What Still Survives Part 3

Posted on 23 Aug 2026 @ 2:15am by Lieutenant Commander Aev Flammia

1,848 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Beyond the Raptor's Veil
Location: Kaohht Dhael’Reth
Timeline: Current

[Kaohht Dhael’Reth, Research Zone II]

They reached the guarded doors. N’Vek dismissed the soldiers with a small motion of his hand, and the doors parted with a muted hydraulic hiss. Beyond lay an observation chamber so sterile it seemed untouched by human habitation. Consoles lined the forward wall beneath an enormous viewing window. Through the glass was another room, completely white, its walls and floor covered in thick impact-resistant padding. A solitary figure sat in the far corner, her knees drawn against her chest, forehead lowered against them, black hair spilling around her face and shoulders.

Jhun entered the observation room, and the woman immediately raised her head. Her hair fell away from her face, revealing the dozens of electrodes and neural leads fused directly into her scalp. Some disappeared beneath the skin, while others were anchored into small metallic ports along her temples and behind her ears. Faint surgical scars webbed outward through the dark hair. She could not have heard them—the chamber was soundproof—yet she knew they were there. Her eyes found Jhun through the glass, deep purple and unblinking, and N’Vek saw Jhun’s expression change almost imperceptibly.

“I am going in,” Jhun said.

“Colonel-”

Jhun silenced him with a glance and moved to the side entrance. The security seal released after a brief scan, and the inner door opened. She stepped into the white room alone.

Saetare unfolded herself slowly from the floor. Even weakened, she was imposing. Her wrists were bound in inhibitor restraints, and the amount of suppressant circulating through her body would have left most telepaths barely conscious. Yet when she straightened, there was nothing diminished about the hatred in her face. Those violet eyes fixed upon Jhun with such concentrated animus that even Jhun felt a faint tightening along the back of her neck. The Reman half-breed wanted her dead—not abstractly, not eventually, but here and now. Jhun knew it with absolute certainty, and she enjoyed knowing it.

“It has been quite some time, Saetare.” She approached at an unhurried pace, though not carelessly. Jhun understood better than most what the woman was capable of. Bound hands meant very little to someone who could reach into another mind, and the inhibitors had never made Saetare harmless. They merely made her manageable. Jhun stopped several meters away. “Still refusing to speak?”

Saetare said nothing.

Jhun tilted her head, studying her. “Are you still angry with me for killing your husband?”

There was no answer, no flinch, no cry, only that stare. Yet Jhun saw the minute change in Saetare’s breathing, the tightening of her jaw, and the way her bound fingers slowly curled into her palms until the knuckles whitened. There was violence behind those purple eyes, contained only by restraints, drugs, and patience. Jhun’s smile returned. Good. At least some things had not changed.

“I have some news for you,” Jhun said, holding her smile as she watched Saetare. The Romulan-Reman hybrid was not particularly fond of her, though Jhun could hardly blame her for that. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a small holoprojector. She could already imagine N’Vek protesting from the other side of the glass wall, warning her that provoking Saetare served no useful purpose, but that only made the prospect more enjoyable. She pressed the control.

The holographic recording shimmered faintly in the air, its colors washed with the pale translucence of reconstructed light. Rhal’s image stood opposite Aev, every movement preserved with unsettling precision, though there was something unmistakably unreal about the scene when viewed from outside it: the slight flicker along the edges of a shoulder, the momentary distortion where one figure crossed through a damaged portion of the recording.

“You know,” Rhal said mildly, “I did often wonder where they’d hidden you.” His holographic likeness paced a slow step across the room, hands clasped behind his back. “I invested a truly embarrassing amount of resources trying to find you. I even managed to intercept several of Skath’s people.” He glanced toward Aev, his expression thoughtful. “Questioned them. Thoroughly.”

The recording captured the faint shrug that followed, almost dismissive in its casualness. “They all told me the same thing, that you’d fallen ill. That you’d died.” Rhal exhaled softly, the sound preserved well enough to carry something between amusement and disappointment. “So imagine my surprise when one of my observers reported a Romulan arriving here. Violet eyes. Starfleet bearing.” He stopped pacing and turned fully toward Aev, studying him with open curiosity now. “So tell me,” he said gently, “are you a ghost… or are you truly my nephew?”

Aev’s recorded image barely moved. He stood rigidly opposite him, the coldness in his expression made stranger by the pale holographic light passing across his features. “They told me you killed my parents,” he said, his voice flat and edged with frost. “So if you’re wondering, consider me a wraith. And if you think I’d willingly speak with the murderer of my parents, you’re mistaken.”

“Did they?” Rhal laughed softly. Even through the recording, there was something intimate and unpleasant about the amusement in it. “Oh, nephew… do you truly believe the Remans would be entirely forthcoming with you?” His smile thinned. “They aren’t wrong, but they are imprecise.”

