Disclaimer: You really think I own this stuff? This is a one-shot, based around the episode "Cease Fire".
"If you don't come back with the hostages, your daughter will be punished," the Vulcan general said coldly. Kesren nodded and backed away from him.
"I'll get your precious friends back," she spat, holstering her gun. The man simply raised an eyebrow at her and turned to his officers, speaking rapidly in Vulcan, deploying his troops. She watched for a moment more, then slipped into the shadows. Torvek knew she wouldn't run or reveal her purpose to her people. He knew what she wanted: her daughter and peace. She had already lost her husband and sons to the wars between their people, and the greatest cruelty of all was the impression of her daughter.
Those cruel bastards had twisted her mind, convinced her little Konra that her mother would die if she did not comply with their mandates. And the cold logical machines actually professed that they did not believe in violence. The so-called pacifists still practiced the death penalty for treason, and they were protecting what they had stolen from her people not with diplomacy, as one would expect from pacifists, but rather with violence and bloodshed.
It was usually her policy to stay out of violent confrontations, to take peaceful options whenever possible. Her father said she should have sought a job in the diplomatic sphere, and perhaps saved Andoria from the violence it had seen with the Vulcans. But her mother had adamantly insisted that she be a soldier, and she had complied. Ten years ago, she hated her work and hated her mother all the more for making her come here. But now, after years of the violence and distrust, after putting up with Torvek and his ilk, she sometimes found herself enjoying pulling the trigger and watching Vulcans die. And she hated that most of all. Her mother's ambitions for her daughter had turned her into a bitter and cynical soldier.
Her worst fear was that her daughter would be the same way.
She heard distant phaser fire, but continued on her way, slipping past platoons of Andorian soldiers. The Vulcans, despite their hypocrisy and arrogance, did have good plans, and their impeccable memories helped her move through the ruins with ease and silence, like an ice bat hunting in the darkness. The thought comforted her and made her quicken her pace, and within an hour of slipping between crumbling walls and ash and dust, she saw the Andorian base ahead.
Another platoon passed her by, and she turned away, her weapon at the ready, posing as a guard. She waited until the unit was far out of sight before turning her attention back to the base. She had to get in and find the soldiers before anyone caught her or executed her. The odds of that were unlikely, as war made soldiers sloppy at times, but she wasn't about to take chances. Stealth and some solid lies would be her best allies now.
She felt a sharp sting graze her arm, and she gasped, turning towards the sound of phaser fire, and she noted about five figures crouching inside what looked like a half-destroyed home. The platoon that had just passed came running back, taking cover in the ruins around her. She took up her weapon and fired above one of the Vulcan's heads. The alien soldier, a female, ducked behind a wall and aimed precisely for Kesren's head, and she quickly crouched and aimed again. Torvek would probably murder her if he found out she was firing on his people (she had explicit orders not to), but then again, all Andorians looked the same to the Vulcans, and all Vulcans looked the same to her: cold, with that ridiculous haircut and scowls permanently etched into their facial features.
The firefight only lasted a few more minutes before the Vulcans were pressed into retreat, and the platoon leader sent several of his unit after them, to pursue them to the edge of Andorian territory. Served them right. She briefly wondered how the Vulcans had penetrated their territory so completely without meeting resistance. Then she remembered her mission and cursed the pointy-eared monsters in quiet Andorian.
She wondered if it really was worth it to die over this forsaken planet. The evening air was chill, the light low and pleasantly blue. With a painful sting, she was reminded of home, but this was not home. This was not the ice caverns of Andoria, or the great expanses of white on the surface. This was not her home, or any home suitable for her people. It was too close to the Vulcans, too close to those monsters who assimilated everything in their path and consumed it all, spitting out compliant species and timid leaders who didn't dare go against the wishes of the High Command. She felt a surge of pride for her people, strong and resilient, despite every effort on the part of the Vulcans to exterminate or control them. They stood strong.
A brief pang of worry made her pause. If the Vulcans could penetrate this deeply into their territory on this planet, without meeting resistance, how much longer could they strand strong against them?
