#foxdogwrites

After the failure that was the stealth mission on Maurai VI, it was inevitable for the victims, among them being one Commander Sovehl Jaazadin, to end up in the Sickbay. It was, if Dr. S’tratch had to be so blunt, a sight she would have preferred not to see. The Bajoran first officer was a stubborn, older man, stuck in his ways and uneasily impressed. It would take a true miracle of some god—whether Gorn, Bajoran, or some other higher authority of any other faith or mythos—to convince him anything otherwise.

“Get me Nurse Dulom,” Sovehl hissed. His wounds, appearing as second- and even third-degree burns, were strange to her. They were hardly concerning on their own–a dermal regenerator could fix it with ease–, but where were these coming from? From what she had heard, there was no fire down on the planet.

They wouldn’t have held back information from you either, her mind muttered. It would be foolish to do so.

Sovehl disrupted her thoughts with his persistence, “They know better than you do.”

“It is late. They are asleep,” Dr. S’tratch lied while taking the regenerator to the burns of his arm. She paid no mind to his words. It wasn’t like it was an original comment. She turned her face away from him, deeming it pointless to show any sort of attention to him.

“Then get Yindev.”

“Also asleep.” Another lie.

She could see him grit his teeth out of the corner of her eye.

“Then wake him up. Or wake them up. Either nurse!”

“Neither are scheduled for the night shift.”

“Prophets! It’s an emergency! I’m injured, damn it!” Sovehl didn’t let up in his nonsensical complaints. Pulling his arm away and pointing his finger, he sat up to insist on his point, the only thing holding him back being the vital sign display that wrapped around him. “You don’t let a man struggle without trying to find help.”

The Gorn glared at the Bajoran. He was getting on her nerves, but she remained tolerant of him for the time being. She had to. “I am help,” she answered with as much patience as she could muster for him. Gently, she guided him back down into the biobed before returning to tending his wounds.

Sovehl remained quiet for the time being, only grumbling curses beneath his breath here and there. For being part of a pious species, Dr. S’tratch gathered he wasn’t much for following their tradition–not that she herself did either. 

The closest she could really compare his people to were the Maurians, but it’s not like many knew much of those people either, other than for a few unfortunate qualities that did not match the one captaining this very ship.

Too unruly, too argumentative, too stubborn in their mindset… That was, at least, what Dr. S’tratch had heard in passing word, and despite the supposedly unlikable traits of the Maurians, she could not help but sympathize with the cruelly uttered stereotypes.

Words were never something she enjoyed, especially within the Federation. Among the Gorn, she could say nothing at all, and everyone would understand without fail. Here, it seemed as if the interchanging, conglomeration of species and cultures had resulted in a complete failure of efficient communication. She could not simply gesture at something and make the appropriate sound. She had to mouth the words and make just the right amount of noise and inflections in hopes that someone may understand what she had wanted without first taking offense for her mere existence within the Federation. And even if she did speak and act perfectly to their standards, it would not stop the mumbled complaints, the echoed rumors, nor tireless grievances against her.

It would have been a pitiful existence if she still held onto past values, to go from a high position with a hopeful future to be then reduced to a mere healer, whether in foreign space or not.

“Doctor?”

Taken out of her thoughts, Dr. S’tratch turned to the Vorta nurse. Striped tail half-raised, Yindev provided a lopsided, toothy smile when he came in. 

“Rez is stable.”

“Burns?” She asked. Ignoring Sovehl’s wild glare, she continued to use the regenerator. 

“Yes, but it’s weird, isn’t it?” Yindev scrunched his face.

She snorted softly in acknowledgement.

“Sovehl, what caused these burns?” Yindev tilted his head at him, tail twitching. “Was there a fire down there?”

“Worse, phaser fire. It came out of nowhere. It’s some miracle that none of us are in worse condition.”

Pulling the dermal regenerator away briefly in surprise, her eyes widened slightly. “No one said that.”

“And you said that he wasn’t here,” Sovehl retorted, as if her comment was a personal attack on him.

“But I am…?” Yindev raised his brow and looked to her in his confusion.

A pause. “...You misheard,” Dr. S’tratch eventually answered Sovehl. 

When she finished up on the burns, she assisted him to his feet. She was surprised the Captain had not come to check-in with the injured away team, but considering the mission had been active since the late hours of the day before and it was now heading onto the twenty-second hour of the current day, she supposed it was inevitable for a mistake like this to happen, even if a gruesome one.

…Would I have done that?

“Better?”

Sovehl scowled at her. “I am just as well as I was before,” he answered.

“Good.” She then pointed to the door. “Now go.” Saying that was faster than trying to politely explain to him that she needed to check on other patients.

He looked at her as if she had physically threatened him. “I don’t listen to you.”

“And I don’t listen to skinless, sharp-toothed krets, but here we are,” Dr. S’tratch snapped, baring her fangs at him. She had had it with his nonsense. Why wasn’t he just leaving?

“Hey, hey!” Yindev quickly tried to break it up, weaseling himself in between them. However, his actions were meaningless when she simply–and gently–pushed him aside anyway, shoving the dermal regenerator into his hands in the process.

“I am First Officer of this ship, and damn it, I deserve some amount of respect!”

“You act like a youngling. How am I supposed to respect what you would call a ‘child’ as higher authority?”

“I’m older than you are! I’ve seen war first-hand!” He was practically in her face by this point.

“How do you know my age? I could easily be a century older than you, and you could never tell with your dulled mammalian eyes.” She poked his balding head tauntingly. “And what does any war have to do with this?”

“It has—”

“Doctor, Commander, I don’t mean to trouble you, but I’m afraid the entire Sickbay can hear you.”

Dr. S’tratch twisted her head to the other nurse, a non-commissioned Ilaryix officer by the name of Dulom. She could only describe their species as cetaceans dappled with rock-like formations and having what Humans would call “draconic features.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Dulom asked innocently. They pulled a charming smile, revealing small, delphine teeth.

“No, of course not—” Sovehl tried before being interrupted.

“Dulom, remove Sovehl.”

They blinked at Dr. S’tratch, surprised, yet the smile never faltered. “As an Ilaryix, I may be yellow, but I’m afraid I’m not part of security…”

Her upper lip twitched. “Nearly half of the active medical staff is in here. Right now. He is prohibiting further function of Sickbay, and he will not leave. Make him leave.”

Glances were exchanged amongst Dulom, Sovehl, and Yindev, looks that Dr. S’tratch didn’t have time to meticulously pick apart and decipher. 

Scowling, she sharply took back the dermal regenerator from Yindev and headed to the others. Whatever was to transpire after her leaving did not matter to her. The only thing that mattered in that moment was that Sovehl was gone and that she needed to attend to other patients before something else abruptly came about to pick at her scales.

Whatever they think… it is meaningless.

…

By 0021 hours, all patients had been treated and sent back to their quarters for the night, asides for the Aurelian, Swoom. Noted by Yindev, he had been acting a bit slower and almost seemed to be developing some sort of fever. He was by no means awful, but it was enough that Dr. S’tratch wanted him to stay overnight for observation.

Dr. S’tratch and Dulom had clocked out already, leaving only for a few scattered officers left in the Sickbay, Yindev being among those still present. He didn’t mind it, but he would be a complete liar if he didn’t admit he was lonely without familiar company. It’s not that those here were entirely strangers to him, but they were only acquaintances. It would be an entirely different story if, say, Fax or Daly were there–not that either of them were in the science division. And I don’t think I would want them to be here under those circumstances…

His tail curled uncomfortably at the thought of either of them having any real need to be here.

Mostly everyone had something they should be doing—whether it be creating reports, logging what they had in supply, or so forth—, and, sure, Yindev probably should be assisting in some capacity, but his mind kept drawing to a blank.

“Headed somewhere, Nurse Yindev?”

Pausing from his pacing after nearly ramming into them, he looked up to the Vulcan science officer–the name of which he could not recall–and pulled a smile. “Uh, yeah, I’m getting… something…” He trailed off, eyes turning to anywhere but them.

They quirked a brow. “I believe you were supposed to be monitoring Lt. Asweek-Oom.”

“Asweek-Oom?”

“...Nicknamed Swoom.”

“I–I was going to do that.”

“I thought you were ‘getting something.’”

“A… tricorder…?”

They narrowed their eyes at him yet pushed no further, gave a quiet yet firm “Very well,” and continued on with their own matters. 

Although it was actually fortunate to run into the Vulcan and to find out where he was supposed to be, Yindev quickly scurried off before anyone else noticed he was not at the right place. If it happened once, it was a simple mistake. Anyone could have done that. Anymore than once, and it would be a complete embarrassment on his part.

The nurse that doesn’t know where he’s supposed to be…! He thought with a small scoff. They could make a comedy about that, probably.

When he came in, Yindev found Swoom asleep, unsurprisingly. His wings awkwardly flopped onto the ground, unable to fit upon the biobed, and his russet-colored feathers were ruffled uncomfortably.

Swoom was a bit older and, despite being the chief science officer, renowned for his work in forensics. He was a bit wordy—and often to the point where Yindev couldn’t make heads or tails of it—, but he was at least nice to be around. It was better than being stuck with someone who much rather make a snappy and clever remark.

Quietly, he took out his tricorder to scan the Aurelian to check for any changes.

Vitals seem mostly okay… but he’s still running a fever of 44°C… That wasn’t new, but he wondered if he needed another round of medication… Was it too early to do so? He furrowed his brows at him, tail twitching in uncertainty.

“Doctor, is—” A familiar voice from behind started before cutting herself off. “Oh, Yindev… is Dr. S’tratch still here?”

Yindev nearly whirled around to turn to the only Maurian aboard. “No, sorry, Captain,” he said quickly. “She left just earlier.”

Captain Moak’s pointed ears drooped just slightly. “...Sael,” she muttered distantly.

He blinked. “Uhm, repeat that?”

“Ah, sorry, Yindev.” She rubbed her forehead, hand nearly wrapping around one of the thrice spikes of her head. “I meant that I understand.” She paused, gathering herself. “I had gotten… sidetracked while working on my log, and then Sovehl had alerted me of what happened, so I rushed over here without alerting anyone I was coming.”

“It’s alright!” Yindev assured her, turning around to prepare the hypospray. “A fight must’ve broken out or something while the away team was down there because they were covered in burns from… heat beams? I don’t know. It was weird. Swoom’s also sick.”

“He’s sick?” Captain Moak looked at Swoom with concern, craning her neck in his direction while still keeping a safe distance away. “What does he have?”

He shrugged unhelpfully while loading the medicine. “I’ve got no clue. He may have already been—”

Swoom suddenly coughed, and, quickly, Yindev turned to see if he had awoken from their chatter. Thankfully, he hadn’t, but there still lingered some amount of guilt in him for avoiding causing such noise. To disturb a patient—To disturb anyone in their sleep was something he hated doing, even if only on accident.

There’s a command… What’s the command? He racked his brain in silence before hastily ordering the computer upon remembering, “Computer, play white noise, volume low.” In an instant, a soft hum reigned down from above. He then looked to the Captain and whispered, “We should talk outside. I don’t want to awaken him.”

When he received confirmation, Yindev silently approached Swoom and administered the hypospray to him. His feathers shifted barely so as to smooth themselves out. Although it wasn’t much, he already looked a little bit better than before.

“Sorry, Captain.” Clasping his hands together, he provided an apologetic expression to her when he stepped back outside. “As I was saying, I don’t really know what happened to him. Dr. S’tratch wants to run a few tests on him in the morning, I think, just to make sure it’s nothing to do with whatever happened on Maurai VI.” He paused, thinking, then added, “I think I remember her mentioning it may be something to do with age.” 

A beat passed before, searching for clarification, he asked, “Why exactly were they down there again…?”

“They were supposed to be scouting the area out since we had located an unidentified building of some kind on the planet’s surface with sentient lifeforms in it, and this has been our biggest lead for why so many people and ships have gone missing in this sector. Strange interference, odd ships coming and leaving…” Captain Moak trailed off in thought, scratching her jaw.

“Oh, Fax was talking about the interference. Something, something, ‘hyper-telepath.’ He can hardly run comms normally anymore because of it, if I remember right.”

She nodded with a sigh. “Thank Iyra that it hasn’t affected our combadges. Had it been so, and we may have to fight fire with fire,” she joked with a small laugh, elbowing him lightly. “Wouldn’t want to wake up to hearing strange voices in the middle of the night, now, would we?”

Yindev snickered softly with her, but he couldn’t help but find the idea discomforting the more he considered it.

“In all seriousness, however, if it does get to that point, it’s all the more reason to find the heart of this all. People who wholeheartedly believe that they can get away with destroying the lives of others ought to be brought to justice. They can’t just do whatever it is they want. There’s rules for a reason. You can’t place yourself over another simply because you think you deserve that sort of power. We all saw how that worked out for Delfor.”

He lost his smile and squinted at her in confusion. “...Delfor?”

Ears perking, Captain Moak faced him with a surprised expression that soon turned into realization and recognition. “Right, you… you don’t know about that. Ah, it’s part of an old Maurian story. It’s best saved for another day.” She patted his shoulder reassuringly. The captain then paused and gave him a grateful smile. “I have to get moving now, I do believe. Thank you for updating me, however, Yindev.”

“Of course, Captain.” He returned the smile and watched as she left Sickbay. His tail twitched, staring at the door long after she was gone.

…At least the captain knows what she’s doing.

…

In the early hours, the Sickbay hummed with quiet activity. Doctors and nurses left work, with their replacements slowly pouring in and assuming their places. The few, scattered patients were leisurely awaking from their slumber. Little was happening at such a time, but it was nothing short of unusual.

Dulom enjoyed the day shift. Although the nights were, without fail, calmer, they held nothing in opposition to the gradual increase in work. There was more use to them in doing something rather than busying themself with reports or logs.

Carrying a platter of food, they entered the Aurelian’s designated room. Asweek-Oom was awake by now, sitting up and fiddling with his talons, but he gave a friendly smile at Dulom’s entrance. 

“Dulom! A pleasant face for sore eyes. It is always a wonder to see you. Never in all my years in service across various starships would I have dreamt to see an Ilaryix in Starfleet with my own two eyes,” Asweek-Oom rasped. “To defy one’s own traditions is a hardship that few could ever carry out to its fullest.”

Always the same song.

“And never would I have thought to see an Aurelian in Starfleet,” they returned. “Your people are known for their knowledge in the sciences and history, and your mind alone is vast in its infinitely growing library of understanding for newfound theories and ideas. There couldn’t be a better replacement for you if Starfleet tried.

“Dr. S’tratch should be visiting shortly with the results,” Dulom then announced. They sat the platter upon his lap, which contained the most simple and basic of necessities. They paused, threw a glance at the door, and then added in a lower voice, “I hear it’s nothing to be worried of, typical affairs of time, but you heard none of that from me.” “

‘Typical affairs of time?’” Asweek-Oom echoed with a small laugh as he began to pick at his food. “Why, Dulom, I do believe time’s been following all of us quite awhile now, many, if not all of us before we were ever born. We’re simply playthings at its disposal. Toys, figures. This is nothing new to me, as it should be nothing new to anyone.”

“Oh, without a doubt—” Dulom would’ve said something pithy and useful had the door not opened in decisive interruption. They expected the towering figure of the Gorn doctor, yet instead were greeted by the short stature of one measly alien that, god forbid, ever followed any single rule laid out to him.

