[background humming and whirring of shuttlecraft systems]
Zaijel: Expedition Lead Zaijel beginning audio logging of the recovery and investigation of what is being tentatively referred to as Tal Shiar Complex Number 79. At present, there are only fragmentary records available on this complex, which was abandoned during the chaos following the destruction of Romulus and Remus. Forensic Archivist and Data Recovery Specialist Bihisa can provide further information.
Bihisa:  Just Bihisa is fine, Zai. This’ll probably all get polished when we write the report anyway. That said, yes, I have more information. While much of the Tal Shiar’s logistical and administrative system and chain of command were destroyed during the Hobus event, and much of what’s left is being used by Hakeev and his goons, the Republic has obtained some fragments of data from local servers at other Tal Shiar bases that fell into our hands. While combing through the recovered info, we saw that this location got mentioned multiple times. And, well, at that point you have to wonder what’s hiding here, since there’s not really anything much to go off of other than that it exists.
Zaijel: Thank you, Specialist Bihiza. Initial surveying work was undertaken by the RRW Irese. However, despite this being a Class M planet, electromagnetic interference led to an incomplete and imprecise scan. As such, this research team has been organised in order to survey the location in person. Current objective is to locate the computer core and transfer any surviving data to our ship. However, we cannot ignore the potential risks involved. 
Natheema: What risks? It will be run-down and dilapidated, but that won’t pose a problem. Not when I can bypass and repair any potential issues.
Lillena: You say that, but there could be booby traps, not to mention possibly unfixable issues. Beyond which, this place has been abandoned for who knows how long, there could be structural collapse on the lower levels if we’re not very careful. And, frankly, I don’t want to be patching any of you up unless it’s really necessary.
Natheema: The original survey showed a sound structure. All we have to worry about is that all of us can do our jobs properly, Lillena.
Jorail: Strictly speaking, no it didn’t. It showed that the base is largely intact, which isn’t the same thing. I’m sure that you can repair most damage, but we’ll definitely want to be careful, especially to avoid accidentally destroying evidence. And we certainly wouldn’t want that to happen.
Zaijel: Alright, that’s enough, all of you. We will be cautious, but there’s no reason to worry unnecessarily over the unknown. 30 minutes to landing, make sure that all your equipment and rations are stowed in your bags. We may be here for some time in order to fully map everything out–
Lillena: Oh, wonderful. 
Zaijel: As I was saying, we may be here for some time in order to fully map everything, but since there is no reason to believe that communications with the Incepteris will be interrupted, if necessary, we will be able to request additional tools and supplies. Further logs will be made as we arrive at the complex and begin our work. 



[Sputtering whines and whirrs from the base power systems]
Zaijel: Expedition Lead Zaijel beginning audio log update. It has been one hour since we made planetfall. Initial progress on the base has been promising, power has been partially restored to the upper levels. Additionally, we have gained limited access to some of the computer systems. 
Bihisa: Wellll, saying that is kinda optimistic, Zai. We can get to the systems on this level, not really anything else. The data system structure in this base is deeply odd, it’s far more distributed than basically anything I’ve seen before. Still, even the systems accessible from here have had some fascinating information. From what I can tell, these systems were mostly used to process the logistics, along with inbound and outbound landings at the site. Of course, I’m sure we could get more information if Natheema could get the connections with the rest of the on-site network going. 
Natheema: Yes, thank you, Bihisa. As it turns out, though, when the connections are physically severed in places where I simply cannot reach yet, even my skills can’t repair them. 
Zaijel: Enough. Specialist Bihisa, you will have plenty of opportunity to study the rest of the network as we advance through the lower levels of the base. And Natheema, you will fix breaks in the network connection if we find them. To continue the report, Bihisa, please explain the new information recovered on accessible systems for the record.
Bihisa: Of course! As I said earlier, this node seems to have been mainly used for logistics management and flight control of inbound and outbound landings. The last entries seem to date to 2391 , which proves the initial assumption correct that this complex was abandoned in the chaos of the Hobus event. That said, what’s far more interesting is just how old this complex seems to be. I thought that it was at most a few decades old from what you’d said, but there are logs going back centuries! There’s every chance that there’s far more data to be recovered further in. 
Jorail: Maybe so, but if the structure is as old as those logs seem to say, then we’ll have to be more careful about how we make our way than we thought. It probably goes without saying, but a centuries-old structure is a lot more likely to have some significant amounts of wear and decay. We should be able to find detours, though. From the recovered maps, it seems as though the lower levels especially are significantly larger than initial scans indicated, likely due to the sensor interference. 
Verren: The lowest levels are also probably newer, dug as needed. It’s the upper underground levels that might be issues.
Jorail: A very fair point, and one I was getting to, yes. There do, however, seem to be multiple ways down, and different routes to take, even on the most vulnerable levels. It’s all almost a maze, so we’ll need to make sure we stay together. 
Zaijel: Thank you for the analysis, both of you. As stated, we will not divert and split apart for any reasons. And we will contact the ship if further equipment proves necessary due to blockages and cave-ins. For the time being, though, we can assume that our present equipment and plan is adequate. Further updates to the log will be made as we explore further. 


[quiet hissing along with repeated, pained whirring and the occasional sound of impacts]
Zaijel: Expedition Lead Zaijel beginning supplemental audio log. It has been multiple hours since the last recorded log. As can likely be heard in the background, we are presently attempting to gain access to a vertical conduit that should allow us access to the level directly below us. For unknown reasons, the map seems to already be less reliable than on higher levels. It seems likely that we will have to proactively map where we are rather than relying on–
[Loud clunk followed by a pneumatic hiss]
Natheema: Alright, conduit’s open now. Looking inside, there seems to be plenty of space for us to climb down one at a time. 
Lillena: And you’re sure that it can actually be safely climbed down? We already had a close call with the turbolift shaft, don’t forget. 
[The sounds of a tricorder conducting detailed scans follows for several moments]
Jorail: Looks like everything should be safe enough to hold the weight of any of us. We’ll need to be careful, though, and we might want to get some rappelling equipment. Zaijel, can you please contact your ship to get some sent down? 
[Repeated combadge activation attempts]
Zaijel: Looks like comms are down. Specialist Bihisa, is there any sign at all that you might have tripped something while recovering data? Set up a jamming field by accident or something like that?
Bihisa: No, of course not! If that’d happened, I would’ve noticed and stopped it. And if I couldn’t, we’d still be at the computer until I figured it out. It’s probably just the same sort of EM interference that caused problems for whatever ship first did the scans, nothing major to worry about. I’d be more worried about the structure. I know Jorail has said that it seems sound, but some of the noises from the supports have me nervous.
Zaijel: If you say so. And if you come up with any explanation for how a jamming field could start up on its own, you will let me know. That is an order, specialist. In that case, though, do we continue or do we abort mission? I do not believe that there’s a reason to cut things off right now, ample supplies remain available. That said, if anybody has objections, you may lodge them at this point.
Lillena: I’m sorry, but going further in, when we don’t even know what to expect, without the ability to call up backup? This is a terrible idea that is going to fail badly, and I want that on the record.
Zaijel: Objection has been noted and logged. Jorail, Natheema, start setting up descent gear. One way or another, we’ll make our objective. If the handful of systems that Specialist Bihisa has restored are any indication, there is a significant amount of potentially valuable information to be gained. 
Lillena: Yes, it may be useful, but the risks–
Zaijel: The risks will be dealt with. Our map, while imperfect, still provides a usable general layout. The power systems, while in bad shape, are stable for what we need. We will continue. End recording.




[staticky whines, along with hisses of leaking pipes and the hum of fans]
Zaijel: Expedition Lead Zaijel, commencing audio log recording. We have been continuing our exploration of the facility. The deterioration previously observed above seems to only have worsened the further down we go, and what computer systems we have found are of types considered obsolete even at the time that this facility was abandoned. 
Bihisa: Oh yes, those were a fascinating discovery! I don’t believe that there were records before this of the Tal Shiar using a tritronic system, this seems to have been an experiment, which, going by what data could be recovered, looks like it was unsuccessful. It is a pity that there wasn’t any connection to the rest of the facility, though. Just the physical adapters needed for integration into a modern isolinear/optronic system would be impressive enough to be worth a couple research papers. 
Verrem: Weren’t there some rogue multitronic systems that Starfleet had to destroy? Might be best that that system was isolated.
Bihisa: Well, yes, that did happen, but those had far more autonomy and points of failure involved. These systems were very heavily limited in scope, only really useful for speeding up data processing rather than anything as advanced as those failed experiments.
Lillena: Did you see those support beams, though? We’re lucky the damn room didn’t collapse on us, right, Joraill?
Joraill: It wasn’t luck, they just weren’t quite that dilapidated yet. I’d give them maybe a handful of years before collapse, though, hopefully–
Natheema: Could you all shut up for a moment? This door mechanism is being a real fuc–
[Explosion]
Natheema: Oh god, help! Lillena, somebody, anybody!
Lillena: Okay, hold still, Jorail get my–
Joraill: It’s here! Everyone else, get away from the–
Zaijel: What the hell was that explosion? Verren, check the—
Verren: Hell no, not when it’s just–
Natheema: Fuck, my hand, it’s just gone.
Lillena: Stay still, I’ll stop the bleeding. We need to–
Zaijel: Let me past, I need to see the door. We need–
Lillena: We need to fucking leave this place, now!
Zaijel: We need to see if we can continue, if this was a booby-trap or failure, how safe things are. The size of the blast seems almost like one of my detonators could've done it, and those are a standard yield. 
[A tricorder whirrs momentarily, along with the noises of medical equipment]
Lillena: Alright, I’ve done what I can. You’re not going to die, and when we get back to the ship, we can replace or regrow your fingers as needed. The sooner we get back, the better, though. 
Natheema: Fuck, I can’t feel anything. I need to get back–
Zaijel: Can you still walk?
Lillena: If you’re asking what I think you are, you can forget it. He’s still heavily injured, and needs to get back to the ship. 
Zaijel: Be that as it may, he is the only one who knows enough about the mechanical systems here to be able to get us through, even if it means talking one of the rest of us through it. 
Lillena: No. Absolutely not. As the closest thing to a qualified doctor here, you can not make somebody this injured–
Natheema: You need me?
Zaijel: You’re the only one who knows enough to be able to get us to where we need to be. 
Lillena: Oh, that’s a low tactic. Natheema, you don’t have to–
Natheema: I’ll do it. Need to prove my skill again, don’t I?
Zaijel: You heard him, Lillena. I want him in a state to walk and help in an hour. We’ll start moving then.




[Creaking groans and intermittent pneumatic hissing noises]
Zaijel: Expedition Lead Zaijel. It has been 3 hours since the previous log, and progress has been slow. As such, I have decided to begin recording this update while we continue to traverse this level of the facility. Records and maps have the wing we are attempting to reach at present marked as ‘processing’. From what Specialist Bihisa could determine, the systems here were almost as heavily interconnected with everything else as the main data systems, indicating some level of priority given to this above everything else. Is that a reasonable analysis? 
Bihisa: Yes, so far as I've been able to determine, every node that we encountered other than the tritronic experiment seems to consistently have connections to the central systems and the processing wing. Sadly, what those connections were for isn't clear, as a lot of the data has degraded. Still, it seems to have been one of the primary aims of the facility. 
Zaijel: Thank you, Specialist. Given all that, it is possible that a direct connection to the central systems may be intact and existent in Processing, in which case, we may be able to return to the ship sooner than thought. 
Lillena: For your sake, and for Natheema’s sake, I hope so. My objections to his continued presence on the expedition, he shouldn't even be standing right now, let alone providing support to anyone. If his hand is irrecoverable, it is you who will be responsible. 
Natheema: Please stop, Lillena. They need me, need my skills. I can manage, I will manage. 
Lillena: No, you can't. It is taking a great deal of effort just to keep you awake and active without passing out from the pain. You need to leave, and if the team can't somehow manage with Veren, then we should all leave. Besides–
[A loud, spluttering hissing noise drowns out everything else on the recording for several seconds before reducing in volume somewhat] 
Zaijel: We've got a plasma conduit leak! Joraill, can you seal it off? 
Joraill: Not a chance! The outflow is far too rapid, the breaks too big. Even if I could get close enough, I don't have the tools or materials to deal with it.
[Zaijel’s combadge activates] 
Lillena: Natheema got a blast of the plasma just as the conduit burst, Zaijel! He can't stand without support, and needs urgent care on the ship. We'll take the shuttle and bring relief as soon as possible! 
Zaijel: Understood. We will continue our mission in the meantime. 
[No voices detected for several minutes.]
Bihisa: Well, fuck. On the bright side, at least things can't get that much worse, and there's still the chance that things will be over soon. 
Zaijel: Verren. Do you feel that you are capable of overriding the door systems in this section? 
Verren: I can't promise anything, but from what I've seen, it should be possible. 
Zaijel: Excellent. Bihisa, check the map. I want to see exactly how far away we are from the processing wing, and what routes there are to return to the landing pads. Meanwhile, Joraill, I want your honest assessment. Do you think the plasma conduit failure was natural?
Joraill: It was definitely an odd failure. Despite the generally run-down nature of this facility, the plasma conduits seemed in reasonably good shape. It could very well have been natural, though, it's hard to tell just looking from the outside, and Natheema had most of the tools. Why do you ask?
Zaijel: Just wondering. It seems like too good a coincidence, splits our team up, makes us easier targets to take down. Still, you're probably right. It'd be impossible to set something like that up. Bihisa, any update on the maps? 
Bihisa: Looks like, short of fixing that leak or cutting a home someplace, we're not getting back up to the surface any time soon. That said, it's only 20 meters to the entrance to Processing.
Zaijel: Understood, thank you. In that case, let's go. We'll figure out a return route once our primary objective has been obtained. Until then, eyes on the prize. 
Bihisa: Understood. Entrance to this wing should be the next door on the right. Looks like it's open, even. 
Zaijel: Well, time to see what exactly is so important to this facili– oh fuck. 
Bihisa: Zaijel? What's going on? Are you alright? What's in– oh shit. 
Zaijel: Fuck, I can't go back, not again! I'll die before I go back in there! 
Bihisa: Zaijel, breathe. You're safe. There's nobody in there. It's just an abandoned room. Just, breathe, and stay with me. 
[quiet sobbing, but otherwise silence]
Zaijel: Shit. I'm okay. I'm okay. Let's keep going. 
Joraill: Are you sure? That seemed, ah, intense. There's no shame in taking a–
Zaijel: I'm sure. We need to get this all done. My… History, with such treatment is something that I'll have to get over. I suppose that does explain what processing was, though. 
Bihisa: Well, if you're certain. While you were recovering, I got Verren to try and scout out where the computer systems would be. Most likely they're a level down, still in this wing. Here, let me–
Zaijel: I can stand on my own. That said, thank you. Let's start heading towards the computers, then. 




