Season Five

by EnlightenedSkye

Picking up six months after Terra Prime, the Enterprise attempts to hold the Coalition together while keeping an eye on the growing Romulan threat. Trip takes his own command and the war begins mid-season. [July 2155 to January 2157. 25 episodes. Fully episodic, so each chapter is a stand-alone story. ATP, Troshi, Malcolm/OC, P/C. Rated T throughout. Complete, S6 and S7 complete]

6. Episode 6: The City of Night

A/N: Hello again! This chapter contains a lot of extremely pivotal plot points. If you think something sounds important for the future, it probably is. It's also the longest chapter so far, but there was a lot to get through.

This is pretty much exclusively a Malira chapter, but if it's any consolation Ch8 is all Troshi, and Ch9 is all ATP. I'm writing Ch12 now, but I like to give these stories time to marinate.

I know I keep saying how much fun each chapter is to write, but this one was a great one because I got to go back and watch so many classic episodes. There's a ton of world building done here, but nothing strictly outside of canon.

Speaking of which, in my free time, I've been rereading a lot of old favorite ATP stories (A Trip Through Dark and Rocky Places, The Enterprise Spring Vacation, Hold Me Through, Plan B, Journeys, etc). Special shoutout to Gaiden's Pa'Nar Problems story for doing this particular first contact, albeit a little differently, over a decade ago. I highly recommend any of these if you're looking for something to read! There's not a lot of ATP fics out there, so we've got to stick together!

Still don't and won't ever own any of these canon characters. No profit made. Enjoy!

Season Five

Episode Six: The City of Night

The first thing Ensign Taxa felt after spending six days hibernating was pain.

She supposed it was to be expected, but while her mind felt well rested, her body was singing a completely different tune. It took a great deal of effort even to sit up, and when she did, she was hit with a near debilitating wave of nausea and had to lay back down.

At some point during the past week, she'd been moved to her quarters. The last thing she remembered was being carried through the corridors of the Enterprise from the transporter pad, barely registering the row of injured MACOs lined up along the wall in her delirious state. Then she was on a biobed, squinting up at the blinding lights, listening to her half-father order his aides to prep for emergency surgery. He was smoothing her hair back from her forehead and telling her over and over again she was going to be alright, though he didn't sound particularly convinced. Then she'd disappeared into the imaging chamber, and the world had gone dark.

With one hand, she fumbled around on her side table until she located her communicator. "Taxa to sickbay," she whispered, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded.

There was a pause, and then the reply: "Welcome back to the land of the living."

There had been an offer for a house call, but Alira was determined to get back on her feet. Bathing and getting dressed were accomplished sitting down, though she felt more than silly doing it. It took almost double the time it would normally to shuffle down to sickbay. She held her side the entire time, because even though she knew she'd been stitched up to within an inch of her life, it felt like her insides were threatening to fall out. Phlox was able to confirm that not only was this not going to happen, the Captain had cleared her for light duty, provided she was up to it.

And so she had found herself in the mess hall shortly before the start of alpha shift, enjoying what was always the largest meal of the year. Soon Ensign Singh joined her, nursing a cup of tea.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better," she said, eyeing her plate piled high with Chef's breakfast offerings.

"Dita, have you ever had one of these?"

"A cinnamon roll? Plenty of times."

"I never had one until this morning. I've had four, and the experience has absolutely changed my life for the better. I'm starving."

She smiled. "Sleeping for a solid week will do that to you. I'm sorry you missed ladies' night, though. Your half-father showed up, and he let us put curlers in his hair."

"I hope they took pictures. Anything significant over the past few days?"

Dita shook her head. "We've had to divert course to avoid an ion storm. We're farther from home than any Earth vessel has ever been. The science department is tripping all over themselves scanning for everything they can think of."

They were joined shortly by Hoshi and Liz, who greeted both of them warmly.

"While you were out, we received feedback from General Casey about the changes you wanted to make to the MACO training manual," Hoshi said, handing her a PADD. She had to twist somewhat awkwardly to avoid hitting her arm against the table, as it was still wrapped in a sling.

There was a few seconds of silence as she scrolled through the correspondence. Alira slapped it down on the table, protesting around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "He's being ridiculous. If the past couple of months have told us anything, it's that they need more training in close quarters combat."

"I take it you're going to write him a strongly worded letter?"

"With excessive capitalization and a liberal use of condescension," she replied, downing her glass of orange juice.

Travis slid into the seat opposite her. "Ladies," he nodded to each of them. "Ensign Taxa, it's good to see you're awake. Do you think you'd be free for basketball tonight? Navigation is taking on the armory, and they still need one more on their team."

Alira smiled sheepishly and set her fork down for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mayweather. I believe I might have plans."

There was a chorus of laughter around the table. Liz leaned forward and explained, "We know. Malcolm hasn't stopped worrying about it all week."

"Oh?"

"You'd think the man has never been on a date before. He's completely freaking out. At first, we weren't sure why he was acting so cagey, but Trip got it out of him," Hoshi recalled.

Alira was suddenly feeling a little nervous herself. Though it didn't compare in complexity to Denobulan mating rituals, the world of human dating confounded her, mostly because they were so much more inhibited. She realized there were many opportunities for her to make a mistake. "Any advice you could give me?"

"Just be yourself," Dita started to say, but was cut off by Hoshi.

"Don't pry too much about his family or his past. He's extremely secretive. It basically took a full scale investigation for me to find out his birthday." She leaned back, seemingly deep in thought. "Travis, do you remember the name of Malcolm's ex from STC, the one we met at the 602 Club the first time we were recalled to Earth?"

"Rochelle?"

"No, no. Tall, with a beard."

He furrowed his brows, surely digging around in the far reaches of his memory. "Chris, I think."

"Chris!" Hoshi clapped her hands together. "He told me that they dated for a year and a half, and he never knew his mother's name."

"It's Mary, right?"

"See? You've already got an advantage," Liz encouraged, "You're going to be just fine."

At least one person thought so. "Do I need to be worried about this Chris?"

"I don't think so. He's the dockmaster at Jupiter Station now. Married. Has a cute kid," Travis assured her, continuing to reminisce about old friends.

Across the room, the hatch opened and admitted the man of the hour, dressed for duty. They made eye contact across the room, and Alira looked away quickly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. Needing an outlet for the sudden burst of anxiety, she reached over and snatched the apple from Travis's plate, taking a huge bite.

The table fell silent. She received four nearly identical surprised looks. Liz glanced over her shoulder and suddenly put two and two together. Perhaps louder than was necessary, she called out, "Lieutenant Commander! Over here!"

Alira wanted to bolt, but she stood her ground. It appeared that Malcolm was doing everything in his power not to look at her as he approached the table. He was trying to save face in front of their colleagues, like they hadn't shared a moment during the extremely ill-fated away mission last week. Like they hadn't been vulnerable with one other. Like they hadn't almost crossed the line, right then and there.

"Good morning all," he said after clearing his throat loudly. Finally, their eyes met. "Ensign. Good to see you up and about."

"Sir," she replied evenly, taking another massive bite.

"Hoshi, I'll be needing to borrow your hotplate tonight," he requested quietly. Liz snorted and covered her face with her hands, only to receive a reproachful look from Travis.

"What's the occasion?"

"Just experimenting."

Probably not a lie.

"I get tired of Chef's cooking sometimes as well," Dita informed him, attempting to save everyone a little embarrassment.

Malcolm nodded sagely, then pinned her down under his gaze once again. "Ensign, if you're available, I'd like to review this week's status reports on the torpedo housing upgrades. Let's say 1900 hours?"

So that was how he was going to play it. "I'll be there. If you'll excuse me, I'm due on the bridge."

With some difficulty, she rose to her feet and came around the table. When she was sure their fellow crewmen had returned to their conversations and only he could hear, she whispered, "Wear something nice."

He smirked, looking back at her for a fraction of a second before turning back to the table.

---

Captain's log, October 1st, 2155: We are en route to Coridan following a path recommended to us by a Tellarite freighter to avoid an ion storm blocking our previous course. There are several inhabited systems around us, and the Commodore is repeatedly suggesting we take a detour and afford our crew the luxury of first contact.

---

"All I'm saying is that not even the NX-03 Cochrane has made it out this far. There's inhabited systems all around us. Why not extend the olive branch?"

T'Pol sighed and began to tap her fingernails on the armrest of the Captain's chair. This conversation had been ongoing for the past few days. Jonathan was nothing if not persistent, however, and he would keep bringing it up until she caved. "Because that's not the objective of this mission, Commodore."

"Exploration is always an option. We'll make it Coridan in plenty of time."

"I cannot allow it. We have a schedule that we must keep."

Jonathan leaned over the command console, reminding her, "I could order you, Captain."

She could see it in his eyes. He was teasing her, something she couldn't allow in front of the bridge crew. The wheels in her head were turning as she attempted to formulate an appropriately witty response, but she was interrupted by Ensign Hutchinson.

"I'm reading a vessel on long range scanners. A quarter light year away, approaching at warp four," he said, tapping away at his console.

"Its hull configuration doesn't match any species known to Starfleet," Cutler reported, peering through her viewfinder. "It's a bit horseshoe shaped. I'm reading over two hundred biosigns. Heavy shielding."

"Tactical alert," she replied immediately, watching in her peripheral vision as Ensign Taxa raised the alarm. "What about the Vulcan database, Lieutenant?"