Ah, now the fun can begin.

“Hur’Faw, you and I both know you can’t be in here. A poor little whatever-you-are like you will just end up getting sick, and I highly doubt Dr. S’tratch would appreciate that in her Sickbay. She may as well have my head!” Grabbing their long ears and pulling them upward with their free hand, Dulom half-jokingly ran a claw across their neck in emphasis.

“Poor little—! Skies, my people have a name, you know!” Hur’Faw snapped quickly in frustration, his hair bristling like some wildly disturbed Terran cat.

Taking a few steps in his direction, they folded their tridactyl hands together. “A name! And what would that be?” Dulom asked innocently while smiling sweetly. Hur’Faw opened his mouth to speak, only to quickly go silent and glare at them. Their grin grew in response. “Oh, come on, Hur’Faw. You and I both know this is all a ruse, an act.”

“An… act?—An act?” Tensing up, he let out a quiet hiss while simultaneously speaking. “You can’t just walk up to me, and tell me that my entire life is a lie.”

“On the contrary, I do believe you are the one that walked in here,” they answered.

“Dulom, Hur’Faw!” Asweek-Oom called out, interrupting the squabble. “With much due respect, I would rather there be no such in-fighting.”

Dulom whirled around, and their tail nearly knocked Hur’Faw to the ground had he been any closer to the Ilaryix. “Chief, I really do commend you on your love of peace and comradery. It is a gift that so few of us enjoy.” They cast a glance at Hur’Faw.

He gritted his teeth, holding back whatever vile thing he could come up with on such short notice. “I think we all get along fine.”

“Last I heard, Dr. S’tratch gave direct orders that you aren’t supposed to be here,” Dulom commented in Hur’Faw’s direction.

“Oh, let the boy remain,” Asweek-Oom objected, waving a dismissive talon. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. So, he comes unannounced? There’s worse things a person could do.”

Hardly a boy. Clearly, a full-grown whatever-he-is. Although still smiling, Dulom exhaled in disapproval but let Asweek-Oom’s words hang in the air for the time being. There were plenty of things wrong with his statement, but considering they rather remain in the Aurelian’s good graces and how he easily outranked both them and Hur’Faw combined, it would be pointless to argue, as much as it perturbed them.

Hur’Faw cast a smug look in Dulom’s direction before approaching Asweek-Oom. Whatever conversation that followed fell upon deaf ears, for Dulom left them to their own devices. There was no need for them to listen in on whatever it was an elderly man and an ensign would talk about anyway. If anything, there were better matters that needed tending to.

Although their mind tried to focus upon the work that needed to be done, their thoughts could not help but gravitate toward Hur’Faw and Asweek-Oom. It was no secret that Hur’Faw was highly protective of him, but it was to an irrational degree. It wasn’t like it was built up either. It was as if the second he had laid eyes on Asweek-Oom, it had become his number one concern. It only made Dulom question him more.

Disturbing their thoughts while walking through the Sickbay, they found Dr. S’tratch on her way, carrying a PADD. “Ah, doctor, good morning,” Dulom greeted, pausing to speak. “I assume all went well with Asweek-Oom’s testing?”

“Aurelian respiratory syncytial virus,” she answered without pause. “Happens with age.”

“Well, that goes unsaid,” they replied, “but, doctor, before you head in—”

She stopped in her tracks and turned her face toward them.

“There happens to be a certain ensign in there with him. I told him already that he can’t be there, but we both know that he’s a stubborn little thing. It would be easier to tell a drunken Klingon to leave than to get Hur’Faw to do the same.”

Dr. S’tratch clenched her jaw. “He is no drunken Klingon.”

“As I am aware…”

She snorted, irritated, and Dulom watched as she made her way to the Aurelian’s room. Out of plain and simple curiosity, they followed at a distance and only stopped after she entered. They were, admittedly, eager to see what would become of Hur’Faw.

Albeit muffled through the door, they could hear the conversation that followed. “You know you cannot be here, Hur’Faw.”

“Can’t I? He’s not sick…”

“Even if he wasn’t, you are not needed for the medical diagnosis.”

“Doc, let him stay. He’s innocent in all of this,” Asweek-Oom insisted. “In the grand scheme of things, this won’t matter tomorrow.”

“It would be detrimental for his health if he were to remain,” Dr. S’tratch retorted. “Any longer, and he may contract the virus. Hur’Faw, leave now.”

There was some bitter grumbling from Hur’Faw at that before the door opened, revealing the frustrated alien. They took a step back or two, giving him the appropriate amount of space.

“Ah, so you listen to the doctor, and not me?” Dulom taunted the second the door shut.

Lilip’s Personal Log, Stardate 43703.0.

There’s a ship I don’t recognize not far outside the window of my quarters. I was asleep moments ago, but then there was this flash of light that had come from it when it arrived that must’ve woke me up. Its color almost reminds me of a Klingon Bird-of-Prey, but it’s too small to possibly be that. It looks more like a shuttlecraft of some sort…

It’s likely it belongs to a species I just haven’t seen yet, but there’s always that chance it may possibly be something entirely new!

The thought filled them with a certain child-like excitement and wonder, even when the ship had unceremoniously roused them from sleep moments earlier. A new species! A sapient species! When was the last time they’d seen one? It felt like eons ago, and to know there was a sliver of a chance that there was one just outside the Enterprise’s hull, it left their mind to wonder what they might possibly look like.

Leaning up close to the chilled window and staring at the shuttle’s exterior hardly helped. It was oblong with wings that curved toward inwards as if gesturing to itself. At the bow and stern, it appeared to have almost bulbous growths. The only thing all that pointed to was that, whoever these people were, they had very different ideas of what a ship should look like.

Lilip was able to identify some sort of title near the bow, but with the darkness of space, it was hard to tell anything other than for the top of a few letters they could not immediately recognize in that moment.

I wonder…

They picked up one of the PADDs they had left out the night before and began looking through it eagerly, sitting down upon whatever nearest surface was available. Surely, someone at the bridge had to have made documents of the ship.

Second Officer’s Personal Log, Stardate 43702.9.

It appears that we have made first contact with an individual named Bahf of the Welfanite people, a sentient, sapient, warp-capable species belonging to the Welfanite sector located in the Gamma Quadrant…

Lilip’s mind whirled. First contact! Welfanite! Gamma Quadrant! The mere news felt like a burst of electricity in their system. No amount of sleep would ever suffice again! They could only hope to get a glance at this character, “Bahf,” whoever they were. Was it foolish to ponder what sort of adaptations they may have such late hours? Where did they come from? How did they evolve into what they were now? What did they even look like?

“Welfanite,” they whispered onto the cold, night air, testing the name for themself as they stared up into the ceiling. “Welfanite…” The name only caused a shiver of excitement to run through them.

However tempting it was to try and creep up into the bridge and try to get a look at this Welfanite for themself, they knew they were not scheduled for night shift. The thought was a little disheartening, but those on the bridge likely had it handled. Maybe Lilip would be able to see Bahf somewhere else on the Enterprise later on…

Turning their attention back to the PADD, they looked to see if Data had left any other bits of information regarding the discovery in his log. 

…Bahf seems to avoid giving context for as to why she had left her homeworld and her people. Neither does she indicate how she had arrived in the Alpha Quadrant from the Gamma Quadrant. She is currently seeking political asylum within the Federation in exchange for any and all information she may be able to provide on the Welfanites.

Subspace scans showed no signs of verteron particles or other similar anomalies that may explain a possible wormhole or other spatial passageway. It is best advised to alert Captain Picard as soon as possible.

That’s odd… Lilip could not help but think at seeing no explanation for how they arrived. How were they able to travel from all the way out there to here? Did they have some sort of special technology to safely travel from the Gamma Quadrant? They could not help but wonder what Geordi would think of it.

Tail twitching, they looked over the log again, whether it be for something they may have missed or just to reassure themself they had read that right. Welfanite… Lilip’s thoughts repeated quietly in awe. From the Gamma Quadrant… All the way out there? Their mind whirled with ideas and thoughts regarding this person, and for a moment, they sat there, staring at the PADD in their hands.

What are they like…? Are they even humanoid? Why are they here, of all places to be? Nonetheless, they were grateful for their unexpected arrival. It was something new and exciting, and maybe something they could even study in the near distant future, even if only through second-hand reports about the Welfanites…

They could only eagerly await those reports.

…

“Picard to Lilip.”

“Mmph…?”

They sluggishly opened their eyes, slowly attempting to rouse themself out of sleep. Untangling themself from Tango, Lilip sat up in bed and rubbed their tired eyes. What was that noise? Hopefully nothing important. “Computer, time?” “The time is 0500 hours,” it responded mechanically.

Lilip cringed at hearing that. 0500 hours? That’s awfully early… Not to forget waking up earlier.

But the thought of the ship from last night quickly drowned any thought of sleep again and was almost instantly replaced with a sense of exhilaration at the idea of a new species once more. It felt as if adrenaline had been pumped into their veins at the mere thought of it.

“Picard to Lilip. Please respond.”

They looked up, startled to hear the captain’s voice over the intercom system. Lilip’s tail involuntarily settled itself over their lap as they considered why he would contact them so early on in the morning.

“Lilip here,” they answered, hoping he did not hear the morning hoarseness in their voice. They quietly coughed in an attempt to clear it.

“Please come to my ready room. There is something we need to discuss."

The phrase ready room caused their eyes to widen. “Yes, sir! Right away!”

“Thank you. Picard out.”

Lilip immediately leapt out of their bed and scavenged for whatever more appropriate clothes they had on hand, even if it meant wearing another one of Wesley’s hand-me-downs, and hastily prepared themself for the day.

Rushing out of their quarters, Lilip nearly ran into several people minding themselves in the corridors. Although many did cast odd glances at the alien nearly sprinting down the halls like a madman, they hadn’t the time to even acknowledge them. They only slowed their gait to a slightly more leisurely pace when they saw Simon Tarses similarly headed toward the turbolift.

“Hey, Simon!” Lilip gave a friendly smile at sighting him, though they sounded a little hurried.

The quarter-Vulcan returned the expression, although a bit hesitant. “Captain Picard has requested my appearance in his ready room.”

“Oh, you too?” They raised their brows. “Maybe it's something to do with the medical and science departments.”

Entering the turbolift after them, Simon gave the computer orders for the bridge, and then answered Lilip, “I suppose so.”

There was this anxious feeling that bubbled in their chest, an eagerness to physically move and make their way to the bridge on their own, but it was a pointless desire once the turbolift shut its doors and hummed to life. It moved through the Enterprise like a red blood cell through capillaries, its passengers the oxygen it carried up to the heart of the ship.

Standing idly, Lilip’s tail twitched erratically. They hoped, silently, they knew what Captain Picard was implying by “discuss,” but it felt wrong to assume such a thing, for it sounded almost too extravagant to imagine.

Simon quirked a brow at their tail, but he made no remark.

“Did you see the ship outside earlier?” Lilip asked, hoping to break the silence.

“It’s impossible to miss with the light that had preceded it. It vaguely reminds me of a Terran peanut. I don’t believe I’ve seen any other ship quite like it.”

“Data said that it belonged to the Welfanite people, to a person named Bahf.”

Simon furrowed his brows at them. “The… ‘Welfanites…?’” He echoed, sounding incredulous. Pausing, he then inquired with a look of concern, “How were you able to get this information? You weren’t looking at personal logs, were you?”

Lilip stiffened, and they then pulled an anxious smile at him. “Uhm, maybe…?”

He opened his mouth to object, but the turbolift doors opened to the mostly-empty bridge before he was given the chance to speak. One or two crewmen tossed glances in their direction as the two stepped out, but they were quick to return to their own duties. With Simon in tow, Lilip led the way to Captain Picard’s ready room, more than relieved to find an excuse to abandon that conversation.

Upon entering, they found him warily watching a figure leaning over his pet lionfish’s tank. When the doors shut, the figure flinched and straightened up, as if broken from some sort of trance, and she swiveled on her hoof toward the two.

Lilip was startled by her and could only assume the individual to be Bahf. She seemed to be nearly seven feet tall, with thickly-furred digitigrade legs and a lengthy, muscular tail that almost entirely lacked hair. Green was the only color Lilip could really define her as having, and if her clothes nor fur were not such a color, she would’ve been entirely varying shades of green.

“Crewman Simon Tarses, Miss Lilip,” Captain Picard started dryly, nodding to each of them. He then moved his hand in the direction of the figure. “This is Miss Bahf of the Welfanites. She will be staying with us for the time being.” The Welfanite’s eyes were pinned upon Lilip. For a species with protruding fangs, her pupils were strangely horizontal, reminding them of… their mind came to a blank.

What was that species from Terys Beta called again?

Turning her gaze back to Captain Picard, Bahf made the first move. “You are joking, right? You jest! That is a diplomat! You’re not sending a diplomat to do a scientist’s work.” She waved a clawed hand in Lilip’s direction. “Try again, Mr. Picard. I would think a Human such as yourself would know his positions of command,” she spoke dismissively, practically tauntingly.

Captain Picard let out the most restrained of exasperated sighs, steeling himself for his next words. “Miss Bahf, I do not know your people nor your culture, but Miss Lilip here is a very fine xenobiologist—” “‘Xenobiologist?’” Bahf interrupted and pulled her lips back in a wide grin, revealing sharp teeth. Turning back to Lilip, she continued, “I would never have expected that from you, but I suppose it would make sense considering your people’s history. Please, do enlighten me: What led you here?”

A shiver ran down Lilip’s spine. They weren’t exactly certain of whether it was from her choice of words or her oddly knowing expression. Hesitating, they opened their mouth to try and make a reply or defense of some kind, but they were thankfully saved by Captain Picard, who raised a silent hand to stop them.

“Bahf.” Hardening his gaze, he stood and paused, waiting to gather her attention. “As I was saying, Lilip here is a fine xenobiologist, and I am more than glad to have them on this ship. If you wish to argue with command, save it for another time.”

Pride swelled in their chest at his words. Though they were taken aback, it was nice to hear someone think that of them, let alone from Captain Picard. Turning to the two at the door, he continued, “Crewman Simon, Miss Lilip, you two will be in charge of collecting information regarding Welfanite biology. At this point in time, I do not require an in-depth study, but some basic scans and tests will do just fine.”

Simon cast a brief, wary glance toward Bahf. “Sir, not to question your orders, but why are we doing this?”

“Why, political asylum, of course!” Bahf replied before Captain Picard could gather his words. “It’s only a fair trade.” Captain Picard sharply inhaled but gave no other acknowledgement toward her. “Miss Bahf is the first Welfanite we’ve made contact with, and one of the first species hailing from the Gamma Quadrant through technological means. With her permission, it is best we gather this data now rather than later so when, presumably, more Welfanites make their way here, we can assist them as needed.” It was obvious to Lilip that he purposefully neglected the fact that she refused to explain why she was here or why she sought such a thing.

There was something strange to them, though. Why would Bahf willingly hand herself over to science? Glancing at her, there had to be something Lilip was missing…

…or something Bahf is missing.

“You’ll have access to one of the workspaces on Deck Eight,” Captain Picard concluded. “Everything should be there, but you may contact Dr. Crusher if you require anything. 

