Alex held her back. Annabeth looked down at her reassuringly.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know what you were thinking, but stick with us. You’ll have a lot more fun.”

Laria sighed. Her logical mind knew that nothing was going to happen tonight, but somehow she still had been clinging to a ridiculous fantasy. She collapsed back down onto her bar stool.

“Can I at least get another one of those Betazoid things?”

“Three more love potions, please!” Annabeth said, flashing a smile to the bartender.

“Evade,” Phil said nervously furrowing his brow as he spun the tongo wheel. He looked down at the round cards in his hand and back up at the other Ferengi who flashed their sharpened teeth.

“I index the margin at 20 percent and acquire,” one of them said, dropping another three strips of latinum into the bowl and spinning the wheel back towards Phil. He sighed deeply and placed a matching bet into the bowl.

“Confront,” Phil said, placing his cards down on the table face up.

The other Ferengi laughed, placing his own cards on the table.

“You lose again, Hew-man. Don’t feel too bad. Tongo is not for everyone.”

“What’s this game?” came a soft female voice from behind them. A woman in a red dress took a chair at the wheel on the opposite end of Phil. The three Ferengi all immediately began staring at Katie’s chest.

“Ma’am,” the Risian dealer said politely. “This is tongo. However, this is a high-stakes table, a minimum five strip latinum buy-in. If you would like to try a beginner’s table, we have one slip tables on the far end of the casino…”

“Now, hold on there,” another one of the Ferengi said a bit rudely. “If the lady wants to stay and watch, she could be my…companion, this evening.”

“I apologize, Sir,” the dealer said awkwardly. “But we have strict rules against non-players sitting at the tables during a game.”

“I think I have enough to cover a few hands,” Katie said, opening her coin purse.

“Nonsense, my dear,” one of the Ferengi leered at her. “Your first hand of tongo is on me,” he said, dropping five strips of latinum into the bowl. “Consider it a learning experience.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna teach me a lot this evening,” Katie simpered.

“Oh yes,” he said, staring down her red dress. “Maybe after the tongo lesson, we can try oo-mox.”

“Is that another game?” Katie said feigning ignorance. The three Ferengi huddled together and laughed.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Are we gonna play or not,” Phil said in frustration. The three Ferengi hissed at him and then turned back to Katie. Phil flashed her a wink behind their backs. She smiled seductively.

“We’ll see.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the dealer began as he dealt the cards. “All buy-ins are placed, the margin is currently at 10 percent.”

“Drinks? Drinks, anyone?” a Risian waitress said, walking past the table.

“Cetian Cooler,” Phil said.

“Cardassian Sunset,” the first Ferengi said.

“Tellurite Fizz,” said the second.

“Tamarian Spritzer,” the last Ferengi ordered.

“Scotch, neat,” Katie said, taking a strip of latinum out of her purse and dropping it on the waitress’ tray. “Single-malt, if you have it.” She turned to the Ferengi sitting next to her. “Spin the wheel, raggedy man.”

Laria sat at the table in the corner over the remains of two Moscow mules, another love potion, and some strange concoction the bartender thought she’d like called a lemondrop. She stared out at Annabeth and Alex dancing and suddenly felt more alone than ever. The two of them were having an amazing time, but all she felt was very drunk.

After about 15 minutes of having random men getting too close to her on the dance floor, she had called it quits over the protests of her two companions. She politely excused herself back to the bar hoping for some liquid courage. Unfortunately for her, she hadn’t properly calculated just how much ethanol her body could handle. Now she sat chewing on the end of a red cocktail straw spinning one of her curls around her finger as the pulsing beat of the music slowly gave her a headache.

As the music suddenly faded out, she watched Annabeth and Alex wrap their arms around each other and passionately kiss.

“Here’s to you guys,” Laria slurred to herself as she drank the last bit of her Moscow mule. “I’m glad you’re happy…”

“Alright, ladies, it’s time for our favorite part of the evening here at Club Horga’hn: open stage. Which one of you beautiful women out there has what it takes to come up here and show us what you got?”

A spotlight illuminated a platform next to the DJ booth with a long, shiny pole in the middle of it.

“If anyone out there is interested, sign up right here with me in the booth. You can even choose your own song. Who wants to be a star?”

Laria suddenly looked over to the stone staircase. A very crestfallen Captain Tigranian was descending the steps back towards the club. Suddenly, Phil’s words from earlier echoed in Laria’s ears:

“If you want people to stop treating you like a baby, you need to show them that you can be grown up as well. Go a little wild and show everyone who you really are.”

Tigranian slowly started walking around the far side of the dance floor alone. She jumped up and headed for the stage.

By the time she returned to the table Annabeth was already back there.

“Where have you been?” she asked, catching her breath.

“Getting ready to show people something,” Laria said with more confidence than usual.

“Okay…”

“Check this out,” Alex said, walking up with a cocktail that glowed bright orange.

“What is that?” Laria asked. “Can I try it?”

“Sure,” Alex said as Laria picked up the glass and started drinking. “It’s a Ferengi drink called a ‘warp core breach’ but be careful…” Alex cut herself off as she saw Laria down the entire glass without stopping. “…it’s…really…strong…”

“Honey, are you alright?” Annabeth asked, concerned.

“I’m about to be.” Laria said with newfound confidence and a smile.

“Okay, we have our first dancer! Laria! Laria, come on up to the stage!”

“Laria, what are you doing!?!” Alex exclaimed as Laria ran off towards the stage.

“Following my feelings! No regrets, right?” she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, God,” Alex said about to tackle her. A hand from Annabeth held her place.

“No, it’s like a plasma fire. You just have to let it burn itself out and hope there’s no permanent damage…”

Laria jumped up on the platform and waved to the crowd. A few cheers erupted when they saw her dress.

“Okay, for her music she’s chosen a real oldie, but one that’s stood the test of time. Let’s give it up for Laria!”

“Love me like a bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb…”

The strains of an electric earth guitar pulsed through the speakers. Laria started swaying her hips to the beat and slowly pulled off her heels. She spun one by the strap around her index finger, eliciting more cheers from the crowd. Suddenly, as the music reached a crescendo, she threw down her shoes and messed up her hair. The crowd went wild. She started slinking around the stage.

 “Love is like a bomb, baby c’mon get it on. Livin’ like a lover with a radar phone.

Lookin’ like a tramp, like a video vamp, Demolition Woman, can I be your man?”

Laria started swaying her entire body to the music, just letting instinct take over. She looked out at the cheering crowd, but in her heart she was only dancing for one. She caught a glimpse of him at the back of the dance floor: staring right back at her. He was completely frozen by her performance.

“That’s stripper music!” Alex said, turning to Annabeth. “We have to stop this.”

“What do you want to do? Walk up there and say ‘nothing to see here folks’ and drag her off kicking and screaming? At this point, it’s just let her do her thing and hope it doesn’t become a topic of conversation at Tuesday’s morning staff meeting…”

Laria grabbed the pole behind her and spun around it twice before sliding back forward for the chorus. It drove the crowd to near frenzy.

“Take a bottle, shake it up. Break the bubble, break it up!”

Laria raised her fist in the air and started mouthing the lyrics. The crowd started singing along.

 “Pour some sugar on me, Oh, in the name of love!

Pour some sugar on me, C’mon fire me up!

Pour your sugar on me, Oh I can’t get enough…”

She started slowly running her hands down the side of her dress, closing her eyes. Suddenly, she bent over and put her finger up to her mouth, flashing a coy look to the audience. The cheering was starting to drown out the music.

“Who is that?” Alex asked in total disbelief.

“I have no idea,” Annabeth said, collapsing back down onto her stool.

The strain of electric guitars began again. Laria matched the beat with her moves.

“I don’t know whether to be amazed or horrified at this moment,” Alex said.

“I think it’s a little of both, babe,” Annabeth replied.

 “You got the peaches, I got the cream. Sweet to taste, saccharine.”

Laria pointed at the crowd and then pointed back at her own chest.

 “Cause I’m hot, hot, hot sticky sweet, From my head to my feet.”

She ran her hands down the entire length of her body.

“Do you take sugar? One lump or two?”

She raised one finger and then two to the crowd.

“Okay, maybe you were right and we should have stopped this…” Annabeth said trailing off. Alex flashed her a furious look.

As the chorus began again, the crowd was so loud it echoed off the rock walls and could be heard across the lagoon. As the music ended, Laria dove forward and rested her elbows on the ground.

“Whoah! That was amazing! Let’s give it up for Laria!”

The entire crowd started chanting her name in unison.

“LAR-I-A! LAR-I-A! LAR-I-A!”

She grabbed her shoes, climbed to her feet and looked to find Tigranian. She caught a fleeting glimpse of his back disappearing toward the lagoon. She rushed down from the platform and was immediately lost in the crowd.

Annabeth and Alex pushed their way forward through the cheering throngs, but by the time they reached the stage, she was gone.

Up in the casino, it was the Ferengis’ turn to sweat.

“Index the margin at 30 percent. Play’s to you, Barnat.” Katie said with a smirk as she spun the wheel back towards the Ferengi. He wiped his bulbous forehead with a Tholian silk handkerchief from his lapel.

“We’re down 40 strips of latinum, that bet is everything we have!” his partner whispered low enough so that only Ferengi ears could hear him.

“She’s won 10 hands in a row. She’s bluffing.”

He picked up another six strips of latinum and dropped them into the bowl.

“You’re a very quick learner, Katie,” he said with an angry smirk.

“That’s what they tell me,” she said, taking another sip of scotch.

“Sir?” the dealer said, turning to Phil.

“Oh, that’s a tough one. I think I’m going to have to retreat.” He placed his cards face down at the table. Katie was going to close this one out.

“Looks like it’s down to us, Barnat,” Katie said massaging the large pile of latinum strips in front of her. “Confront.”

Barnat placed his cards down in front of him.

“You’re very beautiful, but it appears your streak of beginner’s luck has run out. Full consortium.” He smiled as he reached for the bowl. Katie reached up and grabbed his wrist. She smiled as she placed her cards down to the felt.

“Not quite, I’m afraid. Total monopoly.”

The three Ferengi nearly passed out as Katie shoveled the huge pile of strips from the bowl into her pile.

Suddenly, two more Human females ran up behind Katie.

“Hello, ladies.” She said trying to maintain her calm. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh nothing,” Alex said, trying to catch her breath. “You haven’t seen Laria up here have you?”

“No, I thought she was with you,” Katie said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, she was…” Annabeth said trailing off. “Until, we kind of, lost her.”

“YOU LOST LARIA?” Phil shouted, slamming his hands on the table.

“Wait, how do you know who this ‘Laria’ is?” Barnat asked, almost flying into a rage. The Ferengi knew they had been played and Phil and Katie knew it was time to leave.

“Thanks for the game, gentlemen. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” Katie said, shoveling latinum into her purse. Phil came over and helped. The dealer almost stopped him until Katie flashed him a look.

Quickly, she counted out five strips of latinum and slid them to Barnat. “And thank you for the buy-in.” She passed another five strips to the dealer. “And thank you!” She said as the four of them headed for the lobby.

“Alright, what happened?” Phil asked with genuine concern.

“Well, we were dancing, and Laria was drinking…” Alex started.

“And then Laria started dancing…” Annabeth chimed in.

“What’s wrong with Laria dancing?” Katie asked, confused.

“We’ll explain later. Right now, she’s sloppy drunk and somewhere in this resort. We have to find her before she gets herself into real trouble,” Annabeth said, taking charge. “Phil, go check the restaurants. Alex, check around the pool. Katie, take the hotel. I’ve got the shops and the cabanas.”

Tigranian slowly walked along the beach with his hands in his pockets. He turned out towards the lagoon as moonlight shimmered off the water. As he breathed in the sweet, warm, salt air, he worked to sort out his feelings. Things always seemed to make more sense when he was alone in the quiet.

“Sir!” he suddenly heard from over his shoulder.

“There goes the quiet…” he thought to himself.

He turned around to see Laria stumbling towards him in the sand. She held her shoes in her left hand and had her right arm out for balance. Her hair was a mess and her dress was wrinkled. “Sir, I’ve been trying to find you!” she said, completely slurring her speech.

“Hello, Laria,” he said uncomfortably. “It seems like you succeeded.”

“Sir,” she said, her breath reeking of booze, “Sir, did you see me dance?”

“I did indeed,” he said, trying to defuse the situation.

“I did it for you,” she said smiling.

“Why would you dance for me?” he said, trying to keep her calm. He wasn’t sure how she would react to this much alcohol.

“I have a secret to tell you,” she whispered. “Can I trust you?”

“Of course, you can trust me, L. I’m your commander.” He was worried she was going to pass out right in front of him.

“Good!” she said as she lost her balance. She would have fallen right into the surf if he wasn’t there to catch her. She let her weight stay in his arms.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“No!” She said, looking at him. “Not before I tell you my secret!”

“Okay, tell me your secret and then we’re gonna go to bed, alright?”

“Alright,” she said, struggling to stay conscious. “My secret is that I really like you.”

“I like you too, L.”

“No! You don’t get it,” she said, struggling to stand up. “I really like you. In fact, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Okay, you really need to go to bed, L.”

“I just really want you to love me too…”

“Laria, we don’t need to be having this conversation right now,” he didn’t get to finish his thought. She turned green and started retching. He spun her around just in time for her to vomit glowing orange and pink bile all over the sand. Tigranian supported her body weight with one arm and held back her hair with the other.

“I’m sorry! Prophets, I’m sorry,” Laria bawled between heaves.

“It’s okay, L. Just get it out. Just get it all out…” he said trying not to gag himself.

“We looked everywhere…twice.” Katie said, collapsing onto the bed of their suite.

“We gave her description to hotel security,” Annabeth said, pacing back and forth. “They know to bring her back here. In the meantime, we just have to cross our fingers and hope nothing happens to her.”

“Risian hotel security is a joke and you know it,” Katie said, staring up at the ceiling. “This planet is so safe they can barely run a lost and found!”

“It’s not the Risians I’m worried about,” Alex said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s all the creeps that come here from all over the galaxy. God, if something happens to her I will never forgive myself.”

“Me neither,” Annabeth echoed. Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door. Annabeth rushed over and opened it. A very annoyed Captain Tigranian was standing there, a barely conscious Laria cradled in his arms.

“I’m going to assume that this is your fault?” he said resting Laria’s head on his shoulder.

“Oh, God! Laria! Bring her in, Sir.” He stepped inside and Laria stirred.

“No…” she said softly. “Don’t move. You smell good,” she slurred, keeping her eyes closed.

“Put her on the bed,” Alex said, rushing over. “Any signs of alcohol poisoning?” she asked as Tigranian laid the very boozed-up Bajoran softly on top of the sheets.

“I don’t think so,” Tigranian said. “She’s been breathing pretty steadily and I think she got most of it out of her system back on the beach.”

“I’ll get some water,” Katie said, rushing towards the bathroom.

Laria was already sound asleep. Alex softly stroked her forehead.

“I think she’ll be fine. Just to be safe, I’ll monitor her through the night. She’ll probably have the hangover from hell in the morning though.”

“Yeah…” Tigranian said, rubbing his eyes and moving towards the door.

“Thank you for bringing her back, Sir.” Annabeth said softly, fully expecting a tongue-lashing about how he was right. None came.

“Yeah…” he looked down and realized he was still holding Laria’s shoes. “Here, she’ll probably want these back at some point.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Annabeth said, placing them on a dresser. Katie rushed in and handed a glass of water to Alex who placed it on the nightstand. Laria was in no condition to drink at the moment.

“Sir,” Katie said, pointing to Tigranian’s shirt. “You’ve got a little something…” He looked down to see some orange vomit staining his right side. All he could do was smile and shake his head.

“Wow.”

“I’m sure that’ll come right out…”

“Katie!” Annabeth said.

“It’s alright!” Tigranian said rubbing his temples while lost in thought. “She’ll be fine. That’s what's important.” Suddenly, a worried look crossed Annabeth’s face.

“Sir, did she say anything to you?”

“Nothing of consequence…” he said looking straight at her. “Let’s just move on tomorrow.” Annabeth nodded. He knew she understood. Katie looked deeply saddened. She sat down next to Laria and held her sleeping hand.

Tigranian turned to leave, but suddenly turned back.

“Alex, can you do what you can to make sure she doesn’t feel completely miserable tomorrow?”

“Sure, Sir.”

“Thank you.” Then, thinking about something else, he smiled. “She’s something really special, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Sir. She really is,” Annabeth said.

“Goodnight,” Tigranian said heading towards the exit. “Runabout leaves at 1400 tomorrow. We’ll meet at the front desk. I’ll make sure Phil’s tracking.” The door closed behind him. Annabeth, Alex, and Katie sat in silence while Laria dreamed of the night that could have been.

Starbase 12: Federation Space
Stardate: 53209.9

Tigranian leaned back in his ready room’s chair, the mug of raktajino growing colder on his desk. He purposely arrived an hour before the duty shift to completely avoid the chance of running into her in the turbolift where they’d be alone.

She hadn’t made eye contact with him at the front desk or on the walk towards the resort’s landing bay. As soon as they boarded the runabout, she made a mad dash for the aft cabin. He had somehow hoped that she wouldn’t remember what she told him on the beach, and that he could just pretend that things were as they always had been. Unfortunately, her memory proved as infallible as ever.

He hadn’t seen Laria in almost two days. She missed both of their Klingon sparring sessions in the holodeck and he had to settle for fighting holographic monsters alone. Despite all his warrior’s courage, he couldn’t bring himself to press his combadge and ask how she was doing.

Even more surprising, he couldn’t get what she said out of his head either:

“I think I’m falling in love with you… I just really want you to love me too.”

Every time he thought of her words, he tried dismissing them away.

There is no way it could work. He wasn’t looking for a fling. He was looking for life-long commitment. Besides, he was her captain and eight years her senior. Despite Starfleet’s curious lack of regulations banning intra-crew relationships, it was still not appropriate.

Plus, he had some pretty significant family obligations that she would never be willing to tolerate in a million years. No, she deserved someone a hell of a lot less complicated than he was. Still, despite everything that his brain kept telling him, every time those words pushed their way back into his consciousness, he couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of happiness.

“I think I’m falling in love with you… I just really want you to love me too.”

The intercom keyed to life and broke his chain of thought.

“Scharr to Tigranian.”

“Go ahead.”

“Warp core is at 30 Cochranes and rising. We’ll be at full power by the time we clear spacedock.”

“Acknowledged.” That meant it was time to go. Time had run out for questions. It was time to get back to work. He knew she would be there, on the bridge, and Tigranian breathed in deeply to put on a stoic face. Decisively, he stepped through the doors of his ready room.

He walked towards his chair, purposely not looking at the science station. He took a seat and Annabeth began briefing him.

“All decks report ready for departure, Sir.”

“Thrusters and impulse drive at your command, Sir,” Phil said from the helm.

“Tactical ready, Sir,” Katie said, “Shields, phasers, and quantum torpedoes on standby.” He braced himself to hear her voice from behind him, but there was only silence.

Slowly, he turned his chair around. The science station was empty.

“Annabeth,” he asked sternly. “Where is my science officer?”

“She’s still not feeling well, Sir. I told her that she could stay in her quarters if she wasn’t feeling up to duty yet.”

“Does she have a medical profile from Alex?”

“No, Sir,” Annabeth said. “It’s not that kind of not feeling well.” Tigranian suddenly grew angry and jumped up from his chair. He walked straight to the turbolift. “Dan!” Annabeth yelled from behind him. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t push her. She’s still having a really hard time with this.” Annabeth knew she could be honest. There was no one on the bridge who didn’t know the situation.

“That’s not how this works, Annabeth!” He stepped into the turbolift. “We have a job to do! You know that. Deck two!” he shouted as the doors closed. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry. Part of it was that it was her duty as a Starfleet officer to push through personal issues when it came to the job. However, he also realized he was angry at himself for not checking on her sooner. He had failed as her captain and as her friend.

Laria lay in the fetal position clutching Rijo to her chest. She’d barely left her bed since they returned from Risa. She vaguely remembered the girls checking on her a few times, but the rest was a blur. Never in her entire life had she both been so humiliated and so crushed at the same time. The fact that the captain had been ignoring her this whole time confirmed her worst fears. Not only did he not share her feelings, but any professional credibility she had built with him over the past few months had been washed away in one night.

She remembered everything in brilliant and terrible detail. The dance in Club Horga’hn, her stupid, stupid word vomit to Captain Tigranian on the beach, which was immediately followed by her actual vomit all over him. She had gone over it a million times, and every time it still brought her to tears. She had tried to show him that she didn’t need to be taken care of, but in so doing, she had proven exactly the opposite.

Her door chimed. She looked out the window and saw they hadn’t left the starbase yet. It must be Alex or Annabeth checking on her again. Slowly, she rolled out of bed, pulled up her pajama bottoms and walked to the door, still clutching Rijo like a security blanket. She didn’t even try to wipe the tear streaks from her face. What was the point? They’d seen them already.

She stood at the doors and opened them. He was standing there, in full uniform, looking straight at her. His shoulders dropped and a look that could either have been sadness or disappointment crossed his face. In her mortified state, she couldn’t tell. He looked down to her arms and a smile suddenly crept onto his face.

“Who’s that?” he asked, nodding toward her chest. She looked down and nearly fainted.

“This is Rijo…he’s a pugabeast,” she managed to get out without her voice squeaking too much. “Will this nightmare ever end?” she thought to herself trying to suppress the rising tears.

“I can see that,” Tigranian said, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against the door frame. “May I ask why you have a pugabeast in your quarters? There’s some pretty strict regulations on keeping dangerous animals on board a starship. I could have you written up.”

She tossed the stuffed animal across the room towards her bed.

“My mother made him for me when we moved from the refugee camp to Gault. She said he would always keep me safe.”

“Well, I’ll do my best not to get on Rijo’s bad side then. May I come in?”

“Yes, Sir,” Laria said quietly, stepping aside. He walked in enough to let the doors close.

“We’re getting ready to leave port. I was very concerned when we weren’t at your station. I was even more concerned when Annabeth told me you still weren’t feeling well. Do you need to go see Alex?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then might I ask why you felt it was alright to just not show up for your duty shift?”

“Annabe….Commander Geist told me it would be alright.”

“I know what Commander Geist said. I’ll deal with her later. I was asking why you thought it was alright. You’re a Starfleet officer and you know what right looks like.”

“Sir, I…I…”

“C’mon, Laria. Talk to me. I want to know what’s going on.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable!”

“Why would you on the bridge make me uncomfortable?”

Laria sighed and buried her head in her hands. She was still trying to fight back tears and failing miserably. However, she wanted with all her soul to not let this man see her cry. She knew she was better than that.

“L, it’s okay. Just talk. I’m here to listen.”

“Because I did and said some really stupid things on Risa and I’m afraid that you’ve written me off completely.”

“Hey, I don’t write off my officers unless they give me cause and you’re nowhere near that.” He stepped closer, but still maintained professional distance. “Laria, you were drunk. Period. It’s alright. What’s important is that you learn from it.” She didn’t seem convinced.

“My first week on the Sk’oh, a seven foot tall Klingon woman who can only be described with the word ‘Amazon’ walked into the mess hall and threw a raw targ heart in my lap. She then announced to the entire crew of the ship that she always had a fantasy about ravaging a Human male. She then proceeded to lift me up out of my chair, looked me straight in the eyes, and said she would be waiting for me naked in her bunk to quote ‘break my pelvis open like a pipius claw’.”

“Really?” Laria said, actually managing to laugh.

“Yes, Klingon women are far more open about their sexual desires than most other humanoid species.”

“Apparently.”

“So you see, Laria, it takes far more than what you did to make me feel uncomfortable. I’m far more worried about how you feel right now.”

Laria sighed again.

“I’ve been better, Sir.”

“Alright, do me a favor.”

“What?” Laria asked, confused.

“Come here.” Tigranian said, leading her to the center of the room. “Stand up straight, put your shoulders back.”

“What?” Laria repeated, this time with a smile.

“Trust me, just do it,” he said, standing up straight and putting his own shoulders back. “There’s a saying that’s always gotten me through hard times.” He put his head back and screamed at the top of his lungs, “tlhIngan maH!”

Laria looked around like someone was going to bang on the bulkhead and tell them to quiet down.

“It’s fine. I’m the captain. C’mon shout it with me, tlhIngan maH!”

“What does it mean?”

“It means, ‘We are Klingons!’ No matter what odds we face, no matter how bad things get, no matter what we have to overcome, we can do it because we are Klingons!”

“But I’m not a Klingon,” she said with a smile.

“Nobody’s perfect. C’mon, tlhIngan maH!”

“tlhIngan maH!” she said.

“Louder! Make Rijo’s fur stand up. Yell it! tlhIngan maH!”

“tlhIngan maH!” she screamed.

“Again!”

“tlhIngan maH!”

“C’mon, so loud they’ll hear it on the bridge!”

“tlhIngan maH!” she screamed. It echoed off the walls of her quarters. Laria was actually smiling.

“See, you can do it.” He paused before continuing. “Listen, Laria, if you’re struggling with what happened, you shouldn’t be. I’m fine and I don’t think any less of you today than I did four days ago. If you need to take some time, take some time, but I need my science officer back on the bridge where she belongs.” Laria looked down and nodded. “Also I miss our sparring sessions on the holodeck. I’m really counting on your mek’leth skills now when we face those skull-faced monsters.” He turned and headed out the doors.

“Sir, wait!” she said. He turned back around.

“I have to ask. How did things turn out with the Klingon Amazon? Did your pelvis survive?”

He chuckled.

“I never went through with it. Casual sex really isn’t my thing.” He turned back around and left.

Thirty minutes later, the Pershing was flying through open space.

“Sir, we’ve cleared the outer marker. Warp drive available at your command,” Phil said. Tigranian was about to give his orders when he heard the doors to the bridge open. He turned around to see Laria, in full uniform, stride confidently to her station.

“Sensors online, Sir. Science ready,” Laria said without missing a beat.

Everyone else on the bridge looked around in shock, but Tigranian just leaned back and looked at the viewscreen with a grin.

“That’s good to hear, Lieutenant. Mr. Lexington, set course for the Salva System: warp 8.”

“Course laid in, Sir.”

“Engage.”

The Pershing disappeared towards Cardassian space with a streak of blue light and a white flash.

5

HEART OF VIRTUE

“Majesty, son of Kronos, what sort of thing have you spoken?
Do you wish to bring back a man who is mortal, one long since
doomed by his destiny, from ill-sounding death and release him?
Do it, then; but not all the rest of us gods shall approve you”
-Hera to Zeus, The Iliad of Homer

“You have all known since childhood, the symbol of our Empire. It has been called many names throughout the ages: perhaps the least understood is the ‘Heart of Virtue’ or ‘tIq ghob’ in the ancient tongue.
"The Heart of Virtue originated from an archaic weapon favored by Kahless the Unforgettable. It is said he chose this as the symbol of his house, and later the Empire, because of the weapon’s unequalled balance. Yet, this is inaccurate. Kahless chose it because each of the three blades represents those virtues that are the very foundation of every true warrior: Honor, Loyalty, and Duty: each in perfect balance.”

-A lecture by General Chang to Cadet Torlek, grandfather of General Torlek, 2292.

Alluram Penal Dilithium Mine: Remus, Romulan Star Empire
Stardate: 53224.3

“Pain and blackness” the only thoughts she could hold in mind after the interrogation finally ended. “Pain and blackness.”

She had been in the Tal Shiar facility for days after the trial. Question after question, flying at her from all directions. Strange devices attached to her temples. Any attempt to resist met with crushing, debilitating pain: no sleep, no food, a bare metal cell. When they finally realized she had no useful information, they calmly turned her over to the “Correction Authority” to begin her sentence.

Female guards stripped off her uniform and dressed her in hideous rags that looked like they had been worn by several others who had already met their own untimely ends. Then, a “decontamination shower” that left her skin burning and a bitter chemical taste in her mouth. Finally, someone violently pulled a bag over her head for transport which nearly suffocated her.

When it was removed several hours later, there was still only blackness. No sun, no stars, only icy blackness. Her mind drifted back to her Starfleet capture training at the academy:

“Stay calm. Do not antagonize your captors. Cooperate to the extent your personal safety is maintained, but remember your oath as a Starfleet officer. Never lose hope that Starfleet and the Federation Diplomatic Corps will work tirelessly to recover you.”

It was worthless. All of it. Nothing prepares you for torture. Physical pain is hard enough, but the psychological torture is what breaks you. It leaves you dehumanized, humiliated, and exhausted. She couldn’t even stand on her own feet anymore. Two Romulan guards carried her by the arms down the stone staircase beneath the frozen surface. Maybe she was dead already. This hellscape could easily pass for Dante’s Inferno.

In her haze, she was vaguely aware of the burning braziers lighting the corridors, the sound of screams coming around every corner. Hopelessness filled her. Everyone who said they would help had abandoned her. She was alone. Her fate was sealed.

Suddenly, a bright light burned her eyes. She felt soft carpet under her feet, and the air smelled more sterile. Her guards let go and she fell to the floor. It was soft enough that she just wanted to fall asleep right here, but one of her captors grabbed the collar of her prison clothes and hoisted her to a kneeling position.

“Well, this will never do for our new guest…” a patronizing male voice muttered. “My dear, you must be famished.” A pair of polished jackboots and gray trousers stepped into her field of vision. He placed a metal tray on the floor at her knees. It contained a plate of blue paste and a single, metal cup of water. “Don’t stand on ceremony for me. Enjoy yourself.”

She didn’t care anymore. She was an animal in pure survival mode. She bent over and shoveled the blue paste into her mouth with one hand, cradling the cup of water with the other. It had no taste, but it filled her empty stomach. She then downed the entire metal cup with one gulp, letting it clatter back to the tray when it was empty.

“Oh, it looks like you’ve gotten a little on your mouth,” He knelt down with a handkerchief and wiped her face. She stared at him as her terrified eyes finally came into focus. He was rather corpulent for a Romulan, but otherwise unremarkable for a middle-aged male of that species.

“Now, that the niceties are completed,” he said standing erect. She let her head fall back to her chest. One of the guards grabbed her hair and pulled sharply, forcing her to look at him. She felt the muzzle of one guard’s disruptor rifle press into her temple.

“I am Warden Ritaxis, the primary administrator of this facility. After this meeting is complete, your name as you knew it before is gone. You are now only to be addressed as Prisoner # 98745328. I suggest you memorize the number now, as you will be required to recite it to receive your daily food ration.

“You are here because you committed a crime against the Romulan State. Your extradition hearing was conducted completely within the bounds of treaty, you were given a fair trial recognized by interstellar law, and as you already know, non-Romulan citizens are not afforded an appeal process, so it appears that your final dispensation is complete.

“To compensate the Romulan State for the crime you committed, you are now officially considered property of the Senate and People of Romulus for the remainder of your natural life. How that property is cared and accounted for is a responsibility delegated solely to me.

“If you carry out your assigned duties properly and without incident, it is possible to live five, maybe even 10 more years here. However, if you cause issues or fail to meet your assigned quotas, you will be disciplined. Minor infractions can usually be solved with a simple physical beating or by withholding your food ration. More significant behavioral issues are usually met with summary execution. The choice is yours. Any questions that I can answer for you now?” he said politely.

She stared back up at him in silence. The only sound in the room was her panicked breathing. “Very well, welcome to Alluram, Dr. Hunter.”

Three Weeks Prior
Solaxis System: Federation/Romulan Demarcation Line, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53215.2

 “Chief Medical Officer’s Log, Stardate 53215.2: I am in the final stages of setting up a hospital for refugees resettled on this planet after their homes on Cardassia Prime were left uninhabitable at the end of the war. Though I was initially appalled at the rudimentary conditions I encountered upon my arrival last week, I am pleased to say that the locals have been extremely motivated and even have a few trained physicians among their ranks. With the equipment I brought from Pershing and a little luck, they will be able to maintain a high standard of care even after I depart this afternoon.”

Alex completed the recording on her monitor and continued packing up her makeshift office on the hospital’s second floor. A Cardassian woman entered as Alex placed a few PADDs into a satchel.

“You are a miracle worker, Alex,” the Cardassian said as she wrapped her arms around her. “I’m just sorry that you have to leave.”

“Exsa, I just came here to help.”

“And help you did. You vastly improved the lives of a hundred thousand people. Before this hospital, they had to settle for pressure dressings and a few basic antibiotics. Now, they have surgical suites, internal imagers, and the best medications in the Alpha Quadrant. I admit I was skeptical when the Federation said they would provide aid, but now I’m absolutely convinced that you’re here to rebuild.”

“I wish all Cardassians were as willing to accept that as you are. I think most still view us as enemies.”

“Most of us lost family members during the war. It is difficult for a race as proud as ours to accept help from those we fought. Just give it time.”

“Dr. Quezza,” the communicator on Exsa’s hip said, coming to life. “We have a potential emergency situation.”

“Go ahead, Deranin.”

“We’re receiving a distress call from a Cardassian cargo shuttle. It’s been attacked and has lost power. Maneuvering thrusters are failing and it’s starting to drift. It’s already at the edge of transporter range. If we don’t beam up there immediately, we’ll lose them.”

“What’s the condition of the crew?”

“Total of six. Four are already dead, but two are still alive.”

Alex reached over to a shelf and grabbed an emergency medical kit.

“We have to go now,” Alex said firmly.

“Agreed,” Dr. Quezza said. “Deranin, go ahead and beam us to the shuttle.”

“There’s one other thing you need to be aware of, Doctor.”

“What is it? We’re losing time.”

“It’s over the demarcation line, a hundred kilometers inside the Romulan Zone.” 

Dr. Quezza looked at Alex.

“Politics come later. We can’t just let them die,” Alex replied. 

Dr. Quezza nodded in agreement.

“Deranin, energize.”

Dr. Quezza and Alex materialized on the bridge of the shuttle. The air was thick with smoke. Blast marks riddled the bulkheads. Several of the Cardassian crew lay dead at their stations. Alex pulled out a tricorder and began scanning the area.

“I’m not reading any life signs in the rear compartment,” Alex said checking her blinking display.

“I’ve got one alive over here!” Dr. Quezza shouted from the helm. Alex ran over and opened up her medkit.

“Severe plasma burns,” Alex said, prepping a hypospray with inaprovaline As soon as the injection hit his bloodstream he stirred.

“They…they were everywhere. The captain, save the captain…” He lost consciousness as Alex’s tricorder started beeping.

“I’m losing him,” Alex said, grabbing a cortical stimulator. “Go find the other one.” Dr. Quezza nodded and ran towards the back of the bridge. Dr. Hunter tried stimulating the survivor’s brain with electrical shocks, but it was ultimately pointless. Her tricorder flat-lined and he was gone.

“I’ve found him!” Dr. Quezza said, pushing some debris away from the captain’s seat. Another Cardassian man in civilian clothes sat upright, struggling to breathe. Alex ran over. As she prepped another inaprovaline injection, she looked around.

“Whoever these guys were, they must be in some serious trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Quezza asked with concerns. 

“Check the tricorder. This was done with type-4 Romulan disruptors. They went toe to toe with a warbird.”

The injection eased the Cardassian’s labored breathing. Slowly, he returned to consciousness.

“Who are you?” Dr. Quezza asked as soon as he regained his bearings.

“My name is Enoiac Bail. This is my ship or what’s left of it,” he said struggling to get up.

“Don’t move,” Alex said, pulling out a bone stabilizer. “You’ve fractured three of your traverse ribs. You could puncture a lung.” Alex placed the device on his chest and made a few adjustments.

“You need to get out of here. Please, take me with you,” the injured man said desperately.

“What?” Alex asked.

“The Romulan Occupation Authorities and I have a standing disagreement on what belongs to Cardassians and what doesn’t. They think I’m a dilithium smuggler, but the mines that I get my ore from have been in Cardassian possession for over a century!”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Dr. Quezza said. “Right now, we need to get you back to the hospital.” She pressed her communicator.

“Quezza to Deranin: three to beam back.”

Only static answered her.

“Quezza to Deranin.” Still nothing. “Deranin!”

“Oh, God,” Alex said, suddenly realizing the truth. “We’re being jammed!”

A D’Deridex-class warbird decloaked directly in front of the bow and locked a tractor beam. Three more warbirds appeared, completely surrounding them.

Dr. Quezza’s breathing quickened and Alex tried to calm her down.

“It’s alright,” Alex said, grabbing her wrist. “They’re reasonable. My ship is on the way, we’ll sort this out soon.”

They were surrounded by green transporter signatures. A fully-armed squad of legionnaires pointed their weapons at them.

“Who are you?” the squad leader said, staring them down.

“My name is Dr. Exsa Quezza, I’m the chief medical administrator on Solaxis,” Dr. Quezza said slowly walking towards him.

“Stay where you are,” he said calmly.

“Look, this is just a misunderstanding,” Dr. Quezza replied, taking one more step towards him. Without so much as a word, he raised his disruptor rifle and fired. She disappeared into a cloud of vaporized atoms. Alex screamed and raised her hands.

“Failure to follow instructions of a uniformed Romulan military official,” the squad leader said. “Don’t make the same mistake, Human.”

“You didn’t have to kill her! She was trying to help! We’re doctors! Doctors, dammit! Don’t you understand that?” Alex said desperately. The squad leader pointed his rifle at her and she quieted down.

“If you truly wanted to help, you would not be onboard this ship,” he turned to another Romulan. “Conduct a genetic scan of the Cardassian.” The second Romulan pulled out a tricorder.

“Identity confirmed as Enoiac Bail.”

“Enoiac Bail, it is my duty to inform you that the Romulan Occupation Authority has found you guilty of dilithium smuggling in a closed military tribunal. Non-Romulan citizens do not have the right to appeal findings of closed tribunals. Do you wish to make a statement before the sentence is carried out?”

“Go to hell, you Romulan piece of sh–”

Before he could finish his statement, the squad leader vaporized him.

“Sentence carried out. Make a note of the time in our report.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Oh God, oh God…” Alex kept repeating over and over again. She was hyperventilating so badly, she was afraid she would pass out.

“What is your name?” the squad leader asked, turning towards Alex. She kept her hands in the air and remembered her capture training from the Academy.

“My name is Lieutenant Commander Alexandra Hunter. I am chief medical officer on the Federation starship USS Pershing, NCC-19860. My Starfleet serial number is 4523658-90. I demand my right to contact a representative of the Federation government based on Article IX of the Treaty of Algeron.”

“The Treaty of Algeron only applies inside Romulan Space and the Federation Neutral Zone. This is the Cardassian Occupation Zone. However, based on Article XIV of the Treaty of Bajor, the Federation government will be contacted on your behalf.” He turned to another Romulan. “Sergeant, detain her.”

“Yes, Sir!” The Romulan produced a pair of manacles and fastened them around Alex’s wrists.

“However, since you were caught in the middle of committing a crime, I don’t believe you will be released anytime soon.”

“Crime?” Alex said as the sergeant pulled her towards them. “What crime? I was doing my duty as a physician.”

“Precisely, under Romulan law, aiding a convicted fugitive, even without knowledge of their crime, is a very serious offense.”

“But you just said that this is the Cardassian Occupation Zone!”

“Yes, under Article XI of the Treaty of Bajor, Romulan law, when not abrogated by specific treaty regulations, applies in our zone.”

Annabeth was feeling better than she had in days. Alex would be back onboard in less than an hour. Tonight, she had prepared a quiet dinner for two in her quarters followed by what would hopefully be more amorous activities for dessert.

“Annabeth!” Katie said as she and Laria came around a corner. “Heading to the bridge?”

“Yes, indeed” Annabeth said with a smile.

“You’re certainly in a good mood,” Laria said. “I’m guessing tonight’s movie in your quarters is cancelled?”

“You guess correctly. Tonight my quarters are meant for two and two alone.”

“You want to come to my quarters tonight, L?” Katie asked.

“Actually, I was thinking about asking Captain Tigranian if he wants to fight the Battle of Klach D’Kel Brakt tonight on the holodeck. We’ve been getting behind on our Klingon sparring sessions.”

“The Battle of Broken Glass What?” Katie asked as the three of them stepped into the turbolift. “Bridge,” Katie said to the computer.

“Klach D’Kel Brakt,” Laria corrected her. “I just ordered this new program. It’s a great Klingon victory from last century. The captain plays Kor, the Klingon Dahar Master, and I play his loyal shieldmaiden who he trains in the ways of the warrior.”

“Sounds kinky,” Katie said. She and Annabeth giggled.

“It’s not like that,” Laria said. “He wants to keep things professional and I’m fine with that. We just share a mutual interest in Klingon warfare.”

“Sure, your mutual interest in Klingon warfare…” Annabeth said laughing again as the doors opened on the bridge.

“I do have an interest and I’m actually getting really good! I killed two Kampthian fire monsters last session all by myself!” Laria said, crossing to the science station.

“To each her own,” Katie said, taking position at tactical. Annabeth took her seat in the first officer’s chair.

“Captain to the bridge,” Annabeth said into her intercom. A few seconds later, Tigranian emerged from his ready room.

“Report,” Tigranian said, taking his seat next to her.

“We’re approaching Solaxis, Sir.”

“Excellent, I’m sure that when we get there, we’ll have problems prying Alex away from her new hospital.”

“Of that, I’m sure, Sir.”

“Phil, on our approach, be sure you give the demarcation line a wide berth. We don’t want our ‘allies’ to feel threatened by our presence.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. I’ll keep us at least 10,000 kilometers from the border.”

“Sir, I believe Laria had a question for you about tonight,” Katie said with a smirk.

“Katie!” Laria said. Tigranian turned around.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I was just wondering if you were interested in trying out a new holoprogram tonight. It’s the Battle of Klach D’Kel Brakt.”

“Where did you find, Klach D’Kel Brakt?” he was so excited he nearly jumped out of his chair.

“A friend of mine found it on Deep Space Nine. I had her send me a copy.”

“Do I get to be Kor?”

“Yes, Sir, you get to be Kor,” Laria said with a smile. The rest of the bridge crew almost couldn’t hold back laughter.

“I’m there.”

An alarm on Laria’s display silenced the good mood.

“Sir,” she said, sounding concerned. “I’m picking up a debris field near Solaxis just on the other side of the demarcation line. Also traces of Romulan disruptor fire.”

“What type of debris?”

“It appears to be a civilian Cardassian cargo shuttle, Ganat-class.”

“Take us out of warp.”

“Aye, Sir,” Phil said. The Pershing slowed to impulse and approached the planet.

“Hail the hospital,” Tigranian said. “I want to hear from Alex as soon as possible.” Before Katie could even open a channel, the Romulans gave a reply.

“Sir!” Katie said, reading her instruments. “Romulan warbird decloaking just on the other side of the demarcation line. They’re hailing.”

“On screen!” Tigranian said. He knew something was wrong.

A lanky Romulan commander appeared in front of them.

“I am Captain Daniel Tigranian of the Federation starship Pershing. What can we do for you, Commander?”

“We know who you are, Captain Tigranian,” he said abruptly. “I am Commander Teranos of the Imperial Romulan warbird Selakek. This is to serve as your official notification under Article XIV of the Treaty of Bajor that Lieutenant Commander Alexandra Hunter, Starfleet Serial Number 4523658-90, has been arrested in the Romulan Zone of Occupation on the charge of Aiding a Convicted Enemy of the Romulan State. Pursuant to the same treaty, we will transport her to Cardassia Prime where you will be given supervised visitation at the Romulan Embassy. If the Romulan Government has not received an official petition from the Federation Government within 52 hours, you will forfeit your right to an extradition hearing and she will be transported to Romulus for trial. Selakek out.”

The transmission disconnected. The warbird cloaked again and the Pershing stared out at empty space.

“ALEX!” Annabeth screamed, jumping straight out of her chair. “We have to go after her!” She said, running towards the helm. Tigranian grabbed her and sat her back down.

“We’re gonna get her back, Annabeth. I promise.” He turned to Laria. “Laria, get Annabeth off the bridge, get her to her quarters and keep her calm. Do not leave her.” Laria just stared back at him in disbelief. “Don’t just look at me! Do it! Do it now, Lieutenant!”

“Yes, Sir!” Laria ran forward, grabbed Annabeth, and took her to the turbolift.

The captain keyed his intercom.

“Engine room, bridge.”

“Scharr here.”

“Mr. Scharr, deactivate matter/antimatter injector safeties. Permission to exceed design limit specifications, Authorization: Tigranian Omega 3-6 Tango.”

“Sir, what the hell is going on?”

“Mr. Scharr, I just found out my chief medical officer is being held by the Romulans. I need to get to Cardassia Prime and every single minute counts. Do you understand?”

“Acknowledged, Sir, we’ll fly like a Tiberian bat outta hell.”

“Phil, set a course for Cardassia Prime. Maximum warp. If the nacelles aren’t about to rip off this lady, we’re not going fast enough.”

“Aye, Sir. Course laid in.”

“Engage!” The entire ship rocked with acceleration before the inertial dampeners compensated.

“Katie, open an emergency channel to Admiral Murphy. I’ll take it in my ready room.”

“Sir,” Katie said, holding back panic. “What is going on?”

“Katie, if the Romulans are charging her with a crime, that means in their eyes she’s already guilty. We have two days to convince the Federation to fight for Alex. Otherwise, we may never see her alive again.”

Romulan Embassy: Cardassia Prime
Stardate: 53215.5

Alex sat at a table, her palms flat on its surface. Her wrists were chained to a bolt running straight through its cold metal top. She stared straight at the wall in front of her. The Romulan guard at the room’s entrance said he would shoot her if she moved.

Suddenly, the door opened and Annabeth ran in.

“Alex!” she said, throwing her arms around her.

“Beth!” Alex screamed trying to meet her embrace, but the chains kept her arms locked in front of her.

“Maintain a distance of one meter away from the prisoner!” The Romulan guard said, raising his disruptor rifle. A hand grabbed the barrel and pulled it to the ground. Tigranian leaned forward and hissed into the guard’s pointed ears.

“Romulan soil or not, green blood, point that at a member of my crew again and I’ll gut you like a fish.”

The guard backed down. Tigranian walked over and took a seat next to Annabeth. Each of them grabbed one of Alex’s hands.

“I was so scared they were lying about contacting you,” Alex said.

“It’s okay, we’re here and we’re not going anywhere,” Annabeth reassured her. “Have they been treating you well? Have they abused you anyway?”

“Not yet…” Alex said trailing off. “They’ve been very civil so far.” Her tone made Annabeth and Tigranian even more committed to getting her free as soon as possible.

“Good news, The Federation ambassador to Cardassia submitted a petition on your behalf to the Romulan minister of state,” Tigranian said with a smile, “Well before the deadline,” he added, allowing himself to relax a bit. There will be an extradition hearing, but according to the treaty, it requires the chief magistrates of two out of the three Occupation Authorities to agree to hand you over for trial.”

“Admiral T’Lara is the Federation magistrate here now,” Alex said hopefully. “She’s logical.”

“Of course she is,” Annabeth said, smiling from ear to ear. Alex laughed. Just being next to each other was bringing them back from the brink.

“Who’s the Klingon magistrate?” Alex asked.

“His name is Governor P’ktarn. Don’t worry, he’s an honorable man. I’ve already made a few subspace transmissions to Ty’Gokor and Qo’noS. I don’t think he’ll be an issue.” It looked as if a metric ton of duranium had been lifted off of Alex’s shoulders. “Your hearing will convene the day after tomorrow, and you'll be back on the Pershing by Friday night.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Alex said leaning forward. Again, her wrists proved useless for a hug. She gave him a grateful peck on the cheek, instead. He glanced back at the guard who was now standing extremely nervously.

“Who are the Romulans sending?” Annabeth asked. Tigranian collapsed back onto the metal chair.

“Kival…”

“Well, you did say it took two out of the three,” Alex said, trying to look on the bright side.

“He’s going to ask you some very difficult questions, Alex. Don’t fall into a Romulan trap. Just answer honestly and don’t give them any other reason for procedural delay.” Alex nodded.

“Also, you’re allowed one person to speak on your behalf,” Annabeth added. “It can be anyone you want.”

“I want you, Sir,” Alex said, turning to Tigranian. “It all hinges on the Klingon magistrate and I think you’ve got the most influence over him.”

“Okay,” Tigranian nodded.

“Who is representing the prosecution? What do we know about them?” Annabeth asked.

“In the Romulan justice system, the judge is the prosecutor,” Tigranian said. Alex suddenly looked nervous again. Don’t worry, he can’t do anything to hurt you. We know how he’s going to vote, so we’ll just focus on P’ktarn. This will all be over soon.”

“Your time with the prisoner has expired,” the guard said from behind them. Tigranian turned around and flashed him a look. He gripped his disruptor rifle tighter.

“Sir, it’s alright,” Alex said. “I don’t need a cellmate.”

Tigranian and Annabeth slowly stood up.

“We’ll be back tomorrow to make sure you’re prepared for the hearing. Is there anything you need? Anything you want us to bring?” Annabeth asked.

“No, just you,” Alex said smiling. Annabeth leaned forward and kissed her.

“I love you,” she said, caressing Alex’s cheek.

“I love you!” Alex said, fighting back tears.

As the two of them turned to leave, Alex stood up from the table.

“Sir! I’m so sorry for this. I shouldn't have gotten involved.” Tigranian turned right around and looked her in the eyes.

“Alex, you absolutely did the right thing. You should never be sorry for that.”

Hearing Chamber, Romulan Embassy: Cardassia Prime
Stardate: 53215.8

Alex stood in the defendant's box in the center of the red marble hall. Her arms were chained to the floor. The Romulans had given her some opportunity to clean up, but she still looked disheveled and scared. Annabeth and Tigranian were in their dress uniforms. Annabeth sat in the spectator chairs while Tigranian stood next to Alex. They faced the long table where each of the three magistrates was seated. The rest of the Pershing’s crew watched a live feed of the proceedings from orbit.

Kival sat on the right side, looking as content as a Romulan possibly could. Admiral T’Lara sat in the middle examining her notes. Governor P’ktarn sat on the left leaning back in his chair, his clenched fist resting under his chin.

Kival reached forward and grabbed a gavel. He banged it twice on the bench.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this proceeding will now come to order. We are assembled here to vote on whether or not Dr. Alexandra Hunter of the United Federation of Planets will be extradited to the Romulan Empire to answer charges of Aiding a Convicted Enemy of the Romulan State. All parties have been sworn in, and we will now proceed.”

“Due to the unique nature of this case,” Admiral T’Lara began, “we have convened this tribunal to hear the facts of the case, take testimony from relevant parties, and issue a ruling. All three parties have agreed to abide by the decision of this tribunal. It is final and binding. The Romulan State has waived its right to have an advocate speak on its behalf. Therefore, we will begin with an opening statement from the defense. Captain Tigranian, your statement please.”

He stepped forward and took a deep breath.

“Your honors, the facts of this case are simple. On Stardate 53215.2, Dr. Hunter, while on detached service to a Cardassian refugee hospital on Solaxis, received a distress call from a Cardassian shuttle requesting medical assistance.” He looked straight at Kival. “She did not ask what alleged crimes the occupants of that shuttle committed, she did not ask what side of the border the shuttle was on. She merely acted as her oath as a Starfleet physician demanded. She rendered aid to the injured and the helpless.

“That’s really what this case is about. It is about how the Romulan State believes that the guiding principles of Starfleet and the Federation: the shared idea that all sentient lifeforms have the basic rights to care, comfort, and safety…a basic principle the three powers in this room fought a long, bloody war to defend…does not apply when it is convenient to them. They are asking the esteemed members of the tribunal to admit that Alexandra Hunter’s oath to ‘first do no harm’ can be limited by a political boundary on a star map.

“This case has terrible consequences for the future of the Alpha Quadrant. If the Federation turns its back on Dr. Hunter, we will essentially be granting our silent consent that our principles really have no meaning, and that the quest to spread freedom among the stars that the Federation has dedicated itself to for over two centuries is ultimately useless. It will say that we will abandon our most deeply cherished ideals at the slightest inconvenience.”

Tigranian concluded his remarks and stepped back behind Alex. Admiral T’Lara turned to Kival.

“Promagistrate Kival, as requested, you will argue the case on behalf of the Romulan State.”

Kival stepped out from behind the bench, grabbed a PADD and walked over to Alex.

“Grandiose speech from one of the Federation’s finest heroes,” Kival said addressing the chamber. “Unfortunately, while Captain Tigranian is a great starship captain, he is a terrible attorney,” the Romulan delegation laughed. Everyone else remained silent. “You see, what Captain Tigranian seems to not understand is that the purpose of this hearing is not to determine whether Dr. Hunter’s motives were legitimate or not. That is for a trial to decide.”

“No, the purpose of this proceeding is to determine which jurisdiction has the right to prosecute that trial. He is, however, correct that the facts of this case are simple. So simple, in fact, that Dr. Hunter will make the case for extradition for me.”

Murmurs ran through the courtroom. Alex looked over at Tigranian and Annabeth. The captain was nervous now, but still tried to flash Alex a calming look.

“I will now enter into the record Romulan State Exhibit A,” he said, punching a few keys on his PADD. He held it in front of Alex’s face. Dr. Hunter, will you please read the following lines of highlighted text for the court.” Alex hesitated. Kival looked at Admiral T’Lara.

