A sense of panic rose in Kellin’s chest and it felt like acid reflux.  As Chief Security Officer, Lieutenant Kellin Rayco was comfortable with a phaser on his hip and an opponent stalking towards him.  Kellin was rather broadly built, for a Trill, and well maintained.  He could remain composed when a starship was under attack and EPS conduits were overloading overhead.  He was resilient in the face of danger.  And so, it was social awkwardness that ate away at him like stomach acid.

On the face of it, Kellin wasn’t bothered by a delayed response to a door chime.  Maybe thirty seconds had passed since he had pressed the chime to the captain’s ready room.  Maybe as much as a minute.  There were plenty of explanations for why Captain Taes hadn’t responded to the chime: she could have been in the middle of composing a report, or using the fresher, or had just stubbed her toe.  Plenty of common, reasonable explanations.  No, what struck Kellin with a wave of anxiety was the glance Elbon gave him.  Sitting in the captain’s chair, Commander Jakkelb Elbon cast not only one, but two or three glances at Kellin, while Kellin stood waiting by the door.  Their eye contact had been far too brief for Kellin to deconstruct what Elbon was thinking exactly, but Kellin could see there was something askance about Elbon’s glance.  Kellin busied himself by conducting a visual safety audit of the overhead panels; he avoided looking at Elbon by counting the rivets in the ceiling.

Elbon didn’t look over his shoulder a fourth time.  Fixing his gaze on the viewscreen, Elbon suggested, “Try knocking, maybe?”

Kellin raised his knuckles to the door panels when Taes said, “Come,” from within.  The computer unlocked the doors and they slid open.  Kellin forgot to lower his fist, at first, although he didn’t see any reaction from Taes to suggest she registered his mishap.  He stepped far enough into the ready room for the doors to close behind him.

“Good morning, lieutenant,” Taes said.  She cupped her chin with one hand and she offered Kellin her most impish, apologetic smile.  “I’m very sorry for that.  I hope I didn’t leave you waiting.”

After Kellin wished the captain a good morning too, he shook his head hard enough to bounce the pile of ginger curls atop his head.  “No trouble at all,” Kellin said dutifully.  “I know a captain has many priorities.”

“Oh!  No,” Taes blurted out, and her words were quickly followed by a small titter of a laugh.  The Deltan commanding officer sat back in her chair, loosened her posture, and she waved a hand through the air.  “No, I was doing nothing.”

“I’m sorry, captain,” Kellin said, unable to contain the spillover of concern.  He had reported to the captain for official matters, but they fell out of his head when he assumed that meant Taes was unwell.  “Did you not sleep well?” he asked.

“No, I wasn’t resting,” Taes said.  “I was doing nothing.”  

Kellin squinted at Taes, asking, “Is that like meditating?  They taught us a couple of Deltan meditation techniques at the academy…”  Suddenly grinning with pride, Kellin said, “I was always the fastest at quieting my mind!”

“No, I wasn’t meditating,” Taes said, a little more emphatically.  “I was doing nothing.”

Kellin squinted at her again, shaking his head.  “I don’t get it,” Kellin said.  He padded across the compartment and draped himself over the sofa.  Taes had that glint in her eye, Kellin could see, like she had a story to tell.

“You know,” Taes said and she genuinely sounded like she expected Kellin to already understand all of this.  Her eyebrows raised in an expression of surprise at the question.  “Suz was studying it on Uccaro last week,” she added.

At that, Kellin became even more confused.  Squinting at Taes, he couldn’t decide if he was missing something or if Taes was the one who had lost the plot.  “The citizens of Uccaro haven’t seen a Federation starship in ten years since first contact,” Kellin said, summarizing what he did understand, before broaching what he didn’t: “And one of our research teams beamed down to… do nothing?”

Despite the amused smirk on her lips, Taes defended her science chief, by saying, “This was only one avenue of our research and diplomacy in the Typhon Frontier, but yes.  Lieutenant Susarla led observations and ethnographic surveys about… doing nothing.  As an activity in itself, it’s revered by the people of Uccaro.  They consider it distinctly separate from recuperating or mindfulness.  It’s doing nothing… for the sake of nothing.”

Kellin breathed out a dubious, “Huh,” and he remarked, “My skin crawls if I do nothing for even ninety seconds.”

Taes smiled at him fondly, and then she assumed her formal timbre when she asked, “In that case, what brings you to my door, lieutenant?”

“We’ve received new orders from Starfleet.  For your eyes only,” Kellin explained.  Cheekily, he added, “Maybe we’re conducting an anthropological study into buffets?”

*   *   *

“Far be it from me to question the command staff…” announced Sootrah Yuulik.  Tilting her head, the Arcadian delivered the preamble with good-humour, even offering a small wink of self-awareness.  She had barely gotten the statement out of her mouth when the members of the senior staff, gathered in Dvorak’s observation lounge, sputtered out laughs at the idea of Yuulik withholding a single opinion.

Sitting in the centre curve of the conference table, Captain Taes took notice of Kellin Rayco laughing the loudest.  It relieved her to see Kellin being able to laugh at Yuulik’s confrontational ways.  His reaction was a far cry from the fledgling Security Chief he’d been, months ago, trying to blackmail Yuulik into silencing her ongoing criticism of Taes herself.

Wryly, Kellin retorted, “Questioning the command staff is your personal prime directive.”

Yuulik tipped her head to Kellin, but she continued unabated.  Weightily, she said, “But when I went to bed last night, we were diving deeper into the Typhon Frontier.  This morning, I see we turned back?  What, may I ask, is so fascinating about Starbase 23?”  As Yuulik’s gaze landed on the chief flight controller, Yuulik’s brow furrowed disdainfully.  “You can admit it, Annikafiore… Have we gotten lost?”

Folding her hands on the tabletop, Taes held her tongue only long enough to choose her words carefully.  She had been debating how much to share with the crew about their new orders from Starfleet Command.  Frankly, Taes was still debating how much she really knew, herself, about the rapidly evolving situation.  Not wanting to leave this in Annikafiore Szerda’s lap, Taes interjected with a smooth, “No, we’re not lost.”

This gathering of the department heads for the morning briefing was particularly casual, by Taes’ designs.  Taes had banned any of them from preparing presentations or referring to each other by rank.  Taes made a point of role modelling the way she wanted the conversation to naturally weave between social matters and departmental updates during this time together.  Although Yuulik served as Dvorak’s Assistant Chief Science Officer, Taes had invited her to these briefings to represent the interests of the science officers conducting independent research, unrelated to Dvorak’s Starfleet missions.  The conference table had been laid out with a platters of foods Taes had ordered from each of the senior staff’s home worlds: Delta IV, Bajor, Trill, Earth, Arcadia, Elaysia, and Betazed.  Only Phylos was unrepresented, as Pimpinellifolia didn’t quite eat the way mammals did, and the replicator database retained no food patterns from Phylos.

Sat at one far end of the table, Doctor Pimpinellifolia was attending the briefing for the first time in weeks.  While Taes was circumspect to assume the fauna-based Doctor Nelli felt emotions that were in any way analogous to Deltan emotions, Taes had noticed a change in Nelli’s behaviour the past couple of months.  Ever since Chief Science Officer Jeffrey Homgren had been incapacitated on an away mission, and Nelli had been unable to revive him, Nelli had noticeably withdrawn.  Taes could see that Nelli was less inquisitive about the humanoid experiences that had excited her to join Starfleet in the first place.  It was only Dvorak’s new Chief Science Officer, Priyanka Susarla, who had gently compelled Nelli to make connections with the crew again.  Taes couldn’t be certain if that was due to Susarla’s empathetic leadership style or her scientific specialty as an ecologist.

Sitting directly across from Taes was Chief Engineer Leander Nune.  At the precise moment when Taes looked Nune’s way, the young man happened to be licking oskoid syrup off his fingers.  Taes allowed herself three seconds to watch the movements of his lips and then she willed herself to look away.  Nune had respected Taes’ wishes to honour their sexual dalliance as singular affair.  It had been a beautiful interaction while Taes had been spiritually lost in the woods — reeling from an accidental bodily transformation during her first mission as captain of Dvorak.  In the weeks since then, Nune had treated Taes with no greater affection or evasion than when they had first worked together aboard the USS Nestus, which was what Taes had wanted.  Looking away, Taes checked in with herself to make certain that was still what she wanted.

On the other end of the table, Executive Officer Elbon Jakkelb and Security Chief Kellin Rayco were sitting across from one other.  From what Taes could see, Kellin wasn’t even allowing himself three seconds at a time to look at Elbon.  This behaviour showed up in stark contrast to both men admitting to Taes that they were married, even though she knew they didn’t live together, they didn’t socialize, and Kellin glommed onto every member of the senior staff as if they were his best friend — every member except for Elbon.  Between vague metaphors and platitudes, neither of them had been terribly succinct at explaining their relationship to Taes.  Once Taes caught Commander Elbon’s eyes, he raised his eyebrows in an expression that said: tell them.

Taes responded with a single, slow nod.  Breathing in through her nose, Taes shielded herself from an emotional response from the crew.  She pressed the soles of her boots against the deck plate beneath her.  She affected an aloof timbre, speaking in measured tones to avoid sensationalising the matter further.  Taes said, “Starfleet has received reports –as yet unconfirmed reports– the the imperial senate of the Romulan Star Empire has been massacred.  We believe the atrocity was undertaken by the empire’s own Star Navy.”

Susarla slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp.  Nelli’s eye-stalks drooped and Kellin boggled at Taes as if she’d kicked a puppy through the viewport.  Nune’s dark eyes darkened further, and he muttered, “This is why I only work with plasma manifolds.”  Annikafiore looked around the table and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, when she uncomfortably quipped, “…Again?”

Yuulik appeared unimpressed.  “That may be the theatre the Star Empire chooses to perform for Starfleet to see,” Yuulik remarked.  “Could this be a trap?”

Tilting her bald head to the left, Taes replied, “If it was a trap, the Remans are loosed from it.  The Romulan Star Navy has long relied on the mineral wealth of their Velorum Sector, which has been mined and refined by the enslaved labour of the Remans and others.  All over the sector, Remans have begun rebelling against their Romulan leaders and taking command of their own destiny.  The majority Reman population has annexed the Velorum Sector from the Star Empire, and declared it a free state.  Acting-Governor Resak, of the Remans, has promised improved living conditions for any who wish to join them.  He has formally asked for assistance from the Federation, because he doesn’t have the resources to follow through with his intentions.”

Earnestly, and respectfully, Kellin replied, “And we do?”  As soon as he’d said it, Kellin closed his eyes and shook his head.  Taes supposed he looked visibly frustrated with himself for saying his first thought out loud.  Struggling for the right words, Kellin said, “Why would we interfere in the internal matters of the Romulans?  …Or, I guess it’s just the Remans now?  Or is it both if we recognize the Remans as a free state and they don’t?”

“Kellin…” Elbon sighed.  Although Commander Elbon spoke softly, he sounded as if he were chiding a particularly lost child.  “We’re Starfleet.  The Remans have asked for the Federation’s help.  We answer all distress calls.”

Arguing for an act of compassion, Taes said, “Our intelligence tells us many of the worlds across the Velorum Sector are not sustainable Romulan colonies.  They’re workplaces.  Glorified prison camps.”  Her mien grew impassioned, as she shared more of what she’d learned in her orders from Starfleet Command.  “Without the infrastructure of the Star Empire, entire worlds lack the means to provide the basic needs of their people: food, water, shelter, health care, education.  It would be criminal to withhold humanitarian aid.”

Nune snorted.  “Isn’t it criminal to ignore general order one?”

Sweeping a hand out to indicate Nune, Yuulik nodded at his criticism.  “We should treat the normal cultural evolution of the Remans as sacred,” Yuulik proposed.

Wincing at that, Nune remarked, “That’s not how I meant it?”

Emboldened, Yuulik continued, “Interfering with their development could leave them with a dependency on the Federation — just as unhealthy as their dependency on the Romulans.”  Her voice rose, as if she were giving a lecture at a scientific conference.  “In fact, if we fly in as saviours, can the Remans evolve their own culture at all?  Do we not risk becoming the same overlords, leaving them in the mines, addicting them to replicators, and then… who knows?  Maybe they can fight our wars on our behalf too?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Nune said, more assuredly this time.

Susarla countered with, “Our technology is not significantly superior to the Romulans.  I don’t imagine Reman culture is going to be contaminated by replicators and hyposprays.”

“Forget the prime directive!” Nune snarled.  He scoffed and he lowered his voice, before he asked, “Are we just going to pretend the Remans didn’t attempt an extinction event on Earth twenty years ago?  A cascading biogenic pulse is on my no-list.  That’s no way I plan to die.”

Recognising how fruitless it would be to debate the finer points of the prime directive and past trauma, Taes affirmed, “Today, the Remans are the ones facing extinction.  Their infrastructures have collapsed overnight.  We should anticipate other civilizations, other factions among the Romulans, may want the riches of the Velorum Sector for themselves.  The entirety of the fourth fleet is being dispatched to provide humanitarian aid and protection.  We’re going to equip the Remans with the tools they need to reach self-determination and self-sufficiency.”

Skeptically, Yuulik asked, “And what, pray tell, does Starfleet suppose a boat full of archaeologists and anthropologists can do in enemy territory?”

Taes grinned.  “We’re going to feed the world.”

“And she’s home, commander,” Leander Nune reported from the freestanding engineering console at the aft of Dvorak‘s bridge.  “Captain Taes has beamed back from Temeraire.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” replied Commander Elbon Jakkelb, from his slouch in the captain’s chair.  Perhaps a nervous habit, the Bajoran first officer toyed with his dangling earring, while he kept his eyes on the viewscreen.  A heartbeat later, he nodded to himself and he tapped a control on the armrest.  

On the left side of the viewscreen, a narrow LCARS frame appeared over the flurry of warp-distorted stars.  At the top of the framed out segment, a green dot appeared to represent their destination: the Kunhri star system.  Kunhri was located on the outer rim of the Velorum Sector that had banded together to declare independence, under Regional Govenor Resak.  At the bottom of the LCARS frame were a cluster of Starfleet arrowheads to represent USS Dvorak and the impromptu task group she had joined at Starbase 23, including the Inquiry-class USS Temeraire, the Vesta-class USS Neptune, and the Raven-class corvettes Thyanis and Daradax.  A moment later, Temeraire and Neptune began to race ahead of the others, to reach the Kunhri system faster than the others could sustain.  The Ravens, and Dvorak with her aging horizontally-mounted warp core, crept more slowly towards Kunhri at cruising speed.

Once the turbolift doors slid open, Taes entered the bridge.  The heel of her boot had hardly touched the carpet when Commander Elbon declared, “Captain on the bridge!”  As soon as he had done so, Elbon vacated the centre seat and he tossed a wicked grin in Taes’ direction.  Taes reacted with a confused quirk of a smile back at him.  Each time Taes had asked him to forget about that tradition, Elbon had announced her arrival even louder the next time.  He made his way back to the freestanding mission ops console, which was directly beside Kellin Rayco, at the tactical console.  Elbon moved smoothly, managing to avoid eye-contact with Kellin the whole time.

As Taes stepped down into the command well, she said, “I’ve met with the other commanding officers in our task group and we’ve been fully briefed on Starfleet’s orders for this mission,” of her brief trip to Temeraire.  Making eye-contact with the gathered members of her senior staff, she added, “I thank you all for your departmental recommendations in the meantime.”  On Dvorak‘s bridge, the two seated consoles closest to the viewscreen were configured for flight control and for science.  Taes offered a nod to Chief Science Officer Priya Susarla and knowingly requested, “Lieutenant.”

Susarla swiped a command on her LCARS panel, as Taes sat herself in the captain’s chair.  Another LCARS frame appeared over the warped view of stars on the viewscreen.  Within that frame was a blurred sensor composite of a planet.  “Between our records and what we’ve learned from Resak’s dialogue with Starfleet,” Susarala reported, “Kunhri Three is an M-class planet colonized by the Romulans centuries ago for its mineral wealth.  Near the planet’s equator, the terrain is dry with a desert climate.  To the north and south, the continents are largely swamp lands.  After the planet was strip-mined and pit-mined to death, the mining facilities were all converted to metal and fuel refineries.  Each refinery is a self-contained city, constructed exponentially deeper underground than what the facilities on the surface would suggest.  The Remans both live and work in these refineries, but those living conditions contain no comforts we would recognize.”

Taes interjected, “No food is grown or produced on Kunhri Three.  The planetary population was being fed by shipments of ambient-temperature ration packs from the Star Empire.”  She wasn’t entirely successful at swallowing the rush of panic that bubbled through her as she said those words.  “With the downfall of the senate on Rator –and the Remans of Kunhri Three rejecting their local Romulan leadership– all food shipments have ceased.  Everyone in the world is starving.”

“The other ships in our task group will manage the strategic and tactical operations.  Dvorak is leading the humanitarian aid to Kunhri,” Taes explained.  Drawing the attention of the flight controller, Taes said, “Our short-term mission is to address the immediate food shortage.  Lieutenant Szerda: I recall you serving a couple of rotations in the logistics department aboard Starbase 72.  You’ll be working with Commander Elbon and the Operations department to coordinate the distribution of rations, water, and replicators.”

