This is my first ever fanfic. Its set some time after the events of Star Trek Picard.
From time to time Frem could hear them muttering to themselves. Ferengi hearing being what it was, he figured the Romulan thought they could not be heard, but then again, it was a Romulan. Plans within plans within plans, secrets within secrets within secrets. Maybe he was supposed to hear. Frem tried not to listen, knowing it would be better not to know, but the human words “artifact” and “hue” caught his ears. Could they be referring to… better not to wonder, he caught himself, and picked up a glass to polish.
The door to the bar swung open, causing a rush of dry, dusty air to sweep in and replace the rather moist, musty air inside the bar. Whether it was an improvement was a matter of opinion, but silhouetted by the bright passageway lights outside the bar was a short, stout figure dressed in flowing folds of a material that sparkled in the neon glow of the bar’s welcoming sign flashing “Quark’s” a few feet inside the establishment. Frem had purchased the bar sixty years ago when he left Ferenginar for good, and twenty years ago had purchased the rights to transform it into a Quark’s franchise for ten bars of gold pressed latinum. Had he even made it back yet? Business only ever seemed to get worse, no matter what he tried, but maybe it would have been even worse had he not purchased the right to use the Quark’s logo. As the new arrival moved out of the doorway and into the bar’s lights, Frem glanced over briefly and nodded his head absently in casual greeting, knowing his usual customers did not enjoy fanfare about their arrivals, but then snapped his head back and gawked despite himself.
Her many dangling earrings clicked together harmoniously like cascading slips of gold pressed latinum as she glided languorously up to the bar, placing one nut brown, feminine hand on the plasteel countertop. The curves of her ears flowed down from her warmly gleaming scalp, as she smirked toothsomely at him. “I’m looking for a little help here.” she chirped, her voice sending pleasant shockwaves through his mind and shivers to the tips of his lobes.
“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” he grinned back, moving over to her so only the counter stood between them. “And for you, it’ll only cost you a little.”
“I need passage to a nearby planet by the name of M-113. Have you heard of it?” she asked, reaching her tiny hand up to stroke his left ear delicately.
“M-113? Why would a beautiful thing like you need passage to a dusthole like that?” he replied, taking in her silky, sequined outfit seemingly made from dozens of long scarves wrapped around her body to conceal and reveal in equal measure. Frem, like most Ferengi, had been livid when Grand Negus Zek had first allowed women to wear clothes and conduct business, but he had to admit, there were advantages. She reminded Frem of someone he had met once, long ago… was it in the pleasure den on Terok Var? Yes, they had a Ferengi slave woman who looked just like her, he had offered to buy her…
“I can’t just give up all my secrets. Let’s just say that I forgot something there long ago, and now I have to find it before it's too late.” She grabbed Frem’s left lobe firmly, pressing just enough to make it difficult for him to think and impossible to resist.
“Too late? Oh, yeah, I remember now! I heard that the Romulan Free State was going to start strip mining it now that the Federation has pulled its research stations from the planet.” Frem tried to wink charmingly but his difficulty focusing made it come across more lecherous than likeable. “Is there an opportunity for profit? I might be able to leverage my connections if I could, ah, take a piece…”
The female Ferengi let go of his ear and smiled warmly. “I work alone and this mission is more personal than profitable. But I can pay a finder’s fee if you can connect me with someone with a ship,” she added with a delicate jingle of her earrings.
Frem raised his hands to his face and pressed his wrists together in apology. “No payment necessary, let me refer you to my friend, Captain Luk.” Frem reached his hands under the bar, scrambled about for a bit, causing a lot of jangling and scraping noises and one quiet click, then pulled out a small isolinear data chip. “Go to the address indicated and tell him Frem sent you, he’ll give you a good deal.” Frem smiled obsequiously at the female as he handed the chip over to her. Her lobes blushed a deeper brown and he felt another tingle in his.
“Thank you so much.” she said, as she turned with a sweep of her silk scarves and began to slink out the door. She turned back in the doorway, silhouetted once more by the brighter streetlamps outside the bar, and bared her fangs flirtatiously at Frem once more. Then she was gone, and Frem whistled. “They sure don’t build them like they used to. But she sure did look familiar?”
“Did she?” said a flat, scratchy voice reminiscent of a rock grinding against slate. Frem looked over to the dark robed figure at the bar, whose face was still shrouded but was now looking straight at him.
There was something about this guy which made Frem nervous. Well, even more nervous than Romulans usually do. If they were even Romulan. “I thought I knew her from a pleasure house I went to once. You don’t forget lobes like that.”
