“Are we absolutely sure about this, Carrie?” Liz asked, one eyebrow arched Vulcan-style.

“Sure or not, it’s what we’re doing. We have orders to assist in the aftermath of the collapse of the Romulan Empire. Now, whether they’re Terran or Rihannsu, we have a duty to help anyone we can. We’re medical professionals, and we leave the decisions about right and wrong up to the damn politicians. Is that perfectly clear, Ensign Vauxhall?” Carrie replied, a dangerous glint in her eye.

Liz cowered just a bit before her commander’s stringent tone, but she saw the logic in what she had said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Liz replied.

“Good! Ms. SanMicheli, what’s our ETA to rendezvous with the Fleet?”

Tara was caught a bit off-guard, but replied immediately: “At Warp 8, we should be there in a couple of days. At that point, we are to rendezvous with the task force flagship and begin psychiatric screenings.”

“Very well. Ms. SanMicheli, set course for the rendezvous point, maximum warp. Ms. Vauxhall, I want all necessary precautions taken to minimize any chance of violent reactions to treatment. I just hope that this whole debacle doesn’t turn into a ball-busting brawl. DISMISSED!” Carrie ordered, returning to the bridge.

Tara sat back down at the Navigation console, setting course fo the Romulan border.

“Course plotted and laid in, Captain,” Tara reported.

“We know what we have to do, so let’s be about it. Ms. SanMicheli, engage.”

The Kison disappeared in a flash of superluminal light as she set off for her destination at multiples of the speed of light. Her captain, watching the stars become streaks in the viewscreen, wondered if she’d be in time to help those who needed it.