“Aye, captain,” Szerda acknowledged.  “I’ve received the inventory of supplies each ship took aboard at Starbase 23.”

“Rations and replicators are only a short-term solution,” Taes affirmed, as she got up from her chair.  She padded up the ramp to the engineering console.  “The replicator battery cells and raw matter stock will run dry not long after we leave the Kunhri system.  Lieutenant Nune: your engineering team will construct hydroponic gardens in each of the refineries.  We need to provide them with sustainable food sources within the communities where they live.  Lieutenant Susarala will lead our botanists and ecologists to seed the gardens with every edible plant we’re carrying in our cargo bays.”

Susarla let out an uncomfortable simper of a laugh.  She remarked, “That’s a lot of potatoes and spinach.”

“Lieutenant,” Taes said, “Your record says you terraformed the moon of Campor III…”

Waving it off, Susarla humbly admitted, “You can say I have a green thumb.”

Taes crossed the aft of the bridge to the freestanding Science II console at the opposite end.  “Lieutenant Yuulik will be coordinating between the science department section heads.  I need them to work the long-term problem through the lens of every scientific specialty we have on board: How do we defeat food insecurity on Kunhri Three?”

“This… could be a long road, captain,” Yuulik said evasively.  “We know so little about Remans and Dvorak is equipped with very many lenses.  We don’t know what plantlife and livestock grow naturally on Kunhri Three.  We don’t know what food is most nutritious for Remans.  What are the Remans’ activity levels in the refineries?  What foods do Reman culture find enjoyable?”

“Putting aside the countless lives we can save, Yuulik,” Taes remarked dryly, “Just think of all the articles you can publish afterwards.”

*   *   *

It was the chicken wings that tipped him off.

“With some time to read the reports from Commander T’Prynn…” Kellin Rayco was already saying, when he marched into Taes’ ready room.  One of said reports from USS Temeraire‘s strategic operations officer was floating in front of his face on a holographic PADD projection.  “I’ve gathered my thoughts on a defensive strategy for Dvorak‘s flight through Romulan and Reman space…”

As he approached Taes’ desk, the aroma was what reached Kellin first.  The scent made him smile wistfully.  Looking through the translucent holographic pane, Kellin tilted his chin down to regard the desk and, more importantly, a plate of steaming chicken wings.  His eyes cut to Taes, now looking at her through the translucent hologram.  “Are those chicken wings?” he asked, having never seen Taes partake before.

“They are,” Taes said invitingly.  She swept a hand at a one of the guest chairs.  The Deltan cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Spicy enough to make you astrally project onto another plane of existence.”

“For me?” Kellin asked.  In this moment, the captain’s offer struck him the same way as if she was handing him a treasured family heirloom.  Kellin had reached a new personal best in his barbell squat that morning and the act of eating lunch had only left him more famished.

Nodding at Kellin, Taes prompted, “Yuulik doesn’t light up like that when I surprise her with food.”

“Thank you, captain.  That, uh,” Kellin said, as he clicked off his holoPADD and swung a leg over the back of the desk chair.  He Riker-maneuvered into the seat and dragged the plate of chicken wings closer to his edge of the desk.  Then he blinked. Meeting Taes’ eyes uneasily, Kellin said, “That means… you’re gonna ask me to wash down the wings with something bitter, doesn’t it?”

The placid smile on Taes’ face pulled taut and her brown eyes appraised Kellin anew.  She breathed out a “tt” between her teeth, and she said, “I’ll have to stop teaching you my influence techniques…”  She widened her eyes at Kellin in a faux-frustrated expression, and that got a laugh out of him.  Perching on the edge of her chair, Taes crossed her hands atop the surface of the desk.  It hadn’t been the first time Kellin had seen Taes draw strength from rigid postures.

Taes said, “Every step we’ve taken into the Typhon Frontier has been in the footsteps of Starfleet explorers who came before us.  Taking Dvorak into Romulan space, Reman space, is going to be a first for me.  We have the Temeraire and Nepute to protect us, but our crew will be at risk if the Romulan Star Navy, or the Klingons, decide they want the Kunhri system for themselves.  This ship is not without defences and you’re going to be the one at tactical.” –Taes fixed her gaze on her Chief Security Officer, clenching her jaw for a heartbeat– “I need to know I can trust you.”

“Of course you can trust me, captain,” Kellin emphatically said.  It came out sounding dejected, surprised that Taes could ever doubt that.  “You don’t even have to ask.”

Squinting at Kellin through a couple of nods, Taes said, “It’s not for me that I’m asking.  What happens if I’m not on the bridge when an aggressor attacks Dvorak?  Will I be able to trust you when Commander Elbon is at the conn?  You told me the two of you are married, but I never see you together.  You’ve danced around the topic and I’ve tried to respect that…”

“There’s no quarrel between us, if that’s what you mean?” Kellin blurted out, hoping that oversharing would quickly patch up any apparent rift between Taes and himself.  “I respect Jakkelb as a leader.  I always have, since the day I met him on Risa.  He wouldn’t stop giggling when we had dinner that first time.  Even when I didn’t know what to say, he would giggle at me.  He says I made him giddy.  (I thought he was unwell?)  But he looks the way he looks and I admired the life he created for himself.  Elbon came of age in a refugee camp, not far from Nivoch.  He built a life in the Bajoran faith, and when the Vedek Assembly failed him, he did it again.  Just look at him now!”

Gently probing, Taes said, “Then I don’t understand.  Where does the tension come from?”

Kellin shrugged helplessly, saying, “We got married too quickly and for the reasons that were never in storybooks.  There were no illusions that we would expect monogamy from each other, but the real challenge was being in a throuple with Starfleet.  I spent a couple shore leaves aboard Dvorak, y’know, back when Elbon was second officer.  I know which sections of the ship have the best view of the stars.  Elbon could never quite find… room for me in this life he constructed.  He wanted me– he said he wanted me in his life– but I never fit between his faith and his duty.  Noting bad happened between us.  We drifted…”

Taes’s eyes reflected compassion back at Kellin.  “Does he feel the same?”

At that question, Kellin breathed out a wry sigh.  “I can’t tell you one thing he feels,” Kellin said.  “Not for a fact.  I don’t really know why he married me.”

Winching at what he said, Taes nodded at Kellin.  “Why did you marry him?” she asked.

Kellin replied, “I never wanted to leave Risa.  I married him so shore leave would never end.  Our still being married now is… procrastination?  Paper work?  A pipe dream?”

Captain’s Log, Supplemental,

 

Since arriving in orbit of Kunhri III, the crew has worked tirelessly for several days, embarking on the first initiative of our humanitarian mission.  Replicators and emergency ration packs have been distributed to the Reman communities in greatest need by Commander Elbon and his teams.  Any concerns I’ve had for Doctor Pimpinellifolia do not carry over into her commitment.  Nelli’s medical teams have established triage tents across the planet to offer emergency first aid to any who have been wounded, be it from industrial labour or their uprising against the Romulan Star Empire.

 

The starships Temeraire and Neptune have begun operations to secure the Kunhri system with sentry pods and a tachyon detection grid.  Our own security department must also remain vigilant.  While the First Consul of the Kunhri system has formally requested Starfleet’s assistance, there have been reports of sparse strikes and rioting on the nearby world of Kunhri IV.  In fact, one refinery on Kunhri III has declined our first delivery of supplies, opting to eat the last of the rotting food left behind by the Romulans rather than trust anything from the Federation.

 

I have begun an initial, fleeting dialogue with my liaison from the Reman provisional government.  I will be working closely with Kunhri III’s Consul of Vitality, a Reman named Kecene.  I understand hers is a new government posting, jury-rigged into the framework of the existing Romulan structure, to represent the provisional government’s interests in their people’s health and vitality.  I trust, in time, the Remans will decide how they wish to govern themselves out of the shadow of the Star Empire.  

 

My first communiques with Kecene have been perfunctory.  I requested the locations of refineries that have already run out of food and she identified them.  Subsequent messages have expanded, revealing additional shades of her personality.  I’ve shown curiosity about Kecene and her intentions in this new role.  Kecene has been receptive, mostly.  Begrudgingly, she admitted her favourite flavour of Starfleet rations has been chicken and blueberry.  We’ve even complained to one another about our respective days.  I find mutual complaining helpful to better understand another’s point of view.  I can only hope I’ve done enough to convince her to remain in dialogue with Starfleet.

*   *   *

“That didn’t take long,” Kellin muttered under his breath.

After less than five minutes of inspecting Refinery 01R’s kitchens, Security Chief Kellin Rayco discovered an oddly-sticky dust that had been smeared down the left flank of his uniform jacket.  He made an effort to brush it away with the pads of his fingertips, but that only seemed to make it worse.  Like much of the capital refinery-city, the industrial kitchen had been constructed underground, with only one entrance.  Although he searched the room for possible security risks, all he found was cookery equipment that looked as if it had fallen into disrepair a century ago.  At one time, perhaps, the Romulans had opted to cook fresh food for the Remans and other refinery workers.  In the kitchen’s current state, it only appeared to be used for storage.  The last of the Romulan’s ambient-temperature food packs was tucked away in all manner of equipment.  Some of the food in the packs looked like crackers; others looked like liquid sludge.

Idly, Kellin wondered if there was some symbolism to Consul Kecene asking to meet Taes in the refinery’s kitchen.  In these hallowed halls where nutrition had been long ago abandoned, Kecene and Taes would plot a course for Kunhri III’s food security.  It was poetic.  He couldn’t wonder about it for long, because the door to the passageway swung open and Kecene trod into the kitchen, flanked by two other large Remans.  Judging by the other two’s bearing, Kellin estimated they were the equivalent to Kecene’s own security officers.  All three Remans were dressed in iridescent battle suits, most commonly seen during the Dominion War.  Kecene, herself, bore a striking presence.  Despite her decades as a refinery labourer, she carried herself with a majestic presence, as if she were made from marble.  As a Reman, Kecene’s grey, mottled skin was hairless, and her face was formed with sharp features to match her sharp fangs.  Kecene’s recessed eyes were yellow with black irises, and Kellin could identify no trace of emotion anywhere in her expression.  Her eyes might as well have been made of glass, as far as he could tell.

Taes had chosen to speak with Kecene one-on-one, and her orders had been for Kellin to remain as unobtrusive as possible.  Given Kellin’s height and stature, that wasn’t always easy.  He busied himself with the bank of Starfleet replicators that had been installed in the kitchens the other day.  Quietly, he ran self-diagnostics on each replicator in succession, while keeping a wary eye on Captain Taes in the heart of the room.  Similarly ordered, the Reman security guards held back by the door, leaving Kecene to approach Taes on her own two feet.  Although Taes was herself a tall woman by Deltan standards, Kecene was nearly a foot taller, looming over the Starfleet captain. 

“On behalf of the Kunhri government… I welcome you to the Kunhri system and I must thank you for your aid, Captain Taes,” Kecene said.  Speaking slowly, her words came out with precise enunciation, if not enthusiasm.  To call her voice gravelly would suggest the sound of one’s foot dragging through a bit of gravel in a garden.  Kecene’s voice sounded gravelly, like the industrial digging through gravel mountains in a quarry.  “The rations and replicators you have provided are a… consideration I would not have… predicted,” Kecene said.  The dry formality of her words evaporated any hint of an insult in what she had said.  It sounded like a matter-of-fact acknowledgement of the tense relations between free Remans and the Federation.

“I am gratified for the opportunity to assist, Consul Kecene,” Taes said, responding in her own formal timbre.  Looking up at Kecene, Taes clasped her hands together over her abdomen.  “Starfleet cannot look away in your peoples’ time of need.”

“Is that so?” Kecene asked rhetorically.  She cocked her head slightly, and then she didn’t pause for a response.  “I must be… fortunate the Kunhri system was… beyond the reach of the Romulan supernova.  In the time before Starfleet could not look away.”  And there was the insult.

Kellin gaped at Kecene, but he didn’t see Taes flinch.  Not even one twitch of the eye.  Taes nodded slowly, just once, and her visage took a turn for the contrite.  “There are no words to explain or excuse our shared history.  All I can ask is for you to take me as I am, before you, and take one step forward by my side,” Taes said to acknowledge Kecene’s concerns, without lingering on them, before proposing a way forward.  

There was a pregnant pause before Kecene responded to that and Kellin supposed she was considering Taes’ words.  Kecene bowed her head to Taes, mirroring the Deltan’s earlier movement.  “We sent our envoy, Kasik, to Starbase 23 to plea for… the needs of the Kunhri system,” Kecene finally said, referring to the Reman observer aboard the USS Temeraire.  “One of your Starfleet crews has returned our envoy to Kunhri without… harm or coercion.  I can accept… that as a show of your good will, captain.”

Taes remained formal in her bearing for this negotiation, but Kellin could see from her intake of breath that she was building momentum.  More of Taes’ natural way of speaking was starting to shine through the carefully crafted presentation.  Taes further proposed, “It’s important to me that Starfleet work with your government to build solutions that will suit the Reman people.  I come to you as a student first and foremost.  Would you do me the honour of taking me on a tour of this refinery?”

At that request, Kecene shifted her weight from one foot to the other and she braced a hand on her hip.  Kellin could still detect nothing resembling emotion or discomfort in her eyes, but that body language was a clue to something.  It said far more than the simple, “No,” Kecene said out loud.

Kellin could see that Taes was taken aback by that response.  Her posture stiffened and Kellin didn’t think she tried very hard to hide it.  Taes broke her eye-contact with Kecene to shoot a look of worry at Kellin.  In that instant, Taes’ formal facade had gone away, replaced with guileless concern for Dvorak.  “I’ve received reports of a strike on Kunhri IV, in protest of Federation starships being welcomed into your system,” Taes said to Kecene, as preamble to her real question.  “Is my crew safe… out in the refineries here?”

Kecene raised a hand at a measured pace, waving it at Taes to mollify her concerns.  “Kunhri III is not the jewel of the Velorum Sector.  Our utility is not… what it once was.  The empire thought so little of our workers, we were exposed to anti-Starfleet propaganda… infrequently,” Kecene said haltingly.  Kecene took a  breath, for what seemed like the first time, and her voice softened in elucidation.   “I will not take you on a tour of my people at their labour.  Romulans observe while others work.  I do not know if you want… the association with our previous Romulan overlords.”

The tension across Taes’ shoulders released and she tugged at the lower hem of her uniform jacket.  Taes conveyed, “I understand and I thank you for your insight.”  Sounding far more like herself, Taes asked, “Would it be impolite… may I ask how you feel about Starfleet, Consul Kecene?”

“My… brother spoke highly of Starfleet.  He was conscripted to fight for the alliance, through the end of the Dominion War.  I understand Starfleet officers fought well and Starfleet officers died well,” Kecene said.  To Kellin’s ears, she made that faint praise sound like a grave compliment.  “I… choose to respect Starfleet.  However, you must remember this is a Reman world.  We have taken it through… strength of purpose… and we can do so again.  I will not take you on a tour.  I do not know that I want the association… with Starfleet.”

Nodding at Kecene’s words, Taes promised, “I will respect your wishes, of course.”  She unclipped a slim PADD from her belt and she tapped the display, accessing a list of refinery cities on Kunhri III.  Proffering the PADD to Kecene, Taes said, “It’s more of your insights I request.  The first hydroponic garden has been constructed, here in the capital refinery.  We are prepared to teach your people how to tend to the flora and to harvest the fruit and vegetables for consumption.  Where, may I ask, can we assemble further gardens?  It will be important for your peoples’ access to food for the gardens to be embedded in communities, where they work and live.”

Clasping the PADD between both of her clawed hands, Kecene turned her eyes on the down.  She dragged a finger tip across the list of possible locations for further hydroponic gardens, and her eyes appeared to follow the names scrolling across the display.  “You may experience resistance in… seeking volunteers.  Gardening is considered work for low-born Romulans, nearly as undesirable as Remans.”  Kecene frowned at the PADD before she tiled her chin and she snorted.  “Digging for root vegetables in substrate materials… may approximate mining.  It would be good work for children.”

“Children?” Taes immediately echoed, her surprise barely-restrained.

“Yes, for children,” Kecene responded.  There was a hint of a threat in her tone, as if she were daring Taes to come at her with moral superiority.  “The Kunhri system is aligned with the reforms proposed by Governor Resak.  Our First Consul J’mek has declared no child may work inside industrial machinery.  Gardening may–“

Kellin didn’t even realise he was talking until after he’d already spat the words out.  “I believe what she meant was that children should be in school,” Kellin blurted out.

“Is that so?” Kecene asked, and there was the edge of a haughty challenge in her voice again.  She didn’t turn her head, she turned her entire body to consider Kellin.  She pointed a claw at a replicator over Kellin’s shoulder.  “Will your food replicator… spit out schoolrooms or Reman lessons?  No child of mine will be indoctrinated by Romulan… or Starfleet war colleges.”