“Dr. Hunter, please read the text,” T’Lara commanded. Alex began to read aloud.

“Nothing within these Articles of Federation shall authorize the United Federation of Planets to intervene in matters which are essentially the domestic jurisdiction of any planetary social system.”

“Do you know what that is?” Kival asked her.

“Of course, I know what that is,” Alex said, annoyed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kival said. “Perhaps you then could enlighten us non-Federation species?”

“It’s the Prime Directive.”

“Ah, the Prime Directive. Yes, supposedly Starfleet’s most sacred principle. One that Starfleet seems to conveniently forget when it suits them…”

“Objection!” Tigranian shouted.

“Sustained,” T’Lara said. “Please refrain from making personal judgements in your testimony, Promagistrate.”

“I withdraw my last comment,” Kival said before continuing. “Needless to say, the Prime Directive does forbid Starfleet personnel from interfering in domestic matters of another culture at any cost, including their own lives.”

“There are 47 suborders of the Prime Directive! There are times when it’s necessary to help.” Alex said angrily. “The shuttle had requested assistance!”

“So, you say you abandon regulations when you feel it’s the right thing to do?”

“Objection! He’s attacking the witness.”

“Sustained. Promagistrate, please ask a relevant question or cease this line of questioning.”

“Very well, I was simply trying to establish that the Prime Directive existed and that Starfleet personnel are bound to abide by both its restrictions and its consequences.”

“I believe you have made that point,” T’Lara replied.

“Romulan State Exhibit B, The Treaty of Bajor,” he punched a few more keys and held the PADD back up. “Read the highlighted text please.”

“Article XI: All Dominion and Pre-Existing Cardassian Legal Codes are hereby abolished. Pending the adoption of a permanent Charter or Constitution by the Provisional Cardassian Union unanimously approved by a two-thirds majority of the legislative bodies of the United Federation of Planets, Klingon Empire, and Romulan Star Empire, each respective Occupational Authority will administer their Zone of Responsibility using the existing legal code of their government except where specifically abrogated by the provisions of this treaty.

“I’ve been watching the newsfeeds lately, and I believe that the Cardassian Constitutional Convention has yet to ratify a document. Also, I have scanned this entire treaty, and I cannot find a single reference to physicians or medical personnel being exempt from the law. Do my other esteemed colleagues agree?”

“You are correct, Promagistrate,” T’Lara said. P’ktarn only nodded.

“Interesting…” he said sinisterly. Alex’s breathing quickened. Tigranian leaned over and whispered: “It doesn’t matter, this is all posturing.”

“Don’t worry, Alex, you’re doing just fine. It’s almost over,” Kival said with a grin.

“Don’t call me ‘Alex’,” she said, wanting to rip her chains from the ground.

“My apologies, Dr. Hunter,” Kival replied. “I just have a few more questions for you.”

“Did you board the Cardassian cargo shuttle commanded by Enoiac Bail on Stardate 53215.2?”

“You already know that I did.”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What was the physical location of that shuttle?”

“The dispatch team on Solaxis said it was a hundred kilometers inside the Romulan Zone.”

“Let the record show that the sensor logs of the Romulan warbird Selakek, corroborated by the sensor logs of the Solaxis refugee hospital, show that the shuttle was 119 kilometers inside the Romulan Demarcation Line.”

“Noted,” T’Lara replied. Kival turned back to Alex.

“Did you provide medical assistance to Enoiac Bail on that occasion?”

“He would have died if I hadn’t!”

“Yes or no, Doctor!” Kival said, raising his voice.

“Yes! But I didn’t know he was a fugitive,” Alex said. In her desperation, she let out another phrase, “but it wouldn’t have mattered if I did. He needed help.” Kival’s pointed ears perked up.

“My esteemed colleagues have already examined Romulan law as it relates to this case. They have both already acknowledged that it is a crime to aid a fugitive of the Romulan State and that whether or not the accused knew the fugitive’s identity is not a mitigating factor. However, your last statement leaves me curious, Doctor. Answer one final question: knowing what you know now, would you do it again?”

“What?” Alex asked.

“Would you board that shuttle and render aid to Bail? It’s a simple question. Might I remind you that you’re under oath.”

“Objection!” Tigranian shouted. “Irrelevant speculation based on a hypothetical situation. She didn’t know of Bail’s identity at the time.”

“Oh no, Captain,” Kival said, pointing at him. “In your own opening statement, you said that this was about principle. So, I’m curious, just how strong are Dr. Hunter’s principles now?” Tigranian desperately looked at the magistrates.

“Overruled,” P’ktarn said quietly. “He is correct, Son of Tigranian. You brought those considerations into the case and I wish to hear the doctor’s answer.”

“Dr. Hunter, please answer the question,” T’Lara said quietly. Alex looked straight at them and put her shoulders back.

“Yes, I would do it all again. If I refused to help someone for political reasons, I would be betraying everything I believed in.” The Romulan delegation exploded. T’Lara reached over and banged the gavel.

“Calm yourselves, or I will clear this chamber.”

“There you have it, my esteemed colleagues. We have firmly established that Starfleet officers are bound by a policy of noninterference, we have established that Romulan law is applicable at the scene of the crime, and by the defendant’s own testimony, she is not only guilty, but would also commit recidivism if allowed to go free. The Romulan State rests.”

“It’s okay, it’ll all be okay,” Annabeth said, holding Alex in the visiting room. At least the Romulans had dispensed with the wrist chains and allowed her to walk around freely. Tigranian had recovered a bit with his counterarguments, and closing remarks, but Kival’s performance still had them on edge.

“He was just trying to rattle your cage, Alex,” Tigranian said. “He knows the hearing is a formality at this point. P’ktarn will side with T’Lara and you’ll go free. Kival is just grandstanding while he has the chance.”

“Still,” Alex said softly. “I’m nervous. What if P’ktarn votes with the Romulans?”

“Trust me, he’s an honorable man and a Klingon warrior.”

“You place an awful lot of faith in the Klingons, Dan,” Annabeth said skeptically.

“They haven’t let me down yet.”

“Still, Beth, if something goes wrong and I’m sent to Romulus,” Alex started shaking, “I just want you to know how much I love you and I will never forget…” she teared up. Annabeth grabbed her and their lips met.

“Don’t start talking like that. Don’t you dare start talking like that,” Annabeth said, stroking her hair. “Tonight, you’re going to be in your own bed and this will all be behind us.”

“I’d rather be in your bed…” The two women laughed and Tigranian smiled.

The good mood was shattered when two Romulan guards entered the room with the Federation ambassador.

“Ambassador Jenkins,” Tigranian said, standing straight up.

“The magistrates are ready to announce their verdicts.”

Alex stood back in her box, and back in her chains. She had come to realize that the restraints were not because the Romulans feared her; they simply wanted to humiliate her as much as physically possible. Tigranian was right by her side. Slowly, he reached an arm underneath the rail and grabbed her hand to steady her. Annabeth was seated a few rows behind them. As the magistrates entered from their separate chambers, the three of them held their collective breaths.

“Take your seats,” Kival announced to the assembly. He banged his gavel. “This hearing is now in session. We have each reached our decision in regards to the extradition of Dr. Alexandra Hunter to the Romulan Star Empire. Pursuant to treaty regulations, we have arrived at these conclusions completely independently and have no knowledge of how the other parties will vote. The majority vote rules.”

“Dr. Hunter,” T’Lara said, looking at Alex. “Are you prepared to receive this tribunal’s decision?”

“I am, Your Honor.” Alex grabbed Tigranian’s hand tighter.

“In the event your extradition is approved, you will remain in the custody of the Romulan Star Empire for disposition as they see fit. If your extradition is denied, you will be remanded to the custody of your commanding officer where a separate Article 32 hearing will be held at a later date to determine if further Starfleet legal action is required. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Very well, we will now hear the decisions of the individual magistrates. Promagistrate Kival?”

“The Romulan Star Empire votes for extradition,” he said with a cruel grin.

“Governor P’ktarn?” T’Lara said, turning to the old Klingon. This was the moment of truth.

“I have tried to remain as objective as possible during these proceedings,” he said leaning forward over the bench. “However, it is impossible for a Klingon warrior to remain objective in this case. Dr. Hunter, the evidence and your own testimony show that you violated Romulan space and Romulan law.”

Alex started quivering, but Tigranian held her steady.

“That being said, you were willing to risk your own life, safety, and freedom, to render aid to a defenseless foe. Your actions were right and just, and despite what Romulan law states, I will not condemn a person who carries true honor in her heart. The Klingon Empire votes against extradition. May the hand of Kahless guide us!”

Tigranian and Alex both smiled. He instantly felt her relax. She knew she was going home.

Angry shouts and muffled cheers echoed through the chamber. T’Lara reached over and grabbed the gavel.

“Order! We will have order!” The room slowly quieted down.

“The final decision is mine. Dr. Hunter, your Starfleet service record is above reproach. Your dedication to duty, care for your patients, and service to the Federation hold you as a fine example of what Starfleet physicians can and should be. However, I have examined the Treaty of Bajor at length. Romulan law did indeed apply at the time of the alleged crime. You have admitted your guilt by your own testimony, and at no point did the Romulan Star Empire violate any obligation they had to the Federation or Klingon Empire during your arrest, detainment, or these proceedings which would be the only justifiable reason for the Federation abrogating its treaty obligations.”

A cold shiver ran through Alex. She started violently shaking her head.

“No, no, no” she muttered as she shook like a leaf. A giant smile appeared on Kival’s face.

“Though the Federation might find the Romulan justice system distasteful, it is still their recognized legal code. The United Federation of Planets will not place its own moral judgements on their actions in this matter and we will not use the possible consequences of a Romulan trial to affect our decision,” T’Lara continued. “A wise saying has guided my life since childhood: ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…or the one.’ If the sacrifice of one Starfleet officer can foster amity and work to build trust between the United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire, I believe that it is a sacrifice worth making, no matter how painful it is. The United Federation of Planets votes for extradition.”

“ALEX!” Annabeth screamed from behind them. She jumped up from her seat and ran towards the defendant’s box, but was stopped by two Romulan guards.

“This is insane!” Tigranian shouted at Admiral T’Lara. Kival started laughing.

“Captain Tigranian! You are out of order. One more outburst and I will have you held in contempt.”

He saw another two Romulan guards walking towards them. Tigranian wrapped the sobbing Alex in his arms and whispered in her ear.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This isn’t over. I promise you, this isn’t over. Just hold on.”

“ALEX!” Annabeth shouted again. Tigranian turned around. Annabeth was trying to push her way past the guards.

“BETH! BETH, I’M SCARED!” Alex cried as the Romulans unfastened her chains.

A gavel banged on the bench.

“Bailiffs, remove that woman!” Kival shouted at Commander Geist.

Tigranian rushed towards Annabeth, extricated her from the grip of the Romulans, and pulled her back towards the stands.

“You can’t help her now! Not like this.” Tigranian said. Annabeth continued to scream as the guards started to drag Alex from the chamber.

“Alex!” she raised her free arm toward Alex as she fought back tears.

“Beth! I love you! I always will! Don’t forget me!”

“Stay alive! Do you hear me? Stay alive! I swear I will get you home. If I have to burn the galaxy to the ground, I will bring you home!” Annabeth screamed as Alex finally disappeared from view. When she was out of sight, Annabeth pushed Tigranian away and buried her face in her hands.

The officer’s club at the legionnaires’ barracks in the Romulan Embassy was ornately decorated with stained wood trim, marble floors, and overstuffed leather furniture. Everything about it, from the raptor crest carved above the mantle, to the paintings by masters such as Rikta, T’elwis, and Paren was designed to create an ambiance of wealth and power.

A female Romulan dressed in a sequined gown played relaxing harp music while Kival and several other higher-ranking Romulans sat in their high-backed lounge chairs, sipped blue spirits, and discussed plans to become masters of their own respective pieces of the galaxy. The subject of Alex’s hearing was a major topic of discussion and Kival was currently the center of attention.

Suddenly, the harp player played a flat note and then fell silent. The Romulan cabal looked up from their circle and saw Tigranian standing before them. The entire club fell silent and stared directly at him in his Starfleet uniform.

“Captain Tigranian,” Kival said, lifting his glass of blue liquor to his lips. “Your skills continue to impress. I’ll have to have a discussion with the ambassador about his security protocols. I’ll also forgive you on this occasion, but next time you decide to drop by unannounced, please remember this establishment has a very strict dress code.”

“You wanted me to come to you. I refuse to believe that state security would let a Starfleet captain beam through their perimeter grid so easily.”

Kival raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you’re not as blunt as I first suspected.”

“High praise from a Romulan.”

“May I offer you a beverage? I’m afraid that we don’t stock bloodwine, but perhaps you can finally enjoy that kali-fal?”

“Don’t patronize me. What do you want?”

“Want? What could I possibly want?” Kival said sarcastically.

“For her…”

“My dear, Captain. I’m just a simple territorial promagistrate. I believe you think I possess far more power than I actually do.”

“You’re a territorial promagistrate with a direct line of communication to the praetor, the senate, and the Tal Shiar. So, I ask again, what do you want?”

“Now that you mention it, certain old friends of mine did mention that I had some latitude to negotiate the conditions for the release of a certain Federation citizen being held by the empire, but I failed to broach the matter because the cost to Starfleet would be so high.”

“Is it me you want? Do you want me to take her place? Because I would give my life in a heartbeat if it meant saving hers.”

Kival burst out laughing.

“Oh, Captain, I do envy the fantasy world you’ve built in your mind. Picturing yourself as the valiant and chivalrous warrior, riding a white steed into the maelstrom to save the damsel in distress. However, this is reality. Trading one slave in the Reman mines for another gives us nothing. No, the Romulan Empire trades in currency far more valuable than lives.”

“And that is?”

“Prestige…”

Omekla System: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53222.6

 “Are you sure you want to do this?” Murphy asked deeply concerned. “You know how public this is going to be?”

Tigranian leaned back in his chair, the dim light of his quarters casting an ominous shadow on his face.

“I guarantee you that the entire Alpha Quadrant will see it. They’ll make sure of that.”

“The Federation Council took some convincing, but once Admiral Paris and Starfleet Medical got the president behind it, they caved. They still think it should be a professional diplomat though.”

“The deal was for me, Pete.” Tigranian deeply exhaled. “I’m surprised Admiral Paris actually went along. I was sure I didn’t have any bridges left with the chief of operations.”

“He knows why you’re doing it. He still remembers what it was like to be in that chair.”

“That’s a very rare thing for most admirals.”

“Does that include me?”

“No comment,” Tigranian forced himself to smile.

“I’m not sure it makes any difference, Dan, but for you to do this takes real courage, no matter what anyone else says.”

“Believe me, people will say something.”

“Does Torlek know?”

“What I’m about to do could have serious repercussions for our entire family. I couldn’t stab him in the back without at least giving him a courtesy call.”

“What did he say?”

“That we would face any consequences together.”

“That’s shocking for a Klingon.”

“Not really, you just have to know who Klingons really are.”

On the screen, Murphy punched a few keys.

“I’ve just sent you a set of coordinates along the border. A fleet of warbirds will meet you there and escort you to Romulus.”

“Into the lion’s den…” Suddenly a red light started blinking on Tigranian’s desk. “Dor-sho-gha,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just confirmed a suspicion I had. I’ve got to take care of this, Pete.”

“Alright, talk to me again once it’s done.”

“Yes, Sir.” The screen cut to the Federation crest. Tigranian stood up from his chair and walked into the corridor.

Annabeth loaded a crate into the runabout. Stepping back into the shuttlebay, she opened another case and began filling the pockets of her leather jacket with as many power packs as they could hold. Finally, she picked up her phaser rifle and reached for a green box labeled, “Grenade M95: Projectile 15mm, Chemical Explosive, Comp V4.”

One at a time, she inserted the grenades into the tubular magazine of the launcher mounted underneath her rifle’s barrel. Once the last shell was loaded, she racked the pump and slung the weapon across her chest.

“I hope you’re not planning to use those on a starship,” said a voice from across the shuttlebay. Annabeth reared back and aimed the rifle directly at Tigranian. “They have a nasty tendency to cause hull breaches and explosive decompressions.” Annabeth pointed the muzzle of her rifle directly at his heart.

“Don’t you dare try to stop me, Dan! This is exactly what you would be doing if you were in my shoes.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he said walking towards her. “That’s why I told the computer to alert me when anyone but Lieutenant Hawkins or Sergeant Schultz accessed the marine armory.” Annabeth didn’t lower her weapon.

Tigranian stopped about five paces away from her.

“What’s your plan, Annabeth?” 

She still kept her weapon locked on his chest.

“I’ve got a ship, military grade assault weapons, and enough explosives to level half a city.” she said decisively.

“No, those are resources,” Tigranian replied. “I asked what your plan was.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me right now!” she spat back at him. He slowly raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat.

“I’m not patronizing you, Annabeth. I know you’re angry and I know you’re lethal. However, you taking a warp 4 capable runabout against the brunt of the Romulan navy is not exactly a winning scenario. You can’t save Alex if you’re dead.”

“What other choice do I have, Dan?” Annabeth said, walking towards him. “The Federation abandoned her.”

“Not the Federation! One Admiral’s ridiculous decision abandoned her. Starfleet just authorized a plan for us to bring her home.”

“How do I know you’re not just telling me what I want to hear so I won’t go after her?”

“Because you know I’ve never lied to you before and I know you’re not going to shoot me.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked with a glare.

“Yes, because if you were going to shoot me, you would have actually engaged the power pack.” Her shoulders dropped and she let the rifle hang by the sling back across her chest. Suddenly, she ran forward and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m just so scared, Dan. I can’t lose her. I can’t.”

“Call the bridge. Ask them what our current heading is.” She stepped back and tapped the communicator under her jacket.

“Geist to duty officer.”

“Lieutenant Moran here, Ma’am.”

“What’s our current heading?”

“Ma’am, Captain Tigranian just ordered us to set a course for the Romulan Neutral Zone. We’ll arrive there in 68 hours, present course and speed.”

“Thank you. Geist out.”

“Before they took her away, I told her this wasn’t over.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Whatever it takes.”

Romulus
Stardate: 53224.4

The Pershing entered orbit around Romulus surrounded by an entire squadron of warbirds. Officially, it was to provide a welcome to a starship of the United Federation of Planets. The real reason was to ensure there was no backing out.

“Standard orbit, Mr. Lexington,” Annabeth said from the captain’s chair. Tigranian was already below in the transporter room.

“Aye, Ma’am.”

“Commander, we’re being hailed by the senate liaison. They’re signaling they’re prepared to receive the captain at the agreed coordinates.” Annabeth wanted to accompany him once Tigranian had briefed her the details of his deal, but he was quite clear. He would go alone.

“A part of me actually hopes they actually try something,” Tigranian told her that morning in his quarters as he assembled his dress whites. “That would give you an excuse to fight.”

Annabeth could only stand there in silence. She knew what this meant for Tigranian personally and professionally, and she was amazed that he agreed to it willingly. She almost felt it had to be some kind of ploy, but also knew he wouldn’t risk Alex’s life on a gamble.

“Bridge to transporter room,” Annabeth said into her intercom. “Standby to energize.”

Tigranian stepped up onto the transporter pad and gently nodded. The chief entered the coordinates and he disappeared in a sparkle of light.

“Katie, put the Romulan feed on the main viewscreen,” Annabeth said nervously, holding her hands in front of her..

The Romulan crest appeared on the screen. The computer automatically translated the narrator’s words.

“The following is an authorized transmission of the Romulan State. Jalon Tru.”

The camera panned to an exterior shot of the Romulan senate building bathed in sunlight. Green and blue raptor banners flew from every column and tower in the warm breeze. A delegation dressed in imperial purple robes stood at the end of the marble bridge that led to the main senate Chamber. It was lined with armed legionnaires in ceremonial purple and black armor and armed with a long back pike, tipped with a curved scimitar style blade.

Tigranian rematerialized on the end of the bridge. Immediately, one of the purple robed dignitaries approached him.

“Jalon Tru, Captain Daniel Tigranian of the United Federation Planets. I am Proconsul Vrnealious of the Romulan Senate. On behalf of her Imperial Majesty the Empress, and Praetor Neral, I welcome you to Romulus in the name of peace.”

“Jalon Tru, Proconsul. I am honored by your hospitality.”

It was obvious that every word of this exchange had been staged, approved, and rehearsed. While it probably seemed normal to the Romulans, for the crew of the Pershing, it was agonizing to watch the discomfort on Tigranian’s face.

“The senate and praetor await you, Captain.” Vrnealious turned and stood beside Tigranian. “PRAETORIANS! ATTEN-TION!”

The imperial guards snapped to attention, pulling their pikes in tight with one crisp movement. It was so well choreographed the sound echoed across the marble space in one sinister clang.

Vrnealious then led Tigranian through the gauntlet of armed warriors into the senate chambers.

“By Uzaveh,” Scharr said standing behind Annabeth, “He’s actually going through with it.”

“It’s for Alex,” Annabeth whispered from her chair, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. “It’s all for Alex…”

The feed cut to the interior of the Romulan Senate, a circular room with raised stone tiers containing the seats for the regular members. The proconsuls and vice-proconsuls all occupied more elaborate benches at the head of the room. At the far end of the chamber, on the highest and most elaborate seat sat Neral, Praetor of the Romulan Empire, dressed in an elaborate purple and silver robe. On the floor in front of him was an elaborate mosaic made of multicolored marble and gems mapping the entire Romulan domain across the Beta Quadrant of the galaxy.

“That son of a bitch,” Katie said angrily as the holocamera panned across the chamber. Kival sat in the gallery among the spectators watching the proceedings.

“We all knew he’d be there,” Annabeth said, not taking her eyes off the screen. “He wouldn’t miss this for all the worlds.”

On cue, the praetor rose from his throne and the chamber followed suit. They stared at a large metal gate at the rear of the room. Suddenly, three bangs echoed through the chamber. The praetor silently raised his hand and two more praetorians threw open the doors. Vrnealious stepped inside the chamber and proceeded to the center of the room.

“Jalon Tru, Praetor,” Vrnealious said, raising his right fist in a one-armed salute to his leader. Captain Daniel Tigranian of the United Federation of Planets requests an audience with this esteemed chamber.”

“If he comes with peace in his heart, then allow him to come forward and speak.” Neral said majestically. Vrnealious stepped aside and motioned out the door.

Holocamera angles covered every single view of Tigranian’s lonely walk to the center of the mosaic, beaming his image instantly to every corner of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. The Romulans wanted this to be as public and humiliating as possible.

“Welcome to Romulus, Captain. Jalon Tru.” Neral said, taking his seat. The rest of the chamber followed his lead like well-trained puppets.

“Jalon Tru, Praetor,” Tigranian said, trying to keep his voice steady. A massive stone raptor hanging over the entrance hovered directly over his head.

“State your business.”

“Praetor Neral, Consuls, Vice-Consuls, esteemed members of the Senate, I come before you today as a representative of the United Federation of Planets and as a starship captain to…” Tigranian paused, choking on the words he was required to say to buy Alex’s freedom. The entire crew of the Pershing tensed. “I come before you today to ask for your mercy. Three weeks ago, a member of my crew violated the Treaty of Bajor and committed a crime against the Romulan State. She was arrested, extradited, and…rightfully convicted of her crime.”

Annabeth banged her fist on the side of the Tigranian’s chair. She was fighting back the disgust that it all had come to this.

“However, allow me, as her commander, to take responsibility for her actions. Against the orders of my superiors, I have on numerous occasions violated the territorial integrity of the Romulan Star Empire. I have failed to give the Romulan peoples the proper respect. I have failed to treat the Romulan State with the honor that it has won in battle in the name of freedom, justice, and peace. It was my poor example that led Lieutenant Commander Hunter to her ruin, and I…” Tigranian paused again to take a deep breath. “…I beg for mercy, both for me and on her behalf.”

“It’s done.” Annabeth said, closing her eyes.

Neral turned to Vrnealious and nodded.

“Captain Tigranian,” Vrnealious spoke on behalf of Neral. “Though we cannot condone your crimes, we are not without compassion. To request this audience, you have shown true remorse, both for your actions, and the actions of those you command. Therefore, the praetor is prepared to grant your request for mercy.”

Tigranian flashed Vrnealious a look.

“Something’s wrong,” Annabeth said leaning forward in her chair.

Neral stood up and walked toward Tigranian. The rest of the chamber stood as well, towering over Tigranian in the center.

“Take a knee before the praetor, kiss his ring in a sign of penitent obedience to Romulan power, and all will be forgiven…”

“That wasn’t part of the deal!” Laria shouted from behind Annabeth. Tigranian’s eyes darted back and forth. Cameras filmed his every move. He had no choice.

In total defeat, he dropped to one knee. Neral extended his right hand. On his finger was a black opal ring with a silver raptor inlaid on its surface. With excruciating slowness, Tigranian took his hand, closed his eyes, and kissed it.

“The captain has admitted his guilt and begged mercy for himself and for his crew. In the name of peace and cooperation, I grant Lieutenant Commander Alexandra Hunter full pardon for her crimes,” Neral said, his voice echoing off the chamber’s walls.

The camera panned away from Tigranian to the senators. Spontaneously, they all raised their right fist in front of them and began singing the Romulan Imperial Anthem.

“Ch’Rihan esthh Ch’Hauran etshh Tohh ahh seehh perhh Tex.

Romulus esthh Remus esth Mna-mne Deridex.

“Romulus esthh Remus coniuncthhionibuhhs,

Reghhio de Rihannsu esthh a Vorta For-um.”

Off camera, Vrnealious knelt down next to Tigranian and whispered.

“Stay down and look at the floor. It’s not too late for her to have a terrible accident.”

The consul quickly stood back up and joined in the anthem. The camera returned to an image of Tigranian staring at the map of the Romulan Empire beneath him, hands lying submissively at his sides, his body gently quaking with suppressed anger.

In his initial counseling with her, Tigranian had said that “the duty of a first officer is to fight for the crew. The duty of a commander is to die for them.” At the time, she thought it was hyperbole. Now, Annabeth knew that he was serious. For Daniel Tigranian, Starfleet captain and Klingon warrior, this was far worse than death.

Immediately after her departure from Ritaxis’ office, Alex had been dragged to solitary confinement. She had no idea why.

Blackness still surrounded her. She lay on the stone floor of her cell, completely unaware of the passage of time. Maybe she had been there for hours, perhaps days. The darkness was so profound, she could not even make out the details of her surroundings. She knew she was alone, she knew the edges of the space by feeling the rocky walls with her hands, she knew the ground was cold and unforgiving. It was now her whole world, inside and out: blackness.

 “If I was not myself, and you were someone else…”

The whispers of an old song escaped her lips and echoed through the emptiness.

 “I’d say so much to you, and I would tell the truth…”

It was the only thought she could think to keep out the recurring invaders to her mind: pain and blackness.

 “Cause I can hardly breathe…

 I’m dead in the water. Still looking for ya

I’m dead in the water Can’t you see, can’t you see?”

The door flew open, bathing her in harsh white light. The black silhouettes of two Romulans stood in harsh contrast to the brightness. She retreated into the corner of her cell, covering her head with her arms. Had they come to take her somewhere, or perhaps just to demean her for their own entertainment?

“The smell!” she heard one of them mutter.

“Filthy human creatures. Let’s just get it out of here.”

Alex heard footsteps approaching. She still was curled into a ball, trembling uncontrollably. Suddenly she felt the familiar prick of a hypospray in her arm. Then she lost consciousness.

Alex felt herself laying in a warm bed, the mattress cradling her broken body. A wonderful, comforting aroma surrounded her. She knew she had been here before. Finally, she remembered. It couldn’t be. This had to be an illusion. This place was gone forever.

“A dream?” her shattered mind finally registered. “Where are you? Open your eyes.” Slowly, her vision came back into focus: a window, stars rushing by faster than the speed of light. The blue vase with fresh flowers she always kept in her quarters.

The face of an angel appeared and placed a warm hand on her cheek. Alex lay motionless, staring up at the face she thought she would never see again. The warm rush of tears pushed their way out of the corners of her eyes.

“How do I know this is real? How do I know that this won’t all disappear again?” Alex asked, almost terrified to hear the answer. Annabeth reached down and gently took Alex’s hand. She placed it on her chest so that Alex could feel her heart beating.

“The very first time we met,” Annabeth began, “You were alone in the mess hall of the Atlantis. You were the brand new night-shift physician and had just made lieutenant the previous week…”

“And you were getting ready for the duty shift on the bridge that night. You walked in and took a seat at the far table…” Alex whispered in reply.

“You thought it was strange that I didn’t sit closer and you started watching me out of the corner of your eye. You were reading a book, but not on a PADD. It was large and bound in green leather…”

“My cousin had just given it to me for my birthday. He knew it was one of my favorites…”

“I couldn’t stop looking at you. I kept staring, but when you’d look up from the pages, I would look away, hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“But I did…” Alex said, the hint of a smile starting to form on her lips.

“Finally, I got the courage to walk over to your table and sit down.”

“You were trying to be so suave…and failing miserably.”

“I was so nervous, I nearly tripped over my feet, but I finally made it to the table. You put the book down, and held out your hand.”

“I told you my name…”

“And I was so taken with you, all I could get out was, “Beth…”

“And then you looked down and saw the cover of the book…”

“It was the Odyssey by Homer. Then I said ‘I prefer the Iliad because it’s about a woman worth fighting for.’ And then I fell for you right then and there because of what you said back to me.” Annabeth couldn’t hold back her own tears anymore.

“I prefer stories about a woman worth coming home to.”

Alex reached up and wrapped her arms around Annabeth. She pulled Alex close to her. They held each other sobbing in wonderful bliss.

“You’re home. You’re home with me now,” Annabeth whispered as she looked across the room. Her lips silently mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Tigranian sat in a chair, his uniform jacket unzipped and two days of stubble on his face; his soft smile revealing his inner joy about this beautiful moment. Without a word, he rose from his chair, exited the doors, and headed for his own quarters.

Ventani System: Federation/Cardassian Border
Stardate: 53224.7

Katie had the bridge. He couldn’t bring himself to sit in the chair right now, and Annabeth was still watching over Alex in her quarters.

In the darkness of his quarters, he stared out the window at the passing stars, wondering what awaited him. He knew his actions on Romulus would have consequences for him. Now, he was worried that others would be dragged down to Gre’thor as well.

“Sir,” Katie’s voice echoed through the intercom, “incoming transmission: General Torlek for you.”

“Thank you, Katie.” He reached out his hand and hit “receive” on the monitor. “They moved just as quickly as I suspected, my brother.”

“If it makes you feel any better, there was at least some debate. You gained much respect for your actions during Morjod’s insurrection.”

“What are the charges?”

“Cowardice and dishonorable conduct. We’ve been summoned to appear before the High Council in six days.”

“Will the chancellor be present?”

“You know he will be. He has to be there to approve a death sentence against a member of a noble house.”

“If I ask you for Mauk-to’Vor, will it make a difference?”

“I’m not going to kill you, Daniel.”

“You should. Think of Elessa and the children.”

“My wife and children have already pledged to stand with you against all your enemies. Let them be my concern.”

“My dishonor will be yours as well.”

“You speak to me as if I know nothing of my own people. Remember, I have known what it is to be Klingon far longer than you have.”

“I meant no disrespect, my brother,” Tigranian said, turning away from the screen.

“I know you didn’t. I just wish that sometimes you would admit that you don’t know everything about your adopted culture…”

Annabeth gently wiped away the sweat from Alex’s brow. She was sleeping far better since she finally accepted that her return to the Pershing was not a dream or a Romulan holographic illusion. However, she still was suffering the effects of nightmares and flashbacks. Speaking with Katie about her own struggles provided the most catharsis, but Alex still felt no place was safer than Annabeth’s bed when it was time to close her eyes.

The sound of muffled singing started coming through the bulkhead.

“Sheeeevooook’tah gish!”

Annabeth looked to see that Alex had calmed down in her slumber. She planted a soft kiss on her forehead and headed for the corridor. She knew that if Tigranian had started playing tragic Klingon opera, he received the news he was waiting for.

Tigranian couldn’t hear the door chime over the booming score. Annabeth had to use her access code to gain entrance. She found him in his desk chair, eyes squeezed shut, mouthing the lyrics. She placed her hand on the back of his chair, jarring him back to the present.

“Computer, pause playback,” the music ceased. She looked at him with great concern. His expression did nothing to alleviate her worry.

“You’re going to Qo’noS, aren’t you?” He only nodded in the affirmative. “How bad is it?”

“Best case scenario, discommendation.” A horrified look crossed her face.

“And the worst case scenario is…” she paused, unable to say the word. He did it for her.

“Execution.”

 “Then don’t go!” she shouted as if it was a common sense answer he was unable to grasp.

“That’s not an option, Annabeth.”

“If they’re going to kill you anyways, then just go back to being a Human, dammit! What’s so bad about your own species?” she screamed in exasperation.

“Because that side of me died eight years ago.”

“No!” Annabeth said, crossing to the other side of his desk and planting her arms firmly in front of him. “I’ve seen it, time and time again.”

“Compassion and love are not unique to our DNA,” he said slowly, shaking his head.

“You’re really going through with this, aren’t you? What does Admiral Murphy have to say about it?”

“He doesn’t have a choice in the matter. The High Council’s judiciary committee made a direct petition to the Federation through Ambassador Worf. If I don’t go, the Klingon government will issue a warrant for my arrest and we have a standing extradition agreement with the empire that’s pretty air-tight.” He couldn’t help but smile. “It’s ironic in a morbid kind of way.” Annabeth grimaced. “It’s okay, Number One. I was always prepared for this possibility. I just didn’t see any other way to get her back.”

Annabeth hesitated, unsure of what she was feeling. It all seemed so clear to him, but so confusing to her.

“How can you just be so flippant with your life all the time?”

“Because, exactly as you said, it’s my life. As long as my heart stops beating trying to save someone else, how can I feel that it’s wasted?”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re staying here.”

“Your Klingon pride did that to me twice before, it’s not doing that to me again.”

“Fine, I’ll be blunt. Do you want to see me hacked into pieces on the floor of the High Council Chamber on Qo’noS? The bloody remains of my body dragged from the building and thrown into the Qam-Chee River?”

“No, but if it comes to that, I want the Klingons to know damn sure what kind of person they are putting to death first, and they’re going to hear it from my mouth.”

“Why?”

“Because you gave me back my life on Romulus. Maybe I can give you back yours on Qo’noS.”

Beta Ceti System: Federation/Klingon Frontier
Stardate: 53225.2

Annabeth packed the last few articles of clothing into her bag and clicked the lid shut.

“Don’t worry about me,” Alex said, sitting up in bed, holding a mug of hot tea. The color had returned to her face and her old smile was making frequent appearances. “The EMH says I’ll be cleared to return to light duty in a few days. I can’t believe I’ve been replaced with a hologram,” she smirked while taking a sip of tea.

“Are you kidding me?” Annabeth said, crossing over to the bed and taking a seat next to her. “As soon as you’re back on your feet, I’m having them deactivate that damn thing. It annoys the hell out of me.” They smiled before Alex wrapped her arms around Annabeth’s shoulders.

“You be careful. He’s hard enough to control when he’s not around Klingons. On their homeworld, the captain will be downright incorrigible.”

“Control is one word I would never include in the description of my relationship with Daniel Tigranian, however, if he starts acting up, I’ll be sure to slap him around a little.”

They both smiled and then softly kissed. Annabeth looked at Alex in her wide, brown eyes.

“Physician, don’t you dare heal yourself. Keep talking with Dr. Yuvich. Katie and Laria say they are at your beckon call 26 hours a day.”

“I’ll be good, I promise. Now, you promise not to get in any trouble yourself.” Annabeth stood up from the bed and put her bag over her shoulder.

“That, my love, is one promise I would never be able to keep, and you know it.”

“At least make sure you come back in one piece. You have an obligation now.”

“I know, let’s just hope I can bring the captain back with me to go through with it.”

Tigranian loaded the last of his luggage into the runabout and stepped back out into the shuttlebay.

“Computer, time?”

“The time is 0903 hours.”

 “ghuy’cha’, Number One,” he muttered as the doors opened. He looked up expecting to see Annabeth, but instead, Laria entered and walked towards him.

“I’m afraid that Klach D’Kel Brakt is gonna have to wait, L,’ he said.

“Captain,” she said, stepping closer. She looked on the verge of panic.

“Laria, what’s wrong?” he asked. Suddenly she leaned forward and kissed him. He froze, unable to think anything else but one thing: as unexpected as this was, he didn’t want the moment to end. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over. She stumbled backwards a few steps.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered apologetically. “But I had to do that at least once.”

Tigranian approached her with a soft smile. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I know what you want us to be, Laria, but we can’t…especially now.”

She nodded silently while looking down at the deck.

“If Annabeth comes back alone, on the wall of my quarters is my bat’leth. I want you to have it.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head angrily. “No, I won’t take it.”

“Yes, you will. You’re the only one I would trust with it.”

Laria finally nodded again. Finally, she reached out a hand.

“Qapla’, Sir.”

“Qapla’,” he said, shaking her hand. Laria turned and left the shuttlebay. As the doors opened, she passed Annabeth coming in.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Good morning, Laria,” she replied as the Bajoran continued walking without another word. Annabeth looked at Tigranian.

“No, Annabeth, we’re not going to talk about that.”

“Alright,” she said, slightly annoyed. “You’re early.”

“No, you’re late,” Tigranian said, turning toward the runabout.

“Dan, if there’s one thing in your life to be late to, this might be it.” He didn’t acknowledge her comment.

“Let’s go. We should have already started preflight.”

First City of Qo’noS: Klingon Empire
Stardate: 53226.0

Just before they landed on Qo’noS, Tigranian had changed out of his Starfleet uniform and into warrior’s armor. He also put on a gray stole emblazoned with the crest of the House of Torlek on its shoulders. He said, “I want to be judged as a true Klingon, not a child in a colored uniform.” Annabeth’s only response was to say that she didn’t have to change clothes to show who she really was. It actually made Tigranian smile.

The Klingon High Council currently met in the Privy Council Chamber of the Imperial Palace as the Great Hall was still being rebuilt in the wake of Morjod’s coup. Outside the massive wooden doors, Tigranian and Annabeth stood with General Torlek.

“Once the chancellor arrives, we will be summoned in.”

“Two planetary heads of state in as many weeks. You certainly get around, Sir.”

“I knew that your presence would provide some levity to a rather serious situation, Commander Geist,” Torlek said looking at her. “You do realize that once these proceedings begin, they will be in tlhIngan Hol. My brother and I speak Federation Standard now as a courtesy to you.”

“Don’t worry,” she said calmly. “I made sure I charged my universal translator this morning,” she said pointing to her right ear.

“A somewhat confusing piece of technology to us,” Torlek said with a grin. “We’ve spent most of our history forcing other people to learn our language.”

Annabeth replied with only an annoyed expression.

“Just be sure you wait until you are summoned forward to state your case. Women are technically not allowed to speak in open council unless given permission,” Torlek continued.

“You’ve had two female chancellors!” Annabeth said incredulously.

“They’re the reason why,” Tigranian said. “L’Rell and Azetbur left a bitter taste in many of the more traditional families’ mouths and did not meet good ends as a result.”

“And you call us barbarians?” Annabeth replied.

“Are you sure her being here is a good idea?” Torlek said, turning Tigranian.

“I don’t think I have a choice, Brother.”

“Damn straight,” Annabeth muttered.

“Who will be our cha’Dich?” Tigranian asked Torlek.

“Your what?” Annabeth asked.

“cha’Dich,” Tigranian said. “It means ‘second’.”

“While we are being judged by the High Council, our right to challenge will be suspended and we will be disarmed. The cha’Dich will protect us from physical attack until we are either acquitted or condemned,” Torlek explained.

“What do you mean, ‘we are,’ I thought this was just for Captain Tigranian.”

“Daniel is a member of my house. His actions reflect on me and mine on his. We will be judged together.”

“My god,” Annabeth muttered, “How does your society function?”

“I ask the same question of yours,” Torlek said before turning back to Tigranian. “Several families have offered, but I have given no acceptances yet. Whoever volunteers first and with the most conviction will stand with us.”

“Agreed,” Tigranian nodded.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the stone hallway. A tall Klingon approached them.

“I am M’ert, Adjutant of the High Council. The Chancellor is seated and the council is ready. Are you, Daniel, Son of Tigranian, with the head of your House, Torlek, Son of Ro’vagh, prepared to face judgement?”

“We are,” they answered simultaneously.

“Who is this Human?” M’ert asked, staring at Annabeth.

“She is Commander Annabeth Geist of Starfleet, here to speak on my behalf,” Tigranian replied.

“Very well, have her stand in the rear gallery until they ask for testimony. Only then may you bring her to your side. If the chancellor gives assent to hear her words, she will be allowed to speak. Now, stand here and wait till you are called.”

M’ert approached the wooden doors. Tigranian and Torlek stood behind him as he threw the massive portal open and walked into the dimly lit chamber. As he walked towards the raised platform where the chancellor’s throne sat, the rest of the councilors stood in the wings, muttering among themselves.

M’ert took his place to the front left of the chancellor and turned to face the audience.

“Daniel! Son of Tigranian! Torlek! Son of Ro’vagh! Come forward!” In lock step, Tigranian and Torlek walked inside to the center of the room. They stopped in the middle of the floor and stood motionless as angry and suspicious eyes watched them from all sides. Annabeth took her place in the rear of the hall. Martok sat in his throne underneath a huge, red tri-foil suspended from the ceiling. The chancellor’s massive cloak, covered in the crests of every great house of the empire, lay draped over his shoulders. Two members of the Yan-Isleth, the chancellor’s personal honor guard, stood at his sides with their bat’leths at the ready.

“During the course of these proceedings your right to challenge will be suspended. Who stands with you as cha’Dich?”

“I stand with them!” came a familiar voice from the back of the room. Annabeth marched forward from the gallery and stood next to Tigranian. The shouts of shock and outrage from the galleries echoed off the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” Tigranian asked, completely surprised.

“You both did say ‘whoever volunteers first with the most conviction,’ did you not?” Annabeth said, refusing to back down.

“You cannot be cha’Dich!” Tigranian said, gritting his teeth.

“Why not, Daniel?” Torlek said, looking at them both. “If she has the courage to stand with us, then I will stand with her.”

“If a challenge is issued, she will have to fight and possibly die, brother!”

“I once knew another Human who was willing to die for what he believed and he hasn’t let me down yet.”

Tigranian bowed his head respectfully.

“Yes, Brother.”

“Commander,” M’ert said, stepping forward. “Your petition is noted, and I am willing to forgive your breach of decorum due to your unfamiliarity with Klingon society, but the chancellor must consent to this unusual circumstance.” M’ert looked back to Martok who glared at him with his one good eye. With the slightest nod of his head, he gave his permission. “Very well, Annabeth, Daughter of Geist, is named as cha’Dich for the House of Torlek. She will answer all challenges for the duration of this proceeding.”

Without another word, Torlek and Tigranian drew their d’k tahgs and handed them to Annabeth. She placed one in each of her hands and stood next to them with her shoulders back.

“Daniel, Son of Tigranian of the House of Torlek, you stand accused of acting with cowardice and dishonor in the face of a challenge of the Romulan Empire in that you willfully and publicly begged for the mercy of the Romulan Senate and praetor in exchange for the life of a crew member who had been taken prisoner. Today, we will decide if your actions brought shame to the Empire.”

“General Torlek, as head of Daniel’s house, you share in his actions and will also be judged. Do you understand and accept that if found guilty, the sentence will be carried out immediately?” M’ert glanced back at the Yan-Isleth guards with their bright, crescent shaped blades. Annabeth’s hands tensed around the d’k tahgs’ handles.

“We understand,” Torlek said, not showing any sign of timidity or concern.

“Son of Tigranian,” M’ert said, turning back to the captain, “Address the High Council. Why did you, a Klingon warrior and member of a noble house, conduct yourself in such a shameful manner?”

Tigranian looked around the chamber and spoke with a deep, commanding voice.

“The Romulans captured a member of my crew and the Federation refused to stand for her. It was my duty as her captain to free her from captivity. A warrior does not allow a comrade to live in chains if he can act!”

“Yes, a warrior acts!” came the angry voice of a councilor from the gallery. “He attacks! He charges! He destroys! He dies, if necessary, but he does not cower! He does not hesitate. He does not grovel like a beaten grint hound.” Angry murmurs of agreement echoed around the chamber.

“What would you have me do, Sir?” Tigranian shouted into the darkened crowd.

“You had a ship! You had a crew!” Another voice said, joining in the chastising chorus.

“So, you would have him charge into Romulan space, in violation of all the agreements and oaths he was sworn to protect to save her. You would have my brother betray everything he stood for and possibly drag the galaxy into another war!” Torlek roared.

“YES!” came a third voice. “The House of Torlek calls itself a family of honorable warriors and yet they debase themselves for a worthless piece of paper signed by Humans and Romulans!” A cheer echoed through the hall. The sounds of banging steel and boots dragging across stone filled their ears. Annabeth raised her daggers as she looked around the hall, unsure if violence could break out at any moment. She was quickly learning why the position of cha’Dich was necessary.

A deep series of bangs echoed through the room. Everyone looked to see Chancellor Martok smashing a metal orb against the armrest of his chair.

“I would like to remind the High Council that my seal also appears on that worthless piece of paper.” The room quieted down immediately. “Daniel, Son of Tigranian, do you have any other words to say in your defense before the council renders its decision?”

“No, Chancellor, the actions of a warrior should speak for themselves.”

“So noted…”

“Wait!” Annabeth shouted. She looked at Tigranian and Torlek like they were insane. She stepped between them and the chancellor’s dais. “If you won’t say anything to save your worthless skins, then I will!”

“The cha’Dich will be silent!” Tigranian shouted at her.

“THE cha’Dich WILL NOT BE SILENT!” Annabeth roared in reply. A few stifled laughs echoed through the hall. Annabeth’s eyes darted back and forth before finally settling on Martok directly in front of her. “In all my travels, I have met hundreds of individuals from dozens of worlds. The one constant in this universe among civilized sentient beings seems to be their respect for life over all things. And then I met Klingons. You place such a premium on your narrow definition of honor that you are willing to die for anything at any time. You are willing to destroy everything holding the quadrant together to find an excuse to spill blood.

“When Alex was taken from me, I wanted to attack! I wanted to fight! But I know now that it would have been a waste. It would have killed me, probably killed the woman I love, and could have ripped the Alpha Quadrant apart in another senseless war.

“But this man stopped me. He saved Alex Hunter without spilling a single drop of blood. He saved us all! More importantly, he sacrificed something far more precious than his own life to do it. He was willing to give up everything for one innocent person! How could you possibly say that his actions were dishonorable!?” She stood straight up and braced herself.

“However, if senseless violence is the only thing you understand…” she raised the two d’k tahgs, pointed their tips toward the chancellor, and extended their side blades. “You’ll have to go through me to get to them.”

The two members of the Yan-Isleth raised their swords and charged towards Annabeth.

“mevyap!” Martok commanded from his throne. The two guards immediately halted and shouldered their blades. The chancellor climbed to his feet and threw his cloak behind him. He slowly stepped towards Annabeth, the sound of his footsteps the only thing echoing through the hall. She still kept her daggers raised, ready to fight the leader of the Federation’s closest ally to try to save Tigranian and Torlek.

“You are either extraordinarily brave or extraordinarily foolish, Commander,” Martok said, his one eye revealing nothing of his intentions. He was now within striking distance of Annabeth. Everyone held their breath in anticipation. Suddenly, he pointed toward the tri-foil hanging above his chair. “Do you know what that is called?”

“I have no idea…” she said, still tense and ready to spring.

“It is ‘The Heart of Virtue,’ symbol of the divine teachings of Kahless, and the crest of the empire itself.” He began walking around the chamber looking each councilor in the eye with his piercing gaze.

“It’s three blades, each representing one of the essential virtues of the warrior and the mysterious balance the Unforgettable left for us all to contemplate as we travel the River the Blood: Honor, Duty, and Loyalty.” Martok centered himself in front of Annabeth, but still addressed the council. “The longest blade belongs to honor, because it is the beginning and the end of all things.

“The House of Torlek has served the empire for generations. These two who stand before us now fought against the honorless House of Duras, and then again against the wam serpent, Morjod. They have shown me that they possess honor,” More murmurs echoed through the chamber.

“SILENCE!” Martok boomed so loud the stones of the walls shook. “But in this decadent age, Klingons too often forget the other two blades of the Heart of Virtue: Duty and Loyalty. Without them, a warrior’s cries of ‘honor!’ are as hollow and empty as a beating drum.

“The Son of Tigranian did his duty, both as a Klingon warrior and as an officer of Starfleet. He abided by a treaty signed by both his own people…AND the Federation.”

Annabeth was amazed. She just heard the chancellor of the Klingon Empire refer to her captain as one of his own. She looked over her shoulder and saw the pride on Tigranian’s face as well as Torlek’s.

“Finally,” Martok continued, “Loyalty: a woman lives and breathes free today because of the sacrifice of her commander. He was willing to die in disgrace and face the Barge of the Dead to save one whose life he had taken into his hands! Which one of you would have made that sacrifice? Which one in this chamber has that resolve and that courage?” He looked around the room and not a single person dared look at him.

“That’s what I thought. Do you see what the children of Kahless have become? One who was not born Klingon, yet made Klingon, grasps his teachings better than we now do!” He then looked at Annabeth. “The Son of Tigranian has even stirred the heart of one who still lives in ignorance so much so that she is willing to die for him now as well! That is what loyalty truly is! Not simply blind obedience, but the foundation of a family!” Annabeth looked a little incensed. “No offense, Human,” he added.

“None taken, Chancellor,” Annabeth said with a small grin.

“As the supreme leader of the Klingon people, I say that there is no dishonor or cowardice here. The House of Torlek is free to go, and anyone who speaks against this judgement will die at my hands.” Martok walked back to his throne and took a seat. Tigranian and Torlek placed their fists over their hearts and shouted,

“Long live the Empire!”

“Qapla’, glory to you and your house,” Martok responded.

Then, they both turned and walked out of the chamber. Annabeth followed completely bewildered. Once the wooden doors were shuttered, she spoke.

“That’s it?” she said, amazed. Torlek and Tigranian both took back their d’k tahgs.

“That’s it. The chancellor has ruled,” Tigranian confirmed.

“What did you expect, Commander?” Torlek asked.

“I don’t know. People cutting their hands open? Lighting something on fire? Eating a chunk of raw meat? We didn’t even sign a piece of paper or anything.”

“You really should teach your crew more about us, Brother,” Torlek said with a smile.

“I thought you said that discommendation was the best case scenario?” Annabeth asked Tigranian.

“I guess I was wrong…” her captain said trailing off.

“Daniel has always been the pessimistic one in the family. Now, I will inform my wife that I am not dead, and that she still must have the evening meal prepared.”

“I’m sure she’ll be upset at the inconvenience,” Tigranian chuckled.

“You see what I mean?” Torlek said laughing. “Elessa will be angry till she finds out we still have guests this evening. She loves entertaining. I hope you are hungry, Commander Geist. My wife’s rokeg blood pie is legendary.” Annabeth swallowed to keep the bile in her throat down.

“Now, I kind of wish they had killed you…”

Archanis Sector: Klingon/Federation Border
Stardate: 53231.5

Tigranian stood in the middle of the Pershing’s mess hall. This was one of the few times he didn’t mind putting on his dress uniform.

“And now, by the power vested in me by the United Federation of Planets, Starfleet Command, and as master of this vessel, I now pronounce you wife…and wife. The brides may kiss each other.”

Annabeth and Alex, both dressed in white gowns, wrapped their arms around each other and kissed while the rest of the crew cheered. The two brides both laughed and turned to face their friends, they held up their hands, showing off their new wedding bands.

“Congratulations!” Laria said, running up and hugging them.

“You are both so beautiful,” Katie said following close behind.

“Ma’am, Ma’am,” Phil said smiling. Even Mr. Scharr nodded in congratulations: very warm wishes for an Andorian.

“Alright!” Annabeth said, turning to the rest of the crew. “Now the best part of a wedding: the party!”

“I thought that was the honeymoon!” Phil shouted in reply.

“I hear Romulus is nice this time of year,” Alex said. The entire room fell silent. Alex puffed her chest out. “I can make that joke, dammit! We don’t let life drag us down. We fight for these moments” she said defiantly. Annabeth looked at her with amazement.

“I love you so much,” Annabeth added, kissing her new wife again.

The guests headed for the buffet while Alex and Annabeth started making their rounds of the well-wishers. Tigranian headed over to the bar and started popping the corks on champagne. Phil and Scharr helped him pour the glasses.

Tigranian carried two flutes over and handed them to the blushing brides.

“Congratulations, you two.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Alex said, wrapping her arms around the captain. “I will never forget what you did for us.”

“So, have you had the battle of the last names yet?” he asked with a smile.

“Oh, that one was easy. We’re both keeping ours. However, our living arrangements, that one is proving more challenging,” Alex said, taking a sip of champagne.

“My quarters are larger!” Annabeth said, flashing her a look.

“But my sonic shower is better!” Alex said, flashing her a look right back.

“You just don’t want to move your stuff, even though you’d probably make me do it, anyways…”

“And, that’s when I say ‘congratulations’ again and walk away,” Tigranian said, heading towards the food.

