“I hope the quarters are satisfactory, Commander,” said the LT. He placed the woman’s baggage next to her bed and moved to the door.

D’thea gave her human escort a nod. “They are fine, Lieutenant.”

“The replicator is over here,” said the LT as he politely motioned toward the western wall. “If you need anything, the computer will assist you.”

D’thea nodded again, but remained silent. Her eyes scouted the room for possible dangers. She found none that she couldn’t overcome.

“Have a good day, Commander.”

The Romulan paid the human no mind as she moved to the window; a glimmer of light suddenly caught her eye. The burst of light from a starship as it entered warp was unmistakable. Longing and regret washed over her. The door chimed.

“Come.”

Mira stood rigid in the doorway, her hands folded behind her back. “May I enter?”

“Do I have a say?” D’thea became focused on a new ship that entered her view from the window; Her back was to her daughter.

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“Aren’t I?” The Romulan Commander spun toward her daughter, a harsh scowl written across her face. “The bed may be soft, the pillows plush, the amenities tempting, but this is still a prison.” A smile crept across her face as she motioned to the door. “Or can I just walk out of here on my own?”

“Do you wish to tour the starbase? I find the arboretum can be relaxing.”

“What do you want?” the elder Romulan asked curtly.

Mira stepped closer toward the Commander. “I have a question. How did you know I was a crew member on the Leda?”

“How did I know —” D’thea frowned, but only for a moment. “I am a Romulan Commander who failed in her duty to the Empire. Now I am a prisoner of Starfleet. That is all you need to know.”

D’thea turned back to the window. A Miranda class starship maneuvered away from the station. The running lights on the back of either nasal blinked every two seconds. The ship’s thrusters hit maxim and switched to impulse. Soon, it was gone from view.

“The empire is gone,” Mira emphasized. She hoped reality would jar the Commander into an answer. Mira stepped forward, though made no effort for physical contact.

“I need an answer, Commander.” The young Romulan said calmly.

“Commander?” D’thea smirked “What happened to calling me mother?”

“I admit that I am curious why you went to such lengths to find me, but my priority is to Starfleet. I cannot allow Romulan spies to stay hidden in its midst.” Mira walked across the beige carpet; she broke the gap between her and her mother. Both stared at one another for over a minute, though neither flinched. Mira broke the silence. “I ask you again, Commander. How did you know I was on the Leda?”

“You could have asked me this on the ship. Why didn’t you?”

“I felt it necessary to review the events that transpired on the Xenius with Captain Fawkes. Cadet Ford will face a general court-martial for her actions. In fact, I am due at her board of inquiry shortly.”

“Cadet Ford.” D’thea spoke the name with a hint of fondness that surprised even her. “Isn’t that the woman who saved the day and now is on trial for mutiny?”

“She is —” Mira paused momentarily to fight off a smile. “Rey insults me quite often, because of, as she puts it, logic. I find it gratifying that she is so comfortable around me. Many are not.”

“A good friend is rare,” whispered the Commander.

“On that, we agree.”

Mira finally placed herself at ease. Her hands remained behind her back, fingers locked in one another. “Mother, please tell me how you knew I was on the Leda.”

D’thea laughed. “That almost sounds like concern. Not a Vulcan trait.” The woman casually collected her bags and tossed them onto the bed. “I have something for you.”

Mira shook her head and faced the replicator. “Tea. Chamomile. Hot.” The machine spun particles into a cup of relaxing tea. Mira took a long sip.

“Here,” said the Commander. She held out a disc for her daughter. “My thesis on Romulan culture in the Time of the Awakening. Not much is known of this time from our perspective. I studied what I could, but found little.”

Mira took the disc. Genuine surprise flashed upon her face. “Thank you. I’m certain this will be enlightening.”

“Don’t look so shocked, daughter,” said D’thea as she unpacked. “I had an interest in archeology when I was very young.”

“Thank you for the gift, mother, but I need an answer to my question.”

“Why do you require an answer, Mira? Won’t a nameless Starfleet drone interrogate me eventually?” D’thea knew the answer, but needed her daughter to vocalize it.

“Yes. If I do not receive a satisfactory answer to my query, you may be questioned by less sympathetic individuals.” Mira dug her nails into her hand behind her back.

“That would bother you?” asked the Commander. “Your Vulcan mother would be disappointed.”

“The woman who raised me is dead.”

“That’s right,” began the Commander. “You turned in your parents when you were a child.”

“That’s a Tal Shiar lie!” spat Mira.

“There’s my daughter.” D’thea grinned. “Thousands of years of conquest, passion, art, hate and love surges through that green blood of yours. No philosophy can hide it.”

Mira dug her nails deeper into her hand to fend off another outburst. Green blood trickled onto the floor. Her jaw clenched. Her body shook.

“You’re bleeding. I’ll get you something for that.” D’thea made a beeline toward the lavatory and a first aid kit.

“Tal Shiar. You still have ties to them, don’t you?”

The girl was smart, thought D’thea. She stood in the doorway of the washroom, a hypospray in her hand. “And now you have your answer. Give me your hand.”

“Mother, I will be fine —”

Mira watched as her mother held her hand and administered the spray. “Get that looked at in sickbay.”

“I will,” said Mira. Her mother still held her hand. “For now, I need to attend to my friend and contact the Captain.”

D’thea felt her lips curl into a hint of a smile. “I’ll be here.”