#fingers crossed i can get over an 80 on both the finals but honestly ill just be happy to get them done

[theonlythingimfuckingisstupid]

ready to take both of my finals tomorrow then i’ll be done with high school for the rest of my life :D

[powerwordsleep]

Sasuke Retsuden (Unoffical English Translation)

Prologue

Here’s the next installment! Enjoy~

DISCLAIMER: This is not an official translation and was not made for profit or distribution. This translation was fan-made and done for purely enjoyment and translation practice purposes. I do not own the rights to NARUTO or any of the related materials.

CONTENT WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND GORE.

Prologue | Chapter 2

Chapter 1

With his fangs still in the man’s body, Menō landed without making a sound. He suddenly opened his mouth and dropped the man he held in his mouth to the ground.

“...Ugh…”

He tried to crawl away, but Menō kicked him, sending him sprawling. He stabbed the claws on his foot into the man’s shoulders and started dragging him away slowly. He finally stopped when he reached the middle of the yard then opened his mouth, dripping red with blood, and took a bite out of the man’s right shoulder.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The man shrieked, his body contorting in pain.

Menō ripped at his flesh, and the blood dripping from the wound mixed with the steady stream pouring from his stomach, quickly forming a puddle of red on the earth. Making a fast meal out of the man’s head and chest would be enjoyable. Menō instead flipped the man’s body around and started to eat the shallow flesh of his hips. He pulled at the thin fibers of muscle, and the man cried out, his face pressed into the ground, sand filling his mouth.

Menō took his time tasting the man’s flesh and blood. He had purposefully dragged the deserter’s body to the middle of the courtyard where the other prisoners could witness his meal. It was a warning—this is what will become of you if you try to run.

“Eugh! I’m still alive! Please!”

The other prisoners watched from a distance, a grimace on their faces and pickaxes resting on their shoulders. Menō teared at the flesh like he was playing with it. When he finally got to the organs and the drip drip drip of blood could be heard from afar, the man’s scream faded out until they could no longer be heard.

“Well, that’s about it for Nogema. Quickly, back to your stations.” At the sound of the low voice from behind them, all the prisoners froze at once.

A slender man wearing silver-rimmed glasses slowly emerged from the building.

The director of the Tartar Astronomy Research Institute. Zansur. The person in charge of this place and Menō’s master.

“If you don’t move quickly Menō will make you his dessert.”

Although Zansur’s voice was light, there was an underlying intimidation to it; the prisoners paled at his joke. From within the sea of prisoners scattering to their various work stations, Sasuke observed Menō in secret.

Menō swung his large, long tail, using it to keep balance as he bent over, his head lost in the soft flesh and blood in the belly of the corpse. The hard skin covering his head was stained red with blood, the yellow pupil of his eyes shining brightly.

A carnivorous prison guard who faithfully obeyed Zansur—that was Menō.

A huge, bipedal lizard covered in thick skin, with nail-shaped fangs and sharp claws. When standing he was 80 centimeters in height, but if you measured from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, he was no less than two meters. What’s terrifying was the strength of his legs. Sprouting from under his torso are two horrible, spring-like legs that can move ten meters in a single leap.

This place was not a prison. The patrols did not keep watch over the prisoners 24 hours a day like guards should. There were no locks on their living quarters nor on any of the buildings' entrances. Nevertheless, the prisoners living here followed the rules obediently—because of Menō.

As long as there was Menō, who watched over the grounds authoritatively and showed no mercy in eating those who break the rules alive, then rarely would there be anyone who would dare try to escape.

***********

The prisoners’ job at the Astronomy Research Institute was mainly digging up dirt. Using farming tools, they were tasked with scraping up the frost covered soil. If they came across a large rock or hard clumps of earth, they had to carefully dig it up and remove it. And repeat.

It seemed that the work was necessary in order to build the foundation for a giant telescope, but the longtime prisoners said that for close to a year they’ve been forced to do this work endlessly.

“Ugh, it’s cold.”

Working next to him was Jiji, who was currently standing with his pickaxe resting against his hip, furiously rubbing his hands together. The mornings were particularly cold. The temperatures were low enough to freeze snot before it fell from their noses to the ground.

“Aren’t you cold, Sasuke?”

“Yes.” He answered honestly. Sasuke rubbed his hand against the handle of his pickaxe and warmed them up with the friction. He was used to working under harsh conditions, but cold is cold.

“Ugh, I hate it here... Why did they build the Astronomy Research Institute in such a cold place? The snow already melted a while ago. At this rate I’m going to end up freezing to death. Well, actually, after seeing that guy get eaten this morning, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to freeze to death in my sleep.”

Did Jiji ever get tired of this monotonous work? He certainly never tired of speaking.

Jiji was a fellow prisoner and Sasuke’s cellmate. He was locked up on charges of stealing food because he had none. His sentence was a minimum of six months. Since they were about the same age and both in good physical condition, they were assigned to the same work division and were often paired together.

Jiji rubbed his reddened nose and then suddenly let out a yelp.

“Shit, I hurt myself. Ah, but this is lucky! Now I can go to the doctor’s office.”

“What’s so great about the doctor’s office?”

“Didn’t you hear? There’s a newly arrived lady doctor. Word on the street is she’s beautiful and kind.”

He chuckled and added, “And she’s single. No significant other.”

This caused Sasuke to look up from his work. “How do you know she’s single?”

