Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I.

What aren’t you willing to believe.

~Sahar Romani, from “Sign”

The first time it happened, Spock awoke with only the vaguest sense that he was supposed to remember something.

He was confident he had been dreaming, but could not recall any specifics from the dream. It was more likely that his subconscious was attempting to remind him of an upcoming detail in his waking life rather than some lesson he had overlooked. However, when he checked the day’s schedule, he found only the usual tasks of duty and social obligations. The same was true for the next eleven days while Enterprise continued stellar cartography throughout the current star system; there were no outstanding social events of note. It seemed he had not overlooked any relevant event.

Despite that knowledge, the sense of having forgotten something remained.

Several hours after alpha shift concluded, he was walking beside Christine through the corridors when Michael turned the corner. She wore Discovery's uniform, and her face was still, revealing nothing. Her focus was devoted to the PADD in her hands; she walked past them without glancing up.

He halted immediately to turn and look after the way his sister had gone.

"What?" Christine asked, following his gaze. "Did you need La'an for something?"

La'an?

Easily his eyes found the dark-haired security chief. She had stopped halfway down the corridor to wait for a ‘lift, her attention solely devoted to reading her PADD. La'an looked nothing like Michael, yet there was something akin in their dispositions which he could not precisely identify. Perhaps that accounted for the misidentification.

"I do not," he replied. "For a moment I mistook the chief of security for someone else." He proceeded down the corridor.

"Oh yeah?" Christine fell into step beside him. "Anyone I know?"

xxx

The sky is overcast, the likelihood of rain nearly assured by early evening. Because of this, the typical afternoon heat is far below normal. He is utilizing the lower temperature as an opportunity to complete his study assignments outdoors rather than inside of the learning center.

The assignments are fascinating yet complex. They require his full attention. It is perhaps due to his intense focus that he is caught unaware by other students.

"You appear to be having difficulties, Spock," an older boy taunts. Quickly he snatches away the PADD. "This lesson is quite simple, but I am unsurprised that you cannot comprehend it."

"I am able to comprehend it, Morsan," he informs the older boy. Morsan is two years ahead of him at the learning center. He has often been targeted by the other student, as well as the students who frequently accompany Morsan. Morsan has two friends with him now: T'Leen and Reele, a female and male student of the same academic year.

T'Leen takes the PADD from Morsan. "As Spock cannot understand these lessons, it is logical to erase them."

"Please do not erase them," he asks. "I have not completed the assignments." He holds out his hand to her, hoping she will return the PADD.

T'Lenn taps on the PADD, then hands the device to Reele. The boy snaps the PADD in half, throws the pieces to the ground.

"That was unnecessary," he informs the three. He does not say that their actions have created a substantial problem – he now not only does not have the lessons, he does not have the device necessary to complete them. Nor does he mention that the PADD had been his favorite, a gift from his mother.

Morsan ignores his statement. Instead the older boy steps closer. "Tell me, Spock – is your blood Vulcan or human?"

At that moment he becomes certain the PADD is not the only thing the older students intend to damage.

"I do not understand your query," he replies. Slowly he takes a step backwards, then another.

Reele moves to his left, T'Leen to his right. His retreat is blocked.

"What color is your blood, I wonder." Morsan closes the space between them, as do the others.

Although he has devoted considerable time to his Suus Mahna studies, and his instructors have advanced him to a level beyond his age, he realizes he cannot stand against three older, larger opponents. Nevertheless, he makes an attempt to defend himself. His efforts quickly come to naught as he loses his footing and blows rain down upon him. There is no escape.

"Leave him alone!"

He hears his sister's voice. Fear floods him. Michael is almost as tall as Morsan and the others, but she has only begun her studies in Suus Mahna. She is human, and lacks even half of the strength of a Vulcan her age. She is going to be harmed by the other students.

Something happens which he does not see. Michael continues shouting at his assailants. In the space of a few moments, the kicks and blows cease. The sound of rapid, retreating footfalls on the ground are easily identified.

Suddenly there are hands pulling him from the dirt, setting him on his feet and dusting off his clothing.

"Are you okay?" Michael asks urgently. Her eyes search his face.

"I am okay." It is a human phrase she has taught him which indicates an acceptable status of a physical and/or mental nature.

She wipes dirt from his forehead and cheek. Immediately her emotions come to him. Fear, anger, sadness. Love.

"No touching," she mumbles, pulling back her hand. "Sorry. I forgot."

He sees a lump forming on her jaw, and it appears the area around her left eye is darkening. When he glances down, he finds bright crimson across the knuckles of both her hands. "You are injured."

"I'm okay," she assures him. "Can you walk? We have to go. Those guys might come back."

"I am able to walk." To demonstrate, he goes over to collect the pieces of his broken PADD.

"Seriously? They broke your PADD?" Anger is clear in her voice. "That was your favorite."

He had not realized she was aware of his preference for the device. "I have another at home. However, T’Leen deleted my lessons."

Michael growls.  “I wish I'd hit them harder." She is quiet for a moment. "The learning center isn't far. We’ll go back. I'll tell them I was messing with your PADD and accidentally deleted your lessons. Then I got into a fight and that was when your PADD got broken."

Michael has an ability he has come to admire: she can lie. She has a modest proficiency with the skill. The story she wishes to tell now carries a high likelihood of credibility because she has been in multiple physical altercations with other students. It is less likely that anyone will believe she deleted his lessons, but as the PADD is broken, that inconsistency may be overlooked.

"If you make those claims to the instructors, you will face substantial repercussions," he warns. "It is unfair to allow you to suffer for my benefit."

She shakes her head. "It'll be fine. Everyone expects me to do stuff like that. I'm human."

He can hear the resignation in her voice. "I am also human."

Michael smiles. "Yep, you sure are. Know what else you are? My brother. I'll always help you, anyway I can." She gets to her feet.

Emotions again flood him, but they are his own this time: comfort, belonging, love. Michael will always be his ally. He trusts her in the same way he trusts Mother.

"You are my sister," he replies, looking up at her. "I will always help you as well.”

He reaches out to clasp her hand.

xxx

His eyes blinked open to find darkness waiting.

His left hand was clenched tightly. In the moment before it uncurled, the ghost of a touch came to him.

"Spock, help me–"

Michael's voice called to him.

Quickly he sat up, eyes scanning the shadows.

Logic reasserted itself. Michael was many centuries away. His hand was empty. It was only memories spilling from dreams that echoed in the darkness.

He was alone.

xxx

The shift passed without event. There was a monotony to his actions which he had not noted before. In the early hours of the shift were two meetings during which remarkably little was accomplished. Having been notified by medical services that a crewman in his department would be on sick leave for four shifts, he corrected the duty roster accordingly. He reviewed and filed six departmental reports.

Michael's call lingered in his ears. His hand continually curled, expecting to feel her skin.

In the final few hours of the shift, he went to his station on the bridge. The system which they were surveying had many unique qualities. Devoting his attention to those qualities was likely to refocus his mind.

Number One was discussing something with the captain; they were both frowning over a shared PADD. Ortegas was smiling broadly as she sat at the helm. Uhura also wore a smile, which made him speculate the two officers were discussing something which they found greatly amusing. La'an was at the security station ignoring everyone.

Turning to face his console, he retrieved the most recent information on the planet the ship orbited. He identified an area of complexity, then isolated the data relevant to that specific location.

xxx

Michael has a fascination with construction sites. She enjoys walking through unfinished buildings, guessing which locations are designated for what purposes. Collecting small pieces of material from those sites to make outlines of future buildings is one of her favorite pastimes.

He does not share her interest, nor does he understand why she finds it fascinating.

"A collection of materials or a building undergoing construction is not a matter of interest," he has advised her more than once.

"On the contrary – what makes a creation, what something can become is of great interest," she frequently replied.

On this day Michael is exploring a partially completed building on the outskirts of ShiKar. When completed, the building will be a large museum, having multiple levels to accommodate a collection of archaeological finds. The development of levels holds interest to her. She has determined the best way to comprehend such construction details is to walk the braces high overhead.

He walks on a solid floor beneath her, ostensibly to look out at the city still easily visible through half-finished walls. In reality, he walks prepared to catch Michael should she fall. She has never done so, but the odds of mishap increase each time she unwisely indulges in such activities.

He is considerably taller than she is now, and exponentially stronger. Yet her adventurous nature continues to draw him along wherever she goes. Although he would never admit it, she is the braver of them. He wishes to have her courage even as he fears it will eventually lead to her harm.

"Is your curiosity satisfied?" he asks, gazing up at her.

"Nearly." She steps delicately across the slender beam towards a stack of materials against the far wall. Upon reaching it, she cautiously steps upon the materials in order to examine something above her height. "I intend–"

The stack collapses.

There is no warning. All at once beams, connectors, and wall slats are falling from above. He covers his head, protects his eyes from the fine dust abruptly filling the air.

It is over very quickly.

"Michael?" He cannot see her amidst the haphazard materials. Glancing overhead, he finds the beam his sister had walked is now gone, indistinguishable from any other object which surrounds him. "Michael!"

"Spock."

Her voice is – below him?

"Call out again," he instructs. When she does, he locates a particular area of the rubble. "Continue calling." He tears at the materials until her form becomes visible.

Michael is pinned beneath two beams which hold her legs to the floor. She has a gash across her forehead, her right arm is deformed halfway to the wrist, and she is completely coated in dust, which gives her skin an odd hue.

"My legs are the only place of concern," she says calmly. "I am unable to free them."

Over the past several years, his human sister has learned to thoroughly hide her biology. She conceals physical aspects: her ears covered by a long hairstyle, her scent repressed with medications. Her mannerisms are controlled: the arch of an eyebrow, hands carefully folded. When she speaks, it is with the correct inflection and speed, whether in Standard or Vulcan. Michael has become Vulcan in all but blood. Occasionally he thinks that she is far more Vulcan than he.

Even now, as her crimson blood seeps down her face, her voice is calm, and minimal emotion shows on her face. But he can identify the faint tells – she is fearful. And in pain.

He goes to the beams pinning her in place. They are broad and heavy, designed to support the weight of flooring and all which would be upon flooring. He is unable to move them.

Something close to panic fills him. His sister is in danger. She has been injured and requires medical care. He must help her.

"I cannot free you," he confesses, kneeling beside her. "I will get help." Looking at her dust-coated, bleeding face, he adds, "I will not abandon you, sister."

For the first time in many months, she offers him a small smile. "I believe you, brother."

xxx

"Spock, are you with us?"

He blinked, found himself looking at his console. He was at his station on Enterprise, not kneeling in rubble at a construction site. He turned his chair to face the speaker.

"My apologies, captain," he told Pike. Feeling obligated to provide an explanation, he added, "I did not obtain significant rest last night."

Ortegas snorted. "Didn't realize T'Pring was aboard." Catching sight of La'an’s scowl, the pilot returned her focus to her console.

Pike smiled. "Happens to the best of us. Maybe you should knock off a little early today."

"Unnecessary," he replied, turning back to his station. "There is much to accomplish."

Yet even as his eyes returned to the data, he remembered the taste of dust in the air, the scent of metal and compounds newly disturbed. The sound of his own voice echoing off half-formed walls as he assured his sister he would not abandon her.

xxx

Christine slid into the booth beside him. "Okay, what's going on with you? And don't you dare say it's nothing."

Quickly his eyes scanned the area around them. The lounge was busy. Most tables were occupied; all stools at the bar were taken. The low buzz of conversation filled the air. It did not appear anyone was concerned with them.

He did not desire to dismiss Christine’s query. Rather, he felt the urge to tell her everything about his sister: their childhood, their regrettable estrangement, their final parting. How he deeply missed Michael, hoped she was well, continued to love her. But all traces of their tie had been erased from the official record. Her departure to the future was classified. He was forbidden from speaking the truth.

"I seem to be caught on memories of a friend," he finally told Christine.

Her face took on a puzzled expression. "Caught how?"

It was a difficult question to answer. "I have been experiencing memories in my dreams."

"So you're dreaming memories." She considered it. "Is that a bad thing?"

Never did he regret remembering Michael. Yet memories pained him, made him recall her absence all the more. "We were estranged for many years. We reconciled just before she – was gone."

For a moment Christine looked away. "You lost her." She paused. "The War was terrible. I'm sorry."

Her words indicated she believed Michael had been killed as a result of the Klingon War. It was an incorrect assumption, but still had many commonalities with the actual situation.

"Yes. The War was terrible." After a brief hesitation he added, "I miss her greatly."

Christine offered him a small smile. "I'll drink to that."

xxx

He is walking through one of Enterprise’s corridors, but something is incorrect. Something is wrong.

The lighting has been substantially dimmed. A glance at the corridor’s long window reveals muted stars, indicating a screen is in place to reduce their brilliance. Returning his gaze to the corridor, he finds himself following an Andorian; a Naussican walks behind him. He does not know them, and their clothing is too damaged and unclean to identify if they are Starfleet officers. A brief study of his own attire indicates he is not in uniform. His trousers are patched and tucked into boots which pinch his feet; his sleeveless, open vest leaves most of his upper body bare.

He has numerous bruises to his chest and arms. There is a monitoring bracelet on his right wrist. His left earlobe aches; when he cautiously touches it, his fingers find some sort of triangular object.

"I told you to move."

A human male approaches. He wears a fierce scowl and carries a device which emanates a shock when pressed into the Andorian’s skin. "Get moving."

He follows the line of people ahead of him.

This is not a memory. However, he has not experienced a dream of this nature before. The details are remarkably realistic. The pain from his injuries certainly feels genuine.

The line has only moved a few steps before another human joins the first. This man wears a dark uniform with dark armor covering half of his chest. There is a phaser at his thigh and what appears to be a set of long knives in his belt. Perhaps he is security, or another type of enforcer.

"You're out of time," the uniformed man tells the man with the shock stick. "They'll be coming through any minute."

"I thought they wouldn't be aboard for another half hour."

The security officer grins. "The emperor runs on his own time. Can you stash them somewhere?"

"We're in a corridor. What do you expect me to do? Make them disappear?"

He hears a commotion at the far end of the corridor. The vibrations from footfalls of an approaching group can be felt on the deck.

"Just put them on the bulkhead and keep them quiet," the security officer instructs before jogging away.

The man uses the shock stick to force the line back against the bulkhead. When the Naussican is shocked, she half falls to the deck. He quickly helps her up, steadies her until she can stand on her own.

"Be silent," the man hisses to those in line. "If you make a sound, I'll make it your last."

The footfalls are upon them.

A double set of humans are the first to appear. They are dressed in dark uniforms in a manner identical to the individual he had theorized was security. He revises his theory: they are soldiers of some sort, perhaps mercenaries. Behind the first set of people appear a dozen more, all uniformed and similarly armed, all of them human.

Neither he nor any of the other individuals standing against the bulkhead are given more than a cursory glance by the passing soldiers.

He watches as a uniquely attired human approaches. Their uniform is dark, but their armor is golden, as are the weapons at their thigh and waist. The individual is dark-skinned and slight of stature. Still, they walk confidently, assured of their place.

The golden-armored person is almost within touching distance when he recognizes her. "Michael."

The woman passes him, then halts several steps away. The soldiers behind her immediately stop. Slowly she turns and walks back with a measured pace. Her face is completely still as she scans the people standing outside of the main path.

"The Vulcan," Michael says, snapping her fingers and pointing to the space before her.

Abruptly he finds his arms caught by two soldiers. They pull him out of line to stand before Michael.

She studies him silently, her eyes sliding down his form in a manner most unsuitable for siblings. Slowly a smile forms on her face. Is not a friendly expression.

"A Vulcan," she says again. The words are nearly a purr. With measured steps she circles him. "I haven't seen one like this in quite some time."

This person who looks like Michael is not his sister. She is – someone else. Someone who holds power over the other soldiers. Someone who is regarding him in a decidedly sexual manner.

He is appalled. He wants this dream to end immediately. However, he cannot seem to wake himself.

Michael stops before him. With a pleased grin, she says, "Take him to my quarters. He'll be the evening entertainment for the emperor and I."

While Michael turns to proceed down the corridor, he finds himself again seized by the arms.

He is dragged through corridors and ‘lifts until reaching the captain's quarters. His captors unceremoniously deposit him just inside the doors.

"Be a good pet, Vulcan," one of his captors advises. "Maybe the empress will keep you for a while."

Once he is alone, he gets to his feet. He attempts to leave, but the doors do not open for him. Instead he surveys the cabin. It is unlike Captain Pike's in all but design. The decor is sparse, and of a different style: paintings of battle scenes, a long poem delineating victory over a defiant enemy. There is no kitchen here, no large space devoted to hosting gatherings. The furniture is richly upholstered. The bed is twice the standard size. A brief survey of the refresher reveals a substantial bathtub and an elaborate shower.

In the main room, a spread of elaborate foods has been provided. Suddenly he realizes he is quite hungry. He samples many of the foods, omitting any which appear to include meat. A pitcher of crimson liquid stands at the end of the buffet; a taste reveals it to likely be a type of alcohol. He goes to the cabin’s replicator and orders a glass of water.

There is no way to track the passing of time. He is unable to activate any device besides the replicator. As his physical status indicates he has not bathed recently, he makes use of the shower. He rests on the elaborate bed. If he sleeps, will he awaken in his quarters as the person he truly is?

At last the doors split open. Michael strides in. Her eyes land on him immediately where he sits on the bed.

"Michael," he begins, getting to his feet.

She holds up a hand to silence him. Withdrawing an object from her trouser pocket, she takes it to the center of the room, sets it on a footstool.

"There. That will block any audio/visual recorders." She closes the distance between them. After a moment of studying him, he watches tears fill her eyes. "They told me you were dead," she says, voice low. "Gabriel said you were killed along with the rest of the Enterprise’s crew. He gloated about it." A blink causes the tears to spill down her cheeks.

"You know me," he confirms, cautious.

"Of course." Her smile is tremulous. "You're my brother."

There is no suppressing the emotions which flood him. Christine has been urging him to accept the usefulness of such feelings. It is that advice which he accepts as he pulls Michael into an embrace.

