CHAPTER 1

Days after T’Pren’s escape - Federation year: 2272

Hellguard colony, Romulan Star Empire.

The wind howled furiously, and the dust whirled around blurring the moonless sky. A shadow moved stealthily, ignoring the harsh weather. There was no light in the abandoned buildings the shadow left behind. It stilled and looked warily around, panting. Hidden behind a huge rock, it tried to find a safe place to move next. As the wind blew harder, the clouds opened for a single second and the starlight shimmered, showing the shadow’s real colors. A young boy, naked and bruised, shivered from being exposed to the cold, night air. His long hair was in disarray, and his dark eyes darted wildly around, while his thin trembling hands clutched a small package. Darkness came again, and the child hurried to nestle himself in a tiny cave hidden between the rock formations.

But he wasn’t alone. Another shadow moved, melting with the immovable shapes of nature, stalking him. It towered over him and before he could notice its presence, a small bony hand was pressed against the same rock that was his shelter, blocking his only escape.

“You gives,” a child’s voice hissed.

The boy knew that voice quite well and shuddered. He looked up, his eyes widened in fear, to meet the uncompromising icy stare that drilled on him. Now just a few inches apart from him, he could see the features of his chaser. The shadow was a small girl, younger than him; her body was completely covered by open wounds and old scars; famished, nude except for some rags, and battered as she was, she held herself with a proud authority that he never could match.

The frightened boy swallowed hard and gripped his only possession firmly. He had not seen the girl for days; he had thought her dead since the Romulans took her away, right after that Vulcan woman escaped. He had not really felt pity. But now the girl was back and he suspected her injuries were not going to stop her; even if he was stronger then, he felt weaker.

However, he was so desperately hungry… He just couldn't surrender his food to her. He had risked his life to get it by going into the Romulans’ territory, and sneaking into their quarters. No one except him knew the way inside their base, and even if he dreaded them as much as the other children, sometimes, when he was starving, he entered their lair to steal. That moment, when he left their territory behind with his booty, was the only time when he felt powerful and special again, for he had found out long ago that he was not.

The only reason he had not eaten the food yet was that he was not safe so near the Romulans' presence. He did not dare to stay there even though he knew that this place was no safer. The ones like him awaited here, she awaited here, having discovered his hiding place long ago. Denied the knowledge of how to get into the Romulan complex, they had to turn their foraging to somewhere else or die. He was in danger, and even if the rational part of his mind told him to give the food to her, the irrational famished part of him insisted he just could not spend another day more without nourishment. He had to fight for it.

His answer was only a hardly spoken whisper, “No.”

The girl scowled at his reply, surprised and displeased, her eyes flashing. Next, she grinned, showing her teeth as a warning, and moved closer to him.

The stars appeared again between the black clouds, and an object glimmered. The girl’s eyes were still locked on the boy, but his gaze flickered nervously, looking for the glint. His hunter held a knife in her right hand. Its sight made him shudder, and he froze. Wasn't she dangerous enough without a weapon? When his look returned to her eyes, she still had her feral smile plastered in her face.

“You gives,” she repeated, pronouncing the words slowly and menacingly.

“I… I can’t,” he stammered, “Saavik, I starve.”

A sickened laugh escaped her lips. They all starved, and his choice to hold on to the food was a death sentence for her, and he didn’t care.

Except, he hadn’t known about the knife when he had decided to fight for the food. She raised her blade and pressed it against the boy’s neck.

“Not care! Like you!” she snapped dryly. “You gives now!” she commanded again.

He heard the beating of his heart as it quickened. All his chances of fighting her were gone, but the blade’s menace only made him more irrational and desperate. He gritted his teeth against her fury and blurted, “I know something you want. I know why we are here.”

The boy closed his eyes, awaiting the blow he knew was coming, and just hoped it was not a fatal one.

The young girl, however, stood still, and a look of distress and despair crossed her eyes. When he dared to look, she stared at him in turmoil as if she tried so desperately to remember something, but only found an insuperable void. Her hand trembled slightly as she probed the other child with her gaze.

“You knows?” she asked, her voice softer.

He was surprised at her keen interest. He knew the girl always cursed the Romulans, and especially her unknown parent; he knew she wondered why their captors kept them alive, as if there had to be a reason for their evil. He had suspected she would be ready to listen to him, but not so willingly, and he had not missed her lost look instead of the enraged one he was expecting.

She was acting a bit odd, probably due to her capture by the Romulans.

“Yes, Thair told me and I’ll tell you, just let me keep this food,” he pleaded.

For a second, a war etched itself over Saavik’s face: the part of her that wanted to know fought the one that had to eat before she died. At last, she chose.

“Not!” was her reply, “You gives.” She paused. “And you tells or you dies!”

The boy cursed himself and the girl vehemently. He should not have tried to outsmart Saavik; he knew she was more intelligent. He had more education than she did since he was older and part of the project when the Romulans taught them things. Which was why he spoke the real language instead of the bastardized one the Others spoke.

But Saavik had been forced to learn well the other education the Romulans gave: survival. They were given no morals, no laws, only a choice of kill or die. What the boy thought to be an advantage over her had turned out to be a liability.

He put up a brave face and answered, “No, the food is mine.”

He regretted his words the moment they were out of his mouth. What evil spirit has possessed me? Hunger, he knew, a terrible hunger that forced him to fight even if he knew the stupidity of it.

Stupid because the same hunger drove Saavik. Whoever had the food got to live, and he was the rodent that had just told the eagle he was forcing her to die.

He was sweating as he gripped his precious package closer, and his eyes revealed his terrible fear and mad determination.

Rage finally burned in the girl and her gaze became uncompromising. She lowered her blade, stunned, and insulted the other child using the harshest words she knew for daring to oppose her, for saying he had more right to food and life than she did. Then, when words got her nowhere except closer to starvation, she plunged her weapon into his belly.

“Tells now! You gives now!” she demanded, ignoring the boy as he doubled and curled up on the ground.

“I always helped you,” he muttered.

That was a lie, and it made her lose control.

He did not resist her next vicious attack. Instead, he just tried to stop the blood that flooded freely from his open gashes. His eyes laid on his wounds first and then looked up at the wild girl. A mocking smile played in his face before turning again into an agonizing grimace.

“He always said your Romulan blood ran strongly in your veins,” the child muttered, his voice getting quieter, “that you were like your-“

He trailed off, unable to finish. His gaze, fixed on the little girl, faded away until all light left his eyes.

Saavik’s knife was still in mid-air, and for a moment she just stared. Her stormy eyes revealed the mix of fury, disbelief and despair that was her tormented mind. Then, again, she took hold of the boy and shook him.

“Who? Who?! Tells!” she shouted.

But he would not answer, for he was already dead. As it dawned on her, she let him go. Her eyes watered, because in her harsh words was hidden a desperate plea. She glared at his body showing also her distress. A mad unstoppable fury still consumed her, and she gripped her blade firmly.

“Sonabastard! Sonabastard!” she repeated as a mantra while she struck his dead body once and once again.

“Sonabastard…” she sobbed until, exhausted, she collapsed to the ground, nesting herself in the cave that had been his shelter.

She stayed crouched there only for a few seconds, before she got up and snatched the package still clutched in the boy’s hands. She opened it roughly and devoured the food feverishly. Once she finished, she stole a glance at the other child’s body and ran away.

Saavik lied curled up in her own cave, banging her fist on her thigh. She was not crying, even if she felt the urge to, for she feared her muffled sounds would reveal her location to the other predators. She was bleeding again as her still healing injuries re-opened while she tried to calm down and tried to get rid of her own rage. But she was feeling as distressed as she had been before, and as helpless, and that was such a disgusting sensation…

She could not remember almost anything. She tried to ask herself simple questions like where had she been yesterday or any day before she woke up, hurting from wounds everywhere, even inside her body. She had no answer. She knew some places and some faces… She had just killed one of them. Her instinct told her what to do, but every time she tried to look back at her past, at her own life, she only found silence and darkness. Her mind was a frightening void, the most desperate part of her miserable existence. She just wanted to know, and in the gloomy cavern, her ignorance turned into fear, and her fear into rage and hate. As her tormented mind asked infinite questions, two of them repeated more than any other: the one that had plagued her since she woke up -- why I not knows? -- and the one the boy had just put into her head: why was she here?

She didn’t know why, but she looked up to the stars. Someday, she was going to ask every question she had, and somehow, she was going to find the answers.

But Hellguard’s night mocked the noble pledge with the boy’s blood on her hands, and her eyes dropped from the stars.

CHAPTER 2

Same night

Ghutare colony, Romulan Star Empire.

It is so odd to be back home, Ajeya told herself as she crossed the threshold. The lights turned up, showing her the familiar room. Every furniture, every detail in the hall, the color of the walls and the floor, even the faint scent of the house reminded her of Diartr.

She felt depressed; she had not wanted to take leave. She had been working very hard, always volunteering for duty while her comrades went on shoreleave whenever they stopped on a planet or base. Her superiors were pleased; she had always been a tough, dedicated officer, but her devotion to the service was now total. She was rapidly making up for the lost time that falling out of favor with the Praetor had cost her. He had demoted her back to a Centurion’s rank and then kept her in it for too long while lesser skilled and younger officers had passed her by in the Fleet. That was finally behind her; she had her long over due Subcommander's rank again, and she wasn't going to stay in it long. She was pushing ahead and she'd get a ship of her own soon. At last.

She would not have taken this leave if she had not been forced, but the ship had been severely damaged during a scuffle with the Klingons and was now being repaired. All the crew had been given shoreleave, but Ajeya did not want any free time, because then her mind thought and her heart felt.

On top of that, the last place where she wanted to be was her home. She had thought of not coming here, but she really did not have a better place to go, and she had still some responsibilities to her family.

Family…

Who would have thought that word would sound so bitter? Who would have thought it would be so painful for her to pronounce? All she had done, she had done for her family, and, in the end, her family had been the price she had to pay.

Ajeya crossed the living room quickly, caressing one of the sofas lightly, the one where Diartr used to sit. For a single moment, an image of him appeared in her mind. He was grinning at her as he put his hands on her waist, and she leaned down from where she stood, reaching out her hand to touch him. He took her hand and pulled her into his lap....

As the images played in her head, she smiled contentedly -- until she flinched, quitting her fingers from the sofa as if it burned. And it actually burned.

There was dust on her hand now, and that suddenly made her see the room as it was. Lonely. Abandoned. All those happy memories she recalled were forever in the past. Diartr would never come back to her, he would never love her again. And that sofa did not look friendly anymore.

She left the room quickly and hurried to her room, but it did not make her feel any better. It had been Diartr’s room too, and every part of it held a cherished memory of their happy life together. She loved him so much… Did he know all the pain his absence caused her? Falling down on the bed, she contemplated the possibility of leaving the house behind, as her ex-husband had done; but an irrational part of her mind insisted that she should stay, in case her lost lover came back.

She laughed harshly at her own innocence; she knew too well that was not going to happen. He had been so distraught and so angry. Some in the Fleet wrongly considered him soft because of his good heart, but when he was determined to do something, no one could stop him. He had been determined to leave her. She had seen it in his hurt eyes as he told her what he had found out about Hellguard and begged her to say it was not true. She had come to him, trying to make him understand, but he had refused, wrath shining on his eyes.

“Curse me for a fool,” he had stated, “I don’t know you anymore.”

She had been damned lucky he hadn’t killed her for her lies and betrayal. Instead, he had left their home that same fateful day, after trying to explain the new situation to their children. He hadn’t told them the truth, but made up some excuse that Rakkas and Ehiil had to accept since they weren’t told anything else.

