AN: I've always liked the high-concept stories of TOS, so when a "Why are there two of me?" prompt came up on the STO forums' unofficial writing challenges, I immediately thought of season 1's The Enemy Within. And since Rachel is a big boiling mess of self-loathing...well, the idea was obvious.

Also I took the opportunity to introduce the plan that Starsword-C and I have for the Tzenkethi arc. :)

March 13th, 2411. Kappa Sagittarius VI, Federation rimward frontier region, Alpha Quadrant.

"That ionic storm's picking up speed!" I roar into the comm channel. "I give it two minutes!"

"Got it, Lamont," the Lieutenant replies, a hint of tension in her voice speaking to her nervousness. "Get those fucking transport enhancers set up, boys!"

K'tar snaps something back about faulty parts and Yoyodyne (what else is new?) as the Lieutenant and a couple of massive Tarin warrior-castes haul the last couple Covandu renegade prisoners into our evac zone. The Tarin are our new allies in this part of space, a relatively low-tech species of blue or black ape-shaped aliens with chitinous body plating instead of hair or regular skin. They're low-tech compared to the Federation, but advancing as fast as we Humans did at that stage in our technological development. They have several dozen cultural groups, but most share concepts of electing an exemplar of societal virtues for interaction with others-for example, the exemplar of disciplined military conduct who the Lieutenant had to fight to seal our first big diplomatic deal with them.

"Dkan vo-Arrak, assist the Federation personnel," whistles a Tarin, I think the officer, over the comlink.

"By your command," the junior Tarin replies, moving to grab a transport enhancer. My own dampener shudders in my hands as I stab it into the dirt; the wind's picking up.

We're on this crummy little windswept rock, Cova Banda to the locals, to deal with a suspicious insurrection against the Covandu government. The Covandu are a humanoid species that the Talarians used to dominate before their little empire retracted following the civil war a couple of decades ago; now the Covandu are a minor warp-capable state with one system to their name, like the dozen or so other former Talarian vassals. Three months ago, a new fascist rebel group announced themselves to Cova Banda's populace by blowing up a Covandu military base; a month later the Covandu asked for Federation aid in putting down the revolt. Two months of hassle later, the President and Starfleet Command used the excuse of the request for aid to invoke a seldom-used and constitutionally debatable exception to the Prime Directive, so a small task force and a few dozen MACO teams were sent in with the Tarin, who'd already been helping the Covandu government, to take out the biggest hotspots.

"Let's hope that this ugly fucker can tell us who was supplying these goons," the Lieutenant growls, throwing the rebel leader's unconscious body up against the dozen or so others we've piled up against each other. "This whole mess reeks of someone fucking with local politics."

"Those definitely weren't Covandu guns," Luiz agrees, transport enhancer in hand. He has a gouge dug through one pauldron from a near miss. "That one mounted gun hit like a sledgehammer, too-not Vaad bad, but…"

"Yeah, someone's fucking with us," the Lieutenant growls. "Lamont, how're we looking?"

"Thirty seconds!" I shoot back, stabbing another enhancer into the ground and frantically tapping the activation panel with my gauntleted hands. "Come on...come on…"

This part of Cova Banda is frequently hit by nasty ionic storms, and this particular stretch of karst is loaded with minerals that can interfere with transport. We took a shuttle in and do airdrop insertion, but now with a big storm roaring towards us shuttle extraction isn't an option. Hence the transport enhancers.

"Lamont, get that damn enhancer in the ground!" growls K'tar, setting up the last enhancer in the ring.

"It's not initializing! Can we make it out without it?"

"No, but I have a spare." The Klingon tosses me one last post, and I grab it out of the air. "Last one, don't fuck this one up."

I tap the activation code in, and thankfully the device hums to life. "It's on!" I stab it securely into the rock and turn back to the center of the ring. "We're good to go!"

The storm hits just as the transporter takes us. I feel a shock for a moment, then I'm stumbling off of the transporter pad into Luiz, Gantumur's team just heading out ahead of us. The assault chief tosses me a quick salute, which I return. The Tarin clear the pad swiftly, one whistling something about the transporter hurting his artificial joint.

The Lieutenant bounds off of the platform, shucking her helmet in one movement and tossing it aside. "Whoo! Good work, boys!" She slaps Luiz on the back so hard the giant colonial almost collapses even in powered armor. "Whoops, sorry. Alright, job done, let's hit the bar and get blasted."

"Um…" says the Lieutenant from behind her...wait, what? "What the heck's going on?"

Everyone turns at once. There's another Lieutenant Connor standing there on the pad, fully armored, helmet fresh off her head and looking very confused.

"Damn," I hear myself groan. "And I got into MACO to avoid the crazy anomalies."

"Please tell me I don't have to share my bunk with a clone of Luiz," Kallio mutters.