“Dismissed."

Once the three of them funneled out of his ready room, he let out a small sigh. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by letting Lilip partake in this. In a way, this was a small test of his. If it went smoothly, as he preferred, it would give him reason to speak with one of the admirals on promoting them from a civilian position.

If not, well… Only time would tell.

…

En route to Deck Eight, the three of them stood tensely about the turbolift. Simon knit his brows together in worry and tried to avoid staring at Bahf, mostly focusing on the doors. Lilip leaned against one of the walls with their tail coiled around one of their legs. Entirely ignoring Simon like he didn’t exist, Bahf blatantly stared at Lilip as if they were the most fascinating thing she’d seen in her lifetime.

“Lilip…” Bahf started, sounding as if she were testing something, “what are you?”

Cringing, it took everything in them not to viscerally recoil at the question. They looked toward Simon for assistance, who soon stepped in for their aid.

“They aren’t quite sure. It’s a personal matter for them.”

Hearing Simon speak, Bahf gave a startled expression, for once dropping the constant smile. “Oh, oh! I see, I see. I hadn’t meant it that way in the slightest.” Leaning down toward her, Bahf gave a more empathetic look, but something about it felt oddly detached. Was it the way her elongated, deer-like ears still perked up with vapid excitement despite the softened features of her face? Or the way the tufted tip of her tail still raised upward in some sense of delighted surprise?  “I do apologize. The past is a fickle thing. You never know what people have behind them these days.”

“It’s okay,” Lilip assured her with a half-smile, although internally still a little discomforted. Surely, they were reading her wrong. Maybe Welfanites had different ways of expressing themselves. A small part of them wondered what could have resulted in the species appearing this way.

Standing back up, Bahf returned the smile. “Good, good. It would truly be awful if I had upset you otherwise. Not a very good impression from my people!” She laughed, waving a hand. “Please, feel free to yell at me if I make a mistake. It would be better for my ears to go deaf from the consequences than if I were to repeat such a thing mindlessly over and over again.”

They perked up at that. “‘Yell at you?’” Lilip echoed incredulously. “Why would I yell at you?”

“You lot don’t yell at each other?” Bahf looked at them with wide eyes, then looked to Simon. “At all?”

“No…?” Furrowing their brows, Lilip tilted their head at her. “Why would we yell at each other?”

“We work together just fine,” Simon added.

“Well, of course you both don’t yell at each other. Otherwise, how in all the stars would you get anything done?” Bahf shook her head. “I mean, your… Picard. The captain. He doesn’t yell at either of you? You’re not telling me you never make any sort of mistake!”

“No, of course we make mistakes, but I don’t think Captain Picard has ever… yelled at any of us,” they tentatively answered, trying to recall any instance of that.

“...I heard from someone that he told Wesley to shut up on the bridge once,” Simon answered, “but I don’t believe he yelled at him, per se. Maybe he raised his voice, as he’s done it some other times in the past, but I wouldn’t know. There’s little I’ve seen from him personally.”

“He did?” Lilip turned to him, surprised. “Wesley’s been told to shut up by Captain Picard?” They covered their mouth with their hand, hiding their amused expression. Perhaps it was not ideal to find it funny, but they could not help but find the situation at least a little bit amusing.

“It was a stressful situation…” Simon muttered sheepishly.

“So, he does raise his voice!” Bahf grinned, strangely pleased with the answer. “It would be peculiar if he hadn’t.” She paused, a perplexed look settling on her face. “Or perhaps it’s peculiar that he does at all for you lot. After all, you aren’t exactly Welfanites.” There was an exchange of uncertain glances between Lilip and Simon, but no word was uttered when the turbolift opened up. The three of them walked down toward the workspace and soon entered.

…

Lilip had to bury the almost nauseating feeling down into their stomach. It was like the station on Terys Beta all over again, only they were the one studying her. The only thing about it that made it any easier was the fact that Bahf was… mostly compliant. Anything else, and they were unsure if they would have been able to do any of this.

Sitting up on the examination table, Bahf impatiently scowled. “Are you done yet?” She grumbled for the umpteenth, twitching and pulling away whenever the scanner of the tricorder was waved too close. “Almost,” Lilip assured her. They were almost as miffed about this as she was but solely because Bahf was almost constantly moving and fidgeting, thus making scans—or really, anything—difficult and near meaningless. “If you could sit still, please?” They gave an award-winning smile combined with big, rounded eyes that could surely convince even the coldest of hearts.

Bahf scrunched her nose at them in distaste, but she couldn’t fully stifle her grin. “Fine,” she muttered and crossed her arms, turning her gaze elsewhere in bitter relentment. “I suppose…”

“Thank you!”

“Uh-huh,” she grumbled while her tail twisted around her lower leg.

“Lilip?”

Pausing in their scans, Lilip twirled around toward Simon, tail accidentally hitting the side of the examination table in the process. “Yes?”

Hesitating from one of the stationed panels, Simon looked from them to Bahf to them again. “Could you come over here quickly?” Glancing down again, his hands remained stagnant on the screen. “There’s something here I think you should look at.”

Lilip furrowed their brows but came over to him swiftly, walking around one of the desks and to the other side where the panel was located just out of Bahf’s sight. “What’s the matter?” They tilted their head at the screen. He nervously looked over his shoulder toward Bahf again, met her suspicious gaze, and quickly tore apart their eye contact. The glistening of sweat formed upon his forehead. “There’s something off about her biometric data,” Simon explained in a low voice to them. “It’s as if it keeps fluctuating every other scan.”

“Well, it’s not exactly easy to scan her,” answered Lilip. Although they could not understand why Simon was so nervous, they respectfully mimicked his concern and kept their tone quiet. “She’s a bit fidgety.”

“It’s not simply the scans. Even the blood drawn earlier does not match up with any of the gathered data at all.” There was another quick glance over his shoulder. “There is something very, very wrong here, Lilip…”

Shock struck their face. “That doesn’t make any sense!” Their whisper may as well have been shouted across the room. When Simon gestured to keep their voice down, they quickly corrected themself. “That doesn’t make any sense. How is this happening?”

“I am not entirely certain, but take a look at this.” He pointed at the screen before him. “See how Bahf’s pulse rate is rather high right now? It was like this in the initial scans: 242 bpm. Combined with how dilated her blood vessels are, I thought it might’ve been a sign of—possibly—some sort of Vulcanoid. She does not physically resemble them perfectly, considering her ears aren’t exactly pointed, but her blood does have signs of copper in it; not to negate the fact her tail somewhat resembles that of a Romulan one…

“But I digress,” Simon continued. “My point was that I initially believed that this proved the chances of Vulcanoid lifeforms out in the Gamma Quadrant. However—” Finger swiping across the screen, he flew through past data points before pausing on a past scan. “Here, her heart rate was incredibly low and went down to only 40 bpm. Although nothing physically appeared to change, all the other vitals changed as well. Lowered respiration, increased body temperature, increased blood circulation, high brain activity—”

“It seems like all these vitals show high brain activity,” Lilip interrupted, encased in thought. “It looks like the only thing that stays stagnant.”

“I was about to point that out,” Simon murmured beneath his breath.

“May I?” They looked up to him and reached a finger out to the screen. When he nodded, Lilip swiped their finger across the panel, looking at the various vitals taken. Their theory seemed correct about brain activity. It was odd, they supposed, but at least it meant there was nothing wrong with her brain.

…Hopefully.

If anything, the brain activity was unnaturally high.

“Is something wrong over there?” Bahf eventually called, her tone bored laced with mild suspicion. “You don’t seriously expect me to sit here and wait while I watch you two whisper among yourselves like you could actually hide the fact you’re clearly talking about me, do you? Surely, a Romulan and a—an ‘unknown alien’ would be better secret keepers than this.” There was a touch of vague amusement at the latter half of that statement.

“‘A Romulan’?” Lilip echoed, turning to her. “Simon’s not a Romulan. He’s a quarter-Vulcan.” What is she getting at by the way she said “unknown alien?”

Unless…

Eyes squinting, Simon knitted his brows. “I assure you I am not any bit Romulan.”

An amused grin pulled at Bahf’s lips, showing sharp teeth beneath. “I misunderstood.” The tip of her tufted tail raised in a Welfanite sign of peace. “I hope you can forgive me. I am still learning of the different species here.”

“It’s okay,” Lilip assured her. How is she aware of the Romulans? A sense of suspicion ran through them. Surely, it was a vain feeling, though? Bahf may have just overheard someone mention them and misunderstood. Or perhaps she had contacted another ship before them that had a Romulan onboard and confused them for Simon’s Vulcan features.

Out of the corner of their eye, they noticed Simon’s blatant discomfort beside them. He was stiffly frozen in place, petrified, and he stared at Bahf as if he were a child caught in a lie. His hands seemed to shake.

“Are you okay?”

“I am fine,” Simon insisted, although his face told otherwise. Only when Lilip tried to reach out comfortingly did he seem to snap out of it, pulling away from her. “All is well. I am perfectly fine.”

They tilted their head at him. “You sure?”

“Quite so.”

Lilip watched as he turned back around the console and returned to logging results, but his face appeared ever distracted. Looking back to Bahf, however, revealed something oddly similar. With eyes focused elsewhere, she slowly scratched at the olive-colored hairs that grew along the side of her face. Her expression lacked the same, deep-rooted concern Simon held, but there was still some thought in the expression.

But what is she thinking of? The mistake she had just made, the outcomes of it? 

Or… something else, like her people and what led her here? The latter thought made their heart sink a little. Without much understanding of Welfanites or their culture, Lilip could hardly imagine what had led her here, so far out from the Gamma Quadrant and from her homeworld.

“Hey, Simon?” They said softly.

“Yes?”

“How about we take a break for a while? We can come back to this later.”

Simon hummed in consideration. “That may be an ideal course of action…” He paused. “I wish to send the biometric data to Dr. Crusher and see what she thinks of it. I may also see if engineering has any thoughts. Perhaps there’s something wrong with the equipment in this workspace, or there’s an outside factor I’m not thinking of. You go on ahead and take Bahf with you.”

“You don’t want to come with us?” Lilip sounded a bit more hurt than they would have liked and winced.

Hearing them, Simon halted in his work before hanging his head. “I desire to continue working on this,” he answered as evenly as possible, although his voice gave way to a hint of nervousness. “I sense there is some sort of… breakthrough of some kind up ahead. I only require more time.”

“Alright, I understand.” Their tail nearly dragged across the ground as they approached Bahf. It was evident something was wrong with Simon, more than he wanted to show, but Lilip could not help but wish he were just a bit more willing to let it go for now. They were just as concerned about the matter as he was—after all, weird vitals weren’t exactly a good sign, yet Bahf here seemed fine otherwise. It could easily be summed up to Welfanite physiology…

But his concern seems to be more than just the vitals. He seems to be upset about Bahf—

“A break, I hear?” Bahf grinned eagerly before Lilip could even open their mouth. “I could go for a break. Beats sitting around.” Hooves clacked against the metal ground as she leapt to her feet. She nearly lost her balance and slipped in the process. Quickly, Bahf grabbed the examination table for support and gritted her teeth, hissing beneath her breath.

Lilip tensed. “Are you okay?” They gasped and offered a hand for assistance. “No, no. I am well. Your floors are… slippier than I imagined,” she replied coolly, slowly situating herself again. There was still a certain stiff hesitation in her movements while Bahf readjusted herself. Eventually, she let go of the table. Despite it all, a smile once more formed upon her features like nothing had happened, and she clasped her hands. “What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking the holodeck might be fun.” Lilip returned the expression, but they could not help but wonder if the holodecks would be too much for her. How will that affect her vitals?

Her eyes eventually narrowed at the word. “‘Holo… deck?’” Bahf echoed with uncertainty.

…

The holograms that encompassed Lilip and Bahf came in the form of a late, twentieth-century suburban neighborhood. Surrounding them was a picket fence in the backyard of a Terran house. In the back of it stood a few instruments atop a wooden platform as a makeshift stage.

The program still had a few problems that needed to be worked out, but Lilip felt confident in their choice. It wasn’t too overstimulating nor something that could cause overexertion—although Bahf had not shown any signs of being in any kind of pain, other than the odd vitals—, so it should be safer for her. They just hoped the holodeck wouldn’t trap them in here and malfunction again, like it had in the past when they were with Riker and Troi. The last thing they wanted was for Bahf to have a bad impression for her first time in one.

“They’re able to fit all of this within the Enterprise?” Using her hand to block out some of the moonlight, Bahf squinted up at the sky. “How in the name of all the mountains are you lot able to do that?”

Lilip snickered, admittedly amused at her misunderstanding. “It’s not actually here. It’s only holograms made to look like it is.”

“It’s all an illusion, then…” She quietly answered in understanding, her eyes glancing at the instruments. “My species would find this utterly revolting, but truthfully, I find this absolutely fascinating.”

Surprise crossed their face at that. “‘Revolting?’ Really?” Their mind lingered back toward the time they had tried to fall asleep in here, and it took everything not to viscerally shudder at the memory of the off-appearance of the Caitian woman. “I mean, I could see why.”

“You see, Welfanites don’t entirely… understand the idea behind lying,” Bahf explained vaguely. “It’s not in our blood, so the story goes. Something as this would bring many questions to the government and our tradition. ‘Do holograms count as a lie? What makes it a lie? What qualifies as a lie?’” She waved a bored, dismissive hand. “Our philosophers would be bickering for hours.”

“You’re saying your species doesn’t lie, then? At all?” Lilip’s eyes went wide.

“Even the whitest of lies would lead to exilement,” Bahf grumbled, but it was soon swallowed back with a more pleasant expression. “But, who cares what Welfanite tradition thinks? I get to stay on a lovely ship with some of the most interesting individuals.”

They returned the expression, but her grumblings of exilement did cause a twinge of curiosity to run through them. So, Bahf was exiled due to lying about something… What was it? As much as Lilip would love to ask, it wasn’t the time.

“This isn’t where you grew up, is it?” She commented idly while eyeing the trees overhead. Crossing her arms, she buried her hands into the sleeves of her silk coat, as if chilled by the night wind.

“No, it isn’t…” Lilip responded slowly, their magenta face turning a shade darker. “But it’s just a little program I’m working on. It’s not done yet, but I think you’ll like it! There’s some chairs somewhere…” They looked around momentarily, searching for them.

They noticed how the insects and frogs suddenly went silent. The lack of their song was deafening in the otherwise peaceful air. That was odd. Nothing should have scared them… Lilip could only sum it up to the program malfunctioning. Already.

They smothered a frown.

Seeming to notice, Bahf cast a glance out past the fence but otherwise said nothing on the matter. “Don’t worry yourself. I can stand fine enough as it is,” she answered their earlier offer. Approaching the folding table that was set near the side gate, she picked up a pitcher of dyed, artificially flavored water. 

Immediately, she cringed and recoiled at its smell and set it back down before it could spill. “You drink this?” Her teeth were still bared in a distraught, almost distrusting look with her tail lashing behind her. “You jest! I know you lot drink poison on purpose, but this is an outrage! Surely, this could kill at least a whole planet.”

“What? No, it’s not poison!” Lilip was equally as unsettled as she was and held out their hands in a sign of peace. “As far as I know, just about anyone on the Enterprise can drink it. It’s only a sugary drink… that might be slightly spiked…” They winced at their own words. Not a good time for that!