“Hmm. I wasn’t aware Ferengi liked pointed ears.” The figure stood up, and Frem, who was well trained from years as a bartender to spot weaponry on his customers for the sake of his own hide, caught a glimpse of the sword hanging at the hip of the presumed Romulan.
“I mean, nothing against pointed ears, of course, but hers were like the arches on the gates of the Divine Treasury…”
The Romulan slammed three slips of latinum on the bar, then in one smooth motion reached past Frem’s face and grabbed a bottle from the shelf behind him. Frem heard an odd buzzing coming from the Romulans robed chest as it moved close to his face, and smelled a distinct metallic tang in the air that blew past him in the movement. “I’m taking this,” the Romulan stated as he walked out of the bar with a full bottle of Romulan ale. Frem scrambled to calculate whether the three slips would cover the cost, but before he could gather his wits the Romulan was gone.
The Romulan tried to make sure to stay far enough back so that whenever they sensed the Ferengi was about to look around, they could easily blend into the crowd or duck into a hallway to avoid detection. This was not as easy a task as you might expect, as the Levinius V Transport Hub was a quiet place with an almost abandoned feel, so any given stretch of hallway usually had relatively few loiterers in which to blend. Levinius V was not a habitable planet, but some automated mining on the surface provided the resources necessary to maintain a transport hub, so a small community had grown on the station to service those passing by. It had once belonged the the Klingons, way back when, before it was abandoned by them and claimed by the Federation, who in turn abandoned it and it was now claimed by the Romulan Free State, although whether anyone actually recognized the Romulan Free State as an actual nation or not was a developing situation. Regardless, little had changed on the station as its various claimants changed, aside from its getting less and less busy over time as fewer and fewer people found reason to travel to this backwater end of the galaxy, so the Romulan found themselves falling further and further behind in an effort to avoid detection as they stalked the Ferengi.
Eventually the Ferengi made her way towards Spacedock 27 on the far opposite end of the space station from Ferengi’s bar, and stopped in the middle of a passageway. The Romulan could see someone had stepped out into the hall to block her from an intersecting passageway. Whoever it was was tall and dark haired. In turn the Romulan ducked down a side passage and concealed themselves in the shadows to observe.
“Are you the one I was set to meet? Frem sent me?” she said, the Ferengi’s lilting voice peaking just above the humming of the ventilation fans in the Romulan’s keen hearing.
“Me? Oh, no, you are supposed to meet my friends.” The Romulan could hear the rough clicking of Nausicaan, and knew that Frem had chosen to rob the woman. Three more Nausicaans lurched out of the shadows beyond the one who had already blocked the Ferengi’s way, and two more came out of another intersecting hallway standing between where the Romulan crouched and the Ferengi’s back. She’s in trouble, the Romulan thought, and placed their hand on the hilt of their tan qalanq as they swiftly moved to close the distance to the Nausicaans.
The Ferengi approached the lead Nausicaan slowly, holding out her hand and clicking her earrings musically. “Come now, there is no need for this. I don’t even have anything of value…”
“I don’t listen to you. I capture you.” The Nausicaan grunted once more, and the five others began to close ranks around her to prevent escape.
The Romulan rushed forward and shouted, “Friends, I am a nun of the Qowat Milat. This woman is under my protection. The path you are on has come to an end. Please, my friends, choose to live.” She held out one hand in front of her chest, then turned it to the side like the cover of a book opening.
None of the Nausicaans had thought to draw weapons on the unarmed Ferengi woman, but when they turned towards the shrouded figure speaking Romulan, they all reached for their disruptors holstered at their hips. The nun shrugged, and with one sweeping motion drew her tan qalang and lunged between the two closest, slicing off the left hand drawing the disruptor of one while crippling the right leg of the other. Dodging a clumsy attempt to grapple her from a third Nausicaan to the left of the one clutching his hand screaming, she stabbed her sword upwards into the eye of a fourth, then wrenched it free from the Nausicaan’s thick skull, and plunged it into the tusked maw of the grappler as he continued to stumbled towards her.
The nun pulled her blade one handed out of the Nausicaan’s mouth with some effort, and then turned to see the final one on his knees with the Ferengi attached to him like some kind of parasite. Her legs were wrapped around his chest and her hands on his face, and he slowly fell to his knees gasping, his already pale skin losing its color and becoming thin and papery. The nun waited impassively as the Ferengi finished, using the time to clean her blade of the Nausicaan’s blue body fluids on the carpeted floor.
