FedKIN offices, Starbase 24

The padd in Moragh's hand clattered to the desk. That news was not what he had expected to hear. "He's… what?"

"It is," T'Lia acknowledged, "unexplainable."

Kroll put down his scanner with almost exaggerated care and straightened before turning to face the Vulcan doctor. "Unexplainable or not," he growled, "it is extremely good news."

"Indeed," she agreed.

Kroll could not help giving the Vulcan doctor an admiring look. She was much calmer in her demeanour than the last time he had seen her, but she was still magnificent. "Healer T'Lia, I am about finished here," he began. "Perhaps you would care to join me for some refreshment?"

Both Moragh and Leandra looked surprised by that. The Klingon doctor had only just got started when they had been interrupted. Neither found the words to argue though. Work, however essential was suddenly the last thing on their minds.

"You should perhaps consider removing the neural processor from your patient first," T'Lia pointed out acerbically.

Flustered by the dry comment, and not quite understanding why he was reacting this way to the Vulcan doctor, he went to remove the scanner before trying again. He was very relieved that his dark skin hid his embarrassed flush – he might not have the advantage of her extensive Vulcan training, but he was anything but incompetent. "So will you have lunch with me, Healer?"

"I need to make one more stop to inform Admiral Mackenzie." The Vulcan shocked herself with her answer as she continued, "But after that… yes, I believe I may have a window in my schedule." There was just the faintest green tinge to her skin as she looked at the Klingon surgeon.

Kroll grinned and rose to his feet. "After you, my lady," he offered gallantly.

The two doctors departed, leaving the three intelligence officers staring at each other in disbelief. Moragh shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or curse. "Now that I did not expect."

The Romulan snorted softly. "I think the whole quadrant is going insane."

"I don't know what's harder to believe…" Moragh said with understandable bemusement. "The fact that my surgeon is lusting after a Vulcan or that she seems to be reciprocating."

"Maybe you're having a nightmare," Leandra suggested wickedly. The ex-mercenary's mood had improved dramatically with T'Lia's news, and she could not resist teasing the Klingon just a little.

He let out a hearty laugh at that before sobering. "I'm afraid the rest of this briefing will have to wait. I'm not exactly qualified to finish the medical procedures."

Taking that as a dismissal, Rhiana was quick make herself scarce. The news was unexpectedly, miraculously good, but she felt too raw… too volatile to want company.

As the door slid shut behind her, the Terran ex-mercenary offered Moragh a teasing grin, getting to her feet and heading to the door, which obligingly slid open again to accommodate her. "I am going to grab a sandwich and head back to my own office. I have work to do, even if you don't."

Moragh stood up. "I was thinking about getting something to eat myself actually," he said. "I find I am hungry. Why not join me?" Seeing her hesitation and realising a little too late how his offer must sound, especially after developments with the two doctors, he was quick to clarify. "I mean the offer in a platonic way in case you're wondering. I have a mate back on Qo'noS." He bared his teeth in a fierce grin before adding, "Trust me, if she even thought I was cheating, she'd castrate me with a rusty knife!"

"Trust me, I'd help her," Leandra muttered. "Lunch sounds good. Have you ever had pizza?"

After Admiral Mackenzie's message had pulled her back early from patrol, Kehlan had brought Endeavour racing into the solar system, breaking pretty much every speed and safety protocol in her urgency to get there in time, the great starship almost skidding to a halt and making contact with the base with the lightest of bumps.

Had any other captain brought their ship in to dock in such a manner, Kehlan would have had some very strict words to say – and James probably would when he found out – but she excused herself with the thought this was an emergency, and her pilot was the best of the best.

The minute that docking manoeuvres were complete and the various clamps and umbilicals were engaged, Kehlan had left her flagship in the capable hands of its first officer and beamed directly to the Starbase command levels where her husband was waiting for her.

After an emotional visit to the infirmary, they had spent the morning together in his office, ostensibly working but in reality, just sitting together, each taking comfort in the presence of the other.

It been sometime around midday when Catherine, Mackenzie's secretary had called them from the outer office, to inform them of Healer T'Lia's arrival.