After dinner, Katie and Laria stepped out onto the dance floor with a microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Katie began, “As the maids of honor, it is our wonderful privilege to introduce the happy couple for their first dance.”

“I give you, Mrs. Geist and Mrs. Hunter!” Laria said, clapping.

Annabeth and Alex took each other in their arms, and began swaying to the sounds of the soft jazz.

The entire room watched in perfect contentment as they gazed into each other’s eyes. The love was palpable in the room. As the song faded into more upbeat contemporary, most of the crew headed for the dance floor, but Tigranian headed back to the bar.

He grabbed a green velvet bag from underneath the table and a metal tankard. Inside the bag was a silver bottle. As he pulled the cork out, he took in the rich aroma before pouring himself a mug.

“Bloodwine, sir?” Laria said, walking up to him.

“This is not just any bloodwine, Laria.” He said. “This was a gift from the homeworld promised to me by my brother. It is 2309: the best bloodwine ever made.”

“Can I try some?” she asked nervously.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s pretty strong. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“That’s not funny…” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching under the bar for another metal tankard. He poured a single sip and handed it to her.

“Qapla’!” she said, raising a toast.

“Qapla’,” he replied with a smile.

She cautiously put it to her lips and drank. Suddenly her eyes grew wide. Tigranian put his hand over her mouth.

“No! You do not spit out 2309.” He gently placed his own tankard under her mouth and removed his hand. She sheepishly let the bloodwine back out into his cup.

“How do you drink that?” she asked, shaking.

“You don’t drink it. You savor it,” he said, taking another sip.

Annabeth and Alex walked out into the middle of the dancefloor holding a single bouquet.

“Okay, ladies it’s time!” Annabeth said as they turned around.

“One…two…” Alex said.

“Three!” they shouted in unison.

As Laria was talking to Tigranian, the flowers slammed into the side of her head.

“OW!” Laria shouted to the entire room as she rubbed her hair. “Why are people throwing flowers? This is a wedding for Prophets’ sake. Have some respect!” The entire room looked right at Laria and Tigranian.

Katie stepped over to Annabeth and Alex and whispered:

“You two did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Actually, we didn’t,” Annabeth replied in shock. Katie looked skeptical.

“I swear, that was a total coincidence,” Alex agreed.

“What are you looking at?” Laria asked angrily as the crowd still stared at her and the captain. “SERIOUSLY, WHAT?”

Tigranian downed his entire tankard of bloodwine in one gulp.

6

MEMORIES

Guada System: Iron Triangle, Cardassian Empire
Stardate: 51243.6

The jungle was quiet. The only sounds echoing through the warm, humid night air of the battalion assembly area were the chirping of insects, the slow trickle of the stream on the eastern edge of the perimeter, and the gentle splashing of waves on the beach a kilometer away.

Corporal Navallo checked the power pack of his heavy pulse phaser mounted on its tripod. In this atmosphere, the connections between the power cells and the receiver could corrode, rendering the weapon useless if not constantly maintained. His assistant gunner, Lance Corporal Unar, scanned the tree line across the stream with his thermal goggles.

“Can you see anything?” Navallo whispered.

“Not a damn thing, but I know Jem is out there…”

“Of course he is,” Navallo replied. This whole damn rock is crawling. But between the dolomite in the crust and their sensor scramblers, we won’t know where he is until those scaly bastards slit our throats.”

“Foxtrot two!” a familiar voice came out of the darkness behind them.

“Tango three,” Navallo answered in the proper battalion password format.

A figure jumped into the rear of their fighting position and slung his phaser rifle across his chest.

“How we doing, Gentlemen?” Commander Tigranian, the battalion commander, asked.

“Staying frosty, Sir,” Navallo asked, not taking his eyes off the sights of his pulse phaser.

“Unlikely, Corporal,” he said, scanning the dark tree line with his eyes. “Not in this heat, at least. What do you think?”

“I think Jem won’t let tonight pass quietly,” Unar answered.

“He never does…” Tigranian said lying down in the prone next to him.

“Sir, is that subspace array really worth all this?” Unar asked.

“That’s not really our concern, Unar,” Tigranian replied, pulling out his own thermal goggles. “We fight here because that’s where Starfleet tells us to fight.”

The brass certainly thought the array was worth it. Apparently, intelligence believed the most effective way to ground down the Dominion was to gain control of their communication network: one node at a time. Guada, this world at the edge of the Badlands, would be the first to fall. Then, the marines would hop from remote planet to remote planet until all the Jem’Hadar troops in the outer Cardassian Empire were completely isolated. Campaigns were already planned for AR-558 in the Chin’Toka System and Veral II after that. Of course, Tigranian wasn’t authorized to share that information with his marines quite yet.

“Hey, Sir, I’ve always wanted to ask you something,” Navallo said.

“What’s that, Corporal?”

“Is that Klingon knife you wear on your kit just for show, or do you actually know how to cut somebody with it?”

Tigranian glanced down at the d’k tahg strapped to his waist.

“Piss me off one day and I’ll show you. Do you guys need anything?”

“A couple of beers and a shot of leg from a Risian pleasure girl would be nice, Sir.”

“I’m afraid the only panties you’re getting into tonight, Navallo, will be Unar’s.” The two grunts laughed.

“Get some, Marines,” Tigranian said, climbing back out of the fighting position.

“Hoorah, Sir,” they whispered back in unison.

Tigranian had a vested interest in keeping his pulse phaser gunners alert. They anchored the edges of his entire triangular patrol base. If they went down, the only thing preventing the columns of Jem’Hadar hiding in the jungle from completely engulfing them would be a couple hundred phaser rifles and the battalion’s four 100 millimeter plasma mortars. It sounded like a lot of firepower, but not enough to stop an enemy as fanatical as Jem. All they needed to keep going was a couple of tubes of ketracel-white and the occasional pep talk from their Vorta.

The starship USS Triumphant had arrived in orbit that morning to drop off the supplies his marines required. However, they weren’t able to stay on station more than 40 hours before the Dominion Navy arrived to blast them out of the stars.

After checking the rest of the perimeter, Tigranian returned to the tent that served as his battalion command post. Inside, two signal techs monitored a bank of comm systems. They had to make constant adjustments to keep information flowing through the planet’s natural interference. The rest of Tigranian’s frazzled staff went over reports and analyses of all the day’s operations. Another officer stood over a white slab on the table in front of him. He banged his fist on it and cursed under his breath.

“Problem, XO?” Tigranian said coming up behind Major Hancock.

“No, Sir,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “The holotable went out again. Must be all the interference from the damned dolomite.”

Tigranian pulled a folded paper map out from his jacket pocket.

“You know there’s a reason why these have been around for five thousand years.”

“Yes, Sir…” Tigranian unfolded the map on the table and Hancock began his update.

“All our patrols are in. No signs of Jem around Old Baldy, the Bullpen, or Porkchop Hill,” he said, pointing out various terrain features in their area of operations with colorful code names chosen by Starfleet cartographers. “G2 thinks Jem might have gone south to 3-3’s AO to find another supply of white before they run out.”

“The G2 is a moron,” Tigranian replied, adding a few more colorful metaphors to his description of the division intelligence officer. “No, the communications array is the only reason this planet is important to the Dominion. This is where they’ll mass.”

“Why the hell are we still here, Sir? Why don’t we just photon this entire hellhole from orbit and move on?” Hancock said angrily. One of the signal techs looked up from his comm unit. Tigranian motioned for the major to come outside.

They went through the tent flaps into the darkness of night. Tigranian pulled over a crate of field rations and took a seat. Major Hancock took a second to breathe in the clean air.

“Tyler,” Tigranian began quietly. “I know you’re exhausted, but don’t you ever say that in front of the marines again. Lower enlisted complain, we don’t.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hancock said. “It was a lapse of judgement.”

“It’s alright. When was the last time you slept?”

“I got about an hour this afternoon.”

“That’s not good enough, man. I need you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hancock said with a smirk. “When was the last time you slept?”

“I’m a Klingon warrior that runs off of raktajino, nicotine, and hate. I don’t need sleep.”

Hancock laughed. “You’re full of shit, Sir.” 

Tigranian laughed as well. “Yes, I am,” Tigranian said, pulling a small orange tin from his pocket covered with Klingon writing. He tapped his finger on the cover a few times, pulled off the lid, and placed a finger-full of ground leaves in his lower lip.

“That stuff will kill you, Sir.”

“yIvbolje is a filthy habit,” Tigranian said before spitting into the dirt, “but it works.” He looked up to see Hancock staring at the can. “You want a pinch, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do…don’t tell, Mary.”

“Secret’s safe with me,” he said, passing the tin to Hancock.

Just as the XO placed another pinch of the Klingon tobacco in his mouth, a growing whistle echoed across the assembly area.

“INCOMING!” Tigranian screamed as he dove into the dirt.

Bright blue flashes appeared in the sky and burst in brilliant white light over the marine positions. Plasma burning at over five hundred degrees Kelvin poured down from above. Anything it touched turned to ash. A marine in a nearby position was hit and began shrieking with pain.

“Corpsman!” Hancock screamed running over to the hole. He pulled the marine out and dragged him over to the CP. The marine clutched his seared left arm and shook as the shock set in. Two medics with an aid kit and litter rushed forward and began treating him.

Tigranian shouted back into the tent.

“Spin ‘em up! Jem’s here!”

The signal techs began shouting into their comm systems to the company commanders. The entire perimeter came alive, awaiting the coming storm.

“FSO! RTO!” Tigranian screamed. A lieutenant and an enlisted marine carrying a portable comm unit ran out of the CP and knelt down next to him. Tigranian pulled out a pair of electronic binoculars and started scanning the jungle two hundred meters away.

“Brian, I want fire in the tree line. Jem is getting into his attack positions.”

“Yes, Sir,” the lieutenant pulled out the hand mic of the comm unit and punched in a frequency.

“Haymaker, this is Frontrunner 95, fire mission, fire mission! Immediate suppression, grid: Charlie Hotel 36298 45783!”

“Frontrunner 95, Haymaker acknowledge. Message to observer: 12 rounds plasma quick in effect, over.”

“Twelve rounds plasma quick in effect, out!”

Tigranian heard the mortar platoon in their pit 75 meters to his west.

“Hang it! Fire! Hang it! Fire!” 

Loud booms echoed through the entire assembly area. Tigranian raised his binoculars to his eyes and watched the jungle again.

“Shot, over,” the mortar platoon leader said over the comm.

“Shot, out,” the FSO replied.

“Splash, over.”

“Splash, out.”

The bright blue flashes of their friendly mortars shimmered in the tree line. The foliage caught alight in brilliant flame, casting a sinister orange glow over the entire valley. Light glistened on the water of the stream in front of their positions.

“Repeat,” Tigranian said, not taking his eyes off the jungle.

“Haymaker, Frontrunner 95, repeat, over!”

Frontrunner 95, Haymaker, repeat, out.”

More booms and more flashes. Then, there was only silence.

“XO, get in the CP. Need to know the second the company commanders get a break in their lines…” Tigranian said trailing off.

“Yes, Sir!” Hancock said, running back into the tent.

The fires in the jungle illuminated the stream bed. Six hundred marines took their fighting positions, aiming their phasers in a 360 degree perimeter.

A roar echoed through the entire valley.

“May the Founders rule ten thousand years! VICTORY IS LIFE!”

“VICTORY IS LIFE!”

Then, the jungle came alive. Hundreds of Jem’Hadar rushed through the trees toward the stream. Blue disruptor bolts poured out of the foliage and into the marine positions. They were immediately answered by thousands of red phaser blasts from the west side of the water. It didn’t slow them down at all. They just kept coming.

“It’s a wave attack!” Tigranian said observing the movement. “They must be running low on white! RTO, get a hold of Bravo on the command net. Tell him to get enfilading fire down the stream bed. Cut them down before they hit the west side or Charlie Company is gonna break.”

“Yes, Sir!” The enlisted marine grabbed a second mic off the comm unit and relayed the message. A minute later, pulse phaser blasts began slicing across the surface of the stream. The Jem’Hadar were being cut down from the front and side as they pushed across the water. Bodies began piling up in front of the marine positions, but despite the hellish amount of energy being thrown back at him, Jem still kept coming.

A few Dominion soldiers made it across the water and began fighting hand to hand with the Charlie Company marines. The amount of phaser fire meeting their advance began to dwindle as barrels overheated, power packs emptied, and marines started fighting for their lives.

“Sir! Chaos 6 is on the line! He says he’s getting overrun!”

“Tell Assassin and Bushmaster to push Chaos a squad each, but continue to hold their positions, Jem might try to get around the flanks.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“FSO, get a hold of the Triumphant. I want naval phaser fire in that tree line, now.”

“Yes, Sir!” the lieutenant said, punching in another frequency.

“Triumphant Fire Direction Center this is Frontrunner 95 on planetary surface! Authentication code: Whiskey Mike 67285, request immediate orbital bombardment 250 meters east our position, four columns, Jem’Hadar in the tree line! We’re getting overrun!” A few seconds passed. “Sir, Triumphant FDC reports that they can’t get a lock. The dolomite under the surface is making it impossible to tell the difference between us and Jem!”

Tigranian turned around angrily.

“Then tell them to index manually!”

“Sir, the tactical officer is brand new. He says he refuses to conduct a manual mission because he’s not comfortable.”

“Qu’vath guy’cha baQa! Give me the goddamn hand mic!” The lieutenant handed the handset to Tigranian.

“Triumphant FDC, this is Frontrunner 6!”

“Triumphant FDC…”

“I got marines dying down here! You tell that piece of shit at your tactical station to put in exactly what I say: index narrow band sheath, level three steady burst, starting grid: Sierra November 285 Charlie Hotel 36104 45650, 400 meter impact tract, azimuth 800 mils! Danger close!”

“Frontrunner 6, Triumphant FDC, acknowledged, standby.”

“Bring the rain, dammit!”

“Shot in 10 seconds, over.”

“Shot in 10 seconds, out!” He turned to the RTO. “Put me on battalion.”

“Battalion keyed, Sir.”

“Frontrunners friendly incoming! Naval phaser fire coming in!”

“Assassin, acknowledged.”

“Bushmaster, acknowledged.”

“Chaos, acknowledged!” Tigranian heard the sound of Jem right next to the Chaos CP.

“Frontrunner 6, Triumphant FDC, Splash over.”

“Splash out!”

A single streak of red light flashed from the sky and slammed into the ground. The entire valley lit up as bright as day. Artificial thunder created by the phaser beam deafened them all. The air around the marines was instantly ionized and static discharges pricked at their skin.

The steady beam slowly tracked the course Tigranian had commanded. Trees, bushes, rocks: anything that came in contact with the phaser energy was instantly vaporized. Everything else within a hundred meters was set ablaze from the intense heat. The eastern side of the stream was obliterated in a matter of seconds. Tigranian stood there, aghast at the power of the starship’s main battery. Then, the streak of light disappeared as quickly as it arrived, leaving a glowing trail of molten rock behind. The light of the burning trees casting a hellish red glow over everything.

“Frontrunner 6, Triumphant FDC, end of mission, over.”

That’s when Tigranian heard it. Screams…screams of terrible agony…Jem was screaming. Dozens of Jem’Hadar ran out of the inferno covered in flames. They threw themselves into the stream, collapsing into the water motionless.

“Frontrunner 6, Triumphant FDC, end of mission, what’s your battle damage assessment?”

“Triumphant FDC, Frontrunner 6…” Tigranian whispered in shock. “End of mission, four columns of Jem’Hadar destroyed…out.” He let the hand mic fall from his hands to the ground.

After a few minutes, the XO came out of the CP.

“Casualty reports, Sir,” he said, handing him a PADD. “Twenty-five dead, 68 wounded. A lot of those are from Charlie.”

Tigranian scanned the list of his fallen marines. When he reached the bottom he stopped.

“CPL Navallo, Kenneth: KIA, LCPL Unar, Restig: KIA.”

Tigranian threw back his head and howled to Sto’Vo’Kor in rage to warn the honored dead of his marines’ arrival…

He bolted awake, alone in his quarters on the Pershing. The captain pushed aside his klongat fur and walked to the bathroom. After splashing some cold water on his face, he headed for the bottle of bloodwine he kept on his sideboard. He didn’t even bother with a tankard. On the nights when Guada came back to haunt him, he just wanted to be numb for a while…

Two Light-Years from the Badlands: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53240.2

“Chief Science Officer’s Log, Stardate: 53240.2. I have been invited to Vulcan to present my paper on ‘The Artificial Creation of Dynamic Subspace Folds to Increase Warp Field Efficiency’ before the Science Academy. Though it is a six day journey alone in a runabout, I’m very much enjoying the peace, quiet, and solitude of the trip. I have decided to use the opportunity to continue my personal survey of my favorite period in Earth’s musical history…”

Laria danced up to the replicator and grabbed her mug of hot tea. The strains of a piano and electronic drums boomed through the cabin of the runabout. She began singing at the top of her lungs as she twirled back into the pilot’s chair in the front of the ship.

 “Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?

Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?

Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?

Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need!”

She placed her tea on the console and jumped back to her feet, spinning around the front of the runabout, still singing towards the ceiling.

 “I need a hero! I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night.

He’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fast, and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight.

I need a hero! I’m holding out for a hero till the morning light!

He’s gotta be sure, and it’s gotta be soon, and he’s gotta be larger than life…”

The music continued as she danced and jumped around the compartment. Suddenly, she dropped to her knees, closed her eyes, and pressed her fist against her heart.

 “Up where the mountains meet the heavens above, out where the lightning splits the sea,

I would swear that there’s someone, somewhere watching me.

Through the wind and the chill and the rain and the storm and the flood!

I can feel his approach, like a fire in my blood!”

She jumped back to her feet as the music reached its zenith. She raised her hands above her head and belted out the chorus again.

 “I need a hero! I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night.

He’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fast, and he’s gotta be fresh from the fight.

I need a hero! I’m holding out for a hero till the morning light!

He’s gotta be sure, and it’s gotta be soon, and he’s gotta be larger than life…”

The music faded out and she collapsed back into the pilot’s chair.

“Whew,” she said to herself. “Computer, pause playlist.”

“Playlist paused.”

“What’s our current ETA at Vulcan?”

“At present course and speed, we will arrive at Vulcan in three days, nine hours, and sixteen minutes.”

“Nice, and we’re only on 1984!” she said resting her feet on the console and taking a sip of tea.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded and she sprang into action.

“Computer, report,” she commanded as she pressed several keys in front of her.

“Long-range sensors indicate the presence of a Jem’Hadar fighter.”

“How is that possible? The war’s been over for almost seven months!”

“Please restate your inquiry.”

“That was a rhetorical question, Computer! Shields up, arm phasers.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Have they scanned us?”

“Negative. There are no indications of any active systems on board the Jem’Hadar fighter.”

“Computer, activate sensors. Scan the vessel.”

“Sensors indicate that there are no life signs aboard. Negative indication of any antimatter reaction, or power generation of any kind.”

“Analysis?”

“Ship is derelict and adrift.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that at the very beginning?” Laria said angrily.

“Please restate your inquiry.” 

Laria sighed.

“Lower shields, alter course to take us to the ship. We might as well take a look and report its position.”

“Acknowledged. Altering course to intercept in five minutes.”

The runabout approached the fighter. Its hull was covered in micro-meteor impacts and its warp nacelles were dark. It had obviously been floating out here for a long time.

“What happened to you?” Laria thought out loud. She punched a few more keys.

“Computer, can we conduct a power transfer from our warp core and attempt to access the ship's computer?”

“Affirmative. Activating power transfer beam.”

A blue beam projected out from the belly of the runabout. Another alarm sounded in the cabin.

“Warning, sensors indicate activation of a tamper fail-safe mechanism about the Jem’Hadar fighter.”

“It’s booby trapped! Computer, cut the power transfer beam and back us off!”

It was too late. A feedback pulse shot back through the beam and into the runabout’s warp core. The entire ship rocked and the console exploded in front of Laria. The blast sent her backwards onto the floor. She was dazed, but still conscious. Another alarm sounded.

“Warning: damage to warp core. Warp core breach in one minute. Abandon ship.”

“What?” Laria said in a panic. The alarm continued.

“Warning: damage to warp core. Warp core breach in 50 seconds. Abandon ship.”

“Computer! Eject the warp core!

“Unable to comply. Warp core magnetic interlocks are fused. Warning: damage to warp core. Warp core breach in 40 seconds. Abandon ship.”

“Send out a general distress call to any other ships in the area.”

“Unable to comply. Communications systems are offline. Warning: damage to warp core. Warp core breach in 30 seconds. Abandon ship.”

“Oh, Prophets,” Laria jumped to her feet and pulled open a panel in the floor. She grabbed a bag of emergency supplies and a phaser rifle before heading to a small hatch located next to the transporter. She pried open a plastic panel and pulled a large red handle. The hatch slid open and she climbed inside the tiny space. Ironically, the dimensions were approximately identical to a coffin.

“Warning: damage to warp core. Warp core breach in 20 seconds. Abandon ship.”

With one last deep breath, she slammed the large red button next to her hand. The hatch sealed and the escape pod blasted away from the runabout. The acceleration pulled the blood away from her brain and she began to black out.

The warp core of the runabout breached in a brilliant flash of white light that quickly encompassed both Laria’s former ship and the Jem’Hadar fighter. The dual explosions produced a shockwave that slammed into the escape pod. Laria’s head crashed against the console next to her. Instantly, she was unconscious.

Celtris System: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53242.3

The door to Tigranian’s ready room chimed.

“Come in,” he said, not looking up from his paperwork. Annabeth stepped inside and collapsed onto his couch.

“We can’t both be exhausted, Number One. Someone has to keep this ship running.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she said with a smile. Tigranian looked up at her.

“But something tells me it’s not for a reason you’re upset about?”

“Nope…” Annabeth replied happily.

“So marriage is really treating you and Alex that well?”

“What can I say? Coming home to a wife at the end of the day has its benefits.”

“Are you just here to rub my nonexistent love life in my face or does this little encounter have a point?”

“Somebody’s in a great mood,” Annabeth said leaning forward. “In fairness, your nonexistent love life is completely your fault.”

Tigranian tossed his PADD onto his desk and leaned back in his chair.

“What do you want, Commander Geist?”

“Well, Captain Tigranian, Starfleet Command is requesting the first draft for the staff’s annual evaluation reports. You owe them mine and senior rater comments for the rest by the end of this week.”

Tigranian grimaced and covered his face with his hands.

“No! I hate writing crew evals. You said all of them?”

“The entire senior staff came on board at the same time which means all their evals are due at the same time.”

“Nobody gets promoted. Not a single one. I’ll just write that in the block on the form.”

“I’m pretty sure Starfleet would see that as a reflection on your command style.”

“Then they can fire me…”

Annabeth leaned back.

“Okay, Dan, what’s wrong?”

“I just haven’t felt myself the last few days. That’s all.”

“Perhaps the last six days?”

“You don’t quit, do you? I said ‘no,’ Annabeth. I don’t date women under my command. Even if I did…she’s not my type.”

“You mean intelligent, well-read, and cute?”

“Well, thank you, Annabeth. You just wrote my senior rater comments for Laria’s eval.”

“As long as it gets her promoted.”

“You know, when I told you it was your job to stand up for the crew, this is not exactly what I meant.”

Annabeth stood up and headed for the doors.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how was the Battle of Klach D’Kel Brakt holodeck program she got for the two of you?”

“Get out!” he said, picking his PADD back up.

Annabeth laughed as she walked back out onto the bridge.

“Do not go in there,” she said, taking her chair.

“Hadn’t planned on it,” Katie said, not looking up from tactical.

“I don’t even know what the inside of that room looks like,” Phil said, adjusting the Pershing’s trim.

Katie’s console started beeping.

“Ma’am,” incoming transmission from the Vulcan Science Academy.

“Must be Laria,” Annabeth said calmly. “On screen.” The image of an older Vulcan female appeared on the screen. Annabeth suddenly looked confused.

“This is Commander Annabeth Geist of the Federation starship Pershing. How may I help you?”

“Yes, Commander. I am T’ren, chief lecture coordinator for the Vulcan Science Academy. I am wondering, has Lieutenant Amira adjusted her flight plan and failed to inform us?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Annabeth said, growing very concerned. “We thought that she had already arrived on Vulcan.”

“Yes,” T’ren replied. “She is over 12 hours overdue and our sensor stations show that her runabout is nowhere in this entire sector. All attempts to reach her on subspace have failed.”

“Oh my God,” Katie said from tactical.

“No, we haven’t heard from her at all…” Annabeth said trailing off.

“Very well, I recommend that we execute missing starship protocols immediately. We will alert search parties in our sector. I recommend that you do the same in yours.”

“Yes, of course,” Annabeth said in shock. She sat back in her chair.

“If you have no further information, Vulcan Science Academy out.”

Annabeth stared straight ahead at the blank viewscreen. Without looking down, she pressed her intercom.

“Captain…”

“Yes, Number One?” Tigranian said, still sounding annoyed.

“Please come to the bridge.”

Two Days Prior
Guada System: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53240.4

A heavy rattling caused Laria to stir. The turbulence was made even worse by the fact that her head felt like it was trapped in a vise.

Suddenly, there was a tremendous boom as the escape pod slowed down beneath the speed of sound. She bolted awake when she fully comprehended she was inside a planet’s atmosphere. She looked out the tiny window next to her head. All she saw was bright blue. Her breathing quickened.

“Ocean: I’m about to crash into an ocean.”

She looked at the controls. The shockwave that knocked her unconscious had also knocked out the escape pod’s computer, automatic landing system, and emergency beacon. She was flying blind, completely alone, and no idea where this place was.

The window showed she was no more than a thousand meters above the ground and going so fast that this entire craft would crush to pieces on impact. She had to find a way to slow down or she would die before she even had a chance to drown. Fumbling around, she finally found the manual release for the pod’s landing parachutes. She pulled the handle with all her strength and felt the two parachutes deploy. The pod nearly ripped apart as the parachutes deployed at three times the speed they were supposed to. She decelerated enough to survive, but just barely.

The escape pod slammed into the surface of the water with enough force to knock the transparent tritanium window screens loose in the mounts. Water began flooding in and the pod started to sink.

As she struggled to breathe, she fought to get the hatch open.

“At least this planet’s warm,” she thought, trying to push the image of drowning while trapped in an escape pod out of her mind. The craft completely slipped beneath the surface as she finally found the release handle for the hatch. As the water completely engulfed her, the pressure equalized and the hatch released.

She saw the glistening surface of the water about 20 feet above her and fast receding. She pushed herself out of the pod as it disappeared towards the bottom and kicked as hard as she could. After what seemed like an eternity she broke the surface of the water and sucked in sweet, fresh, breathable air.

She looked around and saw green trees about just a few hundred meters away. Laria started swimming with all her remaining strength, but her wet uniform and boots made it extremely difficult. Finally, after 10 minutes of the hardest exertion of her life, the waves started carrying her towards the shore.

She thought she could ride the waves the last hundred meters in, when suddenly, she felt her legs bump into something hard. Laria looked down to see razor sharp coral beneath her feet. A giant wave crested over the reef and shoved her underneath the surface. Her limbs dragged along the bottom, tearing her uniform pants and jacket to shreds.

When the wave passed, she kicked back to the surface and gasped for air again. Wave after wave started pounding her. Laria did her best to stay above the water, but she was completely exhausted. Finally, another wall of water slammed into her and dragged her along the bottom. She winced in pain as she felt her legs scrape against the coral time and time again, but finally there was only soft sand. The water spit her out onto the beach and she passed out again.

Two figures walked towards an unconscious woman on the sand. They were extraordinarily tall, well over two meters, but their bodies were rail-thin. Gangly arms hung low beneath their hips. They had no hair, and the only clothes they wore were simple skirts of woven kelp and palm fronds wrapped around their waists. Their dark brown skin glistened in the bright light.

Skinny shadows hung over Laria as they gazed down at her. The pair began speaking in their language.

“She must have come from the stars,” the first one said leaning on his fishing spear.

“She is Bajoran,” the second one said, crouching down next to her. He held up his wide, four-fingered hand next to her mouth. “And she still breathes.”

“A slave of the Cardassians?”

“No, she wears the coverings of the Federation.”

“Outworlders: they are all the same, Teewa. They come and take what they want, ravage the land and sea, and vanish.”

“Bajoran, Cardassian, Jem’Hadar, Federation,” the other one said, wrapping his long arms around Laria. “It matters not. She is alive.”

Two Light-Years from the Badlands: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53242.9

“Sir,” Scharr said from the science station. “I’m picking up a debris field approximately five hundred kilometers off our starboard bow.”

“Composition?” Tigranian said nervously.

“High concentrations of tritanium, polymer composites, and duranium alloys. It’s consistent with a Federation runabout.”

Tigranian closed his eyes tightly and clenched his fists.

“I’m picking up something else, Sir. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“What is it?” Tigranian said, turning towards him.

“There’s more debris out there. I’ve only seen its composition in one place. It’s a Dominion ship.”

“What!?”

“Yes, Sir. Confirmed,” the Andorian continued. “It’s definitely a Jem’Hadar attack fighter.”

“What are the Jem’Hadar still doing in this sector of space?” Annabeth said.

“I don’t know, Ma’am,” Scharr said, shaking his head. “But it looks like both ships were consumed in an antimatter explosion. Full warp core breach. Most of the debris was vaporized. There’s not a lot left.”

“Do you think she was attacked?” Katie said from tactical.

“It’s possible,” Scharr said, “the weapons signatures would have dissipated by now.”

“Scan the area for any signs of escape pods.”

“Sir,” Scharr replied, “I already have. There’s nothing out there.”

“Don’t you say that to me, Tren. There’s an escape pod somewhere and she’s in it!”

“Confirmed, Sir,” Katie said softly from behind them. “No emergency beacons, no subspace transmissions, it’s just empty space.”

Annabeth closed her eyes.

“Sir, I think we have to consider the possibility that Laria was attacked by a rogue Jem’Hadar ship and killed trying to defend herself.”

The captain turned his chair away from her.

“I refuse to believe that. There’s been no Dominion activity in this area for over eight months.”

“Sir, we haven’t received a single distress call or emergency ping. There’s nothing on long-range sensors….”

Katie began tearing up at tactical. Scharr’s antennae drooped.

“What about the Badlands, could she be in there?” Tigranian said, refusing to let go of hope.

“Sir, the shockwave from a warp core breach would have severely damaged that escape pod. If she made it to the Badlands, she wouldn’t last long in those plasma storms.”

“You’re right, of course,” Tigranian replied with a forced sense of calm, climbing to his feet. “If she was killed in battle with the Jem’Hadar, we should not mourn, for she is in Sto’Vo’Kor. You have the bridge, Number One,” he said walking to the turbolift.

As he stepped inside, Annabeth called after him.

“Dan!”

“I SAID YOU HAVE THE BRIDGE!” he screamed so loudly it shook the entire compartment. The turbolift doors closed and he disappeared.

Tigranian was lost in thought. He was vaguely aware that he was moving through the ship, walking the corridors, not acknowledging anyone who passed by. Then, he stopped. He was in front of her quarters.

“Computer, override door lock, Authorization: Tigranian Omega 3-6 Tango.”

The doors slid open and he stepped inside. Everything was just as she’d left it. All her books, all her pictures, her non-regulation green and white bedspread: all of it, just waiting for her return. On her nightstand, a photo of the entire crew taken at Annabeth and Alex’s wedding just two weeks before stared out at him.

He walked over to her bed and sat down. Rijo, her stuffed pugabeast, leaned against the pillow. He picked it up and stared into its plastic eyes.

“I somehow knew I’d find you in here.”

He looked up to see Annabeth standing across from him. He looked back to the stuffed animal in his hands and ran his fingers over its fur. Annabeth walked over, took a seat next to him, and placed an arm around him.

“Before today, I’d lost 97 people under my command, Annabeth. Each and every one of them was difficult, but I was always able to justify it away. We were fighting for a cause, and they sacrificed their lives for a greater good. They were warriors, engaging in battle, and Kahless would reward them in the next life with eternal paradise…”

“Faith of any kind can be very comforting at times like this.”

“Then, today I lost my 98th and the only thing I can think of is how I’ll never see her again…”

He started shaking and fought back tears. The captain clutched the pugabeast to his chest, threw his head back, and howled. Annabeth could feel the pain in its bone-jarring force.

She pulled him into her arms. The captain broke down and wept.

“It’s alright, Dan. It’s alright.”

Through his sobbing, he started gently singing to himself:

“Mi’ qul qar’a’ ‘ej Do’ QI’ la’

QI’ DO’ Sum, qarI’ Do’ QI’la’

Sutem pa’ rI’ tlho’ mara’ ‘e’ Laria…”

“That was beautiful,” Annabeth gently whispered. “What does it mean?”

 “See the fires burning clearly as I wish you good fortune…

I wish you only the greatest of luck as I hail you …

Though you are silent now, I will always praise your name, my Laria…”

 Guada System: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53243.0

Laria felt something strange covering her whole body. It felt cool and slimy, but also wonderfully comforting. She slowly opened her eyes and saw a giant, hairless woman – taller and skinnier than any humanoid she had ever laid eyes on – leaning next to her. In a bowl was a large, orange sea slug. The woman scraped some slime off the creature's back with a piece of shell and moved closer to rub some on Laria’s face.

The Bajoran bolted awake and crawled backwards. Laria saw that she was in a palm frond hut. Sunlight beamed in from the open door and the cracks in the walls. Her uniform was gone, replaced with the simple kelp and leaf wrap that the tall woman was wearing. She did not seem alarmed at all and gazed at Laria calmly with her huge, slanted eyes.

Laria then realized that she was covered head to toe with the sea slug’s excretions.

“What is this!” she shouted involuntarily.

“It is alright,” the woman said with a smile. “The sun had burned your skin. This will make it feel better,” she said, gesturing to the slug.

“Thank the Prophets,” Laria said, extremely relieved. “The universal translator is still working.”

The tall woman put down the shell and kept looking at Laria.

“What are you called?” she asked, still smiling.

“My name is Laria,” she replied nervously.

“I am Ytana. Welcome to my home,” she said, touching one of her hands to her heart.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Your coverings were shredded by the coral. Besides, what you had is not good for the heat. You will like that much better.”

Suddenly, Laria started worrying.

“There was a badge…a pin…made out of metal on that uniform. I need it if you still have it.”

“You mean your device for talking to others. I saved it for you.” The large woman stood up and crossed across the hut. She opened a box made of woven palm fronds, picked out Laria’s combadge, and then handed it to her. Her limbs were so long, she only had to fully extend her arm to reach.

“You know what this is?” Laria asked, amazed.

“You are not the first person from the stars to visit Guada.”

“Guada? Is that what this planet is called?”

“Yes, it is our home. First the Cardassians came in the time of my mother’s mother’s mother. Then, the Jem’Hadar came. Finally, your Federation came and made great battles here.”

“Is there anyone from the Federation still here? Someone I can contact?”

“We have not seen any of them for many seasons.” Ytana pointed to the combadge. “Can you use that to call your people?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” Laria replied dejectedly. “The range isn’t far enough.”

Suddenly, Laria realized what kind of guest she was being to the people who had probably saved her life.

“Ytana?”

“Yes, child.”

“Thank you.”

Ytana just gently shook her head.

“It is our way,” she said kindly. “My mate, Teewa found you while he was fishing down the shore. He could not just leave you there. The jungle would have taken you eventually.”

Ytana stood up and walked over to a small fire burning in the center of the hut. She opened a clay pot resting in the coals and pulled out several small bundles wrapped in dark green leaves.

“Laria, you must be hungry. Eat and rest.”

She handed the bundles to Laria on a wide green palm frond. She took in the deep aroma and unwrapped one of the bundles. It was a small pieces of meat mixed with fish. It smelled amazing. It was only then she realized the last time she ate was on the runabout whenever that was. She began devouring the bundles while Ytana poured some white liquid into a ceramic cup.

“Here,” she said, handing it to Laria. She took a sip, barely pausing between bites from the bundles. Whatever it was, it was cool and sweet.

“This is delicious,” Laria said.

“The Great Creator provides, we only share his bounty with one another.”

Laria looked around with disbelief that a place like this could still exist in the modern galaxy.

“You said the Cardassians were here?”

“Yes, for three generations.”

“How did they not destroy this place?”

“Your people are called Bajoran?” Ytana asked. Laria nodded.

“Then you know of Cardassians. They took much, but luckily, we had much to give.”

“Did they have any cities, towns, any settlements? Anywhere where others from the stars might be?”

“They tried to build, but did not wish to stay.”

“Why?” Laria asked, amazed that anyone would leave this planet undisturbed.”

“My grandmother told me stories that the Cardassians kept asking for things. They searched the caves, mountains, and seas but said that they could not find anything useful for them. The Guada people could not understand. We have everything we could ever need.

Besides, they must be weak. When their machines did not work well, they said that they could not live here.”

This last statement perked Laria’s scientific interest.

“You said their machines didn’t work well? Do you know why?”

“The Great Creator made our ground from something the machines do not like.”

“There’s something in this planet’s crust that creates a natural dampening field…”

Suddenly, a man walked into the hut. When he saw Laria, he smiled.

“She still lives,” he said, relieved. “Welcome to my home,” he said with a bow of his long, graceful neck. He then repeated the gesture of his hand over his heart. “I am Teewa.”

“I’m Laria. Thank you very much for bringing me here.”

“The Great Creator brought you here. My mate and I merely care for you as he wishes.”

Laria smiled meekly and looked at the ground.

“Have you eaten and drank your fill?” he said pointing to her cup and the empty leaf bundles.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Then come, I will show you where you may call ‘home’ as long as you require.” He extended a massive arm out the door. Laria climbed to her feet and walked out into the sun. The bright light momentarily blinded her, but as her eyes adjusted, paradise came into view.

Twenty huts lay clustered on white sand on the edge of a bright blue lagoon. Coral reefs dotted the surface of the crystal clear water heading out into the calm deep blue of the sea. Behind her, lush green jungle grew wild and unchecked just a few meters away. The Guadans went about their daily business seemingly oblivious to the presence of an alien in their midst. An older man sat in the shade of the next hut weaving a fishing net out of dried seaweed. He looked at her with a happy, toothless grin. Laria was instantly relaxed and smiled back at him. Two other women sorted through fruits gathered from the trees of the jungle, laughing and joking in a way that seemed completely natural and undisturbed from time immemorial. Several children ran around them playing some form of tag. Several men worked unloading fish from dugout canoes lay in the surf’s edge. The young Bajoran stepped onto the sand, her bare feet taking in the soft, almost lifelike warmth of Guada.

The effect of the village seemed intoxicating. The breeze softly rushing through her hair, the kiss of the life-giving sun, and the sound of happy laughter from the villagers. Even the very air seemed to wrap around her like a reassuring blanket. She walked forward into the surf, feeling the warm waves rushing against her legs.

Teewa entered the water next to her, looking down with his grin.

“This is your home?” Laria asked in utter disbelief.

“Yes, since the beginning and until the end of time. It is a part of us, and we are a part of it.”

Since she was a little girl, Laria had been taught about the Bajoran idea of the afterlife. What it would be like to wake up in the Celestial Temple, to live among the Prophets, and serve them in bliss for eternity. When she had regained her faith as a young woman, she believed that one day, she too would walk with the Prophets in their home watching over Bajor. For a brief moment, standing there in the warm water, the idea crossed her mind that maybe she had indeed died in the runabout explosion, and this place was the peaceful and timeless existence that she was promised.

Three days passed and Laria had regained her strength. She had learned the names of everyone in the village, began helping the women with their daily chores and collecting the fruits of the forest, played with the children and learned their games. She swam in the lagoon, taking in the warm water and the nourishing sun, and even accompanied Teewa out on a fishing expedition to the reefs. However, this world, with all its beauty and tranquility, was not her own. She knew that she would always be an outsider looking in.

After examining a rock outcropping on the far side of the village, she discovered the source of the natural interference. This planet had one of the highest natural concentrations of dolomite she had ever seen. It was no wonder that the Guadans still lived in the stone age. Anything that relied on the transmission of electromagnetic waves would be degraded. Phasers would have to be continually retuned, subspace radios constantly recalibrated, and sensors almost useless.

As Laria saw it, she had two choices: wait for a ship to land near the village, which could take months…maybe even years…or find a way to generate a subspace wave powerful enough to get somebody’s attention.

On the evening of the fourth day, the sun set and the bright moons of Guada filled the sky. Laria gathered with the other villagers around a bonfire in the sand. Otano, one of the fishermen of the village, was telling a story about a large sea serpent that helped lost mariners find their way home. Hearing that story made Laria ache to find a way back to the Pershing. She had come to realize in her time here they had all of them: Katie, Alex, Annabeth, Phil, and even Scharr; this was where she belonged.

Then, there was Daniel. She was surprised when she first thought of him by that name, but yes, in her mind he was no longer Captain Tigranian. He was Daniel.

Teewa and Ytana sat next to her, their long legs crossed in front of them. Suddenly, a thought crossed Laria’s mind.

“Teewa, you said you saw the Jem’Hadar and the Federation when they were here. Where did you see them?”

“The Jem’Hadar would appear from the jungle. They never spoke except to ask if anyone not loyal to them was here. We would say that we were loyal to all, and they would leave.”

“What about the Federation?”

“They came from the stars in flying canoes and landed on the beach one day.”

“Flying canoes?” Laria asked, confused. “You mean drop ships?”

“We do not have words for such things in our tongue.”

“I’m sorry,” Laria said apologetically. “Please continue.”

“They stayed near the shore and set up large camps. They asked where the Jem’Hadar were. We would say the jungle and they would get frustrated. Eventually they moved further down the shore. We did not see them again until the dragon breathed fire from the sky.”

Laria’s curiosity piqued again.

“Could you tell me about the dragon from the sky?”

“We would often hear the Federation’s thunder and see the Jem’Hadar’s lightning at night. That was when they liked to fight their battles. One night, the thunder and lightning was very bad. The children were scared and cried into their mother’s arms. The men stepped outside to watch the storm. Suddenly, a bright beam of light came from the sky and scorched the ground. We could see the fires burning from far away. Then all was quiet again.

“We decided that we must see what this dragon was. If a new threat had come to Guada, we must know so we could act. I volunteered to go with three others. We paddled for a full day down the shore until we found the Federation’s new camp. Many of your people were there. There was also something that we had never seen tucked into the jungle; something that many of your warriors guarded.”

“What was it?” Laria asked, enthralled.

“It was taller than twenty great trees, made of black metal, and the top glowed with a color of blue brighter than the sky at midday.”

“Was it a building, or a structure?”

Teewa furrowed his brow. It was difficult for him to describe with the words that he knew.

“The bottom of it was like a hut made of metal, but the top was not. It was like the trunk of a great tree.” Laria immediately gained hope.

“Did anyone from the Federation say what it was for?”

“One of them, a very young man dressed black and gold, tried to say it was for the Jem’Hadar to call on others.”

“A subspace array!” Laria shouted, climbing to her feet. The other villagers around the fire looked at her. She bowed apologetically and sat back down. Otano returned to telling his stories. “Why would the Dominion put a subspace array on a planet with a natural dampening field?”

“It was then the Federation said it was not safe for us to be there and we should go back to our village. We asked about the dragon, and they said it would not bother us, so we left.”

“Teewa, this is very important. Is that array still there?”

“If the Great Creator has not taken it back into the sea,” he replied calmly.

“Can you take me there?”

“It is a difficult journey. Would you not rather stay here?”

“Teewa, your home is an amazing place, but it’s not mine. I would always be your guest, and I have to get back to my family.”

“And this subspace array will help you do that?”

“It very well could.”

“Then, kind Laria, we will leave at first light.”

Laria was exhausted. She dipped her wooden oar into the water and paddled against the surf in the back of Teewa’s canoe. The sun beat down on them with its usual ferocity, and she had to take frequent sips from the water skin Teewa had given her before their departure. However, he seemed completely content to paddle forever. She had no idea how he was navigating, but he was just as comfortable at the head of his canoe as Phil was at the Pershing’s helm.

“How much farther?” Laria called out as the afternoon sun began to drop below the horizon.

“Not much farther,” he called back to her with a smile. Only another hour or so.”

“Another hour?” she called out exasperated. “I’ve traveled between planets in less time than this!”

Teewa began laughing loud enough to be heard over the waves.

“We noticed that about your Federation and Jem’Hadar…”

“And what’s that?” Laria said a little insulted about any comparison between the Federation and the Dominion.

“Outworlders always want to get everywhere so fast, that you forget to enjoy the trek along the way!”

Laria paused. She looked out on the endless sea and sky, the white beaches, and the green forest. The warm breeze carried the scent of sea air and flowers, and the ever present sound of the waves countered the steady pulse of their paddling.

“Enjoy the trek…” she whispered to herself.

Time passed, and Laria slowly began to lose herself. She listened to the cawing of the birds plucking fish out of the water, she closed her eyes and breathed the pure air, and savored the rhythmic rocking of the canoe on the water. However, just when she had truly begun to relax, she saw a dark object on the horizon, its harsh artificiality stood in stark contrast to the natural beauty around it.

“There it is,” she whispered. “A ticket home.”

It was indeed a communications array, and a huge one at that. It had to be a central hub for this entire sector. No wonder the Federation had fought for it here.

Teewa artfully maneuvered the canoe to the beach at the base of the cliff below the array. When he had tied the boat to a rock, he motioned for Laria to follow him. An artificial path had been cut in the stone from the sand up to the base of the tower.

At the top of the cliff, they found a small structure built into the base of the complex.

“This was where we spoke with the Federation warriors,” Teewa said. When she saw the condition of the structure, Laria’s heart sank.

“How long ago was that?” Laria said. “This place looked like it’s been abandoned for years.”

“Nine seasons ago,” Teewa said calmly. The jungle on Guada had done quick work. Vines and leaves had covered everything. Corrosion had begun to take its toll, and disrepair was starting to overtake everything.

Laria pulled open a rusty access panel on the side of the door, and found a manual release lever. She pulled with all her might, but couldn’t get it to budge.

“Could you help me?” she asked. Teewa walked over, and with all their combined strength, they finally unlocked the building.

Pushing their way inside, they found themselves in a control room. When the Federation left, they had stripped out much of the Dominion equipment, probably to be sent to technicians in Starfleet Intelligence for analysis. The remaining control panels were dark and overgrown.

“Is this what you were looking for?” Teewa asked hopefully.

“I don’t know yet,” Laria replied with a worried expression. She began tracing the remaining panels with her eyes. She finally found what looked like the main power juncture in a back corner of the room. She brushed off the dirt and leaves that had settled on it over the past two years.

“I’m a scientist, not an engineer. At this point, Teewa, your guess on how to operate this stuff is probably as good as mine,” He looked back at her concerned.

She pried off another panel and began resequencing some isolinear rods.

“What are you doing?” Teewa asked curiously.

“Well, I don’t see any fusion regulators here. Antimatter would have eaten through its containment pods by now and blown this entire area into orbit…so whatever power source this thing runs on…” she switched two final rods and pressed a series of buttons. Sparks exploded from a nearby console, but slowly the entire room glowed back to life. “…must still be here.”

Laria grinned from ear to ear. Teewa smiled as well.

“That must be a good sign,” he said supportively.

“We’re about to find out,” Laria said walking over to what appeared to be the main control panel. She pressed a few keys.

“Impressive, Dominion,” she said, pulling up a design schematic on the computer. “This entire array runs on geothermal energy. Making Guada work for you…”

“What do you mean?” Teewa asked, cocking his long neck to one side.

“It means that the Jem’Hadar were using the Great Creator’s power to make their machines work instead of having to bring some of their own.”

Laria kept examining the schematics. A lot of key equipment was missing from the array, but sending out a basic uuencoded message could still be possible if she was lucky.

“But what about the dampening field?” she muttered quietly to herself still pressing keys and buttons. If the message was interrupted in transmission, then even sending them the exact spatial coordinates to her position would still be worthless. That’s when she noticed a rather interesting modification that the Dominion had made to this array’s design. Her eyes grew wide.

“That’s genius!” Laria shouted. She started furiously pressing buttons. “The Dominion didn’t put this here in spite of the dampening field. They put it here because of the dampening field!”

“I do not understand,” Teewa said, walking towards her.

“They’re transmitting their subspace carrier wave on the exact same resonance frequency as the dampening field generated by the dolomite! When they transmit with a sufficient signal booster, the wave is actually accelerated into subspace at a higher relative velocity to normal space-time! They can talk to half the quadrant with this thing instantaneously!” She smiled as she looked at Teewa. He was obviously happy for her, but comprehended nothing in her last statement.

“You have absolutely no idea what I’m saying do you?” Laria said, a little embarrassed.

“No…” Teewa said with a grin.

“Okay,” she said, trying to think of a metaphor he could understand. “What happens when you drop a rock into water?”

“It will sink.”

“Right, that’s what the rocks in the ground are doing to messages that people try to send from Guada normally. However, what happens if you throw that rock at the right angle to the water with enough speed?”

“The rock will skip off the water and keep going.”

“Yes!” Laria said, realizing she had gotten through. “The Dominion figured out the exact right angle and speed they needed to throw their messages at the dampening field so that the message would get pushed out and keep going.”

Laria pressed a few more buttons before kneeling down and removing a small access panel at the base of the console. She reached into a pouch hanging on her hip and pulled out her combadge. She attached it to a junction and then stood back to her feet.

“The connections are really corroded,” she said nervously. “Once we energize the transmitter, I don’t know how long they’ll hold.”

“Will you be able to contact your people?” Teewa asked, sensing her concern.

“It won’t be a full message, but if they hear it, hopefully it will be enough.

She keyed the final sequence, and looked up at Teewa. “Wish me luck,” she said looking at him.

“There is no luck, Laria,” Teewa said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “If the Great Creator wills it, they will hear your words across the stars.” She nodded.

“Then, may the Prophets will it…” she said, closing her eyes and hitting ‘transmit.’

The loud hum of electronics echoed through the room, but then there was a huge boom as the main power junction exploded in a shower of sparks. Everything in the room went dark.

“Are you alright?” Teewa shouted.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Laria said dejectedly.

“Did your message fly?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “The power failed before I received a confirmation.” She tried pressing a few keys, but the console was completely dead. She walked over to the power junction and examined the isolinear rods. It was just as she feared. “Everything’s completely fused. This array will never work again.”

Teewa had built a large fire on the beach next to their canoe. They couldn’t paddle back to the village in the dark, so they would camp beneath the array until morning. Laria stared silently up at the stars, hoping that somehow she had been heard. As she looked across the crystal clear sky, she wondered which of those little bright specks of light the Pershing was near. In her depressed state, she almost wanted to yell upwards in the hope they would miraculously hear her.

Teewa walked over and took a seat next to her.

“What is it like to fly through those?” he asked softly.

“When I was a child, I wondered the same thing. That’s why I joined Starfleet,” she replied barely above a whisper. “Then I realized that it isn’t about flying through the stars, it’s about the people you meet along the way.”

He nodded in understanding.

“How about you? Would you like to fly up there?” 

His response surprised her. He just smiled and said one word.

“No.”

“You mean, knowing all the different types of people throughout this galaxy, you still don’t want to leave Guada?”

“Why would I leave the place where the Great Creator chose to place me?”

“The reason why Starfleet exists,” Laria said looking up at him. “To explore, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where you have never gone before.”

“Laria,” Teewa said. “Since I have known you, I have seen you meet new life, and a new civilization. I have seen you be bold and go where you have never gone, and yet the greatest wish you have had is to get back to your home.”

Laria sat in stunned silence as she considered his words.

“The only thing we must explore in this life is always with us.” Teewa pointed one of his long fingers right at her heart. “Though we may travel long distances, hear beautiful sounds, and see great things, we inevitably wander right back to where we began our journeys: the place with those we love.”

Laria instantly thought of Daniel.

“But what if I can’t get back?” she said softly.

“Then, hold the precious memories in your heart and never forget,” he said with eyes full of kindness. She leaned in close to him and he gently wrapped his long arm around her.

Bajoran/Cardassian Border
Stardate: 53243.2

Tigranian had been dreading this moment for the past four days. It was a requirement as Laria’s former commander, but he knew it was also the right thing to do. He just didn’t know if he had the sheer emotional strength to get through it.

He sat in his quarters, elbows on the desk, hands on the sides of his head. He considered taking a couple of gulps of bloodwine, but decided against it. It wouldn’t be right on every level not to have his wits and composure at all times.

Rijo was on the desk next to him, staring with his giant unmoving eyes. He picked up the toy and felt its fur. She had spent almost every night of her short life with this pugabeast, and somehow having it near him made her feel less far away. The stuffed animal was becoming as comforting to him as it was to Laria, but only because it brought him to a place where he could imagine her still being there.

However, as a warrior, he had a duty to perform and could not live in idle comfort any longer. He had to be a man, and put aside Rijo.

“Computer,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Begin recording.” He sat back in his chair and stared at the screen.

“Mr. and Mrs. Amira, my name is Captain Daniel Tigranian, and I am Laria’s commander on the USS Pershing. I express my deepest regrets, that on Stardate 53242.9 we discovered the debris of the runabout she was traveling in en route to a scientific conference on Vulcan.

