Star Trek RPG - Mission #7: "The War-Brotherhood of Irkhuit"

Unsurprised that words did not work, Kylah lets the Chalnoth's suffering at Mr. Rawlings's hands roll off her back. She tries yet again to activate the little Uwat communicator, although without much hope since her earlier attempt yielded nothing. The announcement comes as a relief--assuming it does any good.

The Chalnoth's attack triggers Nia into an outraged but poorly considered leap up from the bed. She has nothing to fight with, neither weapon nor strength--and even if she could be of any use, Dr. M's in a better defensive position. But she stands nonetheless, grabbing onto the upper bunk as a protection against vertigo: a transfixed, helpless witness of whatever Booker experiences.

Bizhi agrees with Nia that the situation with Rangin is bad. He does not, however, have time to discuss it with her, because things are happening fast.

One possibility he has been contemplating is to knock the attacking Chalnoth out with a tranquilizer. The problem is, not that he fancies ever having this argument with Lt. Graham, is that that would violate every legal and ethical standard of informed consent, not to mention the laws of war, and doing so would, ironically, justify the Chalnoth's enmity. This Chalnoth is not his patient, nor is he insane. If it were really a dilemma between doing nothing and saving lives... yet (so far, anyway) he finds himself having made no move to prepare such a hypospray.

That leaves Graham grappling with one Chalnoth already in the room. So long as the attacker is blocking the doorway, Bizhi figures his friends cannot follow. He therefore chooses to (unless Graham, who presumably knows what he is doing, indicates or orders otherwise) square up with Graham and crowd the Chalnoth so he does not have room for the mano a mano he is aching for. He keeps his eyes on the Chalnoth's hands, in case he is holding a stabbing or energy weapon or whatever tool they used to pry open the door, and in any case he can try to use his strong hand (at least that one has a chance at being effective) to control the Chalnoth's wrist, or at least shove him backwards.

"I told you, you have got it all wrong!" he hisses. "It wasn't us! You can see for yourself my friends are hurt too! I dinna ken what Protocol Ghar means, but I can see them settling for what we've already paid, spacing us all, scrubbing our DNA, and forgetting we were ever here!"

Graham gets on the balls of his feet and gambles he's quicker than the larger Chalnoth.

He takes a quick hard slap at which ever of the Chalnoth's hands is closer to him and then lowers his shoulder and lunges hard at its torso, attempting to knock it back toward (or, ideally through) the door.

Kylah gets a screech of feedback but no coherent response from the Uwat communicator. Rawlings keeps grappling with "his" Chalnoth.

Onn feels woozy now that she's back on her feet, but is able to stay vertical.

Graham's quick hard slap misses - the Chalnoth is a little faster than Graham would have expected - but the Security officer's charge and shoulder butt works like a charm. The Chalnoth is knocked back into the doorway, bumping into the next warrior which is trying to wriggle through. The Chalnoth in the room glances for a moment at the good doctor, then screams with rage and grabs Graham's shoulders.

The same warnings in different languages keep squawking out of the bulkhead comm unit: "All passengers must return to quarters. All passengers must return to quarters. Security Protocol Ghar will otherwise be imposed. This is your last warning."

Nia's hands squeeze into useless fists. Her only contribution to assist Book would be shoving her body at the Chalnoth like some kinda limp projectile, but that would do precisely nothing except get in Booker's way. And end up with the enemy slashing or biting her to shreds using the same weapons--claws and fangs--her currently impotent scales evolved to defeat.

Nia may be dulled by her brain fog, but she's not stupid or suicidal. All she does is fling a desperate look at the doctor.

Bizhi does not know if this is normal behaviour for Chalnoth (but, when it comes to a capacity for irrational violence, it does not get much worse than humans). To their credit, at least they are persistent, and they did get past a locked door without too much trouble, as well as Uwat crewmembers armed with some sort of energy-based disabler by the sound of it. It may well be that there is more to the War-Brotherhood than idle boasting.

Now, however, only one of them made it in, and both hands on Graham's shoulders leaves the Chalnoth's torso exposed. With time running out, Bizhi (whose strength in his cybernetic arm may come as a surprise to the Chalnoth, at least initially) goes for quickly jabbing him in [where there should be] a nerve cluster, with the aim of producing pain and knocking the wind out of him (but no real damage), worst case distracting him and making him loosen his grip. Assuming this is at least partially effective and the Chalnoth is taken aback for a moment instead of getting an iron grip on him in turn or knocking him across the room, he will join Graham in his strategy of shoving the Chalnoth, hard, back to the door, hopefully making him lose his balance in the process.

The impulse to slam the apparently worthless device onto the deck is overwhelming, but Kylah resists. She shudders when she seems to hear frightening noises and animal-like grunts from the cabin next door. But then she suspects it is just the Chalnoth just outside her own door.

They seem to be in a stalemate. Those twisted wrists will probably snap off if Mr. Rawlings has a rare lapse in control. Or the attacker could rally and gain the upper hand, so to speak.

That must not happen. She must do something to keep the Chalnoth backfooted. Staring resentfully at the chair she earlier considered a possible weapon, and then the communicator she hoped would serve as support, Kylah decides to flip her thinking.

Since she cannot see the enemy past Mr. Rawlings's tall frame, she drags the chair closer, and--insanely--steps up on it, satisfyingly increasing her height. (Hopefully she can now see the Chalnoth.)

Next she eyes the communicator. Since operating the device eluded her, it is possible the Chalnoth does not know what it is either. It is worth a gamble. Turning it so that it is oriented counterintuitively (at least for its purpose as a communicator) and grasping the metal so that her fingers obscure all but one end, she raises her arms aggressively and points the device at the partially open door.

"Stop and look, Chalnoth!" Kylah barks, steadily aiming the pseudo-weapon at any visible part of the alien's face. "Your crewmates' limp bodies are strewn throughout these corridors. You have guessed that we possess the power to put them into that state. Are you so keen to experience it yourself? Cease your attack now!"

Kylah has no doubt whatsoever that this absurd bluff will not work. She just needs to distract the Chalnoth and buy Mr. Rawlings some time until this Security Protocol Ghar--whatever it is--finally kicks into gear.

The Chalnoth which Dr. Mäkeläinen struck seems stunned for a moment; its shoulder slumps down on the side which the doctor hit (its left). Graham seizes the moment and is able to break its grip, grabbing it by the front of its leathery armor breastplate and forcing it further back into the still-partially-opened doorway, practically wedging it there.

The Chalnoth with which Rawlings has been grappling flicks its eyes up towards Kylah in response to her threat with the communicator. It, too, screams in rage, viscous saliva flying from its jaws as it angrily shakes its head.

There is a brief silence from the intercom, and then you hear, in the same sequence of languages, "Warning. Warning. Security Protocol Ghar will now be implemented."

A moment later there is an intense, blinding flash of purple-red light and the entire Starfleet party loses consciousness. As she falls, Kylah alone has a momentary, dim sense of the Chalnoth, too, crashing to the deck.



Sometime later, Graham, Kylah, the doctor and Rawlings come to, groggy and more than a little disoriented. Onn and Rangin, now in the same cabin with everyone else, remain passed out.

"Oh, God," Rawlings moans. "My head... it... it feels like someone's trying to drill through it." He rubs his forehead with both hands and winces. All of you but Kylah feel severe headaches coming on.

The Elasian notices that the door is now closed and there are no Chalnoth in the room. She has an impression, which she cannot really explain, that many hours have passed since the flash of light overtook you all.

Dr. Mäkeläinen slowly sits up while trying to take mental inventory. At first he feels like he is a stranger in his own body. Not even counting the headache, he can tell something is off--- this is not waking up after a refreshing nap. He is alive, at least, and seems to know where he is.

"Guess they decided not to space us after all," he jests quietly. "I changed my mind: every credit we paid in advance was worth it."

Some time later he says, "If anyone needs an analgesic, help yourself. I'll set up the hypo for you." He will not take any medicine himself. But, first, he forces himself to work through the pain and any residual mental issues and check on Rangin and Onn. They were not in great shape even before their synapses were (yet again!?) fried by whatever it was. If they are still unconscious yet otherwise breathing, he will wait a few minutes to see if they will come to on their own before contemplating more intrusive methods of inducing consciousness. He also checks that his own medical supplies, as well as Onn's elixirs, are still around somewhere.

Graham groans. "Same here," he says in response to Rawlings. "And...thanks for the assist back there, doctor. Much obliged."

He rolls over and moves toward Nia, worried that her...conditions...might mean she's worse off than the rest of them. "N- Lt. Onn," he says softly and inquisitively.

Kylah takes a quick assessment of her status and is gratified that she does not immediately appear to have injured herself after falling from the top of a chair--the last thing she can remember.

"How long have we been unconscious?" she murmurs, frowning. "It was not momentary. What did they do to us?" A shudder of familiar dread risks nausea. If she has learned anything from her time in Starfleet, it is that nothing good has occurred when she is rendered physically or mentally helpless.

But she swallows back fear and focuses on now. Whenever now is--and wherever she is. Some uncanny knowledge tells her there was enough time for the Uwat--or anyone--to move them. But she can see nothing but Mr. Rawlings's frame in front of her.

Worried about his pain, she drags herself up and crawls over to him. "Did you strike your head?" She tentatively brushes fingers upon his shoulder. "Let me see."

Onn does not respond to Graham.

Dr. Mäkeläinen finds that she and Rangin are apparently uninjured, but unconscious. Neither appears to be in any pain.

Rawlings sits up. He smiles ruefully and says to Kylah, "No, thanks, I don't think I bonked my noggin. Just a splitting headache. I don't think I've ever had a migraine, but it sure feels like how I've heard them described." Everyone awake other than the Communications officer feels their headaches taking hold.

The intercom has stopped its blaring, and the ship is otherwise silent.

Kylah belatedly realizes that the others are now in her and Mr. Rawlings's cabin. Or... no, she is in their cabin. Her eyes widen and again a ripple of unease rushes through her. The Uwat moved her? Why? And how did they do the same to Mr. Rawlings? It must have taken a half-dozen of them, assuming the travel was physical. I hope it was. I hope they all strained their backs.

She gets to her feet, hugging herself, and at once discovers that Lt. Onn and Velir have not yet awoken from...whatever the Uwat did to them. Concerning but perhaps not surprising, since neither is in their best shape. Poor Velir. At least he did not collapse on the floor; he remains on the bunk where he was when Kylah left the cabin.

As she intently watches Dr. Mäkeläinen check on them, her brow lowers in a scowl. She senses the same faint echo of discomfort from both him and Mr. Rawlings. A glance down at Lt. Graham, who is very near Lt. Onn--he looks so worried, she thinks with a stab of sympathy--confirms after a brief empathic push that he, too, has a headache. But I do not. At all.

Kylah quickly withdraws her mental focus from their pain, not wanting to experience it even by proxy, and blinks at the disparity between her and the others. Since when has she ever been more resilient than the rest of her crew after some attack? Mystified, she lifts her hand absently to tuck a curling lock of hair behind her ear, touching her temple in wonder. She certainly does not object to being spared, but it is strange.

Mäkeläinen mutters a few particularly fulsome curses with which none of the others are quite familiar, more at discovering his patients' unconscious state than at the blinding pain in his skull.

He tends to Nia first: a 125% dose of ersatz Bilitrium and a light stim in an effort to revive her. Rangin gets just the stimulants.

"Are we on lockdown?" he asks Ens. Kylah. "No, it matters not— if there is a crew medic with a tricorder we should call them here." He winces slightly at his own pain.

Dr. Mäkeläinen's question is a good one. He and Velir are kindred spirits; I do hope they will be friends, Kylah muses. Since she seems to be the only one of sound body, she dutifully heads to the door to check whether it is, indeed, locked. "We have no way to speak to anyone," she says--softly, not wishing to bother the afflicted. "Unless they have changed the permissions on our comm panel to allow us outgoing contact. But if that were possible, I suppose that Uwat need not have given me his communicator."

Her palm reaches for the door panel, but even as she does, curiosity sends her gaze back to the floor. Where is that unfathomable little device? Had she left it behind? Had the guards confiscated it? Whatever it was. Possibly not a communicator at all, she thinks irritably. In retrospect, the gesture of lending her such a highly useful and desired object seems atypically generous.

The officer probably just wished to pacify her and shuttle them back to their cabins. For all she knows, it might have been some toy belonging to the youths. A tool to fix a broken gadget. A remote control for a helper robot. Kylah grimaces. And I treated it like a priest's blessing.

Graham blinks as if doing so just might make his headache go away. "OK, we try the comm panel again...if that doesn't work and we can get out of here, Mr. Kylah, you're with me..."

He winces at the pain in his head. "If you're able, that is. Not sure what they hit us with."

After Dr. Mäkeläinen tends to her, Onn stirs but does not awaken.

Kylah cannot find the Uwat communicator. It seems to be missing.

Dr. Mäkeläinen looks up. When he speaks, it is to the point, channeling his element. "She's freezing, still unconscious, and (I must be honest) I do not know what they hit us with, but it did her no favors. I shall get her warm, keep her stable. Maybe your sympathetic crewmember can arrange for that assistance; they simply may not realize anything is wrong." And perhaps someone knows about the nature of the various energy discharges on board, from the security system and otherwise, if they can be coaxed to talk.

He makes sure Onn is comfortable--- on the bunk, not the floor, and swaddled in blankets. "We need to ask them to turn the heat up on the life support in here. Upper range of what would be considered comfortable room temperature, even beyond."

Kylah nods at Lt. Graham's order. "Yes, sir." Following the others' requests to call for assistance immediately, she slips through the crowded cabin to arrive at what had seemed to be a mere listening device when she tried it yesterday.

"If we are able to leave, I am able to accompany you if you wish, although Mr. Rawlings was far more effective at stopping the Chalnoth. It was...very impressive. And I must admit," she adds shyly to her fellow ensign, "rather satisfying. Shameful of me, but..." She gives Mr. Rawlings a tiny smile and then, more seriously, turns back to Lt. Graham.

"In truth, I... I feel perfectly fine. Worried," she adds with a glance back at Velir, "but physically I do not seem to share the ill effects the rest of you have. Perhaps that...that pulse was programmed specifically harshly for humans? Except... no. That cannot be it."

It cannot be species-based. The non-humans are worse off, not better, except for Kylah. And she herself is half-human. Nor was it related to gender, since Lt. Onn is presumably identifiable as female. Even her being an empath is no explanation, since now Velir has... well, some sort of psi ability.

She realizes he has not described it as empathic, precisely. He has heard and seen her thoughts, and used his mind as a weapon both with Mr. Palver on OCIII and here. And possibly on Ollos? She still does not know if the fight had anything to do with whatever strange things are happening to Velir's mind.

But does he feel what others do, as Kylah does? She thinks back to their interactions, and what Velir would have comprehended if he could truly know her emotions, from the inside out. It does not seem possible.

Biting her lip, she takes a moment to respond to Dr. Mäkeläinen. "I will do my best to ask for assistance. Though I do not know how helpful that crewmember was," Kylah murmurs to the doctor while she turns the communicator dial and taps the controls in hopes of achieving...something. "The device he gave me was beyond my comprehension. Perhaps he knew it would be. I suppose I am fortunate it was not a weapon or I might have blown us all up while examining it."

Onn's body temperature improves once she's lifted up off the chilly deck and well-covered. She mumbles something that Dr. Mäkeläinen cannot quite understand, but still does not wake up.

Soon after Kylah begins trying to work the comm panel on the bulkhead, you hear a familiar woman's voice respond, saying, "Ah, you're awake. Good. Stand by." Then the channel is closed again.

A few minutes later, the door to your cabin opens, and there you see the women you knew as T'Ves and T'Rehl. They do not enter the crowded cabin. Although they are dressed, as before, in dark, functionally-severe clothing, there is something different now about their expressions, their body language - something more confident and assertive. Graham is the first to notice that each is now also holding an ugly, steely, sharp-tipped disruptor of a design he instantly recognizes.

Romulan.

Does Dr. Mäkeläinen recognize that the two women are Romulans? He is not a weapons expert, so I am not sure if he can instantly tell a Romulan disruptor pistol from a Klingon, or any other, disruptor pistol at a glance like Graham. He was never absolutely sure they were Vulcan pilgrims, and "Romulan spies" was one of the possibilities he considered, but at some point he stopped worrying about it.


The Doctor is not fazed by the threat to his personal well-being, but he fears for his helpless, unconscious crewmates. He tries an odd tack. He says, matter-of-factly, "We will be happy to help you gentlewomen if you put those away," indicating their weapons. "No need for that."

A quick progression of pleasant events surprises Kylah: the response of what sounds like T'Ves's voice (the only easily identifiable female voice Kylah has heard, so it must be her) over the speaker, then before long, the relieving whoosh of the opening door and the Vulcan's welcome face.

But not welcoming. Quite the opposite. Kylah does not understand why the Adept seems so... assertive, almost contemptuous. Unless the violence from a few hours ago frightened them. But why blame the Yorktown crew? T'Ves must know it was not their fault--

Wait, why--how--is Kylah finding herself describing any emotions at all?

Just as she registers this, she senses a sting of...something...from Lt. Graham. Eyes darting to him in alarm, she follows his gaze. Weapons. They are not Vulcan weapons. Just as contempt and fear should not be detectable Vulcan emotions. While the latter was only Kylah's foolish speculation, the former seems tangible. And it should not be.

"Oh," she whispers--more of a mere exhale--her lips remaining parted in shock. She slowly returns her wide eyes to the current commanding officer.

Oh for fuck's sake...

Graham is starting to wonder why the away team didn't get a jump on how their luck was going to play out and pilot the shuttle straight into the nearest star as soon as they left Yorktown.

He slowly shows that his hands are empty. "You're an awfully long way from Romulus, I must say..."

The women look the same to Dr. Mäkeläinen as they did before, when he thought they were Vulcan. He does not know enough about weapons to identify those they hold as Romulan, but Graham can and does.

The woman known as T'Ves responds to the doctor slightly sardonically, saying, "Thank you, Doctor, but I think we will keep these out for now, just the same."

To Graham she says, "Closer than you might think, Lt. Graham. I am Major Aval of the Tal Shiar. This ship is mine now."

https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Tal_Shiar

Dr. Mäkeläinen rapidly recalculates. The possibility that "T'Ves"'s group were Romulans had crossed his mind— did he dismiss it? More that nothing of import transpired during their encounter (he thinks); there was tacit and not-so-tacit acknowledgement that they were Starfleet, but nothing most of the ship had not worked out for themselves. (Although, they did blab about having made a delivery, albeit as part of their cover story.). Therefore, he had accepted them as what they said they were— why would he not? In fact, who is to say they are really Romulan secret police or intelligence? "Aval" may well be lying again. (They could even be some Vulcan splinter group. The point is, as in medicine, to work with probabilities, yet to remember the existence of negligible and exotic diagnoses.)

In any case, Aval's statement makes his next step clear: he interjects, "If that is so, Major, then it is your responsibility, and I beg of you, to help the injured and wounded. Our own, the other passengers, the crew, and your operatives. I am doing my best, but I need equipment, supplies, and access to any casualties."

Graham makes a mental note to put Mäkeläinen's response in his report. Smart. Appeal to military protocol; offer to help without prejudice.

"Dr. Mäkeläinen is a top-notch physician. If you enable hm to treat our...our colleagues, Major, he'll treat everyone else, your own team included, on an equal basis. Not that he needs to hear it, but I'll make it an order and give you my word as an officer."

Kylah is furious with herself. How could she have been so utterly blind? She saw the group of Vulcans on board and immediately trusted them. She did not reach out to sense their veracity, did not even try to assure herself of their motives. Why should she bother when Vulcans are almost entirely obscure to her? Worse, she let their costumes and religious folderol distract her. She is no Federation human--who, in their typical hubris, tend to miss subtle differences between races other than their own. Kylah should have seen.

Despite the dreadful circumstances surrounding Velir and Lt. Onn, she has allowed herself to feel confident--even complacent. Now here is her comeuppance. She is not personally afraid--unless things have changed considerably back home, Elas has no quarrel with Romulus. Aldaan and the Council are open to any alliance that enriches them. But the others...

Despair and anger battle within her. She wants to demand: what will the Romulans do to them? What happened to the Uwat--to Mr. Jol, to the children? Did the Romulans arrange this with the Doregg all along? How else could they have retained their weapons? Above all, what do they plan to do with the passengers--to her crewmates?