"Sister," he replies, "I have missed you greatly."

Her emotions are similar to his, are nearly identical, except that they include far more fear. Fear for him. Her distress saddens him, and evokes anger. What has made her so afraid?

At last they break apart. Sitting on the bed as they did as children, she wipes away her tears.

"How did you survive?" she asks. "What are you doing here?"

As this is a dream, logic indicates that there is no reason to conceal the truth. "I am not from this reality."

Michael appears less skeptical than he anticipates. "Then you need to go back. Immediately."

"I do not know how to do so."

She closes her eyes, rubs her forehead. Her expression is one of defeat.

Her reaction concerns him. No, it angers him. "What took place here?"

With a sigh, she answers, "Gabriel took place."

He lacks the context to comprehend her statement.

"Gabriel Lorca," she clarifies upon noticing his confusion. "Discovery's first captain."

"The official record indicated he was killed during the course of a mission." He had reviewed the status of the Discovery often once it became his sister's residence. When he was aboard the ship itself, he had conducted a thorough review of its history.

"That was the official story," she agrees. "The reality was somewhat different. The Lorca who captained Discovery was from another universe. He gathered data from jumps to use the sporedrive as a way to return to his own universe. Discovery barely managed to escape from there. It was thought he had died, but that turned out to be incorrect. The Enterprise had not yet concluded its five year mission when he returned. In his universe, he had become emperor of the Imperial Terran Empire – the most dominant organization there. He brought the military of that empire to our universe. Within a few months the Empire had conquered our entire quadrant."

Her account evokes numerous questions. "What of Starfleet and the Federation?"

She shakes her head. "Gone. Some Starfleet ships were destroyed, but most were overrun, the crews murdered or enslaved. That was what happened to the Enterprise. Terran vessels were faster and better armed than Starfleet ships.The Federation was destroyed. Lorca accepted nothing less than total surrender. Even that sometimes wasn't enough," she admits quietly.

"Many planets must have fought," he objects, skeptical.

"Many did, both Federation and non-Federation," she acknowledges. "The Klingon homeworld fought until it was rendered uninhabitable. So did Vulcan." She swallows, looks away. "Millions were slaughtered. Our parents were among them."

Mother is dead. Grief stabs through him. It takes several minutes before he recalls that this is a dream. It is only a dream.

Gesturing to her uniform, he says, "It appears you have become part of Gabriel Lorca’s Terran Empire."

Her face loses all trace of emotion. "Gabriel loved the Michael Burnham of his universe, but she died. After returning here, he wanted me to take her place. I agreed." She looks at him, but he has the impression she is seeing something else. "Discovery's first officer died in one of the initial Terran skirmishes. Starfleet was in disarray. I became Discovery's captain. In exchange for my cooperation, Gabriel offered to spare my crew. They would be allowed to remain on Discovery, and the ship would never be endangered by the Empire." She blinks, refocusing on him. "I had to protect my crew. I had to keep them safe."

She has traded her freedom for her crew’s. Would he not have done the same for the crew of Enterprise? Still, he can see the shadows in her eyes. "You became part of the military hierarchy," he surmises.

"I became Gabriel's spouse," she corrects. Her gaze shifts aside once more. "I carry his child."

This is a dream. It has no tie to reality. Nothing within it is consequential. He tells himself thus again and again. The mantra fails to quench his fury.

Shoulders straightening, she continues, "I help the Resistance as much as possible, with information, resources, anything else I can manage. I'm going to get you to them. I can summon Discovery and transport you aboard."

Escape. His sister is trying to help him, even in a dream. "If that is possible, then you can come with me."

"No. The safety of my crew depends on me," she denies. "But you–"

The cabin’s doors split open to admit a human male. He is dressed similarly to Michael, including golden armor. This individual is therefore most likely Gabriel Lorca.

"I heard you found something to play with," the man drawls, smirking. He goes to the layout of food, casually samples several before pouring a cup of wine. "I hope you didn't start without me."

Michael's eyes flash him a warning before she gets to her feet. "I'm more tired than I thought I'd be. But he has potential – let's save him for later."

Lorca draws closer. He quickly stands.

"A Vulcan again, huh," Lorca says. "You really have a taste for them. Suppose I should be happy you don't go for Klingons, Tyler being one and all." He pauses to drink deeply from his cup.

"I'll put him away so we can settle for the night." Michael turns to point at the cabin doors. "Go."

He does not desire to depart. He is filled with an impulse to murder Lorca. As this is a dream, no harm would come of it. Still, he senses Michael's fear. Reluctantly he turns for the doors.

"Stop." Lorca steps closer. "Computer, increase illumination by thirty percent." Beneath the increased lighting, the Terran scrutinizes him. Slowly a smile claims Lorca's face. Glancing to Michael, Lorca laughs, "You thought I wouldn't recognize him? Michael, I'm hurt – of course I recognize your brother. How did you manage to live, halfling?" Lorca adds to him.

Quickly he considers an acceptable response. “To a Terran, all non-humans appear the same."

Lorca shrugs. "Fair enough. That's why we have DNA sampling technology – which I guess wasn't utilized, in your case." He sets his cup on a side table before looking back to Michael. "He's going to have to die, of course. Can't have someone who's supposed to be dead running around."

Without hesitation, he pulls a dagger from Michael's belt and attacks the Terran.

Lorca meets his attack, catches his wrist and twists.

Michael steps between them, attempting to intervene.

He feels the weapon sink into unresisting flesh. When Lorca's eyes widen, he releases the blade’s hilt. He and Michael must quickly devise a plan for concealing the Terran’s death.

Michael sinks to the deck. The blade is buried just below her breastbone.

"What the hell did you do," Lorca snarls. "Computer, medical emergency–”

Swiftly he kneels at his sister's side. "I am sorry," he tells her repeatedly.

She clutches at him. "My crew–"

He glances up, seeking assistance. Lorca is aiming a phaser at him, saying words he cannot hear.

xxx

He was kneeling beside his bed on the cool deck. The room – his quarters – was empty save for him. Only starlight broke the darkness.

There was a substance on his face. He brushed his fingertips across it.

Tears.

xxx

He arrived at his station several minutes before the beginning of alpha shift. Often the captain came to the bridge in advance of the shift – but today it was not so. The fact caused annoyance to flare in him; he wasted several moments to suppressing it. Then he returned to reviewing his explanation.

After several hours of careful consideration, he had concluded that his experiences while undergoing sleep were abnormal to a sufficient degree as to merit seeking assistance. The complicated situation of his sister limited the individuals of whom he could request aid.

Pike arrived on the bridge nearly an hour after the start of the shift. The captain was smiling, engaging in light conversation with Ortegas.

He took a slow, measured breath before standing. He crossed to the command chair, where Pike smiled in greeting.

"Captain. May we speak privately," he quietly requested.

The captain's smile faded.

Once they reached the ready room, Pike waved him towards the set of chairs before the desk. He refrained from speaking until the captain was seated behind the desk.

"Why do I feel like this isn't going to be about anything good," Pike said, a note of grim anticipation in his tone.

"I am here to report that I am again experiencing visions," he began.

The captain appeared unprepared for such a statement. "Visions? As in, the Red Angel? You think the Red Angel is contacting you again?”

"Not the Red Angel to whom you are referring," he denied. "It is Michael. My sister is attempting to communicate with me."

XXX

Chapter Text

II.

It is another place and you are not what you were…

you slowly show yourself as someone else, not ever remembered.

~Ruth Stone, from “This Strangeness in My Life”

"Let me get this straight." Number One paced around the ready room. "You think your sister is attempting to contact you like the Red Angel did, only she’s using dreams instead of visions."

"A dream is a form of vision," he said. "For many years I perceived the Red Angel contacts as dreams."

She halted beside Pike's desk. "Is that the only way the two are similar?"

He had already considered the question. "They impart information in a similar manner." He paused. He was reluctant to admit that they inspired similar emotions. "It is difficult to precisely identify other reasons they are similar – and yet, they are."

The response caused Number One to frown. She glanced at Pike.

For a moment the captain and first officer silently regarded each other. At nearly the same instant, they both spoke an identical word:  "Sickbay."

"I am not ill," he assured them.

xxx

As he reclined on a biobed, he reviewed his explanation to the captain. It was identical to the one he had made to Number One. He was unable to determine what he had said which led them to believe he was unwell.

"Sorry for the delay," Christine apologized, approaching his bed. She halted beside Number One, splitting her gaze among the three of them. "What's going on?"

Pike hesitated. "Perhaps we should wait for Dr. M'Benga."

"You can do that, sir, but he won't be available for quite some time," Christine warned.

Number One asked, "How long?"

"Six hours, if all goes well. Longer, if it doesn't. He's consulting on a complicated surgical procedure. Any interruption could endanger the patient," the nurse explained. She glanced among them. "Is this something that can wait?"

The captain and first officer looked at each other.

"Probably shouldn't," Number One said.

"Probably not," Pike agreed.

Christine asked him, "Is it the dreams?”

He noticed both superior officers regarding him with a degree of surprise in their expressions. "I told her only of the vivid nature of my recent dreams."

"But now I'm guessing there's more to it than that," Christine surmised.

He looked to the captain, silently awaiting authorization to explain the exact nature of his dreams.

"If we don't tell her, it won't make any sense," Number One said to Pike. "It could take days for her to be granted clearance."

Christine offered, "Just so you know, anything I learn is covered under provider-patient confidentiality."

"Perfect." Number One nodded.

Pike rubbed his forehead, finally saying, "Go ahead and tell her."

It was necessary to provide Christine with the context in which to understand his current situation. He provided an abbreviated history of his sister, then delineated his recent dreams, concluding with his hypothesis that Michael was using them to communicate with him.

Christine was silent for several minutes after he finished. Eventually she said, "You have a sister."

"Indeed." He patiently awaited her next words.

"And she's way far in the future, but you think she needs something from you now," Christine said.

"Correct," he agreed.

"Okay." She looked up at the readings above the bed, nodding absently. Then she glanced from Pike to Number One."If Spock thinks his sister is communicating via dreams, let's test the theory." She turned away, walked across the bay to a storage cabinet. A moment later she returned with a hypospray in her hand. "Let's knock him out. The scanner will monitor him. If he has another dream, we can study any resulting data. Right now all of his readings are within normal limits, so any abnormality that occurs while he’s dreaming should be readily identifiable. Hopefully, at any rate."

xxx

"Did you hear me, Spock?"

He blinks, glances at his surroundings. He is in the ready room, seated before the captain's desk. Pike is seated behind the desk, and is watching him with an expectant yet fond expression.

"My apologies, captain. I was – distracted."

Pike smiles. "That's understandable. You must be excited by your sister's visit."

"My sister's visit," he echoes.

"Subcommander Burnham. I think you mentioned you hadn't seen her for several months before Enterprise set out for the extended mission," the captain says. "Her duties with the Vulcan Expeditionary Group must have kept her busy before the War, and doubly so after it. I'm a little surprised she was able to schedule a visit now." He pauses. "You know, you've never told me why you didn't follow in her footsteps. You seem to think a lot of her."

In this dream, Michael had not been rejected by the Vulcan Expeditionary Group. She likely had not started a mutiny, or been posted to Discovery. But his life here seems to have followed a similar course as his true life. "I observed her career in the Vulcan Expeditionary Group," he says, quickly formulating a credible response. "The organization may have accepted Michael, but its members often did not. Frequently she was treated unfairly. It was not unusual for her to be ostracized by crewmates. Vulcans laud diversity in theory, yet the Expeditionary Group was less than pleased by a human in its ranks."

"A human?" Pike’s eyebrows are drawn together in confusion.

"My sister is human," he reminds.

"Spock, I've seen pictures and vids of your sister. She's Vulcan," the captain disagrees.

Is his sister Vulcan in this dream?

"She is human," he replies, hoping he is correct.

Not long thereafter, Uhura’s voice interrupts to inform them that Michael’s shuttle has requested permission to doc. He walks with the captain to the shuttlebay. He is pleased to find Enterprise closer to his own reality rather than that of the Terran-dominated world of his last dream. In the bay, he easily finds the Vulcan shuttlecraft, observing that the post-flight process is nearly complete. He and Pike halt a short distance from the shuttle’s hatch, and wait only a minute before the ramp extends.

Michael exits the shuttle.

His first thought is that she looks well. She wears the VEG uniform with her rank clear on the collar. Her hair is straight, falling well over her ears and down to her uniform. No trace of emotion is displayed on her face; her eyes take in all around her, passing over but then returning to him.

She descends the ramp to halt before him and the captain.

"Subcommander Burnham, I'm Captain Christopher Pike. Welcome to the Enterprise," Pike greets. "It's an honor to have you aboard."

Michael raises her hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting. After the formal words, she adds, "Thank you for your hospitality, captain." Then she looks to him. "Greetings, brother. I am pleased to see you."

"Greetings, sister," he replies. "I am pleased to see you as well. Welcome to Enterprise."

He longs to embrace Michael as he did in his last dream, but this person is not the sister he knows. Her presentation, her speech, her mannerisms – all are characteristic of a full-blooded Vulcan, someone without a drop of humanity in her blood. Perhaps that is in fact the case.

Pike glances to the shuttle. "You're traveling alone, subcommander?"

"Correct." She adds no more to the response.

The captain smiles. "I've arranged visitor quarters for you. I thought, after you were settled in, you might allow me to show you the ship. Unless you’d prefer Spock to show you around."

Michael replies, "I do not require time in quarters. An overview of the Enterprise would be informative and useful. My brother and I can speak at a subsequent time."

He suggests, "Perhaps you will join me in the lounge for a drink."

"A drink," she echoes. "The phrase is a human colloquialism for partaking of an alcoholic beverage. Do you now engage in such behaviors?"

"I do not. I utilized the phrase to indicate my willingness to meet with you in a public location," he explains.

She pauses, then says, "In that case, I accept your offer."

"Good," the captain nods. "Come with me, subcommander. Let me give you the nickel tour." He stops. "You know, Spock and I have a difference over an issue that I think you may be able to resolve. Are you human?”

Michael silently regards the captain for several moments before turning to him. "You thought this a relevant topic of discussion?"

"I did not raise the subject, merely answered questions regarding it," he mildly assures her.

Pike seems to realize he should not have asked Michael such a question. "I apologize. It's none of my business."

She glances to him.

He arches an eyebrow.

A muscle in her jaw twitches. To the captain she says, "Perhaps this will satisfy your curiosity." Turning her head, she combs back her hair to reveal the full, curved shape of her ear.

"I should have trusted Spock," the captain says, shaking his head. "By all accounts, you're Vulcan."

Michael states, "It would be wise not to confuse race and culture."

The captain smiles. "Very true."

He returns to his station on the bridge while Pike shows Michael the ship. Although he pulls up data on a nearby star cluster, his true focus is devoted to reviewing his sister's recent history. 

There is little to be found. After finishing the Vulcan Science Academy, she joined the VEG, then was posted to the Discovery six months into the Klingon War. In that joint operation, she served as the first officer until Captain G. Lorca died during a mission, at which time she became acting captain. She and her crew conducted a high-risk operation which led to a ceasefire with the Klingons – the unofficial end of the War. She was awarded multiple commendations and offered a permanent position in Starfleet. She declined and returned to the VEG. No other information of note is annotated.

He speculates as to whether Michael is more content in this version of existence. Has her life contained less tragedy? Has she found greater satisfaction? He had refused to join the VEG because they rejected Michael. If they had accepted her, would he have joined then?

At some later point, the main bridge doors split open. He hears the captain's voice; turning his chair, he sees Pike and Michael at Uhura's station. The captain introduces his sister to multiple crewmen as they round the bridge.

"Subcommander Burnham." Ortegas stands from her station. "You’re a war hero. I've always wanted to meet you. It's an honor."

"The honor is mine, Lieutenant Ortegas," Michael tells the pilot. "Your service is noted."

Ortegas smiles, briefly looks towards the deck in an uncharacteristic display of bashfulness. "Thank you."

Number One surrenders the command chair when Pike nears with Michael. "I think you've made a fan," the first officer says, nodding towards Ortegas.

"I'm a fan, too," Uhura volunteers, holding up a hand. "Spock, your sister is awesome."

He inclines his head in acknowledgment.

"Captain Pike, may I speak with your security chief for a brief time?" Michael requests. "I observed several aspects of her station which merit closer investigation."

At her station, La’an turns her chair to look at Michael. Noticing the captain's silent query, she nods shortly.

"Please do," Pike encourages. "Lieutenant Noonian-Singh excels at all things under her purview."

He watches as Michael goes to the security station. She gestures to something on the console. La’an points to something else. The two women soon appear deep in conversation. He returns his attention to his own station, feeling oddly comforted by Michael's presence.

Several minutes later, his station ceases to function.

"Uh, captain – all comms are offline," Uhura reports. Her tone is filled with concern. "We're not capable of sending or receiving any kind of communication."

"Helm is locked, too," Ortegas says. "I am not in control."

Number One goes to stand beside the pilot, then takes the other forward station. "She's right – we're completely unable to make any course alterations."

Pike swivels his chair to face La’an and Michael. "Lieutenant, any idea what's going on here?"

La’an makes no reply. He notices her odd posture in the chair; she appears to be slumping as opposed to sitting.

Michael turns towards Pike. She tosses something small to the captain, something shaped like a data stick.

Pike catches it, then frowns. After plugging it into a port, he proceeds to quickly read the display on the chair's arm. When he glances back to Michael, the captain's expression contains both wariness and concern.

"Yes," Michael says, as if Pike had posed a query. "It is necessary that I temporarily utilize your ship. Through the security station, I have executed a command-level lockout. Coordinates have already been entered. Your compliance is requested but not required. It is anticipated that no member of your crew will come to permanent harm. However, temporary harm will come to any individual who attempts to challenge me."

Number One gets to her feet, slowly begins to walk towards Michael. "As a Vulcan, you're smart enough to know we won't passively sit by while you commandeer our ship. We won't cooperate. And you can't take us all on at the same time."

He does not believe the last portion of her statement to be accurate.

