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]

13. Episode 13: Hysteria

A/N: Welcome back! Thank you all so much for your support, wonderful words, and thoughtful commentary. It makes me so happy to know that you all are finding this story a welcome distraction to the craziness of the world. Rest assured Malcolm will be finding out about Alira's secret, sooner rather than later. Saying that Section 31 has been moving in mysterious ways is quite an understatement...

I know chapter transitions can be confusing with such a large cast, so I've updated my profile with a breakdown of the senior staff to each ship, right at the top. I've described the main OCs and included who I would cast in those roles if I were the showrunner (thank goodness I'm not, that would be the mess).

Many legacy episodes are referenced here, such as TNG 4x05 Remember Me (briefly, for one iconic line), DS9 4x11 Homefront (same reason), VOY 2x25 Resolutions, but mostly my favorite two-parter, TNG 7x04 and 7x05 Gambit. Yadalla Prime is from there. When I sat down to write this, I realized how Indiana Jones -esque the premise I wrote for the Maelstrom was, so I just committed to it all the way. I hope you enjoy what I'm lovingly calling Florida Jones and the Raiders of Yadalla Prime.

I hope you can also excuse the Young Frankenstein reference...it was right there, and I had to go for it! Next time, our Betazoid arc continues and we meet the Solnarans.

Last big plot device reveal in this chapter, then the rest of the season is tying all of them up. May help to go back and read E6: The City of Night, where we last saw our Betazoid friends, but just in case you've slept since then: Taxa discovered that hundreds of members of the Fifth House were kidnapped to operate Romulan telepresence units, as a supplement to their existing hybrid army. Bran and Chandra had some very cryptic words for her.

Season Five

Episode Thirteen: Hysteria

Archer was dreaming, racing through his mindscape, inundated with sights and sounds. Since they'd received word of the United Earth Council's decision to make the first steps toward declaring war against the Romulan Star Empire, his dreams had been mostly violent, visceral recollections of their time in the Expanse, seeing his ship being torn apart, watching his crew become demoralized and beaten down, and being almost helpless to stop the death and destruction around him. But this was an exception, a happy memory of childhood interspersed with a whisper of possibility as to what could be.

He was flying a kite on a beach near San Francisco with his father, running, laughing, catching the wind at every opportunity. Just as the sea breeze reached the shore and swept over him, he spun around and looked up towards the setting sun, the stars that were only just beginning to emerge. He hoped-he prayed-to travel among them one day, and in his heart, he knew that he would make it there.

Then he heard someone calling out for his attention, and he turned, finding himself a much older man, one burdened by experience and responsibility, but uplifted at the sight of the child running towards him as fast as his legs could carry him, repeatedly shouting father, father, father.

It was as if he was trying to smile, but couldn't until Jonathan lifted him far above his head, moving him around and pretending he was a shuttlecraft, making burbling noises between his lips. He was giggling, shrieking, and when he finally set him down he clung onto him for dear life. He reached down to ruffle his hair, and it was only then he noticed that his little boy had pointed ears.

He heard his name again, and he looked up to see T'Pol standing a couple meters away, balancing another child on her hip, a little girl who at the moment was sporting a detached, clinical expression entirely identical to her mother's. The sight of it set his heart and soul alight, and he shouted for her to join them, but she couldn't hear him over the rush of the wind, and took a step towards him.

Jonathan awoke with a start in her quarters, in her bunk, the same place he'd found himself returning to again and again in recent months. It was a tight fit, but he didn't mind, rolling over and pulling her into his arms.

T'Pol had a habit of smiling in her sleep, though he would never tell her as much. A nearly imperceptible one was spreading across her features now, entirely unbidden, and she sighed contentedly as she settled into his chest.

He blinked, once, twice, enjoying the moment for as long as it would last, which turned out to not be for very long. Squinting at the chronometer on her desk, he confirmed that it was presently 0751 hours, and they were about to be late for alpha shift.

He began to rub her back in slow, careful circles, whispering her name, which only became louder and more urgent as the reality of their situation started to sink in.

She opened her eyes and regarded him with a perfectly impassive expression, though he could feel her love rippling through their bond, and it momentarily gave him cause to smile.

Drowsily, she reached up and cupped the side of his face, whispering, "Good morning."

"Good morning. We gotta get going."

"Jonathan, I think-" He could feel her stretching, relaxing further into him, and her eyes fluttered shut. "I believe we have a few more minutes."

"We don't, honey. We've got less than ten minutes to be on the bridge."

She tensed up suddenly, and in a flash she was up, throwing the blanket off of them and rushing into the bathroom.

A second later, he heard the sink running, and mentally registered her reprimand. You must have forgotten to set the alarm.

As their bond grew, he found that while he was unable to reciprocate at the moment, he could hear her thoughts clear as day from across the room or across the ship. He could really only send strong emotions back her way, but they'd continued like that for some time, enjoying each other's company wherever they went.

"I wasn't aware that was my responsibility," he called out, sitting up in bed. "They're your quarters."

Perhaps we would not have overslept if you had not insisted on watching the European water polo championships until the early hours of the morning.

"Nothing said you had to stay up with me."

And nothing said you had to watch it here. She came from around the corner, dressed in a black undershirt and shorts, the standard that a majority of the crew wore underneath their uniforms. She crossed the room and knelt down in front of where Lady slept atop one of her meditation pillows, scratching behind her ears.

Jonathan couldn't help but smile. Though it had taken T'Pol some time to get used to sharing her quarters with a quadruped, he got the feeling she treasured her company, and knew for a fact that her cat was incredibly spoiled. She was only given finest dietary supplements, was lavished with more affection than he could ever hope to receive, and even had a couple of toys, mostly feathers from one of the birds in Phlox's menagerie tied to the end of a string.

"Admit it, you were getting into the game. I'll make you a fan before you know it." Finally, he swung his legs over the side of the bunk and stood, not for a second missing the eyebrow she raised at him in reproach. With that, he disappeared into the bathroom to tend to his morning routine.

A few moments later, he heard a rustling sound and peeked back into the room just in time to witness her hop once, then twice, to shimmy into her uniform.

You did not see that, she insisted wordlessly, pinning him under her gaze.

"Pretty sure I did, T'Pol," he replied, privately enjoying the sight of the pretty greenish blush creeping across her cheeks.

A few minutes later, she opened the hatch and peered into the corridor, looking left and then right to confirm that there was no one around. She beckoned him forward, and together they stepped into the hallway, immediately all business.

"I understand that Ensign Singh is determined to start a band. I believe it will be a welcome distraction for the crew."

They reached the turbolift and he held the door open for her, reaching across to press the button for A Deck. "Funny you should bring that up. You thinking about trying out, Captain?"

"That would be impossible. I do not play an instrument." Through their bond, he felt her mentally nudge him, her implication obvious. She knew he'd been storing something in his closet since the very beginning of their mission.

"You know, I used to play guitar." He leaned into her slightly. "Are you saying I'm good enough to make the cut?"

"I never said that, Commodore," she answered coolly, and the lift opened onto the bridge, effectively robbing him of his chance to form an appropriately witty response.

The moment T'Pol crossed in front of the conn, the chronometer changed over to 0800 hours, and Malcolm rose from her chair. He greeted her with a surprising amount of warmth, passing her the duty logs from gamma shift.

"Does Ensign Westminster care to elaborate on the-" She trailed off, squinting slightly at the screen. "-screams of the innocent they heard over the comm last night?"

"Subspace interference caused by multiple frequencies clashing together," Dita advised. "All comm officers in this quadrant know what it is. Really does sound like hundreds of people screaming at once."

"Charming," Malcolm quipped, just as Lieutenant Cutler burst onto the bridge, juggling an armful of PADDs with her coffee thermos balanced atop them all. She nodded apologetically towards her COs and all but crashed into her station, nearly spilling her drink all over her console.

"There seems to be an epidemic of oversleeping going around," Lieutenant Kov called out from the comm, where he'd been gossiping with Ensign Singh.

"The Pyrithian bat got out again. The doctor and I have just spent the past two hours running around sickbay trying to catch it." She rolled her eyes and scowled faintly at him, though they all knew she wasn't serious. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Lieutenant?"

"I'm afraid I do not, Lieutenant," he replied, carrying out her rank for about three times its normal length. Kov was just getting the hang of the very human concept of sarcasm, to mostly entertaining results. "I just got off duty."

"And how lucky we are that you somehow found yourself on the bridge." She began to sort the PADDs in front of her into several large piles.

Our kids are fighting again, Jonathan thought, and though he wasn't sure if she'd heard him, he could see the corners of T'Pol's lips twitch up slightly. She nodded towards her first officer and thanked him, taking a seat at the conn without another word.

Though she sometimes chided them or shut them down altogether, he knew she was secretly amused by their officers' bickering.

At that moment Ensign Pascal piped up, reaching to switch on the view screen, saying that an unidentified vessel had just appeared on long-range sensors.

Malcolm retreated to his station and assumed a vigilant stance, his finger hovered over the button that would bring them into a state of tactical alert. He trained his gaze on the back of their helmsman's head, struggling to squash the same burst of anxiety that had plagued him intermittently as of late.

Simon had been in the doghouse with the rest of the senior officers since his unfortunate confrontation with Liz following the incident at Kandar; though he still attempted to engage them in conversation and sit with them during meals, they were admittedly pretty standoffish with him, which had only gotten marginally less severe over the past few weeks. Malcolm knew he apologized once, twice, multiple times, but he didn't buy it; there was something off about him, and he intended to find out what it was.

"They're emitting an automated distress call, ma'am. Priority two." Ensign Singh reported as the computerized words flooded her earpiece.

T'Pol tensed minutely, gripping the armrests of the Captain's chair. She glanced up at Lieutenant Cutler just in time to see her turn back from the viewfinder.

"It's the Saral, a Vulcan transport."

Kov paused midway over the threshold of the turbolift and stepped back into the room, not for a second being able to hide his unease.

"They're adrift, Captain. Engines and primary power are offline."

"Take us to them, Ensign," Jonathan ordered, and he complied. As one, they felt the shudder of the Enterprise dropping out of warp.

Liz was frowning, shaking her head, almost as if in disbelief. She checked her readings once, then twice, then looked up at her COs with tremendous concern in her eyes.

"By the looks of it, they're docked with another vessel, ma'am."

"Please specify."

"It's Betazoid," she confirmed, just as the conjoined ships appeared on the view screen. Each and every one of them recognized the horseshoe shape, the shimmery, iridescent hull, the twin particle cannons mounted to the forward section. It was a relic of another time, another mission, one that seemed hundreds of years in the past. "The Delphina."

---

Maelstrom Captain's log, February 16th, 2156: We've decided to forge ahead with our mission of exploration for the time being. Our visit to Alpha Eridani was mostly uneventful-maybe a planetoid or two good for colonization-and now we've set our sights on the Yadalla system, hoping to stay out of any trouble. With my crew, I'm not sure that's possible.

---

"You know, I never really appreciated how much nonsense my mother put up with until I became head of the family," Alira said, scrolling through the rows and rows of messages on her personal PADD. "I've got two sisters fighting over the same man's hand in marriage and I'm expected to make the final call."

"Wouldn't that be his decision?" Ethan asked from the front of the wardroom, where he was attempting to beat the malfunctioning view screen into submission ahead of their morning briefing.

"Apparently he's hesitant to pick one or the other."

Travis raised his eyebrows and grimaced. "Now that sounds like a red flag to me, no matter what species you are."

"I'm inclined to pick Marin, he'll be her first husband. Seray already has two others." She paused, her thumbs dancing across the screen. "Besides, nothing's stopping her from keeping him on as a lover."

At the far end of the table, Kelby did a double take. "I'm sorry, wouldn't that be a little awkward for everyone involved?"

"Why would it be awkward?" He could see that she was genuinely bewildered by his statement, and he suddenly remembered just how unusual Denobulan family dynamics were, at least by human standards.

Hoshi, who had been leaning against the wall studying the stars streak by their window, returned to the table. "I don't envy you. I've been routing messages to your PADD constantly for the past couple of days. Everyone has an opinion, don't they?"

She shook her head, smiling faintly, all the while not taking her eyes off the screen. "You have no idea."

At that moment, the doors opened, issuing Captain Tucker and Commander Hammond. Immediately, Alira stowed her PADD and sat forward, clasping her hands together and training her gaze on the far wall. It was a swift, humorless shift in expression that wasn't lost on Trip; he glanced up at Hoshi, who flexed her shoulders minutely, as if telling him he ought not to look too far into it.

Over the past couple of weeks, the Maelstrom had reached a tenuous state of normalcy, slightly shifted from before, but functional nonetheless. Three days after the attack, Hoshi staged her return to Trip's quarters, and they met halfway over dinner. She realized she'd neglected to examine the issue from his side, and he'd agreed that his decision had been made hastily, but given what they knew in the moment, he still believed it had been the right choice. His actions had ultimately caused their mutual friend tremendous pain; however, they both knew that some degree of suffering was unavoidable.

On the other hand, Alira realized that she had come dangerously close to receiving a formal reprimand, and took drastic measures to bring her emotional response under control. Hoshi knew she was still alternating between being angry, confused, and despondent, but she now occupied herself by working overtime, seeking companionship at odd hours, and pushing herself to the pinnacle of professionalism whenever their COs were around.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, they'd been conducting an investigation into her actions, attempting to root out duplicity where they could, and had even moved her to alpha shift to keep an eye on her, but had ultimately found nothing. It had been a stressful few weeks; she'd started planning on what she'd do if her cover was blown, if she had to call on the Section for an emergency extraction. In the meantime, she had been following the protocol book to the letter, putting her head down, and keeping herself out of trouble.

To Hoshi, it just looked like she and Trip needed to have a much overdue conversation. As far as she knew, neither had apologized to the other, or spent longer than five minutes alone together since the incident at Kandar. The night before, as soon as they'd caught wind of an unfamiliar system on their flight path, she encouraged him to take her along, even though the away team was sure to be much smaller than on Alpha Eridani. He was hesitant, but agreed, as long as she came along to act as a buffer should things get heated.

She intended to keep her word.

Trip stepped up to the blank view screen, taking in Ethan's emphatic shrug. He paused, then reached out and tapped the center with his fist, causing it to shudder to life.

"Something you picked up back on the Enterprise?" Julia asked with a smile.

"Yes, ma'am. When all else fails, hit it or slap some duct tape on it."