There was an undeniable intensity in the air, even when Bahf relaxed enough to crane her neck to glare at the pitcher with suspicion. “Even worse,” she hissed. “The poison is poisoned.”

“It’s not poison in itself—”

“Poison or not, that stuff is vile.” Bahf could not bear to look at it any longer. “What is the point in this? Please don’t say you’ve brought me here simply to make a mockery of my people, even if I am the one in exile from them.” “‘Mockery of—?’ Bahf, I never meant that!” Lilip tried to reassure her, among their own bafflement. “I can remove it from the program or replace it with something else, if you’d like.” Worry rose within them, and it took everything not to respond in a nervous manner. The last thing they wanted at the moment was to upset her further.

“Oh, keep it. It doesn’t matter enough,” Bahf huffed dejectedly and crossed her arms behind her. “You know nothing of my own, as you know nothing of your own.” Walking around her and toward the stage, her tail dragged along the grass, pushing past drying and dead leaves.

“As you know nothing of…—” Wait.

“You know something, don’t you?” Lilip blurted before they could think through their words. “About my people?” Hesitation welled within them as they began to fidget with their hands, and they added, “You… implied earlier…”

A coy smile twitched at Bahf’s lips; it was a sudden and stark contrast from the miserable figure just a second prior. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. The Gamma Quadrant is quite a large place, and I haven’t explored all of it. But I’m wasting your time and boring you to death, aren’t I? I’m afraid my species is known for that.” 

Before Lilip could get a word in, Bahf gestured to the stage. “Well, do you play?” She asked in a lighter voice.

“Yeah… Yes, I do,” Lilip stammered out. Their mind was still reeling from the small bite of information. Bahf knew something, but what that was, and how much she knew… It could be the very difference between finally understanding what they were or wasting another who-knows-how-many-years in waiting. “A simple solution then!” Smiling, Bahf clasped her hands together with a small clap! “A trade, if you will. You see, I’m interested in these instruments you have. My species has none like it, and I wish to hear what they sound like. In turn, I may be able to provide a little bit of information.”

“...Okay, right!” It dawned on Lilip why they had brought her here again. “I can do that! But the program isn’t fully complete yet, just so you know, so maybe don’t be too critical…” 

Leaping onto the stage, they grabbed the microphone and leaned into it. “Where’s the band?!” Lilip shouted into it. Feedback whined in response, and they smothered a flinch. However, their audience member visibly cringed and tensed at the noise, her tail coiling in the grass.

“There is No Band!” Shouted three voices from all around, causing Bahf to frantically twist her head about to find the source.

“I said…” They repeated with growing bravado, “where’s the fucking band?!”

“There is No Band!”

Instantly, the area fell into darkness. No more than a few moments later, Lilip and three Humans of nondescript appearance were illuminated on stage, each attending their respective instrument. The song started somewhat slow before soon picking up with the guitar. 

Lilip leaned into the microphone again, as they started to sing,

“I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour,

“But Heaven knows I’m miserable now.

“I was looking for a job, and then I found a job,

“And Heaven knows I’m miserable now.

“In my life, why do I give valuable time

“To people who don’t care if I live or die?”

Resting her chin upon her propped up hand, Bahf appeared to initially show little interest in the song. However, her tail flicked in the beat of the drums. Just that little bit of enjoyment encouraged Lilip onward:

“Two lovers entwined pass me by,

“And Heaven knows I’m miserable now.

“I was looking for a job, and then I found a job,

“And Heaven knows I’m miserable now.

“In my life, oh, why do I give valuable time

“To people who don’t care if I live or die?”

The bassist suddenly froze in place, although the sound of the bass could still be heard. Lilip fumbled the chords when they noticed, but still, they continued,

“What she asked of me at the end of the day,

“Caligula would have blushed.

“‘Oh, you’ve been in the house too long,’ she said,

“And I naturally fled.

“In my life, why do I smile

“At people who I’d much rather kick in the eye?”

Then the drummer entirely disappeared, along with the drums themselves. Twirling around on their foot, Lilip looked to see if the electric guitarist was still there at the very least, only to find the Human replaced by a livid ichkhari with bared fangs.

Yelping, Lilip quickly tossed the guitar in its direction, and it hit the armored creature squarely in the face. It was enough of a distraction for them to leap off from the stage and manage a little distance from the creature.

“That’s not supposed to happen!” They shakily whispered to Bahf, who could only stand and stare.

Furiously, the ichkhari tore its serrated claws into the instrument, ripping the strings apart almost instantly. The wood splintered beneath its heavy paws, and the neck broke from the body the second it bore its teeth into it. Lilip’s heart broke at the sight of the crushed guitar when the creature was finished making a mess of it.

Tail lashing behind it, the ichkhari then turned its vile face toward them in a wild glare. Although hailing from the ‘tcharian homeworld, it appeared like that of a Terran lion. Only this animal lacked the light pelt or long mane, and instead was covered in keratin plating resembling scales that could take what would feel like lifetimes to break through to kill it.

“Can’t you get rid of it?” Bahf hissed through her teeth. Petrified, Lilip was too frightened to respond.

It fell into a crouch, and its ears pinned back at Bahf’s speech. The change was enough to cause Bahf to take an unsteady step back in uncertainty.

Suddenly, it lunged from the stage and pinned Bahf to the ground. She screeched and writhed beneath it, tail flailing wildly. Her claws uselessly scratched at the beast’s armor while it tried to bury its own teeth into her throat.

“Computer! End program!” Lilip called out frantically as they rushed over.

Instantly, the ichkhari, along with the once peaceful scenery, disappeared. Once again on the Enterprise, they instead stood in a room with vibrant, yellow lines that treaded along the ebony-colored walls like graphs. The dull humming of the ship soon became apparent once more.

Hissing audibly, Bahf curled up on the floor. She covered her face with her arms and moved her knees to her chest. Lilip could hear her muttering something beneath her breath, but it was entirely inaudible to them. Nonetheless, it only drew out worry from them for her.

Were the safety protocols not in place? Kneeling next to her and resting a hand on her shoulder, Lilip asked, “Are you okay?—” 

“Agh!” She yelped and seemed to convulse and flail on the ground at the mere touch. 

Narrowly missing being hit by her tail, Lilip was forced to stand and stared at Bahf with wide eyes. “It’s okay! It’s me!” They tried to calm her, but she gave no response or sign that she even heard. Eventually, Bahf came still, but her gaze was entirely distant, and she shivered.

Not good. Not good at all.

As concerned as they were, they couldn’t see any blatant wounds or any other obvious sign she was injured. Still, however, their uneasy worry for Bahf lingered. After all, as far as they’ve seen, this wasn’t a normal response to the holodeck.

Although the ichkhari appearing wasn’t normal either, Lilip realized. …and neither were Bahf’s vitals. Their stomach twisted at the thought.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just, stay here!” It came out a bit more anxious than they would have liked, but it was all they could muster in that moment. Swiftly, they rushed outside of the holodeck and into the hallway. They couldn’t spot it at first glance, but they speedily came to the computer terminal.

“Lilip to Sickbay.” They paused, impatiently waiting for a response.

“Crusher here.”

How was Lilip to even explain this? “There’s a… There’s a medical emergency on Holodeck 3!” They shouted through the terminal. It was the fastest thing they could think of, even if it wasn’t descriptive at all.

“I’ll be right over.”

A sigh escaped Lilip that they hadn’t realized they had been holding. It was not quite relief, but there was a little bit of peace in knowing Dr. Crusher was on her way.

She’ll be here soon… before anything worse happens.

…I hope.

…

When Dr. Crusher arrived, she immediately recognized the figure on the floor as the one Simon had spoken of with her moments earlier in regards to Bahf’s vitals, and an uneasy look settled on her features. “Hello there, Bahf. I’m Dr. Crusher,” she greeted as calmly as she could manage in a somewhat maternal manner. Taking out her medical tricorder, she knelt down next to her. “I’m just going to do a few quick scans, and then we’ll get this figured out, alright?”

Bahf gave no sign of acknowledgement—a discomforting sign in itself.

“I wouldn’t suggest sitting there,” Lilip advised, watching a fair few feet away. “I set my hand on her shoulder, and she nearly hit me.”

“‘Hit you?’” Dr. Crusher echoed back in surprise.

“I was trying to comfort her, and she had some sort of full-body spasm…” They trailed off, shuddering.

Dr. Crusher stared at Bahf’s curled up body for a moment, processing this new information with a growing distraught look. “That could be from any number of problems…” She murmured before raising her voice to normal levels, “What happened before she ended up like this?”

“We were in a program I was still working on based on a suburban neighborhood,” they explained swiftly. Their tail twitched as they recalled the event. “I was playing a song for her, but this ichkhari suddenly appeared and tried to attack her.”

“And I can assume that’s not supposed to happen?”

Pocketing their hands to keep themself from fidgeting, Lilip shook their head. I knew I shouldn’t have brought her here…

Dr. Crusher frowned, looking at the tricorder. “These readings aren’t any different from the ones Simon showed me, but I need the equipment from Sickbay to get a better look.” 

“Is she going to be okay?” Lilip asked quietly. It was a question they didn’t really want to ask.

There was a pause. “We’ll have to wait and see,” Dr. Crusher answered, “but I would like to think so.” Setting the tricorder back, she stood back up and tapped her combadge. “Crusher to Sickbay. Three for emergency transport.” Streaks of light formed about them, and before Lilip knew it, they were rematerialized in the Enterprise’s Sickbay.

Bahf was already laid out on the biobed. The sudden transport alone seemed to rouse her out of her previous state. Twisting her head this way and that at the various medical staff that tended their stations, she angrily hissed, “What is this? What have you lot done to me?”

“You were unresponsive on the holodeck floor,” Dr. Crusher explained while looking over vitals. Although she remained collected, she couldn’t conceal the look of surprise in seeing Bahf come-to so quickly without any intervention other than beaming her over here. “There was no other choice but to bring you here to Sickbay.”

“‘Choice!’” Bahf loudly scoffed and turned her head away from Dr. Crusher, eyes landing on Lilip. “How I wish I had such luxuries.” 

Taking out her tricorder, Dr. Crusher began to scan the Welfanite’s head. “I’m sorry, but we had to transport you here. I couldn’t leave you there without any sort of help,” she replied. Her brows furrowed at the results before walking off to speak with one of the nurses.

With Dr. Crusher gone, Bahf went on, unprompted, “I was forced into this, you know. Coming here wasn’t my choice.”

“About coming to Sickbay?”

“No, here. The Enterprise,” she answered sharply. A feeling of sympathy washed over Lilip at hearing that. “I could understand that. I didn’t get much of a choice in coming here either.”

Bahf’s eyes lit up, and there was an emotion that followed that they couldn’t quite pinpoint. Anger? Shock? Anxiety? Whatever it was, it soon was swallowed up and replaced with a similarly sympathetic expression. “What happened?”

They tensed at the sound. It was a question they should have expected, but even when they knew it was coming, it wasn’t one they fully enjoyed answering. Pausing to gather themself, they answered briskly as to move on from the topic, “The station on Terys Beta, my home moon, was crushed from an expulsion of atmosphere coming from the planet it orbited. I was the only survivor.”

Humming came from Bahf in thought, a pause while she processed the information. She leaned her head back in rest, although there were signs of mild irritation at Dr. Crusher for the current situation still. 

“I’m sure you’ve put together I was exiled by my own, based on my earlier statement,” she eventually answered, tilting her head toward Lilip. “I lied about something menial. A horrid thing, I know, but I had done it to save my own skin.” She didn’t look the slightest bit proud of herself at that statement, but it was plain she was prompting them to ask.

“What did you lie about?” Lilip gave an inquisitive look. “Menial?” I know they’re not supposed to lie and don’t understand the need for it, but how small could it have been for something as big as exile?

Bahf glanced around to see if anyone was listening and leaning in as best she could, she whispered, “I said I had no favorite color; when in reality, I did, I just didn’t have the time to explain the exact shade of green.”

Two emotions hit Lilip at once at that confession: The first of which was amusement they had to conceal at the mere idea of that being the whole reason for Bahf’s exile, while the other was bafflement at the concept of that being the cause for exile. Although they understood why that was the reason, they still couldn’t wrap their brain around the whole idea.

There was only one question they could ask then: “What is your favorite color?”

She paused, thinking of how to explain it. “When the sun sets and hits the horizon, depending on a multitude of factors–such as how high you are from sea level or the weather that day–there’s a chance for a green flash of light to occur. That green is my favorite color. What about you?”

“Purple, but I like just about any shade. No only-when-this-phenomenon-occurs needed,” Lilip joked lightly.

That, by some miracle, made Bahf laugh as well, but it wasn’t simply a mere snicker. She barked a laugh like it was the funniest thing she’d heard in lifetimes, and she hit the surface of the biobed with her fist, causing a loud clatter. “You jest! You jest!” She wheezed out among her chortling.

They were, admittedly, a little startled by how amused Bahf was by such a small joke, but Lilip couldn’t help but laugh with her. How different this was than the odd alien that arrived only the night before! It was a different side to her, but it was one they could easily grow used to.

“I know you two are having fun, but please don’t hit the biobed,” Dr. Crusher requested, returning with a PADD. There was a face of growing concern that cracked through beneath her more composed expression. “It messes up the vitals.” Tail flicking, Bahf snorted bitterly but stopped accordingly.

“Lilip…” Dr. Crusher hesitated. “I think Bahf may need to stay overnight for observations. These vitals match the ones Simon Tarses provided and haven’t evened out in the slightest.” Seeing Bahf’s expression, she did not pause and urgently continued, “Since the captain assigned you and Simon to gather data surrounding Bahf’s biology, you can stay here if you’d like to help, but I believe my medical staff can assist just fine.”

Any humor drained from both Bahf’s and Lilip’s faces, and although they opened their mouth to speak, it was Bahf who was first to argue.

“You can’t keep me here! I won’t allow for it!” Bahf snarled and writhed from beneath the vital sign display. Her tail nearly hit a nurse passing by while she attempted to squirm her way out. Several officers twisted their heads toward the sudden scene. “I don’t need to be here! This goes against all my principles!”

“Hey! Hey! It’s okay!” The fur of Lilip’s tail bristled in startlement while they tried to calm her, raising their hands in vain peace.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Shouted Bahf insistently.

Swiftly preparing a hypospray, Dr. Crusher called out, “Ten ccs of kayolane.” In the time it took for her to prepare it, however, Bahf managed to free her hands and swat the hypospray out of Dr. Crusher’s. “Bahf!”

“Bahf, it’s okay!” They tried to offer comfort by taking her hand into theirs. “She’s just trying to—” However, the mere touch instantly worsened the situation.

Before Lilip knew it, sharp teeth sank into her hand.

Hard.

The scream that followed was enough for multiple officers to immediately contact security.

Although she quickly let go at the sound, Bahf had undeniably drawn blood, and the purple stood out sorely against her species’ naturally green complexion. 

Agonizingly, Lilip stared stiffly at their hand and turned their palm shakily toward them. The color oozed out agonizingly slow on both sides of their hand and dared to trickle down their arm and stain their sleeves. They could count up to eight puncture wounds on their palm alone, and it felt like… like… They couldn’t look too closely. Their stomach twisted into knots.

