Chapter Text
Una sees the anger, the pain in Chris’ eyes as she is transported away, his gaze slowly dissolving in the golden light as she is picked apart and put together somewhere else.
Body reassembled she takes a breath and takes the place in. It’s a ship - the low humming tells her as much, as does the familiar setting of a transporter room. She instantly shoves any thoughts of Chris, the Enterprise and what just transpired out of her mind. She has to focus on herself now.
The place is a jail. It becomes apparent when they step out into the long, gray corridor and she sees all the door openings with non-see through force fields instead of actual doors. She remembers her visit to one of these facilities when she was a cadet. She had disliked them already then.
The guards say nothing as they walk in front of her. Neither does Batel, somewhere behind her to her left. Una looks around, her mind storing what she sees - as it constantly does, knowing that information can always be useful - while preparing herself for what’s to come. Una only had the warning that came the day before, the simple yet terrifying “ they know ”. And when the call had come for her and Chris to meet Captain Batel, she somehow had been prepared. She’d hoped, of course, that it wouldn’t be this but no, she hadn’t been too surprised.
She’d tried to raise her suspicion about it with Chris, during their short ride in the turbolift to the transporter room. He’d nodded, but tried to comfort her that it might also not be about this. Inwardly, she had sighed. Ever since she had told him, he had avoided talking about what was to come. And well, she hadn’t raised the subject either.
Yet, for a fleeting moment Una had felt bad about not being able to warn him, but how could she have? She still doesn’t know who the message came from and she wasn’t even sure it was about… this. It could just have been someone trying to threaten her or scare her. And so Batel had shown up, flanked by two officers and Chris - oh Chris - had of course reacted with utter disgust at her actions. But for him to react so aggressively… Una knows Chris is protective, yet even Una had been almost caught off guard by his strong reaction. She’s glad she managed to make him calm down. It would’ve served neither of them to have him fighting the other officers.
She does wonder who the warning came from. Una remembers her sister, their short meeting all those years ago in a small public bathroom in Federation space, but she doesn’t know why she was there and she never heard from her again. She had put the meeting in the furthest part of her mind, and never went searching. Over the years she had of course picked up pieces of information about Illyria, small mentionings of things that made it apparent that somehow the Federation still kept an eye on that region of space. Of course there were agreements like Hetemit IX, but she had never looked deeper into those kinds of matters. She had not been able to ask, to actually look closer. Not wanting anyone to wonder why she was interested. And there was also… No, that memory hurts, and she shoves it away, making sure her face reflects nothing of her musings.
Reaching her cell, the guards lower the force field and raise it behind her as she enters. It’s kept clear and Una turns to see Batel standing outside. She looks at Una, the Captain’s green-blue eyes meeting hers and there is no warmth there. As sorry as the Captain had looked talking to Chris, looking at Una she doesn’t seem sorry at all. Una thinks she is about to say something, but then she turns away, leaving Una in her cell. The forcefield turns white, and Una finds herself alone.
She turns and eyes her new accommodations. The cell is small, but not claustrophobic. There’s a bed - pretty much a bench with a bedding - and a small table and a chair. There’s another forcefield the size of a door, leading to what she assumes is a bathroom. Una internally debates what to do, but her pondering is soon interrupted by a guard arriving with a change of clothes.
It’s gray pants and a gray shirt, pretty much in the same style as her uniform but without the ranks and the small, Starfleet insignias on its shoulder and down the sleeves. She can’t stop herself from wondering if she’ll ever wear anything with them on again. Her face deceives nothing of her internal thoughts as she accepts the pile of clothes from her guard and steps into what indeed turns out to be a bathroom.
The lights are harsh in there, illuminating the scene and Una is aware that she avoids looking in the mirror as she undresses. She tries to keep her mind blank, focuses on doing - on getting it done. Off with her boots, her black pants. Her body notices the change from the well-fitting pants as her new ones are put on. Standard size, not made after her exact measurements as is customary for higher ranking officers.
She takes off the badge, cold metal resting in her hand. The badge Chris had put back on after she had tried to resign and he had refused, and he had told her to stay, had told her that he would fight for her. Una hopes he isn’t stupid enough to actually follow through. Suddenly, she notices how her thumb caresses the small star and she angrily stops herself. No more thinking . She puts the badge down on the sink and continues undressing.
