Operational Log of the Warbird D'Ishae

The Calm Before...

"Aithaen, faiihr." Davin sat sprawled on his couch as usual, idly tossing and catching some small ball of Ajoi know what and snatching it our of the air. "It's been... quiet. Pirates, yeah, they'll never stop, but the Federation's announced an apparent cease fire with the Undine. One down, right?"
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Davin shrugged, but smirked as he adjusted the shoulders of his jacket. "Who knows, maybe we'll get them and the Voth into our little Alliance. Worked with the Klingons, right? A quick war, a cease fire, a giant metal planet, and suddenly everybody's feeling friendly." He smiles, but lowers his gaze, snatching the ball and holding it, turning it over in his hands.

"Ah well. Frees me up to work on my personal projects, right?" A kick of his legs and Davin is on his feet, tossing the ball once more. "Thought I'd put some work into Okhala tomorrow, see if I can work out that little hiccup when it breaks warp seven. D'Ishae's a little cramped for that kinda work, though. I'll probably need to bug someone at Thirteen for hangar access...

"Shouldn't be too hard. Aithaen, sehhae faiihr."
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Beyond the Wall of Sleep

It was dark. Not pitch black, that would have been better, but instead everything was bathed in a sickly yellow-green light. And even that would have been alright on its own, but the very ship seemed ill. The floor and walls bulged in odd places with cancerous outgrowths of technology, cables dangling between these pumping Ajoi knew what through this desecrated corpse. A single word rose from the back of his mind. Khnial.
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The Terran was gone, void knew where. But he hadn't been left alone. Two guards for the Terran, and two for Davin, each holding a sinister looking rifle that, at a glance, appeared Romulan. But Davin looked deeper. Davin could see those technological tumors present in the weapons, on their deathly black surfaces, in their glowing yellow-green muzzles. Only when the door opened did he realize how fixated he had been on the weapons. Fingernails bit into his palms.

It was her.

No viewscreen, no simulacrum, nothing between Davin and D'Kera Mandukar, progeny and progenitor. She stood firm and implacable, in Davins mind twelve feet tall, like she had in the hazy memories of his youth. He hardly noticed the gray encroaching on her void black hair, the tired bags under her eyes. What he noticed was her smile. Warm and welcoming and absolutely bloodthirsty.

"Davin..." His blood froze in his veins. It was
her! He had no meager T'Varo to fend her off with, nowhere to retreat to, nothing between himself and the stark, undeniable unreality of her presence.

"My Davin... You've come home." His mind raced, fixing on D'Kera one detail at a time. Any more invited madness. Her lips, a solemn, welcoming, carnivorous smile. Her eyes, wide and cold and calculating.

"I'm sure you wish the circumstances were more pleasant, but..." Her expression turned to one of concern. Genuine, furious parental concern. "Darling, you had to know this was coming. That those Tehrransu yikh and Republican targs would turn on you eventually... They've already used one of their own to frame you for murder! You saw what they did to that poor beast. And he tried to turn you against
me, against your own blood!"

It made sense, in a way. A Terran as an agent... no, as a prop of the Tal Shiar? Some mindless automaton sent to carry out a murder like a probe, entirely unsupervised? No, something this delicate needed a Romulan touch, it must have... But...

"I would have spared you this, but... well, lessons this valuable are best learned hard and remembered forever." She approached him now, and every neuron in his body shrieked in welcoming revulsion. A hand came to rest on his shoulder. "I won't let them hurt you again, my dearest Davin."

Her eyes. Her smile. Her hair, with patches of gray and a single silver streak across her left temple. Davin stiffened. He looked at the guards. The one on the left, sporting a standard Tal Shiar uniform haircut, had a silver streak to match. Narrow, nearly unnoticeable on his close cropped mane. The one on the right had his hair nearly shaved. He had no streak, but instead a single crude surgical scar across his temple. He saw this, and D'Kera saw him see this.

She stepped back, her face alight with a sad excitement. "Ah, well... I suppose some lessons must be taught, then."


Davin screamed. Had anyone else been sleeping in the diplomatic quarters... well, they likely weren't asleep any longer. 'Kat's gonna feel that one' he thought once he had regained some control, and chuckled, if only to keep from screaming again.

With an absent minded flourish Davin cast off his bedspread and walked uneasily to the sonic shower. It would get him clean, he knew, but sound alone wouldn't help how he felt.
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The Night Eternal
Forewarning: As with most Mandukar family stories, I'm gonna go ahead and throw up this little disclaimer. This bit gets rough, so those squeamish about torture and all that (nothing SAW level, but it's not hugs and epohh up in this prose) may want to skip this. Those that decide to pass on this, here's the short version: Tal Shiar Interrogation. Simple as that. This isn't going to reveal anything necessary if you've been following the ZombOllie plot line. That said, I wrote a thing! If you likes my other things, you might like this thing! Take it, or leave it, or tear it apart, I present it to you.

