Acting Captain's Log, Supplemental. We continue to await word from Captain Rashid, who has made contact with a species known as the Deepborn. I have been monitoring our tactical situation, and am concerned about the large number of ships surrounding us, many of which possess technology we don't understand. Lieutenant Sorensen, Ensign Rylek, and I have been attempting to sift through the voluminous amount data we've gathered. Aside from that, all we can do is wait.

Avala glances up from a stream of holographic characters scrolling in front of a console on the command chair. She scans the transparent walls of the bridge with her eyes and antennae, examining the alien craft all around them, focusing on a thick brown tangle of biotechnology to starboard.

Rylek, stationed at the helm, catches her eye. He glances at Sorensen, who is conversing with the computer in a low voice, and then approaches the command seat.

"Your first command does not resemble one of War-Princess M'Giia's adventures," he observes.

She smirks. "No. But I'll take boredom over these ships deciding to make a move on us."

"Logical."

She gazes up at him for a moment. "Look," she says in a low but warm voice, "this is absolutely not the time, but I just wanted you to know that I'm happy with where we are. Deciding to put our friendship first, despite whatever may have happened between us… well, it's the logical choice."

"I concur," Rylek nods intently. "It is clearly the most mutually advantageous way to proceed."

"Yeah. And we'll talk about it more later. Once we get some downtime, I'd really like to spend some time together. You know, just to celebrate being friends." She smiles and takes his hand discreetly. "You're a great friend."

"And you as well, Vanda," Rylek says with an expression of satisfaction. "The best."

The turbolift door slides open and five Strind emerge, walking in unison. Avala snaps to attention and reaches for her phaser. Five beady eyes stare at her as the diminutive reptilian aliens move to the center of the bridge, near the command chair. They say nothing.

After a long moment of the three officers watching the Strind warily, Avala asks, "Can I help you?"

In unison, they say, "We wish to observe."

Avala peers at them. "You're the cluster I spoke to before, right? Ch'akak, you called yourself?"

"Yes."

"There's not really much to observe right now; we're just waiting to hear from our captain. But I can assure you we're doing everything we can to assure the safety of your… uh… of Uyu."

The five aliens blink simultaneously.

Sorensen ventures, "If you're interested in learning about the Federation, I can provide you with some materials which will explain who we are and what we're doing here."

"We wish to observe," the aliens repeat.

Avala and Sorensen exchange a wary look. "I appreciate that," the Andorian tells them, "but the bridge is normally restricted to Starfleet personnel only. May I ask why you want to observe what we're doing?"

"The Strind observe," they say, "so that the Civilization deepens its understanding of this universe."

Sorensen looks surprised. "Of this universe? Does the Civilization exist in other universes?"

"The Civilization exists in all universes," the Strind tell her. "Each Strind cluster shares consciousness with its counterparts in all possible timelines."

Avala's eyes widen. "You can see all possible universes?"

"Yes. Our consciousness is continuous."

Avala looks between Sorensen and Rylek with an expression of surprise. To the Strind, "So can you tell me what's going on in a particular universe?"

Their horizontal mouths move in unison. "Of course. Our perception is not limited as yours is."

"Well, alright… how about the mirror universe? Just a second, I'll call up the quantum signature of that universe." Avala keys in instructions on one of the consoles on the command chair, and a series of digits appears in the air in front of the Strind.

The aliens eye it for a moment, then reply, "In this universe, this cluster are captives on a different vessel, also called Icarus. The Zia Rashid of that universe is forcing us to modify her ship to evade a General Pon. She claims her crew are the last of the Terran species."

"That is wild," Avala marvels. "And, of course it's Pon hunting them."

The Strind glance at Sorensen. "You are there. Wearing different garments."

The pale woman looks pained. "I'm sorry that the Terrans of that universe have done that to you. You have to understand, they embody everything we reject."

