“We’ve got our medical response teams in the main colony working through immunizations and medical care.”  Commander Park sat in the chair opposite her captain, Wren Walton.  They were in the ready room after the first few hours of work had started on the colony below.  A mostly Cardassian population had recently seen an uptick in human visitors, mostly traders.  The other segment was currently the purview of Kondo and Pearce.  The ways and means of the True Way were many.  “Longfellow’s concerned about a recent epidemic and some residual side effects that seem to be sticking around – that’s in his report.  Engineering has its hands full with repairs and manufacturing new parts and equipment, and Operations is working to sort out the rural areas a little more.”  She sat back in the chair, “There’s a lot of work down there, Wren…and none of it is easy.”

Walton grumbled in agreement, “Starfleet’s name isn’t worth much to many colonists out here.  We’re going to be working from a deficit for a while.”  She frowned at reading a section of the report, “What is this about a missing child?”

“It’s…odd.  Hafsa isn’t really a child…she’s a sixteen-year-old rebellious, angry, and unhappy Cardassian teenager.”  She chuckled as her CO rolled her eyes.  “Those were her mother’s words.  Her parents reported her missing last night and made a beeline for us this morning when we arrived.  Apparently, the governor isn’t interested – Hafsa seems to run off every few months…she always returns.”

Wren read the section again, “What I am not seeing in this report?”

“There’s some talk of a love affair, but it’s third-hand gossip at best.”  She felt Walton’s stare intensify. “Right.  Some other teens think she’s seeing a young man – traveling out into the forests to meet him.  That would explain the running away every so often.”  Park tapped at her PADD, “We did run a report on the dates and times – it seems to happen every two months around…the same time.”  She looked at Wren, “We’ve got ourselves a mystery.”

Walton sighed, “We need to find her – we feign ignorance; we’re no better than their governor.  Given her family’s prominence in the colony council, I’m putting you and Charlie on point.  Use Barzo and V’Luth to do the local footwork.  You and Hargraves see if you can track her down.” Park grumbled, and Wren scolded her XO, “Look, there’s no bridge between them and us right now.  We need to build it from scratch.  Finding the runaway Cardassian teenager is part of that process.”

“It does say Diplomatic Operations on my door, yes.”  Charlie stared at Park as she lounged on his office couch, drinking lazily from a replicated iced tea, “But tracking down a teenager who’s probably just spending some time with a guy she likes…seems a bit out of my world.”

Park sat up, downing the rest of the drink, “Captain’s orders, Charles.  You and I are going on a rescue mission.  It’ll be fun.  We’ll get to wear our outdoor duty gear.  It’s a little more fashionable than my uniform.”

Hargraves groaned, “Ground rule number 1 – no talking about fashionable uniforms.”  He stood, packing his away pack. “You think she’s in trouble, our girl?”

The XO stood, “I think if she’s been doing this for six months, something’s up.  Could be somebody her age who she doesn’t want to walk around town showing off.  Or it could be something else – we need to find her and find out.  You aren’t just a little bit excited about stomping through the forests?”

He pulled his bag over his shoulder, “I like negotiating with people over breakfast, lunch, and or dinner.  Sometimes, all three.  I’m not an outdoors person when it comes to trees, hiking, climbing, or anything else.  So, no.  My excitement level isn’t going to match yours.”  He gestured at the door, “Shall we?”

“…and then there was this story where Kirk and Spock…”  Commander Park was regaling the Chief Diplomatic Officer, Charles Hargraves, with her studying of Starfleet history.  She had been studying various command teams that had gained cult status among officers over the years.  He listened, giving the requisite ‘Uh huh’ and ‘Interesting’ feedback while tracking the readings on his tricorder, pushing through the overgrowth.  He’d studied them, of course.  His interests were more on the diplomatic side, and he’d dug into plenty of his heroes.

He came to a clearing, “Let’s break for lunch.”  She gave a tired nod.  They’d been tracking their errant Cardassian for over three hours.  They were getting closer to her trail. He slipped out his meal, “You seem to forget the work at Camp Khitomer.  And don’t Kirk me on it – a lot of work fell on the diplomatic teams to make that deal work.  There was still plenty of shouting before the famous signatures got attached.”

