The empty comfort of dark unconsciousness gave way to the screeching boil of blinding pain as Helena’s senses rushed to fill her suddenly conscious brain. Every joint protested at its existence, shouting silent profanities at her, nerves racing to spread messages of pain to her fragile cranium. The pit of her stomach twisted and gurgled, the echoing rhythm of twin heartbeats resonating against her skull, the second syncopated to the first, the unrelenting dual pulse she had come to forget since her joining. 

“At least you’re in one piece.” she coughed, her horse voice barely above a whisper. The symbiote hidden in her belly grumbled in confirmation. 

“You are indeed in one piece, though you’ve been unconscious for a while due to oxygen starvation. Our medic said it was touch and go when we rescued you.” a voice, smooth as dripping treacle slipped across the deck with viscous baritone notes. “I’m glad to see he was wrong.”

“And I suppose I have you to thank for that?” She rubbed her temples, hoping to push the floating spots of blinding pain from her eyes long enough to take in her surroundings. 

“I’m not looking for thanks, it’s not something we really trade in.” The treacle voice rolled effortlessly across the shadowed room once more, its owner secreted in the corner, his thick boots poking from the shadows as they rested atop a cargo crate. “We’d rather have more tangible recompense.”

Helena discreetly ran her hands down her waist and upper legs, still in her flight uniform. She patted her thighs in mock apology, “I’m afraid I’m a little out of Latinum right now.”

“Latinum?” 

“Not from home then. Noted.” The symbiote whispered from the recesses of her mind, its dual voice strained and thin. 

“It’s a precious metal that some people use for trade.” Helena’s eyes were clearing somewhat as she adjusted to the dark room, a meshed lighting fixture in the centre of the square room casting a dim light, filling the small space with jagged geometric shadows in the orange glow. 

“Because it has many uses?” the voice replied, its tone genuinely intrigued. 

“Actually, it has almost none.” Helena’s head was slowly clearing and with it her eyesight, though the pain remained grumbling deep in her belly. The figure across from her began to come into focus, an older man, his wide shoulders and burly body indicating he was several weight classes above the slender flight commander. “I’m not really sure why it’s so valued by some.”

“But not yourself?” The man leant forward, allowing the amber glow to catch his dark rust-coloured face and heavy brow above pale brown eyes, the shadows dancing over his thick knots of grey-tinted hair. Helena’s mind began running through three brains’ worth of knowledge, her search infuriatingly befuddled by her pounding head. 

“What makes you say that?” Helena leant back against the bulkhead that formed the edge of her small bed, attempting to present a calm and relaxed demeanour despite the screech of her bruised internal organs. 

“A calm voice brings calm decisions.” her symbiote advised as the voice of Gynis, the second host and fellow Starfleet officer stepped to the fore.

‘Easy for you to say.’ Helena chided across their neural link. ‘You’re not the one with the voice or the aching bones.’

“You said some people, I take that to exclude yourself.” The man leant forward, his face now wholly visible in the dull glow, the inquisitive twinkle in his eyes hovering over a tight smile, his crest of hair and bony brown forehead now completely on show. “Does this apply to all Starfleet officers?”

‘Kazon. You must be careful.’ Gynis warned. ‘They’ve always been hostile to Starfleet.’

“You know of Starfleet?” Helena asked, flexing her joints under the guise of comfort whilst continuing to assess the state of her body. No breaks or dislocations yet, that was reassuring. 

“Somewhat, some of the ships who come here had interacted with your people.” The man stood, crossing to a small console that illuminated as he approached. “I have not yet had the pleasure.” he stopped mid-step, turning to the woman on the bed and bowing slightly in polite deference. “Until today.”

Helena returned his bow with a small nod but found her tongue-tied as fragments of her memory began creeping through the slowly clearing fog of pain. A dying emergency beacon gurgling out a final cry; then a shadow of a beaked ship, golden wings rippling at its side; a thud as the Valkyrie was towed inside; and finally darkness as her lack of oxygen took over. 

“We don’t have a lot of information about your people I’ll admit, but it seems you’ve been very busy throughout the quadrant.” He pressed a small node on the console and columns of data began scrolling in an orange waterfall down the screen, dozens of languages and data types, symbols and texts she recognised and a dozen more she didn’t, a torrent of data on Starfleet pouring out from the console. “You certainly make an impression.” 

“Where did you get that information?”