The Strind cluster blinks again. "It is nothing for us to experience suffering in that iteration. It is merely a state of being, and we observe regardless. It is the role of Strind to experience this universe so that the Civilization can more fully understand it."

Avala peers at them. "If that's the case, then I think we may have something in common."

There is a tone on Sorensen's console. "It's the captain," she says. "They're ready to return to the ship. Initiating transport directly to the bridge…" Sorensen manipulates the control on her console. Joe blinks into being as Rashid, Sparks, and Uyu materialize on the bridge.

Avala stands. "Good to have you back, captain."

Rashid smiles at the young woman. "It's good to be back. I see the ship is still in one piece."

"I'm pleased to report it's been an uneventful time." Seeing Rashid glancing at the Strind, Avala adds, "They said they wanted to observe."

"You were right to accommodate them." She tugs her uniform top. "There's been a change of plans," she says to Avala, Sorensen, and Rylek. "Uyu and the Strind are staying with us. We have a lead on where the Romulans are going, and just so happens that our friends are heading to the same place."

Avala says to Rashid in a low voice, "Captain, respectfully…"

"It all seems a bit too convenient that we're going in the same direction?" Rashid finishes Avala's query.

"Something like that." Her antennae point towards Uyu.

"That's what I thought too, until I learned what Locus is." Rashid takes the tricorder from her hip and enters a command, and a holographic chart of the tachyon stream appears in the air in the center of the bridge. It zooms into an area of space bounded by a wide ring, within which no tachyons flow. At the center of the ring is an orb of crackling white energy.

"A stable anti-time phenomenon," Sorensen observes with wonder. "I've never seen one of those before."

Uyu steps forward and adjusts the red and black robe hanging off her shoulder. "It's one of several throughout the River. They're a convenient way of travelling through time for those who don't have the Status to do it themselves."

Sparks adds, "We think the Romulans want to use it to travel back in time and save their homeworlds."

Rylek examines the star chart. "There appear to be no tachyon streams in a radius surrounding the phenomenon of over a light year."

"That's right," Rashid answers. "It's surrounded by a ring of chronitons which disrupt the tachyon flow around the phenomenon. Apparently Citizens who are properly 'keyed' can be transported directly through the anomaly into the past. But I doubt the Romulans have been able to get their hands on a Locus Key like the one we had. Which means they'll have to take their ship through." She gestures, and the area surrounding the anomaly is magnified. "That's why they wanted our SIM drive – without it, it's over a year's trip from the chroniton ring to the anomaly at maximum impulse."

"Either way," Sparks says, "if they get there first, we'll never be able to catch them."

Rashid takes a seat in the command chair. "Which means we've got no time to lose. Rylek, begin launch procedures and set a course for Locus."

"Course laid in," the ensign reports. "The computer has calculated a path through the tachyon stream which will take us there in six hours fifty three minutes."

"Make it so," she says.

The thrusters on the underside of Icarus' hull begin to fire, and the small vessel launches from the crowded landing platform. The arrowhead-shaped saucer turns to face the end of the tunnel, and Rylek gently pilots the ship into a line of outbound traffic behind two ships which appear to be crudely assembled from chunks of debris. Eventually Icarus emerges from the deep, artificially lit tunnel into the grey Host sky, then passes through the upper atmosphere of the carcass-world.

"Deploy tachyon sail," Rashid instructs, and the invisible membrane appears in front of the ship, bound to the prow of the saucer by four cables. It fills with particles, propelling the ship to warp.

"Engage stealth mode."

"Aye, captain," Avala replies. She enters the command on the tactical console. "Do we plan to engage their ship, sir?"

"I'm working on it. But if we can plot their trajectory, we might be able to intercept them without being detected. If we can disable the SIM drive, they'll be reduced to impulse drive, and Starfleet will be able to send a fleet to intercept them before they reach Locus. We'll try to get Alomar and Pon back, but our priority has to be protecting the timeline."

