What Power Has the Dal'Rok
When I woke the next morning, Harry was still sleeping. It was surprising—usually he was the early riser out of the two of us. But we were both off-duty for the day, and we'd had a late night.
A smile tugged at my lips as I watched him—lying on his side, face relaxed, hair a mess, bare chest swelling and deflating with each breath. I wanted to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair and trace the contours of his face.
No. He needed to sleep.
Slipping out of bed, I tip-toed to our desk and grabbed the PADD I'd been studying ever since the last time Chakotay and I sat down to work on our pet research project. With the device in hand I hurried back to bed, wanting to get warm under the blankets again. Propping myself against the headboard, I began to read.
Ten minutes later, Harry stirred and curled a hand around my thigh.
"Hey," I said, covering his hand with mine.
"What are you reading?" he asked groggily.
"A Bajoran parable."
He dragged himself into a sitting position and ordered the lights on at thirty percent. The room filled with a dim glow. "I thought you and the commander already went through all of that."
"We did. But until I hear back from Ezri, this is all I've got to work with."
He rested his chin on my shoulder. "What's it about?"
"War and love."
"Why am I not surprised?"
I chuckled. "It is a common topic in Bajoran literature, isn't it?"
He nodded at the PADD. "So what does it mean?"
"It could mean lots of different things depending on how you interpret it."
"How do you interpret it?"
I hummed, tracing the edges of the PADD with my finger. "I think the basic message is that unity and love are the best weapons for defeating an enemy. But there's also an element of identity to it. Like… there's a time and place for both love and war, and sometimes they do overlap, but there's also a choice that has to be made to favor one over the other in life. Which one do you carry in your pagh? What drives you? The option you choose defines who you are."
"And I'm guessing this parable argues for love."
I nodded and placed the device on my bedside table. "Actually, it makes me think of a story Marnah used to tell me about a village called Sidu. Every year, a monster called the Dal'Rok awakens in the sky to destroy the village, and only the people's commitment to unity can drive the monster away. I've tried looking for that story, but it's not in our database."
"Could either of them have something to do with whatever Sisko has you looking for?"
"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "Maybe. The two stories aren't much alike except that they both argue for unity. But Sidu and the Dal'Rok… it's just sticking with me for some reason."
He kissed my cheek. "I'm sure you'll figure it out." Pushing my hair out of the way, he trailed his lips along my shoulder. "You can study later. Today is just for us."
I tilted my head to the side and he moved to the pulse point in my neck. A sigh escaped my lips when he sucked my skin between his teeth.
"You're affectionate this morning," I said.
"Are you complaining?"
"Not at all."
His hand skimmed over my body. "We have a whole day to ourselves."
"What should we do with it?" I asked, leaning into his touch.
"I say we spend it right here."
I giggled. "The whole day in bed?"
"Mhmm."
"Okay," I whispered, capturing his mouth with mine.
With Voyager docked and undergoing repairs, there was little chance of interruption. For once, nothing mattered beyond the bulkheads of our quarters. So we let our world narrow to just him and me, lazily making love with no concern for anything.
"I love you," I said when we were done. At some point, we'd ended up laying upside-down on the bed, feet pointed towards the headboard.
"I love you, too," he said, kissing me deeply before rolling onto his back.
I curled against his side, resting my head on his flushed chest as he wrapped his arms around me. For a long while, we simply laid there and said nothing.
My mind wandered back to past times—to the first time we confessed our love for one another and how we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves for months afterward. More than anything in the universe, I'd wanted to be as close as physically possible to him at all times.
How many off-days had we spent locked in his quarters or mine only to be teased by Tom and B'Elanna when we finally emerged? Worse yet, how many times had we barely managed to report for duty on time because a few kisses led to morning sex?
"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked.
I smiled. "The days when we used to do this every chance we got."
"You mean have sex?"
"No." I laughed. "Well actually, yes. I mean stay up late making love, then wake up in the morning and do it again."
"Yeah, life out here isn't very conducive to passion or impulsiveness, is it?"
More like, life on Voyager aged relationships much more rapidly than life elsewhere—and it weighed on them much more heavily. But I only hummed in reply.
"You know, I haven't thought about those early days in a while." He squeezed me a bit tighter. "I don't think we ever got much of a chance to just be in love together without one thing or another happening around us, stressing us out."
