Kirina

[kermit]

Chapter 14: Fruition

2409

21:00 Hours

Major K’haeth strides into the shuttlebay. There is no sign of his usual smug superiority. His expression is blank and lifeless. He screams in his thoughts, but he is only an observer in his own body.

Kirina sits in the control room, carefully entering the commands being transmitted to the Major’s new cortical implant. She watches as her K’haeth Drone orders the bay cleared of all personnel. Once he is alone, he enters a shuttle and sits in the pilot’s seat. Using the bioneural interface now embedded in his arm, K’haeth connects to the shuttle’s main computer.

Kirina smiles as she gains remote access to the small vessel. Her next sequence of commands disables K’haeth’s motor functions and activates a number of video feeds on the console he is sitting behind. She wants him to see everything.

She transfers the shuttle’s transporter control to her handheld device.

“t’Veras to t’Nalah. … I’m on my way to dinner.”

---

23:59 Hours

It’s time. Aurelia should be in position.

The twenty-six groups of drones are ready. There are thirty Elachi vessels. It will have to be close enough.

Kirina returns to the control room, using K’haeth’s access codes rather than her own, this time. She pulls up the Major’s private communication line to the alien vessels, using it to pinpoint the spatial coordinates of each, without needing to use the Irix sensors.

“Arhem usae.” she says collectively to the group of monitors displaying the holding cell interiors. She taps the console and with a green flash, all 26 monitors show empty rooms.

And the she waits. 37 seconds later, the first Elachi vessel’s warp field collapses – followed shortly thereafter by a dozen others. Within a minute of the transport, the familiar jolt of Irix dropping out of warp can be felt throughout the ship.

It’s started.

00:02 Hours

[Aurelia-tVeras_]

Chapter 15: Sub Rosa II

2409

23:34 Hours

The success of the plan now rests entirely on Aurelia’s own conviction.

After successfully placing the silver-box thalaron generators around the ship, she returns to Galan’s quarters to make her final preparations. The dead riov's command codes and biometrics make everything easier than it should have been: slaving the detonation protocols to her tablet and quietly changing out the command authorizations to her own voiceprint and codes to make it look like Galan himself had done the transfer.

She checks her tablet; Kirina has indeed, as promised, sent full biometric scans for her Tal Shiar “patient.” Aurelia dives into the code surrounding the security feeds for her first entrance into Galan’s quarters, changing her visual and biometric records to better reflect those belonging to Major K’haeth. She grabs one of Galan’s holomatrices, loads the program, drops it in an empty silver thalaron-generator-case, locks the door behind her and heads to the transporter room.

Once there, she calls her team. Shiarreal, Salara, Nniol, Hleidra. They are faces she trusted, faces she’d been with for years, faces that changed on Jouret as she watched them casually murder the innocent. So she tells them her story, the one she’ll spring on the bridge officers in just a few minutes. She shows them the holoprojector in the silver box. She informs them that there is no-one to be trusted but their small cadre, and that they are to transport to the smaller vessels on Galan’s command and wait for more instructions. She tells them that they are patriots.

She gives them each a small silver thalaron generator. She says it is a holoprojector that will open only on her command.

They trust her, of course, and go. She has never led them astray.

---

00:00 Hours

Aurelia waits in the transporter room until she feels the familiar disorientation of the ship falling out of warp. She straightens her uniform, fixes her hair and lets her feet carry her to the bridge of their own volition. She passes the bridge guards with the disruptor and dathe’anofv-sen carefully concealed, and takes an as-yet-unnoticed place at the back of the bridge. The command codes quietly accept her presence.

The bridge is complete, uncontrolled chaos, and Aurelia is thrilled to see the main viewscreen showing the careful, tight line of alien vessels breaking out of formation, spinning and drifting, one by one going dark, one by one losing communications. The aliens are distracted. The first officer – a man chosen more for his loyalty to the Tal Shiar than his command ability – has no idea what is happening, and is screaming his lungs out at the sensors officer, who is calling fruitlessly for Commander Galan to come to the bridge.

“Void,” breathes the sensor officer, “I’m reading Borg signatures on the allied vessels!”

The bridge unravels as the officers attempt to make confirmation. The first officer turns on the weapons centurion; the other officers bend over their consoles, unwilling to risk the wrath of the first officer. It is her chance. Aurelia tears herself away from the wall, raises her gun, and fires it point-blank at the first officer’s head. He topples over and smokes on the floor, no longer breathing.

The bridge goes deathly silent. It is a testament to how much the man is liked that the guards do not move.

Time for the show.

Aurelia draws out the generator box with the holomatrix inside and places it on the first officer’s console. It flares into life, and the bridge officers watch in growing horror: the K’haeth-figure stalks into Galan’s office, raises his disruptor, and then applies the Tal Shiar device to the commander’s forehead. Only Aurelia recognizes her own body movements, her hands, her face where K’haeth’s now live.

It’s a stretch. I have to sell it.

“I found him,” Aurelia says, allowing her voice to break. “He has killed our beloved commander in cold blood and betrayed us all. The first officer was his creature; you knew that. All Tal Shiar on the ship are his! We must take back our vessel or we will all die. Look! Look at the viewscreen! I am trying to save you. I am riov now. I know what is coming and I can save you.”

Her voice is iron. She lifts her finger, her voice commanding – no time to stop now, this is committal, she has to keep on going. The pickups have been an open secret for months, and Jouret had been confirmation. Everyone knew what was going on belowdecks, now. Everyone laughed. “The Borg signatures. He beamed over the traitors to the alien vessels to see how fast they would assimilate them. And when they are done with them, they will come for us.”