Kelby's incredulous expression was enough to let them all know he didn't approve, but he didn't have the chance to interject. Trip interfaced his PADD with the screen, pulling up a diagram of a nearby system. "Ensign Bhaduri spotted this on beta shift last night. The Vulcans have it charted on long-range sensors, but it's unexplored. F-class star, couple of pretty gas giants, one M-class. Yadalla Prime."

He zoomed in, revealing a rocky, grubby-looking desert world, awash in reds, oranges, and browns. It seemed to be no larger than Mars, with no moons to speak of.

"I know, I know. Try to reign in your excitement." Julia advanced the screen again, focusing on a small area on the southern hemisphere. She could see her senior officers squinting, leaning forward in their chairs in an attempt to get a better view.

"Are those-"

"Ruins, the oldest being about fifty thousand years old. The surface scans seem to indicate that it's proto-Vulcan or Romulan." At the mention of that word, she noticed a few of them tense up, only to relax when she pulled up the database entries listing the world as long since uninhabited. "I don't know about you guys, but I think we can sneak in a little bit more exploration before-"

She trailed off, not intending to go there or anywhere around it. But now that the words were out of her mouth, she could see that the line of thought in their minds were singular.

Before the war gets any worse.

Thankfully, Trip came to her rescue. "I'll be taking Lieutenant Sato. I'm assuming we're fixing to walk into a whole mess of hieroglyphs and pictograms down there."

"More than likely," she agreed, gently swiveling her chair from side to side.

"And Novakovich-"

"Are you sure, sir?" He sputtered a bit, not wanting to appear that he was questioning a direct order, but knew full well that his presence on the away mission would likely spell disaster. "I mean, don't we have Crewman Sumner? She's got a degree in archaeology."

"She also had to be sedated for an emergency appendix removal at around 0200 hours this morning. I recommend no one calls the doctor until at least lunchtime. He's bound to be grumpy. Well...as grumpy as a Vulcan can get."

Right before the first opportunity she had to demonstrate her expertise during their mission. "Talk about rotten timing," he mumbled. For both of them.

"We've detected some intermittent subspace radio emissions and ionization disturbances in the atmosphere," Julia explained. "Our ETA is three hours. If we find any biosigns or chroniton radiations leftover from cloaks, we'll get the hell out of there."

"All the same, we need to be prepared." Trip leaned forward, attempting to catch his tactical officer's eye. He was trying his best to extend an olive branch, but it was mostly ignored for the moment. She turned her head to look at him, her expression impassive. "Can we count on you, Taxa?"

"Of course, sir," she said quietly, without a hint of the excitement with which she would have normally accepted that sort of assignment.

"Good." Trip clapped his hands together, gesturing around the room. "Any updates for the good of the cause?"

"I've managed to decode the first portion of Kandar's computer core. Mostly non-critical database material. Station maps, crew manifests, duty rosters. Personal logs." Surreptitiously, she slid a PADD across the table in Alira's direction, and she seized it with both hands, pulling it to her chest and then into her lap. She would save them for as long as she could, for a rainy day or a moment when the battle felt hopeless. "It's only a fraction of what we downloaded, but it's something."

Julia winced. "Any chance we can speed that up a little?"

Hoshi sighed, rubbing her temples. She'd already been pulling double shifts for the past three weeks, fighting logical redundancies, shifting algorithms, and multiple layers of quantum encryption at every turn. Her former protegee, Ensign Singh, was also putting in the hours, but they were truly fighting an uphill battle. Their COs, however, surely didn't want to hear any of that. "I'm trying my best, ma'am. Maybe we ought to get Lieutenant Roubanis from the Columbia in on this."

"I'll check with the Commodore," Trip assured her, though he knew what his answer would probably be.

"We've managed to patch up that Denobulan shuttle," Travis cut in, trying and failing to get Alira to contribute to his account. "Good as new. Should be ready to hand off the next time we encounter the Infantry."

The Captain frowned and looked down at his feet momentarily, crossing his arms. He'd just received word from Admiral Gardner that the withdrawal of staff from their consulate was complete, and they'd nearly entirely recalled their fleet, setting up a border patrol schedule of their system so tight that a housefly could scarcely pass through without getting noticed. "That probably won't happen until we get closer to Starbase 1. It'll be a couple of weeks, but the station master can keep watch over it until they can make their way out here."

"If you don't mind me asking, how many are we losing, sir?" Kelby asked. He knew of at least two officers from his department who'd requested planetside transfers in a last-minute attempt to get out of a deep space assignment before the war fully set in. They were experienced engineers who had already been with them through the Xindi conflict, so it was going to be difficult to see them go.

"Too many," he replied automatically. "We'll be picking up another squadron of MACOs, as will the other NX vessels. They need to be put through their paces as fast as possible."

What with five separate companies and the transfers, that likely numbered hundreds or even thousands of people, either trying to get the hell out of dodge or running directly into the firefight. "Sounds like the Starbase is going to be packed," Ethan mused, a little disappointed. He'd heard rumors that the designers at Utopia Planitia had gone out of their way to make it feel like home away from home, complete with a bar, several restaurants, and a half dozen shops arranged in a section of one deck called the promenade.

"Like Grand Central Station," Trip retorted, then advanced the screen behind him. He was determined to cling to normalcy and crew morale for as long as possible. "Now, onto this week's options for movie night…"

---

The second the Enterprise crossed over into comm range, Dita's console lit up. She knew exactly who was hailing them, and knew they were already ten steps ahead.

Though she didn't know the particulars of Alira's midnight mission to Rixx, the Romulan plot to capture as many Betazoids as possible, and the Fifth House's plan to get every single one of them back, she did know that their visit to their homeworld had ended abruptly, with a message coming through that the Most Divine Lady didn't care to negotiate with them any further, and what's more, the Enterprise was no longer welcome on the surface. She wanted to ask, but didn't, taking in the Captain and the Commodore's fraught demeanors.

It was similar to what she was seeing now, though they were attempting to hide it. She was tapping her foot on the floor, and he was leaning heavily to one side, with his elbow propped up on an armrest and his chin in his hand. They both appeared slightly pensive, yet expectant, which only intensified as the chime of the comm sounded out over the speakers.

Dita reached for it, glancing back over her shoulder. On the dorsal viewscreen, the secondary channel continued attempting to reach the High Command, to no avail, the metaphorical dial tone of their subspace amplifiers ringing out over their headset. She pulled it away from her ear as the screen before them crackled to life.

They were soon treated to a view of the bridge of the Delphina, most notably Captain Pomona, Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, proprietor of the patrol ship. Behind her, many dark-haired women wearing identical purple jumpsuits milled around, heads bent to their work, entirely silent as they presumably communicated their needs telepathically. At first she squinted at them, then a small, knowing smile spread across her lips.

"A pleasure to see you again, Captain, Commodore, though I regret that it cannot be under better circumstances." T'Pol knew she might have been speaking about the Saral, but also knew it was more than likely about Kandar, and was astonished she could have gleaned that much information from their minds in a fraction of a second.

Or perhaps they had already been looking over their shoulder, in more ways than one.

"The pleasure is all mine, Captain," she began, feeling Jonathan reaching for her across their bond. Before she could stop herself, she felt her mental walls slam down, and he flinched beside her. "We've picked up the Saral's distress call and have arrived to offer our assistance."

"That is very kind of you, though I assure you there is really no need. We are more than capable of handling the situation."

At the tactical station, Malcolm was shaking his head. He looked up at the Captain, and she nodded. Leaning forward so he entered Pomona's line of sight, he said, "According to our scans, you've made progress on all damaged systems but their weapons. Our phase cannons are very similar to theirs. Unless you plan on leaving them defenseless, you ought to let us help."

She appeared to consider this, though not particularly seriously. The Commodore pressed on: "We have a standing alliance with the Vulcans. We know the area. It would be in both of our best interests to speak with their Captain."

Pomona caught onto his insinuation as though he'd shouted it directly in her face. She made a dismissive gesture with her hand, and one of the women seemed to take the hint, leaving her post and dashing to the lift.

"We will meet in the Saral's situation room. Transmitting location now."

Before she could even get halfway through the sentence, Dita received a set of coordinates. The Betazoids ended the transmission a second later without even making the overture of a goodbye, and their COs were on their feet in the next.

"Captain," Liz hissed, attracting her attention. T'Pol stepped up to the science station and came around it, bending over her console. There was a pause, then she pulled back like she'd been stung, quickly correcting her posture.

When the Commodore looked at them, eyebrows climbing into her forehead, she relayed him with just two words: "Brain waves."

"Residual signals, like the telepresence unit we destroyed during the Babel Crisis," Liz offered helpfully, her fingers already dancing across the keys.

"Try to figure out what species, Lieutenant. You've got the conn." Archer pointed at Malcolm from across the room. "You're with us, Mr. Reed."

As soon as their triumvirate disappeared into the lift, Dita reached for the screen behind her, ending their transmission request to the High Command and starting a new one, marked as the highest priority this time.

---

Archer, T'Pol, and Malcolm beamed onto the Saral and into a nearly impenetrable cloud of smoke.

Jonathan shuffled forward, coughing into his sleeve, and nearly ran headlong into a Betazoid technician toting a torch, her features obscured by a welding helmet. He thought he caught a glimpse of her reproachful glare, but then she turned back to her work, thoroughly ignoring them.

All around them, they could hear the rush of quiet conversation in Vulcan, intermixed with some Betazoid; as Malcolm switched on his UT, the voices became coherent.

"Over half...several dead..."

"Never accepting another mission like this…"

"Astray...helpless…"

He took a step forward, to the massive bulkhead which he assumed contained the Saral's wardroom, only to be nearly bowled over by two Vulcans carrying a third between them on a stretcher, his eyes wide, mouth contorted in a hideous mask of fright. As they passed by, his hand shot out and grabbed the front of his uniform with incredible strength.

Malcolm's breath all but died in his throat as she was forced to look down at the terrified man, who wore the traditional uniform of the Science Directorate he'd seen on Sub-Commander Tovin and many other individuals before him. At first it seemed that he was struggling for his words, and his companions were continuing to walk, dragging him for a couple of meters, until he finally managed to rasp out: "Get. Them. Out."

T'Pol rushed forward and grabbed his arm, taking him by surprise. Together they entered the situation room, leaving the chaos of uncertainty outside in the corridor.

Captain Pomona was the first to greet them, seizing the Commodore's hand for a shake, introducing him once again to the contingent brought over from her ship of the valkyries, which apparently included one man.

Agent Chandra Kafatos, the private intelligence operative for the Most Divine Lady, nodded and smiled, the emotion not making it to the rest of her face. She studied them with her enormous, depthless black eyes, then nudged her companion.

Curiously, they'd also brought along Parliamentary Adjunct Bran Audet, who Jonathan had gathered was an assistant of sorts for the monarch. Together with Chandra, they'd rescued Ensign Taxa from being murdered by two hybrid soldiers in their capital, and, once they found that she'd discovered the Romulan plot to use Betazoids to pilot their telepresence units, demanded that they leave the sector immediately. Hundreds of their most powerful telepaths had already been kidnapped, and though they'd been offered help, they refused, saying it was a purely Betazoid manner.

Apparently, Alira had also caught onto the fact that Bran wasn't who he said he was, and he'd replied by telling her that her Commodore would know. He was reluctant to admit that after all this time, he still had no idea.

He also didn't want to think about how long they'd been outside of their own quadrant, patrolling for telepresence units and looking for trouble.

"Allow me to introduce…"

"Captain V'Nara," she interjected, her voice perfectly dispassionate. She was a very serious-looking Vulcan, with the same severe hairstyle he'd seen T'Pol sport during the early days of their mission. She was a touch shorter, but not lacking any bit of confidence, standing ramrod straight and regarding them with a touch of disdain even though at that moment she should have been begging for their help. Like the man that stood next to her, she was dressed in civilian clothes, complete with a heavy robe that swept the ground. "This is he who is my husband. Tannis is also our engineer."

"An honor to meet you once again. You appear well." T'Pol clasped her hands together in front of her, gently tracing the back of her hand with the opposite thumb. It was a tell, and Jonathan could feel traces of unease through their bond.

The ghost of a frown raced across V'Nara's features, though she didn't react any more strongly than that. "How long has it been?"

"Ten years," she recalled, setting her jaw. To her companions, she explained aloud: "We were both science officers aboard the Seleya."

"And how fortunate we were to be transferred to other postings before-"

"Yes," T'Pol interrupted, not caring to reminisce any more than she had to about their time in the Expanse. "Captain, it seems that we have arrived just in time. My tactical officer will help you repair the damage to your particle cannons. We will also offer any additional assistance you may need."

"That is very generous of you, ma'am," Tannis said, pinning her down under his gaze. "Our long-range communications need repairs, and if you can spare an engineer, we are still reading unusual particulate levels within our impulse manifolds. The Delphina lacks a specialist with enough experience to suit our needs. We only number five among the crew."

"For the moment," V'Nara asserted and gestured towards the table. Together they took their seats, not missing the frantic looks being exchanged between the Betazoids for a second.

Jonathan wasn't wasting any time. "Captain, how did this happen?"

Pomona looked like she wanted to interject, but held herself back. V'Nara must have sensed it, because she glanced at her before explaining, "About six hours ago, we picked up a small craft on our sensors. They failed to respond to hails and seemed to be gaining on us, so we increased speed to our maximum. They fired on us twice, disabling critical systems before changing course and disappearing."

"We believed our encounter was over until we started receiving distress calls from all over the ship," Tannis continued, "We are currently conscripted by the Science Directorate to transport specialists to one of their listening posts along the border. With the increased threat of the-"

"Which one?"

"I'm sure you can understand that information is classified," V'Nara said, her shoulders creeping up by a fraction of an inch. "Any medical assistance your physician would be able to provide will be welcome. Our medic and that Betazoid doctor are certainly overwhelmed. We have over twenty scientists and crew experiencing symptoms of mass hysteria."

"And a half dozen dead. At the moment we are not sure how, but that craft caused a majority of our passengers to lose control of their emotions, arming themselves, attacking one another and throwing themselves into harm's way. We have reached out to the High Command to request a formal investigation from the Ministry of Security."

Immediately, the three of them knew what had happened, that the Saral had just been attacked by a neural telepresence unit. The similarities between their ordeal and Kov's on Betazed and T'Pol's on Tellar Prime were obvious. Whether their goal had been to kill the scientists to prevent them from uncovering more secrets about the Romulans, or to extract information about the location of Vulcan surveillance satellites, was truly unknown.