Taes didn’t spare a look for Kellin at any point in the exchange.  Her gaze remained laser-focused on Kecene the entire time.  “My apologies, consul,” Taes said in her most deferential timbre.  “Our only requests are to build further gardens and the opportunity to teach your people how to produce their own food in a sustainable, self-reliant manner.”

Kecene snorted and she returned her attention to the PADD, rather than to Taes directly.  “I will ponder your request and provide you with coordinates within the hour.  You may build more gardens,” Kecene replied.  “Will that be all, captain?”

“You understand, of course, the hydroponic gardens are an interim measure,” Taes said, carefully treading a respectful air without giving up any ground.  “The plant-based food we’re introducing will introduce biodiversity in your nutrition and allow for valuable learning between our cultures.  The volume of food will not be sufficient to feed the population in the long term.  I hope to continue a dialogue with you as my science department learns more about your people, and this planet, to determine the best path forward to food security.”

Her lips pursed tightly, Kecene patted the back of the PADD into her open palm three times.  She took a step closer and handed the PADD back to Taes.  Speaking softly, Kecene admitted, “I am… daunted by my duty to feed this world.  My predecessor held a… posting as the Consul of Reman Affairs.  I took on his thoughts before I took his life.  His only goal, in Reman Affairs, was psychological warfare on my people.  His goal was to keep us docile and unlikely to rebel.  He was… unsuccessful.  My goal is health and vitality for all who live within the borders of Kunhri.  I would greatly… welcome your further requests and insights, Captain Taes.”

From the very moment the transporter beam released Lieutenant Junior Grade Sootrah Yuulik on the surface of Kunhri III, she griped, “There is no place on Arcadia that looks like this hell.  The weather control matrix would never suffer it.”  

Yuulik had materialized in a grouping of five other officers, all of them in teal-shouldered uniforms except for Captain Taes.  Yuulik had yet to suss out if Taes’ presence on the away team meant Yuulik was leading the most critical mission –to research a multi-discipline, long-term path to food security– or if Captain Taes was planning to micromanage her assistant chief science officer.

As always, Yuulik won the race to quick-draw her tricorder and activate its multitude of sensors first. She resolved to award prizes to herself until the science slowpokes who assisted her began to do better.  Before the sensor readings could tell her anything, Yuulik had already decided this corner of the planet should be diagnosed with clinical depression.  No location on this entire continent had been dignified with a name by the Romulans; it was only known by coordinates in the official records.  Yuulik had materialized on a dry-land protrusion at the coast of a saltwater river.  When taking her first step forward, her boot squished into aquatic vegetation underfoot.  The saturated-soil was otherwise thick with water-tolerant vegetation such as woody shrubs and trees. In fact, every single tree in view was sagging under the weight of their own branches and leaves, as if they had lost the will to reach for the stars. In this tropical-wet climate, the sky was was overcast and sprinkling rain on the away team.  Yuulik’s twin fauxhawks were already drooping from the damp in the air.

After another six officers beamed down from Dvorak, Yuulik lowered her tricorder, but left its scanners running.  She pointed a finger at the two operations officers from the second group.  “Set up base camp for our planetary survey over there!” Yuulik demanded and she pointed to the driest patch of land she could see.  She raised her index finger again and spun a quick circle in the air.  Stridently, Yuulik ordered, “The rest of you: I want water and soil samples, along with preliminary seismic, geothermal and meteorological scans within the hour.“

That got the quick-draw out of them.  Junior science officers went running to and fro, being led by their tricorders.  Others pulled large scanning devices out of backpacks, while the pair from operations began to erect a large tent.

“They’ll get it done, captain. You can count on them.  In no time, we’ll understand what vegetables and livestock can be sustained in this environment,” Yuulik said.  All the while, she smirked proudly at her obedient little minnows.  Sidling closer to Taes, Yuulik added eagerly, “Do you see, captain?  They move so much faster when I’m in charge.”

Taes tilted her bald head in Yuulik’s direction, an inscrutable expression in her eyes while she studied her.  Taes sniffed and she said, “Is that how it is?”

Yuulik scoffed back at the implication.  “What?  Speed is good, no?” Yuulik asked impetuously.  She felt like this was another crucible from the captain, making things harder because of her self-flagellation mythology.  Without replying, Taes raised her own tricorder and waved it in the direction of the nearest tree.  As Taes walked away, Yuulik followed her to insist, “The task you’ve set for us is monstrous.  Creating an entire agriculture and food distribution system, and make it sustainable?  From scratch?  We don’t know how long Starfleet, or frankly the Remans, will allow us to stay and follow through.”

“No, Sootrah, speed is not the only metric” Taes replied. Somehow, Taes used the exact same tone of voice that Yuulik’s mother had spoken in when Yuulik would describe her mother’s punishments as illogical. Yuulik couldn’t understand how Taes had learned that tone without being a mother herself… unless Taes had spitefully taken voice-lessons from Yuulik’s own mother.  Sternly, Taes said, “You know that’s not what either of us is talking about.  You think you should be the chief.  So I’m asking you: how is Lieutenant Susarla performing?”

Yuulik needed exactly one microsecond to consider her answer. “She’s horrible”.

Shaking her head at Yuulik, Taes muttered, “Already at red alert, I see.”  Taes abandoned any pretense of scanning and she led Yuulik deeper into the woods, moving away from the away team. Taes asked, “Has Suz been derelict in her duty, lieutenant?”

“She has been derelict in her duty,” Yuulik said smugly, “to me!  She doesn’t understand how to debate.  She nods incessantly and she says things like ‘I receive that’ and ‘tell me more’.  Tell me more?  What does that add to a conversation?”

Spinning back to face Yuulik, Taes pinched the bridge of her nose.  It looked like a performative act of frustration to Yuulik.  “She’s trying to nurture you.  Don’t you understand?” Taes asked. With those words, the fire in her belly had apparently snuffed out.

“Aw, grozit.  Gross,” Yuulik said, literally nauseated by the thought of her boss prostrating herself to nurture her. “Do you think Suz is up to the task?  Is she capable of raw invention with her ‘tell me more’s and her nurturing udders?  Captain, you think we can invent agriculture on this planet, and you hope it can be modeled on Kunhri IV and across the Velorum Sector,” Yuulik proselytized. The vitriol fueling her words had been replaced by sheer awe at Taes’s audacity.

Yuulik continued, “Starfleet only ordered you to get Kunhri through the next year, until Psi Velorum can get the food shipments back on schedule.  You decided for yourself that Kunhri needed a hundred-year plan to reach food security, entirely self-sufficient from even the Velorum Sector itself.  That’s absolute hubris and I love you for it.  You’re talking about inventing infrastructure where there’s no historic or cultural foundation of agriculture to build upon.  The Remans have been restrained in a system of forced labour for centuries.  They have nothing like farming in their ancestral memory.  I can hardly even conceive of what any of that can be like.”

Evidently ignoring the talk of hubris, Taes locked onto that last thing Yuulik had said.  Pointedly, Taes asked, “You’ve never known hunger, Sootrah?”

“Never.  Not for one hour,” Yuulik said, with a shake of her head.  Facing Taes in the rain, Yuulik’s two strips of hair had matted against her scalp and her mascara was running.  “On the island where I grew up, Arcadians communicate love through food,” Yuulik shared, “and my parents were very, very fat.  Arcadia is more utopic than Earth, captain.  (Honestly, Earth is where we go to rough it.)  I know nothing of the Remans’ lived experience.  The biases implicit in the prime directive alone say a lot about what we think of intergalactic economies, the value of labour, and our perception of scarcity.  That’s not how the Remans view the galaxy.  Not at all.  We’re all going to have to be very careful about the assumptions we make as we design any solutions.”

“Not… all of us,” Taes said delicately.  The way Taes talked about her adolescence, stranded on a failed colony, was the same way one might walk on a tender knee.  “Some of us have known hunger in our lifetimes.  …But I take your point.”

Yuulik shrugged helplessly at Taes, admitting, “I can’t bluster my way through this one. I’m very, very clever, but I’m prepared to defer to your vision here.  I… and Suz… can design the connective tissue, the implementation, but the scope of the systems you’re proposing we create…  You’re the mad scientist on this one.”

Shaking her head with a rousing laugh, Yuulik had to ask Taes, “Do you have a god complex or are you trying to prove something?”

Taes stared at Yuulik —stared right at her— and then she hooked a thumb over her shoulder, to indicate where the rest of the away team was putting the base camp together.  “Let’s dry off,” Taes suggested.  She took her first steps in that direction before she told Yuulik, “Did you know, my people have built a new colony on Nivoch? They had to abandon the old… my home.  My historical and cultural foundation couldn’t be relied upon, because the ecological changes made the planet unsustainable for life.  So they built something new?  They built a self-contained colony dome, because they wanted to offer a refuge for Cardassian refugees crossing the border.”

Reaching out to grip Yuulik by the shoulder, Taes insisted, “You can’t be afraid to be wrong when you have nothing.  You have to do something.”

The moment Annikafiore lifted the hexagonal lid from the cargo crate, she felt a shiver run through her.  Her first assumption came in a moment of panic.  She grasped for the small control pad on the forearm of her uniform to run a self-diagnostic on her Lieber exoskeleton.  The subtly-designed exoskeleton consisted of black metal bands, which ringed the arms and legs of her uniform to provide Annikafiore Szerda with anti-grav mobility assistance.  Because she hailed from low-gravity Elaysia, Annikafiore’s musculature and neural motor cortex required the exoskeleton to assist her with standing and walking in class-M gravity fields.  When the panel blinked green, Annikafiore felt reassured that her exoskeleton was still drawing power from the Raven-class USS Daradax, where she was itemizing supplies in the cargo bay.

If there was nothing physically wrong, Annikafiore assumed the feeling must have been deja vu.  It had been hardly half a year ago when she had been serving aboard the Raven-class USS Nestus, ferrying humanitarian supplies to the planet Haven amid the Century Storm.  The cargo bay aboard Daradax was virtually identical to that one in appearance.  Through the mission to Haven, Annikafiore had been distracted by trying to unravel the mysteries of her inscrutable commanding officer, then-Commander Taes.  Now that she had been promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade and named Chief Flight Control Officer aboard Dvorak, Annikafiore reaffirmed for herself she wouldn’t be so easily distracted this time.  Taes and Elbon had trusted her to coordinate the logistics of providing supplies to the people of Kunhri III, amid the immediate food crisis.

Sifting through crates in the cargo bay, Annikafiore was consolidating the supplies that remained across the ships in their impromptu task group, now that the first wave of rations and replicators had been delivered to Remans all over the planet.  Ensign Belania, from the Daradax crew, had been invaluable in completing the inventory quickly, even though she had posed distractions of her own.  As a fellow pilot, the two had plenty to gripe about the handling of a Raven-class corvette, and as an unabashed Ferengi, Belania hadn’t been shy about the importance of rule of acquisition number 102.  It was never too early, Belania had insisted, to begin planning for retirement, and if Annikafiore wanted to go in with her on a side-business, Belania had a cousin who could sell the remaining supplies on the black market.  Annikafiore didn’t know Belania well enough to guess if that had been a joke or not.

Almost immediately, Annikafiore was distracted again, this time by a familiar humming sound.  In among the cargo crates, two pillars of silver-blue energy swirled into existence.  Just as quickly as they coalesced, the transporter effect faded, depositing two Starfleet officers in the cargo bay.  The shorter of the two, in the gold-shouldered uniform, took the lead.  Leander Nune was compactly built, but sturdy-looking all the same, and his flirtation with pink hair had started to grow out.  His dark brown roots better matched his beard.  Nune raised his index finger to point out one row of crates and then another.

“If we split up, we’ll get out of here faster,” Nune declared gruffly.  “You look for the mark-sixes in that aisle and I’ll look for the mark-sixes in this aisle.”

“Nah, lieutenant,” replied the taller and more willowy of the two Starfleet officers.  Science Officer Melchor Dolan explained away his seeming-insubordination, by saying, “Lieutenant Susarla wants more of the Prixus nutrient solution.  She says the Remans are learning how to tend to the hydroponic gardens best through hands-on experience.  She’s leading a class at refinery three-gee right now, while I’m explaining this to you.  That means she takes priority.  Sir.”

Annikafiore thought she saw Nune roll his eyes and he wasn’t exactly subtle about it.  “Very well,” Nune said tightly.  “As you were, ensign.”

As Dolan stalked off to the other end of the cargo bay, Annikafiore strode in Nune’s direction.  Her sleek exoskeleton allowed each step to land assuredly.  “Don’t you worry, lieutenant.  I can help,” Annikafiore brightly made the offer to Chief Engineer Nune.  Even she could recognized her eagerness was aggressive –and patently artificial– because she hoped it would distract from the unspoken subtext sparking between Nune and Dolan.  “I’ve almost completed the revised inventory aboard Daradax.  You said you were looking for a mark-six… what?” Anniakfiore asked.

Nune didn’t immediately acknowledge Annikafiore.  He was too busy watching Dolan walk away, until Dolan was out of sight behind another stack of crates.  “I… yes… Thank you, Annikafiore,” Nune said, apparently struggling to collect his thoughts.  When he met her eyes, Nune said, “I’m looking for mark-six water basins and grow trays.  Dvorak is teeming with fives, but the sixes are the only thing that’ll fit in the glorified closet I’ve been asked to retrofit into a hydroponic garden for refinery eight-eff.”

With a flick of her wrist, Annikafiore activated a projector rod, which lit up a holographic PADD screen before her eyes.  “We can do this.  I can help you with that,” she said, as she began to poke through her inventory list on the holo-interface.  Without fully knowing where she was headed, she padded towards one of the shelving units along a bulkhead. “If you’ve moved on to refinery eight-eff, does that mean the proof of concept has been a success?” Annikafiore asked.  Between her encouragement and leading questions, she knew it would be a dangerous game to try to intentionally influence the mood of a Betazoid, but she also assumed he could appreciate the effort, as transparent as it was.  “Your team have constructed, what?  Four hydroponic gardens now?  If you’re building more, that must mean the Remans appreciate them, yeah?”

Nune was stone-faced, following Annikafiore around the cargo bay on slow strides.  He shrugged at her and he said, “The Remans could be pissing in the hydroponic gardens for all I know.  Lieutenant Susarla is in charge of planting the gardens and educating the locals.  My team is strictly on installation duty.  We assemble the equipment and then we move on to the next refinery, and we do it all over again.”

Swaying towards him, Annikafiore bumped her shoulder into his.  The motion was gentle, communicating platonic affection.  “Do we still have a… Reman problem, Lee?” Annikafiore asked, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.  Nune hadn’t been shy about his ire with past Reman plots against the Federation.  With a rambling mien, she went on: “Because I’ve spent the past few days with them, handing out ration packs.  They haven’t all been grateful, exactly, but they were respectful to me.  They seem like humble, salt of the earth folks.”

“And when the Dominion occupied Betazed,” Nune interjected gravely, “I’m sure the Vorta commanders said my people seemed like humble, salt of the earth creatures.”  He said this without looking at Annikafiore.  “And the Vorta offered us much finer foods than Starfleet emergency rations.”

Annikafiore winced at what Nune had said to her.  She shifted her footing, allowing for more physical space between them.  “Okay, that sounds like I should apologise for something now?” Annikafiore said hesitatingly, because she was also asking him to explain what she’d said wrong.  Fearful of him icing her out, she kept talking, despite her asking him a question a moment earlier.  “But I’m confused, Lee.  Are you upset about the Remans or are you really upset about what the Dominion put you through?  Did I just unlock repressed memories for you?”

“I’m sorry– I don’t– I wish I knew,” Nune hissed back at her.  Keeping his voice low, Nune said, “I’m angry at everything — the galaxy.  The fall of the Star Empire is inconceivable.  An empire is splintering and collapsing and I don’t understand how that happened.  How can I know what to feel until I can understand what’s happening, or what’s already happened, if that makes any sense?  There’s too many factions and they’re all drifting apart.  It’s like a puzzle, but I only have half the pieces, and they’re all painted black with specks of stars.  I don’t understand why everyone is drifting apart.  

“…I hate not knowing what I’m feeling,” Nune opined.

“Leander…” Annikafiore said, full of concern.  Almost as soon as she said it, she was distracted by a movement in her peripheral vision.  “Ohmigod, Leander, it’s right there!” she declared.  She pointed out the inventory codes for the mark-six water basins on her holoPADD and then waggled her finger at a stack of crates.  Ensign Dolan happened to be struggling with an anti-grav scoop, slowly pulling the top crate from off of that very same rack.

Quick to lean into the change of subject, Nune called out, “Ensign, can you pull down the crate behind that one please?  It has the mark-sixes.”

Dolan boggled back at Nune with a figurative deer in the headlights look.  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  A second later, Dolan abandoned the anti-grav and the crates.  Instead, he scampered out of the cargo bay entirely.

“Oh,” Annikafiore said.  This time, she didn’t try to keep her voice down.  She poked Nune in the chest.  “You don’t have a Reman problem.  You have a Dolan problem.”

