Michael sat and watched as Admiral Cornwell stood motionless, her back to them with her hands on her hip and radiated the mood of anger.
"I can't believe it." Cornwell spoke again, turning around in an instant. Her eyes an inky black though her face not creased in the usual signs of a frown. Only her voice—beside her eye colour—gave the depth of anger. Lips covered any sharpened fangs. She was furious. "I knew he was acting different but…"
"An imposter from an alternative universe is hardly a…logical assumption when there is no context or implication." Sarek reasoned. "We were all deceived."
Michael looked away, feeling his gaze touch briefly to her but her focus was on Cornwell. A part of her…felt like there was some sort of connection. In the older woman's scent was different to her human scent and certainly lacked the thirst-appeal.
As she had noted before, she could pick up her own scent in the undertones, just as Paul's did. A trait of whose creations? Landry's scent did seem to confirm it; Cornwell's scent did lace in hers…. Why did she think she had some sort of connection with her? Michael couldn't fathom it past the logical conclusion it had to do with the fact she had turned her. Instinctual? Why was everything that?
Admiral Cornwell moved again, her arms crossing over her chest in a very human mannerisms. "But I saw the debris of Discovery with my own eyes. Our scanners confirmed it." The question hung in the statements. It was clear to her that they weren't dead.
"You're not incorrect, but it was the terran Discovery ship that was switched in our jump between the universes." Saru piped up, waving his hands in a countering-swapping gesture as he spoke. "Its likely they were caught unaware when the Klingons decloaked; they didn't have a spore drive nor any of its technology but was likely damaged in the crossing."
"Hardly relevant now, but it makes…some sense." Cornwell nodded. "We've made quick use of your cloak-breaking algorithm straight to the front lines and to all ships, stations and colonies."
"How long were we away for?"
"11 months."
Michael felt her eyebrows raise. 11 months. Nearly a year! And they were still fighting?
The Admiral's eyes flickered to her, a grim twitch of her lips before she shook her head. "It's not been easy. But we've endured it due to… our side projects. Since my transformation, 11 months ago, I've turned a few humans to help turn the tides of war given our…advantages."
"How many? I noticed Landry was one you made."
"Twelve, including Commander Landry. Excluding Two others still in their transformations"
"Wait, twelve vampires?" Paul's voice was sceptical though not completely with dispute. It was caution. "How is turning that many a good idea?"
Cornwell eyed him for a moment. "It was necessary. After your supposed deaths, I was considered the last vampire in Starfleet. Our Kind are useful and it's kept the Klingons at bay for as long as it has done. They do consider us a threat that is serious and they're not yet able to find the fault against vampires."
"So they're scared of us?" it was a question for clarification.
" bIr veqlargh DIvI' "
"What?"
"It's Klingon. 'The cold demons of the federation' is it's English translation" Michael spoke, though there was a lot lost in the translation, leaving a different ring in their ears. "I take it you advertised our kind to them to get them to back off?"
"No, but they soon picked up upon us after we had a few stationed to protect a colony and high-target ships, took care of the Klingon boarding parties in…record timing. 2 minutes. One Klingon escaped back and heeded their warnings of what they saw They've learned now to not enter any ships since they can't detect vampire bio-signs and are very weary about any ships we have that don't produce a bio-sign." Admiral Cornwell spoke, tone unchanging, simply informative. "We have a few empties stationed and on auto for the pretence. It's worked so far to our advantage in the more recent weeks. One Vampire was able to cripple an entire flag ship within ten minutes. Klingons haven't entered that reign of space since."
"Where are they now?" Michael pressed but Cornwell moved, leaning forwards a fraction and tapped to the holographic projector.
"Irrelevant to our current situation."
Michael's eyes narrowed a fraction but nodded.
On the projection, the territory map was clear to see the reduction of Federation space now occupied by Klingons. But not reduced down heavily which…was good. But it had been a long war. Perhaps something of vampires were good after all. Even with the amount of death tied in.
"But, we still have huge loses of a few star bases. Starbase One we moved to a different system and a little further from the sol system. It'll be the next line of defence we'll have. Can you jump us there?"
All eyes turned to Paul, a light frown seemly deepening the crack that stroked over his forehead. "We can't. Our mycelium crops were damaged in the other universe and we were forced to use all what we had to get home."
Cornwell's face didn't change, but it showed in her eyes of disappointment and frustration but it was their only option.
"The Klingons know Discovery houses vampires and unrivalled technology. They won't risk an attack if they believe it's operational." Sarek reasoned.
The admiral nodded, if a little stiffly. "Then tell Lieutenant Detmer to get a course for Starbase One, there are things we will need to consider now that you're back. But one thing is clear, we have to keep the knowledge of this other world quiet. Not off this ship nor to anyone off this ship."
"Why?"
