The courtyard of the Colludia IV field camp had begun to empty as the expedition teams returned from their final afternoon assignments.
The transparent panels of the domed roof remained open above the central space. Humid air moved freely between the three wings of the prefabricated building. The scents of wet soil, crushed vegetation and the evening meal being prepared in the dining hall wafted through the space. Along the edges of the courtyard, Starfleet technicians packed portable sensor arrays into hard-sided cases. Two Klingon warriors carried a reinforced specimen container to the closest laboratory.
They were in the process of arguing over whether the unconscious animal inside had attempted to bite them or merely tested the strength of its restraints.
Doctor Merron followed several steps behind them. Frustration laced his voice.
“It was a sedated animal,” he called. “It was not trying to test anything.”
One of the Klingons looked back to Merron with tension written across his dark, ridged face. “Then it should have remained still.”
“It did remain still, at least after the phaser’s stun.”
The Klingon grunted as though the distinction did not matter.
Near the open end of the courtyard, Lieutenant Kortt stood with Lieutenant Commander T’Naagi and Doctor Binedra Dowa alongside a stack of field packs that were waiting to be returned to the Hurricane. The Romulan helmswoman had changed out of the mud-stained field jacket she wore during the riverstalker expeditions. Her long hair had been brushed back as it fell down around her shoulders. The day’s humidity had already encouraged several strands to curl near her pointed ears.
T’Naagi carried a narrow sample case beneath one arm. Her copper hair had been pulled loosely away from her face to expose the clean angles of her pale green facial features. Neon-pink irises followed a pair of Starfleet botanists as they crossed the courtyard with sealed containers of fruit, bark scrapings and three carefully isolated seed pods.
Doctor Binedra Dowa stood between the two women. Her medical satchel hung from her left shoulder. The Bolian physician’s amber eyes carried a look of relief. Anxieties she felt earlier in the expedition had been soothed by the fact that there had been no injuries or illness during the first few days.
Kortt looked from the entrance to the laboratory wing. “I suppose that is everything.”
“For today, at least,” T’Naagi replied coyly.
Kortt smiled. “You say that as though you the work will never end.”
T’Naagi sighed. “Unfortunately, Commander Smythe expects me to attend several meetings concerning our possible command assignment tomorrow. I might have less time here than I realize.”
Doctor Dowa adjusted the satchel against her hip. “She has already reviewed most of the specimens twice.”
“Only the ones from the river basin,” T’Naagi replied. “The highland teams returned with several fungal samples that have not been properly cataloged yet.”
Kortt gave the doctor a knowing look. “You should take her back to the Hurricane before she moves into the laboratory here on the surface,” the long-haired Romulan said with a muted smirk.
“I have been trying my best.”
T’Naagi looked from the Bolian doctor to the Romulan helmswoman. “You both speak as though my scientific interest is a medical problem.”
“It becomes one when you stop sleeping regularly enough,” Dowa replied.
The Orion considered that answer before she conceded with a slight nod.
Kortt looked around the courtyard one final time.
The camp had felt strange when she first arrived. Starfleet equipment stood next to Klingon supply cases. Romulan officers worked in laboratories that had been designed by Federation engineers. The dining hall served replicated human meals beside Klingon meat dishes and Romulan grain stews. Even the training room had developed into a shared space where warriors, security officers and scientists gathered for reasons that did not always match.
Now that she was leaving, the melting pot seemed less unusual.
“I hope we stay in contact,” Kortt said.
T’Naagi looked to her. “I guarantee that I will reach out.”
The certainty in her voice made Kortt smile.
“You sound very confident.”
“I am. We will find work together again soon.”
Doctor Dowa nodded in agreement. “Preferably somewhere with far fewer venomous reptiles.”
T’Naagi’s eyes met the physician’s. “You said you were prepared with the antivenom.”
“I am. I would also enjoy a vacation where useful preparation included packing a swimsuit.”
“I’m not swimming in these rivers”, answered T’Naagi. “You should see what lives in them.”
“Well, when you put it that way”, said the reluctant doctor. “Maybe not.”
Kortt released a quiet burst of laughter. “Colludia II might suit you both better.”
“I have been considering it,” said the Orion.
The Romulan’s expression softened as she looked back to T’Naagi.
“Best of luck once they finally promote you to executive officer of your new ship.”
T’Naagi’s posture shifted lower as her shoulders lost tension. The upcoming assignment still seemed unreal whenever anyone mentioned it.