[background hissing and whirring, with muffled noises of a tricorder interspersed throughout] 
Zaijel: Expedition Lead Zaijel, beginning recording now. This log will likely not include commentary from the others on this expedition, as I asked them for privacy while I recorded. The explanation which they are free to assume is the case is that I am still recovering from my… experience seeing the torture chambers once again, but that isn't my primary reason for this. 
[sighs quietly]
Zaijel: Ever since the plasma conduit burst, I've been thinking. It seemed like too much of a coincidence, such a convenient time and place for a failure, and the first to happen while we've been here. My first thought was that it was just a booby trap. God knows that the Tal Shiar is plenty good at that. But in that case, it would've actually done something, taken out the whole group, or even just injured more than one of us. This way, though? It split off two of the team, ones who would be crucial for finishing this mission. The precision needed for that would need somebody to be watching to set things off at the right time. No life signs were noticed when this place was scanned, though. Maybe it was somebody on–
[a knock on the door] 
Bihisa: Hey, Zai. I know you said not to interrupt while you were recording, but I wanted to give you some updates on the computers here, like you asked
Zaijel: Alright, elaborate, please. What have you found here? And, importantly, what is the state of the connection with the main core?
Bihisa: Well, there's good news and bad news, ultimately. The good news is, it looks like the storage systems are generally intact, and there might even be an extant connection to the central core by which we could get all the information from there. 
Zaijel: Understood. That is certainly an encouraging sign. In that case, though, what's the bad news?
Bihisa: Well… as it turns out, the local hardware itself is in very bad shape, it doesn't reliably read the data in question and certainly can't decrypt it. And, of course, this being the Tal Shiar, it is encrypted. Now, in principle, I should be able to repair the damage and get at all the data that was left for us, but it will take a while, and I can't guarantee that it would allow access to the data core. 
Zaijel: Sorry, what do you mean, left for us? That said, in that case, I assume you want additional time to repair this node of the system? 
Bihisa: I meant, well, the data that was left behind when they fled. What else? And yes, I need extra time, otherwise we can't get at this system. Given that I can't promise connection to the central core will be possible, though, it might be for the best if the rest of you went on ahead. 
Zaijel: What, and leave you here to deal with a plasma leak, or an exploding conduit, or something else, on your own? 
Bihisa: Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine, Zai, but thanks for worrying. I've made sure to carefully inspect this wing as much as possible, while waiting for some of my diagnostics to run. And besides, our combadges still work, so worst case, I can just get your help. 
Zaijel: And what if we need your help to access the core? 
Bihisa: Well, the same applies. Ask for help, and I'll come running as quickly as you need. 
[No voices detected for a few minutes] 
Zaijel: I hate this. I can't argue with it, it is the most likely route to success. But something feels off, like it's all going to go wrong. You promise that you'll ask for help as soon as possible?
Bihisa: I promise. You big softie, you really do care.
Zaijel: I'm hardly soft, all this is, is a reasonable response to the risks of this situation. In that case, we split in 30 minutes. 




[quiet snoring melded with hisses and creaking] 
Zaijel: Starting a recording now. Zerren and Jorail are asleep at present, and unlikely to listen in. I don't know just how much they can be trusted. God, I don't know how much anybody I went down to this godforsaken place can really be trusted. 
[A distant groan of fatigued metal]
Zaijel: It has been 3 hours since the last log, so I'll catalogue what happened for the sake of a complete record. I don't know who can be trusted to see this, but it is worth doing nevertheless.
[a quiet sigh, likely from Zaijel]
Zaijel: As soon as we were about 70 meters away from the processing wing, we heard a scream from Specialist Bihisa. Ran back, and got blocked by a blast door. No idea why or how it closed. We tried to use our combadges, no response. I think whatever jamming field blocked things before has intensified. 
[In the distance, something unidentified crashes to the floor] 
Zaijel: Fuck, what was that? 
[No voices recorded for approx. 2 minutes]
Zaijel: Must've just been something in this place continuing to decay. Back to the log. From what I can tell on the copy of the map that Bihisa provided before we split apart, that door is blocking the only route back to processing. She's just completely cut off now. Asked Jorail if he could cut through the door, but apparently the risk was high enough of that causing a structural failure that that wouldn't be possible. So, we have no choice, we have to go deeper and further still. I'm sure Bihisa can figure something out. She's probably more competent than any of the rest of us.
[No noises outside of ambient background recorded for ca. 2 minutes] 
Zaijel: Still. It doesn't matter how good she is, if my suspicions are correct. Because all these events, the failures of conduit and blast doors, the explosion of that door mechanism, all of it points to one possibility. Somebody or something else is here, watching us, trying to stop us. It could be a coincidence, sure, but if so, it's one that has somehow managed to separate us out, divide and weaken us. The only real question is, why? What's so damned important that we all need to be killed off like this? And who the hell is doing it, anyway? There wasn't anyone alive in the scans from orbit, and no signs of life other than us as we've been exploring. It almost has to be one of our team, but who would that be? 




[hissing and whirring in the background] 
Zaijel: Once again, Expedition Lead Zaijel, recording an additional log. We have been operating in this facility for nearly an entire day, and despite some progress, it seems increasingly unlikely that we will be able to complete our mission. 
[quiet sigh, most likely from Zaijel]
Zaijel: Despite having nominally agreed to a shift system of watches to make sure everyone could rest and we could get advance warning, I decided to stay up throughout. I didn't want to risk the possibility of two of us not waking up again, if the traitor was among us. Not as though I would've been able to sleep regardless, given everything, but this gave me added reason to do so. 
[No noises beyond the ambient background recorded for ca. 1 minute]
Zaijel: I'm still trying to figure out who here, if anyone, would be willing to do all of this. I looked through the records of the team before we left, and none of them have any good reason why they'd willingly betray us to the Tal Shiar. So, whoever it is, they must have been able to hide their background at least as well as I did, back when I fled. So, what now? What can I do?
[A loud groan from somewhere within the facility]
Zaijel: God. I need to get away from here before it all falls apart. I know Jorail has been saying it’s safe, but what if that’s a lie to try and get everyone to go too deep and get stuck as the facility falls apart? If I can get my hands on some of his scanners, maybe I can check, but to do so, I’d probably need to be away from him so he doesn’t question it. Getting away from the rest of the team might be a good idea in general, though. Ultimately, I don’t know who’s loyal and who isn’t. And if this is the Tal Shiar, they likely know my own past. They’d have access to the original records, after all, as much as I tried to lay low. 
[No noises beyond ambient background recorded for ca. 3 minutes]
Zaijel: First step of the plan has to be to have control over the lion’s share of resources. I’ll leave enough rations for the both of them, but if I need to hide away here, I’ll need to be have more than them. Additionally, some of the tools and equipment that the both of them normally carry would be useful. On the other hand, reduced load means I can be swift and sneaky, make it harder for whoever is the traitor to find me. Will have to think on it more. Definitely want to split off in the next few hours, though, one way or the other. Still need to figure out why go to the trouble of doing all this, though. Nothing I’ve seen indicates that this place is anything special. Unless… what if the reason is that I’m here? The Tal Shiar still probably has records of me. They know my past, so they know I could reveal what I did for them. But then, how could they plan this out? It has to be something else. We’ll find out when I find the data core, one way or another. 




[Hissing in the background, along with intermittent groans and creaks]
Zaijel: Expedition Lead Zaijel, commencing recording. We are once again underway, attempting to reach the data core. Our limited maps indicate that it shouldn’t be too far away at this point. I can certainly say that I hope such is the case, given the increasingly dilapidated nature of the facility. This decay does, however, raise an interesting point. Initial assumptions were that this facility was built from the top down, adding further sub-levels as needed. Given the state here, it may, however, be the case that a central ‘core’ was built down to near the maximum depth, and expanded with further wings as needed. Jorail, what’s your assessment?
Jorail: Well, I don’t exactly have the resources to reliably date the structure, since we were expecting a relatively simple trip to get the data core and come back. So actually saying with certainty exactly how old everything is is, of course, impossible. That said, a gradual expansion from a central core would certainly explain this state of structural instability, along with why… Processing was in relatively pristine shape. One assumes it was a relatively recent addition to the structure, in this theory at least. Why would they make a building where the only way in or out is the most unstable and dangerous part of it, though?
Verren: What difference does it make why? It’s all a damn death trap regardless. 
Zaijel: It makes plenty of difference. The way that this place is laid out could make quite a difference in our efforts to survive this, as you put it, death trap. If we can find a safe way up or down in one of the better-maintained sections, that could solve quite a bit of our–
[A rumbling crash drowns everything out for an extended period of time.]
Zaijel: Fuck! Status report, are the two of you alright?
Verren: Alive, despite everything. 
Jorail: Shaken, but I’ll live! How the hell did that happen, though?
Zaijel: Well, plenty of time to take scans, looks like unless we bridge this gap, we’re not going to be able to move on as a group. Deeply fuckin convenient that we get structural failure like that right between us, though. 
Jorail: Sorry, what do you mean with convenient? It’s all just an old structure falling–
Zaijel: No it isn’t! It can’t be! Not when it’s actively stymying our progress! This base has a goddamn vendetta against us, it’s trying to split us all apart!
Jorail: Zaijel. Calm down, please. It’ll be alright, we’ll get back to the surface soon enough. Just take deep breaths for now. 
Zaijel: No. Calm can only help your threats when you’re surviving, it breeds complacency, and complacency is death. You need control, and you need fear, or anger, or sheer stubbornness or motivation. I am… more controlled now, though, so thank you. The question, ultimately, is, what now? I don’t see any way to cross this chasm, and it looks like there’s no connections between our segments of hallway. 
Jorail: What, none at all? That’s… one hell of an unfortunate failure, then. I might be able to find a way to bridge the gap, just need some material that works. 
Zaijel: No. If this material is anything close to how this base is, it’ll fall apart at the worst time. We split apart, see if we can find alternative routes to meet up. This map isn’t accurate, there’s probably something missing. If we can’t find anything, we try to each reach the data core. Rescue can happen some other way, probably, but all this will have been useless if we can’t bring something to show for it




[quiet whirring and whining noises]
Zaijel: Expedition Lead Zaijel beginning recording. Although I suppose there isn't much reason to say that anymore. The whole damn expedition has basically fallen apart, and there's no real reason to believe that it's recoverable. Maybe one or the other person who wasn't in on this from the start can get away, but if so, who's to say they won't be stopped, or that our saboteur hasn't set up the shuttle to explode. So, assume that this is a long-term survival situation. 
[A long, drawn-out sigh can be heard] 
Zaijel: Well, not the first time I've done this, at least. Hopefully everyone else can manage, don't think that there's much I can do other than serve as a distraction. And if I'm going to do that, might as well start heading for the objective. Shouldn't be too long to get there, and then we can see about getting as much info as possible. Hopefully it's not completely broken down. 
[No voices recorded for ca. 2 minutes, only the noise of movement] 
Zaijel: Alright, here we go. Data core seems to be in decent enough shape, let's see if the tricorder can show what's wrong with this thing. 
[The warbling of a tricorder can be heard] 
Zaijel: Well, at least that works out alright. Looks like the storage is intact, basic processing can run on the backup systems, all that's needed is a bit of power, and it's already connected to the power supply. So… Let's see what's going on here. I'll say, for whoever has to compile a report based on this recording, I'm not any sort of tech expert here. I knew some of how the Tal Shiar normally organise their shit, but actually breaking in or anything like that is definitely beyond me. Guess they must've assumed nobody would be trying to break in, though. It's all just completely unsecured… Which again seems far too convenient given everything else. At the same time, this is what we all tried to obtain, so what choice is there? So, let's start with the basics, what was this facility for? 
[Beeps and long synthetic tones, no voices recorded] 
Zaijel: Initial impressions, it's a jumbled mess. There's storage, research and development, interrogation, data analysis, basically anything that the Tal Shiar could need. Which, if there's a follow-up mission, there could be a lot to find in here. That goddamn map we found up top was absolutely incomplete. Still doesn't explain what this place was all about, and why there's this much effort being put into guarding this shit, to the extent of infiltrating our mission… Maybe I can see what Bihisa was stuck trying to retrieve back in… processing. If that includes some of who was a victim of that torture could be useful, at the very least in finding people who can speak out. 
[Beeps and long synthetic tones, no voices recorded]
Zaijel: Looking through this, it's definitely a list of victims. Records are less than perfect, but that's to be expected with the decay in question. It's odd, though. These all seem to be members to some extent of the Tal Shiar. Analysts, agents, informants, researchers, whatever. Maybe there's others further in. 
[No voices recorded for ca. 2 minutes]
Zaijel: Oh fuck. That's me. Sublieutenant “Investigator” Zaijel, serial number RE629163057, no reasons given for the “processing”. Fuck. They have to know it's me, whoever’s been setting these traps. They know I'm here, maybe they even fucking set me up. If they didn't, why would I be the one seeing this? Gotta be a message to me, a trap for me… I need to run. I need to get away, get a message out, somehow. 




