“What in the world?” Nova asked, begging the universe itself for answers.

She was the first of the Starfleet negotiators to return to the Kazon-Relora conference room. The state of the room perplexed her; it was nothing like she had left it. The table was upended. Propped up on its side, the mirrored tabletop had been angled like a giant shield to protect a corner of the room. The many chairs had been piled around the table to extend the barricade. She could only assume their Kazon delegation was huddled behind it all.

“We agreed, Starfleet,” someone shouted at her from behind the table. “We agreed to combine our forces with you if it meant removing the devious Turei from Underspace.”

Following Nova into the room, Captain Elbon Jakkelb dryly replied, “It’s the Vaadwaur, but okay.” Before working alongside him this week on Rakosa V, Nova had met Elbon only briefly when he’d come to rescue her and Yuulik from the temporal inversion fold. Taes certainly spoke of him in high regard as captain of the Almagest.  Somehow both a mentor and a mentee to her.

“And now we receive word you’re also negotiating with the Olgamar?” the Kazon accused. He practically spat the name of their rival sect. “They may control large bodies of water, but that only means they’ll piss themselves when faced with the treachery of Underspace.”

Elbon pivoted on his heel. Marching back towards the door, he practically bumped into Kellin, who was following them in from the hallway. Elbon playfully nudged him in the chest, sending him back the way they came.

“I can see this isn’t a good time,” Elbon announced. “We’ll have food sent in. Something handheld, perhaps.”

Hurrying into the hallway, Nova heard the doors hiss shut behind her. She took that as permission to ask, “How can we possibly negotiate with that, captain?  We’ve been at it for days and now they won’t even look at us?”

Staring into the middle distance, Elbon winced. The expression changed his entire face. His expression spoke of intense reflection, rather than the annoyance thrumming through Nova’s veins.

“Typical Starfleet modalities aren’t working,” Elbon acknowledged, nodding at Nova. “I’m still developing the appropriate technique.”

Stomping away from the conference room, Nova ranted, “They always think they’re right. They always think they’re entitled to the entire menu. They take, take, take and will never acknowledge how much we’ve already given them.”

Sardonically, Elbon asked, “You’re still fighting with Yuulik, huh?”

That stopped Nova in her tracks. Her face flushed with all the heat of her namesake, so she avoided looking directly at Elbon.

“What?” Nova blurted.

Kellin sidled beside her and quickly deflected, “You were talking about the Kazon, yeah? How they kidnapped Nune and, and– her, but now they won’t talk about the fact Meridian whisked them away. They act like none of it ever happened in the first place. Their egos can’t handle the loss.”

Bristling slightly at Kellin coming to her defence, Nova’s instinct was to be contrary, to prove him wrong. It happened quicker than conscious thought.

“No, I was talking about how Yuulik treats me,” Nova admitted. She threw up her hands in defeat. “I’m sorry, sirs, I’ll get my head back into the Kazon frequency.”

Protectively, Kellin said, “You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Happens to the best of us, lieutenant,” Elbon agreed. “Did Yuulik ever tell you about the time she body-swapped with Kellin?”

Even after nearly an hour of debate between Starfleet and the Pralor, Automated Commander Seventy-Four never moved to sit at the conference table. He stood in the vicinity of a chair, but made no use of it. Obeying her Negotiation 101 classes, Captain Esther Rattler had been mirroring his postures throughout the last few days of negotiation. When the Pralor didn’t sit, Rattler didn’t sit either.

Yuulik felt no similar compunction for the sake of negotiation. However, Yuulik’s beating heart couldn’t allow her to be the first one to sit down. It would be like surrendering in the middle of a game!

She was no android, though. She was flesh and blood Arcadian. Her hips felt like they were made of concrete after so much standing, so she allowed herself a slight lean against the conference table.  No one needed to know aside from her aching joints.

“You really can’t procreate as a species,” Yuulik asked AC-74, “until you understand how to replicate your chronodynamic power modules?”

“Every attempt at reverse engineering the modules has failed,” AC-74 said.  “Even past attempts made by Starfleet to aid us.” Yuulik could only recognise him by the precise reverberation of his voice. Otherwise, his ghostly face plate, body shape, and quilted black bodysuit were identical to the half-dozen other Automated Personnel Units around the room.

Another one, Automated Unit 3568 added, “The loss of our reconnaissance units is abhorrent. Those two can never be replaced.” Yuulik could only hear the slightest variation in vocal tone. She was accustomed to far more versatility between holodeck simulations even, and yet previous Starfleet crews had determined the Pralor androids to be sentient lifeforms.

To Yuulik’s side, Nune tilted his head until it was resting on her shoulder. In that moment of gentle affection, he whispered, “By the holy rings, Yuulik, you do not need another quest.”

Rattler took a half step closer to AC-74. Even though she was wearing the same Starfleet uniform as the rest of the negotiating team, she had a sheen about her as if she had just walked out of a spa, rather than captaining a Defiant-class starship.

Meanwhile, Yuulik couldn’t remember if she had brushed her hair that morning.

Embodying the epitome of Starfleet humble confidence, Rattler said, “I’m curious about the change I heard in your tone, Automated Commander. Does that mean you believe us? Was the intelligence report you received about the Trabe not sent by your reconnaissance units?”

“Our strategic sub-processors have analysed the report,” AC-74 stated. “The report was written from a perspective of fundamentalist philosophy and reptilian origins. The Pralor did not author it.”

“By the Vaadwaur, then,” Rattler proposed.

“So you say,” AC-74 remarked.

Hovering by Rattler’s side, Cellar Door asked, “Does that suggest your reconnaissance units were murdered before the report was sent from their scout ship?”

AC-74 cocked his head to the side. “No, the transmission was appropriately encrypted.”

Yuulik was surprised to feel a deep resonance in that. She said, “We’re hurt the most by the ones we trust.”

And it weighed on her, like a sub-processor running beneath her surface thoughts. All the things Nune has said to her while they’d been imprisoned on the Kazon ship: the parts of her life she’s kept hidden from him, the fact they never talk about what blood dilithium did to their friendship, and his fears for the emotional wrecks Yuulik would leave in her wake the next time she succumbed to quest fever.

Yuulik patted Nune’s arm. “Can I see you back here?” she whispered.

He nodded.

AC-74 explained, “Our tactical sub-processors have found no evidence of the Cravic breaking our encryptions. The Trabe have not the intelligence either–”

The point he was leading to was lost to Yuulik. As she swiftly led the way, Nune obediently followed her into an alcove behind an empty serving bar.

“I can’t stop thinking about the state of our friendship,” Yuulik told him in an insistent whisper. “I never used to think about these things, but you’ve infected me with your Betazoid ideology. I have something delicate to bring up with you. I want to strengthen our friendship.”

Taking her hand between his own, Nune said, “I agree.”

Sighing in relief, Yuulik said, “I’m so glad you agree! Do you also agree we should raise a baby together?”