“You are not a Ferengi,” she commented once the not-Ferengi woman stood up from the now dead Nausicaan, whose face was covered in red circular welts from contact with the not-Ferengi’s hands. She had her hands up in front of her, her legs tensed as if ready to pounce. “I am not here to kill you, unless you make that choice yourself.”
“Why are you here, then?” she asked, her voice still litling and musical but not as syrupy sweet as it had been when she talked with the bartender.
“To hear your plea for aid. If your cause meets the requirements, I would be interested in binding myself to it as a qalankhkai.” The nun did a slight bow, then sheathed her sword. As she did so, part of her chest beneath the robes become exposed, showing carbon fiber tubing and metallic plates, bolts, and screws.
“You’re an xB?” The not-Ferengi asked.
The nun nodded, and she repeated the gesture she had done earlier to the Nausicaans, where she held one hand palm open in front of her, then turned it to the side like the cover of an opening book. “I am a nun of the Qowat Milat.”
“I don’t know what that is,” replied not-Ferengi. “What do you mean bind yourself to my cause? I don’t know that I have a cause.”
“You want to go to M-113, a planet set for its entire surface to be mechanically strip mined in a few days by order of the provisional Senate of the Romulan Free State. Very few if any ship captains would be willing to risk their ire to take you there, and even fewer would be willing to stay and wait for you to conduct your business until you returned with risk of detection by Romulan authorities. If you had a permit, you’d be able to arrange passage through official channels. Thus, I assume you desperately want to go there but for reasons you cannot communicate through official channels, or for reasons that were rejected through official channels. Am I correct?”
The not-Ferengi huffed and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t see how this is any of your business. Who are the Qowat Milat? What interest do you have in me?”
“We are an order of nuns who follow the Way of Absolute Candor. I have chosen to serve the order by traveling the cosmos seeking a cause that merits service by a qalankhkai. I believe yours does.”
“What would make my cause merit service? Are you seeking payment? I have some latinum, but not much, which was supposed to go to paying for passage, and I don’t expect to make any more. There is no profit to be had here.” The not-Ferengi narrowed her eyes shrewdly, trying to pierce the depths of the shadowed hood.
The nun raised her sword hand up and uncovered her face, exposing Romulan features marred by scars and metal. One eye was missing entirely, and half the skull was replaced by a spiky metal plate with attachment points for tubes and wires. The other eye still had the flinty glare of a Romulan, but her quiet voice belied the harshness of her gaze. “The only requirement is that your cause be a lost one. So why not explain it to me, and see if I can help you?” She extended her hand, and the not-Ferengi could now see the top of the nun’s chest was similarly covered in metallic plates, and her other sleeve was empty as if an entire arm had been removed.
“Fine. Is there somewhere we can go to discuss things privately?” The not-Ferengi asked as she gingerly took the nun’s hand.
“My ship should serve. Let’s go.”
The Romulan’s ship turned out to be a tiny Orion scout dubbed The Sigh of the Spring Blossom, intended for trailing larger ships undetected even at warp to gather information for pirate raids. A small two person cockpit in the front, barely enough living space for four people to sit crosslegged on the floor without touching knees, a single hammock strung on one side, and several storage compartments above stuffed with foodstuffs and alcohol, mostly Romulan ale.
“You don’t even have a replicator?” the not-Ferengi asked as she looked around for a clean surface to lean against, ultimately deciding to risk one of the corners opposite the hammock.
“I hate replicated food. Ever since I was assimilated, it just doesn’t taste like food anymore. I’ll eat it if I have to, but I prefer to fill what life I have left with joy instead of merely survival. If you need anything, though, help youtself.” The Romulan was sitting in the captain’s chair, spun around to face the cabin. “Now tell me your cause so I may judge its merit.”
The not-Ferengi looked at the prepackaged food haphazardly crammed into the storage compartments, then selected a bag of salted peanuts. “Well, as you suspected, I am not a Ferengi. I’m actually half human, if you would believe it. My father was an archaeologist who worked on M-113 a long time ago, studying the remains of an ancient civilization thought long since destroyed on that planet. My mother was the last surviving remnant of the indigenous peoples of that civilization. Decades ago, a Federation starship visited the planet, and my mother and father were both killed. The Federation took over the dig and for many years unearthed stored the artifacts of my people in their archaeological center and…” she paused, winced, and then spat the word, “tourist center on the planet for offworlders to gawk at. But since they abandoned this area of space and the Romulans have taken over, those centers will be destroyed and the last connection I have to my people with them. I just want to recover what I can.” The not-Ferengi ripped open the bag of peanuts and popped one in her mouth, sucking on it.