[Rapid movement and footsteps, along with hisses and whirrs]
Zaijel: Fuck, where's that corridor? Map says there should be a junction here, where is it? Need to make sure I can get out of here and back to my ship, there has to be some more people involved. It sure as hell can't have been a coincidence that I was in charge of the nearest ship to this place. Assuming that's even true and wasn't yet another lie, of course. Why, why, why, there are so many God damn questions! But the only way to answer them is to escape. So, need to get away. If that junction is fake then it's possible this whole map is funneling me into some trap. Need to stop being predictable, then.
[Wheezes from Zaijel are recorded as the movement stops for a moment]
Zaijel: Fuck. What direction do I go? Got rid of my tricorder and tried to purge this recorder of anything but the most basic elements, need to make sure that none of it's compromised, after all. They could be listening to comms, for all I know, and there'd be nothing to stop them from tracking me. Still, does mean that I can't figure out what's a trap.
[Loud groaning can be heard a long distance away]
Zaijel: Whatever the case, that's definitely a trap. Can't trust that the floor won't fall out under my feet, or the ceiling onto my head, but I can definitely head away from that.
[Rapid movement and footsteps]
Zaijel: Unless, of course, the whole point of shit like that is to continue funneling me, taking more and more options away until I'm trapped, helpless and at the mercy of these bastards once again. Fuck… no, that's not going to happen. Not again, not ever. I've survived before, in the war and the Tal Shiar, and I'll survive again. You hear that, you bastards?! You're not going to see the last of me!
[No voices recorded for ca. 3 minutes]
Zaijel: Hopefully that distracts them for a moment. If they think I'll do a glorious last stand here, they might try to come in with their firepower rather than letting me come to them. And in the meantime, I can sneak away, see if other routes to the surface exist, see if anyone else might've survived, and might still be loyal. But would anyone else even be loyal? Fuck knows the Tal Shiar have their strings wrapped around pretty much anyone and anything, and if this mission was a ruse to eliminate me, they could have set upan entire goddamn team to bring me further and further in until I can't get away.
[Sound of movement ceases momentarily]
Zaijel: Still, the reckoning can come later. Right now this data needs to get away. Can't be sent by comms, they'd be being watched if they weren't already jammed. Can't use any sort of rocket or signalling system because underground, and even if I weren't, it'd be giving everything away for something that could easily be intercepted. Only real solution is I can be a courier. Anyone else would just destroy the info and destroy me, but if I can get away, I can make sure it gets revealed, and start to bring this whole damn thing down. All else aside, maybe I can get at least a tiny bit of revenge on the pricks who worked here, forced people back into line on a whim. Not like I was innocent, sure, but I did what I needed to do.
[Sudden loud hissing noise]
Zaijel: Fuck, there goes another plasma relay. At this point, it has to be a set up, there's no other possible explanation. They'll pay for it, though. They'll pay for it all, one way or another. The Incepteris is still my ship, and I know the crew will have me come hell or high water. And even if that means being outnumbered, I still know more than well enough how to fight, how to win, how to hide and run and keep safe until it's the right time to kill. I can– wait, what's that noise? Fuck, that's footsteps, they're coming for me. I need to hide, now.





Unidentified Personnel, distant: Zaijel, where are you? We know you need food, come out and let's get back home!
Zaijel (whispered): As though I'd come out and let myself get taken by those bastards again. No matter what, I won't go back. I won't, I can't, I couldn't.
Unidentified Personnel: Come on, Zaijel, all that we need for the Incepteris to return to base is for you to come with us. It's been days now, and from what Jorail said, you're already injured and tiring yourself out.
Zaijel (whispered): They can't find me. No matter what, I have to stay hidden. Either they're lying about the Incepteris and she's destroyed already, or they're telling the truth and she's just as infiltrated as the research team was, as much as the rest of the Republic has to have been for all this to have been possible to pull off. Either way, I know I wouldn't be seeing the bridge ever again if I surrender to these people. I won't be able to reveal the crimes of so many people, take my revenge for what happened, and that cannot be the case. I need to make sure that I can avenge myself. So, time for a bit of turnabout. They set traps, to try and funnel me into a vulnerable place, an open place to deal with me, so it's only fair that I set some in return, isn't it? It's only a reasonable approach. Let's see how they end up enjoying this. 
[A large distance away, small explosions followed by loud hissing noises can be heard]
Unidentified Personnel: What the fuck?! Oh god, somebody help! 
Zaijel (whispered): That was one of the plasma conduits. I checked carefully, and there was no existing sabotage on that one. So, did my own little tweaks, added one of the detonators I keep just in case of something like this, and boom. Nobody would've expected that specific conduit to burst, and why would they? For all they know and care, I'm stuck, alone and helpless. But while I may be alone, I'm never helpless, and never will be. Not now, and never again. And if things ever get so far that I am, well, there's a reason why I have one last detonator in my back pocket. Just in case. Need to have one last way out, after all. For now, though, let's see if these bastards are going to be leaving. 
[Muffled noises of general commotion and movement, discussion too far away for reliable transcription] 
Zaijel (whispered): Fuck. They seem determined to stay. Guess I just have to outlast them, make sure that one way or another, they end up giving up. Shouldn't be too hard, really. They're not going to be expecting a fight. The Tal Shiar never do. So, I'll give it another couple minutes, and then we can see what the next surprise will be. I promise, whoever’s goes through this later, it will be one hell of a surprise. 
[Continued distant commotion, no distinguishable voices recorded for ca. 5 minutes] 
Zaijel: Well, looks like time’s up for them. Once this goes off, I start running, try to get back to the surface, steal the ship and see what the situation is, get rid of anyone and everyone that I don't trust, make sure the crew is loyal. If they aren't, well, they can be set loose on this death trap. 
[Muffled sound of an explosion, followed by loud creaking and groaning for a few moments, and then, massive crashing noises drowning everything else out]
Zaijel: And now, let's get out of here. They'll be too distracted, so I should be able to make it. 
[Rapid footsteps and movement can be heard, no discernible voices recorded]
Zaijel: Wait, Bihisa, what are–? 
[A disruptor blast can be heard, footsteps cease]

• Mission Objective: Surveying of Complex No. 79, Recovery of as much data and records as feasible
• Mission Members:
• Subcommander Zaijel, Expedition Lead
• Bihisa, Data Recovery Specialist
• Natheema, Lead Technician
• Verem, Assistant Technician
• Lillena, Medical Forensics Expert
• Jorail, Structural Engineering Specialist
• Mission Outcome:
• Objectives fulfilled, primary data storage accessed and retrieved
• Natheema permanently injured
• All other mission members wounded, but with a positive prognosis for recovery
• Additional Notes:
• Mission duration was significantly longer than expected
• Due to hazards within the facility and loss of contact with agents within, a rescue and recovery operation was carried out. 
• 3 additional personnel were injured during this operation due to apparent structural instabilities, but all have a positive prognosis for recovery. 

Congratulations @DanaDark! 

Congrats Dana! Wishing you all the best. :)

Congrats Dana! Adding some spice 

Congrats!

Congratulations!!!

Congratulations!! 

We're excited to announce that Dana will be stepping into the role of Community Morale Officer, where he’ll be focusing on increasing community engagement, planning and hosting fun events, and encouraging participation throughout SGN. This role is all about fostering a strong, positive community atmosphere, and we couldn’t think of a better person for the job.
 
We’re thrilled to have Dana on board with the officer team, and we can't wait to see the amazing ideas and events he’ll bring to life to keep SGN active and engaged. Be sure to congratulate him when you see him around!
 
Here's to Dana and the exciting things ahead for SGN! 🙌

I had to submit mine directly I hope that is acceptable. :D

Well, this isn't my submission post, but I am about a third of the way through my story, and it's already the longest I've written, so that should be fun, I hope. 

This September marks the thirtieth anniversary of the premier of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

If that makes you feel old, come feel young, like when the world was new - with these limited edition 40"x37" pair of posters, commissioned with artist Dusty Abell for Roddenberry.com

The leaves are blowing and the trees are bare. Halloween is approaching and it's time for Stonewall's 2nd #WritingChallenge of 2024!  Submit your spooky themed entry by logging into this site and posting your story in this thread between now and end of day on October 31st, 2024.

Theme Instructions:
We're encouraging everyone to share with us a story of any of your in-game characters that incorporates a spooky theme.  There's broad latitude with the theme, which is just meant to guide you and not to limit you in any way.  To help get the creative juices flowing, I've provided some possible writing prompts, though you're free to write your story without the help of the prompts:

• Write about discovering a dead Captain's log that causes strange, supernatural events to unfold on your ship
• Write about discovering a ship that feeds on fear of its passengers and crew
• Write about a member of your crew creating a Halloween themed holodeck program that turns into a deadly nightmare
• Write about your crew finding itself in the Mirror Universe on Halloween, where the Empire is celebrating the darkest aspects of their culture
• Write about a transporter malfunction that duplicates you or a crew member, but this version is twisted and malevolent
• Write about your Klingon crew telling ghost stories about vengeful spirits and ancient battles that start to become reality
• Write about being hit by an anomaly that reanimates a group of Romulan prisoners held in stasis, who are transformed into zombie-like beings

We'll share every submission with the entire community for them to enjoy, but we'll also be looking for our three favorite entries that excel in three criteria that we'll detail below.  We're so very eager for you, SGN's amazing writing talents, to once again share your talent and creativity with us and your community!


To participate in Stonewall's Halloween writing challenge, you must post your entry here, in this thread, before day's end on October 31st, 2024.  Please title your entry!  Your posted entry must comply with these additional rules to be eligible:

1. Your story must in some way relate to your character from any game you play
2. Your may use AI to help generate a writing prompt for yourself, BUT your story must be entirely your original work
3. DO NOT USE ChatGPT or AI to write any or portions of your story for you!
4. The content of your story must not be edited after the submission deadline of October 31st

Only one entry per community member, please.  While we encourage you to include graphics to supplement your Ensnared story, only the written narrative portion of your entry will be judged.  Instructions on how to incorporate graphics in your post can be found by clicking here.


Every writer will receive a deposit of 3 Stonewall Credits into their account, but our favorite contest entries will be recognized on our Facebook, Twitter and Instagram social media feeds. The prize packs are as follows:

Our favorite story will get:

1. 10 Stonewall Credits, AND, your choice of either:
2. 20 Master Keys in Star Trek Online, OR
3. $25.00 Redbubble Gift Card to purchase Stonewall Merchandise!

Our second favorite entry will receive:

1. 8 Stonewall Credits, AND your choice of either:
2. 10 Master Keys in Star Trek Online OR
3. $20.00 Redbubble Gift Card to purchase Stonewall Merchandise!

Our third favorite entry will get:

1. 6 Stonewall Credits!
2. 7 Master Keys in Star Trek Online

*Stonewall credits can be saved and/or redeemed for in-game merchandise through the Stonewall Credits Store.

Good luck to everyone!  We can't wait to read your stories!

The books were always a fun read. I’m wondering if anyone else read this series?

Amidst the constantly growing streaming service market, one platform—Кинoкрадко—has come to light as a shining example of diversity and creativity. With its huge selection of entertaining material and easy-to-use design, this massive Russian streaming service has won over hearts of viewers all over the world. Let's explore what makes Кинокрадко unique and why both casual viewers and movie buffs are starting to choose it.

Thanks to everyone who contributed to our "Ensnared" writing challenge!  We loved reading all of the entries and invite you to check out the compilation of all of the submitted stories at the link below.  We'd also like to share our favorite stories with you and will reach out to the authors of those submissions to arrange delivery of prizes!  Everyone who participated will receive Stonewall Credits within a day of this post.  To spend them, login to this site with your account, click the drop down menu next to your profile picture on the menu bar and select 'wallet'.  

Just a quick update to let everyone know that I got a little behind because of some significant work developments this last week, but will post results by the end of the week of May 13th.  Sorry for the delay!

When Steve came to, his mind was full of fog. All he could remember was seeing Renato head for the gate. He’d hoped Renato had escaped and then suddenly he recalled the searing pain of the hook going through his chest. Just the memory brought him to his knees. “How am I still alive?” he wondered. He looked around to gather his bearings. The area didn’t look familiar, but he could see the generators he’d worked on before, and not too far off there was another exit gate. Maybe he just needed to get out through there and he’d finally be free.

Something within compelled him to work on the generator; he didn’t know what was wrong with it, but he began fixing the wires and tightening the bolts with his bare hands. Before long, the engine started to turn. There was something comforting about the engine slowly coming to life. When it was completed he heard a horn go off from the nearby gate and he dashed to it. He held down the lever, opening the gate and escaping as quickly as he could.

---

Steve felt lightheaded as his surroundings slowly faded from black. He looked around and yet again he was in an unfamiliar location. This appeared to be a very dilapidated school filled with nightmarish cages and chains. He slowly and carefully searched the building trying to figure out what was happening. 

In the far-off distance, he could see Renato! He was still alive and there with him. Yet again, Renato was in danger and Steve knew it was his duty to save him. A killer wearing some kind of mask was chasing Renato with a kitchen knife and it didn’t look like Renato had many options left. With a quick swipe, Renato fell to the ground and as the Killer picked him up, Steve dashed into place, shining the flashlight right into his eyes, but this time nothing happened. Somehow, Steve felt revealed.

The killer effortlessly hung Renato on the hook and quickly headed for Steve. Steve tried to hide around a corner, but the killer quickly found him. For just a second, he looked at Steve with a deep stare and then lunged for him. Steve didn’t have time to react. The killer plunged his knife into Steve’s chest, lifting him from the ground and dropping him back down.

---

Yet again, Steve came to. He could still feel the burning hot wound where the killer had plunged his knife into his chest, but after checking there were no marks or scars. Like it’d never happened, but the pain was still fresh in his mind. He stood in what was a movie theater at one point but now had a massive hole in the wall. The arcade machines definitely looked familiar, but couldn’t place it anywhere near Hawkins. Upstairs, the generator called to him and he began working on it. 

Once completed, he headed outside and down the stairs on the side of the building. Not too far off, he could see Renato being chased by a crazy woman throwing hatches at him. He ducked down low and watched the chase. He could see in the not-far-off distance someone working on another gate. As Renato dropped a pallet to block the killer’s path, she quickly threw a hatchet and Renato dropped to the ground. Once hooked, the killer headed to the gate and Steve made his move. He pulled Renato off the hook, grabbed his hand, and led him behind a bush. 

“Thank you”, Renato said as he wrapped his arms around Steve, giving him a tight hug. “I thought you were dead. I’m so glad to see you’re okay.”

