Helena’s hands were still cold. Even though she offered them as close as she dared to the roaring fire in her grandfather’s hearth, the chill still ran deep to her bones, it seemed she might never dispel this cold.

“You were silly to go exploring at night, especially at this time of the year” the old man chastised, picking up a thick woollen blanket from the nearby wingback chair and laying it around the young woman’s shoulders. “It was a foolish choice Helena.”

She opened her mouth to protest but found her chattering teeth agreeing with the old man’s statement and decided to let it slide. Her small form, barely 11 years old, swam in the blanket’s devouring layers but they instantly comforted her quacking body. Satisfied he had tucked the fabric tightly her grandfather returned to the corner of the room and pressed a discretely placed button in the wood-panelled living room. “Two hot chocolates,” he announced to the waiting replicator, “extra cream and marshmallows” he added quietly under his breath. Moments later a whistle, then clinking mugs, a shuffle across well-worn carpet and a warm drink was slid under the girl’s nose, a mountain of cream spotted with pink clouds swaying happily over the rim. “Whatever possessed you to go out there amongst the marshes? It’s almost below zero!”

Helena allowed her tongue to dart out from between her blue lips, swiping lizard-like at the topmost marshmallow. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“No I won’t.”

“You just said I was foolish!” She protested in her most haughty tone, unaware a small blob of cream sat on the end of her small nose, completely undermining any chance at being taken seriously. 

“Foolish yes, but never silly. You are easily the most serious 11 year old I know.” her grandfather tapped the end of his nose indicatively. 

Helena wiped the offending with a blanket-clad hand, even more infuriated by the undermining dairy product. “I’m the only 11 year old you know,” she grumbled sipping at the steaming drink and checking her face in the reflective mirror table top nearby. 

After a moment the man prompted again, Helena’s grandmother would assuredly want answers when she found out the girl had been found shivering in the marshes, and he was not one to cross his wife. “Well?”

“I wanted to see the meteor shower,” she confessed quietly, burying her embarrassment amongst the creamy Everest clutched in her hands. 

“The meteor shower?” he furrowed his brow in confusion. “But you could see that from the back garden, or watched it on the monitor?”

“It’s not the same. It’s so much clearer in the marshes, there’s no light pollution and there’s no noise.” She looked to the weary old man in his wingback chair judgementally. “And why would I watch it on screen when I could go outside and see it for real?”

“So you decided to go out storming the marshes, without a coat, without food or drink, without a map?”

“I had a map!” she cried loudly, wrestling to free her small arm from the trappings of the blanket to reveal the crudely drawn map in pen on her arm. Unfortunately, only a messy black splodge spanning her forearm was offered in defence. 

“You went unprepared and without knowledge.” He raised a thick white eyebrow knowingly. “That was foolish was it not?” 

She nodded slightly as her arm returned to the shelter of the thick blanket. 

“Always equip yourself with knowledge Helena. A simple enquiry as to the forecast would have told you to take a coat. A measurement of the distance would have told you to take food and water. A waterproof marker would have secured your map.” He sipped his own hot chocolate, allowing a mote of cream to find its way onto the tip of his crooked nose as he looked down at the young woman who sat red with embarrassment. So confident, so headstrong, so like her mother.  

Helena giggled as he played at ignorance. So like his daughter, his heart broke again every time she laughed. “You’re not angry then papa? That I went out to see the meteors?”

“I am not. Though your grandmother will no doubt have something to say about the matter.” both shuddered slightly at the thought of what the woman would say, she loved fiercely and thoroughly, especially after the death of their daughter. Unfortunately, this sometimes meant shouting before hugs. “We will have to show her you have learned your lesson.”

“How?”

“Go to the study and fetch the large yellow book on the third shelf next to the glass statuette in the shape of a triangle.”

“What’s in it?” Helena’s eyes lit up, her grandfather’s library was filled with exciting tomes and trinkets from a life in service to the Federation’s diplomatic corps. In that room, there were a million wonders to delight an inquisitive child. 

“Maps of marshland, slightly dated but still mostly correct. We will need to plan the best route if we are to get out there in good time tomorrow night.” He smiled. “After all, what good is watching a meteor shower on the monitor?”

The girl’s squeal of joy warmed the house more than any fire as she carefully placed the mug on the table and threw aside the blanket, her little body quickly forgetting the bone-deep chill as she barrelled down the corridor to the old man’s study, toward the promise of adventure. 

“Equip yourself with knowledge,” Helena whispered under her breath as she reached into the underside of the console, stabilising herself with her shoulders as another phaser strike shook the deck, her slender arms continuing to blindly search through the tightly packed clusters of wiring in the Kazon console. Finally, her hand alighted on a large cluster of connections and she tugged at the box, pulling it toward the opening where she could work on it with greater ease. A few circuit redirections later and the console above her chimed with frustration as the security lockouts gave way to her computer skills. “Thank you Lurian pirates of the Tollar system” she laughed, clambering back to her feet as another phaser blast thudded against the shields. 

She began probing systems, an enquiry as to shield strength here, a request for navigational data there, seeing what data she could gather as to the state of the ongoing engagement. Beyond the dark shadows of her room, she knew several Kazon raiders were engaged with Helios but until now the only information she had what she could quire through the square window out into the debris field.  Every request was answered instantly by the system, she could have been on the bridge instead of in a cell, the secrets of the raider group unfolding before her. Comm channels, shield frequencies, power co-efficients, all of it was proffered without protest. With a quick series of commands, she summoned sensor data, searching for any information on the state of Helios and was rewarded with the familiar catamaran shape of her home anchored at the centre of the debris field, orange lances of phaser fire reaching out in a myriad of directions. Four large brown shapes glowed dully as they danced circles around the ship, rattling Helios‘ cage as they struck and peeled away, hit-and-run tactics familiar to any pilot. The wolf pack was biting more and more aggressively as the telltale signs of hull damage stretched across the ship’s form. Around the injured starship bright blue flashes darted back and forth, swiping at the raiders with pulses of phaser fire and micro torpedoes, her sisters were relentless. No one messes with the Heliades. 

She tapped a short command into the console and called up the comm array, if she could connect to Helios she could relay them a vital advantage but cooler voices whispered in the corners of her mind. She assumed these Kazon were like the reports she half remembered, unsophisticated, uncomplicated but even the most junior of officers would quickly notice an unexpected comm channel and she lacked the tools to hide it effectively. She reached to her belt, a habit acquired from countless away missions, remembering moments later that her equipment had been confiscated. 

“How to send a message without using a comm array?” she mused, her fingers dancing idly over the badge on the shoulder of her flight suit, the arms tied around her waist in the heavy humidity of the ship. The roundel was simple enough, two rearing horses topped with the silhouettes of 4 Valkyries. “Valkyrie!” she shouted to an empty room, remembering the Maje mocking her with the presence of her own ship in the hanger bay. “How to send a message without the comm array? Use a different comm array.” Seconds later she was slipping out the doors, easily opened with her newly acquired security access and began quietly padding down the short corridor to the landing bay. The deck shuddered once more as weapons snapped at the small raider’s heels, unaware that an ally dwelt within.