"No," I murmured. "We didn't."
There was so much neither one of us was saying—that it was a wonder we'd managed to stay together despite everything, that I'd put so much scar tissue in his heart ever since he first opened it to me, that he'd been the immovable rock to which I could always anchor myself no matter what.
And what had I been for him?
Trouble, a dark voice in my mind said, but I pushed it away. There was another answer—a reason why he fell in love with me that was enough to make him weather every storm.
"When..." The rest of my question was still fuzzy. I'd meant to ask something else.
What made you love me?
But that would only get me answers he'd told me before. I was brave. Smart. Caring. Dedicated. A fighter. These were things I already knew he admired—qualities I still struggled to accept as part of me. They were too abstract, and right now I needed something I could hold onto.
"When what?" Harry asked.
Then it came to me. "When did you know you loved me?"
He was silent for a moment. "The night you jumped me, a couple weeks after we left Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay on that planet."
I pulled away, gaping at him in shock. "That's when you realized you loved me?"
"Well," he said, twisting a wayward lock of my hair around his finger. "It was right after that. In sickbay, when Dr. Schmullis suggested I leave so he could discuss medical stuff with you, you grabbed my hand and asked me to stay. You looked like you were about to fall apart right there, and I remember thinking, 'This isn't enough. Holding her hand isn't enough. I have to take away this pain somehow.' And I realized that if I had the ability to draw it all into myself, I'd do it every day for the rest of my life just so you could be happy again."
Tears pricked at my eyes. "Really?"
"Of course," he said, cupping my cheek. "I still would."
I smiled.
Devotion. He recognized love when it presented as devotion, and that was the night he realized he was devoted to me.
Had I ever done anything to show devotion to him?
"Looking back, though," he continued, "I think I fell in love with you long before that."
The admission took me by surprise. I hadn't expected there to be more to his answer. "You did?"
"When you came to my quarters after the bridge officer's test. I thought I'd never be able to make that decision in real life, but you saw my vulnerability and accepted it. More than that, you showed me how it could also be a strength, and I trusted your faith in me." He traced my shoulder with his fingertips. "After that, I was sunk. Not that I realized it at the time."
Faith. It wasn't quite devotion, but it was a start.
"So you loved me before you even asked me out?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I did."
I snorted and shook my head.
He frowned. "What?"
"I just... I feel kind of bad now."
"Why?"
I dragged my lip between my teeth. "Because it took me so much longer than you."
"Just because you didn't realize it doesn't mean it wasn't there."
Captain Janeway's words from years ago echoed in my head. " I recognized the look in your eyes," she'd said of my reaction to Harry's death in the divergence field. " You love him."
And even before that, the first time Tom confronted me about my feelings for Harry. " I've never seen anyone throw you off your game like he does. It makes me wonder... if you're actually falling in love with this one."
Was Harry right? Had love snuck up on me without my notice yet again?
"Maybe," I said.
In Bajoran, there were several different concepts related to love. Sexual love, romantic love, family love, community love, patriotic love, spiritual love. All of them involved some kind of connection to, or affection for, someone or something outside of self, but they were distinct.
The concept of being in love was Terran.
I'd heard there were Earth dialects that, like Bajoran, had different terms for different kinds of love, but Federation Standard only had the one word… love. Being in love referred to a strong romantic love—something more than the smaller feelings of a crush—but the way it was phrased implied it was a yes or no situation. You were either in love or you weren't. It was also something you fell into involuntarily, unexpectedly, but no one could quantify when it had happened to you.
You just knew.
"When did you know?" Harry asked.
Returning to my memories of our early relationship, I considered how my feelings for him had developed. "Well I know that I first realized I was in love with you at Land's End. Or, rather, fake Land's End on the holodeck."
His eyebrows jumped. "The same night you told me you loved me?"
Heat filled my cheeks. "It's ridiculous, I know. I debated it for a long time because I didn't trust myself. But when you stopped yourself short of saying you loved me, it felt like the most right thing in the universe. That's when I knew."
"And you just blurted it out right then."
"Yeah, I did."
He chuckled and tucked my hair behind my ear. "I have to say, I'm a little surprised."
"Why?"
