The conference room of the Odyssey-class USS Australia was as spacious and comfortable as similar conference rooms across Starfleet, but Tw'eak immediately noted a harsh energy about the assembled personnel. It seemed as though the participants had divided themselves. While Vice Admiral Downey chatted at the far end of the room with Alliance Admiral Konsab, near the window accumulated Captain Aurora duBois and a Bolian commander, along with a few others, around General Martok, the Klingons of House Mo'Kai stood on the far wall, flanked on either side by a security guard in Alliance uniform. Octavia stood with them, her hands folded in front of her.

Tw'eak was followed into the room by Sassil, then Bianca."Ah! There they are! The honoured heroes of the Iconian War!" Martok called out. He strode over to greet them warmly. He looked from Tw'eak to Sassil and back again. "You are... twins, are you not?"

Tw'eak smiled. "We're actually about a year apart. But we get mistaken for twins often enough."

"Ah." Martok gave a solemn nod. "Andorians traditionally have large families, if I remember."

"We are but two of seven children," Sassil replied. "Only three of us survive."

"Seven? Ha!" The Klingon general gave a laugh. "To my wife, such a number would have been unthinkable!" His tone shifted. "Would that I had been there among you, as Kagran was, that day on Iconia. It would have been... glorious."

Tw'eak shook Martok's hand. "It would have been indeed, General."

"You honour us," Sassil continued, as she in turn shook Martok's hand.

"May I introduce Adet'pa and J'Ula, of the House of Mo'Kai." Martok gestured towards the wall. "And the other in our company, I believe you know."

Tw'eak smiled fondly at Octavia as she approached. "Good to see you."

"My apologies, Admiral." Octavia seemed sincerely disappointed. "I had not intended to bring you out of retirement."

"It wasn't your fault, Octavia." Tw'eak smiled. She looked over to J'Ula intently. "Nice to meet you both."

The darker-clad of the two, presumably Adet'pa, merely scowled, while J'Ula gave a nod. "Glory to you," she offered.

Tw'eak fell in at the table between her sister and Octavia. Martok sat next to Sassil, while the Mo'kai warriors took up the last seats on that side of the table. This left Bianca to find a space next to her sister and crew on the far side of the table, just down from Admiral Konsab.

"My friends," Martok began, "we believe there is an end in sight to this conflict. But it will require guile, courage, and a warrior's faith."

"Just a second, General," Downey said, before tapping her commbadge. "Downey to bridge."

An emotionless voice replied. "Bridge, Sudral."

"Captain, what's the current status in-system?"

"We are holding position alongside Minerva. No other ships on sensors."

"Not even the Alliance ship?"

"Both Warspite and Narendra resumed their cloak after transporting personnel."

Downey nodded, looking to Tw'eak. "Probably a good precaution. Nobody gets spooked that way." She glanced back to the ceiling. "Alright, Sudral. Let us know if anyone else pops in."

"Affirmative. Bridge out."

Downey looked back to Martok. "Now, then. Your plan."

"These warriors and I together fought the traitors following the false Emperor in the hallowed sanctuary of Boreth itself." Martok gestured towards J'Ula, Adet'pa and Octavia. "We vanquished them and set them to flight, at which time the lady J'Ula had a vision."

"It was... harrowing," J'Ula said meekly. "But it showed the way forward."

"Those cunning monks of Boreth anticipated our very need, and through their devices they have created a perfect copy of the ancient chancellor L'Rell. And yet, unlike with their efforts to re-create the glory of Kahless the Unforgettable, this time, their work is threatened by the forces of Gre'thor itself."

"Hold on," Bianca insisted. "They used their cloning facility already?"

"Yes. But the body cannot live for long without the spirit. We must return to Boreth without further delay, and prepare ourselves to venture into the very heart of the underworld itself to retrieve her soul from the clutches of Molor."

Tw'eak looked at Aurora, who appeared thoroughly confused. "Sorry. Can I just ask a question?"

"Ask, please," Martok said with a broad grin.

"This is - I'm just trying to follow. Is there... like, some kind of gate to Hell in the monastery? I know there are time crystals, or at least, I've read a bit about them. I've always wondered how those work, honestly, but... how does the other part - how do you rescue a soul from a spirit world?"

"The halls of Gre'thor are vast," Martok declared. "And they are filled with the souls of the treacherous and craven, those who died in disgrace or dishonour."

"Our beliefs are not mere... fables," Adet'pa snarled. "They are what makes us Klingon."

"Indeed," Martok continued. "For many years, while I was a captive of the House of Torg, I feared the cold and desperate place that is Gre'thor. But now, I have reason to break down its doors and stand inside, with the Sword of Kahless in my grasp." Martok's eye shone with intense purpose. "It will be glorious."

"I - sorry," Aurora continued. "Isn't that a bit of a risk?"

The Klingons, and Sassil, began to laugh - at first a slow, almost gurgling laughter that became raucous within moments. Adet'pa offered a mocking repetition of "a bit risky?" in imitation, and the laughter increased. This rankled Aurora, who wrinkled her nose and looked incredulously at Tw'eak and Downey.

"I think what the captain means," Tw'eak said, before waiting a moment to ensure she had their attention, "was that typically, for a Starfleet mission like this, we'd ensure we had operational security, evacuation protocols, lines of advance and retreat - all in advance."

