The Saga Of Az'Prel of Vulcan

Posted on Sun Feb 24th, 2019 @ 1:32pm by Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Captain Enalia Telvan & Commander Rita Paris & Petty Officer 2nd Class Ila Dedjoy & Az'Prel

Mission: Recovery Trek
Location: USS Hera, Deck 4, Main Flight Deck
Timeline: 2396

As did so many things in the life of Captain Enalia Telven, it began with a comm call. Once again it was her first officer, using that phrase that she tended to use to encompass the numerous situations in which the starship Hera seemed to so regularly encounter.

"Paris to Captain Telven- I think we have a bit of a situation..."

Having reassured their refugee delivered to them by the Prophets of the Bajoran wormhole, as the runabout Bast set course for the Hera, Paris opened a channel and called ahead. Rather than exercise discretion, she opted for transparency, and called her commanding officer in earshot of the somewhat startled and disoriented Vulcan refugee of a universe that no longer existed, apparently, due to recent actions taken by the executive officers of the USS Hera.

In crafting a paradox to end the reality known as the Kelvin timeline, it seemed the mirror universe of that particular timeline had also collapsed into paradox, thus leaving one sole survivor, whom had apparently been rescued, either by accident or design by the prophets of Bajor… whom apparently existed in non-linear time. So the Prophets had held the Vulcan freedom fighter within the ‘celestial temple’ until they had identified another Kelvin timeline refugee passing through. Which was, in this case, one Rita Paris, known to them as the ‘Lost Navigator’. Recognizing the intertwining of their destinies and knowing Rita’s responsibility for the plight of their wayward refugee, the Prophets had indicated that there was a need, and a lost traveler.

Which of course meant that Rita offered to help, because being a finder of lost children and a light in the darkness to guide others home was an integral component of her being. Which meant that now she had to have a discussion with her captain, because while she had departed to return one lost traveler home, she had promptly picked up another.

Not that she expected her captain to object, for she too was a finder of the lost and a rescuer of those adrift. It was, in fact, the pirate princess turned Starfleet captain's purpose in the universe, although she often doubted it. But Enalia Telven cared more than she wished to admit, and deep down she felt that perhaps by saving others, she could redeem her own soul in the bargain.

Enalia had been in her ready room for the past several hours so when the call came in, so it was almost a relief to be called away from the paperwork and documentation. "Commander. Did the mission not go well? Are we going to have a Dominion fleet on us in a few minutes?"

Musical laughter was the initial reply, as the curvaceous and cheerful commander appreciated the concept. “No ma’am… while I likely did not do wonders for the Federation’s relations with the Dominion, we did return one of their own and kept our word, so hopefully no harm was done diplomatically to our neighbors on the other side of the wormhole in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“However, on the way back, the prophets wanted a word with me, and I may have volunteered to take in a refugee. Likely a discussion to have once we’re back aboard, as I understand the locals aren’t that keen on Starfleet personnel having chit-chats with their Prophets in the Celestial Temple. Particularly when they sent me back with a refugee.” Rita left it at that- anyone monitoring their communications would have some idea of the truth, but no specifics had been discussed.

It was more than enough for DS9 to get upset with them, but that was the point of transparency- they could not accuse Starfleet of keeping secrets if they weren’t doing so, and this spelled it all out, save for the critical details of just whom she had brought home from the wormhole, and from whence and when they had arrived.

Enalia visibly relaxed and chuckled softly. It wasn't the first time for this sort of thing, and likely wasn't the last, after all. "From the way you put it, it sounds like you're supposed to be this refugee's guide. Very well, once you're back we'll see what kind of lost lamb the universe has dropped in your lap this time."

“Aye, Captain," the first officer replied with a chuckle. "Paris out,” the anachronistic astronaut finished, then turned back to Az’Prel. "So… what year is it as you recall, Miss Az’Prel?"

The displaced Vulcan had recovered enough to make it into one of the seats of the runabout and was nursing a cup of Vulcan tea that Ila had offered her from the replicator. "By the Terran calendar, I believe it is 2269. By your tone, am I to assume that is not the current year?"

“Your logic is admirable, and quite correct. You have traveled in both space and time. This is not the universe with which you are familiar, and this is not the same year from which you escaped. There’s… a lot to unpack here, Miss Az’Prel, and I suspect I was chosen to be your guide because I possess a somewhat keen understanding of your plight. Would you perhaps like to sightsee as we approach, and then when we get you settled, we can discuss the particulars?” With that, Paris gestured out the viewport to the sprawling and alien majesty that was DS9, with relatively small starships flitting about her.