Spoiler: Show
The pain is exquisite and complete. It cuts to his very core, something beyond the flesh, beneath and beyond and infinitely more vulnerable. It lays his mind bare to the grabbing, squeezing, rending fingers, too many to count, probing from all sides. Wildly thrashing at the depths of his consciousness from-

-the top of the plateau Ecurai seemed to go on forever. Modest green spires almost match it's height, tenements built to house the bustling city. A great pit behind Davin bustled with the sound of workmen, turning the grassy plateau into the colony's first, and certainly most scenic, amphitheater. Siras said it would be done by the end of summer, which was a shame because the view of Ecurai blossoming in the early spring was breathtaking. Of course, Davin wasn't supposed to be up here anyway, but-

"Hey! Hey, kid!" A voice called from behind him, and Davin cursed. "You shouldn't be-"

"-retaining this much control," the operator says, giving Davin something to focus on. Something other than the pain. He can see the Tal Shiar at the control panel across the room. His face, hazy but present. Closer he sees D'Kera. She is wearing some kind of headband, and looking intently into Davins eyes. Closer still he sees his shirt, grey stained with a streak of green. He feels wet warmth running down his face. 'My nose is bleeding', says a voice in his head. A distant, in distinct whisper.

"Compensating," the Tal Shiar says. "Boosting power to-"

"-forward shield arrays!" Lir looked back at Davin as he wrestled with Celeris' control yolk. "I'll keep us clear of those cannons!"

"Aye, Sir!" Lir made the adjustments, and Davin sent Celeris into a dive. The Federation Starbase rose out of view, along with the mix of Klingon and Federation ships. One was so close he could see the symbols painted across its broad saucer section. 'U.S.S. October' the glyphs read, whatever that meant.

Another volley of disruptor fire rocked the ailing warbird, and Davin cursed aloud. "Ready all weapons! I'll bring us back around, and we're going to give them everything we've got!"

"At your command, Riov!" Kaeni grinned, painting targets for The Big Guns. "Let's give 'em what they want!"

Davin smirked, and turned a limping Celeris on the Klingon raiders. "Federation battlegroup, this is the Warbird Celeris, we're going in for another pass."

"Confirmed Celeris, this is Argo control," came the reply over the crowded comms connection. "We'll give you what cover we can from the Starbase."

Davin punched the throttle. Full impulse, cannons charged, he gave them everything-

-hurts. The whole of him consumed by an ache that radiates from his very core, his very essence, as it is flipped through like a picturebook. And another ache, one of bio neural leads around his head, a band like D'Keras, heavy and very much active. He can smell blood, the metallic tang of it running down his throat. 'I'm not going to survive this,' he thinks with absolute certainty.

"You will, my darling," D'Kera says softly. Davin tries to muster some modicum of surprise, but everything hurts. "I just need to know what you know. I need to look around a bit, go through your mind and see if you know anything useful." Her grin grows. "And I know you do, Davin. You're a
Mandukar after all, aren't you?"

The pain consumes the anger. The pain consumes the revulsion, the indignation, the shock. She is in there, grasping, feeling. Fingers, so many jagged, reaching fingers. He focuses on one, on the pain of one, as if he could grab it, and-

-suddenly he was on the screen, this awestruck little whelp who had dared to defy the Tal Shiar. But it was-

"Davin," he heard himself say. He heard it, knew the words, and knew they were his words. And yet they weren't. So long ago, above the Ecurai colony, D'Kera Mandukar had spoken those words. And now Davin was in her place, playing her role. In her memory. "Davin, it's-"

"Mom..." From this perspective, seeing himself in this moment... it was surreal. There he was, eight years younger. Before Argo, before the Republic. Before...

"All elements, cease fire!" He called in his D'Kera voice. "Cease fire, fvadt you all! Lower our shields, and stand by transporters!"

"The colony... How could you..." Davin saw it clearly, the rage formenting below his dazed expression. The hatred in his eyes, melting and running down the rest of his face.

"Oh Davin..." D'Kera said. How could she not see it coming? How could she not know how this would end?
Is she so blind? he asks himself.
Quiet! I am your mother!
D'Keras voice, her real voice comes. She is here with him. Watching with him.
Then let's watch, he thinks and in his mind he grins spitefully.
Davin please-
"What you must think of me... Lower your shields, I'll have you beamed aboard and we can talk about it face to face. There's so much to say..." She thought he would, too. Back then, she had thought it would be so easy. He felt it. Her certainty.

"Commander, he's targ-"

"I said lower the shields, you insubordinate whelp, or I'll see you thrown out an airlock!" Davin hadn't gotten that part, not at the time, but it confirmed his suspicions. His fears. She had been like this, conniving, vicious, dangerous, even then.

"That's my son out there, and I have no intention of leaving him to the Elachi!"
Davin please-
It's not over! he growls through his pain.
"Lower your shields, Davin. Come aboard Okhala." He felt her smile, her hope, and beneath that he could feel her true motives. What she had wanted for him then wasn't much different from what was happening now. "You always wanted to see the inside of Mom's ship, didn't you?"
Davin PLEASE-
IT'S NOT OVER!
"...If this is what D'Kera Mandukar has become then I am not her son." And there it was. The first cut, the break in D'Keras confidence. And pain, too, genuine pain. More than Davin had expected. There was love for him there, among all the other twisted thoughts. She was doing this all, at least in her mind, out of some lingering shred of love.
DAVIN-
His mental grip begins to falter, thoughts slipping through the cracks.
"My mother died with Romulus, and I refuse to let you dishonor her memory... I am Davin T'Varros, and you will PAY for what you have done here!" Memory Davin, livid, practically foaming at the mouth, cut the connection. There was a moment in which nothing happened, and then the viewscreen showed the T'Varo move, spewing what torpedos it had in an angry green cloud.