The nun narrowed her eyes and frowned. “How did you survive when your parents were both killed?”
The not-Ferengi shrugged. “My people have their ways. My father had told me to hide while the Federation was there, so once they killed my parents, I survived on what little stores of supplies were left until the Federation returned to set up their centers. Then it was a simple matter to sneak aboard one of their ships. I’ve been drifting ever since, living life as I found it, until I heard what is to be done to my home planet, and decided I have to do what I can before it is too late.”
The nun frowned again. “You are lying to me.”
“What do you mean? I am being honest. I’ve not told anyone any of this before, you are the first, and you call me a liar?” she bristled, her eyes flashing a strange hue of orange rather different than the dark brown they had been before. She angrily crunched through the nut in her mouth and then began sucking on another.
“Despite that truth you are lying.” The nun raised her hand to stop the not-Ferengi, who had pushed herself off of the wall to move to leave. “But I will not insist you be truthful yet, because I can sense an important truth behind your words. Your cause is meritorious, and I would bind myself to it, on one condition.”
“You still have not explained what it means to bind yourself to my cause.” The not-Ferengi relaxed back against the wall, and began sucking on another peanut dusted with salt crystals. “What is that condition?”
“You have seen my true face. I am Kana of the Qowat Milat. If you show me your true face, then I will trust that the rest of your truth will follow in time. Trust can only grow from trust.” The nun’s face remained impassive, her one eye probing, her lips closed in a tight line once she finished speaking. “As for what it means to bind myself to your cause, it means that I will devote the rest of my life to ensuring your cause succeeds, until either it does or I die.”
“That’s… pretty extreme.” The not-Ferengi paused for a bit, not meeting Kana’s cold gaze. “But, fine.” Although Kana had been looking straight at the not-Ferengi, she had the distinct impression that the woman had left the room and someone else entirely had entered suddenly without being noticed, rather than witnessing any sort of physical transformation. The new person was the same height as the Ferengi, but dressed plainly in the utilitarian, undyed clothes of faint tan often favored by scientists manning distant outposts like the one on M-113, in her case an unadorned shift dress. Their skin was a dark, muddy green, rough textured and deeply wrinkled, like the skin of the nakar melon. Little more than a bump for a nose with small, barely perceptible nostrils.Their eyes were deep set, but a bright, sparkling orange when not in the shadow of their overhanging brow. Long, thick hair of a silvery blue cascaded down their scalp, framing their face like a lion’s main. Their mouth was thick-lipped and full of razor sharp teeth not wholly dissimilar from that of the not-Ferengi who just left. “I’m Alice Crater.”
The Romulan pressed her hands together once more and then opened them like a book. “Well met, Alice. So where must we go to save these artifacts?”
Alice pushed her hair back behind her ears, exposing them for the first time. Small, close to her skull, lightly pointed. “There are artifacts all over both the archaeological center and the tourist center. The biggest ones, like statues, fragments of monumental architecture, murals and the like, are all housed in the tourist center on display, but there are thousands of smaller pieces in storage in the archaeological center.” She paused and chewed absently on one of her fingers, which were long, thick, and covered in small suckers, again avoiding Kana’s incisive grey eye. "The archaeological center has what I want, if any place does.”
Kana nodded. “Any idea what security is like?”
Alice shook her head. “I was planning on winging it. I can appear as anyone that someone desires, plucked instinctively from their memory, or anyone I’ve seen. I really just need passage.”
“I assume the artifacts can do the same, and that is why you think you will be able to sneak them past Romulan guards armed with disruptors.” Kana said, her voice flat as ever.
Alice looked up, meeting Kana’s gaze nervously, and scoffed. “I am sure I can figure something out, I don’t need your help or your sarcasm, I just need a ride.”
Kana shook her head. “I don’t do sarcasm. Nuns of the Qowat Milat practice Absolute Candor, meaning we strive to say what is on our minds as clearly as possible at all times. We believe only by doing so can we truly understand one another. But if these artifacts cannot conceal themselves as you can, we will need a better plan.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Do you have a better plan, then, Miss Honesty?”
Kana closed her one eye and grunted. “We tell the truth.”