Surreptitiously, Kehlan had reached for Mackenzie's hand under the desk they were sharing, gripping it hard enough that she'd left bruises as she waited for T'Lia to speak the words she didn't want to hear. Except the words had not been the ones she had been expecting. Alive and breathing unassisted… even that he had woken for a few moments and was now sleeping naturally. Kehlan was not one to believe in miracles, but she was certain this counted as one.

Leaving her husband on a promise that they would meet up later and have dinner together, and for once, spend the entire night in the same bed, Kehlan was now on her way back to her flagship to sort out a few bits and pieces before attending to the myriad requests and messages that had lit up her console within minutes of docking. She growled at the thought. Today of all days, could they not give her five minutes of peace?

The main promenade was busy as it always was at this time of day. Rhiana sat on a bench silently watching the throng of life pass back and forth. Try as she might, she could not consciously remember the way back to the FedKIN department. She knew that once she started walking, she would instinctively find her way back there, but the continued absence of conscious memory was infuriating. The doctors had promised it would return eventually, but she was starting to believe they were wrong. Everything felt wrong and she did not know how to deal with it.

The Romulan sighed. There had to be someone she could trust… someone she could talk to… a friend that she would actually recognise. Her eyes trailed across the busy 'streetscape'. Someone, anyone amongst all these people... She'd apparently spent over a decade of her life in this place. Why then did it feel so strange? No, it was more than strange; it was empty, like living in a holo-suite. All around her, life continued, unconscious and uncaring of her internal struggle.

There seemed to be nothing ahead worth living for. Her previous life was gone; what future was there for her? Just a job she could no longer do and a mate she did not remember! She sighed at the thought of Sorahl, knowing that although he was willing to give her all the time she needed, she was hurting him with her continued coldness. She hated herself for that, but right now, although she was vaguely aware of the bond nestling quietly in the back of her mind, he was a stranger to her.

Maybe she should just leave, she thought, aware that she was acting irrationally but not caring. What reason was there to stay? The image of a shuttlecraft - a runabout actually, for all the difference it made, brightly painted with the image of a firebird, slipped into her mind. Honour Blade. Yes, that was its name. Was it still here? Suddenly possessed by an imperative to act she moved to a public computer terminal. Not stopping to think about it, she bypassed the required passwords and entered into the secure shipping logs. The computer requested thumbprint ID and upon receiving it, obediently showed her the live footage from the docking bay where Honour Blade was moored.

The little ship was hers. Even if the computer hadn't told her so she would have known it anywhere. Before she could think better of it, she transferred the data to her personal padd and punched in a request for directions. Politely, the computer responded with the required information. It wasn't far; one turbo-lift could take her straight there... it was just a matter of finding one. She turned away from the computer to look for a sign.

"Rhiana!" A feminine voice that she did not recognise yet at the same time was hauntingly familiar, called her name.

The Romulan looked up. A Klingon female, a half-breed from the look of her, stood a few feet away in the corridor. She was wearing the red, black, and grey uniform of a starbase officer with gold braid on the sleeves indicating senior rank. There was a smile on her face. "Rhiana, I've been looking for you."

Rhiana frowned and one hand moved instinctively to her knife. "I... I don't think I know you."

Kehlan's smile faded. "We have been friends for years."

Tilting her head to focus, the Romulan's eyes widened. "Commander Kehlan?"

The Klingon woman nodded. "Yes, I'm Kehlan."

"You... look different."

"I'm not in my twenties anymore," Kehlan said with an uncertain smile, "and it's been a long time since I was a commander."

"You got promoted?" That was a stupid question, she chided herself, obviously she had; the rank pins on her uniform were blatantly not those of a commander.

Kehlan nodded. "The first time, just after the Dominion War. They made Mackenzie an admiral and I got his ship." She hesitated, "Rhiana, I saw the report. I know you've lost your memory... Can you remember anything? About us, I mean?"

"I remember the prison camp," her friend replied tonelessly. "And… I remember you – I mean, I know your face, even if you're a lot older now and in the wrong uniform. That's not a captain's uniform… and it's not your battle armour either."

"It's certainly more comfortable than the Klingon armour," Kehlan conceded. If Rhiana wanted to avoid the difficult issues, she'd indulge her… for the moment at least. "I've been wearing this particular uniform for about five years." She glanced at the ornate gold braid decorating her sleeve, hesitating before adding, "There are more prospects for a Houseless female in Starfleet; they don't discriminate. I'm an admiral now."

