Author's Note

I consider it a personal failing that I hadn't posted this here on FiMFiction earlier. I can only blame the sun being in my eyes and my trick knee acting up.

Prologue 1 - I Know Nothing but That I Trust You

Sunset stood at the door to the captain’s quarters, her hands only being kept from wringing themselves by the black velvet drawstring pouch she held. Swallowing hard, she watched as the lights of the hallway, dimmed for evening cycle, shimmered slightly across the fabric. Nothing but her own fear held her back from pressing the button next to the door to ring the chime, and all her life she’d been proud of how well she was able to conquer her fear…but the fear of what she was about to do almost paralyzed her.

More out of nerves than anything, she glanced down the hall in the direction she’d come from, as though she could still see her friends gathered around “their” table in the mess hall. As one, they’d been kind and compassionate, supporting her both when she revealed her true history to them and when she said she wanted to tell the captain. The “Main 7,” as the crew liked to call them, had grown closer than Sunset had ever expected…had ever experienced, and every one of the other six had been sure that she was making the right decision.

She looked back down at the bag in her hands, gently stroking the fabric with her thumb, more to have sensation than because she had any need to identify the contents. She knew what was inside after all, she’d filled the pouch herself years ago before stowing it in the first of multiple private belongings safes and crates she’d used since joining the Fleet.

Nothing for it but to do, I shouldn’t…I can’t put this off any longer, I owe her that much. Resignedly sighing, she reached out her hand, her middle finger resting against the wall plating as she tended to do, a silly habit that she couldn’t recall when she started doing it, and her index finger hovering over the button. Almost unbidden, the memory that planted the seed for this meeting floated up from her subconscious.

“I was putting the commendation in your file today ensign, and I noticed a discrepancy.”

The hair on the back of Sunset’s neck rose like a cat puffing up in response to danger. “Oh?” Almost on automatic, she began cataloging the fastest and most efficient ways to kill the captain. Grappling the taller woman would be a challenge, but she’d spent countless hours in the holodeck training to do just that. Using one of the multiple decorative artefacts littering the ready room’s shelves would be the most likely lethal option, but retrieving one and re-approaching the woman to use it would give her ample warning. Blunt force trauma would be messy, but there was nothing like the classics. She commanded herself to wait and see what the woman would do, she’d surprised Sunset numerous times in the past.

“Yes, it said your parents had died during the siege of Eronia. I looked the battle up and I didn’t find mention of them being on one of the ships during that battle. Of course, the Dominion War was…a nightmare…” the older woman’s face clouded for a moment, “…and many people lost loved ones, and sometimes the records weren’t well kept. So I checked into it and found they had died during that campaign, but at the previous star system. I’ve corrected your personnel file so it shows they died in the line of duty at Neethia. I…thought you’d want to know.”

Sunset’s ‘fight or flight’ responses weren’t mollified in the least. “Oh, yes, of course…”

The captain smiled at Sunset, “In any case, if your performance on this ship is any indication, I expect you’ll be a very impressive captain someday. Likely very soon! Your actions have improved efficiency of the ship’s systems, boosted morale, increased crew efficiency, and saved no small number of lives.” The smile…didn’t soften so much as it morphed from one of ‘duty’ to something warmer, almost…familial. “It’s not often I encounter an ensign who exhibits as much honesty, kindness, and loyalty as you have, especially in the Command track. Far too many cadets join the Academy with stars in their eyes and the goal to be a better captain than Kirk, and by that they always mean, ‘more decorated.’” She giggled slightly, “They don’t often think until well into being lieutenants about taking joy in their fellow crewmember’s successes or giving generously of their time and experience.”

Sunset had never been told she exemplified any of those virtues, let alone all of them, and so was more nonplussed than anything. “I…don’t understand. Isn’t that how Starfleet operates?”

Captain Celestia chuckled again, “That’s the thing I think I like most about you, Sunset. You don’t even realize how well you fit in here.” She leaned back in her chair, resting her elbows on the armrests and folding her hands together, “Rather than trying to command, you’ve chosen to make friends. And that is the best path to command you could possibly take.”

What had Sunset waking up in panic and begging Sickbay for anxiety meds was the ‘correction’ to her file. If she looked up the names and the battles, she should have found it. I’m good at hacking, but I’m not THAT good! Either Section 31 was up to some bullshit, or the captain had deliberately overlooked something very big and incriminating in the records of the honorably deceased.

More on impulse than anything, Sunset finally tapped the button for the door chime. She heard through the thin parsteel-and-mesh-composite panel the brief chirp of the announcement, followed by the captain’s “Come.” Well, here goes nothing… she thought as she tapped the ‘open door’ button.