Az'Prel's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the station. She'd never even imagined anything like it, and the implications of it threw her logic into another tizzy. She'd experienced enough stress like that lately that she was able to quickly recompose herself and hide her reaction behind her teacup. "I am unfamiliar with that starbase or any design elements of which it is comprised. I also do not recognize any of the ships nearby. Thus it is logical to trust in your words."

“For a very emotional woman, you’ll find that I make a surprising amount of sense, Miss Az’prel. Miss Dox, please get us skids on the deck as soon as possible, and I’d like for you to accompany me. Miss S’Rina, stand down- I realize her arrival was unorthodox, but I am quite certain that our guest means no one harm.” Rita watched as Dox picked up a bit of speed, to get them docked in the massive hangar that occupied the majority of Deck 4.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied as she pressed the comm switch. "U.S.S. Bast to Hera Dockmaster. This is Lieutenant Dox, Requesting clearance to land, main shuttlebay."

After a few seconds, the computer chirped as a reply came through. "Dockmaster to Bast. Permission granted, pad 6." As she began pressing buttons quickly for the landing procedures, Dox replied. "Thank you Dockmaster."

After a few brief moments, the Runabout had come to a smooth landing in the Hera's main shuttlebay as Dox began the power down sequence. "Clear to disembark, Commander."

Turning to face their resident refugee, the spirit of the 23rd century spoke softly, in reassuring tones, but stuck to logic. “Today will be difficult for you, with a considerable amount of data to process, facts to grasp and concepts with which to wrestle, Miss Az’Prel. But while it may very much feel as though you are a stranger in a strange land, you are not alone. I will be here, as will others, and we will see you through this. All I ask is that you maintain an open mind, and consider that as strange as it may seem we speak the truth, and we have your best interests at heart.”

Ordinarily Rita would follow up such a statement with a reassuring pat or a clasp of the hand, but that would not put the Vulcan at ease- usually it had the opposite effect. Instead, she maintained eye contact and did her best to express sincerity.

"I have seen my world destroyed, my suppressors routed, my universe collapsed... I have lost everything, yet I feel I may have gained a measure of freedom and a future. I will... Persevere." The displaced Vulcan woman struggled with the last word, but found one that she seemed to find fit well enough for the situation.

"Unseal the hatch, Miss S'rina," Paris ordered, then she turned to regard Ila Dedjoy. "Never a dull moment, Miss Dedjoy. I don't imagine this made you any more fond of away missions?"

"No, Commander... It did not. But, I am thankful that this one was relatively uneventful and safe. Thank you for your consideration earlier." Ila was back to her old self now that the runabout was back aboard the Hera.

“Anytime. I’ll try to keep you out of harm’s way, Miss Dedjoy, as much as I can- that's a promise,” Paris vowed as she let Ila precede her out of the runabout, then she stepped out onto the flight deck herself. Gesturing for the Vulcan woman to follow, Rita swept her arm in a broad sweeping indication about the flight deck. “There are a number of surprises in store for you, Miss Az’Prel. In truth, I think you’ll find most of them to be pleasant. But for now, there’s no gentle way to say this, so I’m just going to welcome you to the final days of the 24th century. Welcome to the year 2396, daughter of Vulcan.”

The busy flight deck was a mass of activity, with shuttles and runabouts taking off and landing, while crewmen bustled about. No one particularly noticed the oddly-armored Vulcan woman standing next to the old-fashioned officer in her museum relic uniform. It was clear that advanced technologies were at play here, and Rita took a moment to let the newcomer gape, and for the extradimensional explorer to take it all in and process what was going on around her.

As requested, Dox stepped up behind Rita Paris and Az'Prel and waited at attention. She wasn't initally sure why Commander Paris wanted her to accompany her and Az'Prel, but that was her assignment and she would carry it out.

Az'Prel slowly looked over the docking bay, hands clasped behind her. While outwardly she was seemingly emotionless, inwardly she was struggling to hold herself together. "This is a very large ship. And the hull was a rather odd shade, rather than the normal pale colors of duranium alloys. Some sort of new plating, I assume." She then turned to Rita with weary eyes. "You are my guide. What is our next step?"