D'Keras memory-voice was a startled whisper. "Raise-"

"-power to the inhibitors!" D'Keras real voice is screeching. Her face is green. Her eyes are wide and wild. Davin can feel himself smirking. Smirking through the pain. He doesn't think he can speak, but he doesn't need to. He said all he needed to eight years ago.

"Re-syncing neurolitic pattern," the Tal Shiar technician says, and everything begins to fade again. Not into memory, merely darkness.

D'Kera isn't smiling.
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Ghost In The Machine

"Idiot! Secure Davin! And the monster!" Reality came slowly to Davin, or at least it seemed to. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but in his mind he lay on the plated floor of Okhala's converted ready room for an eternity before he managed to haul himself up to his knees.
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The second explosion nearly threw him back down. The Tal Shiar bursting into the room were caught mid-stride. They tumbled through the air, one striking a techno-tumor jutting from the wall. Davin, on his hands and knees, merely bounced. There was no consideration, no conscious thought guiding him to his course of action. He was on the fallen soldiers in an instant, tearing their long, straight combat knives from their belts, and ensuring they would not be getting up again.

The lighting flickered, faltered, failed. After a moment of darkness the ship lit up with the sickly yellow glow of it's converted emergency lights. There was no alarm, no klaxon call to bring the crew to alert. 'They know anyway,' Davin thought dreamily as he moved to the door, a blade in each hand.

"He-" That was as far as the engineer got before he was swept up in the flurry of blades that was Davin Mandukar. Two more of the bridge crew approached, but in the confusion the wild, snarling, blood drenched captive had the upper hand.

"Stun him you fools!"

HER.

"Rrrrah!" Davin dropped low, swept an arm out in a wide arc, and just when the momentum would be greatest he released the blade in his hand. It sailed across the bridge, narrowly missing a console. D'Kera screamed when the Romulan dagger buried itself in her shoulder. Davin snarled, his eyes wide and wild, tossing his remaining knife from hand to hand.

They looked into each other's eyes, D'Kera and Davin. They shared a moment, brief but stretched by perception into an eternity. D'Kera grasping in astonishment at the haft of the knife buried in her left shoulder. Davin burning with rage, a wildfire, an animal lashing out instinctively. His nose dripped green. He lunged for D'Kera-

-and ran face first into a wall.

"Fvadt!" He fell backwards, staring at this piece of plated metal that had definitely not been there a moment before. A wall, the healthy green of a proper Romulan ship. There were voices, a commotion somewhere, somewhere close. His mind, largely silent since he came to moments ago, kicked into overdrive.

I'm dead maybe not dead just crazy I've snapped whatever she's done was too much it's too much-

Someone burst into the room. Said... something. Came toward him.

-it's Nethali no can't be Tal Shiar trick it's too much-

More people, coming into the room.

-coming for you-

Gathering around... something. Someone else on the transporter pad.

-Nethali Aurelia McCarthy Rellir no it's too good to be true can't be-

People were speaking to him now. He was answering, he knew that, distantly, in the back of his mind.

-so many people so crowded so small too much-

Past Rellir, past McCarthy, he skirted along the edge of the room and made his way out through the open door. The shuttle felt like it was rocking underneath him, falling away beneath his feet. It lessened when he entered the more open control room, but he still needed to cling to a console to stay upright. His mind raced,

-can't be how could they must be a trick too much-

"Davin!"

He blinked, took a deep breath, and shook his head. The shuttle steadied under his feet.

"Yeah, I... I'm okay..."
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Back In The Chair

"Aithaen, faiihr." Davin sits on his couch familiar ready room couch, tossing and catching a hypospray. A little flash of tumbling silver in the air, rising, falling, gone. Rising, falling, gone.
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"Sometimes I forget why I keep Ketra on D'Ishae. Then she whips up something like this," up goes the hypospray, "and suddenly I don't care why she keeps poking at that slug in a jar." He snatches the hypo out of the air, glances down at a wrist comm, and brings the little canister to his neck. There is a faint hiss, and then the empty cartridge is tossed to the side.

"The perks of having an amoral ex-Imperial Reunificationist ships doctor, I guess. I'm cleared to command D'Ishae again, and I've got this whole Pa'nar situation under control. Now I just need to find that Vulcan." It simply wouldn't be a D'Ishae log if the SubCommander didn't lay across his couch at least once, and Davin isn't about to break that tradition today. "What was her name, Tyee? No, that was the ship. Ty... Tyvir? Tyvin? Tir-"

The look of dawning horror on his face is unmistakeable, even from the cameras profile view. "T'irin. Fvadt! That was her at the bar!" And as quickly as he had sprawled across his couch he's back on his feet, snatching up his jacket and near-sprinting out of frame.