Nune breathed out a very deep breath, very slowly.  His dark eyes darted left and right, and then he appeared to be searching the overhead for all of the answers.  Nune leaned across a stack of crates, bracing his elbow against the top.  “Dolan won’t talk to me,” Nune said, deflated.  “We had sex and now he won’t talk to me.  We weren’t entirely friends before, but it was never awkward like this.”

“How bad was the sex?” Annikafiore asked, assuming the worst.

Chewing on his lower lip, Nune fixed Anniakfiore with a you’re-not-going-to-believe-this glare.  “I wish the sex had been bad,” Nune told her, and interrupted his own self with an irony-laden snicker.  “You forget the bad sex.  It’s shocking how much you forget bad sex.  I can’t forget the sex with Dolan; honestly,  I can’t stop thinking about…”  Nune then raised in eyebrows in a you-already-know expression.  “But he wasn’t himself.”

Somewhere between a scoff and a scream was the sound that escaped Annikafiore.  “You slept with Dolan,” she asked, “while Taes was piloting his body?”

Nodding heavily, Nune straighten up and he rolled his shoulders back.  “Taes was assertive and up-front about what she wanted from me,” Nune said.  He spoke, conspiratorially, out of one corner of his mouth, as if that would keep the secret somehow.  “I sensed no deception in her.  Her desire was… intense.  She asked me if I’d been with Dolan before, like she wanted to leverage any past chemistry between us.  Any other time, Taes would have been bound by her oath of celibacy.  Dolan agreed to it all.  He said it would be a funny novelty; a classic Starfleet story he could tell his grandchildren.  That night was my first time with either Taes in mind or with Dolan in body.  I can’t stop thinking about it, and I don’t know if I’m infatuated with Dolan or if I’m infatuated with Taes!”

“Oh no,” Annikafiore said in an animated panic.  “A stupid Tuvix problem!”

“A stupid what?” Nune asked, bafflement all over his face.

“Guy, I don’t know what to say,” Annikafiore replied in incredulity.  “Has anyone ever told you your problems are not relatable?”

“I have, in fact,” Nune said, “heard that before.

In the underground depths of Refinery 27C, Lieutenant Kellin Rayco touched an empty metal bracket on the wall. He had observed Lieutenant Nune disassemble every fixture in this room before replacing those fixtures with hydroponic gardening equipment.  Ponderously, Kellin tapped at the bracket again.  Judging by the fixtures Nune had pulled out of the room, Kellin was reasonably certain the room had been used for torture before gardening.  He supposed the space was large enough to accommodate a couple dozen Remans in its time.

As the ninth such garden the Dvorak crew had assembled and seeded on Kunhri III, it now accommodated row upon row of edible fruits and vegetables. For the sake of education –as Chief Science Officer Priya Susarla had explained to Kellin– one end of the grow trays contained freshly planted seeds and seedlings to teach the Reman youths and administrators how to grow. At the other end of the room, Dvorak had beamed down plants that were nearly ready for harvest.  As had become something of a morbid in-joke among the crew, this would teach the Remans how to adapt their mining experience into picking their own fruits and vegetables.  Because dilithium was just like summer squash, right?

At one of those grow trays, a young Reman dug up a root vegetable for the first time.  By Trill standards, his small stature made him look to be about thirteen years old.

“Obiruk, your hand!” Susarla shouted in surprise. Lieutenant Priya Susarla pointed out Obiruk’s mottled gray left hand, which looked discoloured in comparison to his other hand.  Despite any difference in appearance, that hand was firmly gripping a tuber.

“It is new,” Obiruk said. His matter-of-fact intonation belied some small sense of curiosity at how his amputated hand had been replaced.  “Bio-syn-thetic,” Obiruk explained. He sounded out the unfamiliar word that he recited from memory. “Your Doctor Nelli made it for me.”

“Do you think you have the strength to continue?” Susarla asked him in a teasing manner. As soon as Obiruk nodded, Suz went on to say, “Go on, pick the little tomatoes from that plant there, please.”

Standing guard by the door, Security Chief Kellin had been watching the interaction as if it were his favourite holonovel. In watching Obiruk’s pleasure at using his biosynthetic hand, along with Suz’s pride, Kellin felt as if he were eavesdropping on a private maternal moment. That feeling intensified when Susarla locked her eyes on Kellin. All the more so, when she began to walk towards him. If Yuulik had been Science Chief instead of Susarla, Kellin suspected Yuulik would have told him to find a pair of binoculars and spy on her from a respectable distance.

Instead, when Susarla drew nearer to Kellin and looked up at him, she said, “Can I ask for your help, Kel?”

Trying to anticipate her needs, Kellin visually searched the nearby shelving units, which were packed with greenery, liquid nutrients and spare lighting fixtures. Referring to his height, Kellin asked, “Do you need something off the top shelf?”

Susarla snickered and shook her head at that.  “I don’t need your arms, big boy. I need your eyes,” Suz said, emphasizing the last word. She placed a PADD in his hand. “If you’re going to stand here guarding us, document your observations, please.”

Hesitantly, Kellin began to decline, by saying, “I’m not a botanist or a teacher, ma’am.  I managed to kill my ey’ghera cactus in the academy dorms.”  He smiled at her sheepishly. “I wouldn’t know what to look for.”

Meeting Kellin’s eyes, Susarla waved off his concerns. There was an open intensity to her gaze that made her words sound all the more genuine. “You pay attention.  That’s enough,” Susarla said.  Providing him with further instruction, she explained, “Our sociology team needs more data about how Remans learn and communicate.  As we teach the Remans how to garden, write down anything you’re seeing and hearing.  Use your own words.  Document what the science officers are doing and also how the Remans are reacting.  My team can analyze whatever you give us. Once we better understand Reman learning modalities, we can better design our training for the next refinery, let alone the industrial farming to come.”

“Yes, ma’am. I can do that,” Kellin said.  Standing taller, he activated the paddy’s holo-interface to demonstrate his intent.

As Suz sauntered back to Obiruk’s side, she called back over her shoulder, “Keep your eyes on me, Kel.”

While Kellin did just that, Suz returned her full attention to Obiruk and his basket of small, yellow tomatoes.  Selecting one of them, Suz said, “Why don’t you try this one with me? They may be ripe, they may not be.  Smell it first and then taste it.  Let’s find out together.”

Obiruk plucked up a tomato between two fingers and held it up to his nostrils. After he popped it in his mouth, he sneered the whole time he was chewing and then he smiled faintly. “That tastes… that tastes… sharp?” Obiruk said, but looked to Suz for confirmation. “I’ve never tasted anything like that.  You’re thinking the word… tart?”

Suz squinted at the young Reman. “I’m thinking…?” she asked, letting the rest of the question hang between them.

“I’m sorry!” Obiruk spat out urgently.  Some of the tomato’s juices dribbled on his lip.  He took a heavy step back from Suz and he said, “I was instructed not to read your thoughts without permission.  I’m still learning my…” and he tapped the side of his head, in reference to his telepathic abilities.

Kellin thought he saw Suz visibly gulp when her eyes widened at Obiruk. She tucked a strand of curly dark hair behind her left ear. “Mistakes are acceptable. I forgive you, Obiruk.”  She placed a tomato in his hand and she didn’t draw her hand away. “Here, have another one.  You have my permission to touch my thoughts.  I’ll think all about tartness.”

When Obiruk ate another tomato, the shape of his face transformed into an expression of uncanny wonder. Kellin forgot to write down his impression of that exchange, because, at the other end of the garden, a jar of seeds clattered on the ground.

Ensign Melchior Dolan cursed loudly at the fumble from his own webbed hands, and then he fruitlessly kicked the spilled seeds across the floor. Kellin was already clasping the PADD to his belt when Suz shot him a pleading look. Pacing slowly, Kellin moved towards Dolan, keeping a wide berth of personal space between them. “Hey, hey, hey, buddy,” Kellin said like he was greeting an old friend. “That’s super frustrating, but I’m sure we’ve got more seeds on the ship.”

Dolan kicked at the seeds one more time and then he huffed in Kellin’s direction. The archaeologist was stood with rounded shoulders and his black hair ruffled in front of his eyes.  His body language reminded Kellin how recently Dolan had been a fourth year cadet at Starfleet Academy.

“Yes!  Send me to the ship.  Please.  The brig if you have to,” Dolan pleaded.  His words were a wisecrack but his pout was for real.   “I don’t think I belong here.  I’m not good at this.  I prefer plant fossils.”

Lowering his voice even more, Kellin asked, “What’s happening, Melchor?”  His vowels were round and spilling over with compassion. “Annikafiore said you wouldn’t help her lift a box yesterday?”

Scoffing out a, “cha,” Dolan replied in firm irritation. “Annikafiore is fine. (Why is she so insecure?) She says what she’s thinking. Hell, she says everything she’s thinking.  I would do anything for her.”

Dolan’s choice of words struck a chord of dawning realisation in Kellin that rose like a crescendo. “Then you are avoiding Nune!” Kellin said, after softly gasping. “I saw you run out of the Orchestra Pit the other day, as soon as you spotted him…”

“Dvorak is far larger than the Nestus ever was,” Dolan griped, “and yet every time I turn around, Nune is there, hovering over my shoulder.  I can’t get any peace.”

Kellin put a hand on Dolan’s shoulder and he thought he felt Dolan shiver.  Taking a breath, Kellin looked him dead in the eyes. Bringing the big brother vibes, Kellin asked, “Is Nune doing something to–“

“No, nothing like that,” Dolan said definitively, between shakes of his head. Given their time serving together, Kellin trusted Dolan to be perfectly honest with him. As a cost of that need for honesty, Dolan looked like he was struggling to put amorphous feelings into concrete words.  Still shaking his head, Dolan said, “He just– he looks at me differently.”

“He looks at you differently than he did before you slept together?” Kellin said to confirm his understanding. Dolan’s devotion to honesty had meant he had never kept any secrets about Nune’s dalliance with Taes, who had been in Dolan’s body at the time, due to an archaeological science disaster.

Nodding at Kellin, Dolan said, “I mean, I’ve seen his jawline and the fit of his trousers. The way his eyes smoulder at me when he’s listening, more than when he speaks.  You know we went on a couple dates on Starbase 72, but we both lost interest.  It was mutual.” Dolan breathed out a sigh that appeared to hurt. “Only now, he’s looking at me again.  Really looking at me.”

“What if something’s changed for real?” Kellin suggested, amid an ember of hope. “Nune could be blissed out on infatuation with you this time?”

“He can’t be infatuated with me, because it wasn’t me,” Dolan said in defeat. “He spent the night with Taes in my body.  Taes was a better Dolan, a heightened Dolan.  More man than I’ll ever be.”

Mulling that over, Kellin bobbed his head from side to side. Perhaps jumping too quickly to solutions, as his sisters always whined, Kellin proposed, “Who says Nune would care about a performance of masculinity?”

“I don’t perform anything, asshole!” Dolan insisted. His eyes bore into Kellin with grievous offence. The very suggestion he could be dishonest was of deep insult to those of Dolan’s Zaldan upbringing.

It didn’t take Kellin long to recognize his poor choice of words. “I’m sorry,” Kellin said. “I didn’t mean that. All I mean is… Has something changed?  We can’t speak for him, but are you infatuated with Nune now?”

“You may lie back now, please,” Doctor Pimpinellifolia requested of their patient.  “Make efforts to lay still while the surgical implements are active.”  

While they spoke, Nelli watched the Reman on the biobed look them up and down.  Likely, Nelli’s patient was struggling to decide where to look at their largely featureless leafy-green body.  Doctor Nelli’s phylosian physiology could be described as roughly humanoid, with a bulb on top and a trunk with eleven vine extensions atop four motor-limbs.  They wore no uniform, aside from a combadge on their vocoder, because every leaf on their flora body required free access to light and air.  One of Nelli’s vines touched a toggle on the side of the biobed, which rolled a surgical support frame over the prone patient.  With a couple more taps, the osteo-regenerator emitters within the frame set to work on repairing old injuries to the Reman’s skeletal system.

As chief medical officer, Pimpinellifolia had spent over a week on the surface of Kunhri III, tending to medical emergencies from one end of the planet to the other.  With most of the emergent cases behind them, Captain Taes had allowed Nelli to open sickbay’s doors to the chronic medical needs of Kunhri’s people.  Taes’ charity came with a catch, in this case, as each patient was asked to participate in the science department’s biological and anthropological study of the Remans’ nutritional needs.  Such participation was voluntary, of course, and Nelli had monitored the signing of several consent forms to ensure the patients knew that treatment remained freely available without conditions.

Because this patient had signed his consent form, Nelli turned their eye-stalks in the direction of a science officer wearing the Starfleet uniform that looked to be adorned with teal petals.  “Ensign T’Kaal,” Nelli said, “You may begin.  Gratefully, notify his nurse of any discomfort expressions.”  As Nelli shifted their motive limbs, two of the four limbs collided unintentionally.  Since returning to Dvorak, Nelli had found their sense of balance off-kilter.  The days she had spent beneath the soil of Kunhri, in underground refineries, had been intensely soothing and rejuvenating for the phylosian.  The artificial light and gravity of Dvorak proved temporarily disorienting, as if it was their first day in space all over again.

T’Kaal reached out to Nelli and steadied them without a word.  Nelli offered a quick thanks.  T’Kaal began her interview of the Reman, in her oddly comforting monotone voice.  Vulcan modes of speaking, Nelli found, were the easiest for them to interpret.

“What type of food makes you feel strong,” T’Kaal asked.

“Gruel,” the reman, Kladeu, replied.  T’Kaal noted his answer on her PADD.

“What type of food makes you feel more alert,” T’Kaal asked.

“Gruel,” Kladeu replied.  T’Kaal noted his answer on her PADD.

“What type of food makes you feel bloated,” T’Kaal asked.

“Dried vineriine,” Kladeu replied.  T’Kaal noted his answer on her PADD.

Nelli swiftly retreated to their private office, where they had left a human woman, with blond filaments growing from her head, at the desk.  The woman’s arrival aboard Dvorak had been predicated, a few days earlier, by Captain Taes encouraging Nelli to socialise with the crew of the Raven-class corvette that was also supplying humanitarian supplies to Kunhri III.  Nelli hadn’t particularly understood what Taes was proposing or how it should work, and so Nelli had researched the Academy thesis of their counterpart aboard USS Daradax, Ensign Kerry Dawson.

Over a late night comms conversation, Nelli had made introductions to Kerry by pointing out all of the mistaken assumptions Kerry had written in her essay.  Unlike most humans, Kerry agreed with all of Nelli’s criticisms and pointed out several other errors that Nelli had missed.  Because the rest of Kerry’s research and conclusions had been of sound foundation, Nelli had invited Kerry aboard Dvorak to temporarily participate in the research project that was consuming the entire science department — for as long as Commanding Officer Tarken could stand to spare Kerry from the Daradax’s own priorities.

In the office, Nelli found that Kerry had received another batch of sensor and interview data from the Life Sciences division.  Kerry was already reviewing the data to examine if their initial calculations remained consistent with the new findings.  Nelli and Kerry had prepared calculations to determine what caloric intake the Remans would require to maintain their activity levels in the refineries.  As much as Nelli had been participating in the biological study of Reman nutrition –having taken detailed sensor scans of Reman digestive systems– they struggled to conceive of the nature of the anthropological study being conducted in tandem.  

Lieutenant Priya Susarla had explained it to Nelli in detail: the science team had been asking the Remans questions about who in the community was most commonly fed and who in the community was more likely to go hungry.  They were asking questions about what food gave them negative memories of the Romulans, and about the ritual value of food in ancestral Reman culture.  As much as Nelli understood the biological function of digestion, the notion of making choices about nutrition remained alien to Nelli.  Nutrition was, for the most part, an involuntary function of their body, which absorbed any exposure to light, carbon dioxide, and liquid.

Just beyond the office, a door to the corridor opened and Assistant Chief Science Officer Sootrah Yuulik entered sickbay at a rapid pace.  Yuulik barged into the office and when Kerry said, “Good afternoon, lieutenant,” to her, Yuulik didn’t acknowledge her existence.  Rather, Yuulik examined the ward through a window panel.  She pointed at Ensign T’Kaal, who was still interviewing the Reman patient.  “How’s she doing?” Yuulik asked Doctor Nelli.

Nelli swayed their body and shifted their eye stalks to follow where Yuulik was gesturing.  Nelli replied, “Ensign T’Kaal is performing satisfactorily, but…”

“Hmm?” Yuulik intoned at Nelli.

Awkwardly, Nelli intertwined two of their vines in front of them, and intertwined two of them behind.  “May I query,” Nelli asked, “why Ensign T’Kaal devotes time to interrogate what Remans choose to eat?  Would her energy not be better expended preparing food sources for Remans?”

Yuulik sniffed at that and she said, “Not hardly.  Food is a right.  It’s a right for every living being.  It’s not our place to plant whatever crops are most convenient for the Federation.  The Remans have the right to choose what they want to eat.”