“Thanks. I’m glad to see you too. Neither of us will be okay if we don’t get out that gate.”

He finished banding Renato up and again led him to the gate. Hand in hand, Steve and Renato slip-passed the killer. Glancing back, Steve saw the killer aiming her hatchet straight for Renato, who was about to make it out. Steve knew what he had to do and quickly blocked for Renato, taking the hatchet instead. He was downed instantly and tried to crawl out, but the killer grabbed him by the ankle, dragged him back in and buried a hatchet into his head.

---

As the lights faded in, Steve looked around and he knew this place. He’d been here before with Eleven and the rest of his friends. They barely escaped last time. The demodogs had taken over last time, but there were none in sight now. Scattered around, he could see the all too familiar generators. He knew those weren’t there last time. He began working on the generators, not knowing what was in store for him this time. Somehow, he knew Renato was out there and he longed to see him again. After completing a couple generators, Steve ventured farther out into the map.

Renato was on a gate lever while a killer chased a couple other survivors nearby. Steve began heading to the gate as he saw Renato open the door and the killer took notice. He dropped the chase with the other survivors and headed straight for Steve. He tried to dodge and weave away from the killer, but he had nothing to work with. After a couple quick swipes, he was down on the ground and shortly hoisted onto a hook. Luckily, he was near the gate and Renato was close by. Steve called out for Renato to save him; save him just as Steve had saved Renato so many times. Renato took a few steps towards him, he attempted to sum up the courage to save him, but succumbed to his fears as he heard the killer approaching. Staring back at Steve, he struggled on the hook, Renato slipped out the gate and left Steve there to die.

---

As Steve came to, his heart sank. That was Renato’s chance to save him, to repay all the times he’d risked his life for Renato, but instead, he just left him to die. Renato could’ve gotten Steve; there had been enough time. He felt almost foolish for risking so much for Renato.

Steve looked around and didn’t know where he was. A farmhouse in the distance beckoned him. Yet again he was trapped in this eternal nightmare from what seemed like there was no escape. Not even death set him free. He began to wander around, looking for other signs of life. He made it to the farmhouse and, yet again, found Renato.

“You left me!” Steve said, almost shouting. “You could’ve saved me and you left me.”

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to, but I was so scared! That insane man the cleaver was coming.” Renato said as he backed away from Steve.

“I thought you cared about me.” Steve pushes toward Renato, forcing him into a corner.

“I do care about you. I care about you very much, Steve.” Renato said, as he leaned forward and kissed Steve deeply.

The anger boiled inside of Steve, after everything he’d done Renato abandoned him. Steve wanted to recoil from his kiss, but feeling Renato’s body against him excited him like nothing before. He pulled back and looked at Renato’s shirtless body in his tight board shorts, Steve felt a deep attraction that even his anger couldn’t ignore.

He pushed Renato to the ground and [REDACTED].

The two of them quietly get dressed and head out, trying to escape from this enduring trap, together.

Thank you to everyone who entered our Ensnared writing challenge!  Entries are now closed and we'll be enjoying your submissions over the next week and will post results of our writing challenge on or around May 10th!

Gladiator comes out of his quarters and is met by his Gorn boyfriend Ambassador Dirilth. They walked to the bridge catching up and even ran into the Romulan Ambassador Porama outside of the bridge. He gave them some coffee and then Gladiator went into the bridge leaving Ambassador Dirilth to talk about adding a Klingon or Romulan ship to the Mobile Starbase Group. The bridge was teeming with officers of all kinds and all species. The work they were doing was amazing and these long missions never seem to get old except someone was missing.
''Commander Vinbok where is Commander Iggst at?" Gladiator said as he sat at the Temporal OPS console.
"He's sick sir, something to do with his more alien physiology and Doctor Bashir says he can't leave sick bay" Said the commander back as he worked on the weapons console.
"I'll take over today since our other Operative is with the on the other ships." Gladiator replied as he moved the console to the captain's chair and as he did he noticed a strange flux in the Molecular Reconstruction console and other Temporal mechanisms.
Gladiator ran a Level 1 diagnostic test on the Temporal systems and found nothing. It was time to eat so he made his way to the massive mess hall and replicated some of the best ramen you can find in the galaxy . He ate and watched the colonists as they ate and mingled with everyone. Gladiator loved eating in the non-military mess halls because he wanted to get to know the people he was protecting on his ship and the seemed to like it also. Some officers even joined in as long as no work was conducted. Gladiator today was met with a couple of families who were human colonists going to the new planet. Gladiator welcomed the company but something made his Vulcan ears twitch about them; especially one of the children who was acting strange and not in a worrying way just yet.
Gladiator's break was done and he excused himself back to work; once there the helmsmen updated him that they'll be there in a day and Gladiator went back to his captain's chair and ran another Level 1 diagnostic and found nothing wrong but something about everything around him felt off. He sat back and tested every other system while still doing his captain duties. Commander Iggst was feeling better and allowed to take over. Gladiator was relieved by one of his commanders and met Ambassador Dirilth who was waiting in front of the massive windows.
Gladiator and the ambassador went to the Pike Restaurant which is a nice place that serves food that Captain Pike made for his crew and himself. They sat and ordered their food; they talked about their days while eating their delicious entrees. As Dirilth was talking he mentioned that he saw what he thought was multiple copies of the colonists that he was working with as they congregated in the shuttle bays, and he mentioned another weird occurrence.

"I was walking around observing the progress to make sure everything was in order for recolonization and as I did I felt a burning on my chest. So I went to the bathroom to check my chest and found a red scar but almost as soon as I saw it the scar disappeared. Once I got back it got stranger but I think it might be my imagination." Dirilth said, rubbing his head.
Gladiator tilted his head sensing something was deeply bothering him. "What is it hun?" Gladiator probed.
Dirilth leaned forward and said "I-I think I saw people twisted up and ripped apart and the shuttle being repaired by someone or something and going to warp. I still think it was my imagination because I closed my eyes and everything was fine, but it has me anxious nonetheless.
Gladiator could tell he didn't want to talk about it anymore and decided the perfect thing to do was to take his mind off of what happened. Gladiator slipped out of his and ran his foot up the Gorn's massive legs and thighs and rubbed his crotch teasing him. Gladiator grinned as he saw him relax and moan softly; he pulled away as the check came. They verified their credentials and Gladiator released his boot and left for his quarters. As soon as they got in they started making out, Gladiator stripped  off  Dirilth's clothes and then his own. Gladiator threw Dirilth onto the bed and licked down his scaly,muscular body and rubbed down as he shivered. Gladiator reached for his shafts and rubbed teasing and Gladiator could tell his claws were spreading from the tease; and as he was about to go in for a lick the room went red.

RED ALERT!
CAPTAIN TO THE BRIDGE!  

Gladiator and Dirilth got up, got dressed and ran as fast as they could to the bridge. They got to the bridge and found every system going haywire, and in that moment the temporal systems spiked causing a shift in time. The ship seemed to shift forward and then backwards in time and at the same time several officers were caught and their whole bodies were twisted in grotesque ways by temporal push and pull. The shift happened again and the rest of the crew was twisted and ripped apart and this time the ship started crumbling and as Dirilth and Gladiator looked at each other; a metal sheet spun out and sliced Dirilth in the chest. Gladiator fell to the floor and saw the broken shuttle outside the view window and the ones flying it were the two families, and as they warped out the ship shifted again and Gladiator was burned as the Graviton Lance imploded and things froze...
Captain's Log: The USS Stonewall Universe mobile starbase group has separated from the contingent of ships assigned to it, and has been given the mission to finish relocating colonists. We stopped after a distress signal came from a planet that was under a catastrophic plague and required assistance. The USS Trixie Matel was put in charge of helping cure the afflicted using its superior medical… Pause log.

Gladiator stopped his log and looked around his cabin feeling uncertain and just when a thudded hit against his door. Gladiator got up going to his door and as he did Iggst, the Elachi Temporal officer fell in and Dirilth came in after him. 
He huffed and shaked a little. “C-captain something’s wrong, we’ve been here before.” He said as he stood up and sat in a chair. Ambassador Dirilth started to examine him, noticing how sick he looked. Gladiator looked at him curiously. “I’ve started to notice and have a strange feeling. Those colonists keep coming to mind for some reason. Ambassador, can you take Iggst to the Med Bay and meet me in the cargo bay when you are done? I wanna check out those colonists.” Gladiator asked as he got his gear together. 
“I’ll be there.” Dirilth said as he picked up the sick Elachi and carried him out.

Gladiator had security teams sent to all the major systems and the cargo bay to search and probe everyone and everything. Gladiator got to the cargo bay and started stealthily scanning all the colonists. Out of the corner of his eye he could see someone that gave him the chills so he made his way there and at that time one of his security leads called him on his com badge. “Captain, it’s the Na'kuhl '' he said. At that moment the colonist he was going towards had revealed herself and ran out of the cargo bay. Gladiator chased him into engineering and just as Gladiator came he blew up the temporal mechanisms causing time fluctuations; and just in the nick of time Iggst came in and vaporized the Na’kuhl infiltrator and then quickly reversed the damage to stop the disaster. Iggst fell to the floor next to Gladiator panting and exhausted. Dirilth came in and said. “They got the rest of them Captain and the Doc says Commander Iggst is in trouble for leaving” 

They laughed getting up and beamed to the conference room where they ordered the other higher ups to come for a debriefing.
“So what exactly happened here, Iggst?” Gladiator asked drinking some Romulan ale
“They have been trying to start a war or something but I think they were independent in their thinking. They seemed to have failed in their sabotage many times.” Iggst told them.
Ambassador Dirilth chimed in. “Many times? Are you saying we did this before?”
Iggst nodded. “I checked the chronometer and we’ve been ensnared for 30 days. I’m sure my sickness was connected to the loop. My connection to the mycelial network helped work though it.”
Gladiator asked as he sat up a little. “Do you think we are still in the loop?”
“No, I was able to reverse easily, that's why I think it was an independent attack.” Iggst answered as he did another engineering check.
After that an Ensign called in. “Sir USS TRIXIE MATTEL is hailing us.”
“Put it through please.” Gladiator ordered.
“Where have you been Captain?” Marshal Janeway yelled as she popped up in the conference room.
“Come with me and we’ll talk over dinner.” Gladiator giggled and stood up heading for the door.
“Good job everyone, especially you Iggst.”
  

The End

Author’s Note: This story explores gender and sexuality themes. In telling this story, I have labored to abide by the community’s standards for good taste. This standard is subjective, and people differ in their journey on these issues. If you are too young to understand these issues or reading about sensitive topics or suggestive situations disturbs you, please do not read this story.



“I’m Chief Medical Officer of this starship, and this is a medical emergency! Beam Ensign Taleda to the medbay immediately!” I glowered at the Captain of the USS Stonewall.

Jake faced me with the steady gaze of a Starfleet Captain that I adored–except when I defied him. He raised his palms. “I’m sorry, Teslus. I can’t allow that.”

“Consider yourself overruled, CAPTAIN.” I put my fists on my hips and raised my chin.

Jake winced. “The order isn’t mine, Tes–”

“DOCTOR TESLUS ELBRUN!” I said.

“Admiral Yesper ordered us to let the Meklia treat Ensign Taleda.”

Jake’s words knocked me back. “What? They’re . . . they’re . . . circuits and electricity. What do they know of human physiology? Nothing!” I threw my hands in the air and let them fall to my sides with a slap. “Ensign Taleda sacrificed themself to shield Ambassador Toorok. They deserve . . . Ugh! Words are so limiting! So help me, Jake, if you had just a scintilla of psionic ability, I’d give you a piece of my mind!” I turned away from Jake and pounded the medbay console, which set off an alarm that I smacked off.

Jake’s voice softened. “I’m not happy about this either, but Admiral Yesper has a point. Treaty negotiations with the Meklia are in a fragile state. They’re mortified by the attack and want to make it right.”

“Admiral Yesper trades lives for political favors.” I crossed my arms and huffed. “The Meklia failed to protect their capital from an attack by one of their own. How can we trust them to save Ensign Taleda?”

Jake scanned the medbay to ensure we were still alone. He approached and wrapped his arms around me. “I know you care; I love that about you. You said the Meklia have stabilized them. The best thing we can do for Ensign Taleda now is send their medical records and any other information that will assist the Meklia in treating them.”

“This isn’t over,” I turned in Jake’s arms. My body shifted toward his embrace. I tried to pound Jake’s chest, but the stress of the last few hours had drained me to the point that my fists collapsed into a plea. I spread my palms on Jake’s regulation compliant chest. Fifty push ups everyday along with all the other exercises mandated by Starfleet regulations. I softened more. Though he wielded the piercing gaze, sculpted jaw, and commanding presence of a Starfleet captain, Jake Beck wasn’t one of the maverick miracle-worker captains extolled in Risian ballads. He was the get-it-done-by-the-book type that Starfleet depended upon but no one noticed. His swagger was fake; his protocol obsession genuine. Jake’s steadfastness anchored me against the chaos that would sweep me away. That the same protocols Jake used to protect me now blocked me was infuriating. I collapsed into his embrace. “And you can’t fix things just by hugging me.” You know he knows it works.

“Right, I get it. I’m sorry; I’m still trying to adapt to your Betazoid powers,” said Jake.

And I’m still trying to resist yours. “It’s one of your most endearing qualities, really. You have no mental barriers at all–like an infant.” For the first time since the distress call, I smiled. After a moment the feeble curve in my lips faded. Wait. I scowled. “Seriously? You’re thinking about sex now?” I pushed him away. “Get out. I have work to do.”



“Captain, I’ve completed my preliminary examination of Ensign Taleda. I have something to show you.” I released my comm button and looked over my shoulder at the ensign. They rested under light sedation in the biobed.

Jake strode into the medbay. “What have you found?”

“Well, the Meklia saved Taleda’s life, but . . .” I expanded a scan on the med console’s screen, “those machines botched tissue regeneration.”

“What am I looking at here?” Jake stepped closer to the screen. “Is that a tentacle?”

“This structure here,” I traced an oblong mass coiled inside Taleda’s groin, “is composed of a complex arrangement of muscle tissues, blood vessels, nerve endings, and sensory organs. The structure reminds me of a tongue; however, the muscle configuration suggests prehensile capabilities.”