"What the fuck?" the Lieutenant off the pad-I label her Lieutenant #1-exclaims. "The fuck did I get a clone?" She looks the other Lieutenant, who I mentally label Lieutenant #2, up and down, then licks her lips. "Well, at least I look good in armor."

Lieutenant #2 frowns. "Not in public, c'mon, you're...I'm...we're...you're an adult. Don't just ogle people. Well, unless you're wasted in a bar."

"I sure as hell want to be wasted in a bar," Lieutenant #1 shoots back. "Where the hell did I get a clone?" She draws her phaser pistol and levels it at #2, and I feel myself take a step forward with a 'Whoah! Calm down!'. "Who the fuck are you?"

Lieutenant #2 flinches. I do a double-take-the LT's got bigger stones than that. "Rachel Connor. Uh, Lieutenant, Military Assault-Command Operations."

I grab Lieutenant #1's arm as she buzzes her sidearm up to kill. "Sir, wait a…"

She throws me off with a snarl, and I crash into Kallio and crumple to the floor in an undignified heap of power armor. "Stand the fuck down, Lamont! You! Clone! Start fucking talking, bitch! Where did you come from? Who made you?"

K'tar has his sidearm out now and shoots her in the face; a hit on maximum stun, enough to knock out a raging bull elephant, sends Lieutenant #1 reeling, but she regains her feet with a snarl. Figures, she got a little fried on the planet, probably adapted. The Klingon tech shoots her again, and she doubles over, whimpering. A third shot, and she falls to one knee. Security troops-that's Gantumur with the assault unit, they must've heard all the commotion-swarm in through the door, guns ready.

"More security to Transporter Room One," K'tar growls as I stand, reaching down to help the Finn up. "Bring heavy containment gear. And someone get the Captain down here." He hits the Lieutenant again as she tries to stand. "Stay down and get your head on straight, sir."

She gets up unsteadily, snarling, and K'tar shoots her again. I haul Kallio to his feet and draw my own sidearm; Gantumur grabs the Lieutenant's right arm as Luiz takes her left, and she growls incoherently, trying to throw them. Gantumur's knocked off her feet, but Luiz's still wearing his power armor and has his feet maglocked to the floor, so he manages to hold on as K'tar shoots Lieutenant #1 again. I grab her legs, hauling her off the floor so she has less leverage; Lieutenant #2 is just standing there like an idiot looking indecisive.

"Get in here and help, sir!" I roar. Gantumur swears as she gets back to her feet, Lieutenant #1 spewing expletives as the three of us try to hold on to the crazed augment. It's like holding onto a full-grown estuarine crocodile doing a death roll; the Lieutenant's stronger than most Vulcanoids, even outside of power armor. "Kallio, get in here and get her armor catch, we need to get the suit off!"

"On it!"

Lieutenant #2 finally moves. She looks hesitant, timid, when normally she'd be the first to get in here and hold back the crazy woman.

"Bridge to Transporter Two, we're reading gunfire, what the phekk is going on down there?!"

"Working on it, Captain!" Kallio slips in as Lieutenant #2 manages to get the spitting crazy one in a headlock. The Finn hits the catch and the backplate of Lieutenant #1's power armor falls off, the motorization automatically deactivating. She struggles, but slightly weaker now-still far more powerful than any Human, but manageable without leverage. K'tar jabs his phaser into her side and hits her with maximum stun again, and Lieutenant #1's body convulses.

"Trem!" Gantumur yells over the commotion. "Off-button hypo, now, full strength!"

"Kallio, grab it and apply it," I snap. The Bajoran field medic taps a knockout hypo up to maximum dosage and tosses it to Kallio, who snaps it out of the air with ease and jabs it into the Lieutenant's neck.

"Luiz, gimme a hand here," I order as the asshole Lieutenant Connor slumps, her struggles growing weaker. "You too, sir, we need to get...the other you to Sickbay."

"How the…" mutters Gantumur, looking in confusion at the still-technically-awake Lieutenant Connor. Damn. There's a talk I don't want to have today.

"K'tar, get the medkit, have another tranq ready. Lieutenant Gantumur, thanks for the help, sir." Lieutenant #2, thankfully, grabs Lieutenant #1 and props her up. "You all good there, sir?"

Lieutenant #2 frowns. "I...I don't think so, Chief. I...I don't feel normal, in my head."

"How not normal?"

"I don't feel that thing, when you want to hit something and it's like a tug in your gut. I remember that I felt it...but I can't remember what it was like."

Oh, bloody hell.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Luiz rumbles. The Lieutenant-the one who isn't a violent asshole-shrugs, looking uncharacteristically pensive.

"I feel fine physically, it's just emotional. A basic sim's the best way to make sure I'm still in fighting shape."

"To be fair, anyone'd be messed up after that crazy duplicate you showed up," I point out. "Still, I'm with the Lieutenant, we have to make sure."

Luiz grunts in response. "I just figured the doc might be pissed."