Instead, she lowers her gaze, hides her rage, and remains silent. And uses every ounce of empathic ability she possesses to gauge any false information, any hint of unspoken meaning, behind whatever Major Aval tells them.

Major Aval listens to Dr. Mäkeläinen and Graham. She nods and says, "There are, in fact, no other casualties needing your attention, Doctor. I will permit you to care for your crewmates, but any sign of treachery, any attempt to escape, any use of medical devices or resources against my team, and you will all be executed. I trust I make myself clear?"

She turns to her subordinate and says something in a harsh-sounding language which none of you recognize. The subordinate responds briefly and leaves. Aval says, "This ship has no sickbay or infirmary, and I have no medical officer with me. However, I have ordered that you be given an Uwat medikit, in addition to the Starfleet one you already have. It may be helpful." Soon the subordinate returns and hands the medikit to the doctor. It appears to be intact. With time, and using the small scanner from his own medikit, he thinks he can figure its contents.

The major appears to have excellent psi defenses; Kylah, in her initial probe, learns nothing from her.

Aval smiles genially and says, "The Federation and the Romulan Star Empire are not officially at war, and we are not on this ship because of you, in any event. You have questions, I'm sure. You may now ask them. I will answer them, if I may do so, consistent with my orders and with Imperial security interests."



If you have any questions, you may, to save time, ask up to six in a single post before she replies.

If Bizhi did not use medical technology perfidiously against an actively hostile Chalnoth, he is not about to start now. That is a solution a certain type of agent would consider using, the category of techniques including, for example, a wide-field energy pulse designed to disrupt the nervous system of any unshielded targets. A dangerous gambit that can easily be lethal if not executed just right, or if some of the victims were unusually susceptible or in poor condition to begin with.

He demands, therefore, "I need to know what anti-personnel systems or internal ship's defenses were used, both earlier, when the Chalnoth first blamed us for attacking them, and later. You know that such weapons are far from harmless." He is leaving out a whole lot of context, clarification, reasoning, and medical jargon (or the simplified version thereof). He does not want to reveal to this woman any more than she already knows about what he does or does not know or suspect, nor anything about his own team's strengths and vulnerabilities.

Kylah listens carefully to the doctor, and does not dare ask anything much, knowing that Lt. Graham must do the strategic thinking for them. But the Romulan's words are so specific--typical of their kind--that they only cause greater concern.

Keeping her gaze low, she takes great care with her own vocabulary. "Shaoi kon, mil aendeh Aval," she begins haltingly, starting with the greeting spoken from an inferior to a superior, and of course ending with Aval's rank. Her hand reaches to her chest in apology. "Mosekhesai ahefvi, hveolhaonn raed'aeusnnta'jhiy iebhe dochai aigrev Rihanha."

Making sure the others are not in the dark, Kylah glances at Lt. Graham and says in a rushed undertone, "I only said that I am sorry to speak so little Romulan."

Her gaze returns to Aval, head still lowered in respect and voice as quiet and controlled as her rising anger and fear will allow. "We are grateful there are no other casualties that require our doctor's assistance," she echoes, then adds with precision, "But are there others beyond any medical help? Has anyone--have any of the Uwat crew died?"

Kylah says no more. She is desperate to know about the message she and the Lieutenant sent, but will not jeopardize anything that Lt. Graham wishes to keep to themselves. But she is not entirely silent. Velir, please, Velir, can you hear me? I am right beside you. Where are you, my heart?

Major Aval says to the doctor, "The Uwat used a shipwide stun field when the Chalnoth were trying to break into your cabins. We had already taken steps to shield ourselves." She raises an eyebrow. "We don't know what happened to the individual Chalnoth earlier; we thought you had done something to them."

To Kylah she nods coolly. //To speak a little is better than speaking none at all//, she says in Romulan. //None of the Uwat have died. Three of the Chalnoth have//.

Rangin does not respond to Kylah. She has only the faintest, dimmest sense of his consciousness.

Ashen and dizzy as the blood rushes from her brain, Kylah clasps her hands together and breathes in deeply to steady herself. The Chalnoth were brutes, but had only attacked the Starfleet crew in the false belief they were responsible for their comrades' injuries. They did not deserve death. Is the Goram dead? Incongruously her next thought is of the Chalnoth who was so ill last night. Is he gone now?

And Velir is beyond her reach.

Suddenly it occurs to her that while she asked her question in Federation Standard, Major Aval responded in Romulan. Does Aval not wish the others to know of the fatalities? Unlikely. Perhaps it was simply a test to see just how much Romulan Kylah understands. In truth, with languages in which she is not fluent, Kylah finds it easier to comprehend foreign words than to formulate articulate sentences in speech. Her pronunciation was surely abysmal.

But whatever the reason for Aval's response in a language the others do not understand, Kylah cannot keep the truth from her expression, and her duty is clear. "Three Chalnoth," she murmurs shakily for the benefit of Dr. Mäkeläinen and Lt. Graham. She nods in belated gratitude for the Romulan's acceptance of her apology, and then falls both silent and still.

Graham raises an eyebrow at Kylah's apparent mastery of Romulan.

When he has an open moment to speak, he says: "Given that we're all mutually agreed we're not at war with one another at the moment, I'll cut right to the chase: we have a--" he pauses. "Maybe two medical situations right now. We need to get to a full-fledged state of the art medical facility yesterday, if possible." He pauses. "That's my highest priority...how can we make that happen?"

Bizhi gets the drift. But, he wonders, which three Chalnoth, and what happened to them? Did the three unconscious War-Brothers ever regain consciousness? Were any of them present at the brawl? Who, Chalnoth and other, was hit by disruptor fire, cold weapons, claws? Let's-call-her-Aval might give him straight answers, or lie; in any case, he will be the judge of who needs medical attention. He might get some answers from the Chalnoth themselves (hypothetically; more likely get ripped apart). The Uwat, it would be good to know where they stand in all this. Slipping away from the watchful eyes of the Romulans is something to work on, anyway (but what if they have someone monitoring them using the ship's systems? Or took the opportunity to tag them with trackers?). For now, he will pretend to accept what she has told him, and not ask any under-the-circumstances daft questions (including would they mind if he took a little walk around the deck later to stretch his legs and help him focus, does she know any good Romulan bistros this side of the Neutral Zone, and what did she say they were doing on board, again?)

The stun field is one thing he feels confident he can do something about. On general principles, and judging by its effects on himself, it probably does its job by excessively stimulating neural receptors, resulting in overloading the victim's nervous system, potentially causing excitotoxicity. Something to confirm with his own scanner and whatever is in the Uwat kit. (Even a standard small Starfleet phaser set to stun can kill someone given multiple shots.) If he can discover specific pathways that were overloaded, he could try blocking them, or at the very minimum the larger medkit would contain something suitable for (the Uwat equivalent of) migraine or stroke.

Nia is the one he is more worried about (though that may well be changing), because her preexisting conditions plus further abuse leave little margin for error. He cannot simply apply gross measures like pumping her full of sedatives or stimulants. Graham is absolutely right that the orthodox move would be to immediately transfer her to a fully equipped medical facility, and he says so. Rangin's peculiar condition had been burning himself out, and possibly bystanders, maybe or maybe not including Nia, even before the latest stun, and with him Bizhi does not yet know what circuits are involved. "They are in critical condition, and a proper medical facility is indeed what they need. We must also arrive at the Cavinre system without additional delays; that is the reason we chartered voyage on this ship. In effect, none of that has changed."

Kylah's hands curl more tightly, fingernails digging into her palm. The men's remarks about their urgent destination have led to a grim conclusion. She sees no reason to avoid voicing it, continuing Dr. Mäkeläinen's thought.

"Our needs have not changed," she says slowly while watching the Romulan. "But the Doregg's itinerary surely has. Unless I am mistaken, Major Aval, your party has no desire for a leisurely journey to Shiyy Val, for a pilgrimage or otherwise. Why seize the ship unless to divert its course?"

Kylah glances at Lt. Graham before refocusing on Aval. "I do not presume to ask your true destination or purpose. But does this mean you will be diverting us, as well? Or will you still bring us to Cavinre?"

She stops abruptly. Her friends clearly do not think it safe to explain that Lt. Onn requires a singular, extremely rare treatment. Of course: such a dire necessity could be exploited. Although the Romulans hardly need more power than the weapons in their hands.

Given all this--and in the hope that Aval has not intercepted her message to Aldaan and thus does not know a shuttle from the Yorktown might be heading to meet them with Lt. Onn's medication--Kylah will certainly not be the one to reveal it.

Then she recalls in dismay: Aldaan's response will do it for me.

Maj. Aval thinks for a moment and says, "I will see that you have access to a medical facility, at least as soon as you would have anyway, were this ship going to Cavinre. But it will not be; we are indeed diverting it. You say nothing has changed, Doctor, but in fact everything has changed. I will show you why." Her subordinate begins to say something but she cuts her off. She points. "Mr. Graham, Mr. Kylah, come with us, please. Doctor, you may remain here with your patients, or come with us, as well. Mr. Rawlings, you will remain here with your unconscious shipmates."

Graham notices that Rawlings looks tense and ready to attack.

"No doubt you are doing your duty, Major," says Dr. Mäkeläinen. "As likely the only professional physician on board, mine is to tend to these comatose patients first. You have said there are no higher-priority medical emergencies on board; I cannot possibly leave them until I have ensured their condition does not deteriorate. I vouch that Lt. Graham and Ens. Kylah are capable of communicating whatever you wish to show us, and hope myself to be soon more fully at your disposal. Also, as you know, while I have medical authority, the Lieutenant is presently in command of our little group.

"You and I both are bound to do what is right in service of higher objectives. Please keep in mind that in this delicate situation we may find a way where our goals are not mutually incompatible."

The Doctor will pay attention to little details like whether he can see a guard posted outside and whether she locks the door (or, alternately, makes a point of leaving it unlocked), but he was not much exaggerating things and first on his agenda is scanning Onn and Rangin and sorting out the Uwat medication and any useful gadgets that may be in there.

It takes almost supernatural power for Kylah to avoid turning to Lt. Graham in fear, but some protective instinct keeps her gaze straight ahead. What changed that has anything to do with her? A leaden lump forms in Kylah's stomach, because she suspects she knows.

Her resentment toward the Romulans deepens. Yet of all the things she wants to blurt out, Kylah steadies herself and latches onto one petty correction. She has always hated the use of "Mister" as a form of address, customary though it may be in Starfleet tradition. Elasian women are not treated as men, for good or ill, and it is an insult to be called by this term. She accepts it from her crewmates only because she must.

While it is almost comically unimportant considering the circumstances, Kylah finds herself asserting what little dignity she can.

"With respect, Major," she murmurs without inflection. "That term of address is abhorrent to me, coming from neither a colleague nor a direct superior officer. I may not be of the Federation, but I perfer the rank I have earned from them. Ensign Kylah, if you please, ma'am."

Graham nods slowly and without turning his head speaks in a slow, clear, authoritative voice. "My team doesn't take orders from anyone but their commanding officer, but--Mr. Rawlings, the Major has been stand-up respectful of protocol--whatever experiences with Romulans either or both of us might have had in the past. I trust you to remain here and see to Lt. Onn and Mr. Ragin's safety."

If he cranes his neck slightly, Dr. Mäkeläinen can see that there is indeed a guard - another young Romulan woman - just outside the door. He cannot quite see, from where he is, if she is armed, however.

Maj. Aval raises an eyebrow. "A Starfleet officer, but not 'of the Federation'?" she asks. "Interesting."

Rawlings relaxes ever so slightly at Graham's words, but he doesn't look happy about it. "Aye, sir," he says. "Be careful."

Graham and Kylah follow Aval and her subordinate - whom Graham mentally designates as TS2 or Tal Shiar 2, with Aval as TS1 - out into the corridor. The major locks the door behind you. You, too, can now see the guard just outside; consider her TS3. She is armed with an identical weapon as the others. The Romulans keep just outside of lunging distance from the two Starfleet officers.

TS3 remains where she is. The corridor and the Common Room, when you pass through it, are both otherwise empty of people. Kylah notices a large, dark stain on the deck just beyond the far doorway to the Common Room.

"This way," Aval says, leading you towards the stern.

Aval's remark thrums in Kylah's mind as she exits the cabin and walks beside Lt. Graham, spirits lifting. She does not know who I am! If the Romulan knew of the message sent to Aldaan, Kylah's identity as an Elasian would be evident.

Of course, her planet is a dust speck in the Alpha Quadrant--until last year, less than that. Elas's improved status in the eyes of the Federation was only due to the Klingons' interest in it; Cousin Elaan's behavior and the deaths on the Enterprise; and above all, the discovery of Dilithium crystals. Now Elas has value.

That does not translate to Quadrant-wide fame. Her home planet remains a mere dust speck. Romulans would likely have never heard of Elas. Unless Aldaan or some faction on the Regency Council of Nobles is currying favor with the Empire in an attempt to undermine both the Federation and the Klingons. (She has no idea why Aldaan would wish to, but no machinations would surprise her.)

Even so, it is still extraordinarily unlikely that the Romulans guarding her and Lt. Graham would, on their own, know of such a minuscule pebble on the border of Klingon territory. Much less care whether it is affiliated with the Federation.

Nevertheless they are Tal Shiar who had hours to perform basic due diligence on the identity of the Starfleet officers on board. Kylah's official records, and even a cursory glance at her all-too-public history on the net, always make note of Elas's Federation status as pending. That Kylah's description of herself comes as an apparent surprise to Aval is very good news.

Not only have the Romulans not seen Kylah's message asking for the Yorktown's help, but the Starfleet crew does not matter enough to research. Surely harming them would be purposeless. To Kylah, their prospects have improved.

Cut this into two posts because omg too long to read.

Bizhi resolves to remember to address Kayla as... simply "Kayla", in the future. Would she prefer "Ensign"? To his ear that does not necessarily sound so impressive, even compared to "Mister" or "Master", but he has no sense for such things. He tries to be diplomatic, and has been to enough worlds so that si fueris Romuli, Romulo vivito more, but formal titles and terms of address (often a grammatical or social necessity), moreover formality, he does not prize in and of themselves. Really, though, why is she attempting to draw Aval's attention? Some incipient distraction?

He attempts to pantomime to Rawlings that they may be under audio and video surveillance. Not that he thinks the man needs a reminder, plus as much was understood before they even boarded the ship. He is currently absorbed not in working out how to elude the Romulans, though, but in working to save his colleagues. He is not going to lose them like this. He will not inject anything he cannot identify, but if he can find the appropriate drugs from the expanded med kit he will use them. If not, he judges that, for the moment, it is safer to give them more time to heal on their own than to forcefully induce consciousness.

All of Kylah's hasty calculations offer some relief by the time they reach the Common room, a setting that drifts her attention back to the events this morning. A memory pings her brain and her gaze darts across the room to the quarters of that cagey, privacy-obsessed passenger she vainly tried to engage in conversation. What has happened to him? Is he connected to the Romulans? No. He was human, she recalls. Is he all right? Is he even still in there?

About to make a quick empathic check for his presence, this intent suddenly dies--indeed, all thoughts of this mystery passenger do--upon the sight of the dark stain on the deck. Lungs hitching, she stares in shock.

An instinctive step closer to Lt. Graham lets her upper arm brush against his. "Sir," she says shakily, followed by a tight nod toward the ugly stain. She cannot identify it. Is it... blood? Is it Uwat or Chalnoth blood?

Major Aval's aftward journey seems unlikely to stop for any questions, and Kylah curtails the impulse. Calling attention to such a potentially grim observation aloud is a choice best left to Lt. Graham's discretion. Nevertheless, her anxiety returns in a rush.

The maybe-bloodstain is not news; it only confirms what Aval has already told her of the three fatalities and likely other injuries.

But seeing the proof is always, always worse.


Yes, this was formerly part of the previous post, but splitting it up to give y'all a break seemed wise.

"Noted, Ensign," Graham says quietly in response to Kylah's comment about what looks to be a bloodstain.

Graham would love for the Tal Shiar to show some signs of sloppiness, but so far, he's not seeing it.

They seem to be a ship shape team, which means taking them on head to head is not a good prospect.

Conversely, they also seem intent on a mission which doesn't involve needlessly antagonizing their captives, which is the best he can work with at the moment.

After the cabin door closes and locks, Rawlings nods in understanding at Dr. Mäkeläinen's gestures as to surveillance. The good doctor carefully looks through the Uwat medikit and, after a few minutes, believes he understands what about three-quarters of its drugs and gadgets do. He's not sure that any of it would actually help his patients - there is nothing, in particular, that would aid Onn in her illness - but he believes he could probably restore either to consciousness.

Kylah and Graham cannot tell whose blood, if anyone's, the stain is from. Neither knows what Chalnoth or Uwat circulatory fluid looks like.

Maj. Aval and TS2 lead the two Starfleet crew past the stain and to the strangely-designed ladder you ascended from the shuttlebay upon your arrival aboard the Doregg. Aval says something to TS2, who takes to the ladder and lithely climbs down it to the next deck below. "Follow her, if you please," the major then says, gesturing with her weapon.

Kylah looks up through her lashes at T'Ves--Aval, she corrects herself. The Romulan is polite, if nothing else.

She looks down at the ladder and hugs herself, almost able to feel the cold she recalls from the deck. Trying to guess whether Lt. Graham would wish to back her up, or for him to descend first, Kylah suspects he might prefer to be the one to face the unknown. After a second of gnawing a corner of her lower lip, she exhales and conjures up an approximation of Security vocabulary.

"If--if you wish to take the point, sir, I shall have your six."

Amidst all that's happened and continues to happen, Graham can't help but smile, an unbidden flash of pride at the young trouble-prone woman.

He nods. "Very good, Ensign." He starts climbing up the ladder.

Easily curing all of Lt. Onn's systemic problems was not even hoped for (though Dr. Mäkeläinen would gamble that that level of medical technology exists somewhere in a nearby quadrant— but where exactly, and at what price?), however easing her symptoms is what the synthetic concoction they got at Ollos is for, for as long as it lasts and continues to be effective, plus remedies like Lexorin (though overuse of such strong drugs is counterproductive and dangerous). What he needs right now, medically, is to keep her, and Lt. Rangin, from slipping further into a coma, and the team really needs both of their skills and leadership. He does not know yet what will transpire with the Romulans, but it is not brute force that will get them out of this fix.

They should be awake, and what he does is use the Uwat supplies (he is beginning to learn something about the Uwat approach to doing things, a very little bit from their observations around the ship and somewhat more from his perusal of their medkit, which involves his area of expertise) to bring them around. He also gives them painkillers to take the edge off the lingering effects of the indiscriminate stun (it was a little discriminate, though? From what he could tell, Kylah got up without much, if any pain compared to the rest. He again wonders about the nasty possibility that they may have been tampered with or implanted with something while they were out. He hopes the Romulans confined themselves to DNA scans or whatever it is they use to confirm their identities.). He explains a bit as he works, to give Rawlings (and the Romulan guard) something to focus on.

"Down the ladder, Mr. Graham," Maj. Aval says sharply after he goes just a rung or two up it. "Follow my colleague."

Onn comes around, feeling groggy and like she's been through the ringer. She also has a terrible taste in her mouth. Rangin does not regain consciousness, but his vital signs strengthen a bit.

The Romulan guard is outside in the corridor, not inside the cabin with Rawlings, Dr. Mäkeläinen and his two patients.

The light. Hurts.

Though her arm seems to weigh 80 kilos, Nia manages to flop her elbow across her forehead. She must've fallen. Hit the deck. Got conked out for a few minutes.

Looking hazily around, she sees four Mäkeläinens hovering over her, a couple of sleeping Rangins and about eight Double-Ts close by. Nauseous, she grimaces and closes her eyes. "No offense Doc but your meds taste like unfiltered swamp sludge."

At least there are no tusky hairballs in the vicinity. "No Chalnoth," she mutters. "Guess Uwat Security's competent after all, huh Book?"

The belated realization that she doesn't actually see him splashes her mind awake like a bucket of ice water. She struggles to push herself up, searching the room again until her squinting gaze lands on the quartet of Mäkeläinens, which resolves into a solo act. "Where's Booker?" she whispers. "And Kylah? Status report, now."