There was a pause. "One match. This says it belongs to the prevalent humanoid species in the Beta Zeta system."

"The ship is dropping out of warp," Hutchinson warned, hands hovering over the course controls.

"Steady on, Ensign." On the viewscreen, the vessel emerged in a flash of light and made a hard about, coming directly for them. It surely was shaped like a horseshoe, with massive particle cannons mounted on either end. The hull plating was some sort of iridescent chrome; it seemed to sparkle, though there was no light source to speak of for millions of kilometers around.

"We're being hailed," Lieutenant Sato said.

"On screen," Archer ordered before his companion could protest, rising to his feet.

They were greeted by the sight of the ship's commanding officer, a tall woman with a full head of dark, curly hair. She and everyone else on the bridge wore some sort of royal purple jumpsuit with a heavily beaded collar. She took a step closer to the screen, and Archer noticed that the iris of her eyes was completely black, giving her an almost unsettling appearance.

"I am Captain Pomona, Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, proprietor of the patrol ship Delphina. You are presently only a half light year from the border of our space. Unexpected, but not unwelcome," she gave them a warm smile. Her voice was a rich, melodic contralto. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain T'Pol, Commodore Archer."

"How did they-"

"The Betazoids are a race of telepaths, Ensign," T'Pol explained, "The Vulcan ship T'Karrath made first contact a little over a quarter century ago."

"Quite accurate. You are also correct in remembering that it went well." She turned her attention to Archer. "Yes, we would be willing to guide you to our home world. It's only two light years from here. We would also be interested to hear about this Coalition of Planets."

T'Pol whirled around on him, eyebrow raised. She then remembered that everyone on the other ship could hear her thoughts as if she was shouting them out loud. "Stand by for confirmation, Delphina."

Hoshi swiftly ended the transmission, then before she could be ordered to do so, raised the call for the senior officers to report to the ward room.

---

"I don't like it," Ensign Taxa asserted from her post at the window, where she was studying the Betazoid ship resting at full stop off their bow. "They can read all our thoughts, but we can't read theirs. They'll know every single move we're going to make even before we do it. It's not only tactically disadvantageous, it's dangerous."

"It shouldn't be an issue, Ensign. Not unless you're carrying state secrets up there," Trip said with a laugh, pointing at his own head.

A ghost of panic darted across Alira's features. She approached the table, leaning over it to accept the PADD offered to her by the Captain. This was completed in one swift motion, and in a fraction of a second, her smile had returned. "Their fleet seems too small to pose any real threat to Starfleet and our allies."

T'Pol nodded. "Like the Denobulans, the Betazoids are mostly concerned with defense of their own system. They number only around one billion, but the presumption of their innate military prowess has been enough to keep invaders out of their system for millennia."

"Well, if they're not good on the battlefield, what are they good at?" Malcolm asked.

"Music, art, philosophy, literature. You know, all the things that make life worthwhile," Hoshi cut in from the other end of the table, where she was making a quick study of the Vulcan database for what limited information was contained there. "There's no civil war, there's no political corruption, there's very little crime. Betazed sounds like a paradise."

"I don't think I'd like having my thoughts laid out in the open like that. There's some things in my head I don't wanna share with nobody," Trip mused.

"It really is fascinating," Elizabeth said, transferring the screen of her PADD to the computer screen. "They have this additional area of the brain that allows for them to sense the thoughts of others, just as if they were speaking them out loud. Most of them are born this way, and even if their abilities are weaker than most, they can still sense strong emotions."

"Is there a way for us to prevent the Betazoids from reading our thoughts?" Archer asked.

She shook her head. "That would be a question for Phlox. My instinct is telling me no. Besides, how would it look if we showed up with our defenses artificially built up, not even allowing them to partake in behavior that's perfectly natural for them?"

"What about those of us that have been entrusted with privileged Starfleet intelligence?" Malcolm looked towards the Commodore. Over his shoulder, Alira looked down, suddenly very interested in the deck plating.

"I would hope that neither of you know any more than I do," he asserted, staring them down. It had been almost a year since Malcolm had betrayed him by associating with Section 31, and he had not yet forgotten it.

"It was a hypothetical question, sir."

"I know that, Lieutenant Commander."

"I would recommend focusing your thoughts on one aspect of the mission, perhaps your impression of the reception hall, the graciousness of our hosts, or our journey so far. It will help you avoid any intrusive or revealing thoughts," the Captain advised. She was, at least hypothetically, their resident expert on emotional restraint.

"The structure of their government is also going to play a key role in this mission," Hoshi added, somewhat distracted and more than a little interested by what she was reading. "Though the Betazoids value gender equality, their ruling class is exclusively made up of women from a collection of families known as the Fifth House. The judiciary is overseen by women of the Fourth House, commerce by women of the Third House, and so on. We may want to choose a female majority away team."

"A matriarchal society, huh?" Trip seemed bemused. "I don't see how that's any better than the gender-balanced system we have on Earth."

Hoshi and Liz did a visible double take, while Alira, who grew up on a world where women were the socially and sexually dominant gender, leaned over the table to ask, "Are you kidding? I have to know if you're kidding."

"We'll take Lieutenant Sato and Ensign Taxa, as well as one of the female MACO sergeants," T'Pol interrupted, scrolling through the duty roster.

"They're injured," Alira confirmed.

"All of them?"

"We had to take all of them down to Rigel V, Commodore, and we all know how that turned out. Cole and Parsons won't return to normal duty until next week. None of the female Corporals are on their feet either. Private Gilson is available, but she's still extremely green."

"How green, Ensign?" Archer was curious.

"Still gets lost on her way to the mess hall levels of green," she replied.

"Looks like you're going to have to settle," Malcolm said, gesturing to himself.

Jonathan stifled a laugh, whereas the Captain did not appear amused in the slightest. Suddenly, she stood and instructed Hoshi, "Contact the Delphina. Tell them we'll be right behind them."

---

The journey to Betazed lasted less than a day, during which they were treated to the sights of the system: a G class star, an uncharted comet, and several blue and green gas giants. The science department continued their field day on their scanning array, and within a few hours, the Captain received multiple requests from several specialists to double back on their path to study various phenomena. This amused the Commodore to no end, but she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He knew as well as she did that they would need to high-tail it out of there at maximum warp after their visit to make it to Coridan on time, so the requests for further scientific study would have to wait.

Betazed was perhaps a little larger than Earth, with a handful of continents situated around the equator. There was an equal distribution green, brown, and red on land, with a hint of white betraying the presence of snow-capped mountains. Unlike most of the populated planets they'd visited so far during their mission, it was impossible to tell from orbit where the landscape ended and the cities began. Dozens of patrol ships hung in low orbit, creating a dazzling light show with their iridescent hulls.

As if on cue, the Delphina hailed them with coordinates of their capital city, or more specifically, the Palace of the Monarch, the Most Divine Lady Florina Jovat of the Fifth House of Betazed, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Consecrated Pendant of Mercy.

Malcolm thought that was a mouthful, and dearly hoped he wouldn't have to remember all of that. He joined the away team in the shuttlepod, expecting to touch down in a bustling city.

He hadn't expected the garden of Eden.

As soon as the hatch opened, they were greeted with crisp, fresh air, not the recycled stuff the air vents on the Enterprise spit back at them. The air temperature was perfect, and massive, fluffy cumulus clouds drifted across the great sphere of the sky. There were many buildings all around them, most of which reminded him of the Space Needle in Seattle. They were tall and skinny, with massive habitat rings wrapping around the top. He suspected they were constructed this way to maintain the grounds; the lush green lawn spread out all around them, rolling and dipping with the gentle swell of the terrain. Their path was surrounded by native vegetation on all sides, trees reminiscent of tropical palms, bushes with enormous red and pink blooms, and patches of wildflowers with stalks as long as a man was tall.

Alira took several steps away from the pod and extended her arms, spinning around in a complete circle. She laughed and clasped her hands in front of her chest, seemingly verklempt by the scene around them.

"What do you think, Ensign?"

"This is like paradise. It's beautiful," she replied, studying the horizon.

As are you, he wanted to reply, but kept his mouth shut and set to scanning their surroundings.

"We'll be meeting with Captain Pomona Adamos and a representative of the Monarch, one-" Hoshi squinted at her PADD, somewhat overcome by the bright sunlight. "Parliamentary Adjunct Bran Audet. I believe that's a man's name."

Malcolm was beginning to notice a theme. Betazoid women's names sounded beautiful and poetic, while men's names sounded like someone trying to talk with a mouthful of marbles. "You know, Hoshi, before we left, Trip asked me to make sure you didn't run off with any strange men. He kept going on about what happened on Rigel V."

Hoshi rolled her eyes, none too keen on being told who she could associate with. "I don't know, it worked out just fine for me on Risa."

There was a pause, then Malcolm registered what she'd said. "Come again?"

"I did say I learned several new conjugations," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Just because you two had a miserable time, doesn't mean everyone did."

"Ah, Risa," Alira interrupted, suddenly lost in her reverie. "The last time I took my Infantry crew, there was a rather unfortunate incident involving a-"

At that moment, the Captain and the Commodore emerged together from the shuttlepod, and their conversation faded immediately. The trio fell into step behind them as they proceeded towards the rendezvous point.

"Save that story for later," Malcolm whispered as they traveled through the garden.

"1900 hours," Alira confirmed, then looked in his direction with an impish expression, eyes wide. "And here I thought we were going to go over reports."