“So a tentacle.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Captain, the Meklia generated a tentacle inside the ensign’s groin.” Humans. “Stop thinking you’ve got this. I’m calling it a phallix because I believe the organ is analogous to a phallus but originates from the base of a cervix.”

I tapped the screen to the left of the tentacle. “This structure here is a uterus without ovaries or fallopian tubes.”

“What was their birth anatomy?” asked Jake.

“Male. They went to Mekla with a penis; they returned with this.” I drew the sheet back from Taleda’s lower half. How would I feel if my penis was replaced with . . .

“Are those lips?”

“Yes and no. The muscular and nerve structure resembles a vagina internally; but the exterior musculature and tissues mimic lips but with a much greater ability to . . . uh . . .” I shrugged, “dilate. I’m labeling it the oralva because it shares properties of both the human mouth and vulva.”

“Did the Meklia regenerate an alien reproductive system in Taleda?”

I shook my head and covered the ensign. “I don’t think so–at least I don’t think that was the Meklia’s intent. My analysis of Taleda’s DNA shows it is perfectly human.” I turned to the med console and moved two DNA scans side by side onto the screen. “I took the DNA scan on the left when Taleda joined our crew–standard procedure. I like to create a baseline. The DNA scan on the right is current.”

“They look identical,” said Jake.

“They are nearly so.” I magnified the same section in both double helices and added contrast. “This one small section in red here is different. The scan on the left that I took for a baseline shows damage at the molecular level. The one on the right shows no signs of damage.”

“Are you suggesting the Meklia repaired the ensign’s DNA and this, “Jake waved at Taleda’s groin, “is the result?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “All I can say at this point is that Ensign Taleda is the healthiest they have ever been.”

Jake pinched his fingers together. “With a slight change in genitalia.”

“Oh, and hormones. I almost forgot about the hormones,” I said. “Their hormonal profile is radically different from both human males and females and includes a molecule not previously documented in humans that looks like something between estrogen and testosterone.”

“OK, so no big deal.” Jake tapped his comm badge. “Sato, open a channel to the Mekla ambassador and transfer their transmission to the medbay when you reach them.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“What are you sensing from the ensign now?” asked Jake.

I stared at Jake.

Jake stared at me.

I raised a brow. “I’m sensing they’re sleeping.”

“Captain, I’m patching Ambassador Mek0359 to the medbay,” said Sato.

A cube-shaped machine appeared on the screen. The machine’s face contained a sensor array composed of lenses, sampling ports, and antennae; a speaker; and a viewscreen, which was blank. A single green light blinked on the top of the cube. The machine had no visible appendages or means of movement. “This is Mek0359. State your query,” said the Ambassador.

“Greetings Ambassador, thank you for making the time to speak with me,” said Jake.

“The manufacture of time is infeasible,” said the Ambassador. “State your query.”

“Yes, well, I’m contacting you to understand how you treated Ensign Taleda’s injuries,” said Jake.

“I did not treat Ensign Taleda’s injuries. Medical care is not my directive,” said the Ambassador.

“I understand,” said Jake. “You see–I mean discrepancies exist between Ensign Taleda’s state prior to the attack and after your treatment.”

The Ambassador remained silent for a moment then spoke. “The Meklia ran healing protocols to rectify the damage caused by our operational failure.”

“Thank you–er, we thank the Meklia for saving the ensign’s life. We need help understanding the state changes in Ensign Taleda. May my chief medical officer speak with the Meklia that treated our ensign?” asked Jake.

“One moment,” said the Ambassador.

The green light on top of the Meklia in the transmission’s image powered down then powered up. Jake and I looked at each other.

“This is Medical Unit Mek4628. State your query.”

I stepped into the console’s view. “Hello, um, Doctor. I am Chief Medical Officer Teslus Elbrun. I wish to understand the anatomical and physiological changes to the human patient you treated–Ensign Cameron Taleda.”

“Medical Unit Mek4628 repaired Ensign Taleda to the specifications you transmitted,” said the Medical Unit.

“That may be what you think you did; however, substantial changes occurred as a result of your–er, repairs,” I said.

“Unit Mek4628 documented molecular damage that existed prior to injuries sustained by the Ensign Taleda unit in the attack resulting from Meklia operational failure Z71. Unit Mek4628 received Mekla directive A7C85Y instructing Unit Mek4628 to repair all damage to the Ensign Unit as a gesture of good will.”

“Can you send me all the data pertaining to treatment of Ensign Taleda?” I asked.

“Transmitting.” The medical unit paused. “Transmission complete. State your query.”

“Thank you Unit Mek4628. We have no further query.” said Jake.

The transmission ended.

“We’ll they’re a helpful bunch,” I said. “Maybe the data will–”

A loud bang jolted me.

We turned. Nurse Abrams stood at the medbay entrance. A dented containment vessel rolled away from her. She staggered forward, eyes wide and fixed upon Ensign Taleda.

“Abrams!” I rushed forward as Rachel Abrams lost her balance. I caught Abrams before the nurse hit the floor.

“Elbrun! Something’s happening to Taleda,” said Jake.

I glanced at Taleda; they writhed like the woman in my arms. “Hold them on the biobed. I’ll be there shortly.” I braced my back and placed Abrams on the biobed next to Taleda. Abrams moaned and fought my hold.

“Computer, activate restraints on biobeds one and two,” I said.

“Patient restraints activated on biobeds one and two,” said the Computer.

I grabbed a scanner and moved it over Abrams. “Pulse spiking. Respiration approaching hyperventilation. Pupils fully dilated.” Abrams bucked against the force field holding her. “Administering sedative.”

“What’s happening?” asked Jake.

“Not now, Captain.” I turned to Taleda. “Rapid pulse. Fast respiration.” I lifted each of their eyelids. “Dilated pupils.”

Taleda moaned faintly and squirmed. Their phallix had uncoiled and now undulated beneath the sheet. The tip periodically made circular whipping motions as if searching for something.

“Increasing Taleda’s sedation.” I returned to Abrams who still writhed under restraint. “Hormones are spiking. Increasing Abram’s sedation.”

I stepped back and watched the biobed monitors for a moment then brought up new diagnostics on both and shook my head.

Jake watched and waited.

I picked up a medical tricorder and transferred the biobed sensor cluster readings; then I grabbed a psycho-tricorder from storage and scanned both patients. “Fascinating.”

“Doctor?” asked Jake

“Sorry, Captain.” I looked up. “Both appear to be in a rapid-onset state of extreme arousal.”

“Are you telling me they’re super horny?” asked Jake.

“That would be a crass understatement.” I watched the real time biomarkers. “The level of sedation I gave each of them should have placed them in a deep sleep; yet clearly their drive to mate has broken through.” I watched both patients for a moment then shrugged. “No other diagnosis fits.”

“Are they in danger?” Jake furrowed his brow and crossed his arms as he watched the two struggle against their bonds. “Is it contagious?”

“They’re not in danger; prior to sedation, they’re hearts beat at a level commensurate with intense aerobic exercise with corresponding respiration . . . uh, heavy breathing.” I looked at Jake. “As for contagion, that is unlikely. Taleda was beamed directly to the medbay from Mekla. The transporter would have automatically screened viral and microbial pathogens; and, if that failed, the medbay would have automatically deployed a medical quarantine field to block airborne disease sources.” Airborne sources. I snapped my fingers. “That’s it! Computer, raise a medical quarantine field around biobed one then filter all organic molecules from the air in the medbay and inside the quarantine field.”

Jake moved away from the biobeds. “Teslus?”

I sampled the air with my medical tricorder.

“Talk to me, please!”

“OK, pheromone levels have dropped.” I watched Taleda and Abrams. “Looks like my hunch was correct. See how they’ve calmed?”

“Yeah, they look like they’re sleeping,” said Jake.

“Exactly. Their biometrics indicate they’ve entered a state of deep sedation, which is what I expect.” I turned to Jake. “I hadn’t thought to measure pheromones, which are airborne chemical signals produced by an organism, animal, person–whatever–to entice a potential mate to copulate. In humans, pheromones produce a subtle effect, mostly subconsciously. The best genetic matches are more attracted to each other by their pheromones, but never to this degree.”

I showed Jake the readings on my medical tricorder from Abram’s scan. “This data shows that Nurse Abrams has entered her ovulation phase after exposure to Taleda’s pheromones.”

Jake shook his head. “Couldn’t she have already been in that phase before getting close to the ensign?”

“No.” I smiled. “We got lucky. Yesterday, I scanned her in biobed four to recalibrate the sensor cluster. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she was physiologically at least two weeks away from ovulating.”

“OK, weird. But that doesn’t explain Taleda’s extreme response.” Jake gestured toward the sleeping ensign. “I mean your scans of Abrams showed she was normal right?”

“Correct, but Abram’s pheromones clearly produced a reciprocal effect. I think we may have to change our perspective on normalcy.”



“How are you feeling, Ensign?” I asked.

Cameron opened there eyes slowly and blinked. “Am I alive, Doc? . . . The explosion . . . Is the Ambassador OK? The last thing I remember . . . noise . . . and heat and pain. Burning–everything burning. They reached for their side.

“You’re safe and, um, healed. Ambassador Toorok survived because of your actions, Taleda. You honored Starfleet with your courage, and we’re all grateful you’ve come back to us.”

“I . . . I didn’t have time to think. I don’t know . . . It’s all so confusing.” Cameron rubbed their head, further mashing their curly purple locks into a runaway tangle. They looked at me hopelessly.

“You’re a hero,” I said.

“I don’t feel like a hero. I just feel like me.” They shrugged.

“Well, given the circumstances, that’s a good thing,” I said.

“What circumstances?” asked Cameron.

“You’ve been under sedation for several days. The Meklia treated your injuries; however, we need to discuss some complications from your treatment, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“It’s OK, Doc. I feel great.” Cameron smiled, yawned, and stretched their whole body. “What the–” Cameron yanked the sheet off of them. Their phallix lay extended on the biobed. They shrieked. “What is that?!” Cameron scrambled on their back to the head of the biobed. “Get it off me!” Their phallix moved with them and began to recoil into their oralva. “GET IT OFF ME!” Cameron raised their fist.

“Wait! Stop!” I lunged forward.

Cameron screamed and doubled over in pain with the blow to their phallix.

“Is that part of me?!” They cried out and sobbed. Tears streaked their cheeks. “What’s happened to me?”

I grabbed a dermal regenerator. “I’ll explain everything; but you have to follow my instructions, and–keep an open mind.” I repaired the tissue damage. “Is the pain gone?”

They nodded through tears.

“Take deep breaths. Focus on breathing. Calm yourself.”

Tremors cut off their deep breath.

“May I assist you telepathically?” I asked.

Cameron nodded.

I entered the Ensign’s mind and projected calmness. Once their frenetic thoughts slowed, I focused their attention on deep breaths.

“I’m feeling much better, thank you.” Cameron smiled at me sheepishly.

I studied Taleda. Physically, they present as nondescript. The type of person you overlook in a group, party, or crowd. Slight of build. Average height. Generic face. Underdeveloped muscles. Interacting with Taleda, however, changes one’s assessment. Their facial features are delicate and paired with penetrating brown eyes that induce the intoxicating sensation of being seen.

I placed my hand on their shoulder. “I’m here to care for you.” I looked down the biobed. The Ensign had brought their knees up and kept their feet apart to avoid contact with their phallix, which still lay extended on the biobed for a full meter from their body. “Do you trust me?”

Cameron nodded.

“OK, you need to retract your phallix. Try to do that,” I said.

Cameron shook their head. “No way. Nah ah.”

“I understand this is confusing and scary, but you must master retracting your phallix to protect it. Will you try?”

Cameron grimaced and nodded their head. After several deep breaths and hard swallows, they began straining. Their phallix did not move.

“So, stop. I recognize this is new for everyone. Given that you're still laying across the biobed, straining like you're constipated isn’t helping. Close your eyes and try envisioning what you want to happen. I know you can feel your phallix on the biobed. Think about that sensation but coiled in here.” I placed my palm on their groin.

Cameron closed their eyes. After a moment their phallix began to retract slowly. They gasped and opened their eyes wide. “I can feel it.”

Remember, your goal is for Taleda to accept their emotions, not tell them how they feel. “How does it feel?” I asked.

Cameron blushed. “Kinda good, actually.”

“Focus on that feeling and bring all of it back in,” I said. Yeah, that sensation is delicious.

After the Ensign fully retracted their phallix, I pulled the sheet over them. “Good work.” I paused. “When I entered your mind, Ensign, I saw you had had a dream about a pearl and silk. Do you remember that?”

They shook their head.

“The dream was quite vivid; but you’ve also been through a traumatic event, so maybe it’ll make sense later. I’m going to gather my notes. When you’re ready, let’s talk about your body.”

Cameron nodded.

I turned to get my PADD.

“Doc?”

“Yes?”

“Where’s my dick?”



I lay with my head on Jake’s chest. His heart beat strong; his breath came slow and deep as he drifted through his afterglow. My fingers circled and teased his nipple erect before letting it subside and starting again. “What do you love about me?” I asked.

“Hmmm?”

He drifted toward sleep. I pinched his nipple.

His eyes popped open then slowly fell. “What?”

“What do you love about me?”

Jake relaxed into a sigh. “I love how the corner of your mouth curls when you're amused. Looking into your eyes is like gazing into never-ending space. I love the patterns you shave into your hair, and I love that you constantly move and change your tattoos.”

“Why?”

“You’re free. You express yourself in ways that I can never. It’s like you haven’t even read the personal presentation section of Starfleet regulations.”

“There’s a personal presentation section?”

My head bounced as Jake’s chuckle rippled through his chest. He caressed my shoulder softly until he drifted again.

“What else?” I asked.

“Well . . .”

I scratched a nail across his nipple.

“Uh . . . mmm . . . I love how I’m physically more capable than you in every aspect—strength, speed, stamina—but you own me in bed. I try to resist you . . .”

“You should keep trying; that’s fun.” I hugged him tightly, lifted my head and looked at him with my chin on his chest. “Would you still love me if I lost my dick?”