The Doctor's relief is palpable (though there is still Lt. Rangin to consider— at least he appears temporarily stable). He wants to thrust a bottle of water into her hand, but he has packed no such thing in his medkit. With frustration, he realizes he will have to ask the guard for a cup of water. Does she understand Federation Standard? Quite possibly, if she is truly Tal Shiar, though she could just be muscle. He would rather not embarrass himself trying to employ haphazardly remembered Romulan words and phrases, although he is sure he knows the right word for "water", and, worst case, he can pantomime it. First, however...

"I am elated that you are back with us, Lieutenant," he says unnecessarily formally, hoping she will pick up that something is wrong. He pitches his voice low. "Status— you need to focus— this ship is under Tal Shiar command. They have their own security. The leader says they are not concerned with us, yet she insisted on taking Graham and Kylah out for some kind of briefing. Whatever she has to show us, we have been diverted, destination unknown, nowhere near Cavinre. We're caught up in something, and we need you. Rangin is still out, no estimate yet when he will wake up."

Nia's vision has improved but her brain's getting more jumbled with each nugget of information Mäkeläinen reveals. Romulans? It feels like she's only been out for a few minutes--but apparently it's been enough time for the ship to be attacked and boarded?! Not possible. Is she even actually awake?

She stares from the Doc to Rawlings for confirmation that all this is real. Then, despite the disbelief and outrage battling inside her, she tries to gather her fraying wits. First things first: the crew.

"The Romulans aren't here for us, yet they've taken our C.O. and an ensign. You're sure the two of them are safe?"

An inane question. Even if they were safe before, no one knows if they're safe now. She focuses, trying to keep alert. "What is the bloody Tal Shiar doing here? Why hunt down some crappy little ship? I can't fathom the Uwat were carrying any cargo valuable enough for the Tal Shiar to go after them."

That leaves passengers....maybe the Chalnoth got into some skirmish with Romulans and were on the run. If so they picked a slow friggin' getaway ship. And if not them...

Nia stares at Rawlings and Dr. M. "Is it the Vulcans they want?" she asks softly.

This question's not inane--it's just obvious. Of course it's the Vulcans. They're at the center of the Federation. Maybe the group on the Doregg are involved in some diplomacy. The religion thing was probably a ruse. They could be dignitaries, even members of the High Command or Vulcan Intelligence. Anyone on some undercover--

As if sucked out by an open hatch, the remaining brain fog dissipates. She gapes at her colleagues.

"Oh fuck no," she whispers. "Please tell me they are actually Vulcans. Please tell me we weren't played like raw cadets and the Romulans haven't been right in our faces the whole time." Despite her rising disgust she can't help a bitter chuckle. "Man, when we get back, Vargas is gonna personally rip the bars from my sleeves once he reads our AMRs."

The thought of returning to the Yorktown hammers home the one of the last things the Doc told her: Diverted.

Nia digests it all with a shudder that she manages to quell before gazing evenly at Mäkeläinen.

"Except Cavinre's off the itinerary." Her flat words are dry as her skin, dry as her throat and the burning sands of Sidonia. "Guess I'd better get my report written up fast."

Graham nods, grunts, and complies.

On the way he taps the side of his head. "Sorry, head's still ringing."

Unable to avoid sending a resentful look at Aval for her disrespect toward Lt. Graham, Kylah flicks her gaze back down when she steps onto the ladder. "The Uwat's 'Security Protocol' attack affected us all cruelly, sir," she says--untrue, at least in her case, but she feels duty-bound to back him up. "You need not apologize for reacting to an overzealous, indiscriminate use of force."

She starts her own descent, glancing down to gauge what lies beneath, if she can see anything past Lt. Graham and the Romulan who preceded him. Kylah also reaches out with all her other senses, from hearing to mental to scent, to judge whether anything else seems different the farther down she climbs.

Dr. Mäkeläinen grimaces. "They had their cover story, we had ours. Only, for them, it looks like it was not too much trouble to obtain our real names, ranks, and complete files for all I know. We, lack as much as a communicator--- but why? And why be they going loud, as it were, on this boat? The fact they have, by itself, is telling. The ship's crew, uncertain yet if they were coerced, paid off, or simply caught by surprise.

"It is early to draw conclusions, but, as Lt. Graham pointed out, so far they have been strictly correct about respecting our status as neutral bystanders. Speaking of which, let me ask for some water."

He catches Rawlings's eye to show what he is up to. The Doctor moves over to the cabin door. He raps a couple of times to get the guard's attention, then steps back and stands non-threateningly in the middle of the cabin. If the Romulan guard responds, he will ask her haltingly (in part performatively, but he does not have a background in conversational Romulan like Kylah), "sseulaiin... hnnieth..." "Please... water." I got those words from a random site on space Google, but imagine he can come up with something close to the canonical ones picked up from his own exposure to space media and natural curiosity.

In any case, when they are again alone, he resumes softly, "We have been promised timely medical care. But the nature, and location, of said medical facility is, as you've guessed, unknown."

Graham and then Kylah climb down the ladder. TS2 already has the door open off the small landing beside the ladder. The air is definitely colder here than it was one deck up. Maj. Aval climbs down after Kylah and gestures with her weapon down the dimly-lit corridor beyond. "Keep going, please," she says. Both Romulans remain alert and well out of arm's reach.

The Tal Shiar guard outside the cabin says something in Romulan which Dr. Mäkeläinen doesn't understand. From her tone of voice, it sounds like a question.

Graham moves to comply, albeit slow walking it a little bit, playing up post-knock-out-blast effects by bracing himself with an arm against a wall.

"Sure...but any idea why it's so cold down here, Major?"

Rubbing her arms, Kylah wishes to know the same question. This middle deck has been noticeably cold since they arrived, and appears to be the source of the icy floor up above in their cabin. They must leave it unheated, in which case it is likely for cargo. If there is some freight aboard this transport ship that troubles the Romulans, Kylah cannot imagine what it could be, and--even more to the point--what it has to do with her, Lt. Graham, or the rest of the crew.

By the time the bedraggled sextet boarded the Doregg, they had almost no belongings--most having sunk with the shuttle--and nothing more alarming than the standard Starfleet weapons that were taken from them before they left the Ollos Starport. With disruptors brandshed in their strong grips, the Romulan women should hardly consider a confiscated Phaser-1 a threat.

And why are they keeping such distance from them, as if Lt. Graham and Kylah are feral beasts ready to attack no less than three guards? They are unarmed, groggy--at least Lt. Graham was, earlier--and in Kylah's case, manifestly physically weaker than even the smallest of their captors.

So this is the much-storied Tal Shiar! Contempt lowers her brow into a scowl. She looks forward to reporting that the intimidating Tal Shiar recruit cowards. Feared by the whole Quadrant, yet they quake from a weaponless girl in a bodysuit. Aldaan will make use of that. She blinks in sudden thought of the time since she sent her uncle the distress message. 'Two hours to send, two hours to receive,' the Uwat operator had said. He should have responded long before now.

"If there is something amiss in the hold," she says, trying to keep her tense voice even, "It was here before we boarded. You have been on this ship far longer than we. You must know we brought almost nothing with us."

Mäkeläinen looks at Rawlings, who has not said much but is clearly paying attention. Any help there? Lt. Onn is back to reasonable mental condition, to his relief, but would she have studied languages like Romulan?

What would the guard's orders have been? To make sure no one enters or leaves the room until Aval gets back? He tries repeating the word in Vulcan, then Terran English: "Water." He declaims in the latter language, careful to sound reassuring: "I give you my word as a physician this is no trick." She may or may not get the drift, even if she is not fluent.

"How is your head?" he quietly asks Nia. "Looks like you were spared the worst of that stun. That's a bit of luck on your side."

Rawlings shakes his head. "Sorry, Doc. I don't know any Romulan."

The guard outside says something else which Dr. Mäkeläinen doesn't understand.

"Yes, Mr. Graham," says Maj. Aval, almost grimly, "I have a very good idea indeed of why it's so cold down here." She nods to Kylah. "And yes, I understand. But come. You must have noticed the cold deck above, and wondered about it? Of course you did. The Uwat are little-known to the Federation, I believe. Even those who know them well find that they are easy to overlook." She leads you farther down the narrow, dimly-lit corridor, then presses a key which opens a thick door at its end. A draft of even colder air washes over you; you can now see your breath in the air.

She continues, "They do not amount to much as a species, to be blunt. All in all, they are neither warriors nor healers, neither scientists nor explorers, neither poets nor musicians. I assure you that their literature is worthless; their most cherished history a crashing bore. Other than their odd practice of bringing their children along with them into space, they are known to my people for two things, in particular." She gestures, and the four of you enter an even more dimly-lit room beyond.

The major takes a few steps away from you, deeper into the gloom, approaching what appears to be a hull structural support. It is an irregular column about a half a meter thick which reaches from the deck to the overhead (ceiling). "First, the Uwat have a particular talent for cryogenics," she says, tapping another key on the column, turning on blinding white lights which reveal a compartment much larger than any other you have yet seen aboard the Doregg.

It is filled with row upon row of frosty, coffin-like units mounted horizontally about waist high, with a tangle of tubes and gnarled cords running from each into the deck. There must be close to a hundred of them.

"And second," the major says, "they are slavers."

"Son of a bitch..."

The words slip unbidden from Graham's lips as he takes in the scene.

Still looking over the cryo units, he says, "That whatever-the-hell-it-was protocol. Id bet that was developed to stamp out slave uprisings, should any somehow get free..."

There's a knot in his chest. As a Terran, he grew up with history lessons about a long, shameful history of slavery by some of the mightiest and allegedly enlightened nations of old Earth.

A lot of blood had to be spilled to end it.

And yet even today, within the Federation...it was happening under their noses.

Kylah gapes at the room, which is simultaneously full yet empty, the cloud of her breath only briefly veiling the eerie, sterile sight.

"Or the stun is how they created slaves," she whispers to Lt. Graham. "Or both."

Hugging herself even tighter, she walks slowly, entranced by an uncanny sense of vastness. One hundred or so units--people--is not normally a vast number. But in this circumstance... it is almost incomprehensible.

Each step is as light and measured as that of an entranced ballerina; as if she fears disturbing sleepers. There might not be anyone currently inside, of course, but then...why would the machines be working? Or so frosted over?

Just as she reaches one of the containers, her hoarse voice raises slightly to address Aval. "Are these slavers why the Tal Shiar is here? You knew of this?"

Even while speaking, she wrenches her left hand from its grip on her shoulder and touches trembling fingers to the unit--or, if the case is too cold, hovers her palm as close as possible to whatever, whoever is inside.

Kylah holds her breath, looks down, and focuses on making her mind vulnerable and receptive to any hint of consciousness, any flicker of emotion. Can she see anything? Can she sense anything?

Nia is busy calculating the odds that wherever this ship is heading now, the Romulans'll be fine dropping a Starfleet crew off at some neutral outpost or starbase or colony with a nice, shiny, technologically up-to-date medical facility. Her thoughts are interrupted by the doctor's optimistic comment.

"Oh yeah, I'm on quite the winning streak," she mutters darkly, watching him attempt to knock the concept of "water" into the Romulan guard's brain. She should actually know this. When any Sidonian first met aliens from Starfleet, the first questions asked were about the myths that they lived in places where water was everywhere. While learning Fed Standard, Nia also took the time to learn the word for "water" in every language she could. It fascinated her that some cultures had more than one word for it. Sidonians have hundreds of nuanced ways to describe poison. Of course, her language included hand gestures, body movements and facial expressions that no Universal Translator could mimic.

Though she struggles for a bit, Nia gives up dragging the Romulan word for "water" from her memory. Even if the memory's still there, her head's way too fuzzy and tired and dull to offer it to her.

She offers a weak smile. "All I know is, I feel woozy and I've got some absolutely repulsive aftertaste." She grimaces. "I don't get it, did they dose us? Did you give me some medicine?" At last the question occurs to her: "Wait, you think I was spared--what did they do to you guys?" She looks worriedly at Rawlings, then Rangin (whose hand she pats gently, hating that he's still dead to the world).

She keeps staring at her hand, frowning, and suddenly her eyebrows lift in recognition. Of course. Some things are more universal than speech, certain descriptive shapes included. Raising her hand, she holds it with her palm down, fingers horizontal.

At the same time, her mind whispers an accompanying word to her. But she doesn't voice it. She doesn't trust her thought process and can't be sure if that's the right word in the right language. And all she needs is to accidentally call the guard some insulting obscenity. Because along with the multiple alien language words for "water" she's learned countless curses, too.

Instead, she just says: "Doc. Ask the Romulan--this?" Her fingers, held closely together, start moving--stiffly at first, but soon their movement smooths a bit until they look like they're rippling: the shape of an invisible wave.

"Ship-wide stun field, the Major said, and that matches what I can tell. The trouble with a defense like that is, it is indiscriminate--- hits everyone in the room simultaneously--- and you have to use a rather high amount of power to be sure of affecting everyone, large, small, different species and neural physiology. There is little margin for error. I myself have a piercing headache, dissipating all too slowly. If someone were especially susceptible---" the Doctor leaves the rest unsaid. She can see Rangin for herself.

"That is... a good idea," he says in response to Nia's showing him the hand gesture. "I am sure I can get the point across. The question is, will she risk opening the door? We are still locked in." He saw Aval activate the lock as she left, earlier having had all the time in the world to reprogram it to her specifications. Just to be sure, he tries the pad on the inside.

Squinting as she tilts her head to see beyond Mäkeläinen, Nia sighs. "Oh. Crap. I thought she had the door a little open." She girds herself, clasps hold of the edge of the upper bunk, and hoists her weary body up. "My eyes hurt a little but yeah, otherwise I'm just... I don't know. Sorry you guys got the worst of that stun field. Maybe it's calibrated for humans?"

She slowly moves closer to the door, resting a hand on Double-T's shoulder for leverage and to give him a squeeze of support as well. Then she joins the doctor, leaning against the wall, tired already from the effort of being upright.

"We're sick in here," she says weakly to the door, slapping her palm limply against it. "We're unarmed. No threat. Please just open up."

Nia aims a flat, annoyed stare at Mäkeläinen--although, of course, her annoyance isn't directed at him. "They're holding every card," she says in an undertone. "And you said they have disruptors. What the hell are they so afraid of?" She doesn't even bother mentioning the incompetence of the Tal Shiar's having someone going undercover as a Vulcan who can't understand a word of Fed Standard.

Crossing her tired arms, she sighs again. "Doc, I know it's just been a day or so, but... how are the meds holding out? You said the...damn it, I forget the name... the main stuff that's tiding over my Bilitrium deficit... that's just one dose a day, right? So we should be good there."

Wow, I can still pull optimism outta my ass? Still got it. "...But I haven't been keeping track on the Lexorin. That's what's really keeping me awake now, right? I'm sorry, I should remember, but..." Her words trail off and she ends in a helpless shrug. The end of that sentence is pretty easy enough to fill in.

Maj. Aval says, "Yes, we of the Tal Shiar are here because of those held in these cryo units. Nine of them are Romulans, captured from one of our outposts, although there are others."

Each of the units, Kylah now sees, has a faceplate a few dozen centimeters on a side, rimed with frost. The first one she looks at contains some kind of scaly gray alien with three closed eyes. The units are also not identical, she and Graham realize; about twenty of them are bigger - almost twice the size of a typical humanoid - and perhaps another dozen are smaller. The units are cold to the touch, but not painfully so. She gets no psi impression from any of them.

The door to Onn's and the others' quarters remains shut and locked, despite the doctor's pressing of buttons on the keypad beside it. The Tal Shiar guard outside says something emphatically once, twice, then falls silent.

"Right," mutters the Doctor. "Good thing we don't have a medical emergency on our hands." He feels, perhaps irrationally, that the failure lies with him: there should be a way to communicate. And he himself could have studied the languages of neighbouring powers like the Romulan and Klingon empires more systematically rather than satisfy himself with a few words and phrases (enough to get the gist of the medical jargon and--- on a good day--- order a dram of the local brain bleach. Such provincialism might be expected from a Terran; why could he not have been better?)

He turns back to Nia. "That is correct, about the--- there really isn't a short name for it, is there?--- the Bilitrium substitute. However, that assumes nothing changes, and, in my experience, relying purely on luck is a dangerous gamble." Sometimes, in medicine, there is little alternative--- there is only so much one can do. In a larger sense, are our lives not governed by main luck, as much as we may strive against it?

"This medical facility we were promised: do you know what planets and stations are in range? Even someplace in the Neutral Zone itself? If it is equivalent in technology to a Federation hospital, or superior, they should be able to synthesize more of that cocktail, or close to it, even if they can't or won't source pure Bilitrium. That is something, at least.

"My original prescription was to taper off the Lexorin, and for you to get as much rest as you can. Now--- if we cannot do that, I am authorizing you to continue taking it as needed to stay on your feet. You will be functional, but after this is over, your body will take some time to recover."

He is silent for several long moments. Eventually he says, "I confess I know very little of the Tal Shiar." They prefer to remain an ominous, nebulous threat, he suspects, especially in the heart of Romulus itself. "A disruptor could be standard issue for them, to be carried on all missions. Consider Starfleet away teams--- we have those little phasers. They have a variety of conceivable uses, more so than a disruptor, but even they can be set to kill. Tal Shiar, now--- a weapon must be standard kit, whether or not they expect to need one, and if we somehow managed to get the drop on the guard out there and pluck that disruptor out of her hands, something tells me she will not be left bare. Ah, at least that would be true for the Major. Mistress Uhlan out there," he says less seriously, "We could get past without too much trouble."

The guard having seemingly given up on them, Nia sends a vicious look at the Romulan through the door and turns away to lean against the desk. "Well, T might have no problem getting past her. With help from your..." She's not sure how to refer lightly to the Doc's wonder-arm, so she just nods toward it. "But we don't really know how many of these Romulans there are. At this point I'm not trusting a word outta their mouths. Generally sound policy," she mutters.

"Plus, who knows what backup security measures they've got in place if we escape? I mean, they've surely figured out how to use whatever zappers the Uwat have. Had. Are they even alive?" Note: She was still unconscious when Kylah asked for the death totals.

Nia remembers the kids. Romulans are cold motherfuckers but unless they were directly attacked, even she's gonna give them enough credit to assume little beings half their size wouldn't be a big enough threat to eliminate.

She massages her temples, glad to close her eyes and hide her defeat from the others. "Nearby planets. Let me think. Hard to judge, given how far off course we went, and I don't know the exact route the Uwat were taking us on. But on our original course to Cavinre, there were a couple of Federation systems with unoccupied planets, probably uninhabitable atmospheres for you guys.

"And I think there was a rogue planet in there somewhere. Possible to inhabit those, but one with a decent medical facility? Doubt it. The best I could hope for is that it had a huge repository of Bilitrium hidden there. The odds of that would be literally astronomical."

A dry chuckle combines with a cough. The odds of coming across frickin' Romulans--Tal Shiar Romulans no less--on a random crapbucket like this in the middle of the ass-end of nowhere were pretty unfathomable too. But here they are, not just fathoming it but living it. So she probably should be less free with her predictions.

"Anyway," she continues when she gets her cough under control, "In neutral territory there was our good pal Ollos, obviously. And Grinden V." She frowns. "Four. And actually, by now, Grinden's probably the closest. Once things went pear shaped and we lost our engines, I remember they were still on our Cavinre course but farther from us than Ollos. That's why they weren't an option. But maybe by now we're nearer? I dunno. All this means nothing if the Romulans already changed course."

Nia drops her hand to look up at T and Mäkeläinen. And Rangin, on the off-chance he can hear her. But her tired gaze lands on the other two. "Did Aval say if we've already changed course? And T, what's your opinion of our offensive capabilities as far as getting outta here? That's not my area of expertise. None of this is." Not even engineering, apparently. After a hesitation, she tries on a smile. "And for a question that really matters: Doc, who the hell is Mistress Uhlan?"

Graham nods and turns to Aval. "Well, if what you're here to do, major, is rescue your people who've been taken by slavers, then speaking as a Starfleet security officer, no matter what higher-ups might have to say, I have zero problems with that." He pauses. "And we--my team--still has a serious medical situation to deal with. I hope we can find a way forward where on one gets hurt, and..." He needs a moment as the thought of Nia not making it back hits him. "And everyone goes home."