“Because she isn’t wearing a ring.”

A ring?

Jiji noticed the blank look on Sasuke’s face and continued. “Oh yeah, you’re not from around here. It’s Redaku custom for people to exchange rings when they get married. If you wear a ring on the second to last finger of your left hand, that means you’re married. That lady doctor isn’t wearing a ring, so—ah, shit. The patrols.”

Noticing the approaching guards, Jiji cut his explanation short. He picked up his pickaxe, the blade worn and chipped, and set about diligently hammering away at earth, as was his duty. The patrols came up to watch this, swinging around their batons while walking by, scowling at Jiji. They did not, however, try to meet Sasuke’s eyes. They were afraid of him. Once the guards continued on their way, Jiji discarded his tool once more and let out the pent up breath he’d be holding.

“Ugh. Fuck this shit, I hate it here.”

Sasuke shared the sentiment. He let out a sigh and turned to look behind him. The Tartar Astronomy Research Institute sat quietly atop a desolate mountain range. Built 1,000 meters above sea level, it was a fierce stone prison. It is said that the Rokudō Sennin himself stayed at this place. He was supposed to have collected documents here. That was the reason Sasuke came here.

Naruto was suffering from an illness back in the Land of Fire. Sasuke was here to gather the documents the Rokudō Sennin collected for Naruto. That was his sole purpose. Being unable to do anything else at such a time was frustrating. Right now Naruto’s illness was getting worse with each passing second—

“What’s wrong with you? You’re making a scary face.” Jiji’s voice cut through his thoughts. His cellmate’s eyes stared curiously at him from beneath the shadow of his bangs.

“It’s nothing.”

“Really? You had a really serious look on your face.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sasuke dexterously picked up his pickaxe with his arm, signaling the end of the conversation.

***********

After dinner Sasuke returned to his cell. As his hand touched the iron bars, he was greeted by a cut-off scream.

“AA—”

There in the middle of the cell, a gangly and petite man was lying prostrate on the floor. It was one of Sasuke’s three cellmates, Penzira. Jiji sat opposite him, legs crossed. Between the two men was a bowl with dice rolling around inside it.

“Jiji, you bastard! It’s snake eyes!”

“Heh, my bad. I’ll just take that cig, then.” Jiji snickered and pulled the cigarette on the floor towards him. It seemed that they were playing Cee-lo.

Although many prisoners become obsessed with gambling in a life of imprisonment without other forms of entertainment, Penzira has been an addict since well before. He loved playing dirty and doing underhanded tricks, but a series of successive losses earned him a pile of debt, and he got caught in multiple false marriage scams in attempts to pay it off. He had a minimum one year sentence.

Penzira noticed Sasuke. “Ah, Sasuke. Come play Cee-lo with us!” He shook the dice in the bowl incessantly.

“I’ll pass.”

“What’s up with you? So unpleasant.” Penzira frowned in disappointment and then turned his attention to the corner of the room. “Ganno! What’re you doing? Stop drawing pictures or whatever and get over here already!” He called out to Ganno, the third cellmate.

In the corner of the room squatting like a chicken on its eggs was Ganno, his back to Penzira. “Now’s no good.” He replied curtly.

Ganno, in his late sixties, was the oldest man in the cell. He was painting the loose skin on the nape of his skin completely red with paint.

“Are you still doing that? Aren’t you tired of it yet?”

“Don’t talk to me. I’ve almost completed an important part.”

It was one month ago that Ganno suddenly exclaimed, “I’ve found something great!” while out during his work shift, and returned to the cell with his pockets stuffed with red and brown rocks. Starting the next day Ganno would smash the rocks together, every morning and evening, not caring how raw his hands became. Over the course of five days the rocks were all crushed. Next he peeled off the skin from the soles of his feet. Then, he asked his friends in charge of the kitchen if he could borrow an open stove, and he used it before and after every meal for two hours; in total, he boiled the skin for close to 30 hours. Those around Ganno questioned his sanity when they saw the blood soaked bandages wrapped around his feet, but the man himself looked perfectly happy.

A broth of melted skin and a reddish brown powder made from painstakingly crushed rocks.

It was the day Sasuke arrived that Ganno finally had these two materials. While the others went to hurriedly greet the newcomer, Ganno began to mix both ingredients on top of pine leaves. Sasuke was struck breathless as he saw his cellmate completely absorbed in a task he didn’t understand.

The dull, reddish brown powder increased in viscosity when mixed with the both, and it transformed into a glossier color. After kneading the mixture for a few minutes, he completed the Kamain’s rock paint. It was a vivid red like Japanese plums. Every night since then Ganno has enjoyed painting, using pine leaves as a brush and his toenails as a canvas.

“Anyway, I’ll get rid of it before the inventory check next week.” Jiji was exasperated by this response and turned his back on the diligently working man, telling him the nail art didn’t suit him. “That’s why I’m hurrying. I’m already on my pinky finger,” replied Ganno. His voice was always cheerful.

A minimum sentence of 17 years in prison for treason against the nation. Ganno claimed his crime was painting a portrait for an aristocrat who opposed the Prime Minister. His father was also a painter, but he became obsessed and always had a paintbrush in hand, neither liking nor disliking what he painted.

A drawing that took one week to paint, done with a brush that took three weeks to make. Sasuke didn’t quite understand why Ganno would want to complete something that he would have to get rid of in a week, but any entertainment was important here.