The officer at conn looks nervous. “I’ll get the third officer.”

“No!” Aurelia snarls. “That lazy hlai! He is not even here and he was summoned five minutes ago! Does it look like we have the time to wait for him? This was their plan all along! To take the traitors and use them thus! The Irix will be the first Khnial-class destroyer, and none of us will be witnesses! The Tal Shiar care for nothing but themselves! They wish us all as part of their experiment, to find out just how long it takes for a warbird to be assimilated – and I will not allow this to happen! I am riov now! Commander Galan trusted me, he gave me the codes before he died; check them yourselves and you will find me authorized!”

She looks around, holding the disruptor, narrowing her eyes. Each of the bridge officers is career military. Each of them knows her as a competent tactician. Each of them has been nursing the fear K’haeth instilled until it turned into into anger and paranoia; each of them had thinks they would be replaced just as the department heads had been. And so it really does not matter if they all do not believe her. All she needs is one stone to roll down the hill, and she would have her avalanche.

The communications officer clears his throat. “Riov,” he says, “We have a transmission from the Elachi cruiser.”

Riov. She holds the disruptor, slowly sitting in the commander’s chair, as if she is afraid it would burst into flames. She can hardly breathe. I thought I would be dead by now. “Put it on speakers.”

“Ae, riov,” he responds.

The voice they all hear is doubled, tripled – it is the voice of two, of thousands. Romulan voices, the Jouret survivors. No, not them – the voice of the Collective was impossible to fake, impossible to fool, recognizable from the first instant to any spacefaring sentient.

I am going to hear this every night for the rest of my life. She swallowed, her throat dry as bone.

“We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. Your culture will adapt to --”

The bridge officers look back to their consoles, immediately working to counter the alien ships, which have now begun to sputter back into life. Aurelia can already see the blocky, snaking green-and-black Collective build seeping from the sleek blue sides of the alien vessels. She hits the comm-toggle on the arm of the chair. “Acting Commander t’Veras to rihannsu fleet, command authorization hwi mnei rhi ulhei mosaram. The alien vessels that are our escorts have been infested with experimental Borg drones by the traitor Tal Shiar agent K’haeth. If allowed to escape, the Borg drones will board our ships, assimilate our crews, and bring chaos to the Empire. We cannot allow that to happen. Prepare to engage, attack pattern nei’rrh-hwi.”

She holds her breath as the other ships match the command codes to those she changed in the Irix database in order to ratify her orders, and hits the comm toggle again.

“Araram, Clania, Shalyar. Flank the lead alien cruiser; destroy it. Irix, Incepteris, the frigates and corvettes. Nei’rrh-hwi, now!”

The weapons officer yelps. “Void! They’re attacking each other!”

Aurelia takes a breath. “The aliens are trying to keep their vessels intact! We all know how quickly a ship can fall, no matter how powerful its crew! Keep firing! We will not fail the Empire here!”

Irix turns, weapons alight, on the alien ships. At first, the ships fight back, but as the Jouret survivors advance with one mind through the alien halls, turning the crews with Kirina’s experimental nanites, searching for the Collective that was so far away, they begin to sputter and fail; in turn, the Romulan weapons-fire finds easy purchase, tearing down the alien shields and punching holes in the hull. Fires erupt into vacuum and fell back just as quickly.

When it is over, Irix drifts, surrounded by the burning husks of the dead alien vessels. Debris floats across the viewscreen, and Aurelia finally allows herself to breathe.

“All targets destroyed,” says the weapons officer. “All Borg signatures gone.”

The third officer chooses this moment to show up. His eyes are blood-green and he is clearly hungover, the result of the drugged ale Aurelia gave him earlier. She simply bows to him and rises from the commander’s chair.

“I cede the bridge and the codes to you, rekkhai,” she says, respectfully. “I am but a humble servant of the Empire… one who has done her duty and who now will return to her place.”

The bridge, once again, is as silent as the grave.

“Get off my bridge,” the third officer snarls, seeing the hulks of the burning ships outside. “Before I brig you.”

---

It won’t be long now.

From the bridge, Aurelia runs pell-mell down to the shuttlebay, lost between small gaggles of engineering officers and enlisted techs making repairs, moving to stations, shouting, hollering; runs past flickering hull-breach forcefields covering the dizzying, gaping maw of space; past spitting, ruptured plasma conduits; past the Project checkpoint and the lounge and the barracks and everything that makes her what she is.

The shuttle door is open. Kirina is waiting for her. Seeing the woman’s head bowed while making final preparations for takeoff, it finally occurs to her how easily she could have been betrayed and used; how easily Kirina could have lifted off without her, sailed off to Artaleirh, left her there to die.

She feels something she has never experienced before; she is breathless with it, shaking, a balled-up mess of disbelief knotting up in her chest.

I knew she was a friend, but this… is this what true alliance feels like?

No time to think about it now. She runs into the shuttle. “It’s done. Go.”

[kermit]

Chapter 16: Freedom I

2409

“It’s done. Go.”

Aside from some garbled screams, those would be the last words ever spoken by the crew of the I.R.W. Irix.

The small shuttle’s single door slid closed behind Aurelia, and the craft lifted off. Even before it had totally cleared the massive Warbird’s hangar doors, a faintly sparkling green mist began to fill the air. And not just in the hangar bay. Every room and every corridor of every deck. Every member of the vessel’s 1,730-Romulan crew, save the two traitors and their Tal Shiar hostage on the departing shuttle, looked around in awe of the slowly descending mist.

