Echoes of Blood Pt 6
Posted on 17 Jan 2026 @ 1:59am by Lieutenant Aev Flammia
2,232 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Echoes of Blood
Location: Corvanis IV
Timeline: 1.5 Weeks Previous
[Corvanis IV]
“So he was telling the truth,” Aev said quietly. The realization cut into him, sharp and disorienting. How had this never been discovered? How had no one noticed he wasn’t fully Romulan? “I don’t understand, Sam,” he said, looking up at her. “How could this have gone unnoticed? Someone should have caught it, medical scans, genetic screening… something.”
Sam shook her head. “Not necessarily. Romulans and Remans are genetically almost identical, functionally the same species. The divergence is subtle, not structural. From a baseline genomic scan, there’s nothing that would flag you as anomalous.” She turned the display toward him. “Think of it this way: the genome is the blueprint, but expression is the architecture. Two people can share nearly the same genetic code and still develop differently based on which genes activate, when they activate, and how strongly.”
Sam paused, choosing her words carefully. “Starfleet doesn’t have comprehensive Reman biological data. Not enough to build reliable comparative models. Most medical scans are designed to identify pathology, not heritage, especially heritage no one is looking for.” She tapped the screen. “On every measurable level, you’re Vulcanoid. Romulan, specifically, your physiology and neurochemistry all fall well within established Romulan parameters.” She glanced back at him. “That’s why no one questioned it.”
Aev frowned. “Then what changed?”
“Context,” Sam said. “And comparison.” She gestured toward the sample data. “When I mapped Skath’s gene-expression patterns against yours, not just the sequences, but how they’re expressed, it showed a partial overlap. Roughly thirty-one percent of your active gene expressions align more closely with Reman markers than Romulan ones.”
Aev absorbed that in silence.
“What those genes actually control?” Sam continued. “That’s the problem, I don’t know. Reman biology isn’t well documented. Some traits are obvious, your eye pigmentation, for example.” She studied him for a moment. “How’s your vision in low light?”
Aev inclined his head slightly. “I’ve never had much trouble in dim conditions. But I always assumed that was normal for Romulans.”
Sam nodded. “It is, to a degree. But Remans are adapted for far lower light levels. Your results suggest your visual processing sits somewhere between the two.”
“So you’re saying,” Aev said slowly, “that could be from my Reman heritage.”
“I’m saying it’s a strong possibility,” Sam replied. “Not a certainty. I’d need a lot more time, and a lot more data, to be definitive.” She glanced back at the scrolling analysis. “And that’s just one system. We don’t yet know what the rest of those gene expressions influence.”
She met his gaze. “This isn’t something that changes who you are. But it does mean there are parts of you no one ever thought to look for.”
Aev absorbed the information in silence. Across the cabin, Ignis stood watching them with uncharacteristic stillness, his usual commentary notably absent. After a moment, Aev turned to Sam and spoke. “When Skath offered to show me his memories… is that kind of telepathic connection actually possible?” He hesitated, then added, “And if it is, would it be safe?”
Sam didn’t answer right away. She leaned back against the console, arms folding as she thought it through. “Possible? Yes,” she said. “Remans have stronger telepathic capacity than most Vulcanoids. Sharing memories, especially intentionally, isn’t unheard of.”
She met Aev’s gaze. “Safe is harder to guarantee. If it’s controlled and consensual, it can be done without lasting harm. Vulcanoids have well-documented techniques for structured mind-links.” A brief pause. “But you’ve never shown any sign of telepathic or empathic ability, so there’s no way to predict how your mind would respond.” She folded her arms. “That uncertainty is the risk. It could be nothing more than disorientation, or it could be overwhelming.” Then, more firmly, “If you choose to do this, we do it carefully. Medical monitoring, clear limits, and Ignis watching for anything abnormal. And the moment it feels wrong, you stop.”
Aev turned to Ignis. “You’ve been unusually quiet,” he said. “What do you make of all this?