So many beings. Living, but not. Assuming they truly are still alive. Kylah walks slowly down the aisles and rows, looking into each faceplate. She can imagine a Uwat guard doing the same, taking a gloating headcount of their victims. Their inventory. She shudders. She will note any identifiable races, although if the Uwat focused on non-Federation territories... What could they have been thinking, going after Romulans?

She nods at Lt. Graham's words. There are questions burning in her mind--not enough to warm her body, much less the core of her soul, which has shrivelled into a leaden ball of ice at the thought of such cruelty. If she is desperate to get answers, surely her CO is even more so. But he must focus on their ill comrades, and she will follow his lead. Velir needs help. And Lt. Onn needs...I do not know.

Rubbing her arms again, she pauses in her journey through the units, sends a quick glance to Lt. Graham to confirm she knows their priorities, and then faces Aval. "I am sorry for the nine Romulans. It was brave of you to make such a rescue on your own, rather than with a ship. You had the intel from the start to know your people were on board, yet you courageously went undercover yourselves for quite some time, instead of a full attack..."

But why did they only commandeer the Doregg now and divert it? Because 'everything changed.' What did that mean? Did they receive some new intelligence this afternoon? Were they waiting for backup to arrive? Oh! Kylah grows still and cannot help seeking out Lt. Graham's gaze. Are there now Romulans nearby--a cloaked Bird of Prey, perhaps--or soon to meet them?

With this new fear, Kylah resumes her grim examination of this not-quite cemetery and peers into the faceplates, uncanny as the experience is. "Those we set free must be retrieved from these--these prisons. Your people will surely need special care to recover from their ordeal."

If she comes to a cryogenically frozen Romulan, she will stop before them and again rest a hand on the case. "And all these strangers will require a way to their homes." The logistics are staggering. So many different destinations.

"Are you taking us someplace with advanced medical facilities? If so, then our own needs are in alignment. Please, Major, you revealed all this to us for a reason. We can help you with assisting the captives, particularly in shepherding the non-Romulans home. But we must get to a medical facility as soon as possible. Is the Doregg capable of faster flight?" She pauses. "Who is at the ship's helm? Not still the Uwat Captain?"

Bizhi hopes his statement about jumping the guard has not been taken even semi-seriously as a suggestion. He has no intention of making any non-medical move at the moment beyond waiting for Lt. Graham to return. As for executing such a plan, he might be able to mess with the door electronics with the micro tools in his cybernetic arm and get it open, eventually, but (on his own, anyway) he would not be certain of not tripping all sorts of alarms while doing so, and, even if he were, what are the odds the guard would be caught so, well, off-guard that she would not have time to fire off a couple of blasts? None of this he wishes to discuss out loud, under the circumstances, even if the door guard herself does not, or is putting up an excellent semblance of not being able to, hear or understand the conversation.

He replies to Nia's question: "I meant our friend out there with the itchy trigger finger, whose job is not worth risking handing prisoners a measure of water. 'Uhlan' is the conventional translation of the Romulan military rank." He thinks for a moment. "Not sure wherefore that precise word--- it is not quite Standard, is it? One might also say Lancer, or Speculator."

"We need to have a discussion with the Major. She may mean to transfer off this vessel soon--- unless she means to haul it all the way back to Romulus as a prize? The question is, how generous is she willing to be to be to ensure we are not indefinitely stranded again? On that subject, what are the odds of getting our money back from the Uwat? They have spectacularly failed to hold up their end of the deal, even though it would be hard to argue with a plea of force majeure. Unless they were merely bought off."

"I did not understand that any of the crew have been eliminated," he adds softly, "though my grasp of conversational Romulan, as you have seen, leaves something to be desired. Not that we were told anything about what actually happened."

When the doctor first mentions that the guard is unlikely to open the door--not news to her, but hard to hear nonetheless--Nia bends her head again and takes a swift, caged-animal look around the cabin for some kind of ductways or panels that could lead to escape.

But the more he speaks, the more fruitless it all seems and she finds herself getting confused. She searches Mäkeläinen's face, like she's hunting for one wonky strand in a nest of tangled wires. She's not understanding him--not the way she should. She can't tell if it's a her problem or a him problem. T isn't saying anything to indicate the doc's not making sense, so... it's probably her. Her gaze flickers from his mouth, forming the words, to his eyes, which will--hopefully--clarify the meaning of what he's saying.

"You know more Romulan than me," she says at last, when her prolonged silence after his comment seems noticeable. "Or than I remember. About the Major beaming off... You mean...to another ship? But--I don't understand. Why would she take over only to abandon us?"

Being carted off to Romulan space seems preferable to just being left, possibly disabled, to drift uselessly lightyears from anywhere. For days. With the Chalnoth, presumably. And no help. No air.

Maybe he was joking. Like the Uwat refund. Nia genuinely can't tell with the Doc. And she again doesn't know if it's his own demeanor, so dry that humor is difficult to distinguish from straightforward sincerity, or her own failing brain.

She used to have one of the fastest minds on the ship. Even Vargas's evaluations of her work--frank to the point of acerbic about her judgment and irreverence--always included grudging acknowledgments of her intelligence and quick thinking. Now it feels like her synapses are covered in muck.

"Dr. Mäkeläinen, I--" Nia blinks. "Shit, I don't think I even know your first name. Did we ever get fully introduced? Maybe we did and I just forgot." The last word is glum, and she bites her lip before continuing. "That's just it. I don't feel right. I'm slow. I'm making mistakes. I have to ask, how long... Even with the fake stuff and the Lexorin..."

She can't look at Double-T. It's embarrassing and weak and she hate hate hates having to have this discussion in front of him. Any crewmember, but especially someone close. But if the guard won't even let 'em out for some water, Nia highly doubts a private suite's forthcoming. At least Book's not here, thanks to Sid'hos's mercy.

So she sucks it up and forces the question out. "How long before my brain cells start getting damaged? ...Permanently?"

Rawlings says thoughtfully, "The Romulan major made no mention of a course change, just that we'd have access to medical treatment elsewhere. As for offensive capabilities," he frowns a little, "they have all the weapons and we have none. If I get the drop on one of these Tal Shiar agents, I'm sure I could put her down, but I'm also sure we won't like what the others do next, if we can't move quickly to take back the ship."

Kylah, looking among the cryo units, sees two Caitians, one female and one male; at least five of what appear to be Earth-normal Humans; three Rigellians, a Tellarite, an Uwat, three Chalnoth and a Romulan - or is it a Vulcan? She cannot be sure. TS2 follows her, not far away but not too close, disruptor at the ready.

Maj. Aval says, "We will be bringing home the Romulans held here, of course, and will see to the eventual conveyance of the rest to a neutral world. Where that will be is being decided by my superiors even now. As to your other questions... for security and operational reasons, I am not at liberty to say."

Onn sees no ducts or paneling that might offer an escape from the cabin.

All of your headaches are slowly diminishing. Kylah and Graham, however, are becoming increasingly cold.

It is somehow worse for Kylah to recognize the races with whom she has interacted. Her gaze lands on the Romulan and she does, indeed, place a respectful hand on the cryo unit. "I am sorry to see one of your people," she begins, but then offers a wan smile. "Or is this a Vulcan? I suppose I cannot trust my judgment..."

Belatedly her mind takes in the others she sees. Three Chalnoth. Are these the dead of whom Aval spoke, placed here by the Uwat for holding purposes prior to the Romulans' takeover? Or are they the three Velir and Lt. Onn encountered earlier, injured by what she assumed was Velir's doing. It makes sense that the Uwat would take advantage of the opportunity for three more slaves.

Like a key turning the tumblers of a lock, recognition of something abnormal starts to click, and she carefully inches back to one of the units. Did she really identify the sight correctly? When she looks down a second time, she still sees it. "An Uwat?" she whispers to herself, teeth starting to chatter from the frigid surroundings. She frowns in disbelief. "I d-do not understand. They would enslave one of their own? That does not seem likely. It does not--"

It does not make sense, is of course what she was about to say. Of course, perhaps one of the Uwat died during the takeover after all, despite what Major Aval claimed. That could indeed be so. But suddenly the last tumbler falls and the puzzle might be unlocked--a possible answer, at least. Not a pleasant one. Kylah is more starkly aware that she and Lt. Graham are down here, alone, for no real reason.

The Romulans are not seeking help from Starfleet for the Federation victims who must be taken to a neutral planet. So what do they plan to do with the Tesla crew?

She swallows and turns to Aval. "Thank you for alerting us to this, M-major. I am sure Starfleet will appreciate the extraordinary goodwill in returning everyone safely. Our ship knows we are here on the Doregg, too," she says, covering the remark with a significant look toward Lt. Graham. "Our First Officer will not consider it to our credit that we did not help discover this abominable activity ourselves."

Attempting to step closer to him, Kylah wraps her arms more tightly around her chest. "S-sir, am I right that we have seen all we need to? If we can be of any assistance, Major, we will be glad to do whatever you ask, but if not--might we please be allowed to return up to our cabin? I think the others should be notified that everything is being taken care of respectfully and professionally. And to be honest, it is very uncomfortable down here."

She sends a pleading look to her senior officer, wondering if her fears are the result of the stress of the past few days--or if, as cold as they are now, the two of them are one wrong word away from the danger of being made infinitely colder.

The Doctor's eyes do not leave Nia's, but they grow unfathomably distant for a moment as he ensures his memories are accurate.

"The Major promised us access to a medical facility," he says, "moreover, at least as soon as we would have had going to Cavinre as planned. Let as assume she was telling the truth. The nature and quality of this facility remain unspecified. So does its location--- not on this ship, clearly, but whether she means to transfer us to another ship, a planet, a starbase, a deep-space station--- of that she said nothing. I had my hands full at the time, but I was a coof not to ask her. All we know for sure is that we are definitely not landing in Cavinre.

"So, in a day or two, we alight. Somewhere. Strictly speaking, she will have treated us correctly, and we are no longer her problem. Unless the Tal Shiar, as well as our own importance, deserve more credit than we figure, we are here by chance, therefore at best an impediment to her mission. Why would she not abandon us?"

Nia's fateful question--- she needs not to focus on that to the exclusion of all else. But Bizhi cannot prevaricate in response to such a query. He would want to know, too. He lays it out: "If nothing changes, if we are home within a week, you shall be fine. Eventually. Beyond that, all bets are off. However, I won't let it come to that. As a last resort, cryosleep, stasis, metabolic inhibitors--- whatever they have at this facility, you won't be walking and talking, but it beats lying in pain, wondering if you have the strength to take another breath." He catches himself.

After too long a tense moment the emotion sublimes, and his usual cool demeanor returns. "You may call me Bizhi if you wish. That's my name, and we don't stand on ceremony where I come from." He feels like they have together been through a lot already, yet he has never met either of these two on a social occasion.

Graham, in turn, nods at Kylah's words. He reciprocates and moves a step close to her.

"Indeed - I think we do not have conflicting interests, here, major," he says, addressing the Romulan. "Or reasons for doing anything rash. That's something I would like to communicate to our colleagues in person, as soon as possible."

"I understand," Maj. Aval says. "And I can see that the cold is bothering you. I don't like it much myself, frankly. Let's go back up now." She gestures with her hand, back towards the curious ladder.

Relief weakens Kylah's knees, but fortunately her muscles are already quite taut from guarding against the cold, so she does not even stumble. Her exhaled breath clouds around her as she moves gratefully to the ladder. She will wait for Lt. Graham's choice as to whether he wishes to lead during the ascent.

Meanwhile, she cups her hands to her mouth and blows some warmth into them; they too are stiff from the atmosphere, and grasping the ladder's handholds could be a little awkward without loosening them up. If she had known they were heading to such a frozen chamber, she would have asked for the mittens she handed to Lt. Onn back at the nightclub.

"I hope she and Velir are awake again," she murmurs suddenly to Lt. Graham, voicing her wish before realizing the remark is something of a non sequiter. She doubts she needs to explain. The subjects of her concern--one more than the other--are doubtless not far from his own thoughts.

The doctor's words manage, by some feat of magic, to be both terrifying and reassuring. Nia watches him as closely as he does her, and nods slightly with each new piece of information and opinion.

When he's done, she looks down and rubs her legs, feeling the tiny bumps of scales beneath the green fabric of her suit. "Even the best facility in the Alpha Quadrant's not likely to have Bilitrium. It's pretty much the ship or nothing for me. So you might get to stuff me in a freezer for long-term storage. Just think, I was so thrilled to get outta that lake, when turning into a big ice cube in the Tesla might've bought me some time." She scoffs lightly. "That'll teach me to ignore the rule that a Captain should go down with her ship."

With a shake of her head, she lifts her gaze. "I'm very grateful for all you've done--all the effort and research and, well... just the whole thing. Bizhi," she adds, trying out the name. "Thanks. I'm not much for standing on ceremony either. Although I kinda feel we fast-tracked at least one part of the getting-to-know-you process. Even I don't usually share so much about various body parts after only, what, forty-eight hours of knowing a guy."

Her eyes shift archly to Rawlings. "Not a peep, mister. Except if I don't make it back, try and squash the general rumors that say otherwise. I ain't gonna be remembered as a celibate, but I'd like to pretend I had some discretion."

Nia returns to Bizhi with a wan, apologetic smile. "Sorry if this is inappropriate. It's my... my form of shields, I suppose. If we assume the worst, I'd rather spend my time making crappy jokes than whining about everything I did wrong. Or regretting what I didn't do."

"Now, there is no call for that kind of talk!" says Bizhi. "I mean, about going down with the ship and final farewells. You won't faze me with your so-called inappropriate jokes; you two don't want to know what the medical personnel get up to." Some, sooner or later, do not succeed in dealing with the stress, no matter what they do.

He looks back over at Rangin. His vitals were stable, what he was able to do with the available supplies helped, but, notwithstanding what may happen in a week's time, it is not Lt. Onn whom the Doctor is more worried about.

"I propose we wait a wee bit longer for the others to come back before making any fateful decisions. See what more we can glean from the Major. We also have to arrange access to the Common Room--- water, food, hot drinks, toilet facilities."

"The bathroom's close, if I remember Kylah right." And if the girl was telling the truth. Nia follows the doctor's gaze to Rangin. "What did they do to him?" she murmurs, not even sure which they she's talking about. "The thing that zapped us all unconscious... that was the Uwat doing that? Their... security protocol?" She squints, memory still a little fuzzy regarding the moments after first seeing the Chalnoth breaking into the cabin. "Or had the Romulans taken over by then?"

Nia's frown deepens. "But Rangin's been more or less out-of-it since our hallway incident. When the Chalnoth went down. So what was that? Could the Uwat have been practicing their security measures back then? And it just didn't affect me because..." Her hands lift up as if trying to weigh the air. "Reasons?"

She sighs, then grimaces. "My tongue still tastes like a dung pile. Sorry for that," she adds with a belated realization that she should be covering her mouth to protect them from her breath. With an apologetic glance at Rawlings, she shrugs sheepishly. "Did the rest of you wake up like this?"

After Onn's "forty-eight hours of knowing a guy" remark, Rawlings maintains an admirable poker face, as if to imply, What could I possibly have to say about a comment like that?

To her question about how everyone felt when you woke up, he says, "A nasty mouth and a splitting headache for me. My mouth is still about the same, blech, but my headache seems to be passing, at least."

Kylah and Graham ascend the ladder and are guided by Maj. Aval and TS2 back towards their cabin.

"We have not been able to talk to any Uwat," Bizhi says, "but the Major said it was the Uwat who initiated the stun field. We unwittingly created the perfect distraction, and the Romulans would have taken advantage of it.

"Nevertheless, convenient as it turned out for them, she denied their involvement in the hallway incident itself, and I find myself believing her. They were perfectly capable of sweeping through Uwat security at any time they chose, distraction or no distraction. In any case, it was clearly not the same Uwat security protocol. It was no crude stun dropped four people while you, standing right next to them, did not feel a thing. Lt. Rangin has not been himself ever since we boarded, probably longer. Whatever he is sensitive to, the question is not why it did not affect you, it's why it did affect the Chalnoth."

Smiling crookedly but briefly at Rawlings, Nia focuses on the information Bizhi is passing along. "Hmm. It could be as simple as the Chalnoth have more in common with Coridanites and humans. You're all warm-blooded, and the Uwat probably aren't. Neither am I. Maybe that first zap was intended to keep us cold-bloods out of harm's way? I dunno. I guess it doesn't matter since they got me in the end anyway."

She rests her elbows on her knee and scrapes her fingers through her hair. She desperately wants a swim, cold as she is. She just feels grungy. Looking at the door, not really seeing it, she ponders. "The three of 'em were playing a game... at least I think it was a game. Seemed low-tech, but pretty red stones... the leader guy was standing while the others were kneeling. Wouldn't deal me in or teach me the rules. Big shock," she mutters dryly. "They were so generous and welcoming otherwise."

"Anyway, they sure as hell didn't like us barging in on them. They're cagey as fu--as hell--so it's just as likely it was only a toy as it was war plans for the next Romulan-Chalnoth-Klingon battle. Probably just spite on their part. There was no pleasing them at breakfast."

Pushing her hair behind her ears again, she takes another glance at the door. "I really wanna see Booker and Kylah back here. I don't like this."

Kylah stays silent as long as she can, but her heartbeat is pounding in her ears and she is not entirely sure she would hear conversation if Lt. Graham were indeed speaking to the Romulans. With a preparatory breath, she waits until they reach the Common Room (unless they pause somewhere earlier).

"Major, there was a large stain on the deck." Her eyes scan for it now--and if it is indeed still there, she will point it out. "May I ask whence it came? I could not tell if it was some mechanical fluid or...something from an injury."

If she gets up the nerve and is not interrupting Lt. Graham, she will also ask,

- "There were so many freezer units, but I could not tell if they were all full. How many are trapped in there?"

- "Do you know who is buying them?" The words seem bilious in her mouth. "Who were the intended customers?"

- "Have you been trailing them for long? That is to say... is this a new situation, or has it been going on for a long time? If there have been many captives sold into slavery for years..."

She shuts her eyes against the thought. There may be no way to help them--or even find them. Who knows how many have gone missing, perhaps presumed dead, only to have been forced into labor--or worse--long forgotten by any authorities searching for them?

Her trip on Anubis might have ended this way, if it had not been obvious that all those attackers wished was money. And even if slavery had been their aim--though Kylah would surely not be anyone's first choice for a laborer and would not fetch much--with Starfleet and the Elasian Regency Council having particular interest in retrieving her, the search effort might have lasted longer.

But the unfortunates in the cryo units below? Any others who preceded them by months--even years? Their fates would be unknown all this time.

It is not for Kylah to offer assistance in this...rescue mission, or whatever Major Aval might call it. The team do not have the luxury of taking part in another unexpected voyage, with Velir and Lt. Onn sick and time particularly running out on the latter. And, of course, they are not mercenaries, free to do as they please.

Since the facades are long gone, Kylah asks the most obvious question of all:

- "After we speak with the others, madam, I do hope you will permit us to contact our ship. They will be pleased to find us safe. And--and if we are not to show up where they expect us to be, this will prepare them and not cause undue alarm."

"Sir," she adds with a sidelong glance at Lt. Graham by her side. "I am not overstepping myself in such a request, am I? Would that not be the prudent move?"

Graham shakes his head. "Not at all, ensign." He pauses. "Right now the Romulan Empire and the Federation are not in open conflict, and I suspect we all agree that we don't want to be a reason that might change - especially because we have no interest in preventing you from recovering your people from slavers, Major--and if the prisoners below are safe, we are purely interested in getting where we're headed on time and without incident."

Aval nods in acknowledgement of Graham's comment. To Kylah's questions, she says:

"The stain on the deck was from a Chalnoth casualty."

"We confirmed that almost every cryo unit was occupied."

"The Uwat keep many slaves for themselves, but they also sell some... surplus. It is a classified matter, but you can probably guess the buyers as accurately as I could inform you."

"I cannot tell you how long we have been preparing for this mission, or how long the Star Empire has known that the Uwat are slavers. That is also classified. Suffice to say, we didn't just coincidentally find ourselves in one of the Doregg's ports of call."

"You will speak to your Starfleet superiors, and be returned to Federation space, all in due time."

Presently you find yourselves back in front of the door to your quarters. TS3 unlocks and opens the door, and gestures with her disruptor for you to rejoin Onn and the others. The three Romulans remain wary, and just distant enough to guard against any attack.

