Chapter Text
Simultaneously, Maya was too tired to function and too full of energy to allow herself to slow down. La’an was right, they shouldn’t get involved in the affairs of this universe. Just when Maya was learning how to sort out right from wrong, just starting to feel secure about the choices she made, a vision that lasted only a few minutes had her questioning everything. She was stuck in a rumination spiral, twisted up and worrying over unintended consequences, tearing herself up over what act of heroic kindness might set into motion some unpredictable tragedy, not just in this universe but in her own as well.
Her head was in a fog, but she tried to stay alert and she scanned line after line of the computer console. The best thing for them to do was to get out of here before they could mess up anything else, these people could be left to deal with their own problems in their own way, but Maya wanted nothing to do with it. She didn’t have La’an’s security clearances, so there was little she could do to investigate that transporter accident or the circumstances under which it happened. Instead she worked to fill out her knowledge of how this technology worked in the first place, starting with the most basic explanations geared toward children and working her way up to technical manuals and publications from scientists who developed the technology. All this work, but no reward. Nothing she read suggested that it was even theoretically possible to cross the barrier between different realities, and her detailed knowledge only made her feel more uneasy about using this supposedly safe way to travel.
She kept her focus and didn’t look up even as she heard footsteps behind her.
“Have you slept at all?” La’an asked.
Maya shook her head. “Couldn’t sleep no matter how much I need to. I need you to pull up those files again, the ones about the other time the universes crossed over. I’ve been reading up on transporter technology, and I think I can come up with a way to get us home if I had more information.”
La’an crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Just a little while ago you seemed convinced that the best course of action was to save the Terran Republic to convince Q that we deserved to be sent home.”
“Changed my mind. While I couldn’t sleep I realized that you were right. We don’t know what Q wants, we don’t belong here, we need to get out quickly, and the only way we know how to do that is via transporter.”
“Maya, go to sleep.” La’an rested one hand on Maya’s shoulder. “I appreciate your effort, but there’s no need to get so worked up over this. We can’t do anything until we’re close enough to Terra Prime to be in transporter range.”
Maya stepped away from the console, and once her eyes were away from the screen the room began to spin and the fog that filled her head grew thicker. La’an was right. “I just want to be ready when the time comes.”
First Officer Conroy was the sort of person who, by his own admission, would avoid medical attention even if he was on the brink of death. For that reason, T’Ralia found it curious when he entered sickbay of his own volition and seemingly healthy and uninjured. The Portland’s sickbay was empty for now, giving Doctor T’Ralia a few quiet minutes to write reports and organize her workspace.
“Commander?” She asked. “Can I help you?”
“Actually, yes.” He answered. Conroy was visually the opposite of Captain Albrecht: short and squat with a wide body. “I want to talk to you about something. How long will you be alone here?”
“Until I have an unexpected patient,” T’Ralia answered. “Otherwise my schedule is free for two hours.”
“Shouldn’t take that long.” Conroy’s eyes darted around and he lowered his voice. “Rumor has it that you’ve been involved with the captain again.”
“I have.” Her answer was plain and flat.
“Rumor also has it that you aren’t happy with that arrangement.” Conroy stepped closer, but he was shorter than T’Ralia and hard to tilt his neck to look up at her.
“No, it is not my preference.” T’Ralia looked down for a moment, but held her head back up, concerned she had already shown too much emotion. “If I was in a position to refuse I would have.”
“A delicate way to describe it,” Conroy shook his head. “I can help you. I deserved to be in the captain’s chair, but lately I haven’t been able to get close to Albrecht without the admiral breathing down my throat. You’re the captain’s woman. Every night you’re alone with her in a vulnerable position.”
“I have to decline your offer.” T’Ralia spoke with a bit more confidence now her chin up. “While being rid of Albrecht would improve my life, if the captain dies, I am obligated to go to you, an arrangement I find much less favorable.”
Conroy narrowed his eyes. “I assure you the feeling is mutual, which is why I would release you from that obligation.”
T’Ralia paused to consider. “This would be a tempting offer, if I could trust that you will be true to your word. However, I cannot ignore the possibility that you might retract this promise.”
“Can’t blame you for being suspicious,” Conroy chuckled, crossing his arms. He inched back from T’Ralia. “I think you’ve spent too long as the only Vulcan on this ship, you’re starting to think like a Terran.”
“Thinking like a Terran has assured my survival and success, Commander,” T’Ralia explained.
“At any rate, I think Albrecht might not be with us much longer. Since she’s been cozy with the admiral, she’s been ignoring the goings on of her ship and seems oblivious to the threats and discontent beneath her. My offer still stands no matter whose hand she dies by, but I thought you might like the satisfaction of doing the deed yourself.”
“Understood, Commander. I will consider it.”
Weeks had passed since Conroy had met with Doctor T’Ralia, and yet nothing had happened, they were still cruising toward Ceti Alpha V as planned. Whether T’Ralia didn’t care for his plan outright or whether she was biding her time remained to be seen, but Concroy knew better than to not pursue all of his options. Sending out this communication was a risk, but the potential for reward was great enough to warrant it, and this mode was still less dangerous than trying to coordinate an in person meeting. One didn’t become executive officer without observing and learning from the mistakes of others, and for that reason Conroy knew what precautions to take. He had stolen the personal PADD from some ensign to draft his message, took extra measures to send the message over an encrypted channel and to program it to erase any evidence after a short span of time. He sent it only to people he knew were just as dissatisfied with Albrecht as he was, just as likely to adhere to the old ways, for there were some who disliked her but were also pro-reform. His recipients included T’Ralia, Helmsman Reese, and chief science officer Yamada. The message was terse and to the point.
If you are reading this, whether you have tried to hide your feelings or not, it is known that you share the same distaste for Captain Albrecht as I do. Whoever ends her life will be rewarded for their effort with a guaranteed position as First Officer.
He didn’t sign his name, an attempt at plausible deniability even though he knew his name was already over it, no one else could offer such a rank. It was just another calculated risk. A bit of competition always helped to motivate a person, and the promise of a desirable prize all the more.