Ignis didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered somewhere past Aev, unfocused, as if he were watching probabilities align rather than the room itself. “Skath’s proposal is… statistically coherent,” he said at last. “Memory transfer is a documented telepathic practice among some Vulcanoid offshoots, Remans included. The likelihood that he is capable of sharing memories is high.”
He shifted, turning fully toward Aev. “The risk is not physical. It is cognitive. You would be accepting context without the gradual filters of lived experience. That can be destabilizing, especially when the memories involve trauma, loss, or emotional attachment.” A brief pause followed. “However,” Ignis continued, more quietly, “if Skath is telling the truth, those memories may be the only unaltered record of your origin. If you decide to accept, I will monitor you continuously. I will not allow you to face it alone.”
“Well… I appreciate that,” Aev said, managing a small, tired smile. “I’m glad both of you are here.” He exhaled slowly, the weight of the moment settling back in. “I came looking for answers, and instead I found something I never expected.” His gaze dropped for a moment. “Part of me wants to leave, to pretend none of this happened. To walk away and let what I’ve learned remain… forgotten.” He gave a quiet, humorless chuckle. “But like Pandora’s box, once it’s open, there’s no closing it again.”
Aev looked up, resolve beginning to replace uncertainty. “I came here for the truth. And if I want to understand the whole picture, the only way forward is to accept my grandfather’s offer.” He straightened. “Let’s go back.”
They stepped back out into the storm-darkened plain, the wind still restless but no longer raging. The settlement lights glimmered faintly through drifting mist as they made their way along the worn path, the working Remans watching wordlessly as they passed.
Skath was waiting in the same cavernous hall, standing apart from the others, his expression was expectant. When he saw Aev approach, his glowing violet eyes softened almost imperceptibly. He inclined his head, as if he had known all along that Aev would come back and waited for him to speak.
“Show me the truth.” Aev said.
One of the half-dozen Remans moved quietly to the dais, turning two of the chairs so they faced one another. Skath took one seat and gestured to the other.
When Aev sat, Skath reached out and gently cupped his grandson’s face in both hands.
The moment their skin touched, Aev felt a sharp, involuntary jolt. This was nothing like the carefully guided melds he remembered with his adopted mother or his Vulcan grandfather. There was no gradual entry, no disciplined restraint. This was raw and immediate. The instant Skath’s cold, rough palms met his skin, it felt as though they passed straight through flesh and bone and closed around his mind instead.
Aev’s breath caught, his mouth parting slightly as Skath’s presence unfolded within him, vast, intimate, and unmistakably real.
“There is a block.” Skath said suddenly, surprise edging his voice.
“A block.” Aev echoed. He suddenly felt the presence of his Vulcan grandfather, a fleeting moment, and then a pop in his mind, like some telepathic aneurysm bursting forth. He heaved in a deep breath as an ocean of emotional current started to smash against his psyche. “What…is…this…” Then everything fell away.
Aev was no longer in the cavern. He was standing inside a memory. A young Romulan woman stood before him, her uniform marking her as a soldier. She was beautiful, fierce in a quiet way. She smiled up at him with teasing warmth. “Why are you always so grumpy, Skath?” she said. “Do you think it’s boring to be stationed out here? Or is it me who bores you?” Her eyes sparkled. “What would you be doing if you weren’t here? Digging through those cursed mines on Remus?”
Her smile felt like sunlight.
Aev loved her instantly. He knew, without question, that she was his grandmother. The certainty was strange and absolute.
The memory fractured.
Now he stood outside a sealed door. A woman screamed on the other side, raw, desperate. Fear coiled tight in his chest. Then another sound cut through it: the anguished cry of an infant.
A voice shouted from inside, horrified. “An abomination?! What have you done, Vriha?”
More shouting. Panic.
He burst through the door.
Vriha stood over a fallen medic, her hand shaking as she drove a blade into his throat. Her expression was shattered, terror, resolve, grief all at once. On the bed beneath her lay a newborn, crying, wrapped in blood-stained sheets. The child was Reman, yet not entirely. Subtle Romulan features softened the sharpness.