"You're just so insightful with other people, and you're usually more insightful with yourself. But this one thing..." He studied my face. "Your own feelings of love confuse you so much."
I scoffed. "I'm still not sure I understand it."
Tugging me down, Harry shifted onto his side and wrapped me in a tight embrace. "No one does. That's why we have each other."
Data transmission from Starfleet Communications, sent by relay from Deep Space Five, stardate 52993.6
Received by USS Bonchune, stardate 53001.8
Received by USS Voyager, stardate 53010.0
From: Lt. j.g. Ezri Dax, Deep Space Nine
To: Lt. Cmdr. Eelo Talia, USS Voyager
Stardate 52968.9
Talia,
Thanks for writing back. Honestly, I was a little nervous to write that letter. I know how much Jadzia valued your friendship and I didn't want to open up old wounds. Then again, I'm working on the station where she worked, which has definitely opened plenty of old wounds with her friends and comrades here. So I guess I'm just used to it now.
I'm rambling. Sorry. The point is, I hope we can be friends.
Since getting your letter, I tried to pull together as much of Jadzia's research as I could on the orbs and other artifacts. I found some other stuff in the station database, including logs Captain Sisko and others kept on their own encounters with orbs and orb fragments. Hopefully, this gives you the information you need to know.
As to the other question you asked, it's not a problem. You have every right to want information about how Jadzia died. Dukat was possessed by a pah'wraith. He transported into the temple, and Jadzia just happened to be there. It was a coincidence. The pah'wraith used the orb to enter the wormhole and cut off any contact with the Prophets, but then Benjamin found a new orb and reopened the wormhole. I sent you those reports, too.
There's something else I have to tell you. Captain Sisko died. Well, he kinda died. His wife and son both said that Benjamin came to them in visions to tell them what happened. They said he went to the fire caves so he could stop Dukat from liberating the other pah'wraith'i, and he's with the Prophets now.
It's strange. I got your letter about a week after that happened. Maybe it's just a coincidence, and maybe I'm just looking for any chance to make sense of what happened, but I have to ask. Why do you want to know about the orbs?
"It's happened," I said to Captain Janeway as I slapped Ezri's letter on her desk. "Our universe's version of Captain Sisko has joined the Prophets."
Janeway considered me for a moment before picking up the PADD and scrolling through its contents. "As a matter of fact, Commander, I was just about to inform you of that myself. He was listed on the latest casualty report as 'Missing In Action, presumed dead.'"
I slid into a seat across from her. "Well, he's not. He ascended."
Her eyes flicked up from the PADD. "Yes, of course we know that, but Starfleet doesn't."
"Keep reading. He visited his family and told them the truth."
She returned her eyes to the document. "Well, I doubt Starfleet puts much faith in their claims. You know as well as I do how they feel about the metaphysical." Then she frowned. "Orb fragments?"
"I've never heard of such a thing, but I guess someone on their crew encountered one. I haven't looked into that yet."
Janeway hummed and continued scrolling. "What is a pah'wraith?"
"It's like an evil spirit. Bajoran scriptures claim they were Prophets who were cast out of the Celestial Temple for believing the universe should be forcefully subjected to their will."
"That sounds familiar."
"What do you mean?"
She glanced up from the PADD. "Forcefully subjecting the universe to their will," she said, echoing my own words back to me. "Sounds like the Borg."
"Ah." I huffed a laugh. "You know, I never thought about that before. Although I doubt the pah'wraith'i had technology and assimilation in mind."
"Fair enough." She scrolled further until something made her eyebrows jump. "He found another orb?"
"That was a report I did actually skim over. The Vedeks call it the Orb of the Emissary. Evidently, it contained the Prophet who orchestrated Sisko's birth—which is strange, because the Prophets don't usually inhabit the orbs."
"No?"
"Orbs are just a means for the Prophets to communicate with corporeal life. But because that Prophet was in the orb, she wasn't affected by the pah'wraith that closed off the temple and she was able to reopen it."
Janeway pursed her lips. "So the Prophets' desire to meddle in Federation affairs precedes Sisko's involvement with them."
I snorted. "Apparently so. But it makes me think... Riley didn't say anything about the Orb of Peace going dark, and Captain Sisko told me it wasn't affected by the pah'wraith. I think when Sisko left us on our way out of Borg space, he put himself—his whole self—into that orb."