"We are going to cooperate," Pike disagrees. "She just handed me orders direct from Starfleet Command. The Enterprise is to assist in any way possible with her mission." He smiles ruefully. "This person is Commander Burnham of the Vulcan Security forces, and she's running a classified, joint mission with Starfleet."

"You're V'Shar?" Ortegas’ voice is filled with excitement. "This is so cool. I can't believe I'm part of a mission with the V'Shar."

Uhura adds, "I've heard about the V'Shar, but I never thought I'd actually get to meet one."

When his sister's gaze shifts to him, he says, "Congratulations on your promotion."

Number One swears under her breath. "What did you do to La’an?"

"The common phrase is ‘nerve pinch,’" Michael replies. "No permanent harm has been inflicted. You may relocate her, if you so prefer."

Michael makes no move as she watches the first officer slowly approach. Number One halts when she reaches the lieutenant's chair. The two women silently regard each other.

He speculates as to whether Number One will attempt to disable Michael. The women are only arms’ length apart. The first officer is skilled in multiple combat techniques. However, Michael became proficient in Suus Mahna at a very early age; doubtlessly she has improved upon those skills in the years since.

"Una," Pike quietly warns. "We have orders."

A long moment passes before Number One looks away from Michael. "Aye, captain." She hooks her hands beneath La’an's arms and pulls the lieutenant away from the security station.

Hours pass. Enterprise is running dark, bound for an undisclosed location. Michael does not leave the security station; she does not turn her back on anyone. Conversation among the bridge crew is minimal.

"I know you can't talk about the V'Shar. I get that. But can I ask you some questions about your service record?" Ortegas asks hopefully.

"You may not," Michael replies.

Ortegas nods. "Later. Got it."

At one point he gets up and crosses to the security station. He is aware all eyes have suddenly fallen to him. He stops several paces away from Michael. "May I approach?"

She studies him. "Do you harbor any intent to disable me or interfere with my mission?"

"I do not."

"Then you may approach."

He closes the distance between them. A brief study of the security station reveals a plethora of data. "You have diverted all other stations to this one."

"Minimally," she acknowledges. "This was the only location capable of withstanding such input."

"You studied the Enterprise before coming aboard," he surmises. "I am curious how you obtained such information."

"It was provided to me by Starfleet. This is a joint operation between our two organizations," she reminds.

"Many experiences from our childhood indicate your capacity for lying. Even on this occasion, you claimed the reason for your visit was of a personal nature," he cannot help but point out.

"That was true. I did want to see you. Very much so." She looks away. "I am required to inform the V'Shar of my location at all times. When my intended visit was noted, I was tasked with this mission." Her gaze returns to him. "In the V'Shar, it is not permitted to decline an assignment."

His knowledge of the V'Shar is extremely limited. If he has previously encountered any of their agents, he is unaware of it. "How long have you been with them?"

"That information is classified." She pauses. "It was prior to being posted to the Discovery."

"It is the reason you declined a Starfleet commission," he realizes.

She glances to the data scrolling across the station. "There were many factors in that decision." She reaches to adjust a parameter.

He notices a mark at the base of her left palm, what appears to be the remains of an old injury. Although he is greatly curious about it, he refrains from commenting.

Another three hours pass. Then there is a noticeable change in the ship's propulsion.

"Okay, we're dropping out of warp," Ortegas says. "I guess we're here."

Through the forward viewscreen, a ship becomes visible. It appears to be adrift. The design is not one he recognizes, but it bears structural commonalities with many Starfleet vessels.

"That looks like a Starfleet ship," Number One observes, surprise coloring her tone.

"And it looks like it's in trouble," Pike adds. He glances to Michael.

Michael inclines her head. "Correct. My mission is one of rescue and recovery."

Number One demands, "Why didn't you just say that up front?"

"I calculated a low likelihood of your belief in such a declaration." Without waiting for Number One to respond, she continues, "I will now release control of the ship. Please be advised that both vessels are in imminent danger while at this location." She turns to the security station.

Several moments later, he finds his station is once again responsive.

"Holy shit," Ortegas exclaims. "We're in Romulan space."

"What the hell is a Starfleet vessel doing on their side of the border," Number One asks Michael. There is anger in her tone.

"Let's deal with that later," the captain suggests. "Uhura, hail them."

"Wait." Michael goes to the comm station. "A specific code must be included in the hail, or they will not respond. May I utilize your station?" she asks Uhura.

"Sure. Do you know how–" Uhura breaks off as Michael proceeds to send the hail. Less than a minute later, the ensign looks to Pike. "They're responding, sir."

"On screen," Pike orders.

Upon the forward viewscreen appears the image of a human male. He wears a dark uniform, a Starfleet badge clearly visible. An obsidian Starfleet badge.

"Section 31," Number One mutters, shaking her head.

"I'm Captain Christopher Pike of the USS Enterprise," Pike greets, then glances to Michael, who has come to stand beside him.

"I am Commander Burnham of the V'Shar," Michael says. "We have been sent to render aid."

"Captain Tyler, Section 31," the man on the viewscreen replies. "My ship is in critical condition. We're on the edge of losing life support, and we have several wounded."

Pike nods. "We’ll beam your crew aboard, and send the wounded straight to sickbay. Standby." Once the image is canceled from the screen, he says, "Okay, folks – let's make it happen."

"The vessel cannot be left here," Michael reminds.

"We could tow it with a tractor beam, but then we wouldn't be able to go to warp," Ortegas posits.

Number One is still frowning severely. "We need to get back to our side of the line as fast as possible."

In such a scenario, he concludes there is only one viable option. "The Section 31 ship should be destroyed. This would prevent it from falling into Romulan hands, and allow us to promptly return to Federation space."

"We should probably run that plan past the Section 31 captain before we destroy his ship," cautions Pike.

The Section 31 captain consents to the destruction of his ship, provided several portions of infrastructure are beamed aboard first. It takes nearly an hour for the request to be accommodated. Then the ship is destroyed, and Enterprise goes to warp.

Later, he accompanies the captain to a secondary cargo bay, where the Section 31 infrastructure has been stored.

Several agents are working on the infrastructure. Captain Tyler is with them, standing at a console which has been allocated for Section 31 use. Michael is also at the console, her focus devoted entirely to her task.

At their arrival, the agents leave-off their assignments and come to stand near their commanding officer. Tyler turns away from the console. Michael is the last to put aside her work.

"How's it going down here?" Pike asks, his tone nonchalant by design.

Tyler glances to his agents. "Dismissed. Get some rest."

The agents murmur acknowledgment and depart.

Then the other captain offers Pike a tired smile. "We're good. Thank you, captain, for your assistance. Medical tells me at least two of my people would have died if you hadn't shown up. And that's if the Romulans hadn't found us. If they had…" He shakes his head.

Pike nods. "Anytime. The Enterprise is always happy to help, especially when we get to work with our Vulcan friends." He smiles at Michael.

Michael silently inclines her head.

He tells his sister, "Perhaps you will consider keeping our arrangement after your work here is concluded."

She replies, "That seems likely."

When the captain turns for the doors, he does the same. Then he recalls another issue he had intended to discuss with his sister. He halts inside the bay while Pike departs.

Tyler and Michael have returned to their tasks at the console. After a few moments, Tyler comments, "Looks like it's just us."

"Indeed," Michael agrees.

Tyler turns to catch Michael's hand and pulls her against him. "About damn time."

From their formal interactions, he had not realized Michael and Tyler knew each other in this dream. Thus he is thoroughly surprised to watch the two passionately kiss and cling to each other.

Tyler sets his hands on Michael's hips, lifting her onto the console.

"We cannot do this here," Michael protests between kisses.

"Yeah we can," Tyler assures her. "You really want to walk through the corridors?"

For the sake of decorum – and because he does not desire to watch his sister engage in sexual behaviors – he suggests, "Perhaps a site-to-site transport could resolve the situation."

The pair cease to move.

Over his shoulder, Tyler growls, "Get out."

"That is my brother," Michael informs Tyler.

"Then you tell him to get out," Tyler returns. He sighs when she does not. Carefully the agent sets her back on her feet, then they both turn to face him.

"You neglected to mention your relationship to Captain Tyler," he advises Michael.

"It was irrelevant," she replies.

He arches an eyebrow.

"Tyler is necessary to future missions," she maintains. After a moment, she admits, "He is necessary to me."

He senses there is more to this. He waits.

Tyler says to her, "He's your brother. We should tell him."

Michael hesitates, then extends her left hand, palm up. Tyler does the same with his right.

He steps closer to inspect their hands. The mark he previously noted on his sister's lower palm is also present on Tyler's. Closer study reveals the mark to be the Vulcan symbol for marriage.

"You have chosen a bondmate," he says to Michael. "Is our mother aware?"

"She is not," Michael answers. "Please do not inform her. Neither she nor Father has met Ash."

"It's going to happen, it just hasn't happened yet," Tyler hastily assures him. "But it definitely will. Soon. Hopefully."

Michael clasps Tyler's hand. "I trust you now understand, brother, why I had a vested interest in his rescue." She looks to Tyler. "I need him."

He thinks of Christine, and understands.

xxx

When he opened his eyes, he found three people staring down at him.

"Good dreams?" Number One smirked.

"Informative," he corrected, sitting up.

Pike asked Christine, "Did the scanner pick up anything?"

Christine consulted the monitor above the bed. "Nothing abnormal," she replied, shaking her head. "Spock cycled through a typical sleep pattern. His brain waves were within range the entire time. There were no physical abnormalities." Her eyes shifted to him. "What did you dream?"

He gathered his thoughts. "My sister has indicated a need to seek aid in order to assist her."

"Aid from whom?" Number One questioned.

"Her former paramour." He glanced to the captain.

Pike groaned, half turned away. "Not Tyler."

Christine returned to the storage cabinet.

"The Klingon guy?" Number One asked. "That Tyler? What help could he be."

"He's running Section 31 now," Pike informed her.

"The Klingon guy? You've got to be kidding me," the first officer said, voice heavy with incredulity.

Christine snickered. "Your sister likes bad boys." When all eyes turned to her, she tossed up her hands. "What? All girls love a bad boy – or a bad girl, in some cases," she added, gesturing to Number One.

The first officer drew breath to protest, then abruptly shrugged. "That's true."

He admitted, "I am unfamiliar with the term bad boy. Please explain."

Pike silently shook his head.

"I'll tell you," Christine offered, her voice carrying a mixture of both happiness and delight. She returned to his bedside wearing a broad smile.

"How about we focus on the main issue," Number One suggested. She glanced back to him. "But later, you should definitely take her up on the offer. It'll explain a lot."

"On the main issue – it's not like Tyler's in the main directory," the captain denied. "I don't know how to get in touch with him."

"Nor do I," he allowed. "However, I know of someone who likely does."

xxx

Mother slanted him a curious look. "Why do you want to speak with Ash?"

It was a query he had anticipated she would pose. He had carefully considered a response prior to placing the comm. "I have thought of Michael extensively, resulting in numerous questions. As Tyler was close to her, he may be in a position to answer them."

On the viewscreen, Mother tilted her head. "And?" At his continued silence, she prompted, "I can tell when you're not being completely honest, Spock. Please explain why you need to speak with Ash."

It was an oversight not to have anticipated Mother’s skepticism. Regretfully, he did not possess Michael's capacity for lying. It was unlikely Mother would believe the genuine situation. He was at a loss how to answer.

Mother was wearing a vivid sapphire gown. It accentuated her fair skin – and also, somehow, her deepening frown. She appeared to be growing more displeased by the moment.

"It is unwise for me to share the full situation at this time," he finally said.

"I'm an ambassador's wife and the mother of two danger-fond children," Mother countered. "Try me."

He did not know how to proceed.

Mother's eyes narrowed. "Now, Spock."

"I have been experiencing dreams through which I believe Michael is attempting to contact me," he explained. "She has indicated Ash Tyler's aid is necessary in order to assist her."

Half turning from the viewscreen, Mother rubbed her forehead. Quickly she turned back. "Where is your sister?"

"I do not know."

"Why does she need help?"

"I do not know."

"Is she in danger?"

"I do not know."

Mother shook her head. "Ash is going to want a better explanation." She was quiet for a moment. "I'll give you the contact information he left me. But I expect you to tell me when you learn more." Again she paused. "And I expect you to stay safe. I can't lose both of you."

xxx

After entering the information Mother had provided – including an elaborate passcode – he waited at the viewscreen for an extended period of time before the comm was accepted.

"Spock." Tyler's voice was heavy with surprise. "I was expecting Amanda."

"My mother provided this method for contacting you."

He studied the agent. Tyler had altered his appearance since they last met. Clean shaven and short-haired, the agent still wore his customary frown. His dark uniform included the obsidian Section 31 badge.

"I take it this isn't a social call," Tyler said.

"It is not," he agreed. Briefly he explained the situation, including the reason why he had contacted the agent. At the conclusion of his explanation, Tyler regarded him silently for nearly four minutes. This compelled him to acknowledge, "It is logical for you to find my claim to be unlikely and suspicious. It is understandable that you would hesitate to assist with such a situation. However–"

"Yes," Tyler interrupted. "I'll help."

He paused. It was the desired response, yet he had anticipated a degree of convincing would be necessary.

Tyler smiled ruefully. "You had to know I'd agree. I’d do almost anything for Michael." He consulted something off-screen. "It looks like your comm is originating from the Enterprise. Is there any chance Pike isn't the captain anymore?"

Distantly he recalled that the captain and agent had a personality conflict. "Captain Pike continues to be in command of Enterprise."

"Great." Tyler appeared annoyed. "Send me your coordinates. I’ll comm Pike to work out logistics." He paused. "Are you able to relay a message to her?"

"No. Communication is initiated and controlled by Michael," he replied.

The agent did not appear surprised.

xxx

Captain Pike informed him that Agent Tyler would reach their location in approximately twenty-seven hours.

"In the meantime, I'd like you to get as much information as you can from your sister," Pike instructed. "Doctor M'Benga has agreed to provide you with sedatives if you need help getting to sleep."

"I have assigned duties to complete," he reminded.

The captain shook his head. "Not right now, you don't. This takes priority. Don't forget that the last time you had visions, it turned out the future of all sentient life was at stake."

He had not forgotten. "I will attempt to obtain details on the situation. However, I may not be able to do so due to the nature of the dreams."

"Do what you can," Pike encouraged. "And say hi for me, while you're at it."

xxx

Tyler is holding out a phaser to him.

He looks around. He is standing in a transporter room. Not Enterprise’s transporter room, but Discovery’s. The ensign who had often been on duty while he was aboard Discovery in his true life is on duty here, watching him with sidelong glances while working at the console. The tech, Tyler, and he are the only people present.

Tyler is wearing a tactical vest and other attire common to a high-risk mission. There is a phaser at his thigh, a standard-issue knife at his belt, and the strap of a phaser rifle over his shoulder. His customary frown is firmly in place.

"Take it," Tyler tells him. "It has an increased discharge, so it'll actually affect a Klingon."

He accepts the weapon, secures it in the empty holster at his thigh. As he is attired similarly to Tyler, logic indicates they are about to embark on a hazardous mission.

The transporter room doors split open. Three individuals enter: Pike, Georgiou, and a human male he recognizes from a previous dream as Gabriel Lorca. This Lorca wears Discovery's uniform; Pike is not dressed in the new uniform style, either. Georgiou appears substantially different than last he saw her: her hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, and when she smiles in greeting, it is genuine, lacking any trace of sarcasm. Also, the pips on her collar are those of an admiral.

"Alright, as soon as I'm back on Enterprise, we'll be ready to go," Pike tells him and Tyler. "Discovery will jump within transporter range of the Klingon ship. Its cloaking device still seems to be disabled, but it has probably recovered warp engines. Enterprise and Discovery will keep the ship busy while you two find the targets."

"You'll need to locate the targets as quickly as possible," Georgiou adds. "The ship seems to be on its own, but it's unknown how many other enemy vessels are in the vicinity. Once the skirmish begins, additional Klingon ships will doubtlessly soon arrive."

Based on those instructions, he deduces that he and Tyler are part of a rescue mission. Surely he could be more useful if he knew the identities of the targets. He is about to request the information when he notices Lorca is studying him.

Discovery's captain approaches, stops only a small space from him.

"I don't know you, and I'm not inclined to trust people I don't know with this sort of mission," Lorca informs him. "But Pike insists you're the best, and Admiral Georgiou swears you'll be the most useful person to Tyler, so here you are. Don't make liars out of them."

The admiral gives Lorca a pointed look, causing Discovery’s captain to move away. She in turn steps closer.

"I'm relying on you to bring them home," she tells him and Tyler. "Please bring them home."

"We'll get it done, admiral," Tyler assures her.

Within the space of a few minutes, he and Tyler are transported aboard a Klingon ship. They are deposited in an empty corridor. Quickly they take cover within a small alcove.

"Our biosigns are masked as Klingon," he states after conducting a status check.

Tyler adjusts something on the scanner in his hand. "Non-Klingon lifesigns are  present," he confirms. "There seem to be seven, no, eight of them." He glances up. "All are human."

Swiftly they head for the lifesigns, following the path provided by the scanner. Soon the ship is shuddering and rocking from incoming fire. Klingons initially pass through the corridors extensively, necessitating multiple pauses to hide, but the frequency of crew appearances rapidly falls.

At last they reach a set of sealed doors. There is an access panel above the door’s keypad; he pries it loose, then regards the wires within. This is not something with which he is familiar. He glances to Tyler.

Tyler shakes his head. "I don't know."

The ship rocks precariously in one direction, then the other.

As time is limited, he severs all of the wires within the panel. The doors scrape open part way, providing enough space for first Tyler, then him to enter. Together they manage to slide shut the doors from the inside.

The room is dimly lit. Like the rest of the ship, humidity is at a substantial level, and the temperature is significantly higher than that found on a Starfleet vessel. But here the air is rife with nearly overpowering scents: rotting flesh, filth, unwashed bodies.

Against the bulkheads, humans stand.

He counts five individuals of various ages and genders. Three have tattered Starfleet uniforms, while the other two wear civilian clothing. All of them have dull eyes and hollow cheeks. A glance at the deck reveals two additional humans lying there.