Ajeya smiled faintly at the hologram that stayed static on the wall. They were all there: Diartr, her children, and even her parents; she could believe in happiness when she looked at the picture, but reality always crushed it mercilessly. She only saw Diartr now when they were together for the sake of their children or when assignments made them cross their paths; that was not very often, and even in those moments, they hardly spoke. Sometimes she tried, but he always withdrew. He still looked so somber every time she approached him…

She activated the hologram. As it started playing, she knew she should not have done it. A knot caught her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to control the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She lingered her stretched fingers over the image of one of her children nearing her. She had only come back home for her children. She was not with them as much as she wanted. Sometimes she told herself they needed a better mother, someone who had not failed them so miserably. She had just wanted a better future for them, the future that rightly was intended for them; instead, she had achieved just the opposite. Their future, their lives, would be destroyed if her actions were found out.

Her gaze hardened as that thought came. Looking intently at the image of her family, she swore once more her mistake would never be known, and never repeated. She even whispered to them, “I won’t let you down again.”

Remembering her past actions on Hellguard was always so painful… She should have never taken part in that foul project. She should have realized those crazy scientists could never succeed. She had been stupid and naive. Now she knew well that she could only rely on herself if she wanted to see her family’s former glory and honor restored. Ironically, she had also learned she was not a very honorable person, not anymore. Honor was just a label one wore, a label to be used and misused, a label to be bought and sold.

She had sold her honor when she gave birth to that half-breed abomination and had lost it again when the High Command had made official what she already new: the half-breeds were useless, and a waste of Imperial resources, a failure. She still wondered how the scientists had convinced her to help them. She should have realized that no reward could come from such a foolish enterprise. She was only glad to know her mistake was long dead; glad to know no trace of the project was left that could lead to her. Even if Thieurrull’s nightmares still kept her awake sometimes, the cursed planet had no influence in her daily life. Diartr knew the truth, but he would never hurt her. That puny scientist who had spoken too much in her ex-husband’s presence was already dead, and she had a list of the others who knew of her involvement. She did not think most of them would ever mention the word Hellguard again, but she was safer if she got rid of them before they had a chance to do so. The Empire had done part of the job for her at least, executing the lead scientist, and as soon as she could, she would locate the rest and obliterate them.

Actually, if it were possible, she would blow up the whole planet as if it had never existed, as Diartr had once casually commented her -- before he had known what she had done there.

Ajeya was half-asleep when she heard the noises coming from the front door. She jumped from her bed, startled, and drew her Honor Blade immediately to defend herself. She could hear the noises clearly then: three voices chatting and laughing.

Rakkas, her eldest, called out for her and asking if she was already at home. Her daughter’s voice was maturing, losing its adolescent quality to match her new Centurion’s rank. Rakkas, starting out in the fleet! If only Ajeya could get her a better patron...

“Of course she is!” Her boy, Ehiil, scoffed at his sister’s questioning that their mother might not be there. His voice grew so much deeper, deeper even than his father’s. He would leave for the Academy soon. “She said she would come during the morning.”

A smile formed on Ajeya’s hard but beautiful features, and she relaxed, lowering and sheathing her knife.

“Quiet down! Your mother may be sleeping.”

That was her father. She was so grateful Hrollaef took care of the children when the Fleet kept Diartr and she away -- and the children were home themselves! -- and it gave him the old sense of family around him especially now that Ajeya’s mother was dead. One part of her even liked the idea of her children living in the old family house, growing up as she had done in that caring network of extended family. The other part of her loathed it, because they lived as lowly servants when they should be the masters of their House, as they had been since the planet became an Imperial colony centuries ago. She detested the new governor as much as she did the Praetor who had stolen her parents’ House, leading to the death of her mother.

Sometimes, her comrades toasted the Praetor, and she had to join them for the sake of appearance, but she added to herself, “For my family.” That was the only thing that really mattered, and her family, happily ignorant of her bad deeds, was now again with her.

Rakkas at the door made all her dark thoughts disappear to a distant part of her mind. Her daughter was in uniform, and the stern expression made Ajeya shoot to her feet.

What was wrong?

Rakkas swept the room in a glance, stopped long enough to shoot a look at her mother, and then walked to over to Ajeya’s tunic laying on the foot of the bed.

“You have something of mine.” She suddenly looked very proud and happy, picking up her mother’s uniform and holding it out. “If you wouldn’t mind giving it to me.”

It took a second before Ajeya figured out what was going on, then with a smile and a full heart, she took the Centurion’s insignia that she no longer needed off her uniform and handed them down to the blank spot on her daughter’s.

CHAPTER 3

Four years earlier - Federation year: 2268

Hellguard colony, Romulan Star Empire

Hellguard seemed lifeless. Some old buildings rose on a plain just where the sands of an enormous desert ended, shadowed by high mountains. Thieurrull had never been a successful colony, and its scarce inhabitants had abandoned it decades ago to live in richer areas of the Romulan Empire. They were the ones who had given the planet its awful name.

Nothing of value existed here. The mineral sources that had motivated its colonization had been so limited that nobody had mined them. Hellguard was not even worthy as an outpost, but even so, the Imperial Fleet had always detached a military unit to the planet. At first, it had been just that, an outpost from where the Empire could protect its borders, but the real reason why the military had not completely deserted the colony once the civilian inhabitants left was a very different one. The doomed planet was perfect for covert operations, and, for the last ten years, a secret research project had been run.

Soldiers hated the post. The temporary barracks where they lived where the only place that looked habitable; however, the old buildings still held some activity. And in the deep of the desert, another compound was hidden beneath the sands. Its entrance, always locked, could hardly be seen, and sometimes was completely buried. It did not matter. The soldiers always used a transporter to get in and out of it. The scientists who worked in it hardly left it, and the rest of its occupants never did, unless they were going to die.

Inside the facility, four scientists talked in a small room. The bright lights hanging precariously from the low ceiling only served to emphasize their weary faces. They sat around a plain table, visibly distressed. The project they had worked so hard on was being canceled, and their future was now unknown.

Their desperate talk led to a decision, of sorts. An hour later, all the hybrids were brought together in a big room with large tables and chairs for everyone, but most of them stood or ran across the room and even fought. Some of them cried, although they tried to hide it, fearing the Romulans and the other children, who could be even crueler.

As they had been taught to be by their creators.

Saavik, a five year old girl, snarled, looking menacingly at an older boy who stood near her. The boy was almost double her height and stronger, and she acted like the aggressor before he picked her as a weak target.

But he was the one who looked intimidated. The girl was too quick, too clever, and too strong in will. She had fast learned the rules of survival in the complex or she wouldn’t have made it to five. The older powerful children respected her, but not him, which was one more reason why he had better let her be.

A group of soldiers had brought them in moments ago, but now the guards were all gone. A young man had taken their place in supervising the children. He was tall and rather thin, his soft, almost childlike features very true to his character. Fegral was a good man which made him brush his fingers through his brown hair nervously over what he was about to announce. He was in the front of the room, and observed them for some minutes before speaking up.

“Please, please, kids, listen to me.”

His clear and loud voice stopped most of them. The hybrids liked him, because he was the only one who was always kind to them; but most of them also distrusted him, for they knew well that he could not be that different from the others like him, and those others were all cruel.

“Kids, listen to me, this is important.”

Saavik was not paying any attention until the last sentence stopped her; she turned her back on the other child to look at the Romulan man instead. She had noticed his desperation and had realized he wasn’t commanding them, not even asking them; he pleaded with them to listen.

“You are going to be given another aptitude test,” he explained. “You must do it correctly.”

Saavik looked oddly at him. They were always being tested; she could not understand why this time was so important, and when hadn’t she done a test correctly?

In that moment the doors opened and a young woman entered the room. She passed by the hybrids, haughty, and even pushed some of them as she walked towards Fegral, muttering some curses.

“Ejarh, you are late,” he told her softly. “You have left me alone with all these little monsters.”

He spoke the words with tenderness, but that was lost on his partner.

“No, Fegral,” she replied as she neared him, “you left me alone with the bosses.” She was not really angry with him, just upset with the situation.

“Another meeting? I didn’t know.” He lowered his voice then, and some of the children who had been quiet before, started to make noise. Saavik, however, strained to hear.

“Of course you didn’t know!” Ejarh snorted. She was speaking louder and Saavik could hear her better. “You’re always here around the hybrids, trying to teach them. You treat them as if they were children!”

Saavik flinched and her expression hardened, fixing her murderous stare on the woman. So did the others who paid attention, while some younger ones broke into crying. But no matter their reaction, they were all hurt, and their low self-esteem lowered a little more.

Fegral’s gaze was also one of distress. “They are children, Ejarh, look at them.”

She did as her colleague suggested and studied intently one of the children in front of her. Her eyes showed her inner confusion. She dropped the subject. Looking uncomfortably to the young man, she answered, “Maybe you can consider them children, Fegral, but I’ll tell you exactly what they are.” She was speaking softly then, and Saavik was unable to understand. “They are the subjects of a project that has just been canceled.”

The man was ready to argue, and she stopped him before he could utter a word, raising her hand. “Please, listen to me.” These were the only words Saavik could understand, and was surprised when she realized the mean woman was distraught. “It’s over, Fegral. The ship that is going to dismantle everything is already on its way. They will be here tomorrow morning. There is nothing more we can do.”

The man sank, and with his eyes cast on the floor, he asked warily, “And what about the children?”

She smiled faintly at him, sympathetically, and stretched her hand to touch him lightly on his shoulder. “You have always been a good man.” She paused. “Come on. Let’s talk about all this outside.”

He looked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “What’s going to happen to them? Tell me.”

She sled her hand over his arm to take his, and pulled him as she walked towards the door. “Outside.” He followed her reluctantly.

This time, as she pushed her way between the hybrids, she was gentler.

CHAPTER 4

Same night

In her ship, Ajeya looked at the stars moving swiftly away. She had always liked watching the stars; they had a soothing effect on her. When she contemplated them, and realized how small she was compared to them, how vast the universe was in relation to the Romulan Empire, she felt subdued and humbled. However, when she saw her ship moving through them, dominating them, she felt powerful. When she was sad, or angry, or frustrated, she always went to watch the stars, and let them calm her down.

She was seated on her bunk, staring out at the small view port in her cramped cabin. Thankfully, she was alone. She had been sharing quarters until finally a year ago. She was used to military life, and she usually did not mind the lack of privacy it involved, but she realized the importance of spending critical moments alone. She felt as if she were going to break down at any moment, and she could not stand it. She did not want someone else to see her weakness.

The stars, however, were not really helpful on this occasion. Ajeya was feeling as sick as the moment on the bridge when she had first heard about their new mission. Her Commander had not been happy with the assignment, only given to them because they were the nearest ship to Thieurrull, but she could not imagine the blow it had meant to her one Centurion. Since that instant, Ajeya had tried to work as she always did, to be as focused and efficient as ever, but her mind kept wandering to that awful place where she had hoped never to return. Every second since the mission’s announcement, she had wished for her long shift to end so she could seek shelter in her cabin, where she could set free her fears, reflect on what was going on, and how it was going to affect her now.

Sometimes, when she thought of Thieurrull, terrible images assaulted her. She had almost succeeded in forgetting the whole thing, dismissing everything as just a simple inconsequential experiment in which she took part. In her mind, Hellguard was as buried as the colony where the project took place, a planet she would only visit again to get her promised and much desired reward. That idea had been violently shattered today. Thieurrull was a failure, and she was going back to end it. She knew too well Hellguard’s ruin could also mean her shame and death, if her enemies knew her part in it.

No, the stars did not offer her peace tonight. She sighed and laid on her bunk, punching the wall beside her, and tried to control her rage.

Same night

Hellguard colony, Romulan Star Empire.