Park bit into her sandwich, amused.  “You got something against those famous signatures, Charlie?”

Hargraves polished off his salad, “No.  I…it’s just that once the high and mighty get done saving the galaxy or universe, it falls to the diplomatic corps to get the treaties and paperwork across the finish line.”  He sipped at his flavored water before he continued, “The Delta Quadrant is still a work in progress with piles of PADDs.  I was afraid I was going to get put there eventually.  I had enough on our last visit to last a lifetime.”

She was getting a new view of their diplomatic officer, and she wasn’t about how she saw him.  There was a curious depth to him and something more.  She wasn’t sure what it was, but she was also sure what it was.  She chuckled, “The worst part is that our Task Force’s mission includes the place in our operating theater…so, never say never.”  She hadn’t found their experience in the Delta any better than he had.  She’d felt challenged, yet the month-long disconnection from home had tested her.

He relished the potato chips and grunted in response, “I’d rather transfer than face that place again.  I know, it’s the coward’s answer, but it’s a hard place to take a stand for the values of the Federation, never mind having to sharpen the edge of your negotiations and swing it around if needed.”  He sighed, “The stuff here in Alpha makes sense to me.  I can figure out histories, backgrounds, language, meaning…context.  It’s straightforward…okay, most of the time, it’s straightforward.”  He gestured to the sky, “Out there, you’re operating on Voyager’s background and whatever recent intelligence has been put together.  It’s like a puzzle game in the middle of a Klingon battle for honor.  Eventually, you’ll be spattered with someone’s blood.”

The XO packed away her container, “Well, thank goodness we’re in the middle of the True Way and everybody else.  Little chance of blood spilling in such a safe little bubble.”  She smiled, sarcasm bleeding through her words.

Hargraves stood, his bags packed.  “I’m aware of the risk, Park.  I’m not unused to it.  It’s just more predictable here.  I’m not a fan of surprises.”

She chuckled, “You’re in the wrong business, Charlie.”  She pulled out her tricorder and began leading them down the path again.  Hargraves tried to make sense but failed as they continued to walk through the forest.

“…they said the couple left the main colony a few months ago after another True Way raid.  They tried to convince them to stay, but…well, they were determined to get off the beaten path.”  Henry Longfellow spoke as he walked, noting that the growth was starting to return.  Not many had traveled here lately, he observed.

Behind him, Lieutenant Hiro walked.  She understood the couple’s desire to leave.  She was worried about the advanced age of both.  She had concluded that even as hardy as Cardassian physiology was, the risk of them living far away from medical care wasn’t a wise idea.  “We may have to do some convincing of our own, Sensei.  Stubbornness in older individuals can be challenging to overcome.”

He chuckled, “Present company excepted?”

“You have your ways, Sensei.  You can be…what is the old expression…a stick in the mud.”  

He glanced back and caught her sly smile.  It was a fair criticism.  He replied with a smile, “I own that, Hiro-san.”

They walked through a smattering of old-growth trees and stepped into an idyllic open meadow, a rustic home in the middle.  Longfellow walked up to the door, gently knocking.  There was a light shuffling sound until it grew closer to the door, which opened, revealing an elderly Cardassian man in a tightly wrapped robe, his eyes searching as he looked out.  “Who are you?”  He fumbled with his glasses and smiled once he could tell who was what.  “Ah, Starfleet.  The Federation comes at last.  Did you arrive in one of those ‘empty promises’?

Longfellow glanced at his Charge Nurse, who explained, “Some view the Obena class in this way, given the nature of how the Federation applied the use of the vessels to some and not others.”

The Cardassian waved them in, “I am Kartak…my wife is Plata…she is resting after a busy morning with the garden out back.  Come, come…” he gestured to the couches in the sitting room.  Hiro and Longfellow took in the home.  Much care had been taken to make it feel like a real home, from the furniture to the walls.  Paintings and photographs filled the place, and each one told a story.

Longfellow sat and was joined by Hiro.  He introduced them both and explained why they were there.  “The people back at the colony are really concerned about you two.”