Dr. Mäkeläinen would like to have a word with the Major, and, he assumes, so might some of the others, probably Nia. He looks Graham and Kylah over to verify that they are none the worse for wear. Soon they will all have a chance to speak privately--- monitored to an unknown extent by the Romulans, he still has to assume. He pauses for them to say something if they like, however he will not let the Major slip away and lock them back in before negotiating with her the conditions of their stay on the Doregg, in the short term, and something beyond vague promises about their fate afterwards.

Once the cabin door is open, Kylah immediately stares inside, looking to ensure the others are all right. Lt. Onn has awoken, she sees--a relief--but that changes to a pang of concern when she spies Velir, still unconscious. The Doctor and Ens. Rawlings seem to be as they were.

Her focus pivots back to her commanding officer. The Major's answers only elicited more concerns--especially whether Kylah will receive any communications sent to her--yet perhaps it is not wise to continue to engage. Lt. Graham will likely indicate his strategy.

But the matter of Aldaan's reply burns so intensely it even kindles the idea of trying to reach his mind. What possible explanation could she give? She cannot pretend, as she does with Velir, that it is all his doing. As frightening as this situation is, Kylah cannot undo twenty years of commands and warnings against revealing her abilities to anyone.

Besides, the respect and even affection she feels for Lt. Graham may not be enough to serve as a mutual link. She has never understood why her ability to communicate telepathically requires a deep emotional bond; it rarely seems to work that way in races for whom telepathy is normal. Among her people, Kylah's ability is quite the opposite of normal.

A tiny moan of frustration escapes her. Soon Major Aval will push them inside the cabin. "We appreciate what candor you can offer, Major," she says hurriedly before pleading into Lt. Graham's gaze. "Sir, is there anything you wish to ask?"

"'In due time' would be more comforting if I knew we had our, ah, medical situation fully in hand...if our doctor were to provide you with a list of supplies, would you consider having your team at least make inquiries if the chance arises?" He nods slightly. "The cost of which would be fully reimbursed by the Federation of course."

TS2 ushers Graham and Kylah back into the cabin.

Aval says to Graham, "I will certainly...."

At that moment the shipwide comm system crackles back to life. You recognize the highly amplified voice of Capt. Singh, sweeping from the Doregg's stem to stern: "ATTENTION, ROMULAN AND UWAT VESSELS. THIS IS THE FEDERATION STARSHIP YORKTOWN. HEAVE TO AND STAND BY. BE ADVISED THAT ANY HOSTILE ACTION TAKEN AGAINST ANY FEDERATION CITIZENS OR STARFLEET PERSONNEL ABOARD EITHER VESSEL WILL BE REGARDED AS AN ACT OF WAR, REQUIRING AN IMMEDIATE AND FULL RETALIATORY RESPONSE. PLEASE RESPOND AT ONCE."

To the end of his days, Rawlings would always say that his favorite memory of Starfleet service was seeing the expression on Maj. Aval's face at that very moment.

Then the Tal Shiar officer says something harsh to her subordinates, and the door to the cabin snaps shut again.

Somewhere, an alarm begins to sound.

The Yorktown itself. Mäkeläinen is less dismayed this time the door slams shut in his face. He scrutinizes Graham and Kylah for any sign that they are responsible for this development.

"I assume we are safer waiting in here, just a little longer, in the event the ship is being boarded," he says. He asks Kylah, "Can you check for an open comms channel to the Yorktown? It will surely be non-secure, but we can authenticate ourselves, let them know where we are, maybe get them to prioritize getting Rangin and Onn evacuated. What did you do out there?"

The near-simultaneous sight of their absent colleagues and the sudden sound of Captain Singh's voice nearly send Nia's heart thumping through her ribcage, and the surge of adrenaline is overwhelming. She chokes on her sharp inhale but gapes in a cocktail of shock, relief and admiration. "They're here?" she blurts, speaking alongside Bizhi's far more reasoned remark. Her focus is squarely on Booker. "What--how did you--"

But the meaning of Singh's words catches up with her, and her eyes first widen, then narrow. "'Vessels'." The word is edged with a buzz of...alarm, fear, anger, too much to name. "We're not alone."

Kylah's astonishment is amplified by the others' around her, but it does not outweigh the delight in Captain Singh's authoritative, familiar commands. Mixed delight, with the confirmation of her suspicion that the Romulans had a ship nearby, but she does not doubt in the Yorktown's ability to handle them.

She heads to the comm panel even Dr. Mäkeläinen speaks, and replies just as rapidly. "I thought the panels useless for outgoing messages; they did not seem to have the capacity. But an* Uwat I spoke with earlier did seem puzzled to learn that mine was not working. If he was not disingenuous, ours must have been broken or disabled--purposely or not. Since Lt. Thalen seems to have overridden the Doregg's system, I would not be surprised if he has managed to lift restrictions as well."

As her nimble fingers work at the panel, seeking a combination that she could not find successfully in her cabin, she speaks with blunt contempt. "They are slavers--the Uwat. The Major took us to witness the captives for ourselves. Nearly a hundred. In storage. Frozen." Swallowing at the quiet, eerie horror, she shakes her head. "The Romulans are here to rescue their own people, but have performed a service to all."

Meanwhile we blithely paid these vermin thousands of credits to travel aboard a slave transport. I practically tossed them money! The bitter truth shames her, but is not uttered--it serves nothing right now.

If she manages to find the outgoing signal control that eluded her last night, she will lean toward the speaker: "Attention Yorktown, this is Ensign Kylah. Do you read me? Kylah, hailing the Yorktown?"


* FYI I spent this whole year thinking this race name was pronounced 'you-watt'! That recent 'an' took me aback. Just me?

Nia tears her gaze from Book to watch Kylah walk with such purpose to the comm panel. It's not like the girl, no more than cringing on a bunk is like Nia. They seem to have switched places.

Disheartened, she leans over as far as she can to stare out the viewport. She wants to see the Yorktown, and any Romulan ship, if it's uncloaked. She raises a hand to the cold pane separating her from the stars. I shouldn't be here. I should be on the ship, at the helm. Facing the Romulans, not hiding inside here. What good am I?

Then she hears slaves and her head whips round back to Kylah. It's a terrifying word. She never thought of herself as a slave, back home, but throughout her earliest years at Utopia Planitia and the Academy, that's what people thought of Sidonian women. It's why her people aren't allowed into the Federation. Nia couldn't reconcile her culture with the image outsiders have of it. She despised how she and others were--are--treated, but... eventually she just accepted how damn lucky she was to be in Starfleet, and yes, really free. Or as free as her dependence on Starfleet's willingness to provide her with Bilitrium would allow. No one's paying her parents to put her at their mercy, or their sons' mercy, ever again.

A sudden image of those children laughing at her. That Uwat woman--the cargo officer, isn't that what Jol said?--tapping her shoulder. Was she being... chosen?

You're being paranoid. Stop it. Stop. It.

Sinking back onto what already feels like "her" space on the bed, she bends over and presses the heels of her hands in her eyes. It's the hypobilitria. Reduced breathable air playing tricks on her mind. The Uwat wouldn't have bothered with her. Her illness might've actually done her a favor by lowering her value. Her shoulders shake with her silent chuckle.

What kind of morbid thoughts are these? Her mind's really not all here. Her ship's nearby but they're still captive in a cabin that's part of a slave ship. The choking feeling's not just physical. Anger is filling her chest and constricting her lungs. She shifts to the doctor briefly. "Can I have more of that stuff? If we're almost home... no need to save it anymore, is there?"

Holding herself, returning her desperate eyes to Booker. "Why aren't they beaming us off of here?" she whispers to him, maybe too quietly to even be heard. "What strategy will Vargas take?"

Graham grunts. "I'm guessing Yorktown has her shields up--if there's a Romulan vessel nearby, they can't risk the ship to beam us off."

He nods. "You're safe here Doc, but--Rawlings, help me see if we can get this goddamn door open. And--Ensign Kylah best efforts to contact the ship. Keep it up."

Graham pauses and faces the group. "Look, listen up - if we can we are going to do everything we can to get the fuck off this ship and put Yorktown in the most advantageous situation it can be in. But Major Aval and her team--they were NOT seeking a confrontation or an act of war. Yorktown doesn't know that, but we do. I'm not asking anybody to sign up for the Be Nice to Romulans Association, but nobody gets hurt and everybody goes home is what we should be aiming for here."

Kylah finds that there is now a constant, low thrumming tone on all channels of the Uwat shipboard comm system. It wasn't there before; she doesn't recognize it and can't, for the moment at least, explain it.

Onn sees a glint of something outside, off in the distance, too large to be a star, but can't quite make it out.

Rawlings grins and says, "Aye, sir," to Graham, and steps over to the door to help him. "With hands and fingers, or something else?"

Dr. Mäkeläinen can see that Nia is struggling. Yet she is holding up admirably under the circumstances, he thinks. She will not be the only one to benefit from a bit of fresh air, literal and metaphorical. Somehow--- how did their ship locate them?--- they have avoided the fate of languishing in their cabin for an indefinite period, in her case slowly suffocating.

"There is certainly no point in rationing it," he says about her antidote. "Take the next dose, and, in case we need to move quickly, I have that hypo of Lexorin ready." His attention turns back to Lt. Rangin for a moment; that one does not seem likely to be ambulatory soon.

"Might this ship be shielded in some way?" he asks. "I presume they would not want--- slaves--- showing up on a casual scan. The Yorktown may not have have a lock on our location."

Unlike earlier, there is no guard to immediately contend with. The Doctor is interested in how Graham and Rawlings plan to get the door open. Simple strength will not get a door open if it is bolted, and as far as he knows they do not have any tools, mechanical or electronic. He stays with Nia and does not interfere, but after a little while he offers, "I am pretty sure I can open those maintenance panels."

Despite the circumstances, Graham can't help but laugh when the doctor offers his assistance.

"Well I was halfway inclined that Rawlings and I could use our think heads as battering rams, but if you can get those panels open--so much the better!"

Squinting as if trying to see the odd noise emanating from the speaker, Kylah straightens and puts her hands on her hips. The Yorktown was able to blare its way through only moments ago--through the ship's shields, and presumably through whatever the Doregg possesses to protect itself. What has changed?

Could the Romulan ship have extended its shields around the Doregg? Regardless, there is little she can do if there is now some external barrier blocking them. A comm panel in a passenger cabin would not have the capability to override the main communications system.

She hears the Doctor's sudden offer and turns to him in amusement at his understated suggestion. But she sobers up and addresses the men. "Would it be safe to leave? There may be no guard, but if you break out of the cabin, is that not adding more of a risk of being perceived as aggressive?"

Graham grunts at Kylah's question. It's a good one. "Yeah. Yes." He exhales and shakes his head. "But we have an obligation to Yorktown. The last thing I want to do is pick a fight with Major Aval if we can avoid it. But if us sitting in here means this ship or the Romulan ship gets a preventable shot at Yorktown, and god forbid..." He exhales again. "We need to help negotiate from a position of strength, if we can, onboard and in space. And, unfortunately, sitting here ain't that."

Nia half-listens while searching for and finding the medical kit that's home to the little miracle-if-temporary cure that might get her mind back in the game, if not her body. She follows the instructions Bizhi gave her yesterday. Or was it today? Time's begun to have no meaning anymore.

Then she sighs and leans back, the back-and-forth among the others feeling very distant. She can see both points. But this team's been so helpless, had so few options for so long, that she leans more toward the side that involves taking advantage of a choice. Crazy as it is.

A memory of one of her favorite Academy instructors flits forward. An irascible bastard, but lovable, he was one of the most pragmatic, no-bullshit, this-is-what-you-do-when-the-shit-goes-down trainers she ever had. And he taught her the syllogism of every desperate engineer:

1. We must do something.
2. This is something.
3. We must do this.

Logic like this can be a big fat, fatal mistake, or it can pull off a bolt from the blue. That's up to skill and luck. But it's a risk both pilots and engineers--the best ones--learn to take.

Not that it matters what she thinks, but she murmurs: "Here's my assessment, take it for what it's worth. Singh and Vargas can only judge what they see. They arrive here, who knows how but they do.

"They see what was supposed to be a passenger transport vessel now captained by Romulans, with a Romulan ship--at least one--" Nia glances back at the viewport, wishing she could just see what was going on. "--Surrounding the Doregg. With us presumably on board. To them it's a hostile act. Maybe even piracy."

The words take more effort than she's expecting, and she breathes in, the medication turning the air less toxic to her. "So what do they do. They hail the Doregg and the Romulan vessels. Who, being Romulan assholes, probably aren't answering, or are lying.

"No reason they shouldn't tell the truth and make life easier; but they lie like the rest of us breathe. Well. The rest of you breathe." She chuckles, coughs, and continues.

"So here we are. Singh makes threats. Understandable. Totally the wrong move, but she's operating from a misinterpretation. Unless Kylah gets more luck and can talk to the Yorktown, this miscommunication's gonna get worse. If you guys can sneak around and either figure out what's blocking comms or get some sense into the Major, it beats sitting around here hoping Vargas and the Roms don't fuck this up even though, ironically, they're both doing their best."

She leans back against the wall, closing her eyes and inhaling again, trying to take a breath without it turning into a cough. It strikes her that normally she'd've been big use in disabling anything around the ship short of blasting it with a phaser, but she doubts Book'll invite her along. Probably he'll pick Kylah again, which... no. Admittedly the girl can't do much fiddling with the comms from here either, but just, no. Unless they had some weapon around...

Then she opens her eyes again to send her gaze straight at Booker.

"I'm not C.O. anymore, and I don't get a say. But Lt. Graham, respectfully: yank the Doctor from babysitting duty. Rangin's out, I'm not two seconds from death--far as I know. Neither you or Rawlings've got any weapons other than wiles and strength. Which are great and all, but Bizhi's the only one boasting an appendage that doubles as a big powerful tool."

She sends a tilting smile to Booker and Double-T. "No offense, boys." Weary as she is, the wicked, challenging look she aims straight at Book is one she'd've sent him in bed just a month ago: Wanna prove me wrong?

It's so automatic it takes her a second to realize she's doing it. She darts her gaze down to the medikit in her lap. He likely didn't see, so no harm no foul.

But it felt good to forget she'll never look up at him in bed again.

"Oh, I have no doubts you two could bash through it," Bizhi says. "Still, it's metal. What I mean is, I have a few tools. Spare your skulls for another day." Bizhi moves to take a look for likely points of vulnerability: the lock panel and where it meets the bulkhead, any visible access panels on the door itself or nearby; some promising-looking screws or slots or seams, a way to reveal the locking mechanism (bolts? magnets?) and what controls it. Rolling up his sleeve, he treats the others to an unco sight: a few prods in the right places and he is able to roll back a flap of what looks to be normal skin to reveal gleaming metal underneath and open the compartment where resides the electric light they saw deployed back on the Tesla. It was not the only thing in there. Cleverly packed into the artificial part of his forearm are various extendible tools designed primarily for surgery, but which, with a little creativity, can be brought into play here: a flat-edged manipulator that can serve as a screwdriver, clamps that can grab, a cutting tool, probes. The first step will be to get the patient open, then--- perhaps Nia will be able to tell him exactly how to proceed?

"I want our options open," he explains to Kylah. "Access to the Common Room, a path to bolt if we have to. However," addressing Graham, "what are you suggesting?"

Rawlings looks with great interest at Dr. Mäkeläinen's artificial arm but says nothing about it. The good doctor finds three possible door-control access panels along the adjoining bulkhead, each roughly rectangular. One is about 20cm long, and the other two are about half as large.

Without warning, the whole ship shudders and you hear a muted thump. It happens again, and then twice more. Graham, Onn and Rawlings recognize it as having the feel and sound of phasers being used against the Uwat ship's shields - but not at full power, Graham thinks, if it's coming from the Yorktown.

Bizhi keeps his balance. He can deal with this level of juddering, but what if the ship loses gravity or inertial dampeners? What if life support is compromised? All the more reason to have a way out of this cabin. He tries to remember the briefing they got on emergency procedures, in particular, where there might be emergency gear that would fit a human.

He looks back at Nia. "All right, I think she will respond to my tool," he deadpans utterly, "but where do I stick it? We have a big panel and two little ones."

Graham's strong suite isn't subtlety, but he picks up on Nia's double entendre, and...it's funny, and risque, and brilliant, like she is. And it's...a path foreclosed. They'd never "gone all the way" for various reasons during their romantic relationship, but he'd already been thinking of asking her to come to Terra to meet Lizzy. And then - duty called.

Not that he didn't love Marala. How could he not? But...

The doctor's demonstration and the ship's shudder gives him an out from dwelling on it. And from holding Nia's gaze.

"Well I'll be damned," he says, adding a whistle.

"So--yeah, look, Nia, Doc - I want our non-combatants the opportunity to lay low. And if necessary, Rawlings and I will...try to do what's needed, if it comes to that."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Can you set that, uh, arm, to wide-area stun by any chance, Doc?"

Knocked into the wall, Kylah remains upright purely thanks to the wall's support. She has no idea what just happened, yet despite her own terror, she gets no sense from the others that anything alarming happened. Normally she would ask Velir for help understanding, which is sadly not an option now. The question nearly leaves her lips when she realizes the others are busy and, if it does not seem urgent to them, she does not wish to distract them just to satisfy her curiosity. So she can only turn back to the comms panel, rubbing her sore shoulder where it hit the wall. Biting her lip in futility, she tries to see if the interference, or whatever that thrumming noise is, has gotten worse.

Nia's equilibrium isn't at 100 or even 60%, but she's on a bunk, so the sudden juddering doesn't cause any harm. It does confuse her, enough to stare at the viewport again even though she's seen nothing there but that light. "What the everloving fuck--who's hitting us? Can't be us," she mutters, referring this time to the Yorktown. "Unless they're trying to break down the shields, but... that's a pretty dangerous way to go. Maybe the Romulans? Like holding a knife to our throat in order to get the Yorktown to back off?"

All of this is nearly subvocal, but she hears Bizhi's question and Book's decision--which she still disagrees with, but knows her mind's also at 60%, if she's being optimistic, so her judgment and strategizing are probably not worth much right now.

But she knows how to answer Bizhi, because it couldn't be easier. "Try any of them. I've no clue how the Uwat use technology, so your guess is as good as mine. Big first, sure, why not. As long as you don't fry anything, merely opening 'em shouldn't hurt--and accessing any panel's to our benefit. Maybe you can find something that'll help with the comms issue?" Nia tosses a look in Kylah's direction, unable to see what she's doing, then returns to the three conscious men. "Getting some message to the ship... that's gotta be a big priority here, right? If they don't understand the situation..."

Ooh. A steady wave of what feels like adrenaline washes over her. Confused, she takes a second to figure out what's going on and then, with her next breath, recognizes it. It's not adrenaline, it's a just... clarity. The air traveling to her lungs feels less like soup and more like, well, air. She closes her eyes and leans back, inhaling. The meds must've started working. Oh mother of us all, thank you.

She opens her eyes to watch how Bizhi uses that arm of his. She'd give a lot to get a close-up view, but even with her clarity she's just gonna get in the way. Some day, if they survive, she'll get to study that thing.

Kylah finds that the interference on the comm panel is the same as before.

Dr. Mäkeläinen picks one of the three access panels beside the door - which one? - and sets to work.

Twice more the Doregg is hit.

"Nothing like that, Lieutenant," Mäkeläinen replies to Graham. "No weapons." He has limited space, and his cybernetic modules are currently configured for delicate surgery. He supposes the scalpel or laser could cut someone, but, if that were the goal, a shiv or knife from the galley would do more damage and be more handy. "I must point out that I am also a non-combatant, even though we know the Chalnoth don't see it that way. Did you see any of them during your brief tour, by the way, or any other passengers? There might be a number of innocent people caught up in this mess, running around in a panic or needing help."

The Doctor is hardly familiar with Uwat technology either, but it seems utilitarian, so there should be a simple way to get these panels open, he hopes, and not some bespoke arrangement with hidden sensors. Bracing himself and relying on the servos in his cybernetic limb to keep the tool steady, he starts from whichever panel is closest to the where the door opens [or the middle one, if they are arranged vertically], unscrews any visible screws, tries to probe for a release catch or slot or seam...

This time Kylah manages to get to the free bunk before she topples to this new round of jostling. There is no sense in standing, so she remains there, fingers curled around the thin mattress to brace herself for whatever happens next.