A few among them recognized it for what it was. Some screamed and ran, with nowhere to go. Others sat down or cried or otherwise resigned themselves to their fate. On the bridge, the ship’s Second Officer, in command, frantically attempted to order self-destruct, but it was far too late.

The thalaron generators hidden throughout Irix’s ventilation system were well placed and numerous. Deck by deck the crew’s skin began to dry, then harden, then crack. Screams filled the air for just a few moments before the dusty remains fell to the ground. For a time, the low hum of the ship’s systems was the only sound aboard.

Outside, the rest of the Imperial assault fleet drifted lifelessly among the debris of the proceeding battle, their crews having succumbed to the same deadly radiation that neutralized the Irix.

As the escaping shuttle flew steadily away from the aftermath of it’s occupants’ escape, the final piece of their plan erupted behind them. All at once, fire broke through the hull of twenty-three decks of the D’Deridex warbird. The whole ship appeared to buckle as decks collapsed upon each other. The science and medical experimentation labs, the prisoner holding areas, the Borg-adapted equipment, all erased in the immolation. As the flames receded, the ship remained. Battered, burned, and empty.

The again silent fleet, freed from its Imperial masters, drifted in waiting. As the shuttle reached the edge of visual range, one of its three occupants was flushed from an airlock. The Romulan man in pristine Tal Shiar uniform, Major K’haeth, was finally allowed to die.

[Aurelia-tVeras_]

Chapter 17: Freedom II

2409
ARTALEIRH

There was a kali-house in town, popular with the university crowd, sporting a fairly nondescript front and a hipster-utilitarian interior; the owner, an émigré from some nowhere colony, had brought throw pillows to cast about on the spare Imperial benches and added touches of rustic wood and iron to the metal-fab walls, embellishing the loyalist art with splashes of colonial paint (“Only on Artaleirh,” the traditionalists would cluck, moving on to a more respectable establishment).

On Friday afternoons, this particular kali-house usually became an impromptu salon for the hugely popular archaeology professor Ahnar tr’Veras and the students that waddled after him like baby dhael. He would speak rapturously of the temples of the Debrune and the mysteries of the Iconians; he would discuss politics without pushing illegal agendas, shutting down any talk of reunification; he would, instead, ask the students how they planned to serve the glorious way of D’era. The police had looked at Ahnar tr’Veras many times, due to his parents’ background and his refusal to serve in the military past the required time. They had never found anything untoward, and figured him for a loyal milquetoast.

Ahnar, however, had picked the kali-house for more than the decoration, or the place's penchant for serving cheap student-grade liquor.

During her last period of leave, Aurelia had discovered a fault in the kali-house’s billing program, and noted that she was able to hack a line of text printed on the online receipt from her own computer. She hadn’t expected to need to use it; but, she’d noted quietly in the silence of Ahnar's tiny studio apartment, there were strange things happening aboard the ships she was serving on, and she’d wanted to be able to reach him outside the censors in case something happened.

So he went to the kali-house regularly.

He’d received only two messages over the two years she’d been aboard Irix.

ALL GREEN MISS YOU A

and, six months later:

YELLOW – WATCH

This Friday, Ahnar paid for his drinks, went home, checked his receipt and received a third message.

ALL BLACK FOR 2 – 394.203.911 ECURAI

He sat in his grey little studio, blinking at the receipt, before he connected the word Ecurai with a journal article he’d read once about an independent Romulan colony that had incorporated interesting takes on common areas throughout, including an amphitheater that had been particularly admired by traditionalists and modernists alike. He ran the numbers through a search engine and noted that they corresponded with an asteroid field a number of light years from the colony.

His sister was asking for a ride, and she had a passenger.

He then called the shuttle-share service.

The police had looked at Ahnar tr’Veras many times, yes. They had looked at his politics and his parents and his past. They had rooted through his lectures and his salons and his students. They were right about much of his life and his leanings.

But they were wrong about two very important things:

Ahnar tr’Veras had never given up on Reunification.

And he was certainly not a milquetoast.

[kermit]

Chapter 18: ...Or So We Thought

December 2409

“If you’d just let me speak to Commander Temer again, I’d…”

“The Commander is extremely busy right now.” Without allowing the doctor so much as another word, the security officer quite literally shut the door in Kirina’s face. She stepped quickly backwards, only narrowly avoiding a broken nose.

Months had passed since the brutal assault on Artaleirh that never happened. Months, since a group of assimilated Romulan colonists were sacrificed to halt an Elachi advance. Months, since the IRW Irix and her fleet were set adrift, after their crew’s thalaron-induced demise. And months since two Romulans risked everything to safeguard billions of innocent lives.

They could have stayed with the fleet they’d just decimated and taken credit for their work, but Aurelia t’Veras and Kirina t’Nalah weren’t looking for fame or glory. They wanted to do what was right, and best for their people, and they wanted to survive. They left the abandoned fleet intact, to be salvaged, and were picked up in a small shuttle. It was weeks before they managed to make contact with the only-months-old Romulan Republic. They strode aboard, hoping to join a cause.

Instead – after a short meeting with the Commander in charge – they were separated and confined.

From that point on every week was the same, for Kirina. One day of debriefing. Three of isolation. One day in the medical bay. Two more of isolation. She offered what she knew freely, but she was only met with hostility. Where she expected to be welcomed with open arms, she found instead skepticism and paranoia.