Malcolm looked up from the table to find that Agent Kafatos was staring at him, nay, peering down into the depths of his soul. He cleared his throat before asking, "Did you take any scans or visual logs of this craft? Was it familiar to you?"

"As we explained to Captain Pomona, we were only able to ascertain that the vessel contained no biosigns. The hull configuration was unfamiliar, though we were able to take readings on their power signatures and flight path. This information is inaccessible for as long as our main computer is offline." Tannis appeared somewhat frustrated, which was only given away by the slightest twitch of his upper lip.

"How long?"

"A couple of hours. My science officer is working on it as we speak." Pomona met the Commodore's gaze and smiled faintly.

"Perhaps we can be of some assistance. Our Lieutenant Cutler is more than competent. We also have two mainframe specialists aboard."

"With all due respect, Captain-" Bran addressed her, though he looked between all of them, gauging their reactions. "We've got everything handled."

The more they spoke, dancing around their true intentions, the more sure T'Pol was that they weren't there to help. They were almost certainly there to take a look into the Saral's computer and retrieve the data they needed to track down the telepresence unit.

It was information they both wanted, and they weren't going to give up their chance to get it without a fight.

Tannis interrupted her reverie, leaning a fraction of an inch across the table to address the contingency of the ship that had the fortune of getting there first. "Though we are appreciative of everything you've done, I find myself wondering what the Betazoids are doing so far from their homeworld."

"Exploration," Chandra replied, as though it had been obvious. "I see no reason to remain within our system when there's hundreds if not thousands of worlds out there."

"Perhaps the fact that we are a hair's width away from an interstellar war will convince you to remain in the Alpha quadrant next time," V'Nara said with an air of finality, then turned back to T'Pol. "Your engineer and physician are welcome to come aboard as soon as they are able. I'd like to escort all of you to the passengers' quarters to survey the extent of the damage."

T'Pol stood, causing a ripple of repeated motions around the table. As they stepped across the threshold and into the corridor, the transport captain fell into step with them, and Jonathan slowed down to allow them to take the lead.

"How long have you been decommissioned by the High Command?" She asked, knowing full well the Betazoids were listening in on their conversation.

"Since the deposition of Administrator V'Las. Though I admire the tenacity of Minister T'Pau's administration, I find that we have many ideological and political differences." She paused. Someone was screaming bloody murder very close to them behind one of the many doors along the hallway, struggling against whoever was trying to restrain them. All around them, bulkheads were warped and debris cluttered the floor, and they often had to step to one side to allow Betazoid repair technicians to pass. "It was the logical choice."

"Indeed. I can imagine the journey is easier with your bondmate."

"I am sure that you can." V'Nara turned her head and nodded succinctly. Just as they passed into another section of the ship, sparsely illuminated by the emergency lights above them, she said, "I was intrigued to hear that you had joined Starfleet."

T'Pol said nothing, training her gaze at the ground, knowing full well where this was heading.

"You were always so fascinated by humanity, so willing to ingratiate yourself to them. I must admit it is one topic with which I disagree with the current administration," V'Nara said quietly, observing how T'Pol's eyebrows furrowed and she deflated faintly.

It was short-lived, however, as her confidence came roaring back in force. Once she was sure no one else could hear them, she insisted, "It is evident you have much to learn about them."

"That remains to be seen," she replied, activating a switch along the wall and stepping aside to gesture them into the chamber. They locked eyes, and T'Pol looked away, charging into the room.

As Archer and Reed entered, followed by the Betazeds and Tannis, V'Nara reached out through their bond, concluding that she sensed duplicity among them, all of them, and that they needed to be vigilant. He paused over the threshold for a fraction of a second, the slight raise of an eyebrow the only outward indication he understood.

Together, they entered the room, and the door shut behind them.

---

The away team from the Maelstrom beamed down into oppressive heat that had almost Vulcan-like intensity.

Immediately, Trip took one step away from the group and placed his hands on his hips, squinting into the near blinding sunlight. They were standing before the opening to a great red sandstone canyon, with rocks that rose quickly to hundreds of meters tall, towering above them on either side like skyscrapers, standing silent sentinel over their first impressions of Yadalla Prime.

All around them, the dusky sand gathered in dunes and in drifts, interspersed with reflective flicks of another mineral that shined back at them to an almost unbearable degree. To the other three cardinal directions, the desert continued for as far as the eye could see, and the air was utterly still, stagnant.

Self-consciously, Hoshi ran her hands over her desert fatigues, the tan colored quarter zip and cargo pants that had been specifically designed to reflect heat and wick moisture away from the body, but didn't seem to be quite cutting it this time around. She was already sweating profusely, and she was fighting that wave of anxiety that always accompanied a trip through the transporter.

Novakovich, apparently, had been thinking the same thing. "Feels like my molecules got a little scrambled on that one." He removed his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on, studying their surroundings. "Captain, this heat is ridiculous."

"Forty-two degrees," he confirmed, double checking his tricorder. "It's a dry heat. Nothing compared to an August day in the south."

"Did you have to wear that hat, sir?" Hoshi didn't mean for it to sound so insubordinate; the three of them had opted for their NX-05 baseball caps, but Trip had decided on a wide-brimmed sable fedora, a relic of another time.

He tipped it towards her and struck a rakish pose. "What, you don't like it? I thought it was appropriate for the setting. Makes me feel like an adventurer."

"Sure thing, Florida Jones," she teased. Shaking her head, she trundled off across the dunes.

The two men followed, and their tactical officer took up the rear. On the ride down, while Trip and Ethan caroused and sang along to the old country songs he'd cued up on the overhead speakers, Hoshi had tried and failed to engage Alira in conversation. She'd asked if they had deserts on Denobula (they didn't), if she was looking forward to the mission (sure), and if it felt good to get off the ship after nearly two months (of course). After that, she'd mostly given up, knowing her friend was stubborn enough to keep up her reticence for as long as she possibly could.

Hoshi could only hope that their mission or else fate could drive them to reconciliation.

Soon after they entered the canyon, they began to notice intricate carvings inlaid in the rock, men and women wearing cloaks with broad shoulders, their eyes closed and hands outstretched in a manner which reminded Hoshi of the Buddhist mudras, the series of gestures she'd seen on countless statues during her travels through Asia.

Trip rather thought they looked like the mummified Vulcans from the catacombs under the sanctuary at P'Jem, but held his tongue, joining her at the base of one of the monoliths. Each were labeled with a vertical inscription, all curved and looping script that stretched nearly its entire length. Hoshi had to take a step back in order for the UT to get an accurate reading.

"This is closer to Romulan than Vulcan," she concluded, pointing along the length of the wall. "I believe these are all deities worshipped by their common ancestors. Here we've got the gods of agriculture, music, and love."

"Looks like the gang's all here." The carvings stretched far ahead of them and around the corner, each with only minor variations in clothing and facial features. They all seemed to be ordinary humanoids to him.

At least the Greeks and the Romans had a bit of an imagination.

Ethan was already ambling off, taking readings on the rock formations. He held an odd sort of fascination in his expression, one which was usually reserved for when they encountered an uncharted comet or discovered a new creature on a far flung world. Alira followed him at a distance, warning him, "Careful not to wander off from the group. We don't want a repeat of what happened on-"

"In my defense, we were being fired upon," Trip called out. He remembered their ultimately ill-fated visit to the Torothan homeworld, where he and Jonathan had escaped an ongoing political conflict between Zobral's clan and the ruling Chancellor. He'd almost died of heat stroke, but neatly dodged it, coming away with a few scattered memories of refusing water and listing the different parts of a chicken to his commanding officer.

After all that, it had taken him years to feel comfortable enough to venture onto another desert world, but here he was, and he was determined to make the best of it.

"All the same…" Alira said quietly, and he scarcely heard her.

"You're looking a little red in the face, Ensign," he replied, not intending to come off so admonishing. Truthfully, she was one of the most fair people he'd ever met, so it was no surprise that her present countenance could most accurately be described as lobster-like. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her experimentally pressing her hands to her cheeks, frowning and pulling the brim of her cap down lower.

"Trip," Hoshi whispered, not taking her eyes off her tricorder. She made a vague sort of gesture with her free hand, as if to say, play nice.

She was right. There was no need for their disagreement to drag out any longer. He, however, was at a loss about how to start that particular conversation.

It seemed like hours later when they arrived at the end of the canyon, which had been gradually narrowing and growing steeper over a stretch of several kilometers. Eventually they had to proceed in a single file line, turning sideways to make it through the passageway. Alira was seconds from suggesting they turn back and head to the rendezvous point when the opening suddenly widened and they found themselves before the entrance to a magnificent city, all archways and pillars and inscriptions carved in stone.

Trip couldn't help himself. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his camera, snapping photos from several angles. All around him, his senior officers were regarding their discovery with wonder and astonishment, and for a split second, he paused to watch the fascination dance in their eyes.

"Have any of you ever been to the ancient city of Petra on Earth?" Hoshi had, in the few gap months between her expulsion from STC and the start of her instruction in Brazil. She'd rode in on a camel through the Siq right up the face of the Al-Khazneh temple, and had immediately been overcome by the weight of history and time and reverence. Her guide had helped her down and walked her right up to the steps, where she'd fallen to her knees, overwhelmed by a spiritual experience during a time in her life when she was searching for a new opportunity, for a purpose.

Beside her, Ethan was shaking his head, though he was smiling, his fingers dancing across the keys of his tricorder.

"Reminds me of the monasteries in the Iyax district back home," Alira mused, shading her eyes from the sun with an outstretched hand. "They're at least a half million years old."

They were also built into the sides of several active volcanoes and made entirely of marble, but the basic similarities were certainly there.

"I thought your people didn't have an established pantheon," Trip said, noticing the trio of gods carved into the rock face keeping watch over the pillars that propped up the main entrance. He could have missed his guess, but he thought he recognized them as the patrons of war, strategy, and death.

He heard a click, and she was drinking from her canteen, taking a long pause to steady herself before answering his question. "We used to. They got too demanding, so they were deposed."

She said it so matter-of-factly that he couldn't help but laugh.

Ethan stepped forward, turned and began to pace slowly towards the facade. "These are the most ancient parts of the ruins, about fifty thousand years old. Everything beyond that gate gets younger and younger, up until about two thousand years old. It's all sandstone, or at least a local equivalent of it."

"Any biosigns?"

"No," his tactical and science officers replied at once, glancing at one another briefly.

There was a pause, then Alira continued: "Captain, I'm reading a power source. I believe it must be the origin of those ionization disturbances Ensign Bhaduri was picking up."

"What kind of power source?"

She frowned, then shook her head, indicating she hadn't the faintest idea. Carefully, she pointed at her feet, then traveled across the sand and up the rock face. "About a five kilometers that way, pretty far underground."

"I thought you said this planet was uninhabited."

"It is, and definitely has been for the past couple thousand years." Ethan's brows furrowed with concern. He knew they were all thinking the same thing.

Was it possible for a reactor or generator to remain operational for that long?

"Fan out and stay sharp. We'll stay on the outside of the building for now." There were a great deal of inscriptions carved into the pillars and bastions facing them, and he knew Hoshi was likely chomping at the bit to take a look. He reached out to touch Alira's arm but stopped a fraction of a centimeter short when he realized what he'd almost done. "Establish sensor contact with the Maelstrom, Ensign, and make sure they're ready for an emergency beam out. If we go missing for even a second, there oughta be a full tactical alert and all kinds of alarms and whistles going off up there."

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, watching as the three of them began their slow procession towards the city. Involuntarily, she shivered, glancing up at the sky. A single cloud began to drift across her line of sight far overhead, carrying with it the veiled threat of things to come.

---

An hour later, they had all but entered the city, loitering under the awning of the network of carvings overhead. It was the only reprieve of shade for kilometers around, and they were all too eager to take advantage of it. Ethan was propped up against the front wall, his legs spread out before him, scanning for anything and everything within range. Every so often he would regale them of his discovery of a type of sand-burrowing blood worm that he knew could find if only the Captain would let him dig, or a distant sea, or an oasis not too far from them.

Trip was assisting Hoshi with her translations, or rather hovering over her shoulder as she deciphered some sort of ancient curse detailing tragedy and misfortune to off-worlders who dared venture through the city's gates. He asked her if she believed in that kind of stuff, and she didn't respond, though he noticed she quietly clicked the safety off of the phase pistol strapped to her belt.

Alira was leaning against one of the pillars, her eyes trained on the horizon through the sharp bends of the canyon, rubbing her arms with her hands. At first she thought she'd just been perspiring heavily, but even in the shade, she couldn't shake the feeling of being cold, frigid, chilled to the bone. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck were standing on end, and her ears were ringing, which in her experience never meant anything good. A deep, primal fear began to clutch her gut, and she attempted to disguise it by a swift turn of her head. "Lieutenant, has the temperature changed since we arrived?"

He looked at her as if she'd just asked the dumbest question in the world. "It's well into the afternoon now. The temperature's gone up by about five degrees."

She whirled on him, her eyes suddenly wide with concern. "Are you kidding? It's freezing out here."

The Captain looked back on her curiously. "Scan yourself with that thing. You might be coming down with a bit of heat exhaustion."

She complied, giving herself a quick once-over with her tricorder, then shook her head. She was perfectly fine. At that moment, one of her mother's common aphorisms came to mind, and through the barrier of space and time, she could almost hear her voice saying it aloud.

If there's nothing wrong with me, maybe there's something wrong with the universe.

As if on cue, the sky began to darken, and her body temperature almost immediately began to sway the other way, setting her senses alight. Dozens more clouds had joined the one she'd seen previously, and the wind kicked up, whirling around them with such ferocity that she almost didn't hear the Captain calling out to them.

Lightning struck the top of the canyon, and the air seemed to tear through their lungs, sizzling and caustic. The sky was a sickly green color, almost entirely opaque, and she could scarcely make out the forms of her fellow officers hunched over, coughing and hacking and desperately trying to draw in a full breath.

A spark cut through the air and made contact with Alira's chest, causing her to bow and arch like a tree in a hurricane. She was suddenly seized by recognition of their likely fate. Unless...

"Plasma storm," she wheezed, clutching her chest, fighting the painful wave of electricity that rippled through her and threatened to render her unconscious. Unable to speak further, she gestured towards the inside of the building, hoping they would understand the necessity to seek shelter immediately, ancient curses be damned.