"Don't worry, I asked first," I reply. The Lieutenant, Kallio, and I fit on our training helmets. "Alright, let's get this started. Computer, single-round assault training sim, True Way raid on an outpost."

The computer beeps. "Please select difficulty."

I look at the Lieutenant, who grimaces. "Let's keep this easy," I call out. "Level seven," we normally do level 15, "randomized opponents, safeties on, simulated kills."

"Settings confirmed." The holodeck fuzzes and we're standing in a standard Starfleet prefab facility with a few plants and some lab gear for decoration. We take our positions, and I count down in my head. Three. Two. One…

"Contact!" K'tar barks, levelling his rifle and sending a compression burst into a dalin's upper body. The man takes it on his shield, but stumbles back with a yelp at the bleedthrough.

The door on my left blows open and I reorient, Luiz swiveling his SAW and spraying the doorway as Cardassians swarm in. I flick the switch on my phaser rifle to semiauto and nail a Cardie with two shots, center of mass. The hologram derezzes-oh, right, that happens on low difficulty. Damn, it's been years since I trained on something this basic.

"Contact right!" Kallio calls out as he headshots another Cardassian, two more snapping shots past Luiz; one makes contact with his shields and the big man grunts.

Why the hell isn't the Lieutenant firing? She should be tearing these guys apart…

I risk a glance over after flicking my rifle's setting up and snapping a three-round burst into another Cardassian's midsection, and see the Lieutenant sitting there with a grimace visible through her helmet, gun slightly lowered.

She draws a bead on a Cardassian, but the hologram aims his gun at her before she can fire. No problem, her trigger finger's lightning-fast…

She ducks. She actually ducks. I check my HUD-the sim has her shields at full. The hell?

Two disruptors snap into my shields, bringing them down, and I curse. "Lieutenant! We need backup, sir!" Luiz swears, taking cover to let his shields get back up. "K'tar, get a turret up!"

"Trying, sir!" the Klingon growls. "Damn! My shields are-" Three hits from Cardie hostiles hit him and his training armor seizes, sending him rigid to the ground. "I'm down!"

"Lieutenant!" She's still cowering, the Lieutenant never does that in a firefight. "Sir, we need-"

More disruptors hit me, frying out my shields again, and I realize we've been outflanked. I go down in seconds, and Luiz and Kallio split to either side, swearing. The Lieutenant visibly gulps, then stands, and hesitates for a critical second before shooting a Cardie, taking four hits to the body and two to the head, taking her out instantly. Kallio yelps as he gets caught in a grenade blast, and seconds later Luiz's gun reports, but then stops as the Cardassians swarm him.

"Computer!" I bark. "End program!"

We get to our feet, Kallio swearing like a drunken Klingon in Finnish as I yank off my helmet. "With respect, sir, what the hell was that?"

"I don't fucking know!" the Lieutenant shouts back, her voice hitching high as she jerks back from me. This isn't right at all; she'd normally get in my face if she were angry. "I couldn't pull the trigger, I didn't want to get hit!" She starts hyperventilating. "There's something wrong with me. What the fuck's wrong with me, Lamont, am I the fake?"

I lay a hand on her shoulder. "I don't know, sir." She's shaking, Jesus Christ. "Sir, you need to calm down. We're going to take you to sickbay, the doc'll know what to do."

She nods, eyes clenched tightly shut. "Ok. Oh fuck. What's wrong with me?"

"I got no clue," Luiz rumbles, "but we'll figure it out."

Four hours later.

Watching Lieutenant Korekh intimidate the Covandu prisoner is like watching da Vinci paint in that popular holodocumentary. It takes him three hours to have the fanatical leader of a violent insurgent group spilling everything he knows about his backers. And all I have to do is sit there with my arms crossed and flex occasionally, but I honestly think it's the security chief's death glare that does it.

Kallio's talking to Gantumur about a combat sim we're doing with her unit later this week when Korekh and I walk out of the interrogation room. Korekh's even smiling a bit.

"How'd it go?" the Welshwoman asks.

"He does not know very much, but he told us what he knew." The big alien taps a PADD. "I will distribute my report shortly."

"Sang like a bird," I add with a grin.

"Perhaps it was your winning smile?" Korekh suggests.

I glance at him in surprise in time to see nictitating membranes flick across his eyes. "Was that—"

He gives me what I think is a nonplussed look. "Are you surprised that I can tell jokes in Federation Standard, Petty Officer?"

"A little bit," I answer.

He grunts and turns away. "Petty Officer Kallio, how is she—[i]they[/i] doing?" Korekh knows about the situation because having two hundred and fifty pounds of supercharged augment on board with her self-control in another body is a security risk, for obvious reasons.

"Both of her are more screwed up the perse than a Herald on New Romulus," Kallio replies. "The one's a vitun kusipää and the other can't make a snap decision to save her life. Wirrpanda was still working on figuring out what happened when I left."

"That bad, huh?" I need to get my translator implant patched, it keeps turning the profanity filter on randomly.