Janeway's head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she considered what I said. "Very interesting." She set the PADD down and laced her fingers. "Well, you'd better get started. You will not, however, answer Lieutenant Dax's questions about why you need this information."
Part of me had hoped for a reason to let Ezri in on the truth. I hated the thought of keeping information from her that might help ease the grief, but Janeway's caution was probably wise. "Aye, Captain."
"Bear in mind that once our mission to find Equinox is underway, that will have to take precedence over this research. You and Chakotay will have to relegate this project to off-duty hours."
"I understand. What's the ETA on repairs?"
"B'Elanna and Harry have both confirmed we'll be ready to go within the week."
I nodded. "We'll make the most of the time we have, Captain."
"Very good, Commander. There's one more thing I think you'll want to be present for before you go." She stood and tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Lieutenant Kim."
"Kim here."
"Please report to my ready room."
"Aye, Captain."
Within seconds, he was stepping inside. He glanced at me then settled his gaze on Janeway, linking his hands behind his back when he stopped in front of her desk.
"Mister Kim," she said, "are you aware of how many members of this crew have passed the bridge officer training to obtain command qualifications in the past six months?"
It was a question better suited to Chakotay than Harry. Crew oversight was an XO's job, not an ops chief. Where was Janeway going with this?
Harry's brows twitched into a slight frown that he immediately schooled back into neutrality. "Three that I know of, Captain."
"It's four, actually," she corrected him. "I've just received approval from Starfleet Command to grant them promotions, which brings the total of command-qualified junior grade lieutenants on Voyager to ten. Thus, at my own recommendation, Command has seen fit to approve a fifth promotion in the interests of keeping my senior officers, well, senior."
My mouth started to fall open, but I snapped it closed.
This time, Harry couldn't keep his emotions from showing, a dumbfounded look overtaking his face.
Taking out a small box, Janeway stepped around her desk and called us to attention. As one, Harry and I snapped into the correct posture.
She lifted the box's lid. "Lieutenant junior grade Harrison S. L. Kim, it is my privilege as ship's captain to promote you to the rank of full Lieutenant with all the privileges and responsibilities therein." She plucked the black pip from Harry's collar and affixed a solid brass one in its place. "Your service to this ship and your leadership within this crew have been exemplary. I expect more of the same moving forward."
"Aye, Captain," he said. "Thank you."
"At ease, Lieutenant." Janeway's face split with a warm, crooked smile that spoke of immense pride. "You've earned it."
Sitting in the mess hall that afternoon, I wrote out everything I could remember about the story of Sidu and the Dal'Rok. No new inspiration hit me, yet I turned it over and over in my mind. Why this story? Why did it stand out so strongly?
Maybe something Ezri sent would help me figure things out.
As I set down the PADD to give my eyes a break, I noticed Iliana sitting across the room with First. Several of his implants were gone, making him look less Borg and more Cardassian. He was staring down at a large PADD as Iliana talked and gestured at the screen.
What would have become of him if not for Icheb's virus? He was part of Unimatrix Zero, too. Yet he'd been loyal to the collective. Would he have submitted himself for reassimilation after emerging from his maturation chamber? Would he have died fighting for the Borg as our enemy? Or would he have ultimately ended up right back in the place he was from, assimilating his own people when the Borg invaded the Alpha Quadrant?
"Coffee?" Neelix asked, startling me. My eyes snapped to his and he gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to sneak up on you."
"It's fine." I shook my head. "No coffee, thanks."
He glanced over at Iliana and First. "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time he's visited. I think she's teaching him about the Cardassian Union and its cultures."
I had to resist the urge to scoff, a comment about brainwashed soldiers pressing against my lips. It was an ironic thought considering that First had been Borg. Cardassians were still individuals, at least. Their words and actions had been carefully scrutinized by the state for centuries, but their thoughts were their own.
First said something that made Iliana smile, but it wasn't the sharp, dangerous smile I was used to seeing on her. It was warm. Proud.
"It must be nice," Neelix said as he watched, a melancholy undertone to his voice. "Having someone to share those things with after all this time. Someone to pass it along to." His gaze grew distant. Longing.
"Has she visited you?" I asked gently. "Alixia."