“The runabout had suffered a full warp core breach. While the investigation is still ongoing, all the evidence suggests that Laria was killed in the explosion.

“While I cannot pretend to imagine the pain of losing a child, I can say that her loss has been devastating for both me and my crew. Though we have only been together a few months, we have quickly become a family. Much of that was because of Laria’s loving personality, her amazing and gifted mind, and her beautiful soul.

“I had grown very personally close to Laria since her arrival on board, and I am finding it especially difficult to cope with her sudden and tragic loss. She had helped me through some of my own difficult times with her kind words and expressions of her deep faith. I know in my heart that she now walks with the Prophets in their loving arms…”

Up on the bridge, Katie was working late again. Laria’s loss had brought back many feelings that she thought she had finally beaten. Every time she stood idle for more than a few minutes, anger started bubbling to the surface. She refused to accept that the Jem’Hadar had stolen someone else from her life. So, she kept working.

Ensign Gleeto was on the night duty officer’s shift that evening, and was being tormented by her relentless attempt to recalibrate the starboard phaser array.

“Try to isolate the nadion frequency in the pre-fire chamber. The resonance is degrading the energy pulse before it hits the emitter stage,” she said, not looking up from her console.

“Ma’am,” Ensign Gleeto said, rubbing his eyes, “We’ve been at this for over an hour and we’re still not getting any increase in firing efficiency. We’re sitting at 98.2 percent already and that’s two full percentage points over the standard rating.”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Ensign?” she said angrily. “I don’t care if we’re at 99.9 percent. I want to get this system as damn near perfect as we can, are you tracking?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, not making eye contact.

A small, red light started blinking on her communication control panel. She looked over and her legs nearly collapsed.

“The most difficult thing about this,” Tigranian said continuing his letter to Laria’s parents, “is thinking about all the things left undone by her passing…and all the things left unsaid.” He briefly looked away from the screen. “Laria and I had many discussions about the plans for her life, where she wanted to go, and who she wanted to be with. She spoke of you frequently, and the love she had for you. I am very sorry if this is presumptuous of me, but by the way she spoke of you both, I feel a deep connection to your family because…” he paused, drawing every last ounce of resolve to say the words without breaking down, “…I loved your daughter very much.”

“Captain!” Katie screamed through his intercom.

“Computer, pause recording,” he said, angered at the interruption. “What is it, Lieutenant Stone?”

“We’ve just received a burst transmission on the Starfleet Emergency Band.”

Tigranian allowed the tiniest amount of hope to rise within him.

“Is it a distress call?” he asked quickly.

“No, the transmission cut out before I could try signaling back, but it contained just one thing: Laria’s combadge locator signal.”

Tigranian leaned back in chair and exhaled like he had just burst through the surface of an icy river.

“Thank you, Kahless…” he whispered. “She doesn’t dine with you in Sto’Vo’Kor yet.”

“Were you able to locate the source of the signal?”

“Yes, Sir, nine light-years away on the edge of the Badlands. It’s coming from Guada.”

Tigranian froze. First the debris of the Jem’Hadar fighter at the site of her runabout’s destruction and now her combadge signal from one of the most horrific battlefields of the war. He prayed it was a coincidence, because if the Jem’Hadar were holding her in those jungles, they might never be able to find her.

“Katie, cloak the ship. If there are Dominion holdouts around Guada, we don’t want them to know we’re coming. Set a course for Guada, maximum warp!”

“Yes, Sir!”

As the stars outside his window flashed and then began to streak by, he rose from his chair to head to the bridge. He started for the doors, but then suddenly stopped and turned back towards his desk.

“Computer, delete recording.”

Guada System: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53243.4

Laria and Teewa returned to the village. She was starting to resign herself to the fact that she might not leave Guada for a very long time, if ever, but Teewa’s words that night on the beach below the array still brought her some comfort. If she couldn’t get back home, she could still hold onto the memories of those she left behind and start making new ones with this remarkable group of people.

She lay on the sand staring out at the setting sun, the deep oranges and reds reflecting off the water in a brilliant, beautiful spectacle to behold. Ytana sat behind her, slowly braiding some white flowers into Laria’s dark curls. She had wanted to try decorating  Laria’s tresses since she had first seen them, as the bald Guadans had no experience with hair. Surprisingly, her long fingers were very adept at the task.

The sound of children playing the last games of the day, the smell of the cooking fires, and the sight of the waves bubbling against the shore mixed together into a soothing sensory menagerie that managed to set her mind a little more at ease. She just wished that the crew of the Pershing could somehow share this moment with her…

Two loud booms echoed across the lagoon. A flock of birds resting in the trees behind the village flew out of the branches, cawing in surprise. Ytana and Laria climbed to their feet.

“Could that be thunder?” Ytana said, looking up at the clear sky.

“No,” Laria replied as she quickly scanned across the horizon. “That was something going subsonic in the stratosphere.” Ytana looked at her with confusion.

The sun’s fading light glinting off an object caught Laria’s eyes. She looked south over the lagoon at a rapidly growing dark speck. It quickly became larger and larger until finally its silhouette came into view. Laria dropped to her knees and started laughing with joy. It was a runabout and it was heading right towards them.

“You heard me!” Laria shouted. “YOU HEARD ME!”

The rest of the villagers now saw the craft and walked out onto the beach to watch its approach. The runabout flew in low over the lagoon and gently touched down on the sand a few hundred meters away. Even before its engines shut down, Laria was running towards it.

The port hatch opened and Tigranian jumped down onto the beach. He saw a woman running towards him. Her skin was tanned by the tropical sun and her long dark hair adorned with white flowers bounced behind her. Before he could think, he was running towards her as well. They met right at the edge of the water and instantly were in each other’s arms.

Alex jumped out of the runabout with a med kit and started heading towards the pair, but a hand from Annabeth on her shoulder stopped her.

“No,” she said softly. “Give them a moment.”

After a few wonderful seconds of happy silence, Tigranian and Laria finally looked into each other’s eyes.

“What took you so long?” Laria said with a smile. Tigranian couldn’t help but laugh.

“When we found the remains of the runabout and the Jem’Hadar ship, we feared the worst, but then we got your call. For my own sanity, you could have mentioned that you were on a tropical vacation and not being held hostage by fanatical remnants of the Dominion. I was prepared to hit the beach with the marines to rescue you.”

“How valiant of you, Sir,” Laria said with a smirk. “How did you locate me on the surface through all the interference?”

“Luckily, my ship is equipped with the only sensor array in Starfleet sensitive enough to scan through a trillion metric tons of dolomite and find the only Bajoran lifesign on the entire planet. Remind me to thank the woman who designed it. She made it so easy, even an Andorian could figure it out.” They both laughed again. Laria wrapped her arms around Tigranian once more and leaned her head on his chest.

“It’s good to see you, Sir.”

Tigranian pushed his feelings down and replied with only, “It’s good to see you, too.”

Back at the village, Teewa and Ytana stood together watching the reunion. Several more outworlders emerged from the sky canoe and joined Laria and the man together on the beach. Soon, Laria was smiling, laughing, and hugging several others who she seemed to know.

“It looks like she is very happy,” Ytana said.

“Of course, she is very happy,” Teewa said, smiling back at his mate. “She has found the way back to the people she loves.”

 Saying goodbye to Teewa, Ytana, and the rest of the villagers was harder than Laria imagined, but they promised that she would always be welcome in their home. Tigranian had tried to leave them some supplies as a thank you for the care they gave his stranded crewmember, but Teewa had politely refused.

“Why would we take what is yours? We already have more than we could ever need.” Tigranian only smiled and said that they were as welcome on his ship as they had made Laria feel in their village.

Despite being given an initial clean bill of health, Alex still insisted that Laria be taken to the hospital on Starbase 371 to be seen by a specialist.

“You don’t know what kind of strange tropical diseases and parasites could be lurking in that jungle,” she had said. As a Guada veteran himself, Tigranian obliged his chief medical officer over Laria’s objections.

However, Laria currently had more important things to worry about now that she was back on board. She was tearing her own quarters apart, looking for another missing shipmate.

“I know you’re here!” she said on the verge of panic as she ripped her pillows off her bed for the tenth time. “I left you right here!”

Suddenly, her door chimed. She went over and opened it. Tigranian was standing there holding her oldest friend.

“Rijo!” Laria screamed as she grabbed her pugabeast and hugged him to her chest.

“Sorry, he told me he was lonely so he spent the last few days in my quarters.” Tigranian said with a grin. “May I come in?”

“Yes, Sir, please,” Laria said, allowing him to step inside.

She walked over and placed Rijo back in his place on her bed. Tigranian stopped in the center of the room.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said looking into Laria's eyes.

“Why?” she said with a confused smile.

“Because before today, all the memories I had of Guada were ones I’d rather forget, but now whenever I think of that world, I’ll just remember finding you on the edge of that lagoon, the sunset…” he paused. “…and the way you felt in my arms.” Laria froze, not sure of what to say.

“Sir…I…”

“No,” he said abruptly. “Don’t call me ‘sir’ right now.” He moved forward, wrapped his arms around Laria, and kissed her. After about five seconds of pure bliss, he leaned back and opened his eyes.

“I thought I lost you, L. Now that I have you back, I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

It was her turn to kiss him. They stood there in each other’s embrace, both wanting to take things further. Without letting go, they moved toward the bed and fell onto it. Tigranian lifted Laria and laid her down, but as soon as his hands started moving to lift up her t-shirt, she stopped.

“Wait!” she said suddenly.

“What?” he said, worried he’d done something wrong. Laria jumped out from under him and grabbed Rijo. She carried the pugabeast over to a shelf on the far side of the room and made him face the wall.

“It’d be weird if he watched,” she said, running back over to the bed and squeezing under Tigranian again.

“You good?” Tigranian asked through his quickened breathing.

“Yeah,” Laria said with a quick nod before finding his lips again. Then they picked up where they left off.

Tigranian awoke the next morning with a pile of dark brown hair in his face. Laria slept peacefully, still wrapped in his arms. He smiled and started running the tips of his fingers over her bare shoulders. She stirred with a content sigh.

“Good morning,” he whispered in her ear.

“Good morning,” she said, inching closer to his chest. “You know, of all the ways I thought I’d spend my first night back on this ship, waking up naked next to you wasn’t one of them.” They both laughed.

“I hope you’re not disappointed,” he said with a grin.

“I’d say it was a solid performance on your part,” she said grinning back.

“Ouch,” he said, feigning insult. “Computer, time?”

“The time is 0649 hours.”

“ghay’cha’, I better get back to my quarters. I’m due on the bridge in an hour.”

Suddenly, Laria got a worried look on her face and rolled away from him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“So, what now?” she asked, not looking at him. “Is this gonna be, thanks for the nice night, Lieutenant, now put your clothes back on and don’t ever tell anyone?”

“Hey,” he said, pulling her close again. “I told you, casual sex isn’t my thing. Besides, do you remember what you told me that night on Risa?” She rolled over and glared at him.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“No,” he said, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s just, I think I’m falling in love with you…and I just really want you to love me too.”

She kissed him again. He ran his hands down her bare back and she melted under their touch. Then, she collapsed onto the pillow next to him.

“So, where do we go from here?”

“I want to be with you, however, I don’t think we should tell the others for a while: at least a couple weeks. You know, show them that we can still be professional while on duty?”

Laria sighed.

“Alright,” she said, nodding her head. “As long as I get to have you.”

“L, you already have me,” he said before planting one more kiss on her lips. She relaxed and laid her head back on the pillow.

“Well, I’m okay with that arrangement…” she said, running her fingers over the brand of the House of Torlek on his left arm. “…but on one condition.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And that is?”

“If we’re gonna be spending a lot of time in your quarters, you’re getting a real mattress.”

Down the corridor in Annabeth and Alex’s quarters, the entire staff had assembled.

“Alright, everybody,” Annabeth said addressing the crew. “Thank you for showing your support for Laria. I’m sure she’ll appreciate a nice home-cooked meal that doesn’t come out of a replicator.”

Alex was putting the finishing touches on a tray that contained a breakfast in bed for Laria. Everyone had woken up early to cook a part of the spread.

“Katie, great job on the bacon, Phil thank you for the fresh squeezed kava juice, However, Tran,” Annabeth said turning to Scharr. “Why are the eggs blue?” His antennae perked up.

“They’re Andorian eggs,” he said matter-of-factly. “Everything on Andoria is blue.”

“Okay…” Katie muttered. “Hey, where’s the captain?”

“I don’t know,” Annabeth said, shaking her head. I dropped by his quarters last night to tell him about this, but he wasn’t in. He was probably training late on the holodeck and I know he doesn’t like to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency.”

“Plus, he’s been really ground down lately,” Alex said, placing a single Bajoran lily on the tray. “Probably could use a nice night of quiet sleep now that he doesn’t have to worry about Laria.”

The entire crew assembled and walked down the corridor. They stopped outside of Laria’s quarters and hit the chime.

“Hey, little castaway!” Annabeth said, speaking into the intercom. “We’re all out here and we made breakfast for you! Open up!”

“HEY, LARIA!” everyone said. There was no answer.

“Laria?” Annabeth said growing concerned.

Suddenly, there was huge commotion from inside her quarters. Everyone looked at each other. Then, they heard a familiar man’s voice whispering loudly.

“My shirt! Where’s my shirt?”

Everyone’s jaw dropped. Annabeth and Alex looked at each other with massive grins.

The doors parted and Captain Tigranian and Laria stood next to each other. He was dressed in uniform pants, no shoes, and a gray undershirt. She was only in a t-shirt and shorts, and her hair still showed signs of amorous activities.

The captain looked out at the rest of his senior staff and cleared his throat.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said, trying to sound sure of himself.

“Good morning, Sir. Good morning, Laria…” Annabeth said, trying not to laugh at the situation. As usual, Katie cut right to the point.

“Laria, you…are…a…GODDESS!” The Bajoran’s cheeks grew bright red and she looked down at the ground. Tigranian took a deep breath. He put his arm around Laria and pulled her next to him.

“Everyone,” Tigranian began. “We were hoping to keep this quiet for at least a little while, but Laria and I have decided to…enter a…relationship.”

“Well, you definitely entered something last night, Sir…” Phil muttered under his breath with a chuckle. Laria buried her head in the captain’s chest and he gritted his teeth.

“PHIL!” Alex shouted at him.

“I got it,” Katie said before punching him hard in the gut.

“OW!” Phil screamed as he nearly collapsed to the ground with the wind knocked out of him.

“Thank you, Katie…damn fighter pilots…” Tigranian said.

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

“Anyways,” he said, lifting Laria’s chin. “It’s obvious the secret’s out now. So, I promise that we will be professional while in the workplace and I ask the same from all of you,” he said looking down at his helmsman gasping for air.

“Not a problem, Sir, utmost professionalism,” Phil said, still trying to catch his breath.

“Sir,” Annabeth said. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re all very happy for you both and you two are adorable together.”

“‘Adorable’ is not a word I usually use to describe myself, but thank you,” Tigranian replied.

“That’s why I chose it, Sir,” she grinned. “Anyways, this tray is getting cold, but I think we have enough food left in our quarters to make a second plate since it looks like you’ve both…” she paused to clear her throat. “…worked up an appetite. Why don’t you two get showered and dressed and we’ll have this up in the wardroom.”

“Thank you, Annabeth,” Laria said smiling.

“Yes, thank you, Number One.”

“Our pleasure, now everyone, let's give these two some privacy.” Annabeth led the group back down the corridor. Katie grabbed Phil’s ear like a petulant child’s and started dragging him away.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” he repeated as she nearly ripped it off his skull.

“You come here! What the hell is wrong with you? I can’t take you anywhere,” Katie said, scolding him before looking back over her shoulder. “You’re a goddess, Laria! A goddess!” she repeated as they disappeared around the bend.

“Guess it won’t be as quiet as we hoped,” Tigranian said, finally relaxing a bit. Laria hugged him close to her.

“I’m glad they know, because they’re family, and I hate keeping secrets from family.”

“In that case,” Tigranian replied softly. “I’m glad they know, too…”

They kissed again.

7

RIVALRIES

Eriatat Cluster: Federation Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53248.3

Laria moved from console to console in the Pershing’s astrometrics lab, furiously pushing buttons and recording measurements. She didn’t even notice the doors open. Tigranian walked in wearing his faded “Zef: The Fighting Phoenix” t-shirt.

When he saw her working, he grumbled.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to get this experiment done before we headed back to Deep Space Nine tomorrow,” she said, not stopping her efforts. “I’m bouncing graviton waves off the protostars in the cluster to try to gain a more efficient measurement of their rate of fusion. That way the computer can analyze the data while we visit Bajor and it’ll be done before we get back,” she said looking at him with a smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant, L. First, you’re in uniform on your day off. Second, Alex worked really hard to put this party together and you will be there; not only for her, but because you’re a Starfleet officer and an academy alum.”

“Daniel, please no,” she said petulantly. “I hated going when I was a cadet because it was one of the only days off at the academy, and instead of sleeping in and then spending all day with a book, I had to put on my dress uniform and stand outside for five hours while drunk firsties screamed in my ears. I don’t even know the rules.”

“You mean you watched for four straight years and you still don’t even know the rules?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t paying that much attention. Besides, we’ve lost for 115 straight years. Why bother?”

“And this year will probably be 116, but that’s not the point. It’s about tradition and camaraderie. Two things I take very seriously. Now, Lieutenant Amira, we have just enough time to run back to your quarters, have you change into something more comfortable, and then head to the mess hall. Your protostars will still be here after the game is over.”

When he used her formal title, Laria knew she had already lost.

“Yes, Sir…” she said trailing off.

“Good, I even brought you my Starfleet Academy sweatshirt you love to steal all the time.” He threw a red hoodie at her that plopped over her head. She let out a deep sigh so that the fabric rose and fell with her breath.

“Great…” she muttered.

Fifteen minutes later, Tigranian and Laria walked through the doors of the mess hall. Alex put down her red plastic cup and walked over. She wore a bright gold “Starfleet Academy: Home of the Fighting Phoenixes” t-shirt and the words “Go Fleet!” were painted in red on her left cheek.

“Great! You made it!” she said, throwing her arms around them both. “I was worried you were gonna miss strike-off. Food’s all set up on the buffet and the keg is on ice in the corner.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Tigranian said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Laria said, faking a smile.

“Are you kidding, this is my favorite day of the year!” Alex said, picking up her beer from a nearby table. She raised it in the air, turned to the other assembled officers and shouted.

“BEAT SCIENCE!”

“BEAT SCIENCE!” they all shouted back in unison.

“That’s another reason I hate this…” Laria whispered to Tigranian.

Katie jumped up on one of the tables. She was completely decked out from head to toe in academy spirit gear. She had a huge floppy “Zef: the Fighting Phoenix” hat on her head. Half her face was painted red and the other half painted gold. She whistled as loudly as she could while raising both her arms into the air.

“Oh no,” Laria said. Tigranian laughed and joined as the rest of the Pershing’s officers followed Katie’s lead. They all started chanting in unison while banging their arms up and down.

 “BOOM! AHHH!

S-F-A! RA RA!

S-F-A! RA RA!

HOORAH! HOORAH!

STARFLEET STRONG!

TEAM! TEAM! TEAM! AHHHHH!

GO FLEET!”

“Did you really just do the ‘rocket’?” Laria said to Daniel while rolling her eyes.

“I did!” Tigranian said laughing. “I haven’t done that in years!”

“Yeah, no one’s made me do that since I commissioned,” Laria muttered.

“So, about a year ago?” Tigranian replied sarcastically.

“I hate you…”

He smiled and then kissed her cheek.

“Why don’t you go over to get us some seats on the couch in front of the big screen? I’ll grab us some beers.”

“Earth beer?” she complained while making a face.

“Fine, I’ll see what else they have for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, returning a peck on his lips.

Tigranian walked over to the keg, pumped the handle, and started filling a red plastic cup with lager. Annabeth came over to him. Her blonde hair was in pigtails. The right one had a red hairband and the left side a gold one. Her t-shirt said, “Go Fleet!” in bold letters.

“Why is she in such a great mood?” she asked, nodding her head towards Laria.

“Oh, she’s a little grumpy because I dragged her out of her laboratory to watch sports.”

“That’ll do it.”

“Do you know if Alex has anything else to drink?”

“Yeah, she has a bunch of stuff in the cooler by the buffet. I think there’s a couple of bottles of Denevian mead in there. She knows Laria likes those.”

“Tell her ‘thank you’ for me.”

Tigranian walked over in front of the screen where Laria was sitting on a couch next to Phil and Scharr. The captain squeezed in and wrapped an arm around his par’Mach’kai’s shoulders. He handed Laria a bottle of mead and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“At least this won’t be all bad,” she whispered in his ear. He placed another peck on the top of her head.

“It’s time! It’s time!” Alex shouted as she hopped over to the couches. “Computer, turn to channel SFN: Sports.”

The giant high-definition screen activated. A few seconds later, a brilliant view of San Francisco Bay appeared. A very chipper announcer began his narration.

“Hello and Happy Federation Day to everyone watching at home station and on the ships around the stars! This is SFN’s live coverage of the 116th Annual Starfleet/VSA Game where the Fighting Phoenixes of Starfleet Academy take on the Kolinahrians of the Vulcan Science Academy. I’m Chip Williams here with co-commentator, Ritat Zax, and we’re coming to you live from New Candlestick Park in beautiful San Francisco, California on Earth. It’s a beautiful day for Parrises Squares and everyone here is ready for another round in one of the most classic rivalries in college sports. THIS is the Federation’s Game!”

The camera panned across the stands. One side of the stadium was completely packed with every single cadet in Starfleet Academy. They all wore their black and gray uniforms, waved and cheered, and pointed into the camera shouting “BEAT SCIENCE!” and “GO FLEET!” Some held up colored signs while others already appeared to be extremely lubricated despite the fact it was still before noon on Earth.

A row of admirals in their dress whites sat in the front row of the stands smiling and laughing with one another. On the sideline, cheerleaders dressed in uniforms with “STARFLEET” in giant gold letters across their chests waved red and gold pom-poms. They led the crowd in pregame excitement.

“I still can’t believe those cheerleaders are all cadets,” Phil said, staring at the screen. “Each one of them is a future Starfleet officer.”

“Hey,” Annabeth said, looking over to him. “I was one of those cheerleaders!”

“You were a cheerleader at the academy?” Katie said surprised.

“I was.”

“Yeah, she still even has the outfit…” Alex said with a grin.

“How do you know that?” Laria said, confused.

Tigranian coughed loudly and took a sip of his beer.

The camera then panned over to the Vulcan side of the stadium. One thousand science students all sat completely silently in their black robes. Each one staring down at the Parrises Squares pitch completely emotionless in stark contrast to their Starfleet rivals.

The announcer’s voice over began again.

“This is a rivalry that goes back over a century and has developed some pretty distinct traditions. One of those is spirit videos made by the cadets at both schools and often featuring their current leadership. This year’s official spirit video by the Vulcan Science Academy has already hit one trillion views on the information net.”

The camera cut to the picture of an older Vulcan male in a black robe sitting in an office made of sandstone.

“I am Suron, headmaster of the Vulcan Science Academy,” he said in a completely deadpan voice. “To the personnel of Starfleet Academy, we have defeated you for 115 straight years. Vulcans are physically stronger than most other humanoid species, process oxygen in their blood more efficiently, and also have greater mental acuity. It is illogical to continue with this game. We grow tired with the tedious exercise of coming to Earth. Please end this tradition as you have no statistical chance of victory.”

“Man, that Vulcan trash talk gets worse every year,” Phil said.

“Yeah…” everyone else said, nodding in agreement.

Admiral Paris and Suron both walked out from their respective sidelines. They met in the center of the pitch in front of the goal ramp. Paris offered a quiet nod to Suron who responded with the Vulcan hand salute. They each turned to face a flagpole at the end of the stadium.

“Please rise for the anthem of the United Federation of Planets.”

 The entire stadium rose to their feet. All of the officers in the Pershing’s mess hall followed suit.

“Corps of cadets!” Admiral Paris announced towards the stands. “Present arms!” Every cadet executed a crisp military salute in unison. Suron merely nodded to the Vulcans who each executed the hand salute.

A drumroll echoed through the stadium from the academy band. Then, the brass instruments began the strains of the anthem. As the music reached crescendo, four Nova Squadron attack fighters streaked in from each of the cardinal directions trailing blue and white smoke from their wings. Just as they were about to collide midair over the stadium, they each executed a 90 degree turn upwards and flew straight to orbit, trailing the colors of the Federation the entire time.

“Order arms!” Paris commanded. A huge cheer echoed through the Federation stands. The Vulcans silently took their seats.

“Look at Nova Squadron!” Phil said, running over to grab another beer before strike-off. “Perfect as always!” Katie grabbed a bowl of potato chips.

“Yeah, they pulled up before crashing into each other. Very impressive.”

“Could you do that?” Phil said, taking his seat next to her. “You have no idea what it's like to feel the raw power of an attack fighter at full impulse. That’s real flying! Man, I miss it.”

“Well, when your old ship gets here in the morning, you can look at it and cry,” Katie replied with a chuckle.

“Children, please,” Tigranian said sarcastically before taking a bite of stuffed Trillian hot peppers. “The game is about to start.”

“The Vulcans have won the coin toss and elected to receive the strike-off,” Williams’ voice-over returned.

“The special teams for the Kolinahrians have put up some huge numbers this year. We’ll see what they can do now,” Zax commented.

The Phoenixes took the field with their bright red and gold uniforms, helmets, and pads. Each held a long black mallet in their hands. At the far end of the pitch, The Vulcans dressed in gray and green prepared to receive. A referee carrying a small, round orange ball placed it in the middle of a one meter by one meter square directly in front of the Starfleet players. He stepped off to the sideline and blew his whistle.

The Starfleet power forward ran ahead and nailed the ball with the end of his mallet. It flew across the pitch and right into the waiting arms of the Vulcans’ receiver. The other Vulcans ran ahead, and knocked every single Starfleet lineman away from the ball. In a move of desperation, three Starfleet Academy players linked their arms together and tried to stop the running Vulcan from making it to the goal ramp in the center of the pitch. Almost effortlessly, the Vulcan plowed through all three of them at full speed, sending all the Starfleet players flying in every direction.

“OOOOOOOO,” the collected crew of the Pershing said in unison.

“That’s definitely a broken arm,” Katie said, taking a bite of potato chips.

The Vulcan continued up to the top of the ramp and threw the orange ball into the goal.

“Goal for the Kolinahrians!” Williams said. “And first blood belongs to the Vulcans again this year, Ritat.”

“Yes, indeed, Chip. A flawless strike-off return from Senior Science Cadet Selux. That puts the Kolinahrians up 5-0 over the Phoenixes with 14:56 left in the first quarter.”

Laria flashed Tigranian a look who merely shrugged his shoulders. She took a long sip from her bottle of mead and rolled her eyes once more.

“Only 3,596 seconds left…”

“I still can’t believe we lost that game,” Katie muttered from tactical.

“We were down 45-10 at the half,” Annabeth replied. “The fact that we finished 70-20 is an accomplishment,” she said optimistically.

Tigranian looked out at the bright stellar nurseries on the viewscreen, teeming with new stars just waiting to emerge from their clouds of glowing nebular gasses. It really was quite beautiful and he had given permission for Laria to continue her experiments this morning – at least until the Pike arrived for their relief in place.

The Pershing was due for its semiannual warp core services which had to be accomplished at a starbase. It would take at least three weeks to complete the process, which meant long hours for the engineering shifts and some limited shore leave for the rest of the crew.

Laria was ecstatic when they announced the Pershing would head to Deep Space Nine. It would be the first time she ever stepped foot on Bajor, and she would be experiencing it with Tigranian. He was excited to share the experience with her as well. Annabeth and Alex had decided to take their long-awaited honeymoon at a vineyard in the Kendra Province. Meanwhile, Scharr was happy only to be spending 21 uninterrupted days taking his warp core apart and putting it back together again.

The Pershing would be relieved on its patrol duties by the USS Christopher M. Pike, one of the only two Federation fleet carriers left in service after the war. She and her sister ship, USS James T. Kirk, were being rotated on presence patrols throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants as a show of solidarity between the Federation and her allies as well as a warning to anyone looking to take advantage of the chaos sown by the war to cause trouble.

Phil was especially excited by this turn of events. He had left the Pike almost a year ago and he was excited to see how his old ship was holding up.

“Sir,” Laria said from the science station. “Five Federation ships dropping out of warp.”

“Ah, our replacements have arrived,” Tigranian said, pulling on the bottom of his uniform jacket.

White flashes signaled the appearance of the Christopher Pike strike group. Four Akula-class escort frigates provided perimeter security for a long, tear-drop shaped vessel at least six hundred meters in length. Two long, enclosed flight decks ran the entire length of her port and starboard sides. Four stubby warp nacelles jutted out from her stern.

“There’s my old girl,” Phil said from the helm. “That ship holds a lot of great memories.”

“Thanks a lot, Phil,” Katie replied from behind at tactical.

“Nothing wrong with a little nostalgia now, Katie.” Tigranian said reassuringly.

“Whatever you say, Sir,” Katie replied.

“Do you mind putting Captain Miller on hailing frequencies?” Tigranian said turning his chair towards her “or do you wanna keep giving Phil a hard time?”

“Can’t I do both, Sir?”

Annabeth and Laria laughed. Phil did not.

“Ms. Stone,” Tigranian said, turning his chair back front.

“Hailing frequencies open, Sir.”

“Welcome to the frontier of freedom, Johnny Boy,” Tigranian said. The image of an older Starfleet captain wearing pilot’s wings on his uniform appeared to greet him.

“Listen to you, Dan,” he said with a smile. “You’ve been a captain for about 14 minutes and you think you can talk to an old star dog like that.”

“Tact has never been one of my strong suits, John.”

“To be sure. It definitely wasn’t when you stole my best pilot from me last summer,” he looked down at Phil. “How’re you doing Saber? This crazy cast of characters treating you right?”

“I can’t complain, Sir,” Phil said with a smile.

“Saber?” Katie said incredulously.

“It’s my call sign,” Phil said, not looking back at the rest of the bridge crew. “It’s from an old movie I really like,” he said, trying to change the subject.

Miller flashed him a look for not sharing that piece of information with his new crew. Then, the captain turned his attention back to Tigranian.

“Well, John, why don’t you beam aboard and we’ll brief you on your patrol area before we head out for DS9?” Tigranian asked.

“My pleasure, Dan,” Miller said somewhat sarcastically. “Is there gonna be milk and cookies or are you busting out the Klingon creepy crawlies for the snacks?”

“I wouldn’t waste good racht on you, John, and you know it.” They both laughed.

“I’ll see you in a few, Dan.”

“I’ll meet you in the transporter room.” The screen went blank and Tigranian climbed up from his chair.

“Sounds like you two have a history,” Annabeth said to Tigranian.

“That might not be the right word for it,” Tigranian replied. “I met him last year when I traveled to the Pike to pick up ‘Saber’ over there,” he said, gesturing to Phil.

“Sir, I thought you and Captain Miller got along very well at the time.”

“That’s because you didn’t see the part in his ready room where he threatened to break my jaw for taking one of his aviators out from under him during wartime.”

“How did you react to that one?” Annabeth asked, surprised.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if he was kidding, so I put him in a Mok’bara wristlock and took him down to the carpet. After that, the conversation took on a more civil tone.”

“Are you serious?” Phil said, staring at Tigranian.

“Dead serious,” the captain replied with a straight face. “I think it gave us something to talk about other than you. Made things a lot less awkward between us.” He glanced back at Laria who stared back at him with a grin on her face. “Annabeth, assemble the staff in the wardroom. I’ll escort John up from the transporter room.”

“So why didn’t you ever tell us your call sign, Saber?” Katie said, mocking Phil.

“It just didn’t seem important for me to talk about,” Phil replied.

“What movie did you say it was from?” Laria said with a confused look.

“You probably wouldn’t know it, it’s very old and not a lot of people know it.”

“Try me, I know a lot about the history of Earth culture.”

“I cannot think of anything less interesting that I would like to be talking about right now,” Scharr said from the end of the table.

Phil and Laria glared at him.

“Don’t mind, Mr. Scharr,” Annabeth said from her chair. “He just can’t wait to be waist deep in a plasma manifold screaming at ensigns to do their job.”

“You know me too well, Ma’am,” he said with an actual smile.

“So, Phil,” Katie said, turning back to him. “You really miss that ship that much, even with this group of people keeping you entertained all the time.”

“It’s not so much the ship, I guess,” he said looking down at the table. “I love it here, and I love being behind the helm of the Pershing,” but there’s nothing like flying a T-Bat right to the edge and cruising through space like you own it. You just don’t get that on a big ship like this.”

Katie got a smirk on her face.

“It can’t be that great. I’ve seen the Pershing do some pretty amazing things since I came aboard.”

“You can’t explain it to anyone who hasn’t lived it, Katie.”

“Tell you what then, fighter jockey, next time you get a chance to fly in one of those little things, I’ll ride along so I can understand.”

“You know what, Stone,” Phil said leaning forward. “I might just take you up on that.”

“We’ll see, Lexington,” she said in a mocking English accent.

The doors opened and Tigranian walked in with Captain Miller.

“The commanders,” Annabeth said as the room rose to their feet.

“As you were, take your seats,” Tigranian said. He sat down, but Miller walked straight over to Phil.

“Saber!” he said, throwing his arms around Phil.

“It’s good to see you, Sir,” Phil said with a smile. “How’re the Lancers doing?”

“I’m not even gonna lie. It’s a rough time for our kind right now. All the squadrons, including the Lancers, got scattered to hell and back after the war. They’ve mothballed all the fleet carriers except for us and the Kirk. I believe the words Starfleet Command used to justify it were that carrier groups are ‘too aggressive and too costly’ to keep in service. Most of our pilots have been reassigned to planetary security duty. I haven’t gotten a replacement in almost eight months. We’re so shorthanded, we can barely fill out the air tasking orders.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sir,” Phil said a bit crestfallen.

“Well the good news is that they don’t keep us in port much anymore. We’re always rotating out on missions. It seems we're not ‘too aggressive’ when the Federation wants to drive home a point somewhere.”

“Typical,” Phil muttered as Miller took a seat next to Tigranian. The next half hour was spent briefing the various hotspots in the Federation Zone of Occupation that the Pike would patrol. Their course over the next three weeks would take them from Eriatat, along the Tholian border, and then back along the Badlands. After getting out of dry dock, the Pershing would rendezvous with them at Cardassia Prime before the Pike headed back to Federation space next month.

“Too easy, Dan. Have anything else you want me to take care of while you’re on vacation?”

“Don’t underestimate the threats in this nice little piece of space, John,” Tigranian said cautiously. “I know you don’t think there’s anything you can’t handle, but I’ve been surprised a time or two out here.”

“Typical for you starship fleeties,” Miller said with a patronizing grin. “But the Pike’s squadrons can dominate a whole star system. I’m not too worried.”

“Suit yourself, brother,” Tigranian said, shaking his head.

“However, there is one thing I’ll ask of you.”

“Oh, really?” Tigranian said, looking back at him.

“Yeah, I figure you owe me a couple. One: for stealing Saber from me and two: for that little stunt you pulled in my ready room that day you came aboard.”

Annabeth chuckled.

“I suppose fair is fair,” Tigranian lamented.

“Saber,” Miller said, turning to Phil. “When was the last time you were behind the stick on a T-Bat?”

“Oh, Sir,” Phil said thinking. “Must be at least nine or 10 months now.”

“One year’s coming up,” Miller replied. “You don’t get some flight hours and they’ll pull your certification.”

“Hadn’t thought of that, Sir.”

“Yeah, that says something, Sab. How about you come fly with the real pilots while we’re out here? Come work for me again?” Miller quickly turned to Tigranian. “Only temporarily,” he said reassuringly. “I know I lost the fight to keep him permanently.”

“Are you serious, Sir?” Phil said not hiding his excitement very well.

“Definitely. Like I said, I’m short-handed and could definitely use another good pilot to face all the threats that your new CO is so worried about out here.”

Tigranian scoffed a bit.

“Is that alright with you, Sir?”

Tigranian considered it for a moment.

“Well, if you don’t mind giving up your shore leave, Phil. Not really gonna need you for warp core services.”

“Alright,” Phil said, turning to Miller. “You’ve got another pilot in your rotation.”

“Excellent!” Miller replied. “Welcome back to the big leagues for a while, Sab.”

“You just make sure you remember what ship you’re assigned to when we come back to pick you up, Phil. I don’t want to have to almost break John’s wrist again to get you back. Don’t think his old body could handle it again,” Tigranian added.

This time, the whole table except for Miller laughed.

“Sir, there is one more thing I’d like to request,” Phil added.

“From which, Sir?” Tigranian said with a grin.

“From both of you, really.” Phil looked at Katie. “I’d like to take Lieutenant Stone along.”

“Sure, we’ve got plenty of guest quarters…that is unless you two will be sharing a room.” The entire table fell awkwardly silent. Annabeth cleared her throat and looked at Miller. “Okay, guess I struck a nerve there…” he said trailing off.

Katie flashed Phil a glare.

“Why would I want to spend my three weeks of relaxed duty on a cramped fleet carrier watching fighter jockeys zoom around like Betazoid hummingbirds?”

“Did you not just say that the next time I had a chance to fly a fighter you’d tag along?”

“He’s got you there, Katie,” Alex added from across the table.

“Not helping, Doc,” Katie muttered back at her.

“If you’re too scared of course,” Phil said, flashing a look at Katie, “I’d understand if you wanted to back out.” Katie glared at him.

“Sir,” she said, turning to Tigranian. “Permission to tag along with old Saber here. Don’t worry, I’ll keep him from doing something stupid like saying he doesn’t want to come back. If he does, I’ll drag him back.”

“Fair enough, Katie,” Tigranian said before turning to Miller. “John, they’re all yours. Good luck keeping those two from being at each other’s throats the whole time.”

“Good. Oh, and Captain Miller,” Katie added.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I’ll be needing that extra set of guest quarters,” she flashed another glare back in Phil’s direction.

By that evening, Miller, Phil, and Katie had disembarked. The Pike was on its way towards the Tholian border while the Pershing set a course for Deep Space Nine.

Laria stepped out of Tigranian’s bathroom in her nightgown and crossed over to his brand new bed. She slipped underneath the klongat fur, hugged Rijo close under one arm, and picked up a PADD with the other. She was hoping she could enjoy a few chapters of her book before bed, but Tigranian was still typing furiously away on the monitor at his desk.

“Are you coming to bed, Daniel?” Laria said looking up from chapter three of Northanger Abbey.

“If you mean that foam-filled abomination you replaced my QongDaq with, then no. I’ve got some work to finish.”

“If by QongDaq, you mean that cold metal slab you somehow could sleep on, then I’m glad it’s gone. At least I let you keep the fur.”

“You love that fur, L. Don’t lie,” he said, still typing away at a Starfleet digital requisition form.

“What are you possibly doing that can’t wait till morning?”

“I swear, it seems like nothing on this ship happens without my signature. Scharr dropped 50 system service requests in my inbox before I left the bridge this afternoon and all of them have to be reviewed and signed before we arrive at Deep Space Nine tomorrow. Plus I’ve got a couple of other things on my mind.”

Laria placed her pad back on the nightstand.

“Tell you what, if you come to bed and finish those forms in the morning, I’ll make it worth your while…” she said. Tigranian raised his eyes from the monitor just in time to see her playfully drop one shoulder strap of her nightgown down from her shoulder. He briefly paused, but then went back to typing.

“Those are wonderful, but they’ll still be here in the morning, too.”

“Daniel!” she shouted. He smiled before turning off his monitor.

“I’m kidding,” he said, rising to his feet and pulling off his t-shirt. He crossed over to the bed and collapsed next to her, instantly resting his face in her chest.

“Hello there!” she said, surprised.

“Hi,” he said, his words muffled by her bosom.

“That feels so weird when you talk,” she muttered as she started to rub his back. “Whoah, you’ve got knots on top of knots back there.”

“Dealing with all our issues the past few months hasn’t exactly been easy, but putting my head here helps.”

“Glad I can be of service,” she said with a smile. “But you seem a little more out of it than usual.” He rolled back over, rested his head on her stomach, and stared up at her face.

“I’m just wondering if it was a good call to let Phil and Katie leave with the Pike”

She started running her free hand through his hair.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess.”

“They’re both grown-ups. They’ll be fine.”

“I know you’re right,” he replied.

“Plus, in less than a week, we’ll be on Bajor. We’ll see the sights, take some time to relax. Then we’ll come back to the ship, have time to fight a couple of hand to hand battles on the holodeck. It’ll be just what you need: a whole three weeks without any problems.”

“Great, I think you might have just jinxed it.”

“I guarantee you, it’ll be great,” she said with a reassuring smile. She leaned forward and kissed him.

Federation Fleet Carrier USS Christopher M. Pike Strike Group: Zarias System, Federation Occupied Zone (Cardassian/Tholian Border)
Stardate: 53250.8

Katie shifted in her flight suit as looked up at the briefing room’s holoscreen. She read the words “F/A-297 Tiberian Bat: Space Superiority Fighter.” Below was a list of performance statistics that impressed her. She looked around and saw a large wooden plaque bolted into the bulkhead on the far side of the room. The top read “Lancer Bandit Board.” Below was a list of names. At the very top was “LT Phil ‘Saber’ Lexington” with six Cardassian emblems and a ketracel-white tube painted next to it.

“Pride of the Federation Starfleet, and you’ll get a great view from the sizzo’s seat,” Captain Miller said enthusiastically, bringing Katie back.

“Sizzo?” Katie raised her eyebrows.

“S-S-O,” Phil said, cutting in. “Sensor Systems Operator. Usually the rear seat is for the one who runs the fighter’s long-range navigational and targeting systems. We shorten it to ‘sizzo’.”

“You fighter jockeys just have a cute pet name for everything, don’t you?”

Miller and Phil chuckled.

“It’s just a short little patrol today, so Saber can run things from the pilot’s station,” Captain Miller said with a reassuring grin. Katie was still having problems remembering that no one on this ship called her friend by his real name.

“Who’s our flight lead?” Phil asked the captain.

“I am,” came a woman’s voice from the back of the room. Phil froze like he just heard a ghost.

“Hello, Dee.”

“Saber,” the female Trill said with a devious grin that caused the two short, red pigtails on the sides of her head to bounce. A lanky Rigellian also dressed in a flight suit followed close behind her.

“Wildcard, good to see you again as well,” Phil said.

“Sab,” the Rigellian curtly responded.

“I guess you two know each other?” Katie said with a little more annoyance than she intended.

“Lieutenant Asha Neman,” the woman said, holding out a hand. “Everyone here knows me as ‘Daredevil,’ though. This is my sizzo, Wildcard.”

“Lieutenant Katie Stone,” she replied politely, shaking Dee’s hand. “Daredevil? How did you get that call sign?”

“People say I’m a little wild on the stick,” She looked over at Phil who looked off at the bulkhead. “I’m guessing you’re with Sab on the Pershing?”

“Yeah, I’m the chief tactical officer.”

“I guess Saber had his fill of pilots…”

“Oh, we’re not together,” Katie said nervously.

“Nope, just friends,” Phil chimed in. Katie awkwardly tried to change the subject.

“Neman? Is that the name of a symbiont?”

“Nope, never went for the whole ‘joining’ thing. I only like one foreign object in my body at a time,” Dee grinned again as she put a pair of aviator sunglasses over her spots.

“Oh, God…” Phil muttered, putting his head in his hands.

“Pre-flight’s in 10, Saber,” Dee said, shifting her flight helmet under her arm. “Cat shot’s in 15. That is if you still remember how to really fly, busdriver.” she added as she walked out the door.

“Busdriver?” Katie asked, confused again.

“It’s what fighter pilots call regular starship helmsmen,” Phil said, still looking down at the deck.

He let out a deep breath as he climbed to his feet.

“What the hell did she mean, ‘you had your fill of pilots’?” Katie asked as she picked up her borrowed helmet.

“I was rated number one in the squadron and got picked up for Fighter Weapons School on Tellar Prime. Dee was rated number two. However, when they approached me about serving on the Pershing, I accepted and she took the slot. She was angry that she got it because I declined.”

“Is that all,” Katie kept prying. “There seemed to be a bit more than that.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, rubbing his head. “Before I transferred out of the squadron…we used to date.”

Ten minutes later, Katie followed Phil into a cavernous hanger deck. Two T-Bats were already prepped and waiting for them. Dee and Wildcard were already at the far fighter checking the flight surfaces and weapons mounts. Personnel in different colored pressure suits were running around in a frantic, yet practiced ballet. A giant mural of an ancient Earth knight standing on an asteroid was painted on the starboard bulkhead. The words beneath it read, “VFA-151: Lancers: Space Superiority Squadron. No Compromise!” She didn’t want to admit it, but it was a little overwhelming to Katie. She had never seen anything like this before in her Starfleet career.

As a fuel technician in a purple pressure suit disconnected a hose from the fighter’s belly, Phil began running his own hands over their spacecraft. Katie uncomfortably stood off to the side. She found herself staring at the giant Federation emblem painted on the side of the T-Bat’s delta wing and the word “STARFLEET,” in black along its port impulse thruster.

“You ready, Saber?” Dee yelled across the deck as she fastened her helmet over her head. She didn’t wait for his response before climbing a ladder into her cockpit.

“Katie, you ready?” Phil said from behind her. She snapped out of her daze.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just not sure how to put this thing on right.” Phil smiled and grabbed her helmet. He put it over her head and fastened the airtight collar around her neck. He quickly made a few practiced adjustments to the panel on her chest. Soon, she felt oxygen starting to circulate.

“You got enough air?” he asked supportively. She nodded in reply. He fastened his own helmet and then started to ascend the ladder on the side of the fighter. Katie paused for a second until another crewman in a green suit gestured for her to come forward. He pointed up the ladder and she started to climb. By the time she reached the top, Phil was already making adjustments to the T-Bat’s controls. Katie braced herself against the back of the pilot’s chair and squeezed into the sizzo’s seat directly behind.

The Pershing’s tactical station was extraordinarily complicated, but Katie had never seen so many buttons and switches crammed into such a small space before. Suddenly, Phil’s voice sounded in her helmet.

“You got me, Katie?”

“Yeah! Yeah, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” All she could see was the back of Phil’s helmet directly in front of her. She was slightly startled by the crewman in the green suit when he appeared next to the cockpit. Without so much as a word, he grabbed the harness behind Katie’s seat and buckled her in. He pulled the straps so hard it nearly cut off circulation to her arms. He flashed her a thumbs up before sliding down the ladder and pulling it away from the fighter’s side.

“Is this thing supposed to be this tight?”

“Trust me, you’ll appreciate it in a few minutes,” Phil replied with a chuckle. “Canopy coming down.” The transparent tritanium bubble dropped around them and sealed with a magnetic click. Katie looked up and saw two large holes in the ceiling about 50 meters above them.

“Is that the flight deck up there?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s open to vacuum. Elevator will take us up there.” Suddenly, two circular column force fields activated and the pair of T-Bats were carried upward by a lift. Katie could see Dee and Wildcard’s heads moving back and forth in their cockpit as both craft emerged onto the flight deck. Katie gasped.

It looked like a shuttlebay, but almost four hundred meters long. Dozens of ground crew in their sealed, colored suits ran around making final preparations for the launch. Katie became aware of the growing whine of their impulse engines as they started to warm up.

“Lancer 4-3, Shooter, comms check.”

“Shooter, Lancer 4-3, Lima Charlie,” Phil replied. “Hey Katie…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t mean to sound condescending, but you see that control panel in front of you?”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t touch anything.”

“Thanks.”

“Lancer 4-3, Shooter, I have you second in line.”

“Acknowledged,” Phil replied without looking up from his controls.

“Okay, I need you to go ahead and check impulse engines and mike tangos.”

“Impulse engines stable, maneuvering thrusters active,” The whine of the impulse drive continued to grow. Katie looked down at two crewmen in green suits on either side of their wings. Both flashed a thumbs up. “Ground confirms.”

“Give me a weapons and countermeasures check.”

“Initiate HMD visor.” Suddenly a crosshair display appeared in Katie’s helmet. In her peripheral vision was a menu with all the T-Bat’s tactical systems. “Pulse phasers spinning up,” Phil continued talking to whoever was on the other end of the comm system. “Looking good. Bringing up micro-torpedo guidance. Guidance systems active. Checking shields and plasma flares. Green lights across the board. Master safe on. Weapons and countermeasures check complete.”

“Final engine check.”

“Got good highs, good lows, good ends, no out-lights. Ready in the back! Lancer 4-3 REDCON 1.”

“Standby.”

 “Ready for what?” Katie said nervously. The whine of the impulse drive was almost deafening now.

“Finally, busdriver,” Dee’s voice echoed through Katie’s helmet. She looked over to see Dee flash a thumbs up to two more ground crew, this time in yellow suits. She followed it with a crisp salute and then grabbed a handle on the side of her canopy.

“Ready for this…” Phil said trailing off. She couldn’t see, but it sounded like he was grinning.

Suddenly, the entire flight deck shook as Dee and Wildcard’s T-Bat catapulted forward, accelerating at several hundred meters per second. Faster than Katie could think, they disappeared off into the blackness of space.

“WE’RE GONNA DO THAT!?!” Katie screamed in her mind. She looked down to see the two yellow suits run over to the nose of their fighter. One of them raised his fist into the air. Phil repeated the thumbs up and saluted the ground crew. Katie fumbled for the handle next to right hand.

The lead yellow suit waved down the flight deck, and then dropped to one knee.

Without warning, Katie felt her body crushed into the back of her seat. The flight deck disappeared in a streak of light, and then there was nothing around them but stars and black void.

“Good shot.”

“Good engines. Good end speed. Gear up.” Phil said calmly. Katie looked backward to see the Christopher Pike growing smaller in the distance.

“Lancer 4-3, Turn heading 190 mark 4, angels 3.”

“Heading 190 mark 4, angels 3, roger.”

Katie felt her stomach press down to her boots as Phil raised the fighter’s nose and turned sharply almost 180 degrees.

“Doesn’t this thing have inertial dampeners?” she asked, trying to catch her breath.

“It does, or else your insides would be liquid right now. However, you wanna feel some acceleration when you dogfight or else it would be almost impossible to keep your bearings.”

“Lancer 4-3, this is Lancer 4-2, leveling off on your starboard,” Katie heard Dee’s voice again.

“Lancer 4-3, roger.” She saw the silhouette of the other T-Bat appear from overhead and take position directly off their right wing, its impulse engines glowing red in the blackness.

“Lancer 4-2, this is Heavy 2-1-2, contact one hundred nautical miles. I have you heading 190 mark 4 angels 3. Turn heading 180 mark 0, maintain angels 3, and pass by our port side.”

“Lancer 4-2, acknowledge.” Dee replied. Suddenly, Katie saw one of the Pike’s escort frigates pass by on their left. It looked so close, she thought she could reach out and touch it.

“Lancer 4-2, you have passed the outer defensive perimeter. Cleared to arm weapons.”

“Roger, Heavy 2-1-2, we’ll see you on the way home. Master arm on. Good light.”

 “Master arm on. Good light,” Phil echoed.

“Okay, Sab, full impulse. We’re heading for the gas giant at heading 023 mark 4. Try to keep up.”

“I’m right beside you, Dee.”

Katie looked out of the canopy toward the planet a few hundred thousand kilometers from their nose. She was soaring through the stars like never before and it took her breath away.

“Okay Phil…”

“What?” he said through the intercom.

“I get it now.”

The two T-Bats raced through space toward a huge yellow planet surrounded by a ring.

“What do you think, Sab?” Dee said. “A little ring around the rosey for old time’s sake?”

“Don’t you think we’re a little old for games like that?” Phil replied through the comm.

“You’re only as old as you feel, Saber.”

“Well, then lead the way.”

The two fighters approached the ring of the planet and started skimming just a few meters above the chunks of rock and ice.

“Who’s breaking?” Phil asked calmly.

“I guess it’ll be me,” Dee responded. “Ready? In three, two, one…”

Suddenly, Dee slammed on her braking thrusters, pitched the nose of her T-Bat up vertically, barrel-rolled, and turned 180 degrees in the opposite direction. Katie looked backward to see her disappear around the far side of the planet and following the ring like it was a racetrack. Phil continued on his heading.

“What are we doing?” Katie asked nervously.

“It’s just a stupid game we used to play to practice tight maneuvers. Nothing to be worried about.”

“Then why am I worried?”

“Hey Dee,” Phil said through his comm system. “Remember, I got a rookie in the sizzo seat back here. Let’s not get stupid.”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, Saber. You know how I like to push things.”

“That’s the problem, Dee. I’m serious.”

“What’s the matter? You’re suddenly too good for us one day and now you expect me to play it safe because you’re trying to impress your new friend with a joy ride?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Katie suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

“Take it for what it’s worth, busdriver.”

The silhouette of Dee’s T-Bat appeared around the edge of the planet. Both fighters were now screaming toward each other at several thousand miles per hour. Dee was still accelerating.

“You’re gonna break first, Saber. I can feel it, you’ve lost your edge.”

“Calm down, Daredevil,” Phil said cautiously.