To an extent, she understood it. Reports of her experiments – and those of similar scientists – had begun to leak out of the Empire. Kirina couldn’t blame the Republic for being angry. In their place she might have felt the very same way. But she wasn’t in their place. She was stuck. Waiting.

It was maddening.

Maybe Aurelia’s having better luck, Kirina thought to herself.

[kermit]

Chapter 19: Isolation

December 2409

“This is simply unacceptable, doctor.”

The Republic Centurion was clearly not pleased. “You claim to want to serve the Republic, and you claim to have severed your connections with the Tal Shiar and Star Empire, and yet you sit here and protect their secrets!” He shook his head and slid a PADD across the table. “Give me the interlink frequency that you used to tap into the Borg subspace relays.”

“These are not the Empire’s secrets. They’re mine.” She slid the PADD back across, “Some things shouldn’t be known by anyone.”

The Centurion, in his anger, swatted the PADD right off the table, stood up, and headed for the door. As usual when the door opened, two guards entered, folding up the table and both chairs and removing them from the room. And then they were all gone. Though the motions were familiar, Kirina felt something was different this time.

Kirina sat down on the small cot and looked around at her familiar surroundings for the umpteenth time. The walls were gray and barren. The room’s single underpowered light was situated in the center of the ceiling, casting the corners in darkness. She watched the door, waiting for the Centurion to return. She expected him to barge back in, as he did many times before, with some new incentive or threat of punishment. But he never did.

March 2410

“How long has she been like that?”
“About two weeks.”
“Shouldn’t we… tell someone?”
“Nah, the Centurion’s been checking up on her every few days.”

The two guards stood outside Kirina’s cell, chatting idly. The newer of the two, a young Reman sublieutenant, turned to peek through the small viewport in the door. The Romulan doctor was curled up in the corner, opposite the cot, still and quiet.

“She doesn’t look so good.”
“Yeah, no kidding. She been refusing to eat. Last month they had to bring her down to medical.”
“Why is she even in there? Are they doing this for everyone who defects?”
“No, no,” the older Romulan chuckled, “Just her. Apparently she was into some top-secret nonsense and won’t spill the details.”
“So they’re just gonna keep her in there until she talks?”
“Above my paygrade, my friend.”
“True enough! Any idea what they’re serving for lunch today?”

[kermit]

Chapter 20: Suspicion

July 2410

In the wake of the repulsed Tal Shiar/Elachi attack on the independent Rhi System, most Republic Officers found themselves celebrating an important victory. But not all; back at the slowly growing headquarters facility on New Romulus, the newly recommissioned RRF Subcommander Kirina t’Nalah was about a month into her cross-training for military intelligence field work. While the Star Empire and the Tal Shiar had been content to let Kirina work in research and development, the fledgling Republic was interested in more immediately tangible results. Her medical expertise was considered secondary to her experience working on secret projects.

Kirina hated every second of it. Even before she was trained to see such things, it was clear as day to her. For all the studying that she was doing, the instructors were studying her. She repeatedly requested transfer to a clinical position, away from the cloak and dagger of the intelligence service, but her requests were each denied. After all, she wouldn’t need months and months of training for a purely medical position, and then they wouldn’t have all that time to watch her, to determine where her true loyalties lie. She could even see it in the other students. She wasn’t trusted. They were afraid of her.

After a while Kirina stopped bothering with the requests. She accepted that she was always going to be an outsider. She let them watch her every move, and even began to welcome it, in the hopes that one day she’d rise above the suspicion. She went about her training with as much interest as she could muster. And so, over the course of the next year, Kirina became something new. Training for the Republic, she spent her days practicing her marksmanship, and learning the art of espionage; she spent time perfecting the mask that was her face, and learning to lie, and to act, and to influence; and she learned how medicine could best be used as a weapon.

She excelled in her studies, and before long, her attitude began to change. She dealt with her displeasure over her situation by finding little ways to keep herself entertained. She played pranks on her peers, she dyed her hair to the horror of the traditionalists, and she made snide remarks at every opportunity. But despite appearances, she never stopped watching, or learning. When it came time to prove herself, she shocked the evaluators by dropping the playful persona and completing her training mission in close to record time.

After nearly two years of disappointment with the Republic, when it finally came time to receive her first real assignment, she expected nothing less than an uninteresting posting where they could keep a careful eye on her. What came, instead, was her turn to be taken by surprise. She was appointed the Chief Medical Officer aboard the RRW Vathos. She couldn’t understand it. After being denied over and over again, they’d finally given her the clinical position she’d been asking for all along.

But she knew it was too good to be true. The assignment came with strings attached: when Republic Intelligence came calling… she would answer only to them.

[kermit]

Chapter 21: Respite

September 2412

More than a year had passed since Kirina’s assignment to the Vathos. The Mogai Warbird had slowly began to feel like home. The crew, save the Commander, knew nothing of her past. The fear and hate she’d received on New Romulus just wasn’t present here. The officers were friendly and welcoming.

For the first time in decades, Kirina made friends. The ship’s mission took her all around the borders of the old Empire, providing assistance to struggling colonies. Aside from the odd pirate encounter, combat was rare. For Kirina, things were as good as they’d ever been. She was happy.

As it turned out, the universe was not content to allow that state to persist for long. It all ended with a beep of the comm in the doctor’s quarters.

“Hello Subcommander, this is Subadmiral Janicka, Repuiblic Intelligence. We have an assignment for you.”