The doctor's question about other passengers makes her bristle--not with annoyance, but from the thought of the eerie, insidious silence and empty desolation; cold fingers seem to snake up her spine.

"I saw no one but the Romulans. No sign that anyone even existed on the ship but us. Except for a...stain. We were told it was from a Chalnoth casualty." Her lips tighten for a few seconds, then she looks up at Lt. Graham. "Sir--I did not have the chance to mention this: In the cryo unit area, when I looked at some of the captives, I did see at least one Romulan, confirming the Major's story, and Caitians and a variety of others as expected. But in addition... there was also an Uwat."

Kylah shakes her head. "That I did not expect. Would they capture and freeze one of their own to sell? Do you not find it strange?" She glances at the others to gauge their reaction. "It bothered me. It felt...wrong. All of this is wrong of course, but I mean it did not feel--congruent."

It's anathema for Nia to sit around like this when she's feeling a little better, especially having to watch two people doing the jobs she's supposed to be here for. But damned if she can think of any alternative. Bizhi doesn't need help using that wonder-arm of his, and Booker doesn't need the ex-C.O. second-guessing him--not that she'd do that, anyway.

She holds on while the Doregg gets thumped again. She's changed her guess, and suspects it's the Yorktown trying to crash through their shields without doing damage. Risky or not, once the shields are down, they can get the erstwhile Tesla gang transported over. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, as Ajay says, although she's never been able to figure out what lemons have to do with anything.

Kylah's info about the frozen Uwat down below is curious, but not inexplicable. "Maybe Uwat's got some caste system and that poor bastard fit the bill as 'slave' rather than exalted crewman on board a janky slave ship. Or maybe he's dead and they needed some storage. They froze dead guys on Ollos too. Although why they wouldn't just shoot him out with the jetsam..."

With a sigh, Nia glances at Rangin. His...coma? Concussion? Mental break?...has lasted frighteningly long. She's kinda surprised Kylah's not freaking out about it, but the girl's seen a hold full of frozen captives. Maybe she's prioritizing the frightening things going on. Probably natural enough; what else can she do for him? None of them can.

Still, sympathy for a fellow invalid leads Nia to place a gentle hand on Rangin's arm. He's obviously out cold so she doubts her touch even registers. But it just seems right to somehow, on some level, let him know that wherever he is, he's not actually alone.

Dr. Mäkeläinen is able to figure out the relatively-simple door lock mechanism once he removes the largest panel and takes a close look. With his cybernetic limb he touches here, and then there, and the door slides open.

The corridor and common room beyond are oddly quiet.

Dr. Mäkeläinen suggests, "Who said the Uwat, at least the ones operating this ship, have some code of courtesy that would exempt members of their own species from falling victim to their predatory schemes? I've heard of worse, anyroad, just from studying human history. Maybe the blokes in the hold owe them money."

He adds, "We can't simply leave them to their fate. Nor the rest of the passengers. There has to be a way to work with the Romulans on this. Who the hell is firing?"

This was no secure door, as the Chalnoth proved earlier; even so, Mäkeläinen is pleased at being able to disengage the lock reasonably quickly. Synthetic or organic, a mechanism can be understood via its components. Having a few cybernetic parts himself, he is aware there is no sharp line separating man and machine.

He steps back from the now-open door. Are the lights on outside? Even if they are, the machines in the Common Room that dispense food and water may not be connected to emergency power. He looks at Lt. Graham.

Well done, sir," Kylah says as she watches the door open, her tense stomach muscles relaxing only slightly. "The Major said they would bring the others to a safe territory, but... you are right, they might not do the same for the Uwat whom they blame for taking their people. That is--that is what I fear about the one I saw in the cyro unit. That the Romulans themselves put them there."

She waits for Lt. Graham to give them his orders, but her concern for getting in touch with the ship overrides that caution. "Doctor, could you please try the other panels?" Kylah glances quickly at Lt. Graham, and even more briefly at Lt. Onn, before returning to the doctor. "I doubt it will help me transmit through the interference--or whatever that noise is--but these passenger comm panels may not allow us to transmit in the first place. I could not, yesterday. There might be some circuitry behind one of those smaller panels I could examine."

Graham leans out and takes a quick scan of the environs.

"That was impressive, Doc," he says. Then he frowns. "I can't say I have a lot of sympathy for an Uwat the Romulans may be holding accountable for slaving. My priority is to get us one, someplace that the Romulans, ah, don't know where we are. And two find some ways to do something useful to help Yorktown. Or god willing de-escalate."

He gestures to the doctor and Kylah. "Ensign, Doctor, if you think there's a chance we could unlock comms here, take your best shot, but make it quick. Rawlings, get ready to grab Rangin. I want us to relocate ASAP."

He pauses and turns toward Nia. "I uh - I can lend you a hand. If you need it, that is."

Bizhi regards Kylah. "I can pop these panels open, sure. They are simple coverings." He proceeds to do so while adding, "But even if this is connected to the comms system, I don't have anything to reprogram it, or talk directly to computers." He stands aside to let her take a look if she wishes.

"Rawlings and I saw a lot of closed doors during our brief excursion on this deck," he tells Graham, "but I do not ken who or what is in them. Your guess is as good as mine."

The lights are on in both the corridor and the common room, as before.

Dr. Mäkeläinen is just opening one of the two smaller panels when you all hear the familiar tingling sound of the transporter effect coming from the common room.

"Rawlings up front with we," Graham says. As best he can, he gets as able to peek at the common room with some cover as possible. He gestures for Rawlings to stand just behind him.

When Kylah hears the familiar sound, she immediately assumes it is the Yorktown's transporter, as she does not know what a Romulan transporter sounds like. Her heart gives a sudden flutter of relief and she relaxes against the wall, hugging herself. On the off chance she is somehow mistaken, she does not express her joy, but she closes her eyes and sighs heavily. It is over.

Graham and Rawlings, both on guard, take their positions.

It takes only a few seconds for you to recognize the sound of a Starfleet transporter. Graham can now see, materialized in the common room, Lt. JG Mary Three Crows and Ensigns Josiah F. Russell, Jeanne St. Croix and Yuanhong Li. Each appears wary and has a phaser-2 in hand. Accompanying the four Security officers are Lt. Vielar, the Yorktown's Assistant Chief Engineer, a tall female Skorr, and Dr. Miriam Villa, Chief Medical Officer, a petite, middle-aged American woman with black, spiky hair going to gray.

Dr. Mäkeläinen hears what certainly sounds to him like a Starfleet transporter. He observes Kylah obviously jumping to conclusions, but he refrains from calling out until the security officers decide it is clear.

"Graham and Rawlings here," Graham says without moving yet. "Our crew is intact although we have two members who need to get to Sickbay urgently. There IS a Romulan Tal Shi'ar team on this ship, but they have not - I emphasize NOT - harmed us or sought a Starfleet confrontation so far. They're here because the Uwats are slavers and took Romulans."

He pauses and adds "We're coming out. And in any event I'd love it if somebody could give me a sitrep and a phaser..."

Bizhi exchanges a look with Nia and Kylah, then gingerly steps out into the corridor to see what is going on. He does not know everyone, but he certainly recognizes his boss, Dr. Villa. She is the one he needs to brief.

Kylah cannot see past Lt. Graham--much less Ens. Rawlings--but obviously it is someone from their crew, given the former's request. Whoever arrived must be closer than the transporter sound implied, and now she does not bother hiding her smile. She looks automatically toward Velir, and moves a little closer. I doubt you can hear me. But help is coming, my heart.

Dr. Mäkeläinen catches her eye, and then even takes a step out into the corridor, which surprises her and lifts her spirits even further. With a rising tide of adrenaline, she unconsciously bounces on her toes, as if preparing to race her way to the Yorktown.

Three Crows says clearly, "Understood, Lt. Graham. Come out, please." When Graham and Rawlings do, and then Dr. Mäkeläinen and Kylah, she greets you with a big smile. "It's good to see you all. We weren't quite sure what, or who, we would find here." She shakes Graham and then Rawlings by the hand. The other Security officers relax just slightly, and several quietly greet Graham and Rawlings. Ens. Russell unlimbers his tricorder and begins scanning the area.

Dr. Villa says, smiling warmly, "That goes for me, too." She turns to Dr. Mäkeläinen and says, "Hello, Doctor. Who needs medical attention?"

Three Crows says to Graham, "I'll be glad to give you a situation report, sir, but I'm afraid I don't have a spare phaser for you. You're welcome to mine, if you wish. We got Mr. Kylah's coded message, left Cavinre on the double and came looking for you. We found this ship - the Doregg, isn't it? - and a Romulan Bird-of-Prey close by it, practically right on the edge of the Neutral Zone. Lt. Thalen was able to hack into the Doregg's comm system before he was locked out again, for the Captain to issue a warning throughout the ship. The Romulans immediately extended their shields around this ship and didn't respond to hails. After a few minutes, the Romulan ship cloaked and disappeared. The shields of the Doregg went up right then, too, and stayed up. The Captain, unwilling to wait any longer in case you were in danger, decided to knock the shields down by gradually-strengthening phaser fire. When she'd done that, she dropped the Yorktown's shields just long enough to beam us over, in case the Romulan ship is still in the area, watching and waiting for a chance to attack. She ordered us, first, to ensure that you're safe, and second, to secure this vessel. Any questions?" If none, she asks, "How many Romulans are aboard, sir, and how are they armed?"

Lt. Vielar has by now raised her tricorder, too, and is running a scan.

Coded message? That explains how the Yorktown was able to locate them, and why it was looking for them this early in the first place. All welcome events that Dr. Mäkeläinen has been trying to process, never having considered they might be this lucky. The way things were shaping up, they were going to be left to their own devices deep within Romulan space.

"I am glad to see you, Doctor," he says, but wastes no time on unnecessary palaver. "Lieutenant Onn's condition is serious but stable. Bilitrium deprivation exacerbated by stress and other factors, plus we all got hit by an indiscriminate wide-band stun. Lt. Rangin is critical; I've stabilized his vitals but he remains unconscious. If transport is available, I recommend evacuating them both. There's a hold full of people in cryogenic storage. We've been stuck here, so I don't know anything about their condition or that of the rest of the passengers or crew, nor half the Romulans. I am told there were a few deaths."

"Well goddamn," Graham says, a little choke of emotion rising in his throat.

She might have saved Nia's life.

"I will file the recommendation for a commendation myself, Ens. Kylah," he says with a glance behind him.

He clears his throat. "OK, keep your phaser, I'll bet on talking this out. First priority: as soon as we can, like the doctor says, getting Onn..." he almost sighs. "And Rangin out."

"There's a T'al Shi'ar team on this ship, armed with hand disruptors - at least as we've seen - so far as they've said they were willing to drop us off at a neutral world and my hope is we can make the same offer."

Eyes darting to take in the boarding party, Kylah is even glad to see Ens. Russell, with whom she has had... a rocky start. Lt. Graham's words turn her face warm and pink, but less for the commendation notion, since she only did as ordered, than for the radiating relief and emotion she senses from him--evident without empathic abilities, with his glowing eyes and weighted voice. He must be so thrilled to return to his family, she notes with a returned smile. Her pleasure increases with the realization that her own family--Aldaan--acted so swiftly upon receipt of her message.

Turning back to the group of newly arrived officers, she takes in their conversation quickly. "If I may, ma'am--sir--this situation is not as it may appear. The Romulans have done nothing wrong--nothing we would not have done, truly. This was a covert rescue mission for the Romulans' captured and trafficked people. To them, the Yorktown has arrived and attacked a ship they were attempting to protect. I fear our attempt to commandeer a ship over which we have no claim could exacerbate things."

Her apologetic gaze sweeps across the group in some embarrassment. "I do not mean to advocate for Romulans against Starfleet, but..." Kylah lifts her hands, at a loss. "I suppose that is what I am doing. I think it imperative to acknowledge their accomplishment in saving all these people. And possibly us, as well. Opening a parley with gratitude might be more effective than any overt acts of aggression." Kylah nods at Lt. Graham, who justly suggested talking as well. "Imagine if the situations were reversed. If a suddenly appearing Romulan ship battered down the Doregg's defenses and boarded her... would we not assume hostility?"

Graham nods as Kylah speaks. "Can we get a connection to the Yorktown and can we get ship-wide comms here again? I don't want to make promised I can't keep but I think the right thing to do is offer Major Aval - that's the top Romulan - the same treatment we were offered."

He glances to and from the boarding party and Kylah as he asks this.

Since the entire still-upright members of her crew--her former crew--have left her behind with the unconscious guy, Nia knows she's clearly considered surplus to their requirements. Which, let's face it, she's been once she slammed the shuttle into a hostile planet.

"I'm assuming there's a friendly team on board," she murmurs to Rangin, whose ability to hear her is on par with the rest of the ex-Tesla crew. "No clue who. Mostly Security, I'd imagine." For Rangin's sake, she tries to sound "perky" -- well, not glum, anyway -- on the off chance something's getting through to him. Inside she's angry and almost choking with indignation, not that either emotion is of any use. Or even justified, except aimed at herself. Couldn't one of the team have tossed aside an update on their way out of the cabin? True, there's higher priorities on their minds than keeping their former-CO-turned-invalid-liability informed, but...

Oh shut the fuck up. You're feeling sorry for yourself. Stop it. None of this is their fault. Nia closes her eyes and leans her forehead atop her forearms, then changes position so she can absently rubs her legs. She's still dully cold but not nearly as bad as she's been. She's strong enough to walk. No sense in prolonging this.

She sighs and pushes herself off the bunk. Her scales are still visible on her face and hands--she can feel them--and scratchy beneath the thin one-piece suit that might as well be sheer. Kylah's wearing the same thing, except in black, and also except it fits her smaller frame. Nia's outfit is stretched to its limits, with her significantly longer limbs and torso, and the last vestiges of Nia's dignity are also threatening to tear at the thought of appearing in front of the Yorktown crew in a get-up that would make an Orion Slave Girl blush.

Before she moves to the door, she again clasps Rangin's hand. "I'm heading out there," she tells him. Peeking out, she finally sees the new arrivals. Her eyesight's a little fuzzy but she's able to identify everyone--Vielar is hardly difficult to recognize--and passes their names along to the still apparently dead-to-the-world Xenobiologist. She doesn't know what he can hear, if he can hear, but she'll be damned if she leaves him behind to stew in ignorance.

She turns toward him at the door. "Wherever you are, Rangin, you're still on my team." Fingers gripping the edge of the door and tapping as a kind of salute to him, she steadies herself and heads to the common room.

Dr. Villa hears out Dr. Mäkeläinen and her eyes widen. "A hold full of frozen people? Remarkable. Well, let me see your two patients."

Three Crows also listens intently to Graham and Kylah, and nods. She pulls out her communicator and flips open its antenna. "Three Crows to Yorktown."

"Yorktown here." You all recognize Capt. Singh's voice. "Report."

Three Crows says, "The shuttlecraft crew are all here and alive, ma'am, but two are in poor health. We've had no direct contact with any Romulans yet, but they have." She summarizes what she's heard so far and then says, "Here's Mr. Graham; I'm sure he has more to tell you." She passes her communicator to him.

Rangin, of course, does not respond to Onn. Moments later, you all see her emerge from the cabin and come slowly, carefully, down the corridor.

Mäkeläinen sees Nia stumble out the door and rushes to support her. "Steady there!" he says. "How are you feeling? You have the CMO herself come down to take a look at you."

He begins to explain things to Dr. Villa. "Here's Lt. Onn. She is ambulatory, and tired of sitting around, I gather, although we are all exhausted. Lt. Rangin is right in here," indicating where they came from.

"The hold, yes," he remarks. "I have not seen the setup myself. The ship's not secure," he says, including Nia in this line of conversation as much as Dr. Villa. "That stun field? No reason for them not to hit it again at any moment; last time we were out for hours. It does some damage. No idea who is holed up in the bridge or hold, and, besides the Romulans and crew, there are hostile mercenaries running around somewhere, looking for a fight. I trust the security team, but we could be on the front lines here. Especially that emergency stunner worries me."

Dr. Villa raises an eyebrow, obviously surprised by what her colleague has just said, but she maintains her focus on her patient even as she unlimbers her Medical tricorder. "Lt. Onn, hello. Would you like to sit in one of these chairs here, or lie down on a bed in the cabin? I assume there's a bed. I'd just rather not have you on your feet just yet."

At the mention of the stun, Kylah's alarmed focus darts down to the deck--as if expecting to see electricity crackling upon it--before she realizes what a foolish reaction this is. It does not emanate from the floor; she herself was standing on a chair when they were struck. Hoping this was not noticed, she looks up to nod at the doctor. "He is right. They can attack us instantly from the Bridge, I believe." But she adds, "I do not think the Chalnoth are freely running about. The Romulans kept us securely locked away, aside from showing us the prisoners, even though we lacked phasers. I cannot believe the Major was less restrictive with a group whose weapons are part of their physiognomy."

She clasps her hands and, uncertain what Lt. Graham will suggest, can only wait and hope the Romulans do not know they have been boarded--unlikely, but good luck has finally favored them with the discovery of well-intentioned Romulans and now the swift journey of the Yorktown.

Funny, Nia thinks when she looks up. I thought I wanted to be out here.

Except no, it's not funny. She stares at Bizhi approaching her like she's a detonating mine, and Villa clucking her tongue, and Kylah worshipfully staring at Book, and he's in his wheelhouse being strong and strategic, and the entire boarding team awaiting his command--as well they should. And Nia knows that if any are looking at her it's likely because they know damn well they're only on this Romulan-controlled ship risking their lives because the Yorktown had to break off its real mission to rush here to save her more-fragile-than-she-realized ass. As if she hadn't already cost Starfleet enough.

Yeah, 'funny' is definitely the wrong word. It's the other thing: Fucking mortifying. Nia's regretted her choices for about three solid weeks now, since helpfully suggesting that maybe Marala could get off that damn planet if she were married. So what's one more bad one, right?

Still, having chosen to hobble out here is pretty much the feather that broke the Dezorai's back.

"Yes, we have bunks," she says to Villa. " Good to see you, Doctor. All of you. As for how I am... thanks to your excellent colleague here--" She nods with a meaningful, grateful look at Bizhi. "--And some rando scientists on Ollos, I'm loaded up with this synthetic stuff that's either a really good mimic of Bilitrium or one helluva placebo.

"So I can breathe, which is all I ever asked. But I am tired. I came out here... I just..." She blinks and does a quick scan of the Yorktown crew, specifically the four from the Tesla. "This was my crew," she explains under her breath, lifting a tired arm to gesture toward them. "I just thought I should be here."

She turns back to the cabin. As she hobbles back, she realizes that Rangin shouldn't be alone in there, anyway. Nia's been separated from the team way too often on this mission, either unconscious, barely conscious, or physically in a hospital bed. She's felt--no, been helpless. She imagines if Rangin wakes up, he'll feel the same way she did in the hospital: confused, abandoned and terrified.

At least that's one shitty consequence she can prevent, anyway.

Mäkeläinen stands by ready to answer any question Dr. Villa may have about the treatment he has administered. It is her turn to form, and he is interested in, her medical opinion, especially given the readings from a proper medical tricorder (he wonders if the equipment confiscated from the Tesla's crew will eventually be recovered). Onn and Rangin are due for a full exam, but he currently thinks that Nia will soon be back to her old self provided she gets access to some pure Bilitrium and gets some proper rest. Peace and quiet, too, though he can see she is not one to be parked in a bed all day. As for Velir, who cannot speak for himself, he gives Dr. Villa a synopsis of what has happened to him, beginning from that stun blast back on Ollos through to his worsening episodes and eventual incapacitation here on the ship.

On the way back into the cabin, he does not want to needle Kylah, nor would he even if she were not currently so squirrelly, but he does point out to her that "Those locked doors did not keep us in for very long, nor did they keep the Chalnoth out of our cabins earlier. Regardless, the security team will locate them during their sweep. You're right, we need to focus on our own jobs."

Graham clears his throat and takes a moment to soak in the team's comments and think.

"Three things, Captain. One, this vessel is equipped with some kind of ship-wide stun field for which the Romulans have some kind of countermeasures. So if we go dark, that's the likely reason. Two, Maj. Aval the T'al Shiar commander has been the picture or protocol. She promised to deliver us to a neutral planet, and I believe it. I think we can avoid further confrontation by making the same offer in return. Finally, there's an aggresive species we haven't met before on this ship - Chalnoth. They suffered at least one fatality at the hands of the Romulans. But my money is on self-defense - we ourselves had to use force to defend ourselves against the Chalnoth."