“Take the child, Skath,” Vriha said urgently. “If they find you or her, they will kill all of us.” Tears streaked her face as she glanced at the body on the floor. “I am already doomed. Take our child. Go. Go now.”
He lifted the baby and looked back at Vriha.
“GO!” she screamed.
He turned away.
As he crossed the threshold, he saw her silhouette reflected on the wall, the blade flashing once, then the sickening sound that followed.
The memory shifted again.
He was kneeling in a forest, the child bundled and crying before him. A Romulan soldier stood ahead, disruptor raised, his gaze flicking between Skath and the infant. “What have you done?” the soldier demanded. “How could you both have been so foolish?” The disruptor lowered, aimed at the child. A beam fired, sizzling past the infant and scorching the ground beside her.
The soldier exhaled sharply, then reached into his cloak and tossed a pair of restraints at Skath’s feet. “I will hide her. You will return to the mines on Remus. This will be forgotten.”
Skath looked up, hope edged with terror. “Tarik… you will not kill her?”
“I will not punish a child whose only crime is existing,” Tarik said grimly. “What madness possessed you both to create this abomination?” He shook his head. “No one can know. They would kill us all, and Vriha’s family would bear her shame to their early grave.” He paused. “What is her name?”
“Saetare,” Skath said. “We were going to call her Saetare.”
Tarik nodded once. “Then go. Back to the mines. And forget everything here. Your foolishness has cost both of you everything.”
The world shifted.
Aev approached a window framed in shadow, stepping into bright light. Once through he stood beneath open sky, tall grass waving in the breeze. Ahead stood two figures: a striking Romulan man, and a woman who was almost, but not quite, Romulan. Her pale skin, pronounced ears, and vivid violet eyes marked her Reman heritage unmistakably. She wore a white lab coat. Tears shimmered as she smiled. “Father,” she whispered, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around him.
The Romulan stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It worked,” he said softly. “We were able to get many of you off Remus. Romulus and Remus will both be gone soon.”
Another fracture.
A dimly lit lab. The same Romulan, older now, wearier. “They’ve found us,” he said. “They want it.”
Saetare sat nearby, a young child asleep in her arms.
“You already hid it, Sareth,” Aev said calmly. “They won’t find it.”
“They will try,” he replied. “The Tal’Shiar will never stop. You know my brother. Take the others. Take S’Tcaevra. If I’m gone, he’ll be the only key.”
“I won’t leave you both,” Aev said.
“Father,” Saetare said, standing. She placed the child into his arms. “You must. If we stay together, they’ll slaughter all of you. Take my son across the Neutral Zone. Protect him.”
Skath held the child close. And then he turned away, carrying the boy into the unknown, leaving everything else behind.
Aev surfaced from the memories with a broken gasp. Tears spilled freely down his face as a low, anguished sound tore from his throat, his body sagging into his grandfather’s grasp. Understanding crashed into him all at once, clarity braided tightly with grief, loss, and a lifetime of unanswered questions. The emotions poured out unchecked, like water from a ruptured faucet.
Around him, the room echoed with distress.
Nearby, Sam lay on the stone floor, curled inward as sobs wracked her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks in unbroken lines, her cries raw and unrestrained, grief given voice without dignity.
A Reman voice cut sharply through the chaos. “He is projecting uncontrolled! You must stop him!”
Skath tightened his hold around Aev, drawing him close. The storm of emotion battering Aev’s mind, the psychic reverberation spilling outward, began to falter, then slow. A presence settled over him. Go to sleep, my child.
The mental voice was warm. Steady. Loving. The violent tide within him ebbed, replaced by a deep, encompassing calm. Darkness closed in, not cold or empty, but gentle.
“Go to sleep,” Aev murmured faintly.
And then he did.
= To be continued =
Lieutenant Aev Flammia
Chief of Security
USS Arawyn
&
Lieutenant Samantha Dawes (NPC)
Medical Officer & Surgeon
USS Charon
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