Echoes of Blood Epilogue Part 2
Posted on 19 Jan 2026 @ 7:04am by Lieutenant Aev Flammia
1,234 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Echoes of Blood
Location: Unknown
Timeline: Unknown
[ In Orbit of Corvanis ]
Rhal strode onto the command deck with unhurried authority. Conversation died instantly. Officers straightened and snapped to attention as he passed, their discipline crisp, almost reflexive. He ascended the steps to the command throne just as his executive officer turned and offered a sharp salute.
On the main viewer, Corvanis IV glowed pale beneath its thick mantle of cloud, nearly washed of color.
“Sir,” the officer said, lowering his hand. “Shall I prepare a firing solution on the Reman settlements?”
Rhal didn’t look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the planet, distant and unreadable.
“No,” he said at last. “The Remans are irrelevant.” A faint, knowing curve touched his mouth. “Set a course for home base. I have what I came for.”
The officer hesitated, just a fraction of a second, then nodded and relayed the order. The ship began its departure from the system.
Rhal raised his hand, studying the translucent container it held. Inside, a few unremarkable strands of hair floated gently. A memory surfaced unbidden.
A diplomatic conference, more than a decade ago. A Starfleet captain, Maximillian Flammia, standing proudly beside his wife, a child at their side. Rhal had dismissed the boy at the time as a Vulcan–human hybrid. An uninteresting curiosity.
He exhaled softly, almost amused.
A different mongrel. Not lost. Just… misplaced.
“So close,” he murmured, turning the container slightly so it caught the light. “The son of a Starfleet admiral… and a Starfleet lieutenant.”
A quiet, derisive laugh escaped him as the stars stretched on the viewer and Corvanis vanished behind them.
[Unknown Planet, Romulan Free State]
Some time later, Rhal strode down a long, cavernous corridor, his boots striking the stone floor with deliberate, echoing authority. The sound carried far, announcing his approach well before he reached his destination.
A figure lounged against the doorway ahead.
She pushed off the frame as he neared, a knowing smirk already in place as she stepped directly into his path. “So,” she said lightly, “I hear you finally found the key.”
“You mean my nephew,” Rhal corrected without slowing, his tone flat with disinterest. He stopped only when she refused to move. “And why are you here? Shouldn’t you be amusing yourself with one of your… projects, Jhun?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Surely you possess enough shame not to present yourself after your recent failures.”
Her smirk twisted into a sneer. “Failures?” she snapped. “You’re the one who had the key in your grasp and let it slip away.”
“Slip?” Rhal echoed softly, almost amused. “Tell me, what, precisely, has slipped?” His gaze hardened. “We would have had no need for the boy at all if you hadn’t killed my brother. Would we?”
Jhun’s fists clenched. “You…”
“Enough.”
The word thundered from within the chamber beyond, heavy with unquestionable authority. “Both of you. Come in.”
Rhal inclined his head ever so slightly, whether in acknowledgment or dismissal was unclear, then stepped past Jhun and into the room.
At its center hovered a massive holographic map of the Romulan Free State, its amber and emerald projections bathing the chamber in cold, shifting light. No other illumination was necessary. Opposite it, seated upon a raised throne, sat the General.
Her gaze was sharp, unimpressed, and distinctly displeased as it settled on them.
Rhal approached and bowed his head just enough to be respectful without appearing submissive. “General,” he said evenly. “I have returned. And I have confirmed that my nephew is still alive.”
“I have reviewed your proposal,” the General said at last, her tone cool but carrying the faintest hint of approval. “Do you truly believe you can convince him to come to us?”
“He already knows his mother is alive,” Rhal replied smoothly. His gaze slid, almost lazily, to Jhun. “Assuming, of course, that she still is.”
Jhun’s lips curled in a sneer before she caught herself under the General’s watchful eye. Her expression flattened into practiced neutrality. “Oh, she’s alive,” she said coolly. “If you can call her current condition living. She remains indispensable to our psionic soldier program.” A pause, then her interest sharpened as she turned back to Rhal. “Is your nephew psionic? If so, my scientists could-”
“We need him alive.”
The General’s voice cut through the room like a blade. Her gaze locked onto Jhun, cold and unforgiving. “The genetic cipher Sareth embedded in the isolinear rod requires the subject to be alive. And willing.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or have you already forgotten how profoundly your last failure set us back?”
Silence followed.
The General turned back to Rhal. “Can you convince him to assist us?”
Rhal inclined his head slightly. “I believe I can convince him to assist his mother.” His eyes flicked once more to Jhun, who shifted almost imperceptibly. “If he believes he is acting to save her, truly save her, he will unlock the cipher willingly. Trust, however, cannot be rushed. This will take time.”
The General considered that. “You said he is a Federation officer. Where is he currently assigned?”
“He serves aboard the USS Arawyn, Epsilon Fleet,” Rhal answered. “The region holds little strategic value. As such, our presence there is… limited. We will need to redeploy assets.”
“Oh,” Jhun said lightly, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I already have operatives in that sector.” Her grin sharpened. “I can have them observe him closely.”
The General’s eyes shifted back to her, measuring. “Very well, Colonel.” Her voice hardened. “But understand this: he is not to be harmed. Your operatives will not act without direct authorization from me.”
A pause.
“Another failure,” the General continued coolly, “even for someone of your lineage, will be fatal.”
She leaned back slightly. “Dismissed.”
Jhun stiffened, surprise flickering across her face before she masked it. She bowed sharply and exited the chamber without another word.
When Jhun was gone, the General’s attention returned fully to Rhal.
“And his adoptive father is a Starfleet admiral?” she asked.
Rhal inclined his head. “Vice Admiral Maximillian Flammia. Chief of Starfleet Security.”
The General’s eyes narrowed slightly, her thoughts clearly moving several steps ahead. “Do you believe he could be turned? Leveraged into an asset for the Free State?”
“I don’t know,” Rhal replied, answering with rare candor. “At best, I can test his willingness to help his mother. That alone will take time.” A pause, then a faint frown. “And there is the matter of his blood. He is part Reman. A mongrel. One must ask whether such a creature would ever truly belong among us.”
“An advantage is an advantage,” the General said coolly. “Regardless of the form it takes.” Her expression hardened. “Either way, your presence is required at the Senate, Colonel. There is an important vote today and you’ve already missed one.”
She fixed him with a pointed look. “You wouldn’t want our esteemed Praetor to grow suspicious.”
“Understood, General Rehu,” Rhal said, dipping his head. He turned and departed the chamber without further comment.
As he walked the long corridor beyond, his thoughts returned, not to the Senate, nor the vote, but to the small device now resting in his nephew’s possession.
It was only a matter of time before curiosity overcame caution.
Rhal allowed himself a thin smile.
He hoped it would be sooner rather than later.
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