She pulls her yellow shirt over her head. She folds it, holds it for a millisecond longer than necessary before piling it on the black pants. The new, gray one is as equally unfitting as the pants.
Finally, she steps into the gray slippers. She hates them instantly.
Una takes a deep breath, picks up the pile of clothes and the badge. This time, she finally looks up and sees herself in the mirror. Dark, long hair. Blue eyes. Newly painted nails. If she doesn't look at the clothes, everything is like it used to be. She quickly turns around and leaves.
As she steps out, the guard takes her pile of clothes and reaches out for the badge still in her left hand. His eyes are uncaring as she hands it to him, a sense of loss accompanying the action.
He leaves and she sits down. She notices time passing but doesn’t really care. She isn’t supposed to do anything, just sit here and… wait.
After a while the guard reappears and she is given something to eat. It’s flavorless and bland and probably nutritious. She forces it down, trying not to think about her shelf of hot sauce in Chris’ kitchen. She tries not to think much at all.
Eventually, she goes to bed. She changes into the pajamas neatly folded on her bed.This time, the redressing doesn’t feel as bad. And maybe it’s because she is finally moving around again that makes her mind start working, because there seems to be a thought forming in the back of her mind, a realization of sorts.
The covers are harsh, standard issue like the ones she remembers from the Academy. This time, she smiles at the memory. So many years since she was just a young woman, determined to live among the stars. As much as she remembers that time with fondness, her heart also aches for the lonely girl who tried so hard to fit in and find her place. Still, she somehow eventually did. An image of her quarters flashes before her eyes. All of her belongings, so neatly in order and even though they are few, they all mean something to her. And her drawer of nail polishes, all so carefully collected throughout the years. Una sighs.
Now all of that might be lost to her…
She wonders if Starfleet has her under surveillance here. Probably. Una tries to keep her face neutral as she thinks things through. She actually doesn’t know much about what is to come. She assumes a court-martial in Starfleet and she has broken Federation law too.
Shifting her position and looking out into the dark room, the realization that has been brewing suddenly, unexpectedly, hits her. An overwhelming feeling of relief rushes through her body, like water rinsing her. Everybody knows. Releasing a shaky breath it’s like the world spins around her.
Starfleet, they know. Her heart beats like a hammer in her chest, and she almost sits up, but stops herself. She feels her eyes staring into the room, seeing nothing. Her breathing speeds up. There is no point in hiding myself anymore. Both terrified and excited at the thought, she can’t stop a smile from forming while also feeling tears burn in her eyes. I don’t have to pretend to be another Terran. They know now.
It’s both joy and pain, she realizes. Her insides are battling between the two emotions, making her heart beat faster, and she doesn’t know which one to choose. Pain, at all the years lost at hiding herself - mixed with the joy at what the years still gave her. Joy, at finally being able to openly say what she is - mixed with the pain that it isn’t something that will be met with open arms.
Sure, some of her crew knew. But they chose to stay silent on the matter, still she had to keep it secret. She hopes no harm will come to them now that everything's about to be out in the open.
By focusing her breathing, she finally calms down a bit. Even if what she is is now known, not even she knows exactly what that is. Not after all the years that have passed since she had even tried to do anything with her changed physique, or mind. Una wonders if she should try anything, get up and see how high she could jump or… but no, no use. That could just create more problems right now , she concludes. Can’t risk any surveillance leaking out, making them even more wary of me. Or make them interested in me as anything else than myself. Suddenly, she feels anger rushing through her veins. I’m not a freak show, a lab rat or for that matter - an ideal Illyrian that can only be a member of Starfleet as long as I conduct myself as the perfect officer. She’s Una. She has to remember that, whatever happens.
Sighing, she turns in the small bed. She has to focus, not get caught up in a whirlwind of emotions and lose track.
There is nothing she can do about anything right now, anyway. No answers to be found. There is only this small cell, the familiar covers and... herself. An Illyrian and Starfleet officer. Two things that should not coexist. Not in the eyes of Starfleet, of the Federation. Yet here she is. She can’t help but stretch her fingers, look at them, see them move. Suddenly so acutely aware of her body. She has hidden it for so many years, stopped it when it has been on the verge of betraying her. She has no idea what it would mean to not have to. Can I still..? Is there anything… left?
Shaking her head and sighing, she finds a comfortable position and tries to get some rest. Her questions have no answers yet, and she has to focus on getting ready for whatever is to come next.