The lights had been off for more than three hours and the windowless dormitory was pitch black. A little girl lay on her bed motionless but completely awake. She heard the heavy breathing of a boy five beds to her left, and the muffled cries of another girl. She listened to the incoherent screams another child uttered in his nightmares, and noticed all the slight movements done by another restless boy who could not sleep either. Her senses picked up everything that happened around the room, but her eyes were fixed on the door, even if she could not see.

The girl hardly slept; she always tried to stay awake and aware, always fearing an attack. Even if she held her own amongst her peers, she did not feel safe. Besides, she had caught the gaze he had directed to her previously, during the scientists’ last visit in the evening, and she knew he was coming for her once again.

She did not have to wait much longer. Half an hour later, the bright lights suddenly turned on. The small girl jumped from her bed and stood as tall as she could be, eyeing the door coldly and intently. All the children woke up.

The door opened. A too well known man entered. He was quite short, but strong, and wore civilian clothes. He swept his gaze over the room without paying attention to anyone before concentrating on the girl. He smiled deviously at her.

“Saavik,” he spoke softly, “come with me.”

The girl’s features hardened, but she did not move. Some of the children had started to cry, while others, like Saavik, were looking darkly at the Romulan, wishing they were old enough to be able to kill him. All of them tried to keep quiet and steady, and some tried to hide themselves under their sheets.

Saavik was not hidden. She knew he would look for her anyway, so she stood in defiance as she tried to hold his evil stare.

The man approached her and stopped when he was almost touching her. He looked down at her and told her with his silky voice, “Saavik, don’t make this difficult. Come with me now and I won’t be hard with you.”

The little girl knew too well he was lying, that was a lesson she had learned quickly at his hands. She also realized the futility of her resistance, but that did not stop her from trying. She flicked her eyes towards the door; as she expected, two soldiers stood there impassively. Inwardly, she cursed them, and met his gaze again. She said nothing, but her refusal was clearly written in her eyes.

The man just grinned, but his eyes flashed showing his barely controlled rage. He hated a rebellious nature in anyone, especially the children -- as they well knew. He grabbed the girl roughly, lifted her and carried her away. Saavik resisted: she bit, kicked and punched him, but he was far stronger and her vicious defense caused him no harm. Before leaving the dormitory with the two guards in tow, he knocked her unconscious with a single blow.

She woke up a short while later in a too familiar room. It was small and filthy, with no furniture, and it had no light. However, the opened door let some scarce light enter from the lamps outside, casting long shadows over her prone figure. When she lifted her eyes, she could see the Mean One watching her at the threshold and the two guards flanking him. She stood, staggering, and glared at them all. The two soldiers laughed, while the scientist smiled faintly.

“The little half-breed wants to fight,” one of the soldiers mocked her.

“Yeah, I won’t deny it, she has fire in her soul,” agreed his comrade. “Maybe she isn’t such a failure after all.”

Both laughed loudly again. The scientist’s expression, however, turned serious. He did not want to hear the soldiers’ stupid remarks.

“Well then, teach this wannabe warrior her last lesson in hand-to-hand combat,” he paused, as his icy gaze focused on Saavik. “Beat her,” he ordered casually.

The guards did not stop laughing when they moved forward, taunting her. They circled her as if their five year old opponent really meant a threat to them. Saavik steeled herself, as she awaited her tormentors in a fighting stance, trying to control the gripping dread that dominated her thoughts. She knew the pain that was coming next.

In the threshold, the Romulan scientist just observed them, a faint smile on his lips, his sadistic eyes gleaming.

CHAPTER 5

Next morning

The alarm rang in her cabin, and Ajeya woke up, startled. She stood up and started to put on her uniform. She had hardly slept, and for a moment she considered the possibility of having been just dreaming about the ship’s mission, but she turned to look at the view port, and the image that welcomed her made her heart sink. She could already see the damned shape of Thieurrull outside, discouraging any hope she might have kept.

Thieurrull was a reality she could not escape.

She cursed herself then. She cursed the supposedly brilliant scientists who had lured her into that awful experiment. She cursed that nameless Vulcan she had had to be intimate with, and she cursed especially the half-breed she had given life to. She knew the infant was now there, on that planet, the only real proof of her involvement. She could only feel relieved knowing the hybrid child was going to die very soon. If Ajeya was given a chance, the creature would have a painful death. She was in a bad position, and it was all its fault. Its uselessness had determined the project’s downfall.

Below on Hellguard, Saavik’s nostrils flared as she picked up the sickening odor that dominated the room. She tried to stretch, but an intense pain forced her to stay motionless. She could hear the Mean One’s breathing behind her, and she could also distinguish his particular smell mixed with the cell’s stronger stink.

She tasted the bitter blood in her mouth. The open wounds sent stinging signals to her stressed brain, so she closed her eyes harder, trying to go back to the blackness that had folded her before and did not let her feel the pain. She tried not to cry, but her eyes were already wet.

Saavik remained this way for some minutes, and finally, knowing she had no way to lessen her suffering and knowing the Romulan would not let her alone, she opened her eyes.

She felt the light over her, and slowly turned her head even though it ached. The man was holding a small flashlight, pointing it at her so she could only see the light, knowing it hurt. Her gaze turned again to look at the floor, and she shut her eyes.

No one was going to help her. That lesson was beaten into her last night as it had been so many times before. She learned from each of those beatings, learned what Romulans were, and with each thrashing, she learned how to fight back a little bit longer before they struck her unconscious.

She was one of the children who was beaten more than the others, because they were hated more by the cruelest Romulan who sat staring at her now.

Leaning against the locked door, the scientist grinned in the dark when he noticed the girl stirred, regaining consciousness. His grin soon turned into a grimace as he remembered the special reason that had led him to that room.

After contemplating the girl’s silent suffering for a moment, he spoke at last. “Saavik, I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

His voice was venom, and Saavik seethed. Instinctively, she tried to move, but the pain stopped her once again. He smirked at her frustrated attempt to attack, and her obvious pain.

“I’ll say this in your favor,” he continued, “you’re resilient. Many others in your place would be long dead, but you continue struggling to live. You’re a survivor, Saavik. I won’t deny it.”

He sighed, and his sadness was evident in his next words. “Although it won’t help you to survive this time, you know?”

He played with the light, trailing her tormented body with it. He did not feel real pleasure, as he usually did, but a sour mood that gripped him harder and harder. A sickened laugh escaped his lips.

“I created you with a purpose. I planned it so well.” His voice, only a murmur now, had lost his malice to become just a lament. “I was going to make them pay.”

The man paused, and took a long breath, trying to calm down. He walked toward Saavik, and leaned down by her side. He whispered, “You know, Saavik? Maybe I don’t get to fulfill my plans, but you have been a good consolation gift.”

But tormenting her was not pleasurable anymore. It was second best to what he really wanted; even if her veins ran with the same noble blood as her mother, she was no more than a tool, as fallen in status as her Romulan family.

His grudge was with other people, the powerful Noble Born. They were the ones he had wanted to hurt, the ones he had expected to make suffer. He was going to ruin their lives as they had ruined his, and the more arrogant he found them, the more he forged their hybrid children into weapons that he’d use against them.

Such as Saavik.

Even his ‘lessons’, the beatings from the Centurions, unwittingly taught her; he could see how she absorbed everything, and how her Vulcan analytical mind mixed with Romulan cunning. She had used her size to an advantage this last time, ducking under the Centurions’ legs and inside their longer reach to strike, and how she had gone limp in their grasp the one time, faking a blackout so she could get a chance to fight back unexpectedly. She got in only a few blows, but that was still more than before.

She would have been a hell of a weapon to use against Ajeya. And the other nobles.

Except something had gone wrong, and the orders he had just been given were not the ones he had expected. His plans, his projected future, were being destroyed.

The little half-breed was not entertaining anymore. When he couldn't strike at the Noble Born, he had turned on their children, but what good was lording over children? It only reminded him of his destroyed dream.

Saavik struggled to move, but the pain was too strong. She gritted her teeth as tears rolled down her bruised cheeks. “Sonabastard,” she spat, concentrating in her words all her hatred.

The scientist did not rebuke her. He just smiled at her as he shook his head. “You’re one of them, they would never recognize it, but you’re one of them. A pity they will never know.”

He patted her lightly, and then stood up. He moved towards the door and unlocked it. Once it was opened, he turned for an instant to look back at her.

“Enjoy your last day, Saavik,” he said dryly, and left the cell, locking the door again.

CHAPTER 6

Two hours later, five figures beamed down to the military complex’s transporter room. They were the first visitors to come to Hellguard in months. The soldier manning the station, however, was not thrilled to see them. Since she was assigned to Thieurrull, she had waited for the day she would be told she’d get to leave the awful planet forever. She knew that day had come, but knowing the reason was the project’s failure, she was afraid her superiors would also punish her, even if she was not to blame.

A single look at the Commander materializing in front of her made her fear for the worst. She was an old woman, but she carried herself proudly. Her hair was cut in a severe military style, and her steely dark eyes fixed immediately on the transporter soldier as if she were a disgusting insect the Commander should get rid of.

The middle aged man who was the second in command looked friendlier, but the way he stood straight slightly behind her made the younger soldier realize he would do nothing but support his superior.

Three Centurions also stood behind the senior officers. One was approximately the same age as the Commander, but he was sturdy and muscular. He was armed with a disruptor, and was surely a security officer. He looked mighty, his face very bronzed and scarred, but there was no real malice in his eyes; he was even smiling lightly. The other male Centurion was tall, quite thin, and handsome, and even if he gazed at her with total indifference, the transporter technician thought he was fragile. The last officer, a woman, was slim and trim, and had long hair caught in a ponytail, but what caught the soldier’s attention were her stormy blue eyes. She tried to read them, but the Centurion’s stare turned icy, and the transporter technician shuddered.

The Commander’s hard words got the technician out of her contemplation.

“Where the hell are we, soldier? Where are the scientists in charge? Are you telling me that you, pitiful excuse of a warrior, are in command here?”

The older Centurion smirked, clearly amused. The young man shifted his weight, uncomfortable, and the other two officers just locked their gaze on her. That made her more nervous.

“No, ma’am,” she stammered, “they are waiting for you in the base.”

“In the base?” The Commander’s eyes flared dangerously. “And why aren’t we in the base?”

“The transportation to the scientific base must be done only from this post. Those are my orders, ma’am.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” chimed in the Subcommander, his voice was harder than what the technician had anticipated. “Transport us.”

Seconds later, Ajeya found herself facing three people she knew for all the wrong reasons. She felt her body stiffening the very moment she touched the compound’s floor, not that the prying eyes of the transporter technician had made her feel any better. She wondered if anyone apart from the scientists present in the room knew of her involvement, and if they would inform on her.

The head scientist had started to talk without even introducing himself or his team. He was determined to convince the Commander of the viability of the experiment. Ajeya stood impassively behind her superiors while he spoke profusely, as if any of his arguments could convince them to agree with him, as if their agreeing could change the disastrous end of his project. She hardly knew him, since she had never paid him much attention when she was here before, but as she tried to appear like the rest of her party, she studied all his features, memorizing and cursing him. He was now an enemy who would pay for his failure. Her failure, she berated herself; she should had never trusted him, or anyone else for that matter.

Her commanding officer, a bad-tempered veteran, showed every bit of her displeasure about being on the planet and dealing with the scientists. She, a woman of action who had never been good at academics, despised the science people, especially since they turned out to be a bunch of incompetents. Of course, that meant she was not going to listen to the scientists’ pleas, not at all. Even now, as she listened quietly to the other’s explanation, she fumed and waited for her turn to attack him.