"Why?" Uyu asks from behind Rashid.

Rashid wheels her chair to face Uyu. "Because that is our responsibility as Starfleet officers."

"Your responsibility is to prevent people from altering the timeline? That is ridiculous. The creation of another timeline doesn't even affect you."

Rashid scowls. "There have been many recorded instances of people travelling through time and making changes that have affected our history."

"Do you not understand temporal mechanics?" Uyu asks, exasperated. "Those are people from other timelines! That is why this timeline exists!"

"I am not going to argue metaphysics with you. We are sworn to uphold the Temporal Prime Directive. And you agreed to abide by my rules on this ship."

Uyu glares at her witheringly. "Fine. Do whatever you like." She rubs her eyes. "It seems this body requires rest. If you'll excuse me, captain."

Rashid watches as Uyu enters the lift, followed closely by the Strind cluster. To the rest of the crew, she says, "We should all be well-rested for when we encounter the Romulans. You're relieved for now – report back by oh three hundred hours."

"If I may, captain," Avala says, "I can get a good night's sleep and be back in an hour."

"Do it." Rashid turns to Joe and asks wryly, "Do you still have those command subroutines you were always talking about?"

The hologram's face brightens. "Oh yes," he says. "One moment."

There is a vacant expression on his face for a moment. Then his blue uniform changes to a black one with red shoulders. "Emergency command hologram, at your service." He glances at his uniform. "I suppose I never got around to updating the uniform style."

"I think I'll overlook this infraction this time. You have the bridge for now. I'll be in my ready room."

"Aye, captain," he says as the crew begins to file out. Sorensen approaches Joe, and he says to her, "I recorded some images of the interior caverns on Host. I think you'll be quite interested to see them – they were magificent."

"I, uh… thanks, doctor," Sorensen says uneasily. "Listen, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Is it something the captain should also know?" the doctor asks.

"Um. Maybe."

Joe calls to Rashid as she walks to the ready room, and she turns around. "What have you got, Susan?"

Sorensen looks between Joe and Rashid anxiously. "Alright. Computer, display Joe Pel's holographic subroutines."

In the space between them, line after line of holographic code scrolls by. Joe examines it wistfully. "Here's everything I am." He points to a line of code. "This was written by Dr. Zimmerman when I was first programmed. And this," he gestures to another line, "is B'Elanna's handiwork." Scrolling through the code, he continues, "This was done by Seven. And here is where Captain Janeway altered my system when an emergency caused me to malfunction." He scrolls forward. "And here, all of this is from after I went back to the Delta Quadrant. You can tell that it's Vidiian work, done by Danara and others. And here, captain, this was done by you when we were expanding my theater repertoire. Everyone who has ever had an impact on my life, programmed into my very being." He pauses. "I'm sorry, lieutenant – you were saying?"

Sorensen looks uncomfortable. "Well, that's also sort of the problem. I noticed I was getting a lot of degradation when we were projecting you on Host, and at first I thought it might have been our holo-emitters, but… your holo-matrix is very old, and there have been a lot of sort of ad-hoc modifications to it over the years, and…"

"What you mean to say," Joe says, "is that I'm dying."

Sorensen is silent for a moment. "It's just… it might theoretically be possible to restore some of the corrupted subroutines, but I don't know if there's anyone alive who's really an expert in mid-twenty-fourth century holo-programming."

He looks at her compassionately. "It's alright, lieutenant. I've been aware of the destabilization of my holo-matrix for some time now. I know I don't have much time left."

Rashid looks ashen. "Is there any way to slow the degradation?"

"If we take his program offline," Sorensen says, "and send it back to Starfleet –"

"I'm not going anywhere," the doctor interrupts her, "and you're not going to take me offline. I am an emergency medical hologram, and it seems to me that you need one right now."

"You are more than that!" Rashid protests. "So much more. I'm not going to risk your holo-matrix being permanently damaged!"