Together they crashed across the threshold, falling to their knees and inhaling the sweet, clear air deeply to the depths of their lungs. Alira was back on her feet almost instantly, locating a flat, cylindrical stone propped up against the wall. Time was of the essence, and she didn't care to waste it, seeing as elongated whips of plasma were already making their way through the door.

With both hands, she pushed on the stone, then put her entire back into it, feeling it move only by a few centimeters. A few meters away, her friends were still struggling to regain their balance, gasping for breath, observing her helplessly on their hands and knees. She caught the Captain's eye, his fear and desperation, and made a final go of it, using the sum of her strength to at last seal them off from the storm raging outside.

The room descended into near total darkness. There was a brief moment of uncertainty where Alira was fumbling with the flashlight strapped to her belt, until she finally located the correct button and switched it on.

They were in some sort of antechamber, wide as it was tall, forged out of the same brown sandstone, the walls and floors impossibly smooth. There were sconces at odd intervals further into the room, perhaps to be used to provide illumination, but they were empty, her torch the only light in the otherwise pitch blackness.

She aimed the light to one side of the heap of officers before her, running her free hand up and down the front of her uniform. She felt a little out of sorts, and would only realize upon their return to the ship that the plasma lightning had painted her chest with a Lichtenberg mark, a reddish network of branches and limbs that traversed her skin and wouldn't begin to fade for several weeks.

Trip sat back on his haunches, at long last catching his breath. They made eye contact, and he reached for her. "Ensign, you…"

Alira took his hand and pulled him to his feet in one swift motion. He appeared to be fumbling for his words, but eventually settled on a somewhat awkward: "Good job."

"Thank you, sir." She was suddenly nervous, darting the beam of light around the room, searching for a route to deeper shelter should they need it. "About two years ago, my old ship, the Caileph, encountered one while on a routine patrol. We lost engines, primary and secondary power. We were almost lost with all hands."

"Then why didn't you-"

"I had no idea this could happen on a planet," she admitted. "At first, I was having trouble placing it, but you never forget the feeling."

Ethan was the next to stumble to his feet, huffing, eyes traveling all around. "You know, I think I know why the inhabitants of this city abandoned it."

"You don't say?" Hoshi replied sardonically, reaching for her communicator and flipping it open. "Sato to Maelstrom."

Silence.

She tried again, to similar results, spurring a cascade of communicators being activated around the circle. The storm was clearly interfering with their normal frequencies. None were successful, and when their experiment had concluded, they looked between one another hopelessly, wide-eyed, each unsure what to do next.

A bolt of plasma lightning hit much closer to home, this time striking the building and shaking the walls, forcing them out of their inaction.

"Options," Tucker insisted, and it was more of a command than a request.

"Get to higher ground," Ethan suggested.

Hoshi shook her head. "We need to get more space between us and the interference. It might help to head towards the center of the building, wherever that is."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I've got the entire complex mapped out right here." He held up his tricorder, only to discover moments later that he was having trouble switching it on.

"That's not going to help unless we barricade all the exits," Alira asserted, pushing past them into the middle of the room.

"Come again?"

"You saw how quickly the storm reached the front door." She gestured towards her left and right, then straight ahead. "Soon, we'll get cut off on all sides. We'll either suffocate or get fried."

Ethan stood and went to join her, suddenly all business. "There's a back entrance that leads out to the courtyard. The rest of the structures are situated around it. I'm willing to bet it's open just like this one was."

"Then we better get moving," she said, looking back towards the Captain. When he nodded, she charged forward, threatening to leave them behind in the literal dust.

The corridors and ensuing chambers were all strangely bare, without the clutter of decoration, a curious counterpart to the ornate outside of the building. Trip said as much, and Hoshi nodded, holding her flashlight with both hands to illuminate the path, striving mightily to slow her racing pulse.

Outside, the storm raged on, and the air was electric. It smelled distinctly metallic and a little musty, though Hoshi wasn't sure if it was due to the disuse of the ruins or not.

Suddenly, Alira skidded to a halt, nearly causing Ethan to run into her. She turned on one heel to face her CO, and when she spoke, her tone was alarmed, wavering. "Did you hear that?"

Hoshi stopped in her tracks, listening expectantly. When she detected nothing, she asked, "Hear what?"

"Voices," Alira answered somewhat ominously, moving the beam of her flashlight across the floor and ceiling. "They're coming from somewhere."

Ethan looked doubtful. "Okay, Novakovich," he teased, referring to his oft-mentioned incident on Archer IV, where he'd fallen under the influence of psychotropic pollen and nearly led the away team to their demise.

"I'm not kidding. Listen." She held up her pointer finger, first at eye level, then drifting downwards, turning to one side and pressing the seashell curve of one ridged, pointed ear to the wall. Inside, she heard the muted rush of conversation, and deeper still, the steady heartbeat of machinery turning over and over, somewhere within the building.

Trip supposed that if anyone were to have superior hearing besides their resident Vulcan, it might be their eternally sharp tactical officer. He joined her, tentatively at first, and met her eyes over the distance of a couple centimeters. They held their breath, listening to the thrum coming from within. Eventually, he nodded and stepped back. "I hear it too."

"There's no biosigns anywhere on this planet, sir. It's probably the wind."

Alira was shaking her head, forging on through the darkness and around the corner. Quickly, they joined her, only to find themselves at a dead end.

She'd stopped ahead of a great seal in the floor, inlaid with carvings of various deities, looping script, and illustrations of fire and brimstone raining down on unsuspecting adversaries. There was no way to get around it, so she stepped directly in the middle and then to the other side, listening carefully to the sounds on the other side of the wall.

"It's louder behind here," she called out, and soon found that the Captain had joined her. Hoshi and Ethan stood back at a distance, studying the seal as if it were an insurmountable obstacle. "Captain, we've got to investigate this."

Trip leaned into the stone barricade with one hand, pushing it. "Well, Ensign, unless you plan on knocking down this door, I don't think we'll be going any further."

She shook her head, suddenly adamant, and began to inspect the floors and ceiling around them. "There's got to be a way. There's always some kind of device."

Ethan retrieved his tricorder, intent on looking for any energy and heat sources in the vicinity, but found that he was having trouble switching it on. He watched his fellow officers pressing experimentally on the surfaces around them, looking for a triggering mechanism of some kind. "You know, Lieutenant, it looks like to me that they're practicing the patent-pending Novakovich Scientific Method."

Hoshi looked at him, somewhat amused despite their dire circumstances. "And what exactly does that entail?"

"Mess around and find out," he replied immediately, then added: "But write it down afterwards."

He stepped forward onto the seal indiscriminately, not caring where his feet landed, and was utterly bewildered to see Trip and Alira vanish in front of him, disappearing around the curve of the rotating wall.

There was a pause, then the Captain's insistent order: "Put...the stone...back!"

Ethan pitched forward, noticing that sure enough, the slab they were standing in front of was on some kind of rotating track that they hadn't been able to see in the near darkness. He then shifted to his back foot, still on the stone floor behind them, causing the section of the seal which had been depressed to shoot back up, bringing the two of them back into view.

"Alright, I think I have it figured out now. We need to find some way to get all four of us on the opposite side of the wall." Alira paused, pointing at his feet. "Novakovich, could you take one step on that very spot and then take a flying leap towards me?"

"I can try," he mumbled, glancing back at Hoshi, who looked immeasurably concerned with the idea of being left alone in the corridor for any length of time. "Here goes nothing."

He readied himself, shaking out his shoulders, and then launched himself at the Captain, only to just miss landing on the platform and get stuck between the wall and the rotating slab as it turned one hundred and eighty degrees. At first Hoshi shrieked, thinking she'd just witnessed him get crushed, but he turned his head towards her, his cheeks squeezed to an almost comical degree.

"Lieutenant, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Don't press on the stone. With all of your might, shove against the other side of the slab. Is that perfectly clear?"

"I think so," she said, rushing towards them before Trip or Alira could interject.

The mechanism turned once again, a full circle this time, producing Ethan followed shortly by Hoshi. Trip and Alira were once again trapped behind the wall, unaware of their unwitting rescuers flailing and attempting to regain their balance from the sudden whiplash motion.

Trip took a deep breath, deciding he was willing to try it once more before stripping Novakovich of his rights as rescuer altogether. He began to repeat his command, but only got halfway through before Ethan stumbled into the center of the seal, stepping on a completely different switch entirely.

Before either of them could react, the floor fell out from underneath them, and they were falling, sliding down a smooth-walled chute leading to God knows where, screaming and scrambling for purchase wherever they possibly could.

---

Stepping over the threshold into the passengers' berth, T'Pol was only narrowly able to avoid being overcome with emotion, the residual terror and panic left over from the attack bearing down on her. It filled her with dread, and Jonathan could sense it, stepping up to her and standing so close that his shoulder brushed up against hers.

In the background, she could hear her first officer moving off, pulling out his communicator and conversing quietly with Ensign Singh. He knew that he had seen the man before them in severe emotional distress, kicking and weeping and wailing, pinned down in his bunk by two medics, a Vulcan and a Betazoid, both trying and failing to keep him as calm as possible.

Malcolm's UT was having a hard time latching on to what he was saying, but he managed to catch a few fragments, enough to determine that the man was presently convinced he was locked in armed combat with an unseen assailant, that he was attempting to gut and disembowel him, that they didn't have much time until he got to the rest of the crew.

"How many are like this?"

"Twenty-six. All the scientists we were transporting except for two."

"And where were they during the attack?" Malcolm was fiddling with his tricorder out of V'Nara's sight, hurriedly mapping out the transport, looking for shielded and vulnerable areas around them, quickly spotting the weapons locker, the engine room, the lift running the starboard side. As the Captain confirmed it was the latter, he nodded, making a mental note to inspect it before tending to repairs.

All the while, Jonathan and T'Pol were watching the man in the bunk thrash around, all the while screaming for someone, anyone, to help him, to save him from being brutally murdered. He mimicked the same detachment from reality combined with mortal terror Jonathan had seen in his partner's face the minute he burst into the room she'd been held in on Tellar Prime; then and in the present, it shook him to his core.

It took a minute or two, but they finally heard the telltale whoosh of the transporter, turning just in time for their doctor to appear in a shimmer of light.

He seemed momentarily confused, squinting into the darkness, then startled as the man let out a wail, mournful and desperate, tightening his grip on his medical bag. He glanced toward them, seeming like he wanted to bolt, but approached their group anyway.

"Captain V'Nara and Tannis, this is our physician, Dr. Phlox."

"A pleasure," he assured them, cutting a sideways glance at Captain Pomona and the others, but not caring to greet them for a moment. "If you please…"

He didn't wait for the sentiment to be returned, only rushed forward to the side of the Betazoid doctor and jostling for purchase at the bedside. T'Pol thought she heard him introduce himself, but the doctor only regarded him with a disdainful, dismissive expression. He huffed and retrieved his tricorder, pulling a queer sort of expression as he waved it over the flailing man at a distance from the others.

The results were instantaneous. Irreversible damage to the synaptic pathways, a severe neurochemical imbalance in the mesiocortex lending itself to a probable permanent inability to control violent tendencies, and critically high norepinephrine levels indicating the patient was in extreme distress.

Just as he'd once seen in the Captain.

They made eye contact across the room, and T'Pol's suspicions were immediately confirmed.

She knew they were in for it.

All but pushing the other doctor aside, Phlox knelt down to tend to his patient.

---

Lieutenant Kov and Lieutenant Commander Hess beamed into the engine room of the Saral and into a plume of smoke.

Anna immediately knelt down, coughing and cursing, fanning the air around their face. Together they retreated to the far corner of the room, where she turned and regarded their warp core with contempt. "You know, the least they could have done is roll out the red carpet for us."

He smiled politely and crossed his hands behind his back, surveying the familiar layout of the circular chamber, the rows of catwalks high above, the EPS conduits running through the ceiling, the blue and brown paneling running over the walls and the floor. It felt unusual, even unsettling, to be back aboard a Vulcan ship after taking conscious action to leave that part of his life behind. But apparently the proprietors of this vessel had asked that their chief engineer take a look, and the Captain was all too eager to lend a helping hand. Anna told him he was there in the capacity of being his second, but he knew he was really to be her eyes and ears, reading over the looping script on the display modules and translating them for her so she wouldn't have to keep her UT in hand the entire time.

Several Betazoid engineers were perched atop the reactor, squatted down, exchanging pointed glances and occasional words with one another. Immediately Kov felt them probing into his mind, pushing further, and immediately clamped down on whatever defenses he had left.

The sudden mental motion caught their attention, and the women glanced in his direction, their expressions belaying nothing but contempt. Anna, completely unaware of what had just transpired, waved at them and shouted, "Ladies!"

He didn't like the idea of Betazoids. Never had. At least when he or his former friends decided to initiate a mind meld, they tended to seek consent first.

They continued to stare.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer!" She called out, then turned to the schematics displayed on the wall. A few seconds passed where she experimentally pressed a few buttons, then gestured for him to take a look.

"Fusion reactor readouts are at the top of the screen, and warp field parameters to the left." He proceeded to scroll through the different displays, pointing out the tie-ins to the propulsion system and the plasma injectors. Really, it wasn't much different than what he grew used to on the Vahklas, or any of his previous assignments. It was comforting and disconcerting simultaneously.

The hatch opened, producing an unfamiliar Vulcan man in flowing civilian robes. He approached them directly, his purpose singular, and introduced himself as Tannis, the chief engineer and bondmate of the Captain.

Immediately, Kov felt his eyes on him, probing, beseeching, and felt tremendously self-conscious. Anna reached out to shake his hand, though she most likely knew how uncomfortable it would make him, then returned to her work without a second thought.

"I gotta tell you, Mr. Tannis, I've never seen an engine this far gone."

Something jogged Kov's memory, sharp and unpleasant. He looked down at his feet.

"Unfortunately, the extent of damage was well beyond my expertise. I am not an engineer by trade; I taught economics before we decided to leave Vulcan."

"Ah! How long have you been in space?"

"Almost two years, six months under the exclusive contract of the Science Directorate." He paused, leaning forward by a fraction of an inch. "Forgive the intrusion. I heard that a second Vulcan was commissioned aboard Enterprise and I could not ignore my own curiosity."

"Curiosity? Sounds like a human emotion to me," Anna mumbled, opening a panel underneath the computer display. Instantly, her upper body disappeared inside it.

