A/N: All aboard the angst train.

Chapter 1

"Miss you here," Agnes said on the holographic view screen.

Rios was busy fiddling with some conduits under the ops station. "As much as I miss you too, I'm perfectly happy to be parked far away in a space port instead of attending a summit on synth rights where everyone is going to be arguing with each other."

"There has been a lot of heated debate," Agnes admitted, then paused. "You know, as much as I prefer talking to someone's face, this view is rather nice."

Rios stopped what he was doing and glanced back at the projection propped up from the floor behind him. With a huff, he scooted out from under the console and sat facing it instead. Agnes gave him a mock pout but couldn't hold it for long before breaking down into a giggle. Rios smiled fondly at her.

"How's the kid holding up?" he asked.

"Soji is conducting herself with the utmost professionalism, despite some less than professional assholes making horrible comments."

"I'm sure the Admiral had something to say in return."

"Oh, he did." Agnes lowered her voice. "The whole convention is in a tizzy over him being a synth now."

"Lends credence to the synth cause," Rios commented. "Having such a heavyweight in their corner."

"I'll tell Picard you said so," Agnes said with a grin.

Rios rolled his eyes. "And what about the other kid?"

Agnes grimaced at that. "Someone introduced him to a few too many mojitos last night."

Rios shook his head. "Someone should have been watching him."

"Well, Raffi and Seven usually cover that, but they're taking the two weeks to have a romantic getaway." Agnes canted her head coquettishly. "You know, it's not too late for you to come back and join us. Show Elnor the ropes. And maybe the two of us could have a romantic night out."

"You do make the offer tempting, but I'm knee-deep in maintenance right now." He gestured to the various tools spread out on the floor around him.

Agnes sighed. "Alright." She then looked over her shoulder for a moment. "I have to go. I'm up next to give an hour-long talk as an expert in the field of synth research."

"Break a leg," Rios said.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"You know what I mean," he added.

Agnes smiled and signed off.

Rios went back to his work. He took pride in La Sirena being in pristine condition, all the way down to the components in the circuitry.

All the electronics and lights suddenly fritzed and flickered, and Rios stopped what he was doing, frowning. He knew he hadn't touched anything to cause that.

Rolling out from under the console, he stood up. "Ean," he called.

The Emergency Engineering Hologram, however, did not appear.

Rios leaned over the operations station and tapped at the screen, but the controls were frozen, which didn't make sense. Rios had been working on one system at a time and nothing that would have this effect.

"Enoch!" he called next. But that hologram didn't activate either.

Rios felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and he turned around, only to get a brief glimpse of four figures covered head to toe in black converging on him before his arms were seized and a hood thrown over his head. He thrashed in their grip, trying to break free, but a hypospray was jammed painfully into his neck. Rios felt a rush of wooziness and the abrupt sensation of falling into blackness.

Distorted voices burbled around him. His eyelids felt heavy, like lead, and he could barely get them open. It was dark, save for the flash of a blinding rod of light here and there above him. Everything was blurry.

Rios could feel a pinch in his pectoral muscle and the flush of cold fluids being pumped in. He tried to move but couldn't, his limbs like jelly. He thought his wrists were bumping against metallic cuffs but couldn't be sure.

"When will he be ready?"

"Soon."

"We have a deadline."

"I have to get the dosage right for his physiology."

There was a flood of something being injected, and it carried Rios away again.

He woke up incredibly groggy and barely able to move. Throwing a heavy arm over his eyes, he continued to drift in a half conscious state. But gradually he became more aware of tangible sensations—and the mattress beneath him didn't feel like his own. He prized his eyelids open and squinted at a blurry ceiling, and he could instantly tell that the smudged light fixtures weren't in the correct arrangement.

Rios pushed himself up in alarm, his vision blacking out as his head swam, almost toppling him over again. As the darkness dissipated, it was replaced by sparking slivers of white that prevented him from focusing. He tried to look around the room anyway. It was bare, save for the bunk he was on and a single table and two chairs along the opposite wall. There was a door in the back that looked like it led into the lavatory. This was definitely not La Sirena.

Rios pressed a palm against his eyes in pain and tried to remember how he got here, and where here was. His brain was sluggish, though, yet he thought to pat himself down for a comm link to his ship. Only it was missing.

The door swished open and Rios jerked ramrod straight, sending sparks across his eyes again. A solitary figure entered, and Rios's vision was too blurry to make him out at first. The person came closer, gradually coalescing into distinguishable features.

"Hey, kid."

Rios rocked back, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, which only made him more dizzy. "No," he muttered. But when he looked again, the visage was still there.

Captain Vandermeer reached out and clasped Cris's arm, and the solid contact made him recoil sharply, eyes blowing wide.

"It's really me, kid."

Cris shook his head and backed up into the bunk, knocking the backs of his knees out and falling onto it. "No. No, you're dead."

"That's what they wanted you to believe."

Cris gaped at him in stupefaction. "Who?"

"The synths." Vandermeer met Cris's eye with a grave look. "Everything you've been told is a lie."