Entering her quarters with haste, Cambil had automatically removed her uniform jacket before she reached the bedroom. Having left her away team to finish getting their surgical alterations in sickbay, she had wanted to take a moment to breathe. She couldn’t get over the fact of when and where they were. The notion that this was some sort of test from the Prophets had run through her thoughts the moment she had left sickbay. Cambil was a firm believer in the Bajoran faith, and as she undressed, she considered taking a moment to pray. She wanted some guidance about this moment, and all she could hear her mind and gut telling her were the words from T’Rani’s voice earlier on the bridge. She knew how vital it was that they adhered to the Temporal Prime Directive. After ordering the computer to replicate her clothing suitable for this period in Bajor’s past, Cambil started putting the clothes on. 

Pleased with the detail the computer took in its creations, Cambil felt like she looked like her mother for a second. Wearing a burgundy tunic over dark khaki trousers and an ochre-coloured jacket with several Bajoran-style embroidery, Cambil finished her look by replicating herself a Bajoran earring that was different to her own. Knowing her people’s history, she knew that her current earring, if she wore it among Bajorans now, would place her among those in the labourer caste. She needed to ensure that she and her away team could move freely, so she replicated ones that would put them in a higher caste that wouldn’t raise any suspicions if they encountered any Bajorans. Engrossed in making herself ready, Cambil had noticed the arrival of her son at her doorway. 

“Mom, is it true we’ve travelled back in time?” Leeyem asked his mother; a tinge of excitement sat on the edge of his tone. 

Using the mirror before her, Cambil saw her son and turned around as she put her new earring on. “What have you heard?” she asked, knowing that her son, a typical fifteen-year-old teenager, was rarely interested in her work. His sudden curiosity piqued her interest.

Leeyem shrugged his shoulders as he answered. “Someone said that your mission with the Krenim went bad, and they sent us back in time to imprison us.”

Cambil chuckled at the imaginative and quite creative response she got from her son. “Not quite, darling,” she replied as she finished getting herself ready. “We have gone back in time, and I need to find those who have done this to us and get us back to our timezone.”

“So, why have you changed out of your uniform, and why are you wearing a different earring?” Leeyem quizzed her as he crossed his arms against his chest.

Sighing, Cambil picked up the boots that had been made for her, sat down on the edge of her bed and started to push her feet into them. “It’s complicated, Leeyem,” Cambil answered.

“Leeyem, leave your mother alone while she gets ready,” a new voice came from behind the fifteen-year-old Bajoran lad. 

Turning around, Leeyem smiled at his father’s arrival as he entered their quarters. “Dad, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in the school?” 

Ignoring his son’s question, Faren Naprem signalled for Leeyem to leave him and his mother alone. “The ship is still at red alert, Leeyem; you should be in your room.”

“Oh, Dad, I want to know where Mum is going,” Leeyem whined.

“Leeyem,” Faren said sternly. “Room. Now!”

Sighing loudly, Leeyem nodded to his father before wishing his mother the best in whatever she was about to do. 

As she finished tying her boots, Cambil could sense the unspoken question in her husband’s eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, Naprem, and I’d rather not discuss it,” she said, anticipating his inquiry.

“So it is true,” Faren said as he entered their room, and the door between it and the living room closed behind him. “We have travelled back before the occupation.”

“You know I can’t talk about such things, my love,” Cambil responded as she stood up and checked her appearance once more in the holographic mirror. 

“Bexa, don’t give me that Temporal Prime Directive bullshit,” Faren spat out at her as he sat down on the edge of their king-sized bed. “Every other Bajoran civilian on this ship, and I can see that we are sitting within one of the largest craters of Derna. We can also see Bajor without any significant orbital traffic. Mixed with the fact you’ve returned from a diplomatic meeting with the Krenim, those who are notorious for being the Delta Quadrant’s answer to time-travelling menaces, and the ship has been placed at red alert and shuddered more than it ever has since Frontier Day means only one thing. We’ve travelled back in time.”

“With deduction skills like that, you should apply for a constabulary with the militia,” Cambil said as she tied her hair into a bundle. 

“The militia as we know it doesn’t come into existence for another fifty or so years,” Faren scoffed. “Tell me you’re going down there to stop the Cardassians from occupying Bajor.”

Surprised he would state such a thing, Cambil looked at her husband. “Naprem, do you honestly think I would do such a thing to change our timeline?”

“To save over fifteen million lives, yes,” Faren stated with a firm conviction. “If we are in the past, then you have a duty to your people to stop the Cardassians from putting our people through one of the gruesome periods of our history.”

“Even if I wanted to, you know I can’t,” Cambil spat back.

“Ah, the mighty Temporal Prime Directive,” Faren muttered. “Starfleet’s mandate not to interfere once again bounds your hands.”

“Naprem, I don’t have time to debate Federation law and Starfleet regulations,” Cambil said as she finished her hair. 

“Yes, you do, and you know that your being brought back to this period is a gift from the Prophets, Bexa. Don’t ignore it,” Faren pleaded as he grabbed his wife’s hands into his. 

“And what if the Prophets have sent me here to protect what will happen from the Krenim?” Cambil squeezed her husband’s hands as she knelt down beside him. “Naprem, if I don’t stop these Krenim, then I won’t be here, and the history, the life we’ve built together, won’t exist.”

“It’ll be different, but-” Faren started to counter back but was stopped as Cambil placed her left index finger over his lips.

“No, Naprem, this can’t change what we have. I won’t let anyone ruin the life we have or take away our sons,” Cambil said, now sounding stern in her justification. She leaned in and kissed him softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Faren responded after kissing her back. As she stood up, he held onto her hand again. “Please, Bexa, consider what you’re doing.”

“Naprem, respect my duty and the choices I make as this ship’s captain,” Cambil said as she looked at him one more time.

He didn’t respond to her.

Cambil left her quarters in silence. Naprem’s words continued to race among her thoughts as she made her way towards sickbay. She had gone through the same thought process as she had when she had realised where and when they were. Her senior staff had kept her focused on the job, and now she needed to keep to it. 

But fifty million Bajorans would die.

Could she really walk away from it?