The scientist gestured to emphasize his speech while he kept his voice low and steady; only his mannerisms betrayed his nervousness as he paced and his eyes darted from one face to another, to the walls and furniture, falling under the Commander’s glare and the indifferent stares fixed on him. He wore plain civilian clothes, and only his rank insignia indicated he was actually military. Ajeya had noticed long before that he did not have what it took to be a real soldier. Not that he seemed to care. He had not saluted them and had stared back at them unfazed when the Commander had recriminated him for it. He had joined the Imperial Fleet as a way to gain access to important projects, but the old man had never referred to himself as a soldier. Even in his weakness, he showed his rank was just a label he wore to facilitate his research, nothing more.

“We just need time, if the High Command wants results,” he was saying.

The Commander smiled cruelly at that, and her voice was pure venom.

“That’s exactly my point. You don’t need time because the High Command doesn’t want results. They aren’t interested in your project anymore, Subcommander.”

She stressed the last word, but the scientist didn’t react. The woman who stood by his side, however, recoiled. She was a middle-aged woman but she looked older, her face already showing some wrinkles and her brittle hair practically turned white. Her colorful dress, big expensive jewelry, and excessive make-up did not make her look younger; actually, it mocked her, emphasizing her lost youth and the pain it caused her.

She was the next one to speak, but her voice was weak. “Are you telling us that all our work has been futile? A waste of time?”

The Commander actually laughed, and so did her officers. Her Subcommander, who had served with her for several years, was laughing loudly, but Ajeya could tell he really pitied them, and it showed as clearly as the ruthless tone his superior used.

“A waste of time? No! It has been a waste of resources which could have gone to useful projects and missions.” She paused.

The other woman, Delva, had paled, and the old man just stared at her. The third scientist, a younger well-built man named Thair, continued looking at them as if he did not mind what the outcome was. He tried to look indifferent, but something in his eyes revealed to Ajeya his real feelings; he was as distressed as his colleagues. Ajeya enjoyed his silent suffering for a moment, before she remembered her own.

The Subcommander kept laughing, now quieter, as he shook his head. The two other Centurions were now silent, although the strong veteran who stood at her left was still chuckling; he also knew his commanding officer quite well. The young officer and Ajeya had only laughed to please her. Ajeya, actually, felt fear burn her throat.

The Commander then jabbed a finger at the scientists. “Nobody cares about your damned time!” She paused. “Now, stop talking. I don’t want to stay on this cursed world a single minute more. Subcommander Lython will be in charge here, and I’m going back to my ship!”

A minute later the Commander was gone, and her second in command talked quietly with the scientists. The three of them felt relieved when she left, although they realized that the more sympathetic approach the Subcommander dedicated to them was not going to change the disastrous end. In fact, he soon introduced his subordinates and their respective duties, and set them all to work.

Ajeya found herself walking the facility’s corridors along her superior, following the head scientist to his office. Subcommander Lython had decided that the place was going to be his, given that he was now in command. Once they were inside, he settled himself on the scientist’s armchair, forcing the other man to sit on the opposite seat, a guest in his own office. Ajeya took a padd she carried and went directly to the computer terminal in the room.

“Do you have a recorded inventory, so I can check it with mine?” she asked the head scientist, glancing back at him for a second.

“Yes, it’s all there,” he replied; his sadness was apparent in his voice.

Ajeya was looking eagerly at the screen, as her fingers moved quickly to find the correct file. However, her task was interrupted by her superior’s voice.

“Don’t check the inventory now, Centurion, “ he told her. “Just upload the data in your pad to check it later. First of all, I want all the project records destroyed like they never existed.”

“Yes, sir!” Ajeya acknowledged immediately, as she scolded herself for not thinking of that herself.

His next words did not make her feel any better. “Make no mistake,” he warned her.

“Yes, sir!” Again she answered firmly while she thought, but I have already made one, a terrible one.

She tried to keep her inner demons at bay, but it was not an easy task when her duty forced her to review all the data. She did not want to read anything written on that computer, but she had to in order to find the correct inventory. She would not ask the researcher where exactly it was. She would look for it herself, and go over all the facility to double check its veracity. She had been ordered specifically to do so. She should not trust the scientists. Everything valuable had to be shipped out. Nothing incriminatory could be left behind. She remembered the debriefing vividly.

After all, the Subcommander was not the only one who had reminded her not to make any mistake. Her commanding officer had called her to her office and told her what a disgrace would be to her if she failed. The moody Commander was disgusted with her new mission, and had not bothered to release her subordinate from her tense position. She had ranted about Thieurrull and its implications as she circled Ajeya standing at attention. The Commander did not trust the scientists, or anyone else involved in that project, and Ajeya did not miss the irony of the statement. She was entrusted with the task of shipping out all reliable military equipment and something else: destroying every single piece of information about Thieurrull’s experimentation and leave no trace.

That was something she was more than willing to do; actually, she was relieved to know she would be the one to handle the project’s data. She did not want to think of what would happen if any of her crewmates found her name written in a file.

Besides, it was a delicate duty involving sensitive information. The fact that her commanding officer chose her for the task implied she was a valued officer. That made her very proud, but knowing the fragility of her position, she did not really celebrate the assignment.

Her Commander’s last words had only served to aggravate her foul mood. “There will be no mistakes, Ajeya. Fail me in the most menial detail, and I’ll court-martial you for dereliction of duty. Understood, Centurion?”

Ajeya understood well then her more risky responsibilities, that every action had a consequence, and that could hurt her more -- worse, her family more -- than she had already been hurt. She had left the room depressed, but determined to not let herself or her family down.

As she looked for the key word that would lead her to the inventory, she found the last archive she wanted to see: the hybrids’ records. Her fingers froze, and she shivered. Unanswered questions flooded her mind and she contemplated the possibility of opening the archive and taking a look. Her name had to be written in there, and beside it would figure a hybrid’s name, her photo, her achievements, and her failures. Ajeya had never given the hybrid much thought. She would have never even checked the unborn child’s gender if Diartr had not insisted so much, thinking it was his child. Betraying him like that still stung her, and she swallowed hard at the thought. She would have loved to tell him the truth, even now, but it was so hard…

The child could not even be considered a child... but she was alive, and was there, in this same building. Ajeya wondered if the girl would look like her or anyone else in her family, if the girl would be smart or strong… if she would be really Romulan.

Ajeya chided herself. How could she have such foolish thoughts? The damned half-breed was nothing but a shameful, failed experiment. Nothing more. Who cared what the abomination looked like? Except...

The thought suddenly came that she had better pray that the half-breed resembled the Vulcan; if one of her comrades saw a resemblance between her and one of the lab animals...

She contemplated the closed archive on the screen a second more, her fingers lingering on the keyboard. Her gaze blazed with fierce determination. She was not going to look at those hybrid records. No one was going to. She pressed the delete button forcefully. Now the half-breed had never existed, especially once that… thing, which should have never have been born and had only caused Ajeya suffering, was executed.

When the computer confirmed the archive had been erased, she smiled to herself, feeling a bit better. Obliterating every trace of the sickening experiment would be a relief.

Elsewhere in the complex, a door was unlocked, and again light penetrated a cell. Another Romulan was at the threshold, peering nervously inside. Saavik was still lying on the floor, and moved her neck to look at him in spite of the pain. She could not see clearly, but his slender form told her who he was.

“Saavik?” Fegral asked warily.

She just moaned in answer, and he hastily came to her. Kneeling beside her, he looked for injures. “Don’t worry, child, I’m going to help you out. Don’t worry.”

His voice was filled with concern. He usually took care of her after nights or days imprisoned in the filthy room, but Saavik still did not trust him. She did not like it a bit when she was carried to the horrible place they called infirmary, but she did not resist him now, because she was helpless and she knew it.

Fegral lifted her effortlessly and walked out of the cell, closing the door behind them. He crossed the corridors of the detention area whispering some comforting words to her. She did not really listened. They were soon passing by the rooms where the Quiet Ones were held. Cramped in cells guarded by force fields, the prisoners stood calmly, and stared at the young man carrying the battered child without apparent expression in their eyes. Quiet Ones looked like Romulans, but they never hurt, never were cruel, and never screamed, actually rarely uttered a word when she passed by them which is how they earned their name from the hybrids who didn’t know the word Vulcan.

In the closest cell to the exit, the last captured Quiet Ones were imprisoned. They had been there for a year or so. Most of the women were pregnant. Saavik was young, but knew why. All the Quiet Ones were there to make half-breeds like her.

When Fegral carried her past that last cell, she looked intently into the faces observing her. There was a woman inside who was somehow different. She turned her head to see better, since her right eye was swelling shut. She could see a determined sparkle in that one’s eyes, and although she did not know why, the sight made her feel better. She locked her gaze with the nameless woman again, and this time, in spite of her suffering, she smiled faintly at the Quiet One.

The Quiet One had only glanced at her at first, but when Saavik turned her head to face the cell, the woman's face changed and she took a step forward. Saavik felt that Quiet One watch her as Fegral carried her away.

CHAPTER 7

Subcommander Lython’s communicator beeped, and the old Centurion’s voice could be heard. “Subcommander, your presence is required here, sir.”

Lython frowned, clearly the interruption annoyed him, but the veteran Centurion was not known for asking for help and would only call for a good reason. “Where are you?” he asked coldly.

“In the half-breeds’ quarters, sir. Third dormitory.” There was no hint of uneasiness in the response.

“I’m on my way,” replied the Subcommander as he stood up, and then cut off the communication.

He looked at the head scientist, and received quick directions on how to reach the place. As he was leaving, the scientist murmured, “I just don’t understand what complication he found.”

The officer ignored him.

Ajeya did not like that call. She wanted no problems. She wanted the job done fast, so they could leave the planet soon. She continued deleting all the computer’s files, doing her part to not spend an instant more than necessary on this awful world.

While the computer worked, she kept her back to the older scientist as she checked the inventory, but she knew as well as him that they had matters to settle. He spoke first, rising from his chair, and drawing himself up tall.

“Centurion Ajeya,” he addressed her formally.

She forced herself to look up, and answered him in turn. “Yes, Subcommander?”

The answer obviously surprised him as she had addressed him by his superior rank, even when his own soldiers never did. He dragged out his words as if they were painful to say. “Now that we are alone,” he began, “I would like to apologize to you for this end.”

Ajeya’s eyes widened. She had never expected an apology from the proud man. She was speechless.

“Your help was valued, even though it must be forgotten. From now on, we both know nothing of Thieurrull.” He looked down at her, his gaze intense, waiting for her agreement.

He was offering her silence, Ajeya realized, and she knew she should feel grateful; if he talked, her life could be as ruined as his. She was feeling cheated instead.

“My help is forgotten?” she replied dryly. “You promised me glory in exchange for my help! Don’t tell me you don’t remember!”

The man just looked back at her impassively. “I don’t, but you won’t remember, if you’re smart.”

She had reached to the same conclusions before, but, she was still distraught at his failure robbing her. “You’re a fraud!” she blurted out, spinning back to the computer, her shoulders hunched painfully and missed how his eyes squeezed shut.

Lython found his officer by the dormitory’s door, along with the young scientist Thair and three other soldiers. The Centurion saluted him and so did the others, although their lack of enthusiasm was evident. The veteran Centurion was scowling at them.

“What’s the problem, Keroni?” he inquired.

“Sir, the scientist here insists I should leave the prisoners’ execution to these men,” The Centurion tilted his head towards the guards, “the ones responsible for them until now.”

“These are not our orders, Centurion. I thought you could handle a lowly scientist like him,” the Subcommander said disdainfully. Then, he turned to glare at the young civilian. “The High Command ordered us to clear this mess, and so we will.” Without giving him time to answer, he addressed the other soldiers. “Your mission here is finished. Now, let us work. You may help Centurion Keroni if you wish, but he will give the orders here.”