"It's okay," Tyler assures the prisoners. "We're going to get you out of here. It's okay."

He assists Tyler in quickly passing out the temporary locator buttons which will allow Discovery’s transporter to lock onto them. The individuals on the deck are unconscious, so he sets the buttons on them.

"Wait, we're missing someone," Tyler tells him. "There are seven people here, but the scanner picked up eight lifesigns."

He turns to the captives. "Do you know the location of another individual?"

The captives have said nothing thus far. They continue to maintain their silence.

"Perhaps the individual is unconscious," he suggests.

"Or they're hiding." Tyler begins to slowly walk through the room.

He also begins to search. There are corpses in various stages of decay throughout the space. Filth is not limited to one area. Shadows partially conceal objects he is reluctant to identify.

"Wait!"

Quickly he turns at Tyler's shout. He sees a figure running towards the doors, someone slight in stature who has dark skin. Michael.

"Spock, I think this is her," Tyler calls. "See if you can calm her down."

Unable to pry open the doors on her own, Michael glares at Tyler. He cannot assess her physical status as she wears a Starfleet jumpsuit which is at least one size too large. Her hair is a matted mess. Her face is exceedingly thin.

Michael attempts to dodge past Tyler, but he blocks her path. Immediately she falls into a fighting stance, hands raised in anticipation.

"Wait, please," Tyler insists. "We're trying to get you out of here. Spock, come on."

He approaches Michael from the side. She gives him a brief glare; recognition does not register on her face. In Vulcan, he assures, "We are here to facilitate your rescue."

Suddenly both his and Tyler's bio-concealment devices flare.

Lieutenant Tyler, Lieutenant Spock, prepare for transport. The targets will precede you.

"Acknowledged," he replies. He watches as the seven captives dissipate in a transporter beam.

Tyler lunges for Michael. They fall in a tangled heap. Quickly he nears, feeling the tingle of a transporter beam. He sets his hand on Michael's leg to ensure she is also pulled aboard.

He materializes on a pad in Discovery's transporter room, as does Tyler. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds Michael standing on a back pad.

Discovery jumps.

Standard illumination is restored. He can now clearly observe his sister. She does not appear to be in adequate health, based upon her profuse sweating and unnaturally bright eyes. She seems profoundly puzzled as she looks around the transporter room. Cautiously she touches the bulkhead, then bends to brush her fingers over the pad on which she stands.

"Talk to her," Tyler urges quietly. "She's been a POW since the Battle of the Binary Stars. Seven months is a long time to be trapped among Klingons. Remind her of who you are."

Now that he comprehends the entire situation, he is horrified. His sister has been a Klingon prisoner for seven months. The way Klingons treat POWs is common knowledge. Michael has suffered to an unimaginable degree. This is a heinous dream, and he wants it to end. But it does not.

He takes a cautious step towards Michael, his hands carefully positioned to show they are empty. "It is logical that trauma has interfered with your memory. There is no cause for you to feel distress as you are safely aboard a Starfleet vessel."

Tyler hisses, "Tell her who you are."

"I am Spock," he tells her. "I am your brother. You are my sister Michael."

Michael's eyes narrow. In a low, rough voice, she challenges, "Name your childhood pet." Her words are issued in a version of High Vulcan they learned as children.

"I had a pet sehlat," he replies in the same tongue. "It did not like you."

Slowly she closes the small distance between them until she can easily meet his eyes. Several moments pass before a faint smile begins to curve her lips. "Brother."

The transporter room doors split open. Lorca and Georgiou enter, their eyes going straight to the pads.

Michael takes up a fighting stance upon hearing the doors open. Hastily he assures her, "There is no cause for concern. They are Starfleet officers."

Tyler goes to Lorca and begins a situation report. Lorca waves away his words, choosing instead to clasp the lieutenant’s upper arm. "Well done, lieutenant."

Georgiou steps up on the pads to stand beside him. She regards Michael with gentle eyes and a tremulous smile. "Hello, my love. Do you recognize me?"

The admiral’s use of an endearment causes him to speculate as to the nature of her relationship with Michael.

Michael stares at Georgiou, then slowly reaches for the older woman's hand, brings it to her cheek.

It takes the two women a significant amount of time before they are willing to leave the transporter room and head for sickbay. Michael refuses to release Georgiou's hand, or perhaps the reverse is true.

"I'm so glad you're here, my love. I can't imagine how you survived," the admiral tells Michael as they walk down the corridor.

As he and Tyler are also required to report to sickbay, they follow behind the pair, despite the leisurely pace.

"Spock." Tyler gestures for him to wait. He does.

When the lieutenant hesitates to speak, he utilizes the moment to pose a query. "Are you aware of the duration of my sister's relationship with Admiral Georgiou?"

Tyler appears unprepared for the question. "I'm not sure. They've been married for two or three years, I think. Definitely before the War. I-I want to tell you something so you'll be prepared."

The lieutenant’s tone indicates reluctance and concern. He waits.

"I think I know how your sister managed to survive this long," Tyler admits. "Back on the Klingon ship, when I tackled her, my hands weren't exactly where they were supposed to be. Anyway, I–" He hesitates. "I'm pretty sure she's pregnant."

He had not considered the possibility and does not know how to respond. Quickly his mind provides reasons why Tyler is incorrect. It seems unlikely that a race willing to start a conflict over genetic purity would be inclined to engage in sexual behaviors with one not of their blood. Even if they did, logic indicates they would be likely to eliminate any proof of their actions. Captivity is not an environment which encourages fertility. Michael displays numerous indicators of malnourishment and illness. The likelihood of a Starfleet standard-issue contraceptive failing is exceptionally low.

"But I could be wrong," Tyler quickly adds, turning away.

When they reach the infirmary, his eyes glance over the room before landing on Michael. Dr. Culber and Georgiou are attempting to coax her onto a bed so she can undergo a scan, but Michael is standing steps away, refusing.

"I don't think I'm wrong," Tyler mutters.

"As you were also once a prisoner, can you not help allay her fears?" he questions.

Tyler shakes his head. "I've never been captured. You need to go talk to her. I'm sure she loves the admiral, but you're her brother."

He is unsure what he can tell this Michael which might soothe her fears. With deliberately measured steps, he crosses to stand beside Georgiou.

The admiral briefly glances at him. "Michael, there is no danger here. We only want you to be scanned so your health can be checked." To him she murmurs, "She won't even speak to me. None of the prisoners have said a word."

As Michael had spoken to him previously using High Vulcan, he employs that language to say, "It seems none of the individuals rescued from the Klingon ship will speak. Are you aware of the cause of this?"

Michael studies him. Quietly she replies, "The Klingons on the ship spoke few words of Standard. To compensate for this, the captors sought to prevent them from speaking it. They were harshly penalized each time they spoke, until they spoke no more."

Georgiou is regarding him as if he has accomplished a wondrous thing. Many eyes are now upon him.

He advises Dr. Culber, "It may be productive to speak with the rescued in a language other than Standard."

Culber nods to him, then tells Michael, "Thank you. I want to help the people who were rescued with you. Can you tell me anything else about them which might help me do that?"

Michael watches the doctor but makes no reply.

"I presume the targets were not treated well by their captors, and likely require extensive medical assistance," he says.

Her gaze shifts back to him. "Indeed. They attempted to care for each other with what knowledge they possessed, but that knowledge was limited, as were the materials necessary to apply their knowledge." She gestures to a person on a bed one away from her. "He lost consciousness after repeatedly being thrown head first into a bulkhead." She proceeds to explain general medical issues about each of the other targets. He translates her words.

Dr. Culber obtains a PADD and records all of Michael's contributions. When she falls silent, the doctor thanks her again, then steps away to act on the information. Michael’s gaze follows him.

"You care for the welfare of the former captives," he observes.

"I do," she acknowledges. "In the beginning, there were many of them. They were divided, taken without warning. Individuals were removed for a time, then returned injured and broken. Frequently individuals were executed while the others watched. Their numbers dwindled, until only their names remained." A muscle ticks at her jaw. "I carry many names."

Georgiou has been standing beside him, patient and quiet. He can see she is deeply concerned for his sister. Although it is unlikely she understood Michael's words, the admiral’s saddened expression indicates recognition of the distress in Michael's tone.

"Will you encourage her to permit her own injuries to be healed?" Georgiou quietly asks him. "The scan will only take a few moments. Perhaps she remembers that?"

He is certain Michael comprehends all of what is being spoken around her. Based on her behaviors, he suspects she has come to recall the nature of where she is.

"Please remind me of her rank," he requests.

The admiral slants him a curious look, no doubt wondering why he has requested what he should already know. "Captain," she replies. "She was captain of the Shenzhou." She looks to Michael. "Her actions at the Binary Stars ensured the survival of nearly all of her crew."

Michael's eyes fill with tears. She says nothing.

"It is time for you to stop hiding, sister," he says quietly. "Please permit yourself to receive medical care." When his sister looks at the deck, he advises, "I am aware of what you are trying to conceal.”

Her eyes shift up to meet his, glance to Georgiou, then back to him. "From the moment I was first thrown into a cell, I knew I had to get the others home. I failed so many, but these people here – devote your efforts to them. Do not squander time on one who cannot be saved."

Concern fills him. It is accompanied by sadness, and no small amount of fear. He flinches at what must have happened to his sister to make her say such things.

"It is not your decision to determine who I consider worthy of saving," he informs her. "Were our situations reversed, would your words be the same?"

She is silent for an extended time. Beside him, Georgiou shifts, quietly urges, "Please, Michael."

Finally Michael mutters, "It is shameful, what I did to ensure my survival."

It is at that moment he becomes confident Tyler's assessment is correct. A fierce desire fills him to assure Michael that she is wrong: no shame here is hers. Her survival matters; the methods employed for her survival are irrelevant. But he knows this is not the time for such a discussion. "It need not become common knowledge. Only the physicians and your wife need be aware of the situation."

"And you." She pauses. "I suppose my humiliation is negligent, irrelevant. The others are safe. That is what matters."

Dr. Culber has returned to stand on the opposite side of the bed. He tells the doctor, "My sister desires to keep her status entirely confidential."

Culber nods. "Sure. If she'll come a little closer to the bed, I'll order a privacy protocol. Is she alright with the admiral staying, or does she want to be alone?"

He looks to Michael.

Michael uses Standard to answer, "I want my brother and my beloved to stay."

He is humbled by her choice.

xxx

He was being forcefully shaken.

"Spock! Open your eyes!"

He obeyed.

Multiple individuals were in his quarters, standing at his bedside: Dr. M'Benga, Christine, Captain Pike. As their direct attention was focused on him, he assumed something about him was amiss.

Dr. M'Benga continued to run a tricorder wand over him. Pike's expression was one of obvious relief.

Christine appeared deeply worried. Her brows were drawn together, her gaze sharp, assessing. "You've been asleep for almost seventeen hours."

Very rarely did he rest for such an extended period. That he had done so was most likely related to the nature of Michael's communications.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked.

"I am well." He looked to the captain. "Did I miss something of note?"

Pike huffed an unamused laugh. "You were what was missed, Spock. No one had seen you since you left the bridge yesterday. You didn't answer comms or your doors. Security had to override your passcode so we could check on you."

At that moment Lieutenant Noonian-Singh entered his quarters.

"Oh good, you're alive," she said, her tone nonplussed. Promptly she turned and departed.

Christine stepped back a few paces. The worry had not eased from her face.

M'Benga announced, "Well, I can't find an organic cause for your hypersomnolence. It's probably related to your dream experiences. Are you usually difficult to awaken?"

Unable to provide an answer, his eyes went to Christine.

She faintly shook her head.

"No," he told the doctor. Of the captain, he inquired, "Shall I continue attempting to gather information?"

Pike, M'Benga and Christine exchanged glances.

xxx

He was paged to the ready room. When the doors slid open, he found Captain Pike seated behind his desk, with a frowning Ash Tyler seated across from him.

"You arrived sooner than anticipated," he greeted his sister's former paramour. He took the chair beside the agent.

Tyler nodded. "How do you know these dreams you’re experiencing are from Michael?"

"The initial dreams were memories which contained specific details only she would know," he replied.

"Those could have been your own memories," the agent countered. "Maybe what you’re experiencing is the symptom of a physical condition."

Pike shook his head. "Spock underwent a medical assessment. He didn't have any physical abnormalities."

"It could be a psychological issue," Tyler said. "Maybe it's a result of stress."

"You didn't think to voice these questions until now?" the captain asked, tone filled with annoyance.

Scowling, the agent replied, "Despite my reservations, I'm here. That's because if there's even a remote chance that Michael needs help, I want her to get it – and because Spock was the one who contacted me. I really doubt I'd be here if the request had come from you."

The captain did not appear impressed by the declaration. "He doesn't have a psychiatric issue. If you're unconvinced by the genuine nature of these occurrences, you're welcome to leave."

He wondered if Pike was indeed convinced his dreams were contact from Michael, or if the captain’s words were merely a result of dislike for Tyler.

"I'm not leaving." Tyler glanced to him. "What information have you gathered from the dreams?"

It was a question he had posed to himself after each dream. "After the initial memories, Michael's communications have been more abstract than direct," he allowed. "She indicated a need for your assistance. I believe she and her crew are trapped, and she is determined to secure their safety through freedom."

"Who trapped them?" Tyler asked.

"She has not provided that information."

"Where are they being held?"

"That has yet to be specified." He paused. "When we attempt their rescue, medical assistance must be immediately available. Michael has indicated there are wounded." He refrained from adding what else he believed on that particular aspect.

Pike must have noticed his hesitation to disclose something. "What else?"

"Michael herself is critically injured." Quickly he debated whether to verbalize his other conclusion. "She is also pregnant. Involuntarily."

While concern overtook Pike's expression, Tyler scowled fiercely at the deck, then demanded, "By whom?"

"She has not indicated how injuries to herself or the others were acquired," he answered. "If her pregnancy is indeed not by choice, she may never disclose the genetic contributor."

"That's her decision and not our concern," Pike said firmly. "Do you have any idea why she's contacting you now?"

He confessed, "There are many possibilities. There may be those with her who are so wounded that they will soon perish without assistance. The captors holding Discovery’s crew may be on the verge of executing them. She herself may be in imminent need of medical aid."

Tyler gave him a sour look. "So you know Michael and Discovery's crew – some of whom are wounded – are being held captive, but you don't know where, why, or by whom." The agent slanted Pike a grim smile. "This should be easy."

"I guess that makes it a good thing you're here to help," Pike replied with sardonic brightness.

"We need more information," Tyler told him. "Are these dreams having any negative effect on you? Because if not, you need to go take a nap and get us something specific to work with."

"Captain Pike has already implemented that strategy," he informed the agent. "Do you have any other suggestions?"

Shaking his head, the agent allowed, "No, not yet. There are a few leads I'm working on, but it may take a little time to determine if they'll be useful."

He was dissatisfied by the lack of progress from the meeting. As he left the ready room, disappointment clouded his thoughts. Anticipating Tyler to be useful had apparently been a false expectation. As he stood waiting for the ‘lift, he could not help but acknowledge his attempt to aid Michael was not going well.

The ‘lift doors split open. Three crewmen exited, one of whom was Michael. She passed him without pause, headed down the corridor at the pace of one with a firm destination.

He turned away from the waiting ‘lift and followed her.

XXX

Chapter Text

III.

…And collecting words in a different language

For those three primary colors: staying, leaving, and returning.

~Li-Young Lee, from “Big Cloak”

Michael went to the bridge; once there, she sat down at the security station and began reviewing reports. She worked with confidence, as if it were a regular duty.

After observing her for a brief time, he moved to stand beside her chair. Relief filled him: Michael was uninjured and safely aboard Enterprise. Surely that meant Discovery's crew was also safe. The danger had passed.

"I am relieved that you are well, sister," he told her. He set his hand over hers where it rested on the console. Immediately her emotions came to him: confusion, annoyance, concern. The faintest traces of familial affection.

This person was not Michael.

Quickly he pulled back his hand. Turning his head, he found La'an watching him with narrowed eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

A cursory glance around the bridge revealed all eyes were upon him. Pike and Tyler stood only a few steps away; one regarded him with concern, the other with confusion.

"Are you sure his medical assessment came back clean?" the agent asked Pike.

He looked back to La'an. "My apologies. I mistook you for someone else."

The lieutenant’s expression lost some of its annoyance. "Was it your sister?"

"Yes," he acknowledged. "You often remind me of her."

With a small smile, she replied, "Sometimes you remind me of my brother." Her smile faded as her gaze sharpened. "Maybe that's significant."

Pike stepped closer. "Is this the first time you've confused La'an for Michael?"

"It is not," he admitted. "I did not so much mistake them as I see Michael, who then becomes the lieutenant."

Tyler also neared. To Pike he said, "You think his misidentifications are another form of dream, don’t you."

"Like a daydream?" La'an asked. She looked to him.

He considered it. "If that hypothesis is correct, I am uncertain how it contributes to the overall goal."

"Well, La'an has a different worldview," the captain said slowly. "One that's probably a little more like Michael's than yours. Their early lives have several things in common. Maybe she can offer a different perspective on your dreams."

"I doubt I look at things the same way as his sister," La'an disagreed. To him she added, "But I'm willing to try. Tell me about these dreams you've been having."

"No, don't," Tyler quickly disagreed. "You haven't told her anything about them, right?"

He inclined his head.

"Then she isn't influenced by what you've already decided about them," the agent explained. "Let her draw her own conclusions. Show them to her."

Pike frowned at Tyler. "I don't think you understand what you're asking. A mind-meld isn't just something you tell people to do. It's an intimate process."

"Not that intimate," La'an firmly objected. "We already tried it, back when the Gorn attacked Enterprise. Spock helped me remember how Gorn ships communicate. I actually wouldn't call the mind-meld intimate at all. It was useful, though." She glanced at him. "Maybe it could be useful again."

xxx

He, Pike and Tyler returned to the ready room, with La'an joining them. They sat at the conference table, the lieutenant and him on one side, the captain and agent on the other.