The physicians help Onn get settled on a bunk, and the CMO runs a full scan of both her and Rangin. She gets a more detailed report from Dr. Mäkeläinen and then nods with satisfaction. "Thank you, Doctor," she says. "And well done."

The Captain says, "Thank you, Mr. Graham. Let me have a word with Dr. Villa as to your two ailing shipmates, please."

Ens. Russell looks up from his tricorder and says to Three Crows, "Other than the boarding party and Mr. Graham's group, I'm seeing only seven other lifeforms aboard, ma'am - one Human, and six of an alien species which isn't in Starfleet records. That would be the Chalnoth, presumably. And there are several dozen readings from belowdecks, which are... ambiguous, but probably consistent with humanoids in cryogenic suspension."

Rawlings steps over and looks at the tricorder. He says, "Yes, the six appear consistent with the Chalnoth, from what we've seen."

Dr. Mäkeläinen hears the praise but thinks he could have done better. "I am worried about his head, Doctor," he says. "Is there anything abnormal on the full scan?"

After soberly taking in the truth of the doctor's reminder, Kylah hears Ens. Russell's report from the tricorder with a combination of relief and concern. She informs the boarding party:

"The Uwat are unaccounted for. The Romulans likely took them into custody. But as the scan does not pick up the three dead Chalnoth, there is a dim possibility that the lack of Uwat readings might indicate... they are all dead, too. And there were children among them."

Kylah adds, "The human received special treatment by the Uwat and refused all interaction, even as far as a name exchange. He could be complicit. Of course, he may simply be a wealthy, highly private passenger who paid extra for room service. But he is worth investigation."

Since Security will take care of such matters, and Engineering/Medical the frozen captives, Kylah steps back and waits for further orders or news of Velir.

Nia waits in vain for some report from Dr. Villa on the results of her scan. But Rangin's alarming condition is of far greater concern now, so she focuses on the doctors' conversation about whatever's going on with him.

Dr. Villa says, "Mr. Rangin's synaptic-pathway scan is... unusual. I'm just not sure what to make of these readings. He's never been the same since his exposure to the Sakathian virus, and the Uwat stun field - or maybe something else aboard this ship - seems to have further affected his brain function in a way I've never seen before, even among other Coridanites." She looks worried.

Three Crows listens to Kylah's report and nods.

Bizhi occasionally looks over at Nia, who he can tell is listening. He does not want to reveal inadvertently anything he was told in medical confidence, so he does not speak as freely as he might. He says to Dr. Villa, "His friend seemed concerned about how the virus may have affected him. I assume he has undergone a complete checkup since? Regardless, if something on board is exacerbating a pre-existing condition, that makes it all the more important to get him out of here quickly--- and to find out what it could be. He was under an especial lot of stress on this mission, but nothing an officer should not be able to handle, and acute stress does not rewire a person's brain. The stun may have done some damage, but he was exhibiting symptoms even before that. I thought about getting someone to check for exotic radiation, particles, sonics, fields, things that would affect the synapses yet not show up on a routine scan, but we have no reason to assume it is an environmental problem.

"Both Lt. Rangin and three Chalnoth were affected at the same time, but it is possible he was the focus. I recommend comparing results from the other victims' examinations (with no other medical personnel on board it is our duty to provide urgent care, but gaining their consent will be easier said than done). Another thing, a topic I tried to broach carefully with someone who claimed to be a Vulcan adept, are different types of psychic damage. That conversation obviously went nowhere, but the real MacKay, I would not be amazed to see take one look and tell exactly what's wrong with him. There's entire treatises on the mind that have not been translated into Standard. Not equating that with a medical diagnosis, but the internal ontology may be of value here."

Assuming they will be asked to lead the boarding party to the captives, Kylah stands prepared to join Lt. Graham, if her presence is requested.

Graham rubs his chin. The news about Rangin is sobering. For all the Coridanite's...issues...Graham thinks he doesn't deserve--well, probably doesn't deserve--to die.

He's surprised the Romulans managed to bug out--at least without Yorktown knowing. But their tech is about as unknown to the Federation as can be, and Aval was sharp.

Speaking of not deserving to die...pains in the asses that they were, the Chalnoth need to be offered some chance at getting wherever the hell they were headed--or at least to safe drop off.

And, of course, the sentients in cryo need releasing, and maybe medical attention.

Amidst all this, he can't help but catch himself staring at Nia. She's not going to die on my watch.

Not long ago, he would have parsed that thought as bluster he couldn't back up.

Now, with immense gratitude, it's a statement of fact.

He has to clear his throat and shake his head a little to snap himself back to business.

"Ens. Kylah--assuming we're given the responsibility to do so, we're going to need to talk down some angry Chalnoth so they can be sent on their way. And maybe deal with a bunch if folks who may be grateful, but very confused coming out of cryo. If that's the case, I'd like you with me."

With a nod, Kylah walks from the corridor closer to their cabin. She tries to glance over Lt. Graham's shoulder to see if Dr. Villa has managed to revive Velir, but is not successful, so she refocuses on the C.O. "Of course, sir. And this is a First Contact situation, do you think the Captain will wish to be involved? Lt. Thalen is much more experienced in such matters, and the Chalnoth may associate me... well, they may be hostile to all of us, whom they may blame for their colleagues' losses." After a slight hesitation--she does not know if the Captain is listening--she adds softly, "Nor do we even know if the three victims the Major told us about are the same ones who were struck down in front of Lt. Onn and Velir. Lt. Rangin," Kylah corrects with a self-conscious glance at the other crew members.

Graham sighs softly. "Honestly, Ensign, I would not be sad at all if they pulled us all out." He has to pause a moment: to see Nia home safe. To see Marala again - who may very well have been afraid she might lose another husband.

"But I won't request someone else do the work unless - " he pauses and lowers his voice further. "If there's any reason you need to return to the ship...just say the word, OK?"

Chin lifting to meet Lt. Graham's gaze more directly, Kylah shakes her head. "No sir, there is no reason for me to go. Forgive me, I did not mean to give the impression I wish to abandon my post. As long as you are here, and the rest of our team... If you need me, sir, I will not leave."

The situation is still completely fluid, and increasingly out of the Tesla's crew's hands: Bizhi's own boss is already on board, by far the most senior officer, and he is not sure if she will send him up to the Yorktown with Onn and Rangin (surely that makes the most sense? Yet someone has to stay down here) or if something else will supervene. Seeing Kylah leaning into the cabin, he beseeches her, "The bridge team--- please ensure someone tries to get the complete manifest, passengers and crew. And the 'cargo', if the Uwat dared to put them on the record."

Dr. Villa tells Dr. Mäkeläinen with a rueful smile, "Oh, yes, Mr. Rangin has been studied and scanned quite a bit since the Sakathian mission - more, I think, than he ever really wanted. There are still a lot of unanswered questions, though. His case is unique." She then speaks to the Captain via communicator and says, "Ma'am, I recommend my immediate return with Mr. Onn and Mr. Rangin to the Yorktown. I really would rather have them in Sickbay and be able to make use of all its resources, then to keep them here, unconscious and in possible continuing danger, with only a limited understanding of their medical status."

"Understood," the Captain says. She pauses, thinking, then says, "All right, Doctor. Prepare to beam back, the three of you. We'll lower the shields just long enough to bring you back. Dr. Mäkeläinen, you'll remain there, and continue as medical officer for the boarding party. Mr. Graham, take command of all those aboard the Uwat ship. Secure the ship, proceeding as you think best."

Hearing the others discuss her like mindless cargo, Nia curls her fingers around the thin bunk until they're bloodless. Every instinct pushes her to protest. She belongs here. She wants--needs--to be with the crew.

But she can't repeat the humiliation that she just went through in the corridor. Sorry, you're an invalid, go back to bed and let the others do the work. What would be the purpose of staying, other than her sense of duty? She's been of no use since crashing the Tesla. Before that, really, since gravity probably did most of the navigating there: Nia can't think of a single thing she's contributed to this mission since dropping Hutchinson off at the prison. Except as a time constraint and source of inconvenience and, worse, endangerment.

And what's she supposed to say to Singh? Hey Captain, I know you cut the ship's mission short and raced here to save my ass, but you mind indulging me a little more and let me sit on this bunk awhile longer, just so I can chill with my former team and pretend like I haven't completely abandoned my post?

Yeah, no. She'd rather disappear.

Nia remains silent and counts the rivets in the deck panels.

Somewhat surprised that Dr. Mäkeläinen would question the thoroughness of the investigation, Kylah then recalls that, as hard as it is to believe, this is his first mission with the Yorktown. She will not lie and say everyone is flawless, or even expert at their job--she knows she isn't, and she highly doubts she is unique in making as many mistakes as she has. But in something like this, which violates multiple basic tenets of Starfleet and Federation beliefs (and, it must be said, involves one of their greatest enemies and is thus of extreme tactical interest)... No, even Kylah, cynical as she can be, is confident the crew will take especial care with anything and everything involving this ship.

Without the ability to pass this explanation along in the presence of Dr. Villa in person and Captain Singh via communicator, she just nods intently. "Of course, doctor," she says. "It sounds as if you will remain here, likely to help with the captives. But I will ensure as many records as possible are copied over, and those that cannot will likely be taken aboard intact. Perhaps we will bring the Doregg into one of our docking bays? I do not know if our ship can hold something of this size. I did not notice how big it is in the first place. Of course it will have to be swept for any traps first, I suppose." She turns to Lt. Graham and Ens. Rawlings, if either of them is nearby and not in the middle of conversation. "Is that a possibility?"

Kylah lifting her head and volunteering to stay fills Graham with...what? Pride? Or something else--reminders of his daughter Lizzy, not much younger than Kylah, who inherited a fierceness from her late mother.

Unfortunately, he can't muster much more than an approving nod and something of a grunt. "Very good, uh, excuse me..."

He looks around to find Nia. Who doesn't look happy, regardless of health.

He approaches and clears his throat. "You've been staring the wrong kind of death in the face for days," he says quietly. "It's...it's, um...ah"

She's not going to die on my watch. It's like a reprieve from a death sentence.

He clears his throat again. "It's OK. And even if you think it's not, as your duly appointed acting mission commander I am going to order you to get your ass back onto our ship, if that's what it takes."

He blinks, looks away, and then back to here. "Please" in almost a whisper.

Nia stares at the deck for a few seconds longer until she can cover her sadness with affection. Then she looks up at Booker with a gentle smile. "That makes it unanimous. I can't fight all of you," she says softly. "Anyway, what purpose would I serve? Don't worry. I'll be out of your hair soon, Book. Thanks for... everything." She lifts a tired hand to pat his forearm, then lets it drop so he can get back to work.

After sending a final thankful glance around to the conscious team members, whether they're paying attention or not, she shifts her gaze to the porthole.

Mäkeläinen tries not to let his own fatigue and nerves show, especially now. He is not so green, though. "Understood, Doctor," he says. "We may want an engineer to help examine those cryopods. Then we may need some way of evacuating a quantity of individuals of yet-to-be-determined number, condition, and identity."

"Nia," he addresses the whilom leader softly, "she's right. There is a state-of-the-art Sickbay on the Yorktown with all of your scans and records, along with a whole team of nurses and technicians. Here there is nothing but cold bunks, and it's not safe. There may be other injured, plus a hold full of narrowly escaped might-have-been slaves, and we have to get them out, too. I will look in on you two, personally, as soon as it's secure." He makes sure she still has her Bilitrium substitute on her, even though she does not really need it any more.

He explains to Kylah and Graham, "I just... if possible, I would like to have those records available to us, so we know as soon as possible who is accounted for. We will all need communicators. We cannot force anyone who is awake and able to vocalize their objections to accept medical treatment from us, but we should make the effort to convince them. If they still do not want us touching them, we give them access to first aid."

Nia looks up at the upper bunk and leans her head back against the wall, wondering how much more of this she has to take. The doc's been too helpful, too impossibly steadfast for so long, for her to express anything but gratitude to him. So she musters a titan's strength of will and clamps down on her growing despair. "Of course. I'm not arguing. Whenever Villa takes me, I'll go. Thank you, Bizhi. Go help the people who need it."

She closes her eyes and prays the others won't keep trying to convince her of what she's already resigned herself to. If Kylah's next, Nia is not sure she'll be responsible for her actions. They won't find enough Elasian atoms to put the girl back together.

Suddenly her own violent thought makes her consider another, and her eyes blink open again. "Speaking of records: If I were running a slave ship," she says looking from Bizhi to Graham and Rawlings, "I'd want to make sure the records and any proof--including surviving captives--weren't around to incriminate me. So maybe y'all should get going and make sure there's no self-destruct on this tub. 'Cause the Romulans left in a big damn hurry. Did they know something we don't?"

Rawlings says thoughtfully, "Makes sense to me. We've seen no sign of any traps yet, either, but I suppose it's a possibility." Answering Kylah's question, he says, "The Doregg is a bit too long to fit into the Yorktown's shuttlebay." He squeezes Onn's arm, saying, "You've earned a break, ma'am. We'll wrap things up here, and I'll buy you a drink once you're out of Sickbay."

Russell adjusts his Security tricorder, runs a scan and says, "No traps, bombs or the like that I'm picking up."

Chief Nguyen's voice comes over the comm channel: "Dr. Villa and two patients: stand by for transport." In seconds, they disappear into the iridescent sparkle of the transporter effect. Once aboard the Yorktown, Onn and Rangin are whisked by antigrav gurneys to Sickbay and then taken to separate rooms. Dr. Villa remains with Onn as she is quickly bathed, changed into soft, clean, loose-fitting patient garb and more thoroughly examined and scanned.

"Orders, sir?" Three Crows asks Graham.

"I know we will help the captives regardless," Kylah says softly while staring at the bunk that now seems so empty. "But a xenobiologist would probably have been useful. I wish Velir..."

She does not bother finishing. Her wish is obvious. Instead she belatedly thanks Mr. Rawlings for his response and agrees with the doctor's wise suggestions. "Do you think we will need more medical staff, sir? Have you experience with...helping people from cryostasis?"

Nia thanks Dr. Villa and bunches up the blanket closer to her. The ship is warm enough--not as much as she keeps her quarters, but normal, average warmth for the M-class atmosphere that L/S maintains. But she's been cold since the Tesla crashed, and there's part of her that doesn't feel like it'll ever thaw.

Of course it's good to see the familiar setting, and she's grateful for all that's been done for her and Rangin. Despite this--or rather, because of all this--she hopes the staff and officers forget her. She expects they will, for now: The attention of the ship is properly focused where it belongs--on the Doregg, the slaves, the passengers and any injured parties, and of course the remaining crew on board.

So Nia hugs her abdomen and calls no attention to herself, wishing her ability to blend into the background were capable of rendering her totally invisible, and listens to the familiar sounds of the Yorktown.

Bizhi observes the transportation impassively. The mere prospect of risk does not deter him, and he knows that goes for Nia. Yet a medical decision has been made— and he agrees with it. He only wishes he could have accompanied his patients to see the cases through personally. But he knows that they are in good hands, possibly better hands than his would be at the moment, and that lives may still depend on just how things on board the Doregg unravel.

He finds himself talking to Kylah. "I have seen cryo chambers before, and I do not mean in a museum. They still see some use... evidently." There is a certain, at least superficial, simplicity to the idea, and it is well-established, old-school tech, especially compared to a dodgy transporter delay line or other horrors. "I am familiar with the principles; there are several different types. The tricky part is the freezing and thawing cycles— now, a pukka pod will handle all of that automatically, under computer control, but we don't know yet what we are dealing with here. We will want to take a careful look before touching anything, to understand exactly how it works, including possible exigencies, failure modes, and... traps. We may need some assistance once we get started, even if not for the operation itself, to evaluate the patients' overall condition."

Graham purses his lips. “All right, I see two priorities: one, ensuring we have control of the ship, and two, figuring out how to safely handle the poor souls stuck in cryo.”

He addresses the team. “To me that means two teams, one headed to the bridge, the other to the uh…well, where the Uwat were holding their captives on ice. And, unfortunately, along the way one of them might have to calm down–or stun–some angry Chalnoth.”

He pauses. “Security escort for Team Cryo will be led by Lt. Three Crows, with Ens. Russell, and Ens. Rawlings. Obviously the doctor is on Team Cryo. Lt. Vielar - unless you have other orders, your expertise could almost certainly help with figuring those systems out too.”

“That would mean Me, St. Croiz, and Li are escort two, and along with Ens. Kylah, we’ll head to the bridge.”

He pauses. “With that said, it’s been a long trip, permission granted to sound off if I missed something.

After a quick "Yes, sir" to Lt. Graham, Kylah glances at the Doctor, and then thinks of the comm panel again. She moves to try it again. The Romulans have taken down their shields, and if the cloaked ship is gone, there should be no further external interference. Her fingers tap the panel to see if she can gain contact with... well, anyone. She will also take a look at the panels Dr. Mäkeläinen opened earlier.

"Lieutenant," she says to anyone of that rank in earshot, "Could you contact Lt. Thalen, please? Perhaps he can access the Doregg's system again to inform everyone on board that things are safely in control, and the Romulans and Uwat are gone?" She looks at Dr. Mäkeläinen, Ens. Rawlings and Lt. Graham. "The Chalnoth are unreasonable but it might help calm them a little." With a sigh, Kylah looks at her empty duty belt. "Perhaps extra communicators and phasers could be beamed over, as well?"

"Communicators and a spare first-aid medkit," says Dr. Mäkeläinen. "I will not be needing a phaser; one less weapon to keep track of.

"Am I the only one who finds it odd that the Uwat crew seem to have all conveniently vanished? The Romulan operatives may have had to nash just now, but they had ample time earlier to take them in, to be tried for the crime of enslaving Imperial citizens, seems a plausible scenario." He frowns. He fears for the children. Even if they are repatriated, it will not be a pleasant experience; he does not know enough about Uwat psychology to guess how they might be affected. Nothing they can do about it, and not their mission. (Yet, it does not sit right with him. One more flaw in an indifferent and hostile universe.) Before anyone can get too alarmed, he offers, "The Captain must be deep in negotiations by now. Any intelligence we gather will facilitate that."

He asks Lt. Graham, "Shall our team head straight for the cryo compartment? Before we split up, could you describe exactly how to get there?"

The doctor's concerns echo her own, and Kylah reassures him: "I had the same fear as soon as I heard Mr. Russell's report. I did inform them of the Uwat situation--and especially the children. I hope the Yorktown will keep them in mind when communicating with the Romulans. If the Romulans answer." She sighs, remembering the Uwat in the cryo chamber. She still finds that concerning, but perhaps if they are successfully awoken, they will have some answers.

"As for the location of the captives, we accessed the chamber by using the same ladder through which we entered the ship. It is one level below this, roughly underneath these cabins. That is why the deck is so cold." She looks back to Lt. Graham. "The Lieutenant can give you more precise directions, as he led the way to the... storage area."

Lt. Vielar shakes her beaked head at Graham. The tall, yellow, birdlike officer says in her faint, almost whistling voice, "I have no other orders, sir, but I do have some prior experience with cryogenics. I will be glad to serve on 'Team Cryo,' as you say."

No one has any other suggestions for Graham, whose plan seems to meet with general approval.

Kylah finds that the ship's comm system is working again. She has no answer to her first few shipwide queries until what sounds like a Chalnoth roars from the other end, clearly angry: "Who is this? Why have we been locked up, all crammed into this single room? This is outrageous. We paid our fare, just as had been agreed upon."

The Yorktown again briefly drops her shields, this time to beam over communicators and phaser-2s for anyone who doesn't already have them, and a spare medikit for Dr. Mäkeläinen.

Dr. Villa and her Sickbay staff briefly fuss over Onn before she is sedated. "Sorry, Mr. Onn, but I think it's for the best. See you soon," the CMO says, smiling, lifting away the hypo. "I hope to have good news for you then." In seconds, Onn falls headlong into a warm, all-embracing darkness.

Shocked--to put it mildly--that she can suddenly communicate with the entire ship, Kylah releases the button without a response to the Chalnoth. They are no longer a threat, clearly.