"Sehhae faiihr!"
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While The Sehlat's Away...

No more civilian jacket. No more neurolitic inhibitor, no more hyposprays, no more D'Kera. Just Davin, back in uniform, ready to record yet another log. "Aithaen, faiihr."
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"I need to remember to send that package to T'irin before the Tyee heads out." A box rested on his desk, taking up a corner of the frame, was likely the package in question. "I don't know if she drinks, but I can't see a little kali-fal being a bad thing. And a bottle of the good stuff is the least I can do. Ajoi know she's got enough reasons to drink..."

A kick sent Davins desk chair spinning, once, twice around for the SubCommander before he stops himself. "Should probably stay dry, though. At least for now. Nethali's been taking in strays, and I doubt like the Void this Tal Shiar business is done. Especially if Aurelia and that friend of hers actually intend to take on D'Kera. I can think of more pleasant ways to die than going up against a Khnial..."

He rose to his feet, pushed in his chair, and walked a short back-and-forth behind his desk. If Romulans had truly mastered paranoia as an art, then their penchant for the quiet introspection it invited must have been a happy accident. Back and forth under the dull green-white lights, back and forth over the matte green floor plate, his soft boots hardly making a sound.

"The nightmares haven't stopped," he says finally, after a small eternity of silence. "Guess that was more the torture than anything I picked up from D'Kera. I can't hear her anymore, but... What if she wasn't the problem?

"Aithaen, sehhae faiihr."
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Tis The Season

Davin stood in front of a broad green banner, alien silk glimmering in the light. At either side is woven a planet; on the left the red rock of Vulcan, on the right the lush purple-green of Mol'Rihan. In the center, under the swooping bird-of-prey emblem of the Republic, was a Borg Queen, run through by the blade of the spiky haired Romulan who stood above her. Truly, it is a masterpiece.
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"Aithaen, faiihr. And keep the banner in frame." Davin turned, beaming. "In fact, always keep it in frame. Every recording. Forever." The computer beeped, and Davin tossed himself into his desk chair with a contented sigh. "Rellir is far too good to me. Shame about her dhael. Guess it could have been worse though, if Foster hadn't noticed the Trellium." His expression turned thoughtful, though his swig from a well sampled bottle of kali-fal did not help the image.

"Fvadt Starfleet doctors nearly lost it when we said the T-word, though." That thoughtful look again. "Although I guess it was two T words, 'Trellium Toxicity'... Ah well."

The Romulan lifted something from his desk, which the focus on the tapestry had kept out of frame. It turned out to be a Lirpa, the Vulcan round axe with a weight at one end. He held it uncertainly, balanced in one hand above his desk. "More gifts from Rellir," he said. "I'm guessing it's not for the Terran gift exchange, though, unless McCarthy's handing out plasma torches to everyone." The weapon clattered back to the table, hinting at more metal on the polymer desk top.

"What I'd really love is for this Aurelia Nethali situation to be over with." Davin nodded, slowly, then caught himself. "Oh, no, what I really want is tr'Dahn to fall down a turbolift shaft."

"Aithaen, sehhae faiihr."
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Enemy Of My Enemy
Actual spoilers ahead for those who haven't reached Kobali Prime.

Thunk! The twin tines of the flat Romulan throwing knife buried themselves in the holographic tree with a realistic enough sound, soft wood cushioning the force of the rushing, tumbling metal. A simulated wind rustled the grass around Davins knees as he pulled another knife, one which had just been rendered, from the low wooden fence behind him. "Aithaen," he said into the rustling of the grass, and the computer, unseen, chirped its acknowledgement.

"Faiihr."
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Thunk! "Stasis pods. Hundreds. Thousands. I don't know how many. THAT is what we found under their temple." Thunk! "The Federation was upset, yeah. For a minute I thought the Kobali might get a stern reprimand. But we're still defending them."

Another blade rendered, and Davin turned the thing over in his hands. The weight was right but the texture was always off. The holographic knives always seemed oily somehow. The iridescence was never quite right either, never accurate to the metals alloyed in a proper Romulan blade.

"All I could think if when I saw those pods was the Elachi. Holo images of their ships, the holds... I mean, how different are they from the Kobali anyway? Does their 'breeding' process only work after death? And what does that make me, huh? The fvadt Tal Shiar, defending these... things!?" Davin whipped the knife with all his strength, snarling out his fury, his indignation. The spinning bit of metal struck the tree hilt first, echoed a metallic ring, and tumbled harmlessly into the grass.

"...I should have blasted that crypt from orbit. One torpedo... I'll keep fighting. But not for those creatures. For our people. To stop the Vaadwaur."

Thunk!

"Aithaen, sehhae faiihr."
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In Retrospect...
This log is rated PG-13 for Mild Language. Viewer discretion is advised.