"It's going to make it harder to fight," Kallio says. He's deadly serious, and I wince as I consider the implications. MACO units like us spend six to eight hours every day training as a unit in grueling combat sims so that we can fight as a seamless team; if our CO can't do her job, we'll be crippled when we deploy. Gantumur's assault unit, which relies more on equal numbers and having that cushion of ten to twelve soldiers to cover each other, would be more effective than a small squad trained to the edge for lightning strikes down an officer. It's the long-standing Catch-22 of commando work; a team small enough to take advantage of speed and stealth is meat if they aren't all functioning at peak capacity.

"Damn it," I curse, running my nails across my buzz-cut scalp. "Can the asshole run special ops?"

"Maybe?" Kallio hedges. "She's too impulsive, is my concern."

I nod ruefully. "Figures."

"My unit can shoulder most boarding duties," Gantumur points out, and I nod in agreement, "but I don't want to try running a hostage rescue against True Way anytime soon. Time-wise, that mess at Kora II would've been a slaughter if the Captain had switched us up."

"Hey, your team did a good job shutting down Gul Ancet's ship," Kallio notes.

"Yeah, that's what we're good for," the assault chief replies. "Standard infantry assaults, where you guys'd get swarmed. We'd have lost civilians against Gul Ancet, probably all of them if we got held up, but we can take a few people functioning below peak, when you would crumble. You know it, I know it." She gestures to the MACO shark on her uniform. I always thought leading a group of volunteers and glorified shore patrol seemed like a big step down, but to each their own, I guess.

"And with what we discovered in our interrogation, we will likely have additional need of commando teams soon," Korekh adds. "The current situation is untenable."

"Agreed," I say as we pass a turbolift-and I remember the other thing I need to do. "Hey, Korekh, Kallio, you mind if I borrow Lieutenant Gantumur? I need to ask her something private."

"Sure," Kallio shrugs. Korekh raises what passes for an eyebrow.

"Is this about Lieutenant Connor?"

"Yeah. Just has to be quiet, you know why."

"Of course." He nods politely and turns, Kallio trotting to keep alongside him.

"Let me guess," Gantumur says as the turbolift doors close. "This is about Connor being stronger than a Vulcan on steroids?"

"Yes," I admit. "I guess you've figured out…"

"That she's a shapeshifter?"

"Uh…" Alright, this isn't how I figured this would go.

"I saw her skin shifting color on internal cams, and I know that nobody, not even in power armor, can move as fast as she did in the Kora II raid. And the scaly thing she turned into on the Iconian flagship, I saw the unedited tapes when I was checking her file earlier." I raise my eyebrow at that. "I got suspicious after I saw that she doesn't have any implants, and apparently someone left those tapes open to any O-2 or higher in Security. Don't worry, it's fine if she wants to pass as Human, I'm not cruel enough to ruin her cover."

"She's not a shapeshifter." I'm trying not to grin. "That's actually the oddest one I've heard yet. Commander sh'Phohlhi thought she was a prototype android. Uh, Lieutenant Connor's an augment. Superhuman strength, senses, speed, rapid metabolism, rapid healing, camo skin that usually works, and a few other bits and bobs that are handy in a pinch."

"Shite!" Gantumur exclaims. "What do you have to do to someone's DNA to make them that tough?"

"A lot," I admit. "According to the doc she's been modified so far she's effectively her own species."

"Well, that explains a hell of a lot." Gantumur shakes her head. "So the scaly transformation?"

"Her body reacting to having a couple of fingers vaporized and being burned by Herald weapons fire. It's incredibly painful, given her reaction. The plates grow in the lower layers of her skin and punch through the epidermis."

"Iesu," the assault chief whispers. "Well...thank you for telling me, I suppose. I was getting pretty suspicious."

"You're good with all this?"

She grimaces. "Can't say that I'm an augment-rights activist, if you know what I mean, but she's a good soldier, decent person as far as I can tell, and the way she reacted when I told her about Franklin Drake beaming undetected into the Captain's quarters a couple months back I gather that Section 31—"

"You know about them, sir?"

Her lips tighten. "When I was in the MACOs we got the intel for at least one mission from some Vulcan in black leather. Anti-slavery op against the Orion Syndicate, seemed above-board, but you know, with some of the rumors, you wonder. Anyway, I figured they probably did some bad things to her, and I'm willing to bet that what they did is why she can beat the tar out of a full-grown Tarin warrior-caste and… grow scales like you said."

"Pretty much. She was altered as part of an illegal supersoldier program, only the mind-control implant didn't take. The Captain's standing orders are that senior staff, our squad, and Watkins in Medical are allowed to know; Korekh and I agreed that you should be brought in, and I think that Captain will approve. Just please don't tell anyone else; the L-T isn't ready to come out yet. She wants to finish her tour first."

"Of course. On one condition."

"Which is?"