"The ship's ability to jump, even accidently, to another universes opens up too many possibilities of...risks. Not to our world by Terran Influence but…the emotional aspects would be too higher risk." Paul pointed out, before anyone else could speak. "if other people have an idea that they have loved ones on the other side that they lost… it would be devastating."
"Exactly. Starfleet command would want it locked down for those reasons nor do we want anything from the Terran Empire to influence the wrong people." Cornwell added. "We can get a cover story in place for anyone asking the questions, to why you were gone for so long. Now, Commander Saru, I want you to make sure every member of this crew understands that."
"yes, Admiral."
"Good. Is there anything else I should be aware of?" The Admiral's eyes touching on her as she spoke.
Michael nodded softly. "It's…complicated."
A snort echoed from Saru though he made his point to dismiss himself to get the new orders out; vaguely hearing him speak to Detmer on their new location.
"Then uncomplicated it."
"Could you accompany me?"
Michael slowed to a stop outside the room, Admiral Cornwell coming to a stop with Sarek in her grip, immediately getting down and allowing him the second to adjust. Green blood flushing through his veins that almost made him look queasy.
"I think I'd…rather transport next time Admiral." He swallowed, adjusting his robes as he straightened, "I don't think we're…meant to go at such speeds."
"Just be thankful I didn't give you whiplash this time, Ambassador."
Michael's fingers touched over the control, allowing the doors to open before she was immediately hit with a fresh new scent. Even in the few hours since she had left. There was only the small changes to her scent… though there was still a definite human edge that still lingered.
"You turned one?"
Michael nodded though Cornwell entered, following her nose though Michael darted ahead, putting herself between Admiral Cornwell and Philippa, feeling the swell of defensiveness… she knew it was a protective instinct, more so now when faced with an…unknown vampire, even if she knew the woman. The intrusion was still—on a base level—a vampire in her space. Her ship. So close to something so vulnerable.
A soft growl resonated as Admiral Cornwell went to step around, her hand immediately clamping around the other vampire's forearm.
"Burnham." Sarek warned.
Cornwell's attention flickered to her, Michael held her gaze sternly. She knew logically and rationally, that Admiral Cornwell wasn't a threat, that she was her superior officer and had more experience with humans turning. But all her senses did not like her being here. So close to Philippa….
"It's fine. Sarek." Cornwell answered, unsurprised though her teeth sharpened in reaction. "Territorial instincts…especially to guard something so…new."
Sarek moved, if by a few feet though she kept her focus on Admiral Cornwell more.
"Let me see her." Cornwell's gaze was solid, "I won't hurt her. I can...help."
"I understand." But her grip did not slack.
Admiral Cornwell stepped back though Michael allowed her grip to loosen and tilted so the Admiral could see Philippa's prone form on the bed. The monitor still going. It was easier to see the changes in the woman's face. Her face paler by a good few shades and her hair was almost darker in contrast now, sleeker, despite the heat-straight style she had before. Her heart still thumped rapidly. If it wasn't from her own experience, Philippa could almost be asleep.
"How long has it been since the bite?"
"Approximately 12 hours, 26 hour remaining by my estimations."
"One bite?"
Michael nodded. "I was…distracted at the time. I only needed to do it once."
Cornwell eyed Philippa for a moment, "if you want to speed it up, administer several more, get the venom to saturate the rest of the flesh than simply let the one change as it goes around. It'll cut the time down to… 10 hours at the very least."
Michael's eyes flickered to Philippa. "I didn't meant to bite her, Admiral."
"Does not matter. You have done, now she is your responsibility so we need to decide what to do about it… the fact she looks like our Philippa does little to help. I take it that's why you took her?"
Hers silence was the answer so Cornwell carried on. "What does she know?"
"Basics about this universe from federation files, very little on the nature of our kind."
"Once we've debrief at Starbase one, we can drop her off at our…facility designed for our kind"
"Yes, I recalled Lorca mentioning something of that…for you when you were turning." It felt almost like a life-time ago to that now.
Cornwell nodded. "It's the most ideal place for new vampires. She'll be educated there. You will have to accompany her for the duration of her stay"
"What?"
"You turned her." Cornwell sternly answered back, her arms coming across her chest. "We put those rules into place for a reason, just as much as you're in charge of Stamets. You created him too. It's your responsibility to look after the vampires you make. These rules are to be enforced."
"I have a prison sentence to return to, Admiral. My duties are—"
"Not anymore."
Michael blinked, surprise leaking through her body. There was a lot of implications to those words yet too vague to get a context. Not having a prison sentence? Did they give her a number or…remove it?
Admiral Cornwell moved back, looking to Sarek who stepped forwards.
"After turning Admiral Cornwell and putting effort into breaking the Klingon-cloak, it was seen as a triumphant effort of redemption in the eyes of a few. Admiral Cornwell's transformation opened up the door that has kept the federation going longer than it would have been if she had died. Given the reports, you were the one that helped stall the Klingon flag ship and enabled the ship to collect the data. While the Federation didn't get the algorithm then, it was…seen in good light of your efforts." Sarek answered. "As a result, they you were pardoned posthumously—if you excuse the irony in such a statement."