[kermit]

Chapter 22: All The Wrong Places

July 2413

“Kirina! Down!”

That was not an order that Doctor Kirina t’Nalah was going to disobey. She immediately abandoned the genetic comparison scan she was running on her tricorder and hit the deck, just in time to watch the phaser beam pass over her head. She looked up to the source of the weapons fire, a Cardassian Glinn, just as he was struck by a high-power plasma bolt and began to disintegrate. Letting out a breath of relief, she rose to her knee and continued her scan of the unconscious Cardassian civilian.

“There’ll be more where he came from!” After eliminating the Cardassian officer, Commander Merik turned his attention back to Kirina. “Is it him?” He asked, intently.

Kirina shook her head in frustration, “It’s not him. We’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Fvadt!” The Commander shouted, before tapping his wristcomm, “Merik to Vathos, get us out of here.” And with that order, the two Romulans disappeared in a swirl of green light.

Hours later, in a senior staff briefing, a Centurion spoke to the room, “It’s possible that he was never on the freighter, Commander. Our contact on Deep Space 9 reports that an unregistered Klingon Bird of Prey left the area shortly after we did.”

“How could we have missed this?!” Merik’s demand of a question met only with shrugs and concerned expressions. “Get out! All of you!” He shook his head angrily, before letting out a long calming breath. He motioned for Kirina to remain. The man they were looking for was the Klingon assassin, Tralk, Son of Ho’Tas. He was an expert in the use of surgical alteration and genetic manipulation for the purposes of getting close to his targets and avoiding capture after completing his missions. Kirina’s job was to counter these measures and positively identify Tralk so that he could be taken into custody or eliminated. “How did he do that?” Merik asked, with a quiet that he didn’t show to the rest of his staff.

“I’m not certain, Commander,” Kirina replied sincerely, “He must have known we were on to him and faked the biosign. We’ll have to be more cautious next time.”

“We may be running out of chances, Kirina. He’s already assassinated a Republic Senator and a Ferengi CEO, and that’s just what we know about. Next time it could be D’Tan. I need you to find a faster way to detect him from a distance.” Kirina didn’t have a chance to respond, as a Lieutenant barged back into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt Commander, but we just received a new report from Intelligence. Klingon Councilman Braa’k was just assassinated onboard a KDF Starbase in the Archanis Sector.”

[kermit]

Chapter 23: For The Republic

July 2413

“That has to be it, Commander, it matches the signature of the Bird of Prey detected at Hfihar and DS9.”

“Something isn’t right…” Commander Merik responded, “Cloak the ship and bring us to the far side of the planet. Prepare a shuttle for launch.” As the RRW Vathos moved invisibly around to the opposite side of Nimbus III, the unregistered Klingon Bird of Prey in question continued its derelict orbit. The seemingly-abandoned vessel was presumed to belong to the rogue Klingon assassin, Tralk, that the Republic crew had been assigned to locate and capture.

In the Vathos shuttlebay, Commander Merik and Doctor Kirina t’Nalah were preparing to depart along with a pair of Reman security officers. “We’ll make a pass within transporter range of the derelict on our way down,” the Commander spoke to the Remans first, “Once aboard, secure the ship and signal when it’s safe for a salvage team to move in.” The middle-aged Romulan man looked to the redheaded doctor next, “You and I will test out that new scanner of yours and go locate our friend Mr. Tralk.”

The shuttle departed and deposited the security duo as planned, before heading for the surface. Once onboard, the pair of Remans quickly realized that they had beamed aboard a hornet’s nest. They avoided or defused several traps laid for them before succumbing to a nerve toxin that had been released as soon as the ship detected lifesigns aboard. Evidently, Tralk never intended to return.

On the ground, Merik and Kirina made short work of Tralk’s efforts to remain hidden and proceeded to a makeshift safehouse at the bottom of a large canyon. They stormed the structure, expecting a fight, but instead found only partially charred wreckage. A fire had been set, only recently. Judging from the sloppy work by an expert assassin, they must have missed their target by mere minutes.

Not ready to give up, the pair set to work trying to find any consoles or documents that were salvageable; anything to give them a hint as to Tralk’s destination or next target, or how he’s remained one step ahead of them the whole time.

“What was that?” Merik asked in a hushed tone. Not having heard anything, Kirina’s gaze lingered on her tricorder as she continued trying to activate one of the consoles. By the time she looked over to the Commander, he had just barely managed to draw his weapon and fire towards the door when he was struck in the chest by a disruptor bolt. He slumped to his left, colliding with a table before reaching the ground, lifeless.

Kirina’s gasp in surprise was cut short.

“Do not move, Romulan, or you will die with him.”

[kermit]

Chapter 24: Bedfellows

July 2413

“Do not move, Romulan, or you will die with him.”

Kirina looked to the doorway. Six Klingons, armed with heavy weapons, blocked her path. Her Commander was dead or dying, and she was holding a tricorder rather than a weapon. She was at their mercy and they knew it.

If not for the realization that they had come to Nimbus with the same goal, that probably would have been the end of her. As it turned out though, these Klingons needed her – and so a bargain was struck: Kirina would help them eliminate Tralk, the rogue assassin. In return, she would be allowed to live.

With certain death as an alternative, Kirina graciously accepted.

Two weeks and four failed escape attempts later, Kirina finally found herself back on New Romulus - unfortunately, she was there in Klingon bindings. The search for Tralk had led them to a joint conference on the new Republic capital – an opportunity to assassinate both Proconsul D’Tan and Emperor J’mpok.