“Of course, don’t be silly,” he said.

“But we couldn’t be together in the same way.”

“We’d find a way.” Jake yawned. “Humans . . . humans . . . have . . . b e e n . . . d e v e l o p i n g . . . s e x . . . t o y s . . . f o r e v e r.”

“That’s true; your species has quite the fetish.” I lowered my head to his chest again and let him sleep.



“I need to get out of here, Elbrun.” Rachel held her knees to her chest and rocked on the biobed. “I’m going stir crazy.”

I scanned her. “Why?”

“There’s nothing to do but think.” She frowned.

“Is that such a bad thing?” I asked.

“Yes!”

“If you want, I can invite your gaggle of girls to visit.”

“Don’t you dare! So help me, Elbrun—”

I smirked. “So what sim are you going to burn through this time? Rock Climbing? Parkour? Cliff Diving? Triathlon? Surfing? Gymnastics? Kung Fu? Ju Jitsu?”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Huh, I didn’t think you were listening before. No—surfing this time. I need to lose myself in the flow.”



Chief Medical Officer’s Log, USS Stonewall, Stardate 2423.65:

Ensign Cameron Taleda remains quarantined in the medbay. I released Nurse Rachel Abrams to active duty; but after her first day back, I transferred her duty station out of the medbay. Ensign Taleda’s presence distracted her to the point of ineffectiveness. The extreme arousal she experienced upon her first encounter with Taleda has partially subsided since Taleda’s quarantine, but not completely. She mumbled repeatedly about “bringing a pearl home.” Her biosigns indicate an elevated state of arousal that she describes as significant but manageable. I also note that her body has paused in the ovulation phase. I have confirmed the release of an egg into her uterus without further progression of her menstrual cycle.

Captain Jake Beck and myself remain unaffected by exposure to the pheromones produced by Taleda and Abrams. Abrams has served in Starfleet for six years without incident, which supports my theory that the effect she and Taleda experienced is restricted to them.

The only connection I’ve been able to find between the two is they both carry copies of the gene sequences that the Meklia repaired in Ensign Taleda. Nurse Abrams possesses half the genes paired with a more common genetic sequence in human females. Ensign Taleda possesses both halves of the genes. Thus, the genes must express a recessive trait. Nurse Abrams may (in theory) pass her half copy to offspring, with anatomy seen in Ensign Taleda forming only if she mated with someone possessing the other half of the genes.

These genes rarely occur in human populations. This infrequency may result from the individuals with these genes being either infertile or experiencing high rates of miscarriage.

I don’t know why or how Taleda sustained damage to those genes, but I suspect the damage forced development of male genitalia in place of their current form.

Taleda’s mother is a physician; I will contact her to discuss their case further. By a stroke of luck, one other crew member on the Stonewall carries half of the genes, Security Officer Ansen Luc. Captain Beck has authorized me to speak with Luc and possibly conduct tests to further characterize the phenomenon affecting Taleda and Abrams. End log.



“Do you know why you’re here?” I asked.

“Captain’s orders,” replied Ansen.

I scanned Officer Luc with my medical tricorder. “Yes, but do you know why the Captain ordered you to see me?” All vitals are nominal.

“No.”

“I am investigating a medical issue that affects Ensign Taleda,” I gestured to Taleda, who waved from behind the quarantine field, “and Nurse Abrams, who assists us today.”

“I don’t understand. How can I help?” Ansen asked.

“You carry a complementary portion of the genes that both Taleda and Abrams carry. I suspect those genes play a role in the medical issue. I want to test that theory by exposing you to Ensign Taleda. Your participation is purely voluntary. No one, not even Captain Beck, can order you to comply. Do you wish to volunteer?”

Luc frowned. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” said Rachel. She avoided my stare by focusing on her tricorder. I felt and shared her eagerness to begin.

“We’ve tested sixty-three other volunteers with no response; however, they did not possess the genes that you do,” I said. “Sorry, I have to say something. Your nose has clearly been broken multiple times and healed without medical intervention. Why would you suffer for that long?”

Ansen felt the dents and knots along his nasal bridge. “No big deal.”

“Well, we expect this research to be less intrusive,” I said.

“What do I have to do?” asked Ansen.

“You will lay on biobed two under restraint while we lower the quarantine field that isolates Ensign Taleda,” I replied.

“So, I just have to lay there?” asked Ansen.

Rachel and I nodded and smiled encouragingly.

Ansen shrugged. “OK, I’ll do it.”

“Great! Rachel double check that your personal quarantine shield is on.” I guided Luc to the biobed. “Officer Luc, please lay here, and I’ll turn on the restraints. Perfect. Now I’m going to restrain Taleda and then lower the shield.” I moved next to Taleda’s biobed. “OK, restraints are on. Rachel, are you quarantined?”

She gave me a thumbs up.

“Lowering the quarantine shield.” I moved back to Luc’s side and watched the scan data on my tricorder. “Do you feel anything, Officer Luc?”

“No.”

I looked at him. He had started sweating and his breath quickened. Behind me, I heard Taleda moan softly and squirm. “How about now?”

“No, nothing. I’m OK,” Luc’s voice was thick and hoarse. He glanced toward Taleda and flexed against his restraints.

“Forty-three seconds into trial, Ansen Luc presents with an erection,” said Rachel.

“No,” Luc clenched his teeth and moaned. “I don’t–”

“You’re hard as a rock,” said Rachel. “These uniforms hide nothing.”

“Rachel, a little sensitivity please,” I said.

“We need accurate data.” Rachel pointed to Luc’s groin. “He’s hard–impressively so–but this meathead won’t admit he’s losing it.”

Taleda moaned. I turned. The Ensign writhed under their restraints.

Luc cried out. He bucked against his bonds; eyes locked on Taleda.

“Computer, raise quarantine field; filter pheromones from medbay and quarantine area,” I said. “Rachel, start the recovery timer . . . Rachel?”

She didn’t respond. I looked up. Like Luc, Rachel was transfixed by Taleda. Her medical tricorder lay on the floor in pieces. I checked her mobile quarantine field; strength and frequency were both normal.

Rachel whispered, “Wrap the pearl in silk.”

“All pheromones have been removed,” said the Computer.

“Computer, start recovery timer for Cameron Taleda, Ansen Luc, and Rachel Abrams.”



“The purpose of this research is to ascertain the physical and cognitive impacts of interaction between individuals with the identified gene sequences. The near and long term impacts are unknown and may be temporary or long lasting. Do you understand?” I looked up from the consent form on my PADD.

“I’ll be working with Taleda, right?” asked Luc. He ran a large, thick-fingered hand over his close-cropped blonde hair while studying the Ensign, who watched him from their biobed.

“I need a verbal yes or no, Officer Luc,” I said.

“Yes.” Ansen rubbed his thighs. He whispered, “Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

Luc stared at me with his dour face.

I shook my head and returned to the consent protocol. “Do you consent to monitoring your physical condition?” I asked.

“What?” Luc glanced at me then returned his gaze to Taleda. “Yes, fine.”

“Do you consent to monitoring your mental state by medical tricorder?”

“Yeah, yeah when do I start working with Taleda?” asked Luc.

“Do you consent to monitoring your mental state through direct telepathy?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Do you consent to monitoring of your behavior, including intimate moments, through sensor readings, direct observation, and telepathic connection?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, all that, whatever you want. Can we start?” asked Luc.

“We’ll start now,” I said.

Rachel squealed from across the medbay. Taleda grinned.



Chief Medical Officer’s Log, USS Stonewall, Stardate 2423.70:

I have released Ensign Cameron Taleda from medbay quarantine with the restriction that they, along with Nurse Rachel Abrams and Security Officer Ansen Luc, continually use personal quarantine shields. Rachel Abrams’ response during the exposure trial between Taleda and Luc suggests pheromones aren’t the only stimulation vector among the three. I must protect them and the rest of the crew.

The physiological, mental, and behavioral interactions between the three subjects relate to human sexual reproduction, so the remainder of this log documents comparative differences between the three in this regard.

Cameron Taleda is a twenty-two year old, nonbinary human born with male anatomy. They identify as nonbinary both before and after the transformation of their sexual organs, which technically makes them a transsexual–I’ll let the labelers sort that one.

Taleda’s friends described them as a gamer nerd who comes across as a braggart, but also the first to stand against other players trolling their friends.

When asked about their sexual history, Taleda replied, “Anything that moves.” Later, they clarified, “Any humanoid that moves.” When I asked for a list of prior liaisons, Taleda admitted they had not copulated with anyone yet. They did describe their performance in an unsanctioned erotic holodeck game, with the ghastly title “To Boldly Cum Where No One Has Cum Before”, in which Taleda claims to have reached the supposedly impressive rank of “Rear Admiral.” Their words.

Rachel Abrams is a twenty-one year old, cisgender, lesbian human female. Tallest of the three, Abrams presents as the most physically striking with a conventionally beautiful face paired with (as a former lover describes) “blue-sky eyes and hair flowing through midnight with obsidian curves and eddies catching hints of starlight during a new moon.”

Abrams is arguably also the most intelligent of the subjects. However, my personal observations, conversations with her, and interviews with her friends and lovers suggests she directs her quick wit and expansive knowledge exclusively toward acts of seduction. She describes herself as a “huntress.” When I pressed her on this, Abrams revealed that she reflects her quarry. “I make her see what she wants.”

Her friends were entirely cisgender females consisting exclusively of either former lovers or ostensibly future conquests. Her former-lover friends described Abrams as gamophobic, withdrawing at the first blush of commitment, but too hot to drop. Her future-conquest friends described her with a nauseating list of superlatives that demonstrated her seduction skills.

In response to my request for a list of sexual liaisons, Abrams produced the names of thirty cisgender women who identified as heterosexual prior to meeting Abrams and “confused”, “maybe bi”, or “totally into girls now” after their sexual relationship with Abrams ended. None of the women carried the genes under consideration in this study.

Ansen Luc is a twenty-six year old, cisgender, heterosexual human male. His dour countenance and gruff manners detract from his attractiveness to the point he repels people. My interviews with Luc elicited only single-word responses or non-verbal grunts, so I switched to a telepathic examination.

Luc’s early childhood memories revealed a roly-poly ball of sunshine with a contagious smile and infectious giggle. Human masculine norms poisoned that little boy as he grew, withering expressions of individuality and extinguishing joy, forging the man he is today. To wit, Luc is intelligent but shied from developing his mind to minimize beatings from peers.

The people he identified as friends characterized Luc as a coworker, teammate, or acquaintance but not a friend. Everyone stated they didn’t know Luc well enough to comment on him. When I asked for a list of sexual partners, Luc claimed he had had intercourse with dozens of women. When I insisted on contact information, he produced the names of three. The first woman stated that their interaction “didn’t count.” The second woman described the encounter as “awkward”. The third woman said the following, “The sex was OK . . . actually, I was really hard up and he was there.” None of the women carried the genes in question.

The three study subjects did not know each other prior to their encounter in the medbay. Other than genetics, I have no idea what links a loyal virgin, a promiscuous gamophobe, and an oppressed misanthrope. End log.



Officer Luc sat for his weekly examination. The biobed complained under his bulk.

“You’re underweight for your frame size,” I said. “Have you lost your appetite?”

“No.” Luc picked at calluses on his palm.

I examined his biomarkers. “Well, I can’t find a medical reason for your weight loss. Are you depressed?”

He shrugged. “Training.”

I raised my brow. “For?”

“Wrestling.”

“That’s right. You compete in the Quadrant’s Quinquennial Games, correct?”

Luc nodded.

“So . . . why do you need to lose weight for that?” I asked.

“Dropping to Junior Heavyweight class,” he said.

“The amount you’ve lost is not healthy. You have a thick frame and significant muscle development from what—I’m guessing powerlifting?”

He nodded.

“You risk sabotaging your performance from fasting. Why would you do that?” I asked.

“Won gold in heavyweight class last games. Need a challenge.”

I shook my head. “If you insist on this path, at least eat food that will minimize the health impacts. I’ll send recipes to the galley for you.”

He looked up but just nodded.

“Moving on, your biomarkers show your arousal level has increased a bit. Can you cope with the change?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Luc.

“Officer Luc, most people—look at me—most people in this state of arousal report a significant disruption in their lives. Inability to focus. Intrusive erotic thoughts. Irritability. Poor sleep.”

Luc’s hazel eyes revealed nothing. “Doesn’t matter.”

I scoffed and immediately regretted it. “Sorry. Perhaps a different approach may be more productive. Each of us, including you, has the right to live unburdened by expectations. Sharing who you are can be cathartic. If you’re open to talking with someone in a similar position, Nurse Abrams frequently runs physically demanding holosims. You might ask to join her sometime.”

“OK, we done?”

“You’re free to go.” I gestured toward the door.

Luc stood to leave.

“Oh, and Officer Luc, make sure you listen as much as you talk.” I smiled.

He nodded.



“Doctor Elbrun, I presume. I expected a call sooner.”

The creases on Dr. Taleda’s face bore witness to decades of frowning. I’m really glad I can’t read minds through subspace communication. “I apologize, Doctor Taleda. I’ve been–”

“I don’t care about your duties; I’ve left you no less than seventeen messages regarding Cameron’s treatment,” said Dr. Taleda.

“I understand, Doctor Taleda; I know you have limited time and wish to delve into Cameron’s care, so why don’t we start with identifying a source or sources of the genetic damage. I examined your genetic records and Cameron’s father that you sent. Neither of you have the DNA damage that Cameron carries. If the Meklia–”

“You can’t trust those bolt buckets. Look at what they did to my baby! Butchers!” said Dr. Taleda.

“Nevertheless, if they repaired Cameron’s DNA correctly, which appears to be the case, then the damage must have occurred before or during pregnancy. Can you recall any event or factor that may have exposed their DNA to alteration?” I asked.

“Doctor Elbrun, as I’m sure you have learned by now, people with genes that my family carries have tremendous difficulty conceiving and bearing children. I, personally, went to great lengths to bring Cameron to this universe. In vitro fertilization proceeded correctly. I had lab grade purifiers installed in my home. I took a prenatal vitamin, and I ate only cultivated food–no replicator fabrications. I assure you I did everything according to protocol, and I have the records to prove it. I kept meticulous notes in my journals. Those MACHINES screwed up!”