A part of her mind reeled to what Sarek said… the flicker of...light that seemed to lift from her shoulders… she was no longer a prisoner? Free? Michael wanted to believe it… enjoy and relish the feeling it should have brought her but she felt…cautious. No. It couldn't be that simple.
"I can't be."
Sarek's head tilted. "You doubt?"
"It cannot be that simple."
Things never were. God, Sarek barely knew the half of it… what she had done and all those people she had killed. Her body count was too high to just…have it all dropped?
"Your record hadn't been expunged, nor your rank restored but with your return, aid to end this war might help clear that path for you."
Her head bobbed though…it felt to some relief. Not all was lifted. She still had to work for something—even if it hadn't been her intention but with nothing else going for her, it seemed the only logical course of action to remain in Starfleet. "I see."
Cornwell's head turned, ruby eyes returning to Philippa. "The resemblance is remarkable." Her tone held a hint of curiosity in her observation. "Who is she? Aside from the obvious…"
"Terran Emperor."
The admiral looked to her sharply and raised her eyebrow. "Really?"
"Let's not deter from the topic, Admiral." Sarek spoke. "It will not change the fact that she is here now. I am confident in Michael's abilities as her…sire to ensure this new born doesn't not go rogue."
"Sire?" That was a new word.
"Long story. I'll update your records on our species file for your reading. A lot of come up since our population growth." Cornwell moved back, arms dropping to behind her. "We'll be arriving at Starbase One in a good few hours. Change her from those clothes. Keep the audio suppressors down should we call. I don't want to advertise to the whole ship where you two are. Understood?"
"Yes, Admiral."
Michael mulled quietly as she watched the replicator get to work. She didn't opt for uniform. Mostly since she knew that Philippa would most certainly throw a much bigger fit about wearing anything with Starfleet on it. So she settled to a basic Starfleet attire, such as plain trousers and a tank top with an accommodating blue sweater.
It felt weird, doing this. Knowing the Emperor was conscious while she'd change her… But she couldn't deny, speeding up the process of her transformation would… be better in their current situation. Quicker done, quicker she could get her more…trained and accommodated to her new form. She was going to be so mad… her little fight with Paul had been brief but Michael knew this was going to happen again and she certainly had to win to keep her in check. But the difference was, Paul had never been trained to fight. Didn't need to.
With a dig, the replicator finished and it's draws opened like a flower, revealing the content. Her nose scrunched up at the smell that lingered though she patted it away to disperse it before allowing it to drop beside the prone form.
Her eyes carefully examining Philippa. What was she thinking? Michael mused though she could easily configure the colourful vocabulary the woman no doubt wanted to express. She was certainly going to go to hell for this anyway.
Glad though the monitor was simply stuck on the skin and no wires, Michael began to carefully remove the first outer layers of the Emperor's clothes. The armour, jacket and shoes, folding them neatly up. On her sleeves, she noted the few technological pieces. Unclipping them though put them into a separate pile, and any other small weapons she found concealed on her.
Dried blood though became far more apparent underneath; dried into the black shirt under; smelling wonderful, if a little stale but chunks of darkened blood coated more down her skin. No doubt from her original attack. Michael signed, peeling off the dark material and dropped it into a pile before darting to the bathroom.
Finding a bowel, she filled it with warm water before finding a sponge and retook her place next to Philippa.
"You're still covered in blood. I'll clean it away before redressing you." She spoke for her benefit before she gently began to wash the sponge down her neck, removing the dressing, now redundant and down.
The water was left a light pink by the time she had done, leaving the bowl to the side, though she couldn't help but feel the slight differences in her flesh as she did so. Not nearly so hard but definitely much too firm for a human.
But, she knew now was the best time to introduce the fresh venom if she was going to make any sort of impact of speeding it up and without ruining hew new outfit. She licked her lips with a wash of new venom, moving onto her knees. She felt…nervous. It almost felt like she was turning Paul all over again, the anticipation. But unlike him, she wasn't using a hyprospray.
Identifying the places to bite next was easy, adjusting herself to kneeling over… Michael took a deep breath, fangs sharpening out before she decided to bite the bullet—so to speak and leant down.
Unlike before, Michael was not fuelled by blood lust though it reminded her a lot of when she had turned Cornwell, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh, pulling out quickly and washing her tongue over the wounds; the skin knitting back and sealing into her veins. Wrists, thigh and ankles; no longer to need to go any higher than that though the taste of her blood was good. There was the undertones of her venom what still coursed in her veins, though it did little to really change how it tasted. But the lack of…appeal to get back and drain her was oddly satisfying…
Once she was done, Michael cleared everything away then sat down side her, her PADD in hand. Cornwell was right; she had a lot to learn and catch up on now….