“I agree with Yuulik, Doctor Pimpinellifolia,” Kerry added.  “A cornerstone of takin’ a rights-based approach to food includes providing the Remans with access to nutritional variety.  That way we prioritise the people.  It ain’t productive to ignore their taste preferences.  In fact, it does the opposite: creating more barriers to accessing food.”

Nelli offered, “My thanks to you both.”  Shifting their weight between motor limbs, Nelli intertwined another couple of her vines.  “Forgive the impertinence.  You do not question your beliefs, do you, Lieutenant Yuulik?”

Wryly, Yuulik replied, “That’s why they’re called beliefs, kiddo.”

“I see,” Nelli said.  That led them to ask, “Lieutenant Yuulik, are you a bitch?”

Behind the desk, Kerry presented with a fit of coughs or hiccups that stopped almost as soon as they started.  Kerry whipped her head in Yuulik’s direction, and she said, “I’m sorry, ma’am.  I’m sure Doctor Nelli misspoke.”

Yuulik took a couple steps closer to Nelli, taking up space between Kerry and Nelli.  “That depends,” Yuulik said.  She rose her chin to Nelli and she asked, “What does bitch mean to you?”

“I was in discussion with Lieutenant Rayco–” Nelli said.

Yuulik griped, “Of course Kellin–“

From behind Yuulik, Kerry called out, “We still– we still have plenty of, uh, calculations to–“

“He described a bitch much like an invasive weed,” Nelli said, giving priority to Yuulik’s question.  “Rayco described a bitch as sucking all the air out of a room, spraying hostile thought-pollen to cause confusion, and cutting everyone’s roots off at the knees.  …Even I know his metaphors were mixed, but that is what a bitch means to me.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a bitch,” Yuulik answered thoughtfully.  “But I may be an invasive weed.  When I know the truth, I do what needs to be done to be heard.  I’m never going to be gaslit by lesser officers who wouldn’t recognize logic, even if they body swapped with a Vulcan.”

“Wait?  What?” Kerry blurt out.  Nelli thought she saw Kerry’s face start to turn red, but Kerry spun her chair to face away from Nelli and Yuulik.  

“A weed or a poppy?” Nelli asked.  “Humans have a saying about ‘cutting down the tall poppies’.  Tall poppy followed me during my cadet transition. It repeated, like the seasons.  I may have… absorbed the human inclination to delay success.  I thought it was the human way, but I was mistaken.”

“My friend Kerry was in the top three percent in her class,” Nelli said.  Their torso vines had become untangled as they spoke and they waved several vines at Kerry, until the science officer turned to face them again.  “I envy your fearlessness, Kerry.  You are a tall poppy.  If I had been a better doctor, I might have saved–“

“Why choose?” Yuulik interjected.  “Be a tall poppy and an invasive–“

A mechanical chirp sang out from the computer to signify an incoming communication transmission.  “Lieutenant Rayco to Sickbay,” Kellin said, his disembodied voice coming from an overhead comm-node.  “I have a medical emergency at Refinery 0-4-H.“

Nelli pushed past Yuulik, stomping to their desk at great speed.  They slapped one of their vines against one of the panic buttons on the nearest LCARS panel.  That particular panic button brought up the controls for the emergency medical transporter.  Nelli already began to key the command for the computer to lock onto Kellin’s combadge, as Kellin continued.

“It’s Susarla, oh god, and four Reman kids!” Kellin declared in a panic.  “None of them are breathing, oh god.  I think they’re all dead!“

***

Since taking command of Dvorak three months earlier, Taes had heard whispers among the old guard.  Between the crew members who had served Dvorak for years, there was talk that Commander Elbon Jakkelb had spent a spell in the Maquis, at some point during his youth.  When the turbolift car deposited Taes on deck seven, she found Elbon waiting for her, his fists balled.  The way he stared her down with an expansive dull nothingness behind his blue eyes, Taes began to wonder, for the very first time, if the rumours were true.

Her Bajoran executive officer was taller than her and broad across the chest.  Even though he was wiry-built –and almost a decade older than her– he looked sturdy in his uniform.  Taes considered herself athletically built, even more so after her year in ATC’s command training program.  All the same, Taes couldn’t predict for certain if she could take Elbon in a fight.

“Where is Kellin?” Elbon demanded from Taes, even before she stepped off the turbolift.

Taes scraped her teeth over her bottom lip.  After taking a steadying breath, she said, “First Consul J’Mek assures me Kellin is… secure.”  Even though Elbon was half-blocking the doorway with his shoulder, Taes strode past him into the corridor.  She clung to her most formal manner of speaking to reign in her desire to scream.  “Kellin, two of his security officers, and four science officers have been arrested for the murder of four Remans.”

“Teenagers,” Elbon said.  His pedantic correction sounded like it was meant to wound, but Elbon’s normally deep voice cracked on that one word.  Taes saw the cold fire behind his eyes turn to panic, like he was pleading with Taes to tell him he had misheard something over the comms.

Resolute in her accountability to say it out loud, Taes said, “The murder of four Reman teenagers by poison.”

Elbon gripped Taes’ elbow like she was his life boat. “Did we do this?” Elbon asked Taes. His sneer was equal parts incredulous and incensed. “Did we feed poison to children?”

Taes knew she couldn’t hide the presumed guilt in her own eyes, but she maintained a proud posture.  She could do that much for Elbon.  Being anything other than a puddle on the floor required most of her energy.  Standing up straight didn’t cost much more. “That’s what Doctor Pimpinellifolia is going to tell us…” was the most Taes could commit.

“Captain, we don’t have the time,” Elbon said quickly. In the space of a blink, Elbon’s jaw had set and his gaze glassed over to something inscrutable. “Kellin and his away team– their combadges were destroyed. By the Remans, presumably. But Kellin is the only Trill on Kunhri Three. We have a… decent transporter lock on his lifesign. The Remans have no shields or transport inhibitors, so we can still beam him up. We’ll grab everyone in his vicinity. Maybe we’ll catch a Reman or two, but at least they’ll all be here. The away team will be home and then we can–“

“We can’t beam them up,” Taes interjected.

“They have no shields!” Elbon said, insisting they beam the away team back. “If the Remans move them deeper into the refineries, or worse…”

“Kellin has been arrested by the Reman,” Taes stated. Because she was forced to repeat herself, she said it more firmly. “We’re going to respect that.”

“Arrested?” Elbon barked back at Taes. “Arrested by whom?  The Remans have no formal police service. They’re already turning into the Romulans with blasted secret police.”

“I’m not going to betray their trust,” Taes riposted.  Walking him through the logic of it, Taes enthused, “We’ve given them enough rations to sustain them a month or two.  They could squeeze out another couple months with the replicators, before the batteries and raw matter stores run dry.  The refinery gardens aren’t complete, nor have we built any sustainable habits among the Remans.  Our mission for food security isn’t complete.  We’ve hardly begun on farms or livestock.  It’s going to be impossible to move forward without trust between us.”

It was Elbon’s turn to slow down and take a breath.  He took a step back.  “You’re not hearing me, captain,” he said, somewhere between deflated and desperate.  “The Remans have no courts or system of justice.  Arrested doesn’t mean the same thing to them as it does the Federation.  We can’t trust due process to get our people home.”

Taes insisted, “They’re not monsters.”

Elbon scoffed at her.  “Tell that to the last government of Kunhri.”

“There’s no comparison,” Taes said dubiously, shaking her bald head.  “We haven’t oppressed the Remans for centuries.”

“They think we killed kids, Taes,” Elbon snapped.  “That could be worse.”

Raising a mollifying hand, Taes ordered, “Maintain a transporter lock on Kellin and the away team.  If they remain in the same location, beam down new combadges.  The refinery’s internal sensors won’t be as precise as a warbird’s.  Before we do anything more, I need to speak further with First Consul–“

The pleading returned to Elbon’s eyes, when he interrupted with, “Taes, he’s my husband.”

Given what Taes had observed to be Elbon’s naked indifference to Kellin these past weeks, Taes’s first inclination was to shout: now he’s your husband?  Although she thought better of it, she still got heated in defence of Kellin’s honour.  “Are you telling me you want to be relieved of duty, com-man-der?” Taes asked of him, snapping back into her formal timbre.  “Are you too emotionally compromised to follow my orders?”

“That’s rich,” Elbon said, his eyes widening, “Coming from–” but he stopped himself from saying anything more.  Taes stared at him, her eyes daring him to mention her erratic behaviour after the body swap, a couple months back.

When Elbon remained silent, Taes said, “History hinges on this moment.  The difference between the Remans joining the Federation or falling under Romulan confinement could depend on this moment, this choice.  The way we handle this conflict could set an example for how to build trust with the Remans for decades to come.”

“I don’t care if the Remans join the Federation,” Elbon said, and he just sounded tired now.  “I don’t care if Kunhri goes nova and I have to watch this system burn.  I’m bringing Kellin home.”

“We will bring Kellin home, you and I,” Taes promised.  “We’ll do this through diplomacy and build a deeper trust with the Remans of Kunhri.  …If Kellin doesn’t come home?  Then the ship is yours.”  Taes shrugged one shoulder, her expression went slack.  She turned her back on Elbon when she felt a catch in her throat, and she strode in the direction of sickbay.  “I’ll walk into the woods and never be heard from again.”

“–did everything in my ability.  Despite every effort to resuscitate her, Priya Susarla is dead,” reported Doctor Pimpinellifolia.

Captain Taes felt dizzy.  Standing there in the dimly lit morgue felt oddly absurd, provoking a momentary out-of-body sensation for Taes.  Her chief science officer was dead.  In fact, another chief science officer was gone.  The last one, Lieutenant Commander Holmgren, was as good as dead until medical science took another leap to revive him.  Even more than that realisation, because Doctor Nelli’s vocoder communicated everything in a monotone sing-song, there were none of the emotional touchstones Taes would expect from a doctor’s bedside manner.  Rather, the words sounded like  Taes was watching a children’s program in a language she didn’t fully understand.  Without fully thinking about it, the Deltan reached out and grabbed Commander Elbon Jakkelb’s arm to brace herself.  Despite their argument in the corridor moments earlier, Elbon shuffled closer to Taes, offering whatever strength he had left to offer.

Gently, Nelli lowered one of their vines to touch a control contact on the bulkhead. The mortuary tray, carrying Priya Susarla’s corpse, slowly retracted inside the stasis cabinet.  Once inside, a panel slid into place to seal the body in, and the stasis field activated.  After Dvorak had lost contact with Kellin Rayco and the away team in Refinery 04H on Kunhri III, Nelli had only managed to beam up Susarla’s body from the refinery’s hydroponic garden.  Evidently, no one had been as concerned with smashing or grabbing her combadge.

The only hitch in Nelli’s sing-song was a slight stutter when they said, “Cause of death was by poison.  I examined the contents of her stomach, which contained undigested zucchini–“

Impatiently, Taes interrupted to ask, “Was it our negligence?”  Not knowing that answer was eating away at Taes and her poise.  She supposed Elbon could criticize her later for not stepping into this discussion from a strategic lens, or for not centering Susarla, but Taes literally could not wait for that answer for another moment longer.  “Did we mishandle the flora we brought aboard from Starbase 23?  Improper storage aboard Dvorak, or when we transported them to the refineries…?”

Allowing for the interruption, Nelli patiently replied, “No, captain.  There were traces of felodesine in Susarla’s blood, and in the vegetable matter in her stomach, both.  Felodesine is a synthetic chemical compound, alien to nature.”

Physically recoiling, Elbon cursed, “Prophets…”  He shook his head at Taes, a sneer of disgust marring his face.  “Felodesine comes standard-issue with a Romulan Star Navy uniform.  They use it in suicide chips,” Elbon said.  Lowering his voice to a conflicted murmur, Elbon remarked, “Quick, at least…”

Taking a step to the side, Taes took on a stance like she was about to run or to fight.  She channelled her anxious energy into the problem.  Work the problem; worry about what to tell Susarla’s family later.  “Our biofilters… should have detected felodesine when we beamed the plants into the hydroponic gardens,” Taes said in all certainty.

Taes couldn’t be sure if it was an intentional choice, but she watched Nelli cross the morgue to reach for an LCARS panel as far away from the stasis chamber as they could go.  Nelli tapped at the panel with a couple of vines to display a series of transporter logs.  “Indeed, captain,” Nelli said, “The biofilters would have alarmed at any chemical compound similar to felodesine.  It was not present in any of the supplies Dvorak beamed to Kunhri Three.”

While Taes examined the logs, she folded her arms over her abdomen.  Unable to hide her disquiet, Taes said, “Suz was eating the plants as part of her lessons.  Someone must have tampered with the garden after we beamed them down?”

Elbon raised an eyebrow at that.  “That’s not the only option,” Elbon said, sounding awfully certain.   Taes blinked at Elbon’s matter-of-fact tenor.  “The contamination of the vegetable matter could have happened in Susarla’s stomach.  The poison could have been administered in the water they drank or by force.”

Nelli said, “No, I cannot believe the Remans would harm their own young.”  Judging from that statement, Taes wondered if Nelli had found the assertive setting on her vocoder.

Elbon was quick to add, “The Romulans would.  …Perhaps Star Navy captains who were waiting on shipments from Kunhri?”  His gaze drifted for a couple of heartbeats, Taes noticed.  It wasn’t long before his attention returned to Taes and Nelli.  Elbon said, “It’s a tactic as old as the mountains.  The Federation used to ship supplies to their colonies that ended up on the Cardassian side of the demilitarized zone.  The cardies would intercept the supplies to destroy or taint them – to sour each colony’s relationship with the Federation.”

Nodding a slow agreement with Elbon’s supposition, Taes added, “The Star Navy benefits most if our food systems fail.  If the Remans go any more weeks without food, they may look to the navy more favourably should they come with holds full of fresh viinerine.”

Reaching the natural conclusion, Elbon said, “And our tenuous friendship with the Remans falls through.”

Emphasizing her point with her hands, Taes said, “They’d have few options but to ask the Romulans for aid after a point…”

“Felodesine is an open secret and it’s old.  It’s unsubtle,” Elbon said slowly, his face shadowed in new pools of doubt as he thought out loud.  “Either the Romulans didn’t care who caught them poisoning the Remans, or there’s a third party who want to point the Remans’ distrust at the Romulans and the Federation.  …Could be pirates? Klingons or Orions could get their hands on felodesine.”

“Confidentially, the other captains in our task group have shared… suspicions of a cloaked presence in the system,” Taes said, amid a nod, “since even before they started construction on the tachyon detection grid.”

Staring at Taes intently, Elbon sounded chilled when he said, “If a vessel observe the entire construction, they might know every gap.  They could have been shadowing us in orbit, monitoring our progress or your negotiations with Kecene.”

“We don’t have the crew to investigate this sufficiently,” Taes said in pained humility.  “I need to be in conference with J’mek and Kecene and I… I can’t withdraw the scientific investigation into farming locations.  If anything, they’re going to need a larger security presence.  I never planned for staffing a criminal investigation into galactic espionage…”

Elbon asked, “What are you going to do, captain?”

***

“Captain’s Log, Supplemental,

 

“It’s so much worse than I feared.

 

“I won’t deny the hubris in my mission.  My senior staff have surely mentioned it in their logs too.  In my goals for sustainable agriculture on Kunhri Three, I wanted nothing less than a self-reliant system that could feed the entire population for the foreseeable future.  Food security for decades, if not a century, until Kunhri enhanced their plasma distribution network enough to sufficiently power a replicator in every home.  My vision for the future of Kunhri kept me up at night.  I… expected I would overwork the crew.  I would owe them extended shore leave after this.  I expected to… fall short.  Maybe we would only farm a solution to feed two-thirds of the population, and the rest would rely on smaller shipments from Psi Velorum.

 

“I ignored the obvious.  I never saw a snake in the garden.  I believe the produce in at least one of our hydroponic gardens has been laced with a fatal synthetic compound called felodesine.  My chief science officer and four Reman youths have been killed after eating from the garden.  My chief security officer and an away team have been arrested by the Reman’s provisional government for their deaths.

 

“I’ve considered every suspicion from Captains sh’Elas, Ryder, Thevius, and Tarken that there is probably a Romulan presence in the Kunhri system.  They may be Star Navy loyalists looking to take Kunhri back or Tal Shiar forces eyeing Kunhri for the first time.  I understand all is not what it seems among the populace of Kunhri.  The provisional government is too new, too fragmentary.  They may not have noticed Romulan opponents, or possibly even Orion Syndicate, hiding among them.  I can’t let this derail my mission.  We’re narrowing down locations and crops to begin farming operations.  I can teach the Remans to fish, but my science ship isn’t equipped to hunt Romulan spies or Orion organized criminals.  That’s why Dvorak came to Kunhri with a task group.  I need help finding out who poisoned my chief science officer and preventing it from ever happening again.”

***

The lights were out in Taes’ personal quarters.  Sitting at her desk, she could see by ambient illumination from the stars, the reflective glow of Kunhri III, and the various computer panels around the compartment.  Having recorded her captain’s log, she loosened the flap of her uniform jacket and let it hang.  Taes closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slouching back in her chair.  “Computer,” Taes said, “please flag my captain’s log for the other captains in the Kunhri task group.”