Kartak brought over a tray of tea and cakes, “Those back at the colony are kind, but they’re better off with us out here.”  He sat roughly in the large chair, “We came out here to protect them.”  He sipped at the tea, “Ah, this place has the best tea leaves.”

Henry stared at Kartak, “What do you mean, you…came…shit.”  He leaned back on the couch, and it was Hiro’s turn to wonder.  He gestured at him, “He’d be the right age, and he’s got the build for it.  Hiro-san, you’re looking at one of the original members of the True Way.  Correct?”

The old Cardassian sighed, “It is true.  Your years of wisdom see through my charade.  You must know that we left before things became what they are today.  I’m as rebellious as the next…but I became…what is you say…I grew a conscience.”  He offered his hands up, “Does this mean I have to go with you?”

Longfellow pushed the cragged hands of the Kartak away, “All I have is my deduction and your confession…for something that happened a long time ago.” He thought momentarily and then asked, “Would they remember you?”

Kartak scoffed, “They never forget, Doctor.  It is why we moved here…the last raid nearly gave us away.  Thankfully, one of the younger men in the group somehow knew to distract the attackers.  We left the next day.”

Hiro leaned forward, “You must at least let us treat you.  Life is meant to be lived.”  She looked into his eyes, and her heart broke for him.  Running from a past he could never fully escape had to be exhausting.  “We could move you both to the ship for now…keep you under our care.”

The old Cardassian looked at both of them, eyes curious and growing wide.  “You would try and save two old terrorists?  We’ve done unthinkable things, Doctor.  The blood that’s scattered in this system…we were the ones helping spill it.”  He shook his head, “I sometimes forget the idealism of the Federation and its Starfleet.  The sunshine must be very bright where you come from to have this much optimism shining out from you.”

Henry smiled, “I’m more of a partly cloudy with a chance of rain myself, but I’ll take the compliment.  Let’s get you and your wife to the Mackenzie.”

Kartak stood carefully, “Coming from a Cardassian, it’s usually an insult, Dr. Longfellow.”

“I’ll take an insult over injury any day, Kartak.”  The Cardassian chuckled dryly, and Henry took that as a compliment.

“The colony map does not include this…portion.”  Commander T’saath stood at the crossroads of the overgrown path, examining the map.  “They said that a group of settlers had fled this way after the first raid but did not hear from them again.”

Commander Thasaz rolled her Romulan eyes at the Vulcan Operations Chief, “That was several months ago.  They also said the group seemed like they didn’t want to be found, and they had left it at that.”

“A highly illogical response.”

“Cardassians are known for their massive gaps in logic, Commander.  It’s almost a defining characteristic.”  She scanned with her tricorder and pointed to the less worn path, “This looks promising.”  She led on, followed by T’saath.

“You don’t like Cardassians very much, Commander.”

Thasaz chuckled, “I have a more…refined view of them.  They have a habit of talking too much.  The truth is, Romulans aren’t much better on the whole.  Our history is full of barbarism that could compete with the Cardassians any day of the week.”

T’saath arched her eyebrows, “I am aware of Romulan history.  The various volumes are required reading in Vulcan education.”

“If you had asked me if Romulans and Vulcans get along, that’s a far easier answer.  They don’t.  Usually.”

“That is an illogical simplification of an extensive and complex shared history.”

“Yes.  That’s the way I like it, Commander.”  They walked on in silence.

They walked for another hour.  The afternoon sky was bearing down its heat as they rounded a bend, coming upon a ragged-looked refugee camp.  Numerous lean-to structures covered the ground as far as they could see.  Tired eyes and worn faces looked up at the sudden appearance of the two Starfleet officers.  Thasaz snapped up her tricorder and put out her other arm to hold T’saath back, “Something’s up.  Let me scan.”  She tapped at the device as she focused on several nearby.  “It’s a mix of Romulan, Vulcan and Human.  Not in great health.  We’re going to need to get a medical team here.  Let’s suit up.” Slipping on, powering up, and securing their quarantine lightweight uniforms took a few minutes.