The door hissed open and for just a brief, haunting moment, she saw a much different captain standing silhouetted by the starboard windows of the captain’s cabin. Rather than a gentle waterfall of pastel rainbow locks, she thought she saw the same hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Instead of the casually undone flap of the captain’s tunic revealing the utilitarian white turtleneck the captain preferred, a crop-top with woven tritanium mesh armor revealing an abdomen with visible scarring where blades had been plunged multiple times over the course of a storied career. With a blink, Sunset vanished the specter from her past and stepped into the room.

Captain Celestia turned, lowering her cup of tea from her mouth to the saucer she held, her smile lit by the streaming of stars in a warp field. “Ah, Sunset! So good to see you! I’ve been meaning to talk to you, your handling of the Klingons was absolutely perfectly during that last away mission. The reports from the rest of your team, I believe they’re called, ‘The Main Seven?’” that omnipresent smile ticked up a couple notches, “Are absolutely effusive with praise of you, specifically. Of course, Dash might have to be reprimanded and given a medal for getting you all into and then helping you out of that situation, but we’ll figure that out in time.” The taller woman crossed to her desk and set her teacup down, “Sit! I’ll pour you some tea.”

Following her captain’s orders, Sunset took the visitor’s chair, setting the pouch in her lap, and took an obedient sip of the tea as Celestia took her own seat. While not intentionally trying to stretch the moment out, she couldn’t help but think, This might be the last time I enjoy a cup of tea with her… The thought made her heart hurt a little. In her two years aboard the USS Harmony, Sunset had found herself becoming unexpectedly attached to the woman, her desire to make Celestia proud becoming an ever-growing priority in her life.

And Sunset was about to break her heart instead.

Unwilling to put it off any longer, but unsure what to say, specifically, Sunset gently put the cup down on its saucer. Sensing more than seeing Celestia’s focus, she slowly and deliberately moved to pick the packet up off her lap, loosen the drawstring, and withdraw the object that she’d had for so long she couldn’t remember not having it. It had been part of her existence so much that she still had callouses on her dominant hand even years since she’d last held it.

She slowly, quietly reached out to place it gently in the middle of Celestia’s desk, then hastily withdrew her hand, grasping the now empty pouch and twisting it nervously.

Celestia put her teacup down and examined the object. It was a dagger, with a hollow grip and overall triangular shape. The crossbar was bent back on both sides of the blade, giving the whole thing the impression of being the tip of an arrow. While the blade was sheathed, she knew that it would have two half-circle cut-outs, intended to make any stab wound that much worse and commensurately more deadly. It would be extremely sharp, made from the sturdiest, most exotic materials available, and likely would have genetic material on it from multiple victims. She would be able to deduce all that from the logo stamped onto the sheath the blade was still in, the icon of the Terran Empire, the Federation’s mirror opposite.

Celestia didn’t say anything, just folded her hands and leaned her elbows on her desk, waiting for Sunset to speak.

After what felt like hours of quiet condemnation, Sunset finally broke the silence, “I…” she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat and struggling to continue, “…you’re a lot like her.” She paused in case the captain wanted to ask for clarification. No questions were forthcoming, but Sunset explained anyway. “My captain…the one who pulled an orphan from the wreckage of a Terran space station…she also saw…’great things’ in me. She had a Mission,” her emphasis on the word was underscored with the scratchiness of her voice, “She wanted to rebuild the Empire, wanted to make the galaxy safe for humans again. She read Spock like he wrote holy scripture, did her best to teach it to me, but…I got greedy. I started looking for ways to…be a true Terran. Not bogged down by alien philosophy but to be true to Emperor Sato’s vision. I heard of a stable portal to this universe and I took a small team with me. It was on a small moon in the Vaaran Expanse.”

Celestia spoke up for the first time since Sunset put the dagger on her desk, “That’s…a very unstable region of space.”

Sunset nodded, still not looking up at Celestia, “When we had…dispatched the small guard contingent at the storage facility, and I’d managed to get through the last of the safeguards when…” she swallowed, the lump returning to her throat with a vengeance, “The two others I had…thought I recruited…they turned on me. Held me at phaserpoint while they opened a channel back to Celestia who…”

She suddenly couldn’t talk. Her breath was coming in shuddered gasps as she realized she was crying, “She told me this had been a test. She had heard about the portal long before I did and planted the leads so I’d find them. If I went to her to ask for the mission, I would have passed. But if I tried to take the portal myself…”

“…a sign that you didn’t trust her?” the captain finished for her.