"What?!" The word was a shocked, harsh gasp, quickly choked off as the Romulan sat heavily on the nearby bench. It was not that she was even surprised, the rank pips and braid on the uniform had given her that information already – although how she knew that when the uniform itself was unfamiliar – or at least, its style was, she wasn't sure. Starfleet must have had one of its periodic uniform upgrades in the intervening years, at least for the higher ranks since the duty uniforms she'd seen around her looked the same as always. The stark contrast between what she remembered and what stood in front of her was like a blow to the gut.

Kehlan sat down beside her. "Rhiana? Are you all right?"

"I'm... no... I'm not. In fact, I don't know who I am anymore."

"I'm sorry," the half-Klingon admiral said quietly. "Qu'vatlh! I knew I should never have sent you on that g'dayt mission."

"From what I have been told, it was not the mission... it was Krang getting abducted – and if I had not gone, he might never have been found alive. I think it was the blow from that mace…" She winced at the thought of it, instinctively reaching up to touch the damaged eye. "… and then the BortaS' battle surgeon's limited grasp of Romulan neurology."

"I did hear about that," Kehlan said. "I'll have the incompetent petaQ struck off for this."

"I think T'Lia's already working on that, from what I heard," her old friend shrugged. "Not that it matters now; it's too late. I'm no good even as a file clerk now. There are more blanks than there are memories and the closer we come to the present, the more blanks there are." Except for that last day, when she had found Krang in that filthy, stinking prison cell; she could remember that day far too well. But she said nothing of that.

Kehlan was thoughtful. "What were you doing when I arrived?"

"Trying to figure out how I got here... if there was a ship in dock."

Moving to look over Rhiana's shoulder, Kehlan studied the information displayed on the padd. "Looks like you succeeded," she said dryly. "Whatever code you used, it is not a public one and you just used it to hack into a classified system."

"Not public?"

The Klingon woman gestured towards the screen. "Look. That's a classified FedKIN code. You got that information from somewhere in your brain."

Rhiana leaned forward, frowning as she studied the screen. "The computer just asked for thumbprint authorisation."

It was all too obvious to Kehlan that Rhiana must have done it instinctively. "You are thinking too much," she said after a moment. "It seems to me that when you stop trying to think about what you can and can't remember, and just do it, then you are doing it."

"That makes absolutely no sense at all!" Rhiana snapped irritably. "Either the memory is there, or it is not!"

"Not everything is about memory," Kehlan insisted. "Ingrained skills use a completely different part of the brain than conscious memories. That's why we can do things like fly a shuttle or even open a door – or for that matter, walk or breathe – without having to stop and think about how to do it."

"So, what do I do?" The Romulan woman still did not understand. "How do I go from instincts to recognition?"

"The same as you just did with that console," Kehlan said. "Let your instincts take over and then learn. You got the FedKIN role for a reason, Rhiana... and it wasn't because you knew the job when you started, but because you had the necessary skills and instincts. You still have those. The rest of it you can learn."

Slowly, Rhiana nodded, finally beginning to understand. The doctors and therapists had been telling her the same thing for several weeks. She'd even had the same lecture from Moragh who was convinced she could learn what she needed. But, she acknowledged wryly, she'd been too busy feeling sorry for herself to listen. Hearing it from Kehlan, though, drove the message home. Maybe it was time to start listening to them.

Seeing the change in her friend, Kehlan relaxed slightly. As the Klingon admiral got to her feet, her combadge chirped. "Oh damn!" she muttered. "I'm late for another meeting."

Rhiana tensed. "You forgot..." There was a note of bitterness in her voice. She was getting sick and tired of hearing people saying that. Were they deliberately trying to rub her nose in her memory problems?

"No," Kehlan corrected, "I found better things to do. I always do. They're used to it by now. Besides…" A hint of repressed anger entered her voice, "I'm not even due back on the base for another week. I'd only been back five minutes when they started dumping meetings and appointments on me, half of them not even mine. Mackenzie and I had more important things than meetings to deal with this morning, so I've been trying to help him catch up, but everything is apparently too urgent to wait."

"I'm sorry. I guess... after this morning, I'm a bit sensitive."