The prisoners share what is basically a six-mat tatami room among four people. In such a confined space, adults breaking out in a fight was natural; beating each other until they were bloody and senseless was an everyday occurrence. In such an environment, Sasuke’s cell was comparatively peaceful. They weren’t exactly friendly, but so far no problems had arisen.

Ganno was absorbed in his art, and both Jiji and Penzira were upset at their dice rolls. Sasuke was gazing absentmindedly at the moon until it was time for lights out. This was what usually went on in the cell each evening.

“Yo, Sasuke, you should play too!”

“We’ll let you have the first go.” After each turn Jiji and Penzira would invite the lonesome Sasuke to play.

“No thanks,” came his short reply. He heard a faint noise and turned his gaze to the window that faced out into the courtyard. The white, illuminating light of the moon was blocked for a moment by a shadow. It was probably Menō out in the grounds. There was something about Menō that bothered Sasuke. If he were to do some research, now would be the perfect time.

“I’ve changed my mind.” Sasuke stood up and seated himself across from Penzira. “I’m your opponent now.”

“What, really? Hell yeah!”

“I don’t have cigarettes, so can I bet on something else?” Sasuke asked, reaching into his pocket and pretending to pull something out. He focused his chakra into his fingers, and using a simple Earth Style jutsu, activated the elements in the soil, arranging the atoms until they smoothed out and crystallized.

Rolling around in his palm was a red stone. It was a large ruby about the size of a cherry.

“Huh? Is that a jewel? Is that real?”

“No way, it can’t be. It’s probably glass or something.”

Jiji and Penzira inspected the jewel closely. Sasuke neither confirmed nor denied, but the jewel in his hand was certainly physically the real deal. Unfortunately, it was man-made.

“A pretty glass jewel, huh… we could take it and then melt it down in a fire and smoke it. That would be fun, yeah?”

“You don’t have any cigarettes left to bet on, I took everything you had last game. Bet on your meal duty.”

Sasuke picked up the bowl. “We don’t need cigarettes, and you don’t need to swap your meal duties. Instead, I want you to do me a favor.”

“A favor?”

“I’ll explain afterwards.” He placed the bowl on the tatami and grabbed three dice. He faced Penzira and asked, “What’s the best roll?”

“Of course you don’t know the rules. It’s snake eyes. You gotta get three digits.”

“Alright then, I’ll roll that.”

Jiji and Penzira looked at him. Even Ganno stopped working on his hand in order to watch Sasuke.

Sasuke channeled his chakra to his closed fist. The moment he rolled the dice, an imperceptible force guided them. With a clatter, the wooden dice rolled around inside the bowl.

“Seriously…”

Seeing three red dots lined up, Penzira’s mouth fell open. Like Sasuke had said, he, of course, rolled snake eyes. While Jiji and Genno were also sitting there stunned, Sasuke leisurely stood up.

“Looks like I win.”

“Rolling snake eyes right after saying you will—there ain’t luck like that. That was cheating!” Jiji smacked Penzira on the shoulder, ignoring his whine of protest.

“I told you to give up!”

When gambling with prisoners, cheating was a common occurrence. The unspoken rule here was if you don’t catch someone in the act of cheating, then it doesn’t count.

“You promised me a favor, Penzira.”

“... I can’t do anything too difficult.”

“Relax, it’s not bad.” Sasuke said and stood, heading for the door. “I’m going for a walk. When the patrols come around, cover for me.”

Penzira thought he was joking and laughed, but when he noticed Sasuke’s serious expression he followed after him, flustered. During the downtime before bed, you were free to do as you liked as long you stayed in the cells. The second you stepped foot out of your cell, you were breaking the rules.

“This is crazy! It’ll be obvious that someone is missing, how am I supposed to cover for you?”

“Stuff my futon.”

“Oh, we’ll just deceive the guards, is that it? They’re not children!” Penzira followed him out the door, complaining all the while.

“Sasuke!” Jiji called after him through the iron bars. “You get it, right? If you’re caught breaking the rules, you’ll be sent to receive punishment before you can offer up any excuses. If it’s Menō who finds you, he’ll eat you alive, no questions asked.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Sasuke replied calmly.

“That’s not the issue...” Penzira moaned.

***********

Within the grounds of the Tartar Astronomy Research Institute, there were two buildings located on the east and west end of the courtyard. Located on the west end was the multi-purpose building that housed the prisoners, which looked like it had been hastily put together with some branches that had been lying around. Opposite that, on the east end, was the headquarters of the institute.

Prisoners were forbidden from entering this building, but Sasuke held no such reservations as he boldly walked through the front door.

When he took his first step into the entryway, he was greeted by thick, fur-lined carpet. The headquarters was a completely different world from the barracks. It had been renovated since the Tartar era, and now was a magnificent brick building that resembled a royal palace. There seemed to be four stories above ground, and based on this country’s architectural standards, it was fairly large.

While the prisoners were forced to cry themselves to sleep on hard stone floors wrapped up in their thin futons, here the hallways, stairwells, and of course the rooms themselves were lined wall to wall with plush carpet. Thanks to the stucco-lined brick exterior, the building was naturally free from any cold drafts, and the guards’ rooms all had large fireplaces with which to heat their quarters. The difference was like walking on a cloud, compared to the barracks which would sometimes have icicles hanging inside the rooms during the snowy season.