She nodded again. “She said, ‘I’m not angry, I could never truly be angry with you, but I’m so very disappointed. I cannot have anyone disloyal to me trying to take power and turn my crew against me.’ She said…” tears streaked down her cheeks, she hastily wiped them away, “’Goodbye, my daughter.’”

Sunset cleared her throat, “I managed to use the distraction of the comms ending to overpower the two who’d been sent to kill me, but one of them had a bomb, and it was already armed. I managed to get behind a barrier, but the bomb blew a hole in the wall, and it was just vacuum on the other side. The only way to survive was to go through the portal…and I wound up in an abandoned lab in this universe.”

“I found an old Augment ship, based on an early 22nd century explorer design designed to run on plutonium, of all things,” a hint of humor crept into her voice for just a moment, “…and I used the time practically crawling toward the Federation reading up on the history of this universe. By the time I reached a Federation outpost, I’d crafted a backstory and created a virus to modify the computer records to make it as believable as I could, but…I couldn’t alter too much, so I created a small glitch. Find a war where enough people died, find a couple of people that were a close enough genetic match, and tweak things so people look just far enough to see they were really dead, but usually stop there before they went looking deeper out of respect for the dead.”

She snorted, “Imagine my surprise at finding my name. Sunset Royal, dead along with her parents thanks to the silly Federation notion that families on starships was a good idea. I just…fudged the records so that ‘my’ parents died at a different system, and anyone looking up me would find my name twice, once at a refuge camp along the flight path of the combat fleet, and one a dozen light years away from where her parents died. It would be a coincidence, surely, and for the most part it worked.”

Sunset was quiet, several false starts where she wanted to speak, but the words fled before she could voice them.

“…then a certain captain found the discrepancy?” Celestia volunteered.

Sunset nodded, “I haven’t slept well in months. I keep waking up from nightmares where you’re pushing me through the portal, but it opens to a black hole. Or I’m thrown into a Federation penal colony, or you just…phaser me from existence on the bridge.” She shivered and hugged herself, curling in as though to protect her vital organs, “And I would take a caffeine patch or an upper just to get through the day, and Doc cut me off from accessing any sleep hypos. I’ve been drinking so much calming tea before bed…and I have to lead the crew, I can’t disappoint them, I can’t…I can’t fail you again.”

When her next words barely squeaked out, she took another shuddering breath, “T…Terran biosignatures h-have a point-4 drift in the neo-cortex. You’ll also need to cycle the brig force fields so the syncing interval is randomized, the Federation standard for brig systems is too easy to exploit if you’re accustomed to a…agony booths. I d-d-don’t have next of kin and I’ll plead guilty to impersonating a Federation citizen just please let me tell my friends I’ll miss them and…” what she had intended to be a carefully prepared briefing on the best way to track and contain her then expedite her from the ship had turned into a jumbled mess of half-formed sentences as the control she’d barely been holding on to started slipping.

That control was shattered when she felt Celestia’s arms wrap around her in what was probably the first hug she’d ever received. Sure, Pinkemaina had attempted them, but Sunset had drawn some very firm, very hard ‘personal bubble’ boundaries early on, and the (usually disastrous) attempts at hugs ended after that, and nobody since had even tried.

And a Terran hugging anyone else without at least three witnesses present to ensure a knife wasn’t about to be plunged into your back? Unthinkable.

But Celestia didn’t have a blade in her hand, and she demanded nothing of Sunset, merely held her as the young lieutenant wept.

AJ’s fingers drummed a steady rhythm against the mess hall table. While the rhythm was regular, the tempo was getting faster as the minutes ticked by.

Rarity groaned without looking away from her makeup mirror, “Jaqueline, darling, while I do understand your anxiety, I would appreciate it if you would please stop that incessant racket!”

AJ grumbled and flattened her palms against the table surface. Rarity took pity on her girlfriend and put down the mirror and old style liquid eyeliner and took the now stilled hands into her own. “Thank you, darling.”

Not to be outdone by AJ’s display of impatience, Dash groaned out loud and rolled her head back on her shoulders, “C’mon, this is taking so long! Pinkie, can’t you tell us anything about what’s going on?”

Next to her, the Betazoid officer giggled, “Noparoonie! That’d be a total invasion of privacy and waaaay against Starfleet regulations.”

Dash groaned again and swung her torso until her head thudded against the table. “Why does she think the captain’s gonna throw the book at her, anyway?”

Science Cadet Twilight hmm’d, “She’s making a fairly logical series of deductions based on her research into Federation law, Starfleet code, and the information gathered through conversation with fellow officers in the Fleet,” she looked up from the PADD she was reading from, “That said, I do think her conclusions are heavily influenced by her upbringing in the Empire.”