He turned a sad smile onto me and shook his head. "Oh no. No, I'm sure she has much more important things to do than to pester her old man."
Like plaguing me with visions and dreams of a future in which the Borg won.
"Speaking of children," he added, setting the coffee pot on the table. "Have you had a chance to visit Grischa and Tony and their little bundle of joy yet?"
"No, I haven't. How are they?"
"Very excited." He grinned. "Little Asher has settled in quite nicely. Barely ever fusses. They say you're welcome to stop by anytime."
"Yes, they've told me."
He sank into the seat across from me. "Why haven't you? You did save his life, after all."
Honestly, there was no good excuse. It was avoidance, plain and simple. The thought of interacting with any baby made bad emotions resurface, but finding Asher on that Borg sphere had triggered an actual flashback. Would the same thing happen if I saw him again?
"I'm just not ready," I said.
Neelix patted my hand. "If there's anything I can do to help, just say the word."
I smiled, his kindness chasing away the ghosts of memory creeping into my mind. "Thank you."
As he took up the coffee pot and turned to go, I rested my chin on one hand and stared at the stars beyond the viewport. Thoughts of Asher and Rojel danced with Sidu's Dal'Rok in my mind, neither willing to let me focus on the other.
The war danced there, as well—a topic that seemed to be constantly in my thoughts. If it wasn't due to some meeting or new report, it was coming from patients in my office. The Borg had been a cause of anxiety for many of the crew even before we found the corpse on the Sakari homeworld, but fears spiked after the battle at the blue nebula. We'd survived due more to luck than our own abilities, and our best allies against the Borg had taken heavy casualties in the process of rescuing us. Winning the war had never seemed so impossible. Yet if we didn't follow Sisko's path, losing was inevitable.
It was a lot of pressure to live under.
"You know, you really shouldn't be spying on your own crew mates," Iliana said from behind me.
Once again, I jumped at having unexpected company. I cursed and shot back with, "You're one to talk."
That signature sharp smile cut across her face as she slid into the other seat, blocking my view. "Except that I'm much better at spying than you."
"Can't argue with that." I folded my hands on the table and took a deep breath. "Where's your new friend?"
"Went back to Gik'tal."
"Is that what Korok is calling his ship now?"
Iliana hummed. "Original, I know. Klingons never were known for their creativity."
I held up a finger. "Now that just isn't true. Have you ever listened to Klingon opera?"
She gave me a disgusted look. "No, I haven't, and I don't intend to. I'll stick with kriyet music, thanks."
"Fair enough." It was strange chatting with Iliana as if we were friends, but I wanted to keep the ball rolling. "It's good to see First taking an interest in his culture."
She scoffed. "What's left of it."
I didn't need to ask what she meant. News of the war's end had spread quickly since the data stream came through, and reports of the post-war Cardassian Union were bleak. After a resistance movement had broken out on Cardassia Prime, the Dominion responded with brutal and deadly force. Hundreds of millions had been wiped out. Even more were displaced. Entire planets were starving.
"They'll rebuild," I said. "Just like Bajor has."
Until a Borg fleet arrived at the Union's doorstep and assimilated them all.
"Of course we'll rebuild," Iliana snapped. "We're Cardassian. Giving up isn't an option.
We . As if she had every intention of going back and helping with the effort.
"And First?" I asked.
"He'll defend his people from the enemy to his last breath, just like any Cardassian would."
After dinner, Chakotay and I met in his office to start going through everything Ezri had sent. The task was daunting—there was so much data. Even with two of us spending most of our free time on the project, it would take months to comb through it all.
For a long time, we worked in relative silence. The first task was simply to skim and organize information based on our judgements of what might be the most important or useful. Only then would we start actually reading the reports, papers, and stories more carefully.
At least, that was the plan.
"Stop what you're doing and look at this," Chakotay said.
I spun my chair around to see the interface built into the wall behind his desk. "What?"
"I found a report on one of the orb fragments Lieutenant Dax mentioned in her letter. Apparently, two of Deep Space Nine's senior crew visited a village where a fragment was kept in a bracelet. For five days each year, the village leader uses it to create an energy storm the people believe is a spirit of some kind called a Dal'Rok."
Surprise shot through me. My eyes snapped to the screen. "Sidu?"