The badge chirped again and Kehlan swore. "Qu'vatlh! This is more important than some stupid meeting." Touching the badge, she said sharply, "I'm busy!"

"But Admiral, the delegation..."

"Reschedule them for tomorrow morning," Kehlan ordered, her demeanour now very much that of a senior officer, and an irritated one at that. "I am in an emergency meeting with FedKIN. Do not disturb me again!"

"Yes Admiral." The hapless aide on the other end closed the channel so fast, Rhiana was half surprised that Kehlan's combadge didn't explode.

Her momentary annoyance gone, Kehlan grinned. "Looks like I'm free for a while." She studied her friend carefully. "So what happened this morning? What has upset you?"

"It's just been a rough day," Rhiana sighed. "You know why… the anticipation, waiting for bad news was just awful. And that lecture you just gave me – I had it from Moragh this morning as well. I guess I just wasn't ready to hear it."

She sighed again. The same was true of her mate, she realised uncomfortably. She had been too wrapped up in her own misery to consider Sorahl's feelings, however much that stubborn Vulcan might claim he didn't have any, or allow him to comfort her. She'd got to know him once and had fallen in love; she could do it again. "I think I owe him an apology." And it was not just Moragh that she was speaking about.

Kehlan nodded in understanding. "Then go and tell him so."

Over the next few days, Krang remained mostly asleep, only awakening very occasionally. T'Lia explained to Chrissie that this was a good thing, and that she was deliberately keeping him sedated in order to promote healing. As he recovered, the Vulcan continued, he would need further surgeries and interventions, not to mention intense physio and mental therapy.

The first time Krang woke up, he opened his eyes to find his angel by his side with a pair of young women who looked very alike, one of whom was Klingon, the other less so. He did not know them and tried to work out who they were and why they were here. The Klingon one was wearing an Imperial Intelligence uniform and his expression cleared. Oh… she must be someone he worked with, although he could not put a name to the face. The other one, in a blue Starfleet science/medical cadet uniform, he did not know at all.

He frowned up at her. "Who… are you?"

"Vavvie?" Her happy expression faltered. "Don't you know me?"

Vavvie? The word was unfamiliar to him. It sounded like… like a corruption of 'Vavoy', maybe mixed with the Terran 'Daddy', he thought in puzzlement. What a ridiculous word. He'd always had a dislike of language mixing and there was no way he'd let any children of his call him something like that… if he even had any. Did he have any? He couldn't remember.

"Vavvie?" She said that word again, a little more uncertainly this time, and he had the sense that he was upsetting her. Nor did his angel look pleased and that was concerning to him. He didn't know what to say. It was hard enough to think and process what was around him, and he had no mental energy left to figure this out.

His silence was answer enough. Her face crumpled in distress, and putting a hand to her mouth as a sob escaped her, she fled from the room. The other woman watched her go before letting out an annoyed growl and turning to the angel. "Mum, go after her, will you? I'll sort things out here."

The angel… and it took a moment of effort to remember that she was not truly an angel but his wife, rose from her seat and glared at him angrily before departing in a hurry.

"That was your daughter," the Klingon woman said harshly. "I'm technically your niece but I've been calling you Dad for a good few years now. There's another one of us as well, but she isn't here – ship too far away,

"I… have three children?" He already knew that he had a mate, so he was not sure why that seemed surprising. Two really, he thought, since this one had said she was his niece.

She shook her head. "No, there's a lot more of us." She stopped, reconsidering what she'd been about to say. Their family was a big, complicated one and she wasn't doing a very good job of explaining it. "Well, yes… three are biologically yours – two girls and a boy, and then three more adopted. Four adopted if you count me."

He frowned, not in anger but in concentration as he tried to understand… to remember…

"And if Mum comes in with a little girl about so high..." She gestured to demonstrate… "Which she will at some point… I don't care if you don't recognise her; pretend if you have to! Give her a hug and tell her you love her! Her name's Arwen, and you and Mum adopted her as a baby. She's only ten and she's been through enough trauma without you making it worse for her."

It was hard to believe. Such a large family and he did not know them. It was overwhelming, too much to process, and despite his best efforts, he could feel his mind shutting down. Against his will, his eyes closed as sleep claimed him again.