Gantumur grins. "I want you to ask her to do a training sim against my unit, once we've fixed the whole split-bodies thing. Solo and with you lot both. It'll be good training, and a few of my boys have been getting a bit too cocky."

I return her grin. "I can definitely do that."

Lieutenant #1 is sulking behind several forcefields with her arms plasticuffed behind her back about 8 times, with Lieutenant #2 sitting placidly on the biobed right beside her, when I walk into Sickbay with Luiz and Kallio. Doc Wirrpanda, one of the medics whose name I think is Watkins, and that Reman girl Ensign Valen who the Lieutenant's sort of dating are poring over a computer and saying things I barely understand.

"What I want to know is how her epigenetics aren't compensating here, the DNA looks identical down to the methylation," the doc is saying, or at least I think he does. "The entire point of all her redundant DNA is that her system alters the epigenetics to reestablish equilibrium."

"Maybe the subspace event subtly altered her genetic structure, or even her entire body on a molecular level?" the Reman asks. The doc shakes his head.

"The former shouldn't be possible, and a complete alteration of her entire molecular structure should be causing more severe symptoms. Remember the Enterprise case from 2266 that you found, Watkins?"

"It's still a sound basis," Valen argues. "We have a proven prior case, and Kirk was a baseline Human…"

I clear my throat. "Ensign. I see that you brought someone else in, Commander."

"Necessary risk," is the terse response.

"Mr. Lamont, I'm half-Reman, remember? That half wouldn't [i]exist[/i] without genetic augmentation. Never mind what it took for me to even be born." Alright, fair point.

The doc's frowning at the console again. "I needed an extra mind with biochem skills and she was in the room already. Theoretically I suppose there's an argument to be made for your perspective, Ensign; are you suggesting that she is adapting and that's what's keeping her alive?"

"We should already be seeing initial symptoms, right?" Valen asks. Wirrpanda nods, tapping something out on a PADD. "I bet that if we wait a few more hours she still won't be showing symptoms of cellular degradation."

"I see where you're going," Wirrpanda muses, "but initial readings from the 2266 case suggest that that was due to molecular rather than genetic issues."

"To be fair, they were kind of busy trying to chase Kirk's evil clone down," Watkins notes.

"I'm sorry, what?" asks the Captain, striding in through the doors.

"Captain on deck!" I announce, quickly standing and coming to attention.

"As you were," she says without looking at me. "What's this about Captain Kirk getting an evil clone? Did you mean the mirror universe mess?"

"No, Cap'n. Happened on stardate 1672.1," the doc explains, passing over a PADD. "That was the last known case of an incident like this. Captain Kirk's transport was fouled up by some kind of radioactive mineral; he was split into two people, one kind but without any confidence or leadership skills and the other assertive but vicious. We're looking at something similar from the ion storm's interference."

"So I'm looking at a MACO and her evil clone?" the Captain repeats, sounding disbelieving. "I thought that was a plot from one of the old Mass Effect games." And here I was thinking of the last Galaxy of Mystery expansion that Luiz and I were playing on a bet with two of Gantumur's team, where our characters had to fight evil alter egos. That was a good time.

"It's not quite that simple," Wirrpanda notes. "Ensign Valen and Corpsman Watkins are empaths, they noticed that the two Lieutenant Connors we have here are split along different lines."

"The angry one isn't showing any emotions of fear, and she's got severely retarded self-control," Corpsman Watkins, explains.

"And the other Rachel is nothing but fear," Ensign Valen, adds. "We noticed a neurochemical imbalance in both, which doesn't appear to be self-correcting." I understood about a third of that sentence-it's been too long since freshman Bio.

"And I still don't know why that is," the doc notes. "Her system should be self-correcting but it looks like whatever effect the transporter had also altered her DNA or epigenetics in a way that her augmentation can't deal with. Even the chemical cocktails that we developed to temporarily suppress her regeneration and adaptation aren't this powerful."

"So can we get the Lieutenant back to normal?" the Captain asks. Valen and Watkins trade glances as the doc grimaces. Valen clears her throat.

"Well...there was that similar case recorded in the 23rd century. Captain Kirk, of course. There were...complications. We've sent the numbers down to Engineering to try to repeat the event in the transporter, but if that fails there's a slight chance that the Lieutenants' adaptation will fail and they will die from cellular degradation. Much like Captain Kirk almost did. Like I said, ma'am, there were complications."

"All right, second question. Do we even need to 'fix' Lieutenant Connor?"

"Ma'am?"

"Can she exist as two people? Will they...is there something preventing them from just living their lives as separate people if they want to?"

"That's...not a good idea, Ma'am," Watkins replies. "Ensign Valen and the quiet Lieutenant Connor agreed that neither of them can do Lieutenant Connor's job, and the angry one's going to be hard to contain. The quiet one also thinks that they'll both go stir-crazy if they can't do their job, or at least help out in some way."