"That's the one. But look at this." He scrolled down to an image of the bracelet. It was a lovely piece—gold and heavily textured with a small green gem set in its center.
A gem that appeared to glow in a way no gemstone should.
"Un'Bentel ," I cursed, reaching for my tagh. Retrieving the knife from its sheath, I held it up beside the image on the screen, one strange green gemstone next to another exactly like it.
"By the Prophets, indeed," Chakotay said, turning to me. "I guess Fayeni was right. Your tagh is blessed."
"Not just blessed." I ran a thumb over the orb fragment I'd unknowingly carried for six years. "It's a conduit to the power of the Prophets."
"What kind of power?"
Chakotay's question took me back to another time.
"There is a reason why our foremothers called this weapon a tagh," Marnah had told me, pulling out her heirloom blade with its strange green gem. "If you wish to master it, you must pour your very pagh into it."
"But I am!" I'd whined, though the pile of tagh'i littering the deck around the target told a different story.
"You're not." Marnah sheathed her knife and grabbed my chin, forcing my whole attention onto her steely glare. "What power has the Dal'Rok to shake a mountain?"
I groaned in classic pre-adolescent fashion.
Her grip tightened. "What power?"
If only Marnah could see me now.
Flipping the tagh and catching the tip between my fingers, I visualized the succulent on the other side of Chakotay's office and the empty bulkhead just behind it. In one fluid motion, I twisted in the chair and threw the knife towards the plant—a nearly impossible shot to make even if I had been looking.
It stuck in the bulkhead, not piercing a single leaf.
I swiveled back to Chakotay and grinned. "Only that which I give to it."
His eyes flicked from the blade back to me, and he huffed a laugh. "Maybe we should find a safer place to experiment. I'd rather not risk my succulents—or my walls."
"Fine by me."
"Janeway to Chakotay," cut in the captain's voice over the comm.
Chakotay tapped his combadge. "Chakotay here."
"We've received a communication from Queen Nessav. A few hours ago, the Borg entered the Nekrit Expanse and attacked the colonies connected to the Unity One Cooperative." She paused. When she spoke again, her tone was grave. "There were no survivors."
I slumped back into my seat, all jocularity sucked out of the room.
"No... survivors?" Chakotay asked.
Another pause. "The allied forces are attempting to determine who is missing and who is dead. All we know for now is that the Borg left no one behind alive."
Riley. David. Orum. All of those people. The memory of their whole colony flashed through my mind, bustling with life despite the threat of death from other factions. They'd found unity since then—the Emissary himself had seen to that. But unity had not kept the monster away this time.
Now the Borg knew about the orb and that it was currently on Voyager. And they knew what it contained.
A shiver slid down my spine.
"Understood. Chakotay out." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Goddamnit."
"Loran," I muttered. "She's getting stronger by the minute."
"We really need to find Equinox."
At the mention of our missing comrades, another memory surfaced—my last conversation with Captain Ransom.
Ransom's grip on my wrist had been so tight. "You make sure… make sure my people get home."
Tears welled up in my eyes. "I will, Captain."
"Rudy," he whispered hoarsely.
"We'll get your people home, Rudy," I'd said as I aimed my blade at his heart. "I promise."
But what good was getting Equinox home if the Borg took that home away?
I stared at the image of the bracelet on Chakotay's screen, a symbolic mirror of my tagh . Bracelets were items of love and beauty, and this one literally channeled unity. Sisko said there was a path for me, and he'd led me to a weapon.
Given the choice, I'd rather have had the bracelet. I'd tried so hard to be that kind of person—the diplomat, the counselor, the loyal daughter and exemplary Starfleet officer. Someone who made the universe more compassionate and understanding. But despite Sisko's statement to the contrary, I didn't have a choice. I never had.
Maquis. Krenim. Borg. The truth always came for me no matter what I did. From the moment of my conception, I'd been destined to follow Marnah down this path—a path of war.
If this was what it took to save our galaxy from the Borg, then maybe it was time to embrace it.
"No," I finally told Chakotay, breaking the shocked silence that had stretched between us. Searching for Equinox would cost too much time, and this wasn't their path. I hated the words even as they formed in my mouth, but there was no way around it. "We need to kill Loran before she comes for us."
