“The collapse of the empire never happened in this timeline,” Commander Sirona explained. “Signals intelligence indicates a centralized command and control structure across Romulan territory.”

“An enviable reality,” Sub-Commander Satrin remarked, her tone measured, almost neutral, but not so neutral that anyone mistook it for indifference. She regretted how far her people had fallen, not because she mourned the empire that was, but because she still believed the Romulans were meant for more than what they had become.

“So long as the correct power structure is entrenched,” Colonel Nethak mused. Imperial politics was a delicate thing. The wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the whole thing would crumble. He’d seen in the seventies, and he’d even supported Shinzon at first. But then he’d learned strength alone was not enough. It had to be the right strength in the hands of the right person or else force became an accelerant for collapse.

“And what of this war we’re in?” Lieutenant Ward asked in an accusatory tone as she shot a glare across the table at their Romulan counterparts. “Any indication why their people are shooting at ours?” She had never trusted them, not even diminished and scattered as they were, but this was something else entirely. 

“I saw two sides equally involved in the shooting,” Sub-Commander Satrin shot back as her dark eyes narrowed on the Juno‘s tactical officer. The Federation was always quick to accuse the Empire of aggression even when its own actions had set the conditions for it.

“In this reality, both Starfleet and the Romulan Navy appear significantly more militarized,” Commander Sirona said, tacitly acknowledging the sub-commander’s point as she pulled up structural reconstructions from scans taken before they’d fled the battlespace. The first she chose to display was one of the Federation’s own. If the room was going to turn accusatory, she would at least force it to do so evenly.

“Are those pulse cannons mounted atop that Galaxy?” Captain Knight raised a brow. It had the same recognizable silhouette, but beyond that, it was scarcely the same ship. All the optimism once embodied by the Federation’s great explorer was gone. “It looks like a warship now.”

“Am I seeing those readings right?” Commander Castillo raised an eyebrow. “Those are some very high tricobalt emissions yield she’s giving off.” Far more than any scientific application could justify, he knew, though he did not say that part aloud. The Federation had never, in their timeline, weaponized the material, but he couldn’t explain that sort of signature any other way.

“Indeed,” Commander Sirona nodded, her assessment much the same. In this timeline, it appeared Starfleet was lobbing tricobalt weapons at the enemy. But they weren’t the only ones who’d crossed lines. She flipped to a scan they’d taken of a Valdore before glancing at the Romulan contingent. “And yours, you’ve always prioritized tactical capabilities, but…”

“Thalaron emitters,” Centurion Irulan, the Decius‘ science officer, said before anyone else could. “Repulsive, even to our people, banned since 2379.” She glanced over at the colonel, quite aware of his complicity in the events that had led to the ban.

Colonel Nethak met her gaze coldly with the sort of stare that warned were she to say any more, even her status and her parentage might not save her.

“Yes, my understanding as well,” Commander Sirona nodded, noting but pointedly ignoring the wordless exchange between the Romulan pair. With a hand motion, she shifted the display to a wide-angle star chart. “Our readings indicate a significant territorial difference too. In this sector, Romulan and Federation signals traffic suggests an actively contested area, and further out, it appears broadly true along what has historically been a well-defined border.”

All across the map, mixed Starfleet and Romulan emissions sources bled into one another, the sort of pattern that could only exist when neither side had the capacity to hold territory and both were forced to fight across a fluid front.

“I, for one, am quite curious to learn what changed here,” Commander Castillo admitted, drawing a few surprised looks from around the table. “People tend to think parallel universes differ in grand ways, but divergence can begin with a single altered condition and then compound across decades until it looks unrecognizable.”

“John, I wouldn’t have taken you for one to find comfort in a galaxy at war,” Captain Knight observed.

“I’m a student of history, Anthony,” Commander Castillo replied. “How can one not find allure in the opportunity to learn what sort of small changes could have caused such a different outcome?”

“With respect, commander,” Lieutenant Ward frowned. “I’d rather focus on the Romulan war on our doorstep.” While they’d managed to tuck themselves away in a nebula that shrouded their presence for now, they wouldn’t be able to stay hidden forever. Eventually, someone would find them.

“Our aims are not mutually exclusive,” Commander Castillo replied.

“Perhaps not,” Captain Knight raised a hand before the discussion could drift any further. “But neither are our purpose here. We did not come here to study this reality, and we did not come here to fight in someone else’s war. Our principal objective is to find a way home.”

“What of Starfleet’s mission to explore the unknown?” Sub-Commander Satrin probed. Mild as her tone was, her question had an edge to it. She was curious to see if Starfleet’s ideals remained consistent even when they became inconvenient.

“You know,” Colonel Nethak smirked as he stared at the starchart. “I think I could almost get used to this.”

“You would say that,” Centurion Irulan glared at him, not bothering to cloak the condescension in her tone. “Like an old imperial relic longing for an age best left to history.” She knew why he was here, and she had no doubt he’d meant what he said. Men like Nethak tr’Sevrin always spoke most honestly when they thought others would take their statements as wistful.

The exchange between the Romulans made Captain Knight uneasy, but not as much as the situation itself. The longer they remained, the more likely it would be that eventually they’d be swept into whatever this was, and there also existed a distinct possibility Colonel Nethak might decide, at some point, that he had more in common with this reality than with them. “This is not our reality, and it is our duty to find a way home,” he finally said before turning to his science officer. “John, you and your team are on this full time until we find a solution.”

“It would still be prudent to develop an intelligence picture of this reality,” Commander Sirona counseled, checking the captain’s instincts. “A route home may not present itself quickly.”

“Very well,” Captain Knight sighed, knowing she wasn’t wrong. There was a distinct possibility the people of this place, either Starfleet or Romulan, might find them before they found a way home. “We can work both in parallel, but nothing takes precedence over a route home.”

“Commander Castillo,” Centurion Irulan offered. “It sounds like you’re going to need all the hands you can get, and I’d be happy to assist.” She then glanced over at the colonel, not so much for his consent as simply to gauge his reaction.

“Be my guest,” Colonel Nethak shrugged. If the Federation apologist wanted to waste her time with that, so be it. Perhaps she’d even join them. In the meantime, he had more important things to tend to. On paper, they might be allies with the Federation, but paper could tear quite easily, and did that paper even apply when it had been written on an entirely different plane of the multiverse?