“Oh, I am calm,” Dee said mockingly. “It’s you who’s gonna chicken out.”

The two fighters were now on a collision course. An automated warning appeared in Katie’s visor display.

“What are you doing, Phil?” Katie said very concerned.

“It’ll be alright, Katie, but let me concentrate here or things could get a little rough.”

“You’re gonna break, Saber.” Dee said again, this time actually sounding a little angry.

“Alright, Dee, enough. Let’s pull out.”

“You’re gonna break.”

“I’m not playing anymore, Dee. Are you going left or right?”

The warning in Katie’s visor started to be accompanied by an audio warning from the onboard computer.

“Warning: collision imminent. Alter course!”         

“Phil!” Katie screamed. Memories of the Trinity’s last moments started pushing their way back into her mind.

“Dee! Left or right! We break opposite ways, we’re gonna hit!”

“Why don’t you figure it out, Lancer 4-3?”

“PHIL!” Katie screamed in panic.

“DEE!”

“Collision in five seconds.”

Katie grabbed the handles on the side of the canopy and held her breath.

 “DEE!”

“Break right!”

Both pilots slammed their sticks hard to the right, The two T-Bats missed each other by less than two meters.

Phil heard the sound of Katie’s hyperventilating in his intercom.

“Katie! It’s alright. We’re alright. Dammit, Daredevil!”

He was only answered by the sound of her laughter.

The rest of the patrol passed in near silence. The friendly banter was gone, replaced only with the curtest of official transmissions. It was obvious to Katie that Phil was furious. Before she even realized it, they were on approach back to the Pike.

“Lancer 4-3, you’re parking first,” Dee said.

“Lancer 4-3, acknowledge,” Phil replied through gritted teeth.

Katie saw the aft nacelles of the Pike glowing blue in the darkness. She noticed he was lining up the nose of the T-Bat to approach the rear opening of the carrier’s starboard flight deck.

“Lancer 4-3 you are approaching on glide path, 50 miles out,” a voice from the Pike’s Flight Control Center said in their helmets.

“Lancer 4-3, acknowledge. Hook down.”

“Lancer 4-3, got your hook down, looking good. Call the ball.”

“Got the ball, bringing her down.”

“Quarter impulse, on the ball.”

“Forty miles….30 miles…20 miles…”

“Power, power!”

“Five miles out.”

“Right on the ball, bring her down.”

Phil expertly piloted the T-Bat through the aft opening on the flight deck. As soon as the wheels touched, his tail hook engaged the tractor field and the craft quickly decelerated to a dead stop in less than a hundred meters.

Katie slammed forward into her harness and then back into her seat. Her heart was still pounding in her chest. She was vaguely aware of the T-Bat taxiing over to an elevator and then descending back down to the hangar deck. When the lift stopped and the column force fields disengaged, Phil immediately unbuckled his harness.

“Canopy coming up, breaking comms.”

Phil removed his helmet and popped out his seat. A green suit ran up with a ladder and attached it to the T-Bat. He was starting to climb up to them when Phil waved him off.

“I got her,” he said as he unbuckled Katie’s harness and quickly removed her helmet. “Are you alright?” he asked with genuine care in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Katie managed to get out.

“You don’t look it,” he muttered. “Come on, I’ll help you down.”

He grabbed Katie under her shoulders and hoisted her out of the sizzo’s seat. When she felt his firm grasp, she finally started to calm down.

Slowly they descended the ladder until they were on the deck.

They looked over to see Dee’s T-Bat come down right next to them. Her canopy raised and she descended the ladder to the deck.

Her feet had barely touched the ground when Phil was already charging over.

“What the hell is your problem!?” He screamed as she removed her helmet.

“My problem, Saber?” she said incredulously. “I could ask you the same question.”

“You almost gave Katie a damn heart attack!”

“Phil, I said I’m fine!” Katie hated being talked about like she wasn’t even there.

“Are you sure you two are just friends?” Dee said, flashing Katie a look. “You’re pretty protective of blondie over there.”

“Oh, it’s on leopard face!” Katie yelled.

Katie rushed towards Dee with every intention of dropping her to the ground. It was bad enough Dee gave her a near-death experience, but now she was getting a little too personal.

Phil grabbed Katie just in time to prevent her from taking a swing right at Dee’s head.

Wildcard managed to get a hold of Dee just in time to prevent a brawl from breaking out.

“Hey! Hey!” That’s enough!” Phil said. “Jesus, Asha, I thought you were over us.” Katie was still tense and ready for action, but Dee suddenly relaxed and shook her head.

“Is that what you think this is about, Philip?” When Katie heard her refer to Phil by his full name, she relaxed as well. “You think I’m some heartbroken little girl pining over an ex? I got news for you, hotshot, you were never that good in the boyfriend department.”

Phil suddenly looked very embarrassed. Katie pretended not to notice.

“No, what I’m pissed about was that we were supposed to be a damn team! We were wingmen, one and two! Do you know how proud I was of you? You had exactly what we all dreamed of! Then some stranger shows up and offers you a job driving around a bunch of starship fleeties and you just walk away without even talking to me first!”

Phil paused and looked away.

“I’m sorry, Dee,” he finally managed to get out.

“Well, I suppose I should be grateful,” she said sarcastically. “That’s a hell of a lot more than I got when you disappeared last year. C’mon, Wildcard,” Dee said, turning to her sizzo. “I’ve got an after mission report to file.” She stormed off with Wildcard in tow.

Phil rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, Katie, I wanted your first ride in a fighter to be fun.”

Katie placed a hand on the shoulder of his flight suit.

“It’s okay, Phil. I can certainly tell you it was memorable."

Phil sat in his guest quarters. Katie walked over and took a seat next to him. She handed him a glass of beer.

“Thanks,” he muttered. His mind was somewhere else. Finally, he looked over at Katie. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked.

“There’s a lot of history here that you shouldn’t be wrapped up in. I asked you as a guest and instead you’re watching me battle some unresolved issues.” Katie laughed.

“After all the help you’ve given me, I’d be a pretty terrible friend if I didn’t return the favor.” Phil didn’t respond. “You know, it occurs to me you’ve never told me the whole story about how you ended up on the top of that plaque in the briefing room.” 

Phil took a long sip of his beer.

“It was the First Battle of Chin’Toka,” he began. “The Lancers were assigned to escort the heavy starships trying to punch through the Dominion lines. The USS Avenger had taken heavy damage in the first engagement from a Cardassian cruiser. They’d fallen back from the formation to try to reach the recovery area.

“Dee was on my wing when we ran into a mixed fleet of Jem’Hadar and Cardassian fighters. They were everywhere. Weapons fire was all around, people screaming on comms. Then I noticed a group of Cardassians and a Jem’Hadar ship was heading after the Avenger. There was no way they would survive a direct attack like that. Dee saw it too. It was like we were connected and instantly knew what to do.

“She kept going after the main group of fighters while I broke off to protect the Avenger. I’d never flown like that before. I knew she would keep them off of me and I took out each and every one of those bastards one at a time. I can’t tell you if it was fate or just dumb luck, but I don’t think it was skill.”

“I think you’re being uncharacteristically modest right now.”

“It’s not modesty, Katie. The only thing I could think of was getting that starship back to the rear of the line safely. Once I got the kills, I escorted Avenger all the way back to the recovery area. By the time I made it back to the Pike, my deuterium tanks were running on fumes. It could just as easily have been Dee that fought for that starship and then got picked up for the Pershing. Then, maybe I’d be the angry one. She’s right, we were a team and then I left.”

“If you felt so much at home with her, why did you leave?”

“Because I realized that I could have very easily failed, and two hundred Starfleet personnel could have lost their lives on that ship if I had. When Captain Tigranian offered me a chance to fly the ship that could end the war, I couldn’t refuse. I knew the Dominion had to be stopped.

“I also knew Dee wouldn’t understand, so I didn’t have the courage to tell her the truth and have her talk me out of it. All she got from me was that I had to leave and that it was over between us. So you can see why she’s a little upset.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“It’s alright, Dee was a great wingman, but I knew she wasn’t long term in the relationship department. It’s not her style. I just wish I ended things better with her.”

Katie flashed him a smile.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’ll be great in the boyfriend department to the right lady…”

“Don’t!” he said abruptly. “Please don’t.”

Katie looked at him confused. He paused, choosing his next words very carefully.

“Katie, we both know that I wish we were something more, but I understand that’s not what you want. I’m absolutely satisfied being your friend, but it’s very hard for me to be happy when you say things like that.”

“Phil,” she said, shaking her head.

He instantly realized he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Katie, it’s late and I’m tired. Do you mind leaving so I can get some sleep?” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but stopped herself.

“Sure. Sleep well.”

“Thank you,” he said, turning away.

She nodded before standing up and heading out the doors.

Rakantha Province: Bajor
Stardate: 53251.1

Laria and Tigranian stood and stared out at the barren plains that had once been the most fertile and verdant farm land on Bajor. Several automated soil reclamators slowly traversed their way across patches of barren soil and scrub brush. A few places had been made well enough to grow some crops, but it would still be decades before Rakantha would be what it once was.

“What happened here?” Tigranian asked Laria.

“The Cardassians happened,” she said painfully. “When they realized the Resistance was growing stronger than they could control, they poisoned Bajor’s breadbasket to cut off their food supply. Millions starved, but we still kept fighting.”

She looked out at a granite mountain dominating the horizon. A huge peak almost touched the clouds while two smaller peaks flanked each side. Despite the warm spring breeze, all three stone edifices were still covered in pure, white snow.

“That’s Mount Yanalit,” Laria said. “It’s one of the holiest sites on all of Bajor. The sacred texts say that’s where the first orb was gifted to us by the Prophets over ten thousand years ago.” Laria pulled a holocamera out of her bag and took a picture. “My parents will love this. My mother kept a small painting of Yanalit in our kitchen on Gault while I was growing up. She said she prayed I would get to see it one day.”

“I’m glad that we could make that come true together,” he said, smiling back at her. “Why haven’t your parents visited since the end of the Occupation?”

“They said it would be too painful. The Bajor they knew is gone.”

The two of them began walking down a dirt road towards a small cluster of buildings set against the backdrop of the empty fields. Most looked abandoned, but there was a small Bajoran temple in the center of the village next to the road.

“I wonder if there’s anyone in there?” Tigranian asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Laria replied. They walked up toward the carved wooden doors of the stone building. As Tigranian was about to push them open, Laria paused.

“Wait,” she said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a pure white scarf and wrapped it around her head to cover her hair. “Not a lot of Bajoran women still do this, but I was kinda raised traditionally,” she said.

Tigranian nodded and pushed open the door. They stepped inside the space and were immediately confronted with the beautiful sensory experience of stained glass, the dancing glow of candles, and the heavy scent of centuries of incense soaked into the very stone of the building.

Laria immediately walked towards the altar as Tigranian followed. When she reached the gilt iconostasis painted with the Bajoran eternity symbol, she bent down on one knee, raised her palms towards the heavens, and started whispering something in Ancient Bajoran. Tigranian stood next to her in silence as she quietly prayed.

Suddenly a voice spoke from behind the iconostasis.

“Your family’s from here, aren’t they?” An older man dressed in vedek’s robes stepped out from behind the altar and stood in front of them. Laria rose to her feet and looked back at him. Before she could respond he spoke again. “It’s the eyes. You only find that shade of hazel here in Rakantha.”

Without another word, he stepped forward, reached underneath her scarf and gripped her right ear.

“Your pagh, it is amazingly strong. It is of Bajor, but also of something else…”

Laria and Tigranian stared at him in amazed confusion. Gently he pulled back her scarf and examined her earring. A tremendous grin crossed his face.

“You’re about 22 years old, aren’t you, child?”

“How did you know that?” Laria said in shock as he crossed his hands in front of his waist.

“They had a girl. I was hoping it would be a girl. This is your land. These are your mountains, and the Prophets have brought you home.”

“Who are you?” Tigranian said.

The vedek didn’t turn away from Laria. “Your father’s name is Jion and your mother’s name is Lanassa...”

Laria felt her knees start to shake.

“My name is Vedek Grigan. I married your parents right here in the temple, and then, a year later when they found out they were with child, I arranged to have them smuggled off Bajor.”

Laria leaped forward and wrapped her arms around him like she was meeting one of her own family.

He hugged her back and looked at her, still with a smile.

“What did they name you?”

“Amira Laria,” she said with tears forming in her eyes.

“Well, Laria, let this home of the Prophets be yours as well. Stay as long as you wish, but first, come with me.”

Grigan led Laria and Tigranian behind the sanctuary and into the vestry. He approached a narrow wooden door and produced a large key from his robes.

“I think you’ll want to see these,” he said as he unlocked it. Inside, they were confronted by a small stone room lined with wooden shelves stacked with ancient leather bound books.

“What is this?” Laria asked in wonder as the vedek started to peruse the volumes.

“These are the records of Rakantha going back almost two thousand years. Ah, yes, here it is,” he said as he pulled a book the size of a briefcase off the shelf and placed it gently on a table. He carefully opened it to a page and pointed at the parchment.

“There they are,” he said as Laria looked down. In hand-written Bajoran script, were the signatures of her parents in the province’s marriage registry. “Amira Jion and Teesa Lanassa,” along with the date of their nuptials.

“By the Prophets,” Laria whispered as she stared down in disbelief. Grigan flipped back a few pages.

“And here are the names of your grandparents and their wedding dates.”

“Can I…can I look through the rest of the book?” Laria stammered almost beside herself.

“Of course, just be careful. It is very old.” Laria began flipping through the book as if it was made of precious glass. Tigranian and Grigan smiled as they saw her happiness in reading through the names.

“These were not easy to preserve during the Occupation. The Cardassians confiscated them to copy the family records and then destroyed them. Both me and my predecessors had to hide them in the old grain cellars to keep them from being discovered.”

As Laria continued her journey through her family’s past, Grigan stepped away and motioned for Tigranian to follow. They stepped outside the room just out of earshot.

The vedek reached up and grabbed Tigranian’s ear. Then, he got a surprised look on his face.

“Remarkable,” he said softly as he released Tigranian’s lobe.

“What?” Tigranian.

“Like her, your pagh is strong, and like her, a piece of you is of Bajor. However, you are also something else.”

“How is that even possible?” Tigranian asked skeptically. “I’m a Human from Earth.”

“The Emissary is Human, but he is of Bajor. I don’t question the Prophets, I merely try to walk with them.”

Tigranian flashed him a look.

“You are very important to Laria, but for a reason she does not yet know.”

“What do you mean?”

“For centuries, her family has worked the land around us. Their d’jarra, their purpose, was to bring food to the people of Bajor. However, when the Cardassians destroyed this place, the Prophets placed a new purpose in her mother’s womb.” Grigan looked into Tigranian’s eyes.

“When you hear the war drums, your blood boils. The same is true of Laria. I felt it in your paghs. But others have taught you to control the fire. You must do the same for her. You must be her guide. She is capable of greatness, but also of terrible things if not placed on the right path.”

“Are you sure we’re both talking about the same woman here?”

“Tell me you have not seen it.”

Tigranian thought back to all their time on the holodeck together.

“Maybe I have, I’m not sure.”

“Well, I am. You must teach her as you were taught. Otherwise, she will destroy herself.”

Laria and Tigranian walked hand in hand along Deep Space Nine’s promenade.

“That was an amazing experience, Laria,” Tigranian said softly. “Seeing where you came from, seeing your planet, and sharing the whole experience with you. I had no idea Bajor was so beautiful.”

“My parents told me stories of how things were, and then to see how barren it all is now. What the Cardassians did to Rakantha, it’s just terrible. Generations of my family worked the land there and now it’s just gone,” she said as she looked out the large circular windows to their right.

“But they’re rebuilding,” Tigranian said with a strong bit of hope. “They’re repairing the soil, and in maybe 10 or 20 years, farmers will be able to return.”

“But what about families like mine?” she asked angrily. “Scattered across the galaxy, forced to make new lives where their fortunes cast them. We were lucky. My parents were finally approved to move out of the camps and receive land on Gault. What about the others still living in camps like animals or on the desolate fringes of the galaxy?”

“Bajor has already agreed to grant new homesteads to any Bajorans still without permanent settlement.”

“I don’t know if that makes up for what was taken from them.” Laria suddenly spoke with a new ire in her voice. “I hate the Cardassians, Daniel. I hate them all.”

Tigranian stopped walking, grabbed her chin, and turned her eyes towards him.

“Because you have a warrior’s soul, Laria. Vedek Grigan told me so. But you must always remember, a warrior only fights to protect what she loves, never to destroy what she hates.”

She instantly softened under his gaze.

“Instead of commiserating what we’ve lost, why don’t we celebrate what we’ve found?” He slowly leaned in and they kissed.

“I’m still upset,” she said, pursing her lips together, “but somehow you know how to take the sting off.”

“I have something else in mind that will help you take your mind off things,” he said with a grin. He took her hand and started leading her down the promenade.

“When you get like this, it makes me really nervous, Daniel!”

They rounded a corner and he stopped at a large counter underneath a red sign with a Klingon tri-foil. Beneath it were pictures of strange creatures and animal parts. A fat Klingon with a long beard dressed in chef’s garb stared at them angrily.

“Oh no!” Laria said. “No, it’s been an amazing day and I don’t want to spend all evening vomiting in your quarters.”

“Who says this food will make you sick?” he said playfully. “I’ve heard about this place for years! It’s some of the most authentic cuisine outside of the empire and I’ve always wanted to see if it lives up to its reputation. C’mon please?”

“No!”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, sounding almost juvenile. “It’s gross…”

“Laria, you mean to tell me you’re willing to slaughter a thousand angry Romulans with a mek’leth at Klach D’kel Bracht, but you’re afraid of a little Klingon food?” he said playfully, egging her on. “Why do you think I’m honored to have you as my par’Mach’kai!”

“I’m not afraid,” she said, staring down at the floor, her pride a little wounded. “It’s just like worms and stuff, right?”

“There are worms, yes, but it’s a lot more than that.”

She still seemed unconvinced.

“What if I take you for a jumja stick afterwards?”

“I love jumja sticks…”

“That’s why I offered. Please, can we try this place? For me?” he said, giving her a look. She sighed.

“Fine, I can’t say no to that face and you know it.”

“Excellent!”

They walked up to the fat Klingon who immediately yelled at them.

“Gah Tek Or?” he said angrily. Tigranian looked him straight in the eyes.

“Gagh Gladst je vaD cha’”

The Klingon started laughing. Tigranian leaned forward and growled. The chef grinned and nodded.

“tlhutlh?” he asked Tigranian.

“Warnog cha’”

“Very good,” the chef said, switching to Federation Standard. “You have a good taste for matching food and drink. It makes my heart sing as a chef. I am Kaga.”

“I am Daniel, Son of Tigranian.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, where did a Human like you learn to speak Klingon so well?”

“On a bird-of-prey, of course.”

Kaga laughed so loudly, the entire restaurant turned and looked. Tigranian plopped down a few strips of latinum.

“Your order will take a few moments to prepare, please have a seat.”

“Why was he laughing?” Laria asked Tigranian as he pulled a chair out for her from a nearby metal table.

“Because when you order Klingon food for two, it generally is a prelude to more…carnal activities.”

“Well, he’s not necessarily wrong I hope,” Laria said sarcastically, batting her eyes at Tigranian.

“I never said he was. I just reminded him it was none of his damn business,” he said, taking a seat across from her.

Laria laughed before suddenly growing nervous again.

“What did you order, by the way?”

“Don’t worry, I kept it simple. It's a beginner’s Klingon.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, a little bit of everything wrapped up in a bit of a familiar package.”

“Okay….”

A few minutes later, Kaga wheeled a cart up to their table. He produced two large metal cups which he filled to the brim with a bubbly golden liquid from a pitcher he then placed on the table. Tigranian immediately picked up his warnog and took a sip.

“pov!” he said, nodding to Kaga who grinned back at him.

“Thank you, I bring my casks of warnog fresh from the empire.” Laria reached over and took a taste of her cup. It was very strong, but not entirely terrible. After a few sips, she could see herself learning to enjoy it.

Kaga placed a dozen metal bowls on the table between them. One at a time, he pulled off their lids. Laria did her best not to scream at the sight of the horrors in front of her.

The largest bowl in the center of the table held a giant mass of writhing serpent worms. The smaller ones held various sauces, animal parts, tentacles, and a curious substance that looked like chopped chunks of some unidentifiable organ meat in a bright red paste. Finally, he pulled out a large basket filled with brown, moist leaves that looked somewhere between mushrooms and pieces of lettuce.

“I thought you said this was beginner’s Klingon food!?” Laria said nearly in a panic.

“This is beginner’s Klingon food,” Tigranian replied calmly. “Gagh gladst je: worm and leaf. There’s a bunch of worm and leaf places all over Qo’noS that cater to tourists.”

“Worm…and…leaf?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it!” he said, picking up one of the brown leaves. “Now, the order of this is very important. First, take your piece of gladst. Then you take your index finger,” he said, holding up his right hand. “Take one finger full of grapok sauce,” he said, running his hand through a bowl of brown sauce. “…and place it inside your gladst.” He wiped the sauce along the inside of the leaf so that it had a thin coating of the condiment.

“What’s grapok sauce?”

“Just a common Klingon sauce: goes great with gagh and racht. Tastes kinda like a cross between tahini and soy sauce.

Okay, next, take a good finger-full of gagh,” he said, reaching into the writhing bowl of worms. He pulled out several of them and placed them inside his gladst. “Now, this is a basic wrap, but you can absolutely experiment with all the dishes on the table. I’m really fond of the pipius claw and the heart of targ chutney,” he said first, pointing to what looked like some kind of crustacean meat and then to the organ and red paste combination. “Any way you go, this is key,” he said, wrapping the leaf and worms up into a tight ball. “You have to eat the whole thing in one bite so that you get all the flavors at once.”

He handed it to Laria who cautiously took the wrap from his hand.

“Oh Prophets,” she said, wincing. “It’s all slimy and I can feel it moving!”

“Trust me, just dive right in.”

“I don’t want to.”

“C’mon, shieldmaiden! Eat it.”

She closed her eyes and started moving it to her mouth. At the last second, she pulled it away.

“I can’t!”

“Laria, tlhIngan maH!” She looked at him and took a deep breath.

“tlhIngan maH…” she said hesitantly before taking a deep breath, closing her eyes tight, and popping the whole leaf wrap into her mouth. She started furiously chewing to try to get it down as quickly as possible, but eventually slowed and opened her eyes. Finally, she swallowed and looked at him.

“So, what do you think?” he asked with hope. She paused, looked down at the spread on the table, and then back at him.

“Make me another one…this time with some of that targ heart chutney.”

Federation Fleet Carrier USS Christopher M. Pike Strike Group: Nentari System, Federation Occupied Zone (Cardassian/Tholian Border)

Stardate: 53251.5

Things had been extremely awkward onboard the Pike the last few days. Phil had entered the regular patrol rotation, but with another sizzo in the seat behind him. Katie had talked with him occasionally, but spent a lot of time wandering around the ship on her own. Their conversations with Dee had been limited to only the most necessary and polite exchange of one or two sentences around the mess hall or briefing room.

Today, Katie found herself sitting off to the side of the Pike’s Flight Control Center watching the everyday operations. Dee and Wildcard were flying a patrol with another T-Bat out in sector while Phil and his temporary sizzo, Sledgehammer, twiddled their thumbs on the hangar deck in ready status: a standard practice of keeping one fighter ready to launch in less than five minutes in the event of emergency.

“Mustang, this is Lancer 4-2,” Dee said over the comm system. “We’re cruising along the Tholian border. Negative contact, nothing out of the ordinary. Recommend we turn around and head for home.”

Captain Miller was just about to acquiesce to her request, when a panicked distress call came across the net.

“Any ship in the area! Any ship in the area! This is the Cardassian freighter Star of Kunabod. We’re located along the Tholian border just inside Cardassian space. We have been attacked. Life support is failing, request immediate assistance.”

“Dee, you monitor?” Miller asked over hailing frequencies. Katie stood up from her seat and tried to get a look at their displays.

“Yeah, we’ve got them on sensors. Two minutes out at maximum warp. We’re moving to check it out.”

“Be careful, Dee, this reeks of Kobayashi Maru.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Sir,” she replied playfully. “I don’t believe in the ‘no win scenario’.”

Miller scoffed before turning back to his staff.

“Hey, go ahead, follow protocol, and raise Saber and Sledge to Alert One.”

“Yes, Sir,” another lieutenant said, making a call down to the hangar deck.

“What’s Alert One?” Katie asked, turning to Miller. He turned back to her as if he’d forgotten she was there.

“It’s just a precaution. Just means we raise him up to the flight deck so we can launch if anything goes wrong. Ready fighter goes to Alert One at least two or three times a week. Nothing ever comes of it.”

“Mustang, Lancer 4-2, I’ve got visual contact with the Cardassian freighter. They’re in rough shape. I think they’re gonna require evac until they can get back to a dry dock. We’ll be on station providing overwatch.”

“Acknowledged, Lancer 4-2,” Miller replied. “Hey Ted,” Miller said, turning to another officer. “Go ahead and get an engineering tug ready. Let them know they need to be prepared to tow…” A transmission over the comm system abruptly got Miller off.

“Federation creatures, the Tholian Assembly claims the Nentari System as part of our sovereign territory. The Cardassian freighter and its cargo are hereby claimed as our property. Immediately leave this system or you will be fired upon.”

“Mustang, Lancer 4-2 I’ve got visual contact with six Tholian long-range fighters. They’ve crossed the border and are in Cardassian territory. They’re moving to intercept me and Lancer 4-4. You see them, Crossbones?” she said to her wingman.

“Affirmative, Dee. I’m moving right off your wing.”

“Are we in visual range?” Miller asked.

“Negative, Sir,” the lieutenant replied. All we’re tracking is telemetry, but it’s confirmed. Six Tholian Firestars, they are definitely in Cardassian space.

“Whoah!” Crossbones said over the net. “The lead bogie just got torpedo lock on me!”

“Tholian fighters!” Dee said over hailing frequencies. “We are spacecraft of the United Federation of Planets involved in a rescue operation. We are in recognized Cardassian space with no hostile intent! Do not engage! Say again, do not engage!”

“He’s moving in behind me!” Crossbones screamed.

“I see him, Bones,” Dee said over the net. “Just stay calm, he’s trying to rattle your cage. Mustang, this is Lancer 4-2, Bogey is in prime firing position on Lancer 4-4: five hundred meters off his aft impulse engines.”

“4-2 this is Mustang, get out of there!” Miller said.

At that moment, the Firestar fired a plasma torpedo directly into Crossbones’ T-Bat. Its starboard impulse engine exploded into a fireball. Alarms echoed across the net.

“We’re hit! We’re hit!” Crossbones screamed over the comm. “We’re coming apart. Punching out!” Crossbones pulled his ejection handles. His canopy blew away and he and his sizzo were thrown into open space.

“Crossbones is hit!” Dee screamed. “I’ve got confirmation of two beacons. He and Darkhorse are alive but they’re floating in vacuum. Launch the recovery shuttles immediately!”

“Lancer 4-2, Mustang, Negative we cannot launch rescue shuttles until space is clear. Can you provide cover?”

“Are you shitting me!?!” Dee replied. “Confirm BANDIT! Tholians are moving to lock up on me. I am decisively engaged with six. I say again, SIX!”

“Send the escort frigates!” Katie shouted at the others on the bridge. “With their heavy weapons they can end this now!”

Miller shot a look back at her.

“We’re a floating metal tube in space, Lieutenant! Those escort frigates and their Aegis Defense Network are the only thing preventing an enemy long-range hunter probe from blowing us out of the stars. Even one of them gone puts a hole in the safety net. I will not put the lives of five thousand Starfleet personnel at risk for four pilots, are you tracking?”

“This is Saber and Sledge up on Alert One!” Phil’s voice came over the speakers. “Punch us out of this thing now!”

Miller turned to his other officers.

“Launch Saber on Alert One!”

On the flight deck, Phil flashed a thumbs up and salute to the yellow suit next to his T-Bat. A second later, he was shooting forward at seven hundred kilometers per hour. He jumped to warp before he even cleared the defensive perimeter.

“This is Saber. Just broke the warp barrier. Three minutes till intercept.”

“Dammit, Saber! Get here now! I’ve got Bandits all over me!”

“Keep calm, Dee! Do some of that pilot shit and try to stay alive until I get there.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, jackass!?”

Katie put her hands over her mouth and held her breath. Her best friend was now screaming toward six Tholians who wanted to kill him and there was nothing she could do to help except stand there and pray.

Out in space, Dee was indeed struggling to stay alive. The Tholians had broken into pairs and were trying to trap her inside a web maneuver. Every time she flew to get out of the line of one pair, another pair was waiting to engage. Disruptor beams sliced less than a meter from her wings.

“Mustang! Lancer 4-2! They’re everywhere! These guys want blood!” Miller held his breath. Dee was starting to panic, and it took a lot of pressure for that to happen.

“Hang in there, Dee,” he said, trying to keep him calm. “Saber is one minute out. We’ve got four more T-Bats moving to the flight deck. We’ll have the cavalry there in less than 15 minutes.”

“That’s great news, Mustang!” she said sarcastically. “They’ll be able to recover the frozen chunks of my cold corpse!”

Two Firestars moved in directly behind her. No matter how hard she maneuvered she couldn’t shake them off her tail. Wildcard looked back through the canopy.

“They’re closing to two hundred meters!”

An alarm echoed through their cockpit indicating that the Tholians had torpedo lock. Dee looked forward and braced herself for the impact.

“Fox three!”

Suddenly, two micro photons streaked through space and slammed into the Tholian fighter. It exploded into debris.

“Splash one!” Phil screamed across the net. He opened fire on the second Tholian with long bursts from his pulse phaser cannons. After a stream of direct hits to its port shields, it ripped apart in flames. “Splash two!”

“Bout time you showed up!” Dee said with a noticeably sound of relief in her voice.

“Alright, Dee, I’m coming up on your starboard aft impulse. I’ve got you covered. These crystalline bastards wanna dance, we’ll give them a fight they won’t believe.”

Dee’s and Phil’s T-Bats began maneuvering as a pair. However, there were still four Tholians out there and they did not want to quit. Both pairs broke in opposite directions to engage them from the sides.

“I’ve got lead, Saber. Follow me, break left. We’re heading for the closer pair!”

“Right behind you!”

The two Federation fighters turned left and moved to engage the first pair of Firestars head on. Their pointed hulls made the Tholians extremely maneuverable, but Dee and Phil could almost read each other’s minds.

“I’ve got the one on the left!” Dee said. “Lock up, baby! Lock up!” She maneuvered her targeting reticle onto the enemy spacecraft. “I’ve got tone! Fox three!” Dee fired two torpedoes that slammed into the Tholian’s forward shields. Flames burst out of its hull plating and it exploded. “Splash Three!”

“Good kill! Good kill, Dee!” Phil shouted in excitement. He almost sounded like he was enjoying himself.

“They’re back!” Miller said, banging his fist on the console in front of him. Katie remained tense as she still stood by helplessly. It was a feeling that made her sick.

“Second Firestar is passing between us!” Wildcard said as the Tholian fighter streaked between them accelerating to full impulse.

“U-Turn, Dee!” Phil said, throwing his stick hard left. She responded in kind and they crossed paths as they turned 180 degrees laterally.

“He’s not getting away from us that easy! Full afterburner, Saber!” The pair began dropping raw deuterium into their exhaust to accelerate forward exponentially.

The Tholians might have been more maneuverable, but the T-Bat’s Rolls Royce Merlin turbo-impulse drives made them faster. In a matter of seconds, they were right on the Bandit’s tail.

“Phasers out, hammer down!” Dee said as she squeezed the trigger on her pulse phasers. The Tholian could only absorb two or three hits on his aft shields before he became a fireball. “Splash four!”

“We’re two on two!” Phil reported back to the Flight Direction Center.

“Mustang acknowledges,” the young lieutenant transmitted back.

“Launch the rescue shuttle and the engineering tug!” Miller said, ordering the rescue of Crossbones, Darkhorse, and the Cardassian freighter.

Back in the fight, the remaining two Firestars were totally on the defensive.

“They’re still in Cardassian space, Saber, we’re not gonna let them get home!”

“Still on your wing, Dee!”

The two Firestars started making a mad break for the border, maneuvering wildly in an utterly futile attempt to protect themselves.

“I got the one on the right!” Phil shouted to his wingman.

“Moving left!” Dee replied.

“Good tone! Good tone!” Phil exclaimed.

“Tone on left!” Dee said.

“Simo! Simo! Fox three!”

“Fox three!”

Each T-Bat fired a pair of torpedoes at their respective Firestar. All four torpedoes found their marks. In less than five minutes, the threat was eliminated.

“Splash five!” Phil said.

“Splash six!” Dee echoed.

“Mustang, this is Lancer 4-3. Bandits are all space junk. Commence rescue operations.”

A cheer erupted across the Flight Control Center. Katie collapsed into a nearby chair.

Thirty minutes later, four ships dropped out of warp to the aft of the Pike. The rescue shuttle carrying the cold, shaken, but otherwise unharmed Crossbones and Darkhorse immediately headed for the landing deck of the carrier. The engineering tug with the Cardassian freighter in a tractor beam pulled alongside one of the escort frigates. Dee’s and Phil’s T-Bats continued at full afterburner towards the Pike.

They screamed alongside, and simultaneously barrel-rolled. As they passed the bow of the ship, each of them dropped three flares to signify their kills. Live visual sensor feed streamed the images to every monitor in the strike group. The entire crew cheered almost as much as the day the war ended.

Dee and Phil landed and elevators dropped them back down to the hangar deck. Every colored flight suit on the Pike gathered around to cheer them on. Dee and Phil slid down their ladders and were immediately surrounded by crewmembers slapping them on the shoulders and cheering their call signs. Then, as they caught sight of each other, they both shouted and ran into each other’s arms.

They embraced, but Phil soon caught a glimpse of the Starfleet uniform topped with blonde hair pushing her way towards him in the crowd. He tensed and pulled back.

Dee appeared confused at first, but when she caught sight of Katie, she flashed him an understanding look.

“I’m sorry, Dee, I’m a busdriver now.”

“I know,” she said back to him softly. “But you still make a decent impression of being a fighter pilot from time to time.” They both smiled and hugged again. “I think blondie wants to say something to you,” she nodded towards Katie who finally had fought her way through the crowd to them..

She ran up to Dee first. The two women looked at each other for a brief moment before they hugged as well.

“That was pretty impressive, fighter jockey,” Katie said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, fleetie.”

Katie then turned to Phil.

“And you!” she said with a grin as tears started forming in her eyes. “Never do that to me again!” she ran into him so hard he nearly fell into the deck. She wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed the breath out of him.

“I’ll try not to, Katie,” he managed to wheeze.

Suddenly, as if remembering herself, she let go and cleared her throat.

“Good job,” she said, extending her hand. Phil laughed as he shook it.

That evening, when she was finally alone in her quarters, Katie pulled a worn photograph from her pocket. She stared down at Paul’s smiling face and smiled as she remembered their time together. Finally she was able to whisper.

“I will always love you, but I think I’m finally ready.”

 She placed a gentle kiss on the picture of his face before quietly packing the photograph into her bag.

Three Light-Years from Cardassia Prime
Stardate: 53259.8

In the subsequent weeks after the “Nentari Incident” as the Federation News Service had dubbed it, the Tholian Assembly denied any involvement in ordering the skirmish and said it was the result of a squadron commander who did not understand the proper location of the border.

The Pike and the Pershing had reunited and Phil returned to a second hero’s welcome that Katie had arranged with the rest of the senior staff. Now, as they were settling back into their normal mission set, the two of them finally had some free time.

Katie plopped down on the couch in Phil’s quarters with a bowl of popcorn and a beer.

“Okay, so how did this movie get you your call sign?” she asked, confused.

“It’s from a weapon that some of the characters use. This film is almost four hundred years old, but it’s still some of the best space fighter combat ever on screen. I saw it when I was a kid and it’s what made me want to be a Starfleet aviator.”

“Okay, ” Katie said, trying to sound at least a little supportive.

“Computer, begin playback.”

Phil’s screen came on. A film studio’s opening logo played over the sound of trumpets and drums. Then, a single sentence in blue appeared:

“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”

Two hours later, the credits started to roll.

“Why didn’t they give the big furry one a medal? I mean he was at the last battle, too,” Katie asked.

“I don’t know,” Phil replied. “Never really thought about it before.”

“Also why did it start with the fourth one?”

“No idea, but what did you think?”

Katie shrugged her shoulders.

“Plot seemed a little contrived, the whole ‘light side versus dark side’ philosophy seemed a little simplistic, but overall really fun. I can see why you like it.” Phil laughed.

“I–”

Before he could get out his next sentence she leaned forward and kissed him. Then, she leaned back and looked him in the eyes.

“What was that?” he asked in shock.

“I can’t give you everything yet,” she answered softly. “But I’m gonna try this. We just have to take it really slow, alright?”

He smiled back at her.

“I’m on your wing, Katie. You’ve got the lead,” he said before he kissed her back.

8

TILL DEATH DO US PART

Felton System: Klingon Zone of Occupation, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53261.4

“You are killing me, Dan,” Admiral Murphy said through the monitor in Tigranian’s quarters. “I’m gonna have to start calling the Pershing the damn ‘Love Boat’.”

“In fairness, the current pool among the senior staff is that Katie is gonna kill Phil within a month.”

“You really don’t see this as a problem?”

“Well, I suppose getting a new helmsman would be a little difficult, but Phil’s not as irreplaceable as he thinks…”

“You know what I mean! I’m serious about this.”

“We’re not the first starship with our share of deep space romance, Pete.”

“True, but it’s your job as CO to make sure it doesn’t start interfering with your mission readiness.”

“The Klingons didn’t seem to complain this week while we helped them repair those faulty atmospheric processors.”

“Yes, your guys and gals did a tremendous job, but a relationship that ends badly can tear even a great crew apart.”

“I’ll tell you the same as I tell everyone else, Sir. It’s all professional when we’re on duty.”

“Just watch things, Dan. That’s all I ask.”

The doors to Tigranian’s quarters opened and Laria walked inside. She immediately pulled off her uniform jacket and let her hair down from its tight bun behind her head.

“What a day…” she muttered angrily. “Klingons are amazing warriors, Daniel, but they can’t seem to comprehend what it takes to replicate breathable air. It was like arguing with a screaming krelo bear for 10 straight hours. I cannot wait to slay some holograms tonight and then get you into that bed afterwards.”

Tigranian started rubbing his eyes as Admiral Murphy glared at him through the screen.

“You know, Laria, when I gave you the access code to my quarters, I did mention that I do like work here occasionally,” Tigranian said. She froze in her tracks and looked back at him. All he could do was point at the screen.

“Lieutenant Amira,” Admiral Murphy called out to her. “It’s good to hear that you’re keeping active out there.”

Laria’s eyes grew wide, her cheeks turned red, and she immediately ran into the bathroom.

“Is she gone?” the admiral asked with a smirk.

“Yup, she ran into the bathroom.”

“Still doing the Joranian ostrich maneuver when she gets nervous?”

“L’s getting better. We’re working on it.”

“Are you finally going to admit you’re happy I selected her as your science officer?”

“I will say I’m pretty pleased with her, Pete.”

Murphy scoffed.

“You owe me one, Romeo. You can start paying me back by buying a nice dinner for me and Maggie the next time you’re on Earth, and I’m not talking about that Klingon crap either. I’m talking about a great restaurant with an ocean view, steak and Betazed reef lobster, plus an obscenely good bottle of red wine.”

“Only if Laria and I can double.”

“That’s not part of the deal! I want Maggie to think I’m the romantic one.”

Down in main engineering, a young Vulcan lieutenant was finishing up her shift for the evening. Scharr came over and examined her work beneath the pulsing column of the warp core.

“Sir, I have finished recalibrating the plasma injection manifold. I believe it has corrected the variance.”

Scharr looked down at the display and pressed a few buttons.

“You know, T’les,” he said as his antennae straightened in surprise, “normally I have to clean up after lieutenants like un-housebroken pets, but I’m actually pleasantly surprised with you. Good work.”

“Your positive feelings on the quality of my work are acknowledged, Sir.”

His antennae curled.

“You know, you could just say ‘thank you’ like a normal person.”

“I am a Vulcan, Sir. This is normal.”

“T’les…”

“You’re welcome, Sir,” she said with a facial expression that was the closest thing to a smirk a Vulcan was capable of. He smiled back at her.

“Why don’t you finish up sealing the manifold and then you can call it a night.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, returning to her work.

Scharr had taken a real liking to T’les since she had come on board at Deep Space Nine three weeks ago. Despite the fact she was still new, she had already worked hard enough to become an invaluable part of his engineering team. In fact, T’les reminded him a lot of Zhenia, his oldest daughter: disciplined, hardworking, but with a fierce independence and zest for life. He turned back towards the warp core to make some final measurements of the field strength before he called it a day himself.

Behind him, T’les suddenly started to shake. Her breathing quickened as she raised her left hand off the manifold controls. Her palms felt cold and clammy, and her heart started pounding. Suddenly, she knew what was happening. It was him. He was forcing his way into her mind and violating her thoughts. The day she had been dreading for almost 20 years had arrived.

“No!” she said, squeezing her eyes tight. “No, not now!” T’les screamed.

Everyone turned to the strange Vulcan outburst of emotion. Scharr immediately walked over.

“T’les, what’s wrong?” he said. She looked at him with panic in her eyes. Her breathing continued to increase and her pupils dilated with fear. It was as if she didn’t recognize him. She recoiled with genuine terror in her face.

“Get away from me! GET AWAY!” she yelled as she bolted for the doors. She didn’t make it more than a few meters before she dropped to her knees and clasped her hands over her pointed ears in a futile attempt to keep out his thoughts. “GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY MIND!” she screamed so loudly it echoed off the warp core.

“T’LES!” Scharr said, running over. He picked her up and looked into her eyes. Suddenly, she went limp and whimpered. Actual tears streamed down her face.

“He’s screaming for me. He wants me to come to him,” she whispered. “The fever…the blood fever has begun….”

Then she lost consciousness. Scharr immediately tapped the combadge on his chest.

“Scharr to Hunter, medical emergency in main engineering! Get here now!”

Annabeth and Tigranian walked into sickbay together. Scharr was standing next to a biobed with a still unconscious T’les. Alex was taking measurements with her tricorder.

“What happened?” Annabeth asked.

“I don’t know,” Scharr replied. “One second she was just fine. The next, she was on the ground screaming.”

“There’s enough adrenaline in her bloodstream right now to kill a full grown Ligorian mastodon. The telepathic centers of her brain are lit up like a Christmas tree…” A worried look crossed Alex’s face. She crossed over to a large console and started monitoring some data. A few seconds later she sighed and turned to the others.

“This is bad,” she said softly. “Come with me,” she added, gesturing to the three of them. “Nurse Zol, please continue to monitor her. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the Bolian said, moving to T’les’ side.

Alex stepped into her office and sat down at her desk. Tigranian, Annabeth, and Scharr gathered around her.

“What’s going on, Alex?” Tigranian said. She reached down and brought something up on her monitor.

“What do you know about Pon Farr, Sir?”

“Only that the Vulcans don’t want me to know anything about it.”

“Well, Starfleet Medical is only slightly better off than that. The Vulcans keep the details of that particular part of their biology a complete state secret. However, various physicians have pieced together some research of the years.”

“I thought Pon Farr only affected Vulcan males?” Annabeth said.

“Yes and no,” Alex replied. “It’s usually much less pronounced in females. We don’t know why, but in a rather disgusting evolutionary turn of events, it seems like the neurochemical imbalance that drives the males into a rage sends out a telepathic signal that makes the female more receptive to his advances. However, T’les seems to be fighting it with every ounce of strength she has.”

“Why?” Tigranian said with a mix of confusion and horror.

“I don’t know.”

“Excuse me,” Scharr said. “I’m just a stupid engineer from Andoria. Do you mind explaining to me what’s going on?”

“The first real Starfleet Medical database entry comes from Leonard McCoy on  Enterprise-1701,” Alex said, bringing up an article on her monitor. “Approximately every seven Earth years, Vulcan males go through a period known as ‘Pon Farr’. It’s a neurochemical imbalance in the limbic system of their brains that slowly shuts down their impulse and emotional control and drives them to mate.”

“At the age of seven, a Vulcan boy and a Vulcan girl are telepathically pair bonded with each other through a mind-meld. It’s essentially an arranged marriage. When the Vulcan male begins to experience Pon Farr during his adult years, the telepathic centers of his brain attempt to reconnect with the female he bonded with to bring them together.”

“And this is what’s happening to T’les?” Annabeth asked.

“I think so,” Alex said, “but while most Vulcan females go through this without any issues, for some reason she is resisting.”

“Sounds to me like she doesn’t want to marry whoever she’s bonded to,” Tigranian concluded.

“Well, then she doesn’t marry him!” Scharr said.

“It’s not that simple,” Alex said. “Whoever he is, he’s going through some intense psychological and physiological changes culminating in something called, ‘Plak-tow: blood fever’. If they stay separated, he’ll literally die, and probably take her mind with him.”

“What should we do?” Annabeth asked.

“I think T’les needs to answer that one,” Tigranian said with a sigh.

“Doctor!” Zol said, running into Alex’s office. “She’s seizing!”

“Oh God,” Alex said. “C’mon, I’ll need all your help!”

They rushed back out into the sickbay. T’les was helplessly flailing on top of the biobed.

“Hold her!” Alex screamed. “Hold her before she injures herself!” Annabeth, Tigranian, Scharr, and Zol each did their best to keep the young Vulcan still, but it was pointless.

“By Kahless, she’s strong!” Tigranian shouted as T’les’ convulsions lifted him clean off the ground.  Alex administered a hypospray, but it did nothing to stop her shaking.

“That was 400 milligrams of anesthizine! It should knock out a grizzly bear!” She pulled out her tricorder. “Her body can’t take this, I gotta find some way to calm her down or we’re gonna lose her right here!” Alex was rushing to grab a neural suppressor, when suddenly T’les became perfectly still. Her eyes opened and she stared at the ceiling. Her eyes started blinking as if something new was coming into focus.

“T’les? T’les?” Alex asked quietly. “Are you alright?” she asked, trying to get a response. None came. Finally, the Vulcan robotically sat up, climbed off the biobed, and walked to a computer terminal as if someone else was controlling her.

“What’s she doing?” Scharr asked, confused.

“I don’t know,” Alex said again.

T’les began inputting a series of commands on the terminal’s control panel. The Federation seal appeared.

“She’s accessing the comm system,” Annabeth said.

T’les placed a transmission. Suddenly, the terminal connected to a nearly pitch black room. The sound of heavy breathing came from someone just off screen.

The face of a haggard Vulcan male entered the frame. His green, bloodshot eyes shot at T’les through the monitor and she began to shake again.

“What is happening to him?” Scharr whispered to the others.

“He’s already entered the Plak-tow,” Alex said.

“You resisted,” the Vulcan spit at T’les. “It greatly displeased me. Do that again, and you will be punished.”

“Yes…my husband,” T’les whimpered.

Tigranian stepped forward as if he wanted to confront the man on the other end of the transmission, but Alex held him back.

“He has a telepathic hold on her, Sir,” Alex told him. “He can hurt her and there will be nothing we can do to stop it.”

“Are you on your way to Vulcan?”

“Saren, parted from me….and never….parted…” T’les began speaking as tears poured down her cheeks. “Never and always, touching and touched, we meet at the appointed place.”

“T’les, parted from me, and never parted. Never and always, touching and touched, I await you.”

The transmission disconnected. T’les was still in tears as she slowly collapsed to the ground.

“I apologize for my outburst of emotion. His mental grip on me proved very destabilizing in his current condition…” T’les said trailing off. She was sitting on the bed in her quarters with Annabeth at her side. Tigranian sat across the room with Scharr. Alex walked up with a cup of hot tea which she handed to T’les.

“Drink it, the sugar will help take the edge off the shock.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said with a bit of her emotional control returning.

“Can you talk about it right now?” Annabeth said, trying to be as comforting as possible.

“Though it is illogical and a breach of Starfleet protocol, I feel it would be easier to speak of this matter with only other women present first,” T’les said, looking at Tigranian and Scharr apologetically.

“No, it’s alright,” Tigranian said softly. He motioned for Scharr to follow him and they exited the room.

Once they were gone, Annabeth turned to T’les.

“Take all the time you need,” she said, placing an understanding hand on her shoulder. T’les took a deep breath.

“His name is Saren, and he is my husband under Vulcan law. His mother, T’yun, sits on the Vulcan High Council. My father and mother both work as her aides. When she proposed that we be betrothed as children, it was very difficult for them to refuse her. Both sets of parents forced the mind-meld on me when I was seven.”

Her eyes grew wide as she remembered. Alex sat down next to her as well.

“It’s alright, we’re here,” she said, reaching out and taking T’les’ hand.

“Even as children, most Vulcan males are without much emotion,” T’les continued, “but when our minds were one, I was terrified by what was inside of him. He is cold and spiteful in his lack of feeling. His logic is limited to only what can be done to serve his own interests. He desires only control and possession over all in his life, me included. He does not care what pain he causes to achieve this.”

Alex squeezed her hand even harder as T’les started shaking again.

“I spent my entire youth trying to get away from him. I even joined Starfleet and left the planet hoping that time and distance would somehow prevent the inevitable from happening, but his Pon Farr has begun.”

“What do you want to do?” Annabeth said supportively.

“What I want is irrelevant,” T’les said. “I must resign my commission in Starfleet, return to his family’s estate on the edge of Vulcan’s Forge, and become his mate. Otherwise, I will become an outcast from my society, my family will be shunned, and he will use his grip over me to cause untold suffering.”

“T’les,” Annabeth said, looking her in the eyes. “What you want is never irrelevant. You’re not his property, you’re a living, breathing person.”

“With the greatest possible respect, Commander,” T’les said, looking straight back at her. “You do not know enough about Vulcan culture to make such a statement. Though slavery is technically illegal on Vulcan and has been for millennia, under our customs, a wife is de facto her husband’s property. To refuse to return for Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee would cause great harm to my family and our name. The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few…or me. My fate was sealed the day my parents let him put his hand on my face.”

“You can’t let this happen, Sir!” Laria screamed at Tigranian. The entire senior staff had assembled in his quarters. “It’s the 24th century! A woman shouldn’t be forced to enter an abusive relationship with a man she hardly knows.”

“There’s nothing I can do, Laria,” he said, banging his hand on his desk in helpless frustration. “I’ve read the regulations backwards and forwards. I can’t order her not to go through with the marriage nor can I just order her to stay on this ship forever without cause. Plus, if she resigns her commission, I have no authority over her at all.”

“What about Saren? Could the Vulcan authorities arrest him for abuse?” Phil asked hopefully.

“I’m not a Vulcan lawyer, but as far as I can tell, there’s nothing prohibiting spousal abuse under Vulcan law. Anything else about this ‘Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee’ is under restricted access in the Vulcan database. They really don’t want outsiders prying into their business.”

“Is there any way we can break Saren’s mental grip on her? Somehow block the mind-meld?” Scharr asked hopefully. “Maybe once she’s a bit more like herself, she’ll come to her senses and make the right decision.”

“No,” Alex said, shaking her head. “The only way to do that would be to permanently damage the telepathic centers of her brain. I’d essentially be giving her a lobotomy.”

“There has to be something,” Annabeth said, pacing back and forth. “Something that we can do! There was real terror in her when she was telling us about him. If we let her go through with this marriage, he’s going to severely abuse her for the rest of her life. I couldn’t live with myself if I let that happen.”

“I think we’re all agreed on that,” Tigranian added while rubbing his temples.

“Why don’t we just kill the bastard?” Katie said, leaning against Tigranian’s dresser.

“That’s not helpful right now, Katie!” Annabeth shot back and shook her head with exasperation.

“What if it is?” Alex said softly. Everyone looked at her. “We could kill him.”

“Alex?” Annabeth said in complete shock.

“What are you talking about, Alex?” Tigranian said, leaning forward.

“In Dr. McCoy’s account, there were two ways to resolve the Pon Farr. The first was for the pair to mate. The second was that the woman forces the male to battle for her. She chooses a champion to fight on her behalf and they fight to the death.”

“You’re a doctor! You’re really suggesting this?” Phil said incredulously.

“If I saw another option, then I wouldn’t have suggested it!” Alex said angrily. “But before you judge me, listen to T’les tell you her story. I refuse to let someone go into a marriage with a man like that against her will.”

“Hell yes!” Katie said angrily. “I volunteer!”

“Wait a second, Katie,” Tigranian said, holding up his hand. “Before we even consider this plan, what kind of combat are we talking about, Alex?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t care what kind of combat it is!” Katie interjected.  “This Vulcan gets his rocks off hurting women and I want his head!”

“Katie…” Annabeth said flustered. She had difficulty believing they were actually talking about going through with this.

“The medical database said it involved some kind of hand-to-hand fighting.”

“Are we talking about fists, melee weapons, projectile weapons?” Tigranian asked.

“Jesus, Sir! I don’t know, it’s a medical database not the recap of a boxing match. What does it matter?”