She comforted herself with the knowledge that more ships were probably on their way, bringing with them supplies and more troops. Weytahn would be theirs, perhaps by the end of the week.
Her very blood ran cold as she realized what that might mean for her people. More troops. More fighting. Perhaps escalation into open warfare. More sons would die at the hands of the Vulcans. More mothers would grieve and send their daughters into battle. More Andorians would see their comrades fall in battle, dying at the hands of the green-blooded plague. After all, it was only logical to defend Paan Mokar from the Andorian threat. It was only logical to contain the violence her people perpetrated by settling here. It was only logical to keep themselves and their vaulted peace above all others, to lord over the galaxy, to twist their subjects into mewling weaklings, ready to do whatever it took to please the Vulcans.
When you're on top, no one can hurt you.
She knew Andoria would stand strong in its fight against the High Command and their consumption of resistance and diversity of opinion. But for how long?
She realized she had no idea how to get into the base, but she watched as one of the injured soldiers in the platoon limped back to base, and she followed them, holstering her weapon and helping her comrade hold the injured man up.
"You're not in our unit," the other man realized. She shrugged.
"No, I'm not. But I need some medicine."
The man raised a snowy eyebrow. "You don't look injured to me."
"That's what I told my commanding officer. He sent me here anyway."
The man rolled his eyes. "What can you do? We used to stand strong against the Vulcans, but now Shran is apparently thinking of talking peace."
"We can't convince the Vulcans to be peaceful until we hand over half of Andoria," the injured man growled, and Kesren silently agreed. "Even if you presented them with the most logical arguments in the universe, they'd still strike it down."
She nodded. "They wouldn't believe that you, an irrational and violent child, had come up with something like that of your own volition."
They fell silent as they approached the base, and the guards let them in without question. She didn't even look at them, but rather set the injured man in a chair and walked away, looking around the base. She hadn't actually seen any specifications as to where the hostages might be located, but that was part of the test. She realized she would probably have to wait things out, until the base was silent under the fitful haze of sleep.
…
The injured man and his friend, who had also suffered a minor injury, were fast asleep beside her, and she silently slipped her arm out of the makeshift sling the medic had put on her. The injury to her skin wasn't terribly bad, and although the doctor had told her to keep it still in the sling while the medicine worked on healing the burn, she set the sling aside anyway and crept across the room.
A woman with an angry-looking blue bruise on her forehead moved in her sleep and rolled over, and Kesren paused only a moment before moving on, pulling out her weapon, hoping she wouldn't be forced to use it against her own people.
She came to a locked door and, as quietly as she could, slid back the lock and gently pushed the door open. It was a storage room, filled with weapons and food and medical supplies. No prisoners. She shut the door and relocked it, then moved on.
Up ahead was the main command room, and another exit. There were two guards on the other side of the door, she had learned, after watching the guard rotations while her arm was being tended to. Another door only led her to empty living quarters, but one more try revealed three Vulcan males, tied up like animals waiting for the firepit. She smirked.
She gently closed the door behind her and pulled out a utility knife from her boot, and she began sawing away at the first man's bonds.
"Who are you?" he asked, and she glared at him.
"Torvek sent me."
She looked around for an alternate route of escape, and she noted a window high off the floor. She nodded to it.
"Do you think that leads to the outside?"
The man raised an eyebrow. "I do not know. I am not familiar with the specifications of this base. I would think you would be more familiar with it, as you are Andorian."
She thought about retorting, but decided not to make too much noise. "Turn around," she hissed as she pulled the last of his bonds off his legs. He complied, and she sliced through the thin rope keeping his hands immobile. He turned to help his comrade, and she freed the last hostage, watching the door and listening for any signs that someone might be coming.
Once the last man was free, she stood and walked to the window, trying to judge the distance they would have to climb to get up there. It didn't look too far up, and she knew a few of the barrels and containers around the room would do well as a ladder. Jumping to the ground, however, would be another matter. If she or one of the prisoners were injured further by the fall, it would only slow them down as they retreated back to Vulcan territory, and if they made too much noise, it would attract the attention of the guards. Neither prospect appealed to her.