"An astute deduction, and correct. Honestly I don't know what it's plated with either, but I can look it up," Rita explained. "I know this is a lot to take in, believe me, I do. And I know that I am glossing over a lot details right now, but I assure you we will get to all of your questions in time." Stepping away, as Dox moved with her, Paris began leading the extradimensional escapee off the flight deck and into the Hera. As she got the idea, Rita slowly increased the pace, talking over her shoulder. "For now, we start with an interview with the Captain, as one might expect. I'm the first officer, so I'll be your facilitator. Miss Dox here is the chief flight officer. Speaking of which, I need to get you a PaDD and the onboarding protocols. Maps of the ships, chain of command, historical overview to get you a basic up to date."

"We'll get you a physical to insure that you are none the worse for wear, then I should probably introduce you to Sonak. What's your profession beyond resistance fighter, Miss Az'Prel?" Rita chattered as they arrived at the turbolift and she summoned it with the button.

As they neared the turbolift, an audible emanation emitted from Az'Prel's midsection and she covered it with one hand. "I believe your physician may find malnourishment to be one of my ailments. As for my profession..." The displaced Vulcan woman squared her shoulders as she considered the question. "I am an able tactician, skilled in many martial arts and weapons systems, familiar with many stealth practices both on the ground and shipboard, and quite capable with most repairs." Glancing around at the modern starship, she decided to amend her statement. "Though my knowledge of maintenance practices may be considered obsolete."

As the turbolift doors opened, Paris stepped in, the others in tow as she called out, "Deck 9, please. My apologies... that's interesting. I guess the Prophets basically held you in stasis until I came along. So you're still just as hungry as when you went in. Funny old universe," she chuckled as they emerged on Deck 9, and a few brisk turns brought them to the officer's mess.

"Can't face a day like today on an empty stomach. Please, have at- the cooks have dishes prepared or can make something for you, and the replicators here are preprogrammed with millions of recipes, all for the asking. Please- have a decent meal. The Captain will understand and would insist." Paris gestured to the serving line and handed the Vulcan woman a tray.

"Thank you, Commander." Accepting the tray, the displaced Vulcan patiently joined the line and requested whatever was easiest to prepare, which caused a small debate with the cooking staff over the ease at which anything could be made on the USS Hera, she just pointed to some random pre-made dishes in the warming trays and asked for them, which seemed to settle the matter, though it did garner some odd looks.

Now armed with a tray of hot food, Az'Prel looked for a place to sit and enjoy her newfound spoils of mixed veggies, egg fried rice, chicken lo-mein, and beef with broccoli and quickly found one which Commander Paris and Lieutenant Dox were already seated. She thus joined the two women, noticing that her uniform design was decidedly different from that of every other crewmember. She filed that away to ask about later.

For her part, Dox continued to observe and wait. This was essentially an onboarding procedure being played by ear and the portly pilot had deduced her presence there was largely to observe and learn. After all, Rita Paris had made no secret of the idea that she was taking it upon herself to groom Dox for eventual command. It was an idea that Dox might not have understood, but one she was committed to succeeding at, if only to validate Paris' faith in her.

"Thank you, Commander. I appreciate this." The displaced Vulcan then speared one of the pieces of beef and broccoli and ate it as if it had been a month since she had eaten.

"Least we can do. I didn't realize... well." Not a vegetarian- interesting, Rita thought to herself as she watched the woman tuck in. "We'll get a proper meal in you, then we'll get to that conversation with the captain. How about while we work toward that, if I open the floor to any questions you have for us? You're basically coming in with a clean slate with a few observations at this point, and I haven't given you much information. I don't mind, talk with your mouth full, but feel free, ask away."

Listening, Dox noted Paris' words. While the golden-clad First Officer had spoken a good degree, she had actually said presious little and instead was running Az'Prel through scenarios to gauge the Vulcan's reactions. This was an onboarding, and Rita was getting a feel for just who this newcomer really was.

As the displaced Vulcan ate, moisture began to form in her eyes. "Please... Pardon me... This may be the best food I've eaten in decades. It's cooked properly and isn't even starting to rot." Pausing to wipe her mouth, she nodded. "I recognize your uniform style from reports that had been passed around of a Captain Kirk from your... This universe. But everyone else wears what I assume is the current uniform. You are allowed to retain your period's uniform then?"