He smiled before pressing another node, causing a nearby bulkhead to roll back tomb-like, revealing their position deep in the debris field as familiar jagged shards of bleached metal rolled past the wide window. “We have collected a great deal of data from the wrecks.” 

Despite the protestations of her body Helena stood, and stumbling with sudden pain made her way to the window. “Were they all wrecks when you found them?” Helena’s eyes darted back and forth, searching for any indication of a familiar grey-toned hull or delta-shaped emblem amongst the cracked remains. 

The man shrugged slightly. “On the whole. Some had survivors, like yourself, others did not. No ship made it through intact, and we made use of what was left. Why waste the resource?”

“And where are these survivors?” Helena’s heartbeats began slowing as the panic slightly eased, no sign of any fragments that would indicate Helios had suffered the same fate. Not in this portion of the field at least.

“Gone.” The man replied matter-of-factly. 

“By choice?” Helena turned to face him, tilting her head upwards awkwardly to see his face several shoulders above her own. 

He shrugged again. “There is always a choice.” Helena felt a chill run down her spine as he loomed over her predatorily. “For example, you have a choice.”

“Do I?”

“Indeed.” He lifted a carafe of water from a nearby shelf, hidden by the shadows of the room. “You could tell me more about this Latinum.” His large hands reached out, a small earthen cup held delicately between his fingers like a father playing tea with his daughter. 

Helena took the proffered cup, almost a tankard in her comparatively small hands. “There isn’t much to tell.” He tilted his head as he returned to his earlier position at the console, indicating she should continue. “It’s usually suspended in gold, it is liquid at room temperature, it’s quite hard if not impossible to replicate…” she shrugged, unable to recall any more interesting information about the currency between her slowly returning headache. “It really isn’t that interesting.”

The giant sighed, “Very well. Perhaps you can tell me more about this instead.” His large finger depressed a console node once again and the waterfall of data faded away to reveal the catamaran hull of Helios, its grey hull abuzz with small yellow and grey craft finishing repairs.

Helena’s heart jumped to her throat. Alive. Safe. Thank the goddesses. 

“I believe this is your ship. Helios? Is it?” His thick molasses voice oozed with confidence. “NCC 62384, that matches the markings on your craft’s hull.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you about that ship.” Helena’s heart slowed with practised stillness, an iron shell forming around it as she realised the man’s goals. 

“That’s a shame.” The Kazon man took a step towards Helena, his physical stature already intimidating despite being several metres away. “Not even why it’s the first ship to pass through the Underspace portal intact in 2 generations? That is very interesting, that’s something we can use.” He ran his fingers along the edge of his well-trimmed beard, “It might finally allow us to leave this place. Something to do with your warp engines? Or your Deflectors?” His eyes grew wide, “Some of the data say you have machines that can draw resources from thin air!” he gestured for effect, “a powerful tool indeed if we returned to the other Clans.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you about that ship,” she repeated. 

A weary sigh rolled from the man’s lips. “Are all Starfleet officers so unhelpful?

A tense silence descended over the pair, the balance of power vastly dropping in the Kazon’s favour. 

The sound of boots echoed down the corridor before pausing at the small door, a moment later it slid aside with a hiss, revealing a tall, lanky Kazon man, his body bird-like and slender in comparison to her host. “Maje, we’ve had a message from the village.”

The man stood, smiling as he patted down his crisp overalls. “And what does my daughter have to say?”

“Starfleet are leaving. Returning to their ship, it appears they’re charting a course to the anomaly.” 

“Then we must be ready. Take us into position for the strike.” With a nod the tall man was gone, his eyes hovering on the Trill woman for a moment before his heavy footfalls disappeared back down the corridor. The elder man turned to her, his confidence riling the acid in Helena’s aching belly. “It’s a shame you couldn’t tell us more about your ship, tactical knowledge could have mitigated the casualties.”

Helena felt her anger rising as her tongue broke free of its bonds. “I’ll tell you one thing.” The placid voice of the symbiote reached to chide her, to silence her before she made a foolish mistake, but the woman was all bile and biting venom. “Helios was made to be a warship, to fight the Borg. You won’t take her alone.”

The man threw his head back as a thunder of laughter escaped his barrel chest. “Alone!” He cried, laughing again as he made his way to the door which slid aside with a hiss allowing him to exit, his rumble of laughter echoing through the hull plates as he departed. Helena’s heart dropped as through the window a tan shape came into view, its long raptor-like beak of a prow cutting through the debris field, knocking aside scattered and stripped wrecks as another Kazon ship began to move into formation, then a second and a third and a fourth…