"I've served for seven months," Kov explained with a small smile he could not repress. "I've quite enjoyed my time with the crew."

"I understand you're v'tosh ka'tur," Tannis asserted, catching his eye and not breaking contact for a second. Involuntarily, his jaw clenched. He wondered if he could sense the anxiety coming off of him in waves, his failed memory expulsion of the circumstances surrounding his leaving the Vahklas, his initial misgivings at joining a ship full of humans.

"Formerly," he corrected him. "That was a long time ago."

"Interesting. Do you ever feel that you've betrayed your people by commissioning with Starfleet?"

Anna emerged from the hatch, instantly offended on his behalf. "Just what the hell are you implying?"

"It's alright, ma'am." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Our people and the humans are allies. I fail to see how my choice of a career change involves or concerns you."

"I am simply engaging my curiosity. As Miss Hess so astutely pointed out, an emotion. I am wondering what could have possibly motivated you to leave behind anyone and everything you've ever known to traverse the galaxy with these-"

His hand came down on top of the console, and he leaned into the wall, suddenly irate, but fighting to suppress it. "If you must know, Starfleet's goal is to befriend new species and assist them where we can. We're not just meeting them, deciding they're not worthy of our time, and pushing on to the next system. You see, the humans don't see themselves as superior just because of their way of life. It's exactly why we decided your ship was worthy of stopping for help."

Anna startled, having never heard such vitriol or intensity in his voice. Over his shoulder, the Betazoid engineers were still staring intensely, with no apparent intention of looking away. Briefly, she was worried they'd caused some kind of interstellar incident, but Tannis seemed to appreciate that answer, nodding quietly.

"Thank you for your candor, Lieutenant."

"I would be more than willing to answer any additional questions you may have," he replied, his tone positively frigid, dispassionate.

"That won't be necessary," he assured them, and graciously took his leave of them.

---

For some time after the three factions split up, Malcolm had accompanied the doctor, standing by as he evaluated his patient, then following him as far as the Saral's infirmary to ensure their friend didn't break free. Phlox explained that he and the Betazoid doctor would need to operate on all of them, as he once had done on the Captain, for there to be any hope of survival. With over two dozen Vulcans affected, it was clear he would need to start running triage.

He took one step into the room, taking in the frightening sight of all the unfortunate victims strapped into biobeds and on stretchers, thrashing around, eyes wide with terror, most screaming for their lives, then turned right back around, deciding his assistance would be more needed elsewhere.

He found himself halfway between the infirmary and the bridge, backtracking through the ship and locating every place an unscathed passenger or member of the crew had been standing when the telepresence unit attacked. From experience, they knew that the signal could reach over thousands of kilometers, certainly from the surface of a planet to a ship in orbit. The craft had been within that range, and perhaps closer, so whatever shielding they were using certainly packed a punch.

Pausing over the threshold of the turbolift, he lifted his tricorder to the ceiling, then along the walls, plainly taken aback of what he found.

Dentarium alloy, shielded just as the hybrid compounds on Betazed and Tellar Prime had been. He remembered Alira explaining that such a high caliber of metal could only be found a few placed in the quadrant, and he'd added that an uninhabited world in Vulcan's system was one of them. He gathered that the Saral was a fairly new vessel, but all the same...

It suggested that the hybrids were using their contacts to acquire dentarium for the Romulan cause, or that V'Nara knew more than she let on and had anticipated the threat and acted accordingly, or that she was a hybrid herself with ulterior motives.

There were far too many variables to be certain. He reached for his PADD, meaning to send Phlox a message urging him to study the DNA of their hosts by any means necessary, but was startled by two Betazoids stepping up to either side of him.

"Mr. Reed," Chandra greeted him blithely, pushing past him, brushing his hand as he did so. In his mind's eye, he could see her examining his thoughts and arriving at the same conclusion he did.

He didn't hesitate. He joined them, and the capsule began to move.

Immediately, Bran reached out and pressed the stop button. It skidded to a halt, and the overhead lights dimmed slightly, shifting into emergency mode. Simultaneously, they turned to him and crossed their arms.

"I understand we're after the same information," he said, and that much was true. They both desperately wanted sensor readings on the rogue telepresence unit from the Saral's computer, and didn't very much care for the other to have access to it. They didn't answer for one long moment, so he prompted: "We can work together."

Chandra plainly saw through that. "We don't want your help."

They glanced at one another, and he knew they were having a telepathic conversation above his head, something which annoyed him to no end.

"This information isn't for your kind," Bran explained with a liberal amount of condescension. "The track records of the humans indicate you will not be able to handle the responsibility."

The lift began to move once again, but Malcolm wasn't about to let the conversation end there. "You are mistaken. We've slayed bigger demons before."

They arrived at their destination, the bridge of the transport, but Chandra kept the door closed. "You have no idea how big this is, Mr. Reed. This will turn the tides of the war and the future as a whole." She paused, and he thought he heard her exhale slowly. "If you would like to see her again, I suggest you let us download the data we need and let us be on our way."

He was seized by a sudden wave of anger, one which he knew they both felt. He had thought such an apparently enlightened race would be above such threats. Turning on his heels, he addressed her, hissing into the space between them: "If you so much as lay a hand on her, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself."

Suddenly Bran was well into his personal space, stepping so close to him that their noses nearly touched. His eyes were jet black, cold, unfeeling.

"You are involving yourself with forces you do not understand, nor could ever hope to."

Malcolm didn't blink. He was sure he didn't even breathe. After a moment of tense silence, he replied: "So are you."

Chandra released the button she'd been holding, and the doors slid open, revealing a very stoic Captain V'Nara. She regarded each of them impassively, then stepped aside to let them exit.

As he walked towards the conn to begin his repairs, he felt her eyes on him, and knew without asking that she'd heard the entire thing.

---

It seemed like they were falling for hours, plunging farther and farther down, sliding through the air all the while scrambling for a hold. It was pitch black, and Alira soon lost her grip on her flashlight, helplessly watching it slide on ahead of them and out of sight.

Trip reached out for her, and she reciprocated, gripping his forearms with bruising strength. He thought he caught a glimpse of her face, eyes wide with fear. Far below them, a pinprick of light appeared, growing larger and larger by the second. She was shouting, telling him to bend his knees and tilt his head forward, but he scarcely had time to comply, for in the next moment they fell from the ceiling of a massive domed room.

At the last second, Alira shifted, pushing him away and throwing herself to the ground ahead of him. She broke his fall, but it didn't matter; the breath was knocked out of him, and his head struck the floor over her shoulder. The headache was instantaneous, and he cried out, rolling off of her onto his back.

The darkness was total, all-consuming, and they laid there together for an eternity, attempting and failing to get their bearings. He could hear her shuffling around, crawling over the floor, then she returned, having retrieved her flashlight from some distance away.

"Novakovich," she seethed, as though it were a curse word. "When we get back to the ship, I'm going to beat him within an inch of his life."

"Make sure you do it after duty hours. Less paperwork that way," he sighed and draped an arm across his eyes. Several spots along his chest were sore, throbbing, and he knew he'd bruised some ribs.

She laughed, a short, sharp bark of amusement, then the veneers of professionalism came crashing down again. He could scarcely see her darting the beam around the room, confirming that they were in a small, dusty chamber with what appeared to be cobwebs hanging from the corners and walls. The floor seemed to be uneven, cobblestoned, through they were surrounded on all sides by the same red sandstone as above. At their depth below ground, the lightning and subsequent crash of the thunder were much more muffled, though they knew the storm still threatened to shake apart the building above them.

"Are you alright, sir?"

He grunted, sitting up with a bit of effort, experimentally running his hands over his chest. "Just fine. I'm more worried about you, Ensign," he said, and meant it. Just in the past couple minutes, she'd been struck by plasma lightning and absorbed a fall from almost ten meters. God knew whatever else they would encounter by the time they made it out of there.

If they made it out at all.

She inhaled slowly, turning away from him. In the near darkness, he noticed her gripping her side, right where she'd taken most of the impact. If she was injured-and he was almost positive she was-she was determined not to show it. "No need," she assured him, shining her flashlight down the endless expanse of hallway ahead of them.

Trip halfheartedly flipped open his communicator and listened to the silence that followed. Surely, they were entirely cut off from the Maelstrom by now. "I don't know why I thought that would work," he mumbled and rose to his feet.

Alira briefly considered scaling the walls and climbing back up the way they came; she knew she could make it on her own, but she wasn't about to leave her to his own devices in their present situation. And even if she could make it to the center of the domed ceiling, there was no guarantee she'd be able to clamber through the chute; for all she knew, they might have fallen the distance of several kilometers. Shaking her head, she began to charge towards the opposite end of the room and the hallway, though a spark of pain shot up both of her legs with every step.

Now, as in most circumstances, the only way through was forward.

They proceeded in silence, every so often catching a hint of the voices they had heard earlier. Her tricorder was malfunctioning with all of the interference, so Alira couldn't be certain exactly where the power source was in relation to them now, but she prayed they weren't about to waltz into a firefight.

Before they entered each chamber, she forced the Captain to stop as she scouted ahead. Though recently things had been tense between them, she was still dedicated to serving him, and would cling to their tenuous friendship for as long as possible. He kept glancing towards her, then looking away, as though he wanted to say something but wasn't sure where to begin. It was making her nervous.

The ground continued to slope down, gradually at first, then precipitously, and they were having to walk in short, staggered steps to keep from falling down the pathway. Trip briefly mused on what he thought Hoshi and Ethan were up to at the moment, and she replied by saying that she hoped they were avoiding giant stone seals and hidden slides in the floor. He laughed despite their dire circumstances and surged ahead of her, taking a single step into the next chamber.

Immediately, he froze, sinking down to one side as the stone on which his left foot landed depressed into the floor. He could hear Alira inhale sharply and hold it, peering into the room by a fraction of a centimeter. He knew that she could see, just as well as he could, the series of tiny holes arranged along the walls in rows ranging from the ceiling to waist level.

"Don't move," she commanded, as if he needed to be told. Her hands came up and she traced the panel of the door hidden inside the wall. The moment Trip released pressure on his forward step, she suspected the hatch would slam closed, either trapping them between the chute and the wall or whatever lay beyond them. Only one of those options didn't necessarily mean wasting away and starving to death far below ground on a far-flung desert world.

She made the decision for them, stepping over the threshold and joining him at the stone, standing so close their boots were touching. Gesturing left and then right, she whispered, "When I give you the signal, I need you to fall to your knees and crawl towards the end of the room. I can't see it from here, but I'm hoping we can make it to the next corridor without getting sealed off."

"You're hoping?" He repeated incredulously, studying her perfectly neutral expression, with a hint of apprehension hidden far underneath. "Why don't you just go check right now?"

"Because there's no guarantee every single step between here and the hatch isn't a triggering mechanism for one of these traps," she replied, somewhat snappily, then steadied her tone. "Sir."

The tension between them was back again, and it felt more than a little uncomfortable. Desperate to dispel it, Trip nodded, and in the next instant felt her hand grip his elbow.

The second he lifted his foot, a full volley of arrows left their launch tubes and whizzed over them, making contact with the opposite wall or otherwise clattering to the floor. Trip was a second too late, and an arrow pierced the fabric of his hat, poking out the other side.

He cursed and fell to his knees, then to his stomach as his tactical officer had, and together they proceeded to army crawl across the room, all the while being pelted by arrows falling to the ground.

"Thinking about asking for a transfer yet?" Trip yelled over the din above them.

"Where would I go?" They were approaching the next corridor, and it was growing closer by the second, tantalizing, almost forbidden.

"I don't know, to the Tempest? I hear they're commissioning this summer." He meant it as an attempt to lighten the mood, but he could see that she was offended, especially when she began to crawl faster.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily!" Alira crossed the threshold first and rocked forward onto her knees, only for a series of wide, silvery rotating disks to emerge from the wall and slice through the air a fraction of a centimeter above her head. Her arm came out and she seized a handful of the Captain's shirt, pushing him back down and narrowly preventing him from being decapitated.

Quickly, they passed through the traps and into the next chamber, rising to their feet tentatively, expectantly. When no attempts were immediately made on their lives, Trip asked, "Whoever said I was trying to get rid of you?"

"It kind of goes with the territory."

"The territory of what?"

She huffed, reigning in her frustration before it could lapse into anger. "I know things have been awkward lately-"

"Are you talking to me as my tactical officer or my friend?"

"Both," she replied insistently, though with the situation they were currently in, she was tempted to say, to hell with rank. "Listen, that time we spoke in your ready room, I was insubordinate. I was way out of line. The truth is-"

"What are you-"

"Can you just listen to me for a few more seconds?" She threw up her hands, then remembered herself, adding a very cursory: "Captain."

"Trip."

"Trip," she repeated, "The truth is I was extremely unfair to you. I know that now."

He paused, seeming to sniff the air, turning this way and that. She pressed on.

"I was the CO of my own brigade less than a year ago. I've been in these kinds of situations. I know how hard it is."

"Can you-"

"Please let me finish." She was adamant, insistent, and the words were coming out in a rush. Alira knew she would do anything to restore their friendship back to what it once was, even if it meant admitting guilt, something she was typically reluctant to do. "I never meant to infer that you hadn't thought about all the angles, or were only thinking about yourself, or were specifically out to make me unhappy. I've been thinking about this a lot, processing, healing. I don't want to lose our rapport, Trip. I need to know that we can move past this."

"Alira-" He leaned forward, seizing her shoulders, her eyes trained above her head, seemingly fixed on nothing. She was expecting him to either accept her apology or tell her to shove it, but received neither. "Can you smell that?"

"What?"

Suddenly, water began to gush from the seam between the walls and the ceiling on all sides, issuing forth a deluge of greenish-brown murky water that was nearly entirely opaque and smelled like a sewer. They'd seemingly triggered a cascade of booby traps, most recently tapping into a water source previously undisturbed for thousands of years, and Trip didn't want to think about how many still laid before them.

Alira turned back the way they came, only to find their path blocked off by the razor-sharp disks protruding from the wall. Pivoting, she dashed towards the other side of the room, only for the hatch to slam shut in front of her. She whirled around and they made eye contact, both immeasurably terrified.

The water was up to their knees now, and she was looking around, desperate for a means of escape. Trip stepped up to the wall and began to run his hands along it, but it was unblemished, entirely smooth, without a triggering mechanism in sight.