The men apparently had the same idea as her, as they were lifting boxes and moving them towards the window. She allowed them to go first, keeping watch on the door, and once the last man had dropped to the ground, she followed behind, slipping through the slender window. It was just wide enough for a heavily-built man to slip through sideways, so she didn't have too much trouble. Her landing on the ground made a dull thud, but no one came running, and she pointed the direction to the hostages and spotted them as they began a swift retreat.
An hour later, after avoiding two platoons, they stumbled into the Vulcan camp. She ran a hand through her white hair and looked up at the dim white light filtering down from the heavens, but her moment of relief was shattered when Torvek stepped forward.
"Congratulations," he said coldly, holding his hand out for her weapon. She obliged him and handed it over. "You're not a complete failure. We were right to recruit you."
"My arm is injured. Is there any way I could get a sling or something?"
"You got this far without one," he retorted. "Why can't you go a few more days without a little comfort? And here I thought you were a soldier."
"The Andorian medic said to keep my arm-"
"What the Andorian medic said to you is none of my concern," Torvek said, his eyes flashing. She relaxed and fell silent.
"Good," he cooed, smirking ever so slightly at her. "Your new orders await you in my tent. Move."
…
"No one tried to stop us. We were able to escape the Andorian base without meeting resistance. We had to avoid two platoons to get back to the Vulcan camp safely, but otherwise, our retreat was uneventful, and the hostages were recovered safely. No injuries or deaths."
"Very well," Torvek said crisply. "The Security Directorate has determined that your daughter's punishment will be suspended upon her acceptance of her new assignment."
Kesren frowned. "What do you mean?"
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, his gaze cold as the ice of her homeworld. "Your daughter has been given a new assignment, and upon her acceptance of that mission, we will consider her debt paid in full. On the condition that she completes this mission without failing."
She narrowed her eyes. "You have impressed me and my daughter into your security force, but she would rather die than continue to betray her people."
"That most certainly can be arranged. However, it is not her death that she fears. It is yours."
"My daughter knows I will die willingly for my people. I will not betray Andoria any longer."
"Then your daughter's services are no longer required."
Kesren's eyes blew wide. "Give her assignment to me, and let her go!"
Torvek raised both eyebrows at her, and she realized belatedly that this had been his purpose all along. "Let Konra go," she breathed, clenching her fists.
"I'll inform her superiors of your decision," the Vulcan purred, then exited the room, leaving her alone.
She paced the room, waiting for Torvek or someone to come back. The situation on Weytahn, to her surprise, had been resolved peacefully, despite her sabotage on the behalf of the green-blooded goblins that ruled her life now. The pinkskins had followed Shran's lead and set up peace talks with the Vulcans before heading on their way, and she dug her nails into her palms in frustration. She wanted a phaser and a few of these Vulcan bastards to kill. She wanted her daughter far away from here. She wanted her old life back.
The heat of the room was making her irritable, and it took all her composure to not spit something ugly at Torvek as he pushed her daughter into her arms. She bit her tongue and stroked her daughter's face.
"It's time for you to go home, little one," she whispered. Konra's eyes filled with tears.
"Why can't you come?" her teenage daughter moaned, and Kesren sighed.
"Listen to me," she said, lowering her voice even further. "Find Shran. Do what you have to do to join his crew. Do you understand me?"
"Why?"
"Shran will take care of you. Are my orders understood?"
"Will I ever see you again?"
That one innocent question undid her, and she was suddenly transported back to a time when her son carried in his little sister and she wiped away the blood on her knees and the tears on her cheeks.
"I will not rest until I have avenged your blood," Konra said, her voice cracking with the onset of tears.
"And I will not give up until we see each other again. Chin up. Stay strong, my little soldier. Keep your eyes on the horizon, and I'll be home before you know it."