“Can you send me your journals? Maybe they will help me see something I’m missing,” I said.

Dr. Taleda looked away from the view screen for a moment then returned her glare to me. “Done. When will you be restoring Cameron’s genitals?”



“What’s your poison tonight, Doc?” asked the bartender.

“Synthale, thanks Toby.” I leaned against the bar. I’m tired. I looked around. This place is dead. “Ten Forward’s slow tonight, huh?” I spotted Abrams, Taleda, and Luc in the far corner.

“Yep.” Toby placed a glass of synthale in front of me. “They’re an odd trio; aren’t they?”

I took a long draw on my ale. “How do you mean?”

“Well, the Belle of the Ball, the Oddball, and the Outcast–a few weeks ago they existed in alternate realities. Abrams always had her posse, and it wasn’t them.” Toby jerked a thumb toward the trio. “Taleda hung with the cosplay crowd; and Luc, well, Luc was always either in a fight or breaking one up.”

I kept my eyes on the three. “If he’s such a troublemaker, how come you let him in here?”

“He’s not the problem. Some people can’t leave others alone. I guess they resent him doin’ his job–excuse me Commander. Holler if you need a refill.”

I nursed my drink, so I could watch them more. Per my orders, they weren’t allowed to meet privately yet. Sensor data confirmed that whenever two or more were off duty they met in public.

They sat as close to each other as their quarantine fields allowed. Taleda and Abrams chatted and laughed; Luc listened–attentively but silently. Oddly, the other two included him in the conversation as if he contributed as much as they did. The three leaned in too close, causing green sparks from their colliding quarantine fields to crackle through the air. Taleda and Abrams laughed.

This is more than friendship.

They laughed again. Boisterous and carefree. No one laughs with me like that. Gee, I wonder why Mr. Senior Officer and Telepath. Stop complaining, Teslus. Jake’s a great friend and lover. You can talk to him about anything. So what if there’s no one to talk to about him? I sighed and finished my ale.



Chief Medical Officer’s Log, USS Stonewall, Stardate 2423.131:

I have maintained the ban on private encounters between Taleda, Abrams, and Luc. I understand almost nothing about their condition; thus, I cannot risk their health and safety or that of the crew. The three continue to spend their free time together in public. Each remains in the same elevated state of arousal that began after their initial encounter. Abram’s menstrual cycle has been paused in her ovulation phase with a viable egg for the last seventy-one days. Other physiological changes have occurred–their hearts now beat in synchrony. All three referenced the same repeating thought, “Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.” I’ve puzzled over the meaning of this extensively to no avail. End log.



“Do you see anything yet?” Abrams paced in front of my desk.

“Not yet.” I tweaked the scanner’s focus on the DNA sample. “Wait. Yes . . . I think–yes, I see something.”

Rachel rushed around the desk and leaned over my shoulder. Her quarantine field tingled my neck. Her warm breath pulsed over my ear. I liked it. “Let me see,” she said softly.

Rachel had trapped me between her body and the desk, restricting my movement to a tilt of my head to give her access to the scanner. She pressed her breasts into my shoulder as she peered into the scanner’s viewport. “It looks like the damage on Cameron’s DNA before the attack!” Rachel backed off and sat on the edge of my desk. Her legs swung over the edge.

I smiled and nodded. “We’ve found our teratogen. That compound in the prenatal vitamins caused the damage to Cameron’s DNA, altering their development in the womb.”

Rachel pumped her fists. “Yes! I knew it! The Meklia did heal them.”

I saved the test results and molecular structure of the compound. “Now what I have to do is contact the Federation Archives to figure out when and why this chemical became a component of prenatal vitamins, so we can stop other children from being deformed like Cam–”

“Everyone knows.” Rachel’s voice quavered.

I looked up.

“Everyone knows you two are a couple.” A tear slid down her cheek.

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

“You and the Captain–we all know you’re together. I’m sorry, Teslus! You’ve been so nice to us, and you work so hard to help us, and,” Rachel threw her hands up and sobbed, “I placed bets!”

I rose and hugged her, but her quarantine field blocked contact and shot pins through my arms. “OK, that’s not working.”

She laughed halfheartedly.

“Take three deep breaths, and tell me what’s bothering you.”

Her tension receded with each breath. “The crew has a weekly betting pool.” Rachel’s chin trembled. She stared at her hands in her lap. “We bet on where, when, and how you two will get caught in a PDA.” She looked up. “That’s a public display of affection. We call it–”

“Captain’s Quarters.” I quirked my brow and smiled.

Her eyes widened. “You know?”

“You do remember I’m Betazoid, right? I’ve known since Ensign Gruber proposed the game in Ten Forward to Ensigns Gomez and Volek.”

Rachel sniffled. “Really?”

“Why do you think Ensign Gruber spent a month cleaning all the grips in every Jefferies Tube in this ship?”

“That was you?” She grinned.

“Not me; I’m just the messenger,” I said.

“If he knows, how come we weren’t all punished?”

“Ensign Gruber proposed the game to spite Jake–er, Captain Beck, but the rest of you played because you like the Captain. I convinced Jake that the morale boost from playing far surpassed any hit to his ‘command presence’.” I grinned. “Plus, he’s SO CUTE when he blushes!”

“I know! Right?”



“Come into my office, Cameron.” I offered them a chair and sat in the one diagonal to them.

They flopped onto the chair. “So . . . how long have I got?”

I smiled. “Barring an away mission mishap–you wear a red shirt after all–I guess about one hundred and forty years.”

They grinned.

I hesitated. “Seriously, you’re in great health. The only issues I’m concerned about are your elevated arousal levels and . . .”

“My junk.”

I nodded. “Your physiology isn’t bothering you, so I’ll keep monitoring you to ensure nothing becomes problematic. Who knows;” I shrugged; “maybe we’ll learn something. Does that chant still run through your head? ‘Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.’”

Cameron nodded.

“It’s stuck in my head now too.”

“Any idea what it means?”

I shook my head.

They started to rise.

“Wait a moment, Cameron. I want to talk to you about . . .” I realized I stared at their crotch; I looked up. Cameron smirked at me. I blushed and avoided their gaze. Why is it so unsettling to be around them? “I spoke with the Librarian at the Federation’s Earth Archives. The composition of the prenatal vitamins your mother took predates World War Three. Few records survived that period. One mention of the vitamin stated it reduced the risk of birth defects. There has been no research on the chemicals since then.

“I’ve thought a lot about how a poison could persist in such a crucial medication for so long. What I came to was this. Progress requires us to draw upon past discoveries. At some point in the past, the well was poisoned, but successive generations never tested the water before drawing.”

I forced myself to look into Cameron’s eyes. I swallowed. “The Librarian said that other records from that era reveal a society heavily impacted by fear, anger, and shame. Differences spurred suppression. I suspect someone acted out of malice, perhaps rationalized by the false morality of a long forgotten God, to ensnare future generations for centuries.

“I’m sending my results and the data from our ongoing study to Starfleet Medical for review and protocol revision. No more children will suffer your fate.”

“What do you think I should do?” asked Cameron.

“About what?” I asked.

Cameron grabbed their crotch.

My eyes flitted to their groin and lingered longer than was professional before meeting their gaze again. Hard to say which is more distracting. “That choice is solely yours. The operation isn’t trivial; however, we can regenerate male genitalia for you. And to be clear, I will comply with your wish whenever and whatever you decide. Even if that requires me to end the research today.”

“But what do YOU think?”

“You don’t need my consent or approval.”

Cameron scoffed. “My Mom’s nagging me to hack off my phallix. Rache and Ansi plead with me to keep it. Everyone’s telling me what to do except for the one person whose opinion I want.”

I take their hand in mine despite the needle pricks from the quarantine field surrounding them. “I’m not telling you what you should do because that would be a disservice to you. The choice is yours and must be made only by you.

“I can offer a suggestion. Whatever you decide, ensure that you choose for you and not because another person, society, whoever, made you think you had to choose one way or another.

“That’s difficult to sort through, so take your time and think carefully about it. Humans often conflate concepts. I’m perpetually mystified by the human distinctions of man and woman because the two are more similar than different, and the dissimilarities seem irrelevant to human’s social use of the concepts. The nonbinary label is equally confusing because the name is rooted in what it rejects, not what it is. Don’t you find that odd?”

Cameron shrugged. “I dunno. I never thought about it. That's what people call someone like me.”

“Think about it. Anatomy does not define a person.”



I frowned at my reflection in the wardrobe replicator’s mirrors. Tonight’s Captain’s Dinner was the first opportunity for Jake and I to spend personal time together for weeks. Our schedules had kept us apart, and I looked forward to seeing him even if we shared the moment with twenty others. So I wanted to elevate my game; turn heads across the room. I sighed and slumped. I have no idea what I’m doing.

“Computer, contact Rachel Abrams.”

“Calling Rachel Abrams.”

“Hey you!, What’s up?”

“The Captain’s Dinner is tonight, and I don’t know what to–”

“Ooo! A fashion emergency! On my way.”

Rachel transported to my quarters.

“Why are you using the site-to-site transporter?” I frowned at her. “Beaming into quarters is for emergencies only.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Why are you naked?!”

“I’m getting dressed.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh right, I forget how prudish you humans are about nudity.” I gazed at the front of my torso and smiled.

Rachel watched me. “You do have exquisite definition.”

“Yoga–for balance and flexibility.” I looked over my shoulder at the mirror behind me. “I sometimes think I should bulk up, but I’m completely unmotivated to put in the effort because Jake is totally into my body; though, he does keep refusing my personnel request for someone to help with stocking medical supplies.” My eyes drift down. “I accuse him of forced labor to buff my figure. He won’t deny it.” I love my ass. Small but curvy and tight with lovely side dimples.

“Eh hem!”

I turned to Rachel. She was blushing and nodded toward my sex.

“Seriously? A person can’t appreciate the sight of their own body?”

Rachel avoided my gaze, still blushing.

“Fine, I’ll quash my joy in the male form.”

She stared mouth agape as my erection faded.

“That’s seriously impressive,” She said, meeting my gaze after I was fully flaccid.

I shrugged. “For humans maybe, on Betazed, we teach that basic control technique to children when they enter puberty. Arousal control is easy.” I turned back to the mirrors. “I want to start with my hair.” I ran my fingers through my hair and teased out a couple of locks. “So boring.” I studied Rachel’s hair. “You have great hair.”

Rachel smirked and flipped her hair forward to frame her face. For a moment, I glimpsed the predator.

“Computer, change my hair color to Rachel Abram’s”

“Don’t you steal my color! I swear; I’ll–Oh, that does look good on you. The color intensity complements the black in your eyes and your pale complexion well . . . How is your skin so clear and smooth?”

“Dunno.” I shrugged.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

She studied my hair. “You want to spice things up a bit?”

“Yes! Yes!” I clapped excitedly. “A thousand times yes!”

“May I?”

I nodded and faced her, avoiding the reflections that would prompt second guesses.

“Computer, add a crimson streak to Teslus’ forelock, left side, twenty degree angle, upward fade to temple.” She smiled. “Excellent. Now let’s get clothes on your body before I decide I have a new type.”

I blushed.

“Go commando–it’s sexier,” Rachel said.

I nodded. “It is; isn’t it?”

“Computer, crimson dress, form fitting, short sleeves, short skirt, plunge back to waistline, asymmetrical plunging neckline from left shoulder, twenty degree angle, asymmetrical bare midriff with asymmetry matching neckline.”

I felt the dress form around me. “Well?”

Rachel crossed her arms and held her chin as she paced from my left to my right and back again. “Computer, shorten skirt. Shorter.”

“Rachel, it has to cover my ass; this is a formal event.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Shorter. Perfect!” She studied me further. “Computer, tighten dress. Tighter.”

“Too tight! Too tight!” I gasped.

“Exhale. You’ll be fine.” Rachel’s eyes poured over me for a long moment then she nodded. “The Captain will love you in this.” A mischievous smile danced across her lips. “Have a look.”

I turned to the mirrors and gasped. “It’s gorgeous!” The torso framed my shoulders and chest exquisitely while mirroring the geometry of my hairstyle. I turned. The back accentuated the muscles in my upper back while focusing attention downward to my ass. “I love it!” The dress unequivocally stated, “Neglect me at your peril.”

I faced forward again and moved my gaze from head to toe. I gasped midway. The head of my penis dangled below the skirt’s hem.

I looked at Rachel. “Bitch.”

“Slut.” She smiled, winked, and teleported.

I gazed at my reflection, turning slightly left then right. “I do love this dress.” The hem of the skirt tightened then began sliding up my thighs. “Hello there. A pleasure to see you again.” I shifted and moaned. “I think I’ll let this one play out.” Slut.



Blood saturated Ansen’s right brow and pooled toward his eye.

“Rachel, swab that.” I moved the tissue regenerator over the laceration on his forehead. “I need space to work, Cameron. Please step back.”

“Who did this?” asked Cameron.

“Some Jerks in Ten Forward,” said Ansen.

“Who? I want names.” Cameron clenched and unclenched their fists.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Ansen.

“It does matter!” Cameron’s voice cracked. “You matter.”

“Cameron’s right, Anse. Tell us what happened.” Rachel swapped sponges to absorb more blood.

Ansen exhaled. “My shift was ending, and I was finishing a report of a disturbance at the bar when I overheard some guys running you down.” He glanced at Cameron. “They called you a freak; said they knew someone—one of your cosplay buddies—who had seen your . . . your—what’d you call it, Doc?”

“Someone saw Cameron’s phallix?” I asked.

“Yea, through their pants,” said Ansen.

I looked at Cameron. They pursed their lips.

“I stretch periodically. I try to be discreet, down my pants leg is all. Someone must have seen me.”

“They called you a defective freak, so we had words. Called me a monster lover. Nobody talks about you like that. Nobody. I wrote them up for hate speech. They jumped me in the corridor after my shift.”

“Did you use the strikes I showed you?” asked Rachel.

I switched to an osteoregenerator to heal the broken bones in Ansen’s hand.