He didn't get the chance to respond. The Betazoid delegation appeared almost out of nowhere around a blind corner, all dressed identically in the purple jumpsuits, all seeming to look through them rather than at them with their boundless eyes.

"Captain T'Pol," The older woman began, extending her hand for a cursory shake. "I believe I sensed your thoughts."

"Captain Pomona, allow me to offer our appreciation for you allowing us on your-" The moment she made contact, T'Pol froze, the words cut off in her throat.

Beside him, Alira's hand drifted to her holstered pistol, which drew the attention of all three of the Betazoids. Before she could act, T'Pol broke away from the handshake, assuring them, "The Captain has offered to escort us. It seems that she has not had the opportunity to telepathically communicate with another species since they made first contact with the T'Karrath."

Archer was passively worried about her speaking with their hosts in this way, considering one of the few times she'd telepathically connected with someone it had been followed by a brutal assault. Captain Pomona's eyes met his, and she nodded slowly.

"Welcome to Betazed. Allow me to introduce Parliamentary Adjunct Bran Audet, who manages our Most Divine Lady's appointments, and Agent Chandra Kafatos, private intelligence operative for our Most Divine Lady," she gestured to the two of them and they smiled, not quite making eye contact with any of them. "We'll now escort you to the chambers of the Palace of the Monarch. I would be happy to answer any questions you may have."

Malcolm was sure she already knew exactly what they were going to ask, but was neglecting to probe their minds out of respect. If they were reading his thoughts, he couldn't tell, though he was attempting to maintain a perfectly blank slate.

As they walked, Pomona peppered in little facts about their world, their government, the flora and fauna. They were technically within the city of Rixx at the moment, but because their people valued aesthetic beauty, the populace was spread out over hundreds of square kilometers, with gardens and public use spaces between buildings. There was a massive weather modification net above them which kept the planet locked in an eternal spring, and in the interest of sustainability vehicles had been banned in the city in favor of an extensive transporter network.

The palace soon came into view; it was a squat, trapezoidal building with a completely flat roof and wrap around stairs that led to an entrance on all sides. The eaves and windows were inlaid with what Malcolm suspected was the same material that comprised their ships' hulls. It shined in the sun to an almost unbearable degree, burning his eyes, causing him to squint.

They passed over an arched bridge over a small creek, and the man called Bran reached down to collect a flower. It was a striking red and purple bloom on a long stem, and as he held it up for their viewing pleasure and shook it slightly, they heard a musical tinkling sound. "Muktok," he explained, "They grow everywhere. Our women wear them in their hair when they marry."

"It's beautiful," Alira marveled, reaching out to touch it.

Immediately, Bran tossed it back into the stream, and they watched as it floated away. "They are sacred to Betazed," he stated apologetically, turned, and started to lead them towards the staircase.

Their party began to move off, and just as they were out of earshot of the others, Malcolm whispered, "Cover me, Hoshi. I'm getting some of those flowers."

"You're not serious," she hissed, watching as he returned the way they'd come, shuffling down the slope of the ground, coming to the banks of the creek with as much grace as a bull in a china shop.

She rushed towards him. "You heard the man, those flowers are sacred. You can't just take them. It could lead to a diplomatic incident. Think about what happened to the Commodore when Porthos peed on one of the Kreetassan's precious alvera trees."

He shook his head, completely undeterred. By that time, he had a complete handful.

"Is this supposed to be for your date? Do you think Alira's gonna be impressed when you get tossed in some Betazoid prison for touching their flowers?" Hoshi said, watching as he scrambled back to level ground. Still, the look in his eyes, determination mixed with blind enthusiasm, made her realize that she'd never seen him like this before. It was endearing.

"And just where are you going to hide those, genius?"

Malcolm gave the breast pocket of his dress jacket a cursory pat, even pulled at the belt of his trousers for a split second. It was too far of a walk to make it back to the shuttle, but perhaps he could run.

Suddenly Alira turned from the top flight of stairs, spotting them from a distance. Malcolm hurriedly threw his arms out wide, pretending like he was stretching, sending the muktok flying into a nearby bush.

"Come on, the group stays together! That's the first rule of away missions. Even children understand that!" She called out, hands on her hips.

He waved, as if saying that they understood, and then he joined Hoshi in their trek towards the Palace of the Monarch. As they thundered up the steps, he realized that his companion was trying not to laugh, hiding her amusement behind a series of snorts.

"Not another word," he warned as they passed through the threshold.

The interior quite reminded Hoshi of Versailles, with grand chambers, floor to ceiling portraits, opulent furnishings, and gaudy trinkets stuffed in every corner. Immediately after entering, they were directed to a side table where they were given the honor of drinking from the Sacred Chalice of Rixx itself.

To Hoshi, and she was sure a majority of others on the away team as well, it looked like little more than a clay pot with mold growing in it. But she swallowed her doubts and a mouthful of stale water, passing it off to her right to a very hesitant Lieutenant Commander Reed.

He really was being quite ridiculous with the way he was behaving around Ensign Taxa, though she supposed it was rather adorable to see a grown man navigate the waters of an innocent crush.

Who knew he'd been such a hopeless romantic this entire time?

They'd known each other for four years, and to her knowledge he had never behaved his way, not even with the Orion women, not with the dozens of other crewmen they lived with. It was as if a switch had been flipped in his mind the second their tactician came aboard, and whatever happened between them, she knew she would be in full support of, provided they didn't both let their pride get in the way.

"How long has Betazed been ruled by a monarch, Captain?" T'Pol asked, crossing the room to come to stand before a grand portrait of a lady. She appeared middle-aged, with a mountain of dark curls set around a massive golden crown placed atop her head. The bespoke rays of light extended from her face by at least a half meter, eventually twisting and curling around one another as they spread out to the border of the painting. Many feathers had been placed in her hair behind the crown, standing straight up, making her look like a magnificent bird. She wore a metallic yellow gown with voluminous sleeves and a full skirt; she stood in three quarters profile, her expression dreamy and far away, yet serene and resolute.

"Since antiquity," Pomona replied as she came to stand beside her. "These days, the Most Divine Lady is democratically elected from a small pool of representatives from the Fifth House. She must be a strong telepath, as she carries the consciousness of all Betazoids when she makes decisions on our behalf."

"This Fifth House-I suppose all of you are members?" The Commodore squinted at the portrait and tilted his head, realizing her get-up quite reminded him of a portrait he'd seen of the French Sun King, Louis XIV, in an old volume of Earth history.

Agent Kafatos stepped forward, brushing his arm with her shoulder. "Above average telepathic aptitude is a requirement for admission or genetic bonding into the Fifth House. You wouldn't want your ruling class to lack the ability to know their enemies and allies completely." She smiled up at him, her lips pressed firmly together, and Archer suddenly felt immensely uncomfortable.

"Please, this way," Captain Pomona interrupted them, extending her arm towards the receiving room toward the immediate left of the entrance. They quickly followed her into a long, rectangular room filled with floor to ceiling mirrors opposite windows open to the gardens outside. The mirrors were framed with the same iridescent silver they'd been seeing everywhere; even though it was presently the middle of the afternoon, their pathway was lined with dozens of candelabras, all fully lit, casting a glow across the marble floor. Overhead, strange orb chandeliers hung every few meters, shifting with all the colors of the rainbow as the eye traveled across them.

At the end of the room was a grand staircase stretching out to either side onto the second level. The Parliamentary Adjunct was just out of eyesight, knelt down on the staircase, arguing with an unseen companion.

"You must kneel," Chandra said quietly, and they quickly complied, looking nervously between one another.

Suddenly the Most Divine Lady appeared, moving around her assistant, gingerly stepping towards them until she reached the bottom of the staircase. She wore some sort of hair caul set in the shape of two horns, heavily inlaid with gemstones. Her dress was vibrant red with a voluminous crinoline skirt and a neckline that plunged nearly to her waist. As she came closer, they could discern that she had painted her face with matching red lipstick and bright blue eyeshadow, and her cheeks were colored with an unusually bright shade of blush.

"Allow me to introduce-"

"The Most Divine Lady Florina Jovat of the Fifth House of Betazed, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Consecrated Pendant of Mercy," she interrupted, flourishing her statement with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And what a delight it is to meet delegates from the planet Earth! Your reputation in the Vulcan database precedes you."

She swept across the floor as if she were floating and extended her hand towards the Commodore, pinky held aloft. "Commodore Jonathan Archer. Word has reached our paradise of your brilliant defeat of the Xindi in combat. I must say, the description afforded to you by the Tellarites does not do your handsome personage justice. You seem quite patrician. Almost like a hero of antiquity."

Archer cut a side glance to Pomona, who nodded to urge him on. Slowly, he reached up and took her hand, kissing the massive stone inlaid in her signet ring. The Most Divine Lady made a satisfied "hmm" sound in the back of her throat and moved off before he could thank her for the compliment, proceeding to lavish his Captain with praise as to her brilliance and scientific aptitude.

Alira thought she was reminiscent of her mother: eccentric, larger than life, utterly meticulous in her words and actions. After she kissed her ring, the Most Divine Lady cupped her chin and bopped her on the nose, exactly as her mother had done when she was a child.

"She sounds lovely, my dear," the monarch cooed, sweeping past her to dole some attention onto Malcolm and Hoshi. Alira nearly missed the extremely pointed look she sent in the direction of Agent Kafatos.

