— USS Andromeda, Sickbay —

Javal had not been quite sure who, or what, to expect Captain Carrillo to take him to but the sickbay on the USS Andromeda was not it. Further he was having an issue not staring at the Chief Medical Officer a Doctor T’Rala. FIrst off the fact that she was a Romulan was surprising, and secondly she was much better looking than anyone had any right to be on a military ship. For the sake of his own dignity, he forced himself to look away.

“So asylum, and you want the whole fake death thing?” T’Rala asked.

Carrillo nodded, “I don’t really want to be having a showdown with the Romulans in their space over our friend here.”

T’Rala, who knew only that Javal had pissed off the Tal Shiar, nodded. Removing the Vaadwaur from the calculations left the Andromeda deep enough in Romulan space that snatching someone and taking them back to Federation space could be seen as an act of war. Javal understood the logic of making it seem like he had passed away, even if it was going to be tricky to get his body into Federation hands.

She held a medical tricorder to him, though he did not know of anything biologically that set him apart from the average Romulan. Doctor T’Rala glanced at the read out and seemed to be thinking the problem through in her head. Soon she nodded, “So you’re doing a ground assault that’s the best time for us to grab you. I can whip something up that gives us an hour, maybe two of simulated death. No vitals, nothing that would show up on a field scanner. We can revive you here, but the drawback is if you don’t get the right antiviral you’ll actually die.”

“I’m the captain I can’t join a ground assault when my ship is in combat,” Javal protested.

“Figure out a reason, if we grab you from your bridge it’ll look hinky,” Carrillo said.

“Hinky?” Javal questioned.

“Funny, odd,” T’Rala explained, having been raised by humans she was used to their confounding use of language. 

It was a dubious and potentially bad plan in Javal’s eyes but he knew that he’d angered his resident spook enough that it was leaving him little choice. The fact that Starfleet was so game to do something that was ‘hinky’ on his behalf was either a sign that they thought that they would get information out of him, or that they were actually as respectful of rights and liberties as they said. He was not sure which was worse.

“So we have that on top of this likely suicidal mission you all cooked up,” T’Rala said, the door entering the baseline readings that she had taken into the computer. 

Javal studied the informal way that the pair spoke, the more relaxed almost casual attitude between Starfleet officers that would only work on a Romulan ship in specific instances of people who had served together for decades. While he did not know how long the two women had served together the ship itself seemed new and Carrillo at least was young enough that it seemed unlikely she had been a captain for long.

“We are still working out the details,” Javal said.

“I just got the Andromeda, I’m not planning on having it blown up on my first mission,” Carrillo said, “even if it’s just the stardrive section.”

— USS Andromeda, Officer’s Lounge —

Hours had passed and Javal had returned to his own ship. The amount of time he could be away from the Tal Shiar handler, and interacting with Starfleet officers was limited. He had already pushed the man so far, and unless he wanted to find himself removed from command before the mission he needed to toe a line. With her husband and much of the crew, mostly scientific, back with the ship’s saucer section Olivia Carrillo had fewer social options.

So she found herself dining with Doctor T’Rala Matthews in the officer’s lounge, one of the few places that had not left their chefs behind with the saucer section. While Carrillo got a prawn fettuccini the doctor got something that looked like worms but was a kind of noodle that was popular on Vulcan. 

“Growing up Vulcan food was the closest I could get to Romulan,” T’Rala explained, “so my parents would replicate it, hoping to give me a taste of home and my culture.”

“Was there a effort to raise you as a little Vulcan or anything, teach you logic and all that?” Carrillo asked.

T’Rala shook her head, “My parents were humans, and while having a Vulcan dish once a week was one thing. Embracing logic was another. My dad had a temper, not like in a mean way, but there’s no way he’d be able to embrace the teachings of Surak, or Jesus for that matter.”

“Don’t introduce him to my grandmother,” Carrillo said, “My family isn’t coldly logical, but we’re big fans of Jesus.”

“I always thought religion was out of vogue on Earth,” T’Rala said who’d grown up on a human colony and had only been to Earth for the Academy.

“Catholics goings back centuries. I don’t know, if everyone’s into it like we used to be,” Carrillo explained, “But out here in the depths of nothing against forces we’re not sure we understand. It’s nice to think I’ve got someone in my corner even if not in a practical way. I know God, or Jesus, isn’t going to intervene in our situation. But as long as what I do is just, I feel taken care of.”

T’Rala nodded, “Well I didn’t know there were any actual Christians in Starfleet.”

“Faith isn’t just a Bajoran thing,” Carrillo said, “And there’s a lot we’ve got wrong over the centuries. I’m not denying that. It’s just a big universe, and I know I’m not alone.”

T’Rala thought that was foolish, but did not say anything. Arguing over faith rarely lead anywhere. She believed the the big black void of space and little else. Still she had seen enough as a doctor, had enough patients die, that she could also see how faith could be something to hold onto.

“See you spend all your time with your husband and I don’t get to learn all this neat stuff about you,” T’Rala said, “Just let’s try not to die okay. As CMO I’m registering my official opinion that the best thing for the crew’s health and morale is to not be blown up.”

“Okay, you’ve convinced me, I’ll try not to get us all killed,” Carrillo grinned.