"I am," Rita admitted. "It marks me as an anachronism, which sets expectations and advertises the truth without a word spoken. Besides that, it's more comfortable to me, honestly. For a formal occasion, I would certainly don the dress uniform of this era, and I have worn the crimson of this day and age's command uniforms. But I prefer my old uniform. Rita Paris, formerly of the USS Exeter, in the year 2268. I've been here not quite six months now, adapting to the future in another universe." Rita realized she was rambling and got back on topic. "Yes... the Captain indulges me in this preference of mine, because it makes me more comfortable. Some would prefer to blend in, I prefer to stand out as a piece of history."

While Dox had been listening with a fairly neutral expression, Rita's last few statements elicited a broad, warm smile from the red-headed Romulan. But at the same time, took note of the fact that for a Vulcan, Az'Prel was downright emotional. Maybe someone that didn't grow up trained in Vulcan culture who interacted with the people more than a little might not notice, but to Dox it was as clear as day.

Something caught Az'Prel's ear in that little speech, her fork pausing in mid-air and her brow furrowing. "This is not your universe either? If this is not the mirror of mine, then which is this?" If she was truly lost and this was not the rumored Starfleet she had heard about, was it at least close to the one in the stories?

"Welllll, that's a bit of a long story as well. Y'see, our boy Nero- you remember him, I'm sure. Ambassador Spock, the elder version from a few years ago in this universe, inadvertently created a splinter timeline when he accidentally created a singularity which sucked him and the Narada in. It deposited them in that splinter timeline- a pocket dimension with a finite amount of time that might have been expanded with the infusion of more prime reality. Apparently, when that splinter timeline was created, as the universe seeks balance, it created a mirror of that universe as well, thus your reality."

"But when Ambassador Spock died and Nero and the Narada were gone, they were apparently anchors that held that splinter universe together. I escaped by accident, and as I had translated to this universe, my old universe tried to suck me back in, because I could lend it some small degree of stability. Eventually, it was going to collapse on itself, potentially taking me with it and everything within a lightyear or two of me." It was at this point that Rita Paris realized she had an audience, and while she considered stopping, she didn't have any objection to the other officers on hand knowing the story. How many of them had always wondered themselves, and never asked?

"So in order to prevent that from happening, a plan was hatched and a paradox was put into play. We convinced Ambassador Spock not to go to the encounter that would thrust him back in time and across dimensions, thus preventing the timeline from ever coming to pass. Now, for what it's worth? I know just how unbelievable that sounds. Except to you, I imagine, at least to some degree. Ah, and you can tell that I'm not lying, which certainly helps." Pausing, Paris regarded the refugee, possibly the sole survivor of her reality, and sighed. "I apologize... I always thought I would be much better at cushioning the words and easing the other person into the truth, and that I'd at least show some empathy. You've lost everything, and I'm babbling about chronodimensional physics that I can barely grasp as concepts."

If anyone in the officer's mess had ever wanted to see a Vulcan in shock, AzPrel now had her mouth slightly open and eyes slightly glassed over from trying to understand the story she'd just heard. Closing her mouth and looking down at her tray, she tried to make sense of it all. This was the universe that was spawned the universe of which hers was a mirror? She would need to work through the logic slowly at a later time, it would seem. For now, her food was getting cold and for her, hot food that wasn't moving was rare in her life.

"Thank you for the explanation, Commander. I shall contemplate it." Still staring at her food in deep thought, she returned to eating. "Perhaps you can answer another question for me, then. Is this the same Starfleet that was rumored? The Starfleet of equality and peaceful coexistence? I notice that you are the only human in this room, this is the future, and this is apparently a different dimension, so from your perspective, from a member of the mirror of my universe..."

"Oh- right, the whole human xenophobia thing, right. Ah, no- here, my people took to the stars with a message of peace and cooperation, the antithesis of the Terran Empire. This is the United Federation of Planets, worlds beyond worlds that have all come together in peaceful unity to support one another, to grow, to explore and find other worlds, other histories, other races and cultures, and share with them for the mutual enrichment of all the peoples of the galaxy."

"We are Starfleet- defenders, explorers and students of the universe. We are the relief arm in disasters, supplies to distant colonies, and we bear diplomacy, with the message of the Federation. Our mission is to seek out new life, and new civilizations. New to us, at least. To boldly go where no one has gone before!" Paris paused in her pontificating to peer at the pointy-eared guerilla fighter. "Not exactly what you're used to from us, I'm guessing?"