During their previous mind sharing, he had relived her memories. This time he showed her his. Starting from the first memory-dream, he replayed each occurrence in the order it had occurred. It was difficult not to filter the dreams as he had come to understand them. She watched each one without comment, and made an admirable yet insufficient attempt to curtail her emotional responses. After the last dream, he ended the meld as she began gathering her thoughts.

"What do you think?" Pike asked her.

The lieutenant looked down at the table, frowning. Several minutes passed before her eyes shifted up to meet his. "There's a strong, common theme to her messages. The bullies when you were a child. Her accident at the construction site. Getting you off of Enterprise during the Terran invasion. Finding–"

"What did you say?" Tyler interrupted. The agent looked to him, frowning deeply.

"In one of my dreams, Gabriel Lorca had returned from the Mirror Universe," he answered. "He had become emperor of the Imperial Terran Empire. His army invaded and conquered our quadrant."

Tyler mutely regarded him. Finally the agent told Pike, "Very few people have access to that information. Disregard all of my reservations."

"As I was saying," La'an resumed. "Locating the crew in Romulan territory. Her return from the Klingon ship. All of the communications are about rescue. Michael's sole concern is the rescue of her crew."

"From whom?" Tyler asked.

La'an shook her head. "An enemy, one she believes is very strong, nearly indefeatable." She paused. "But not an enemy who is necessarily dangerous to us. That part isn't quite as clear."

Pike questioned, "Are there wounded with her?"

"Yes," the lieutenant emphatically replied. "There are numerous people with her who are wounded, some critically injured." Briefly she hesitated. "Michael herself is critically injured, to the point that she doesn't believe she’s going to survive. She's made her peace with it." Her gaze slanted back to him. "I'm sorry, Spock."

"But the dreams aren't clear cut," Tyler reminded. "Maybe she's wrong."

"We can have medical on standby," Pike said, splitting a look between the agent and him. "We’ll try to have them be part of the rescue itself. We'll get help to the injured as quickly as possible." To La'an the captain added, "Do you know where they're being held?"

Once more the lieutenant’s eyes fell to the table. Her brows drew together in thought. "I don't," she said slowly. Her eyes shifted to him. "But I think you might."

"I do not," he advised.

"I think you do," La'an insisted. "The dream where Michael was part of the V’Shar – she was at my station on the bridge. At one point you went to talk to her there. You saw data on the security console. What was that data?"

He thought of the indicated portion of that particular dream. At the time, he observed all stations had been diverted to the security station, but his attention had been predominantly focused on the scar to Michael's palm. "I do not recall any specific information."

La'an urged, "You do. Close your eyes, ignore everything else. Think about the console."

Obediently but with certainty it would not yield results, he closed his eyes.

"Look at the adjustment keys," La'an told him. "Find the secondary screens. Now find the main screen. There's data there, a lot of information. What does it say?"

Coordinates came to him, and a specific location at the coordinates. Quickly he opened his eyes and looked to the captain.

Pike smiled, as if able to tell his thoughts.

xxx

The coordinates were to the planet which Enterprise continued to orbit. The specific location was an area of complexity he had noted on a previous shift.

Pike, Tyler, Number One and La'an crowded around his bridge station. He had retrieved data on the location, including multiple images which he magnified and placed on his station’s secondary screens.

"It looks like a crumbling mountain," Number One said as she studied an image.

La'an squinted. "The side of one, maybe. With a field in front of it."

"What did scans detect?" asked Tyler.

"Extensive information, the most important of which is a faint trace of an energy signature," he replied. "Due to its atmospheric composition, the planet is uninhabitable. However, as there are possible remains of infrastructure, that may not always have been the case."

"But no traces of Discovery were found on the surface?" the agent questioned.

"No," Pike answered. "Whatever route Michael and the crew used to get here, Discovery wasn't it."

Number One offered, "If there aren't any inhabitants, who's holding them there? Shouldn't we be able to pick up lifesigns of some sort?"

He recalled the dream of rescuing Michael from the Klingon ship – specifically, how he and Tyler had managed to go unnoticed. "Perhaps the lifesigns are being concealed." 

"There's only one way to find out," La'an said firmly. "Let's go take a look."

xxx

Protected within EV suits, he, Tyler and La'an beamed down to the planet.

They were deposited in a large, open expanse which terminated on one side with the tallest escarpment captured in the ship's scans. He activated a tricorder and began to study the area. The ground was uneven, and boots crunched pebbles and gray rocks as he walked.

Cautiously they headed for the escarpment. Tricorder readings indicated they walked across the final remains of a large body of fluid, an ancient ocean. The escarpment had likely once been significantly larger, crumbling onto the sea floor over time. While the area may once have supported life, it was incapable of doing so now.

When they reached the escarpment, Tyler proceeded to scout a short way up over rocks and small boulders while he and La'an investigated the base. They had located two shallow caves and an endless assortment of rocks by the time Tyler rejoined them.

"Anything?" the agent asked."I didn't find anything up there."

"Negative," La'an answered. "Spock, why can't we find the energy signature?"

"It was faint." His response was issued as an aside, his attention instead focused on an odd image he had identified upon the vertical escarpment face. As the mind was prone to recognizing patterns where none existed, he realized what he thought was an image may not actually be so. Still, it held his attention.

La'an came to stand beside him, her eyes following his gaze. "That's the symbol that was on Michael's palm."

"The image in the dream was the Vulcan symbol for marriage, which the image here is not," he corrected.

Reaching out to trace the rock, she insisted, "This was the symbol." She laid her hand flat over it. "Both she and Tyler had it on their hands. Put your hand next to mine."

Humoring her, he set his opposite hand beside hers.

Two steps to the right was a narrow, waist high outcrop of rock. The irregular surface of the outcrop had been replaced with a smooth, amber panel. Closer inspection revealed glyphs were inscribed on the panel.

La'an ran a tricorder wand over the entire outcrop. "Well, we found the energy source."

"You found more than that," Tyler said. "Check this out."

He followed the sound of Tyler's voice and located the agent inside of a cave. The ceiling was low, the dimensions indeterminate as the natural light did not fall more than a short distance within.

"This wasn't here before," La'an said, joining them.

"Want to guess why?" Tyler walked three steps farther into the cave, then raised his hand and pushed it forward. He was only able to extend his hand a short distance before his motion was halted.

Moving to stand beside Tyler, he ran a tricorder wand across the space before them. "A forcefield is present. I am unable to determine what lies behind it."

xxx

He joined the other command crew members in the ready room. Dr. M’Benga and Christine were frowning over a shared PADD. Commander Pelia was recounting an elaborate story to Tyler. Uhura wore an expression of pure confusion as she regarded her PADD. Others were engaged in conversations with little significance.

“La’an, why don’t you start,” the captain said.

With a short nod, the security chief began,"There are several problems." A schematic of the relevant area on the planet flashed onto the viewscreen above the table. The image included a layout of the topographical area surrounding the console and cave, as well as pertinent measurements of distance. "The console is feeding energy to the forcefield, so it's probably what controls it."

Pike turned to Uhura. "Any luck deciphering the language on the console, ensign?"

Uhura glanced up from her PADD. "Not so far, sir. I haven't been able to match the glyphs to any known language. I can't even determine a linguistic pattern. It could take some time to figure it out." Her focus returned to her PADD.

"If we can't use the controls to shut down the forcefield, then we're going to have to destroy the console," La'an surmised.

"Sounds easy enough," Ortegas commented.

"It's not." The lieutenant changed the viewscreen image to an enlarged diagnostic of the console. "The console is protected by its own sort of forcefield – a strong one. It would take a heavy-duty explosive to be effective to any useful degree. However, because the cave is so close to the console, use of explosives could not only damage the forcefield in the cave, it could cause the cave itself to collapse."

Ortegas suggested,"What about Enterprise’s phasers?"

"The same issue would apply," Commander Pelia disagreed. "The console is too small for the ship’s phasers to target without damaging a significant area around it."

"What if, instead of destroying the console, we overload it. Make it short out, or something like that," Tyler said.

Pelia replied, “That might work, except, based on scans, it would take lots of energy to deactivate it – lots of energy.”

“How much is ‘lots?” Number One pressed.

Producing a PADD from an unknown place beneath the table, Pelia quickly consulted something presumably related to the console. She then made a nonverbal sound of an indeterminate nature before announcing an approximate sum of energy necessary to effectively disable the console.

When no one responded to her statement, she clarified, “Which not only do we not have, but have no way to get.”

Tyler offered, “What if you had a Jensen Box? Could you do it then?”

Pelia looked at Tyler as if she were unable to choose between exhibiting suspicion or delight. “Why? Do you have one?”

“What’s a Jensen Box?” Ortegas asked. She glanced to La’an. “Should I know what that is?”

He informed the pilot, “A Jensen Box is a device which combines the–”

“It takes energy and uses math to make more energy,” Pelia interrupted, waiving away the precise explanation he had intended to provide. To Tyler, she said, “I don’t know where you found one, but, presuming it’s genuine and in working order, then yes. That would do the trick.” 

"It’s both genuine and functional,” the agent assured Pelia. “I’ll have it available for your inspection immediately.”

Dr. M'Benga observed, "Environmental support will also be an issue. Assuming artificial conditions or some sort of stasis has been created within the forcefield, it will probably dissipate when the energy source fails. Unless the people within are wearing EV suits, they'll die after their first indrawn breath."

The captain glanced to him. "Has Burnham provided any information on that aspect?"

"She has not," he replied.

"Wait," Ortegas said. "Her name is Michael Burnham? As in, the mutineer? That's your sister?" she asked him. "She started the War."

"She did not," La'an denied sharply. "She tried to disable the Klingons before they had a chance to hurt anyone."

Ortegas shook her head. "She's responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. She's supposed to be serving a life sentence."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Tyler growled.

"Okay, that's enough," Number One decreed. Gaze shifting to Ortegas, she said, "Michael Burnham served honorably during the War. You're not privy to several key factors, so stand down."

He was aware of Christine's eyes focused upon him. After the meeting, it would be necessary to inform her of Michael's role in the Klingon War. He did not want her to harbor ill feelings towards his sister.

Pike told everyone, "Michael Burnham is a complicated person. Right now she needs our help to save others, so let's focus on that. Later, if anyone wants to know more, I'll tell you what I can."

He was grateful for Number One and Pike’s defense of Michael. Too often during the War, he had not objected when overhearing crewmates make negative statements about his sister. Yesterday’s silence was today’s regret.

Pelia offered, "We can create our own artificial atmosphere. We would need to circle around the forcefield in the cave.”

As he listened to logistics be considered for the construction of an artificial atmosphere, he found himself becoming somnolent. It was an inappropriate, inconvenient moment for such an urge. His input was necessary to ensure Michael's successful rescue.

Briefly he closed his eyes.

xxx

His feet are burning.

Quickly he pulls them away from the heat source. He is reclining on a towel, sheltered by the shadow of a tall, tropical tree. Around him stretches pale white sand; when he touches it, the sand is exceptionally soft. It seems his feet had strayed from the tree’s shade, resulting in exposure to bright sunlight and over-warm sand. A brief examination reveals the tops of his feet are red.

The sounds of voices are easily noticed. Getting to his feet, he discovers he is on a beach. An ocean lies a few yards away, teal water with ivory-crested waves. There are figures walking through the tide and playing in the waves. There are numerous other tropical trees along the beach; individuals are in the shade talking and resting.

Beneath a nearby tree sit two men, one fair skinned and one dark. They wear garish shirts which flutter in the breeze. Their attention is devoted to a young child tottering between them. He recognizes the men: an engineer and physician from Discovery's crew. Stamets and Culber.

The child throws a green ball beyond the tree’s shade. He fetches the ball and returns it to the doctor.

"Thanks," Culber smiles. "He's thrown it over there about ten times now."

"So stop giving it to him," Stamets suggests. "Give him the stuffed dog to play with."

"He wants the ball," Culber disagrees.

"Where is Michael?" he inquires.

Stamets gestures vaguely towards the ocean. "She was still out in the water with Ash, last I saw her."

He walks towards the ocean. The sand is exceptionally warm, causing him to hasten his steps until he reaches the water. The temperature is pleasantly cool, a relief from the heat. There are bits of colorful shells in the sand here, and small birds scampering through the shallow waves.

Many people are in the waves. He is able to identify the majority of individuals, all of whom are part of Discovery's crew. Two security officers are controlling strings which are attached to colorful diamonds high overhead. Discovery's pilot, Detmer, is collecting shell fragments. Commander Reno is constructing an elaborate sand-building. The communications and tactical officers are throwing an oblong ball to each other.

He walks on the wet sand along the water’s edge in search of his sister.

Part way down the shore, a few yards into the water he finds Michael. Tyler is with her. They are laughing as they play in the waves. His sister appears remarkably happy.

"Greetings."

Glancing down, he finds a small child looking up at him. She is wearing bright yellow swimming attire, and carrying a blue bucket half filled with shell fragments. She is Vulcan.

"Greetings," he replies. It seems unwise for a child to be alone in this environment, but no adult attends her.

"Surely it is not already time for their return," the girl says.

"I do not understand to whom you are referring," he informs the child. "Please be more specific."

"Amanda!" A woman appears, halts beside the girl. Her hair is pulled back in a loose binding; her black swimming attire is covered by an unfastened, gauze-like shirt. He recognizes her from his last dream as Admiral Georgiou.

"You can’t come to the water without an adult, Amanda," Georgiou reminds the girl. Taking the child's hand, they turn towards the tropical trees."Let’s go back to our spot. You have to put on the rest of your sunscreen so you don’t get a sunburn."

"But grandmother, I was in the presence of an adult," the child protests. "Mother often permits me to walk in the tide with Uncle."

Uncle. Is the child referring to him? If so, that would make Michael the child's mother.

"Spock!"

He looks out over the water to find his sister waving to him.

"Come on!" Michael calls, motioning for him to join her.

The water is a pleasant temperature. He walks into the waves.

xxx

Silence was what he first noticed. Blinking open his eyes, he found the people around the conference table to be focused on him.

"Tell me you got specifics this time," Tyler said.

Pike gave the agent a displeased look. To him the captain asked, "Did you learn anything?"

"We must expedite our efforts," he replied. "I believe Michael is on the verge of death."

xxx

It took less than one hour to complete preparations for the rescue. During that time, he made it a priority to find Christine.

In the infirmary, she was busy packing supplies, and appeared displeased when he requested to speak with her privately.

"I am aware that you served during the Klingon War," he advised her. "Learning the identity of my sister may have resulted in reservations about her. I am–"

"That's what you're worried about?" Christine interrupted. "How about we stop her from dying, then deal with her service record?"

"A logical suggestion," he mildly agreed.

Now both he and Christine were on the planet’s surface, along with Dr. M’Benga and two medics. La'an, Pike, Pelia and her two engineers accompanied the medical staff; Tyler was also present. As the artificial environment could not be activated until use of the Johnson Box was discontinued, they wore EV suits to defeat the harsh environment. 

"The artificial atmospherics are ready to go," Pelia informed Pike. To the doctor she added, "Once activated, it will take 3.4 seconds to reach parameters within the entire area."

M'Benga nodded. "We have oxygen ready, but the goal is to transport people to the ship as quickly as possible."

Pike opened his communicator. "Pike to Chief Kyle. You all set?"

"Copy, captain," Kyle replied. "Both the main and emergency medical transporters are on standby."

He went to stand near Tyler. "Are you certain the Jensen Box you provided will function correctly?"

Tyler slanted him a look of annoyance, the intensity of which was reduced by the EV helmet. "The Enterprise’s engineers tested it and grilled me about the how/when/why it came into Section 31 possession. It'll work," he replied. "You only need to focus on activating the atmospherics and getting Michael to sickbay."

The group took shelter behind a reinforced shield. It would offer protection from potential hazards of the console forcefully being deactivated, and any exploding debris. 

"Here we go. Everybody stay behind the shield," Pelia instructed.

"I hope we're not about to get vaporized," La'an muttered.

A wild conglomeration of excruciatingly loud sounds dominated all else for several moments, followed by multiple small explosions. What followed was not silence, yet seemed remarkably quiet after what had come before.

He glanced around the shield. The console had become smoking rubble. "Activate the artificial atmospherics," he said before running for the cave.

The forcefield within the cave had not yet deactivated when he arrived, but it had become visible. It was an opaque wall yet concealing what was within. Slowly it began to fluctuate in small waves, like water. As his EV suit indicated the artificial atmospherics were in place, he deactivated his helmet to better observe the forcefield.

"Spock, take a few steps back," La'an urged. She had a weapon trained on the forcefield. "You'll get trampled if a bunch of people run out all at once."

He did not believe that was a likely scenario, thus he ignored the warning.

"Come back outside the cave, Spock," Pike said. "That's an order."

Reluctantly he retreated.

Beyond the entrance, Tyler and the captain were targeting the cave’s interior in a manner similar to La'an. He did not draw his own weapon.

He heard the crunch of approaching footsteps. Moments later, Michael appeared. Her appearance had changed, her uniform was different, and she was holding what was likely a weapon in each hand, aimed at the space before her.

"Drop your weapons," La'an instructed.

Pike ordered, "Stand down, Commander Burnham."

Michael ignored them. Her gaze fell to him almost immediately. "Spock?"

"Michael." He stepped closer.

Her hands dropped to her sides. Slowly a smile curved her lips. "Brother." She took a step towards him, then another, then stumbled and fell.

Quickly he caught her before she reached the ground. This close, he was able to observe a wound above her left ear which was bleeding into her long braids. The front and side of her red uniform jacket were significantly darker towards the center, likely from blood loss.

She smiled again. "Spock." Her gaze shifted past him. "Ash?" Her eyes flickered closed.

"Put her down."

He glanced up to find Commander Nhan holding a weapon on him from only a short distance away.

More footsteps rapidly approached. Suddenly Discovery's pilot and an engineer were beside Nhan. They were also armed, and swiftly trained their weapons on him and the rest of the away team.

"Set your weapons on the ground," La'an forcefully told them.

"Put the captain down right now," Discovery’s pilot, Detmer, demanded. “I'll shoot if you don't let her go."