"Don't you understand, Zia?" he asks her. "I am ready to die. I have lived. I have saved lives and made lasting contributions to my profession. I've earned the respect of my peers, and of those I consider close friends. I've inspired my fellow holograms. I had the love of a brilliant, wonderful woman, and we crossed the galaxy together. I've seen the wonders of space, and of people. And I've learned what it means to be alive." There are holographic tears in his eyes. "And I can think of no more fitting end to my life than to fulfill my function one more time."

Rashid wipes away tears. "God damn it, Joe."

The common room is empty except for Sparks, who sits at a table drinking a large mug of tea and scrolling through a translucent virtual console suspended in air above the table. Through the wide porthole at one side of the common room, the lights of warp drive can be seen; the streaking stars cast multicoloured light that plays on every surface of the room.

There is a soft hiss, and Uyu appears in the seat next to Sparks, casually leaning back. She is clad in a silver bodysuit which appears to be made of a liquid metal, and around her hairless scalp is a black circlet. Five curved stems extend up from the circlet and connect to a larger silver ring suspended above her head, resembling a halo. A veil of crystalline strands descends from the ring, partially obscuring her striped face.

Sparks closes the report and sets his tea on the table. "I was hoping I'd see you here."

She tilts her head, causing a melodic chiming as her crystalline veil shifts. "I thought you might be lonely."

He strokes his beard. "What you just did – the teleportation. Have you always been able to do that?"

With an enigmatic look, she replies, "Returning the Locus Key to the Deepborn got me some Status. It makes certain things easier."

"Listen," he says to her. "I know I've done nothing but ask you questions. But there's one I really need to ask."

"Alright, one more." She leans forward. "But then I get to ask you something."

"It's a deal," he says. "I have to ask you what you're going to do when we get to Locus. Why you're going back in time."

"Mm. That's a bit complicated. But let me try to explain it the best I can." She brushes the veil from her eyes. "Do you remember how I told you that I used to be… different?"

"Yeah. You said you used to have more influence in the Civilization."

"Considerably more. I was an Archetype. Kind of like a living idea. Beings within the Civilization would orient their lives toward emulating me. It's like… the beings that attacked you. The Bal'Horai. They were dedicated to the Archetype of Violence. Everything they are – their culture, their technology, their very genetic structure – was dedicated to that archetype."

"So what archetype were you?" Sparks inquires.

She smiles. "I think the word you have that best encapsulates it is 'whimsy.'"

He smirks slightly. "You were the Archetype of Whimsy?"

"More or less. Beings in every universe would strive to embody me. And by doing that, they constituted me. But I had a higher consciousness as well. I existed in a reality that I cannot possibly describe to you, outside of the bonds of time and space." She pauses. "But I was curious. I thought it would be interesting to live as a corporeal being. And so the Archetype created me for its own amusement – bound by corporeal matter of the lowest Status, but with each form I take being ingrained with the memory of what I used to be."

"You were trapped here," Sparks observes.

She stands up and approaches the porthole. "Every second of it has been torture. Crawling among the filth of this reality. A slave to the laws of physics and biology. But if I can get to Locus, I can return to a time before the Archetype created me. I'd have the Status of the Archetype again, and would reunite with it. At which point there would be no reason for it to create me." She adds, "And I can promise you that it won't affect Fringer history in any way, so don't try to stop me."

"I have a feeling I wouldn't be able to even if I tried." He walks behind her across the room and follows her gaze to the streaking stars.

"No, you would not. But do you know what the most amusing thing about all of it is? Lately, now that I'm finally confident that my time as a corporeal life-form is coming to an end, I've been feeling like there might be things I miss about it. Ever since I met you and your companions. There's something refreshing about you. Just the way that you're so committed to life as organic beings." She breathes deeply. "Alright, Commander Sparks, it's my turn."

He chuckles. "I think my life may be a bit less interesting than yours."