Once she was through with exchanging pleasantries, she snapped her fingers and fled the room, disappearing into a narrow hallway adjoining the staircase. The Betazoids around them seemed to take the hint and followed her, leaving the humans utterly bewildered in her wake.

The Captain quickly regained her senses and led the procession into a grand ballroom; the ceilings seemed impossibly tall, the chandeliers dimmed, giving the room the luster of sunset even in the middle of the afternoon. Intricate allegorical scenes were inlaid into the floor in different colors of marble, spinning the tale of four deities as they crossed the room. Hoshi slowed down to behold the nearest piece of stonework, a lovely woman holding what looked like a bow and arrow as she sat in the curve of a crescent moon, studying the mortals traversing the earth far below. Another depicted a woman with long flowing hair rising out of the water, surrounded by various nymphs and acolytes. Farther still was their warrior goddess, toting a shield and spear and using her massive wings to shield her grateful devotees. Finally, as they reached the far end of the hall, they came to a stop under the purview of the largest work, a lady lounging on a silver throne with the same golden sun crown the Most Divine Lady had been wearing in the portrait.

It seemed to Hoshi that the Betazoids were proto-Roman, or perhaps Greek. It never failed to amaze her that even across light years, cultures tended to develop in the same manner, repeating over and over in slight variations across the universe.

The Most Divine Lady had led them to a table set for a grand meal, laden with vases full of muktoks and illuminated with a slightly shorter version of the candelabras they'd seen in the receiving room. She clapped her hands, urging them, "Sit down! Sit down!"

The Commodore quickly complied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He looked towards the Captain, whose lips were set in a thin line of concern. He decided to break the silence. "Your Majesty, we are honored to be invited into your home. I would like to discuss-"

"What's the hurry?" She cried, reaching over Hoshi's head to strike a tom on the massive gong hung on the wall.

Almost immediately, a line of servants appeared from the far corner of the room and approached them in single file, each of them carrying a serving dish piled high with what they could only assume were Betazoid delicacies.

"The men and women of the Second House are renowned for their hospitality," Captain Pomona explained, "They have served the ruling class for generations."

Malcolm leaned back to allow a young woman to drop a plate in front of him. He wasn't sure what the protocol was, so he just whispered, "Thank you."

She didn't so much as glance at him as she rejoined the others, and together they exited through the hallway to the immediate left of the table.

Archer made a second attempt to broach the subject of the Coalition, only to be interrupted with a rather lengthy prayer being made to the Four Deities. The Betazoids leaned forward and lifted their hands to the ceiling, palms facing outward, and the away team mimicked the gesture, remaining there for a seemingly infinite amount of time.

Finally, when she was finished with her recitation, the Most Divine Lady struck the gong once more and reached for her fork, causing a cascade of repeated motions around the table.

"Now tell me, Commodore, I would love to hear of the adventures you've had so far during this diplomatic mission of yours. Of course, I've already gotten the gist of it, but hearing it in your own lovely voice would be so much better," the Most Divine Lady said, fluttering her eyelashes at him over the rim of her wine glass.

He cleared his throat and glanced across the table, nonverbally begging any of his officers to take one for the team. Finally, Lieutenant Sato spoke up: "Your Majesty, have you ever been to Andoria?"

God bless Hoshi.

She frowned and looked towards her Parliamentary Adjunct, who shook his head. "No, Miss Hoshi, I haven't. Though I may have read about the Andorians in the Vulcan database. Dreadful people."

"Those reports may be a little biased, but it's a world of eternal winter. The snow and ice haven't melted for billions of years. All of their cities are underground. One of our missions took us there," she explained.

She tutted and shook her head. "And our world has been building these magnificent gardens for millions of years. Each species has their own priorities."

The meal continued with persistent appeals from the monarch to detail the events of their mission thus far, repeated ringings of the gong, and countless courses being served to them by silent stewards. Archer realized that the Most Divine Lady wasn't necessarily flirting with him, but rather addressing everyone in the room with the same rapt attention. She repeatedly assailed his security officer with compliments as to how lovely and winsome she was, before offering her a slice of something called uttaberry pie.

Alira accepted her invitation and seemed to like the taste, making a passing comment about how much her half-father would have enjoyed it. In return, she fished a chocolate bar out of the pocket of her dress jacket and broke it into pieces, distributing them to the Betazoids in attendance. Their first taste of chocolate was apparently a rapturous experience, as they began to chatter excitedly to their guests and attempt to make a deal for the exchange of the recipe needed to make more.

"I didn't have any until I was a teenager, when my father brought me on one of his border patrols and we encountered a vessel from the Earth Cargo Service. I've had to keep a supply with me at all times since then. Then again, I've never met a chocolate I didn't like."

Chandra laughed and gestured towards Alira, declaring, "I like this one! Her mind is like a-" She repeatedly opened and closed her fingers on one hand, mimicking an explosion, mentally searching for the right word. "A ray of sunshine."

From across the table, Malcolm made eye contact with her, then quickly looked away, a bit of red rising to his cheeks. "Ensign Taxa is known for her enthusiasm. Always a smile on her face."

"It's more than that," she explained, "My people, our bodies lack sufficient supply of a certain neurotransmitter associated with staying awake. The only way we can generate enough to stay on our feet most of the year is by inducing the chemical reaction."

"Similar to how smiling convinces the human brain to produce more dopamine," the Commodore surmised, wondering how he'd missed that particular fact about Denobulan physiology.

"How fascinating," the Most Divine Lady cut in from the head of the table, clearly having probed her mind to that natural conclusion. "I do so enjoy learning more about other species. Might I interest you in more wine, Captain?"

Before she could even open her mouth to reply, a servant rushed over toting two ceramic vessels. He looked at her, narrowed his eyes, and then set the other one aside, swiftly filling her glass to her preference.

"I must say, Miss Hoshi, I am surprised that your Universal Translator can decipher our language as well as it can. The Vulcans, you see, had such difficulty," the Most Divine Lady said dismissively, producing an accordion fan seemingly out of nowhere and proceeding to churn the air around her heavily painted face.

Hoshi cut a glance to T'Pol, who, to her credit, did not visibly react. "It was a challenge. I am grateful that Captain Pomona sent along passages from some of your most famous works of literature before we arrived." To her companions, she added: "About half of the Betazoid language can be conveyed through telepathic imagery, so the UT is having to fill in a lot of gaps."

"Be careful, Archer. I may have your communications officer yet. She'd be a fine addition to the women of the Delphina," Pomona warned with a smile.

On the opposite side of Hoshi, Bran reached for a platter in the center of the table, brushing her hand as he did so. She thought she saw a flash of something indecipherable in his eyes, the corners of his lips moving minutely across his classically handsome face. "You would be fighting a losing battle, ma'am. She's tempted by the idea of an all-female ship, but she's completely loyal to her Captain."

"Bran, let the woman speak for herself," Chandra admonished with a laugh. She stood. "If you'll excuse me, I'd love to talk tactics with Ensign Taxa for a few moments. I understand she has some brilliant ideas about attack formations in close quarters."

As a matter of fact, she hadn't said anything about it. Slightly alarmed, Alira met T'Pol's gaze, and at her slight nod, followed Agent Kafatos to the far end of the room.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, Chandra turned to her, studying her expression with her indeterminable black eyes. She smiled and reached out, gently taking hold of her arm. Alira immediately froze and glanced down at the offending hand, and her face told her everything she needed to know.

"My apologies," Chandra said, "I had no idea that your people were one of the species averse to physical contact."

Alira sincerely doubted this was the case, but she shook off the initial discomfort. "No harm done," she mumbled, leaning against the windowsill so her view of the dinner would be uninterrupted over Chandra's shoulder.

"Do they know?"

"Know what?"

"About your mission."

This time she reacted visibly, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"So they don't know."

Since this woman had apparently already made herself privy to her innermost thoughts, Alira thought it might be appropriate to designate her statement worthy of a response. "They don't."

"Not even-"

"No, not even him."

"You're doing the right thing. They'll see that some day."

"It's for the benefit of all of them." She began to nervously twirl her hair between her fingers. "Why did you want to talk about this?"

"Because right now, we have similar problems," Chandra said quietly, closing the distance between them and passing something into her hand behind an open palm.

"What is this?" She didn't dare take a look, only stashing it in the pocket of her dress blues.

"A holographic emitter, the best of its kind, currently in use by our special forces for disguises in the field. I believe it could be of some use to you."

Over Chandra's shoulder, several things happened rapidly in succession. The Captain stood, clutching her forehead, and rushed out of the room, followed shortly by the Commodore. Hoshi retrieved her communicator, excusing herself to the other end of the room. Malcolm looked directly at her, eyes wide, no doubt wondering if they were in the midst of a security event.

Alira didn't bid farewell to her companion. She made a quick slicing motion with her hand and hurried after the Commodore, leaving the Betazoids alone with the only human still at the table, smiling over their meals and avoiding eye contact all together with one another.

In the darkened corridor adjacent the banquet hall, she found the Captain leaning against the wall, her face in her hands, looking for all the world like she was struggling to stand. Archer stood before her, arms bracketed on either side of her shoulders, apparently trying to talk her down from the precipice.

"Ma'am, these people know more than we thought they do. They're attempting to out-maneuver us."

When T'Pol finally looked at her, she was shocked to see tears in her eyes. She was shaking, but perfectly stone-faced, and her voice wavered when she said: "They're here."