"Wait. We're here to help," Pike said.

Over her shoulder, Nhan shouted, "Culber, get up here." To him she slowly instructed once more, "Put her down."

Tyler moved to stand beside him. "Get her to sickbay, Spock."

Michael was unconscious in his arms. Her respirations were decreasing.

Pike insisted, "Nhan, you know me. You know Spock. We served together for years. Let us help."

Nhan's eyes narrowed. "If you were the real Captain Pike, you'd know that I don't bluff. He either puts her down and steps back, or I'll kill him where he is."

Dr. Culber appeared behind Nhan. Quickly he moved around her to kneel beside Michael. He set a hand to the pulse at her neck, then noticed the blood on her uniform. The doctor told Nhan, "She needs a med bay."

Detmer denied, "No. She's not going with them."

Tyler dropped something onto Michael: an obsidian comm badge. "Tyler to Atoyac: prepare to transport."

"Stand down, agent," Pike ordered. "You're making the situation worse."

From within the cave, a voice called, "Dr. Culber! The baby is coming!"

Culber urgently insisted to Nhan, "We have too many wounded. We have to trust them."

Behind him, he heard Christine say, "We’re medical. I'm a nurse, he's a doctor, and they're medics. We can help her. Help all of you."

Michael ceased to breathe. 

xxx

Of the seventy-seven people rescued from the planet, more than half of them were injured. Thirteen individuals succumbed to their wounds within the first five hours of reaching Enterprise. One of the casualties was a pregnant human woman; she died in childbirth, having received multiple injuries long before labor began. Her small but healthy son lived.

Michael survived, but did not regain consciousness. After she was handed over to medical personnel, it served no purpose to remain with her. He therefore assisted with the transfer of Discovery's crew to Enterprise, then facilitated accommodations and other logistics.

Discovery's crew was behaving in an atypical manner. No individual permitted themselves to be isolated from the others; even those who were severely wounded or unconscious had a fellow crewmate with them. The rescued individuals spoke among themselves, but said only what was necessary to Enterprise crewmen, and suspiciously regarded anyone who neared.

Slightly over six hours passed before he returned to sickbay. The location was considerably less chaotic than his last visit. It seemed many of the rescued had been discharged to quarters, based on the quantity of unoccupied biobeds.

Tyler was lingering just inside the main doors. Arms crossed, frown in place, the agent’s gaze was fixed on a bed farther into the room.

He halted beside the agent. "Has Michael regained consciousness?"

Tyler shook his head. "She took a pretty hard blow to the head, apparently, and lost a lot of blood. The doctors aren't sure–" He broke off with a shrug.

"You seem to care deeply for my sister," he observed. "And yet, you did not accompany her when she left for the future."

A muscle tightened at the agent's jaw. "That was a mistake I’ve regretted every day." Tyler's eyes shifted to him, quickly shifted away. "I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

Before continuing to Michael, he told the agent, "Perhaps you should consider reducing your distance from her."

Michael was not alone. Beside her bed sat one of Discovery's crewmen: the operations officer, Lieutenant Owosuken. The officer silently watched his approach with a cautious expression and wary eyes. Her uniform was of an alternate cut than the current style, with its dark slacks and gold jacket. It was difficult to determine if she recognized him.

Another person was with Michael, standing opposite the bed where the ops officer sat: La'an. The security chief stood with arms crossed as she looked down at his sister. Her brows were drawn together, making her appear deep in thought. 

She looked away from Michael when he stopped beside her. "After what you’ve said, and after seeing the dreams, I pictured your sister–" She hesitated, searching for words. "I don't know. Larger, maybe. She never seemed small, in the dreams."

He studied his sister. Her hair was long and plaited into many fine braids. Her face was thinner, her cheekbones more prominent. There were furrows across her brow and etched lines between her brows. She appeared two to three years older than he remembered.

A glance to the monitor above the bed confirmed that she yet lingered near danger. It also indicated–

"She is not pregnant," he murmured.

"No." Christine had come to stand at the foot of Michael's bed. "Did you think she was?"

Beside him, La'an shifted. "It's better that she's not."

He thought of the last dream, thought of the Vulcan child with his mother's name. That dream had been Michael's heartwish, her image of perfection.

An infant’s wail filled the air.

La'an looked towards the source of the cry. "Maybe that child’s mother was the pregnant woman in the dreams."

Discovery's ops officer listened to all they said, but held to silence.

After an indeterminate time, the security chief departed. Christine brought a chair for him.

"I should be free soon," Christine said. "I was wondering – I mean, I could stay with you. You could tell me about her, if you want."

The warmth of affection flared in him. It helped soothe the cold fear of losing his sister.

xxx

The captain found him as he was walking to quarters.

"I spoke with Admiral April," Pike informed him. "I thought he'd want Enterprise to head back to Starbase One, or even Earth – but he specifically told me not to do that."

The information was perplexing. He waited for the captain to elaborate.

"The admiral is going to meet Enterprise at a halfway point between here and Starbase One. We've already set a course," Pike said.

It was incomplete information. "The admiral’s instructions indicate an intention to sequester the rescued individuals," he observed.

Pike nodded. "Discovery's crew was declared deceased, but now the majority of them clearly aren't. That's a problem for Command. It doesn't help that none of them will say anything beyond what's absolutely necessary. We know next to nothing about their situation, why they came back."

Once again he recalled the dream in which he and Tyler had facilitated Michael's rescue from the Klingon ship.

"Perhaps an alternate language should be utilized to speak with Discovery's crew," he suggested.

xxx

"I don't think this is going to work," Tyler muttered.

He refrained from commenting, choosing instead to activate the doorchime. They stood outside the guest quarters for a full two minutes before the doors split open.

Ensign Tilly and Agent Tyler regarded each other silently for a handful of moments.

"Hey, Tilly," Tyler said, offering a lopsided smile.

Tilly continued to watch the agent, then abruptly flung her arms around him. ”Boy am I happy to see you.”

Eventually the red-haired woman bid them enter. She sat beside Tyler on the couch, while he claimed a nearby chair.

"What's going on here, Tilly?" Tyler asked her bluntly. "From what I hear, none of Discovery's crew will give an accounting of what happened. Unless it's related to medical care or basic needs, no one's talking at all."

Prior to departing for the future, he recalled the ensign being verbose and prone to emotional exaggeration. Not so now: she was quiet, contemplative, and clearly choosing her words with great care.

"I can't answer your questions," she said finally. "None of us can. We're under orders."

"Whose orders?" the agent pressed.

Tilly hesitated. "Michael’s."

The agent shook his head. "She's unconscious, Tilly. She could very well die. Keeping quiet – it's not what she would want."

The red-haired woman looked away, silent.

After an extended period of silence, he inquired, "Will you consent to telling me her rank?"

Her gaze shifted to him. A small smile curved her lips. "We call her captain, even though it's not really her rank. It fits."

"And what is yours?"

The smile she wore took on shades of self-consciousness. "Lieutenant."

"Congrats," Tyler offered. He paused. "Who's Michael's first officer?"

"He didn’t – I can't," she stumbled.  “I can't tell you anything. I'm sorry." Her eyes shifted to him. "I really am."

xxx

Hours later, he returned to sickbay.

The lighting had been dimmed. Only the steady sound of medical equipment and a few hushed voices broke the silence. Most patients appeared to be sleeping.

Making his way to Michael's bed, he found one of Discovery's crewmen asleep in the chair beside her. He went to the opposite side of the bed, then stood regarding his sister. Her respirations were steady, her features still.

Was she at peace? Surely she deserved to be. Her crew was safe and free. Their welfare had been her greatest concern.

Pulling back the medical blanket, he set his hand over hers. He could no longer share her dreams, but her emotions quickly came to him: uncertainty, concern, fear. Loneliness. 

Disappointment filled him as he removed his hand. He did not want such emotions for her.

He went to his quarters, then returned to sickbay. Locating an available chair, he took it back to Michael's bedside. He settled his hands on the harp Dr. M'Benga had given him, then began to softly play a song from their childhood.

XXX

Chapter Text

IV.

…my ancestors murmuring Go home, go home – soon, soon.

No country wants me back anymore and I’m okay.

~Laurel Chen, from “Greensickness”

When La'an emergently summoned him to a conference room, she provided no details on the nature of the situation. It was therefore not until the doors split apart that he was able to gauge the situational severity. A swift glance around the room revealed a scene which immediately filled him with the urge to turn on his heel and depart.

Pike and Tyler stood opposite Mother and Sarek, with Dr. M'Benga only a few steps away. La'an was standing near the doors regarding the others with her customary air of annoyance.

As it was the security chief who had paged him, he silently went to stand beside her, theorizing his presence might be overlooked if he did not draw attention to himself. However, that proved to be incorrect as all eyes almost immediately shifted to him.

"Spock, you were to tell me when you discovered more about your sister," Mother reminded. Her eyes were dark circles in a pale face, proof that she was deeply tired.

"Lady Amanda, as I mentioned, things have been moving very quickly," the captain said patiently.

"Yet I felt Michael's return long enough ago that sufficient time was available to reach the Enterprise's coordinates," Sarek observed. "But that is not the issue of highest priority. Our daughter’s health is of utmost concern. Michael will be returning with us to Vulcan."

Dr. M’Benga said, "Ambassador, a transfer currently isn't in Michael's best interest. She had severe injuries and remains in critical condition."

"All the more reason to relocate her to a facility with a greater abundance of resources," Mother countered.

Pike's expression was compassionate. "I understand your reasoning, but I have orders to keep her aboard Enterprise for the time being. I can't permit any exceptions."

La'an quietly muttered to him, "Can't you do something to fix this?"

Glancing at her, he mildly replied, "No."

She swore under her breath.

Sarek said, "As far as Starfleet is concerned, Michael Burnham is deceased. You lack the authority to prevent her departure. Conversely, her name is recorded within the legacy of the House of Surak. She is our daughter. A ship with a sufficient medbay to support her requirements has already been requested to transport her home."

Mother looked back to him. "Spock, please take us to your sister."

Reluctantly he stepped closer to the group. "Michael cannot be taken from the infirmary. To do so could endanger her life."

"Your evaluation was not requested," Sarek informed him. "While your commitment to Starfleet is commendable, it does not supersede your commitment to our family."

Anger filled him. He was careful not to allow it to color his voice when he swiftly retorted, "You are in no position to lecture me on familial obligations to Michael. You permitted her to be unjustly forsaken to lifetime imprisonment."

"You speak of things you do not understand." Sarek regarded him coolly. "Michael is returning with us to Vulcan."

"Respectfully, father – I can't leave right now."

Quickly he turned.

Michael was standing between the open conference room doors, her arm around Christine's neck for support.

Christine slanted the room’s occupants a small smile. "Hi. Sorry for the interruption."

xxx

Dr. M'Benga believed Michael's condition necessitated an immediate return to sickbay via emergency transport. Mother requested he show her the way there. Sarek accompanied her. Although illogical, the distance from the conference room to the infirmary seemed farther than usual as he spoke with one parent while ignoring the other. Frequently he noticed Captain Pike smiling, clearly amused by his plight.

By the time they reached sickbay, Michael was tucked beneath a medical blanket on her biobed. Tyler stood beside her, smiling as they talked. The agent said a few final words and stepped away upon noticing Mother and Sarek approach.

He and the captain remained at a distance so Michael could speak privately with her second parents.

Christine soon joined them. "Dr. Culber noticed she was missing, so a few of us went looking for her. I found her in a ‘lift headed who-knows-where. I told her she needed to come back to sickbay. Guess what she told me." She looked at him. "Your sister is a pain in the ass. I like her."

"She has that effect on people," Pike agreed.

At last Mother and Sarek departed. He and the captain took their places at Michael's bedside even as several of her crew began to arrive in the infirmary.

"So, I hear you're a captain now," Pike said, smiling. "Welcome to never again getting a full night's sleep."

Michael chuckled. "Very true. Thank you for coming to get us. For trusting Spock. We wouldn't be here without both of you."

Hearing the approach of numerous footfalls, he glanced over his shoulder to find Tilly, Nhan, and a large group of other Discovery crewmen drawing near.

"There were a lot of people involved in the adventure," Pike said. Noticing the crewmen, he added, "And a lot of people are waiting to see you."

Michael nodded. "I know, but we need to discuss a few things."

Pike assured, "It'll wait. Lieutenant Tilly, on the other hand, probably won't.”  Stepping back, the captain waved Tilly forward.

"I will return at a later time," he agreed.

Shaking her head, Michael denied, "No, wait, please. I–”

Tilly had already moved forward. He yielded his place to her.

Despite an intent to return to his duties, he found he was disinclined to do so. Instead he withdrew to a place just inside the main doors where Tyler already stood.

"Not so easy to leave her, is it," the agent said. His gaze remained fixed on Michael.

"It is not," he acknowledged.

It seemed all of Discovery's crew had learned of his sister's improved status. He watched as individuals arrived in swarms to have a few moments with her. Michael had words for everyone, saying things that caused individuals to smile in return. Sickbay was not designed to accommodate so many people.

Eventually Dr. M'Benga's voice rang out through the room. "I know you all want to see the captain, but she needs to rest. Please, go so that she can rest."

It took time for the room to empty. Both he and Tyler returned to Michael's bedside, discovering her to be shivering beneath the blanket even as sweat beaded on her forehead. Culber and M'Benga were already attending to her.

"You're running a significant fever," M'Benga informed Michael. The doctor studied the monitor readings above the bed. "You may have an infection, despite already being on antibiotics."

"It's a normal part of the process for settling in a timepoint," Michael denied.

M'Benga glanced to Culber.

Discovery's doctor acknowledged, "Most of us did develop a fever, but it happened soon after reaching Enterprise and it wasn't this severe. I think Dr. M'Benga is probably right."

"He's not," Michael insisted.

He stayed with her until she fell asleep. Tilly and Tyler remained after his departure.

xxx

He returned to his normal duties. Continually his thoughts strayed to his sister and her crew. What were they going to do now that they had returned to their rightful timeline? Would Starfleet permit them to continue serving? Would they desire such? What were Michael's intentions, now that she no longer had a ship and only remnants of a crew?

His sister slept without again waking. Multiple times he visited, often remaining for a quarter hour or longer. It was illogical to worry over her health as she was under the care of highly skilled personnel, yet worried he did.

During one of his visits, Christine came to stand beside him. "She's doing better. Pretty much."

Hearing reservation in her tone, he looked at her expectantly.

"She's tossing and turning, mumbling things about evacuation and casualty counts," Christine explained. "Sounds like nightmares. Bad ones."

"Or memories, perhaps," he posited.

"Yeah, maybe." Christine nodded towards the crewman at Michael's bedside. "There's always one of her crew here. They're good at helping her settle."

Long past his shift, he continued the pattern of attending duties broken by periods of visiting Michael.

Mother requested that he join her and Sarek for dinner. Although tempted to decline, he did not. Instead he endured an hour of strained silences which Mother attempted to lessen through polite, one-sided discussion. Even she was frustrated by the meal’s conclusion; she bid both him and Sarek good night before walking away alone.

He glanced at Sarek. Sarek looked at him. They departed from each other without speaking a word.

Four hours after retiring to bed, he was pulled from sleep by the doorchime.

The doors split open to reveal Christine, with Michael beside her.

"Your sister is a pain in the ass," Christine said.

xxx

Michael insisted that he accompany her to Captain Pike's quarters.

"He is undoubtedly resting, as you should be," he said.

"Maybe," Michael allowed, "but there are things we need to discuss, and I thought you might like to be included."

He was unable to alter her intention. Therefore, he dressed and contacted the captain.

"She wants to talk right now?" Pike sighed. "Alright. Bring her on over."

It took considerably longer than customary to reach the captain's quarters due to Michael's need to periodically rest. He refrained from stating that her physical status made it obvious her intention was unwise; however, based on her expressions, he may have conveyed his belief in a nonverbal manner.

Pike was halfway down the corridor adjacent to his quarters by the time of their arrival.

"Good god," the captain muttered upon observing Michael's strained and tired status. "Come and sit down."

Once within the captain's quarters, Michael went directly to a chair. Pike brought her a cup of water. She smiled her thanks, focused on regulating her breathing.

"This must be important," Pike said as he sat down in the chair across from her.

She drank deeply before answering. "It is." She paused. "When you informed Command of our return, they didn't order you to bring us back to Earth or a starbase, did they." Her tone indicated it was not a question.

Pike glanced to him.

"We have not discussed this issue," he assured.

The captain turned back to Michael. "No. Enterprise was instructed to wait at these coordinates so Admiral April could rendezvous with us here. He should be here later tomorrow – or today, I guess. I'm curious how you knew that. Did Tyler tell you?"

"No," she replied. She drank again. "It’ll be several centuries before Starfleet encounters the race who built the technology used for our return. The race doesn't experience time the same way that we do: as a linear progression experience moment by moment. For them, time isn't a line, it's more like a circle. An infinite circle."

He was uncertain how Command’s response to the return was related to the perception of time by an alien race. A brief glance at Pike’s expression caused him to believe the captain also was unaware of the connection.

"Alright," Pike acknowledged. "I'm with you so far."

"We can utilize the temporal technology of that race, but it interacts differently with us," Michael continued. "During the process, a person is exposed to a complex amalgamation of conscious and subconscious knowledge, experience, imagination, emotion and beliefs, which is experienced in the form of–"

"Dreams," the captain finished. "That sounds both amazing and deeply disturbing."

She nodded. "The creators of the tech are telepathic. Communication is possible by someone within the tech to someone outside of it, but only if the person on the outside is a telepath. Or carries a substantial telepathic lineage." She looked to him.

"Why wait until now to contact me?" he asked. "Logic indicates the odds of survival for you and your crew would have improved had you contacted me at an earlier point."