Her knowledge of the assassin would be vital, they said, to their attempts to locate him. And it was. Tralk had disguised himself as a Romulan citizen, and Kirina was able to lead the Klingons right to him. They were merciless, and the assassin was dealt with swiftly – no doubt safeguarding the lives of several high-value targets.

With the mission finally complete, Kirina had hoped to be released. The Empire and Republic were allies now, after all.

[kermit]

Chapter 25: Abandonment

August 2413

Kirina was brought before General Wrot’ka, in the Klingon Embassy on New Romulus. She’d been told that she’d be returned to her own people, once the threat of Tralk was dealt with, but Wrot’ka apparently had other plans.

“The Klingon Empire,” he explained, “is unwilling to publicly admit that it lost control of one of its own operatives. The Chancellor and your Proconsul are going to deny that an assassination attempt ever took place.” Kirina was not too concerned. She didn’t require any credit for her work, and she simply wanted to return to her life. But the General wasn’t done. “Your people, Doctor, are unwilling to admit that they required our help to protect the life of their own Proconsul.”

“We wouldn’t have needed your help if you hadn’t interfered with our–” Kirina protested, cut off.

“Details,” the General said, “You are dead.” Kirina’s eyes widened. She didn’t like where this was going. Wrot’ka motioned to a Lieutenant holding a Republic-issue PADD.

“Kirina t’Nalah was killed in action on Nimbus III,” the underling read, “in an accidental cave collapse. It was tragic, but unforeseeable, and the Republic will mourn her loss.”

“It was not my choice to make. You’re not going home because your own people don’t want you back. You are a complication,” The General concluded. Kirina stood speechless for a moment. He wasn’t lying. There’d be no honor in deceiving her like this, and they had nothing to gain by it. “I could kill you…” the General suggested before a pause. Perhaps he was awaiting a response, or possibly just giving Kirina enough time to contemplate her own mortality.

“…but you have been useful to us. No. You will be kept alive to serve the Klingon Empire on my starbase.”

[kermit]

Chapter 26: Terror

September 2413

Green blood trailed along the floor of the dimly-lit KDF starbase. It marked the path taken by a Klingon guard as he lazily dragged an unconscious Romulan woman by her ankles. He moved past the crew quarters, then past the medical bay, then even past the brig, all without stopping. His destination was the armory, where he deposited his prisoner inside an empty targ cage.

“HA!” the armory officer laughed as the guard locked the cage, “Who did she offend this time?”

“Captain Ch’Bargh again. She refused to keep her mouth shut. I don’t know why the General doesn’t just kill her and be done with it.”

“K’Vok said the General was honor-bound to keep her alive,” he armory officer replied again, “But if you ask me, I think she amuses him.” The guard snorted, before taking his leave.

Some hours later, Kirina slowly roused to a low rumbling noise. She was sprawled out awkwardly on the bottom of the cage, and covered in dried blood from a deep wound on her left cheek - clearly inflicted by a Klingon dagger. She blinked and squinted and looked around as she slowly pulled her limbs in towards her core.

The Romulan’s disorientation broke abruptly as her vision focused on the growling targ poking his snout through the cage’s bars. She gasped abruptly and scrambled backward, only to find herself in the corner of the enclosure. The Klingon targ handler’s bellowing laugh at her reaction could probably be heard from decks away.

“I’m sorry, petaQ, did I interrupt your beauty sleep?” He laughed again, presumably at his own ‘joke’, before reaching forwards to unlatch the cage. As the door swung open, Kirina crawled towards the exit, only to be stopped by the targ lurching forward at her. Before she could back way, she received a nasty bite to the upper arm. The yelp of pain she let out was overshadowed by yet another few moments of howling laughter from the large Klingon.

“You would do well to learn from him, petaQ, he has the instincts of a warrior! Now come! The General summons you.” Kirina remained still, curled up in the corner of the cage, now holding pressure on her fresh wound. She was tired and terrified, and she probably had a concussion. Her thinking was slow, and she was uncertain what she wanted to do in this situation.

The Klingon didn’t give her a chance to figure it out. He reached in to grab Kirina by the wrist, yanking her out onto the floor. The targ jumped forwards for another bite, sending the woman diving for cover. A well-placed foot-stomp from the handler stopped the creature from pursuing, thankfully. The Romulan struggled to catch her breath as he proceeded to pull her up to her feet.

[kermit]

Chapter 27: Mercy

October 2413

“Enough!”

The yell from the half-Romulan in a KDF uniform was enough to stop the brawl in an instant. Flanked on either side by an Orion and a rather large alien, the Major stepped forwards into the center of the starbase bar. As she approached the dogpile it slowly cleared, revealing a small redheaded Romulan sitting atop an unconscious Gorn, who looked as though she had just taken a beating from the gaggle of Klingons around her.

Despite her less-than-stellar condition, Kirina smiled up at the Major, with the faux-innocence of a child with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Get her cleaned up, then put her back in her cell,” the large alien commanded to the room, obviously to the Major’s approval. The trio of clearly high-ranking officers turned to depart and amazingly the Klingons, that mere moments ago had been ready to toss the Romulan into the fireplace, obeyed without question.

“Who was that?” Kirina asked absently, out loud, without seriously expecting an answer. To her surprise, she got one.

“Major Tre’lana Corrano.”

The name meant nothing to Kirina, but she decided to press her luck. “Why did she stop you?” she asked the nearest Klingon more directly.

“You belong to her now.”