Once the computer chirped its acknowledgement of the order, Taes took another breath and moved to get up from her chair, but she paused to reconsider.  Staring into the middle distance, Taes rubbed the back of her neck, and eventually, she muttered to herself, “…Go on.”

Dropping her face into her hands, Taes requested the computer open a subspace channel to Captain Ryder aboard the USS Neptune.  Taes didn’t raise her head when the Starfleet emblem appeared on her desktop interface, nor when the rugged mug of Michael Ryder appeared on the screen.  Taes just said, “Michael, I need help.”

“Are you okay?” Captain Ryder asked, full of compassion.  “What do you need?”

“–reviewed the internal sensor logs from Refinery 04H.  Personally,” said Kecene, the Reman Consul of Vitality.  She spoke slowly, luxuriating in every word.  The elder Reman presented herself as an austere figure, clad in traditional Reman body armour.  Captain Taes noticed the dichotomy inherent in the provisional government’s representative for health deciding to wear a battlesuit for their negotiations.  Taes suspected there was an intentional message in that dichotomy.  The clean lines of Kecene’s iridescent body armour shone in stark contrast to the industrial kitchen where Kecene had chosen to meet with Taes, in private.  The cookery equipment was covered in enough rust to suggest a century of disuse, by Taes’ assessment, and all of it was old-fashioned enough to suggest it had been built a century before that.  

Towering over Taes, Kecene held her body very still, as always.  As was her wont, Kecene’s gravel pit of a voice paused at irregular intervals while she spoke.  Taes couldn’t be sure if Kecene was choosing her words carefully or if she had a breathing ailment from her decades of work in the underground refineries.  Kecene said, “Only your Starfleet officers had… access to the hydroponic garden supplies and plants you provided.  There was no evidence of outside tampering on… our sensor logs.”

“I don’t have to tell you, consul, how easily sensor logs can be edited,” Captain Taes said, in a somewhat clunky use of double-speak.  It concerned Taes how early in the discussion she was losing control of her heart-rate and her breathing.  When Taes had beamed down to the refinery’s kitchen at the appointed time, Kecene had left Taes alone to wait for an hour.  In that time, Taes had prepared three different conversational gambits for this discussion, but her mind kept wandering to worry about Kellin’s whereabouts and well-being.  No amount of micro-meditation or grounding in her physicality was entirely successful in keeping Taes’ thoughts progressing in a linear fashion.  After perfunctory re-introductions, the discussion had quickly pivoted to the deaths of Lieutenant Susarla and the four Reman youths, along with Taes’ offer of condolences.  Taes affirmed, “Starfleet has no reason to harm your people and I would never sacrifice one of my own officers.  My doctor has identified a poison of Romulan origin in her system when she died.”

Kecene’s head tilted a single millimetre. “I know the Romulans capable of what you suggest, captain.  I have no way to… know what Starfleet would… or would not do,” Kecene said.  Her flinty voice betrayed little of her thoughts or emotions on the manner.  Taes supposed Kecene’s choice of words would have to tell her everything.  Kecene’s eyes narrowed on Taes when she asked, “Did your USS Temeraire not… celebrate the activation of Kunhri’s own tachyon detection grid?  How… might any Romulans come close enough…. to Kunhri Three to tamper with your garden, captain?”

“In confidence, consul,” Taes hesitantly said, “the other Starfleet captains in my task group have held suspicions of a cloaked warbird in the system, even before the detection grid was completed.  It could only take one cloaked shuttle, or a base camp in an abounded factory, to beam a chemical compound into a few vegetables.”

“Hmm,” Kecene vocalized, her otherwise expressionless eyes appraising Taes while she spoke.  “A few or perhaps… all of the gardens are now tainted.  Our autopsies of our four citizens have also discovered the evidence of felodesine poisoning.”  Kecene folded her hands behind her back, pausing again, before she said, “I can detect no… motive for Starfleet to cause these deaths.   First Consul J’mek is in agreement… but my people are less credulous.  We hold no secrets from each other.  In retaliation, workers in three of the refineries have burned the hydroponic gardens to ash.”

Taes breathed in through her nose.  It was a deep breath, taking much longer than she expected to fill her lungs.  “We can rebuild,” Taes said.

At Taes’ words, Kecene shook her head slowly.  “Rebuild?  I don’t think.  Gardening was a folly.  Our priority must remain on the refineries,” Kecene said in utter certainty.  “Refineries 13J and 06V have… barely resumed thirty percent functionality after the repairs completed by your other Starfleet crews.  If the refineries do not run, we have noting to… trade with the rest of the Velorum sector.  Our latest supplies from Psi Velorum are… worryingly delayed.  Kunhri is not Agarath or Foshir or Rhijun.  We do not produce products of unique value.  Our reputation for reliability is what we offer.  We must have export if we are to compensate our people fairly and improve the quality of life for all.”

Taking a step closer to Taes, Kecene informed the starfleet captain, “We will accept more replicators from Dvorak.”

Her emotional guards slipping further, Taes cringed at that request.  USS Dvorak was no cargo hauler at Kecene’s command.  Taes’ heart was overflowing with pride for the research being performed by her ecology, biology and anthropology teams.  “Consul Kecene, there is no future in replicators.  Not for many years to come,” Taes said, expressing her guileless concern and fear for the solution Kecene was proposing.  “Replicators are only efficient when they’re fuelled with organic particulate suspension.  Without that raw food stock, the energy cost is exponentially higher.  If you start dematerializing rocks or waste to replicate food, you’ll burn through the power cells in no time.  I’ve seen the reports from Daradax and Neptune.  Your electro-plasma distribution grid can barely provide the energy you need to power the refineries.  Kunhri Three will need a new energy infrastructure, and raw food stock factories, before replicators can feed your world indefinitely.”  

Despite everything Taes said, Kecene’s blank expression remained unchanged.  “No Remans will be gardeners,” Kecene said.

“I’m not,” Taes said emphatically, “reciting from a textbook.  My colony succumbed to ecological disaster when I was young.  The power plant failed and we lost all replicators and refrigeration units.  The batteries only lasted so long.  Help couldn’t reach us because of the Dominion War.”  Pleading with Kecene, Taes said, “Consul, I would never wish hunger delirium on your population.  Even in Remans, it can cause memory loss, combative behaviour, disorientation, hallucination…”

Through gritted teeth, Kecene said, “We have medications for those symptoms if it comes to that.”

“Who will work the refineries?” Taes asked, “when your populations is drugged?”

“I have conferred with First Consul J’mek,” Kecene interjected, raising her voice in a formal timbre.  “We are prepared to release your officers in exchange for more replicators.  Given your… suggestions, we will also accept sarium krellide power cells and a further stockpile of organic particulate suspension.”

Now it was Taes who shook her head at Kecene.  “The Romulan way of living, your enforced labour, these things don’t have to define you,” Taes insisted in optimism.  Her eyes lit up with the excitement of possibility; her hands emphasize each of her points as she went on.  “We’ve studied your planet and your civilization.  We understand your nutritional needs.  Your path to food security can’t be paved by honouring the interests of industry.  Food security will only come when you change the systems that are failing you.  Centre your own dietary needs through farming.  Growing your own food is the only path forward.”

“You’re a leader now,” Taes continued, her voice barely above a whisper.  “You have to make the hard decisions to do what’s right for your people.  On my colony, we ran out of food.  I had to forage for scraps, but our planet was not half as fertile as Kunhri Three.  My parents, they didn’t want to take food out of my mouth.  One night, they… they walked into the woods and I never heard from them ag–“

Physically recoiling from Taes, Kecene blurted out, “What horror is this?!  You wish me dead?  You know nothing of my life or my duty!”

“No, consul,” Taes stammered, “That’s not–“

Talking over Taes, Kecene snarled, “Because I don’t reach the same conclusions as Starfleet, you think my mind is still caged by the Romulans?  My entire generation should die to make way for our young?”

“Consul, I promise, I didn’t–” Taes tried to cut in.

“Get off my planet, you beast!” Kecene declared.  “Your mission has failed.  Your Dvorak is no longer welcome in the Kunhri system!”

Taes’ mind spun in two direction: split between a desire to shore up these crumbling negotiations and her need to protect her crew.  As much as her conscious mind was locked up in indecisive abulia, there was a visceral, desperate corner of her mind that forced her to speak up.  “I will have more replicators manufactured and delivered to you, consul,” Taes said diffidently.

Kecene left her alone in the abandoned kitchen once again.

The passage of time became nonlinear for Taes.  Indistinct.  The sense of loss radiating from the core of her proved too much for her ego and she experienced an out-of-body sensation in self-protection.  Taes recognized how risky a gambit it had been, experimenting with Kecene’s responses to vulnerability, trying to reach out for empathy at this transitional time.  Without greater preparation, it was this negotiation tactic that had been Taes’ greatest folly.  Taes still didn’t know enough about Reman psychology, nor had she constructed an airtight metaphor to compare her lived experiences to that of the Remans.  In no way had  Taes intended to speak on her own experiences, not in any of her conversational preparations.  But she had lost her temper.  Her need for achievement had carried her aloft to undiscovered places, when reason was having less and less impact on Kecene’s intentions.

During her self-reflection spiral, further banks of Starfleet replicators and storage crates were beamed into the kitchen around Captain Taes.  Soon after, Kellin Rayco and his away team were escorted into the kitchen by a Reman guards.  With any sense of propriety gone, Taes snatched up Kellin in an urgent hug and buried her face in his chest.  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Taes said, and the Dvorak‘s transporter whisked them all away.

Feeling oddly sentimental on this day, Captain Taes asked the computer to play ‘Symphony from the New World‘ over the internal comms in the cockpit.  In the captain’s yacht, the USS Antonín, Taes had taken the flight controls for herself and framed up a view of the USS Dvorak through the forward viewport.  Watching her there, Taes supposed the Springfield-class science ship remained the peculiar stepchild of Starfleet’s extended family.  Despite the resemblance of its saucer section to the majestic curves of the Galaxy-class, Dvorak‘s boxy old-school warp nacelles aged her, and her engineering hull was underslung on awkward pylons rather than the more traditional joining between primary and secondary hulls.  Although Taes hadn’t yet thought of her first starship command as home, she had grown quite fond of Dvorak, for all her quirks.  

Taes was more than a couple of weeks into her mission for food security on Kunhri III, and she was already abandoning ship, if not the mission.  She watched those boxy warp nacelles flash with eldritch activity and then the Dvorak had warped away, leaving little more than a starburst flare in its wake.

Humming along to an orchestral phrase, Lieutenant Kellin Rayco tapped a command on the tactical console, to Taes’ right.  One hand adjusted the short-range sensors, while his other hand hovered over a chronometer display.  “Dvorak has left the Kunhri system, captain,” Kellin reported.  “She’s gotten out ahead of First Consul J’mek’s twenty-four hour deadline.  …Just.”

Swiping her fingertips over the flight controls, Taes operated the thrusters to maneuver the Antonín towards the globe of Kunhri III.  Keeping her eyes on the viewport, Taes asked, “Status of our task group?”

Tapping at the controls further, Kellin furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes at his scanner readings.  He said, “The missions of Ulysses, Temerarie, Daradax and Thyanis have taken them outside the scope of our short range sensors.  USS Neptune is gradually adjusting its orbit over our landing site.”

Angling her bald head in Kellin’s direction, Taes started to ask, “Our prefix codes for Kunhri Three’s planetary defence systems…?”

Striking a fingertip on the LCARS panel, Kellin said, “Have,” and he tapped again, “been,” and he tapped again, “accepted!  They won’t see where we’re headed, captain.”

Once the Antonín completed its arc towards the planet, Taes watched the runabout, USS August, glide into her field of vision through the viewport.  If she squinted, Taes could just about see Lieutenants Nune and Yuulik in the cockpit of the August.  “Signal the August to maintain formation with us, lieutenant,” Taes said to Kellin, feeling like the proverbial child with her hand in the cookie jar.  She looked over for him, searching his open face for any expression of doubt.  Even after Taes’ mistakes and Kellin’s captivity, Kellin looked back at her, clear-eyed with nothing but faith in his gaze.  That was all the encouragement Taes needed, and she said, “I’m taking us in for a landing.”

***

FOUR HOURS EARLIER

The first thing Taes heard when she woke up was Commander Elbon saying, “Captain, I hate how you’ve decorated the place…”

By contrast, the last thing Taes could remember, she had been designing a farming plan with her assistant chief science officer, Sootrah Yuulik.  Upon being gently shaken awake by Elbon, Taes found herself laying on the platform beneath the viewscreen in the astrometrics lab.  Yuulik was curled up beside her, asleep and snoring like a pug.  Elbon had referred to the PADDs scattered around them, as if they had been trying to make PADD snow angels overnight.  When she sat upright, Taes saw a young astrometrics officer awkwardly meandering around the lab, pretending not to eavesdrop and trying even harder not to step on even more PADDs littering the deck.

Confidently, Taes replied, “I didn’t want to forget anything.”  As grogginess passed into stark awareness, Taes found her footing and she promptly ushered her executive officer out of the lab.  Only once they’d entered the corridor did Taes tell him, “I’m transferring command of Dvorak to you, commander. Your orders are to leave the Kunhri System and contact Fourth Fleet Command.  They’ll give you new orders from there to support another mission in the Velorum sector.”

“Now that’s what we’re doing?” Elbon remarked.  Between his intonation and widening eyes, Taes could see the dawn of alarmed recognition run through Elbon.  He nodded at Taes in a vigorous affirmative.  “Fourth Fleet Command have defended our actions, while Acting-Govenor Resak has remained silent on the matter.  Kunhri’s First Consul J’mek has spoken the final word.  He will permit the rest of the task group to defend the Kunhri system and refine the planetary defence systems.  Because Dvorak doesn’t serve those purposes, we are expected to leave within… four hours now.” –With that formality communicated, Elbon’s eyes softened and his shoulders rounded– “I’ll keep watch over the crew for you.  No matter where Dvorak is assigned, I’ll remain in contact with Neptune until they track down the kheet’agh who poisoned Suz.”

Taes offered her thanks.  While she tried to think of something comforting to say, Elbon cleared his throat.  Lowering his voice to a whisper, Elbon asked, “Does Fourth Fleet Command know you intend to take my senior staff and a science team on a field trip to Kunhri Three?”

Looking right at him, Taes cocked her head.  “They’ve been… informed,” was all Taes would say about that.  Moreover, she informed him, “Yuulik and I have selected two proof-of-concept sites in the Kunhri swamps.  If the Remans don’t want to farm, we can show them how it’s done by ourselves.  You understand… I need to show Kecene they can do this.  When Ulysses picks us up, we can leave Kunhri Three with a turn-key operation from which they can harvest crops.  Once these are successful, they can duplicate our efforts in other locations.  I need to do this with my own hands, Jakkelb.  I’ll never regain Kecene’s trust with words alone.”

Although he frowned at Taes, Elbon said, “You don’t have to convince me why you need to saddle up, captain.”  Taes smirked at Elbon’s turn of phrase until she recognized his Bajoran euphemism had been slightly mangled by the universal translator.  Elbon said, “I understand the importance of the Remans reaching true self-sufficiency.”

“Are you sure, commander?” Taes asked, her mien open and inviting.  For all her earnestness, there was a hint of smirk to her too.  “This is your last chance to challenge my thinking or file a formal complaint.  Would you say imposter syndrome is causing me to shirk my duties again?  I am flying down to Kunhri one last time to become a farmer.  If that’s not a folly, I don’t know what is.”

“Maybe it is!” Elbon said in a pique of excitement. “Let’s find out.”

***

FIVE HOURS EARLIER

“There’s no utility in seriously considering the arid, desert regions,” Lieutenant Junior Grade Sootrah Yuulik said in her most common tenor: dismissive.  On the map of Kunhri III, which dominated the astrometrics viewscreen, the land masses Yuulik described faded to muted colours.  “Even with personal protective equipment,” Yuulik said, “That direct, sustained sunlight would be too harsh for Reman farmers.”

“Agreed,” replied Captain Taes.  Standing beside Yuulik at the central LCARS console, Taes tapped another command on the interface.  Green circles spun around the locales on the planet that had been surveyed by Dvorak’s away teams.  Amber circles designated further locations they had intended to survey for farming and livestock purposes, before Taes’ negotiations with the provisional government had struck a forcefield.

Although this food security mission required little to do with the stars, Taes had invaded the astrometrics lab because of the sheer number of screens it provided.  Something she knew about herself was that she processed information faster when it was visual, and Dvorak’s aging EPS system was incapable of handling holoprojectors on every deck. The computer workstations circling the lab displayed images and flow charts and texts summarizing the learnings of every science team on the ship.  Those displays offered reminders about reman biology, edible kunhri flora, and ancestral reman food culture, among others. Additional PADDs were scattered on the platform beneath the viewscreen, containing the farming solutions that had been devised by the various science section heads, but had ultimately been rejected by Taes. She wanted to keep an eye on those rejected options, to preserve the leanings and avoid repeating any mistakes.