"Who's here?" Alira asked, but she already knew.

"We're about as far from the Romulan homeworld as we could possibly be," Archer reminded her.

"This was different. It was stronger. I can feel it; they're close."

In their very near vicinity, Alira became aware of the sound of boots on the marble floor, becoming louder, growing closer to them by the second. She reached out and seized the Captain by her elbow, pulling her up to a standing position in a single rough motion. She turned on her heels just in time to witness Lieutenant Sato enter the hallway.

Hoshi took a single look at their expressions, which were intense, preoccupied, and somewhat abstracted, and asked, "Is everything okay back here?"

"Everything's fine," Alira answered before either of their COs could respond.

She looked doubtful, but brushed it aside. "I've just heard from Ensign Singh. It seems that Lieutenant Kov fell from one of the upper level balconies in engineering, about ten meters up, and hit his head pretty hard. The doctor's got him stabilized, but he's in rough shape at the moment."

"Fell? What happened?" Archer demanded.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't get any more details than that."

Alira and the Captain exchanged a meaningful look. Both of them were wondering, but not daring to vocalize, if this could possibly be a coincidence.

"The sun will be setting soon. I believe it's time for us to take our leave of the Betazoids for the day," the Captain asserted, breezing past them into the banquet hall.

---

The shuttlepod ride back to Enterprise was much more quiet than the ride down. When they arrived, Alira moved off with the Captain and the Commodore, stepping into a turbolift a step behind them, following them into the ready room and standing in front of the closed door while they discussed their next move.

They would immediately begin scanning the surface for Vulcan or Romulan biosigns, starting with the capital city and focusing on all population centers. Once they had any credible lead, they would investigate and neutralize the threat.

Assuming they had an effective way of doing so.

Alira immediately volunteered to go on the reconnaissance mission, whenever that might be. Unbeknownst to the Commodore, T'Pol had never actually relinquished the command codes that allowed her to access the science station, so she would be able to conduct their scans remotely. Archer deemed it necessary to comb back through the logs of all United Earth ships who had been in the sector in the past few months, double checking for indications of a Romulan presence. For now, the three of them were the only ones to know of the hybrid plot, and that was the way it needed to stay.

Once they had well and truly agreed on a plan, they exited the ready room one by one so as not to rouse suspicion. T'Pol was the last to leave, looking both ways down the corridor. When she was sure she was alone, she turned and rushed towards sick bay before she could spare a second thought.

It wasn't enough to assume. She had to know.

Even at the lateness of the hour, she found Phlox at his computer console, tapping away at his daily report. When she entered, he stood, retrieving his PADD and meeting her halfway across the room.

"How is he?"

"He's going to pull through, if that's what you're asking," he replied, somewhat gravely, nodding towards the back of the room where a single curtain had been drawn. "The fall cracked his skull open. I recommend that he's off his feet for at least the next week."

"May I speak to him?"

"By all means."

Kov had apparently heard her approach, because the second she pulled the curtain back, he was struggling to sit up on the biobed.

"At ease, Lieutenant," she said instantly, laying what she hoped would be a comforting hand on his arm.

"Captain," he mumbled, settling onto his back once more. "I apologize."

"For what?" From this angle, she could barely see the line of sutures that spanned the entire right side of his head, snaking their way around back. It had been a gruesome injury, and she was genuinely surprised he was alert as he was.

"I'm not myself. The doctor says I'm concussed." He was silent for a moment, then a soft smile spread across his lips. "Now I know how Elizabeth felt on Rigel V. I can hardly form a coherent sentence."

"You're doing remarkably well," she assured him, pulling over a stool and taking a seat at his bedside.

He was fiddling with the edge of his blanket, turning it over and over in his hands. "I regret that this is the first time we've had the chance to speak alone since I've joined the crew."

"It is of no consequence. Your safety is my utmost priority, Lieutenant."

He shook his head, seemingly deep in thought. "It was just a normal day. Lieutenant Commander Hess asked me to calibrate the gauges on the plasma lines running through the upper level."

"What happened next?" She leaned forward minutely, squeezing her hands together in her lap.

"I know it sounds impossible, but I had a hallucination of someone rushing towards me with a weapon, a plasma rifle I believe. It seemed so real. He pushed me over the edge. And what's more, he looked like us."

It did sound impossible. This had been the same vision she'd had, a hundred kilometers away, in the Palace of the Monarch. It had to be impossible.

"What do you mean, he looked like us?"

He considered this for a moment. "Vulcan, but I knew he wasn't. I thought he must have been an imposter."

She nodded, hurriedly squashing the fear that was rising in her throat.

"The doctor says that all of my neurolytic enzymes and blood work came back normal. He doesn't know what happened. Perhaps it's the stress of this new assignment."

"Perhaps," she admitted, standing slowly. She placed her hand on his arm once more, irrationally feeling protective over him, like one would an little brother. "Do try and get some rest, Lieutenant. I'll return in the morning to check on your condition."

Gingerly, he covered her hand with his own, looking up at her with gratitude. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

Without another word, she slipped out and headed for the exit, her mind a storm of confliction.

---

That evening, Alira was seated at her desk, studying her reflection and considering the events of the day.

She should have known all the secrets of her mind would be laid bare to Chandra. In retrospect, it had been dangerous, foolish even, to go on the away mission. Still, she was thankful for her assistance, and immensely curious about the device she'd been given.

Carefully, she retrieved it from the drawer and held it up to the light, attempting to locate the on switch.

Her finger slipped as she made contact with the button in question, and her field of vision was filled with a blinding bright light.

She blinked rapidly and glanced in the mirror, utterly floored by what she saw.

Her cranial ridges were gone, replaced with a smooth forehead leading into a mop of stark white hair. Two antennae sprung from her head; though they didn't seem opposable, they were blue, as were her face and hands.

Where was this about fifteen years ago?

Intrigued this time, she pointed the device at herself again.

This time, her skin tone returned to one similar to her own. Her forehead was still smooth, but her eyes were now a more tame shade of hazel. It was unmistakable. She was human, and though she knew it was a bad idea, she briefly entertained showing up to dinner looking as she did at that moment.

"Reed to Taxa."

Though she was alone, Alira nearly jumped out her skin, throwing the device back in the drawer and slamming it. She reached for the comm.

"Taxa here."

"Are you ready?"

She smiled. "I'll be right there."

Alira stood and ran her hands through her hair, suddenly feeling a touch of self-consciousness. This was truly atypical for her, and she briefly wondered what this meant. She was almost to the door before she remembered, dashed back to her desk and restored her appearance to what nature had given her.

---

Several hours later, the two of them were rushing through the corridors, laughing and tripping over their own feet.

Truthfully, Malcolm wasn't sure how the night had flown by. It felt like fifteen minutes, but in actuality they'd been talking for six hours, and they were presently en route to the sweet spot in the middle of the night, dearly hoping they wouldn't run into anyone.

His attempt to make dinner had been a miserable failure, but Alira had complimented him anyway, then needled him about the candle he'd placed in the middle of the table. Weren't open flames forbidden on a starship?

To all except Lieutenant Kov and the Captain, he'd answered, But what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

He had listened as she described her days in academia and her brief foray into instruction (dealing with students who didn't yet know what they were talking about was infuriating, and she was much too impatient for that), and then the circumstances which led her to enlist in the Denobulan Infantry. She'd risen through the ranks relatively quickly, but the prospect of spending the rest of her career patrolling the border of the system left her feeling unfulfilled, so making the switch had been an easy decision.

His decision to join Starfleet had been for similar reasons, coupled with a desire to continue his family's tradition of military service in some way. Then there had been the fact that he'd never felt like he truly belonged anywhere his entire life. He'd found his family, so to speak, and for a time they'd had great adventures. But then, almost overnight, trouble had started following them wherever they went.

She was sympathetic, agreeing that no one truly understood war until they had to go through it. Then, to his surprise, she'd taken his hand across the table.

And now, as he led the way through the service tunnel on the way to the sweet spot, he couldn't help but wonder what extraordinary circumstances had allowed this woman to wander into his life. Sure, she was stubborn, and irritating at times, but he was happy when she was around. The armory crewmen were starting to notice the difference, and even Commander Tucker had gone out of his way to comment that he must be infatuated because normally he would be skulking around the bridge like the true miserable bastard he usually was.

"You know, Travis was teasing me about coming up here and crashing our evening."

From far below, he heard her laugh. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I'd kill him," he confessed with a smile as they reached the hatch. He released the clamps and slid it aside, then clambered through the opening.

She soon joined him, grasping her side for a fraction of a second before drawing up to her full height. Sure enough, her hair was standing straight up, blonde curls fanning her face like a halo. Alira gestured toward the opposite wall. "You're telling me we're standing on the ceiling right now?"

"Try not to push off, or you'll go flying," he advised. "We've had poker games here, birthday parties, even movie nights once or twice. It's the ship's best kept secret."

"I see," she said, firmly planting her feet on the deck plating. "This may be poor timing, but I wanted to thank you for keeping me occupied while I was injured. If you weren't there, I don't think I could have held myself together."

He shrugged. "Archer did his best to instill in us that no crewman gets left behind if we can help it. Besides, I didn't want to lose y-"

Her eyes lit up and she took a step closer, smiling up at him, as if daring him to finish his sentence.

"I didn't want to lose your expertise."

"That's not what you meant to say."

"Who says it's not true?"