[kermit]

Chapter 28: Pity

October 2413

“Get up!”

Kirina’s sleep was interrupted by a Klingon brig guard yanking her out of bed by the arm.

“What?!” She screeched in her sudden consciousness. Her tone earned her a blow to the head, before she was allowed to drop to the floor.

“Get. Up. The Major has a task for you.” The guard stepped outside the cell and waited for Kirina to stand. “This way,” he said as she got to her feet. Despite the manner in which she was treated by the guard, Kirina was actually pleased by this turn of events. Were it not for Major Corrano’s interventions, it was likely that she’d have been killed already.

For whatever reason, the high-ranking KDF Officer saw fit to make use of her talents, and with each ‘task’ she completed, the more trust she earned. In Kirina’s mind, that meant one step closer to escape. More than that, however, this particular evening presented a rare opportunity.

As Kirina was led into the station’s sickbay, the task she was assigned became quite clear. There were several Romulan Republic officers cluttered around the room. Some were on biobeds, others the floor, and still others walking around. The Klingon doctors were either refusing to help, or not being allowed near their patients.

“What happened?” Kirina asked of anyone listening as she grabbed a medkit and went to work.

Several hours later, the sickbay was nearly clear of patients, most having been moved back to their ship after treatment. Kirina was running a medical scanner over the ranking officer’s head. Centurion Kaeni had explained that their ship was deployed to the Dyson Sphere as part of a joint Federation/Klingon/Romulan task force fighting the Voth. They sustained heavy damage and much of the crew was killed in the fighting.

Apparently the Klingons decided that Kaeni and her crew had fought with honor, and allowed them aboard the starbase for medical care and repairs. For Kirina, this was her way home.

“Are you experiencing any dizziness,” she asked as she applied the last of her treatment.

“Not anymore,” the Centurion replied, “Are we done here?”

“Almost finished. Just one more hypo,” She said, perhaps just slightly louder than necessary, “You just tell me if this feels better, okay?” Kaeni nodded and Kirina leaned in to press the hypo to the Centurion’s neck.

She whispered over the hiss of medication, “Do you have a shuttlecraft?”

[kermit]

Chapter 29: Desperation

October 2413

Kirina sat alone in the darkened shuttle, awaiting the signal. She held one hand in the other, to stop them shaking. Of course she was nervous. If this didn’t work, it would certainly mean not only her death, but the deaths of Kaeni and her crew as well.

The Ferengi shuttle did not have the power or the fuel to reach the edge of Klingon space, but even still, it was Kirina’s best chance to escape her indefinite confinement. The plan was to launch at the same time as a Ferasan freighter convoy headed to a Federation Starbase, and latch on to avoid detection. From there, it would be a simple matter of booking passage on a civilian transport back to the Republic.

When the signal came, Kirina held her breath and engaged the autopilot. She waited for the comm ordering her to turn around, or the jolt of a tractor beam, or the weapons fire that would end her; but none of it came. The plan went off without a hitch, and within the hour she was safely stowed away in the cargohold of the Convoy’s #4 ship.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl on the freighter. For the Romulan stowaway, each uneventful moment that passed only served as a reminder that she might be discovered in the next. It was impossible to sleep when every creaking of the noisy old ship was indistinguishable from the sound of the targ cage that she was certain would be closed around her the instant her guard was down. Two weeks of travel felt like two years.

November 2413

Kirina had barely moved out of the way in time for a Ferasan crewmember to walk through the hold without noticing her. If not for the heavy jolt a few moments earlier, she might have been taken by surprise. As the large cargo door at the rear of the ship opened, the stowaway was once again forced to quietly relocate to avoid detection.

“Welcome to Deep Space 13,” said the bright young Starfleet Ensign in gold that appeared on the ramp. To the man’s disappointment, the feline crewmember just grunted and began unloading cargo.

It worked, Kirina thought to herself, this is my chance. As the dock crew got to work, Kirina snuck into the freighter’s engine room, to wait for her opportunity to slip past.

“Who are you?! What you doing in here?”

Kirina awoke with a start, to a very flustered Ferasan with a disruptor aimed in her general direction. How long was I asleep? she thought, How could I be so careless? The Ferasan spoke again, “Stand up slowly, or this one will shoot!” As Kirina followed the instruction, he continued his questioning, “Where did you come from?”

“I’m sorry,” the drained Romulan replied, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and underuse, “I was just so tired, from uh, unloading cargo…”

“Lies! This one saw last dock worker leave an hour ago!” Kirina winced, fresh out of excuses. “Mrrrr…” the Ferasan emitted, “Yeesss… Syndicate pay Hegoss top latinum for such prizes.” He waved the disruptor towards the cargo section of the ship, “Go over there!” Kirina slowly started to move as the Ferasan spoke into his communicator, “Bridge,” he said, “Hegoss capture great prize. Romulan! Lift off now.”

Kirina saw an opening – he’d gotten careless with his aim while keying his comm, and she wasn’t going to let the moment pass by. She recklessly jumped at the feline’s disruptor. The Ferasan yelped as his face met elbow. After a short struggle, she turned the man’s disruptor around on him and fired.

The success was practically intoxicating, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of still being alive. The feeling was short-lived, however, as her rationality reasserted itself. If the crew found the dead Ferasan, they’d report it to the station. If they didn’t find him, they’d report his disappearance. Either way, the station would scrutinize outgoing passengers and she would be discovered.