Sometime around 0200 hours, the last of the science section heads had wandered off to bed.  Because only Taes and Yuulik remained, Taes had to assume Yuulik was in some perverse competition with her to see who could stay up the latest.  Not that Taes’ own motivations for obsessively working the problem were any more pure: she feared dreams about her failed negotiations with Kecene, let alone dreams about the corpses of poor, sweet Susarla and the Reman youths.  Any activity was preferable to sleep.

“We left the survey team’s base camp at this location,” Taes said.  Looking up at the viewscreen, her ministrations on the LCARS panel caused the map to zoom in on a peninsula protruding into a river. “Our study of these salt-water swamps confirmed it a viable environment to transplant seaweed.”

“Efficient.”  Yuulik nodded slowly at the data scrolling onto the viewscreen.  “Low maintenance to grow and harvest,” Yuulik said, referring to their discussions earlier with the science team. “Seaweed won’t require a massive labour demand from the refinery workers.”

“Eh,” Taes vocalized, hesitating to commit to this being a truly low-labour option.  If they were to aim for lasting self-sufficiently, it would require a certain scale.  “That depends on the quantity of seaweed they decide to grow,” Taes said.  “Where this type of microalgae will be efficient is in meeting their caloric and protein deficiencies.”

Rolling her eyes, Yuulik added, “If they’re determined to live off replicators, seaweed would be their best option to use as raw food stock without monstrous energy consumption.  Until they acquire a taste for seaweed chips, that is.”

Taes breathed out a sigh of a “tt” and she pivoted on her heel to face Yuulik head-on.  “Speaking of.  What’s your plan, Yuulik?” Taes asked.  “If the science department can’t acquire a taste for Yuu.”  Taes emphasized that last word in Yuulik’s Arcadian accent.  Settling in, Taes leaned against the horseshoe-curved console and crossed her arms over her abdomen.  “You see the big picture without losing sight of the details. For all your bravado, you knew where to apply different pressure to different departments.  Judging by the questions you ask me, I can tell you’ve seen the way they interconnect and interdepend on one another.  But fewer and fewer of our science officers want to work with you.”

Taes eyes narrowed in grim emphasis when she said, “I’ve received five transfer requests to quit Dvorak. All of them after Suz died.  …Almost like it was the very first thing they did.”

In response, Yuulik silently examined Taes. It was that expression so many of the junior science officers had described to Taes before. Yuulik looked down on Taes as if Taes were a pinned butterfly under glass. As much as Yuulik appeared to be considering her captain’s question, she didn’t exactly answer it. “I haven’t denied it,” Yuulik said, defensively. “I expected you to promote me to science chief after Holmgren went… on leave. I was your chief aboard Nestus.  When you came to tell about Holmgren, I though you had a rank pip in your hand, but it was only popcorn.”

A small huff of a breath escaped Taes’ lips. Reluctantly, she said, “For where you are in your career, you are due some form of promotion.  Even so, I have hesitations.  I’d like to see more humility from you.” –Taes’ maternal considerations for Yuulik turned suddenly deadpan– “…Honestly, I have been plotting how to humiliate you publicly.  Just once.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Yuulik barked.

Laughing lightly, Taes threw an arm around Yuulik’s shoulders.  She hoped it would serve a tactile demonstration that Taes hadn’t intended it to push Yuulik away with that. Taes tugged at her, guiding Yuulik to the anthropology report displayed on another workstation.

“We can’t forget our north stars,” Taes said, pointing to an image of a farm on the display.  “One of Starfleet’s first humanitarian efforts to support Bajoran refugee camps outside Cardassian space.  After studying their biological needs and energy expenditures, the USS Appadurai‘s botany department decided planting soybeans in the Bajorans’ community would close the caloric and protein gaps in their nutrition.  What they never accounted for is how much soybeans look like Cardassian canka nuts and the cultural barriers those created.  Because the Bajorans found soybeans unpleasant, they never grew them in the volume the required to feed the entire encampment.”

Blithely, Taes went on, “Yuulik, you’re a canka nut.”  Taes smiled faintly before she took on a more serious mien.  “You want to be chief science officer and you know what you’re talking about, but the department doesn’t want to eat what you’re serving.  We can’t all work in silos, aiming for individual achievement.  The only meaningful solutions can come from inter-disciplinary collaboration.  If we don’t work together, we all fail.   I’ll admit, there’s a fine line to walk there.  Starfleet encourages you to bring the entirety of your your authentic self to your duty, but a leader will always treat her team the way they want to be treated. You want them to want to follow you, don’t you?”

Yuulik nodded soberly. “Yes,” she admitted.

Wincing in mild frustration, Taes said, “I’m telling you this because I believe it.  …It’s also true that I genuinely don’t want you to give up too much of yourself.”

“Then how did you do it?” Yuulik asked.

Taes smiled faintly again.  “I don’t know that I have.  Might have given up too much already.”

Trudging into her quarters aboard the USS Antonín, Captain Taes requested the computer leave the lights dim.  Although the viewport offered little but the overcast skies of Kunhri III –which is where the captain’s yacht was parked– there was just enough light for Taes to muddle her way through her quarters.  The standard illumination in the passageway had threatened the start of a headache for the Deltan; she couldn’t have that.  Taes sat herself on the edge of her bed and pulled off her heavy-duty wader boots.  For all the waterproofing and fashion the replicator had promised her, said boots had still allowed her socks to soak through.  

This first week of establishing a seaweed farm was proving far more physical than any archaeological dig Taes had led in her career thus far.  Clearing out seagrasses and rigging cultivation lines –while largely immersed in saltwater– required far more manual ministrations by Dvorak‘s away team of farmers.  This would have been easier with the full technological capabilities of Dvorak in orbit, but if the Remans would be asked to establish an entire agriculture system without a Starfleet starship, then Taes supposed she could do the same.  While she pulled off her socks, Taes muttered, “Maybe EV suits tomorrow…”

After padding into the small ‘fresher, Taes washed her face and her scalp.  As she stretched her toes, she inspected her uniform from the waist up.  She supposed that was the only part of her that would be captured by the visual sensors.  Although a small voice in Taes’ mind told her to take some rest and recover from the long day in the water, Taes worried if she lay down for even one minute, she would fall asleep.  Determined, Taes sat herself behind her desk, which she hoped would look similar enough to any office space aboard the banished USS Dvorak.

“Computer,” Taes said, “Please begin recording.”

“Consul Kecene, I hope this missive finds you well.  Please accept my further condolences for the unimaginable loss of your community.  The Starfleet vessels remaining in the Kunhri system will not tire from their search for those responsible for this heinous action.  I understand you find yourself in a stressful time of transition for your people and that your supplies from Psi Velorum remain delayed in transit.

 

“When matters settle, and you have space to breathe, please know that options remain available to you.  Before leaving the Kunhri system, USS Dvorak transported our remaining stockpile of grow trays, lighting fixtures and nutrient solutions to your world.  I have encoded coordinates to the factory where we have secured these supplies for you.  You will also find our analysis of edible plants, native to Kunhri, that can be transplanted into these gardens within your communities.  Should your people wish to construct your own hydroponic gardens, I remain ever available to you, to answer any questions or offer any solutions you may seek.  Captain Taes out.”

Taes cleared her throat and then she said, “Computer, please transmit the recording to Consul of Vitality Kecene on Kunhri III, using communication protocol Nune 3-2-4-Rho.”  Her chief engineer had assured her this would route the subspace communication message through the USS Neptune and obscure its point of origin enough to believe Taes had sent it from aboard USS Dvorak.

“And computer,” Taes added, “Lights out.”

***

The strained relation between fire and smoke resonated with Kellin on a molecular level.  For all their differences, the fire and the smoke shared an origin.  They’d sworn their duty and their oaths to the crackling logs that gave fuel to their salacious dance.  Through the warm flicker and the puffs of haze, Kellin recognised how beautiful everyone looked in the firelight glow.  Gathered around the camp fire, under the bleak Kunhri night sky, the Dvorak’s away team were clustered in pairs and trios.   Their frizzles of conversation belied a hunger for the warmth of connection.  As much as Kellin was sat firmly in the circle –in the same space and time– he hovered apart from the others. Like a passing plume of smoke, his attentions weaved and weft from pair to pair.  He could fill a space with a well-placed reaction, and then disincorporate to move on and join the next interlocution.

As the wind changed direction, wisps of smoke danced in Kellin’s eyes.  He detected a bitterness on his tongue, while his nostrils were filled with an odd savouriness.  That bouquet of smoke unlocked something within.  The vagaries of memory translocated Kellin’s awareness to another time, another campfire, on another alien world.  The memory was of such vivid intensity, Kellin could practically feel the weight of an arm draped over his shoulders.  It tugged at him like a phantom limb that had never been his own; except, hadn’t he vowed two fleshes were now one flesh?  As much as the heavy weight of that arm constrained his breathing at times, he never once felt apart within that embrace.  Never felt adrift.  He never lived as smoke in those moments.

“Lieutenant,” Ensign T’Kaal interjected, “Are you well?”

“Hm?  Yes.  Yes, of course,” Kellin said reassuringly, as he blinked away the smoke in his eyes.  Kellin put a hand on his own shoulder, grasping to keep hold of his memory of that embrace.  The effort proved futile in more ways than one, as the sensation passed, and he saw Sootrah Yuulik staring at him quizzically.  Instinctively, Kellin flexed his bare arms, as if that had been his intention from the beginning.  “Why would you ask?” Kellin said, posing the question nonchalantly.

“You said you wanted to tell us a story about Lieutenant Susarla,” T’Kaal replied.  “That was three minutes and forty seconds ago.”

“Poor Kellin,” Yuulik said in a teasing sing-song.  “Not a thought in his head.”

***

“We had an exciting visitor today,” said Commander Elbon Jakkelb, although his own excitement was visibly tempered.  From his image on the computer display, Taes could see her first officer was speaking to her, over subspace communications, from her own ready room aboard the Dvorak.

Glibly, Taes replied, “Is it someone from the office of the Judge Advocate General?  Are they looking for me?”  After yet another day of planting seaweed, and yet another day in wet socks, Taes couldn’t find the energy for the formal timbre she normally clung to, like a shield, with Elbon.  There was admiration between them, but there was friction too.  Tonight, she just wanted to make him laugh.  In a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “Don’t tell me if JAG is looking for me.”

Even on the computer display in her quarters aboard Antonín, Taes could see the smile in Elbon’s sapphire eyes.  He only offered her the satisfaction of a single scoff of a laugh.  “Not nearly that exciting,” Elbon said.  “Command has ordered me to mediate between the Reman leadership of ch’Couvae and a newly-arrived Commander ir-Llantrisant of the Romulan Republic.“

“The Republic?” Taes echoed, plainly intrigued.  She leaned in closer to the LCARS panel.  “I expected the Romulan Free State to be the first to make diplomatic overtures.  We still can’t determine if our efforts on Kunhri were sabotaged by the Star Empire’s Navy or the Free State’s Tal Shiar.  I should have considered… the Republic, by all accounts, offers its Reman citizens nearly all of the rights and liberties Governor Resak has been promising the Velorum sector.  It could be a beautiful marriage.”

Nodding at Taes’ assessment, Elbon said, “Commander ir-Llantrisant is, cautiously, intrigued by the efforts Dvorak is making to establish a system of agriculture on ch’Couvae.  I’ve walked him through how the foundation of our approach was developed on Kunhri III, which gave me an opportunity to present him with the plight of Kunhri.  …And the possibilities of Kunhri.“

Diffidently, Taes asked, “Did he listen?”

“He made no commitments on behalf of the Romulan Republic,” Elbon replied, “but he could find no flaws in your analysis and projections for the agricultural future of Kunhri.  With sufficient labour and the right technological investments, he agreed that Kunhri has the renewable natural resources to not only feed its population, but to add agriculture to its exports.  Kunhri could feed other worlds across Velorum.”  Elbon breathed out another scoff of a laugh and shook his head.  “A Romulan finding no flaws in a Starfleet plan is as good as a wet kiss on the mouth.  You should be honoured.“

Taes shook her head in a brittle expression.  “You should be,” Taes said.  “You have the diplomatic training.  Jakkelb, I’m sorry, you should have led the negotiations with Consul Kecene from the start.”

Elbon shook his head in disagreement.  His eyebrows stitched together in disbelief.  “Kecene respected you, captain,” Elbon insisted.  “You nurtured that relationship from nothing.  No one could have anticipated the trust could have been sabotaged so severely.“

Crossing her arms over her chest, Taes leaned back in her desk chair.  “Kecene hasn’t responded to any of my communiques,” Taes said tightly.  “I sent her another one this morning, outlining my proposal for the seaweed farm.  I included all of Yuulik’s new projections that true food security will require as much as fifteen percent of their current population supporting agriculture and food distribution systems.  There’s been no word from her in reply.”

Nodding slowly, Elbon shrugged when he said, “She may not engage in any further dialogue with you, but she will listen.  By everything you’ve told me, Kecene feels the weight of her responsibility to her people.  She can’t afford to ignore any solution.  If you keep sharing, she’ll keep listening.” 

Huddled around the camp fire among the motley band of Dvorak farmers, Leander Nune laughed at something T’Kaal said, and when she asked him what had been humorous, Nune could only respond with more laughter.  Although Melchor Dolan’s eyes had been following Nune the whole time, he missed the exact words that either of them had said.  Nune was sitting back from the campfire in a way that made his undershirt and athletic shorts ride up.  Dolan observed there was something languid about his body that matched his energy, as if Nune were an emperor on his throne. He wasn’t built like a castle guard.  Rather, there was something effortless about his beauty.

There was a softness to Kunhri nights that could never be achieved under the sterile lighting of starship corridors.  With only the stars and firelight to guide him, Dolan’s perceptions were blurred around the edges.  His body was fatigued from a day of seaweed farming, his Zaldan physiology wasn’t well suited to the thick humidity, or the IDIC punch might have been to blame.  When Captain Taes had expressed her plans to honour the loss of Priya Susarla with an informal memorial, talk of IDIC punch soon followed.  It had proven to be a vile concoction of Starfleet ration juice packs and enough mixed synthehol to challenge anybody’s ability to control their levels of drunkenness.

Surprisingly, Sootrah Yuulik had only found kind things to say about dearly department Suz at the memorial.  The precise words escaped Dolan by his third cup of IDIC punch, as did the details of Taes’ story that had brought him to tears.  Even after the memorial had disbanded into smaller groupings and private conversations, Dolan was still haunted by how Taes’ words had made him feel.  Leaning closer to Leander Nune, with familiarity, Dolan blurted out, “What do Betazoids do?”

Otherwise engaged in his conversation with T’Kaal, Nune fixed Dolan with a bemused smirk.  His dark eyes searched Dolan’s face, as if the outside might hold all the answers to his silent question.  Taking a moment to excuse himself from his conversation with the Vulcan science officer, Nune asked Dolan, “Hmmm?  Did you say something?” Dolan thought he heard surprise in Nune’s voice, but it was a welcome surprise at that.

“Sorry,” Dolan said, apologizing for his abrupt non sequitur.  “I was asking: do you know any telepathic meditation techniques.  Maybe something you can teach me?”

Nune smiled thinly at the request. “Kellin leads a meditation class on Tuesdays,” he said and then he blinked at Dolan. “But I’m sure you already know that.”  Nune breathed out a pained sigh and his shoulders rounded. “C’mon, Mel. We’ve barely talked in weeks and now you want me to be your teacher?”  Nune shook his head to emphasize how peculiar he found Dolan’s request.

“I’ve been having intrusive thoughts,” Dolan said, getting straight to it.  Incapable of prevarication, Dolan was usually hopeless at small talk.  After taking another swig of his IDIC punch, Dolan said, “And I can’t get them to stop”

Lines of concerned creased Nune’s face, as he edged closer to Dolan.  Speaking softer, Nune asked, “What have you been thinking?”

Flatly, Dolan said, “I keep imagining myself.  On the floor of that refinery garden.  As if I’d died with Suz.  It easily could have been me with her.” Dolan took another sip.  “Or me instead of her.”

“Don’t say that,” Nune hissed.

Dolan’s personal commitment to total honesty rose up when he clapped back with, “I’ll say what I like.”

Nune took that in and he nodded his understanding.  To explain, Nune said, “It’s only a figure of speech.  What you said upsets me.  I don’t… I don’t want to be haunted by that though.”

Rhetorically, Dolan asked, “It’s buck wild, isn’t it?  All of it?”  He laughed, but it was a joyless sound. “Every other ship in our task group has been chasing Romulan warbirds, and here Suz died from gardening.  Gardening!”

Nodding even more heavily now, Nune said, “It’s horrific.  Tragically predicable for one ruling  Romulan government or another.”

“Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood,” Dolan recited. When Nune cocked an eyebrow at him, Dolan explained, “My favourite heroine in fiction said that: Gretchen Ross.”