M-113 proved to be a dry dustbowl of a planet, all blistering winds, withered succulents, and ancient ruins. An ancient Romulan warbird hung in orbit, and on the planet some giant mining equipment reminiscent of a great monstrous, metallic dragon stood motionless, ready to churn through the soil and extract every particle of useful chemicals for synthesis into materials to rebuild the Romulan Star Empire, but in terms of actual Romulans, it was nearly deserted. As they approached the archaeological center, Alice could see only two Romulans holding disruptor pistols at the door, a scattering of others climbing the mining equipment readying it for processing, and two more guarding the tourism center across the plaza.
“You know they demolished my childhood home to build that tourism center.” Alice whispered to Kana as they walked towards the archaeological center.
Kana continued to walk forward steadily, betraying no emotion.
“The archaeological center is new too, Starfleet built it to continue my father’s work after they murdered him, but they kept my house, at first. But once they finished cataloguing everything, they needed someplace to show it off to tourists, so they built that.” She spat again, leaving a small red brown splotch in the dust.
“It doesn’t look new.” Kana commented, while adjusting her sword for easy access.
“Well, new to me. I’m older than I look.” Alice giggled. To Kana, depending on the angle, she looked either the same as she did on the ship, glittering orange eyes and an angry grimace, or like a kindly older Romulan woman in the robes of the Qowat Milat, her own mentor Zani.
As they approached within speaking distance, the two Romulan guards raised their disruptor pistols. “What is your business here? This is property of the Romulan Free State and entry is prohibited.”
Kana, her face shrouded on her robe, raised her hand in front of her chest and turned it to the side. “Greetings, friends. We are here on a mission of preservation. There are artifacts here of great value, but resources are limited to our people. Thus I as a member of the Qowat Milat have made it my duty to do what I can to save these artifacts.”
“I’ve heard of you witches. That’s not the proper greeting, though. You’re supposed to use both hands, like this.” The Romulan slung his disruptor over his shoulder, then pressed his palms together and opened them like a book. He squinted. “I think you are lying.”
“I cannot lie. That is my mission. And if you have heard of our order, you know better than to get in my way.” Kana remained motionless and impassive.
“If you are Qowat Milat, then do the greeting properly.” The Romulan, large shouldered and brassy, tossed his disruptor to his friend, who kept them trained on the two apparent nuns, and then took several steps forward and repeated the palm pressing gesture with a sneer on his face, leaning into Kana’s personal space as he did so, leering at her.
Alice took a step back, but Kana stood her ground, and repeated her gesture with one hand. The big Romulan made a harsh, cruel laugh, and said, “I knew it.” then shoved her to the ground. Her robe tore, exposing her one eye and her entire torso, black and metallic and alien, with one pale, grey shoulder leading to a well muscle, humanoid arm, and the other ending in a damaged socket joint and no limb. “Wait, what are you… a Borg?” he pulled back disgusted from her, looking down at her in the dust with a look of revulsion.
The other Romulan look on impassively. “She’s an xB. I heard a Tal Shiar ship got assimilated once awhile back, and it drove the Borg so crazy they had to cut the entire cube off from the hive. Just proves Romulan superiority.” He sniffed. “But this thing isn’t Romulan anymore, and it isn’t a nun of the Qowat Milat. Leave before we destroy you.”
Alice chucked nervously. “Guys, calm down, this is a misunderstanding, okay, we’re really here for…”
Kana interrupted. “The path you are on has come to an end. My friends, choose to live.” She slowly rose to her feet and looked at the two Romulans coldly.
“Don’t think you can scare us with that no…” The big Romulan choked on the last word as his throat exploded in a burst of blood, it having been sliced open by a quick slash of Kana’s tan qalang. The other Romulan went to fire his disruptors, but Kana had used the momentum from the first slash to roll under his guard and slice the two disruptors off at the barrel. As he scrambled at his waist for the smaller energy weapon concealed there, the blade once more erupted from his chest as Kana stood up behind him without looking at him, having plunged it behind her as part of her rising motion. She yanked it free, somewhat less gracefully than her killing blow had been, and wiped it clean on his uniform.
“So that was your plan?” Alice asked incredulously.
“It worked.” Kana noted.
“What do you mean it worked? You killed them!” Alice said, gesticulating wildly at the bodies.
“I told them the truth, and I gave them a choice. They chose poorly. That is life.” Kana stepped to the door and eyed the keypad beside it. “Do you know how to open this?”