All the while, Alira was stomping around, being sure to make contact with each cobblestone, creating a tidal wave of splashes as she did so. As the murk reached their waists, Trip made the brave overture of asking her what the hell she was doing.

"I'm not going down like this!" She shouted back over the deafening sound of rushing water. She was desperate, frantic, yet confident despite the circumstances.

Trip began to mimic her movements, having to fight the force threatening to sweep him off his feet. "I always thought I'd go out in a much cooler way. Plasma explosion, maybe. Make some nice fireworks."

Alira was a touch shorter than he was, and was having to bob on her toes to keep her head above water. Soon, she gave up and dipped her head under, reemerging a moment later. "Hand-to-hand combat for me. With all the wounds in the front, so everyone could tell I didn't try to run away."

He didn't have time to contemplate her characteristically spirited reply, for the next time she appeared she was gasping urgently: "I found it! Help me!"

Trip began to swim towards her, fighting the current, nearly being thrown against the wall. By the time he joined her on the floor, his lungs were screaming for oxygen, but he located the loose cobblestone and curled his fingers around it next to hers, pulling upwards with all of his might.

Just as the water reached the ceiling, effectively cutting off their air supply, they managed to pry the stone away, finding themselves pulled forward by the tremendous power of the suction pulling them into yet another chute.

He meant to grab her arm but wound up seizing her ankle, a rough movement that took both of them by surprise. Trip through he saw her cry out, bubbles obscuring her features, before they rocketed into the next section of the building, falling a much shorter distance this time, landing face down with a pool of water all around them.

There was a pause, then they were coughing, hacking, rolling from side to side. Trip was the first to sit up, drawing his knees to his chest. Though he knew it probably shouldn't have been his first thought after a traumatic event, he mused that he was going to need a shower the moment they returned to the ship.

Alira propped herself up on her elbows and trained her flashlight on the far end of the room. Noticing with satisfaction that the chamber appeared perfectly normal with nary a booby trap in sight, she heaved a massive sigh of relief and raised herself up to her haunches. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the Captain wringing out his hat, carefully extricating the arrow from the fabric and tucking it into his pocket.

"Taking a trophy, sir?"

"Can it with the formalities. I think we passed the need for that about two near death experiences ago."

She laughed, truly laughed, a full, hearty sound he hadn't known he missed. He slid backwards through the puddle to prop himself up against the wall, and she joined him, contemplatively studying the drip-drip-drip of water coming from a crack in the hatch above them. For the first time in weeks, the bubble of tension between them had burst, and they were free to simply enjoy one another's company, even though they were presently running for their lives.

"You know, I'm glad you forgive me. It makes our next family reunion less awkward." She looked at him curiously, and he continued: "You know, the next time we rendezvous with the Enterprise."

As a matter of fact, Alira knew exactly when it was. She knew it was juvenile, but she'd been keeping an unofficial countdown of the days remaining until she could see him again, tucked away under a layer of password protection in her personal PADD. Every morning, she would open the file, mark through the previous day's number and replace it with a new one. With a practiced hand, she'd written the coordinates and date at the top of the page, and every time she read it, she would smile, as though it were a secret that only she knew. She had to wonder, though...

"Do you really think we'll make it there?" It was a legitimate question, what with the war ramping up and border incursions by the Romulans happening at an alarming rate.

He shrugged and replied earnestly: "I hope so." Trip then reached into his pocket and retrieved his camera, noting with satisfaction that it was still operational. He looked over at his tactical officer, her sunburned cheeks, the hair plastered to the side of her face and her bright eyes, which seemed comically large in the moment, then snapped a picture, muttering under his breath that he'd need to send it out over subspace the first chance he got.

"Don't you dare," she warned, making a mad reach for it.

"Don't start with me," he snapped and leaned out of her grasp. "I'll have you know you look real nice."

She might have blushed, though he could scarcely tell. He stowed his camera, then stretched his legs out in front of him, still riding the wave of adrenaline that had been following them since the plasma storm. "So how was your Valentine's Day?"

Alira shook her head. It had only been a few days ago, and though it had somewhat hurt to see couples wherever she went, she'd tried to keep her head down and not think too much about it. "Not going to lie to you, it could have been better."

It was true. They could have been together.

"Really? Was it that bad?" Trip grimaced. He and Malcolm had discussed the situation at length, how they would celebrate, how he would explain the significance of this very Terran holiday, how he would make the distance between them feel like nothing at all. As usual, he had been overthinking everything, and it wouldn't surprise him if he'd gone either way overboard or not done enough.

"No!" Her eyes lit up, and she sat forward, gathering her hands in her lap. "The night before, I get this call over the comm, and it's Rostov asking me to come down to cargo bay two. We'd just rendezvoused with the ECS Boulder, and they'd spent all night unpacking. In the last container, he found-"

She turned to him, and he could visibly see her excitement, her enthusiasm, her profound love for one of his dearest and oldest friends. It was enough to warm his heart. "He sent me Betazoid muktoks. It's kind of our thing. He left some outside my quarters after our first date." Technically, it had been after he'd put his foot in his mouth and nearly ruined his chances altogether, but that was neither here nor there.

Trip nodded, and she pressed on: "He left a note in the crate, nothing much, just-" She paused, and when she spoke again, it was with a flawless imitation of Malcolm's English accent. "You have no idea how hard these were to find."

This time, he laughed, and he privately wondered just how many members of the crew she could imitate. "Damn. Dozens of light years away and making the rest of us guys look bad. Sounds like he did pretty well."

"He did. Tried his hand at poetry, too."

"Was that any good?"

"No," she replied matter-of-factly, then shrugged. "But it's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

"It is," he confirmed with a smile. Trip would have asked what she'd sent his way, but he had a feeling he already knew.

Their mission to Alpha Eridani had been mostly uneventful and entirely scientific; due to the comprehensive actions of Lieutenant Novakovich's team, they'd scanned, examined, and dissected a portion of every climate zone on the planet, from a sweltering jungle to a lush forest to a waving prairie. The Maelstrom's official recommendation was that it be prepared for colonization immediately, being far enough away from Romulan space to make the risk worthwhile.

On their last day, they'd returned to the beach where their shuttlepod was stashed, and wandered along the shoreline, eventually stumbling across an arm of a coral reef that fed into a shimmering lagoon, pleasantly warm and tremendously blue.

Their resident hydrologist and oceanographer, Ensign Lisbon, had insisted on taking the diving suits for a spin and studying the caverns underneath them. At first Trip had been hesitant to authorize it, not knowing what kind of treacherous creatures might be lurking in the depths, but Alira had volunteered to accompany him, assuring him she was a strong swimmer.

The situation between them was still tenuous, but he agreed, and he spent several minutes watching Taxa and Lisbon paddle around, the chrome of their oxygen tanks glinting off the sunlight far above them. Eventually, when they'd resurfaced, now armed to the teeth with data on the caves, he noticed that Alira was holding something in her hands.

She leaned over to dip it in the water again and brush off the sand, revealing a shining rock in vivid tones of green and blue, the colors melded together until it was nearly impossible to tell where one started and the other began. Holding it up, she'd asked Ethan to confirm that her discovery truly was shaped like a human heart.

Maybe not anatomically, but definitely in symbology, he'd replied, and that had been enough for her. She rode the entire way back clutching her prize, running her fingers over it and smiling to herself.

That evening, unbeknownst to anyone, she'd packed it up to be shipped out the next time they made contact with an ECS freighter. She'd studied the rock's colors, their intensity, its faint iridescence, and written just four words.

Your eyes and mine.

She knew he would understand.

"What about you? I heard Hoshi-"

"Baked me an entire pecan pie from scratch," he interrupted. "She's lucky I didn't propose marriage right then and there."

"That would've been a hoot and a half," she said, slipping into a brief Southern inflection. Trip didn't want to think about how many times he'd had to use that particular idiom for her to pick up on it. "I've officiated several ceremonies for my officers before. I could have done it, provided you were okay with being married under the authority of the Supreme Council…"

"I'm sure Commander Hammond could do it. She helped me arrange Hoshi's present, you know."

As a matter of fact, Alira had heard all about it, heard about his promise to build her a bathtub in the Captain's quarters and the eventual follow through. Rushing to complete the job before she came off shift on the day of, Trip had nicked a water supply line in the wall, and Julia had to come to his rescue. By the time Hoshi arrived, the bathroom was flooded, which only compounded on top of her surprise.

"She's the envy of every woman on board right now, that's for sure." Alira had even offered to trade her days of leave for a quick soak in the tub when the Captain wasn't around, to no avail.

"Don't I know it. I'm a catch," Trip said with a touch of sarcasm, rising to his feet. He offered her his hand, and she paused for a moment before accepting it. "I think it's time we hit the dusty trail."

"Another idiom?"

"Very literal this time."

They walked for another few minutes, thankfully not encountering any more traps, chattering idly about ship's gossip and official business, the planets they'd located on sensors and would visit if they had enough time before the inevitable hit.

Trip even began to walk backwards, gesturing wildly with his hands just as they passed underneath another awning into what he expected to be another grand chamber. Suddenly Alira's eyes went wide and her hand shot out, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him away just short of falling to his death.

He spun around, quick to find his bearings, and soon discovered that they were mere centimeters from the great, yawning mouth of a sandstone chasm with indeterminate depth, the darkness reaching up at them with elongated fingers. Across from them, there was another opening, though it was much too far for them to reach. Unless…

"I've seen enough movies," Trip whispered, already bouncing on his toes. "It's a leap of faith."

He'd already started backing up, preparing to make a flying jump, when his tactical officer stepped directly in his path. She was looking at him like he was certifiably insane.

"Trip," she admonished, "Let me climb down a bit. There might be a ledge farther down, or another opening."

"Are you sure about-"

"Please," she assured him, backing up to the ledge and dropping one leg over it, finding a hold, then bringing the other foot down. Before he could stop her, she disappeared from view, clinging to the wall for dear life.

Gingerly, he approached the side of the cliff and looked down at her, the resolve in her eyes cluttered with lingering hints of terror. The ravine stretched to infinite length in both directions, and he briefly wondered just where in the hell they were.

"Be careful," he said, watching her knuckles go white as she gripped the rock face. Her right arm was trembling and she briefly let go, shaking it out. "You know, in terms of sacrificing yourself, you're almost as bad as Malcolm."

She rolled her eyes and descended another couple meters. Trip watched as the darkness of the abyss swallowed her up piece by piece until she was completely gone and he was truly alone up on the precipice.

After a while, he called out to her, and he thought he heard her answer, followed by a cry of either shock or horror, he wasn't sure which.

There was a quick scramble for purchase, and he knew she was falling, falling to her death or her fate, whichever came first.

---

Mere minutes after Malcolm returned to the Enterprise, he met the Captain and the Commodore in one of the storage lockers adjoining the catwalk in the starboard nacelle, which they'd used as a command center during their encounter with a neutronic wavefront years ago. He'd charged into the room and nearly bowled over Ensign Singh, who looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

He dealt T'Pol a questioning look, but she dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. Turning back to Dita, he watched the anticipation and trepidation war in her features, before she finally said, "I know, sir. They told me everything."

Dita had been shocked by what the Captain revealed to her, but had been honored by her trust, assuring her that she would defend her secret with her life. In the space between them, she had tentatively reached out and taken her hands, hoping to convey her sincerity. To her astonishment, she reciprocated, saying she would be relying on her discretion and expertise to weather this particular storm.

Eventually she would discover how few people aboard knew of the hybrid plot; she wouldn't know of how Malcolm begged and pleaded with the Captain not to tell Ensign Pascal, under suspicion that he couldn't trusted, to eventual success, but she would find Lieutenant Cutler in the galley in the middle of the night a couple of weeks later, pouring herself a massive glass of wine and staring off into the distance like her world had just been forever changed. She supposed it should have acted as a way to strengthen the bond between the senior officers, but the weight of the secret already was bearing down on her, and she privately wondered just how long they would be able to continue without Starfleet Command finding out.

The Commodore pressed on with his briefing, undeterred by his tactical officer's uneasiness. "Phlox says the damage done to these scientists' brains is identical to what was done to the Captain. For some, he's sure they'll be back to normal within a couple of days. Others are so far gone, they may never have any kind of emotional control again."

"Perhaps they only meant to capture one scientist and failed; at any rate, there were too many to kidnap at once without drawing too much attention," Malcolm surmised.

"The doctor has also reviewed the genetic data of everyone on board at the time of attack." T'Pol briefly turned away, not mentioning how many protocols he'd broken to acquire that information. "None of them are hybrids, not even Captain V'Nara."

So that completely blew his original theory out of the water. Malcolm crossed his arms. "It's also possible the unit was designed to emit a signal strong enough to kill them to prevent them from reaching their destination, or they were hoping they would destroy the ship on their own."

Archer gestured to the screen before him. "I've managed to reconstruct several possible flight paths based on their previous trajectory. It's likely they were headed to the Galorndon system."

Not for the first time, Malcolm was eternally glad his CO had been a pilot in his past life.

"My people have a surveillance station there. By all accounts, it's the Vulcan equivalent of Kandar, except…" She trailed off, knowing full well she was divulging privileged Ministry of Security information, but not feeling a trace of guilt.

"I spoke with Lieutenant Cutler. Those residual brain waves were definitely Betazoid," Dita interrupted, then grimaced apologetically. "She asked me a ton of questions, but I had no idea what to say. I believe I may have implied they came from the Delphina."

"That's quite alright, Ensign," T'Pol assured her. "I wanted to let you all know that I've made a decision concerning the Saral's data core."

There was a long pause, wherein they all looked at her, really studied her, her impassive expression and slightly wilted posture. She was tapping her foot on the deck plating, her usual tell, and Malcolm knew she was considering how to explain what they all knew, that they couldn't trust these Betazoids, that they were acting entirely in self preservation, that they weren't likely to share the information once they got it, that Captain V'Nara was an extremely by-the-book Vulcan who wasn't likely to help willingly, that they needed to get their hands on the data first, even if it meant doing something a little underhanded.

It certainly wouldn't be their first time.

"It is evident with the reconnaissance Mr. Reed conducted that the only thing that prevented certain members of the crew from being overcome by the telepresence units was the protection of dentarium alloy shielding," she began, and a separate plan began to form in her mind to reinforce Enterprise's hull with the material in question. "It contains similar properties to the osmium alloy in this very catwalk."