"Aithaen, faiihr." This latest entry saw Davin in that fabled land, the mythical expanse known simply as 'his actual quarters'. The space was fairly standard for a modern Romulan warship, spacious but spartan, though the SubCommander had chosen to decorate with an assortment of techno-clutter more fitting for a workshop than living space. The bed had enough space cleared for Davin to sit and a spot for his discarded jacket, but that was all.
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"Well, I've made a complete ass of myself. Again." A nervous hand ran through that spiky black mane, tipping the mans head back as fingers curled around tufts of hair. "Though to be fair," he said as a single raised finger waggled to his defense, "Buchanan wasn't exactly making progress. Starfleet doesn't excel at playing hardball."

Davin flopped back onto his bed, the impact tossing a smattering of lighter bits of technology into the air. "Probably should have put more thought into things before I butted in, though." Laying across the bed left Davins face conveniently off-screen, the camera instead lingering on where he had been, if only to keep from putting the seat of his black and grey cargos front and center.

"Playing the Rihannsu card doesn't work so well when the other guy can't tell a Romulan from a Horta. Fvadt 'Bensans', or whatever the void they are..." The groan of frustration that followed defied onomatopoeia; a low, throaty rumble rising slowly in pitch to a near-scream only to cut itself short. "And the whole station was watching. If I'd known that, maybe I wouldn't have hopped the railing."

With a kick of his legs Davin threw himself back up into a sitting position, only then releasing his grip on his hair. "The more I have to deal with the Delta quadrant, the more I start to think we ought to just hole up in the fvadt Dyson spheres. Leave the rest to the Vaadwaur."

"Aithaen, sehhae faiihr."
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Emo enough for you, Quae?

Wind rustled the tall grass, the field stretching on forever in the Mol'Rihan twilight. At the edge of the clearing, back against a tree, we find Davin sitting, his house blade sunk into the dirt beside him. Apart from the whistle of the wind and the rustling of the grasses, there is silence.
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Beyond and below the lights of the command center shimmered in the sunsets purple haze. The New First City, all scaffolds and fresh structures unmarked by time. There was a serenity to it, a peace that betrayed the constant struggle to reach this point. Or maybe it was the opposite, and the silence, the calm, was the whole point of it all.

In the distance a Dhael cried out. It's raptor shriek surely meant the end of some unfortunate thing. But the world would go on, wouldn't it? Indifferent or entirely unknowing, the suns would still set. The light would still fade, and the lights below would shine on into the Vastam peaks. It was just the natural order of things, wasn't it?

'Hunter or hunted, Empire or Republic, the stars don't care,' Davin thought. Somewhere below, in the new city, was D'Kera. Not a Commander but a prisoner of the Republic. What will she be without the Tal Shiar? What will she be without the Okhala, without that chip in her head?

'The stars don't care.'
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The Departed

"Is it bad that I'm glad she's dead?" It wasn't a good break to the silence, but there was only so long Lir could stand sipping her rum and coke in silence with Davin. While D'Ishae did indeed feature a full bar, the pair were imbibing in a secluded access junction just off of the main zero-point conduit. Lir had claimed the space as hers, and decorated with a string of fiberoptic lights woven into the ceiling grates.
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"Depends," was Davins reply, and he gestured with his bottle. It wasn't kali-fal for once but some alien alcohol he had acquired in the Delta quadrant. Talaxian brandy, perhaps, but he honestly wasn't sure. "I don't mind that the Orion's dead, but I'm like that. You, though, you're more sympathetic. You won't even let us have epohh stew unless we replicate it."

"But they're sooo fuzzy!" Lir blurted, clutching her glass to her chest.

"Exactly." Another bottle-point and a smirk from Davin.

"But she just..." Lir slumped back against the wall behind her, staring up at the wild tangle of soft blue light. "It's not even like she was trying to steal James. That would have been messed up, but this was like mind control! That's a whole different level of not okay!"

The outpouring seemed to have little effect on Davin. "So you're glad that's over with. That's fine. But are you really glad she's dead?"

"Yes. No. I don't know... Ugh. I guess not." The final admission carried notes of defeat. "I wanted her gone, that's all. Death is just... I feel so petty for even thinking I wanted her dead."

"That's just your human side talking." Davin knocked back another swig of his beverage. If it was Talaxian, he might need to rethink his position on their people. "Listen to it. Somebody on this ship ought to be half-way sane, right?"

Lir nodded, and once again the pair drank in silence.
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Tattered

D'Ishae barely managed to limp back to the Starbase. Systems across the board registered either in red or grey streaks. Lir's hideaway by the zero point junction was open to the void. And the ships captain sat at the heart of the mess, slumped over an engineering console, looking like he hadn't slept in days.
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"Fvadt thing... just need to reset the actuators... Imirrhllhse!" Testing Davin's last nerve the console defied his input, refused to realign the singularity modulator. For their resistance the captain issued swift and harsh corporal punishment via a boot to their lower plating. Heeding the reprimand the display turned from an angry yellow to sky blue, and the great arms of the modulators took their places by the singularity harness.

Davin and his handful of engineers rose up in a mix of muted cheers and sighs of relief. Repairs were difficult enough on their own, but so many had been injured in the attack on the Orions. Crews were stretched thin trying to restore even basic functionality, much less restore the ailing warbird to combat condition.