Alice shook her head, and then quickly pressed a few buttons on the keypad resulting in a faint click and the doors opening with a wooshing noise. “Looks like they haven’t changed the codes since Starfleet days. I suppose it makes sense, the Romulans don’t care one slip of latinum about any of this, only the minerals they can extract from here.”
“We all care only for those we care about.” Kana said cryptically.
“That’s a bunch of self-evident nonsense.” Alice snorted as she stepped through the doors. “We need to find the archives quickly, as who knows when the Romulans will notice you killed two of their guards.”
Kana shrugged. “You are right, it is self-evident nonsense, but it is also the truth. Have you been to the archives before?”
Alice looked around. The archaeological center was a functional building meant for scientists and scholars, but it was built by Starfleet, so it had a cozy, lived in feeling not unlike the waiting room at a child’s doctor. Several desks strewn with small sonic emitters, tricorders, and even some paintbrushes and small metallic scraping tools hugged the walls with comfortable chairs nearby, all coated in a thick layer of dust the same color as the ground outside. Aside from the front entrance, there were two doors, one on the side wall, and one on the far wall with a small monitor featuring a digital keypad.
“The archives should be through there, where they store all the artifacts being studied that aren’t on display at the tourist center. Let’s hope they haven’t changed the code.” Alice pressed her thick, besuckered fingers on the numbers carefully to avoid mashing multiple numbers, and after a hum and some buzzing, the door wooshed open, revealing a large turbolift with a second door on the opposite side. An LCARS display on the wall indicated different floors and what was stored on each of them.
Alice chewed on her finger thoughtfully as she muttered under her breath. “Ceramics, no. Statuary, no. Mosaics, no. Fine Metalwork, no. Metallic Technology, maybe? Plasticware… that could be it too, I don’t know…” Alice scrolled the display up and down a few times and grunted in frustration.
“Maybe I could help?” Kana asked, standing patiently to the side. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“That’s the problem, I’m not sure. My mother told me stories, but she didn’t understand the technology behind it so I’m not sure where they’d be.” Alice continued to gnaw her finger indecisively.
“I have an idea.” Kana’s face remained impassive, but her normally hard eyes twinkled. “Computer?”
“Yes?” answered a neutral female voice coming from slightly behind the LCARS display. Kana winked her remaining eye at Alice.
Alice rolled her eyes and snorted. “Computer, on what floor would cryogenic tubes be stored?” Alice asked.
“This facility does not have any cryogenic tubes. Could you be referring to the metaphasic basinets?” the computer asked in a tone conspicuously absent any hint of condescension.
“What the fuck is a metaphasic bassinet?” replied Alice.
“A metaphasic bassinet is the label Outpost Director Rober Crater applied to certain devices discovered on planet M-113 which utilized a metaphasic technology of unknown mechanism which caused any organic life contained within to be out of phase with the rest of existence, causing a state not unlike in function but distinct in effect from conventional cryogenic preservation technology utilized by primitive human space explorers,” recited the computer.
“I didn’t get most of that, but I did hear the word cryogenic. I think that’s what we are looking for.” Alice said.
Kana nodded. “Computer, where are the metaphasic bassinets stored?”
“The metaphasic bassinets are stored on Floor 17, Metaphasic Technology, in Stack 12.”
Alice smiled. “Computer, take us to Floor 17.”
The turbolift reopened after several minutes into a cavernous room that nevertheless managed to feel cramped and claustrophobic, filled as it was from floor to ceiling and wall to wall with four layers of plasteel shelving units. The shells were jammed right up next to one another, with only the barest seem from one to the next, with the sole exception of a broad hallway immediately in front of Alice and Kana, stretching from the doors of the turbolift hundreds of feet to the far wall. Another LCARS display adorned the wall next to the turbolift, displaying various stack numbers and descriptions of what each contained. The two shelving units on either side of the hallway contained devices made from a strange, dark green material with a metallic shine, with many tubes running in and out of them, some of which were pumping fluids of various colors, others seeming to have run dry. One was number 74, the other 75.
Alice looked blankly. “So… how does this work? Where is stack 12?”
Kana looked around a bit. “Probably over there somewhere.” gesturing vaguely at the side of the room closer to the 74 shelf. “I would guess the display controls this, although I’m not very familiar with Federation technology.”
Alice turned to the LCARS display, which was filled with numbers. “I think you’re right.” After some searching, she carefully selected 12. Suddenly there was another great humming, followed shortly by a low consistent clatter reminiscent of insects chittering made by hundreds of plasteel shelves jostling one another while being moved along rails. The shelves began shifting to the right, the numbers on them counting down from 74 until finally the gap was open between shelves 12 and 13, newly accessible in front of them.