What followed after was a blur of movement as a rush of hands came over to tend to the wound. One set dabbed the residual blood, another came with a tricorder and said something about a fracture, a third came with a osteogenic stimulator for the bones to heal, and a final pair came to take a dermal regenerator to their skin to heal the otherwise apparent marks left behind…

They suddenly found themself sat up on one of the biobeds. It only occurred to Lilip now when they could focus again that Dr. Crusher was saying something to them. Her face was wrapped up in worry and concern, as if afraid.

“...going to be alright. Bahf is gone. Your hand is going to be alright. You’re going to be alright.” Her voice was soft and gentle, despite the trepidations on her face. Lilip felt her hands against their face before realizing how damp their face was. Although it was clearing up now, their vision was still cloudy with tears they were formerly unaware of.

“Bahf… She’s gone?”

…

Lilip’s Personal Log. Stardate 43704.6.

According to Dr. Crusher, Worf and other security personnel came quickly after Bahf’s “outburst” yesterday to take her and confine her to her quarters. Simon, who had also witnessed it, added that she went shouting and yelling about how this whole thing “wasn’t fair” and that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Dr. Crusher is now sending someone every hour to check on her and take vitals, since she’s still concerned about her health. I offered to help, but she said she didn’t want to risk me getting bitten… again.

I… forgive Bahf already. It was so quick, and the staff in Sickbay already fixed up my hand. It was like it never happened in the first place.

She was obviously upset about the fact she was being kept in the Sickbay. Her reaction is probably normal in her culture. I mean, they yell at each other when someone does something wrong, right? What’s so different about biting when upset?

I just wish that…

Their voice couldn’t form the right words to express their emotions, and they instead cut it short. “Computer, end log.”

Leaning their head back against their couch, Lilip sighed and stared at the ceiling of their quarters with melancholy. Despite what they were telling themself, it didn’t feel anymore comforting. The two of them had been laughing together just moments prior over a joke they had made, but then Bahf had…

Lilip gently squeezed Tango’s paw to reground themself before their thoughts could develop into a whirlwind of emotion. Falling asleep last night would’ve been fruitless without the plush ferret’s comforting breathing. Beneath their own breath they silently thanked Lt. Clancy for being so generous in gifting him to them.

They had brought out the plush ferret with them into the living room to try and help cope. As tempting as lying in bed the entire day was, Lilip wanted to at least be able to monitor anything new on Bahf through the various logs. Maybe somewhere in this PADD there was someone talking about her and how she felt about—

The chime disturbed their thoughts, and Lilip twisted their head to the door, sitting up. “Come in.”

“Lilip?” Craning her neck, Counselor Troi peered in and entered upon sighting them. Her face, although solemn, typically held a distinct open and welcoming look about it. However, this time, there was the faint expression of reflected anguish. It only made Lilip wonder if that was how pathetic they looked at the moment, and they had to smother a cringe at the thought. 

Troi’s expression seemed to worsen at that—a sore reminder of her empathetic abilities. “Are you feeling alright?”

“My hand’s fine,” they answered and held it up and turned it back and forth as if to show there were no wounds or marks. “Although, it aches a little, but I think that’s just phantom pain.”

Her eyelids drooped a fraction. “That’s not what I meant.”

There was a pause before Lilip shuffled over on their couch, making room for Troi to sit.

“I was worried when I didn’t see you on the bridge this morning,” she started. When Lilip moved to stand at the sudden reminder, she swiftly went on, “Captain Picard said that you don’t need to worry about it since it would’ve only been a report in regards to Bahf, and now that Dr. Crusher is looking over her, there’s no need for it.”

Lilip wished they could sink into the couch. How could they have forgotten? “...So you heard what happened?”

“Dr. Crusher informed me,” Troi answered gently. “She said you didn’t seem wholly yourself after Bahf had bitten you.”

Looking away, they hummed at the memory. “I don’t really remember what happened after very well,” Lilip admitted quietly while frowning. It was a little embarrassing to say aloud. When did their voice start to sound so foreign to them? “I only really remember that Dr. Crusher was saying everything would be okay, and it is…”

“You don’t sound very convinced,” she commented.

Startled, Lilip turned to her. They weren’t surprised by the answer itself, but it felt forbidden to hear it spoken aloud. “But it is okay,” they insisted, almost irritated to be told otherwise. “There’s nothing wrong about it.”

Crossing her legs, Troi paused as if in contemplation. “I met Bahf briefly when she first arrived on the Enterprise. Even before that, the captain had spoken with her over subspace. I already sensed there was something odd about her, but when O’Brien beamed her over, it was only all the more strange: I couldn’t read her emotions at all.”

Temporarily forgetting their struggles, Lilip perked up at that. “Only Ferengi and certain species related to them have telepathic immunity…” They went silent as they thought for a moment. “And the Welfanites couldn’t possibly be related to them, since their homeworld is all the way out in the Gamma Quadrant… unless somehow the Ferengi, or another related species, had the sort of technology to get out there who-knows-how-long-ago.”

A light, happy look crept upon Troi’s face, pleased to see Lilip cheered up, at least for the time being. “Are you suggesting the Welfanites are to Ferengi as Romulans are to Vulcans?”

“It wouldn’t be the same sort of relationship, but… maybe. But it doesn’t make any sense at all or explain much of anything other than the fact Bahf’s mind can’t be read.” Simon had theorized Welfanites might be Vulcanoids, but with this new information… They shook their head, as if dispersing the thought.  They’d have to look into that another time. “What were you trying to say before about Bahf?”

“I was saying that Bahf appears to be a strange character,” Troi said in a more serious tone. “One moment she’ll be delighted about something, the next she’ll act as if it’s a horrible thing and that we should all be panicked about it.”

“She seemed pretty confident on not wanting to be in the Infirmary,” Lilip mumbled with half-bitterness while leaning back into the couch dejectedly. What could I have done differently? Maybe I just should’ve helped Dr. Crusher get that hypospray or backed off from Bahf the second she started acting out…

“It’s not your fault, Lilip,” she responded, as if reading their mind. “There was no way of knowing how Bahf would’ve reacted.”

They nodded agreeingly, but they couldn’t shake the feeling. Truthfully, how were they supposed to know how Bahf would react? Yes, she had reacted strangely prior upon the mere touch of her arm, but that was while she was still in that odd state of limbo between conscious and unconscious. Surely, then, they’d thought it’d be fine. Now, perhaps it really was just some strange quirk of Bahf’s.

But…

“How was Bahf supposed to know?” Lilip murmured, brows furrowed.

Troi blinked. “What do you mean?”

“How was Bahf supposed to know she’d be restricted to her quarters?” Somewhere during their thoughts, their gaze had ended up lingering on the floor, but those violet eyes quickly snapped to Troi’s ebony eyes. “She’s not from here. She doesn’t know the Enterprise’s rules.” I should’ve told her!

“That would be correct…” Although Troi sounded like she had more to say, she cut the sentence off prematurely, letting Lilip go on. Setting Tango aside, they stood up with sudden resolution. Their tail twitched with renewed vigor. “Someone has to talk to Bahf. It’s not fair to her. She had no idea!”

Troi’s eyes went wide, almost startled. “Well, Lilip… I’m not sure if that’s entirely a good idea. Bahf is currently confined to her quarters and has nurses taking care of her. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like she may not want more visitors.”

“But I’m not going in order to bother her with questions and take vitals and the like. I’m going in order to help her. She’s probably sitting there, wondering the same things I am!’

Slowly standing, she appeared to hold trepidations. “I think your heart is in the right place, Lilip, but I don’t believe it to be a good time quite yet. You should give it some time to think it over and then make your decision. Bahf may need space right now, and it may cause her distress if more people come to visit her.”

That is a good point… Their shoulders slumped and tail drooped a fraction.

“I don’t mean to disappoint you,” Troi added as she made her way over to the door. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, but I also think you should give Bahf a little time. See if she contacts you at all, or at least wait to see if there’s been any updates from Sickbay.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” they assured her.

“I’ll see you around, Lilip. Make sure to contact me if you need anything, alright?” She smiled softly at them.

“I will, thank you.” They returned the expression and watched as she left.

So now we wait…

…

By 1830 hours, Lilip had found a log from Nurse Ogawa that Bahf’s vitals had been stable by now. It may not have been the kind of update Troi meant as a sign for it being fine for them to visit her, but it still was a good update, right? Plus, it was relatively close to dinner time, after all, so surely she wouldn’t want to eat alone?

Heading over, they were easily able to locate her quarters. Data’s logs from the night of her arrival were more than helpful in that department. It was only a matter of getting inside that might be an issue…

Peering around the corner, Lilip recognized the security personnel stationed at the door to Bahf’s quarters. It was the same one from the time that Romulan defector had come aboard the Enterprise. They stifled a shudder at the memory and carried on. Surely, if they let them in once, they’d let them in again.

The officer gave a sideways glance as they approached. Soon realizing who this was, they sighed, exasperated. “You again?”

“Uhm, maybe?” Lilip tried to pitch a charming, convincing smile.

Brows furrowed, the officer shifted their weight from foot to foot in thought. Eventually, they asked, “I’m assuming you’re looking for the Welfanite?” Before Lilip could respond, they huffed. “I hate to break it to you, but I can’t just let anyone in there, y’know. I heard she bit someone, and it can’t happen again.”

Their heart sank at that. “It’ll be quick! I won’t take long, I promise!” They insisted pleadingly and clasped their hands together. “You said to just ask last time.”

“I did, didn’t I…?” They muttered to themself. Hesitating, they looked down either end of the hall and paused. “Alright, well, I can’t let you in, anyhow,” the officer said just a bit too loudly while moving away from the door. “You’re not supposed to be in there.” They discreetly made a gesture for Lilip to enter, eager to get them out of their hair.

Suddenly understanding what was happening, Lilip raised their voice to add to the scene with the best mock-bitter impression they could manage, “Okay! Fine! I’ll just go back to my quarters then! Never to be seen again!” Hastily, they went inside.

Thank you, security officer! They thought, relieved.

The light from the hallway was quickly hidden when the door hissed shut behind them. Bahf’s quarters were unfathomably dark. The only light source came from the dimly lit buttons of the replicator, hardly illuminating much more than the vague silhouette of… something that wasn’t Bahf. It was far smaller and seemed to float.

“...Bahf?” Lilip whispered, their muscles tensing in fear.

“Computer. Lights,” she ordered. For a fraction of a moment, the lights came on far too bright, or maybe it simply was their eyes needing time to adjust from the prior darkness. Sitting idly on the edge of one of the lounge chairs, Bahf appeared as normal. If anything, she looked just as startled as they did. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you not allowed here?” “Well, I was just thinking you might want to have dinner,” Lilip replied cautiously as they entered further into her quarters. They still weren’t quite over whatever it was they saw. Of course, it could’ve simply been their eyes playing tricks on them, but…

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Bahf scoffed dryly. “I don’t eat, so you can save yourself the trouble.” She stood up, seemed to overestimate her own height, and hastily threw her arms out to balance herself again. “Curse these…!” Stomping her hooves, she grumbled something inaudible beneath her breath.

“You don’t eat?!” Lilip’s eyes went wide. How’s that possible? Could Welfanites photosynthesize? That might possibly explain why Welfanites were green, as it would’ve been from the chlorophyll—

“I don’t—” Bahf waved a hand about like trying to wave away that annoying fly that wouldn’t just leave. “I do eat. I’ve eaten in the past. I know what eating is like!” She declared defensively. “Do you eat? Have you eaten before?”

What sort of question is that? “Of course I have—” 

“Great! Grand! We’ve both eaten before!” She threw her hands in the air. “So much empathy happening here!”

Lilip stiffly remained where they stood, idly watching as Bahf began to pace around the small living area of her quarters back and forth like an anxious sehlat. Her hair was bristled, and her tail lashed behind her. They dared not to disturb her in this state, for they feared upsetting her again unless it were to result in them being the source of her anger.

Pausing with her back turned on them, she began, “You know—I just—I can’t—” Bahf hissed beneath her breath, trying to find her words. “You want more than dinner. I can tell. This isn’t just reaching out for the sake of ‘friendship.’” She spat out the last word like it was poison to her tongue and looked at them expectantly.

Their bushy eyebrows shot up, and they winced. “Well… I wanted to talk about what happened in Sickbay…” Lilip trailed off, eyes shifting to the ground. It sounded a bit awkward to say out loud now that they heard themself, but they stuck to it.

“Oh, now, you’re making a mockery of me? How caring. Might as well get the entire crew in here too.”

They were surprised at the harshness of her words. “I’m not making a mockery of you. I just want to talk—” “But would the crew find this at all humorous?” She muttered, gaze distant. “Or would that just be the…?”

“Can we talk about this?” Lilip asked, taking a step toward her.

Staring at an empty wall where a window would’ve been had this not been interior quarters, Bahf mumbled onward, “Soon this little game must end…”

“Bahf? Are you listening to me?” They took another cautious step closer. “Can we please talk about this? You bit my hand. I know you didn’t mean it, but can we—”

“What are you on about, insect?” She snarled, whirling around to look at them. “What’s so important that we must talk through it like civilized beasts with your social fashions and opaque mannerisms? This wouldn’t matter in another society!”

Pausing where they stood, Lilip looked at them in shock and confusion. “‘Social fashions and opaque mannerisms?’ What is that supposed to mean?” They recoiled just slightly, tail twitching. Where was any of this coming from?

“It’s so obvious! So blatantly obvious!” Bahf snorted and laughed, amused yet still irked. “How is it none of you understand? Figure it out! Write it out and annotate it for all I care!” She leaned in, causing Lilip to realize how tall she really was. “Am I supposed to spell it out for you?”

“Maybe…?” They murmured, an anxious smile tugging at their lips. Admittedly, Lilip was a little hurt by this, but what was there to say? This was the result of their own actions.

Any amusement drained from her face. There was a long pause before she stood straight again and scoffed. “What I am saying is your societal norms are meaningless and your confounding ways of communication are vague and pointless. There, happy?” She explained dryly but threw in a forcefully happy expression.

Gibbering, Lilip struggled to form something coherent. What was there to say in response?

Bahf scoffed. “Forget this. What was it you wanted earlier?” “I… wanted to apologize about yesterday,” they mumbled, fidgeting with their hands. Their tail curled half-around their leg, anxious about her response. “I shouldn’t have tried to stop you. You were upset, and I didn’t realize…”

A moment passed before Bahf’s ears drooped just slightly, her face softening. “Oh, come now. You’re acting as if this is your fault,” she spoke with sudden rationalism. Gracefully, she approached yet stiffly took Lilip’s hands just a bit too tightly. Discomfort flickered across her face at the touch. “Truthfully, Lilip, it’s all my own.”

Admittedly, they stiffened at her gesture. Although they were anything but adverse to touch and affection, Lilip was startled that Bahf would hold their hands. Something about it just didn’t sit right with them. “But it’s not your fault.” Their eyes wouldn’t leave their intertwined hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong…”

“Ah! But I did! I bit your hand!” There was no remorse in her voice, merely correction for their understanding of the situation. “Is that not wrong here?”

“Uhm, yeah…” They stammered out.

“Well, it’s simple then!” Laughing almost hysterically, Bahf threw her hands in the air like her words were of divine province. “I made the choice! and I made the wrong choice!”

