Captain’s log,

Republic has been asked to look into an issue in the Archanis Sector at the request of Starfleet Intelligence. While I’m confident that they could have found a closer ship to investigate the matter, say a ship under Admiral Reyes command, it would appear that Commander Sadovu’s unique expertise and former occupation is apparently going to come into play.

I have no doubt then that this is going to become an interesting experience for all involved. I just hope it doesn’t become too interesting.

There was no thought just yet. Barely even an awareness of self. There was comfortable warmth all around, with greater still pressing in on one side. Tendrils of that same greater warmth wrapped around, ensnaring, trapping oneself in this cocoon of warmth and pleasantness.

Then came the whispers, soft and nonsensical. An undertone to them brought more pleasant sensations. An awareness then of ears was required, those whispers said from close by, the breath of them on one’s ear as they poured in.

But there was still no thought. No understanding beyond this was a trusted voice, a safe place and the bonds around oneself were barely there anyway.

Then there was a sharp pressure on one’s ear. The ear that the whispers had poured into. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was sharp. It pulled ever so slightly before releasing, then returned in almost the exact same spot. The sharp pressure finally brought forth a single response.

“Mmm.”

“Come on sleepy-head,” the voice said, now louder and more insistent, the meaning of the words finally registering and provoking thought.

“Mmm,” she repeated, awareness of self finally breaking through.

Sidda Sadovu. Luckiest woman in the galaxy. Or at least the most comfortable one right now.

Revin was curled around her, a tangle of arms and legs wrapping around her possessively, her delicious body-warmth threatening to send Sidda back to sleep. In opposition however were Revin’s fingers as they drew little patterns along her skin, her touch gently stirring her from slumber with a faint but ever-present insistence.

And then came the nibbling along her ear again, this time more forcefully. It broke through any sleep-fog that remained as Revin rolled around her, straddling and pinning her down to the bed, pulling away just enough to look down at her, a smile encompassing Revin’s entire face. “I said it’s time to wake up.”

“Mmm,” was her response. She tried to move her arms, to wrap them around Revin and pull the smaller woman close and tight. But they refused to move. A second try and she could recognise that Revin had her by the wrists, pinned to the bed above her head. She tried to move her hips, to roll over, but again Revin had her well enough that the only way to force the matter would be with real force.

So she stopped struggling and surrendered, offering a smile to her wife. “Alright, I’m awake.”

“Good.”

Revin’s lips met hers, the kiss passionate and filled with energy. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. The moan that escaped from her came from deep within as she luxuriated in the demanding attentions of her wife. An eternity later Revin finally broke the kiss, sighing as she did so.

“I’m going to be late for work, aren’t I?” she asked Revin.

“Why do you think I woke you up early?” And Revin descended on her again, lips on her neck, body pressed against her own. “Plenty of time,” Revin said as she continued her ministrations. “Secret-keeper.”

It took an incredible effort of will to eventually drag herself away from Revin. It took an even greater effort of will not to go back and strangle Revin when she checked herself over in the mirror before stepping out of their shared quarters. Her growl of annoyance was met with a snickering from the bedroom as Revin curled back under the duvet.

“Morning Commander,” Captain Charles MacIntyre said in greeting as she eventually emerged onto the bridge, settling down into the right-most seat. “Did you decide to take the stairs this morning?”

“Sir?”

“You look like you’ve run through the ship.”

“Because I have.” She’d bolted from her quarters to sickbay, running from turbolifts when she could. She’s accosted a nurse for a dermal regenerator and a mirror, waving away the dark-green blemish that had appeared on her neck. She’d been prepared to swear the nurse to secrecy about what he’d seen, but the man had shrugged, muttered something about ‘not the first, not the last’ and offered to actually fix the hickey properly.

“I thought you worked out in the evenings?”

“I do.”

Mac took a moment, then nodded. “Ahh,” he said as he reached some sort of conclusion, which likely wasn’t too far off from the actual mark. “Well then. We should be entering the Kyban system in a few minutes. Anything Ms Beckman should be aware of, since you are the one with the local knowledge?”

“Don’t let traffic control bully you around. Don’t be surprised if they put us in a high parking orbit, they do it with every ship that could be a threat to the smaller orbital platforms. And,” she turned to look to Selu Levne for this last point, “don’t be surprised if there’s a K’Tinga-class battlecruiser in orbit somewhere.”