She asks Lt. Graham, as leader of the mission--and Dr. Mäkeläinen, who seems to know procedures very well--if they would like the honor of speaking with the Chalnoth as official representatives of Starfleet in a First Contact situation.

If neither of them choose to, she will, of course, recommend this to the Captain, First Officer or Lt. Thalen himself.

The Doctor says, "Official First Contact protocol begins with identifying ourselves and offering a so-called universal greeting, 'we come in peace' and so forth. What they have already heard on shipwide comms, though, was the Captain's ultimatum mentioning acts of war, which is a tack this lot is far more likely to look upon positively and respect.

"Trouble is, it will not take them long to put two and two together and realize we were Starfleet all along, which means not only that we are cowardly spies, but in their eyes, rightly or wrongly, we have already attacked them in fact, not mere bluster. What we do have going to salvage the situation is, they are precisely in the same position we were, waylaid by the Romulans and cheated by the crew. We can bond over common cause, explain to them that the Vulcan delegation were actually Romulan spies who stuffed us in a cabin and we were forced to break out. There is a good chance they will correctly deduce who did them wrong."

Graham nods approvingly. "That's both by the book protocol and pretty damned smart, doctor," he says.

"Given that we've encountered them face to face before, I feel like it would be stand-up to communicate this ourselves rather than handing off to Yorktown. It's your call: do you want to give it a go, or--taking your advice into account - I can carry the ball as acting mission commander."

Mäkeläinen has to consider for a moment. He has already broken more than just contact protocol by punching that Chalnoth earlier, as far as he is concerned, even though it was in defence of others and no one would fault him if it came to a cold analysis. Now he is being asked to speak with that very person as an official representative of Starfleet and the Federation, which did not have the greatest reputation in this sector to begin with. Normally, he should recuse himself, but, considering all the current variables, his gut tells him it is worth the gamble to take responsibility.

"I absolutely agree they deserve to hear it from us, not over the intercom," he says. "All right, Mr. Graham, I accept. I assume they are all in one of their cabins up here; we can pinpoint from the scan. Let's get their door open, and I'll talk to them first."

"Not just 'acting mission commander,' sir," Rawlings murmurs to Graham. "The Captain just put you in command, no 'acting' about it, if I may say so."

"Are we all going to see the Chalnoth, sir?" Three Crows asks. "Or do you still want some to go to the Bridge, and some to the cryo chamber?"

No Chalnoth, no Uwat, no Romulans, and no self-destruct mechanism detected. There are no threats to their safety on board, unless Kylah is leaving someone out--other than the lone human, and no doubt any security officer can handle him. She suspects even she might be able to deal with the querulous stranger, as bad a shot as she is with a phaser. She does wish to talk to him, but sating her curiosity is not a priority.

Kylah wastes no further time, anxious to leave this accursed ship and see how Velir is faring. So she ought to follow Lt. Graham's command and head to the Bridge, as she has no role with the Chalnoth, nor with the cryo area--the Doctor will be the point person for the latter two, it seems--and Lt. Graham will probably keep his presence felt in all three.

"I will proceed with your orders, sir," she says to Lt. Graham, and looks up at Mr. Rawlings. "We should secure the ship logs and passenger manifests. Or as the Uwat no doubt called them, cargo inventory," she adds in contempt.

If Lt. Graham does not object--he may prefer to go too, as he expressed earlier, but that was when they were worried about stray Chalnoth--she will start off, with Ens. Rawlings hopefully at her side.

Graham rubs his chin. "All right, hold up a second - Team Cryo will detour to deal with the Chalnoth first. With the addition of Mr. Li."

"Mäkeläinen, Three Crows - I want to emphasize that leaving them locked up is still a first-class option if they are uncooperative and stunning them is 100 percent on the table. When they were worked up about the Rangin incident they attempted to assault us before, and if they aren't over it, that's their problem."

"That leaves me, Kylah, and St, Croix headed to the bridge."

Dr. Mäkeläinen tries to get a measure of Three Crows, the security lieutenant who will be heading the escort.

He announces to the team, "Leaving them locked up is a notch better than a fight breaking out right here, right now, but that would be a temporary solution at best." He has not forgotten how they broke in for the first fight efficiently enough--- "Very temporary. Nor are they are our prisoners. Protocol dictates we treat them the way we would like to be treated. Let us introduce ourselves, face to face. Six of them, six of us."

He asks Ens. Russell, who is holding the big tricorder, to point out in which of these cabins are the Chalnoth. He knows he knows his business and will have already scanned for number of life signs and possible energy-weapon signatures.

Three Crows seems a calm, professional, focused young Security officer to Dr. Mäkeläinen.

Russell points down the corridor. "Five doors down to starboard, sir," he says.

Then it is settled. Kylah gazes across the crew surrounding her. So, Dr. Mäkeläinen, Ens. Russell, Rawlings, Li, and Lt. Vielar will be led by Lt. Three Crows to the Chalnoth. And Kylah will join Ens. St. Croix and follow Lt. Graham to the Bridge.

While she waits for the others to move, an old memory has dredged up from her Academy days. One evening she was invited by her somewhat overly friendly Earth Language Studies tutor to Paris for an "immersive French cultural experience." She was fully expecting to fend off his advances, but instead, she was fending off sleep while enduring a play called Huis clos. Apparently it was an ancient classic, the familiarity with which the tutor was trying to impress her.

It did not work. Kylah was impressed with neither him nor the production. She found both were pretentious, less provocative than they wished to be, and unintentionally ridiculous. Frankly, the tedium had been equal to formal bureaucratic Regency Council events on Elas that had made Kylah wish for the fraught danger of Klingon negotiations.

Of course she is not bored now--the circumstances are grim and the stakes high, and she is extremely curious about the records they will find when they arrive at the Bridge. But as the surfeit of officers dither about what to do, she does feel as stuck as the characters in that play.

Bouncing a little on her toes, she runs a hand through her hair in an atypical gesture of agitation. At last, Kylah decides to go against protocol and take the initiative. Either superior officer can dress her down if they wish.

"Good luck then, Doctor," she says firmly, and starts off in the direction of the Bridge.

With everything sorted and the crew split into teams, the Doctor leads the way to the door Russell indicated. Once everyone is in position, he activates the intercom to speak to the Chalnoth inside:

"This is Doctor Mäkeläinen, of the humans you met yesterday. We had a dispute, and I respect that, but it turns out we were all gudgeoned. We were stunned and tossed into a cabin, same as you. Turns out the Vulcan group, each and every one of them, were Romulan spies. We just broke out ourselves, and, if you'll stand back, we can get your door open from this side. The Romulans and Uwat are gone, and it is important that we talk."

The Chalnoth on the other side is uncharacteristically silent for a moment before growling, "Romulan spies, you say? How can that be? Were we all so deceived? Impossible. And surely the Uwat are only hiding... or you are in league with them."

Graham, Kylah and St. Croix find themselves back before the heavy, locked door that Graham and Kylah passed through earlier, when Kylah sent her coded message.

"Deceived? Perhaps," says Dr. Mäkeläinen. "They said they were Vulcan pilgrims, so as far as we were concerned they were Vulcan pilgrims. Had they claimed to be merchants, or tourists, we would have accepted that." He observes sardonically, "One can't trust anyone, can one?"

"The crew may indeed be hiding; we can't rule that out. We have not physically searched the ship yet. Look, we are going to open the door." He motions to Lt. Vielar and indicates the thumbprint reader [Or was it a palm reader?] and any access panels that resemble the ones he had luck with inside his own cabin. "Should not take long," he adds for the benefit of the Chalnoth.

While she works, he continues, "We spoke yesterday, but while you named several of your patrons, we never explicitly revealed for whom we work. Part of the reason we, all of us passengers, are not in a Romulan holding facility right now is, our friends were out looking for us. Their arrival is what spooked the Tal Shiar team. I am a passenger like you and a victim of the Romulans' and Uwat's duplicity like you, and since I am the one here, the honor of offering a formal introduction falls upon me.

"On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I bring greetings of peace and goodwill. I represent a federation composed of many diverse worlds, peoples, and cultures, unified by our shared ideals of peace, curiosity, and cooperation. As we travel among the stars, it is our highest principle to approach new civilizations with openness, respect, and friendship. It is my honor and privilege to extend the hand of understanding, in hope that we may begin diplomatic dialogue and mutual exchange between your people and the United Federation of Planets."

Mäkeläinen looks faintly embarrassed at being the one to get the old "we come in peace" speech on the record. He wonders how many political speeches these mercenaries have been forced to endure in their time. "Aye, we're with the Starfleet cruiser. And now that they are here, we're on our way to inspect the hold. Full of slaves, or at least that is what the Romulans told us. The strong take from the weak, is what you said, in which case the Uwat forgot that in this quadrant the strong include the Romulan Star Empire. But stronger than empire is the idea of a federation composed of literally hundreds of planets."

If at some point the door flies open, Mäkeläinen will be clearly empty-handed, in a non-threatening pose.

Graham sighs. He's tempted to smack his forehead against the door.

"Nothing can be easy, I guess...." He examines the door and any adjacent controls or panels for possible ways to get it open.

Kylah scowls. "Might the Yorktown be able to countermand security measures, and possibly beam someone to the Bridge?"

After biting her lower lip in thought, she then lifts her fingertips to the comm panel she used before. "Is it possible someone is in there? An Uwat, hiding? I can try to reach them. They will likely not be receptive, but some level of negotiation might be fruitful, if they were frightened of the Romulans but are worried about the repercussions of serving on this ship."

She holds off from pressing the controls, waiting for Lt. Graham's advice. It might not be a safe venture.

The door opens, and Dr. Mäkeläinen and his shipmates can see six scruffy, ill-used Chalnoth crammed into the cabin. He recognizes the Chalnoth leader, Teloqq, from before. Teloqq looks like he's about to launch himself at the good doctor, but the sight of phaser-2s at the ready in the hands of Three Crows and the other Security officers seems to deter him. "So..." he gruffly says. "Here you are. We have heard of your Federation before, but have little interest in it. What happens to us next?"

At the entryway to the Uwat ship's bow, St. Croix says, "Leave it to me." She is able to access the door controls and, after just a minute or so, bypasses the codelock and opens the door. "There you go," she says, grinning.

Kylah drops her hand, feeling a trifle foolish. Of course, she should have known St. Croix would have a way to solve the problem. With a small smile, she waits for Lt. Graham to lead them into the Bridge and other areas past the door.

Bizhi says, "First of all, as a physician I ask, does anyone require medical attention?" He will note if any of the Chalnoth are visibly suffering beyond being understandably scruffy and miserable. "I have emergency medical supplies, and for anything severe our ship has a fully staffed and equipped sickbay. We just sent over two of our own," he tells them, not elaborating under what circumstances.

"Our captain will be eager to meet you, and will probably extend an invitation to dine with her. My advice is to accept; unlike on the Doregg, the food is good, and no one will attempt to charge you for accommodations. More importantly, it's a chance to arrange exactly where you want to go. She's a fast ship, and you may be pleasantly surprised.

"Whatever you decide, it's looking more likely by the minute the crew of the Doregg have either fled or been taken captive by Romulans, in which case it is our responsibility to assist you and ultimately leave you at a safe port."

Teloqq glances behind him at his comrades, turns back and says, "Several of us have headaches from the stun field, but no injuries." He thinks a moment. "I am willing to meet your Captain. Getting off this damn, smelly ship would be a relief to us all."

"All right, Gorom. You're a diplomat now; you may have to listen to a lot of hot air, but freezing, stinking bunks and inedible slop are not part of the job. You'll be berthed and eating better than we junior officers. They may even hold a reception in your honor."

Bizhi turns to Three Crows. "This will not be a medevac, then. I'm passing this on; Command and Security will want to set up first contact procedures. We should inform them we have eager guests."

There remains one small matter. Bizhi speaks to Teloqq grimly, "The Romulan commander mentioned three of your friends are no longer with us. Nor have we found any sign of them yet."

"Nice work," Graham says to St. Croix. "I'll take the lead. Ens. Kylah, behind me, the better to do the talking if we need to calm someone down." He waves his group forward and leads on.

Happy to follow, Kylah looks around the corridor they visited before. "I hope they did not have time to destroy their records," she says, speaking softly even though she does not know if anyone is in the vicinity. "The Romulans must have taken over so quickly, the Uwat would not have been prepared to hide their illicit business, even if they wished to. And once the Uwat were ki--taken care of--the Romulans would have no reason to erase anything. I presume," she adds. It never pays to second-guess the rationale behind Romulans' activities.

Three Crows nods to Dr. Mäkeläinen. "I'll see to it, Doctor." She takes a few steps back and opens her communicator, speaking quietly into it.

Teloqq scowls. "Yes, three of our comrades killed by the vhushegi. Disintegrated before our eyes! We mourn them, and we shall avenge them."

Graham, Kylah and St. Croix head down the bow corridor, which looks much as before, except that there are no Uwat. There is, in fact, no one at all.

"I suppose you wish to head to the Bridge first, sir?" Kylah asks Lt. Graham, eyeing the space. "In case there are controls related to the cryo unit. And to see if any other cabins are currently occupied, if that information is available. I would like to find that curious human."

She frowns and looks at St. Croix. "Before the Yorktown arrived, we were being taken to Romulan space. How close are we, now?"

If the translation leaves something to be desired, Mäkeläinen covers it up well. He thinks he gets the drift. The absurd thing about the Chalnoth being killed in such a brutal manner is its utter unnecessity. Why did they not use non-lethals? Whatever their background, the Chalnoth were merely passengers wanting to get home after some misadventure, something in common with the crew of the Tesla. Mäkeläinen feels sympathy with Teloqq. (The man was just trying to kill him--- at least his barely contained rage, and talk of vengeance, are more comprehensible.)

He does know, too much, of senseless death. In that respect he knows exactly how they feel, a cry against fate that transcends cultures and time. "I honour them," he says. "If there is anything you need, it shall be respected."

Graham nods at Kylah's question. "Yes - secure he Bridge, gather whatever intel we can, and go from there."

St. Croix says to Kylah, "We're now about half a light year from the Neutral Zone - a lot closer than this ship was originally meant to go."

Teloqq says to Dr. Mäkeläinen, as he glances at the Security guards and their phasers, "We'd like to get out of this damnable room and eat something! We're starving."

The Communications Room you earlier saw is now empty but otherwise looks the same. Down the corridor and opening to either side there are also what appear to be six Uwat living quarters, a utility or tech chamber of some kind, a rather large and very messy storage closet, and three heads (bathrooms). The Bridge is at the very end of the corridor, at the bow. It is also behind a locked door which St. Croix is able to open, although it takes her a little longer than last time.

The Bridge is a oblong rectangle, perhaps a third bigger than the Yorktown's Bridge. Kylah counts three chairs - obviously designed for Uwat bodies - as well as nine knobby, odd-looking control panels of varying sizes and four large, ovoid display screens. One of the screens shows the Yorktown not far away; the others have row upon row of Uwat script scrolling across them. The room is silent except for a low hum.

"Nice work, once again," Graham says to St. Croix. Then he takes a deep breath and sighs it out. "You've pulled a rabbit out of the hat for us once already this mission, Ens. Kylah--any chance you speak Uwat too? Or that a tricorder can help us translate?" he asks.

The significant oddity of the panels and seats and controls threaten overwhelm, but the sight of the Yorktown provides a much-needed sense of familiarity, confidence and even--Kylah hardly dares admit it to herself--affection.

All of which Lt. Graham's words provide, as well. She glances at him gratefully and returns to step closer to the scrolling text. Her nose wrinkles in thought. "I know some Uwat. They are not wholly unknown to Elas..."

Mostly through second-hand accounts, however. She does not think her diplomats knew of the unsavory side of their society. Or is that why Uncle was so rapid in his response to my message? Her eyes widen at the thought. Perhaps he thought they were in danger; that might be why he put enough urgency in passing along the news to the Yorktown that they zoomed here.

She tucks this thought away when she decides it is fanciful. More likely, Captain Singh would have acted as rapidly anyway out of justifiable concern for Lt. Onn.

Regardless, even the barely existent knowledge of Uwat by Elas is why Uwat was one of the languages she studied back home. One of dozens and dozens--frankly she is shocked she remembered it.

To the Lieutenant, she responds, "I wish I were fluent, sir. I did not learn this at the Academy, but back home. Only enough to understand the responses when the Tesla was heading into the Ollos airspace--which probably came from this very ship," she adds with a lift of her eyebrows at the realization. "And to greet Mr. Jol politely, among other extremely basic communications necessities."

Then she sighs. "I never did understand a word of what Mr. Jol was saying to the other Uwat crew. Or the children. They must have different dialects or entirely different language sets they choose to use among outsiders. Unfortunately, I would expect the private dialect to be what they use here."

She searches for a switch or button or, really, anything that looks as if it will allow her to make verbal commands. If she finds something promising, she will use it, and in the very slow, deliberate (and likely embarrassingly rudimentary) Uwat she knows, she asks the ship's computer if it understands her--and if it can translate its output to Federation Standard.

On the other hand, if she can discern anything from the panels themselves, she will try to read it herself to the others.

It takes a while to process unexpected shock. Dr. Mäkeläinen has seen people grow silent and practically catatonic. Others cling to routine, or otherwise make every effort not to think about what happened. Mäkeläinen himself has experienced much in his profession--- and outside it--- that takes an emotional toll. It is when things are going well that he fancies himself inured to tragedy; each fresh disaster proves any and all of his veneers false, even if none save himself can tell.

If Three Crows has completed making the necessary arrangements, he will ask if the Yorktown is ready to offer quarters and refreshment for their (disheveled and hungry) distinguished guests.

If not, he will explain that they are still getting ready. "In the meantime, the Common Room looks safe enough, and it is powered." He realizes that this poses a dilemma for the security detail of their little group. If they are not to be delayed in their mission--- six volatile Chalnoth with unknown intentions, he figures, might even warrant two armed guards from a security perspective, just to keep an eye on them, as it were. Graham assigned Ens. Li to their team for the purpose, but Lt. Three Crows might not be happy about detaching two officers. If it comes to it, he will remind her that the Chalnoth are not prisoners, and even if they were (and, again, they are now officially foreign dignitaries according to protocol) they have to prioritize supplying them with food, water, and other basic necessities even though they are a small team in the middle of an urgent mission, even if it means they will be net one security officer down in the cryo chamber, or need to request extra security from the Yorktown, which, under the present circumstances, may find such a request far from trivial to fulfill.

Belatedly, Kylah remembers to answer Lt. Graham's question about the tricorder. "I have not had luck with using tricorders for that purpose, sir, especially one that is non-specific to such tasks." She bites her lip in thought. "However, my knowledge of basic Uwat might be something the Yorktown's UT system can work with. I used a similar process when trying to understand the Aelyrr distress call, despite having almost no context. The language's similarity to Ancient Caitian meant that the UT could use Caitian as a sort of primer, or Rosetta Stone. Perhaps my rudimentary Uwat can perform the same function."

She says all this as she tries the other methods, and if they do not work, will attempt to contact the Yorktown for this purpose.

Kylah does not see any switches or buttons that would allow her to use voice commands. She actually can't recall any time when the Uwat used voice commands in their handling of the shuttle or the Doregg - it was all done through manual controls. From her rudimentary Uwat, she thinks she can figure out which Bridge controls are for environmental systems and deflector shields, and maybe those for the navigational deflector, but the rest are gibberish to her.

After speaking to Dr. Mäkeläinen, Lt. JG Three Crows is willing to allow the Chalnoth to get food and drink in the Common Room. She would not recommend taking them back to the Yorktown just yet, given your party's earlier dealings with them. She says a quiet word to Rawlings, Russell and Li, and they step back from the door to the Chalnoth quarters.

At that moment, the ship lurches slightly, and you all have the same disorienting feeling you experienced when the Doregg first went into warp after leaving Ollos. Three of the Chalnoth moan uncomfortably, and one in the back noisily vomits.

On the Bridge, the Yorktown drops away on its screen, and another screen clears of scrolling data and instead shows a view of a passing starscape.

The Doctor tamps down any residual nausea. What in the hells? Exchanging a look with the others, he attempts to contact Graham using his replacement communicator.

This is not a repeat of the stun field he was dreading, but what? Pre-programmed defence routine? Remote control? Or have Romulans and/or Uwat successfully evaded the earlier scan and are in control of bridge or engineering areas?