"Well, I don't know. Answer me this. What are you really doing here?"

He opens his mouth, but she interrupts him, "And I don't want to hear about your 'Federation' and its mission of exploration, or whatever it is. I want to know why you are here. What compelled you to leave your world, in what I would imagine is relative comfort and safety, and to thrust yourself into a very dangerous unknown."

Sparks considers this for a long moment. "I don't know if there's really one answer to that. I grew up on Earth, my homeworld, and you're right that everything we could ever want can be found there. And my family taught me to take full advantage of it. I learned eight languages, studied comparative philosophy, rowed competitively, belonged to a great gaming network. But it's like… there was always a hole. Something missing. And I gradually became convinced that Starfleet was the answer. I was one of the older cadets, but I worked hard and eventually rose up the ranks until I was a lead negotiator in some of Starfleet's most dangerous diplomatic missions."

Uyu studies him. "And was the hole filled?"

"Well…" he says slowly. "In a sense. But it came at a cost. Failed relationships, friends lost, and never really having the sense of permanent community that I had on Earth. So yeah, the hole is still there. But I guess as I've gotten older, I've come to think it may come with the territory of being human."

"It's really fascinating," she muses. "Your relationships with others give meaning to your life."

"It's part of being human. Maybe the most important part. Friends. Family. Love."

In a low voice, she asks, "Could you imagine yourself loving me?"

He faces the alien woman. "Well, that would be… I mean, if we had more time…"

She steps closer so that her face is centimeters from his. "Can you imagine yourself kissing me?" she whispers. "You don't have to. There will be no diplomatic consequences, and I'll help you with your mission regardless. I just want to know."

Sparks puts one hand on the small of her back and the other on the side of her face, underneath the crystal veil. He pulls her body close to his and kisses her deeply. She wraps her arms around his neck, returning the kiss.

After a long moment, the kiss ends and they stare at each other in a silent embrace. Eventually Sparks says, "I can imagine it. If we had more time."

She smiles. "Maybe being bound by time is the best part of it. Goodnight, Commander Sparks."

Uyu vanishes from his arms, leaving Sparks alone. He is still for a long time, then takes his tea and sits at a chair by the porthole, watching the stars flash by.

"We will need to arrive ten years before the destruction of Romulus," the Exarch says, sipping his Romulan ale. He is wearing a loose purple blouse and black pants, and is reclining on a couch in front of a table laid with a sumptuous feast. "Just after the close of the Dominion War. Even if Starfleet's technology fails us, we will arrive in time to save our worlds."

The Viceroy Upexi sits at one end of the couch, with the Exarch's legs across his lap. The Reman is wearing a tight-fitting black cloak with high shoulders, a tumbler of ale in one hand and the other on the Exarch's knees. "Remans are hated by Romulans in that time period. All the more after Shinzon's coup. We will have to make contact with faithful brethren from that era, to make them know that you are the Chosen One."

Lerex's eyes dart around the Exarch's opulent chambers, between the sculptures, mosaics and religious icons displayed throughout the room. She watches the Reman musician in the corner for a moment. He stares at his instrument, a green and black device with a thin antenna, and seems to coax eerie, unworldly tones from the air around it. Then she nervously adjusts the shoulder strap of her dress, which is printed with curving black and white shapes resembling flower petals. The Centurion is sitting next to her, wearing a uniform and unsuccessfully trying to appear relaxed.

"When I am ruler of Romulus, my first act will be to abolish the caste system," the Exarch assures Upexi. "Any who oppress the Remans will be put to death. The Empire will be remade according to the laws of the Twin-Masked One."

"How sweet it will be to once again see the twilit crags of Remus. To gaze upon the Eternal Sunset," Upexi muses. To the Centurion, "Did you ever know our home, sister?"

She shakes her head. "I have known only battle on scores of unnamed worlds. Never a home." She pauses. "Until this ship."