Thasaz walked into the camp and found one of the leaders approaching.  She introduced herself and T’saath and asked, “What happened here?”  

The leader gave his name as Peter Herring.  “The True Way.  They…they told us we couldn’t live in the main colony anymore.”

T’saath and her Vulcan logic interrupted, “But the True Way is not here now.”

Peter gave her a look of exasperation, “Yes, we know.  But they always come back.  The last time they came, they told us if they found us in the colony, they would take some of our people as payment for our crimes.  Something about keeping the colony pure.”

T’saath tried again, “And yet there are non-Cardassians at the colony now.”

He stared at her as if she had three heads, “No shit, Commander.  There aren’t as many, so they can hide or be hidden.  Look at us…there are too many to hide.  They’d scan for us and find us.  You wish to build us shelters that repel their scans?”  He turned to the camp, “We came here because it was a place that was alive…thriving and growing.  A place where we could have a life.  The colony accepted us.  They were our friends.”  Peter kicked at the dusty ground, “In the face of The True Way, they become fearful bystanders.  They may bring a temporary hope but eventually poison fills the wells with despair.”

Thasaz returned to the conversation after calling the Mackenzie, “We have medical teams on the way.”

Herring pleaded, “And what of the True Way?  What if they return?”

The science officer gave him a solemn look, “Leave them to us.  We may not be known well for our presence here in the past…but that’s changing.  And The True Way is going to have to learn a few things.”

They were getting closer as they walked, following the signals their tricorders were tracking.  They had returned to their debate about the all-stars from command and diplomatic operations.  They stepped into a clearing and locked eyes with a teenage Cardassian girl in the arms of a Bajoran teenage male.  Commander Park muttered, “Well, that’s explains…a lot.”

Hargraves stepped into the clearing, hands on hips, “Well, that’s…different.”  The two made to run, but he cleared his throat, “Don’t.  I passed my physical with high honors…and Commander Park here can run just as good as me.”

The Cardassian girl groaned, “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”  She turned and embraced the Bajoran boy, “We love each other!”

Park chuckled, “That’s great.  I’m happy for you both. I am.  You want to tell me why you’re several hours outside of the colony doing…whatever it is you’re doing?”

“I’m Parica,” the young man explained, “And…my family would be really pissed off if they knew I was here with her.”  He kissed her on the forehead, “She’s my everything.”

The XO deadpanned, “I’m not an idiot, Parica.  Starfleet officers deeply understand the issues and relationships between your two species.  Why you two?”

“Kartika,” she introduced herself, “We met at the trade station between our worlds.”  She smiled as the memory filled her mind, “We were ordering the same thing from the Vulcan snack shop.  We got to talking…and well, you know.”

Park held up her hand, “I don’t want to know.”  She turned to Hargraves, who was stifling laughter.  “Don’t start.  I’ll tag you in with your Diplomatic Operations door title.”  Charlie stopped laughing.  She asked the pair, “How bad will this be if your parents find out?”

Parica grimaced, “My parents lived the occupation of Bajor with their parents.  Our colony is mostly Bajoran expatriates.  They’ve made a nice life.  They’ve never been able to forgive the Cardassians.  It’s not a simple disagreement or a right over dinner.  It’s…like an instinct thing that’s in their blood.”

Kartika blanched at the question, “My family hates Bajorans.  They’re part of an older group that still nurses the xenophobia against them.  I’ve never really understood it.  It was just…a thing they believed.  Then I met Parica.”  Her giddy smile returned, and they embraced again.  “I realized how stupid it was to believe it.”

Hargraves smiled wide at Park, “Well, I think they’re adorable.  A Diplomatic Miracle, if you will.  Lots to negotiate, especially if wedding bells are in the future.”

Park scowled at him while the two starstruck lovers giggled over the idea, “You see a miracle, I see a disaster between two worlds.  If either group finds out what these two have or have not been up to – we’ll have to get in the middle and talk them out of killing each other.” 

He looked to Parica and Kartika, “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

Kartika explained, “The older group is a vocal majority, making many decisions with our colony’s direction and rules.  Enough Cardassian camaraderie still holds our group on the colony together…they won’t hesitate to join the fight.”  She sighed, “I learned much in my history classes last semester. Everybody fights with everybody.”