Lython did not want to waste another second arguing with them, and, without waiting for acknowledge, he marched towards his newly acquired office. He did not hear the expected answer, though. The soldiers grunted and the researcher’s voice made him stop in his tracks and turn around again.

“Stop, Subcommander!” Thair said with a command voice the senior officer had thought he lacked.

Lython answered him with a murderous stare. “You think you can order us around with your scientist status?” he barked “You will obey me without questioning! You will obey Centurion Keroni, and let him execute your damn lab animals!”

The young man flinched slightly, but he recovered soon and drew up to meet the Subcommander’s glare. “No, I won’t,” he said with all the calm he could muster.

Lython's eyes flared, and his hand went for his Honor Blade. The Centurion backed him and went for his disruptor, but the guards also drew their weapons, protecting Thair.

“The High Command’s orders have no validity here, Subcommander,” he said, raising his hand to halt the sulky soldiers.

Both soldiers were now pointing their arms to him, but stilled. Their fury burned in their eyes.

The young scientist then moved his hand inside the folds of his robe and took out an insignia. The Subcommander froze, and the Centurion paled. The civilian, however, grinned deviously.

“You have nothing to do here, let these men do their job, and go back to your ship. From now on, the prisoners are already dead.” He paused. “You will inform the High Command, won’t you?”

Lython looked with contempt at the metallic insignia before turning his icy gaze to Fegral. He did not want to comply, but he knew too well he had no choice.

“I will,” he muttered, and keeping his knife out, he turned around and stormed away, Keroni closely behind him. When they were out of reach, the Centurion cursed vehemently against Thair and his guards. The Subcommander kept silent, but he was equally enraged. He wondered sulkily what would really happen with the prisoners they were ordered to execute, not that he really cared.

CHAPTER 8

The guards laughed loudly when the two fuming officers left, thumping the scientist on the back and congratulating him for being still in control. Thair, however, was not looking really happy. He was nervous still, and his smile was feigned. He wondered if he was making the correct decisions. He was doing as he was ordered, but he was feeling betrayed. Still, he hoped, or, at least, he wanted to hope that the promises made to him would be fulfilled. He wanted to believe everything he had done, anything he was doing, made sense.

It was then when their gazes turned to focus on another young male who carried a little girl in his arms towards them. The man recoiled when he noticed their presence, and he hesitated to walk past them. Nevertheless, slowly and self-consciously, he did.

One of the guards stepped forward to stop him. “Where do you think you’re going with that little monster, boy?”

Saavik, still seriously injured, growled, and her tiny hands clutched on fits. Fegral glared at him, even if his own hands trembled, and answered him quite scared but determined, “I’m taking her to the infirmary. She’s injured and I’m going to heal her.” Raising his chin, daring them, he continued, “I’m a doctor, after all.”

The soldiers just laughed again, amused by his words. The young healer could never understood them.

“Oh, you’re a doctor!” another guard mocked him. “And were you taught how to treat the monstrosities like her?”

Saavik sputtered at them all the curses she knew, deeply hurt at the cold-hearted words the Romulans always used to refer to her. Fegral tried to keep her quiet, but he could not calm her down, and she continued ranting. The soldiers were not offended, though. Taunting her, they told him, “They aren’t children, don’t you see? They aren’t Romulans.”

Fegral had also heard those same words a lot of times, but he could not believe them, and he felt offended again. Still, he knew well not to contradict them. “Yes, you’re right,” he admitted, “but even if the half-breeds are just animals, they are the subjects of this project and must be keep alive. I’m the healer here; that’s my duty.”

His admission has only made the little girl madder, and even in spite of the pain, she wriggled, trying to free herself from his hold. She was too weak, however, and the young man held her in place without much effort.

The amused soldiers did not want to let him go, but Thair spoke for the first time, “OK, it’s enough. Let him go.” The guards seemed ready to argue. “It won’t make much of a difference. She will be dead soon enough.” He smiled, although he was not in the mood.

The soldiers’ laughter welcomed his speech, and as the guard blocking his way stepped back, Fegral scurried away from them.

“This is over, Doc,” the soldiers shouted at him. “We are leaving this damned planet, and your dear abominations are going to die. All of them!”

Fegral tried to ignore them, but their voices were knives tearing out his heart.

Subcommander Lython entered the office followed by Keroni, and found Ajeya facing D'Rak, the leader of the scientists and scowling. He strode towards his seat and looked displeased. He was upset after what had happened with Thair, and the sight that welcomed him had not precisely made him feel better.

“Weren’t you supposed to be working, Centurion?” he asked Ajeya dryly.

Ajeya looked contrite for an instant, and then stole a murderous glance to the head scientist, her eyes flashing.

“Yes, sir!” she replied smartly, and turned to the computer again. The screen displayed a message saying it had finished.

“It has been all my fault,” explained the older man. “I’ve been trying to tell her-“

The Subcommander cut him off as he sat down again. “That’s no excuse!” His angry stare fixed on his subordinate. “She knew well she should be working, not chatting idly.”

Ajeya was chagrined. Chatting idly was not precisely what she had been doing, but she nodded, agreeing with him.

“Yes, Subcommander!”

“If I ever catch you again neglecting your duties, I’ll put you on report, Centurion,” he warned her.

“Yes, sir!” Ajeya answered, berating herself.

“There has been a change of plans,” he informed her, his rage still evident in his voice. “Hellguard’s detail will be in charge of the prisoners’ executions. Centurion Keroni will help you in your task, and his men will dismantle the military base outside.”

“Yes, Subcommander,” Ajeya replied. “I’m finished with the data review. Everything is in order.”

“Of course!” interjected the head scientist.

The senior officer ignored his comment and addressed Ajeya instead. “So, what are you waiting for? Call your team down here. Get moving!”

“Yes, sir!” she answered immediately.

“And the same goes for you, Keroni. What the hell are you doing standing there?”

The old Centurion saluted their superior officer and left the office, heading towards the transporter room.

“Sir,” Ajeya suggested warily, “I know the facility’s regulations, but my team could do their job far faster if we could transport the equipment directly to the ship.”

She awaited his answer. She knew the Subcommander was in a foul mood, and feared he would not react well. However, Lython also wanted to leave the planet as soon as possible.

“Yes, there is no reason for that double transport,” he reflected aloud, then addressed the scientist. “Why can’t we transport directly to our ship?”

“It’s a security measure,” the man explained. “There is an artificial shield covering the compound that prevents transport and detection.”

“Then we can lower it,” affirmed Ajeya.

“Yes, but-“

“Lower it!” ordered the Subcommander, cutting him off again. “There is no reason to hide this place anymore. It’ll be destroyed very soon.”

Those last words pained the researcher, and he grimaced. Nevertheless, he complied. Soon Ajeya’s team was working all over the complex shipping the equipment out.

They passed by the hybrids who watched with anxious eyes. It was an odd day for them. The children could feel it and that made them nervous, and violent. There had not been any tests to do today, no drills to perform. Trapped in their respective dormitories, everyone fought their growing tension as they could.

In the first room, an eight year old boy lied curled on the floor, trying to hide from the others. He closed his eyes, and in the dark world he created, he could hear their voices as if they were miles away, as if they could not hurt him anymore.

He was weaker than most of them, he knew; he was not as intelligent as them, and he was soft. That was why the others despised him. They told him he was a failure, and actually he was. They told him the Romulans were going to kill him, as they got rid of all the defective hybrids, but he knew they would not.

When he was feeling down, he always remembered this. He was not going to die. And even if he was sillier than the rest of them, as they said, he knew something they did not. He knew the truth. He knew why he was here, and he knew he was special. Even if he was broken, he would continue living, because he had a different greater purpose. Thair had confided in him.

He did not open his eyes, but slowly he moved his hand to his left shoulder, and caressed the brand he knew was there. His body ached, but he smiled. Only a few others had a mark like him, and he was the only one who understood its meaning. He was not going to die, because he was not like the others. His Romulan family was noble, his Romulan family was important. And battered and abandoned in that miserable room on that cursed world, he dreamed of a day when he could claim his heritage, as it was written on his skin: a day he would stop hiding, and become mighty and powerful.

CHAPTER 9

The evacuation was being finished quickly, and Ajeya was pleased; her team was working well. She passed by every room supervising their work. There were some places, however, she did not want to visit. One of them, particularly, was just in front of her.

She had been called to the detention area, and as she headed towards it, old memories stirred in her mind, sending her painful images of a past best forgotten.

A soldier of her unit was arguing with the only guard posted there, who did not want to shut down the cells’ force field; the equipment, however, was scheduled to be beamed up, and her subordinate was not ready to move without consent. Ajeya was led to the cells by the guard.

“Look, ma’am, I can’t let all these prisoners free.”

Ajeya tried to keep detached, but when her eyes met the figures gazing at her impassively from the other side of the security fields, another scene assaulted her mind, and made her inwardly recoil.

The Vulcan was looking at her again. At first he was cool, unaffected. She could not detect any emotion when he observed her, even though he knew what was going to happen. But then, the Fever came, and he looked mad. He contorted in the cell where they had been left alone, and he tried to resist her, to refuse her, as she made herself go through with this. He swore he'd die of the madness first. But he was drained, and when she stepped closer, a shattering force he could not control pushed him towards her, against his own will, his fingers burning on her skin, and even if both found it repulsive, they joined. The touch joined them in another way, although he fought this too, and a myriad of pained thoughts overwhelmed her.

Pulling herself out of the unwelcome memory, her eyes were colder than she intended when she faced the guard. “They won’t run away. They won’t cause you any problem. These cursed Vulcans,” she spat, “are so passive, they would stay here to die.”

One prisoner, a male, spoke quietly, and when Ajeya and the guards gave no reaction, he spoke again, the words slightly... different this time. She suddenly realized he was trying different Vulcan languages to see if any of them could be understood. The frightening truth was, she did recognize some of what he said: their faces, the Sundered, and war, not peace.

A sickened laugh threatened to escape her lips, and when she turned to go back to the exit door and leave the nightmare behind, her gaze locked briefly with one of the prisoners, and the sight shocked her, because it was no illusion.

The woman was there, a faint rebellious fire in her eyes. That woman was real, and Ajeya knew her. She tried to place her, to remember when she had seen the Vulcan woman before, and as the vision formed in her mind, she felt sickened. For in front of her was the woman the Vulcan had thought of and called to repeatedly in his feverish state; the woman he had wanted to be with him in that terrible moment. The image of that woman still tormented Ajeya sometimes, in her dreams, and as if the Vulcan's betrothed was a premonition of a dark impending doom, she had become true.

T’Pren.

She knew the name as well as her own, and could never forget it, only bury how the Vulcan’s thoughts called it with longing... with despair, the way she couldn’t avoid calling for Diartr.

Ajeya rushed for the door, and even if she realized she was acting odd, she didn't care. She only held herself back long enough to issue an order over her shoulder.

“All right,” she conceded, and she knew her voice was hoarse, ”the force field will stay until the prisoners are executed.” Turning to her soldier, she ordered, “Remain here.”

And she left.

She was still in shock when she encountered a squad of soldiers leading a group of children away, most likely to their executions. Thair was with them too, and he still looked nervous and distressed. Her eyes narrowed when meeting his. She did not pity him; she wished he would be killed with the half-breeds. He was the one who had contacted and convinced her to take part on the project, and he was the one who had really deceived her. She knew the High Command would punish the people responsible for the failure, and she was glad he would pay for the damage he had caused her.