"Ought to get a Scimitar out there," Takar called from underneath the zero point distribution matrix. Takar was a bit rotund for an engineer, but he managed consistently to work his way into D'Ishae's varied nooks and crannies. "Teach those Syndicate susse'thrai a lesson about Thalaron radiation." Half-attentive murmurs of agreement rose up from the other technicians.

Davin merely shrugged. "I just want to know where they keep getting ships. If we could pump out vessels like these fvadt pirates..." He shook his head. 'If wishes were fishes'. It was a favorite saying of Lir's father, Captain Callahan. Davin always expected there to be more to that lymric, but if there was then the Captain never recited it.

Lir. Repairs would have been a lot easier with her here. No one else here had her knack for the transporter systems, which were still barely functional. But she was on Starbase, no doubt nursing her disruptor wound and keeping a close eye on her nearly kidnapped boyfriend. Even if she offered her assistance she was in no shape to be repairing a starship.

Then again, neither was Davin. "You are only aggravating your condition, SubCommander." The sudden sound of D'Ishae's doctors voice drew a legitimate gasp from the laboring captain.

"Hnaev, you scared the... You are NOT pulling me away from this, Ketra." Davin stepped away from the console he had been struggling with. "I'm the only thing standing between you and a power outage in the infirmary."

Ketra was undeterred. "We both know the power supply to the medical deck is stable. Do not make me order you to stand down, SubCommander."

"Are you sure I'm not just aggravating my chief medic?" It was a clear jab at Ketra's Reunificationist ways. One which drew a jab from Ketra, in the form of a pointed finger pressed against the SubCommanders chest wound. He found that less amusing, and recoiled with a hissed inhale.

"You are clearly unfit to continue working," Ketra said flatly over Davins muted curses. "If you protest further I will be forced to relieve you of duty."

"You will do no such-"

There was a reason Ketra was assigned to Davin. In a flash her hand was at his neck. No hypo was necessary, only the study of Vulcan neuropressure and knowledge of Romulan anatomy. Her fingers pinched at the base of his neck and the stubborn SubCommander immediately crumpled forward into the waiting doctors grasp.

For the occasion Ketra allowed herself a smirk.
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Charade

An unfamiliar presence stalked the SubCommander's ready room. A woman, with long black hair draped over the shoulders of Davin's jacket. The garment was too big for her, almost comically so, and after a few moments she tossed it over the back of Davin's desk chair.

"Aithaen, faiihr."
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"One week and I've already alienated two friends, gotten myself beaten senseless by holographic Klingons, and I don't even want to know what S'Tev wants with me." The woman threw herself into Davin's desk chair, sending the thing sliding backwards. A moment passed and she straightened up, speaking to something off-screen in a clear parody of the khre'riov's voice. " 'In light of your turn of fortunes, it is your duty to preserve your house's future. Procreation is your duty. I am a living antique.' "

She chuckled, no doubt thinking herself clever. "Just watch it be even worse than that, somehow. Void, the Elements are just gonna let me have it all at once, aren't they?" She slumped back into her chair. A kick to the end of the desk sent her spinning a lazy circle. "Doomed to a future of Lir's cosmetic torture sessions, Nethali giggling like a fvadt Rigellian hyena, and Dawsons looking at me like I'm a two-headed dhael."

The ridge in her brow deepened, her scowl growing more pronounced as she lifted herself back onto her feet to pace behind that chair. "Seriously, his type is 'living'. I'm... honestly kind of insulted." A quick about-face brings her back from the edge of the frame. "It's probably just more Terran gender issues. Ihhuein, for such an alleged utopia they have plenty of lingering cultural hang-ups..."

"Ah well. Aithaen, sehhae faiihr."
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Prognosis

"So what are you saying?"

Divan stood with Ketra in front of a medical display she could not quite wrap her head around in spite of her medics increasingly basic explanations. The display showed the structures of Romulan DNA; her own. The pair of X shaped protein bundles hovered in their rendered pale blue, spinning slowly for dramatic effect.
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"I am saying that this procedure will likely not be as straight-forward as you surmise." Ketra, Vulcan as she tried to remain, was quite obviously trying not to seem frustrated. "The added strand is a duplicate of your existing genetic data. Attempting to delete this added strand in transport carries the risk of deleting the original as well."

Divan canted her head to one side. "Which would be... bad?"

"In the event you materialized with two Y chromosomes, I could ensure your continued respiration for one hundred fifty three kehreha. Beyond that, modern medicine could not compensate for the physical detriments arising from so much missing genetic information."

Silence fell after that. Divans gaze fell to the plating at her feet, the V of her forehead visibly pronounced. "...Which is bad."

Ketra felt her expression soften against her will. A hand went to her Captains shoulder, resting there gently as another silence came and passed. "I... I am sorry, but the risks involved... I cannot recommend this course of action." She saw the pang of Divans anguish there, the instant her words were processed amid the tense moments as she entreated the Elements for Ketra to say something, anything, but that.

"It may be possible to restore Davin... You... as you are in the buffer, as another 'instance' of Davin Mandukar, but I cannot yet see a way to restore you."

"Thank you, doctor." The words were soft, timid almost. Divan did not raise her eyes. "I... I should probably give this some... thought."