Hargraves gave her an understanding nod, “That’s a reference, I understand, Kartika.” He tried to reason with Park, “Look…these two like each other.  They won’t let their two species get in the way of whatever they have for each other.  I bet there’s some rebellious love story in your past, Commander Park.”

She stared at him, her face warming at his swerving spotlight, “Don’t bet with Latinum you don’t have, Charlie.”  Park turned her attention to the two, “The problem our Chief Diplomatic Officer is, he’s not often wrong, including this time.  Rather annoying.”  Kartika and Parica giggled, their eyes darting from Park to Hargraves.  The XO ignored it, “We’ve got to figure out how to get you back home without anyone jumping to conclusions.  Kartika – your friends back home seem to think you’re out here doing things you shouldn’t with someone you shouldn’t.  So that’s already out and in the open.”

Parica suggested, “I come here every two months because I’m on a supply run to the trade station.  I could have had engine trouble…had to land out here…and ran into you searching for Kartika…and…together, we found her safe and sound?”

Park eyed the young man, “You’re a little too smart with the idea.”  He shrugged and confessed they’d worked on several cover stories if they were discovered.  “Well, it’s time we put at least one of them to work then.  Let’s find a way to make the engine trouble believable.  You stay here,” she directed at Kartika, “…the less you’re around him now, the better.  We will have to figure out how to make your relationship work in this black hole you’ve thrown us into.  Or else people are going to die.”

Hargraves turned to Kartika as Park, and the lanky Bajoran walked away.  She asked, “I wish the whole dying thing was pretend or imagined.”

Charlie sat on a log, “Well, between myself and Park…we’ll find a way.”

The young Cardassian woman sat across from him, “You like her.”

Hargraves felt his eyebrows reach for the sky above, “What?”

“You like Commander Park.”

“Do not.”

She smiled wide, “I may not know much about Starfleet, Starships, or humans…but I know that look…the way you talk to each other.  She might even like you back.”

Hargraves groaned, “I’d rather try and figure out how to sabotage a shuttle than talk about this.  It’s not there.  Nothing is there.”  She shrugged, leaning back on the stump to wait for Park and her love to return.

“You can’t make this up, Wren.”  The face of Captain Helena Dread of the Daedalus was filled with annoyance as she sat in her ready room on the screen.  Captain Wren Walton was seated in hers, resigned to the news that her squadron Deputy Commander had brought to her.

“Any communication from the colony?” She hoped that cooler heads would prevail and they’d avoid a security incident.  She didn’t want to have to call her Task Force command to explain how they let two young lovers derail the stable peace between the two colonies.  There had been a change in command, and she was keen to make any first impressions with the new faces just as good as they had been with Fontana.

Dread shrugged. “They’re not happy and not listening much.  They’re still banging on about a proportional response – we’re estimating the ships will launch in two hours.  Parica’s still with us, and we’re trying to determine what to do with him.”

Wren warned, “If he gets any ideas of asylum, the trouble we’re in will seem like a kitten compared to the rabid tribble coming for us.”  She leaned back in her chair, her mind wandering and wondering.  “I’m going to see what we can do to slow things down here.”  The channel closed.

“This is highly irregular, Captain.”  The colony’s council of three administrators sat at their table, startled as Captain Walton had entered moments ago, trailed by commanders Park and Hargraves.

Walton spoke plainly, “I’m here because we’re trying to balance the equation of what’s going on.”

A tall Cardassian administrator scoffed, “We’re aware of the attack forces.  This meeting is our strategy session to respond to their impending actions.”

Charles Hargraves stepped forward, “I’d like to propose another option if you will allow me.”  The three looked at each other and then at the Chief Diplomatic Officer indifferently.  He took that as acceptance in Cardassian body language.  “There are two parties to this situation.  One is Kartika, one of your own.  The other is Parica, a Bajoran.  We propose we take this case to what we call ‘Family Court’ where all sides would be represented and have equal access to present their case, call witnesses.”