"The Lieutenant's got a lot of baggage," I concur. "She's an altruist, like Ensign Valen said. She needs to help people, and her baggage with the aug stuff means that she really takes not helping people badly. Plus, the angry one would get bored in about ten minutes."

"So reintegrating them—it's possible, and better for both Lieutenant Connors?"

Valen and Watkins share another glance, then look at the doc, who nods. "We already have the technology to reintegrate them, as long as we're careful and Commander Reshek is working with the correct numbers, which we believe he is. And I'm not a therapist, but…" He grimaces again. "I hate feeling useless, too. It's probably more humane to reintegrate them. But only if they both agree—medical ethics restrains me here."

"I wouldn't want to order you to do that, anyway, Doc. All right, who's the lucky son of a wraith who gets to tell two paranoid, spooked augments what their options are?"

Valen and I share a glance. I groan, and raise my hand. "I think it's me and the Ensign here. If you're up for it, sir."

Yeah, I'm not getting used to my CO being turned into both a shy, timid introvert and a complete jackass anytime soon.

"So what Hot Tits here is saying is we're the same person, just split?" Asshole Lieutenant Connor considers that for a second as the rest of us glare at her. "That actually kinda makes sense. I don't feel that nasty creeping stuff that I usually feel when I think about being an aug."

"Could you please not call me… 'hot tits'?" Valen asks.

"Babe, I'll call you whatever I want and when I have you screaming my…"

"Will you shut the fuck up, sir," I growl. That stuns her for a moment. "Try thinking with your brain for a moment and let us finish explaining."

She bares her teeth. I turn to the timid Lieutenant Connor. "And you, sir! You need to get off your arse and get this arsehole to behave; you're not going to get back to normal by hiding!"

"Um, she can't," Valen says.

"What?" The Lieutenants and I ask it at the same time.

"Part of the splitting event caused a systemic imbalance that your bodies are still adapting to. You can't regain the lost emotional and brain functions until you're reintegrated with each other."

"Good." It takes me a second to realize that that came from the timid Lieutenant. The three of us turn to stare. "What? I don't feel guilty anymore. This way isn't great but I don't mind it that much."

"And I feel gorram alive," Asshole Connor says, trying to stretch as best she can in the plasticuffs. They creak ominously, but hold her. "I like not hating myself-and I do remember what that felt like. Now, I'm just me, and I can be happy and safe in my body. I don't want to lose that."

"Damn," I mutter. They and the Ensign look at me. "So you're an asshole," I point to the woman wearing 8 pairs of plasticuffs, "but you've got a healthier outlook on yourself. And you," pointing to the one curled up on a stool, "you're at least functional in regular society, if not a good soldier, but your attitude towards yourself is toxic and depressed." I grimace at the thought of it. "I don't want to push you either way but I think that reintegration is the best option, but when you are, you have to take part of each other's outlook, because simultaneously hating yourself, being comfortable with yourself, and hating yourself for being comfortable with yourself is not a recipe for long-term stable thought."

"What if I don't want to be reintegrated with her?" Asshole Connor spits. "I like this. I like being me, I like not hating myself, I like that I can love my body and love my strength and my other augmentations without hating myself for enjoying them. I won't go back to that."

"And I don't want to go back to having her as part of me," Timid Connor adds. "I don't like being an aug, but at least I don't have to cope with liking it like this. And I don't have that flirtatious letch making me feel guilty now."

"See? We both say we should stay separate."

"I didn't say that."

"What?"

"I didn't say that, Rachel," repeats Timid Lieutenant Connor, getting up and crossing her arms. Her lower lip quivers, but she steps determinedly forwards. "I don't have enough aggression or decisiveness or courage to be a soldier. And you don't have the impulse control or patience or decision-making skills to do it without getting yourself and everyone around you killed."

"What's your point, wimp?" Asshole Connor sneers, leaning against the wall with her own arms crossed.

"We've got a duty," Timid Connor replies. "You're me. You have to know that. We swore an oath, Rachel. We've got a duty to our country. A duty to our men. A duty to our family, and that's one we've screwed up royally and need to fix. We can't do our job separate-you're too impulsive to function in regular society, much less on a battlefield, and I'm too indecisive and afraid to get anything done. We like it this way better, yeah. But we're being selfish if we do that. We're incomplete people like this, Rachel. Tell me you can see that."

"That's bullshit. I...I…" Asshole Lieutenant Connor's jaw works soundlessly for a moment, and her face twists into a frown. "I want to help. I really do! I-"

"Then let's do the damned transporter thing!"

"I just want to enjoy being me," Asshole Connor says, quietly. She's slumped a little bit, looking a lot smaller. "We didn't choose this. But we're stuck with it, the augmentation I mean, for better or for worse. And I know you hate it, and that you hate liking it, and that you hate liking something that was done to you by evil bastards. But I like it. I like being faster and stronger than any Human can be, I like being able to save more people, stop more hostage-taking thugs, kill more Borg, everything that we can do like this. Is that so wrong? Is it selfish that I want to enjoy being what I am now?"