As he walked through the corridors of the building, Sasuke would hide himself in rooms and attach himself to the ceiling whenever he heard the guards approaching on their patrols. But he purposely wasn’t masking his chakra presence, because of that giant lizard—it was to alert Menō. Since he couldn’t use words with his reptilian opponent, he planned on manipulating him with genjutsu to see if he could obtain any new information that way.

Menō surpassed other reptiles in terms of reflexes, speed, and power. No matter how you looked at it, Menō was a summon. Since he obeyed Zansur’s every command, there was a high chance that he was the one who gave Menō his powers. Originally, this country had no shinobi, but he’d heard that the Prime Minister had gathered rogue ninja here for a war.

It was likely that Zansur was a shinobi and he had summoned Menō using Kuchiyose, and now the two were connected via his chakra.

But a summon was not supposed to last this long. Menō was constantly stalking around the institute, morning and evening, keeping watch over the prisoners. That would mean Zansur was using Kuchiyose for at least 20 hours each day. That was way too long. Did Zansur have chakra reserves that large? Or perhaps the basic structure of this Kuchiyose technique was different from those passed down in the Land of Fire—

Tap tap. From down the corridor came the sound of nails hitting the floor.

Sasuke came to a halt, and met a pair of yellow eyes floating in the dark. Sidling out of the darkness came of the form of Menō.

“So you came.”

Sasuke raised his eyelids and focused his chakra to his eyes.

The Sharingan.

A red eye with three spinning black pinwheels met Menō’s gaze. He instantly activated his doujutsu, and dragged Menō into a genjutsu—or he intended to.

Whoosh!

Menō vaulted off the floor and leaped towards Sasuke. Sharp claws raked at Sasuke from the side and managed to cut off a lock of Sasuke’s hair.

Did the genjutsu not work?

Sasuke fended off the attack from Menō, and backed up until he hit the wall, then came to a stop. Winding up like a spring, Menō gathered strength in his legs before leaping forward, closing the distance between him and Sasuke in an instant. The pair of yellow eyes met his once again, but it had the same result. The genjutsu didn’t work.

As Menō thrust a fist towards him, Sasuke suddenly ducked down beneath his chest. He shoved him with the palm of his hand while his leg swept Menō’s feet out from under him. The sound of the floor cracking could be heard under Menō’s now prone form, and Sasuke ceased his attack. Leaving behind traces of a fight for the director and others to discover was dangerous. It made no sense, especially after all the trouble he went through to come here undetected.

Sasuke used the brief moment of reprieve to put some distance between them, when Menō’s eyes suddenly snapped open. Using his long tail like a whip, he threw himself at Sasuke and landed directly behind him. Sasuke barely dodged the hit, one that could’ve cost him his life.

He’s fast!

Sasuke used a Water Style jutsu to create a make-shift kunai out of ice, and wielding it, slashed at the sharp claws that were honing in on him then severed them from their fingertips. Without flinching, Menō continued his advance, and Sasuke continued slashing his way up the lizard’s torso.

“Gyah!” Menō let out a high-pitched scream and landed roughly on the ground. Yellow fluid poured out from a large, open wound in his stomach.

Oops.

Sasuke regretted the move instantly, but it was too late.

Menō staggered, then rushed to jump out a nearby window. When he came to the wall he smashed into it, toppling part of it over, and lept down into the courtyard below. He made a run for it at full speed, the yellow liquid drenching his body as it continued to spill out from his wound.

Sasuke bit his lip and dropped his gaze down to the palm of his hand, where a terrible sensation lingered. That last attack he landed with his kunai went deep. It was very likely a fatal wound.

***********

However—

The next day as Sasuke was looking out into the courtyard from his usual seat in the cafeteria, he spotted a familiar long tail swaying to and fro, and his eyes widened in shock.

You’re being foolish. It can’t be.

As if feeling his eyes on him, Menō faced Sasuke and met his gaze. However, as though he had no memory of the events from the night before, he huffed and quickly turned away.

Menō is alive.

Although he had suffered lasting damage, his body showed no signs of injury. Sasuke had no idea what this could mean. It was like he needed to get his eyes checked.

“So you’re the one who raised a hand against Menō. Number 487.” A voice abruptly came from behind him.

Zansur.

Sasuke had been waiting to initiate direct contact with him, but if he had revealed himself, then there was no point in hiding now. Besides, there were some things he wanted to ask him as well.

Sasuke activated his Sharingan as he turned around to face him. His eyes bled into red, and three pinwheels spun in his iris as he met Zansur’s gaze.

In the next moment—Sasuke sucked in a breath.

He only noticed it for the first time with his Sharingan. Behind the silver-rimmed frames of Zansur’s glasses were glass eyes.

“Your eyes…”

“Yes, yes, very good,” Zansur squinted at him, and the corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk as he laughed. “You’re very keen. Every day my underlings can barely look at me, so no one else has noticed.”

Zansur reached out his arm and touched the windowsill behind Sasuke. His eyes moved naturally, and seemed to have good vision no matter where he looked. However, no matter how many times Sasuke checked to confirm, Zansur’s left and right eyes were definitely made of pure glass.

Zansur leaned in close and whispered in Sasuke’s ear. “It seems that you can use some ninjutsu… I’ll remember that.” The fake eye on the left made one full revolution in his eye socket, moving as if it were a living creature.