Ketra grimaced. Already she was preparing herself for what was sure to be the Captains prompt return to her care. "Please try not to 'think' too hard. You are under enough emotional strain right now. Your usual injuries would only exacerbate your situation."

"I promise nothing." Ketra had to smile at that, in her coy little reunificationist way. Not that Divan saw; she was already out the door, headed for her quarters. For a Mandukar, introspection was best handled with a blade.
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Reflections

A few days prior...

"Just... run this by me again."
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Divan sighed. "I'm you."

Davin shifted his stance, arms crossed over his chest. "So you say."

That drew an exasperated 'tsk' from Divan. She knew this wouldn't be easy, that she... he... they were prone to a touch of paranoia, but after a dozen retellings she couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated with himself. "There was a transporter error. A glitch in the reconstruction. I saved our pattern before the buffer cleared it, and when I couldn't restore myself I reintegrated you."

Davin just stared her down, his face an impassive mask. "That has got to be the dumbest, most asinine, half-assed science fiction trope of an explanation I have ever heard."

A roar of rage filled the ready room as Davin's obstinance sent Divan reeling across the room. "Rrrrrgh! Are you kidding me!? Hnaev, I can not seriously be this irritating!"

"Please, for all I know you're one of D'Kera's contingencies." Davin pressed, following his doppelganger across the room. "Some too-stupid-to-make-up ploy."

That drew her back into a proper cinfrontation, giving Davin a rare glimpse of his own reflected anger. "So what do I have to do to prove I'm you, hmm? Tell you our fifth name? Drag Nethali up here? I doubt even the Tal Shiar have the technology to recreate that frothing bucket of crazy. Oh, or maybe I should just point out Daegnus on the star charts, show you where we-"

She could have continued, but it was clear she had struck a chord. The color drained from Davin face in a way that was impossible to mistake. "Oh, well, that did the trick. Our 'dirty little secret'."

Davin gaze narrowed. "Okay. Fine. I will entertain the ludicrous possibility that you're me. Why are there two of us?"

Divan smirked, that predatory little grin that Davin often wore but rarely saw. "The short answer?" Davin nodded. "We're doomed."

"Us we, or-"

"The quadrant. The galaxy. Everyone." Divan moved to one of the displays at their desk. She called up a star chart to an empty patch of space, an unassuming void a hundred light-years from anything. "It's bad. And there's a reason I mentioned Daegnus."

Davin ran his fingers through his hair, staring at his double in disbelief. "You really think it's that bad?" Divan nodded. "Alright. But I'll need the shuttle."
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Idle Hands

Divan shrugged, staring out her ready room window at the expanse of space beyond. "Aithaen," she said after a moment. "Faiihr."
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"I can't believe she's gone." Divan looks to Khellian, her faithful Sehlat, curled up beneath her desk. His fur is not pink, there are no bows on his tail. She reaches down to ruffle the cats ears, and he bears it with an absent-minded purr. "I don't believe she's gone."

She sighs, and her eyes drift up to the ceiling. "Nethali Aster... She was the first one to say more than two words to me when I came aboard this station. She didn't mind talking to the shifty-eyed green blood. McCarthy, either. But now he's busy with his business ventures, and she's off on Pariah." She scoffs. "Those poor colonists."

"I still don't know what strings Tirian pulled to get himself transferred to that rock. Now I need a new flight deck chief and a new science officer. Ihhuein, as if things weren't bad enough..." She runs a hand through her hair, still adjusting to the shaggy pseudo-regulation length cut that had taken the place of the more familiar spiked faux-hawk.

"Those two... Ah well. Aithaen, sehhae faiihr."
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By The Ears

"I don't know what I was thinking."

Davin sat on the edge of one of the spacious Kestrel shuttles sleeping nooks. The ship sported several such spaces, handy Romulan-sized compartments to serve the shuttles crew and passengers on longer flights. But these were clean, mostly unused save for the nook Davin had settled into.
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"I wasn't thinking. That was the problem." Davin tugged at the hems of his battered flight jacket, well worn but just as well cared for. A relic of the Star Empire, and one of the few surviving possessions of Davins father. "Bringing Daegnus out of the void was a mistake. Aurelia was right... Not that she can ever know I said that. Ever. No circumstances."

His gaze drifted from the camera to some point above and behind it, a nebulous space undefined by the recording. "The ship is... Nothing good can come of that thing. I thought I could control it, keep it in check, but..."

An unsteady hand dove into the lining of his gray jacket and came away with a battered flask. With practiced precision he sent the cap spinning and fortified himself with a deep gulp of the liquid within. "It wants something. I think... I don't know. But I can't be on that ship anymore. I... I can't be connected to that ship anymore." He rubbed at the back of his neck, grimacing.

"I need to think this out. Just me, not... whatever that thing is...