"Come on, Malcolm. I can take it. What were you going to say?"

He exhaled slowly, glancing up towards the ceiling. "I've been thinking, you've only been on board for three months and I feel that I've known you for years. We work very well together."

"Is that all you wanted to tell me? That we're good coworkers?" She was standing mere centimeters from him, so close that he could easily grab her and pull her close. He kept his arms at his side.

"No," he admitted, finally looking her in the eyes. He realized she was amused at his expense. "What are you getting out of this?"

"Not much. I could tease you all day," Alira said, before lowering her voice to a whisper: "I could be around you all day."

He shook his head. "You know, all the senior officers ever tell me is how boring I am. How serious I am."

"I wouldn't call it that. People like us, we hold duty above everything else as the number one thing, but it's not the only thing."

"What else makes the list?"

"Oh, friends. Family, if you're lucky enough to have it. This." She gestured around the room.

"I'm not sure what you mean," he replied, and before he could stop himself, he used both hands to push her hair back from her face, eventually landing at the base of her neck. "This?"

When he saw her breath catch in her throat, he knew it was now or never. Closing the distance between them, he kissed her softly.

It was perfect. It was indescribable. It felt right.

When they separated, it was only by a couple of centimeters, just enough for her to reply: "Exactly that."

The next kiss was more intense, more urgent. His hands fell to her waist and he pulled her closer, feeling her arms wrap around his neck. He could feel her smile against his mouth.

Malcolm decided she fit too naturally in his arms for it to be a fluke.

With one foot, Alira pushed off gently from the ceiling, sending them floating across the great open space.

---

The next morning, Tucker strode through the corridors on the way to the mess hall, humming to himself and looking forward to his first cup of coffee of the day.

He knew the away team was due to travel down to Rixx for their second day of negotiations; over dinner the night before, Jonathan had gone on and on about how beautiful the planet was, how hospitable the Betazoids were, and how much he'd like to persuade them to join the Coalition. T'Pol had remained quiet, pushing her meal around with her fork, seemingly preoccupied. Trip knew there was one man who would always give it to him straight.

Speak of the devil. About ten meters up ahead, Malcolm emerged from his quarters, his dress uniform jacket slung over his arm. As he watched, he hurriedly raked his fingers through his hair, struggling to make it appear presentable before he was due in the shuttlebay.

"Good mornin', Mal!" He exclaimed, falling into step beside him.

Malcolm grimaced, sliding his hand through the armhole of his jacket, then repeating it on the other side. "Good morning, Trip."

"How was Betazed yesterday?"

"Betazed? Oh, just fine." He zipped himself up, then set to securing his pips to his lapel. He seemed...distracted.

All of Trip's curiosity about the away mission immediately fell to the wayside. "And how was your date with Taxa?"

He blushed, a rare sight indeed. "It went well. We spent all night in the sweet spot."

Trip snickered. "I bet you did."

Malcolm looked like he wanted to kill him. "You know what I mean. I've never spent all night talking with someone. Just talking, about anything and everything. Have you?"

He had, with Natalie, with his high school girlfriend Elena, with Amanda, with T'Pol…

He was starting to see a pattern.

"Sounds like it's getting serious," he replied, "I guess you'll be needing to ask Phlox for permission to date his daughter."

"Half-daughter," Malcolm corrected him as they rounded a corner, "And I don't believe I need to. We're all adults here."

As if on cue, Alira emerged from her quarters ahead of them, fully dressed, but with her hair loose and cascading over her shoulders. It occurred to Trip that he'd never seen her wear it down; it was always pinned up in a complex series of braids, twists, and catches. Now it looked almost like a lion's mane, fanning out in a mess of corkscrew curls.

"Good morning, Ensign!" He called out, stepping aside to allow her to join their procession.

She smiled, which was somewhat difficult around the bobby pins held between her lips. "Good morning, sirs. I hope I'm not late."

"Oh, it's only 0758. You'll make it in plenty of time," Trip assured her, watching her make quick work of her ponytail. As she pulled it through the elastic, he had to lean back to avoid being whipped in the face. "Say, did you get that write up on the phase cannon power requirements? Kelly needs it to balance the relays in the starboard catwalk."

Alira shrugged apologetically. "I'll have it for you by the end of the day. I didn't have much free time last night."

"That's what I hear," he mumbled under his breath as they reached the turbolift.

Her hand froze over the recall button. "I'm sorry, did you say something, Commander?"

Malcolm looked between them, then tilted his head in Trip's direction, as if to say, you're on your own for this one.

Trip shook his head emphatically. "Nope, nothing at all. You two have a good ol' time today."

"I must be hearing things," she said as the two of them stepped into the turbolift.

Just before the doors closed, Trip called out, "Bring me back a souvenir!"

---

On the surface, as the rest of their delegation made their pitch for the Betazoid admission to the Coalition, Alira excused herself and slid out into the hallway, locating the nearest stairwell and proceeding to the lowermost level of the Palace of the Monarch.

The Captain had briefed her on the preliminary findings of her biosign scans, and according to her, there were vast swathes of the city of Rixx which were heavily shielded and impervious to their scans. She suspected that most of these were government facilities, but they would be able to get a better sense of the situation from the surface. Perhaps even with a Betazoid scanning array.

The basement was a veritable labyrinth of storage compartments and locked rooms. The UT was having trouble deciphering the script written on the door frames, so she focused on tracing the location of a gamma radiation source somewhere below ground.

It took a couple of minutes for the strength to reach its peak, but she finally located it in the far corner of the basement in a hallway with no illumination. The door was solid, wooden, unlabeled. She felt for the knob and shook it, noting that it was an old style handle with a keyhole. It was, of course, locked tight.

If there was anything she'd learned in the special intelligence module of her Infantry training, it was that any lock could be picked, which is why biometric access control was always the superior choice. Tucking her tricorder between her knees, she reached back and retrieved two hairpins, bending them into an L shape. It only took a couple of seconds to locate the first seized pin in the lock. It lifted from the barrel with an audible click, followed shortly by the other four. Finally, the handle turned, and she opened the door carefully, her hand hovering over the phase pistol tucked into her waistband.

The room was filled with many silvery computer consoles arranged around the perimeter, each illuminated by a flickering LED lamp. It was mercifully empty, and as she made a cursory circuit of the consoles, she was able to locate the source in the far corner facing away from the door, with little light to speak of.

The whole thing felt like a set piece from one of those cheesy spy movies Commander Tucker was so fond of showing during movie night. Shaking her head, Alira pulled out her penlight and held it between her teeth, using one hand to activate the screen and the other to try and force the UT into submission.

She was only getting fragments of words and sentences, but soon located what she'd been searching for: an EM signature corresponding to several distinctly Vulcan-looking biosigns some five kilometers from the palace near a shielded zone. Very faint, but visible even around their attempt at obstruction.

Surely it couldn't be that easy.

Suddenly a loud thud hit the ground above her head and several meters back. Alira whirled around and aimed her light at the open doorway, noticing with relief that she was still alone. The thuds continued, rhythmic, steady, growing closer.

Footsteps.

She realized that if the person upstairs reached the staircase before her, she could be cut off from the rest of the palace, even trapped in the basement. In such close quarters, her thoughts would make her light up on any telepath's radar. She wasn't sure how they would even begin to explain that to the Betazoids.

Alira made tracks back in the way she'd come, head down, listening as the footsteps became slower and then stopped. Just short of the stairwell, she stowed her tools and took a deep breath, steadying herself for a possible confrontation.

She found it two levels below the receiving room, where Agent Kafatos stood on the landing, leaning against the railing, a small smile on her face.

"Are you lost, Miss Alira?"

"No. Just looking for the facilities." She returned her smile and forced herself to think of something, anything else. Her next meal. The muktok plants. The Commodore's little quadruped. Anything.

Chandra narrowed her eyes slightly, possibly considering whether or not she should call her bluff. Finally, she gestured towards the nearest doorway. "Right this way."

Alira followed her, knowing full well the kind of conversation she would need to have with the Captain and the Commodore when they returned to the ship.

---

As he did most nights, Malcolm found himself wandering the corridors at 0100 hours, physically tired, but with his mind racing.

He felt that the second day of negotiations on Betazed had gone well, with their delegates showing genuine interest in the aims of the Coalition of Planets. He suspected it would take some time to bring them into the fold, but knew at the same time that the Betazoids would make powerful allies.

And certainly excellent tacticians. Indeed, every time they'd wandered into trouble over the past four years, he found himself wondering what their opponents were thinking, and attempting to alter their plan of attack accordingly, to mostly successful but mixed results. With a Betazoid tactical officer on every ship, the Coalition would be unstoppable.

Not that there was anything wrong with his second at the moment. Over the course of the past few weeks, he found that he couldn't stop thinking about Alira, her smile, her brilliance, the way she challenged him and riled him up. She made his blood run hot in more ways than one. More than a few times, he'd gone to bed wondering what it would be like to have her wrapped in his arms, even if only for a night.

They'd almost crossed another line the night before on the floor of the sweet spot, but had stopped just short of it at his insistence. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of violating the no fraternization policy, even with Hoshi's insistence that everyone was doing it. He respected her too much to rush into any kind of attachment without putting a great deal of thought behind it.

Still, the thought of it was looking better and better by the day.

Rounding the corner to the section where his quarters were located, he caught a glimpse of someone emerging from a doorway farther down the hall. Curiosity overtook him, and he stepped forward, only to witness the swish of a very familiar blonde ponytail.