The pit in her stomach grew with every passing second. There has to be another way, she thought, as her eyes fell on the freighter’s nearby plasma conduit. It’s not their fault, she thought, as she rummaged through her medkit. But there’s no time, she thought, as she mixed up a concoction. And I’m NOT going back, she thought, as she applied it to a rusted tritanium beam supporting the conduit.

Content in being around to ponder her selfishness later, Kirina set off at a dead-sprint for the cargo door.

[kermit]

Chapter 30: Reunion

November 2413

The Federation starbase was in chaos. One of their people had been killed, and another gravely wounded. Kirina sat patiently in the waiting area. She smiled and she nodded at anyone who passed, and internalized the rest.

Her hastily concocted plan had worked completely. The lockdown didn’t last long, and nobody would know that she was the cause of it all. She headed for the nearest computer terminal, and then towards the nearest lounge area. It would be a few hours before the next transport back to Romulan space would be boarding, and it’d been days since she’d had anything to eat.

Everything was going according to plan. Soon enough, she’d have a full belly and be quietly on her way home. Except, that isn’t what happened.

“Elements, that’s not possible.” She heard Aurelia say from across the room, “Kirina?”

[kermit]

Chapter 31: Blood

November 2413

“I don’t know who you think you found, t’Veras, but Doctor t’Nalah is dead. You hung her banner yourself, months ago.”

Admiral Tokkra leaned back in his chair, shaking his head dismissively. Aurelia tapped her wristcomm and waited. Barely a moment later, Kirina strode into the office and approached the desk. The Admiral was not impressed. Just the opposite, he tapped a button on his desk and called for security. “There are procedures for this sort of thing, t’Veras,” he said as two guards entered and took up flanking positions around Kirina, “Subcommanders do not return from the dead.”

“She’s been held by the Klingons,” Aurelia replied, “since Nimbus, Admiral.”

“And for all you know she was sent here to infiltrate our ranks.” The admiral shifts his gaze to one of the guards, “Get a medical officer to come down and verify her identity.”

At gunpoint, Kirina reported her experiences of the past year, irritation rising with each ridiculous question, the answers to which the Admiral clearly already knew. Aurelia paced around a bit, waiting. When the officer with the medkit finally arrived, Kirina held out her arm knowingly as he took out a hypospray and filled a small vial with a sample of her blood.

Before the medic reported the results of his scan, Kirina was already speaking, “Are you satisfied that I’m not some changeling infiltrator now?”

“Actually, no,” the Admiral replied smartly, “Changelings, and other such creatures, have beaten simple blood tests in the past.” Aurelia scoffed. Kirina gritted her teeth and held her hand out towards the medic. Tokkra nodded, curiously, and the man placed the vial of blood in Kirina’s palm. In an instant, she lunged towards the Admiral’s desk, causing the security officers to raise their weapons in a panic.

Kirina slammed her hand down, hard, on Tokkra’s desk, smashing the vial into tiny pieces. She ran her hand along the surface of the desk and the Admiral’s PADDs and even a photo frame, spreading green blood as widely as she could.

The guard shouted for her to step back, and she complied, holding up her hand, palm-open towards the Admiral. Her hand was cut and bleeding, shards of broken hypospray vial embedded in her skin. To the man’s credit, Tokkra managed to wipe the look of shock off his face fairly quickly.

“When that dries,” Kirina said with a cold fury, “you’ll have your answer.” She turned and unceremoniously walked out of the office.

The guards moved to stop her, but the Admiral silently waved them off.

[kermit]

Chapter 32: A New Mission

November 2413

“You want me to do what?”

“You’ve presented us with a unique opportunity, Subcommander,” the voice on the other end of the subspace transmission spoke with the typical calm of a seasoned intelligence officer. “We have only a short window in which you can return to the Klingon starbase without arousing the General’s suspicions.”

“I won’t do it. I’m not going back there.”

“You will carry out your mission as assigned, or we will be forced to see to it that your biological state matches the details of your service records.” Kirina blanched at the realization of what being declared deceased really meant. The Commander on the other end of the line continued, “The Republic can’t afford to have incorrect records, after all. You’ll receive the specifics momentarily. Command out.”

Kirina slumped in her chair as the channel closed. She read through the assignment details as they came through.

“It’ll be different this time, Kirina.” She snapped her head around at the voice from behind her, but seeing her friend, she relaxed just as quickly.

“How will it be any different?” Kirina asked.

“You’ll have me as your backup,” Aurelia replied.

[kermit]

Chapter 33: Tradecraft

November 2413

“Well, I heard somebody lost the key to the cage!”
“For a month? How long does it take to replicate a new one?”
“It can take as long as you want!”

The boisterous Klingon laughter and banter at her expense gave Kirina some measure of reassurance. Certainly their wild conjectures as to why she hadn’t spent any time in the base’s main hall were more believable than the truth. Ignoring the commentary, the Romulan proceeded to an empty table with her meal. Or at least, that’s what she’d intended.

“Maybe she got tired of listening to the likes of you!”
“Oh-ho, K’Vok, it sounds like you’ve grown protective of your little pet!”
“She is nothing! But a better medic than that spineless lizard you keep in your medical bay!”

More laughter erupted and then a fight broke out – as was so often the result when Klingon warriors were given too much downtime. Punches were thrown, and then people were thrown. Bloodwine splattered and blood flowed. Kirina’s table became a casualty of war, forcing her to relocate.

With all the commotion, no one noticed the recording device placed behind the bartop.

One down, Kirina said to herself as she (mostly) dodged a flying plate of gagh.