Her insinuation was evident, that they were hiding from the Betazoids, who could almost certainly read their thoughts from a thousand kilometers away. She turned to look at them, expression impassive, and they knew her word was the absolute law. "I'll be sending someone in for data extraction. Stealth is of the essence. We cannot risk being detected."

"I'll handle it, ma'am. Just give me a few minutes to-"

"Not you, Mr. Reed," she interrupted, her gaze drifting.

"Me?" Dita was incredulous, and was about to flat out tell them it was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad idea.

"They've asked for help repairing their communications systems, and you are the logical choice. Their visual and short-range sensor arrays are tied into the same power supply. Once you transport over to that ship, it is crucial that you maintain your composure, that you disguise your true intentions from the Betazoids."

"Ma'am, I don't think..."

"You told me you meditated." She certainly did, but it was more of a recitation of hymns in accordance with her faith than anything the Vulcans practiced. Sure afterwards she felt calm, centered, but that didn't mean she could-

"Could you focus your thoughts for long enough to make it to the bridge and initiate a data transfer?" They locked eyes, and she didn't want to disappoint her, she didn't want to let her down, so she nodded, slowly, solemnly. The Captain seemed satisfied with that, reaching for the cabinet behind her. "The doctor has prepared an injection for you. This should make it easier to concentrate."

She stepped forward and turned her head to one side, allowing the Captain to press the hypospray to her neck. The effects were instantaneous; she felt a rush of overwhelming calm, then her extremities grew heavy and leaden. Dita leaned into the wall, suddenly incredibly drowsy.

Malcolm was at her side, supporting her by the arm, even though he looked more than a little dismayed at the Captain's decision. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm underwater, and everyone else is moving in slow motion." Her words were slightly slurred, and she belatedly wondered what exactly had been in that medical cocktail.

"Steady yourself," the Commodore ordered, stepping up to her. "Listen to me. You need to get in, fix their comm, download the information we need, and get out. You must let us know immediately if you need an extraction."

"I don't think that'll be necessary, sir. I'll just go to the auxiliary communications juncture in the cargo bay. It's much more out of the way."

"The what?"

"Every alliance transport and cargo ship has one, assuming they want to do business with the ECS. Keeps them from entering the corridor to check the supply manifest." She trailed off, rubbing her temples. It had been a protocol she initiated when she'd been in charge of fleetwide logistics, which seemed like a hundred years ago. In those days, she had been the rock of the supervisory team, a constant smiling face, the one everyone could depend on, and she was determined to be the very same for her crew right now.

The Captain was nodding, moving to the wall to initiate the site-to-site transport. Wordlessly, Malcolm passed his phase pistol into her hand, and she slipped it into her pocket. She remembered something Alira had told her during target practice months ago, when she'd asked if she missed her exciting former life in Infantry Special Ops.

It's not that different. We're Starfleet. We rush into trouble, cut it off in its tracks, and if need be, start it.

Important trouble, she'd agreed, necessary trouble.

She wasn't exactly sure where this mission fell into the grand scheme of all that.

Her COs may have said something else to her, but she didn't hear it, finding herself the next moment in the near darkness of the Saral's cargo hold. She looked left, looked right, then shook off the mental cobwebs that threatened to weigh her down, walking along the wall until she found a display screen that she thought might suit her needs.

The dialect she found there was complex, regionally specific, and she momentarily struggled to put the syntax and sentence structure together. But she was a comm officer, and knowing the alliance languages like the back of her hand came with the territory. Soon she was zooming through the directory, patching into the mainframe on the bridge and locating the problem with ease. It took her a couple of minutes, but she was able to reconnect the comm system to the main power just enough to slip past their encryption protocols and enter their sensor logs from the incident.

She was surprised, truly shocked by what she found, though she kept repeating one of her meditation mantras over and over in her mind, then out loud, if only to suppress an emotional response that would tip off the Betazoids to her location.

When at last she'd transferred the data they needed to her PADD and buried it again behind a mountain of statistical white noise in the comm system, she reached for her communicator to give the signal to the Captain.

No sooner had she slipped her hand into her pocket that she felt the barrel of a weapon press into the back of her skull.

"Ensign Singh, I presume?" The voice was distinct, male, cold and slightly mocking. He had the advantage, the element of surprise, and the upper hand at the moment.

Within a fraction of a second, she seized the phase pistol in her pocket and turned on her heels, reeling back and leveling it at his chest. Immediately, she recognized him from the briefing. "Mr. Bran. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"To nothing," he replied, gesturing to her with his free hand. "Give me that PADD. If you do, we'll let the Enterprise leave without any trouble."

"No chance." She clicked the safety off of her weapon and shifted her arm until she was aiming directly between his eyes. Dita wondered if her husband would believe her when she told him she'd held another alien dignitary at gunpoint. It was the second time, and if Mr. Reed's instincts were to be believed, probably not the last. "Funny they should send you. I thought Agent Kafatos would be better suited for this kind of work."

"Shows how little you know."

"Then enlighten me." He took one step to the left, moving towards the wall, and she pursued him, striving to hide the nervous energy building up within her. The injection was helping, but certainly hadn't done the trick entirely, and she was now fighting the shaking in her hands.

He laughed softly. She squinted into the darkness, catching a glint of something in his black, unassailable eyes, something that wasn't helping her in any way to maintain her composure. "I'm telling you right now, Ensign, that this can only happen one way. If you leave now and capture that telepresence unit before we do, it will end in the destruction of all of our worlds."

"You're wrong. How could you possibly know any of that?"

"I'm afraid that's classified information. You couldn't begin to understand."

"Sounds like it's none of my business. If you excuse me-" Tucking her PADD into her other pocket, she reached for her communicator again, flipping it open.

The moment the Captain's voice came through, a beam from Bran's weapon made contact with her hand, causing her to cry out and the device to go flying across the room. Dita momentarily faltered, but raised her pistol once more, pressing her throbbing palm into her side.

"That was the disruptor setting. I also have stun, kill and vaporize. If you're interested in finding out what those feel like, make another move." He smiled faintly, smugly, and she desperately wanted to punch him.

"We've told you before that we can help your people. Whatever horrible fate you're trying to work around, we can avoid it together."

Bran was shaking his head emphatically. "There are only a few ways the war can proceed which don't end in mass casualties and chaos. I've been watching all of you. I know how you humans behave and the far reaching consequences of your actions. Believe me, if you knew what will happen if you find that unit first-"

"You're a temporal agent." Realization hit her like a lightning bolt, and she couldn't even begin to hide the way her voice trembled. It had been the last briefing she received before joining the Enterprise, and it had been held in a soundproof chamber far below the main level of HQ with armed guards posted at the door. "How long have you been working with the Betazoids?"

"It would be more accurate to say that they're working for me. I'm the reason they're here, Ensign." He took a step forward, standing so close that the barrel of his weapon was now all but pressed up against her forehead. She swallowed, hard. "We're just trying to delay the inevitable."

"What do you mean?"

Bran sighed, looking away for a fraction of a second. "There's not enough worlds involved in this alliance, not enough resources-"

"And why should we trust you? From what I could gather, the last agent our ship encountered was a whole lot more pleasant than you."

"Because Daniels' methods were soft, inadequate. I at least had the respect to tell you this straight to your face."

"Is this about the Temporal Cold War? Are we approaching another front?"

"No, it's about the Romulan War, which I can tell you that if you continue down this path, will begin in near destruction of both of your ships in three weeks, four days, and-"

Bran suddenly contorted and cried out. As he fell to his knees, Dita beheld the form of Captain V'Nara, who had only a moment ago emptied a round from her phaser into his back. She sputtered for a second, utterly shocked, then glanced down just in time to see Bran disappear in a flurry of blue sparks and short-range lightning, seeming to shatter like glass.

She bent down, fumbling for her communicator, retrieving it quickly. She had to reach her COs, she had to get out of here, she had to...

"Captain, you-"

"We have new orders," she began, entirely disaffected by what had just unfolded before her, gesturing towards the door. "If you please."

Dita joined her as they rushed into the corridor, which was surprisingly empty, free of any intruding Betazoid technicians. It took her a moment to regain her composure, but when she did, she all but ordered: "Tell me what's going on."

"I may not agree with his politics, but if Soval trusts your crew, that is sufficient for me. We will return to Vulcan and drop off our people as soon as possible."

"And the Betazoids?"

"They're leaving, and I'm alerting every transport in the sector of their whereabouts." She stopped short of the lift and turned to her, suddenly intense, utterly adamant. "As far as you're concerned, this incident never occurred."

"And what should I tell my Captain?"

"Tell her that she has a chance to make matters right." The doors opened, and she stepped in, turning to her. A second before she was cut from view, she said, "Consider it a gift from the Ministry of Security."

---

As soon as he heard his tactical officer lose her grip and fall, Trip clutched his chest and inhaled sharply, listening for any signs of life.

The next few seconds seemed like an eternity. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just lost a member of his crew, the very first of his command, and they hadn't even really started the war. In his mind's eye, he could already visualize the funeral in a cargo bay stuffed with dress uniforms, the tragic eulogy he'd deliver, the distress of their mutual friends. They'd only just begun to reconcile following the near total destruction of their friendship, and now she was gone, smashed to oblivion on the face of some rock, dead or worse.

Not to mention that he was sure that if-and only if-he survived this ordeal, Malcolm would absolutely murder him for allowing her to take such a risk.

Just when he was starting to feel faint, he heard someone cry out, followed by rustling and frantic shouting. He tilted his head to one side, leaning over the canyon, desperately attempting to figure out what was going on below.

"It's okay, sir! Novakovich broke my fall!" Alira's voice cut through the uncertainty, the pure, unmitigated terror that was now rapidly dissipating from his gut. He sighed and sank down to his haunches, dropping his head into his hands.

He thought he heard Ethan groaning in pain, then the scuffle of someone helping him off the ground. "I'm fine too, thanks for asking!"

"Trip?" It was Hoshi, who sounded incredibly concerned. An instant after his name escaped her lips, she corrected herself, rapidly falling back in line with protocol. "Captain? Where are you?"

"Right above you, Lieutenant. It's pitch black down there, I can't see you."

"About two hundred meters. They caught me with the beam of their flashlight, it startled me." She paused, then slowly began to climb through the darkness, emerging into his line of sight a moment later. "There's a ledge down here, sir. I'll point out foot and hand holds for you if you're ready."

Trip looked down at her skeptically, but then sat down, dangling his legs over the precipice. "Just out of curiosity, if I were to fall from this height, would it kill me?"

"Probably," she replied rather pragmatically, catching a glimpse of his dubious expression. "All the more reason to start climbing now."

Though he supposed it was much less treacherous than traversing underground caverns for dozens of kilometers searching for a few wayward geologists, he had to admit his grip on the wall was rather precarious. Several times, his fingers slipped, or he felt a bit of rock crumble from underneath his boots, but Alira was insistent that he not stop or slow down, lest he lose his nerve.

Eventually he felt the beam of Hoshi's flashlight hit the back of his head, illuminating his descent into the abyss. A few seconds later, he felt Alira's hand on his back, strong and insistent, guiding him down to the ledge where the three of them stood.

He turned to face his fellow officers and was immediately taken aback by their appearance. Novakovich especially looked a little worse for wear, covered up to his neck in some kind of murky, colloidal wet mud. He was bleeding from his temple, and the shirt of his desert fatigues was torn, exposing his torso. Trip gestured towards him, and he held up both his hands, shaking his head.

"You don't want to know."

"Pretty sure that I do, Lieutenant."

"Quicksand," Hoshi declared, much to the surprise of the both of them. "We passed through the door the way you came, except we went straight ahead and encountered a bunch of rooms with sand drifts higher than our heads."

"You know, as a kid, I always thought quicksand was gonna be a much bigger problem that it turned out to be," Ethan mused. "Thank goodness I watched all those instructional videos."

"Good to know we'll be ready if we need to jump from the top of a moving hovertrain."

"Or flee from a stampeding rhinoceros."

"Or survive being buried alive." Alira compounded on their teasing, then propped her hands on her hips, turning this way and that, observing the dire circumstances they presently found themselves in. "Actually…"

"There were these alligator-like creatures, too. We have to jump from stone to stone over a raging river all the while they were nipping at our heels. There was a whole room with fire shooting from the walls, and-"

"You're kidding."

"I wish we were," Hoshi said, aiming the beam of her flashlight down at the hemline of her pants, where a giant, ragged hole had been torn out. The lengths they'd gone to in order to locate their fellow officers was nothing short of ridiculous. "When we get back to the ship, I'm going to need a nice, long bubble bath and an entire bottle of wine."

"When we get back to the ship, I'm going to need therapy," Ethan mumbled, then startled a bit as his tricorder warbled in his pocket. He reached for it and removed the cover; in the dim light, they could see his features light up with relief and surprise. "That power source is back. It's not far from here."

"How far?"

He gestured towards the corridor which had led them out onto the ledge, which they had assumed to be a dead end until they came across Alira scaling down from the walls. "A thousand meters, dead ahead and around a corner. Think it's worth the risk?"

Trip threw his hands up in defeat. The way he saw it, they'd already been drowned, punctured, stabbed, and nearly thrown off the edge of a cliff, so he couldn't imagine what else the universe could possibly have to throw at them today. Knowing full well he'd most likely jinxed it, he hurriedly pushed that thought aside. "We've already come this far. Might as well investigate."

"Wait a second. If the interference has cleared up enough for you to get tricorder readings, that means-" She retrieved her communicator and flipped it open, whispering tentatively: "Sato to Maelstrom."

There was a seemingly endless pause, then a crackle of static which could have mistaken for words. Hoshi tried again, glancing over Ethan's shoulder and relaying their location twice over. Surprisingly, they'd made it to the far end of the city, but were more than a kilometer below ground, in the midst of a rather extensive network of catacombs.

When she'd provided what she hoped was enough information for Commander Hammond to mount a rescue or emergency transport attempt, she shut the device and stowed it in her pocket, heaving a massive sigh. She flexed her shoulders, feeling how the mud from their encounter with quicksand was drying all over her extremities, seemingly freezing her in place. It wasn't doing any favors to help her quiet the storm of anxiety raging within. "As we get closer to the surface, the signal will only get stronger."

"Here's hoping," Alira contended, reaching for her phase pistol. She had to tilt it forward to let the water run out of the barrel, but soon she was moving quickly on the trail of the Captain, limping slightly off to one side.