The shorter of the three asked, “And who would be the deciding judge?”

Hargraves took a deep breath before he revealed, “It would be a three-judge panel.  One impartial person from each colony, and the third would be someone from diplomatic operations – myself.”  He watched the three of them turn and discuss in whispers at the table.  He turned to Wren and Park, “You think the Bajorans will go for it?”

Park shrugged, “If we can convince them this is better than open war and dead bodies to collect, then yes.  Stopping either of these groups from wanting to spill some opposition blood isn’t going to be easy.”

The one woman in the Cardassian group motioned that they were ready.  She stood, “We are open to this solution.  If this proceeding becomes deadlocked, we reserve the right to resume our war footing.”

Walton didn’t need to think.  An agreement from a Cardassian on principle was better than quibbling on the what-ifs that might come later.  “We accept.  I’ll confirm with the Bajoran Delegation.”  She tapped her badge, and they vanished in the light of the transporter.

“It’s a bit early for a chief counselor.”  The gruff voice of Master Chief Henry Wyatt interrupted Juliet Woodward’s thoughts as she sat along in The Wardroom.  “0600 isn’t your usual time, Lieutenant.”  He accepted a cup of coffee from the lone kitchen staff and slid into the seat across from the bleary-eyed officer.

She sipped at her cup of black tea, aware she looked like she’d rolled out of bed and down the various corridors to the officer lounge on deck 1.  “It’s been a rough night.”  She slid her PADD across the table, “I’m part of the team working to establish cause, effect, and the various rulings that could come out of this case.  I tried to get it out of my head but kept circling the proverbial black hole in my mind.  Tossed and turned, and here I am.  I couldn’t sit at my desk in my quarters one more hour.”  A replacement cup was pushed before her, and she thanked the woman.  “It’s early, but I’m not finding the usual loopholes.  Both colonies were deliberate in their writing…they’d seen the worst of each other.”

Wyatt dropped a lump of sugar in his cup, “You don’t seem to think we’ll be able to stop them from trying to kill each other.”  He shrugged at her accusing glare, which softened as she spent more time considering his response.

Juliet settled on a shrug as her initial reaction.  She swirled her tea, staring at the growing darkness of the water.  She locked her eyes on his, “Do you think we can?”

The El-Aurian echoed her shrug, and she rolled her eyes.   He sipped at his coffee, “I’ve seen the impossible become possible with just seconds to spare.  I’ve also seen the destruction of failure tear entire worlds and people apart from stem to stern.  Nothing is truly decided until the last seconds of the last moment.”  Wyatt asked her, “You ever read the story that has your namesake?”

She chuckled, “Romeo and Juliet.  My parents named me after a great-great-great-grandmother who was named after the character.  The story isn’t kind to Juliet.”

“Shakespeare wasn’t kind to a lot of his characters.  The stories of Lear, Othello, Hamlet, and Macbeth are just some examples of the blood he spilled on his pages.  Nobody was safe in his tragedies.”  He asked her again, “You have read it?”

“I know what you’re saying. We’re living in the middle of the story with these two.”  She grumbled, “The trouble is, the play ended with both dead and the families realizing their mistake.  We can’t kill them to force these two colonies back to the peace process.”

Wyatt raised both his eyebrows, “I wasn’t suggest…”

She waved him off, “It’s six in the goddamn morning, Wyatt.  My dark sense of humor hasn’t been locked back in the closet with the rest of my questionable qualities.  We have to find a way to make it possible for these two to spend consistent time together to see if they love each other…or love the idea of each other.”  She downed the remainder of her tea, “We could fake their deaths like they did in the play, but then they’d really want to kill each other.  If only we were back in fair Verona, and nobody had starships.  We might have a chance.”

He frowned as his mind worked, then gestured at her, “What if…as a part of our trial process, we performed Romeo and Juliet?  Translated it for this audience?”

Woodward mirrored the frown, a thousand issues with the idea flooding her mind.  Then she snapped her fingers, “Oh, Henry Wyatt, you are a genius.  You remember in Hamlet, they performed a play within a play?  We could cast our two lovers as Romeo and Juliet…and perform the play with a few adaptations…and cross every finger and toe that it has an impact!”