When she passed by the children, she tried not to look at them, dreading to find a half-breed looking exactly like her; she had seen enough ghosts for one day. Her eyes disobeyed her, and she found herself watching them.

Two of the children were restrained, and the guards roughly dragged them away. Most of them followed the Romulans willingly, though, and even marched in formation in column upon column behind the non-commissioned officer in charge. They looked Romulan, she reflected, even if she knew too well they were not. All barefoot and dressed with blue plain tunics, with the names the scientists had given them on the left side of their chests, they were an odd looking little army. Ajeya would have laughed at them in other circumstances, and then a sudden thought came:

I never knew so many had been born.

None of them was her creation, though, and that made her feel a little bit better. They were all too old; the youngest of them was at least seven or eight.

It was odd to see them complying even when they were going to be killed. Then, she realized, they probably did not know they were going to die, or they had resigned themselves to the fact, as Vulcans did.

One suddenly turned in her direction, a boy with long, dark bangs falling over his eyes, and his knobby wrists and ankles poking out clothes that weren’t long enough anymore.

The mother in Ajeya spoke without thinking. Growth spurt. Just starting out, just like Ehiil at that age.

She grinned before she thought about that too, thinking of how it seemed like her son needed new clothes every month now, not to mention reportedly eating all food in his vicinity, and the half-breed boy whose name badge read Micar smiled back.

Her chest constricted, and she tore her eyes from the hybrids and got away.

As soon as she could not hear them anymore, Thair approached one of the children. The boy, around eight years old, marched without conviction, looking too shy and vulnerable between his stronger and more determined peers. The man whispered his name and took him apart from the line. The nearby children glared at him, and some of them cursed him, although the guards soon silenced them.

“Do you know who that officer was?” murmured the Romulan, smiling slyly.

The boy shook his head, and the man leaned closer to tell him, the malice replacing the sadness on his eyes.

CHAPTER 10

Ajeya was walking around a ghost building. There were no prisoners anymore, there were no hybrids anymore, and even the soldiers were gone. Only a few scientists remained as they lingered in the now empty laboratories, resisting the command to abandon the place that had been their home, resisting to embark on a ship that would lead them to a non-desirable future.

She had spent most of her time in the different labs, supervising her team and destroying every piece of data she found. The computers and the pads were now all blank. With each record erased, she felt a bit of the threat looming over her dwindle until she began to feel finally free.

Her next workplace was the infirmary, and when she entered followed by three of her people, she froze. She had expected to find the young woman inside, since she had seen Ejarh come in before. She could expect others to also be in there, like Fegral, but the little half-breed who was lying on the table beside him surprised her.

It was not a pleasant surprise. Not after what she had just gone through at the Vulcan cells and seeing the hybrids marching to their executions.

Ajeya strode towards them furiously. “What the hell is that thing doing here?” she snapped.

The young slender man turned to look at her, unable to hide that he was shocked and hurt. The hybrid yelled after hearing her words, and struggled against the restrains that tied her to the table. Ajeya noticed she was very young, but one eye and cheek were swollen and bruised, distorting the girl's features.

“She’s being treated,” Fegral stated, trying to sound self-assured and failing miserably. “I’m the doctor here.”

Ajeya locked her eyes on him and studied him. She realized she knew him; he had been present the last time she had visited Thieurrull. Worse, he had been at the birth... Thankfully, he did not seem to remember her or at least he showed no recognition.

She put on her guise of the disdainful Centurion. It was becoming too easy to do.

She snorted, then tilted her head and grinned. “Treating her? And why is a doctor treating a half-breed? Wouldn’t it be better if a vet took care of it?” She paused. Behind her, her team members laughed; the other young woman joined them. “Anyway,” she waved her hand, dismissing the thought, “it doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t be here. Why is she not with the others?”

The doctor did not have time to answer. At the door, another too well known voice was doing it for him.

“Don’t worry, Centurion Ajeya. We have no intention of leaving her here.”

Ajeya detected clearly the scorn hidden in his voice, and spun around to face him. The young scientist was smiling at her, a mischievous gleam on his eyes. Thair did not look sad or insecure anymore; on the contrary, he looked amused. Her features hardened and her eyes turned to ice as she drew herself up.

She was not the only one who reacted to his presence. Fegral recoiled the moment he heard Thair talk, and now seemed to be quivering slightly. The little hybrid was now struggling fiercely against her bindings, obviously hating being restrained especially with the Romulans capable of so many cruelties. Her glinting eyes were full of fury and hate, and she had started to rant every kind of curse. Only Ejarh was observing the exchange as indifferent as before.

“She is not healed yet,” the doctor said warily, stilling Ajeya’s reply.

A laugh answered him. It came from the other man staying at the threshold, a heavily armed Centurion who wore his uniform quite in disarray and leaned casually on the doorframe. Ajeya gazed at him with contempt; even if she shared his joke, she did not like his attitude.

Looking over her shoulder, she turned her disdainful stare towards the doctor and replied coldly, “And do you think that matters? Get rid of the damned half-breed now!”

“Right,” agreed Thair with his soft silky voice. “Nobody cares if she is healed or not, Fegral.”

“Since,” chimed the Centurion from the door, “it isn’t going to make much of a difference!”

The others laughed, and Ajeya found herself joining them in spite of herself. “Get the animal out of here, or kill it right now. We have work to do.”

For a single second, Thair melted under her icy stare, and fear showed in his mocking eyes. For a single second, he looked distressed and lost again, and that pleased her. He smiled at her again though, and even smirked.

“As you wish,” he said wryly, bowing to her. He signaled to the guard to come forward.

The Centurion neared the table where the girl lay more subdued now. The doctor intercepted him and pleaded to let the girl stay. Ejarh just shook her head, while the soldier shrugged him away, commenting, “You’re a fool.”

When the Centurion was beside the table, he leaned down, and, grinning, whispered to the child, “Be nice.”

She did not listen to him, though, and resumed her fight against the restrains, insulting him. He struck her.

“Be still!” he ordered.

And this time, sulkily, the young girl complied. He set her free and pulled her roughly to the floor. Gripping her by the arm, he made her walk with him.

Even if most of her wounds had been healed, some of her injures were still untreated, and she fought the pain and the nausea that welcomed her when she was forced to stand up again. She tried to look strong, and proudly lifted her bruised chin as she glared at all the Romulans present in the room.

When she passed by the four new soldiers, Thair approached her.

“Saavik, show proper respect,” he scolded her mockingly. “Salute the Centurion. She’s an officer of the Fleet.”

Both Ajeya and Saavik turned to glare at the smiling scientist, and then, with the same fury and contempt, faced each other. Saavik muttered a curse and refused to obey, staying motionless in front of the enraged Ajeya.

Ajeya’s wrath was not directed at the girl, though. She looked down at her for a second, tilted her head, smiling slightly, and again gazed at Thair. “You’re a fool if you think you can make a warrior of such a failure,” she stated.

The guard laughed again, and carelessly relaxed his hold. Saavik was seething, frustrated and angry at the continuous insults. She snapped to attention and gave a perfect salute, to show her worth. Ajeya, genuinely surprised and amused, watched her. So did the others. Young Saavik, however, was not finished. She also watched the proud Centurion in front of her; somehow, she looked more powerful than the others. Perhaps it was the helmet and the way it lent a shadow around the eyes. The little girl concentrated all her hatred on that single person who stood in front of her, mocking her. She had been taught much more than merely saluting, and she was going to show it.

She came at Ajeya, fast and unexpected, and she was at her side before anyone could react. She almost made her strike, but Ajeya’s hand took hold of her tiny fist before she could make contact. Ajeya crushed her hand mercilessly, and Saavik wriggled in pain.

“And you’re a fool if you think you can hurt me,” she said, looking down at the swollen side of Saavik's face, but there was no rage in her eyes, only amusement.

“I am an officer of the Fleet,” Ajeya continued, directing her gaze towards Thair then, daring him to taunt her again. She released Saavik next, and pushed her towards the other Centurion. Fixing her stare at him, she added, “I’m not like these so-called warriors you have met here, girl. I actually am one.”

The guard blushed, embarrassed, and holding Saavik again, he led her out of the room. Thair followed him. He faintly smiled back at them, as he said good-bye.

Everybody stared at the door when they left, even Ajeya herself. She did not like it a bit.

“What are you looking at?” she yelled at her subordinates. “Get moving!” She turned immediately to focus her gaze on the two civilians. “And you, leave the facility at once! You should be already gone! Stop disturbing us!”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered the woman respectfully, and took Fegral by the arm, almost dragging him out of the room. He looked distressed, and as he walked, he stared back at the infirmary, and especially at the table where all his little patients had laid. The soft comforting words of his colleague as they walked away were lost to him, a murmur that could not penetrate his despair. He obviously realized the big mistake he had made in taking part in the failed project.

Ajeya observed her people work after the scientists left, but her mind kept wandering back to the half-breed girl, trying to remember her features. She was the right age, she knew, but the girl did not look like her. She couldn't find any relief in that thought since she immediately wondered if the girl looked like the Vulcan. She didn't know how he had looked as a child, she didn't want to know, but she couldn't tell if the girl looked like him, especially with that bruising.

She crushed the thought immediately. No, no, the girl was not hers.

But the possibility was still there, and that possibility tormented her. For a moment she thought of going after the men that had taken the child. She thought of killing the hybrid herself, of killing all of them, of at least seeing them die, because an irrational fear gripped her, and knowing that others would dispose of them was not enough reassurance. She had been cheated once already and had not retaliated yet; killing the hybrids could be the first step of her revenge. And with the half-breeds gone, the last evidence would be erased, and she would finally have the pleasure of feeling safe on a world where she had only found misery.

CHAPTER 11

It was late. Ajeya had been working for hours and she only wanted to rest. Actually, she only wanted to leave Hellguard behind, but there was always one complication or another she had to solve.

All the researchers were gone, and she was destroying all traces of information left behind in their quarters. She had just entered the young annoying Thair’s room. There was nothing to see. The computer was completely blank; he had done the job for her, and he had done it well. She ordered the computer to be taken away. The furniture that was going to be saved was beamed up too.

She strode out of the room and went for the next one. She found the door locked, but overriding the security lock, she entered anyway.

The lights were dimmed, but she could distinguish a figure lying on the bed. It was a woman, and she caressed the empty wall absently. When she heard Ajeya come in, however, she stood up quickly, and drew herself up proudly. She did not fool the young officer.

“Doctor Delva,” she said, “you shouldn’t be here.”

When she was speaking, her eyes noticed the knife held tight in the scientist’s left hand, which trembled slightly. The woman followed her gaze, and meekly admitted the truth.

“I tried to find Final Honor, but couldn’t,” she said it as if she was apologizing.

Ajeya realized the scientist had also been crying. She did not feel sympathy. Reaching for the light and brightening the gloomy room, she dismissed her. “You’re an incompetent even at that.” She paused, and then added coldly, “Leave the room.”

The woman did not move. She left her Honor Blade on a nearby table and stood at her bed, fidgeting with a larger ornate necklace she wore.

Ajeya sighed and went for the woman’s computer. “Every piece of information you may hold will be confiscated and destroyed. Even your personal log.” The woman started to protest, but Ajeya silenced her. “If you don’t give it to me now, my people will take it when you board the ship. There is no way you will leave Thieurrull with it.”

“So what your Commander said is true. From now on, Thieurrull has never existed.” The scientist dropped her eyes for a single second, caressing her graying hair, before lifting her chin again. “And the people who worked on this project, did they ever exist?”

Ajeya looked up at her. “I don’t know. I don’t care. “

“I have a son,” the scientist blurted out suddenly. “Here, look at him.” She pressed one of the gems that decorated the necklace and a small holographic projection displayed from it.