“Shall we?” Kana asked, gesturing down the newly formed hallway.
Alice walked past Kana’s outstretched arm between the shelves, looking carefully at the objects on shelf 12. Various objects similar in appearance to those on shelf 74 were here, although these were notably large. As she passed each one Alice inspected them carefully, then with a disappointed grunt moved on, until about halfway down the hall she stopped.
Eight objects of the same design sat on the shelf. They were roughly egg shaped, but with tubes looping around the bottom half acting as legs propping it up and giving stability. The eggs, also made from the same metallic green material, were approximately the size of a large watermelon. The first two looked crushed, dusty, and clearly inoperable, whereas the next two look like something with massive claws or blades had gouged holes in the eggs and extracted whatever was inside - crusty stains of dried pale blue liquid indicated something had dripped out of the egg after being sliced open. The next three, the eggs were all neatly cloven in half, the top of the egg shell hanging open on an invisible hinge, revealing on the inside a soft molded foam of sorts. The last one was closed, and still operable, its tubes pumping liquids of various colors in and out of the egg.
“That’s what we’re here for?” Kana asked.
“Yes,” said Alice sadly. “I thought there’d be more, though. I wonder how you open them?” She leaned in to inspect the egg more closely, but after some muttering placed her hand on it speculatively. A soft hiss escaped as the seam of the egg became visible, and it cracked open, revealing another molded foam interior.
Kana leaned over Alice to get a look inside. Nestled in the foam was a small baby with copper toned skin, pointed ears, and sharp eyebrows. It cooed and gave her an enigmatic smile. Kana raised her one remaining eyebrow. “Do you see a Romulan baby?”
“No. I see a baby… me. Her skin is turquoise, and her hair has more green tones in it than blue like mine,” she reached up and touched her pale, silvery blue strands that hung limply from her dark green scalp like spiderwebs. Kana could see through the illusion now, just as she could once she knew Alice’s true form. The baby lacked nostrils, unlike Alice, her mouth was a bit rounder with fewer fangs, with fewer, even larger fingers still covered in tiny suction cups, but it still was looking up at Alice and Kana with the same expression it had as a Romulan, one of unconditional love.
“My mother was a salt vampire. That’s what people called her, anyway. The official Federation designation is “M-113 Creature”, but when Kirk told stories to the students during his visits at Starfleet Academy, he called her a salt vampire and the name stuck. My father was an outpost scientist, studying the culture here, and discovered her wandering the ruins, half mad with starvation. Our species needs a lot of salt, you see, to power our psychic ability to project appealing images of ourselves into the minds of others. It's an instinctive ability, difficult for us to shut off, we do it without thinking most of the time, but the glands consume an enormous amount of salt, and as our population increases we eventually ran out of easily accessible sources of it on our planet. At least, that’s what my father speculated. In any case, he found her, and brought her back to his lab to study.” Alice paused for a bit, staring at the child, who was waving its little arms at her asking to be picked up.
“When we are low on salt, we cannot think straight. It's much the same for any sentient species who is starving. My mother broke free of her restraints in his lab, and drained his wife of her salt. My parents didn’t like to talk about what happened after that, but I gathered she tried to hide the murder and become his wife, but he eventually saw through her disguise, but by then had been living with her as his wife for months. She had become pregnant with his child, a miracle, half salt vampire, half human, me, and he couldn’t bear to kill her then - and found that he loved her. So they kept living together, and I was born.” The baby began fussing, still waving its arms to be picked up, its cries strangely resonant but unmistakably that of an upset child wanting its mother. Kana laid her hand on Alice, and gently pushed her to the side, then carefully scooped the child up one handed and cradled it against her robes covering her metallic chest plate, soothing it with some low coos of her own.
“Anyway, my father found one of those…” she gestured at the eggs, “Metaphasic bassinets or whatever they are called, damaged, and he was pretty sure it had once contained a baby. He wanted to find more, but it was only he and my mother here, and he could not risk anyone else living on the planet with them - she was still prone to bouts of insane hunger when low on salt, and it was difficult to keep supplies up as it was without explanation of why they needed so much salt, it would have been impossible if others were on the planet. So he never found another. But then he and my mom were killed and the Federation took over the dig, and they made far more progress, eventually building the archaeological center to store their finds and the tourist center to display them. I escaped offworld and lived as an orphan child on various non-Federation worlds - it's amazing how easy it is to get salt on other planets! My people never had to die out, if we had only invented space travel… or if Kirk had not killed my mother.” Alice paused again, and looked at Kana, who was bouncing the baby up and down against her chest, making it giggle. “But when I found out the Romulans were going to strip mine it, I knew I had to make sure there weren’t any more babies here to save.”