The Exarch examines Lerex. "You have said little tonight, my daughter. What troubles you?"

She looks away. "It is nothing. I am… weary. I've had little time to rest."

"I know your ordeal continues to take its toll. I am gladdened that you have honoured us with your presence this eve." He regards her warmly. "I studied your report on the Civilization; it was thorough and most useful."

"Thank you, my lord. The memories… they've faded. Soon I may remember nothing."

He studies her for a long moment. "Perhaps it is for the best. And please, child, you may go rest at any time you like. But before you retire, I ask that you answer me one question."

"Of course, my lord."

"It concerns the time you spent on the Starfleet vessel," he says. "The captain. I want to know your impression of her."

"Captain Rashid," Lerex replies. "She… I did not know her well. But she was intelligent, and singularly committed to Starfleet ideology." She hesitates, then continues, "She was… haunted. By what had happened to her on this mission, I believe. Shortly after their arrival in the core, she became temporally displaced. Separated from her crew and cast into the past. And there she waited for months, alone on the wreck of her ship. And yet when the time came, she rejoined her crew and continued the mission. It is what drives her. I believe that for her, the mission is all there is."

The Exarch nods. "Then she will be a relentless adversary. Even though they be many times outmatched by our arsenal, we must never underestimate the resourcefulness of the Earthmen." He sits up and smiles at Lerex. "I can see your fatigue. Go, child, and rest. A glorious day awaits you."

She rises to her feet and bows. "Thank you, my lord. Your food, the company, it was… I am unworthy."

He stands up and takes her in a tight embrace. "You are worthy, Lerex. And henceforth, when you are among friends… you may call me D'Tan."

The Centurion stands as well. "I will also attend to my duties," she buzzes, "and instruct my warriors to redouble their watch for any sign of the Starfleet vessel. It was most gratifying to be in your presence, Great One."

The Exarch claps her on the back affectionately, and she bows and follows Lerex to the door leading into the corridor.

As they leave, the Exarch returns to the couch. He wraps his arms around the high shoulders of Upexi's robe, and the Reman leans into his chest.

"The hour is nigh," says the Exarch. "Are you still certain of this plan?"

"We are making a new future for our people," Upexi reassures him. "A better future. One that is more just."

The Exarch gazes at him. "As long as you are there by my side, my beloved."

Upexi leans up and kisses him on the mouth.

Lerex materializes in the quarters where Alomar is being held. He looks up from configuring a medical tricorder. Noticing her dress, he observes drily, "This isn't the sort of thing one needs to dress up for."

"Are you ready to begin?" she asks, ignoring him.

"Nearly," the haggard doctor replies, returning his attention to his tricorder. "I need to configure the time index to identify all of your memories of your time interfaced with the computer, but no others. Then it's a matter of modeling the processes of memory formation and making the necessary edits. Which should not be too difficult, thanks to the scans of your brain which you so helpfully provided for me." He looks up. "Would you like to hear the standard warning from Starfleet Medical about the potentially addictive nature of selective memory erasure?"

She casts him an icy glare. "My consciousness was annihilated in the computer. I lost who I was completely." There are tears in her eyes. "I came to know that I am nothing."

He eyes her dispassionately. "And you will allow me to contact my ship as soon as the procedure is complete."

"On my honour," she says.

"Very well. We may proceed. Please," he says, gesturing to the hard, narrow bed at one side of the cramped room, "make yourself comfortable. Needless to say, I would prefer to do this in a proper medical facility, but we will make do with what we have."

She lies on the bed, and he uses the tricorder to synthesize a pair of neural interfaces. "I notice you've severely limited the functionality of my tricorder," he says as he places one on her temple.

"A security precaution," she says. Alomar affixes the second interface to the cybernetic implant on her other temple.

"Naturally." He activates the neural interfaces. "Please try to clear your mind. I suggest going backwards through your alphabet."