“It matters quite a bit! Whoever is chosen to fight would have to be capable of winning. Otherwise, we’d end up with a dead champion and T’les would still have to marry Saren.”

“The entry said it was with some kind of hand weapon, not of particle or projectile type. McCoy said he had to treat Captain Kirk for both deep lacerations and blunt force trauma, so I imagine whatever it was, it could do both.”

Tigranian leaned back and considered the options.

“Probably a lirpa: a Vulcan pole-axe. It has a long semicircular blade on one end and a heavy bludgeon on the other.”

Katie slammed her fist on the top of the dresser.

“I don’t care if it’s with pocket knives and a shoelace! I want to fight!”

“Katie!” Tigranian said, staring her down. “If the fight was hand-to-hand, without weapons, then I would agree you’d be the best for the job. But there is only one person on this crew who has any experience with close-in blade fighting…me.”

“No!” Laria shouted.

“Lieutenant Amira!” he shouted right back at her. “She’s a member of my crew and I will not put anyone else’s life at risk!”

“ALL OF YOU, STOP!” Scharr shouted, cutting him off. He stood up straight and stared all of them down. “None of you know T’les as I do. I’ve been her supervisor and mentor since she arrived on this ship. With all due respect, Sir, she might be a member of your crew, but if she hadn’t collapsed in my engineering section, you would barely know her name. And you, Lieutenant Stone, your admirable ideals of feminine camaraderie aside, it’s not your fight. If someone is going to fight for T’les, it will be me.” The way he stared at Katie and Tigranian caused them to pause.

“Mr. Scharr,” Tigranian finally managed to get out, “While I’m confident that in any other circumstance, your martial Andorian upbringing would make you up to the challenge, you are Andorian. You’re built for the arctic, not Vulcan’s Forge. The air is barely breathable for most races and temperatures can climb up to 45 degrees centigrade. You’d barely be able to keep conscious, more or less fight a Vulcan punch-drunk with blind rage.”

“I might be able to do something about that,” Alex said. “The right blend of tri-ox and inaprovaline injected right before the match and he’d be able to walk through a flamethrower and not feel anything.”

“Then it’s settled,” Scharr said with a firm resolve in his voice.

“Nothing is settled!” Annabeth said. “It’s T’les’ decision and hers alone. Don’t you dare take what little choice she has in the matter away from her! Otherwise, you’re no better than Saren.”

Scharr sighed.

“You’re right of course, Annabeth,” he said.

“I gave her something to help her sleep,” Alex said. “She needs rest after what she's been through. Please, don’t disturb her until morning.”

“Very well,” Tigranian said. “We’ll speak to her in the morning. Find out what she wants to do. Annabeth, Alex, I’d like you there with me, Katie, and Scharr.” They both nodded.

“In the meantime, we’re not due at Amleth Prime for another eight days. We’re going to divert to Vulcan to take her there ourselves. No matter if she chooses marriage or challenge, I’m not going to let her do it alone.

Tigranian stood in the corridor outside of Laria’s quarters. He pressed the chime for the tenth time.

“Please let me in,” he asked. “I just want to talk.”

“Go away!” she shouted back angrily.

“Laria, please,” he said desperately. A few more agonizing seconds passed, and then the doors opened. He stepped inside to see her glaring at him.

“I know you’re angry…” he began before she cut him off.

“You’re damn right I’m angry, Daniel! Not only do you put your own life at risk without even talking with me first, you follow it up by pulling rank on me! Do you care so little about us that you’re willing to die on the Vulcan sand for another woman?”

Suddenly, he became angry himself.

“Stop! I made it very clear that if this was going to work between us, you would have to accept that I was not only your mate, but also your captain. When the uniform is on, the chain of command is in force. I’m never going to stop putting my life at risk for this ship and this crew and you either have to accept that fact or we have to end this.”

She looked at him with angry tears in her eyes.

“I love you, Laria. I love you so much that I would give up my rank, my career, and my life for you. But one thing that I will never sacrifice is my honor. It demands that as long as I am in command of this ship, I will always put its safety and the safety of everyone who sails in it ahead of my own. T’les needed someone to stand for her.”

“I know you’re my captain!” she shouted. “I also know you’re her captain! But my problem is that I know you wanted to fight for her! You wanted to fight Saren! You were willing to throw what we have away just to have the chance to draw blood.”

“Of course I did!” he yelled back. “Because I’m also a Klingon warrior! I fight to enrich my spirit and the spirits of those around me. Even if this uniform comes off, that will never change. I thought you understood that?”

“Then which is it, Daniel? Did you volunteer because you’re her captain or because you’re a warrior?”

He collapsed into a chair and rubbed his eyes.

“Maybe both…”

“So, if you died on Vulcan’s Forge, and your spirit sailed to Sto’Vo’Kor, you’d expect me to be happy with that outcome?”

He closed his eyes, preparing to give the answer he knew would make things worse.

“Yes. To be with me, you have to accept that.”

“Get out of my quarters.”

He closed his eyes.

“Please, Laria…”

“I said…get out.”

He left without another word. As soon as he was gone, she climbed into bed and started sobbing.

Tigranian stumbled back to his quarters. Silently he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a drawer. He pushed aside some clothing and took out a small black box. He opened it and gazed down at a small golden ring engraved with the crest of the House of Torlek. He had made it in Laria’s exact size. After a few moments of reflection, he snapped it shut angrily and put it back.

The cold, dirty Humans came out of their bombed-out buildings and stared into the sky. A bright light pierced the night and a strange breeze surrounded them. A ship appeared and slowly descended towards the Earth. Its arachnoid appearance gave the impression of a spider gracefully descending on a string of silk through the green pines. Finally, it came into contact with the Montana soil. On one of its long metallic legs, a black ramp extended towards the ground.

Tigranian leaned against one of the buildings looking on. The other Humans were seemingly oblivious to his presence. He ignored the doors of the holodeck opening behind him. Then, he felt the most wonderful embrace of his life wrapping around him.

“I was worried I would never feel those arms again,” he said with a relieved smile.

“April 5th, 2063,” Laria whispered from behind him. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

“When things seem at their worst, I come here to remind myself that in the darkest of times, new hope can appear from anywhere.”

A hooded figure in a silver robe appeared at the head of the ramp and walked down from the ship. A Human in a thick fur coat appeared out of the crowd of onlookers and walked towards him.

“It’s hard to believe the man who invented warp drive could have looked like that,” Laria said, staring at him.

“Zefram Cochrane was always a little eccentric or so I’ve read.”

The alien figure pulled back his hood and revealed a pair of pointed ears. He raised his hand in the Vulcan salute.

“Live long and prosper.”

Zefram Cochrane awkwardly tried to replicate the gesture, but settled for a handshake.

“Thanks,” he said politely.

“Not exactly the most poetic first contact of all time,” Laria said.

“But one of the most important,” Tigranian replied. “I’ve never really understood Vulcans, but we do owe them so much. They pulled us out of the darkness and into the light, but now I’m about to ask one of them if she wants us to kill her husband for her. Maybe we haven’t evolved from our ancestors in the 21st century as much as we hoped.”

“Evolution is a relative term, Daniel. The Vulcan isn’t giving us much choice.”

Tigranian slowly looked over to Laria, still with her arms wrapped around him.

“Are we going to be okay?” he asked with a real hint of fear in his voice.

“We will be…” she said trailing off. “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be your par’Mach’kai. I guess I just didn’t want to think about the consequences it could bring.” She braced herself to ask something difficult, but then stopped before the words escaped her mouth.

“If you want to say something, don’t hold back.”

“Tell me, Daniel, if I die, will I go to Sto’Vo’Kor?” He smiled, remembering his exchange with Torlek all those years ago.

“Did you die in battle?”

“Say, for argument’s sake, I did.”

“Did you live your life based on the teachings of Kahless the Unforgettable? Did you live with honor, fulfilling all your duties, and showing loyalty to your people and your house?”

“Of course, I did,” Laria said, smiling back at him. “You wouldn’t have let me live any other way.”

“Then we will dine together at Kahless’ table in paradise for all eternity.”

Suddenly a worried look crossed her face.

“But what if you’re wrong?”

He gently took her chin in his hand.

“If I found myself in the place of the honored dead,” he began, “and realized that you were not there, then I would walk out the front gates of Sto’Vo’Kor and wander the afterlife until I was able to find the Celestial Temple. Then I would ask the Prophets if I was worthy to be by your side.”

They kissed as Zefram Cochrane slapped a jukebox to life.

“That is unacceptable,” T’les said, looking at Tigranian, Katie, and Scharr. Annabeth and Alex sat on the bed next to her. “I will not allow any of you to risk your lives in such a foolhardy attempt on my behalf. The fact that you even know of such an option is humiliating. I have revealed too much of this private matter to non-Vulcans already.”

“T’les,” Scharr said with an uncharacteristic kindness in his voice, “I want to do this.”

“So do I,” Katie said resolutely.

“We all do,” Tigranian agreed.

“Why?” she asked with genuine confusion.

“Because, from the moment we met, you reminded me of someone that I care for very deeply. If I let you go through with this, then I’m not sure I would be able to face her again,” Scharr said, beating the other two to the punch.

“I am deeply touched, Commander, but what you desire is irrelevant. The fact remains that if I choose Kal-if-fee, it is not a guarantee of my freedom, and it also places you in extreme peril.” She awkwardly looked down at the floor before meeting his gaze again. “I know that other more emotional races view Vulcans as cold and distant, but just because we are logical does not mean we are not capable of great love. To see one of you die for me in a futile attempt at rescue, would make things far worse than they already are.

“Though I have only known you all a short time, you have in many ways been greater mentors and companions to me than anyone I have ever known. This ship and its crew have felt more like a home than even my own upbringing provided. I will not place any of you in jeopardy for the actions of my family. I will go through with the mating.”

“Is that your final decision?” Tigranian asked.

“Yes, Sir, it is.” The captain and Katie looked as if they wanted to say more, but Annabeth walked over and interjected herself before they could.

“Then that is your decision and we will honor it.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“What happens next?” Alex asked.

“We are on course for Vulcan?” T’les asked.

“Yes,” Tigranian answered. “We will arrive in less than two days.”

“When we enter orbit, I will beam down to the marriage grounds near the Forge where I will be met by the bridal party sent by Saren’s family. They will adorn me in traditional garments and I will wait for him until he summons me. When he does, we will complete the Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee ceremony presided over by a dignitary of his family’s choice. Once it is completed, we will return to his home…where…” she found it difficult to say the words. Everyone noticed she started to shake again “…he will purge the Plak-tow to his satisfaction.”

They all cringed.

“And then what?” Scharr asked. “Will you be able to return to the Pershing at least?”

“Saren has made his intentions very clear in my mind. I am required by Vulcan tradition to remain sequestered in his home until he releases me. I do not believe he ever has a desire to do so.”

“So everything you’ve worked for will just be thrown away?” Katie said disdainfully.

“That is a Human judgement on your part, if I may say so, Lieutenant Stone,” she said, trying to regain her composure. “Vulcan women are born to serve their families in their own way. Many times, that involves also serving their husbands’ needs.”

“Then, I’m going to make a Human judgement as well,” Annabeth said. “I will honor any choice you make, but I believe a wife should never ‘serve’ her spouse. She should be their partner, not their property.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Ma’am,” T’les said, averting her gaze again. “But it does not change my decision.”

“If you feel that strongly about it, I will inform Starfleet Command of your resignation upon our arrival to Vulcan, Lieutenant,” Tigranian said, rising to his feet.

“Thank you, Sir.” T’les said with a nod.

“However, before we go,” he said softly, “I do have one request to make.”

“If it is within my power to grant it, then I will do so, Sir.”

“Will your family attend the Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee?”

“Traditionally, the bride’s parents do not. They completed their obligations during the initial mind-meld when I was child. Their attendance could be perceived as encroaching on the authority of Saren's family as he is my new master. I am allowed to bring guests, but there is no one on Vulcan who I feel close enough with to invite.”

“Then I ask that you allow us to attend.”

She looked at him skeptically.

“Why would you desire to witness such a thing?”

“Because I’ll be damned if I let you go through this alone.”

“If that is your desire, Sir, then you all may accompany me.”

“Thank you, we appreciate that.”

“Now, if you do not mind, I would like to be left alone to prepare myself,” T’les said while dropping her gaze to the floor.

“Of course,” Annabeth said as she motioned for the others to follow her out the door. T’les then lit a small lamp on her table, closed her eyes, and began to meditate on what she was about to endure.

The others barely made it 10 meters down the corner before they stopped to talk.

“Again, are we actually letting this happen?” Katie said in shock.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Annabeth said, leaning back against the bulkhead and burying her head in her hands.

“We don’t have a choice, but she still does,” Tigranian said firmly.

“What are you thinking, Sir?” Scharr asked.

“This isn’t over until she says ‘I do,’ or whatever the hell the Vulcans say. Alex, I want you to synthesize the most powerful tri-ox compound you can that won’t risk killing someone. Make sure it’s effective for both Andorian and Human physiology. Let’s keep our options open.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said resolutely.

“Scharr, Katie, follow me to the holodeck.”

“The holodeck, Sir?” Scharr asked, confused.

“Yes, the three of us are going to spend the next 48 hours becoming experts in Vulcan mixed martial arts.

Setulat Highlands, Ancestral Marriage Ground: Vulcan’s Forge
Stardate: 53262.2

Eight transporter signatures appeared on the edge of a tremendous cliff. Tigranian, Annabeth, Alex, Scharr, Laria, Phil, and Katie stared out at the desolate furnace of coarse sand and rock that was Vulcan’s Forge: the wasteland where Surak, the father of Vulcan logic, first discovered the mysteries of Kolinahr. T’les stood beside them motionless.

The sun mercilessly beat down, cooking them like a massive oven. After just a few seconds, sweat began pouring from their skin. Tigranian looked over to Scharr who was having an especially hard time.

“How does anyone live on this planet?” the Andorian asked, gasping for breath.

“We became strong,” T’les replied.

“Where will the ceremony take place?” Tigranian said to her.

“Turn around, Sir.”

They looked over their shoulders and froze in awe. Two carved sandstone statues, at least a dozen meters tall, stared down at them. Each portrayed an ancient Vulcan warrior wielding a lirpa and ready to strike. At their feet was a circle of Romanesque columns surrounding an open-air amphitheater. A group of Vulcans was already waiting inside for their arrival.

“Follow me,” T’les said without any hint of emotion. She led them towards the circle of columns. An older Vulcan woman rested on a sedan chair and glared at them. She was flanked by two male attendants, each wearing a black mask over their nose and mouth and wielding a long, scimitar-like blade attached to a pole. They struck Tigranian as remarkably similar to the weapons he saw wielded by the praetorians on Romulus. Various other attendants dressed in ritual finery were waiting on them. They carried a variety of strange objects, including two silver frames covered with small bells and two long packages wrapped in purple silk.

T’les moved forward and curtsied in front of the Vulcan woman.

“I greet you with respect, T’yun, mother of my husband. Live long and prosper.”

“Who are they?” T’yun spit back at her with as much loathing as a Vulcan could muster.

“They are my friends, companions, and crewmates. They wish to witness the Koon-ut-Kal-if-fee.”

“They are outworlders and not welcome is this sacred place of my son’s ancestors.”

“It is my right that they attend this. It is the last request I will ever make of you before I formally become your daughter.”

“You are correct. It is your right for now and it will also be the last request you ever make of me. However, one of my top priorities will be for my son to reeducate you on what the duties of a Vulcan wife are to her husband. You are a frivolous and emotional woman, and have done nothing but disappoint me since your bonding with Saren. That ends today when you finally learn your proper place.”

“I understand, my mistress.”

The rest of the Pershing’s crew held back their anger at this scene.

“Now,” T’yun said, turning to one of her female attendants. “My son and his groomsmen will arrive when the sun begins its descent. Take her to the antechamber and get her out of that disgusting uniform. Do your best to make her appear as a Vulcan bride should.”

She nodded, walked over to T’les, and took her by the hand. Annabeth and Alex looked concerned, but T’les waved them off.

“It is alright, I will return before the ceremony.” The attendant led her away and into a stone passage at the far end of the amphitheater. T’yun then turned to the rest of the crew.

“You should not be here. This is a private matter for the eyes of Vulcans only. If you care anything about her, you will return to your ship now and leave orbit immediately.”

“We do care a great deal about T’les,” Alex said, staring her down.

“And it’s exactly for that reason, we’re not going anywhere,” Laria added.

“Your actions are both without logic and without thought, however, I have grown used to that kind of foolishness from other species. So be it, but you will not interfere or you will be dealt with,” she said with a glance to the two masked attendants carrying the scimitars. “Am I understood?”

Tigranian and Annabeth flashed a glance at each other then turned back to T’yun. Neither of them dignified her with a response.

The Pershing’s crew all gathered inside the stone antechamber with the rest of the bridal party and T’yun’s attendants. Outside the sky slowly transitioned from bright yellow to blood red as the sun began to set on the horizon.

From around a corner, T’les appeared. She had been completely made over. She wore a dress of white and silver Vulcan lace, a large red amulet hung from her neck, and a tiara with two flat crystals arranged in a “V” in front of her forehead adorned her brow.

“Prepare yourself,” T’yun called back to her as the matriarch took a seat in her sedan. “They are arriving.”

“How are you doing?” Scharr whispered to her as the rest of the Pershing’s crew gathered around.

“I am told that for many humanoid females, their wedding day is one of the most pleasant of their lives,” she said, taking in a deep breath. “But now, as I feel Saren’s presence, I am experiencing only dread.” Her face betrayed nothing of the inner turmoil she was feeling.

Annabeth lovingly took her hand in hers. T’les gratefully wrapped her fingers around it.

“It’s not too late,” Scharr said desperately. The off-key ring of a Vulcan gong echoed through the amphitheater. The two attendants with the bell frames began to shake them violently. Two others picked up T’yun’s sedan and began to walk forward in a procession.

“I am afraid that it is, Sir,” she said with a sad look in her eyes. “He summons me.” She placed her arms in front of her, one palm on top of another, and moved out into light. The rest of the crew followed.

The burning light of the day had faded, but the waves of heat remained. The attendants carrying T’yun placed her on a raised stone platform overlooking the amphitheater. Her guards with the scimitars took positions flanking her. The attendants with the bells led T’les across the stones toward a group of men standing at the far side of the amphitheater. Next to them, a jade gong hung from a pair of chains. Tigranian instantly recognized the Vulcan standing in the center of the group as Saren. His eyes continued to burn with blood fever. They grew even wider when he saw her walking towards him.

The Pershing’s crew tried to follow T’les, but one of the guards dropped his weapon in their path. He motioned for them to take a place at the base of T’yun’s platform. Scharr looked skeptical, but a glance from Tigranian caused them all to acquiesce.

The bell-ringers moved adjacent to the sides of the gong and T’les took her place facing Saren. She could not look him in the face and merely kept her eyes on the ground at his feet. Tigranian balled his fists as he saw a lecherous grin creep across his face. Then the bells fell silent.

T’yun raised her arm and pointed towards the gong.

“Kalifar!” she commanded. Saren reached over and picked up the gong’s mallet. He raised it over his head and prepared to send the sounds of his union echoing across the Forge. For the Pershing’s crew, the world seemed to go into slow motion. It was as if they were watching a terrible accident about to happen, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Then it happened.

T’les grabbed the mallet, stopping it mere centimeters away from the gong’s surface. A look of blind rage crossed Saren’s face and T’les started trembling again. She was drowning in fear, but had made her choice.

“KAL-IF-FEE!” she screamed over the mental anguish now being forced upon her telepathically. The bell ringers began shaking their frames again adding a cacophony of sounds to the confusion. Saren ripped the mallet out of her grasp and threw it across the amphitheater. She looked at him in terror as he raised his palm to strike her.

“Kroykah!” T’yun shouted at him, causing him to abruptly stop. “Challenge was given. Now, she demands that you fight to claim your property.” She turned her burning stare to T’les. “T’les, are you prepared to choose your champion, agreeing to become the sole property of the victor?”

“I am,” she said, trying to steady her voice.

“Then make your choice.”

T’les slowly started back towards the rest of her shipmates.

“As it was in the dawn of our days,” she said, her voice still quivering. “As it is today. As it will be for all tomorrows…I make my choice.” She paused in front of Tigranian, Scharr, and Katie. All three gave her looks of ascent, but finally she raised her finger.

“I choose him as my champion,” she said, pointing straight at Scharr. He responded with a grateful grin.

“Him!” Saren said with condescending rage in his voice. “The Andorian dog can barely stand in Vulcan’s heat!”

“All the better,” T’yun said leaning back in her sedan chair. “It will be quick.”

Saren immediately raised his arms. A groomsman stripped off his shirt. Another produced a purple sash which he tied around the Vulcan’s waist. Katie and Tigranian helped Scharr out of his own jacket and undershirt. Alex clandestinely removed a hypospray from her medical pouch and stepped behind him. She pressed it into the small of his back and whispered in his ear.

“His burning blood will feel like tepid bath water compared to what this will do to you. Get ready for it.”

She activated the hypospray. A potent mixture of tri-ox, inaprovaline, and neurovasculizer shot through his veins. His lungs immediately ceased burning, his muscles tensed, and his pupils dilated. Scharr had never felt so ready for a fight in his whole life. He had to resist the urge to roar like a Katangan lion.

Saren stepped toward the center of the amphitheater with an arrogant smirk on his face.

“Come forward,” he shouted to Scharr.

“Remember, keep it simple and use your head. Just end this as quickly as you can,” Tigranian whispered in Scharr’s ear.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Captain. This Vulcan wants blood, and he’ll have it.”

Scharr walked forward to meet Saren face to face.

“I’ve always wanted to kill an Andorian,” the Vulcan said, attempting to burn a hole through Scharr’s blue chest with his eyes. “I’ve read many accounts of our elders from the ancient wars. Is it true that your antennae twitch for several minutes after you die?”

“You’ll never find out, greenskin,” Scharr said, meeting Saren’s burning gaze with his own.

“Challenge has been lawfully given, and lawfully accepted,” T’yun said from her platform. “This combat is to the death and does end as long as one of you breathes. Is that understood?”

“Yes!” Saren said almost gleefully. Scharr balled up his fists.

“Yes,” Scharr echoed.

“Then let no one interfere! Bring forth the lirpa.” Two attendants appeared with the long purple packages. They placed one at each of the combatant’s feet and unwrapped them. Two lirpa gleamed in the setting Vulcan sun. As they presented one to each of the fighters, T’les slipped back towards her shipmates. Katie, Annabeth, and Laria stood around her for protection.

Saren skillfully twirled his weapon in a circle in front of him.

“I’ve been training with this weapon since I was old enough to pick it up, Andorian.”

“Then that makes what I’m about to do to you even more pathetic.”

“Begin!” T’yun shouted. Saren roared as he charged forward, wielding the lirpa over his head. He slashed down at Scharr with the curved blade. He fully expected his superior strength to win the day in an instant, but when Scharr blocked his blow, a look of surprised alarm crossed the young Vulcan’s face.

Scharr gritted his teeth and slowly began pushing Saren’s weapon away with the shaft of his own lirpa.

“How!?” Saren shouted through his rage. “I AM STRONGER THAN YOU!”

“Not today!” Scharr said, finally breaking the stalemate. He punched Saren with a closed fist directly in the face and then sent him to the stones with the back of his hand. The Vulcan recoiled away with green blood running from his nose.

Scharr held his lirpa at the ready and stepped forward.

“You thought this was going to be an execution, didn’t you? Instead, fight for your disgusting life, greenskin!”

Scharr roared as he slammed the heavy bludgeon towards Saren lying on the ground. The Vulcan rolled left and then to the right avoiding its crushing power. The stones of the amphitheater’s floor shattered under the blows.

“What the hell did you put in that hypospray, Alex?” Katie said with disbelief.

“I’ll put it like this,” she replied quietly. “If Starfleet Medical ever finds out, I probably won’t be a doctor anymore.”

Saren recovered from the initial shock of Scharr’s onslaught. He swung his lirpa across the ground forcing the Andorian to step back. The Vulcan climbed to his feet and pointed his blade towards his enemy.

“I will KILL you!” he shouted as he let his Plak-tow take over his actions. He started mercilessly hacking at Scharr, who used every ounce of strength he had to block this new onslaught. Eventually, their weapons locked together. Saren used his considerable strength to push Scharr towards the ground. The Andorian pushed back with all he had, but still could not stay on his feet. Saren sent a knee into Scharr’s gut and then knocked his lirpa away. He swept Scharr onto his back with his right leg and then sent his blade sailing downwards towards the Andorian’s head.

Scharr rolled away just in time as the crescent shaped blade dug into the stone a few centimeters away from his skull. As Saren dislodged it, Scharr picked up his own weapon and climbed to his feet.

T’les still hadn’t stopped shivering. She was literally watching the rest of her life play out in front of her. Alex pulled out her tricorder and quickly conducted a scan.

“Honey, you’ve got to try to calm yourself. Your pulse is over 200 beats per minute. If you don’t, you’ll go into arrest!”

“I am sorry, Doctor, but I do not believe that is possible right now.”

“I guess I don’t blame you,” Alex said quickly, prepping another hypospray and then injecting her.

T’yun still watched the combat from her place on the platform.

Saren and Scharr were still hacking at each other: adrenaline and anger providing all the motivation they needed to continue at a blistering rate. Finally, Saren charged forward for a death blow. He leveled his lirpa like a spear and sprinted right at Scharr. The Andorian saw his opportunity. He stepped to one side, grabbed the shaft of Saren’s lirpa, and pulled downward. The Vulcan’s considerable momentum carried him up and over Scharr’s shoulders and he found himself staring up at the Andorian who now had a blade at his throat. T’yun snapped to her feet.

“Kroykah!” Saren shouted. He looked over to T’yun. “Mother, please! Kroykah!” She stared back at him with a look of humiliating disappointment. Slowly, she took her seat and waited for the inevitable.

Scharr continued to stare down at his prey, still breathing heavily. After a few seconds of drinking in Saren’s terror, the artificial kick of the hypospray started to wear off.

“No,” Scharr said with a quiet ferocity. “I’m not going to kill you, because I’m not like you. However, you will release that young woman from whatever demonic spell you’ve cast over her. You’re going to let her return to her friends and her life, and you’re never going to cause her even the slightest bit of pain again. If you do, I will come back and finish the job. Do you understand, greenskin?”

Saren nodded desperately. Scharr pulled his blade away from the Vulcan’s neck, turned around and started to walk back towards the stage. An angry scowl appeared on Saren’s face. He reached over, grabbed his lirpa, and jumped to his feet.

“TREN!” T’les shouted as Saren raised his weapon. Scharr’s antennae picked up the rush of air as Saren swung his lirpa. The Andorian dropped to one knee, turned around, and swung.

Saren’s eyes grew wide, and then his head slowly detached from his neck. It rolled across the stones before coming to stop. Its eyes staring up in fixed horror towards his mother. The Vulcan’s body collapsed to the ground and green blood poured across the amphitheater. T’yun closed her eyes tightly.

Scharr climbed back to his feet and dropped his lirpa. It clattered to the ground with a loud clang. T’les whispered with relief as if a massive weight suddenly disappeared from her shoulders..

“It’s quiet! My mind is finally quiet now.”

She pushed her guardians aside and walked up to Scharr. She threw her arms around him and buried her head into his chest.

“Is this logical?” he said with a loving grin.

“No,” she replied. “There will be plenty of time for logic later. Right now there is only gratitude and appreciation.”

The rest of the Pershing’s crew ran forward and joined them.

T’yun slowly rose from her chair and stepped down from the platform.

“The challenge is completed,” she said, staring them down. “Andorian, T’les is yours. Do whatever you wish with her. However, girl,” she spat at T’les. “You will never be welcome on any lands controlled by my family. I never wish to see you again.”

“I assure you, T’yun,” T’les said, regaining her Vulcan composure. “That will never be an issue.”

“Your parents will also be discharged from my service.”

“I made my choice. They will make their peace with that or they will not,” T’les said defiantly. “However, if others on the council find out that you punished my family only for acting within the bounds of Vulcan law and tradition, it will not reflect well on you.” T’yun averted her gaze for a brief moment to steady herself.

“Andorian,” T’yun said, turning to Scharr. “You have killed my only child. I will not forget that.” Scharr pushed his way forward till he faced her.

“Do you expect me to feel pity or remorse for what I did? Your child was a monster who tortured an innocent woman for his own amusement. Actions that were probably the reflection of his failed parentage.  I’m glad he’s dead and I hope that Uzaveh the Infinite sends his soul into the icy abyss!”

“You speak with such insolence to me on my own land!” T’yun responded with real anger in her voice. “Kill him!”

Her two masked guards raised their scimitars and walked forward. Annabeth shot a quick look at Laria. They both drew hidden phasers from behind their backs and sent two beams of red light directly into the guards’ chests. The Vulcans flew backwards and then crashed motionless into the stones. T’yun looked back in shock. Annabeth stepped forward as Laria moved to cover T’les and the others.

“This is a phaser: a type-2 hand model to be exact,” Annabeth said calmly. “I prefer it over the knives and sharp sticks that many of my shipmates like to play with. That was the ‘stun’ setting.”

She pressed three buttons and the lights on its display turned from green to red. Annabeth then pointed the weapon directly at T’yun.

“This is ‘not the stun’ setting. I don’t know how it is on Vulcan, but where I come from, if you threaten a mama bear’s cubs, you get her claws. If you don’t want me to scatter your atoms across this desert, then I suggest you let us all leave peacefully and forget this terrible event ever happened.”

“Kill a member of the Vulcan Council?” T’yun said incredulously. “You would never get away with it.”

“Maybe not,” Annabeth said with a grin, “but then you wouldn’t be around to care, would you, bitch?”

“Go now,” T’yun said, balling her fists. “Never return.”

Tigranian tapped the combadge on his chest.

“Tigranian to Pershing, Eight to beam up.”

“T’yun,” T’les called out to her. “Your line now ends with you. As soon as your house is gone, Vulcan will be a better place.” T’yun literally recoiled back at that statement. “Captain,” T’les said, turning to Tigranian. “You may cancel my request to resign my commission. I wish to remain in Starfleet.”

“Won’t be necessary, Lieutenant,” he replied, still staring back at T’yun. “I never sent it.”

T’yun didn’t have a chance to reply before they all disappeared in a sparkle of blue light.

Velitax Nebula: Federation Zone of Occupation, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53265.3

Tigranian stepped through the doors of Laria’s quarters just as she was putting on her pajamas. He had a large package under his arm wrapped in blood red velvet.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised. “You know I’m spending the night at Annabeth and Alex’s?”

“Yes, and I was hoping to catch you before you headed over. A postal shuttle just arrived with a shipment from Torlek.”

“More bloodwine and cases of gagh in stasis?” she said with a smile.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “It was something I asked him to order when I got back from fighting Morjod a few months back.”

“It took that long to get here?” she asked, confused. “But you’ve been to Qo’noS since then?”

“Real craftsmanship takes time.”

He walked over to her table and set the package on it.

“What is it?” Laria asked.

“You mean they,” he said as he pulled off the velvet wrapping. Inside was a large, polished wood box emblazoned with a Klingon crest Laria had never seen before.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s the seal of the K’vel’kar Foundry: the finest weapons forge on Qo’noS. They’re the only ones authorized by the high council to mine their baakonite ore straight from Mount Kri’stak, the volcano where Kahless the Unforgettable forged the first bat’leth.”

He opened the box. It was lined with the same red velvet as it was wrapped in. Inside was a pair of matching polished mek’leths, the hand-finishing marks of the smith’s hammer still visible on their blades.

“They’re beautiful!” Laria paused. That’s when she noticed something engraved right above their krencha skin grips: Bajoran script. She started reading out loud. “I am wielded by Laria, Daughter of Amira. May Kahless always guide me.”

“Finding a Klingon master smith willing to put Bajoran on mek’leths took a little work, but luckily my brother has a lot of pull at the foundry.”

“You said you ordered these months ago!” she said with amazement. “You barely even noticed me back then!”

“Trust me, L, noticing you was never a problem,” he said with a chuckle. “However, you very much impressed Torlek with your analysis of Gothmara’s Hur’q. He said he wanted to find a way to thank you, and I said this would be a good start since you were trying to learn. Go ahead, pick them up.”

Laria took a mek’leth in each hand.

“They’re so light!” she exclaimed.

“You only get that with hand forging. Too many settle for solid cast blades these days; just a hunk of metal that’s been cut into a shape. These are the weapons of a true warrior.”

She stepped off to the side and took a few swings and then looked back at him with a grin from ear to ear.

“They feel perfect.”

“That’s because they were made for you. They’re as unique as you are, Laria. I’m just glad that I could still give them to you as my par’Mach’kai.”

She returned the mek’leths to their case and then wrapped her arms around him.

“I already told you we would be okay.”

“I want us to be more than okay, Laria. I love you,” he said looking right into her eyes.

“I didn’t want to say this to you, Daniel, because I thought it would make me sound crazy, but you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. No matter what, in this life or the next, I will be at your side.”

He leaned forward and kissed her.

“So, can I tell General Torlek you liked the mek’leths?” he said, flashing her a look. She immediately laughed.

“You can tell him that I will always carry them into battle with honor.”

“I think he’ll like that.”

Annabeth’s door chimed.

“Remember everyone, she’s just had a really traumatic experience and we want her to have fun and feel part of the group,” she said walking over to the doors.

“Of course,” Alex said.

“Definitely,” Laria said chiming in

“New sister,” Katie said, raising her wine glass.

Annabeth pressed a button and the doors parted. T’les stood there dressed in a robe and capris, both made of light blue silk.

“Wow, you’re dressed quite nicely,” Annabeth said with a grin. “C’mon in.”

“Commander, you did say that the appropriate attire for this evening was sleepwear, did you not?”

“I did, but I was expecting a t-shirt and some pajama pants,” she said looking back at Alex, Katie, and Laria. The three of them all shrugged her shoulders.

“Ma’am, this is what I wear when I am asleep. If it is not appropriate, I can replicate some new clothes and return.”

“No, it’s fine,” Annabeth said motioning for her to sit down. “And you don’t have to call me ‘ma’am,’ right now. The whole point of these evenings is to relax and enjoy ourselves. Let your hair down. Just be around other girls for a while, you know?”

“I do not know,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh?” Annabeth said awkwardly.

“Also, my hair is down,” T’les said, indicating her short Vulcan bob cut with her eyes.

“Sorry,” Annabeth said apologetically. “I guess that’s a Human expression you’re not familiar with.”

“Fascinating,” T’les said, taking a seat on a chair next to the couch. Laria and Katie held their usual spots. Annabeth sat down next to her wife.

“I apologize for my ignorance,” T’les said looking at the other women. “I am unfamiliar with this custom. Please, educate me.”

“Well, first you need a drink!” Katie said, hopping up from her chair. “What can I get you?”

“Altair water would be agreeable.”

“Um,” Katie said hesitating. “Usually the drinks we have at these have a bit more of a kick. Oh, I know. How about a Rigellian fizz? I think you’ll like it.”

“Very well,” T’les said acquiescing. Katie got the drink from the replicator and handed it to the Vulcan.

“Thank you, Lieutenant…I mean Katherine.”

“Katie…and you’re welcome.”

T’les took a sip from the red colored glass and raised an eyebrow again.

“Is that good or bad?” Alex asked, studying her expression.

“I will continue to enjoy this beverage. What is next?”

“Nothing really,” Laria said leaning back against the couch. “We just talk, sometimes we watch a movie.”

“What was the topic of conversation before my arrival?”

“Just talking about how things have changed since Laria and I got boyfriends and Annabeth and Alex got married,” Katie said, shrugging her shoulders. She pondered for a second. “What did you say the boys were doing tonight, L? Phil didn’t really tell me anything.”

“Daniel’s having him over to his quarters with Scharr. He said that if we have a ‘Girls’ Night,’ then he wanted to have a ‘Guys’ Night’.”

“Typical,” Katie said, taking a sip of her wine. “What do you think they’re doing over there?”

Alex chuckled.

“Knowing those men, it’s probably some vulgar and disgusting conversation about women’s bodies. Either that, or some morbid debate about the virtues of Andorian versus Klingon versus Terran martial philosophy.”

Tigranian leaned back in his chair and stared silently at Phil and Scharr, each nursing a tankard of bloodwine.

“What do you guys want to do?” he asked with boredom in his voice.

“I thought you had a plan since you were the one who offered the invitation,” Scharr replied with a glare.

“We could play cards,” Phil suggested.

“I hate games,” Scharr retorted.

“How about a movie?” Tigranian tried next.

“I hate movies even more.”

“Well, then what the hell do you want to do, Tren?”

“We could ask Phil how he’s screwing things up with Stone?”

“You guys do that every night,” Phil said, taking a drink of bloodwine.

“True…” Scharr said trailing off.

“I heard that T’les is back on duty in engineering?” Tigranian asked.

“Yes, she returned today, and not a moment too soon. The other assistant engineers were about to destroy the place without her.”

“So Tren,” Tigranian continued. “What are her plans? She want to be wife number four?”

“Please,” Scharr said with a sneer. “I’m old enough to be her father. Plus, three wives are enough. No, T’les is now free. She can have any suitor she likes as long as it’s not me.”

“This is really pathetic…” Tigranian mused. “We want to have an evening to ourselves and all we can do is talk about the women in our lives.”

“Once you meet the right ones, that’s usually how it is, Dan.” Scharr said, taking a sip of his own tankard.

“I wonder what the girls are doing?”  Phil said with a laugh.

“So,” Annabeth said to Katie. “How are things with you and the genteel Mr. Lexington?”

“I have to admit,” Katie said begrudgingly, “he’s pretty amazing. He’s just so considerate. Like he really wants to make me happy.”

“Ooooo,” Laria squealed as she leaned towards Katie, “Tell us, tell us!”

“Well, like last week, he noticed that I was PMSing really bad and feeling just terrible. I come back to my quarters after my duty shift, and he put a box of Delavian chocolates on my bed with a note that said ‘hope this helps’.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Alex chirped.

“The sentiment or the confections?” T’les asked confused.

“What?” Alex replied.

“I was merely seeking clarification if you meant the chocolates or the act of giving them was what you were referring to as ‘sweet’.”

“The act of giving them to her…” Alex said trailing off.

“It is a linguistic fallacy common to many humanoid species to equate acts of kindness with the sensation of saccharides on the taste buds. I believe it could also be a contributing factor to obesity in many of them.”

Annabeth cleared her throat.

“Okay…” she said, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“I need a drink!” Katie said abruptly.

“But you still have almost a full glass of wine,” Alex said to her.

“I need another drink.” She crossed to the replicator and placed an order.  “Double Romulan ale, straight.” Katie picked up her tall blue glass and uncomfortably sat back down.

“That is quite a large amount of ethyl alcohol for a Human female of your size.”

“Yeah, but something tells me I’m gonna need it for this evening.”

Katie’s sentiments echoed the other women’s thoughts that it might not have been the best idea to invite T’les.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” Alex said, trying to break the tension. “Computer what is on SFN: Movie?”

“The film ‘House on Sunset Beach’ is currently playing. Twenty-four minutes have elapsed.”

“Oh, I love that one!” Alex said, ordering the computer to change the channel.

“Of course, you do ‘woman who’s seen every terrible romantic comedy ever made’,” Katie said, mocking her.

“What’s it about?” Laria said, turning towards the screen.

“A young woman getting over a difficult ending to a relationship leases a small seaside cottage in an attempt to regain her strength and independence. Her nextdoor neighbors are a group of eccentric and agreeable individuals who help her feel included and eventually assist her in starting a new relationship with a local fisherman,” T’les said, turning towards the girls. They looked back at her with total surprise. “I am very fond of this movie as well, Alex.”

They couldn’t be sure, but the smallest hint of a smile seemed to appear on T’les’ face. They all smiled back at her and started watching the screen.

9

DULCE ET DECORUM EST I

Kolani System: Federation Zone of Occupation, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53267.4

Laria’s war cry echoed across the valley as she slashed through a Cardassian soldier with one of her mek’leths. Tigranian stood at her side, wielding his bat’leth in wide arcs around his head. Dozens of Cardassians lay dead at their feet, but an entire order of troops continued to climb the side of the jagged mountain towards them. They were pinned between the advancing soldiers and the burning wreckage of a crashed Klingon bird-of-prey behind them.

Both Tigranian and Laria’s gray armor was splattered with bright red blood. Sweat poured from their brows and the two long braids of hair running down Laria’s back were starting to come undone.

The advancing enemies had terror in their eyes at the sight of the two mighty warriors, but they still kept charging up the hill. At a brief lull between waves of attackers, Tigranian shouted:

“Fall back towards the wreckage!”

“Then we won’t be able to escape! We’ll be trapped,” Laria said, raising her mek’leths in front of her.

“I don’t think there’s any escape from this one, L,” Tigranian said, trying to catch his breath. He gripped his bat’leth tighter as the Cardassians grew closer. The two of them stepped backwards until they could go no further. At least two dozen enemy soldiers surrounded them, raising their bayonets for a final charge.

“No retreat, Daniel!” she shouted defiantly. Tigranian only nodded in response. “I guess I’m about to find out about Sto’Vo’Kor,” she added with the hint of a smile.

“Maybe,” Tigranian said, grinning back at her. “Or maybe it will be a victory worthy of epic story and song.”

“Today is a good day to die,” Laria replied, looking back towards their foes. He took in the beautiful sight of his par’Mach’kai, her face and arms glistening with perspiration in the fading light. It was at these moments he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman, however brief that might end up being.

“Qapla’ my love,” Tigranian said, spinning his bat’leth back to the ready.

They screamed as they charged forward, weapons held high in defiance. The Cardassians prepared to meet their onslaught when a voice interrupted their battle.

“Bridge to Lieutenant Amira.”

“ghay’cha’,” Tigranian said, halting his charge. “Computer, freeze program.”

Suddenly the world around the two of them stood still.

“Sorry, sorry,” Laria said apologetically. She tapped the combadge hidden under her gray armored vest. “Go ahead.”

“Forgive my interruption, but you have an incoming transmission from Gault. It’s coded personal.”

“Oh Prophets,” Laria said nervously. “Patch it through down here. Computer end program.” The mountainside, wreckage, and legion of violent Cardassians vanished into an empty space of gray paneling covered with orange lines.

“L, you didn’t save the program!” Tigranian said with annoyance. “Now, we’re gonna have to kill the entire order again.”

“Not now, Daniel,” she said, stepping towards the panel next to the door. “Computer, towel!” A white cloth appeared out of thin air. She grabbed it and started furiously wiping off the sweat from her face and body. Luckily, the gore had disappeared with the rest of the holograms.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused. “It’s just your parents.”

“Yes, but they don’t know about all this Klingon fighting.”

“You think that will be a problem?”

“It was hard enough to tell them I was bringing a Human boy home for the Gratitude Festival, Daniel. Let’s take things one step at a time.” She placed her mek’leths at her feet and pressed “Receive.” The smiling faces of two older Bajorans appeared to greet her. When they saw how she was dressed, mild confusion replaced their happy expressions.

“Hi Mommy, hi Daddy,” Laria said with a wave of her hand. Tigranian chuckled to himself at this shift in personality. Not 10 minutes prior, he’d seen this same woman cut down a Cardassian sergeant while uttering a Klingon curse so vulgar it would make a Nausciaan’s toes curl.

“Hello,” Mrs. Amira said with a glance. “What is that you’re wearing?”

“Oh this?” Laria said feigning innocence. “It’s just a costume. I’m on a holodeck.”

“A holodeck?” Lanassa said skeptically. “You know those electronic fantasies rot your brain, Laria-ga-ne.”

“Mom…” Laria said annoyed. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Don’t speak to your mother that way,” Jion interjected. “You will always be our baby, even if you ran off to Starfleet and dress in ridiculous holodeck costumes.”

Tigranian put his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“I’m very proud of being in Starfleet, Dad,” she said, glancing over to Tigranian. “Also, I didn’t run off anywhere. I’m talking to you right now.”

“So, this Human ha’shen you’re bringing home for Peldor? Will we get to speak to him before he arrives or will he just appear on our doorstep like a deptossik?” Jion asked.

“Dad, Daniel is not a ha’shen. He’s a gentleman and a very well-respected Starfleet officer. Could you try to be a little more polite when you meet him?”

“How do I know if I should be polite when I don’t know the man? I’m opening my home to him. I would at least like to know what he looks like first.”

Suddenly Tigranian stepped in front of the monitor.

“Mr. and Mrs. Amira, Peldor Joi. I’m Daniel Tigranian,” he said with a big smile.

They both looked at him with annoyed expressions.

“Peldor Joi,” they responded in unison.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Laria whispered to him, knowing exactly what was coming next.

Jion and Lanassa both turned to Laria and immediately switched from Federation Standard to Bajoran.

“Laria-ga-ne, tus annah sirah o’mal r’el gin yutan yis guytal?” Lanassa said, pointing at Tigranian.

“Mame, Daniel kosst-chim o’mal gesik. Ist d’ajane erat sutak ay-ta-ya gehostuk,” Laria replied.

Lanassa turned to her husband.

“Tuk essik?” she said pointing back at Laria. “Estun ahn zhia boray stiris amak tuyn preyta denesh panne amayteen! Or’iez takash tuk..”

“Man-ne?” Jion said incredulously. “Tuk kosse ohne shia unarat eta sinarat r’etat va. Tuk ausi kosse ohna inta teras Federashayn besak ves!”

“T’an-ne si’na pylchyk,” Lanassa said with a derisive huff.

Laria placed one arm across her chest and rubbed her nose ridges with the other in a sign of embarrassed annoyance. Tigranian grinned stupidly as he realized he started a family squabble that he couldn’t understand.

“Laria-ga-ne,” Jion said, turning back to Laria. “Tuk an-ne vos kosst dinas tuka mayr?”

“Ayan, Dade’,” Laria said, almost rolling her eyes.

“Tuk eshakh boryhas tre’nul vas’trahn?”

“Vos, Dade’,” Laria replied again, awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another. Tigranian realized her father was speaking to her like he would to a petulant child.

“Tren’ne resch’ik tuk eta von humayn sirah ettah eran dan’ne,” he said, calming down a bit. “Yisa kezza shad les lave.”

“Yis kezza shad les lave au’tan,” Laria said, uncrossing her arms.

“Inchbas, Laria-ga-ne,” Lanassa said with a soft smile.

“Inchbas Mame, Inchbas Dade’,” Laria said, reaching up and pressing the “End Transmission” button. Laria let herself exhale before turning to Tigranian.

“They’re really looking forward to meeting you,” she said.

“I gathered that,” was all he could reply.

“I’ve uploaded your assumption of command orders into the computer,” Tigranian said as he walked side by side with Annabeth. She was in uniform. He was dressed in a leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans. “There’s that stack of parts requisition requests that need to be submitted by the end of the week.”

“I’ve got it, Sir,” she said with an exasperated grin.

“Also, don’t forget, the weekly operations briefing with Starfleet Command is Friday at 1600 on subspace. The admirals are already tracking you’ll be the one sitting in for me.”

“I told you, Sir. I’ve got it.”

“Oh, and don’t forget…”

Annabeth cut him off before they entered the door to the shuttlebay.

“Sir,” she said, flashing him a look. “If you don’t shut up and get on that runabout with Laria in the next five minutes, I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

He smiled back at her.

“Thank you, Number One.”

“My pleasure, Sir. Just be sure you give thanks for having a first officer as good as I am during the gratitude festivities.”

“I’ll give thanks twice. Once for you as a first officer, the other for you as a friend,” he said walking through the doors. Annabeth followed. Laria was already inside saying her goodbyes to Katie, Phil, and Alex.

“Have a safe trip,” Katie said, giving Laria a quick hug. “You and runabouts don’t exactly get along.”

“Very funny,” Laria said with a laugh. “I’ll have the captain with me this time.”

“That’s what we’re worried about,” Alex said, seeing Tigranian walk in. “Oh Sir, didn’t you see there,” Alex said feigning surprise.

“You’re hilarious, Doc,” he replied, raising his eyebrows.

“Safe trip, Kiddo,” Phil said, giving Laria one last hug. “Good flight, Sir,” he said, shaking Tigranian’s hand.

“Thanks. Gault’s not exactly a prime vacation spot,” Laria said. “But it’s home.”

“More importantly, it’s your home,” Tigranian said, flashing Laria a smile.

“If you two don’t take off now, you’ll miss your launch window,” Annabeth said, shooting Tigranian another look.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tigranian replied with a smirk. “C’mon, L. Let’s get aboard.”

“Ma’am is right!” Annabeth continued with a joking tone. “Blackjack’s my ship for the next 10 days.”

“Bye,” Laria said as she gave Annabeth one last hug.

“Bye, Sweetheart,” Annabeth said, hugging her back. “Give the parents love from me.”

“Will do,” Laria said as she and Tigranian climbed aboard the runabout. Just before the hatch sealed Tigranian stuck his head back out.

“If something happens…”

“We won’t call you! Get out of here!” Annabeth said with a chuckle. He stuck his head back inside the craft just in time as the hatch sealed.

“I swear, that man needs to learn how to relax,” Alex muttered.

“Laria’s probably a good start on that front…” Katie said trailing off.

“Three days alone in a runabout. I wonder how they’ll pass the time?” Phil said.

The three women all looked at him with total disbelief.

“Right…stupid question,” he replied.

As soon as the runabout cleared the Pershing’s shuttlebay, Tigranian set a course for Gault and engaged the warp drive. He pressed a few more keys and then leaned back in his chair.

“Computer’s got the helm, and now we relax,” he said, looking over to Laria. She turned her chair to face his and then put her feet right in his lap.

“Hey! Watch where you put those,” he said with a laugh.

“Trust me, I care about that area as much as you do,” she said with a grin. He flashed her a concerned look. “What?” she asked.

“Your parents just didn’t seem that excited for me to be coming with you.”

“Daniel, we’ve been over this,” she said slightly exasperated. “First off, you know how traditional they are. It’s gonna take a while for them to accept that their daughter is dating an alien; especially one who thinks he’s a different species than his biology.”

Tigranian scoffed a little.

“Second, I’m their only child and their Laria-ga-ne. They’re still very overprotective of me,” she said with a sigh. “That one’s my fight.”

“Yeah, I heard them call you that. What does it mean anyways?”

“It doesn’t translate very well. Basically, it’s a way of saying ‘my precious little one’.”

“Awww, that’s adorable,” Tigranian said, pinching her cheek. He mostly did it because he knew it would annoy her.

“Stop that! I’m your par’Mach’kai! I don’t want you thinking of me that way.”

“What way? You mean adorable?”

“No, I don’t want to be adorable to you,” she said, turning back towards the console. “Everyone thinks of me as ‘adorable’. But with you, I only want to be beautiful, sexy, and powerful.”

“Hey,” he said, turning her chair back to face him. He leaned in close and whispered. “You’re beautiful…” He then gave her a quick kiss. “You’re sexy…” he said with another kiss. “And you’re powerful…” he said with one final kiss. “But you can be all those things to me and still be adorable.”

She smiled and pouted at the same time.

“I guess I have to take what I can get,” she paused for a brief moment. “It’s gonna be hard sleeping apart from you again.”

“What?” Tigranian said with genuine surprise.

“I told you my parents are very traditional. I’ll be in the farmhouse, you’ll be in the guest cottage out back.”

“I don’t even get to be in the same building as you?” he said in shock.

“Nope. To Bajoran parents, their daughters have to stay as pure and white as new snowfall until their wedding night. For some of them, even that’s too soon.”

“We’ll be on Gault for four whole days! I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you for that long,” he said with a grin.

“Well, we have three days until we get there. We could make up for lost time right now.” She leaned right next to his ear and whispered. “There’s a reason why I picked out a special set of underwear for the trip this morning…” Tigranian’s eyes grew wide and he immediately stood up from his chair.

Laria laughed as she took his hand and ran to the aft cabin.

Kora System: Federation/Klingon Demarcation Line, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53267.7

Annabeth grabbed her mug of Chiraltan tea from the ready room’s replicator and took a seat at the desk. She leaned back in the captain’s chair and briefly let herself daydream of the day she finally received the fourth pip on her collar.

Then, she checked the chronometer and realized it was time to dial in for the weekly operations briefing with Starfleet Command.

“Computer,” she said, accessing the terminal. “Access Starfleet Encrypted Subspace Channel 32945.” The screen behind the Federation emblem suddenly turned from black to red.

“Warning: You are attempting to access a classified Starfleet channel. Present voiceprint and retinal scan for identity verification.”

“Authorization: Geist Whiskey 8-2 Bravo.”

“Standby for retinal scan.”

Annabeth held open her right eye and stared at a black dot on the top of the monitor. A red light appeared and scanned her eye first vertically and then horizontally. The screen background turned from red to green.

“Identify confirmed. Welcome Commander Geist, Annabeth M.”

The screen changed to an image of a conference room at Starfleet Command Headquarters in San Francisco. A group of admirals and other high ranking brass were already taking their seats around the long, wooden table. Admiral Murphy looked over to one of the holoscreens on the wall and noticed her.

“Oh, there she is,” he said. “Hey, Annabeth. You’re right on time. We got a good picture on this end. Can you hear us?”

“Loud and clear, Sir.”