“It’ll take more than one measly ninja to take Menō away from me.”

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.80

"People They Fall Apart”

A/N: I now take the stage with my baton, the orchestra fully assembled, every instrument in position, and the music begins to play.

Begins the events of episode 12, "Vaulting Ambition." (Small nitpick note, I did skip/fast forward some of the whole figuring out the Tyler/Voq thing for brevity's sake; this is not the Ash Tyler fanfic you're looking for. I have no time to dwell on that plot. And while I dearly love Stamets and Culber, we're also not here to dwell in the mushroom forest.)

In other news, I'm going to print a copy of this story in bound book format for my own personal amusement. If anyone wants to offer a "book review blurb"-style quote, please do a comment or message! I'd love some quotes to put on the back cover. My goal is to send to print on April 9.

To be clear, I'm not selling this fanfic or anything in any way, shape, or form. It's just, I've written a novel-length work (two novels, really) and I want to hold it in my hands as a real book.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 79 - People They Come Together 81 - Pineapple Surprise >>

The ISS Charon, flagship of the Terran Empire and nomadic palace of the emperor, did not linger to admire its handiwork above the planet Harlak. It was a warp-capable fortress of unparalleled firepower and destruction entirely equal the Klingon Sarcophagus of the other universe. Like that ship, which Lorca had enjoyed demolishing, it was an incredibly attractive target to the rebels lingering in the area. While the evacuation of Harlak had not been entirely completed, enough rebels had escaped to pose a credible threat to the flagship if it lingered.

Georgiou left Burnham and the Shenzhou with the strictest orders to finish mopping up any straggling refugees from the planet as the Charon withdrew to more defensible coordinates. Burnham and Lorca were to follow once the Shenzhou's cleanup efforts were complete.

Burnham could ill afford any more indulgences with Lorca when the emperor's summons was hanging over their heads. "See to it that he's ready for transport immediately," she ordered.

As the guards dragged him towards whatever they thought this order meant (probably the waiting agony booth), Lorca shouted at Burnham and the rest of the bridge, "You're all a bunch of lab rats in the emperor's maze. Lab rats!"

Burnham did not know what it meant, only that Lorca was trying to tell her to relay some message. She undertook the task of performing a cursory sweep of the planet for rebels, doing her best to avoid actually finding any, but three small craft were not sufficiently quick or smart to evade detection and Burnham was forced to watch as Detmer fired on them with disinterested efficiency.

While she sat through this display, a transmission arrived from Discovery. Burnham took it in the ready room. It was the Defiant files. Discovery had gotten past the firewall and decrypted the data. Minus the Terran computer security measures, the files turned out to be very small indeed and almost entirely redacted, but that did not make them useless. There was data enough to start theorizing.

There was also just enough time before they boarded the shuttle for her to send a transmission back to Discovery. It was a small, terse, seemingly innocuous message. "Discovery. Thank you for your assistance in bringing the traitor to heel. The emperor has summoned us to an audience. I will be sure to tell the emperor personally of your role in my success when we speak. Whether as a prisoner or a lab rat, Lorca will pay for his crimes." She hoped that was sufficient to convey whatever message Lorca intended by the words.

The lab rat received the message. She sat in her room monitoring the bridge and communications, eyes glinting in the dim warmth, fur wriggling in excitement. Even if the words were spoken by Burnham, she knew they came from Lorca. She pressed the button for the comms. "Einar," she said, "it is time."

Groves and Mischkelovitz were in the lab proper. In a sense, they were beset on two sides. As Lalana emerged from the back of the lab with her silvery color-changing thermal suit in hand, Larsson came in the front. "What are you doing in here?" Groves demanded of Larsson, to which Lalana said:

"Einar and I have very much enjoyed our time with you both, but we are now required elsewhere." She elected to speak for Larsson, but if she were being honest about it, Larsson had not enjoyed his time with Groves and Mischkelovitz particularly. He found them only marginally tolerable.

Groves had been relaxing with his feet up and brought them down at once. "Say what now?" He should have been in Lorca's study attending to the Allan issue of how to trap and kill a probable time traveler who might or might not still be on the ship, but he had opted to work on decrypting the Defiant files in a more familiar setting because Lorca's collection of armaments creeped him out and now he was just avoiding the murder-themed mancave until such a time as Saru called him back. Besides, he and Airiam had been remotely working on decrypting the files together and had gotten a rather good game of chess going in the aftermath.

(Owing to her inhuman appearance, Lieutenant Commander Airiam had been banned from her post on the bridge and Groves was entirely sympathetic to her ensuing boredom. There was no room for either of them in this universe. What passed for law here was barely recognizable to Groves and if ever there was a place that rendered bioethics obsolete, it was a universe where humans were as almost cruel to each other as they were to the aliens they viewed as inferior life forms.)

Mischkelovitz did not look up from the mess of circuitry she was working on. She asked, "Where are you going?" Her flat tone suggested she was only mildly interested in the answer. Whatever research use she had for Lalana was over with and done with. The only reason Lalana was still in the lab was the mistaken idea that Mischkelovitz's current active projects included the lului box in some capacity. That was the secret she and Lalana shared. There had never been a need for the lului box. Or rather, there had been a need, and the need had been getting Lorca to go to Memory Alpha.

"We are going to join the captain," said Lalana, stretching up and gripping the edge of the worktable.