"The tech didn't make me telepathic, it just gave me a chance to communicate, in a very limited way, when proximity permitted," she answered. "I couldn't control the communication, I wasn't even aware you were within communication range. Most of what was anticipated to happen to us was only hypothetical since the tech had never been used to send linear beings so far through time," she admitted. "Historical records indicated the Enterprise was the first Starfleet ship to survey the planet, but it only provided an approximate date. As for surviving–" Her gaze slanted away. "It took two people to activate the tech. The person with me barely lived long enough to do it. I was already critically injured. I barely made it into the field in time, and I was relatively certain that I wouldn't survive the process. I didn't need to survive; I only needed to reach you, brother, so that you could find the crew." Her eyes had returned to him.

He observed, "I see that your martyr complex has remained intact."

Pike sputtered with laughter.

"I am grateful to have the opportunity to learn such," he added with sincerity.

"That makes two of us," Pike agreed. "Not about the martyr complex, just the gratitude."

Michael smiled. "I'm grateful to be here." Again she drank. "The adjustment period after disengaging the tech has a physiological and a psychological component. After being exposed to so many experiences built from your own mind, it's very easy to become confused. People can have difficulty determining what's real from what's not. It's essential the individuals remain in the company of those with whom they have shared recent history prior to using the tech. No one should be alone for longer than a brief time for at least the first eight days."

"That is the reason no member of Discovery's crew has been without the company of a crewmate, including the wounded in sickbay," he said.

"And why anywhere from two to six people are sharing quarters," Pike agreed. "La'an said everything was being done in round numbers." He gave Michael a curious look. "Shouldn’t you have someone with you to prevent confusion?”

She shook her head. "The situation isn't the same for me. The crew were aware of that before we used the tech, they were just hesitant that I might be wrong. I'm not at risk for experiencing psychological side effects because the tech created a bond between Spock and I in order to communicate. You'll keep me grounded in the where and when." She cast him a fond smile.

"Even after the initial period, it'll be important for the officers you rescued to stay together for a minimum of several months," Michael continued, looking back to Pike. "Failure to do so could result in significant psychological complications. Based on Command’s response to learning of our return, I'm not sure they won't attempt to deny that necessity."

He had contemplated many possibilities for Discovery's crew, but he had not incorporated the necessity for them to remain as a unit. But while the information explained her crew’s behaviors, it did not account for his sister's suspicion.

The captain took Michael's cup to the replicator to obtain more water. Handing her back the cup, he asked, "What makes you say that?"

She nodded her thanks. "If Command intended to welcome us home, they wouldn't have instructed you to keep us here, in empty space. Our return challenges the cover story used to explain our disappearance with Discovery."

"I think you may be reading too much into things," Pike said. "There's no reason to believe Command has nefarious intentions. I served under April for years; I can assure you that he's an honorable officer. He’s excellent at assessing situational needs, and he pays attention to what people tell him."

"I hope that's true," Michael replied. "But if it isn't, I'm going to need your help convincing him why the crew has to stay together." She looked to him, making it clear that the captain's help was not the only assistance she hoped to receive.

xxx

"Spock."

He turned to see Tyler motioning him to wait. He did.

Although the corridor was sparsely populated, the agent drew him aside. "I want to tell you something so you'll be prepared."

Immediately he recalled the dream of Michael's rescue from the Klingon ship. In that dream, Tyler had pulled him aside to explain his theory as to the cause of her survival. He reminded himself it was illogical to dread what Tyler might tell him now.

"Admiral April is due in a few hours," Tyler said. "If the meeting doesn't go well, I have a standby plan for Michael and Discovery's crew."

The agent’s words could have many meanings. He waited.

Tyler correctly interpreted his silence. "They're not the first people to be in the future, then come back to ours. Not even close. When Command decides people like that present a danger to our timeline, those people disappear. Permanently."

"That seems implausible," he disagreed.

"Spock–" The agent's expression was one of annoyance. "I know they disappear, because Section 31 makes them disappear."

There was a highly probable cause responsible for the confidence in the agent's voice.  "You have been the cause of such a ‘disappearance.’" When Tyler did not correct him, he continued, "You believe this  measure could be taken against Michael and her crew should there be a negative outcome of the meeting with Admiral April."

"It's a genuine possibility," Tyler nodded.

He had not considered such a variable, but perhaps Michael had. It would account for the silencing of her crew: she was attempting to prevent them from being perceived as a threat. It would also explain her deep concern of Command separating her crew.

"What does your plan entail?" he asked Tyler.

xxx

Admiral April arrived on schedule. The officer met privately with Captain Pike. When they were ready to speak with Michael, the captain requested he escort her to the ready room.

He considered reminding Pike that Michael had previously been aboard Enterprise, and doubtlessly recalled the location of the ready room. Then he speculated that the captain requested he accompany her not to identify a location, but to provide support should her compromised health require it.

Michael was in sickbay. She was standing beside the medical basket where the newborn resided. On the other side were Stamets and Culber. The engineer was shaking his head and gesticulating in a manner indicative of resistance; the doctor stood watching Stamets with a vividly hopeful expression. Michael took the infant from the basket and settled him in her arms with an ease born of practice. Carrying the child to the pair, they spoke for a few moments, then Michael transferred the infant into Stamets’ awkwardly receptive arms.

He waited for his sister to glance in his direction, which she soon did. After a few final words, she left the couple to smile at the child.

She had made use of the synthesizer in his quarters. Gone were the medical gown and pants, replaced with a medium-gray colored uniform cut in the style of the other uniforms worn by Discovery's crew. She had applied cosmetics, and designed her braids to partially fall over her right shoulder. In combination, she presented as a polished officer, an excellent example to all.

Reaching him, Michael said, "You know, I've been to the ready room before, Spock."

"Captain Pike clearly doubts your memory," he replied, falling into step beside her.

They walked at a reduced pace in deference to her health status. It seemed she had improved over the past hours because it was not necessary for her to rest every several yards. 

He commented, "I observed a portion of your interaction with the infant, the doctor and scientist. I presume you gave the child into their care."

Michael made an affirmative sound. "The child's mother and I discussed it. She was critically injured before we used the tech. Her chance of survival would’ve improved if she delivered then, but we didn't know how the process would affect a newborn, so she decided to wait until we were rescued. She didn't have any living family; her partner died while she was still in her first trimester. She wanted her child to go to Hugh and Paul if she didn't make it."

He thought of the last dream, of Culber and Stamets seated beneath the shade of a tropical tree, their attention devoted to a child prone to throwing a green ball. Then he thought of the Vulcan child who had referred to him as uncle. Curiosity urged him to ask Michael about the girl, but as she was about to enter a meeting, he recognized it was an improper moment to indulge such curiosity.

They were in the ‘lift when he noticed a missing element to her uniform. "You overlooked applying your insignia."

"I have it with me," she replied. From a pocket she brought forth a delta badge, one with significant differences from any contemporary design. Briefly she regarded it, slid her thumb along the edges, then attached it to her jacket.

When they reached the final corridor adjacent to her destination, she asked, "Do you want to go with me to the meeting?"

It was a puzzling inquiry. He halted to study her. "My presence will not alter the meeting's outcome."

Gaze slanted away, she smiled sadly, as if his words had a particular meeting beyond what was intended. "Christine said you experienced my communications as dreams. I suspect those dreams were identical to mine. Tell me, which detail in a dream did you find most abhorrent?"

He had no desire to respond to the question, quite likely because there were numerous things he had found abhorrent in the dreams. It would be difficult to determine criteria for creating a hierarchy of which detail was worse than the one below it, but not as severe as the one above it. It was an exercise in which he never wanted to engage. 

In place of an answer to her second question, he made one to her first. "I will join you, so long as none object." He turned to continue towards the ready room.

When the doors slid open to grant them entrance, there were three individuals seated at the ready room’s long table: Captain Pike, Agent Tyler, and Admiral April. April was seated at one end of the table, with Pike to his right and Tyler to his left. The three officers stood at their arrival.

Michael chose to approach from Pike’s side of the table. He paused at a distance, reluctant to move closer until his welcome was assured.

The captain smiled as Michael neared. Turning to April, Pike introduced, "Michael Burnham, Admiral Robert April; Robert April, Captain Michael Burnham."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," April told her, smiling, hand extended. "Welcome back to this century."

"Thank you, admiral," Michael replied, shaking hands. “I appreciate that you made the trip to speak with me in person."

April said, "I couldn't pass up the chance to see the returned crew."

She smiled. "I was wondering if Spock might be permitted to join us. I've been unwell, and his presence would be a comfort."

April glanced to Pike and Tyler. When both officers nodded, the admiral replied, "Why not. It isn't like he doesn't already know about the situation." The admiral flashed a smile at him.

After they were seated, the next few minutes were spent on pleasantries, then condolences for Discovery's crew casualties. Then April smiled and said to Michael, "Well, captain, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a few questions for you."

"Of course," Michael agreed.

"Where is the Discovery?"

Michael answered, "It didn't return to this timeperiod."

April nodded. "What about the rest of your crew? Can we look forward to their return as well?"

"All who remain of the crew are aboard Enterprise," she said, her voice a mixture of sadness and regret.

Discovery's crew complement had been approximately one hundred sixty when it was in this timeperiod. He was uncertain of its size when in the future, but under half of that number had returned. Thirteen of those who were rescued had died while aboard Enterprise. The loss of so many officers was a tragedy which had yet to be explained.

"I'm sorry," Pike offered quietly.

Michael’s smile was one of grief. "Me, too."

"It sounds like your crew has been through a terrible ordeal," April said. "I know Captain Pike and Agent Tyler reached the same conclusion almost immediately – but it was one they had to make based on observation alone. Not a single member of your crew has provided information about their return. Agent Tyler advised me that's due to your instructions. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Michael acknowledged. "Prior to using the temporal technology responsible for bringing us back, I ordered them not to provide information of any sort once we were rescued. They weren't to tell anyone anything."

"A gag order." The admiral's knitted brows and vague frown indicated confusion. "You and your crew served under Captain Pike. You intended to be rescued by a Starfleet vessel, one with a crew including your own brother. Did you think they couldn't be trusted with the information?"

"I–” Michael hesitated. Beneath the table, he watched as she quietly took a hypospray from her trouser pocket and injected the contents into her thigh.

"Michael’s order and her crew’s strict compliance were not due to a lack of trust," he swiftly suggested, attempting to provide her a moment of recovery. "Discovery's crew has been to the future. Should they disclose anything they learned there, it could alter the timeline. Even the smallest detail could cause tremendous change."

She nodded. "Correct. I gave the order in an attempt to prevent accidental contamination. The crew chose to comply with it for the same reason."

Into the following silence, Tyler slowly said, "I don't think that was the only reason you issued the order. You wanted to demonstrate that your crew could be silent, even in extreme conditions. You wanted to show that they weren't a threat."

The look which Michael slanted the agent was one of cool disdain. "It would be unwise to confuse prudence and deception. Discovery's crew is Starfleet, just like Enterprise's crew. In Starfleet, we trust each other. Section 31 aside, of course."

After casting Tyler a displeased frown, April assured Michael, "No one thinks your crew is a danger. Maybe it would help allay any stray concerns if you explained the reason for your return."

Michael's gaze fell to the table. The silence stretched.

Concern flared within him. The use of medication and an increasing frequency of hesitation indicated her physical condition was likely deteriorating. 

Michael smiled ruefully. To the admiral she said, "This is our birth timeperiod. We wanted to come home."

"That's very understandable," Pike said.

"Absolutely," the admiral agreed. "We're glad Discovery's crew has come home. Now that you're here, what's next? What do you envision for your crew."

His sister chuckled. "I'm sure Command has discussed it extensively. Why don't you tell me about the consensus."

April grinned. "You're not wrong," he easily admitted. "After all your crew has been through, Command would be more than happy to offer them discharge with honors."

"Or?" Michael prompted.

"If they decide to remain with Starfleet, they'll be evaluated, processed, and posted to new assignments, just like any other officers without current details. You know the drill," April replied.

Michael shook her head. "Captain Pike has doubtlessly reported what I told him of the tech which facilitated our return. The crew needs to stay together for the immediate future."

"Yes, the captain advised me of your information," the admiral acknowledged. "Your inclination to prevent possible complications from using a foreign tech is admirable, and one Command shares, but it's not that simple. Once a person leaves Starfleet, we have no authority over them, which would be true for those crewmen who elect to retire from service. For those who stay in Starfleet, finding a single posting for them would be impractical at best. Either way, it'll be pretty much impossible for everyone to remain as a unit."

Silently Michael regarded April. Beneath the table, the hand resting on her thigh had a visible tremble. "The crew needs to remain together. We'll have to find a way to make it work."

April shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a realistic possibility."

His sister's expression became one he recognized from childhood, after she had learned to be Vulcan in all but blood. "It's a realistic possibility because it's necessary for their preservation."

Invoking the necessity of preservation was a masterful decision. Preservation of life and safety was a fundamental principle of Starfleet. For the admiral to argue against it would be to undercut all which Starfleet valued.

"I understand that you feel that way. And I get where you're coming from, I really do," April told her, voice sincere. "Unfortunately, the–”

The conference room doors slid open. La'an stepped inside, her expression severe. "Pardon the interruption, sirs."

April raised a forestalling hand. "Give us a minute, lieutenant."

"I'm sorry, sir, but this can't wait," La'an insisted firmly. She looked to Michael. "You need to come with me. Right now."

xxx

The corridor adjacent to the shuttlebay was filled with crewmen. He remained near Michael as they threaded their way towards the bay doors.

"One of your people has lost his mind," La'an had tersely informed Michael as they walked. "He hacked through the security measures of an armory, then went to sickbay looking for you and someone named Bella. Christine tried to talk him down, which was when he went ballistic. He took Christine hostage, injured seven medical personnel, and proceeded to rampage through the ship until reaching the shuttlebay. He's got Christine with him and says he's going to kill her unless we release you and Bella."

Concern for Christine had seared through him. Pieces of information Michael provided suddenly had combined to create clarity: Discovery's crew were veterans of the Klingon War and had likely engaged in another significant conflict prior to their return. One of those crewmen had not remained with his companions, resulting in temporal confusion, and was now armed, had a hostage, and was attempting to negotiate for the release of those he believed had been captured by the enemy. Christine's life was in jeopardy.

Yet Christine was not the only person for whom he was concerned. Michael was sweating profusely and her respirations were substantially increased by the time they reached the shuttlebay entrance. She was attempting to conceal her physical status and achieving remarkable success, but he had long ago discovered how to see past her methods of disguise. It would be wise for her to return to sickbay, which he was certain she would not do until the situation was resolved. 

At the shuttlebay entrance, a group of Discovery's crew stood near but not with Enterprise's security officers: Nhan, Tilly, Rhys, and two other crewmen he could not name. He accompanied Michael when she went directly to them, bypassing the tactical station.

La’an instructed one of her officers, “Clear the corridor. These people don’t need to be here.”

"It's Sammy," Tilly informed Michael. "He's been talking about wanting to see the engines. You know how he's always been fascinated with the Enterprise, ever since Pike was captain. When I did the head count, he was in quarters; he must have slipped out afterwards." 

"Are you talking about Sam Levine?" Tyler asked. "He's an engineer, kind of a goofy guy. When did he get to the point of issuing demands while threatening a hostage?"

"Some things have changed since we left," Rhys dryly said to the agent. "When the war – when we were in the future, he jumped fields, went into security. He became a special operations officer, an expert in breach protocol and entrenchment tactics."

Tyler swore and half turned away.

Nhan told Micheal, "I know what used to be kept in the armory he hit: phasers, rifles, and the small explosive devices used by the scientific departments. If the inventory is still the same, we're in trouble. He’s carrying a backpack."

Looking to Pike, Michael said, "The area near this location for decks above and below us should be evacuated. Immediately."

"Are you saying he's going to suicide and destroy the shuttlebay if he doesn't get what he wants?" La'an demanded.

The captain said to Tilly, "I understand he wants not only Burnham, but someone named Bella. Where is she?"

The red-haired woman shook her head. "He means Isabella Sanchez, his partner. She died three months ago."

Pike ordered La'an, "Evacuate everyone you can. I’ll let Number One know what’s happening so the protocol can be initiated."

La'an nodded shortly and turned to provide instructions to her two senior officers.

"I’ve dealt with situations like this," April advised Michael. "A veteran becomes confused, gets violent. Usually they stand down for a trusted senior officer. You need to talk to him."

Michael went to one of Enterprise's security officers. "Please get four rifles for me."

The officer hesitated. "I can't do that, sir."

He reminded the officer, “The repercussions for disobeying a direct order can be severe.”

Michael was provided with the rifles, which she promptly provided to her crewmen.  She said something too quietly to be overheard, then the four went into the shuttlebay.

April urged Michael, “You may be able to get the aggressor to stand down. That would be the best solution because it ensures everyone’s safety. Including his.”

“Yes, that would be the best solution,” Michael agreed. 

He noted Tyler suddenly had a phaser in his hand, presumably an item he had carried concealed on his person. The agent handed it to Michael. She unfastened her jacket, verified the phaser’s setting, then secured it at the small of her back.

Tilly was left unaccompanied by a crewmate. When she noticed that Michael hesitated to leave her, she assured, "It's okay. I'll be fine."

"I will monitor her for signs of confusion," he offered. "Should she begin to show such, I will return her to her crewmates outside of the evacuation zone."

Michael nodded her thanks and turned for the shuttlebay doors.

The scene within the bay was quite atypical. Gone were the crewmen transferring cargo. The worker-bees were still, left abandoned in odd places. Security officers stood in a long half circle, their weapons drawn against a centralized target.

Christine's white uniform stood in sharp contrast to the sedate colors surrounding her: the grays, browns, and blacks of crates, machinery, and shuttles. A human male had her pulled against him as an involuntary shield. A phaser was aimed at the side of her head, a tactical knife’s point held against her right mid-abdomen. 

"Spock."

He turned towards the quiet voice. La'an waved him over to a console serving as a tactical station. Pike was already there. April went to stand beside the captain. Ensuring Tilly remained within reach, he took up a place beside Ortegas. The pilot had no logical reason to be in the bay, but lingered closely to the security chief.

La'an pointed to a map of the bay which was displayed on the console. She quickly explained a tactical analysis, gesturing to locations where officers were concealed throughout the area. At the conclusion, she added, "I don't know where Michael's four crewmen went. They discarded their uniform jackets, then broke into two pairs. One headed for each side of the bay, last anyone saw."