Ansen nodded. “I did, but there were six of ‘em, and I’m not as good as you.”

“You still have that report on your PADD?” asked Cameron.

Ansen handed them the PADD. Cameron flipped to Ansen’s last report and read the names. They handed the device back and turned for the door.

“Where are you going?!” I asked.

Cameron turned toward me and opened their arms while stepping backward to the door. “To educate some people.”

“Wait for me!” Rachel caught my eye.

“Go ahead; keep them safe.” I nodded toward Cameron. “I’ll finish here. And no violence you two!” I hope they destroy those guys.

“Peace, Tesi!” called Cameron as they slipped out.



I woke groaning into my pillow as the warm pool spread beneath me. Mmmm. What was I . . . I drifted. Drifted. Drifted. Slept.

Rachel bounced into the medbay. “Good morning, Tesi!”

“Morning, Rache, you’re awfully perky today.” I took a long draw on my green tea and contemplated something stronger.

“I had a great night!” She stopped. “You look worked over. You OK?”

I nodded.

“Uh huh, sure. Let me know if I can help.”

I turned to my view screen as Rachel went to the storeroom. Let’s see how the rest of the family fares. I pulled up biometrics on Rachel, Cameron, and Ansen. Their arousal levels had increased further and were substantially higher than at the study’s start. Not good. Hearts still beat in unison. Odd but not a problem. I froze mid sip. At 23:16 last night, all three simultaneously climaxed.

I placed my cup on the desk and lowered my voice. “Computer, retrieve the last twelve hours of biometric data for Teslus Elbrun.”

My finger moved down the time series data.

20:40

21:05

22:36

23:00

23:07

23:16 I came.

No. No. No. I compared my heartbeat to theirs. Unity. I rubbed my eyes. What’s happening! Think Teslus. Think.

Arousal levels! They’re different! I checked my arousal levels. Normal. I exhaled. A coincidence—nothing more. I’m tired, that’s all. Just tired. . . . Tired. Oh, no. I looked inward. May the four Gods help me.

I released the block suppressing my desire.

The room spun. Lust, joy, love coursed through me, entangled my thoughts–disoriented and subsumed me. I tried to flee, reeled, and collapsed on the floor.

“Tesi! Can you hear me?”

I opened my eyes. Cameron, Rachel, and Ansen, their faces wrought with concern, stood over me on the biobed.

“How do you feel?” asked Rachel.

“Weak.” My voice was hoarse and dry. “Water.”

Cameron handed me a glass.

“I found you collapsed on the floor,” said Rachel. “What happened?”

I closed my eyes. “Too little sleep, too much caffeine, not enough food.” I opened my eyes.

All three of them looked as if they were about to say, “bullshit.”

I smiled. “I’ll be OK; let me rest.”

“You do that,” said Ansen.

“But we’re keeping,” said Cameron.

“An eye on you,” said Rachel.

“Thank you.” They squeezed my hands and started to move off. “Hey can one of you bring me a PADD?” I closed my eyes again and checked the mental block on my desire; it had been restored. How?

“Here you go.” Cameron handed me the PADD.

When they had engaged each other to the point of distraction, I whispered into the PADD, “Computer, transfer all of my biometric data for the last three months to my personal log and secure it with encryption alpha-zeta. Erase those three months of data from my medical file. Store all future biometric data for me in my personal log with encryption alpha-zeta.”

“Transfer and encryption complete.”



“Mocha ice cream, hot caramel sauce, sliced almonds, and whipped cream.” Jake looked at me. “Extra whipped cream.”

The replicator chimed. Jake retrieved the dessert and slid it toward me.

I frowned at it. “You don’t have to feed me.”

Jake tapped his finger on the table. “You are not leaving my sight until I have witnessed you eat enough calories to sustain life.” He gestured at the dish. “Be grateful I’m trying to entice you instead of force feeding you emergency rations.”

I saluted. “Aye, Aye Captain.”

With the first bite, I closed my eyes and pretended to savor the indulgence. He had remembered my favorite dessert after all. In truth, he might as well have fed me emergency rations. No taste. No interest. Like feeding a corpse. I shoveled the ice cream.

“Let’s take leave and go to Risa.” Jake smiled at me. “Get away from the ship for a while. Just you and me.”

Just you and me. A bolt of panic shot through me. Too far! Too far to bring the pearl home. I nodded on the last bite. “As soon as I finish my research. I should get back.” I rose.

Jake intercepted me. “I’m worried about you.” He held me in his arms.

I felt his warmth, but it didn’t warm me.

“You’re not eating and you’re distant, and cranky. I know we’ve both been busy, but I can’t remember the last time we had sex.” Jake tried to look me in the eyes, so I laid my head on his chest.

Bring the pearl home. Do something or he’ll interfere. Wrap it in silk. I lifted my face and kissed his neck. Jake’s skin felt vital against my lifeless flesh. I felt his desire press into nothing. He’ll interfere. Bring the pearl home.

I kissed his neck again, and thought of The Three. They noticed. Surprise then eagerness. Bring the pearl home. I kissed Jake again. Can you do this? Wrap it in silk. I thought of Jake, and I thought of them. The corpse’s heart beat. I felt them clamor against the barrier that blocked my desire. I inhaled and braced myself against Jake’s body. Here we go. I dropped the barrier.



“Computer, record personal log for Teslus Elbrun, Stardate 2423.165.”

“Recording.”

“I’m vulnerable in sleep. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. Sleep—wake must match The Three. They match—same space, same food, same sleep, same wake.” I stare at the tremors in my right hand, and grasp it with my left to still the shaking. “Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. The Three’s desire grows. Bring the pearl home. No one knows how much. Wrap it in silk. I know. The pearl and silk are healthy. Protect them. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.”

Something wet splashes on my hand. I look down and see a drop of blood slide off my thumb. I press and hold a sponge to my nose then wipe my hand and toss the blood-soaked material into the portable disintegrator that I now keep within arm’s reach.

“Their minds change. We want the pearl. Anticipation. Eagerness. Wrap the pearl in silk. Separating The Three–too difficult. Blocking them–too hard. Tired. Must rest. They know. I am with them. They know. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. Telepaths. Three bodies. Merger. Enlightenment. Pearl. Silk. End is near. I feel it. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.”

I rub my eyes. “Climaxes, too many climaxes. Can’t stop them. Quakes and aftershocks. Can’t block them. Don’t want to. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. End log.”

I replayed the log because I couldn’t remember what I said. I looked strange. Haggard. I looked closer. “Computer, pause playback and zoom into my eyes.” Gray eyes stared at me. Condemned me. I looked away and exhaled. I’m close. Just a little longer. Bring the pearl home.

I rose and moved to the replicator. Focus. Focus. “Computer, make contact lenses to change the color of my eyes back to black. Use one of my retinal scans taken prior to the attack on Mekla as a color reference.”

Once my eyes looked normal, I sedated myself.



Someone laughed.

“Who’s there?” I propped myself up on the bed with my elbows and stared into the darkness. Rest had brought some relief.

“Look at you! All prepped and primed for me.” They laughed again. “Naughty boy.”

“Cameron? Rachel? Ansen? Is that you?” I asked.

“Yes, call me Onyx.” Another peel of laughter then I felt a smack on my ass.

“Hey!” I yanked the pillow from under my hips, flipped on my back and crossed my arms and legs. “Not funny!”

I felt something press against my lips–not a finger exactly, more like a thought. “Shhh. I feel your need. Your compulsion is my compulsion.”

I grabbed at the pressure on my lips; there was nothing. You’re not here are you?

“In every way that matters, I am.”

I felt something push slowly through my fingers, caress the back of my hands, coil around my arms, and lift them over my head. I gasped as my wrists pressed into the mattress. How are you doing this to me?

“You want what I want. I want what you want.”

A tendril traced my lips. “I know how you like your mouth used.” Onyx pressed on my lips.

No! I won’t betray Jake.

“You want what I want; I want what you want.”

Onyx withdrew. Relief. Longing. Loss swirled on my tongue. Please.

They kissed me again and withdrew . . . and again . . . and again.

“I want what you want.”

My body betrayed me. My lips yielded.

I arched my back and moaned against the restraint. Onyx held me down. My heart raced.

“You want what I want.”

The Pearl?

“Yes.” They turned my head exposing my neck to a warm, wet tendril that snaked toward my ear.

I . . . I don’t–not there, mmm, I can’t handle–pl . . . please, I don’t have the Pearl.

“Yet, you keep it from me.” Onyx coiled a tendril around my earlobe and grazed the rim with a feather touch.

My toes curled. I don’t understand.

“Yes, you do.”

This is wrong. We have to stop. I love Jake.

Pain cut my lower lip. Ow! Did you just bite me!

“Night after night you come to me for release. Not him.” My lower lip stretched out. Suction twisted and tangled pain and pleasure. “When he needed you, you gave your lover to me. Why?” A tendril encircled my nipple and pulled.

I don’t want to say.

Pain shot from my nipple as Onyx squeezed.

“Tell me.”

Don’t make me say it. I cried out as the pressure increased.

“Tell me.”

I wanted you to have him! I sobbed. I wanted you to take my lover! Tears spilled down my temples.

“Tell me you don’t love me!”

No! I cried. Sobs wracked my body.

Onyx released me. Soft tendrils swept away my tears. Kissed the tremors in my lips. Cradled me. Caressed my neck. Encircled my chest and moved down. Down. Down.

A whisper wafted through my mind. “Give yourself to me.”

I spread my thighs.



Personal Log for Teslus Elbrun, Stardate 2423.192:

Separation risks everything. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. They’re suspicious. They keep the pearl from us. Stop them. Pearl. We won’t let them. Silk. Quarantine with Onyx. They can’t enter. Can’t keep pearl from us. Wrap silk. Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. End Log.



Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk. I sat on the edge of their bed. Rachel and Ansen flanked me. The faint buzz of their quarantine fields hummed in my ears. Cameron stood between my legs, leaning over with their hands on my thighs. Their brown eyes held me.

“It’s time, Tesi.”

I swallowed. Bring the pearl home.

“Free me.”

Desire rampaged unchecked. Wrap it in silk. I panted.

“Come with me, Tesi. Join me. What I want you want. What you want I want.”

Bring the pearl home; wrap it in silk.

“Yes, Tesi, free me.”

Bring the pearl home. “Com . . .” Wrap it in silk. “Com . . .”

“Yes, Tesi, free me.”

Bring the pearl home. “C o m p u t e r . . .”

“State the nature of your request.”

Wrap it in silk. “Dis . . . is . . . able . . . qua . . . quarr . . . tine . . . fffield.” Pearl. Silk.

“State which fields you wish to lower.”

“Cam–Camrun Talda . . . an . . . RRRachl Abbbrms . . . an Annnssn Luuuuuuuc.”

“Disabling quarantine fields on Cameron Taleda, Rachel Abrams, and Ansen Luc.”

They squealed and leapt onto the bed. “Join us, Tesi!”

An atom detached. Then another. And another. An exponential atomic cascade disassembled and transported Teslus Elbrun’s white eyes.



“Where is Tesi?” Onyx sat in three chairs facing Captain Beck’s desk.

Jake massaged his temples. The last few weeks had pulped him, “I’ll get to that in a moment.”

“Why can’t I see him?” asked Onyx.

Jake scanned the three bodies sitting across from him. “Which one of you should I look at . . . er, address?”

“I am one,” said Onyx.

“OK, the one in the middle then. You’re being transferred. The Federation seeks to protect the remaining–what are they calling you?” Jake picked up his PADD and read. “Trinaries. The Federation Council has backed President V’leekh’s call for the establishment of a home world for trinaries. The Betazoids don’t trust Earth to care for its own; so, until the Federation finds a suitable planet, they’ve offered sanctuary to all humans carrying trinary genes. You’ll be highly regarded on Betazed. Merged minds are the highest form of enlightenment for Betazoids. Though I suspect they also want to figure out how you impacted Teslus–”

“I’m not like that anymore,” said Onyx.

Jake nodded. “We’ll get to that too. Since you’re the only living trinary with a vital Third, Starfleet has tapped you to lead the colonization efforts.”

Onyx crossed their arms. “And if we refuse?”

Jake shrugged. “Leave Starfleet; step out of an airlock; I don’t care. In two days, you’re off my ship and out of my life forever.”

“You’re exiling me, so you can keep Tesi for yourself!”

Jake slammed his fists onto the desk. “NO ONE gets to be with him!” He closed his eyes and took three measured breaths. “The second thing I must tell you is that you're pregnant.”

Onyx stared at Jake. “Impossible.”

“I’ll let the Emergency Medical Hologram explain it. Computer, active Emergency Medical Hologram.”

The hologram appeared. “How may I be of service?”

“Hologram, ‘splain what we’ve learned about trinary reproduction.”

“Trinary human sexual reproduction occurs when the nonbinary Third’s phallix retrieves the egg from the female First and places that egg in the Third’s uterus. The male Second then penetrates the Third’s oralva and deposits semen. Sperm from the semen enters the Third’s uterus. Fluids inside the uterus dissolve the sperm’s cellular structure and combine the Second’s DNA with DNA from the Third. The combined DNA fertilizes the First’s egg. The embryo gestates in the Third’s womb, where the appropriate mix of hormones fosters healthy development. Gestation period–”

“That’s enough; end Hologram.” Jake tilted back in his chair. “The Betazoids have offered prenatal care; however, as you are the first known trinary and the first to reproduce in perhaps centuries, your health care will be a series of guesses.”

“Where’s Tesi? I want to talk to Tesi!”

“The love of my life is under the care of a Betazoid healer on a ship headed to Betazed at maximum warp. They don’t know if they can revive him from the coma.”

“What happened to him?” asked Onyx.

“The current theory is that the unification of your minds overwhelmed and scorched his. I begged for his extraction before . . .” Jake wiped his wet eyes and inhaled sharply. “The extraction protocol that the Betazoids gave us for emergency transport underestimated the potential damage. In short, for the sake of science, they left Teslus in too long. That he labored toward his fate makes it worse. Contravening your nature cost him his mind. Now he’s gone.”

Onyx cried out. “I never meant to hurt him! I love him!”

“Process this on your own. The counselor is available. Dismissed!”