Alira was dressed in one of the stealth tactical suits provided to them by Starfleet Security, made of ballistic nylon material, covering her from chin to toe to the tips of her fingers in black, the color of the darkest night. She started to tuck her hair into the hood, but jumped when her name left his lips, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

"Malcolm!" The fear in her expression was replaced with a smile in an instant, though she still looked apprehensive, like she wanted to bolt. "What are you doing up?"

"I should ask you the same question."

"I walk around a lot in the middle of the night. Sleep cycles and all that," she replied, nervously pulling at her gloves.

"Do you always do that dressed for an away mission?"

She glanced down at herself, the phase pistol tucked into her boot, the bulletproof lining covering her abdomen. "Not usually." She turned and began to walk away, faster this time.

He caught up with her in a second. "Where are you going?"

"Down to the surface. I'm heeding to the Captain's orders."

"Let me suit up. I'll join you."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm, but this is a solo mission."

"According to whom?"

"The Captain," she insisted, "And if you have questions about the nature of my time on the surface tonight, I suggest you ask her. She won't tell you, but you could ask."

Alira reached for the button that would recall the turbolift, but was stopped by Malcolm covering it with his hand. "You can tell me what's going on. I've been involved in these kinds of missions before."

She shifted from foot to foot, suddenly appearing very uncomfortable. "This time it really is between the Captain, the Commodore, and I."

"You've only been on board for three months. What could this possibly be about?"

This time her expression shifted to anger, and he knew he'd put his foot in it.

"Alira, you've been injured, just a week and a half ago. What if you're hurt again, who's going to come in for back up?" He knew that was the root of his concern, he'd just expressed it poorly.

She shook her head, physically prying his hand off of the button and pushing it. "Let's get a couple of things straight. I'm more than capable of completing this assignment on my own, I know the risks, I have a plan-"

The doors opened, and she stepped inside, turning to deliver her parting words. "And I don't need you to take care of me!"

She disappeared behind the closing doors, and the fire in her eyes was frightening.

---

The second she materialized in Rixx's industrial quarter, Alira stepped into an alleyway and retrieved her holographic emitter. Over the past few hours, she'd grown familiar with the device, its tuning parameters, and now knew how to manipulate the features to suit her needs.

There was a flash of light, then she caught her reflection in a darkened window.

Black hair, black eyes, smooth forehead. A Betazoid appearance would suit her mission well.

The biosigns had moved into a separate shielded section of the city, which was alarming to her. Surely, with such an apparent lapse in their shielding, the interlopers would have taken immediate action to correct it, and the monarch's private intelligence would have seen to the elimination of the threat. Something wasn't right.

She crept through the alleyways and side streets to the source only a couple blocks away, encountering no one. The street lights were the only illumination around; the city was utterly silent, as if it was holding its breath, which was truly unsettling.

The biosigns were contained within a building that appeared boarded up and abandoned, completely at odds with the well maintained structures around them. There was a notice pinned on a side door, which she suspected indicated it was condemned. There were a few windows around the perimeter, all well above her head. At last she located a crate underneath one of them and stepped onto it, peering through the slits in the wood that had been laid over the opening unevenly.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. The only light in the otherwise dark chamber was a small cylindrical device propped up on a table. Squinting, she realized it was an EM emitter, and that the Romulans had meant to set a trap.

Who their lure was truly meant for was a mystery.

Somewhere in her near vicinity, a door slammed shut. Alira turned and pressed her back against the wall, sliding down to her haunches to hide behind the stack of crates piled high next to her. Silence followed. After spending several minutes silently debating herself, she slowly rose up to her full height and stepped forward into the alleyway, coming around to the side of the building.

The side door to the structure across the way was ajar. It was flimsy, seemingly made of particle board, and there was no way it could have made such a noise. Her instincts were telling her to investigate, though her gut was screaming at her to run.

The Captain was counting on her. No risk, no reward.

Alira found herself in a narrow hallway with containment cells on either side, a bare bulb far ahead the only thing shedding light on the room. She shuffled through straw a couple of inches thick, realizing that she'd found herself in some old livestock storage lots. There were restraints secured to the rock walls and small bowls shoved in the corner of each cell. Carefully, she removed her tricorder from her belt and confirmed her fears: there were traces of Betazoid biosignatures everywhere, on the floors, on the walls, between the bars and even on the ceiling.

Slowly creeping forward, her boot made contact with something metal. Gingerly, she bent down to retrieve it, discovering it was some sort of visor, with protrusions positioned for contact with the eyelids and temples. She'd never seen one in person before, but she immediately recognized it as a component to a neural telepresence device.

Suddenly the sound of weapons fire cut through the silence of the night, and a beam of light made contact with the wall ahead of her, mere centimeters above her head. Alira rose to her feet and turned around, clicking the safety off of her phase pistol.

Two imposing figures were blocking the doorway, both well over six feet tall, wearing what appeared to be traditional Vulcan civilian clothing. She fired twice, striking them both in the chest. They stumbled momentarily, but then surged forward, closing the distance between them with remarkable speed.

Alira didn't hesitate. She changed the setting from stun to kill with the press of a button and fired again, grazing one of their heads, but didn't get the chance to refire, as in the next moment their weapons fire had made contact with her hand. Crying out, she dropped her pistol and involuntarily clutched her wrist, watching as they continued their mad dash towards her.

Adrenaline kicked in; one of them lunged for her and she bent forward, shoving the base of her palm into his nose, thrusting upward. He grunted and stepped back for a moment, long enough for her to kick him in the solar plexus, sending him to the ground.

The other assailant was much closer, and in the dim light, she could barely make out the faint ridges in his forehead, running from his brow into his hairline. His eyes flashed with rage, and he reached for her, wrapping her hands around her neck and bearing down with his superior Vulcan strength.

Her breath immediately died in her throat. In desperation, she threaded her arms between his and used her fingernails to gouge at his eyes, scratching, pulling, all the while pressing out against his elbows. She was kicking, pushing, repeatedly striking him in the groin and abdomen, right up until he suddenly released her.

Alira fell to the ground from several feet, landing on her back, hard enough for her to be momentarily stunned. Gasping for breath, she reached for her phase pistol and began firing indiscriminately, striking one of her assailants in the chest.

He grasped at his wound and fell forward beside her, struggling for air. For good measure, she shot him once more, then turned her attention back to his companion just in time to be lifted off her feet again and thrown against the bars of the nearest cell.

Her head struck against the metal with such force that she thought she heard her brain rattle around in her skull. Her legs were suddenly weak, shaky, and she struggled to avoid falling over. The weapon fell from her hands and to the floor.

In the next moment, the hybrid punched her in the stomach, right where she'd been impaled, and she knew she'd made a mistake.

It was the second most severe pain she'd felt in her life, right after the night it happened. Her head spun. She saw stars.

Not for the first time in her life, she experienced a rapid fire flash of images in her mind. She knew what was about to happen, and in her heightened state of alarm, she began to see childhood acquaintances, family members, former lovers, and treasured mentors.

So this was how it was going to end.

Suddenly there was a burst of weapons fire and the hybrid fell to one side, having been killed on impact. Alira sank to the floor and clutched at her chest, desperately trying to catch her breath.

Chandra and Bran were at her side in an instant, grabbing her arms, trying to pull her to her feet.

"What are you...why…" The blood was roaring in her ears, and for a moment she wasn't sure if they replied.

"This was a bad idea. Captain Pomona should have never allowed her ship to come here," Bran asserted.

There were a few moments of silence, then Chandra replied, "It wasn't a total loss. Thanks to them, we know enough now to make our move."

Together they made their way out into the alleyway and allowed her to sit on the curb, intermittently saying something that didn't seem related to the last thing the other had said. Alira realized they were having a partially telepathic conversation right in front of her.

She looked towards Bran, rubbing at the back of her neck. "You're not just some Parliamentary Adjunct. Who are you?"

He returned her gaze, black eyes wide, unblinking. "Ask your Commodore. Tell him to think about it really hard."

"I want to speak to the Most Divine Lady," she demanded.

"She doesn't want to see you," Chandra countered, "Once you return to your ship, you'll instruct your Captain to immediately order your departure. The Enterprise is no longer welcome here."

"You don't understand. We can help you!"

She sank down to speak with her at eye level. "I don't think you understand. We know all about your Captain's predicament, and the state of affairs in the Beta Quadrant. We want nothing to do with it. This is a Betazoid issue, and we'll handle it how we see fit."

"We've dealt with these kinds of kidnappings. My crew has experience with their telepresence technology and have bested the Romulans before. The only difference is that they're using the Vulcan hybrids to do their bidding now."

"Of which your Captain is one. Are you sure you can trust her?"

"I trust her with my life!" Alira protested.

"Really? And can she trust you?"

The question took her aback. Taking a deep breath, she answered, "Of course she can."

"See how that changes once she knows."

Alira gestured at the building behind her. "That lure-just how many of your operatives have been taken? How many civilians? Do you really think you can take on the Romulans on your own?"

"We had the tactical advantage of surprise, which you might have ruined. Are you aware of how far your thoughts carried as you were sneaking around here tonight? Half the city knows something is wrong now," Bran warned.

"You didn't answer the question."