“Nhan used to be the chief of security here, and Rhys was Discover’s tactical officer during the War. They know what they’re doing,” Tyler advised.

He watched as Michael walked into the empty terrain between the ring of security personnel and the man controlling Christine. Her pace was slow, deliberate; she positioned her hands to demonstrate they were empty.

"I'm here, Sam," Michael informed the aggressor.

"Captain?" Sam asked cautiously. The man's tone was victorious when he continued, "I knew it. I knew they had you. Did you see Bella?"

"You're confused, Sam," Michael said. "We came back, remember? We used the tech to get home to our timeperiod. The Enterprise rescued us. That's where we are right now."

"No. We were going to, but then we were ambushed." Sam paused. "You'd know that, if you were really the captain. You're just another one of them." He pulled Christine backwards several steps.

Christine's expression was still, revealing nothing. She offered no resistance.

He commended the nurse’s ability to remain calm. Perhaps it benefited her to be a war veteran herself; perhaps she was relying on training. She was behaving correctly for the situation, regardless of the reason she was able to do so. He was not surprised, but found that he was grateful. 

Michael replied, "I remember when Danny was born. You wanted to give that poor child some awful names, but Bella wouldn't let you."

"Good," April murmured. "She's mentioning things only he would know, proving her identity. This is good."

"It's not bad that I wanted to name him after you, captain," Sam said. "Michael is the chief sur, the archangel who has always protected my ancestors. Mikhael. Protector of the Torah and the children of Israel. Bella just didn't want Danny to have the same name as my grandfather, because I didn't want him to have her grandfather's name."

"That's probably true," Michael chuckled. "Sam, that woman you're holding isn't one of them. She's human, a medical officer. She's Starfleet, Sam, just like us. I need you to let her go."

Sam insisted, "No, captain, she's not. It's not. It just looks like one of us. They released you. We only need Bella, then we can escape.”

"This isn't going to work," La'an muttered.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have sent out the mutineer to do the talking,” Ortegas growled.

La’an replied, “I think you should leave.”

"Sam, we made it back," Michael repeated. "You – remember how you wanted to tell your mother about Danny? You can do that, now." She moved a step closer to Sam and Christine, then another.

"Danny," Sam said, voice full of grief. "Daniel Levine-Sanchez. My son. Why did they have to hurt him?" He pressed the phaser against Christine's temple. "Why? They were children! Captain, why did they have to hurt our children?"

Pike asked La'an, "Which officer has the highest chance of stunning him quickly enough to prevent him from killing her and triggering whatever explosives he might have rigged?"

He was uncertain if it would be a better option to follow the captain’s suggestion or continue to trust Michael's ability to resolve the situation. Distance prevented him from assessing her physical status, but if she faltered, the result could be disastrous. 

Michael took another step closer to the pair. "I don't know, Sam. I think they just did it because they could. That was all."

"But they were so little. My boy, your girl, all the others," Sam protested. "I remember, captain. I do. You were standing all alone, just looking at where they used to be."

"You taught me the Mourner’s Kaddish, right there," Michael said. "And the next day, you invited me to sit Shiva with you. When I told you I wasn't a believer, you said–"

"God knows what's in your heart," Sam finished. 

La'an advised Pike, "I have marksmen here and here." She pointed to places on the map. "I don't know where Michael's officers are, but I'm guessing they're good shots. The problem is, the aggressor keeps moving in an irregular pattern. He knows we have people who are trying to get a clear shot."

"I remember when you thought Bella had died in the shuttle crash," Michael said. "You went to the shuttlebay with Danny."

Sam laughed, "I felt this little tap on my shoulder, and when I turned around, she was there. She was standing right there. She said it would be a good story to tell Danny when he got older. Bella knows that stories are important. Stories and dreams."

"She knew that we learn so much when we dream," Michael agreed, moving closer. "Sometimes we dream memories. Sometimes we dream how things could have been. And sometimes we dream how things will be tomorrow. Do you remember what shoulder she tapped you on?"

"The one attached to the open hand of blessings," Sam promptly answered.

"You know, that story is what I instantly think about whenever I hear someone mention their right hand. Isn't that funny?" Michael said. "Sam, I want to tell you something. They released Bella." Raising her voice, she called, "Sorry, Bella – it's Sam's turn to surprise you."

"Bella?" Sam said hopefully, glancing over his shoulder.

He watched as Christine raised her hands enough to push the knife away from her, earning sufficient space to escape Sam's hold. At the same moment, Michael reached for the phaser Tyler had provided. She and multiple security officers fired on the aggressor.

The bay erupted into movement and sound. Security officers broke cover from around the area, while others went forward to ensure Sam was disabled and disarmed. Orders were shouted and acknowledged. The post-incident protocol was initiated.

Christine stood unmoving as she watched all that happened around her, a solitary point of stillness. Michael surrendered her weapon to La’an.

xxx

An hour and a half after the crisis had passed, Pike asked, "Have you seen your sister yet? Maybe you should check on her. I think she's still in sickbay."

Michael was no longer in sickbay when he reached that location. Although Christine was, he was informed she did not wish to receive visitors.

"But I'll tell her you stopped by," Dr. M'Benga assured. “When you find Michael, please send her back. She didn’t stay half long enough to get the treatment she needs.”

He had only spoken with Christine for a few brief moments before she was escorted from the shuttlebay by Pike and La'an.

"Are you okay?" he had asked, utilizing the phrase Michael had first taught him.

Christine had blankly regarded him for a moment, a response typical from one experiencing the aftermath of a crisis. "They killed him. Security officers usually use non-lethal tactics in these scenarios. I don't understand."

It would have been a comfort to see Christine now, he realized as he lingered in sickbay. But she did not wish to see anyone, including him.

He continued his search for Michael. It was likely that she was with her crewmen, particularly as they had departed from the shuttlebay with her. Tilly had joined the small group headed for the security office, there to make their reports of the event.

"Are you okay?" he had also asked her.

"I'm okay," his sister had replied. But he had noted how her smile was forced, he had seen how her entire frame slightly trembled, and he had known her words were untrue.

Perhaps Michael was in Tyler's company. Perhaps she was with Mother and Sarek.

It was unclear what led him to check his quarters next. He had granted her authorization to enter his quarters after the last signal burst into existence, his own symbolic gesture that she would never know. But now he found proof that she had indeed come here:  Michael's uniform jacket was draped across the bed. He did not see Michael herself. He did, however, faintly hear her.

When she first arrived in his family's home, Michael had adopted a habit of sitting in her bedroom closet when experiencing emotional turbulence. On more than one occasion he had located her there, quietly weeping beneath the hanging clothes.

"Why are you distressed?" he had always inquired.

Very seldom had she answered.

Michael was seated in his closet, tucked between two boxes in which he stored various items. She was weeping; based on her displaced cosmetics and collection of balled facial tissues, she had been doing so for an extended period. He silently sat down on the floor beside her.

It was difficult to sit by, listening while his sister wept. He had endured and accomplished many difficult things during his life, but this was distressing in a manner which had not altered since childhood. Despite his sincere desire that her weeping would cease, it did not. His presence was not solace enough to ease her grief.

"Would you like me to bring Tilly here?" he offered. The red-haired officer was dear to her, he knew.

Michael only shook her head.

After several minutes, he offered, "Shall I request Mother come to be with you?"

"No, Spock," she managed. "Please–"

He waited for her to continue, but she did not.

Finally unable to remain a witness to his sister's unabating distress, he got to his feet and went in search of someone she had once rescued in a dream.

Tyler was in the security office, discussing an unknown topic with La'an. The two fell silent when he approached.

"Michael requires your assistance," he informed the agent.

It was not until they were within a few yards of his quarters that Tyler requested to know specifically what assistance Michael required. By then there was no logical reason to provide what would only have been an awkward answer; the agent would soon determine it for himself. 

Silently he entered his quarters and led the agent to the closet.

Tyler's expression became one of unguarded dismay when his gaze found Michael. "Shit. Okay. Give us a minute."

He was prepared to grant the agent however much time was necessary, so long as the man curtailed Michael's distress. Patiently he waited.

Realizing he had not moved, Tyler clarified, "Go away. Completely out of the room. And don't come back for a while."

He was disinclined to depart. However, Tyler crossed his arms and glared, making it clear he was not welcome to remain. Reluctantly he turned away.

The doors had opened and he was nearly through them when he glanced back over his shoulder. He observed Tyler kneeling beside the open closet door, Michael’s hand reaching out to clasp the agent’s. He continued walking into the corridor, where he then halted and considered what he should do next.

"Hey."

Turning, he found Christine leaning against a bulkhead, watching him. Her face was pale, but she managed a wane smile.

"It's hard to share the ones you love, huh," she said. "But it's harder to watch them suffer without trying to make it better."

"Indeed," he agreed.

She pushed away from the bulkhead. "Come on. Let's go to my place. You can make some tea, and I’ll spike it with whiskey. A lot of whiskey."

He found her suggestion quite logical.

xxx

The desire to ascertain his sister's mental status would not leave him. Therefore, once several hours had passed and Christine had fallen asleep, he returned to his quarters.

Silence greeted him when he stepped inside. A glance through the room revealed Michael asleep on the bed. Tyler was curled around her, also asleep. A blanket Mother had given him was draped over them.

As if sensing his presence, Tyler abruptly awoke. The agent swiftly looked around and noticed his presence.

He calmly remained in place.

Tyler blinked, recognized him, and noticeably lost the tension in his form. Then the agent glared and made a vague begone gesture.

He slanted his sister's former – possibly soon to be current – paramour a thoroughly unimpressed look before turning to depart.

Not until he was in the corridor did he permit himself to smile.

xxx

The beginning of alpha shift found him at his station on the bridge. He was yet there when Pike sought him after the admiral’s departure.

"Have you seen your sister?" the captain asked. "How’s she doing?"

"Yes," he replied. "She is okay."

Suddenly the bridge was absent of voices. A cursory glance around the room revealed all eyes were upon him.

“Wow,” Number One said. “Spock’s learned how to say a new word. Those dreams really paid off.”

Once chatter had resumed, Pike said, "The admiral is on his way back to Starbase One. Apparently he was in a meeting for half the night with the rest of Command. He said they reached a consensus to find or create a single posting for all of Discovery's crew. They'll find a way to make it work."

"Michael will be pleased," he mildly replied. In truth, she would likely be more relieved than pleased, but his words were still accurate. 

"Do you want to tell her the good news?" Pike offered.

He acknowledged, "I believe I know someone who would care to complete the task." 

xxx

Approximately two hours later, he learned of Michael's return to the infirmary. Concern promptly led him to visit her there.

He was unsurprised to find Tyler at her bedside. Surprise thoroughly overtook him, however, when he beheld the agent cradling the newborn, while Stamets hovered nearby.

"I was informed of your worsening condition," he told Michael.

"It's just a fever," Michael dismissed. "It's not serious."

"It's going to become serious if you don't let yourself recover," Culber advised, drawing near. The doctor asked him, "Can you tell me how I can get her to correctly administer her meds, or not to ignore her own health?"

"I do not possess that information," he admitted. After experiencing his sister’s dreams, he believed he had expanded his understanding of her, including her fundamental drive to minimize her own needs. It was simply an ingrained part of her identity, regardless of perceived value.

"That's because it doesn't exist. Right, little man?" Tyler asked the infant.

xxx

At the conclusion of alpha shift, he returned to sickbay, and was relieved to find his sister still there, her health monitored by medical personnel.

Christine noted his arrival and crossed the room to stand beside him. "She's okay. For right now, anyway. She can't shake that fever, but we don't know why. The injury to her head immediately prior to using the time tech could be causing it. It's certainly causing enough other problems." When concern left him silent, she quickly added, "Nothing that won't heal, as long as she rests. And doesn't do anything stupid," she loudly called towards Michael. 

Michael glanced up from her PADD and smiled when she saw him with Christine.

Christine’s expression was one of great amusement when she looked back to him. “Was she a pain in the ass in your dreams?”

It took more convincing than he anticipated to sway Michael into abandoning her PADD and biobed in favor of accompanying him on a walk.

"You're the one who always says I leave sickbay too soon," she protested. But she pushed aside her blanket and got to her feet. Gesturing to her medical gown and pants, she warned, "I'm not going anywhere until I change clothes.  I'd forgotten how awful these things are."

"I got you covered, sister," Christine said. She set a folded uniform and other clothing on the bed, and a pair of boots on the deck beside the bed.

Michael's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she merely thanked Christine, making no inquiry over having accurately sized and styled clothing so readily available.

Once Michael had completed changing clothes, they stepped out into the corridor. He set a leisurely pace so she would not easily tire. They walked in companionable silence.

"Query," he said finally.

Michael flashed him a delighted grin. "Response."

When they were children, he had been the one who instructed her on this aspect of Vulcan culture. It soothed something within him to relive the pleasant memory.

"In the last of your dreams which I shared, the setting was that of a seaside," he said. "There were many of Discovery’s crew present, as well as Tyler and the newborn infant. There was also a young Vulcan child. She referred to me as uncle." He glanced to her. "Was she a person in reality, or a symbolic representation of something only existent in the dream?"

Michael smiled. "She was a real person. Her name was Amanda. There was – a conflict. I was in command of the team that resolved the situation, which was why I was on the ground in the aftermath. I found Amanda hidden in a pile of rubble. Her family had all been killed. She had no one. She was an orphan, like me." She glanced at him. "Her mother was human, her father Vulcan, like you. I adopted her. When she learned our mother's name, she asked if she could share it."

The conversation paused as they entered an occupied ‘lift. After they exited into a corridor, Michael continued, "She was so smart. And funny – the girl could be hilariously funny." The look she slanted him was wistful. "I think you would have liked her."

"I am certain of it," he replied.  He did not inquire what had become of her as he believed Sam had provided the information already, in spirit if not in detail. He was unable to decide if he was more inclined towards the feeling of regret for never knowing her, or gratitude for at least having met the child in Michael’s dream. 

There was another question plaguing him. “Query.”

“Response.”

"Why did you return, sister?"

"Because I missed my life here," she answered. "Everything was moving so quickly before I put on the timesuit, I didn't think about what it would actually be like in the future. I didn't want to think about it. But on the other side of the wormhole, all I did was think about what I'd left behind. I missed what I’d lost. I missed Amanda and Sarek and Ash. I missed you, Spock."

Numerous occurrences had demonstrated Michael's skill with lying, but even she could not have manufactured the myriad, sincere emotions in her tone: yearning, regret, loss. Love. In this way he knew she spoke the truth.

"I believe you," he said. "I also believe that you would not leave an ongoing conflict unless there was an imperative reason to do so. I know you would not have abandoned your duty for personal gain. So I will ask again: why did you return?"

She made no answer. Silence grew between them. Finally she said, "If there were indeed another motive, there would be a reason I couldn't acknowledge it. Please let it go, Spock. Be content knowing that I came back because I missed you and the others."

The explanation she provided was deeply troubling. Indirectly she had implied that there was indeed another motivation to her return. To her crew's return. Almost certainly that motivation was an intent to alter the timeline in some fashion.

“What makes a creation, what something can become is of great interest," she says.

He should convince her to provide further details. He should advise Captain Pike of this development. He should identify a method by which to encourage another of Discovery's crew to provide the information.

"You are my sister," he says, looking up at her. "I will always help you as well."

His trust in Michael was unshakable. She had placed in his hands what she so highly valued: the preservation of others.

"I will attempt to do as you have advised," he said, halting to face her.

Michael also stopped. "Thank you, brother." She paused. “I missed you every day.”

“That was an experience we shared,” he quietly assured. After a moment, he stated, "You appear to be tired. The lounge is through the doors on your right. Let us rest before returning to sickbay."

She nodded in agreement and turned for the doors.

The lounge was filled with Discovery and Enterprise crewmen. Nearly every table was occupied, and no seats were available at the bar. People were talking and smiling in a manner the two crews had not previously experienced due to the self-imposed isolation of Discovery’s crew and the cautious distance enacted by Enterprise’s crew. An instrumental group was performing a slow, pleasantly rhythmed song. Across the length of the room a banner had been hung: Welcome Home Crew of Discovery.

It was not necessary to touch Michael to know her emotions. What she felt was clearly indicated on her face: first confusion, then surprise, then delight.

She graced him with a radiant smile. “I can't believe I fell for the let's-go-for-a-walk gambit."

Captain Pike stepped forward from the crowd which was gathering near them. The captain told her, "In case Spock didn't actually get around to saying it, Command is going to find a single post where all of Discovery's crew can serve. Welcome home, Michael." He hugged her.

“Thank you, Chris.” Sincerity and gratitude were heavy in her tone. 

When Pike stepped back, Tyler took his place. The agent handed her a glass filled with dark liquid, accompanied by a smile that indicated all that words could not.

Christine approached him carrying a glass in each hand, one of which she offered to him. "Kudos on getting her here. I thought we’d have to sedate her and drag her in."

"She probably was just happy to go anywhere other than sickbay," La'an commented as she joined them. “I know I would be.”

Although Michael laughed and smiled with all who were near, she did not move farther into the lounge.

Tilly emerged from somewhere unseen. "Come on," she encouraged. "Let me show you what a wonderful job I did with this party. And then you have to meet this Uhura chick. She speaks, like, fifty languages."

It was likely that Michael was quite tired after spending the day receiving treatment in addition to all which had occurred in the days before. He suggested, "Perhaps it would be wise for Michael to rest before continuing on.”

The individuals around him loudly booed.

Weaving her way between crewmen, Mother emerged from the crowd to stand between him and Michael. "Michael is remarkably similar to you, Spock. Do you really think either of you are going to suddenly behave like different people?" Mother asked, smiling with affectionate amusement. "That wouldn’t even happen in a dream."

He exchanged glances with his sister.

"Indeed," they simultaneously agreed.

XXX

Let me be lawless and beloved, ungovernable and unafraid.

Let me be brave enough to live here…

Let me try again – again and again.

~Laurel Chen, from “Greensickness”

[end]