“Klingons? Here?” the Orion-Vulcan tactical officer asked.

“No, just a pack of miscreants, ne’er-do-wells and loveable rogues,” she answered, grinning from ear to ear.

“The Vondem Rose,” Mac clarified. “One day you’ll have to tell me how you managed to get it registered as an armed merchantman.”

“That’s between me, the Bureau of Ship Registries and Commodore Rourke. But there is one way I might tell you.”

“I’m not going to regret just hearing about this offer, am I?” Mac asked.

“There’s a restaurant in Banksy City, Plate, super difficult to get a table at. I’ve tried, never managed to get one. Owner has something against…honest merchants.” Mac’s raised eyebrow told her he wasn’t buying that one. “But they keep a table open for visiting Starfleet captains. The owner is a big fleet supporter, likes to brag about having captains visit their establishment. Book us a table, we’ll bring the girls, I’ll tell you the story there.”

“The girls?” Mac asked with another shake of his head. “If we have time, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Coming out of warp now,” Willow Beckman announced, as streaks of light filling the viewscreen gave way to the normality of sub-light. A dusting of lights in orbit circled the bright blue and green marble of Kyban as orbital platforms, transiting ships and a bevy of satellites orbited the world.

The crown jewel of Kyban’s orbitals, Thames Station, was unmissable, both in its proximity to Republic and appearance. It wasn’t so much a station as a collection of smaller ones that had been assembled into a larger piece over the last century. It was a web that threated to ensnare any station, or particularly large starship, that came to close and add on its own mass. But for all its fragility, it also packed a bevy of defences, curtesy of that same century of growth and the Federation’s erstwhile ally to the galactic south, who not too long ago had been an enemy and was threatening to do so again.

“Holy hell,” Willow exclaimed. “What is that?”

Her raised finger wasn’t pointing at Thames Station, but at another large mass nearby. The ship, if you could call it that, looked like nothing any sensible mind would conceive of. The ship’s drive section looked like a flat plate, engines prominent along one side. Jutting upwards from that plate were four enormous towers in a slight curve on the side of the drive-plate opposite the engines. The middle two towers were about as tall as Republic was long, the shorter outer towers were about a third shorter.

But the styling on the towers was the real eye-catcher. They looked like they belonged to a fairy-tale castle. Tall structures, complete with peaked roofs on the top structures, with an enclosed bridge connecting the towers about halfway up the taller ones. To complete the look the drive-plate had what looked like an actual castle wall around its edge, dotted with what looked like ballista emplacements at regular intervals.

“Oh no,” Mac muttered.

“Hmm?” she asked. “You’ve seen this…ship…before?”

“Hopefully it’s not the same ship, but I’ve seen it’s like before.” Mac shook his head. “That’s a Hysperian Neuschwanstein-class starcastle.”

“Hysperians? The stuffy, over-inflated cosplayers pretending to live in some fantasy world? I thought they were just a joke.”

“Oh, they are at that.” Mac rose to his feet. “And if there’s a Neuschwanstein here, then it means someone very, very important from Hysperia is here. Here just as we’re arriving.”

“Could be coincidence,” she said, coming to her feet and beside Mac, looking at the viewscreen and the absolute spectacle before them. “Likely is, after all. I mean, just look at that thing. It’s so stupid.”

“Maybe,” Mac replied. “But I doubt it.” He took a moment, drew in a deep breath. “Lieutenant Beckman, standard orbit please. Lieutenant Levne, you have the bridge. The Commander and I are heading planetside to meet with Starfleet Intelligence.”

“And if we’re not back in three hours,” she said jokingly, “storm the castle and come rescue us.”

“Which one?” Selu asked, which actually caused her to stop and have to consider the question for a moment.

“Dealer’s choice,” she answered as she stepped into the turbolift with Mac. “Federation Plaza, that thing,” she said, waving at the viewscreen. “Go with what feels right.”

Mac stepped forward, a hand on the door frame to halt it from closing. “No storming of any type, thank you. We’ll be back when we’re back.”

As the door slid shut, Mac shaking his head at her. She smiled as innocently as she could at him.

“I for one think you’d make an excellent damsel in distress,” she said.

“Only if I can wear baby-blue,” Mac answered. “Pink doesn’t work with my skin tone.”