"I…" Timid Connor looks completely poleaxed.

"You're not up to saving anyone like this," I note. "Neither of you." Asshole Connor turns on me with a frown, but I steamroll her before she can open her mouth, jerking a thumb at Timid Connor. "She's right. You're an impulsive ass who obeys whatever stupid desire crosses her mind-the kind of shit that regular, sane adults just don't do. And she doesn't have the balls to pull the trigger. Neither of you is Lieutenant Connor. You're just half and half, and you don't make a whole."

"So what, I should just go back to normal?" Asshole Connor looks pissed.

I shrug. "I can't answer that. It's your life, your body. You two have to decide that."

"Thanks a fuck of a lot," Asshole Lieutenant Connor grumbles.

"Hey. We've gotta focus here," Timid Connor snaps, and there's real spine in her voice. "I don't want to go back to normal, but I'm going to do it if you will. Will you?"

Asshole Connor crosses her arms. She looks small, and I know that seems obvious given that I have a head and a bit on her, but the Lieutenant never looks this vulnerable.

"I just want to enjoy being me. I want to be fucking happy for once."

"Are you happy now?"

"I guess?"

"What about a year like this?" Timid Lieutenant Connor challenges. "Two years? A decade?"

"...no." The asshole Lieutenant leans against the wall. She looks drained, and her skin's gone whiter than chalk. Those chromatophores are creepy sometimes.

"So are you going to do it?"

"Fuck." The uncontrolled Lieutenant's breath puffs out. "You're right. When we beamed up…" She grimaces. "I acted on instinct and emotion. And I didn't feel anything holding me back. And...I need that stuff holding me back, like you need me pushing you forward." She mutters a curse that my translator doesn't catch. "It's like that time in Comparative Religion, remember? Junior year high school elective? The time they brought a Jewish scholar in for the bit on sapient nature?"

"The yetzer stuff? Good and evil?"

"Yeah. And the guest lecturer, that rabbi whatshisname, he said that the evil urge, the yetzer hara I think it was, might be wrong, he said that it's not evil so much as emotion. That without it we're just shells, that it's that urge and passion and our ability to beat it that gives us free will." She clears her throat. "I'm probably full of shit here. But...you're right. And you're wrong. We need to be one person, but...we don't have to like it."

"...alright." Timid Lieutenant Connor cautiously approaches the other and puts a hand on her shoulder. "We're going to do this?"

"...fuck, sure." The other Lieutenant turns away, grimacing. "But I want us to just leave a message for regular me/us. Just in case we don't remember."

"...if you say so."

"Good." The aggressive version of my CO sets her jaw. "Tell the doc and the Captain, Lamont. We're going through with this."

"The Tzenkethi?" Gantumur asks in disbelief. Korekh nods, then moves his remaining swordmaster up to meet the wall of my Koloth Blockade. Damn, and it's protected, too; I'm glad the Lieutenant kicks my ass at tlhInSa so often, because Korekh's a brutal opponent. "Well, what were they doing on Cova Banda?"

"It could've been opportunists," I note. "We really don't know much about the Tzenkethi other than they're some sort of vaguely authoritarian regime and their basic biology. Maybe some gunrunners wanted to make a quick twenty credits?"

"That is possible," Korekh rumbles, "but I am certain that there is something larger going on. Perhaps a proxy conflict-the former Talarian Republics, including Cova Banda and Tarin space, lies in a strategically significant region between the Federation, a large stretch of the Tzenkethi border, and Cardassian space. The Tzenkethi would have a vested interest in a buffer, and they seem to have taken relatively light casualties from the Iconians."

"So they're screwing around with the former Talarian vassals trying to get some easy puppets." Gantumur nods long with the logic. "Makes sense, but the P-Soc/Labor coalition's been getting a lot more active on foreign policy. The Tzenkethi violating the sovereignty of minor powers isn't going to pass for long."

"Perhaps, but any response that we make must by necessity be measured until our manufacturing facilities are repaired," Korekh notes. "Even with the shift from Odyssey and Sovereign-class and derivative battleships to the Geneva-class and its derivatives, the Federation will still require several years to return to full fleet strength." He pins my second bladebearer between two warriors; OK, this is tough but I can still pull it off. Hopefully before the techs finish fiddling with the transporter to fuse the two Lieutenant Connors back together.

I threaten Korekh's general with my champion, and he offers an approving grunt. "The Tzenkethi were about our level, maybe a bit higher when we last fought them, though," I point out. "With the advances we've made based on Iconian tech...not to mention the gateway tech if they ever get that online…"

"From what I've heard, it's a strategic nonstarter," Gantumur says. "Iconian power cores use highly unstable particles that can damage subspace when they decompose, and that's the only way they can get the raw power to fuel the gates. Plus, it takes proportionally more power to get further distances-apparently that's why the Iconians were relying on those Dyson spheres, the raw energy needed to teleport from Andromeda to here was just that great. Cheaper to stick with conventional tech, transwarp networks, and quantum slipstream."