He sighed, the sound almost regretful. “Your father was killed, yes. Not by me. By a colleague.” A faint frown touched his brow. “He attempted to escape. One of his guards was… overzealous.” Rhal gave a small shake of his head, as though discussing an unfortunate administrative error rather than a death. “Those responsible were dealt with. Harshly, I assure you.”

Then the hologram of Rhal looked back toward Aev, his eyes intent. “But your mother?” His smile returned, sharper now. “Quite alive. Very alive. And currently in service to the Free State.” He paused, and even viewed afterward, from the safety of a recording, the silence seemed deliberate. The image of Aev remained motionless as the words settled between them. “You see, when I spent all those resources searching for you,” Rhal continued lightly, “it was never for your sake. It was for hers.” His tone warmed with a peculiar satisfaction. “She will be delighted to learn that you survived.”

The recording held on them for another moment: Rhal composed and almost pleased with himself, Aev frozen opposite him beneath the artificial shimmer of the hologram. Whatever reaction had followed remained trapped in the past.

“Dealt with,” Jhun murmured, a sudden sneer pulling at her mouth. The expression lingered only briefly before her smile returned and she turned her attention back to Saetare. The change in the woman was immediate. Her eyes had widened, all of the cold restraint that had greeted Jhun giving way to something far more vulnerable. Saetare stepped slowly toward the projection of the young man, studying him with an intensity that seemed to shut out everything else in the room. Her head tilted slightly as her gaze moved over his face, lingering upon his eyes, the shape of his brow, the set of his jaw. Jhun wondered whether she was searching for traces of Sareth in him, or perhaps simply trying to decide whether the image before her was real at all.

“Your son had the good fortune of falling into a very respectable family,” Jhun said, watching Saetare rather than the projection. “The adopted son of a Starfleet admiral, of all things.” She gave a soft chuckle. “One would never even know he came from such a creature as you.”

Jhun pressed the device again, and the recording dissolved before reforming into another scene. Aev now stood upon some sort of training mat opposite a large avian officer. The two began to spar, their movements preserved in quick, fluid flashes of holographic light. Aev was fast and athletic, clearly trained, but the avian proved faster and considerably stronger. Before long, Aev was sent bodily from the arena to a chorus of cheers and shouts from unseen spectators. He recovered quickly, rose to his feet, and stepped back toward his opponent. Jhun froze the image there, leaving Aev suspended in mid-stride.

“Isn’t it interesting how the Elements work?” she asked. “You are here, and your son serves aboard a Federation starship surrounded by my spies.” Her smile faded as she turned toward Saetare, something darker settling into her expression. “Apparently, he inherited your talents. He is quite a powerful empath. Curious, isn’t it? The boy is only a quarter Reman.”

Jhun moved a little closer, studying Saetare with open fascination. “Do you know how long we tried to isolate the genetic expressions responsible for the stronger psionic abilities among Remans? Why some of you possess gifts far beyond those seen in other Vulcanoids?” A pleased little smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “No matter how hard my scientists worked, they could produce only potent touch telepaths. Useful, certainly, but not what this program was created to achieve. And now here is your son, mostly Romulan, hardly resembling you at all...and yet he possesses your abilities. Perhaps even more than you do.”

She glanced back at Aev’s frozen image, and for a moment her interest became almost scientific. “Your husband made him the key to finding the gateway. I doubt Sareth ever imagined that the boy would become the key to understanding you as well.” Excitement brightened Jhun’s features in a way that was far more unsettling than anger would have been. “I want to dissect him so badly,” she said, the words escaping with almost girlish delight. Then she looked back toward Saetare. “Should I bring him here? Would you like that? Should I bring your son to you, Saetare? You would like to see him again, wouldn’t you?” She laughed softly.

Saetare moved before the laughter had finished. She lunged at Jhun with such sudden violence that for an instant there seemed to be nothing between them at all. The invisible forcefield separating the two women snapped into existence in a burst of emerald light, crackling across Saetare’s body and hurling her backward. She struck the padded floor hard, but almost immediately forced herself upright again, staring at Jhun with such naked hatred that the Colonel felt an involuntary knot of anxiety tighten beneath her ribs.

“Rekh lloikh hwikh, Jhun t’Annwhi.” Saetare’s voice was rough from disuse, but there was nothing weak in it. She rose as far as the restraints allowed, her violet eyes fixed upon Jhun with a murderous intensity that made the threat feel less like rage than certainty. “Hwiokh crawaekh kharham v’oth, rekh plherekh hrao hwiokh khaelhih. Rekh lloikh hwikh hhukh—hlu’n, hlu’n—rukh hwiokh caekh’vrakh khoikh.”

“Oh. So we finally speak?” Jhun’s smile deepened, satisfaction sharpening the expression. “Yes, I think I will bring your son here. After all these years, you should have the chance to be together.”

[End]

Colonel Jhun t'Annhwi
Special Warfare Division
Romulan Free State

 

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