Kana nodded. “It was the right thing to do. But come, we should leave before the dead guards are discovered. It looks like we might be looking for three to seven other children?”
Alice looked at the other eggs. “What do you mean? This is the only one left.”
Kana smiled. “I bound myself to the lost cause of saving your people. Three of these pods are opened and undamaged, so presumably the children were removed. Two were cut open, those children might be dead, but could be alive.” Kana bent down, holding the baby's head with her hand while cradling its body to get a better look at the last two. “These two were crushed, probably before they were excavated. I’d check for bones but we don’t have the time, so it’s probably three to five, but we can still have hope.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “I don’t… I didn’t think… what are you even talking about?”
“Let’s discuss it later. It's time to leave.” Kana began walking swiftly to the turbolift, carrying the baby with her. “We’re probably gonna need to stock up on salt at Levinius V as well,” she added, speaking to the baby.
Alice looked after her, mystified, but once Kana was halfway to the lift, shook her head and caught up.
Leaving the planet proved not as difficult as they feared. The Romulans were preoccupied with mining preparations and nobody had checked on the guards at the archaeological center in the hour or so it had taken them so enter, find the child, and leave, so they were back on The Sigh of the Spring Blossom flying back to Levinius V at a cozy Warp 2 before anyone was the wiser. Kana had handed the baby off to Alice when they boarded the ship, since she needed her hand for the controls, but once at warp pulled out some tanned leather hides from the overstuffed storage and began cutting them into strips.
“What are you doing?” Alice asked as she held the baby somewhat awkwardly, who had fallen to sleep against her chest and was drooling a prominent stain onto her plain shift dress.
“Fashioning a leather thong to carry the child more easily. I need to keep my hand free, and most babies like the feeling of being pressed close against a large, warmer body.” She looked down thoughtfully. “We’ll see how well my chest works for that,” and then banged on it, laughing and producing a loud clang which caused the baby to whimper a bit in its sleep.
“Couldn’t you replicate that? Oh, I forgot this ship doesn’t have a replicator.” Alice looked down at the baby snoozing wetly against her. “Can we talk about what you were saying before though? I just wanted to get in and make sure there weren’t any children left behind, I hadn’t planned on making it a whole campaign, or raising a child, let alone three to seven!”
Kana shrugged, “You do not need to. I bound myself to this cause. You did not. I will raise the child, and seek the others, whether you wish to join me or not and whether you wish me to or not. It is a worthy cause, and one even now with a vanishingly small chance of success, which is exactly what a nun of the Qowat Milat looks for in a cause. I am grateful for the chance to have a purpose.”
Alice shook her head. “I don’t understand you.”
Kana smiled. “That is why we follow the Way of Absolute Candor. We believe it is the only way sentient beings can truly understand one another. But it can be difficult to understand someone who is honest and forthright when one is so used to others employing deception, in abusing and exploiting and ignoring you and your needs. But there is no need for you to understand or to follow my path if you do not wish, I will take responsibility for the child, although given you are half the same kind as it and I am not, your help in understanding the care it requires would be welcome and increase the chances my cause succeeds.” Kana stopped cutting the leather strips, crossed the small cabin of the cramped ship to where Alice sat with the baby, and crouched down to inspect it. “Can you tell if it is a boy or girl? Does your kind make such distinctions?”
Alice chuckled a bit. “I am a bit of an exception, since I am half human, but my mother, she came to think of herself as female, but only after living as Nancy Crater for so long. We don’t know much about our culture, only what my father managed to guess, but biologically it seems like they were probably sexless, based on scans my father took of my mother.”
Kana nodded. “Well, they’ll need a name, regardless. Would you like to do the honors?”
Alice smiled. “How about… Nan. After my mother. If you don’t mind, I think I will stick with you, at least until you get settled into their care. I wouldn’t want them to not make it just because you’ve never cared for a baby salt vampire before.” She laughed softly and bounced the sleeping baby a little. “They sure are cute.”
“Well, let’s start making a list. We’ll need a lot of salt, for sure, and a cradle of some kind… it’s sure gonna be cramped in here. Will they need other food as well?” Kana pulled out a pad from her robe and began noting things down, and Alice just smiled.
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