Wide-eyed and staring at her, Lilip took a step back. What was happening right now? They almost felt as if they were not meant to be here, as if a certain danger was lurking around the corner.  “Are we still talking about you biting my hand?” The question was quiet, and they weren’t sure if Bahf even heard them.

“And you don’t even know!” She declared and tapped Lilip on the nose tauntingly. “I’m speaking only of the reason, and one reason only. The choice I made, the cause of this entire conversation itself!” Leaning in like she was sharing a secret, she went on, “You must wonder what I’m on about, right?”

“Well—” “Perfect! Vile, even!” Bahf chortled and turned to the rest of the room as if there were an unseen audience. “This ship is my mistake! My wonderful, wonderful mistake! My choice, my mistake! You lot are no fun, and I see why you stay here. Really, Lilip, I don’t know how you got all the way out here, but you couldn’t have chosen a better ship. You could do so much with the Enterprise if you play your cards right. But for me? These people don’t even follow the script. They’re so lacking in character.”

There were a number of things Lilip wanted to point out with that… monologue?, but they were given no moment to speak. A thousand thoughts whirled in their mind, yet nothing was tangible enough for them to grasp onto and speak out before she went on another incoherent tangent.

“Look, let’s play this game a little while longer, shall we?” Bahf offered eagerly. “And let’s make it more exciting! Up the antics, double the risk, and go all in! What’s the worst thing that could happen, amirite? I’m already stuck here!” She snapped her fingers, and Lilip practically expected for all hell to break loose. 

When nothing immediately came, they nearly cursed, “What the—”

The wail of the red alert signal went off, and Lilip visibly flinched, the fur of her tail bristling wildly. Had Bahf not gone on that bizarre rant, they likely would’ve been clinging to her by now. Bahf, however, seemed perfectly content and not at all bothered by the situation.

“Picard to Lilip.”

The captain’s voice over the intercom system almost felt foreign to Lilip’s ears at that moment. “Lilip here,” they answered shakily.

“There’s a situation up here, and I need you on the bridge.”

Hesitating, Lilip looked at Bahf, who was now sitting in one of the chairs idly and watching them. “On my way, Captain.”

“Thank you. Picard out.”

They stood for a moment. They expected her to do or say something, whether in objection to or agreement with Captain Picard, but nothing ever came. She only ever moved her head to watch as Lilip left the room and into the halls of the Enterprise.

…

Turbolifts were typically fast, an easy mode of transport with little effort attached to them, but this particular turbolift ride felt like a century in itself, lifetimes wasted in waiting for it to reach its final destination. Lilip knew it was only in their head, but the memories of Bahf’s baffling behavior wouldn’t just leave their thoughts. Troi really was right about her odd actions…

“They aren’t answering our hails, sir.”

The doors whooshed open, pulling them out of their thoughts. The bridge was tense. Crewmembers were anxiously tending their stations, all waiting on the orders of Captain Picard. They didn’t understand what all the hubbub was about until they saw the viewscreen:

Roughly, they’d say, there were about fifty of those similarly, oddly shaped ships from the day before. They scattered the viewscreen and threatened to block out the stars themselves. Lilip could just barely see the inky darkness of space beyond the brigade. How did they all get out here so fast?

“Lilip.” Captain Picard came over with Simon, who nearly looked just as hesitant as everyone else. In all honesty, they were a little surprised to see him here. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”

“Uhm, no,” they answered sheepishly but quickly shook off their nervousness. They had to focus here, for Captain Picard! “I’m only a xenobiologist, sir,” Lilip added earnestly. “I don’t know very much about ships.”

“If it means anything,” Simon said, “these ships almost resemble Bahf’s ship. The text on the side looks similar to the one seen on her’s.”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking,” Captain Picard replied before focusing on Lilip again. “You do realize out of the few people that have interacted with her, you have spent far more time with Bahf than anyone else on this ship?” The tone in his voice sounded almost disappointed in them, and their heart sank.

Eager to fix this, they tried to think of something on the spot. “Well, if these are the Welfanites, maybe they’re here to collect Bahf?” They offered. But how does that make any sense when she was exiled?

…so she claims.

Furrowing his brows, Captain Picard hummed and gazed at the screen again. “So, we could be harboring a criminal now. What gives you that idea?”

“Well, she mentioned being exiled by her people earlier.” “I heard about that from Dr. Crusher,” Captain Picard replied while returning back to his chair at the front of the bridge with Lilip and Simon in tow. “She said that Bahf mentioned that to you while she was in Sickbay, something about lying about her favorite color. I would say that’s an odd thing to be exiled over, but if the Welfanites deem it important enough for that to be a just punishment, I suppose there’s little we can do about it, especially when they’re so far away in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“Do you think she could be lying about that?” Simon inquired quizzically. “On the other hand, if she is being truthful about that, why would the Welfanites come here?” “If those even are the Welfanites,” Riker chipped in from his seat. “They could just be another species entirely.”

“Two first contacts within days of each other, and we haven’t even sorted out the first one yet,” Captain Picard mused dryly.

“Sir, if I may add—” Lilip tried to speak before the turbolift doors opened abruptly.

“Mr. Picard! I have had enough!” Bahf shouted across the room. Shoving aside a startled crewman, she stepped out of the turbolift, marched down to the front of the bridge, and pointed a clawed finger at him then the viewscreen. “You purposefully lured these ships here!”

A moment passed before anything followed. Eventually rising from his seat, Captain Picard evenly looked Bahf in the eye. “Bahf, how did you get up here?”

“Magic,” she sardonically scoffed with disinterest. “These ships are more important!”

“You know where these ships came from?”

“Of course I know. I know everything there is to know,” she snapped at him and whirled around to the screen, tail nearly hitting them in the process. “Hail them!”

There was a low growl from Worf at the demand, and Captain Picard was quick to speak before a quarrel could break out. “Belay that order, Mr. Worf.” He raised a hand in his direction as an expression of ease before addressing the problem at hand. “Miss Bahf, I order for you to explain this at once.”

“Ugh! You’re ruining the game.” She glared at Captain Picard. “Hail them, Worf! They’ll answer now! Any subspace frequency! They’ll answer, I swear!”

“Mr. Worf, please disregard any orders Bahf tries to give you,” he ordered, a tone of rising irritation in his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

Despite the annoyance, Captain Picard still gave the appearance of being mostly calm, aside the mild furrowing of his brows. “Bahf, it seems you have a better understanding of what’s happening here than we do. Do you care to explain why these ships are here?” He gestured to the screen.

“What’s so urgent to find out this second?” She hissed. “Just wait and you’ll see!”

“That’s ironic considering your own urgency,” Riker added, now standing as well.

“See what, Bahf?” Captain Picard inquired. “You’re acting as if this is a dire thing that requires our full attention, yet you refuse to explain any of what’s happening here. Do you wish to explain, or are you simply wasting our time here?”

“Explanations, explanations!” Bahf rolled her eyes. “All you people want is explanations! ‘Explain this to me,’ ‘explain that to me.’ You people always want to know the why for things, yet you don’t even bother to ask yourselves why Lilip is even here!” She pointed at them angrily. “For all you dopes know, they could be here to stir trouble. These ships could be their own people!”

“What? My people?” Lilip gestured to themself. It was odd, however. They felt they should’ve been more shocked than they were. Maybe all these bold claims Bahf had made in the past few hours were beginning to become the new norm… or maybe they were growing to become distrustful of her. Why would they be here so suddenly, anyhow?

“Well, of course, they’re not your people,” she grumbled, conflicting with her earlier statement. “They’re clearly mine.” 

“Then why suggest—”

Hollering in a last ditch effort, she looked to Worf again. “Hail them!”

“No, petaQ!” Worf snarled, leaning toward her over his console.

“Bahf, why are you so concerned about hailing these ships?” Lilip asked in a placating voice. “I thought you said you were exiled by your people.” Unless…

Hair bristling, Bahf glared wildly at Lilip then Captain Picard, tail lashing behind her like that of an aggravated cat. “This isn’t how this is supposed to work!” She snapped. Half a second later, and what was the Welfanite soon was something else entirely as she floated upward. “You lot are all going off-script! I should be far, far away by now on one of those ships by now!”

Faces of alarm and bafflement spread across the bridge like wildfire as eyes of every color honed in on the floating figure. There was an unearthly silence on the bridge; the only thing to fill the leftover space was the humming of the ship itself combined with an uncertain intensity of what could possibly follow.

Inevitably, someone would have to break it.

“How… is it supposed to work?” Lilip’s voice was barely a whisper, but it felt awfully loud to their ears.

“Oh, why bother?” Bahf lamented, leaning backwards and lying upon nothing at all above their heads. “You people have already ruined it. The show’s over. The jig is up. You already pulled apart the curtains and have seen the people who work the lights and dress the performers. Spoiled it. You spoiled it!” 

“Bahf, you may have avoided explaining the ships, but this has gotten out of hand.” It was becoming evident to Lilip that Captain Picard had had enough of Bahf’s antics. “I order you to explain yourself at once!”

Giving a bored look, she scoffed. “Does this answer your question?” In a blinding flash of light, the ships disappeared entirely and what was Bahf turned into a short figure dressed in a Starfleet uniform. “Say it with him, folks!” 

“Q…?”

A disappointed look crossed what-was-Bahf’s face. “I was expecting a better reaction.”

A… Q? Bahf is a Q? Lilip’s mind whirled. She still looks like a Welfanite… but with plantigrade legs and more Human-appearing eyes… Wait, does this mean the Q can shapeshift?

…Are Welfanites even a real species?

“But yes… a Q from the Q Continuum! How brilliant of you for being able to recognize me as what I truly am! We should throw a party to celebrate!” She laughed with the most earnestly amused look Lilip had seen from her. “But, I fear the name you're looking for is Quixotic. There may be more Q than your or any number system can count, but there is only one Quixotic! And isn’t that just quixotic?”

Simon furrowed his brows. “That is not the proper use of the word—”

“It’s an adjective, isn’t it?” Quixotic huffed.

From his console, Data added, “Simon is correct. Although it is an adjective, it is usually used to describe an unrealistically idealistic concept. Quixoticism often coincides with a rash or lofty individual and is generally not viewed as a ‘good’ thing, unlike the implications of your use of the word.”

Irritated, Quixotic childishly stuck her tongue out at him. “Aren’t you so sharp?”

“B—I mean, Quixotic—” That was a name Lilip would have to remember. It wasn’t like the name Bahf, but it was almost equally odd. “Why… Why did you do any of this?” They gestured to the now empty viewscreen. “The ships, your species, your name, even the vitals… Why?” All that time and energy… wasted.

“It’s simple! Very simple!” She said all too cheerily. “You lot are mortals—one of the main dividing factors between us. You live, and you die, and the cycle continues. With such short existences, you have very little say in the matter, so you think of distractions and diversions. You become obsessed with the tiny, meaningless things—science, art, relationships, and whatever else you lot create for yourselves as diversions. Your own mortality has shaped and molded you into fine actors, and your reactions are quite convincing! It’s a shame you live so short a life in comparison to everything else. What more you could have done, what more you could have achieved if you just had that one, single extra second. I loathe the idea more than anything. I could not wish mortality upon my worst enemy!” Falling backward in the air, Quixotic then broke into hysterics at what felt like out of mockery of those about her.

“I could not wish mortality upon my worst enemy,” Lilip’s mind echoed, pained.

“Truly,” she went on without prompting, “the worst of it is your desire—your need for relationships and socialization. You are like Terran sheep, needing the comfort of and doting after your herd. What point is there in that? Who needs friendship?”

Staring up at Quixotic, Lilip only felt more and more foolish for ever trying to reach out to her with every word uttered. She was hardly anything of what she said she was. The second she ever mentioned lying being the reason for her exile as Bahf, it should’ve been obvious to them she was a liar in all things. How could they have ever thought otherwise of her?

“So you’re saying this is all a game to you?” Captain Picard furrowed his brows, trying to understand.

“Perhaps so,” she answered slyly.

“But out of all the ships, all the people, all the crews you could have chosen, why the Enterprise?”

There was a pause where there came no response before Quixotic began only laughing again, amused by something none of them knew nor understood. “You—ask—You need—You don’t—” She couldn’t get the words out, her own amusement speaking for itself.

“Q, I demand an answer at once.” Gathering herself finally, she huffed, irritated. “Oh! That’s all I am now? ‘Q.’ I told you my name, yet all you think of is the other Q that constantly bothers this ship. How kind of you.”

Exchanging glances with Captain Picard, Riker tried, “Quixotic, that’s enough. Answer the question.”

“You want an answer? Fine!” Throwing her hands, she twirled around in the air before landing on the ceiling and crossing her arms. Despite being consumed by their own guilt regarding the situation, Lilip couldn’t help but find it at least a little humorous how much she resembled a bat from here. 

“You see, I thought it’d be incredibly obvious. Why, Mr. Picard, I was expecting you to be far sharper than this.” Prideful, Quixotic tilted her chin upward. “But, I suppose you don’t actually know any of what I’m talking about, nor do you know all the insignificant details and the like,” she nearly sounded disappointed. 

“Plainly put, I heard word in the Continuum of that one.” Without hesitation, she pointed down at Lilip. “I just had to see them for myself!”

Taken aback as people quickly began to look in their direction, Lilip stiffened where they were. “Why me?”

“You’re the only mortal here who actually matters, and, by the Continuum itself, Lilip, you’re the most fascinatingly cruel mortal I’ve ever met.” Quixotic grinned toothily, floating downward to meet them at eye-level. “Never could I have imagined one of the Dominion’s own kin to be all the way out here, posing as a friend to these troglodytes! Just when will you reveal to these people how inferior they are to you?”

Lilip froze instantly as a whirlwind of thoughts bombarded and cluttered their mind. What is “the Dominion?” and how am I their kin? …Is the Dominion the name of a species? of my species? The thought was surreal, but why did it feel so horrid? Because she’s… she’s not your friend. She never was, and she never actually tried… She lied about her own species and history. What reason do you have to trust her?

But what if she is being truthful? What if she actually knows? But if she is being honest, what does she mean by “when will you reveal to these people how inferior they are to you?” The mere thought felt wrong; to finally find out something possibly concrete, only for it to sound so horribly wicked. 

There was a moment of tense silence, where Quixotic opened her mouth to speak. An expression of recognition flickered across her face, and she seemed to hesitate before swimming back above everyone and ranting and raving about something Lilip couldn’t quite follow.

She can’t be right. She has to be lying about this… They tried to comfort themself. She made up an entire species for the sake of a game none of us knew we were playing. It’s all to draw a reaction out of us…

But what if Quixotic convinces them not to trust me? Lilip looked down at their hands, and they noticed how they began to viscerally shake. What if… everything… everyone… gone because she thinks I’m something I’m not… All because I trusted her… believed she was something else… 

Their vision began to blur.

“...and not to mention how foolish it is you even let yourselves be so easily deceived,” Quixotic scolded the crew while casting less-than-discreet glances toward Lilip. “Really, it’s a joke that you think any hapless whelp truly is what they say they are. Thank whatever gods it is you lot believe in because truthfully, I could’ve been far worse than—”

The moment the tears welled and began to cascade downward toward the floor, it felt as if time had stopped. Emotions swirled in their head, and they could not grasp onto a tangible thought. Looking up, they made eye contact with Troi, but her gaze felt oddly… frozen and glazed over. No person moved from where they were on the bridge, and there was another bout of otherworldly silence. 