“Thank you.”
“Do you know what ship it will be?”
“No. Commander Smythe and I have only heard a few possibilities, mostly just rumors though.” T’Naagi adjusted the sample case beneath her arm as she continued.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I learn what vessel we’ve been assigned to. Commander Smythe remains convinced that it’s still going to be some kind of science vessel.”
“What do you think it might be?”
“I’m not sure. It could be a Springfield. It could even be something like an old Ambassador. Some people think a Norway might be possible. Who knows?”
Kortt nodded slowly. She stepped closer and slowly held out one hand.
“Whatever ship you receive, I hope you make it memorable.”
T’Naagi clasped the Romulan’s forearm rather than taking her hand in the human fashion.
“I intend to.”
Dowa embraced Kortt gently afterward. The Romulan stiffened for a fraction of a second before she returned the gesture.
“We should all get together again before shore leave ends,” Dowa said.
“I would like that.”
“Somewhere quiet,” the doctor added.
T’Naagi tilted her head. “The crystal forests of Colludia III?”
Dowa looked at her. “Maybe somewhere without enhanced empathic sensitivity. Somebody might get overwhelmed and need medical help.”
“Then no on Colludia III.”
Kortt laughed again before she continued. “I am about to meet Ruiz and a Klingon helmsman on Colludia V. They are conducting preparations for the Scatter Race.”
T’Naagi’s expression changed immediately.
“Are you participating?”
“I intend to.”
Dowa’s amber eyes narrowed with concern.
“Be careful. The sensors can’t operate properly as you get deeper into that belt.”
“As I have heard.”
T’Naagi shifted the case into her other arm.
“Which Klingon pilot are you meeting?”
“I have not met him yet. Ruiz said he has experience with small craft.”
“That does not answer the question of whether or not he knows how to race in the dark.”
“That is what I hope to discover.”
Dowa exhaled. “Please don’t make me treat you for injuries caused by a recreational navigation error.”
“I shall try to center my injuries around professional injuries instead.”
The Bolian looked unimpressed at Kortt’s playful reply.
T’Naagi’s smile remained subtle. “Contact us once you arrive.”
“I will.”
“And Kortt?”
The Romulan paused.
T’Naagi continued. “Stay safe around Lieutenant Ruiz.”
Kortt’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “You know her well.”
“I have served with her for some time now.”
They exchanged another brief farewell before Kortt crossed the courtyard. She made her way to the transporter alcove arranged along the western wing. She stepped onto the pad while a Starfleet technician verified the destination coordinates.
The jungle remained visible through the open end of the courtyard.
White-barked palms rose beyond the edge of the crag. Turquoise fronds moved beneath the evening wind. Somewhere far below, a large reptile released a resonant call that rolled across the canopy.
Kortt turned to study T’Naagi and Doctor Dowa for one final time.
The transporter field surrounded her as the courtyard dissolved into green-white light. The transporter room aboard the RRW Ganelax formed around her.
Dark metallic walls replaced the bright field camp. Narrow green bands illuminated the edges of the raised transporter platform. The chamber carried the steady vibration of the Malem-class warbird’s artificial singularity core through the deck.
Major Val stood at the control console.
The older Romulan engineer looked as though he had arrived directly from the propulsion wing.
His gray beard remained slightly uneven near one side of his jaw. A dark smear marked the sleeve of his uniform. The broad man’s surly expression deepened when Kortt stepped down from the pad.
“You are late.”
“By three minutes.”
“That is still late.”
Kortt’s eyes moved to the doors. “I have another transport to make.”
“I know.”
Val transferred the transporter controls to an automated standby sequence before his eyes looked deeper into hers.
“I also know where you are going.”
“That sounded ominous.”
“Perhaps it was intended as such.”
His deep voice carried the rough tone of a man who had spent more time shouting over engines than speaking in conference rooms.
Kortt folded her hands behind her back.
“I will be flying in a Scatter Race.”
Val stared at her. “I have heard.”
“You disapprove.”
“I understand the navigational limitations that are in play,” he said almost solemnly.
“So do I.”
“No,” Val replied. “You understand them in theory. Once you are deep inside the asteroid belt, your sensors will be practically blind.”
Kortt’s expression remained confident. “Yet not completely blind.”
“Close enough.”
“The racing organization provides live positioning signals.”
“I have heard that those signals can often become distorted.”
“As well as a course map.”