Ethan had jog to catch up with them, but once he did, he took the lead, guiding them away from the direction they'd come and rounding one corner, then another, until they were so deep within the labyrinth that Hoshi was almost certain they were lost. She was now registering the voices that Trip and Alira had heard earlier, and they were growing louder, shriller, almost deafening, as though they were listening to a chorus of thousands of people chanting as one. The UT couldn't seem to lock onto it, though it sounded distinctly Romulan to Hoshi, all rising and falling cadence and harsh groupings of consonants. Every so often she'd pause and listen in, desperate to catch a word or two, only to give up and dash after her fellow officers once more.

She was almost expecting for Ethan to lead them to another trap door, but he skidded to a halt in front of a broad, open doorway, an archway that stretched far above them and created a tremendous echoing effect to the voices within. She knew she was dehydrated and more than a little famished, but the voices were rattling around in her skull, punishing her senses, and Hoshi knew that a migraine was imminent.

Alira stepped up behind him and aimed her flashlight into the room over his shoulder, only to shriek and stumble backwards. Trip joined her in an instant, pulling the device from her hands and rushing forward into the darkness.

Tentatively, they followed him straight into one of the most disturbing scenes they'd ever witnessed.

On both sides of the room, dozens if not hundreds of mummified corpses were propped up against the wall, arms crossed over their chests, heads tilted downwards as if they'd been expecting them. In the center, a massive square sarcophagus lay atop a dais, inlaid with precious gemstones and carvings similar to the ones they'd seen outside on the cliffs. It seemed to be the origin of the thunderous chorus, and Trip stepped up to it, rubbing his hands over the ornate lid.

He had to shout to be heard. "Glad they brought out the welcoming party, eh, Taxa?"

She nodded, gravely, and hurriedly glanced around, confirming they were truly alone in a chamber with a horde of long-dead Romulan ancestors hundreds of meters below ground. She was getting that feeling again, that gut feeling, that told her something was dreadfully wrong.

"These inscriptions are warning us not to disturb the remains of the First Consul under threat of-"

Her warnings seemed to be an ineffective deterrent, however, as Trip and Alira seized two sides of the lid and slowly slid it away until the contents were laid bare. Hoshi was expecting to find a skeleton or else some optimistically saved bit of finery, but curiously, shockingly, it was empty.

The voices seemed to be emanating from the base of the coffin, and Trip rocked forward, rapping on the floors and the sides. Shaking her head, Taxa knelt by the base and began to feel around, tracing the perimeter with her fingers. All the while Ethan was turning this way and that, scanning for whatever he could find, ensuring that their narrow window of opportunity for escape remained open.

Suddenly Trip's efforts paid off, and a portion of the stone interior slid aside, leaving just enough room for someone to pass through, almost straight down, on a rickety ladder that looked like it would fall apart the moment someone placed their foot on it.

The voices were deafening.

Alira was immediately scaling the side of the coffin, preparing to go in first, only for Trip to seize her arm roughly. Over the din, she could hear him shout, "You're going to sit this one out."

"Sir, I-"

"You're not invincible, Taxa. Everyone can see that you're injured. Take it easy."

He took one look at her, the simultaneous fire and concern in her eyes, and knew she would have laid down her life for him in that moment. She was an enigma, her behavior completely bewildering, as he could trust her one day and be suspicious of her motives the next. If she was truly working against them, she would be found out one day and receive her comeuppance. As for right now, he was almost certain he could trust her, feeling her arm hovering protectively above his shoulders by a fraction of a centimeter as he climbed into the coffin and descended into the unknown.

He was gone for one minute, maybe two, before his head popped up from the darkness and he gestured for Hoshi, his expression fraught.

She joined him, though her heart was racing and she was feeling faint. In that moment she disappeared from view, she remembered a piece of advice her grandmother had given her shortly before she joined the Enterprise.

Be afraid. Be terrified. But do it anyway.

There was a moment of tense analysis, then a burst of weapons fire.

For the first time in hours, the voices fell silent.

When they emerged, Trip helped her climb out of the sarcophagus, gripping her arms and pulling her down to the floor. Immediately, they were on the move, frantic, nearly running, with Ethan and Alira close behind them.

"What's going on?" Ethan's ears were ringing, and he grimaced, rubbing the side of his face.

"We need to get out of here as soon as possible," Trip asserted, stopping at the nearest T in the corridor. "Which way?"

Novakovich indicated the left, and they made the turn, then another and another, until they felt the ground gently begin to slope up. They were having to work to gain ground now, heads down, fighting to make it up the incline.

Taxa was holding onto her side for dear life, feeling the effects of breaking the Captain's fall much stronger now. Huffing, she asked, "Sir, what did you find in the-"

"A Romulan subspace amplifier relaying most of the communications in this sector, if I'm not mistaken," Hoshi interrupted, her chest heaving. "I managed to get most of what they'd sent out in the past day, but if what I heard is true-"

"As I said, we need to get out of here." Trip was adamant.

After a while, Novakovich started to lose track of their progress, the labyrinth of hallways and chambers blurring before his eyes. He had picked up a hint of something on his scans while they were standing there in the mausoleum, but didn't dare to vocalize it. What with the plasma storm interference preventing traditional methods of security and the critical nature of the information they were attempting to protect, it was no surprise the Romulans had opted for a low-tech, slightly over-the-top method of repelling intruders.

At last they reached the apex of the slope; ahead of them, the ground fell sharply at an angle, leading to a dead end far below with a hint of sunlight leaking in from somewhere. They were finally seeing the literal light at the end of the tunnel.

Trip took one step over the peak and immediately lost about a quarter meter of height as the cobblestone he stood on sank into the floor. He froze, and the four of them collectively held their breath.

It was so close. They could make it.

Probably.

Before Alira could advise him otherwise, he broke out into a run, which quickly turned into an all-out sprint. Behind them, he detected the heavy grinding of machinery, followed by the thunder of something enormous striking the ground and starting to roll down the incline.

Glancing back, he confirmed that a giant spherical boulder had broken loose from its trappings and was on a collision course, moving faster and faster, gaining on them by the second. Audibly, he cursed, but mentally, he was cursing everything he'd ever done in his life to bring them to this moment, his choice of taking his own command, hell, his very decision to join Starfleet.

Alira broke free from the group, gaining on the wall, putting some distance between them. Her arms and her legs were cutting the air wildly, and he could tell that she was looking for an escape, for salvation.

It came in the form of a loose stone brick at the end of the hallway, around which sunlight was streaming through. She pushed at it to little success, scaled up the wall by a meter and tried again, kicking and throwing her entire weight against it, all to no avail.

She paused for a split second and they made eye contact; he could see the terror there, the panic as the massive rock bore down on them faster and faster by the second, threatening to crush them all if fate did not intervene.

And intervene it did, in Ethan's split second decision to whip out his phase pistol and hit it with the kill setting, the angry red glow at the center of the rock growing and growing until it shattered entirely. They reached the wall the moment he cut off the beam, and soon Hoshi was scrambling through, followed by Trip. Ethan struggled somewhat to lift himself off the ground, but Alira soon grabbed him by the belt and the seat of his pants and forced him through, bursting through the opening with no more than a second to spare.

Together they collapsed face down on the sand, crawling away as the boulder struck the wall behind them, nearly causing it to shatter altogether. They were coughing, gasping, trying to regain their composure the best they could.

Alira found that she had been breathing so hard she presently saw stars, and her extremities were tingling, indicating that she'd started to hyperventilate. Rolling onto her back, she squinted into the sunlight, then closed her eyes for several silent, blissful moments. She'd had several close calls before, but few had truly been this close, and at the moment simply being alive felt pretty damn good.

Trip was speaking, though she couldn't be sure what he was saying. The storm was over, and they'd escaped the Romulans' fortress of doom, and for now, that was good enough for her. The next thing she heard was Hoshi try her communicator again, calling out, "Sato to Maelstrom."

There was a seemingly endless pause, then Commander Hammond's loud, clear voice cut through the static. She sounded tinny and far-away, but she was definitely there across an indeterminable distance of subspace. "Maelstrom here. Please confirm location and acknowledge."

Trip was at her side in a second, and soon the four of them were tuned into the communicator, which at the moment was their only connection to the outside world to which they each desperately wanted to return to. "Jules, I don't think I've ever been so glad to hear your voice."

She might have laughed, though they weren't sure. "Everything okay down there? That plasma storm kicked up some kind of orbital dispersion field. You were off our sensors for almost nine hours."

Nine hours? Truthfully, it had felt like an eternity.

"I had to order Nguyen to not lead a landing party down there. He was chomping at the bit. You sure trained him well, Taxa."

She didn't really reply, only offered her a silent thumbs up from where she lay several meters away.

Trip was suddenly intense, firm. "Commander, we need to contact the Enterprise right now. Priority channel, emergency protocols, whatever it takes. Don't wait for us to get back there."

"What should I tell them?"

"Tell them…" He paused, glancing back at the three of them, the weight of what he was about to say not escaping him for a moment. "That the Romulan invasion of Solnara is imminent."

---

Within the hour of returning from Yadalla Prime, Trip found himself in his ready room pacing back and forth, effectively wearing a hole in the deck plating. It was taking longer than he'd expected to reach the Enterprise; Julia tried, but the Captain and the Commodore seemed to be occupied, busy navigating the hurricane force winds of another crisis dozens of light years away. He hadn't anticipated having enough time to shower and go through decon, but he did, proceeding to the bridge immediately afterwards.

His demeanor was making the bridge officers nervous, and he knew it. They'd heard what he said in a panic over the comm, and it had rattled them all, especially Travis. He turned to look at him as he approached the conn, his eyes wide, jaw set in fortitude. Trip recognized this as his brave face; it had returned time and time again as they chased the Xindi through the Expanse, encountered death and destruction wherever they went.

At first, Alira's had struggled to stand for the transporter, so he'd wrapped an arm around her for support and pulled her to her feet, feeling her heart race through the barrier of physical touch. Yuris confirmed that she suffered a sprained ankle and hairline fractures on a couple of ribs; as for the rest of them, he recommended they take some time to relax, as they'd collectively just experienced the adrenaline rush of a lifetime.

While he respected the doctor's initiative, he knew there were more pressing matters at hand than sleep or a hot meal. His head was spinning with worry, and every nerve in his body was a live wire. He knew that Hoshi was at her station, trying to translate and dissect every bit of information they'd managed to glean from the subspace amplifier they'd found far beneath the desert. He knew that once she was finished, damn near every United Earth colony and outpost along the border would be put on high alert, and the alarm would spread throughout the alliance like wildfire. He knew they were weeks, if not days, from having to prevent the first world of many from falling to the Romulans, tooth and nail, with whatever they had.

He glanced at his hat laid on the top shelf, the arrow that had nearly been his death propped up against it, and knew they would have to be ready.

Eventually the signal came through, and Trip returned to his chair, taking a seat and starting to bounce his legs underneath the table. T'Pol and Jonathan were seated in the wardroom, with Malcolm pacing behind them back and forth in front of the window, his expression dour. They looked apprehensive, fearful, and he knew that whatever they were about to say was going to be very difficult for them.

They were going to have to wait.

"Y'all need to turn around and head to the Solnaran homeworld, on the double, maximum warp," he began, and he saw Malcolm's head pop up in the background. "You'll get the full report in a few days, but the gist of it is that we found a Romulan subspace amplifier out here in the Yadallan system. They're assembling near someplace called Gamma Hydra. We don't know how many, or what kind, but their ships are going to be there before we know it."

The Commodore seemed to be processing this information, his expression fraught with the burden of responsibility, then he concluded: "I'm recalling the Cochrane and the Phoenix and however many patrols we can spare between here and home. Columbia is out near Bajor, so it'll take them at least two months to get here."

"Might be worth it to let them know."

"I intend to," he promised. "From now on, we'll maintain a continual state of yellow alert. MACOs need to be posted outside all critical areas. If people want to transfer out of their deep space assignments, they need to do it right now."

"I agree, sir." Behind him, Malcolm came to a stop. He glanced towards T'Pol, and Trip could tell that she was hesitant to break the silence. Finally, she did, leaning over the table and folding her hands together.

"Please understand that this is not how I wanted to have this conversation, Captain," she began, looking towards the Commodore for support.

"We're about to send you a series of readings on flight trajectory. Have Travis examine them. You won't be coming to Solnara right away. There's going to be a detour."

He looked at them curiously and a little apprehensively. T'Pol began to squeeze her hands together tightly, unbearably so, knowing that she needed to tell him, that he had promised to have her back, that if she could trust anyone in this world, it was Trip.

She knew it was time.

"Captain, there is something about myself-about Vulcans-that until now we have chosen to keep private." She took a deep breath, and began to speak and speak until there was nothing left to say.

Commander Hammond was seated at the conn when Trip burst from his ready room, hands braced on the door frame, peering out onto the bridge. He acknowledged Hoshi and Travis first.

"You're about to receive some data on flight trajectory. Set a course, best speed."

"Where are we-"

"The senior officers will be briefed in the morning with as much as I can tell you," he promised, his gaze working its way around the room and to the tactical station where Alira sat, somewhat stiffly due to the brace she wore underneath her uniform, trying her best not to make any sudden movements. "Didn't the doctor tell you to lie down?"

"Sir, I-"

"It doesn't matter. You and Hammond get in here, right now." He looked between them, then disappeared from view, and she knew.

She knew that he knew, and that her time of lying by omission was over.

Immediately, she felt a brief respite from her guilt, carefully rising to her feet. It was somewhat of a relief that Trip no longer had a reason to suspect her of subterfuge, as the truth about Kandar had been laid out to him. It was a comfort to know that she would no longer have to tiptoe around, to hide and shield herself behind protocol and transmissions layered with double meanings. The time might come, sooner rather than later or perhaps never, where she would have to go against her Captain to fulfill her mission or act in the best interest of Starfleet, but she would rail against it for the time being.

Irrationally, she felt like all was right with the world once again even when it was only just starting to fall apart. In only a couple of minutes, she would be filled with a new purpose: to locate the Betazoid telepresence unit lurking somewhere in their sector before it could impart more damage on their allies, her friends.

For a majority of the crew of the Maelstrom, it was just another day.

But for the senior officers, the hunt was on.

End of Episode Thirteen

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Next time on Enterprise...

Episode Fourteen: Persistence of Memory

The Enterprise arrives at the Solnaran homeworld and attempts to convince them of the severity of the impending Romulan threat. The Maelstrom locates the stray neural telepresence unit to nearly disastrous results.