He nodded along as she ran through the plan.  “I think it’s got some merit.  You have to get Captain Walton to sign off on it…and figure out the rest of the cast.”

His eyebrows returned to their perched position, and her grin became maniacal as she replied, “Wren appreciates a good stage show or two.  How do you feel about playing Capulet?”

Wyatt immediately regretted giving her the idea. 

You know what’s wrong with the thing. The voice of Miados filtered through her mind as she worked through the various diagnostic processes.  Shealynn scoffed, “I know.  You know.  I like to check.  You never know what you might find.”  Another scan, another panel opened, and then another long stare into the blinking lights and beeps of the internals of the Mackenzie.  You are insufferable sometimes.  The chief engineer rolled her eyes, “I’d rather be insufferable than miss something.”  She continued until she had sourced the error message and began the work needed to repair the junction.  She heard the main door to engineering open, and the footsteps approach.

“Commander Miados.”  

She glanced up and back at the Vulcan operations chief.  “Commander T’saath.  Welcome to engineering.”  She finished the fix, pushed out of the tube, and stood, “What brings you here?”

“I was hoping we could…discuss something with you in your office.”  The usual stern-looking Vulcan was uneasy.  Miados gestured her to the office. The door closed behind them, and they sat across from each other.  

Miados leaned over her desk, “You seem to have something on your mind, Commander.”

T’saath sought out Miados for one reason—she had previously been the chief engineer onboard the Mackenzie and had helped with its refit.  Among the crew, she had the most experience on the ship.  She had drifted apart from those who had served with her previous commanding officer, Captain Harris.  Her disconnection had been intentional.  It had also left her feeling alone on a ship where she had once served as an executive officer.  She ventured, “It is unusual for a Vulcan to express emotions.  Emotion is not foreign to us.  It is tightly controlled and managed.”

The engineering chief smiled, “I am familiar with Vulcans, Commander.”

She tried to explain again, “I…feel alone on this ship.  You are aware I was once XO.”  A nod from Miados.  “I…Captain Harris died on an away mission in which I took part.  I spent time away to attempt to establish control of my emotional state.”

“Did it work?”

“It did, to a point.”

Miados wondered out loud, “Why aren’t you talking to the ship’s counseling staff?”

“I am…not comfortable with revisiting our shared experience.  You…you have experience with Vulcans.”

“You did your research.”

“Vulcans excel at it, Chief Miados.”

Miados sat back in her chair, “I have worked with an unusually large amount of Vulcans.  I’ve found solutions to working with them where others have failed.”  She sat up, “You’ve lost someone you cared for in a professional sense.  The emotional element of that isn’t something you…shake off or meditate away in a day.”

“I am aware.”

She pushed, “Are you?”  She tapped at a PADD, “I’ve known Vulcans who could handle the worst the universe could throw at them and walk it off without much trouble.  I’ve also known Vulcans who experienced similar trauma and found it challenging to find a way out of the pit that threatened to swallow them.”  She handed the PADD across the table, and T’saath took it, a curious eyebrow arched.  “It’s an exercise in emotional management – an old Trill exercise.  It’s designed to open up the connection between the conscious and unconscious.”

T’saath blinked a few times.  “You believe I am…fighting between the two?”

A shrug.  “Part of you has…or wants to move on from the loss of Captain Harris.  The other part of you – has you sitting across the desk from a Chief Engineer asking for counseling help.  Good, bad, ugly, or…whatever it is…it’s a thing.  You’re not yourself, Commander.  Something in that complicated and deep Vulcan psychology is shorting out, and you need to find it, work on it, and move on down the line until you make sure it’s all working the way it should.”

“I do not wish to impose…but I feel compelled to ask – I may require…assistance in this method.”

Miados stared at the Vulcan operations chief for a moment.  “I’m not opposed…but whatever I bring, Miados comes along.”

T’saath gave a slight nod, “I accept.  I will contact you when I’m ready to proceed.”  She stood and walked out of the office.  Miados sat back, wondering in wonder at what she was learning about the crew.