Dash sat up and glared at Twilight, “What, are you a Vulcan or something?”

Fluttershy whimpered, “To think there’s…mean versions of us that could show up at any time…”

Twilight rolled her eyes, “Not any time, there’s specific criteria for the multiversal transfer, and much of the evidence so far indicates that there may have to be a one-to-one exchange of matter between universes, so unless the conditions are nearly perfect, we won’t be seeing our own doppelgangers any time soon.”

Any reply that might have been made was interrupted by the whoosh of the mess hall doors. Though they’d all been looking up every time the sound occurred, this time they were rewarded with the sight of the friend they’d been looking for, “Sunset!” they all crowed as they surged from the table.

The lieutenant greeted them look of tearful disbelief, like she couldn’t understand why she was walking into the mess hall instead of being escorted to the brig. She watched almost dumbfounded as the group ran up to her.

Abruptly, Pinkie held out her arms and drew to a stop a little over a meter away from Sunset, “Ahp-ahp-ahp!” she chirped, “Before we go ahead with our planned display of affection and support for our friend, as junior ship’s counselor I must insist we follow protocol and secure affirmative, ongoing, and vocal consent.” She straightened and stood directly in front of Sunset in a formal pose, “My good friend Sunset, do you consent to…?”

“Pinkie,” interrupted Sunset, “Shut up and hug me.”

With a laugh, the group dogpiled Sunset with a group hug that almost toppled her to the floor. After several minutes, they finally parted enough for Sunset to stand on her own, with Twilight being the surprising final hanger-on in the hug.

“What is that?!” asked Dash reverently.

AJ looked down to the lieutenant’s waistband, where stuck in her belt was Sunset’s imperial dagger. She gave a low whistle, “Now that is a mighty dangerous looking pig poker, why’re’ya wearin’ it like that?”

Sunset smiled at them and casually draped her left hand over the hilt like she’d been doing so all her life, which the group realized she likely had, “It’s official Imperial dress code for standard uniform wear…well, with pants, anyway. The miniskirt uniform has a thigh harness for a sheath.”

“I believe what our dear Jacqueline means, darling, is why are you wearing it with your Federation uniform? It’s hardly standard on this ‘side of the looking glass,’ as it were,” replied Rarity.

Sunset’s answering grin was downright shy, “I thought…I thought she’d keep it, maybe put it in lockup…but she handed it back to me and said, ‘Your past does not define you, but it does inform you and remind you how far you’ve come. Your past is not today, but it will always be a part of you, and will be your compass to the future.”

There was a reverent silence as the junior officers pondered their captain’s wisdom.

As usual, it was Dash that broke the spell, “Hey, Sunset; can I try it out?”

Sunset scoffed, “Dash, these things can cut through parsteel and are forged to survive being in a photon torpedo explosion! I’m not letting someone who can only barely pass her hand-phaser qualifications play with it.”

Dash let out a put-upon groan as the rest of the group laughed. As they tapered off, Twilight asked, “So what did she say about your…ah, ‘legal status?’”

Sunset snorted a laugh, “She’s known about it since she dug up my file last year. I guess she shuffled the right paperwork and talked to the right people. I’ve been a legitimate officer of Starfleet and citizen of the Federation for months now.”

AJ’s hand went up to tip a cowboy hat she wasn’t presently wearing, but she followed through on the motion anyway, “Shee-yoot, didn’t I tell you there was nothin’ to worry about?”

Sunset blushed, “Yeah, yeah.” Waving her hand between them as though attempting to stave off smoke, she simply said, “Anyone want to take in some holodeck time? I hear there’s a new dungeon crawl sim and I could really blow off steam. Fluttershy, you can be the barbarian again if you want.”

The quietest member of their group perked up with a hushed, “Yay!” At everyone else’s nod, they left the mess hall, not paying attention to the other people still at their tables nor the man behind the bar.

“Very interesting, Sunset my dear,” he said to himself as he absently polished a glass, “Even with your timeline ripped, torn, and mangled, you still have a shockingly familiar story. I wonder who arranged that?” He blinked, and between one blink and the next, so quickly the casual observer might swear it was a trick of the light, his eyes went from fully human-normal in appearance to being a sickly yellow, then back. “Don’t worry, you’re ol’ Uncle Discord will be making sure you’re back to the world and timeline you belong in, as soon as I figure out why you’re here in the first place.” So saying, he snapped his fingers and flashed bright enough that the entire room (and a few other parts of the ship) should have seen it, but they somehow didn’t. When the flash was gone, so was the man.