Mischkelovitz went from minimal to excessive interest in the space of a nanosecond. She put down the microwelder in her hands and turned to face them with eyes bright and eager. "Can I come?"

"Apologies, Emellia, but that is not possible."

"Well," said Groves, putting his feet back up and returning to the chess game on his padd, "have fun. It's your funeral."

"What do you mean, funeral?" asked Mischkelovitz.

"Your brother is being dramatic," intoned Larsson humorlessly.

"Am I, though? This whole universe is goddamn deathtrap. Dr. Culber already paid that price."

"Dr. Culber was killed by Ash Tyler," said Larsson, leaning against the worktable and crossing his arms. Maybe he did not have Groves' intelligence, but he was far too big to be intimidated by anything about Groves. He also looked even bigger than usual in his Terran armor. "Or whatever he is. And he came from our world. Honestly, I don't think the universes are as different as everyone seems to think. There are murderers in both."

"This universe is ruled by a fascist tyrant and you don't see the difference?"

"Fascism and tyranny have existed in our world as well. That is why we have words for them. Humans are humans, and they are always capable of bad as much as they are good."

Lalana tapped her top fingers on the worktable in a manner that seemed thoughtful. "I thought you were a moral relativist, John?" she pointed out.

There was a blank look on Groves' face. He had considered himself exactly that until arriving in a universe where the moral relativity broke his concept of the scale. Reading through the files on the data core recovered from the debris field revealed atrocities beyond comprehension. Now he did not know what he was, only that the darkness permeating this universe was something he outright rejected.

"In any event, if we are to die, it was a pleasure to know you both," offered Lalana. "Please also give my regards to Macarius. Einar, if you will assist me?"

While Larsson gave Lalana a hand with her garment and Mischkelovitz whimpered about not wanting Lalana to die, Groves picked up his padd and tried to focus on the chess game. He could not. He stared at the pieces on the black and green board and finally dumped the padd onto the table. "Groves to O'Malley. You up, moron?"

"Good afternoon to you, too," came the acid response. The eye roll felt almost audible.

"You might want to come down here. You're about to lose the rest of your staff."

A minute later O'Malley was on site with a cup of coffee and, of all the incongruities, a powdered donut in his other hand. Mischkelovitz took one look, snatched the donut from him, and broke it in half.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" O'Malley went, entirely not caring about the donut. (Mischkelovitz put half the donut back in O'Malley's hand, broke off a piece of her half and gave it to Lalana, and began to eat the portion she had claimed for herself. Powder coated her fingers. It did not show against the medical white of her uniform.)

"Got a mission," said Larsson.

"Like hell you do!"

"Captain's orders."

"Oh, Saru ordered you on a mission without asking or telling me?"

"Lorca." Actually, Lorca had not ordered Larsson to do anything, but it was believable enough that he might have and not said a single word to O'Malley.

"You don't answer to Lorca! You answer to me!"

"I resign," said Larsson, carrying through on his perennial threat yet again. "Now I don't listen to anyone."

O'Malley stared indignantly. "I don't accept your resignation."

Lalana hopped between Larsson and O'Malley. She still had her filaments tucked inside her jumpsuit so she looked like a silvery bullet with a blue-grey head sticking out. "If I may point out, now that I am leaving, there is no need for your extra security measures, so Einar is free to resign."

"Wait, you're going, too?" O'Malley suddenly noticed Lalana was wearing clothing.

"Captain Lorca requires my presence," was her only explanation.

O'Malley shook his head. Children, all of them. "You understand you're not the sole reason for the security here, right? There's valuable research in this lab." Mischkelovitz's eyes went wide at O'Malley's words. Her brother didn't know the half of it. She shrank back towards her desk and debated going into the crawlspace.

"There is valuable research everywhere on Discovery," said Lalana. "I was the only thing that was secret about this room. Now this room is like all the others and may be guarded exactly the same way. But since you are here, allow me to say this in person. In the event we do not survive our journey, it has been a pleasure knowing you, Mac." She even did him the kindness of not calling him his full first name.

There was a horrible silence as that sank in. "Why... where..."

"Do not worry," Lalana said. "I have lived a very long time compared to you and Einar and I are not afraid of this eventuality. We will of course endeavor to avoid it, but there is no need for concern if this should come to pass. We are glad for the time we have known you. That we met at all in the vast cosmos was such an unlikelihood it is what you would describe as a miracle. A thousand million tiny things had to go exactly right for us to meet all of you and they did. Please do not cry, Emellia. Think of us in this moment always, as your friends. Now come, Einar, our shuttle awaits."

They made as if to leave. "Hold on!" said Groves suddenly, his feet coming down off the table again. "You're flying a shuttle in?" That was, he knew, an absolutely, completely terrible idea because even if the shuttles were mocked up to look Terran, they did not have valid Terran transponders and security ident codes and if the Defiant files were any indication as to the sorts of security measures Terrans employed, that shuttle was going get blown out of space the moment it got near the Charon. It would not hold up to any sort of scrutiny. "Let me give you a pineapple."

"Thank you, but I just ate," said Lalana, referring to the piece of donut. "Perhaps Einar is hungry?"

The word seemed to mean something different to Groves and O'Malley than it did Lalana and Larsson. O'Malley's eyebrows shot up. "Is a pineapple an option?"

"Of course," said Groves. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, I don't know, we're in a different universe, aren't there different rules of physics or something?" The light here really did seem strange.