Martok nodded. "Yes, I am familiar with such contingencies. We Klingons are not so foolish as to rush in and fight in a burning house."

"Again, not my meaning," Tw'eak clarified. "We won't be easily able to conduct search-and-rescue operations if things go wrong in Hell."

Martok gave a low chuckle. "Faith," he said confidently. "That will be enough. Faith enough in Kahless, in our purpose and the righteousness of our cause. We are warriors. And we fight, together and for each other. We will not let each other down. We will not fail."

Octavia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "General..."

Martok turned to face Octavia. "Hm?"

"I do not believe it would be appropriate for me to accompany you on this mission."

"That's the first sensible thing I've heard all day," Downey quipped, drawing a rebuking look from Tw'eak and Martok alike. "Well, it is," she snipped in reply, but said nothing further.

Tw'eak understood Downey's skepticism. The quizzical look on Konsab's face suggested he shared it. Tw'eak did, too, but to her, this was a pretty clear-cut example of "internal affairs" - or, indeed, perhaps also infernal affairs, as it happened. And now that Octavia was in the process of opting out, what the Klingons did, for their own reasons, was not really of much further consequence to her. The risks were their choice, and she had to respect that choice.

Octavia continued. "I mean neither disrespect to your beliefs or to your purpose. It is rather because I respect your mission that I feel I should advise you of the potential ...liability I would pose in such a space."

Martok shook his head. "In my experience, Captain, nothing could be further from the truth. Yours is a warrior spirit as ardent as any Klingon."

"Yet the realm itself is one of the spirit, and... I would be concerned with the possibility of facing myself - that is, my former self."

"Mallory," Downey added.

Octavia nodded. "The circumstances of her assimilation were not honourable. She was a botanist, not a warrior."

"She was a dear friend to me," Downey noted. "One I miss. But she was never mistaken for a coward."

"Indeed. A fact which undoubtedly contributed to her being taken by the Borg. Yet my identity as a consequence of that assimilation, here and now, is distinct from her. I would not wish to lose my current sense of self for having come along, even for a good cause - nor would I wish to face my former self should she be there. The confrontation would be... unsettling."

Martok nodded, with a glance to Aurora. "Now it is my turn to be confused," he said, smiling, "and yet... I understand. To be of two souls, as you are - both equal in their courage - you must honour that which you are, not what you were. You have clearly given this much thought, and I respect your decision." He turned to J'Ula and Adet'pa. "And so it shall fall to the three of us, together, to face Gre'thor. For glory!"

"I would join you."

Tw'eak spun around in her chair to face her sister Sassil. "You what?"

"They require a warrior of courage and strength to accompany them. In your friend's place, I would volunteer, if the General would have me along."

"Can we talk about this?" Tw'eak whispered.

"I would be honoured," Martok replied.

"Wait." Tw'eak stood up. "You can't be serious."

Sassil's face twisted. "Have you known me to joke of such things?"

"Sassil, this is crazy - there's no way-" Tw'eak struggled to find the words to convey her meaning without offending the Klingons. It was their fight, in their hell. Tw'eak had worked so hard to try and bring Sassil home, to restore what had been severed in their relationship. To lose that - to lose her, potentially in a space where Tw'eak herself could never expect to follow - was an unbearable proposition.

Sassil closed her eyes. "You have always sought to protect me, and I repaid you with resentment." She opened them, looking at Tw'eak. "You welcomed me back to Andoria, and to our family, yet it has not brought me peace. And the reason, surely, is that I was destined to fall with a blade in my hand, as warriors do."

"But - like this?" Tw'eak's eyes were tearing up.

"Perhaps. I do not believe so." Sassil looked to Martok. "For while this may be a good day to die... I have learned through you just how much I have to live for." Sassil closed her eyes again. "That will be the source of my faith, will be where I center my heart and to where I will return. That faith will bring us through, victorious, and restore the Empire."

Tw'eak's lips twitched, her antennae arching inwards in despair. "You're certain?"

Sassil nodded. "I am." She stood up, fist across her chest. "Sassilinthras sh'Abbas, daughter of Andoria, stands ready to fight alongside you, General, for the glory of the Empire."

Martok stood and placed his closed fist across his chest. "You honour your people, our cause, and my house."

J'Ula, too, came to her feet. "And mine as well. Qapla'!"

Tw'eak felt a rush of emotion and nowhere to put it. She felt Sassil put a hand on her shoulder, which led them to quickly embrace. "Just be careful," Tw'eak quietly insisted.

"So I shall," Sassil replied. "Remember me to our sister and her family, should I not return."

"Of course." Tw'eak looked her sister in the eye. "I'll take your blood to the Wall of Heroes."

Sassil smiled, her eyes wistful, her antennae fully aloft with pride. "As I will for you, when the time comes."

She straightened up, and together the four warriors made their way to the door. "We will take our leave, then," Martok said. "The time is upon us."

"Good luck," Downey offered.

Tw'eak nodded. For all the times facing combat, against long odds of certain death, that she had experienced, she had always had something to say, to inspire, to defy fortune or to invoke examples. Now she had nothing. As she watched her sister depart, she could do nothing but watch.