"Aithaen, sehhae faiihr. "
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Ship In A Bottle

A holographic readout of a T'Varo warbird was an unexpected sight in a Federation suite, but it was no more out of place than the rest of Davins assorted Romulan technologies. But it was the hologram that held Davins interest, the ship rendered in pale blue wire frame and exploded to allow access to its small scale internal components. "Aithaen." A beep from his wrist-comm replied. "Faiihr."
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"Optimizing a T'Varo is no small task," he more croaked than said, hunched over his holographic model. "Most of the ones still flying are a mix of parts from a dozen decades, and getting all those components to play nice isn't easy. Mismatched firmware, variable powerflow tolerance, and centuries of ad hoc repairs..."

His voice trailed off as he plucked at a tiny warp nacelle, contoured to produce an oblique warp field. A panel materialized in pale blue to show the specs of that nacelle, from its serial numbers down to its current calibration. Davin made a sound, half chuckle and half hiss, and entered a new strings of numbers into his console. A flourishing stroke finalized the changes and sent the translucent models scattered pieces flying back together.

"Okay computer, project warp field stability and subspace drag using the updated dynamic field algorithm. Warp one to maximum warp, standard acceleration at ten percent speed." A chime acknowledged the request but Davin waited, pouring through his rushing g thoughts in search of anything he might have neglected. "...Engage." Suddenly a bubble of blue light formed around the ship. A perfect sphere, slowly but steadily deforming as the speedometer began to climb. Warp one point six, one point seven. At warp four the bubble was vaguely egg shaped, blunt at the bow but looking a bit squeezed astern. Five point one, five point two. He watched as the shape continued to change, growing more and more distinct.

By warp seven point to the egg shape was clear, a blunted 'base' tapering to a slimmer, rounded 'peak' at the ships tail. And still the speed climbed, eight point nine, nine point oh. Davin grinned, watching, waiting, until the counter slowed and finally stopped at warp nine point eight seven five. The warp field was a tear drop, or so it looked at a glance. The truth was more curious than that by far.

The warp field was a pair of counter rotating tear drops, twisted into a sort of reverse drill bit shape. Each nacelle was devoted to one of the fields, overlapping and rippling and distorting subspace to propel the vessel within faster and faster. When all was said and done the tiny Romulan ship had topped out at warp nine point eight seven five.

"Asynchronous warp field simulation oh one four, success." Davins grin was proud and predatory. "Log configuration and prepare four full scale simulations. One control, three under randomized test parameters." His wrist-comm, tethered to the Starbase computer, chirped.

"Lovely."
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The More Things Change...

Davin returned, and D'Ishae greeted him like an old friend. Not the crew, left too wary and weary to trust even themselves, but the ship. The familiar thrum of the singularity forgave his transgressions, the pale white-green deck lights soothed his troubled mind. He had not heard from High Command yet, could not say whether or not he had been deemed fit to resume his role as Captain, but he would stay until they came for his head.

And this time, he thought, they just may.
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Even the colors of his new house were no guarantee. It was tempting to think of his dark blue jacket as a suit of armor, a shield against those who would hold him accountable for the actions of the other s'Mandukar, but that would be a false comfort. And the illusion of solace is no solace at all.

The blade laid out on his desk, jagged and sleek and fiercely Debrune, he could count on. Rellir he could count on. Aurelia... was unlikely to kill him in cold blood. And now that he stood beside her under the banner of s'Lhiahthra her ties to tradition worked in his favor, at least.

So he would wait. And he would work. And once the dust settled he would gather whatever tools lay at his disposal and set things right. If that left him with just a sword and a shuttle so be it. For now, all he could do was pour over the Intel reports coming in and try to make some progress tracking...

Progress. He turned the word over in his mind, revulsion and excitement warring as he seized on the word, on that jumble of Romulan syllables.

Daegnus.

He nearly toppled his chair in his rush to his ready room door.
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Ashes, Ashes...

D'Ishae drifted through the tangle of debris, silhouetted by the blue-green of Terra below. The warbird had stood against the Iconian onslaught, fought and killed for the home world of the Federation. And, somehow, it had come away with hardly a scratch.
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Davin stared out his shuttle viewport at his ship, the wings lightly singed, the hull scuffed but intact. One of the ships scorpion fighters buzzed his shuttle, wiggled it's wings and pulled back, nose up, to fall in behind Davins Kestrel. His eyes drifted from D'Ishae to Starbase Zero-One, once again a smouldering derelict, and then to Terra itself. A planet still teeming with life. A planet turning around its star as the light of a new day dawned on the continents below.

Davin turned his eyes to the void. The emptiness hardly seemed empty. Debris choked the space around the Terran home world, metal and slag and countless lives ended in a battle that had not concluded, merely stopped. Hefelt numb. He, like Terra, had survived. He, like Terra, had escaped the fury of the Iconian juggernaut when so many others had not.

Why? The word echoed in his mind. He knew what was happening. He could feel it coming, building in stages. The steady build in his heartbeat, his breathing growing ragged, the restlessness in his legs as he paced his shuttle. Why me? Why again? What's so fvadt special about me!?

His shoulder crashed against the shuttle door, and slowly the SubCommander slid down until he sat on the floor with his back on the airlock. Unbidden, his mind returned to the other times he and his ship had escaped near annihilation. To the other blue-green planets he had left behind, and the lives snuffed out by a force he could not stop.

Why? The word echoed in his mind as tears welled in his eyes. Why? Why me?
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