Chapter 18

Commanding Officer's Starlog - supplemental.

Commodore Zachary North recording.

The Orion interceptors took their pleasure barge and left without further incident. I'm hoping that's the last we'll see of them.

The Vulcan cruiser Tar'Hana has now arrived to relocate the refugees, who are making preparations for their departure tomorrow. Damage from the riots was relatively minimal, and a diplomatic resolution has been reached thanks to Vyla and Ambassador Mamao'lani. The more physical repairs are already underway.

I have asked Doctor T'Ling to examine Vyla in order to confirm a suspicion…

"You were correct, Commodore," said Dr. T'Ling as she consulted her medical scanner. "Vyla's pheromonal output has almost doubled since her initial examination."

"What?" said Vyla. "How is that possible?" She was sat on the edge of a bed in one of the Main Infirmary's private rooms, having graciously agreed to undertake the scans without further explanation.

North and Mamao'lani were both also present, and now shared a knowing look.

"I think the Commodore and I have suspected this for a while," said Mamao'lani. "We've both been a little… not ourselves recently, and we've also had a lot of contact with you. Our behaviour towards you was a little too agreeable. Not that we would have disagreed much regardless, I'm sure."

"But I… I was a slave," said Vyla. "I don't have strong pheromones. I can't produce them, that's why I was a slave."

North turned to T'Ling. "Doctor, I confess I'm no medical expert, but could pheromone production be psychosomatic?"

"Further analysis will be required, of course," said the Vulcan healer, "but it is a plausible hypothesis." She then excused herself to check on other patients.

"What does that mean?" asked Vyla.

"It means your people have been living a lie," said Mamao'lani. "But then, the idea that some people are born for servitude is never true."

North clarified further. "It means that you have weak pheromones because you think you have weak pheromones. I imagine this is how the Orions have kept the lower classes in check for centuries."

Vyla frowned. "So… they tell some of us that we're supposed to be slaves…"

"And the low self-image causes lower pheromones," said Mamao'lani. "Likewise, they tell some of you that you were born to rule, and that results in a higher self-image, thus more pheromones. It's how they maintain control; stops everyone from having an equal chance to reach the top."

"It's likely that being thrust into a leadership role increased your own confidence and your pheromones with it," said North.

Vyla shook her head. "I can't believe it… All these years of being told we were beneath the others… This whole time there was no difference."

Mamao'lani put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "That would have been true either way, Vyla. People who need to put others beneath them aren't above anyone."

She nodded her thanks to him, smiling sadly. North knew it would take her time to adjust to this revelation, and hoped that word of it would spread to other Orion slaves.

"What's to happen to that poor young Andorian?" Vyla asked after a moment.

North gave a small smile. Even with such a culture shock, she was still thinking of others. "Guardsman Threv will be given a refresher course in trigger discipline, but as he only stunned the shoplifter, Jaffu, I've determined that no further punishment is required."

"The shopkeeper that Mr. Jaffu stole from has agreed not to press charges," added Mamao'lani. "I was able to convince him of the gravity of the situation, as well as how beneficial it would be for his business reputation."

"Under the circumstances," said Vyla, "I'm sure everyone who was outraged by Jaffu's treatment will be comfortable with that outcome." She looked to North with a grin. "You saved us from the Syndicate. Faced them down and came out intact. That earned you a lot of points."

That reluctantly brought up another matter North needed to discuss. "Regarding those interceptors… We were able to download a lot of the Emerald Eye's database before we had to evacuate… A message containing the Eye's coordinates was sent by a young woman named Piras."

Vyla closed her eyes and nodded. "She's been a slave her whole life. A favoured one too; she would have received slightly better treatment than most of us. But the worst way that the Syndicate breaks us isn't physical…"

"She's been institutionalised," North surmised. "It's the only life she knows and she wanted back to it."

Vyla sighed. "What will happen to her?"

"She's technically done nothing wrong," said North. "There's no crime against contacting the Syndicate. However, we have placed her in restricted quarters under guard, as she may further endanger this base and the other refugees, albeit unintentionally."

"She'll get rehabilitative therapy on Vega," said Mamao'lani. "To try to help her integrate into a normal life. After that, it will be up to her what she does."

Vyla stared off at the wall blankly. "She may not be the only one who cannot adjust."

North stepped forward. "Everyone will get whatever help they need. Freedom comes at a high price, and you've all paid it. It's time for your rewards."

Vyla looked up at him with a bright smile. North felt himself genuinely pleased by her reaction, and not just because of any pheromones this time.