It was at this moment Dox decided to add her own thoughts. "Starfleet... the Federation. It's a hand up to anyone, not a fist down. Here, I come from a race that's been trying to wage war with the Federation for over two hundred years now. But I'm here today on this ship as an officer, because the Federation never stops trying. Striving to be better. Reaching out to make friends."

"Coming from a Human and a Romulan, both known to me for lies and deception, yet here you are surrounded by the very definition of infinite diversity in infinite combinations..." The displaced Vulcan freedom fighter looked up at the pair. "I detect truth in your words and this causes... Emotions... Within me. I will need to meditate upon this. Thank you." She then resumed eating, contemplating the words she had heard as well as the sights she had seen so far. This was definitely not a trap, at the very least, and she surmised that these people honestly and sincerely meant to help her. Still, her logic was being overloaded once again with the circumstances in which she found herself.

“Take your time,” the old-school officer offered. “You are safe, no one is pursuing you and I understand this is a LOT to process. That’s all right… enjoy your food, take in the sights and ask any questions you wish. We’ve the luxury of time to let you adapt to the new reality in which you find yourself- literally.” At that, Rita got up to get a few cups of coffee- one black with sugar, one straight black for Dox.

Az'Prel perked back up at the smell of coffee. "You have fresh coffee. I... acquired... a taste for It before our settlement on Cetlas III was destroyed."

“Well, it's replicated, but good enough for Starfleet work,” Rita chuckled, then realized she was being insensitive. "Sorry to hear about your settlement. But coffee? That I can do. Black, sugar, cream… how do you prefer your coffee, or would you like to try all the basic varieties?”

"Plain black, please," Az'Prel replied with a slight head tilt. Indeed, the following days would be difficult. She knew that the Vulcans of this universe would likely consider her strange because of her tastes and experiences. However, she was who she was because of them. She could be no one else. Her logic had failed her so often, she had had to rely on something other than logic - something akin to intuition on several occasions. Something told her that she could trust these people, and logic told her that this was one of these times.

As Paris rose to go fetch another cup of coffee, she left the shell-shocked freedom fighter to eye Mnhei'sahe Dox. As she did, the Romulan pilot awkwardly took a sip of her black coffee and offered a slightly uncomfortable smile, as was her standard operating procedure when she had no idea how to interact with someone socially.

Az'Prel was also not good at social interactions, but she felt a need to try to explore her surroundings. "I must admit concern for my future, as my skills as a freedom fighter are likely no longer needed in this universe."

At that statement Dox relaxed slightly and smiled, feeling as if she actually could contribute. "Commander Paris comes from the same era as you, and she's the First Officer of this ship. I was raised as a smuggler. You might be surprised at how far your skills and experience can take you with a little help and a push in the right direction."

Returning with the coffee, Paris gave the Vulcan woman a few moments to enjoy it, tapping away at a PaDD she borrowed from a passing ensign. Eyeing the newcomer, Paris rose from her chair. “Ms. Az’Prel, it looks as though you at least have one good meal in you, and some coffee. What do you say we go see the captain now, hm?”

The displaced freedom fighter finished her coffee and stood up. "Yes, I believe we have delayed long enough. I look forward to meeting your Captain."

"Indeed," Paris replied, standing and pivoting to make her way out of the officer's mess. Pausing at the doorway, she gave time for Az'Prel and Lieutenant Dox to catch up, then she was off again at that military marching pace. "Captain Telvan is a complex woman, Miss Az'Prel. Multifaceted, one might say. If you're aiming to stay on her good side, don't call her sir, she prefers ma'am. You'll have to sit through a retelling of the incident, but I need to brief her on both the situation and how we arrived at it, so bear with me. In all, though, I think you will be surprised by how unfazed by all of this she's likely to be. The Captain is also... well-traveled."

Coming to a halt at the turbolift as it arrived, Paris stepped inside, let the others follow, then called out, "Deck 1, please."

Arriving on the bridge, the displaced Vulcan took in the sight of the futuristic bridge with dispassionate eyes. With all the customized interfaces and clean lines, this was definitely a future and universe she was not familiar with. Rather than paying too much attention to the details of the bridge itself, she studied the people. They seemed soft and adjusted to peace. Even the security personnel did not seem used to having to watch their backs and were at ease. The trust that everyone displayed in their surroundings and their fellow crew was something that Az'Prel had noticed when coming aboard, but it hadn't really hit her until now. They even greeted her presence on the bridge not with distrust in their eyes but with openness and curiosity. These were truly peaceful beings.

