Katlin fidgeted, practically glowing with pride. Out of all the ensigns, Commander Riker picked her – HER! – as his aide on this mission. Katlin grinned. Molly was probably back on the Enterprise, sucking lemons and sticking pins into a doll.
Katlin peered between the the crowd at Riker, rocking back and forth on her toes. He was handsome, alright, but you didn't move up in the world making passes at the boss. Nope. She banged the briefcase against her knees. You moved up by hard work. Studying the case files. Paying attention in briefings. And no de-briefings…ha!
Despite her pride, Katlin was aware that her role in this was little more than "briefcase holder." They were on an away mission to a planet called Lohrammain, which was in the final stages of joining the Federation. This mission was little more than a formality, where Riker would be presenting the papers for the Prince to sign. Katlin was tucked away in a crowd of dignitaries, waiting for her one big role. Walk forward, open the briefcase. She'd practiced in front of the mirror.
The room was noisy. It was more like a big party than a diplomatic mission. The Prince sat at a long table, but behind him people milled around sipping drinks and eating finger food, and beyond the "honored" guests there was an open gallery full of celebrating peasants, waving pennants and shouting.
The Prince looked honestly bored. He was half-way through a stack of papers to sign, and he had to keep re-shouldering his ceremonial furs. He was a little old for a "prince," Katlin thought. His goatee and hair were flecked with gray, but then again his stern face was still youthful. Maybe the stress of the job grayed him early.
The Prince looked up from the last of his papers. Riker turned back towards the smattering of Starfleet dignitaries and gestured at Katlin. Chest puffed up, with a thousand watt grin, Katlin shouldered her way forward, holding the briefcase in front of her.
The Prince glanced at her, did a double take and dropped his pen. His mouth opened slightly. Katlin hesitated, her grin suddenly frozen on her face.
Someone in the crowd gasped and pointed. Conversations died. The room was suddenly, eerily quiet, except for the sound of a dropped wine glass.
The Prince stood, his wooden chair rasping against the marble. He practically jumped the table in his haste to get at Katlin.
Frightened, Katlin took a few steps back, and Riker stepped forward to intercept the prince. "Just what –" Riker started to say, putting a hand between him and Katlin.
"Get her out of here," the Prince hissed, grabbing Katlin's arm. He lifted his cloak as if to hide her from the room. "Get her out of here – now!" He shoved the two of them into the next room, and turned to slam and then barricade the door.
They were in a chapel, with soft afternoon light filtering down through stained glass. There were rows of seats facing a simple, bare altar, and candles flickered in the draft.
"Is this a joke?" The Prince demanded. "Did you - did you clone her? Surgically alter her?"
"What are you talking about?" Riker asked, incredulous. "What's going on?"
"What's going on?" The Prince was gaping at the two of them. "Look!" He gestured behind them.
Riker and Katlin turned as one. The back wall of the chapel was a large mural, a portrait of Katlin. It was unmistakably her – the wavy blonde hair, the light gray eyes, even the small beauty-mark next to her nose. The portrait was smiling benevolently, a jeweled crown resting gently across her brow.
Katlin gasped, slapping her hand across her mouth.
"How…?" Riker asked, taking a step back, to better see the entire painting.
"Not how. Who." The Prince sighed, blowing out his cheeks. "That's Schereza, Queen of All Creation, who was prophesied to return and usher in a thousand years of peace and prosperity."
"Holy shit," Katlin said, between her fingers.