“Excellent. Just stand by. The chief of operations will be here in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be right here, Sir.”

Murphy nodded and then took his seat at the table. Annabeth picked up a PADD and reviewed her notes for the briefing while taking a few sips of tea. These meetings were often long, dull, and dry recaps of recent events around the fleet. The Pershing and her commander were now a featured part of the agenda due to the ship’s forward deployed role in the Occupation Zone. However, considering the only significant events from the past seven days were the survey of an uninhabited Class-M moon for potential refugee resettlement, the arbitration of a labor dispute between a group of Cardassian vendarite miners and a Lissepian cargo ship, and their brief rendezvous yesterday with the Starfleet Support Command fuel tender USFS Acheron to top off their deuterium tanks and antimatter pods, she expected this meeting to be nothing but boring.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the chief of operations,” a voice from off-screen sounded. The room rose to its feet and Annabeth followed suit.

“Take your seats, please,” Admiral Paris said, moving to the head of the table. As a Starfleet staff captain moved to the podium at the front of the room, Admiral Murphy took a few moments to acknowledge Annabeth.

“Sir, I would like to welcome Commander Geist dialing in from the Pershing for this brief. She’s in temporary command while Captain Tigranian is on leave. He’ll be back for next week.”

“Welcome Commander,” Admiral Paris said looking at the holoscreen. “I trust Captain Tigranian didn’t leave too much for you to clean up while he is away?”

“No more of a mess than usual, Sir,” she replied with a grin. Admiral Paris laughed.

“Excellent, well we seem to be ready here. Let’s begin.”

“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen,” the staff captain began with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his voice. “I would like to open the meeting with a developing situation in the Romulan Occupation Zone of Cardassian space.”

Annabeth perked up immediately.

“Starfleet Intelligence is still gathering reports,” the staff captain continued, “but it appears that this morning local time, there was some kind of failed uprising against Romulan Occupation Authorities on Telarak by local militia forces. We believe the local militias are being equipped and funded by the Orion Syndicate and former Cardassian military members now engaged in illicit black market trading.”

“You said the uprising failed?” Admiral Paris asked.

“Yes, Sir,” the captain replied. “We’ve intercepted several Romulan transmissions that state legionnaires have already subdued the populace, but are still in the process of rounding up all the conspirators. Several lower ranking Romulan dignitaries are confirmed dead at this time, including this man…” the captain punched several keys on the podium. A picture simultaneously appeared on Annabeth’s monitor and on the holoscreen in the briefing room. “Sub-Commander Sontek, of the 3rd Imperial Guards Regiment.”

“And I feel you’re about to get to the point and tell me why I should care about a dead Romulan sub-commander, Captain?” Paris quipped.

“Yes, Sir, Sontek was the younger brother of a senior member of the Tal Shiar. There is significant chatter on Romulus indicating that Promagistrate Kival’s dealings with the Orion Syndicate have finally gone too far. An order was issued for him to immediately return to the empire to face a full inquiry.”

A smile crossed Paris’ face.

“And probably a firing squad immediately following…”

Annabeth’s heart skipped a beat. It’s a good thing Alex had clearance because she couldn’t wait to tell her wife that smug bastard was finally going to get what was coming to him.

“Sir,” the captain said, growing somber again. “The other issue is that for the moment, it appears that Promagistrate Kival is unaccounted for on Telarak. It is unclear right now whether he was killed in the fighting or fled the planet.”

“Never deal with the Orion Syndicate without an escape plan…” Admiral Paris said trailing off. “We’ll keep our eyes on this, Captain. Let me know as soon as you have any more information. Commander Geist,” Paris said, turning to the holoscreen.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I don’t think this situation is developed enough for us to act just yet, so I won’t pull your boss off leave. However, I want you to continue to monitor from your end of space as well. This could have significant repercussions for all of Cardassian territory.”

“Acknowledged, Sir.”

“Does anyone else have any questions before we move on?”

“Just one, Sir,” Annabeth said. “Captain, you said you believed that former elements of the Cardassian military were involved. Could you elaborate a little more on that?”

“Yes, Commander. It appears that Devek, the former glinn whom the Pershing encountered six months ago, is involved. The evidence supporting his motivations is spotty right now, but our analysts believe that his smuggling operation running weapons, drugs, and slaves through the former Cardassian Empire is growing at such a rate that the kickbacks he’s paying the Romulans are growing prohibitive.

“We think he might have initiated the uprising in order to distract Romulan forces to allow him to operate more independently. Either that, or he simply doesn’t need them anymore. We have evidence that he has expanded into the Klingon Zone and could soon spill over into the Federation Zone.”

“Does that answer your question, Commander Geist?” Paris asked her.

“I believe it does, Sir. You can be damn sure that I’ll watch what’s going on like a Tarkalean hawk.”

Gault Farming Colony: Federation Space
Stardate: 53267.8

Laria and Tigranian carried their bags up a dirt road leading to a two-story stone farmhouse. The quaint building was surrounded by green fields of kava vines, sweet salam grass, moreka gourds, and boton root.

“It looks exactly like Bajor,” Tigranian said, amazed.

“That was kinda the point,” Laria replied with a grin.

They had barely cleared the wooden gate to the front yard when the door flew open. A woman came sprinting out to meet them.

“Laria-ga-ne!” Amira Lanassa shouted as she ran into her daughter at full speed. “Blessings of the Prophets, you’re home,” she said, squeezing the air out of Laria.

“Hi, Mom,” she said, gasping for air. Her father wasn’t far behind, though his pace was far more measured than his wife’s.

“Laria-ga-ne,” he said with a huge smile and a hug.

“Hi, Daddy,” Laria said, squeezing him back. He then turned to Tigranian and extended a hand.

“Amira Jion,” he said politely.

“Daniel Tigranian. Wonderful to finally meet you in person, Sir.”

“Yes, Peldor Joi,” he said awkwardly.

“Peldor Joi, Sir,” Tigranian said, returning an equally awkward laugh.

The little dynamo of energy that was Mrs. Amira pushed her husband aside to get close to Tigranian. He expected another handshake, but instead she threw her arms around him as well. She had the grip of a Klingon kolar beast.

“Peldor Joi, Daniel. Prophets bless you,” she said, placing a hand on his ear. “You have come to stay with us which means you are one of us.” As Tigranian returned her hug, he looked over to see the annoyed look on Mr. Amira’s face at that last statement. “Now, you men,” she said, turning back to her husband. “Carry the bags. Laria-ga-ne, va’me! Come to the kitchen. There’s loaves of mapa bread in the oven and hasperat to roll. You’ve probably forgotten everything your mother has taught you and must learn again.”

Mrs. Amira grabbed Laria by the hand and started dragging her to the house. She flashed  Daniel a silent expression that screamed “Save me.” All he could reply when faced with the force of nature that was Amira Lanassa was to give her a look back that said “What do you expect me to do?”

As soon as the women disappeared into the house, Jion reached down and grabbed Tigranian’s bags.

“Oh, I can take those,” Tigranian said, reaching out a hand.

“No,” Jion said politely refusing. “You are a guest in my house, I carry your bags.”

“Yes, Sir,” Tigranian said humbly.

“Also, please don’t call me, ‘Sir’. It’s Jion. I’ll put them in the cottage out back. If you want, you can put Laria’s things in her room. It’s the room at the end of the hallway on the second floor.”

He disappeared around the side of the farmhouse and Tigranian found himself alone.

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” he muttered as he picked up Laria’s suitcase.

As soon as he stepped through the door, he took in the comfort of the Amiras’ country home. In a corner next to the door was a small altar to the Prophets with the Bajoran Eternity Wheel above it. A small fire burned on a stone hearth surrounded by overstuffed leather chairs. A roughhewn wooden dining table with a large vase of yellow and white flowers was next to the back window. Down the hall in the kitchen he could hear Lanassa ordering around poor Laria. The sweet scent of burning bateret incense hung in the air to mark the coming Gratitude Festival.

Tigranian saw the stairs to his left and started climbing to the second floor. He reached Laria’s childhood door and pushed it open.

As soon as he saw her old bedroom, a huge smile crept across his face. Piles of books in every genre on every subject were piled from floor to ceiling. Clippings from science magazines were tacked all over the pale yellow walls. At the window, a telescope pointed towards the sky with various notes on the positions of constellations still taped to its tripod.

As he dropped her bags next to the bed, he noticed a huge poster on her closet door. A female officer in uniform stared back at him with a confident smile. Beneath her were the words “Find your purpose! Join Starfleet!” in bright, bold letters.

The next thing that caught his eye was a simple wooden desk in the corner, also piled high with books and magazines. He crossed to it and noticed a picture in a frame. He picked it up and saw the image of a laughing Laria, no more than eight or nine years old, on the back of a blue pony. Jion and Lanassa were on the ground next to her holding its reins and smiling.

Suddenly, he heard the sounds of panicked footsteps running up the wooden stairs accompanied with the words, “Oh Prophets, oh Prophets,” being repeated by a familiar voice.

Laria threw open the door and stared at him.

“Hello,” he said calmly. “Is there a problem?”

“My dad told me you were up here,” she said meekly. “I wasn’t ready for you to see this room yet.”

Tigranian grinned.

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, glancing around the room nervously. “It’s…it’s a little too me. I was hoping to piecemeal out the nerdy Bajoran craziness over the course of the whole weekend so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed.”

Tigranian turned the picture frame so she could see its image.

“This is the room of the girl in this picture,” he said gently, placing it back on the desk. “Who then grew into the woman I fell in love with,” he continued as he stepped towards the door. “I want to learn as much as I can about her: nerdy Bajoran craziness and all.”

She put her arms to him and plopped her head into his chest.

“You’re not real,” she said. “You’re just a dream I’m going to wake up from and then Annabeth and the others will tell me how stupid it was.”

“Oh, I’m real,” he said, squeezing her closer. “and I’ve got my own craziness to piecemeal out to you. Wait till I take you to Qo’noS.” He gently ran his fingers over her nose ridges.

Laria laughed as she pulled away.

“You know that tickles!”

“That’s why I do it.”

“And so there is my seven-year-old daughter…” Jion said laughing as he remembered. “Covered in mud from head to toe, tears streaming down her face, running around the pasture with a bucket following a full grown bull pylchyk screaming ‘he won’t give me any milk!’ Well, I then had to have the awkward conversation with her about how he was a boy pylchyk and she didn’t want to have any milk he could give.”

Around the dinner table, Tigranian, Jion, and Lanassa all burst out laughing. Laria turned bright red and glared at her par’Mach’kai.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“I hope you’re enjoying all my traumatic childhood memories.”

“Oh, I’m loving every second of this,” he said, taking another sip of spring wine.

“Daniel,” Lanassa said to Tigranian. “You’re so skinny! You need to eat more!”

“Oh Lanassa,” he said, putting a hand over his stomach. “This was incredible. I want to eat more, but I don’t think I could swallow another bite.”

“At least finish what’s on your plate. You’re still a growing boy.”

“Alright,” he said with a smile. He placed his last hasperat roll on top of a slice of warm mapa bread. His nostrils started burning before the pickled delicacy even reached his mouth.

“Oh, that is good hasperat,” he said as his eyes watered.

“Too many Bajoran women these days couldn’t brine a decent hasperat to save their lives. They use replicated brines,” she said with disgust. “At least I taught my daughter right. What do I always say, Laria-ga-ne?”

“Any woman who can’t pickle her own hot peppers isn’t worth lifting up on the marriage dais…” she grumbled, taking another sip of her wine.

Tigranian reached under the table and squeezed her hand supportively. She smiled back at him.

“Okay,” Lanassa said, sitting up from the table. “Now, how does Bajoran pastries and coffee sound?” she said to Tigranian.

“Wonderful,” he said, smiling back at her. “Thank you.”

“Laria-ga-ne,” she said, turning to her daughter.  “You brought home a good boy. He knows how to make a Bajoran mother happy,” she said, grabbing Tigranian’s ear again. “He finishes his food and drinks his coffee.” She pointed at the kitchen. “Vosp’ich an-ne soorja’.”

“It’s my job to get the coffee,” Laria whispered to him as she headed down the hall. Lanassa grabbed Tigranian’s plate.

“Oh, I can get that,” he said.

“No, you sit there! That’s not how you make a Bajoran mother happy.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said obediently.

When the two of them disappeared into the kitchen, Jion turned to Tigranian.

“Laria said you visited Rakantha recently?”

“Yes, last month. We saw the temple where you and Lanassa were married.”

“She said that as well. How is that old Vedek Grigan doing?”

“He seemed very pleased to find out all the Amiras were well.”

Jion leaned back in his chair.

“We owe him our lives. I’m sure you can imagine what the famine was like there under the Cardassians.”

“Yes, it’s terrifying to think that things like that still happen in this day and age.”

“With Cardassians, any terror is possible…” he paused, but still asked the question on his mind. “Tell me, what do you think of the Cardassians, Daniel? I mean you command a ship whose primary job is to help them rebuild their empire after all?” Tigranian immediately knew this was a very loaded question.

“Personally, I abhor much of Cardassian history, and I’ve killed my fair share of them over the years, but now Starfleet says it’s my mission to help them. Not to rebuild their empire, but to help them take their place among civilized nations as peacemakers, not butchers. It’s that simple.”

“Really, that simple? Starfleet says ‘do it,’ and you obey?” he said incredulously.

“Yes, Jion, to me it is,” he said, taking another sip of wine. “It has to be.”

“Well, since you feel you can be honest to me, let me be honest with you.” Tigranian braced himself.

“I have been a Federation citizen for many years. I’ve lived in the Federation for even longer. When we went to war with Cardassia, it was one of the happiest days of my life. I hope that the day Bajor finally joins the Federation will be even happier. However, it still causes me great pain that my only child serves on a ship whose sole mission is to help the same race who did everything in their power to prevent her birth.”

Tigranian caught an image of Laria walking out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a silver coffee urn and four small cups.

“Jion, I’m very sorry that causes you pain, but I think that’s a testament to just how incredible a woman your daughter really is.” Jion didn’t know how to react.

Laria reached the table and placed four small ceramic cups in front of each place setting. With a practiced touch, she poured a steaming cup of dark coffee so strong it bordered on syrup into each one. She served her father first, Tigranian second, her mother’s place third, and finally herself. Tigranian somehow knew that she was trained from a very young age to pour it that way.

“S’chnor hanas Lave’,” Jion said softly to Laria who then placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Ist Lave, Dade’,” she replied quietly, flashing both men a smile.

“Thank you, L,” Tigranian said to her as she took her seat. Lanassa then appeared with a tray filled with fruit and pastry.

“Now, Daniel, you must try everything!” She said very excited.

Tigranian chuckled. As he reached for a piece of kava cake, the sleeve of his t-shirt pulled up and revealed the brand of the House of Torlek. Lanassa gasped.

“By the Prophets, what is that!?” she exclaimed.

“It’s the symbol of loyalty to my house,” Tigranian said calmly.

“I had no idea Humans did such things,” Lanassa replied.

“It’s not Human. It’s my Klingon house.”

“You have a Klingon house?” Jion said surprised. He looked over to Laria who then looked down to her lap.

“I do,” Tigranian said with more than a hint of pride. “I served with the Imperial Klingon Defense Forces as an exchange officer for a long time. My captain adopted me and made me a Klingon warrior.” He dropped two cubes of crystallized kava into his sooja’ and stirred. “Laria never told you?” he said, taking a sip of the strong, dark brew.

“No,” Jion said glaring at his daughter. “She didn’t.”

Federation Zone of Occupation, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53268.0

Annabeth was fast asleep in her quarters. Alex was in her usual spot, curled up right next to her.

“Bridge to Commander Geist.”

Annabeth slowly opened her eyes, rolled over, and then slammed her arm onto the nightstand to grab her combadge. Alex stirred and rolled over as well.

“Go ahead…” Annabeth mumbled, still half asleep.

“Yes, Ma’am. This is Ensign Gleeto on night duty officer’s shift. You have an incoming priority one message from Admiral Murphy at Starfleet Command.”

Instantly, her fatigue disappeared.

“Route it through to my quarters.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“What’s up?” Alex asked through a yawn. Annabeth kissed her forehead as she climbed out from under the covers.

“I don’t know, Babe. Try to go back to sleep.”

Annabeth sat at her desk and turned on the monitor. The worried face of Admiral Murphy appeared.

“Yes, Sir?” Annabeth asked, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Annabeth, but this couldn’t wait. It’s confirmed by Starfleet Intelligence: Kival’s gone rogue. The senate has issued a warrant for his arrest. A shit-storm’s erupted on Romulus and the Tal Shiar is cleaning house on anyone who’s associated with him.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but isn’t this a good thing?”

“It would be except that he’s secured the loyalty of three warbird commanders. He’s missing, mobile, and has a squadron of heavily armed warships equipped with cloaking devices.”

“My God…”

“He could strike anywhere at any time, and Starfleet thinks the Pershing could be a target.”

“Why would he come after us?”

“What better way to earn some favor back from the Romulan High Command than destroying the bulk of the Federation’s combat power in Cardassian space? Plus he doesn’t exactly like you all.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual and he’s welcome to try,” Annabeth froze as she remembered. “Dan and Laria!”

“Starfleet’s not taking any chances. They’ve already diverted the USS Repulse to Gault to escort them back to your position. It’ll arrive there the day after tomorrow,” he said, trying to calm her down.

“Now, there’s still no direct evidence he’s hunting for you, but nobody knows where he is. I’m just asking you to be careful, alright? Might not be a bad idea to lay low for a while and be on guard for pointy-eared surprises.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll keep you updated if we find out anything else. Murphy out.”

Her screen went blank. Annabeth immediately pressed her combadge again.

“Geist to bridge.”

“Ensign Gleeto here, Ma’am.”

“Yellow alert. Cloak the ship.”

“Ma’am?”

“Just do it. Also, continue passive sensor monitoring out to 20 light-years. Special emphasis on anything that could be a cloaked ship or a Romulan quantum singularity drive.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Keep me informed if anything changes. Geist out.” She threw down her combadge. All she wanted to do was climb back into bed with her wife, but when she looked over, Alex was sitting up with her knees in her chest. She was staring blankly out the window.

Annabeth climbed back into bed and pulled a trembling Alex into her chest.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered, gently stroking her hair.

“He’s already caused so much pain, Beth with what he did to me! What he did to us!”

“He can never hurt you again, Alex. Not while I’m here. It would be a suicide mission for him to try to take on this ship in a fight.”

“Then I hope he does…”

Tigranian stepped out of the front door of the guest cottage and into the morning sunshine. He took a deep breath of the fresh air. The scent of baking bread was already wafting out from the farmhouse’s kitchen.

He noticed a figure already at work trimming a kava vine on the other side of the stone wall. Tigranian wandered out the gate to join Jion.

“Good morning, Jion.”

“Good morning,” he replied, not looking up from his task.

“Your home is very beautiful.”

“You say that like you have interest in staying, but I know you don’t, so spare me.” Tigranian did his best not to sound indignant, but Jion’s tone didn’t sit very well.

“Alright, man to man, what is your problem with me?”

Jion didn’t even hesitate.

“You’re going to ask her to marry you, aren’t you?”

“How did you know that?” he replied with genuine surprise.

“Because I saw it in your eyes the moment you walked through my gate. I was once a young man in love as well, you know?” Jion said, looking straight at his face.

“So you know I love your daughter?”

“A blind man could see that.”

“Then what is your problem? If it makes you feel any better, I had every intention of asking your permission first. I understand that’s very important to Bajoran fathers.”

“And if I had said ‘no’?”

“Honestly, I refused to think of that possibility.”

Jion sighed.

“I love my daughter very much, Daniel. So much so that I literally gave up my world for her. I knew that by raising her in the Federation she would not have the same life that Lanassa and I had, but I still had hope that somehow she would find a good Bajoran boy and one day inherit this farm. Carry on her family’s legacy like the Amiras have for generations.”

“That’s not her d’jarra, Jion,” Tigranian replied firmly. Jion scoffed and looked at the sky.

“Oh Prophets, the Human speaks in terms he does not understand!”

“I’ve been accused of that before, Sir,” Tigranian said with a hint of defiance. Jion looked a bit puzzled but Tigranian continued unfazed. “I don’t have to understand it! Just acknowledge it. Grigan said he saw it in her pagh. Are you going to tell me you haven’t seen it?”

“Of course I’ve seen it! I’ve seen it her whole life. When other little girls were asking their parents for a new doll, she was asking me for that telescope up there,” he said pointing to the farmhouse. “I just didn’t want to admit it because I knew I could only keep my precious little one safe if she stayed here with us.” Suddenly, he looked very ashamed. “But I know you’re right, Daniel. Her place is in the stars with men like you, not down in the dirt with men like me.”

“Jion,” Daniel said, taking a step towards him. “Your daughter loves you very much. Maybe even more than she loves me. She may want to travel the stars, but she will never forget where she comes from. She is of Bajor, and of you.”

Jion’s expression softened when he heard Tigranian speak those words.

“Just promise me one thing, Daniel. Swear to me that you will always protect her. If you do, you will have my blessing.”

“If that’s what it takes, Jion, I will swear it as a Human, as a Klingon, whatever you want…but your daughter doesn’t need to be protected. She’s the strongest woman I have ever known, and I know a lot of strong women.”

The old Bajoran laughed.

“You and I both. I guess it’s time for me to stop thinking of her as that little girl with the bucket.”

“No, she can always be that to you. You just have to understand she can be so much more as well.”

Jion stepped forward and grabbed Tigranian’s right ear.

“Your pagh is strong, Daniel. Maybe even strong enough to survive an Amira woman.”

They both laughed this time.

That evening, the four of them gathered around the farmhouse’s stone hearth.

“The whole point of the Peldor is to remember the blessings we are grateful for. Put all your troubles behind you, and make a new start,” Jion said. He looked at Tigranian and Laria sitting next to each other and smiled. “Perhaps, we are looking at something of that new start right here.” Tigranian awkwardly grinned and Laria looked a bit confused.

“What’s he talking about?” she whispered curiously.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tigranian whispered back. Jion picked up two small bottles of blue liquid from a nearby shelf. He walked over to the hearth and spoke a traditional blessing:

“T’esra Peldor impatri br’en. B’entel v’etan ul’lon sten.”

Laria smiled and turned to Tigranian.

“This is my favorite part!”

Jion poured the two vials into the fireplace which burst into a bright blue flame. Lanassa, Laria, and Tigranian all clapped.

“Laria-ga-ne, go get the renewal scrolls,” Lanassa said with a smile. Laria ran over to the dining table and grabbed four pieces of parchment and four pens. She passed one to each of them.

“So, we just write any problems we have on this and then burn them?” Tigranian asked Laria.

“It’s not that complicated a ritual,” Lanassa said with a smile.

“Well, what if I feel like I don’t have a lot of problems to write down?” Tigranian said gently wrapping an arm around Laria.

“Then you are truly blessed by the Prophets,” Jion said.

“I think I might be.”

Suddenly, there was a beeping in Tigranian’s pocket. A worried expression crossed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, getting up.

“Daniel?” Laria asked, concerned.

“It’s probably nothing,” he said, trying to keep her calm. “I’ve just got to make a subspace transmission and I’ll be right back.”

As he stepped out the door, Laria’s shoulders dropped.

“Is this normal?” Lanassa asked.

“Unfortunately, for a starship captain, yes, it is.”

Ten minutes later, Tigranian walked back into the room.

“Again, I’m sorry,” he said, playing off the interruption with a smile. “It really was nothing. My first officer just wanted to give me an update on a few things.”

Now, Laria really was nervous.

As soon as he sat back down, she leaned over again and whispered.

“What is going on? Annabeth wouldn’t have called you if something wasn’t seriously wrong!”

“I’ll tell you later,” he whispered back. “Our departure time tomorrow is still the same. We’re just getting back to the Pershing a lot faster than planned.”

Tigranian looked down at the empty piece of parchment in front of him. He regretted how he tempted fate just a few minutes before. Now, he had something new to write on his renewal scroll.

Laria and Tigranian lay on a blanket behind the guest cottage and stared up at the clear night sky. The smell of ripening kava and salam grass on the breeze was perfect. She pulled closer to him and rested her head on his chest.

“He’s out there, somewhere,” she said with concern in her voice.

“He is, but so are Annabeth, Katie, Alex, Phil, Tren. They can hold their own. When the Repulse gets here tomorrow, they’ll make sure we get back to them safely.”

She looked up into his eyes.

“Right now, there’s no place else in the galaxy that I’d rather be than right here. This would be everything I ever wanted, except for that Romulan petaQ!”

Tigranian raised his eyebrows.

“Very good. Your pronunciation is getting much better.”

She smiled. “Thanks, I’ve been practicing.” Shen then turned somber again. “Why can’t we have just one perfect moment? Why does something else always have to ruin it?”

“Perfect moments are ones you make, L. They’ll always be a petaQ, or a family squabble, or something that gets in the way of being happy. Tomorrow, we may have to fight a disgraced Romulan for our lives, but tonight let’s just be here with each other.”

“I used to come lay down here all the time growing up. I dreamed of what it would be like to be on a starship and visit every single one of those little specks of light. Now, all I want to do is stay here with you.”

“That’s kinda why I wanted to wait until we came to Gault: to give you another happy memory of this place.”

Now, it was Laria’s turn to raise her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

Tigranian reached down into his pocket and pulled out the little black box. He opened it and gently placed it in front of her. Laria looked down in shock at the ring with the crest of the House of Torlek just a few centimeters from her nose.

“Marry me, Laria.”

She searched her mind, but couldn’t find the right words to say. Her silence started to worry Tigranian. So many things crossed her mind, but she only managed to utter one question.

“Is this how Klingons traditionally propose?”

Tigranian grinned.

“Usually there’s more raw animal parts and biting involved. I decided to skip that. Hope you’re not too insulted.”

“Daniel…”

His eyes started to show real concern.

“...I love you with every fiber of my being, but how could I ever hope to be your wife? I’m a clumsy Bajoran girl from Gault who writes science papers when she’s at work and fetches cups of coffee when she’s at home. You need a real warrior, not someone who pretends to be one when she’s off-duty.”

At that statement, Tigranian sat up. He gently took her hand and placed it over her own heart.

“Do you feel that?”

“Of course I do, but…”

“I said, do you feel that?” he said more forcefully.

“Yes, Daniel, I have a pulse.”

“No, Laria, it's more than just your heartbeat. It’s your nature: powerful, alive, and steady. You say you pretend to be a warrior?” he said, still looking into her eyes. “I’ve seen plenty of people pretend to be things in my life, but when you fight, you’re not pretending. You’re letting your true self emerge. When you pick up a blade, you forget everything that people have told you that you can’t be and instead remember what…you…are.

“Back in Rakantha, you were told you are of Bajor but also something else. I know what that something else is now. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t ask you to embark on a journey with me that will bind us together in this life and into the next.”

“But what about Torlek? How will you convince your Klingon family to let me join your house? I don’t even speak Klingon!”

“I won’t need to convince them. I know they will see it just as I have.”

“But what if they don’t?” she said, still unsure of herself.

“No,” he said, placing a hand on her face. “Don’t let doubt creep in! Look inside yourself, Laria, daughter of Amira. If you truly ask yourself what your heart wants and somehow still feel you shouldn’t be my wife, then I will put that ring away and never speak of it again. But if it tells you the truth, then I will stand with you against all who would oppose us. No one can oppose the beating of two Klingon hearts…even if they were born Human and Bajoran.”

Laria managed to laugh before pausing to consider his words. She looked up at the sky and then back towards the farmhouse. Finally, she looked back at Tigranian and smiled. She reached down, plucked the ring from its box, and slid it onto her left hand.

“tlhIngan maH,” she said with tears forming in her eyes.

He smiled and gently placed his hands on the sides of her head.

“tlhIngan maH.”

They kissed under the stars.

The next morning, Tigranian and Laria dropped their bags just on the other side of the gate.

Lanassa wrapped her arms around Tigranian, once again squeezing the life from his body.

“I always asked the Prophets to give me a son as well. Now, they’ve finally answered my prayers.”

“Thank…you…Lanassa,” Tigranian said, struggling to breathe.

“Oh, Ga hane chat mes,” she said, hugging Laria next. “Yis kezza shad les lave.”

“I love you too, Mame.”

“You be careful,” she said sternly to Laria. Lanassa then turned to Tigranian. “Please make sure she eats, she’s getting so skinny.” He chuckled.

“I’ll do what I can, Ma’am.”

Jion walked up to his daughter and hugged her.

“Goodbye, Dade,” she said with a smile.

“I am so proud of you, Laria.”

She leaned back from his embrace and looked at him with surprise.

“No, Laria-ga-ne?” she asked. Jion pointed to his heart.

“You will always be Laria-ga-ne in here, but someone finally helped me realize what an amazing young woman you’ve grown into.”

Laria looked over to Tigranian. He flashed her a feigned look of ignorance and shrugged his shoulders. She looked back to her grinning father.

Laria hugged him again and smiled.

“Yis kezza shad les lave, Dade’”

“Yis kezza shad les lave, Laria.”

“Now you,” he said, turning to Tigranian. “When you two are planning that wedding, just remember that Gault can be beautiful in the springtime.”

“Actually, Jion,” Tigranian said, taking a step towards him. He looked over to Laria who nodded. “We were thinking about Bajor. We found this beautiful little temple in Rakantha and a very friendly vedek we’ve grown rather fond of.”

Jion stood there for a second in amazement. Then Tigranian leaned forward and hugged him.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Jion said happily. “You’re a part of this family now, which means you answer to me.”

Tigranian laughed.

“I think things are gonna work out just fine,” Tigranian said, stepping back over to their bags. Laria walked up next to him.

“Have a good trip,” Lanassa said, wrapping an arm around her husband.

“Call us when you get there!” Jion said to Laria.

Laria resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.

“I will, Dade.”

Tigranian reached into his pocket and tapped his combadge.

“Tigranian to Elbe, two to beam up.” The runabout’s computer acknowledged his message and they disappeared.

Arias Nebula: Federation Zone of Occupation, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53270.1

As soon as the runabout entered the Pershing’s shuttlebay, the USS Repulse turned around and headed back to Federation space.

Tigranian opened the port hatch and stepped out onto the deck. The rest of the senior staff was there to greet him.

“It’s good to see you back safe, Sir,” Annabeth said, stepping forward.

“It’s good to be back, Number One. Even if it is a little ahead of schedule,” he said with more than a hint of annoyance. “Any sign of our favorite Romulan?”

“Not a damn thing,” Annabeth said with a bit of reserved relief. “If he’s out there, he’s certainly not drawing any attention to himself.”

“That’s some good news at least,” Tigranian said, adjusting the shoulder strap of his bag across his chest. The rest of the group gathered around.

“Where’s Laria?” Alex asked, looking back towards the ship.

“Right here,” she said confidently, stepping out of the runabout and walking over to them.

“Oh my God…” Phil said, looking down at her hand. “I guess miracles do happen.”

Alex and Annabeth shrieked with excitement when they saw the ring and threw their arms around Laria. She hugged them back and the three of them started jumping up and down. Tigranian smiled as Phil and Scharr stepped over to him.

“I guess congratulations are in order, Sir,” Scharr said, reaching out his hand.

“They are indeed,” Tigranian said, shaking back.

“Congratulations, Sir,” Phil said echoing Scharr’s sentiments.

“Let me see it! Let me see it!” Alex said, grabbing Laria’s hand. She and Annabeth examined the simple golden band with the Klingon symbol. They both looked over at Tigranian.

“Well,” Annabeth said sarcastically. “There’s no accounting for taste, but I suppose it’s the thought that counts, right Sir?”

“Hey,” Tigranian said somewhat defensively. “I would have you know that any Klingon woman would literally kill for that ring.”

“I don’t think he’s kidding,” Phil said.

“I don’t think he is either,” Alex said. “But Sir, does Laria look like a Klingon woman?”

Laria and Tigranian silently exchanged looks and grinned.

“Looks can be deceiving, Alex,” Laria said trailing off.

It was then they realized someone was missing from the crowd.

They all looked back to see Katie standing motionless. Her sad eyes stared at Laria’s ring as tears started streaming down her cheeks. Then the expression on her face turned to guilt.

“I’m so sorry, L,” Katie said apologetically. “I’m so sorry!” Then she turned and ran out of the shuttlebay.

“Oh Prophets, Katie!” Laria shouted. She started to move towards the doors, but Phil put a hand on the Bajoran’s shoulder.

“No, I’ve got her,” he said quietly.

Katie sat cross-legged on her bed and stared down at her lap. She furiously ran her hands through her hair, nearly tearing it out. Then, the door chimed.

“Who is it?” she asked with more anger than she intended.

“It’s me,” Phil said through the intercom. “Can we talk?”

Katie sighed.

“Come in.”

Phil stepped inside, walked over to the bed, and took a seat behind her.

“What’s up, Katie-Bug? C’mon talk to me,” he said gently, running his hand up and down her back.

“Oh nothing,” she replied sarcastically. “It’s just I took what should have been an incredibly special moment for one of my best friends and completely ruined it with my selfish insanity!” she spit out angrily.

“Hey,” Phil said, starting to rub her tensed shoulders. “You didn’t ruin anything. Laria’s not upset. The captain’s not upset. No one is upset. We’re all just worried about you.”

“This crew has far more important things to worry about instead of me!”

“Katie, you are important. You’re important to all of us.”

She paused for a moment and then made a revelation.

“I’m thinking about resigning from Starfleet, Phil.”

“Why? I thought you loved being here?”

“I do!” she said, whipping around to face him. “But this ship’s mission is too critical and dangerous to have an unstable person behind its tactical station.”

“When have you ever failed us, Katie? Name one time that you weren’t up to the task.”

“That’s not the point, Phil. I don’t want to put that to the test! All we were supposed to do today was welcome L and Captain T back from shore leave, and at the most innocent moment, all the memories of Paul and the Trinity came flooding back.

“All I could think about was Paul and my old life. Then, I thought about how I’ve found this new home…and then what would happen to me if I lost this ship too. I couldn’t handle it and I ran! What if that happens when we’re staring out at a fleet of Romulan warbirds with their disruptors charged?”

“I don’t think it will, Katie. We all know how much you care about this ship and this crew, and that you’d never let us down. You’re too solid for that.”

Tears formed in her eyes and she buried her face in his uniform.

“Worse yet, I have this amazing boyfriend who deserves so much more than this broken, crazy mess in front of him and I don’t understand why I can’t give him everything he deserves!” She started sobbing.

“Hey,” Phil said, pulling her closer. “You’re not crazy and you’re not broken, and you certainly give me more than I deserve. You’ve just been through some terrible experiences in your life and you’re working through them. We knew this would be hard, but we both agreed to get through it together.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Katie-Bug.”

She managed to smile through her tears.

“Just don’t ever call me that in front of anybody else.”

“I wouldn’t dare risk it. I remember how hard your right hook is.”

“Am I really that abusive?”

“No, you’re not abusive. You just have a much more physical way of making your points than other women. I kinda like it, actually. Makes communication more simple.”

She laughed.

“Wow, I guess we’re both pretty messed up.”

“I think that’s why we work so well together.”

“There’s a couple of ideas I can try,” Laria said. “However, the Romulans have had almost a century to improve on their cloaking technology. It’s pretty damn good.”

The senior staff sat around the table in the wardroom finishing their morning synch meeting.

“So Kival could be watching us through that window right now and there’s no way we could tell until it’s too late?” Phil asked.

“There’s plenty of ways to detect a cloaked ship, Phil,” Laria replied. “However, most of them involve knowing it’s already there first.”

“What kind of ways?” Annabeth asked.

“The most reliable is a high yield tachyon burst, but that’s limited to a few thousand kilometers. I also know the Dominion experimented with concentrated tachyon beams that are good for a few light-years, but those are only effective against point targets.”

“Keep developing some courses of action, L,” Tigranian said from the head of the table. “Use whatever resources or personnel you need from the other departments.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said with a nod. “Mr. Scharr, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to pull in T’les. I could use a skilled engineer. Ideas are great, but I need help actually building them.”

“That’s fine,” Scharr replied. “Just don’t hold onto her too long. She’s one of the few people in main engineering I actually trust around my warp core.”

Annabeth and Tigranian flashed each other a look.

“We’re preparing for increased levels of casualties in the event of an attack,” Alex said. “We’re replicating some extra triage kits and placing them throughout the ship. We’re also making sure everyone with additional medical training gets recertified in case sickbay gets overwhelmed.”

“I’m also running all the damage control teams through practice drills. By the time I’m done with them, they’ll be able to seal a ruptured plasma manifold blindfolded,” Scharr added.

“Good,” Tigranian said. “I think that’s the best we can do for right now. However, I want us to continue on as normally as possible. There’s no use getting nervous over something that’s just a contingency at this point.” The entire table nodded in agreement. “Alright, if no one has anything else, let’s get to work.”

Everyone rose to their feet and exited onto the bridge. Katie, Laria, and Phil took their stations while Annabeth and Tigranian sat down in their chairs. Alex and Scharr were almost at the turbolift when Katie’s console started beeping.

“Sir,” Katie said with concern. “Priority one message from Admiral Murphy. He requests to speak to you immediately.” The entire senior staff froze in place.

“Put him onscreen, Katie,” Tigranian said leaning back in his chair. The somber face of Admiral Murphy appeared in front of him.

“What can I do for you, Sir?” Tigranian asked.

“Welcome back, Dan. I wish I could just say ‘congratulations’ to you and Laria and be done with it, but the real world keeps pushing its way in.”

“It has a tendency to do that, Sir.”

“Are you ready to step through the looking glass?”

“Sir?”

“As soon as I get off comms with you, the USS Trieste is standing by to take me across the Neutral Zone to Romulus.”

“Romulus?” Tigranian said shocked.

“Yes, they’ve requested a face to face meeting. Suffice it to say, something of this magnitude wouldn’t happen unless the request came from the very top.”

“Why?” Tigranian asked.

“Not over subspace, but I’ll be able to explain it to you in person soon. I’m ordering you to meet me in orbit of Romulus in four days.”

“You actually want us to head back to that tyrannical hell-hole?” Tigranian said with more than a hint of disgust. He glanced back at Alex who had grown white as a sheet.

“I’m afraid so, Brother. The Romulans were very explicit that they wanted to talk to you in person as well.”

“I suppose that saying ‘no’ isn’t an option?”

“Afraid not, Dan.”

“Then, I guess I’ll see you there, Sir,” Tigranian said through gritted teeth.

Murphy sighed.

“I don’t like this anymore than you do. However, trust me on this one. You’re gonna wanna hear what they have to say.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that, Sir.”

“I know, Dan. I’ll see you in four days.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Murphy out.”

The screen cut to black. Tigranian looked over to his first officer who looked even less thrilled at the prospect of traveling to the Romulan Empire than he did.

“Annabeth,” he said softly. “You had to put up with a lot while I was away. Why don’t you and Alex take some shore leave of your own over the next week or so? Head back to Risa and enjoy some alone time?”

“Sir,” he heard Alex’s voice from behind him. He turned to face her. “I mean this with the greatest possible amount of love and respect, but go to hell. If I turn tail and run then I’m admitting to those pointy-eared bastards that they beat me. I want to look them in the eyes and show them what kind of woman I am.”

Annabeth looked at her and mouthed the words, “I love you.” Alex looked back at her and nodded.

“Alright then,” Tigranian said, turning his chair back forward. “Mr. Lexington, set a course for Romulus.”

“Course laid in, Sir,” Phil said with a deep breath. Tigranian resolutely pulled down on the bottom of his uniform jacket.

“Engage.”

10

DULCE ET DECORUM EST II

Romulus
Stardate: 53270.5

“Entering orbit of Romulus, Sir,” Phil said nervously.

“The Trieste is already on station, Sir,” Laria added from science.

“And both of us are being hailed from the surface,” Katie said.

“Put them both onscreen, Katie,” Tigranian replied, rubbing his temples.

A split image appeared in front of him. A serious looking Admiral Murphy appeared to his left while a smiling, all-too-familiar Romulan appeared to the right.

“Jolan Tru, gentlemen. Welcome to Romulus! I hope your journey was calm and uneventful?”

“Spare me the pleasantries, Proconsul Vrnealious,” Tigranian said, raising a hand and glaring back at him. “I’ve traveled a hell of a long way to speak with you and I’d prefer to get this exchange over with as soon as possible. That way, I can break orbit and head back to Cardassian space at maximum warp.”

“Good to see you’ve been polishing your diplomatic skills, Dan,” Murphy said, shooting a frustrated glance in his direction.

“All in good time, Captain,” Vrnealious said, keeping a polite smile on his face. “I am afraid that I am not authorized to convey the praetor’s offer to you now. He would like to do that in person. Instead, I wish to extend to you both an invitation to dine with him this evening at his residence. Your senior staff is invited as well, Captain Tigranian.”

Before Tigranian could say something else, Murphy cut in.

“We accept your invitation, Proconsul.”

Tigranian flashed Murphy an angry stare. The admiral ignored it.

“Excellent, I shall have all the details and transporter coordinates sent to both of your ships at once. Until this evening.”

“Until this evening, Proconsul,” Murphy said.

“Vrnealious out.”

The image of the Romulan politician disappeared leaving Tigranian and Murphy alone.

“Very nicely done, Dan. Maybe you could have insulted his parentage or, better yet, locked your weapons on his coordinates. Then you could have really ensured this thing goes smoother.”

“The Romulans are already very aware of how I feel about them, Pete. Putting on a show wouldn’t accomplish anything.”

“All things the same, Dan, could you try to be a little more civil at the praetor’s house tonight? I really don’t feel like having to fight my way out of the middle of the Romulan Empire.”

“I promise I won’t start anything, Sir. But if they do, I’ll end it.”

Alex zipped up the shirt of her dress uniform and stared into the mirror. After a few moments of reflection, she took a deep breath.

Annabeth’s worried face stared across the room. Part of her didn’t want Alex to go tonight, but she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. Annabeth picked up Alex’s white jacket from the dining room table and gently stepped behind her. She held it open and Alex slipped her arms into the sleeves. As Annabeth adjusted the fit over her wife’s shoulders, she leaned in next to her ear.

“Did I ever tell you how incredibly strong and brave you are?” she whispered.

“Once or twice,” Alex said with a furrowed brow.

“And that’s why I love you so much,” Annabeth said before planting a gentle kiss on Alex’s cheek.

“I’m afraid this doesn’t have anything to do with strength or bravery, Beth,” Alex said, finally taking her eyes away from her reflection. “This is a completely selfish act. I want to be better than they are, and I can’t do that in hiding.”

“You are better than they are,” Annabeth said, gently taking Alex into her embrace.

“You know that,” Alex replied, placing her hands behind Annabeth’s back and resting her head on the shoulder of Annabeth’s dress jacket. “But I want them to know that too.”

“I guarantee after tonight, they will,” Annabeth said as a grin crept across her face. “Now, be careful!”

“What?” Alex said, looking at her with surprise. “You mean tonight at the dinner?”

“No, I mean right now. I don’t want you to get any makeup on this jacket. Do you know how hard it is to clean?”

Alex furrowed her brow and gave Annabeth a playful smack on the arm.

“You are impossible sometimes, Beth,” Alex said, turning back to the mirror and making a few final adjustments to her uniform.

“I know,” she replied, placing one more kiss on the back of Alex’s head. “But you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“Are you sure about that?” Alex said, cocking her head to one side.

Annabeth looked a little hurt, but the smile that crept across Alex's face brought one to hers as well.

“No matter what happens at the praetor’s mansion, we’ll be back in our quarters tonight in each other’s arms. I promise you that.”

“Alright,” Alex said with one last deep breath. “I’m ready.”

“Good, because you look ready.”

Admiral Murphy, Tigranian, and the rest of the staff materialized on the opulently furnished balcony of the praetor’s villa. Two white marble statues flanked an open doorway and stared out over the moonlit gardens towards the Apnex Sea. At their feet were Praetor Neral, Proconsul Vrnealious, and a very young southern Romulan woman covered in expensive gold and sapphire jewelry. Her intricately braided blonde hair fell down the back of her light silk robe. Two armed praetorian guards stood at the entrance to an arched dining hall already set for a formal meal with platinum cutlery, crystal, and bone china.

Murphy and Tigranian cautiously stepped forward, keeping themselves between the Romulan delegation and the rest of the crew.

“Jolan Tru, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Romulus,” Praetor Neral said with a suspiciously friendly smile.

“Jolan Tru, Praetor,” Murphy said with a nod of his head. Tigranian remained silent. The last time he had seen this man, he was on his knees begging for Alex’s life. The memory still didn’t sit very well with him.

“I would like to introduce my wife, Selonia of the House Vreenakii, Daughter of Vreenak, and First Lady of the Romulan Star Empire,” Neral continued gesturing to the woman.

“Madame,” Murphy said with a bow of his head. Tigranian and the rest nodded. Selonia’s dark blue eyes only glanced at them with mild disgust before looking back to her husband. It was obvious she didn’t want them in her house, but also obvious she didn’t have a choice.

“Ah, Dr. Hunter,” Neral said, looking over to Alex. “Welcome! I am so glad you can be our guest in this fashion rather than your previous accommodations on Remus. The mines can be quite dangerous for someone not used to them.”

“You green-blooded bastard!” Annabeth said, charging towards him. Murphy and Tigranian barely had time to grab her before she took a swing at the praetor. Vrnealious looked on in shock while Selonia looked on in revulsion. The praetorians drew their disruptor pistols, but a hand from Neral stayed them.

“No!” he exclaimed before a devious grin crept across his face. “I rather like their spirit. It is something politicians and diplomats can sometimes lack.”

Alex ran up behind Annabeth and whispered into her ear.

“He’s not worth it! Don’t let him get to you.”

Annabeth broke free of Murphy’s grip and angrily adjusted her uniform.

“Now, if you would be so kind,” Neral said, bidding them towards the dining room. “Dinner awaits.”

Inside, the group took their seats around the long, marble table. Neral and Selonia sat at the head with Vrnealious directly to the right of the praetor. Tigranian and Murphy sat adjacent to them while the rest of the Pershing’s staff filled in the other seats.

On cue, two Elohsian female slaves appeared carrying large crystal decanters filled with bright blue liquid. They silently knelt to the marble floor behind the praetor and bowed their heads. He didn’t acknowledge them, but a quiet nod from Selonia set them to their work. As they filled the wine glasses, Neral looked over to Tigranian.

“You know, Captain, I believe you are the first Starfleet personnel to visit the praetor’s villa. Congratulations,” he said, raising his glass to his lips and taking a sip.

“I’ll be sure to add that to my resume,” Tigranian quipped while skeptically looking down at the glass being poured in front of him.

“I assure you,” Neral said, rolling his eyes. “Nothing this evening has been drugged or poisoned. If I had wanted you dead or interrogated, I have far more convenient means at my disposal than asking you into my home.”

“Forgive us for being a bit skeptical,” Annabeth said, jumping into the conversation. “Especially considering the secrecy of how you brought us here.”

Murphy flashed her a look. She ignored it.

“I’m afraid it was necessary, Commander Geist, considering the delicacy of this matter. However, before we continue, allow me to extend my congratulations to you and Dr. Hunter on your nuptials.” Annabeth closed her eyes tightly and bit her tongue. Neral then turned to Tigranian. “I also understand that congratulations are due to you and the young Lieutenant Amira, Captain. Tell me, will the ceremony be Bajoran, Human…or Klingon perhaps?”

Tigranian stared at him with angry disbelief. Neral grinned again.

“As I said, Captain, I have many means at my disposal…”

“So it seems,” Tigranian said, finally reaching forward and grabbing his glass.

More slaves appeared carrying large silver platters.

“Ah, the first course: Trekellion mollusk with unat sauce.” Neral said, sniffing the air with his nostrils. “I’ve commanded my personal chef to take out all the stops this evening. I wanted you to experience the full range of Romulan cuisine. It really is the finest in the galaxy.”

One at a time, the slaves placed a small, white dish in front of each diner containing a roasted snail as large as an Earth grapefruit. Each was drizzled in a dark blue sauce.

“It really is incredible, you must try it,” Neral said, picking up a long, thin fork. Murphy and Tigranian both poked at the creature in front of them. Eventually they worked up the courage to pull some meat from the huge, helical shell. Further down the table, Alex stared down at her plate and rapidly grew nauseous. The last time a Romulan had offered her food, she was his prisoner.

Suddenly, she pushed the snail away from her and grabbed Annabeth’s hand under the table. Her wife squeezed it back in support.

“Why, Dr. Hunter, is something wrong?” Neral said, looking down the table towards her.

“No, it’s just that I’m not a big fan of Romulan food,” she said looking back at him. “It never did agree with me much.”

“Pity, that snail in front of you costs more than most working-class Romulans make in a month.”

“Then, why don’t you share it with them, Praetor,” Annabeth said, throwing a harsh stare back in his direction.

Tigranian smiled as he reached for his glass again.

“Well,” Neral said, putting down his fork. “I see that none of you appear to be in the mood for small talk, so why don’t we get to this point this evening?”

“And that is?” Tigranian asked while taking a drink.

“You want Kival dead. We want you to kill Kival.”

The table went silent. Tigranian put his glass down on the table.

“Excuse me?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

“I don’t understand your confusion. What did you think this was about?”

Tigranian turned to Murphy.

“Did you know about this?” he asked.

“We suspected,” he replied quietly.

“And Starfleet was willing to allow it?” he asked in shock.

“Dan, they are willing to let you make the call,” Admiral Murphy replied, trying to calm things down.

“When our primary mission is maintaining the peace of the Federation and exploring new worlds, they were willing to let us come to Romulus and discuss becoming hired assassins!”

“Captain Tigranian!” Admiral Murphy shouted more forcefully. “The decision is yours to make. Starfleet Command is willing to support you either way.”

Tigranian grabbed the plate in front of him and threw it across the room. The sound of shattering china echoed around the hall.

“Do you have any idea how expensive that little outburst was, Captain?” Neral said with a chuckle.

“Bill me…” he spit back at the praetor.

“Again, isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

“I’m not a hit man, Neral,” he replied angrily. “You let Kival run wild for too long, you let him cause untold suffering to me and my crew, and now that things have gone south, you want someone else to take care of your dirty work.”

“It would be quite difficult to explain why Romulan forces were hunting one of our own even if it is well deserved.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Tigranian shouted. “If I succeed, a problem for you disappears. If I fail, then the most powerful starship in the quadrant threatening your interests disappears! It’s an ideal situation for you where we assume all the risk!”

“Of course it is! Do you really think I would make this offer if it wasn’t in the empire’s best interests? We are many things, but a charity organization is not one of them,” Neral smirked, taking another sip from his wine glass.

“What makes you think I won’t get up from this table and tell you to go to hell?”

“Because, Captain,” Neral said confidently. “We Romulans pride ourselves on the study of psychology: both our own and that of our enemies. Despite your predictably indignant outburst, we know you will eventually jump at this opportunity. You pride yourself on the simplistic ideals of revenge you’ve borrowed from your Klingon friends. Now that someone has given you the chance to indulge your animalistic passions without consequence, you feel you must overcompensate because otherwise you will prove yourself unworthy of that ridiculous Federation uniform you wear. But we both know that the mere thought of watching the life drain out of Kival’s eyes fills you with a thrill so tremendous it terrifies you.”

Neral slowly climbed to his feet.

“Why do you think we made this request through Starfleet Command? Why do you think we requested Admiral Murphy’s presence? Because it absolves you! There is no guilt! There is no fear of censure! This act will be condoned by Starfleet and your enemies alike! Surely, if both of them are telling you the same thing, it must be correct?”

Tigranian collapsed back down into his seat. He knew Neral was right, but he also knew that he couldn’t simply satiate his desire for vengeance without getting some kind of greater good from it. Otherwise, he was no better than Kival.

“I’ll make your problem go away, Neral, but only on one condition: my ship and my crew enter the Romulan Occupation Zone without any interference from you. I want free rein to hunt down Kival, the Orions, Glinn Devek, or anyone else who threatens the security and safety of the Klingon or Federation Zones and I want it permanently.”

“Permanently?” Neral said incredulously.

“Yes, permanently. We want to cross the demarcation line with none of you ever laying a finger on us again.”

“We could never admit it publicly. It would be a political disaster.”

“I don’t care if it becomes your most closely guarded state secret as long as we get it in writing.”

Neral leaned back in his chair and crossed his fingers in front of his face.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I get up from this table and you have to deal with Kival.”

“Perhaps you are more complicated than I gave you credit for, Captain. Done.”

“Praetor, perhaps we should…” Vrnealious said interjecting.

“I said it’s done!” Neral said angrily. “It’s a small price to pay for bringing this embarrassing situation to an end. However, Captain,” Neral said, turning back to Tigranian. “If you ever use your new found access to our territory to threaten the interests of the Romulan Empire, I will kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

“I expected nothing less from a Romulan, Praetor,” Tigranian said.

“Excellent,” Neral said happily. “Then the deal is struck.”

The sound of smashing crystal echoed through the room. Everyone looked over to see Selonia’s hand, covered in green blood and shaking in rage over the remains of her wine glass. A slave immediately ran forward and began cleaning up the blue liquid dripping off the edge of the table.

“It appears we will need an entirely new set of formal china after this meal,” Neral sighed. “You must forgive Selonia, she is only 50 years old and still a child. Sometimes, her youthful passion gets the better of her. However, something is obviously weighing on her mind so, wife, speak.”