Giving the woman time to take it in, as she knew how it felt, Paris waited until the Vulcan refugee was oriented, then she gestured to the Captain’s ready room. The door slid open at their approach, as the captain was expecting them, and if Rita knew her captain, had been watching security feeds and listening in on pieces of the conversation so as not to be blindsided by the situation. Gesturing for the woman to precede her and allowing for Lieutenant Dox, who stepped to the side out of the way to accompany, Paris spoke up.

“Captain Telvan, commander of the United Federation starship USS Hera, may I present Ms. Az’Prel. She apparently hails from the mirror universe of the universe of my origin. I will let you tell her your tale, so as not to overlook details, then I’ll explain how she ended up in our care.” A thorough briefing could be important, but so too was giving the captain the opportunity to judge the other woman, her veracity and draw her own conclusions. After all, the Captain was a shrewd judge of character.

The spotted Captain stood and motioned towards the seats across her desk. "It's a pleasure making your acquaintance. Please, have a seat and tell me what you can. I'll answer any questions you may have."

The displaced Vulcan nodded respectfully before slipping into the offered seat. This woman was different from all the rest she had met so far - it seemed she knew what it was like to have to watch her back, yet she did her best to try not to show it. Something else to consider for later.

With her hands clasped in her lap, Az'Prel began to relate her story. "I believe it may have all began when a Romulan named Nero attacked and destroyed my home planet, Vulcan. He then set about destroying the Terran seat, Earth, as well as most other Terran Empire planets. Eventually, he grew tired of that and destroyed Qo'nos, Trill, Regula, Andoria... He single-handedly wiped out most of the populated planets in both the Empire and the Resistance. Not long after that, parts of our universe began to collapse, dragging large swathes of space into a surreal void."

"Those caught in it were just... gone."

"We few survivors tried to band together for a while, but eventually we were broken apart and over the course of about six years, the universe collapsed in on itself. Eventually, I found what appeared to be a hole in space... Perhaps a wormhole of some sort. It seemed to be my only refuge, so against all logic I flew what was left of my ship into it. I then woke up here and was told that it was no longer 2269 but 2396 and a different universe. Captain, I am likely the only survivor of my universe."

"I have fought the Terran Empire my entire life," Az'Prel ended simply.

Enalia listened intently as she spoke, nodding along the way. It was certainly an incredible tale, but she'd heard more fantastic things in her career. Heck, there was one standing next to her in the woman she's met when she hit her with a starship at warp speed, a ghost named Rita Paris. "Well, I can't guarantee you won't have more fighting to do. We've got our share of enemies to fight in this universe. However, from what I've heard, they're not that bad compared to the Terrans. Commander, do you have anything to add?"

"The way we came upon Miss Az'Prel is that I met with the Prophets in the Celestial Temple. It was... surreal, and awesome and humbling. Just... amazing. They had been waiting for me to come along, the 'lost navigator', and said they had a refugee. So I offered to show her the way home, and... here she is. I know that may sound mental, but I mean, here she is!" Paris pointed to the Vulcan survivor.

"Sooooo, here's the thing, Miss Az'Prel. The existence of the mirror universe is classified. The existence of the splinter universe from which the ship's chief science officer and I hail is also classified on a similar level. The recently discovered former existence of a mirror universe of that splinter universe is classified. In short, your entire existence is all so very, very classified. This starship is also classified, even though we are parked at one of the most visible crossroads in the known galaxy." Paris raised her palms upward.

"You are clearly a remarkable woman to have survived all of what you have faced. The Prophets literally delivered you into my care, and they did so intentionally. Where you are now, I too have been- having lost everything and been thrust into a technologically advanced future that you can barely comprehend yet, wondering if you can trust the people around you. Az'Prel, I know this is hard." Rita Paris offered the woman an earnest close-lipped smile.

"But I'm here for you. There is an entire crew of remarkable individuals on this classified and sinister looking starship, and I think they will surprise you with their courage, determination, empathy, and their capacity to do good in the universe. If the Captain is willing, we'll help you adapt to the future." Rita paused at that, to let the Captain weigh in. "Uh, ma'am? I brought home a stray from another dimension who was entrusted to me by aliens who apparently do not lead linear existences. Mind if we get her back on her feet at least? She's a refugee of a universe that doesn't exist."