Lerex's eyes lose focus as Alomar runs a neural scanner over her forehead. After several minutes of work, he removes the devices. "The procedure is complete. Do you remember anything from your time interfaced with the computer?"

She sits up and considers this. "No. Only the anguish I felt afterward. The memories themselves are gone… it is like a dream." Her green eyes peer intently at him. "I will give you access to a comm station. You must keep your conversation brief."

"I understand." She leaves a Romulan datapad on the bed and begins to walk away from him. "One more thing," he says to her. "Where is Pon?"

Her hair shields her face from his sight. "The Exarch has… coerced her into assisting us."

"Is she alright?"

"No." She stands in the center of the room. "And doctor. You should know… I killed Lieutenant Avala."

They stare at each other for a long moment, saying nothing. Then a light blinks on her cybernetic hand, and she dissolves in a green transporter beam.

Alomar sits on the bed, a look of anguish on his face. He takes the padd and touches a symbol on the screen. The screen changes to a series of lines of flowing Romulan script. After a moment, it shifts to the familiar appearance of the captain's ready room on Icarus. Rashid is brushing her hair from her eyes, and her face lights up when she sees him. "Tomas! Thank god."

He smiles. "Did I wake you, Zia?"

"No, I was just… resting my head on my desk for a minute." She wipes a strand of drool from her mouth with the back of her hand. "Is Pon with you?"

"I haven't seen her. I don't know what they've done to her, but I believe she is alive." He looks grave. "I heard about Vanda."

Rashid grins. "Vanda is alive, and in fact is doing just fine. Joe Pel is here."

His eyes widen. "Well then. Perhaps I'm not even needed on Icarus." They chuckle, then he continues, "I'm being held by a group of Romulan and Reman religious fanatics. Their leader is a man who calls himself the Exarch, and their ship is a heavily modified D'shrizek-class warbird, with a full complement of birds-of-prey and attack raptors. Not long ago, they attacked a world belonging to something called…"

"The Civilization," Rashid says. "Yes, we've had some dealings with them." She leans toward the screen. "Listen, I'm not going to say much over this channel, but we may have some idea of what the Romulans are planning, and it is imperative that we stop them."

"I understand." He lowers his voice. "But I fear I may be executed soon. And if that happens, I want you to pass on to Q'ar that… that I loved him with everything that I am. And to my daughters that I am so proud of the young women they have become…" His voice cracks.

She swallows hard. "I will, Tomas. But for now, I need you with me. We need to disable the SIM drive before the Romulans can use it. History depends on it."

Alomar nods. "I will do what I can, but I'm afraid my options are rather limited at the moment. I was able to convince Lerex to allow me to contact you, but there is very little I can do."

"You may have helped us already." She manages a tight-lipped grin. "The beard is a good look on you."

"Yes, well, I thought I might take this opportunity to give Isaiah a run for his money."

"I'll warn him." She gazes at his image. "Stay alive, Tomas. That's an order."

"Aye, captain. Be careful." After a moment, he ends the transmission.

Rashid dematerializes the viewscreen on her desk, straightens her uniform, and strides out her ready room door onto the bridge, where Uyu, Sparks, and two Strind clusters are standing around a communications console which has been modified by coiling Strind technology.

"Did you trace the signal?" Rashid asks.

Uyu nods. "They make ingenious use of their primitive technology, but it was a relatively simple matter to triangulate their position. We'll be in a position to intercept in ninety-seven minutes."

"Thank you, Uyu." Rashid looks from Sparks to Avala, Sorensen, Rylek, and Joe. "I know this isn't what you expected when you signed up for this mission," she says. "But I want you to know that it has been an absolute privilege to serve with every one of you. What we're about to do is risky. We may not come back from it. But it is our duty as Starfleet officers, and there's no crew I trust more to get it done." She sits in the command chair. "Mr. Rylek, lay in a course to intercept."

"Course laid in, captain," he reports.

"Engage."

TO BE CONTINUED