Carolyn Crawford sat in the meeting room, her hands gripping a cup of hot tea, her eyes nervously darting from the cup to her father to the ground to the ceiling and back again.  “This…is crazy.”

Captain Peter Crawford sat in the other lounge chair directly across from her, his hands gripping a stiff Synthehol drink. “That’s understating a bit, kid.”  She rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair. “They think my alternate is dead.”  He watched the steam climb and vanish in the air, “I think…I’m finally accepting that he is gone.”

His daughter agreed, “It’s nice to know at least one of them is off the sensors for good.”  She flitted her eyes to meet his, “What the hell are we going to do when she comes for us?”

He didn’t answer right away.  Crawford’s mind was asking the same question.  The last time he had seen her had been July 22, 2374, in the Denver’s brig.  She’d been a furious ball of rage then.  He wasn’t sure what twenty-seven years in the custody of high-security officers would have done to her.  Much of Starfleet’s efforts were focused on reformation.  Given the terse updates he had received every year, she wasn’t keen on reforming.  In that, he realized she was the perfect muse for Patra.  “The Oly won’t ever go outside Federation space without an escort.  She’s not foolish.”

Carolyn asked, “And what about me?”

Pete shook his head, “She doesn’t know about you.  She can try and push around Captain Walton and her crew.  They’re a tough bunch.”

She agreed, “I’ve felt safe here…like I felt safe on the Mercy and the Zebulon Pike.  She’s threatening my home.”  Her eyes narrowed, “That doesn’t make me happy.”  She asked her father, “Would you rather she have died?”

He wasn’t sure.  “I was young then, Car.  I believed in the ideas of the Federation and Starfleet…I still do.  But there’s this part of me over the years that’s started to wonder…if true evil exists without hope for redemption…should we have the choice to stop it forever?”  He took a sip from his cup and thought for a moment longer.  There were heavy consequences and choices that they were discussing.  “One of my professors at the Academy used to tell us his first step to any problem was to sit in it…and he would say, ‘this is where I’m sitting”, to say he was still thinking and hadn’t made up his mind.  Then, when he’d sat in it enough, he would take a stand and tell us, ‘this is where I stand,’ to say he’d made the final decision on the problem he’d been working through.”  Peter took a deep breath, “I’m still sitting in that decision 24 years ago.  Should I have pushed her more?  Crossed some lines to get the answers we needed?”  He took a long, last drink from his cup, “She’s out there, Car…but we’ll be ready for her.  And so will you.  We’ll make sure of it.

They remained there, catching up and cracking jokes.  The laughter helped heal them both, and restored a sense of hope for what was coming.