"Hundreds," Chandra answered suddenly, standing and turning away from her. "The Fifth and Fourth Houses are the primary targets. Those they can't lure, they kidnap in the dead of night. Like ghosts. Men, women, and children. The intelligence service is having a hard time suppressing this knowledge. There's too many, it can't be a coincidence. We must act soon."

The three of them were silent for some time. Finally, Alira stood with some difficulty, clutching her side. "My advice would be to check the power signatures of all off-world vessels leaving this planet, but it sounds like you've made your decision. You know how to reach us if you need us."

"We won't," Bran assured her.

Heaving a massive sigh, Alira retrieved her communicator and flipped it open. "Taxa to the Captain."

There was a pause. "T'Pol here."

"I need a direct beam-in to your quarters, ma'am."

"Acknowledged."

Without another word, Alira began to walk towards the street out of the shielded zone. As she walked, she looked down at the emitter, shifting her appearance back to normal. At the sidewalk, she turned to face the two of them, feeling the familiar tingle of the transporter on her skin.

---

"Hundreds?" The Commodore echoed, crossing his arms and resuming his pacing about the room. It was very near the start of alpha shift, and his security officer had just returned from the surface bearing privileged information that was sure to change the course of their mission.

"Presumably to operate their neural telepresence units. Betazoids are even more powerful telepaths than the Aenar," T'Pol said, her fingers steepled in front of her lips, seemingly deep in thought.

"And they wouldn't accept our help?" He turned on Alira to verify this, suddenly registering just how worse for wear she looked, with purplish bruises all around her neck, her hair matted with dirt and blood.

"I repeatedly offered it. I don't think they'll stand a chance. They have the Vulcan database and impressions from our minds about the Babel Crisis, but they really have no idea what they're up against."

They were silent for some time as they processed this information. "We can only assume they meant to lure and capture me," the Captain surmised, "If the hybrids are accomplishing these telepathic attacks via mind meld with the operator of the telepresence units, it follows that they could attack specific Vulcans, or Betazoids for that matter."

"But how can we prevent them?" Archer asked.

"We can't," Alira mumbled, rubbing her temples. "Every planet we visit, there's going to be a higher and higher risk of what happened to the Captain and Kov striking again. It's going to be harder to detect. We don't know the range of their attacks, nor their maximum strength. I may be your security officer, Commodore, but I can't protect against what we can't see."

Archer and T'Pol locked eyes, and she shook her head. "As long as the Betazoids are in the hands of the hybrids, the Romulan threat is still alive. I would say we should tell Starfleet Command, but…"

He didn't have to finish that sentence. They all knew that this meant betraying Ambassador Soval's confidence, and placing the Captain's command in jeopardy.

"There's no immediate need. We need to keep our wits about us. We know the names of known hybrid defectors, so we should scan any vessels we intercept or any buildings we enter for their biosigns," Alira said.

The two of them nodded, feeling desperate to act, but feeling paralyzed by choice and consequence.

"Go get yourself cleaned up, Ensign. Take the day off."

She nodded and stood with some difficulty, leaving them alone in the Captain's quarters.

---

Alira returned to her quarters, limping slightly, still not being able to draw in a full breath. She made a mental note to visit her half-father later in the day, under the pretense of being injured during a MACO training exercise, but for the moment, she decided all she needed was a long, hot shower, to conceal her wounds, and to gather her thoughts.

To her surprise, laying directly in front of her door was a bouquet of red and purple flowers, tied together with the same strapping material they used to secure torpedoes in their launch tubes. With some difficulty, she bent down and retrieved them, listening to the soft tinkling the blooms emitted when they were disturbed.

Muktoks.

Passing through the doorway, she retrieved her PADD and typed out her message: Is this your way of apologizing?

He was typing for more than a minute, and then finally a response: Maybe. Is it working?

In spite of herself, she smiled, settling down in her desk chair. Her next words were going to be difficult, but she had to get it out there.

It might be. I was wrong. I needed you on that away mission after all.

She hit send, bringing the top of the device to her forehead and closing her eyes, breathing deeply.

A minute later, she added: I want to see you.

The space between that moment and his next reply felt like an eternity. I've got beta shift conn. Midnight, my quarters?

I'll be there, she answered, and went to find a vase for her flowers.

---

Some time in the afternoon, T'Pol returned to sickbay to see the doctor's charge. They were presently on their way to Coridan at a touch above warp six, a journey that would take them just over six weeks. As her thoughts were already weighing heavy on her mind, she knew that the gnawing urge to confront the situation at hand would only grow and become overwhelming.

She lingered outside the door for almost a full minute before she could work up the nerve to enter, but when she did, she noticed with a twinge of relief that the doctor was nowhere to be found. Quietly, she announced her presence and ducked behind the curtain, only to find Kov sitting up this time, balancing a PADD on his knees.

"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"

"Much better," he replied with his own peculiar brand of smile. "Phlox says I'll be able to go back to light duty in a couple of days. Rostov has recommended I start reading a human pantheon of literature about a boy wizard. They're meant for children, but I find them quite engaging."

"I am...happy to hear you're feeling better," she said quietly, pulling up a stool and taking a seat at his bedside.

"I heard we've left orbit of Betazed. I regret that I wasn't able to go planetside."

"We have a tight deadline with which we must arrive in the Coridan system," she replied, and it wasn't exactly a lie.

"I haven't had much of an opportunity to have my own adventures, have I, Captain?" He was getting at something, but she wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Your time will come, Lieutenant."

He huffed, his frustration evident. "Commander, do you know why I chose the Enterprise over Columbia?"

"I assumed it was because of your friendship with Commander Tucker."

"Partially," he admitted, taking a deep breath, as if what he was about to say would cause him extreme difficulty. "Truthfully, it was because I looked up to you and admired what you'd been able to accomplish surrounded by humans."

"Hero worship is-"

"Illogical, yes. All of my life, I've felt like I've stood apart from other Vulcans. I was different, I was ostracized, I was an outcast. However-and please don't take offense to this-I know you, above all, in either the High Command or Starfleet, would know how I feel."

T'Pol looked away, a storm of thoughts raging in her mind. She was a person who craved control and order in all of her matters, professional and personal, but so often had held herself against her own personal standards and found herself lacking. It had taken some time, but she was gradually becoming more confident with unpacking these emotions when they popped up, understanding where they came from, and taking the next step to react appropriately.

The only blind spot in her new method of control was her checkered past-the traumas she'd endured, the mistakes she made, and the regrets she harbored from her time among the stars. She couldn't deny feeling uncomfortable around Kov; he reminded her of a time in her life she'd rather forget. A time that she'd spent hours, days even, attempting to remove from her mind. But to move forward, she had to confront it headlong, not avoid it.

"Lieutenant, why did you leave the Vahklas?"

"My father encouraged me to rejoin the High Command, and I wanted to continue my work on advancing the warp engine," he said, as if rehearsing from a prepared speech.

She raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly into his line of vision. "Why did you leave?"

There was no use lying to her now. With a big sigh, he set aside his PADD and turned slightly so that they were facing one another.

"The truth is-and I really don't mean to pry or insinuate-there was a physical altercation with another member of the crew."

"A physical altercation," she repeated, already guessing where this was going.

"After we departed from your vessel, Tolaris seemed different. He was agitated, argumentative. He would rant about other Vulcans stuck in their old ways, unwilling to reach enlightenment. I started to think about our quick departure, and how he'd spent time with you on those sensor readings. It started to make sense."

"And so you confronted him."

"I accused him," he admitted, "And he reacted physically, violently. I went to Captain Tavin. I knew Tolaris practiced mind melds, that he was often reckless with it, and had followed that line of thought, perhaps impulsively, to its logical conclusion. Because there was no proof, the Captain didn't care. It was my word against his."

T'Pol didn't react. She clasped her hands together and squeezed as tight as she could, staring at the deck plating.

"He didn't care," Kov repeated. "Here we were, telling everyone we were enlightened Vulcans, that our way was better, when it was clearly hurting others. That's when I knew there had to be another way. I didn't need a crew of renegades to reinforce what I know is true. And just like that, things began to change. We can be Vulcans, but we have so much to learn from others."

He trailed off, as if waiting for her reaction.

"I have much to learn from humans." Then, as an afterthought, "I have so much to learn from you."

"I'm free of the sickness now." It was perhaps not the right thing to say, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

"I am gratified to hear that."

Upon the reveal of this new information, she thought of his apparent morals and strength of conviction. She thought of how Kov seemed to strike a balance between her familiar stoicism and the indefatigable optimism of the humans. She thought of how he dove headfirst into a new experience, knowing it wasn't what he should do, but that it was what he knew in his heart was right. And she thought-

"I have much to learn from you, too," she said.

They locked eyes. He smiled, and in a poor imitation of it, she allowed the corners of her mouth to twitch upward.

The doors of sickbay opened and the walls of stoicism came crashing down over her expression once again. She could hear Phlox and Lieutenant Cutler talking loudly, laughing, and knew it was only a moment of time before they came to investigate.

"I would like to invite you to have breakfast with myself, the Commodore, and Commander Tucker in the Captain's mess."

"Ma'am?"

"0700 hours, Monday morning. I hope you will accept."

He appeared to think this over, then a broad smile slowly began to overtake his features. He assured her, "I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

End of Episode Six

---

Next time on Enterprise...

Episode Seven: The Long Haul

It's been a long road...getting from Betazed to Coridan, and the troops are growing restless. This is a completely "below decks" story, told from the perspective of minor or mentioned-by-dialogue-only characters.