Ajeya gazed at it for a brief moment. She was getting angry with the middle-aged woman.

“He’s a teenager now,” she continued despairingly, even if the officer did not seem to pay her any attention. “He’s sick. Nobody knows what his illness is. As you said before, nobody cares. There is no doctor researching the illness, you see, even if he isn’t the only case. We are not important enough.” Tears threatened to escape her eyes, but she composed herself, and even if her voice quivered, she continued talking. “That’s why I joined this project. It was an important one, with high rewards.” Her lips curled up, laughing silently at her own foolishness. In spite of herself, Ajeya did the same. “I thought that, after showing our success in this project, the authorities would authorize me to lead one to find a cure to his illness.”

“After showing your success,” Ajeya repeated mockingly. She rose from the computer, her job done.

“What I’m telling you, Centurion Ajeya,” Delva said louder, her voice colder, her expression hardened, “is that nobody worked harder for this project’s success. You can blame me for this disastrous end, if you so desire, but I can’t blame myself.”

“Then why kill yourself?” Ajeya asked smiling, tilting her head towards the table.

The older woman sighed. “I know my responsibilities, Centurion Ajeya, and I know that even if I did all I could, the experiment failed and I was one the scientists in charge.” She paused, stopped the hologram projection, but continued playing with the jewel. “I just wanted to save my honor. I just wanted to save my family. My son… “ She lowered her voice. “But I’m not a soldier like you,” she explained despairingly, “I can’t even take that last bit of honor in death.”

Ajeya snorted.

In that same moment, the door opened again. Ajeya’s young comrade was at the door.

“Centurion Ajeya!” he said surprised. “I was looking for --” He addressed the other woman, “Doctor Delva, you must accompany me to the ship.” His soft diplomatic voice contrasted with the harsh tones Ajeya had used.

Recognizing her defeat, she leaned down to retrieve her weapon, and taking the big case containing all her possessions, she went for the door. She walked as proudly and as self-confident as she could, but her bright eyes betrayed her, showing her unshed tears. She was feeling miserable, and dreaded the future that awaited her after leaving the sanctuary of her former room. When she reached the door, she turned one last time to look at Ajeya.

“Almost everyday I reflect on what happened here,” she said, trying to sound detached. “Almost everyday I conclude we were sabotaged. I did all I could, and I know that’s not an excuse.”

She went out, and the young Centurion looked puzzled at Ajeya before following the doctor, asking for an explanation. Ajeya only shrugged, and, although a bit confused, she left.

Again, she was alone. She could not feel pity for the doomed scientist. She did not feel any sympathy even if Delva's story somewhat mirrored hers. She just felt upset, she felt cheated, and she felt betrayed. That last tale about the sabotage only sounded as the pathetic excuse of someone too weak to face the ruthless truth: they had failed, they had committed a mistake, and they were going to pay for it.

They were. Because in the deserted room, Ajeya vowed she would not make new mistakes; she would obliterate every trace of the experiment, every track that could lead to her, and her participation would never be discovered. She would be safe. If being a party to Hellguard had not saved her House, she would not let it destroy them entirely.

CHAPTER 12

Subcommander Lython turned briefly from his post at the tactical station at the sound of Centurion Ajeya coming on the bridge before addressing his commanding officer.

“Nobody is left on the planet, Commander. Thieurrull is lifeless.”

“Perfect,” she muttered, then she raised her voice to command, “Destroy the scientific base.” She hardly waited to see the explosion on their screen. She ordered, “Helmsman, get us out of here. Course-“

Lython did not really hear her words. He kept his eyes locked on the station’s screens, even if they no longer showed the planet’s readings. He had not told the Commander what had really happened on Hellguard. Only the persons who had been strictly necessary knew someone had stayed behind. He had taken over the station so no one else would have to know. He deleted the readings, and hoped he would not be discovered. Because the ship’s sensors had detected clearly the presence of a Romulan, plus the young researcher who had wanted to stay, and the presence of several Vulcans and their wicked offspring on the planet.

They were still very alive.

Saavik had never before seen Hellguard’s landscape, and when she contemplated for the first time the broken buildings, the long stretches of sand, and the high mountains, she thought them beautiful. When she looked up for the first time to the reddish sky and the two burning circles that dominated it, she thought them pretty.

But she was wrong.

After spending her days trapped in the underground facility, surrounded by clean white walls or dark dirty cages, she found the wild harsh nature thrilling, and for a fleeting moment, an absurd concept she had never really heard about crossed her mind: freedom.

However, some children were still crying, some soldiers were still laughing, and the always sober faces of the Quiet Ones were more somber.

The suns soon burned her face, and the acid rocks slashed her bare feet, and the relentless dust stung her, scraping her exposed skin to an inflamed green burn. She looked for a place to rest, but none existed.

She remembered where she was, the same place where the useless children were thrown, the same place where the Quiet Ones were led when they chose to die.

I dies?

Saavik shuddered when she realized what was going on.

Some of the buildings still offered some shade, and there the soldiers had left them. Two Centurions she had never seen before where still wandering around the failed colony, mistreating the children who crossed their path. They were drinking, singing, and laughing. They were drunk.

The Quiet Ones were all together in one big building, trying to offer each other support. The children, however, tried to keep the distance between the strange adults and themselves. Saavik stood alone, leaned against a pillar in a dark corner of a smaller house, where other children also stayed. Her injuries hurt her a lot, but no Fegral came this time.

The Mean Ones leaves, so we dies.

And understanding finally all the meaning of those words, she hurried outside. The heat struck her like a blow. She gazed at the barren plains and found nowhere to go. She looked then at the mountains. She saw one of the scientists walking with a Centurion and a boy towards them. She would not go there. She noticed then an irregular landscape near the buildings. There were a lot of rocks there; maybe one could hide her from the fierce suns. She ran towards them.

She was not going to stay in the buildings. That’s where the Romulans wanted her to be. They would come for her again, but this time she would not be there. This time she was going to escape them.

CHAPTER 13

Deep space

Romulan Empire

That cursed planet was finally going away. Ajeya had looked out with satisfaction as her ship quickly left Thieurrull behind. The scientists and soldiers who had worked there were still aboard, the only remainder that, somehow, Hellguard still existed, but they would be leaving soon, and, for the moment, she would avoid them.

Now she was again in her cabin, looking at the stars passing by. She was relaxed. None of the scientists had ever mentioned her; she was safe. Now she could say Thieurrull had not helped her, but it had not really harmed her either. That was enough.

The intercom’s chime broke her reverie, signaling a personal message had arrived. She went to her computer terminal to open it. Her eyes brightened in delight when she saw who sent it: Diartr, her husband, and he had sent it from their house.

She met the easy smile of her husband as the message played. Next to him, Ehiil stood in a shirt that hung on him, and after Diartr winked and nodded at his son behind his back, Ajeya recognized that it was Diartr's shirt. Ehiil had shot up in height, but his gangly frame hadn't filled out yet. He greeted her enthusiastically at first, before her comment on his baggy clothing had him complaining how she just didn't understand anything!

Ah, yes. The adolescent's curse: no one understood them, least of all their ancient parents. No wonder Diartr was grinning.

After some minutes of idle talk, he sent their son off and Ajeya drew closer to hear his next words, smiling. However, his own smile thinned and his gaze lost some of its former playful glint.

“a'Eshni," he said, using her secret name, "I heard about your last assignment.”

She stiffened, frowning. Does he know?

“It was such a sickening project… I’m glad someone finally ended it. I’m glad the Empire saw the cruelty of it, and shut it down. Are you all right?” He was genuinely concerned, and there was tenderness in both his expression and voice.

He did not know about what she did on Hellguard. Ajeya sighed in relief.

He was still talking. “I know you’re tough. I’m sure you’re well. It’s just that I wouldn’t like to take even a walk on that horrible planet. Someone should blow it to dust.”

He laughed lightly, but there was still some shadows cast over his face.

“And the children?” he inquired, “What did you do with the children? Well, answer me only if you can. It’s just that I keep wondering... Poor kids. I can’t understand what kind of heartless people could commit an atrocity!” he said, and his jaw drew into hard lines. “We can be quite ruthless, I know, but such a horrible act…The people who did that are monsters, and they should be destroyed with the planet.”

Ajeya swallowed hard.

“But I think of the children and wonder." The hard lines softened. "I suppose I still mourn the baby we lost."

He was unknowingly repeating the lies she had been forced to tell him, that the conception with the Vulcan was his, that the... child had been stillborn.

"They say that's normal, to wonder about what a lost child would be like if they had lived." He stared at nothing for a moment, and her heart broke for him, but when he spoke, it was for different children. "Imagine if one of those children on Thieurrull was our own and we abandoned him to suffer and die.”

Unable to stand it, Ajeya pressed the pause button. Diartr had been always more sensitive than her. That was the main reason why she had hidden from him what she had done on Thieurrull; she feared he wouldn't understand. Now, she knew for a fact that he wouldn't. She looked at his loving face, recalled his harsh words, and wondered what would happen if he ever knew.

He would never know. And then, trying to forget, she turned back to look at the pleasing stars again, and found instead the fleeting image of a damned word, a ghost only present in her tricky imagination, reminding her that Hellguard was not so far behind; that no matter how far she went, it could always catch her and trap her again.

No matter what she did, Thieurrull would never let her go. It had stained her, and its mark would never go away. Ajeya realized it well then; she was cursed, and, worse, she had cursed herself.

Such an atrocity… Monsters… our own… abandoned to suffer and die.

CHAPTER 14

Hellguard colony, Romulan Star Empire

Thair had walked through those mountains many times before. Every time he climbed them before, he had felt elated; he had that pleasing sensation telling him his destiny was waiting for him there. This day, however, was different. He could not help thinking his doom was the one waiting him this time.

He was feeling hopelessly alone. Beside him, a known soldier marched, softly humming a war song. Nobody was at his right side, though. The faithful Centurion who had accompanied him during all these years was gone, as were all his men, as were all the soldiers assigned to Thieurrull, and the civilians working there. The man walking with him now was no one he could really trust. He was one of the guards who worked for the mysterious lord living in the mountains, and Thair had never really liked him.

Behind them, looking obviously scared, a young boy followed him. He did not know why he had commanded the little hybrid to come along. Probably, he had just wanted to feel that a small part of the future he had worked so hard to create was still alive. He sensed something was wrong, very wrong. This was not the way he had expected the future to unfold.

The young scientist reached an opening in the mountains. It was well hidden, and he would have never noticed it if he didn't knew it existed. The soldier went in with easy familiarity while the boy hesitated for a moment, and then went after them.

Lights illuminated the cave that welcomed them. They were walking through tunnels excavated in the solid rock that once had formed the mountains. Stacked, bright colored boxes covered the walls, giving the underground passages a surreal but beautiful appearance.

Deep in the mountains, in an ornate room, a man waited for them. Draped in an expensive dark cloak, he looked every bit the aristocrat he was. He was seated in a large armchair, his eyes staring at a lit fireplace. He did not turn to look at the soldier who stopped at the door, or at the scientist who slowly approached him.

“Ah, Thair, I see you are here again. Has everyone finally left?” he inquired in a light tone.

“Yes,” he answered from behind him, “nobody is left on the planet except your men, and me, of course.” He played nervously with his hands.

“And the Vulcans, I hope, and the half-breeds.”

“Yes, yes,” he rushed to reply. “They are all in the old colony, as I always leave them for you.”

“Good,” the lord murmured pleased, “you have been of good help.”

“As I promised. You asked me to make this project fail and so I did. You asked me to give you prisoners for your experiments and so I did.” Urged by the fear that gripped him, he explained, “And it was not an easy task, Lord. Sometimes my colleagues grew suspicious and asked questions. Why we should let the Vulcans die on the planet’s surface when we could use them again? Especialy when capturing new ships has become too dangerous. And why we should dispose of some of the hybrids who weren’t faulty?”