"That bad?"

"Yeah, the fallout from the Mockingbird supernova alone is enough to make the region dangerous, and the Romulans and Klingons have restricted warp travel within three light-years of their capital systems to warp 5 at most for the next five years, just in case." I wince as Korekh moves a warrior to block my champion. Warp 5 means adding close to 5 days to the trip, assuming you're on a military ship, where cruise averages warp 7. The transwarp gates are going to see a big upswing in traffic.

"The Klingons are still dealing with separatists, aren't they?" I ask.

"Only within the Gorn region. Giving the Nausicaans and Letheans representation and folding their main fleets into the KDF has stabilized the Klingon Empire for now."

I slip a bladebearer in past Korekh's line, and he grunts approvingly. "Figures. I bet you twenty credits Chancellor Worf's using the opportunity to strip and redo the entire command structure, too."

"From what I heard, you're right," Gantumur replies as Korekh steeples his fingers and frowns over the board. "He's commissioned and promoted over eighty experienced NCOs to Captain rank in the last week, had twenty men imprisoned or spaced for 'dishonorable conduct'—the closest the Klingons have to actual war crimes—and appointed a new head of their equivalent of JAG who's taking a more active role in handling the military. Professionalism's going to go a long way."

I nod along. "And stable allied Klingons on our flank gives us time to rebuild...damn!" Korekh forks my general and champion with something resembling a grin. "Ah, I should've seen that one coming."

"How often do you play?" Gantumur asks.

"Every day. L-T usually kicks my behind, I can take Luiz and Kallio just fine." I hiss through my teeth as I look over the board.

Then Korekh's and my commbadges ping. "Lieutenant Korekh, Chief Petty Officer Lamont, report to transporter Room One, we're ready to do the transporter fusion."

"About time," I mutter as I rise, then slap my combadge. "Lamont here, on our way." I offer Korekh my hand. "I resign. Good game."

"Likewise."

The big, fancy transporter fusion is rather anticlimactic. The two Lieutenants share a look, the timid one gulps and licks her lips, and they nod to Commander Reshek as Captain Kanril looks on. The big Bajoran slowly energizes the transporter, checking a couple of dials as he goes, and the patterns flow into each other before rematerializing into one Lieutenant Connor, who stumbles back a step and claps an arm to her head with a groan. Ensign Valen and I step up, the former grabbing her left under the shoulder and me grabbing her right as she steps off the transporter pad with shaking legs.

"'M a'right," she mutters, pushing me off with only slightly more than Human strength. "I can walk. Ugh. Damn headache." Valen moves to back off, but the Lieutenant shakes her head. "Nah, you're good. Lamont's just too tall, don't want him stuck bent over."

"How much do you remember?" Valen asks as Kallio, K'tar, and Luiz come closer.

"All of it. A bit hazy though. It's like two movies sort of fused with the sound and picture running over each other at the same time. Sorry for being an asshole earlier, as the aug-brained me. I didn't know my id was that much of a douchebag." The Lieutenant works her jaw. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I don't...I don't entirely think that way."

"She good?" I ask Valen.

"Hey!" protests the Lieutenant.

"I think so," Valen replies. The Lieutenant extracts herself from the biologist's grip and huffs. "Don't try lying, Rachel, I did get basic empathy training."

"Alright, fine. I'm processing. Not great at the moment." She shakes her head. "Let's just get whatever tests we gotta do over with."

The doc comes up, tricorder out, Watkins right behind him with a medkit. "I'm reading a slight neurotransmitter imbalance, but that was to be expected," he says. "I recommend a good night's rest and a solid meal, then see me before your duty shift tomorrow."

"Can't do that, gotta get combat sims set up—" The Lieutenant withers in the face of the doc's Look. "...yes, sir."

"Good. And Petty Officer? Make sure she obeys."

I snap to attention. "Yessir." Unlike the Lieutenant, I'm not boneheaded to argue with a CMO on the warpath.

"I can take her," Valen offers. "I've got a box of my di'ranov's special-recipe pastries and a quiet holomovie all queued up in my quarters."

"I'm not a fucking infant, I gotta get back to work," the Lieutenant mutters. I cross my arms. She glances at me, then looks away. "...alright, fine. I just need to be in my bunk by 2200 hours, I don't need sleep to live but I need it to function at peak."

"We'll be done well before then," Valen promises. "Thank you for letting me help, Petty Officer Lamont."

"Thank you." I nod to Luiz, K'tar, and Kallio. "Alright, men, I think we should just hit it. We've got that target-neutralization sim in the morning."

"Works for me," rumbles K'tar. Kallio and Luiz grunt their agreement.

Mary, mother of God, I'm glad that's over. We joined MACO to avoid stuff like anomalies, transporter malfunctions, and evil clones, damn it.