"No, you moron, the quantum variance here doesn't invalidate pineapples." The point at which changes in physics would break a pineapple was also potentially a point at which reality was collapsing and there were bigger problems to worry over.

"Well, then, by all means," said O'Malley, and smiled at Groves. "I do so love pineapples, they're my favorite fruit."

Groves grinned back a grin stretched so wide it threatened to turn into a laugh. "One pineapple, coming right up!"

"I don't understand. How is fruit going to help?" asked Larsson.

"Oh, you'll see," promised O'Malley as Groves and Mischkelovitz began to gather materials from around the lab.

Lalana hopped onto an unused table on the far wall. She loved watching things happening and it was a very nice vantage point.

The sweep of the rebels was done. Burnham sat at the shuttle controls as it left the Shenzhou's shuttlebay and tried not to focus on the fact they were about to fly towards the worst possible reality she could have imagined.

Luckily, she had a small but encouraging distraction on hand. She joined Lorca in the rear of the shuttle as the autopilot took over and showed him the Defiant's data. "The file has been redacted, but there is some data on how the Defiant crossed into this universe. A phenomenon called interphasic space, but where that space is, the exact coordinates? Struck from the record."

She had to put the padd in his hands for him; he was almost entirely restrained for this little transport exercise and his fingers and head were about the only parts of him that could move. "All right, well, we'll just have to hunt down the original report. If the complete archive's anywhere it'll be in the Imperial Palace which is..." Lorca inhaled. "Fortunately where we've been summoned. Some people would see that glass as half full." He smiled at Burnham. Right now it felt a little like his cup was running over.

Burnham did not smile back. She was having trouble understanding how anyone could still find anything to smile about at this point. Between Tyler and Georgiou, she had lost what limited capacity she had for that expression of human joy.

She had, at least, brought him a nerve dampener to counteract the worst effects of the agonizers. She injected it and he reached out and put a hand on her arm, the only part of her he could reasonably reach in the restraints.

"Listen to me. You'll get the data we need on the Defiant and you'll get us out of there. I know you will." His face was so earnest, so sincere, so hopeful. He had confidence in her.

She couldn't look at him. Whatever Lorca thought he saw in her, she no longer saw in herself. She darted away towards the front of the shuttle.

"Burnham!" he called after her. Guilty, she looked back. "I need you. You need you. What are you afraid of?" There was a comfort in his tone, an easiness that went against everything Burnham was feeling.

The insignia badge of her beloved captain found its way into Burnham's hands. Its surface was crisscrossed with ugly scratches. It was the only connection she still had to the person she had been before the Binary Stars.

Those scratches were her fault. Everything, it seemed, was her fault. Yet for some reason Lorca had the gall to still look at her and see some sort of potential.

"Georgiou," she admitted. "Logic tells me she's not the woman that I betrayed. But this feels like a reckoning."

"Your Georgiou is dead," Lorca reminded her, voice taut.

"Haven't you ever been afraid of a ghost?"

He did not fear his ghost, he lived for her. She was less a ghost and more an impossible dream to live up to. A miraculous dream at that.

As the warp drive disengaged, the light of the Charon's massive energy core made Lorca wince and turn away from Burnham. She, of course, turned right towards the light. It did not hurt her eyes to see it. She slipped Georgiou's badge back into her pocket.

They would be docked in a moment and she had one lingering question.

"What did you mean on the bridge when you referred to lab rats?"

For a moment, Lorca worried Burnham had not understood his intent. "Did you pass the message on?"

"I did."

He sat in somber silence a moment. "Just letting someone on Discovery know not to worry, I'll be home soon enough."

"Dr. Mischkelovitz?" The code had been obvious when she thought about it. Lorca was known to frequent Mischkelovitz's lab, a lab Mischkelovitz rarely left, and miš was the root sound for the word "mouse" in most Slavic languages.

"Very perceptive," said Lorca, choosing not to correct Burnham. So many times now she had tried and failed to guess at his motives and feelings. He could not recall a single time Burnham had guessed right. From accusing him of biological weapons manufacture to the Ripper situation to this very moment. All these months and she still didn't know him. Let her think she did, though. Let her think whatever it took to get them both through this.

As the shuttle came to a rest in the bay, Burnham thought it unfortunate that Lorca might have a connection of a romantic nature with Mischkelovitz. Not only did she know from Tilly that Mischkelovitz had severe social issues and was probably easily taken advantage of by someone with Lorca's charisma, Mischkelovitz was only three years older than Burnham. Lorca was old enough to have fathered either of them. Throw in the imbalance of power between captain and junior crew and it was exactly the sort of thing Captain Georgiou had warned Burnham about.

The shuttle doors opened. Burnham shoved aside her grief and strode out with a veneer of savage confidence, barking orders at the shuttlebay crew to attend to her prisoner and not keep the emperor waiting. Lorca stumbled out behind her, the emperor's guards pushing and shoving him every chance they got.

Neither of them noticed a tiny piece of debris left in the shuttle. It had fallen out of Burnham's pocket when she pulled out Georgiou's rank insignia during the trip. A tiny slip of paper with the words "You will be called to fill a position of honor and responsibility" printed on it.

Saru found himself running into more problems than he could ever have anticipated.