The man waved his hand slightly to silence him. “And you always solved the situation well. You always provided me with enough test subjects. Now the project has ended in the perfect time. There are more than enough prisoners to finalize the testing, and we will do it without interference. I thank you for your help.”

The young scientist was not sure if this last comment was supposed to reassure him or warn him.

“I always meant to ask,” the Lord continued, his gaze still fixed on the flickering flames, “was it a difficult task, sabotaging the project?” He was smiling.

“I… “ Thair stammered at first, unsure of what the other man wanted him to say. “I do my job well. Nobody noticed my actions.”

He stopped, but the aristocrat was still silent, waiting for an explanation.

“The High Command wanted the hybrids because of their telepathic ability. I… managed to disable this characteristic of them.”

“They aren’t telepaths?” the lord asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Yes, yes, they are,” the young man clarified. “I couldn’t change their genes. It’s not my specialty and, anyway, it would have been discovered. I just administered the hybrids a chemical compound that-“

Laughter interrupter him. The nobleman stood up and, still laughing, faced him; his long cloak rustled. “You have enjoyed yourself, haven’t you? You actually like this cloak-and-dagger game. How Romulan of you.”

The scientist knew that wasn’t meant as a compliment; he was just being mocking. Unsure of how to respond, he simply kept quiet.

“Yes,” the Lord said, fixing his dark bright eyes on the younger man, “you have had fun playing the spy. Now, the game is over. Return my insignia to its rightful owner.”

He reached out his hand. It was a harmless gesture, but the scientist flinched. The Lord looked mighty and terrible with his tall figure wrapped all in black and reinforced by the red fire behind him. His sable hair shined, his dark eyes glinted and his teeth flashed in a feral evil smile.

The intimidated scientist took a metallic object from his own cheap tunic and handed it over. The nobleman caressed it for a moment before putting it in one of his luxurious cloak’s folds. It was a Tal Shiar insignia, the same one the researcher had used in front of the Subcommander.

“Wearing it makes you feel powerful, doesn’t it?”

The scientist nodded even though he did not want to. He had really liked the feeling of superiority it had given him.

“But that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t need any object to tell me I’m powerful.” Those cruel features, at once both lit and shadowed by the flames, leaned closer to the scientist and his superior height made the younger man recoil. “I am powerful,” he stressed.

Thair realized his doom was coming dangerously close. After all these years of planning and scheming, the end was not going to be the one he had intended. All the last days’ fears were becoming true. He forced his words out, because even if it was a futile effort, he needed to say them.

“I helped you, and you promised me-“

The lord hushed him, but Thair kept on.

“I made the project fail, and made sure all the nobles that took part on the project would also fail. You promised me.”

“I did?” the older man asked, feigning ignorance. “I can’t remember.”

“I helped you!” the scientist insisted. "Because you said you were building a new Empire and I would be at its head with you!"

“You helped me because you were a fool,” the lord answered him. After a pause, he said again, “I thank you for your help.” And then motioned for the guard at his door.

No words needed to be said. Thair knew the mysterious man was getting rid of him, as he had done with many other persons in the past. The soldier took him away, and as he dragged him to the place where his never-to-be-known execution would take place, he reflected on the lord’s last words. Yes, he had been a fool for trusting him, for believing in his promises. He had only wanted revenge for this time when he was younger and he had tried to enter the academy, only to be rejected by a Commander because of his lowly birth. The nobles always came first, and the doors to his desired career were closed. He had always wanted them to pay. And when ten years ago the mysterious man approached him and offered to help him… He should have known. The man draped in black was powerful, and rich; he was an aristocrat too, as treacherous as any other. He told him to mark the hybrids of the noble Romulans, and make the project fail.

“Their names will be known,” he assured him, “disgrace will fall upon them.”

But the lord would never reveal the names, he would never reveal anything of the ill project. He would just conceal it, he would just make it disappear, because he had another mission to lead.

A shadow Empire was to be built in Hellguard's ashes.

The young boy stood at the threshold, looking despairingly as the only man who had ever protected him walked away. All his hopes had always laid on Thair, on his hushed promises of a better future. He had always looked so sure, so mighty… But now the boy had seen him cower before another, more powerful Romulan, and he did not know what to do, or what to think. The new man, apparently called Lord, was now looking intently at him.

“So you’re one of Thair’s children,” he commented, grinning at him. “Let’s do him one last favor,” he said caressing the boy's chin lightly. “Go!” he ordered.

The boy stared at him for a second, then ran away. He did not go far. He collided with another guard that was coming in, and the guard grabbed him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he taunted.

“Let him go. I don’t need him now,” the aristocrat commanded.

Intrigued, the soldier let the young hybrid free, and the boy did not wait to hear his next words.

“Let’s keep our promises for a while. We will have him later.”

The lord turned and sat down in his armchair again. Contemplating the fire, he smiled. His plans were going so well. That fool never suspected that he did not care for his stupid personal revenge and that he only was being used. First would be proud of his deeds; at least he was. He had mastered the finest Romulan art. He had concealed a secret within a secret. He had manipulated the manipulator. He had plotted using the other conspirator, and in the awful ruined colony, he had let the official project run while it benefited and served him as a cover. And in the cursed world, he had planned its downfall because the abandoned colony had an owner, and this owner knew the real value of the apparently useless planet. That value was only for him to know and for him to use.

Yes, he was a real Romulan, not the ones who controlled the Empire now. As the stupid scientist that had been his tool, he also disliked them. But he was not a fool, and he was going to prevail. His conspiracy was going to be a success. He had just to prepare his terrible new weapons and wait for First's call.

CHAPTER 15

Five years earlier - Federation year: 2263

Hellguard colony, Romulan Star Empire

Ajeya pushed one last time. She did not feel the pain; she did not feel the exhaustion. The tranquilizers kept her in a trance-like state. She concentrated her gaze on the white clean ceiling. It was odd. She had been in a similar room before, she had lived this same situation twice, but for all the similarities, this time was completely different.

Because in those other moments, in her mind had been the same idea, and in her heart the same feeling. She had waited anxiously to see her children, to take them in her arms, already loving them. Even in her sedated state, her fierce soul had fought the drugs so she could feel their every move, even if that meant bearing the pain of bringing life to them.

This time, however, she was not elated. She only wanted to be finished with the procedure and leave the planet behind. This time, she was giving life to a baby that was not really her child. She doubted it could be considered even a baby. At least, she could not bear to think of it like that.

One last push, and everything was over. The scientists had the baby in their arms. She did not want to actually look at it, but the very young doctor that held it approached her and showed it to her.

The tiny baby was covered in blood, her blood, and squirmed. It was a female, even if she did not want to recognize even its gender, who looked Romulan, and when the little girl reached out with her open hands as if she desired to touch her, Ajeya closed her eyes.

One of the researchers, the youngest one -- Thair, if she remembered right, took the doctor away. There was something that made her distrust him, but this time, she was grateful. She did not want to see the half-breed, not one more time. Her mission here was over.

She relaxed on the utilitarian bed she had been assigned, and, finally, she was feeling relieved. The last months had been a nightmare. Always lying to her closest ones, always fearing they would suspect. She would have confided in Diartr, but she did not know how to explain that the baby she carried was not his own, that it was not even Romulan. When he had realized she was pregnant he had been so delighted, stroking her belly while he talked about a little sister for Rakkas and Ehiil, talking about the names he favored.… But now, fortunately, their child was gone for good. She would just tell him she had miscarried, a misfortune, yes, but it happened; he would mourn for... his daughter, but he would forget.

She smiled faintly, as the tiredness she did not feel lured her to sleep. She was content now. No more suffering the little abomination, no more hating her, no more dreading the feel of the child's strong movements. She had gotten rid of the half-breed; she –it– was finally with its true owners. Ajeya had only to wait... leave this awful planet and wait. Soon would come her reward, the one that would make worthy this whole sickening experience. Soon her name would be praised and her family name would be restored to honor, her parents saved from a corrupt Praetor's revenge and in their rightful place. Again. As it should be. Rakkas and Ehiil would carry the name of their noble House proudly, and they would be given their place in the Empire. They would not have to suffer, as she had. They would not have to sell their personal honor to retrieve that of their House.

Yes, finally, everything was going to be all right.

The doctor showed the newborn to him. “She’s your child,” he said softly. Beside him, another young muscular Romulan was smirking. “She’s beautiful,” the healer added sympathetically.

The Vulcan heard Thair laugh at the clumsy attempts to turn into a happy moment what was only meant to be torture, a last cruel act against him when he was already broken. Both his suffering and the sentimental Fegral amused Thair, but the Vulcan's focus was swallowed by the child.

He, who had maintained his serenity and disciplines when he had been captured, remaining impenetrable even at the astonishing sight that his captors were clearly the rumored Sundered, laid hollow eyes on the still bloody baby, and felt his last bastion of control falter in defeat. He looked away, and his cellmates moved to protect and support him, to block his gaze if he couldn't bear to see.

The Romulans soon left, because the damage was done. He could not be more torn. He felt as a rapist even if he had been the one abused. He did not want to think of the baby. He did not want to believe that she was his. He thought of his beloved T’Pren, and that only made him fail more.

My children were to be yours...

But it had not been T'Pren with him in the Fires, only the one who had tried to be mocking and whose mind revealed her self-loathing as she betrayed her soul and her true mate, and made him betray his...

He saw the torments inflicted upon him as if they were his own crimes.

Thus, when a Romulan guard took him away from the cells and led him to an abandoned colony on that prison world, he looked at the nearby plains under the ruthless suns that somehow reminded him of his lost home. He thought of home, and a last determined will dominated his tortured mind. He knew he was there to die, but he would not let the sadistic Romulans kill him. He would not give them that last satisfaction.

He walked towards the sands and remained there. Nature would take his life, not them. He was at least in control of his death.

He did not know it, but Thair would make Ajeya see his sun tortured corpse.

Thair caressed lightly the now clean skin of the baby. They were finally alone. He was smiling satisfied, a sadistic gleam on his eyes. “Welcome home,” he whispered, “Saavik, daughter of Ajeya, daughter of Jaeihthe, of the once Noble House Seble-Firyal. You are going to be my weapon against them.” And he took out a small branding iron, ready to mark her.

The newborn struggled to adapt to the new environment. The heartbeat that had soothed and exhilarated her all these months was gone; the warm, dark environment she had known wiped out by bright lights and cold air.

Someone was holding her, but she knew well it was not the one whose body had been her universe until the painful, shocking process of being born. Her instincts told her something was lacking, the way food, warmth, and comfort could be lacking. Love, acceptance... she didn't know anything about them, only that something was lacking. She needed to be with her mother, but the one who held her moved. Something said her mother was closer, and she stretched tiny arms blindly, but her mother never came. The little girl did not understand, and something welled up that she would not know the words for until she learned languages: sad, desolated... unwanted, refused.

She was carried away, and as she passed from hand to hand, her instincts and senses flailed to find something to bring back warmth. Face after face appeared in front of her, some took hold of her, one looked down at her and then away. She barely found mild affection in the arms of the one who first took her. Cold acceptance and total indifference was the answer of others. As one last person touched her, however, feelings of repugnance and hatred and a malicious pleasure she could not understand assaulted her as a white light passed by and pain seared into her shoulder.

She cried out for the warmth she needed, but no one offered it to her other than wrapping her in cloth, and alone in the cold impersonal cradle where she had been placed, the noise of other cries replacing Ajeya's heartbeat, the one just named Saavik despaired.