“Husband,” Selonia said, sucking in an angry breath. “I merely wonder when the dishonor that our noblest of races is forced to endure at the hands of barbarians will end.”

“Could you please elaborate on that?” Katie said, looking down the table towards her.

“I mean,” Selonia continued, “for almost two thousand years, the Romulan Empire has represented the pinnacle of civilization in the galaxy. When most of your races had yet to master indoor plumbing, we were colonizing other worlds. But now, we cower instead of conquer! My husband lost his first wife and children in a Klingon attack. My own father was murdered as a result of Dominion betrayal! If Neral had not taken me as his wife in repayment for my father’s years of loyal service, I would be an orphan alone in this galaxy. This is what happens when we lower ourselves and are forced to live with your filthy, democratic stink. I am no stranger to quiet dealings. My father was a patrician and senator. My husband is leader of the empire, but now I must allow a group of animals into my own home and smile as we debase ourselves,” she said, turning to Neral. “Kival is a poor excuse for a Romulan, Husband, but he deserves a better death than at the hands of those who should be our slaves.”

“Your opinion is noted, but my decision stands,” Neral said, turning away from her.

“Let me get one thing straight, we are no one’s slaves, Romulan.” Tigranian said, returning Selonia’s angry gaze.

“Obviously not, Human,” Selonia said, not taking her eyes off Tigranian. “Because if I was your Domina, I would ensure you were properly disciplined.”

Now, it was Laria’s turn to smash her plate with rage. She bolted upwards, placed both fists on the table and stared back at Selonia.

“And I would put your Bajoran wench to work in the kitchens so she could learn how to properly handle other people’s tableware. However, I suppose it is to be expected from a common farm girl…”

Tigranian grabbed the knife from his place setting and rose to lunge at Selonia.

“NO!” Murphy yelled as he dived between the two of them. Tigranian managed to stop himself just before he plunged the blade into her chest. Selonia looked back at Tigranian with a mixture of fear and intrigue.

“See, Husband,” Selonia said between excited breaths. She reached over and grabbed his wine glass. Neral was too in shock to react. “He’s a beast, pure and simple,” she said, drawing in a long sip.

“I think we’re done,” Murphy said, not taking his eyes off of Tigranian. “Let’s beam the hell out of here.”

Tigranian sat alone in the darkness of his quarters watching the stars streak by faster than light. His disheveled dress uniform was stained with red spots of bloodwine.

The doors opened and he heard soft footsteps behind him. Then, the sound of a robe falling to the carpet piqued his attention. Laria slowly climbed into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re drunk,” she whispered into his ear.

“Yes I am,” he replied. “That blue Romulan piss sneaks up on you,” he said, taking another gulp from his metal goblet.

“That’s probably not helping,” Laria added.

“I’ve known Peter Murphy for almost four years now, and I’ve never heard him yell at me like he did after we beamed back up. I don’t think tonight will go down as a great chapter in Romulan/Federation relations.”

“The only thing I’m upset about is that haughty Romulan bitch: the way she talked to us,” Laria said, pulling closer to him. “If you hadn’t tried to stab her, I would’ve,” Laria said angrily. “There’s no way she’s that old. Nobody should have boobs that good when they’re 50.”

“And you said I was drunk, Laria,” Tigranian laughed. “Romulan women age like Vulcans. On our scale, she’s younger than you are.”

Laria glared at him.

“That’s not helping, Daniel!” she shouted.

“Hey,” he said, putting his bloodwine down on the side table. “I didn’t mean it that way. There is only one woman in this galaxy for me, and she’s sitting right here.”

Laria leaned forward and started kissing him. Despite her wonderful embrace, he was still incredibly tense. She pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

“I took an oath as a Starfleet officer to preserve and protect life whenever possible. To stand up for rights and justice, but my Klingon side wants nothing more than to hunt him down and kill him. Then, the Romulans offer me a backdoor deal, and Starfleet turns a blind eye. You would think I’d be ecstatic, but for some reason it doesn’t seem right. For the first time, I feel that my two lives are in real conflict, and I can’t choose which one is correct.”

“It doesn’t feel right because the Romulans would be fine with you stabbing him in the back as he slept, but you want a fair fight. It’s the honorable thing to do.”

“But a fair fight means I could lose, and the consequences for this crew and the Federation would be disastrous.”

“Daniel, when will you realize that this crew is behind you no matter what? More importantly, even in a fair fight, we wouldn’t lose.”

Tigranian smiled.

“What?” Laria asked.

“Do you remember when you first came onboard, and I asked if I could depend on you when the torpedoes started flying?”

Laria laughed.

“I remember.”

“I can’t believe I ever doubted you.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” she replied with a smile. He wrapped her up into his arms.

Dekothi System: Romulan Occupation Zone, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53271.6

 The Pershing had searched the Romulan sector for a week with nothing to show for it. Sensor scans, subspace monitoring, and good old-fashioned leg work had proved fruitless in their search for Kival and his three warbirds. Every ship they encountered either refused to tell them anything useful or – more frequently – refused to tell them anything at all.

“Entering the Dekothi System, Sir,” Phil said from the helm.

“Slow to impulse, Laria give me a scan of the planets and surrounding space.”

“Four planets, two Class-D, one Class-L, one Class-J. Negative life signs on any of them.” Suddenly, her console started beeping. “Sir, I’m detecting a small Brinkathi freighter in orbit of the third planet. Their warp signature is fluctuating.”

“Life signs?” Annabeth asked with concern.

“Twelve life signs. Two critically injured.”

“Sir,” Katie said, interjecting from tactical. “I’m receiving a general distress call from the freighter. They say a plasma manifold exploded near their warp core. They’re in the early stages of a breach and request assistance from any ship in the area.”

Tigranian leaned back in his chair.

“Laria, any signs of Romulan activity?”

“No, Sir,” she said, checking her instruments again. “No signs of any weapons discharge, quantum singularity drives, or impulse signatures.”

“Phil,” Tigranian said. “Plot an intercept course to the freighter. Let’s check it out but just to be safe, go to yellow alert.”

“Yellow alert,” Annabeth commanded. “Raise shields.”

“Aye, Ma’am,” Katie said from tactical.

“Intercepting freighter in three minutes, Sir,” Phil said.

“Katie, hail the freighter. Let them know we’re coming to assist.”

“Yes, Sir,” Katie said, activating the comm system. “No response, Sir. The message just repeats.”

Annabeth looked at Tigranian skeptically.

“Could it be an automated distress call?” she asked.

“Possibly…” Tigranian said trailing off. “Katie, are we in visual range?”

“Coming up on it now, Sir.”

“Onscreen.”

The image of a small green casing appeared on screen.

“What is that?” Tigranian said.

“Sir!” Laria said refocusing her instruments. “It’s a probe set to emit a fake sensor signature!”

“Phil,” Tigranian shouted. “It’s an ambush! Get us out of here!”

Collision alarms sounded through the bridge. Two warbirds decloaked directly underneath the Pershing and fired a full spread of bright green plasma torpedoes into her belly. The entire ship rocked violently and a shower of sparks exploded around Tigranian and Annabeth.

“Red alert!” Annabeth screamed. More alarms echoed around them. “Damage report!”

“Shields down to 40 percent! We took two full spreads point blank,” Katie shouted.

“Auxiliary power to shields!” Annabeth commanded.

“Return fire!” Tigranian shouted.

Katie locked their dorsal phaser banks on the two warbirds and fired a concentrated pattern at their forward shields. Beams of bright light sliced through the void and started chopping through the energy fields protecting the Romulan attackers.

“Moderate damage to both ships,” Katie said.

The Romulan attackers moved in tandem formation, turned sharply, and rolled to engage the port side of the starship. Each started firing their powerful beam disruptors directly into the dorsal shielding on top of the Pershing’s saucer.

The ship violently rocked again.

“Scharr! Hold her together!” Tigranian shouted into the intercom.

“What the hell do you think I’m doing, Sir!?” he responded angrily. “Damage control teams are moving to decks four, five, and six! We’ve got ruptured plasma conduits near cargo bay three, and a radiation leak near the shuttlebay. I’m working it.”

“Keep returning fire!” Tigranian shouted. “Helm, attack pattern uniform-six. Come about hard right!”

“Aye, Sir!” Katie and Phil shouted almost in unison. Another spread of torpedoes barely missed the Pershing as she turned to meet her attackers, but two more directed disruptor beams made contact with their forward shields. Katie continued pounding both warbirds with fire from the Pershing’s main phaser arrays.

“Sir, their forward shields are down to 50 percent!”

“Quantum torpedoes! Target the nearest warbird, full spread,” Tigranian commanded.

“Torpedoes locked!”

“Fire!”

Katie let loose six quantum torpedoes from the Pershing’s upper turret. The bright blue spheres arched through space and slammed into the starboard warbird. They exploded with a brilliant flash of light and concussive shockwave.

“Their main power grid is failing,” Laria said from behind them. “They’re cloaking!”

The other warbird moved forward to cover their wingman’s retreat with another spread of plasma torpedoes. Phil pulled the bow of the ship down and away, but the last torpedo slammed into their starboard aft side.

“Shields down to 15 percent, Sir!”

“QI’yaH!” Tigranian shouted. “Prepare to break contact! Phil, plot an escape course, jump to warp as soon as you can. Katie, cover our movement with another spread of torpedoes. As soon as we’re out of weapons range, cloak the ship. Laria, get me some kind of damn reading so we can track these Romulan veQ–”

Before he could finish his orders, the third and final warbird decloaked just a few hundred meters above them. It immediately fired its primary disruptor in a sustained beam directly at the bridge. Everything went dark. The sound of burning hissing metal was deafening.

“What are they doing!?” Phil screamed.

“They’re punching through the last of our shields!” Katie said, trying to steady herself at her console. An alarm started echoing over the chaos. “Dorsal shields collapsing, Sir!” Then as quickly as it began, the Romulans terminated the disruptor blast.

“Phil, get us moving,” Annabeth commanded.

“Aye, Ma’am, jumping to warp in four seconds.”

Another, different alarm sounded.

“Sir, the Romulans are scanning the ship with a transport beam,” Laria shouted. “They’re looking for….Bajoran DNA,” she said in shock. Tigranian looked back at her.

“Warning: Romulan transporter lock detected,” the computer sounded.

“Daniel!” Laria shouted as she suddenly disappeared in a green haze.

“LARIA!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. He jumped from his chair towards her console, but she was already gone.

The Pershing’s warp engines engaged and they streaked away faster than light.

“COME ABOUT!” Tigranian roared.

“Aye, Sir,” Phil shouted, bringing the Pershing around as fast as the inertial dampeners would allow without ripping the nacelles off.

Tigranian looked helplessly at the screen as he saw the final two warbirds engage their cloaks and disappear.

“Sir, there’s a massive wave in subspace. They've all gone to warp,” Katie said in shock.

“Track them!” he shouted back at her desperately.

“Sir, they’re already gone…” Katie replied. He immediately jumped behind the empty science station and tried everything he knew to detect the warbirds, but soon Katie’s assessment was confirmed. They were floating alone in space.

Tigranian started to gasp for air. He stared down directly at the panel in front of him.

“Dan,” Annabeth said slowly approaching him. Suddenly, he balled up his fist and punched straight into the science console, shattering its protective plastic coating. Blood began dripping from his shattered knuckles. “Daniel…” Annabeth said cautiously, reaching out her hand towards him. When he was in this wild state, she wasn’t sure what he was capable of. “Sir,” she said finally, putting her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her like a feral animal, unsure of the Human contact.

“Dan, we’re going to get her back,” Annabeth said resolutely.

“Annabeth,” he said like he was trying to wake up from a nightmare. He stood up straight, adjusted his uniform and headed back for his chair.

“Sir, are you alright?” Katie asked with a real concern in her voice.

“Until this moment,” Tigranian said with an eerie calm in his voice. “I was unsure whether or not to let my Human side or my Klingon side take control…”

Annabeth maneuvered around him like she would an angry wolf backed into a corner.

“Which have you chosen, Sir?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“The next time I see Kival, Annabeth,” he said, balling up his still bloody fist. “I’m going to cut his Hu’tegh heart from his chest and eat it.”

Location Unknown
Stardate: 53271.8

Laria felt herself being pulled along a patch of sandy ground. The way the sound echoed around her she felt like she had to be in some kind of tunnel, but the black bag over her head made it impossible for her to see. Finally a pair of hands pulled her arms over her head and fastened her wrists to a cold metal beam with plastic ties. The bands cut into her skin, but she gritted her teeth and bore it. She didn’t want these Romulans to see any kind of weakness.

Another unseen hand ripped the bag from her head. As her eyes adjusted to the light, a familiar face came into view. Laria immediately started laughing.

“Do you mind telling me what’s so funny?” Kival said, stepping towards her. Laria looked up at him and grinned.

“Because the worst thing you can do is kill me, but when Daniel gets his hands on you, you’ll wish you were dead.”

“You have so much misplaced faith in him,” Kival said, wiping away a loose strand of hair from her face.

“Don’t you ever touch me,” Laria growled at him.

“And I can see you’ve picked up a few bad habits as well,” Kival added, raising an eyebrow. “My my, you’ve come a long way from that terrified little girl in The Raptor’s Claw on Telarak. You were shaking like a leaf the whole time. For now, it seems you’ve developed a spine. We’ll see how long it lasts.”

Kival turned to a control panel and activated a viewscreen on the far side of the chamber. Laria took the opportunity to study as much of her surroundings as she could. She was definitely underground in some kind of artificially constructed tunnel network: an old mine or some kind of bunker complex. There was something very unusual about the dark red rocks that made up the walls…

“Would you care to join me in saying hello to your former shipmates?” Kival said, turning back to her. Laria snapped her head back around to look at him.

“Qu’vatlh guy’cha b’aka, tu’HomIraH plaQta,” she said with a grin.

“Such foul language for such a young lady – he really has ruined you, hasn’t he?” Kival pressed the ‘transmit’ button on the panel next to him. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, you won’t be alive much longer anyways.”

The image of the Pershing’s bridge appeared on the viewscreen. A worried Tigranian stared right back at her, but she flashed him a reassuring smile from behind Kival’s back to calm him down

“Hello, old friend!” Kival exclaimed.

“Your death will not be quick and far from painless,” Tigranian said, gripping the sides of his chair.

“Yes, your significant other expressed similar sentiments,” Kival said without any trace of concern. He noticed Katie attempting to make some clandestine key strokes on her console. “Oh yes, hello Katherine!” he said, trying to get Katie’s attention. She looked up at the viewscreen. “Yes, don’t bother trying to trace the source of this transmission. My personal encryption algorithm is beyond even the Tal Shiar’s capability which means it is definitely far above a creature of your intelligence level.”

“Daniel! He’s setting a trap for you! These caverns are composed entirely of duranium ore and tungsten carbide. You could fire quantum torpedoes for weeks and not make a dent!”

Laria looked at the screen, but Tigranian was solely focused on his Romulan rival.

“Laria,” Kival said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m going to tell you what more people should have said to you growing up: SHUT UP! No one cares about your pitiful little observations.”

“What do you want, Kival?” Tigranian said. “Because if you merely wish to insult the members of my crew, I’ll go back to hunting you down now.”

“Well,” Kival said, taking a step towards Laria. “I wanted to tell you that you’ll be single again very shortly, that is unless you do exactly what I say.”

“I’m listening…”

“I’m giving you your fantasy, Captain. You are about to embark upon a noble quest to save the damsel in distress from the evil villain. This time, it is completely genuine.

“In exactly 15 minutes, an unmanned Romulan shuttlepod will decloak off your ship’s port bow. Drop your shields and let it beam you aboard. It will then recloak and transport you here so we can finish this little repartee face to face. No communications devices and no particle weapons please.  They will just complicate matters. However, feel free to bring that ridiculous Klingon sword of yours. It’s so deliciously cliché.”

“Daniel, don’t!” Laria screamed.

Kival suddenly backhanded Laria across the face. A trickle of blood started down her chin. Tigranian stood up from his chair, wanting nothing more than to leap through the screen and strangle Kival with his bare hands.

“What part of ‘shut up’ did you not understand?” Kival spit at Laria. “Feel free to listen to your fiancée, Daniel.” Kival violently grabbed Laria’s hair and pulled back so she stared directly at the viewscreen. He removed the disruptor pistol from the holster at his side and buried its muzzle into her right temple. “We can make this simple and I can blow her head off in front of you right now.”

“No!” Tigranian desperately shouted. “Fifteen minutes. I’ll be ready.”

“Good, it seems you can be reasonable. I will see you soon. Screen off.”

On the bridge of the Pershing, Tigranian looked at Annabeth.

“Walk with me,” he said, heading towards the turbolift. She followed and they entered the car. “Deck two,” he commanded and the doors shut.

“You can’t play his game, Dan,” Annabeth said, trying to convince him.

“I don’t think I have a choice, Annabeth,” Tigranian said. “If he wants to end this with baakonite on Romulan steel, I’m all for it.”

“What makes you think he won’t shoot you the second you climb out of that shuttlepod?”

“Oh, he’s going to try to shoot me,” Tigranian replied as the doors parted and they stepped into the corridor. “But not when I step off the shuttlepod. That’s not his style. He wants to savor my demise.”

They both walked through the doors of Tigranian’s quarters. He headed straight to the wall where his bat’leth hung.

He pulled the combadge from his uniform and tossed it to Annabeth.

“Taking off the symbol of Starfleet and picking up a bat’leth: doesn’t get more symbolic than that,” he added with a touch of irony in his voice.

“Dammit, Dan!” Annabeth said, throwing the combadge towards Tigranian’s desk. “Stop acting like you’re in some fairy tale. This is real life!”

“What would you have me do, Annabeth?” Tigranian asked. “He’s holding all the cards.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to walk straight into his disruptor.”

“I do, but you don’t,” he replied.

“What are you talking about?”

Tigranian looked down at the shelf below his bat’leth to the polished wooden case containing Laria’s mek’leths. He slowly opened it, and stared at the Bajoran writing on their handles. Then, he quickly picked them up and strapped them to his back.

“Dan! Talk to me!”

He turned to face her.

“I’m actually not a very good Starfleet officer, Annabeth. I’ve just had the fortune to be the appropriate blunt instrument for a lot of rather unpleasant tasks. You, on the other hand, are one of the finest leaders I have ever met.”

“If this is your way of saying your goodbyes, save it, Sir.”

“All I’m saying is ask yourself, how would you rescue Laria from Kival if you were in command?”

“I would analyze what we know, develop a plan, and then execute based on exactly what he doesn’t expect.”

“Then that,” Tigranian said, taking his bat’leth down from the wall, “is exactly what you should do.”

With a sudden flourish, he spun the bat’leth around and stopped the blade just a few centimeters from her neck.

“But in the meantime, let the blunt instrument do what he does best.” She glanced down at the weapon’s polished edge. Tigranian winked and then dropped the sword down to his side. He turned and headed back for the corridor. Annabeth followed angrily.

“If I survive this,” he said as they reached the turbolift. “Remind me to put in a good word for you with Admiral Paris.”

“And if you don’t survive this!?” Annabeth asked, stepping inside the car with him.

The doors closed and Tigranian sighed. He reached up to his collar and pulled the four rank pips off. He then dropped them into Annabeth’s palm.

“In that case, congratulations on your new command in advance.”

“You really don’t make things easy do you, Sir?”

“If I did, how would you show what an incredible first officer you are?”

The doors to the bridge opened and they walked towards their chairs. Alex and Scharr had come up after Katie informed them of Kival’s demands.

They all stared at him in troubled silence.

“You’ll find us. I know you will,” Tigranian said to the group trying to sound optimistic.

“Sir,” Alex said, stepping forward. “Go get our girl.”

She threw her arms around him. Tigranian placed a hand on her back. Annabeth then ran forward and joined in the embrace. Katie, Phil, and Scharr were next. They all stood there in silence for a few moments until Katie spoke.

“I’m really tired of you going off to certain death, Sir,” she said laughing and crying simultaneously. “This is like, the third time since I’ve known you.” Tigranian couldn’t help laughing as well.

“I’ll try to cut down on the certain death, Katie.” The others all started laughing as well. The moment was cut short by the sound of a proximity alarm from tactical. Katie walked over and confirmed what they already knew.

“Sir, a Class II Romulan shuttlepod just decloaked. It’s signaling.”

The rest of the staff took a step back from the captain.

“Katie,” he said, steadying himself. “Drop the shields.”

“You, hold on,” Annabeth said resolutely. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Tigranian nodded before disappearing in green haze.

“The pod just recloaked. He’s gone,” Katie said looking up from her display.

“Scharr,” Annabeth said. “Get T’les up here right now. Everyone to the wardroom. We’re gonna find this green-blooded bastard and end him.”

Kival left Laria under the watchful eye of a guard and headed down a stone passage. He reached another chamber filled with computer monitors and several other Romulan officers.

“Report.”

“We’ve just received confirmation from the pod’s computer. Tigranian is aboard and en route. He’ll be here in 12 hours.”

“Very good. Is he behaving himself?”

“So far. He has not yet tried accessing any of the systems.”

“Well, if he does, send him a holographic projection of the prisoner. I’m sure a few reminders of what we can do to her will set him back in line.”

“You’re an exceptionally cruel man, Kival,” a female voice said from behind him. “But that’s the one thing I admire about you.”

He turned around to see a woman dressed in a white, flowing gown appear from another hallway. Two female attendants dressed in simple white robes followed a few paces behind. A white scarf wrapped around her head concealed the woman’s face.

“My lady,” Kival said somewhat surprised. “I didn’t expect you for another two days. However, it’s a pleasure as always,” he said, kneeling down and kissing the back of the woman’s hand.

Selonia reached up and pulled away the scarf. Her long hair was piled on top of her head in a high braided bun, accentuating her pointed ears.

“More to the point, you said he would be here in 12 hours. When can I take delivery?”

“At least give me two days with him, my lady. I want him to truly feel the pain of watching his fiancée’s torture and death. It’s the least I can do for all the trouble he’s caused me.”

“Troubles he’s caused you, Kival?” Selonia said indignantly. “Perhaps your mind was damaged by the Telarak suns, but I seem to recall being the one who cleans up after all your messes. The amount of work I had to do to convince Neral to pardon Dr. Hunter so you could watch Tigranian debase himself should cause you to be in my debt for life.”

“Funny, I remember always rewarding you handsomely for your efforts on my behalf.”

“I admit, having a source of income unknown to my husband is useful, but by no means should you think you’re indispensable.”

“I could be useful to you for other reasons, my lady,” Kival said gently brushing Selonia’s cheek. She swatted it away with disgust.

“Try that again and you’ll be the one slowly tortured to death. Our relationship is purely professional.”

“As you wish,” Kival said with a sarcastic bow.

“I will give you your 48 hours, Kival, but let me make one thing clear: I don’t care how you dispose of the Bajoran farm girl, but Tigranian will not be permanently damaged. I have plans for him.”

“He will not be, my lady at least physically,” Kival chuckled. “I’m assuming that’s why you’re interested in him?”

“Not that it is any of your concern!” Selonia said indignantly, “But I desire him for the arena. There is a ludus gladiatorum in the outer colonies who will stable him for me.” Kival laughed again.

“And once he is stabled, I’m sure you will ride your new stallion with great vigor…”

Selonia slapped him hard across the face.

“As I said, it is none of your concern. And if you want my help in repairing your pathetic reputation, you will not speak of it again.”

“My lady,” Kival said, rubbing his jaw. “You are not the first highborn woman who has lusted for a wild animal wielding a sword. There is no shame in it.”

“Two days,” she said angrily, replacing her scarf around her head. “Be sure you clean him up prior to my arrival.”

“As you command,” Kival said with a polite bow of his head. Selonia turned and left with her attendants in tow.

“There must be something we’re missing!” Annabeth shouted, banging her hand on the wardroom table in frustration.

“We’ve gone over every inch of the comms logs,” Katie said, pacing back and forth across the room. “That subspace transmission bounced through so many relay stations and repeater units I’m not sure even Kival knows where it came from.”

“The telemetry on the shuttlepod is no good either,” Phil said, rubbing his eyes. “We lost contact with it as soon as it cloaked. It could have gone in any direction.”

“What about trying to get a fix on the subspace wake of the warbirds, Tren?” Annabeth asked Scharr.

“Not a damn thing. Their wake was angled directly toward the Romulan frontier. Which means nothing. Also, that’s assuming they didn’t alter their course to throw us off track.”

“What did your spectrographic analysis of the viewscreen tell you, Alex?” Annabeth asked with what little hope she had left.

“Wherever Laria is, the atmospheric composition is 77 percent nitrogen, 22 percent oxygen, and the rest is a mix of argon, carbon dioxide, and unremarkable trace gases. In other words, it’s Class-M and fits the profile of at least a thousand known planets….assuming they’re not in an atmospheric controlled environment.”

Annabeth dropped her head to the table in defeat. She was truly starting to doubt Tigranian’s faith in her.

“What if we’re not analyzing the correct data?” a voice came from the end of the table.

“What are you talking about, T’les?” Annabeth said.

“Maybe Laria was telling us exactly where she was, and we simply did not listen.” Suddenly, Annabeth’s eyes grew wide.

“Computer! Reply transmission from time index 325.5.”

Laria’s face appeared on the holoscreen.

“Daniel! He’s setting a trap for you! These caverns are composed entirely of duranium ore and tungsten carbide. You could fire quantum torpedoes for weeks and not make a dent!”

“Freeze, and replay at time index 325.7.”

“duranium ore and tungsten carbide.”

“A very rare combination indeed,” T’les said, raising an eyebrow.

“Laria!” Annabeth said, jumping to her feet. “You’re a goddamned genius!”

“Computer, access Cardassian geological survey. How many Class-M planets or moons have formations containing significant amounts of both duranium ore and tungsten carbide?”

“There are three planets that are within those parameters.”

“How many of those planets are within range of a Class II Romulan shuttlepod from our current location?”

“There is one planet within those parameters.”

“Which one is it? Display!” Annabeth commanded.

“The planet Rulathi, located at 452 mark 7. Range 17 light-years from current location.”

“How fast can you get us there, Phil?”

“Two hours, Ma’am,” Phil said standing up from the table. “Assuming Mr. Scharr’s repairs are up to snuff.”

“Please,” Scharr said indignantly. “I told you how hard I drilled the damage control teams. The ship’s in better shape now than when it was launched.”

“That’s great that we know where they are,” Katie interjected. “But what about those three cloaked warbirds waiting nearby?”

“T’les, how far did you and Laria get on a way to penetrate their cloaks?” Annabeth asked.

“Before she was abducted, we successfully modified several quantum torpedoes. They will provide effective situational awareness out to 50,000 kilometers.”

“Tren, get down to main engineering. Alex, get sickbay ready. T’les, I’m gonna need you at the science station. We’re going in hot.”

Tren and Alex nodded and headed for the turbolift. Annabeth, Katie, T’les, and Phil exited out to the bridge. As the others took their stations, Annabeth headed for the captain’s chair. She placed a hand on its headrest and reached into her pocket. She pulled out Tigranian’s collar pips and stared down at them.

“Not yet, Sir…” she whispered to herself. She placed the insignia in her pocket and sat down confidently. After a deep breath, she keyed the shipwide intercom.

“All hands, this is the first officer: red alert! Sound general quarters, all hands to battle stations. Set airtight bulkheads and emergency force fields to condition ZEBRA.”

Alarms echoed through the entire ship. Crewmembers jumped from their chairs in the mess hall and the night shift dove from their bunks. In main engineering, Scharr exited from the turbolift.

“Damage control teams to ready stations. Initiate all force fields!”

Shimmering blue waves of energy appeared over every hatch and doorway. A massive column of blue light encased the entire warp core with a protective shielding.

At the armory, a muscular noncommissioned officer was already in full body armor screaming at his marines to move faster.

“C’mon marines! This ain’t no drill, it’s a real GQ! Move your asses!”

One at a time, the platoon filtered past the door of the armory. A marine inside the tritanium reinforced room handed them each a type-3 phaser rifle.

On the bridge, Katie walked over to a control panel and entered a combination code. The panel unlocked and flipped around to reveal a dozen type-2 hand phasers. She affixed one to her left hip and then pulled out three more. She walked around the bridge, handing one to T’les and then one to Phil at the helm. Finally, she approached Annabeth.

“Hopefully, it doesn’t come to this,” Annabeth said, accepting the weapon.

“Better safe than sorry, Ma’am,” Katie said, moving back to the tactical station.

The turbolift doors opened and two marines in full armor and helmets stepped out. A lieutenant with a phaser rifle strapped across his chest walked over to Annabeth and stood at rigid attention. She turned her chair to face him.

“Ma’am, marine fire teams are in place around sickbay, both cargo bays, the shuttlebay, the armory, and main engineering. All report ready to repel boarders.”

“Computer, elapsed time of alert?” she said with a smirk.

“Eighteen minutes, 37 seconds have elapsed.”

“Stand at ease, Lieutenant Hawkins. Well done. It looks like you and Gunny Schultz can keep your jobs.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “Are we going to get our captain and science officer back today?” he said resolutely.

“Yes, we are,” she said, trying to mask the trepidation in her voice.

“Ma’am,” Hawkins said. “When I was a butter disc, I served with him at Aschelan Prime. Saw him run straight through a hail of disruptor fire and kill four Jem’Hadar to rescue a group of trapped marines. The captain’s a bad motherfucker, Ma’am. He’ll be alright till we get to him.”

Annabeth smiled.

“Hoorah, Marine. Man your post.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am,” Hawkins said motioning to his fellow marine. They each took a guard position in front of the bridge’s turbolifts.

“All decks report ready, Ma’am,” Katie said from tactical.

“Cloak the ship. Set a course for Rulathi: maximum warp.”

“Course laid in, Ma’am,” Phil replied, not taking his eyes off the viewscreen.

“Engage.”

Tigranian walked along the stone tunnel, bat’leth in hand. Two Romulan guards walked three paces behind, each with a disruptor rifle pointed directly at his back. As he entered a large chamber cut into the stone, he saw Laria tied to the metal crossbeam. Kival stood directly to her right.

“Ah, our guest has finally arrived!” he exclaimed gleefully.

Three more Romulans stood in between the two of them, also armed with disruptors.

“Are you alright? Has he hurt you?” Tigranian asked Laria.

“Not as badly as I’m going to hurt you for coming here when I told you not to,” she said with a grin. He smiled back knowing her spirit was still intact.

Tigranian glanced from side to side as the two Romulans behind him joined their compatriots to his front.

“What happened to ‘no particle weapons,’ Kival? I thought you wanted a fair fight.”

“Oh,” Kival said plainly. “I told you not to bring any particle weapons. I had absolutely no intention of disarming my own men.”

“It won’t make any difference. This still ends the same way,” Tigranian replied, glaring at him.

“I agree, Captain, this ends precisely as I predicted it would. However, I doubt you and I agree on what is inevitable.”

“So, what now? You torture Laria in front of me? Expect me to beg for your mercy? Then you kill the two of us anyway?”

“You make it sound so blasé, Daniel. Yes, there will be torture, and yes, death will be at the end of the proceedings, but this will be an act of so meaningful, that even you will appreciate it by the time I’m through.”

In orbit around the planet, the Pershing dropped its cloak.

“Katie,” Annabeth said leaning forward in the captain’s chair. “Fire our specials.”

Two quantum torpedoes shot from the ship’s upper turret and detonated. They sent a brilliant golden wave of light out in every direction. As the wave made contact with Kival’s hidden ships, the silhouettes of the three warbirds appeared against the blackness of space.

“Tachyon burst has detected three D’Deridex-class warbirds at 310 mark 915,” T’les said from science.

“Now it’s our turn,” Annabeth said glaring at the viewscreen. “Fire.”

“On the way,” Katie said as she fired three simultaneous phaser blasts at maximum yield. With their cloaks engaged, the Romulan ships had no shields to protect them. When the energy beams slammed into them, explosions ripped through their hulls and they shimmered back into the visible.

“I don’t understand, Kival,” Tigranian continued beneath the planet’s surface. “Why have you always held us in such contempt for confronting your dishonest affairs? Surely, your mind isn’t so twisted that you believe you could possibly be justified in your actions.”

“If you’re trying to lecture me on Federation concepts of morality, you can stop right now. This has nothing to do with what you have done, Daniel. No, this has to do with what you represent.”

“What I represent?” Tigranian asked, almost insulted.

“Yes, for some reason that escapes me, the Federation has always insisted that they hold the monopoly on civilization: that your narrow-minded concepts of universal peace, tolerance, and rights for all represent the pinnacle of progress – your unwavering belief that your way of life is the inevitable course plotted by all species. Sure, you mask your arrogance behind lofty rules and regulations of non-interference, but in the end, you still make it a point to interject yourselves where you are both ignorant and unwelcome.

“However, I had such high hopes for you. You who rejected your Human heritage for something far more primitive and savage. Though I find Klingon philosophy utterly repugnant, I can at least understand it far better than your Federation’s pathetically naïve interpretation of how the universe truly functions.

“But then, you, like all members of Starfleet, truly disappointed me. You rejected everything in your nature that actually makes you interesting and instead followed the Federation’s party line to the letter. Even now, despite all those you have killed, despite all those you have plotted and conspired with, you still think you hold the moral high ground! It is for that: your apostasy, that I want to make you suffer.”

“Kival,” Laria said, interrupting him. “Shut up! No one cares. If you’re going to torture us, let’s get it over with. If I’m dead, I at least don’t have to listen to your incredibly stupid pontification anymore.”

Tigranian couldn’t help but laugh.

Kival scowled. He grabbed Laria’s cheeks with one hand and turned her head towards him.

“You will regret those words, girl.”

“I’m a proud Starfleet officer, Kival,” Tigranian said, tightening the grip on his bat’leth. “But if you really want to see how Klingon I can get, lay a hand on her again.”

Suddenly, a klaxon echoed through the chamber. Kival pulled a communicator from his belt.

“Report!”

“Promagistrate!” a Romulan desperately cried on the other end. “The Pershing has decloaked.”

“What?” Kival said with genuine surprise.

Tigranian and Laria both raised their heads.

“Move into formation and destroy them before they detect you!” Kival commanded.

“It’s too late, Sir. They found a way to penetrate our cloak and are continuing to engage. All of us have taken heavy damage. Our warp drives are offline!”

“You truly have the spirit of Kahless, Annabeth,” Tigranian thought to himself.

Kival screamed in anger and threw the communicator against the stone walls. It shattered into junk. He didn’t care what Selonia wanted anymore.

“Kill him! Kill him now!” he shouted to his legionnaires, but Tigranian was already charging forward. Before the Romulans could even pull the triggers on their rifles, the captain raised his bat’leth and swung. The nearest Romulan’s eyes grew wide as his body split into two clean pieces.

The next Romulan desperately tried to move his muzzle to meet Tigranian’s charge, but the captain used the blunt side of this blade to knock the rifle away. He grabbed the legionnaire and spun him around as a shield. The other three fired their disruptors and the young Romulan screamed as he was vaporized.

“Everyone out here now!” Kival screamed down the passageway. Three more Romulans appeared to subdue Tigranian, but he was too close for disruptors to be effective. It was now a hand-to-hand fight, and the captain was swinging his sword like a Dahar Master.

“Full ahead! Target all weapons on the closest warbird!” Annabeth shouted from the captain’s chair.

“Aye, Ma’am!” Phil said maneuvering the Pershing’s bow directly toward a damaged D’Deridex.

“Phasers and quantum torpedoes locked,” Katie said, moving her fingers over her console.

“Fire at will!”

Four phaser blasts and six quantum torpedoes impacted the warbird nearly simultaneously. Explosions and flames burst from its hull in every direction.

“Their singularity drive is going critical,” T’les said from science.

The warbird exploded in a brilliant flash of light. Suddenly, the fireball stopped expanding and collapsed back in on itself, concentrating into a tiny black dot.

Alarms echoed across the Pershing’s bridge.

“The singularity from their warp core is collapsing in on itself. Severe gravimetric interference,” T’les continued.

“Adjusting trim to compensate,” Phil said, refocusing his efforts.

“Come about, bring us to bear on the other two warbirds. Don’t let that micro black hole hit our shields,” Annabeth said resolutely.

“Aye, Ma’am,” Phil said, bringing the ship around 180 degrees to face their other two opponents.

The two warbirds fired their pulse disruptors wildly into the Pershing. The ship shuddered, but kept charging.

“Forward shields are holding,” Katie said, examining her instruments.

“We’ve got ‘em by the throats now!” Annabeth said, gripping the armrests of her chair. “Let’s show them what kind of fight Lady Blackjack has in her. Continue to engage!”

Tigranian continued to fight like a demon possessed. A Romulan pulled a knife from his belt and attempted to stab at his chest, but the captain easily deflected the strike. Then, with a quick spin of K’vel’kar baakonite, he separated both the legionnaire’s hand from his arm and then his head from his body. The remaining Romulans fell back to regroup.

Tigranian glanced over to see Kival, still glaring at him from next to Laria. He saw an opportunity and grabbed one of Laria’s mek’leths from his back. He heaved it with all his might, and sent it flying end over end towards the promagistrate. Kival ducked just in time as it sailed within a few centimeters of his head and bounced off the rocks behind him. The Romulan was distracted just long enough for Tigranian to grab the second mek’leth and throw it as well. This one went far wide of Kival, but landed precisely where Tigranian wanted it: right at Laria’s feet.

“Warbirds closing to five thousand meters,” Katie exclaimed. “They’re firing!”

The two remaining Romulan warships held in a tight formation. They simultaneously let loose a barrage of plasma torpedoes desperately hoping to drain some more life out of the Pershing’s shields.

“Evasive!” Annabeth shouted at Phil.

“Hang on to something!” he announced as he rolled the entire starship 90 degrees onto its port side. The Romulan torpedoes sailed past, missing the edges of shields by just a few meters.

“Status of the warbirds,” Annabeth asked as she kept a firm grasp on her chair.

“Starboard warbird has received substantial damage to their forward hull plating. Main impulse engines offline: shields at 30 percent,” T’les relayed. “Port warbird’s shields are at 15 percent. They are venting plasma from their primary warp relays.”

Annabeth saw an opportunity. She keyed her intercom.

“Tren!” she shouted at her chief engineer. “How much auxiliary power can you dump into our aft shields?”

“What are you talking about, Ma’am?” Scharr said. “Why would we waste our auxiliary power on the half of our ship not facing the enemy?”

Another burst of disruptor fire impacted the Pershing’s bow.  A power relay exploded on one of the secondary consoles to the right of the ready room and sent a shower sparks between Annabeth and Phil.

“Just dump everything you can into the aft shields and hang on! We’re about to light the fuse on a powder keg and run!” Annabeth looked over to her helmsman.

“Katie, prep a spread of torpedoes from the aft launcher. Set them to detonate in the plasma trail of the port warbird. Phil, at my command, bring us around and then gun it to full impulse. If we don’t time this right, we’re gonna get caught in the shockwave and could get pulled into the gravity well. You’re both tracking?”

“Aye, Ma’am,” Phil said, raising his eyebrows.

“Torpedoes ready,” Katie said with a deep breath. Both warbirds were readying another hail of disruptor fire.

“On my mark: 3…2…1…mark!”

Phil slammed the Pershing’s helm control hard over. The ship’s bow lurched down and away until the ship’s stern was face to face with the Romulans.

“Full impulse! Katie, fire!”

“Torpedoes away,” Katie replied.

As the Pershing accelerated forward, three quantum torpedoes exploded directly in the plasma trail of the damaged warbird. The warheads ignited a cascading reaction in the vented plasma. Flames traveled up the stream, through the primary conduit, and directly into the spacecraft’s warp core.

“Their main engines are going critical. Warp core breach imminent,” T’les said.

Annabeth keyed the intercom on her chair.

“All hands brace for impact!”

The warbird exploded into a fireball, sending out a shockwave that slammed into both the other Romulan vessel and the Pershing. The entire starship lurched as panels exploded across the bridge. Then the debris from the destroyed warbird sucked straight in towards the center of another tiny black dot.

“Damage report,” Annabeth shouted over the cacophony.

“Shields down to 10 percent. Have some minor buckling of the ablative armor on decks five through 10. No casualties,” Katie replied

“Put aft view on screen.”

The image of the remaining warbird gave them hope. In its crippled state, it could no longer resist the pull of the artificial black hole created by the destruction of her sister ship’s singularity drive.

“They’re getting pulled in!” Phil said as he kept the Pershing’s impulse drive at full throttle.

The other warbird was helpless against the pull of gravity. As soon as their hull impacted the micro black hole, their ship began to implode. As the crew of the Pershing looked on, the ship was brutally ripped apart and then disappeared from view entirely.

“We did it!” Katie said proudly.

“It’s not over yet…” Annabeth said, steadying herself in the captain’s chair. “Phil, put us in a standard orbit.  T’les, begin scanning that planet for signs of Laria and the captain.”

“Aye, Ma’am,” they said almost simultaneously.

“Lieutenant Hawkins,” Annabeth continued turning towards the rear of the bridge. “Do you think your marines would like to take a little excursion down to the surface?”

The marine officer grinned back.

“Why of course, Ma’am.”

Back under the surface, only two Romulan legionnaires remained. They huddled against the rock wall as Tigranian’s bat’leth, stained green from the remains of their compatriots, stood gleaming just a few meters away.

“Just shoot him!” Kival said desperately, still keeping one eye on Laria.

“How fast are you?” Tigranian said with an eerie calm in his voice. Both legionnaires exchanged glances, and then immediately raised their rifles. Tigranian ducked and rolled forward as two green disruptor beams sizzled right over his head.

With a quick upward slash of baakonite, he sliced straight into the torso of the nearest Romulan. Without breaking momentum, he flipped the blade around his wrist, and sent the point straight into the second Romulan’s heart. He yanked the bat’leth from the legionnaire’s ribs as his lifeless foe fell to the ground.

“I guess not fast enough…well, Kival, I guess it’s just you and me.” He turned around just in time to see the promagistrate pull his disruptor pistol and fire right at him. A green blast slammed into his right shoulder and knocked him to the ground. His bat’leth skittered across the sand.

“Daniel!” Laria screamed. The captain slowly rolled over and tried to push himself back to his feet. He was cradling his arm, still burning with pain. Another shot from Kival slammed into his knee. Tigranian felt his patella shatter and he collapsed with a muffled scream.

“Many people wonder why the minimum setting for a disruptor even exists,” Kival said walking towards a writhing Tigranian. “However, I believe it is actually quite effective,” the Romulan said with a terrible grin. Tigranian desperately tried to stand again, but a third shot from Kival into his ribs sent him flying onto his back. “Nothing quite gets a point across like searing flesh and breaking bones.”

With all his remaining strength, Tigranian rolled onto his stomach and looked over to Laria. He could see the anger on her face. Then she looked down at her feet and saw the mek’leth.

Kival knelt down just out of Tigranian’s reach and pointed his pistol at him.

“You really have no idea what your life will become in just a few short days,” Kival said. “It really would have been better to let my men kill you.”

Laria saw her opportunity. She pinned the mek’leth between her feet and then raised her legs toward her head. She grabbed the blade in her right hand and started furiously slicing through the plastic ties binding her to the beam.

“What are you talking about?” Tigranian tried to keep Kival’s attention away from Laria.

“No need to worry, my dear Daniel, you’ll just be going on a trip with another Romulan of my acquaintance quite soon.”

Laria felt her bindings go loose. She gripped her mek’leth and headed straight for Kival.

“Unfortunately, your little Bajoran damsel will not be traveling with you. I have other plans for her…” Kival said, rising to his feet.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. As he laid surprised eyes on Laria, she shoved 40 centimeters of mek’leth directly into Kival’s gut.

“Let’s get one thing straight, wejpuH,” Laria said slowly inching her blade forward, “I was never a damsel in distress. I just needed him to set me free.”

Kival tried to raise his disruptor, but life was quickly draining out of him. The weapon slipped from his grasp and fell to the sand.

“You…stupid…little…bitch,” Kival said as he started to tremble with shock. Laria grinned as she leaned next to his ear, still twisting her blade inside of him.

“I don’t know what the Romulan word for ‘hell’ is, but I’ll see you there!” She sliced upwards as she withdrew her blade, cleaving his heart in two with one clean motion. Kival’s corpse fell to her feet.

“Daniel!” she said, running towards Tigranian. She knelt next to him and cradled his head in her arms. “Stay with me,” she said desperately.

“I…” he said through the pain of his broken ribs and shattered bones. “I was hoping you’d get the hint about the mek’leth, but that little move was still impressive,” he winced. “Once I heal up a bit, we’ll have to put that flexibility to even better use,” he said, starting to chuckle.

“Shut up!” Laria said, grinning back at him. “Don’t make me hurt you even worse than you already are.”

“L, we have to get out of here,” Tigranian said, turning a bit more serious. “I don’t want to meet this other Romulan he was talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t care who it is,” Laria said looking down at him. “I’ll cut them to pieces too,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“You are incredible…I’m so…lucky to have you…” Tigranian said as he felt things start to go cold.

“Daniel,” Laria said as she felt him start to shiver. “Daniel! Stay conscious! Don’t fall asleep!”

Then he went limp.

Tigranian felt like he was trapped underwater. As he floated through the darkness, he was vaguely aware of his surroundings and a few muffled voices.

“Here!” Someone shouted. “They’re in here!”

Blurry silhouettes of marines…the feeling of being carried on a litter…the tingle of a transporter beam.

Then, a bright light shining in his eyes: a familiar hand holding his.

“Dan,” he heard Alex whisper. “You’re gonna be just fine.” Then, the prick of a hypospray in his neck. Then wonderful, warm sleep.

Pullock System: Federation Zone of Occupation, Cardassian Space
Stardate: 53273.1

The doors to sickbay opened and Tigranian walked in.

“You, Sir, are late,” Alex said with a grin. She motioned to a biobed.

“My apologies, Doc,” Tigranian said, taking a seat. “Annabeth and I were stuck in a subspace meeting with Starfleet Command. It was the formal debrief to Admiral Paris. She said it was actually a good thing I had an appointment with you because it gave her a little more time to get home and make dinner.”

“I love my wife, Sir, but let’s just say I’m in no rush to get home when it’s her night to make dinner,” Alex said. They both laughed as she picked up her tricorder and took some readings. “How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but getting better.”

“Everything looks pretty good,” Alex said, moving her tricorder scanner to his shoulder. “The bones won’t be back to full strength for a few weeks, but after that you’ll be good as new.”

“That’s nice to hear, Doc,” Tigranian said, hopping down from the biobed. “I’ve got a date with L tonight and I have to finish setting things up.”

“How is she doing? I haven’t seen her much outside of work,” Alex said, sounding a bit worried.

“She is actually doing far better than I expected,” Tigranian said. “I think she’s just glad that Kival will no longer be a problem for anyone else.”

“She and I both,” Alex said relieved.

“Well, I don’t mean to sound like a pessimist, but I don’t think our pointy-eared problems have gone away entirely.”

“Well, Dan, you do sound like a pessimist. Don’t let it distract you from L tonight, okay?”

“There’s not a lot that could distract me from her, Alex,” Tigranian said walking towards the doors.

“I’ll be thinking about you two when I’m trying to stomach Beth’s latest culinary catastrophe.”

“Alex,” Tigranian said, turning around. “I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready, but you might want to try to give her a little less hassle about her food than usual tonight.”

“Sir?” Alex said with a mix of concern and confusion.

“Let’s just say your wife loves you very much.”

“You know,” Annabeth said, taking a bite of her overdone fettuccine, “I think it actually turned out better than last time.”

Alex laughed as she reached for her wine glass.

“You might be right, but Dan made me promise not to belittle your cooking tonight.”

“Why?” Annabeth said, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Alex said looking at Annabeth. “I was hoping you’d be able to shed a little light on it.”

Annabeth threw her napkin on the table.

“Dammit, Dan,” she muttered. “I was hoping to avoid the matter entirely.”

“Beth, what is it?” Alex said, flashing her an annoyed look.

Annabeth sighed.

“The captain was true to his word when he said he would put in a good word to Starfleet Command for me. The USS Victory is gearing up for a three-year survey mission of the far side of the Beta Quadrant and Captain Park just dropped his retirement packet.”

“You don’t mean?” Alex said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Paris offered me the chair…”

“Beth!” Alex said, shooting around the table and throwing her arms around her wife. “You finally got your own ship!”

Annabeth gently pushed her away.

“I turned him down.”

“For the love of God, why?” Alex said in shock. “You’ve been talking about getting your own ship since I met you. It would be hard to leave the Pershing, but we’d have each other.”

“That’s the point, Alex,” Annabeth said, pulling her wife into her lap. “We wouldn’t. The Victory’s sickbay is full up. They don’t need any medical personnel. You would have to stay here.”

Alex stared at her in disbelief.

“I told you, I’m not making the same mistake again,” Annabeth said, brushing Alex’s hair from her face. “You come first. They’ll be other ships that need both a captain and a doc. We just have to be patie–”

Annabeth didn’t get to finish her sentence before Alex kissed her.

Katie ducked a punch from Phil, locked up his wrist, and sent him down into the mat.

“Too slow,” she said with a smile as he tapped. “I’m not sure these private lessons are working.”

He smiled as he climbed back to his feet and adjusted the white belt around his gi.

“There’s other reasons why I requested private lessons from you.”

“Oh really?” Katie said, readying herself for another attack.

“Because it’s really awkward for the other students when I try to kiss the teacher,” he said, lunging forward. She moved to the sides but Phil anticipated her reaction to his attack. He locked up her ankle with his leg and pushed her down. She landed on her back with Phil on top of her. “Also, I think these private lessons are working just fine.”

“We make a pretty damn good team, Katie-Bug, both on the bridge and off. You were incredible. I told you could never let us down…”

Katie looked up at him in disbelief.

“What?” he said with a smile.

She grabbed his uniform and pulled him down into a kiss. She then rolled over and pinned him down on the mat.

“You have made me feel things that I thought I never could again…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can I get up?” he said with a grin.

“Why?” Katie said, leaning close to his ear. “We’re already down here, might as well take advantage of it.”

Phil looked her in the eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I haven’t been this sure about something in a long time.”

Phil smiled.

“Alright then…”

“You know, Daniel,” Laria said, very annoyed. “When you said you wanted to try something new tonight, crawling around a Jefferies tube was not what I had in mind.”

Tigranian crept through the narrow metal passageway on his hands and knees a few meters in front of her.

“Relax, L, we’re almost there.”

“We better be,” Laria said. “If I bang my head one more time, you’re spending this evening alone with your hand.”

Tigranian chuckled as he finally emerged into a small juncture. A large exterior maintenance hatch indicated they were against the outer hull.

“You have to be kidding me,” Laria said following. “This one is definitely not your best.”

“Calm down,” Tigranian said with a smile. “It’s not quite ready yet. Computer, shut the inner hatch and lock.”

“Acknowledged.” The hatch closed behind them and they were sealed in the cramped compartment. Tigranian then walked over to a bag he had prepositioned earlier that evening and pulled out two foil packets fitted with drinking nozzles. He handed one to Laria.

“What is this?” she asked, confused.

“Wine,” Tigranian replied.

“Oh no,” Laria said. “I haven’t had wine from a bag since high school.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna want it that way. Computer,” he said looking towards the ceiling. “Play Tigranian Mood Mix: Number 3.”

The sounds of an acoustic guitar started echoing off the metal walls of the compartment.

 “Didn’t know what time it was and the lights were low

I leaned back on my radio

Some cat was layin’ down some rock ‘n’ roll ‘lotta soul, he said…”

“Interesting choice,” Laria said, a little confused.

“Oh, we’re still not done yet,” Tigranian replied, walking over to a control panel. He pressed three buttons. A force field engaged. Then the maintenance hatch parted to reveal a breathtaking view of a ringed gas giant floating against a backdrop of sparkling stars.

“Okay, we’re definitely getting better,” Laria said, gazing out at space.

“One more touch: Computer, deactivate artificial gravity field in maintenance juncture 37 bravo.”

“Warning: Deactivation of artificial gravity can cause serious injury or death.”

“Command override. Authorization: Tigranian Omega 3-6 Tango.”

Instantly, Laria felt herself lift off the deck.

“Oh, Prophets!” she said, trying to keep upright. Tigranian floated over and grabbed her hand to steady her. Slowly, he pirouetted her around in midair, allowing her to look out at the stars.

“Now what do you think?” he asked with a smile.

“This is incredible! It’s like we’re outside the ship!”

“With none of the uncomfortable awkwardness of a pressure suit,” he said, raising his foil packet of wine. He linked arms with her and then opened his nozzle. “I think you might owe me an apology. Cheers,” he said with a wink.

“I’m sorry I doubted you. Cheers,” she grinned as they both took a few sips of wine.

They gazed at each other for a few quiet moments.

“So now what?” Laria asked with a playful look.

“I say we boldly try something we’ve never tried before,” Tigranian replied with a look of his own.

They kissed. Laria started to pull the t-shirt over his head.

“There’s a starman waiting in the sky

He’d like to come and meet us

But he thinks he’d blow our minds

There’s a starman waiting in the sky

He’s told us not to blow it

‘Cause he knows it’s all worthwhile…”