Enalia held up her hands in mock defeat. "Who am I to stand in the way of the Prophets? Most deity level entities I'll fight tooth and nail, but them? I know where to draw the line. Welcome aboard. Let's get you some quarters and get you settled in so you can start figuring out what you want to do with your life now that you have plenty of future ahead of you. Maybe some new clothes, unless you'd prefer to wear your armor around?"

"No, Captain. Your crew are not the battle-hardened peoples that I come from, so keeping it would be illogical. Simpler clothing would be preferred," Az'Prel replied simply. What she left out was that simpler clothing would be easier to move in, should the need arise.

"Excellent then. Commander, if you would be so kind? Quarters, a medical workup, and anything else you think might help?" Enalia smiled at Rita, expecting them to take over from here. "I'll have to put together a report for command and let them know the Prophets have granted us another trans-dimensional refugee. The Commodore is going to be thrilled, especially after the fiasco on Earth."

"Let me go on record pointing out that really was not my fault. And if it was going to happen at least it happened on Earth where they had facilities-" Rita stopped herself, turned and smiled. "Not the point. Come along, Miss Az'Prel. Let's get you down to sickbay, we'll get you a shower and have the good doctor to look you over and Mister Sonak to take some readings, then we'll get you some quarters and some basic computer access so you can read through the libraries and catch up a bit." Striding to the door of the ready room, the door opened as Rita Paris offered the captain a respectful nod.

Following closely behind, Dox continued to do her best to simply observe the situation as it unfolded.

"Thank you again, Captain. I shall endeavor to be useful to you, to repay your kindness." Az'Prel stood and gave the Vulcan salute before she followed Rita out of the ready room.

Stepping into the turbolift, Paris called out, "Deck 12, please," before turning to Dox.

"So, Lieutenant, that was not the most conventional of onboardings, but I felt it might be an excellent learning opportunity for you. So... did you learn anything?" the friendly first officer smiled.

Standing at casual attention, with her hands folded behind her back, Dox paused for a moment before replying. "This wasn't exactly a by-the-numbers onboarding, but it served many of the same purposes and then some. This was an evaluation. You lead us on a very broad path to the Captain, not a direct one. It not only served to fulfill Az'Prel's needs of both getting something to eat but also gave her time to decide if she could trust us by showing legitimate compassion and understanding. It showed her the ship and crew without actually going into secure areas and allowed you to observe her reactions over time under different circumstances."

"Prophets aren't exactly sources of clear information and you needed to get a feel for who she is and extending the observation time was not only an act of compassion and a trust exercise but an opportunity to give yourself more time to decide on her. Only then would we have actually gone to see the Captain." Dox continued, hoping her evaluation was at least close to the mark.

"After all, this mission began with us returning a Founder that you had identified as a potential thread during an onboarding interview. The safety of the ship and crew are always priority one, and this allowed you to satisfy those concerns to a degree. At least enough to determine that it was safe to move to the next step. This was her walk in circles." Her last line, a comment on how Paris had walked Dox in circles during her own onboarding to feel her out.

As the Hera's resident ace pilot spoke, relaying her observations and summations, the smile that spread across the face of the first officer grew wider and wider, until it was clear she was beaming with pride. Clasping the little lieutenant on the shoulder, Paris patted it affectionately. "You have come a very long way since then, Miss Dox, and your assessment of the situation makes that quite evident. Correct on all counts, although we're not quite finished yet."

"Doctor Dael and Mr. Sonak will finish the confirmation process, and Ms. Az'Prel has her own choices to make, of course. At this point, we have shown compassion, but her trust must be earned, just as hers must be earned with us. But she came to us from a universe where trust is a most precious commodity, particularly when it comes to those of us from Earth. So we make allowance for it, understanding the motivating factors, and we give her time, a bit of space, and we make good on our promises." The turbolift arrived and Paris stepped out, still talking as she assumed the other two women would keep up.

"Well done, Miss Dox. The lesson to be learned has not been lost on you, and you continue to rise to the challenge. I'm proud of you," Paris explained honestly, because she understood the value of praise, and in this, her protege had clearly demonstrated that she understood the situation, and had learned through observation. Someday when it was her turn to be the same figure on a starship, she would be ready. Which meant Rita had succeeded in her duty.

"Come along, ladies. Let's go meet some more of the senior staff, shall we?"

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied with cheeks blushing green, barely containing her own pride in the moment. But she did her level best to maintain her professional composure... as she'd learned from the anachronistic astronaut herself.