Nune breathed out through his nose and he looked down at the grass.  “I wish I knew what to suggest to you,” Nune said. His expression turned pained, struggling with something internally. “I’ve been in a haze.  I feel… guilty, maybe?  I never spent much time with Susarla.  I was too wrapped up in my own–”  Nune shook his head.  “Taes asked me to telepathically contact the Remans who worked with Suz in the gardens.  They’ve radiated sheer… warmth for their interactions with Suz.  I’ve come to know her better now in death than I knew her in life.  Such a loss.”

“What did Taes want–” Dolan started to ask. He never got the chance to finish the thought, because Nune kissed him.  The kiss stopped Dolan’s words, stopped all his thoughts of Suz and Kunhri. For those heartbeats, the whole universe was the heat of Dolan’s own body and the taste of Nune’s lips. Nune had been drinking the IDIC punch too.

“You…” Dolan muttered.

“You were thinking about Gretchen Ross,” Nune said. “Something about how she wanted her first kiss to come at a time when she needed to be reminded about how beautiful the world can be.”

“That wasn’t like how I imagined it would be,” Dolan said.

Nune cocked his head to the left. “You do kiss differently than… her.”  Taes, he obviously meant. Taes-body-swapped-with-Dolan.  Nune snickered when he explained, “It’s like I just kissed your twin brother?”

“I don’t have a brother,” Dolan said matter of factly.

“I know,” Nune said softly.

Dolan cringed. “Who kisses better?  Me or her?”

***

Racing up the ramp of her captain’s yacht, the Antonín, Taes escaped the humidity of the Kunhri swamps and she sprinted across the corridor to her quarters.  Kellin Rayco had received word from Executive Officer Jakkelb Elbon of an incoming transmission from the Reman provisional government’s Consul of Vitality, Kecene.  Aboard Dvorak, Taes was told, Commander Elbon had done his best to delay Kecene long enough to disguise a subspace comm-link back to the Antonín, which was hidden on one of Kunhri III’s uninhabited continents.

In the privacy of her quarters, Taes managed to wipe droplets of salt water off her face and pluck off a strand of seaweed that was clinging to her shoulder.  There wasn’t time to escape her wader boots, as Kecene was waiting for her on the synchronous comm.  Taes draped herself into her office chair and tested the visual sensors on her desktop interface to frame up her own image appropriately.

As soon as Taes accepted the subspace hail, she began to say, “Consul Kecene!  I am heartened to–“

Impatiently, Kecene interrupted Taes with a bellow.  She asked, “Fifteen percent?  You dare propose we… sacrifice fifteen percent of our labourers from the refineries to wade through muck as farmers?“

Taes didn’t know how to reply immediately.  She was taken aback by Kecene’s tone of voice.  This didn’t sound like the overly formal Kecene who couldn’t decide what to make of Taes.  Despite the bravado, there was none of the desperation of the deeply offended Kecene who had extorted additional supplies out of Dvorak‘s own crew stockpile.  This was someone else.  Another facet of Kecene entirely.  Her intonation was bordering on haughty; she was in control and yet she was choosing to engage Taes in this conversation.  That could prove to be an opening.

“With well over a million mouths to feed on Kunhri III, let alone the colony on Kunhri IV, I have to imagine the labour demands to produce your food packs were similarly significant,” Taes said.  “Just as many Remans and Romulans worked on a breadbasket world to farm the crops and operate the factories.”

As if Taes’ words were exhausting her, Kecene said, “There must be opportunities for automation…“

“A commitment of fifteen percent of the population is based upon moderate automation of the harvesting process,” Taes responded.  Invigorated to receive any response at all from Kecene, Taes presented her same proposal as if it was solving all of Kecene’s concerns.  “End-to-end incorporation of robotics, transporter and replicator technology would require an investment of years.  We both know Starfleet may not remain here that long.”

“If the refineries can’t be maintained–” Kecene started to say.

Later, Taes would probably blame her next words on fatigue from long days of farming and sleepless nights of self-judgement.  Taes teased, “Kecene, am I going to have to challenge you to a fight to the death to decide the fate of your planet’s future?”

Kecene’s sharp Reman features were unmoved by that question.  She stared at Taes through the computer panel in silence.  “Is that what you think of me?  Of us?” Kecene asked, her voice gravelly again.  “Am I a creature to you?“

“Consul, I–” Taes sputtered.

But Kecene didn’t let her suffer for long.  Kecene bellowed at Taes, but this time, for the first time, that bellow was a laugh.  “Stop, I did murder my predecessor.  I did,” Kecene admitted.  “But fifteen percent of our labour force is too much.  …Maybe five percent.” 

Watching the romulan shuttle dropping out of the sky, Taes felt her stomach drop in dread at a proportional rate of descent. They were discovered. Not that it was surprising. Taes had expected this day would come. The paranoid shard of Taes had expected it from the very first day of hiding out in the swamps of Kunhri III. After these weeks of cultivating two seaweed farms, a childlike shard of Taes had hoped she might choose her own exit before facing the officials of Kunhri once again.

It wasn’t as if the Dvorak‘s science team of farmers were expert Section 31 agents. Taes and Kellin had taken advantage of Kunhri’s aging planetary defences to disguise their landing sites in a perfunctory manner.  Even so, Taes knew the provisional government had all the resources needed to track down Taes’ team, if they hadn’t been preoccupied with paving a healthier way of living in the refineries.  Even during some of Taes’ subspace negotiations with Consul Kecene, Taes nurtured suspicions that Kecene might already know that Taes was still on the planet.  Taes wouldn’t have been shocked if Kecene was quietly waiting out whatever innovations the Dvorak‘s crew developed, without risking her own political capital by openly supporting them.

The shuttle landed beside the captain’s yacht in the clearing beside the river. After a couple of Reman guards stepped off the shuttle, Consul Kecene followed them out into the open, her posture majestic. She demonstrated no curiosity for the Starfleet base camp, nor the dozen officers wading through the saltwater river. However, Taes did think she saw Kecene tilt her head in the direction of a handful of Remans who had joined Taes’ farmers during the past week. Taes also took notice that Kecene wasn’t wearing the battle armour she’d worn to all their previous negotiations. Kecene was clad in a jumpsuit, similar to what the refinery workers wore, if cleaner. As Kecene approached the water line, Taes could see the jumpsuit was adorned with a patch of the new flag of Kunhri III, along with patches to designate her capacity in the provisional government.

As Taes trudged to shore, Kecene had caught Taes without her own raiments of Starfleet captainhood. Taes’ uniform had been traded in for waterproof overalls, one piece connected from her wader boots to the thick shoulder straps. Only the combadge clipped to her shoulder marked Taes as anything but another Kunhri labourer.

Although taller than her Starfleet counterpart, Kecene came to stand face to face with Captain Taes.  Kecene’s immobile facial features and gravelly voice gave away none of her intentions. As introductions, Kecene asked, “I thought I told you to get off my planet?”

“USS Dvorak has left the Kunhri system as you asked, consul,” Taes affirmed, selecting the points of agreement between them and quickly glossing over the rest. “And I have left your refineries alone.”

“Have you?” Kecene asked, even though it sounded nothing like a question. Kecene made a clicking noise and she said, “We’ll come back to that.  Of immediate concern is a Commander ir-Llantrisant of the… Romulan Republic.  The commander has arrived in orbit and is requesting negotiations with First Consul J’mek.”  Kecene raised her chin by an inch.  “Imagine my… surprise when the commander told me he comes bearing botanists and equipment to support the… harvesting of my seaweed farms.  I told him Kunhri Three has no seaweed farms.  Have you made a liar out of me?”

“About that…” Taes tried to explain.

“I told you,” Kecene said, firmly now. “We will not divert fifteen percent of our population from the refineries to… agriculture.  That would undermine our purpose.  Kunhri relies on our… trade with Psi Velorum.  We must be of use to receive their protection.”

“Agriculture is your only way forward, if you’re to feed your population,” Taes said again, feeling a little like a glitching holo-character.  She pointed back to the river. “This seaweed can be dried as food or it can be processed into an efficient raw matter for the replicators.  If the Romulan Republic is prepared to make further investments, you may negotiate labour or automation to lessen the demands on your refinery staff.”

“That will be for me to decide,” Kecene said, her voice steely.  She cast a brief glance to the river and then sharpened her gaze on Taes. “You say you have left our refineries alone. You say you can be trusted. Then why have you kidnapped our youngest workers?”

“I volunteered!” shouted out Obiruk, stepping forward from where he was wading through the river. Even under the overcast sky, the young Reman wore a wetsuit to protect himself.  He removed his polarised goggles to show his face to Kecene.  Obiruk had worked with Priya Susarla in a hydroponic garden, shortly before her death. He said, “Lieutenant Nune from Suz’s family-crew opened his mind to me, the same way Suz did. They believe in this farming.  They believe in Kunhri.  This is what Suz would have wanted. …And I don’t want to work in the pits.”

“I vouched for Captain Taes to Obiruk, and the others like him here,” said another Reman named Kasik, who stepped onto the shore by Taes’ side. “The crews of Temeraire and Ulysses showed me only respect and kindness,” Kasik said, speaking of his duties as the Khunri system’s observer and envoy to the Federation and their dedicated Starfleet task group.  “Captain sh’Elas assured me I could trust Taes and her vision for Khunri’s potential to feed the people of our world, and maybe the entire system!”

Kecene narrowed her eyes at Kasik for an uncomfortable amount of time and then returned her attention to Taes, her head held high. “I will… discuss your seaweed farms further with First Consul J’mek… and Commander ir-Llantrisant.  You may recall Dvorak to… collect you,” Kecene said and she turned to walk away. Over her shoulder, Kecene said, “Before you leave, if you have remaining equipment, I have reached consensus with the refinery foremen.  You may… rebuild as many hydroponic gardens as you are capable.”

“Thank you, consul,” Taes said, glowing with admiration.

“You may also… escort me to my shuttle, captain,” Kecene requested, although it was presented as a statement. Taes took notice that Kecene made no request the reman volunteers be returned to the refineries. At least not immediately. Taes caught up to to Kecene and the two paced slowly toward the romulan shuttle. The reman guards maintained a respectful distance, out of earshot.

Her voice softened, Kecene asked, “This world you grew up in, where the power generators failed and the weather grew harsh…” Kecene met Taes’ eyes before she asked, “Do you hate it now?”

“I don’t,” Taes said wistfully.  Her placid smile twisted into a painted expression.  Unable to maintain eye contact with Kecene, Taes was too afraid to watch Kecene’s reaction. Busying herself with avoiding the tangle of underbrush between them and the shuttle, Taes said, “I wish I did.  I wish I could forget it.  I still… love Nivoch.”

“Be proud of your home,” Kecene affirmed and she almost sounded maternal at that. “Whatever form it may take now.”

Nodding at Kecene’s wisdom, Taes said, “My people live in enclosed domes now, offering a safe space for Cardassian refugees. Maybe you’ll visit one day. You can explore the entirety of the habitat without once experiencing the harshness of direct sunlight.”

“…Perhaps,” Kecene said noncommittally. “Or perhaps it is you who will visit Kunhri again one day, when we have habitat domes and feed refugees of our own.”

“I can think of nothing I would love more,” Taes promised.

***

Once the USS Dvorak had been welcomed back with open wings, Commander Elbon returned the science ship to her orbit around Kunhri III.  Taes offered her farming team a reprieve aboard the ship to dry off in fresh uniforms and to sleep in their own beds. They would need to rally one last time before the impending hand off of the hydroponic gardens and seaweed farms to the Remans of Kunhri and their potential patrons from the Romulan Republic.

When Taes invited her senior staff and the farming team to family meal in the planetarium lounge, Kellin was surprised to find most of them had showed up, even Doctor Nelli. He anticipated more of his colleagues would have returned to their typical cliques, but it appeared none of them were quite ready to give up the communal living they’d practiced in the swamps. Not quite yet, at least. Taes had requested the planetarium viewscreen, set into the overhead display, to simulate the night sky, as seen from the surface of Khunri III. While Kellin finished a cup of tea with Commander Elbon, Kellin pointed out the constellations he’d imagined during his nights on the planet’s surface. Elbon laughed at every single one of the stupid names Kellin had made up for those constellations, just as he’d done on their honeymoon.

Kellin excused himself from Elbon’s side to gather a plate of pastries from the buffet.  He sat himself down at another table, where Sootrah Yuulik was sitting alone. They had muttered their way through the briefest of small talk before Kellin said, “You’re a real insensitive one, you know.”

“Security boy, I promise. It was a compliment when I said you were simping for Elbon,” Yuulik said in what sounded like earnestness to Kellin. Drawing comparisons, she added, “My mother challenged any competitors for my father’s affections, but my father was a simp for only her.”

Kellin squinted at Yuulik then. “Sorry, when did you say that?” he asked. His voice cracked a bit on the final vowel.

Yuulik offered no reaction at first, as if her face were made of porcelain. “Huh,” she vocalised, as her eyes searched his with sudden animation. Taking on a tone of radical acceptance, Yuulik said, “I must have told that to somebody else.”

“I suppose we’re even then,” Kellin said affably. “I wanted to apologise for calling you a bitch to Doctor Nelli.  I don’t really think that.  I probably lost my temper?  I don’t think you’re an invasive weed either,” Kellin said, referring to what Nelli had told him about their exchange with Yuulik on the subject. “I’m sorry for saying that to Nelli. What I think is that you’re insensitive. …I mean, your nervous system is literally less sensitive than mine.”

“Hmm. Yes,” Yuulik replied, uneasily. She didn’t expressly accept Kellin’s apology and she didn’t chide him for his words either. “I noticed that too when we were body swapped a few months ago.”

“I would never keep your body from you,” Kellin said as preamble to, “but I wanted to remain Arcadian, at least for a little while. I feel like I absorb the emotions of people around me.  I can feel it in my flesh. When it gets to be too much, the lights feel too bright and loud noises can startle me.”

Yuulik clutched at Kellin’s hand on the table. “I’m not sure a career in security was the wisest choice for you,” she said. Her words, for once, didn’t feel pointed to Kellin. He thought he heard genuine compassion from Yuulik even.

In fact, Kellin had to laugh at the irony of what she said.  “I don’t know why, but it’s different in duty for me,” he said.  “I can be calm for others if I need to aim a phaser or talk down an aggressor. When I get overwhelmed with embarrassment is if I pronounce my own name wrong or if I’ve left my quarters a mess. But nothing like that bothered me through your eyes.” –He stole a glance at his estranged husband, Elbon Jakkelb– “Nothing hurt as much.”

“When I was in your body…” Yuulik started to say, but she chewed on her lip in that way he’d only seen a couple of times: when she was at a loss for words.  Eventually, Yuulik shook her head and she settled on, “Never mind,” and after further consideration she just said, “I can understand why you’re jealous of my insensitivity. It gives me strength.”

Yuulik stood up from her chair and she said, “You should test how strong I really am.”  As she backed away from the table, Yuulik added, “With that jelly donut of yours.”

“What?” Kellin asked, utterly baffled.

Yuulik looked him in the eyes. “You’ll know what to do.”

“Crew of the science ship Dvorak,” Yuulik requested of the room at large. She projected her voice to carry, as she marched to the head banquet table. She put a foot on a chair as a step up to stand on the surface of the table itself. She said, “It is time for my annual performance review as your acting chief science officer!”

Kellin watched Taes’ eyes light up in horror and delight and she folded her hands over her mouth. Elbon swallowed a snicker, while Doctor Nelli simply moved her eye stalks in the direction where Yuulik was standing proudly on the table. Annikafiore rolled her eyes, while T’Kaal watched Yuulik in rapt fascination. Nune and Dolan –sitting at different tables, Kellin noticed– each offered brief words of affirmation.

“I worked well with Taes,” Yuulik said as a matter of fact. Quick to answer her own question, she added, “These seaweed farms are going to be ecologically and culturally sound, yeah?” Grinning from ear to ear, Yuulik looked to the faces around the room for confirmation.

Reticently, T’Kaal acknowledged, “The seaweed cultivation is progressing faster than our simulations predicted.”

Cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, Dolan shouted, “Too soon to call yourself chief! That’s ghoulish. A chief like Suz would have known that!”

“You’re too nosy,” Kellin said about Yuulik’s fervent curiosity into Taes’s troubled childhood. It was a matter dead and buried between them, but he assumed this was part of what Yuulik had in mind: a release of tension about her lacklustre leadership, along with any misplaced anger over Suz’s death.  That or Kellin had horrible miscalculated how desperately Yuulik needed heaps of praise. Kellin further hollered, “Just do your job. You’re good at it!”  And then he chucked his donut as her. The jelly donut exploded on the shoulder of her uniform. He had good aim, like he’d said.

“You only laugh at your own jokes,” Taes joined in and she threw a bit of cake at Yuulik too.

“The punctuation in your duty logs is frightful,” Elbon tossed to her with a donut of his own.

“You made me question my Starfleet commission,” Dolan added, throwing a slice of pie at her.

“Our scanning equipment would be cleaner if you didn’t always declare it a speed-race between officers,” T’Kaal flatly added.

“You’re boring!” Nune booed.

“Your voice is grating,” said another, and someone complained about how very often she joked about demoting science officers.

Yuulik only stopped laughing at it all long enough to pluck a smashed donut from her uniform and take a bite out of it.