“Indeed, Arahtih, that’s precisely my stance,” Selene asserted, her eyes flashing with determination. Her uniform was impeccably pressed, reflecting her rigid posture and unwavering resolve. “Opening the manifold and flooding the Cipaere with tachyons isn’t just unnecessary; it’s also highly unsafe.”

Arahtih’s eyes narrowed as he rolled them with a touch of disdain. His lips curled into a condescending smirk. “Commander Arden,” he said, his tone dripping with superiority, “this is our ship, and my project. While Commander Temar may have granted you the courtesy of boarding our vessel, that does not elevate your authority over our operations.”

Selene’s jaw tightened as she stepped closer, her gaze sharp as she studied Arahtih. The layers of his bravado seemed to waver under her scrutiny, and she could almost taste the insecurity beneath his confident facade. She allowed a brief pause, her eyes softening as she met his gaze. The warmth of her empathy, a gentle ripple beneath her words, seemed to fill the space between them.

“When you’re endangering our lives, Doctor Arahtih, I have every right to intervene.” Her voice was steady but carried an undertone of quiet understanding. “If you insist on pushing forward, at least show some decency and wait until we’re back on the Io.”

Arahtih’s confident demeanor faltered, confusion replacing his arrogance. His brows knit together as he asked, “What do you mean, back on the Io?”

“We’ve been recalled,” Selene said, her voice steady as she met his gaze with unyielding resolve. “All our personnel are returning to the Io shortly.”

Arahtih’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing into slits of barely concealed contempt. Selene could feel the sting of his resentment. “How typical of the Federation,” he spat, his voice laced with disdain. “First offering their assistance, then retreating to their safe borders at the first sign of difficulty.”

Before Selene could respond, a commanding voice cut through the tension. Both Selene and Arahtih turned sharply to see Commander Temar stepping through the doorway. His uniform was impeccably tailored, and his posture radiated an air of high Romulan authority. The soft glow from the room’s lighting accentuated the sharpness of his expression.

Temar’s gaze locked onto Arahtih with icy precision. His voice, calm yet unmistakably authoritative, carried a chilling undertone. “Doctor Arahtih,” he said, his tone as cold as an Andorian icefield, “it is expected that you show proper acknowledgment for the assistance provided by Starfleet. Such contributions are not to be dismissed lightly.”

Arahtih’s previously unshakable confidence crumbled. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes fell to the floor, his bravado melting away under Temar’s steely gaze. Selene picked up on his internal conflict, the clash between pride and submission. “Yes, Commander, but… I apologize,” he stammered, his voice betraying his discomfort.

Selene’s lips twitched with a suppressed smile, her eyes reflecting satisfaction as she observed Arahtih’s defiance unravel. She could feel his frustration giving way to reluctant compliance.

Temar turned to Selene, his demeanor softening slightly but remaining impeccably formal. “We will rendezvous with the Io shortly. Prepare your crew and meet me in the transporter room.”

Selene nodded with precise efficiency, acknowledging the order with a crisp salute. Temar then addressed Arahtih again, his voice brooking no argument. “Doctor, this includes you as well. You will accompany me for a meeting with Captain Crowe on the Io.”

Arahtih’s face fell further, his expression one of resignation and barely concealed irritation. “Yes, Commander,” he muttered, his voice subdued.

As Temar departed, Selene took a deep breath, her gaze shifting back to Arahtih. She softened her tone slightly, letting her empathy shine through. “It’s not about borders or politics, Doctor. It’s about safety and survival. Remember that.”

As they approached the transporter deck, the corridor buzzed with frenetic activity. Crew members darted past, their boots creating a rhythmic staccato on the metal floors. In the dimly lit alcoves, worn crew members huddled on makeshift beds, their blankets and padding strewn together in a desperate bid for rest. The scene—exhausted faces peering out from beneath scruffy blankets—evoked images from a 21st-century Earth holonovel Selene had once played. The clamor of machinery and the distant clang of tools blended into a monotonous hum, a stark reminder of the Vihroi’s overextended limits since rescuing the Seiyya’s survivors.

All of a sudden Lieutenant Jansen leaned in, his breath warm against Selene’s ear. “Commander, about the Cipaere and the new discoveries—”

Selene raised a hand to signal him to hold, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm. She turned her head slightly, her eyes locking with his in a silent but firm command. “Not here, Jansen. We’ll discuss it on the Io.”