“I don’t get it.” Quixotic’s voice startled Lilip from behind. They twirled around to find her inches away from their face with an inquisitive expression, and Lilip quickly stepped backwards for space, startled. “Why are you so distressed? Isn’t this what you want secretly? to act upon the instincts of your people and absolutely destroy everything these horrible creatures love?”

“No! Of course not!” Wiping their tears with the back of their sleeve, Lilip tried to pull themself together. “These… these are my crewmates, my friends…” They sniffed. “Why would you think that I want that?”

“What do you mean you don’t want that?” Quixotic was shocked. “That’s like saying you aren’t plotting something and biding your time here until you can get off of this ship. Clearly, this isn’t where you belong!”

Stunned, Lilip hadn’t the words to respond, and their tail twitched uncomfortably. It was hard to tell whether this was some second part of the “game” Quixotic’d been playing earlier and that she was only seeking to draw a reaction out of them, or if she genuinely thought this. Hesitantly, Lilip eventually asked, “Then where do you think I belong?”

“To the Gamma Quadrant,” she answered with a half-laugh. There was a hint of concern in her eyes, as if in disbelief. “You’re… not serious, right? You jest!”

They furrowed their brows at her. “I am…” Lilip said slowly. “You do realize I don’t know what I am…?’

“Well, obviously.” Rapping the side of her head playfully, Quixotic went on, “I remember everything that’s ever happened to me! But, really, you don’t even know that?”

“No, I don’t,” they answered cautiously. Taking another step backward, Lilip accidentally brushed against a frozen Simon and recoiled while he remained stagnant, unaware of their presence and staring off at something that was no longer there. A chill ran down their spine, and they turned to Quixotic again, only to find she was missing. Hastily, they twisted their head around and quickly found her idly poking the side of Captain Picard’s face. Lilip paused before asking, “Can’t you resume time?”

“I still don’t get why you value these people. So what if they saved you?” Quixotic grumbled, ignoring them. “I’ve saved plenty of mortals, and they never so much as thanked me in return.”

Their shoulders slightly slumped at her lack of a response. With slight reluctance, Lilip came over and craned their neck to get a better look at her. “What did you save them from?” They prompted.

Deer-like ears perking toward them, she crossed her legs and sat upon the air. “Plenty of things! Diseases, enemy ships, angry alien fauna, time travel! Anything, everything! I’ve done it all!” Quixotic grinned just a bit too eagerly. “Saved them every time!” 

As much as they hated the thought, Lilip had to ask, “Was that because you were the one to cause it?”

Her amusement soon disappeared into mild frustration, and she waved a dismissive hand at the direction of the conversation. “Whatever! Whatever! This isn’t about me anyway. This is about you.” Landing on the floor for once, she was just barely taller than Lilip, and a flicker of amusement passed through her expression when she recognized it. However, it was quickly swallowed back by an air of directness. “Look, I could take you out there, to the Gamma Quadrant. Away from all these… people.” With a look of mild distaste, Quixotic gestured vaguely to the bridge.

Lilip’s brows shot up instantly at the offer of her taking them there. It took them a moment to even process it. I could finally find out what I am… after all these years… The thought was surreal. To not just know but to meet them… to see what they were like for themself… It was as if she’d offered them the answers to everything they could possibly want to know, and truly, that was the answer to everything Lilip wanted to know, even if it felt a little unearned.

But the way Quixotic speaks of me makes them sound like they’re awful by the way she assumes I could possibly hurt them… Their stomach twisted into knots. Are they really all that bad? She makes them sound like murderers and criminals, seeking to destroy for the sake of destruction. That can’t possibly be that awful. Surely, not…

Yet, she’s a known liar. Maybe they aren’t as bad as she makes them seem.

“You mean it?” Lilip finally whispered. “That you could take me there?”

“Of course I do!” She grinned, pointed teeth showing. “You don’t need to stay with these mortals. You don’t even need to be here. So they saved you from dying, what about it? Mortals die all the time, and no one was there to save them. Besides, these ones clearly have enough on their hands. They don’t need some pesky alien that doesn’t even know what they are and that may be plotting to kill all of them in their sleep.”

Her attempt at reassurance only worsened the wave of nausea that washed over them. What if Quixotic was being honest? What if she was being truthful? Was it worth the risk of knowing for certain? Is this really what you want, to meet them personally?

And what of those left here? Lilip’s gaze wandered around to the motionless figures about the bridge. Captain Picard, Simon, Riker, Troi, Data… even Worf… and all those on the rest of the ship. Guinan, Geordi, Crusher… Spot. All of them. Everyone. Left behind here on the Enterprise. The Gamma Quadrant is awfully far away. I wouldn’t just be able to see them anymore.

“I can’t. I can’t go.”

Astonished, Quixotic nearly tripped on her own tail. “Wait, wait, wait! What? You have to be kidding me! This is a once in a lifetime deal, Lilip, and you’re no Trill!”

At least we can agree on that, Lilip wanted to say but held their tongue. “You keep acting like I’m going to kill everyone or something like that! That’s not what I want. That’s the last thing I could possibly want!”

“Lilip! C’mon! This is ridiculous! Why would you think that I would ever think that?” Quixotic gestured to herself, incredulous. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

As much as Lilip wanted to detest that statement, a trickle of doubt entered their mind. Maybe I’m the one overstepping and assuming things… They softened their expression. Everything in them was begging and pleading to take back their earlier statement, but Lilip answered, “I’m sorry, but I’m not going with you.”

“Didn’t you like Bahf? Didn’t you want to be friends with her? You clearly were fascinated with her. You wanted ‘friendship,’ clearly,” Quixotic blurted swiftly without thought. “Well, I’m Bahf. I’m the one you wanted to be friends with. You wanted to be friends with me, Quixotic.”

“Bahf was just part of the game—”

“Who cares if she was just a character? I’m Bahf,” she insisted. “Come with me to the Gamma Quadrant.”

Despite their trepidations, they still shook their head. “I said that I can’t. I’m not going to the Gamma Quadrant, Quixotic.”

Letting out a groan of resignation, Quixotic lifted herself into the air again and drifted upwards. “You’re making a big mistake here, sticking around with these uniformed cowards. They’re holding you back from what you could be, or maybe it’s already too late and that version of you is what could have been.” She sniffed, bored by her own theories. “I suppose either way, you’re stuck here. No use trying to get to the Gamma Quadrant now.” Before Lilip could get a word in, she went on, “As amusing as your concern about these mortals you’re so oddly attached to is, I fear I must let them off the hook. Don’t worry yourself about your mistake, and I forbid you to be concerned about me, alone, out in the darkness of space…” She rubbed her eye, feigning wiping away a tear. The next thing Lilip knew was a flash of light as Quixotic disappeared. Surprised expressions soon scattered across the bridge at the sight of the missing Q.

“Lilip, where’d Quixotic go?” Captain Picard inquired.

Lilip stared at where she was just moments prior, an odd sense of relief and remorse lingering in them. 

“She’s gone, sir.”

…

The chime of the door to their quarters rang out while Lilip was reviewing the logs from the past two days. Quixotic’s offer still buzzed around in their mind, and they were beginning to wonder whether they’d made the right decision by staying here instead.

“Come in,” Lilip said on instinct, not entirely paying attention. If I had gone, what would’ve happened? Who would I have met? Family members? Distant relatives? Would I have been able to even integrate into their society? Their mind these thoughts pondered aimlessly, and it felt as if they kept repeating them over and over again, trying to make sense of any of it.

“...Lilip?” Troi startled them when she gently set a hand on her shoulder, and it dawned on Lilip she’d been talking while they were distracted with their own thoughts. Embarrassment flushed their cheeks. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Swiftly, they turned off the PADD and cast it aside on one of the couch cushions. Watching it half-bounce before landing, Lilip cringed at their own lie. Who were they trying to trick? “...I think I made a mistake.”

Moving aside the PADD, Troi sat down next to them with a concerned expression. “What makes you say that?”

Humming, they tried to think of how to explain what happened. “I spoke to Quixotic before she left. She had paused time entirely, so it was just me and her, and she offered to take me to the Gamma Quadrant to meet my people there. I almost took it, but I just… It felt wrong to do so. I didn’t like the way she referenced them, but I wasn’t sure if she was lying, and…” Lilip shook their head, unable to meet her gaze. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave you—any of you behind.”

“Oh, Lilip…” Troi whispered, her voice aching in sympathy. She offered her arms out to them, to which Lilip gratefully wrapped their own around her in a hug. “I don’t think you made a mistake. Quixotic hadn’t been honest since the beginning of it, and even after she revealed herself as a Q, it would have been strange if she were suddenly wholly honest.”

Lilip held on tighter, thinking of their next words.

“She seemed lonely,” they mumbled, “and desperate”

Troi pulled back to look at them. “‘Lonely?’”

They shrugged, uncertain. “She insisted I wanted to be friends with her… or, well, Bahf. It was odd, but I think all of this… all of this was because she was just looking for company.”

There was a pause before Troi nodded slowly. “She was lonely and desperate. I can agree on that.” She then met Lilip’s gaze and gave a soft, reassuring smile. “I don’t think there was a right way to handle that, but I think you chose a good solution. She may have been lonely, but she was also lying to all of us. There was no way of knowing what would happen.”

“There’s no way of knowing the future, it seems, especially with her,” Lilip joked lightly before pulling Troi back into a hug.

One day, eventually, I’ll find out what I am and meet my people… 

Gone. Gone! Gone!

One moment she had it all within her grasp, the next it was gone as if it was never there in the first place. The taunting, the teasing, the beguiling face of inequity… The half-Q she so desperately clung herself to. It would have been humiliating had any eyes of the Continuum looked on, or if any mortal watched with blind gazes, but it was all so right.

Everything made so much more sense. Everything was perfect when she was around. She may have had no clue of her own value, but Quixotic valued her more than anything. It was like one of those vain mortal compulsions—drugs, but it was far better than that. 

A mortal addict would try to elevate themself to a level beyond themself, but they would soon realize their flesh could not handle the sights and sounds of higher levels induced by their craven addiction. This—This was perfect! A perfect, reasonable fixation for a perfect being! And there were no injections, no needles, no syringes, no pill, no piece of matter that had to be taken within the futile, limited body. She never had to speak of all her weaknesses to that, her appeal to the troglodytes and their attempts to cure their own mortality, for she almost always came in a bleeding form—an attempt to appeal to their medicinal faculties.

Quixotic let out a hiss, staring at the place she should have been. It took forever to find her again, and it was all wasted in less than a few hours! Not even a whole Earth day this time! Gone! Gone! Gone with everything she ever dared to care about! Why, she should destroy this damned ship! What point was there in pretending among the sublunary inferiors if she couldn’t even last a day?

Sitting up, she looked down at her stubby, Human fingers. No claws to defend themselves with. What’s the point? The worthless, short nails soon lengthened and curled into small, green hooks. Bitterly, she dug those hooks into the empty biobed next to her, dragging them downward and tearing the fibers apart. 

It was a petty thing. In a matter of moments, someone would come into the Sickbay and only find aimless clawmarks in the place of patients. What a show that would be…

In her dulled disinterest, she discarded the false-mortal form, choosing instead the appearance of the fiendish species she herself had made.

That was the wonderful thing about being a Q—Creation out of nothing. Why bother with what has already been set before her when she could make her own world? Her own species? Of course, there was no tangible evidence for it that would have been accessible to others without her knowledge. The species only existed when she willed it to be, and often it was only Quixotic that carried their fictitious genetics. Usually, it was only for her own leisure, but there was a sort of thrill when using it to baffle those who claim the names of “Federation” and “scientist” as their own.

Three, two, one…

The door swiftly opened to the Starfleet doctor, and in an instant, she called upon every bit of information there was to know about him. Elderly Vulcan. Youngest of three. No living relatives. Born at 0800 hours on a ship called the Endeavor headed to Nevand III. Never wanted to go into the medicinal field but followed in his father’s footsteps. Weak heart—Ah! Something I can work with.

Plucking at the strings of time, Quixotic watched as the door swiftly opened to the Starfleet doctor. He squinted into darkness and called for lights. Nothing was there, of course, and he was oblivious to the invisible pocket of space where she resided in. 

This’ll be fun! He has no clue of my presence. All I have to do is scare him a little out of his wits, and then—

But all interest in the activity was lost in an instant at her recollection of being alone. There would be no fatal surprise awaiting him, nor any memory of there being any patients at all. Thus, the Sickbay flatted, fractured, and splintered, and the pieces arose and rearranged themselves in a manner more accommodating to her needs.

Drifting upward upon her side, Quixotic dully watched as it formed an interior room, long out of the reach of mortal hands. She was normally not one to hide and lament, but she had no patience for fools now. Antiquated furniture and yellowing wallpaper lined the room. It was all so Human. On some level, it reviled her. What had she become? No greater than the things she despised most. Yet, equally so, it only drew on the sense of longing for familiarity of another.

She floated downward with great reluctance, her tail twitching in spite of herself, and she landed upon a couch made of a velvety fabric. Across from her, an archaic screen lit up, depicting a Human in dreary winter garb, sitting upon the edge of a well-like structure in a dim, dark room. Droplets came down from above and echoed across the room. Water filled with dirt and debris pooled at his feet, and small dunes of dust surrounded him.

“...One more experiment. Experiments, facts, truth of the highest instance.

“There is no such thing as facts, especially here. All this is someone’s idiotic invention. Don’t you feel it?

“But you, of course, must find out whose invention it is, and why. 

“What good can your knowledge do? Who is going to get a guilty conscience because of it? Me? I’ve got no conscience. I just got nerves.

“Some bastard would criticize me, I get wounded. Another would loud me, I get wounded again.

“I would put my heart and soul into it, they would gobble up both my heart and soul. I would relieve my soul of filth, they gobble it up too. 

“They’re all so literate. They all got sensory deficiency. And they’re all swarming about, journalists, editors, critics, some endless broads. And they all demand: More, more!

“What hell of a writer am I if I hate writing? If it’s constant torment for me, a painful, shameful occupation, sort of squeezing out a hemorrhoids.

“I used to think someone would get better because of my books. No, nobody sees me! In two days after I die, they’ll start gobbling up somebody else.

“I wanted to change them, but it was they who changed me, making me in their own image.

“The future used to be just a continuation of the present, with all the changes looming far beyond the horizon. Now the future and present are one.

“Are they ready for it? They don’t want to know anything! All they know is how to gobble!”

The camera then turned to two figures, standing across from the first. One of the distant ones called,

“Gosh, how lucky you are! My goodness, now… You’re going to live a hundred years!”

The first then stood up.

“Yes… but why not forever?”

Quixotic rolled her eyes at the film. She’d seen it one-hundred-and-eighteen times by now, solely to feel some vague connection in her absence. It was not one she ever particularly mentioned but the idea of partaking in something made by the insects she obsessed over was what drew Quixotic into it.

But the film was puerile. It was senile. The character monologuing lamented the instance he lived in and the cruelty of his own occupation. Worse, he mourned his own finite existence. For a species that lived such a short life, he had no time to be mourning. If she were in his place, she would have simply killed the ones that criticized her work. They too were mortals, after all. Once they were gone, they were gone and so would disappear all of their jibes and remarks.