Val’s brow furrowed. “What kind of course map?”
“It is a two-dimensional image that highlights one’s relative location.”
For several seconds, the engineer said nothing. The faint vibration of the singularity core seemed louder in the silence.
“Two-dimensional images,” Val repeated.
Kortt nodded.
“For a three-dimensional asteroid course.”
“Yes,” she answered.
His gray beard shifted as his mouth tightened.
“And you consider this reassuring?”
“It presents a challenge.”
“Such a challenge could lead to your funeral.”
Kortt exhaled through her nose. “The race matters to the Hurricane crew.”
“Why?”
“Because they have chosen it as part of their shore leave. Their pilots are excited. Their operations personnel have already started to discuss route calculations and even mentioned vehicle fabrication.”
“That still does not explain why it matters to you.”
Kortt met his eyes. “This is an opportunity for the Ganelax.”
Val’s expression remained skeptical as she continued.
“The order-clan claims Romulans can stand beside Starfleet and the Klingon Defense Force as equals. That cannot remain something Commander Vanren says during speeches. People need to see us participate alongside themselves.”
“And you believe a race will suffice?”
“Participating in things they value has meaning to them.”
Val’s gaze moved across her face. “Your plan is to impress them.”
“In a way? Yes.”
The answer came without embarrassment.
“I want them to remember that a Romulan pilot joined the event and kept pace with them inside the Scatter. I want to leave an impression on the Hurricane’s crew.”
“Try to leave one that does not involve your shuttle striking an asteroid.”
“That would be ideal.”
Val released a low grunt. “How do you intend to overcome the distortion?”
“Lieutenant Ruiz has a plan to review the course in advance and plot likely routes.”
“Likely routes.”
“She has a great deal of experience flying in adverse conditions.”
“She helms a Typhoon-class cruiser supported by some of the most advanced sensors in Starfleet. This race removes nearly all of that support.”
Kortt stepped closer to the console.
“The route markers transmit enough information to establish relative position. The map gives the general course. We convert both into a three-dimensional flight path.”
Val stared at her again. “You say that as though it is simple.”
“It is not.”
“Good. For a moment, I feared you had lost your judgment entirely.”
Kortt smiled faintly.
Val reached for the transporter panel but stopped before he activated it.
“Be careful out there,” he said as warmth crept into his voice.
“I will.” The lieutenant had never seen him so concerned.
He looked at her with the severity of an engineer in the process of inspecting a troublesome system.
“Never forget the world that was once ours.”
Kortt’s amusement faded as Val’s voice lowered. He continued.
“Everything we achieve is for the memory of Romulus.”
The transporter room quieted around them.
Kortt nodded as she added, “And Remus.”
Val held her gaze.
The addition carried weight within the Order-Clan of Vanren. Romulus had long dominated every discussion of their loss. Kortt refused to let those who died on Remus become a footnote to a greater tragedy.
Val lifted his chin.
She stepped back onto the transporter pad.
“Send me to the coordinates on Colludia V.”
Val entered the destination as he spoke. “I have the location. I note a property just outside of a town called Fjordside.”
“Ruiz said they would be between the cabins.”
The transporter field began to gather around Kortt’s boots.
Val looked up from the controls. “Enjoy the experience.”
Kortt’s smile returned. “I will try to learn from the humans.”
“Do not learn too much. Starfleet ideals are contagious.”
The Ganelax vanished around her.
Cold air replaced the controlled atmosphere of the transporter room.
Kortt materialized between the twin cabins during the early evening.
Snow surrounded the property in smooth white layers broken by pathways between the buildings. The two cabins stood on opposite sides of a shared yard. Their dark wooden walls absorbed light that shined through large, square windows. Steep roofs carried thick caps of snow. A small shed stood farther back beside a fenced winter garden covered by transparent thermal panels.
At the center of the yard, a campfire burned inside a ring of black stones.
The flames cast orange light across several seated figures. Above them, the aurora stretched across the sky in immense bands of green and crimson. Narrow rays climbed vertically from the brightest arc. Softer red light spread higher above it. Violet formed where the colors crossed.
Kortt’s transporter glow faded as her form solidified.
Ruiz rose from one of the benches. “You made it after all.”
The Hurricane’s pilot wore her thick black parka. Dark hair had been tucked beneath a winter cap, though several curls escaped around her face.
Dirov sat near the fire with a mug clasped between blue hands. His golden-yellow eyes brightened when he saw Kortt.