Jansen’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes reflecting understanding, but, Selene’s senses tingled with unease. It was like a cold whisper against her skin, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that prickled her senses. She noticed that Arahtih, a few meters ahead, had subtly flicked his ear in their direction, sharp and assessing, conveying a Romulan’s acute awareness. The feeling dissipated when the Romulan tilted his head back to the front. Selene’s gaze narrowed slightly, contemplating whether his heightened senses had caught their conversation. If he did she hoped he would reserve judgment until they met with Captain Crowe, dreading the potential flare of Arahtih’s inherent distrust and paranoia. 

At the corridor’s end, Commander Temar turned, his posture straight and commanding. “Commander, Lieutenant, please verify your teams. We wouldn’t want any strays left behind on the Vihroi.”

Arahtih’s gaze flicked toward Selene, a faint hiss escaping his lips as he added, “I’ll be conducting my own headcount as well.”

Selene nodded, her eyes scanning her team with practiced efficiency. Arahtih, stationed by the doorpost, began his headcount with meticulous precision. His gaze swept over each member, his posture a study in Romulan discipline—rigid and exacting.

The metal panel ahead slid open with a metallic groan, revealing the Romulan transporter room barely bathed in a dim and cold, clinical light. Stepping inside, Selene’s senses sharpened. She could almost feel the tension in the air, the underlying mistrust and despair of the Romulans mingling with the sterile ambiance of the room. Her eyes darted over her team. One, two, three, four—she paused. Ensign Allan was missing. Her stomach tightened, a twist of anxiety that made her heart race. She scanned the corridor again, but only two engineers in goldish-yellow uniforms were visible.

“Allan?” Her voice cut through the sterile ambiance with urgent concern. “Has anyone seen Ensign Allan?”

A voice from behind her answered, slightly muffled but clear. “I’m here, Commander.”

Selene turned, her breath catching in relief as she spotted Allan emerging from the corridor, a sheepish look on his face. She offered him a reassuring smile, her posture visibly relaxing. “Good, that means we’re all set.” She shifted her gaze to Jansen. “What about you, Jansen?”

Jansen’s grin was playful, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Tinker team’s all present and ready for the sparkling elves to bring us home.”

Laughter rippled through the crew, but Selene noticed the Romulans’ puzzled frowns. Temar’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. The subtle shift in his expression revealed his disapproval. Sighing, Selene leaned in to Jansen, her voice a sharp whisper. “Lieutenant, you know how the Captain feels about that jargon.”

Jansen’s grin didn’t falter, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I do, but we’re not on the Io now, are we?”

Selene’s gaze hardened. “That makes it worse, Alex.”

Jansen fell silent, his playful demeanor subdued by the weight of her look.

Turning to Commander Temar, Selene declared, “All Starfleet crew present. We’re ready to commence the transport.”

Temar’s eyes were sharp, but approving, his authority commanding the room. “We’re ready as well. Please take your positions.” He gestured to his transporter chief, who stood with a disciplined stance. “Coordinate with the Starfleet vessel and commence the transfer.”

“At once, Commander,” the chief replied with a slight bow. Moments later, the transporter room shimmered as the first wave of officers—a mix of Starfleet engineers and scientists—began to glow with a soft, ethereal light before dematerializing. Before Selene could blink, the pads were empty, and the second wave followed in swift succession.

Selene exchanged a brief glance with Jansen and then with Temar before stepping onto a transporter pad herself. She was joined by Jansen and the Romulans—Temar, Arahtih, and two Romulan security officers. 

Temar performed a final check, his gaze sweeping over each individual. With a decisive nod, he issued the command. “Moraere.”

As the word left his lips, the room’s shadows deepened, and the hum of the transporter grew, vibrating through Selene’s body. A tingling sensation started at her feet, spreading upward like a thousand tiny bubbles. The room’s edges blurred, light swirling into a vortex of shimmering particles. Her body felt weightless, suspended in a strange, almost ethereal state.

In an instant, the room vanished, replaced by a void of darkness. For a heartbeat, she floated in a timeless expanse, a profound connection to the universe. This fleeting moment felt intimately familiar, she often wondered if the sensation was tied to her empathic abilities. 

The darkness was abruptly replaced by the bright, blue and goldish glows of Federation technology. The tingling reversed, grounding her as her feet met the solid floor of the USS Io. The familiar hum faded, and the bright light of the Federation transporter room enveloped her. She blinked rapidly, adjusting to the intense brightness, and the crisp, recycled air filled her senses. Familiar faces greeted her with expressions of relief.

“Welcome to the Federation Starship Io, Commander Temar,” Captain Crowe’s voice cut through the bright haze. For Selene, hearing her friend’s voice was a lifeline, anchoring her in the dazzling surroundings.