Although, there was quite a bit of truth in some of his earlier statements. For a film predating the Federation, he was oddly… intelligent for a Human. “What good can your knowledge do?” It was a good, earnest statement. What good could anyone’s knowledge do? There was no point in knowing, nor any point in any sort of scientific endeavor. Or any endeavor, really. Even in fields of creativity, there was no justification. The audience would only “gobble it up,” as he put it. All endeavors were meaningless, a mere distraction from the truth of the matter, that it was all pointless. Life in itself was pointless if it had an ending. Why not forever?

She only wished she could have met him while he still lived.

Fingers twitching, she rearranged herself to stare at the screen upside down. It was no more entertaining than watching it right-side-up. The next thing she knew, it felt as if it was boring her to death and merely taunting her with the idea of company. The screen paused upon the sullen, nervous features of one of the protagonists before blinking off and instead dimly mirrored her own irritated expression.

“I wanted to change them, but it was they who changed me.” 

The phrase lingered in her head, and her gaze shifted to her surroundings.

Irked by the screen’s existence, it then disappeared in a flash.

And where is she now? All this, in memory of a turned-perfect creature trying to become imperfect again. That bastard… doesn’t she realize? She’s no longer a plaything, an actor going through the improvised throes of life. Yet she tries to continue the role, when she doesn’t even realize she can’t carry it on in—

For a fraction of a moment, Quixotic swore she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and she swiftly sat up with perked ears. But, naturally, nothing was there—only the imagination of yearning that dared taunt her.

Pulling herself upward into the air again, she drifted toward the shelf of a dozen books against her better judgment and bumped into it, forcing loose papers out. They scattered with haphazard meticulousness, aimlessly formed with thought into something she had no desire to think of.

Papers of lavender, cerulean, tangerine, white, and black scrawlings shaped themselves into the reminiscent figure of her fixation manifest. It was imperfect, by all means, for alone it could not resemble anything other than meaningless scribbles. But in context—in memory, it was everything. Everything to be tampered with by the hands of impromptu actors that she willingly handed herself over to.

Her tail flicked, and she landed on the floor and sat crosslegged, staring at the papers.

Half-heartedly, she took up one of the scraps. Memories of exchanged words purposefully formed upon the pages from the colored ink without instigation. She frowned upon them but felt no true distaste for it. Earnestly, it was a memento of better times, but if only she could speak to her again, repeat the scenarios, play the same parts, partake in the same games…

The paper squirmed from her hand, no matter how hard she tried to hold onto it. The sheets folded and twisted themselves like origami, stacking upon one another, and designing themselves into something more tangible. It wasn’t the first time it made its appearance.

Quixotic stood up to face her own unwilled making. “Alaric,” she whispered at the imitator.

The name felt wrong on her tongue now. Maybe it was the anger, the spite, the betrayal of it all. All this time, Quixotic was constantly seeking Alaric, yet she always slipped from her grasp too soon. It was like some poorly contrived game, where she had no clue when she would see Alaric next or when it would even end. It was agonizing. It was sinful! To yearn for this… creature!

Oh, but it ached! Ached! There was no acting, no game in the aching. There was no enjoyment out of it, and it was only ever satiated when Alaric was near. But even then, it always ended much too soon. Inevitably, Alaric would leave her and replace her with something else. Something newer. Something that could actually understand her.

But it was no matter now. The reflection was enough, even if not truly her.

Without thought, Quixotic hastily latched onto it, embracing and lifting both it and herself upward into the air. “Oh, come now, where have you been? What have you done?” Its sharp edges scratched at her face and clothes, but what did it matter? Any sense of closeness was enough. “How long have you been away from me?”

It felt both stiff and limp in her arms. Its arms wrapped loosely over her shoulders, but its body otherwise hardly moved. Even upon setting it back down, it hardly responded to her. In all honesty, Quixotic wasn’t sure what the real Alaric would even say or do. She was wholly unpredictable.

Maybe that’s why she’s so fascinating…

“You know,” she started as she sat down next to it, “I was playing with the idea of trying something wholly different. Something unique! Fun, exciting!” She took its ungiving hand and wrapped her fingers between the imitator’s. When it didn’t respond, she continued, “As delightfully wonderful as it is to constantly play the part of an injured, hapless… thing to be discovered, why not something else? We could so easily start something—Instigate something. We don’t even have to be directly involved. Start a whole interspecies-scale war, for instance, or at least cause a little diplomatic drama?”

It stared plainly with no sign of boredom or intrigue.

“Oh, come on,” Quixotic grumbled, leaning against her cold shoulder. “It’d be fun. Look, maybe not a whole war, just a small skirmish. It doesn’t even have to be anything dramatic. We could put ourselves onto the crew rosters as a couple of ensigns—Andorians or Vulcans, or maybe a couple of Ferengi if we want something fun—and then we simply fire upon an enemy ship when our captain says not to and disappear without a trace. A simple thing, truly!”

Again, it gave no response.

Tail twitching, Quixotic gave the imitator one more chance. “Or maybe we could do something even smaller. We pick a random ship, disguise ourselves as a couple of crew members, and then cause needless personal drama. There’s gotta be some fun in that.” She gently poked its frills, looking for any sort of reaction.

Still, nothing.

Fed up with it, she ran a claw around the folds of its jaw before finding an empty space. The paper folded and crumpled around her hand in protest, but Quixotic forced her hand into it anyhow. When she wrapped her fingers around the internal mechanisms of the mouth, it fell limp again, and she forced it to open its mouth to reveal the imitator’s blue teeth. Quixotic grinned, delighted at the new puppet.

“Now, tell me, Alaric, what should we do?” Quixotic asked it in mock interest. “Shall we torture the mortals? Taunt them with our mere existence? Send ‘em onto a white plane to play tag for the rest of their life? You must have some ideas.”

“All are good and perfect!” It answered, replicating the real Alaric’s voice, but something in its tone just wasn’t right.

Somehow, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but Quixotic ignored the feeling. It was probably something else that was wrong.

“Don’t patronize me,” she jested lightly, sitting up. “Come on, you must have something.”

The puppet followed in her movement, now leaning up against her side. “No, no! You decide!”

She sniffed. It was so daft, so cruelly obvious this was a mistake. Pulling her hand away, the imitator instantly jerked its face away and felt at where her hand had been. It then looked to her. Even without a distinct expression, Quixotic could feel the discontent and anger directed at her.

“What are you looking at me for?” She grumbled, curling her legs and tail up on the chair.

The imitator stood up with a frustrated slouch. If it was capable of glaring, it would have, but she wouldn’t let it now.

“What? Am I not enough for you?” Quixotic snapped. “Too much of a Q? Not enough paper in my history?” She watched as it grumpily walked over to the door, tail dragging behind it.

“Do you not see me as enough? I made you! I made you what you are!”

It gave no sign of listening.

“Don’t you dare touch that doorknob! You can’t leave me here, alone, stuck in my own misery. Do you know how that feels? Do you understand what it’s even like?”

When it drew closer to the door, the room only lengthened, pulling the only exit along with it. Farther and farther it went, yet still the imitator followed at a sluggish, bitter pace.

“But of course you don’t understand,” Quixotic replied for it. “You never understand. All you know how to do is grieve over the past. It’s the same plot every time. You purposefully injure yourself for the sake of something taking care of you, and then you inevitably end up destroying that thing, like some sort of—care-seeking missile. How old are you now? A few hundred years? How come you don’t get sick of it?”

It continued to walk, never pausing, even when the door only became farther away.

“Is it your once-mortality that prevents you? …Must you still cling to it?”

No response.

“I know you can hear me,” she murmured with resentful sorrow. “You’re not deaf. I wouldn’t allow for you to go deaf.”

Nothing.

Eventually, a restless feeling began to seep in, and she scoffed at herself. What was she doing? What was she trying to achieve here? These folded papers weren’t Alaric. It was hardly even sentient, let alone sapient. It was nothing of value. In a snap of her fingers, the room assumed its normal proportions once more, and the imitator stood stagnant at the center of it.

Quixotic stood up, tail flicking behind her, and approached her mechanation of falsehoods. “Tell me, at least, that you don’t hate me.”

The paper creased and folded around its mouth, as if attempting to move but unsure of how. She waited a long moment, and when nothing came, it fell apart. The pieces disconnected and tumbled downward, falling loosely across the carpeting.

Taking up what was its head, Quixotic sat down next to the corpse of her creation. She gently felt for where the opening in the jawline was earlier and frowned upon it. Instead, she caressed the face and embraced it to her chest. Whispering, she spoke softly:

“I don’t see why this is necessary,” Hur’Faw grumbled quietly, his hair bristling slightly. “I’ve done this already. Do you–Does Starfleet Medical need more scans?”

The light of the Sick Bay reflected off the green scales of the Gorn Chief Medical Officer as she scanned the alien ensign. “Mandatory,” Dr. S’tratch answered him. Her voice was ever monotone and paired with an impassive, unreadable expression. It was typical of her, from what he had seen, and hardly did she ever express otherwise.

“Mandatory for everyone, or just me?” He asked with bitterness directed elsewhere. She waved the small device near the crest of his forehead, causing him to lean back slightly.

“Everyone,” she answered dryly.

While it provided him a little relief, still Hur’Faw could not comprehend these aliens and their fascination with him. Constant medical reports, thousands of pointless tests… It was frustrating, truly, and all the more when he had only ever come to this part of space in search of some solution to his troubles, not more problems. He was nothing particularly interesting, yet these rigid creatures insisted he was otherwise. If anything, he should be the one pointing fingers and studying them… if he only knew how to do that.

Turning her snout toward the tricorder, she plainly stated, “Normal vital signs compared to past scans.” 

“Eating well?” She then asked.

“Yes,” he answered mechanically.

“Sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Love life?”

“None.” Not since coming here.

“Sick?”

“No.” Hur’Faw then feigned coughing.

Leaning in slightly, Dr. S’tratch narrowed her eyes. “Fake?”

“Doctor, I haven’t been sick at all in months.”

Straightening up, she turned away from him and turned to one of the consoles to log results, practically leaning over it on account of her height. There was a small pause before she spoke again. “...You know this would be easier if you declared your species.”

“And ruin the fun of it all?” Hur’Faw sarcastically answered. “Doctor, you know just as well as anyone that not even I know what I am.”

Dr. S’tratch tilted her head slightly, one of her eyes staring at him–at least, that’s what he’s come to believe whenever she did this. It was hard to ever tell when she had compound eyes. For all Hur’Faw knew, she could be focusing on some far off object, and he would never know. 

Her snout twitched. “You do not need to know.” Trying to understand the implications, Hur’Faw squinted at her in return for a long moment and had to restrain himself from shouting when it dawned on him. “Are you trying to say I should lie? S’tratch, I’m not the one making these reports, but even I know that’s a horrible idea!” He waved his hands frantically. “What other alien race has diamonds on the bridge of their noses? Or even looks anything like me?”

With an unamused snort, she turned her snout away from him and back to the console. “None that we’ve found.”

And it should stay like that, his mind determined.

“Even if you did lie,” Hur’Faw went on, “it’d look awfully suspicious if suddenly you found out I was, say–” He grappled with the air briefly to try and think of a species. “If, say, you suddenly found out I was a… Bajoran or whatever, not that I look anything like them.” He thoughtlessly scrunched his face at the idea of being part of the same species as the first officer, Sovehl.

“Genetic experiment,” Dr. S’tratch offered.

“...Isn’t that illegal in the Federation?”

“Hybrid.”

“What could I possibly look like a mix of?”

She glanced at him again before returning to the console. “Two species we’ve never encountered.”

“S’tratch! That's double the problem then!” Hur’Faw chuckled at the thought, breaking into an amused grin. “Ah, yes, now I’m not just one alien, but two Starfleet has never had first contact with! Let’s just screw with Starfleet and the whole Federation at twice the rate. That’ll show ‘em for constantly demanding medical reports!”

“Who knows, you could be.”

Humor drained from him a little at the comment. “Well, I don’t think so. I think… I’d have a lot more… actual medical problems if I were.” He looked down at his hands, and his mind nearly drifted to ash and fire before shaking his head, as if shaking the memory away from him.

Dr. S’tratch gave him a near-blank expression with the slightest hint of emotion in her eyes that he could only describe as the Gorn-equivalent of empathy, a rare sight.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m fine.” He crossed his arms and was caught in a trance of a particularly interesting corner located away from the doctor.

“You contracted several diseases when coming aboard the Undauntable.”

“Who doesn’t? There are dozens of species on this ship alone, doctor, probably all carrying their own little alien germs. It would be weirder if someone didn’t,” Hur’Faw replied defensively.

“You had to be quarantined while we tried to figure out what was wrong.”

“Standard procedure with any newcomer, I would assume.”

“It isn’t.” Dr. S’tratch turned to face him now and began to slowly approach him.

“Then maybe it should be. Have you ever considered that?” 

“You get sick more often than anyone else on this ship.”

“Then maybe everyone is a carrier of something!” He retorted but was met face-to-face with the Gorn towering above him. Startled, Hur’Faw harshly flinched and pulled himself away from her presence, seeking distance.

“Hur’Faw, your immune system–”

“–is perfectly fine and normal.”

There was a pause as they stared at each other with Hur’Faw gazing at her with wide, insistent eyes while Dr. S’tratch’s remained unreadable. The tension was tangible to him, but he couldn’t tell if it was of his own accord. Inevitably, one of them would have to let up, and Hur’Faw refused to be the one to back off, but–this was Dr. S’tratch. Whether he liked it or not, he knew little about her species, but he knew enough from word of mouth that the Gorn weren’t exactly… easily persuaded–and especially not the doctor before him–, and for a fraction of a moment, he was beginning to fear he would have to stand here for hours.

Snout twitching, Dr. S’tratch finally broke the silence. “If you wish to believe your fantasy, the holodecks are available.” She pointed to the exit of the Sick Bay with her snout. “If you wish for help, I can begin to work on developing a cure that will suit your physiology.”

The mere idea of that caused him to shudder. “I’ll survive,” he answered hastily. I would rather be stuck talking to the counselor than be treated with alien medicine.

She exhaled from her nostrils and turned back to the console and muttered, “Your undoing.” After a moment, she raised her voice back to normal speaking levels, Dr. S’tratch then added, “Do you not have duties to attend?”

“Alright, alright! I got it. I’ll leave, if that’s what you want so badly,” Hur’Faw scoffed with slight playfulness in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension while heading for the door. “Just ask the computer what types of species there are for me, will you? Maybe we’ll ‘find out’ what I am that way.”

“Will do,” Dr. S’tratch replied with dry earnesty, despite his joking remark.

He sighed once he had left. His face fell again into that look of tired displeasure at the sight of anyone, falling right back into the constant cycle of things.

on an unrelated note, holy heck, it only just occurred to me that I don't think I've really properly posted Lekel's parents (those being Hilick (024) and Delmoral (013)). To be fair, I hardly draw either of them because I just- don't like drawing them nearly as much as I like writing them. They both kinda suck as parents (in different ways).

uhm have the most recent are of them together (a redraw!!)

Taller lady in brown is Delmoral and short dude in pink is Hilick