“The Romulan team has arrived.”
“There is only one of me.”
“For now.”
Raii occupied an entire end of another bench. His emerald skin reflected both the fire and the aurora while fluorescent orange hair remained uncovered despite the cold.
“We have been debating whether you would actually come.”
Kortt stepped closer to the fire. “Who doubted me?”
Raii pointed at Vamav.
The ruddy Orion fighter pilot looked up from the PADD he had been studying. Bronze undertones warmed the green complexion across his cheeks.
“I said you might have other obligations.”
Raii smiled. “He said the Romulans might be a little too cautious to participate in this sort of race.”
Vamav’s crimson eyes narrowed.
“That’s not what I said. Not exactly.”
Kortt removed her gloves. “I am glad I arrived before the story became worse.”
Overson moved aside to offer her a place near the fire. sh’Zeles sat beside her with both antennae angled toward the newcomer.
Ruiz passed Kortt a warm mug.
“Try some. It’s local spiced cider.”
Kortt tasted it carefully.
The drink carried hints of sweet fruit, cinnamon and something sharp that warmed the back of her throat.
“This is delicious.”
“We found a bakery too,” Dirov added.
Raii nodded and closed his eyes as he thought of the food. “The cloudberry rolls are essential.”
Kortt sat quietly.
Ruiz leaned forward. “What was Colludia IV like?”
“Wet.”
Several of them laughed.
Kortt continued.
“The jungle is beautiful. White-barked palms carried turquoise foliage. Rivers were everywhere. Most of the wildlife appeared large enough to injure a Klingon, which naturally delighted the Klingons.”
Vamav smiled. “Did they get the chance to hunt?”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually?” Raii asked.
“They were required to undertake scientific instruction first.”
That produced a more enthusiastic reaction.
Dirov nearly spilled his drink. “Kahoq attended a class?”
“He did, indeed, endure one.”
sh’Zeles looked to Kortt. “How did he respond?”
“He repeatedly explained that a warrior only needs to possess skills in tactical methodology.”
“That sounds like Kahoq, alright,” Ruiz said.
Kortt warmed both hands around the mug.
“Doctor Merron eventually convinced him that the Bortasqu’ needs officers capable of investigating biological threats before they could harm Klingon society.”
Overson smiled. “What did they learn?”
“Their team learned how to identify animal tracks, collect biological residue and ways to function as a survey team.”
Raii looked impressed. “That last one sounds difficult.”
“It was.”
“I wish I had seen that.” Vamav shifted the PADD onto his knee.
Kortt took another drink. “What else is there to do here besides preparing for our dash through the asteroids?”
Ruiz gestured to the village beyond the property.
“Fjordside has trails, little shops, a tavern and a bakery.”
“Cloudberry rolls,” Raii repeated.
Overson pointed to the dark shape of the mountains.
“There are paths along the fjord. The waterfall freezes around the edges at night.”
“The forests are so unique and beautiful,” Dirov said. “you have to see the trees for yourself.”
sh’Zeles added, “The wildlife here is less aggressive than what you encountered on Colludia IV.”
Raii shrugged. “The six-legged grazer threatened us yesterday.”
“It warned us away from its young,” sh’Zeles replied.
“It pointed four horns at us.”
Kortt glanced around the fire.
The group looked more relaxed than most Romulans at gatherings she had attended. They interrupted one another without treating it like a challenge. They exaggerated stories openly. They laughed at concerns that would have produced stern debate aboard the Ganelax.
She understood why Vanren valued these exchanges with Starfleet.
Ruiz lifted her mug. “Tomorrow, you can review the race with us.”
Kortt raised hers to meet it.
Dirov leaned forward. “I have already constructed a predictive model.”
Vamav shook his head. “You cannot model instinct.”
“One cannot rely only on instinct alone,” challenged the Bolian computer specialist.
“I can.”
“That is statistically unwise.”
Raii looked to Kortt. “This discussion has lasted throughout much of the day.”
“It sounds promising.”
The aurora brightened above them.
Green light spilled across the snow and mixed with the orange glow of the fire. Crimson bands formed high in the sky. The stars remained visible beyond them.
Fjordside rested beneath the mountains. Windows illuminated with warm light were scattered across the hillside.
Kortt leaned closer to the fire and listened as the Hurricane officers spoke.
For the moment, the Scatter was only something she could fathom. The young pilot intended to make sure they remembered the Romulan who flew beside them.