Lieutenant Stamets was slowly improving, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. The unfortunate truth was that he was still in a coma. Tilly remained tirelessly optimistic, insisting something positive was happening in Stamets' head, but whatever it was, it was not happening fast enough to get them out of this terrible situation.

The monster that was both Ash Tyler and Voq was having a medical emergency. Now that both sides of his consciousness were awake—the native Klingon personality and the human one that had been forced on top of it—his brainwaves were in a state of chaos. One moment he was Voq, the next Tyler. At this rate, there would be no tribunal, there would be no anything, because whatever was laying in sickbay was going to die.

Even if that person in sickbay was entirely not Ash Tyler, Saru had no intention of seeing anyone else die on his watch.

Then, because all of that was not enough, a message from Owosekun on the bridge: "Captain, did you authorize a shuttle launch?"

"I most certainly did not!"

Operating as captain without being on the bridge was proving to be a disaster. Saru turned to the nearest wall console in the corridor outside the medical bay. "Who is aboard? Open a channel!" The channel opened, audio only. "Shuttlecraft, identify yourself!"

"Sorry, captain, tried to give you a heads up, but your hands were full in sickbay."

Saru recognized the voice. "Lieutenant Larsson, return to the shuttlebay immediately."

"No can do. We're already running late. That fruit delivery cost us precious time."

What that meant, Saru was not sure. Then he realized it was human humor. The sort of humor Lorca often employed to diffuse high-stress situations. Saru would never understand that instinct. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Secret mission. You-know-who's orders."

"Lieutenant, if you do not return that shuttlecraft immediately, we will be forced to open fire." At the tactical console, Rhys armed the phasers in preparation. The action was pointless. Saru could not bring himself to command the phasers used against a fellow Starfleet officer, not in light of his determination to get everyone from their universe home alive.

"Ah, right, you haven't heard! I resigned from Starfleet. Again."

Or, for that matter, against a self-declared civilian, even one in the process of a stealing a ship.

"Beam him off," said Saru sharply.

"I can't get a lock," said Owosekun over the comm. "It's like his life sign is only partly there."

Saru realized what was happening. Larsson's usage of the plural "we." A single, unlockable life sign. Lalana was on that shuttle. It even explained that strange mention of "lab rat" in Burnham's last message.

"Love to stay and chat," said Larsson, "but my friend and I have an appointment to keep. Wish us luck!"

The channel closed. Saru stared at the emptiness on the monitor. The bridge was still waiting for orders. "Captain, do you want us to pursue?"

Saru wavered a moment. What was the right course of action here?

"Captain?"

The answer came. "No. Maintain our present position and resume standing orders."

"Aye, sir."

The next command was to open a comm to O'Malley, whose explanation was as unhelpful as it was clarifying. "They have left on the command of Captain Lorca?" Saru echoed.

"That's what they both said. Obviously, I had no idea you were as clueless as me."

"You might have told me Larsson had resigned his commission," Saru noted.

"Honestly, Saru, he says that twice a week. It's always been an empty threat."

"I am presently your captain," Saru corrected O'Malley.

"Yes, captain," said O'Malley without hesitation or resentment. "I'm afraid that's all the information I have."

Saru let O'Malley go and stood in the corridor deep in thought. He was not certain whether he had just made a mistake or not. That shuttlecraft was a risk they could ill-afford, but Burnham had not been in contact since that last cryptic message, so perhaps this was some sort of special contingency Lorca had devised in case of trouble. Were there other sleeper agents in among the crew, waiting for cryptic turns of phrase to rush out and execute other secret orders? Most likely not, but given Lorca had not informed Saru as to Lalana and Larsson's operation, there was a nonzero chance of something like this happening again.

In Lab 26, O'Malley and Groves exchanged a look. "Do not tell him about the pineapple," O'Malley said, white as a sheet.

Groves held his hands up and shook his head repeatedly. He had no words. Either they had just assisted in the execution of some sort of top secret orders or they had unknowingly aided and abetted a pair of transdimensional fugitives. Possibly somehow both.

Eventually, Groves did find words again. True to form, they were an indictment of O'Malley. "I'd just like to point out, where your staff is concerned, you are oh-for-two, Mac."

"Shut up, John," said O'Malley, but he was thinking the same. He felt like a failure. He had not technically chosen Larsson or Allan, but he was responsible for them and both had disappeared under questionable circumstances on his watch and now he was left holding the bill for their actions. In every conceivable way possible he had proven inadequate as a leader.

Then again, he had always known he was a follower in every aspect of his life. If only he had possessed the guts to stand up to Cornwell when she offered him this assignment. He always did what everybody else wanted. No wonder everyone thought him such a fool.

As he stood there thinking this, he heard the most familiar words he knew manifest in the room: "I love you, Mally." It was, as always, an attempt to cheer him from a morose moment.

"Just as much," he answered, voice hollow and automatic.

Burnham was left reeling in the aftermath of her audience with the emperor. The way Georgiou had beaten Lorca when he refused to bow to her, the promise of enduring torture for the stubbornly defiant captain, both of these things had been expected but still shocked her.

What she had not anticipated was the pure, unbridled confusion that followed when the emperor stepped forward and expressed her happiness at Burnham's return, eliciting applause from the assembly of Terran officers and bureaucrats around them. Georgiou had touched her hand to Burnham's cheek and spoken words that still echoed in Burnham's mind:

"Everything will be the way it was, dear daughter."

Part 81