The small, barely-lit cubicle resounded with a series of muffled grunts & screams as the scent of struggling bodies grew heavy. Gradually, they subsided, replaced with the ragged panting of exhaustion.

Lovemaking in zero-G opened whole new avenues for the adventuring Synthya & her 2 mates...

That small cubicle wasn't the ideal location, but it was right off the main axial corridor which ran the length of the habitable section, & since they were part of the skeleton crew rotation whose task it was to monitor, check, & repair if needed the myriad systems, they'd arranged their tryst, knowing their privacy was virtually guaranteed. The three fell asleep in each others' arms, & Synthya dreamt...

It was a recurring dream... their multi-generational ship, the La Belle Heaulmière, with its compliment rich with scientists & engineers, their efforts focused on genetic augmentation to further their chances of survival at their eventual home, on its fractional-C velocity ballet among the stars on the endless black stage on its way to its destination in unexplored regions... then the unforeseen asteroids, the increasing barrage, rifling through the ship devastating one system after another at their velocity, the terror, the dismay, the struggle to patch together what remained, the decision to save as many as possible among the survivors, the desperate development based on unproven theory & experimentation, the application of the nascent cryogenic procedure to minimize consumption of the dwindling resources... then the hope of survival... hope sprang eternal, it seemed... she awoke suddenly, the vision of the ship's dedication plaque -

"An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl she used to be. A great artist can look at an old woman, portray her exactly as she is... and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be... more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo see that this lovely young girl is still alive, prisoned inside her ruined body. --R. Heinlein via Jubal Harshaw, from the novel, 'Stranger In A Strange Land' "

- still fading from her wakeful mind.

Something was wrong... horribly wrong. Alarms shrieked as the ship shook, & she & her mates scrambled into their plain grey coveralls. Metal groaned, that unforgettable deep, guttural tearing sound, more of a vibration through the structure than anything else, almost as if the ship itself was crying out for help - & with so few conscious & able... Her mind whirled as she clawed her way to Control, she & her mates being thrown this way & that, frantically checking one system & scanner after another - there it was! A pang of terror, then panic threatened to dissolve her into a helpless puddle. A rogue planetoid, right in their path, & the ship's auto-nav system desperately trying to alter course to avoid it. Normally, it would have sufficed, detected at this range, despite its substantial velocity, but the stresses involved exceeded the already-damaged ship integrity & it began tearing itself apart. One panel after another either flickered out or turned red, indicators angrily flashing. She could see her mates' shoulders sag & begin gently shaking, plainly sobbing in despair. She quickly decided on some motivating words in desperation.

"Hei! Beja! Nou hod op, snap, mafta op ona oyo sonraun floudon, osir souda nou hod op, osir souda breik au, gonot nau! Oso klirnes ste der! Sad klin sonraun! Emo laik odon klin! No tika gon kwelnes! Osir souda step au gon kikon nau, kik raun, kik thru! Omo gonplei ste odon en emo stot au omo presh gouthru! Osir souda kom au yuj en don jova en gouba in oso dula nau! Osir na mema in oso laudnes gon oso eiken ostof nodataim!" she screamed, not even able to coherently consider the fate of all of the rest of the colonists, deep in their mindless cryogenic slumber.

She raced in slow motion, feeling like she was trying to move in quicksand, finally reaching one of the few life pods still functional. She slammed the hatch shut, feeling relief as she saw her 2 mates reach their own. La Belle Heaulmière was in its death throes as she slapped the controls, & she shot from the ship, watching in horror as it finally broke apart in a surreal spewing of gas, vapor & debris, all continuing on their course for total destruction. Her final thought as she lost consciousness was ironic... "all that meat & no potatoes..."

She awoke sometime later. The auto-distress was working, so she activated her comms unit, calling to her mates... Nothing but the spurious random static of deep space whispered back. Again... still nothing. A memory of a saying arose, something about, "In space, no one can hear you scream". Her heart ached for all those that perished on that day & she mourned for the unknown fate of her mates, her lovers. Sobbing, she fought to control her emotions. It seemed, in space, no one hear you cry either, she thought bitterly. She administered medication from the medkit to calm herself & slow her metabolism. No telling how long she'd be floating out here, she thought. They had been, after all, heading out to deep unexplored space, planning on continuing their search for potentially-habitable locations for their fellow colonists.

Hours passed, then, days. So many attempts to reach someone, anyone on the comms... She fumbled to reach the medkit again, carefully arranging the series of injections which would place her in a deep drug-induced coma, designed to prolong her life pod's very limited life-support. She was vaguely aware of the lights of the instruments slowly dimming, the increasing cold... the faint chirping of the auto-distress call growing ever more faint...

Her last conscious thoughts were of her physics lessons, the law of conservation of energy - "...energy can neither be created nor destroyed; rather, it can only be transformed or transferred from one form to another."

She took comfort in her belief that, she could never actually die, & her consciousness took flight among the emptiness of space....

===================================================================================================================================================================================================

After being discovered by unnamed salvagers in the fringes of explored space, drifting in a life pod exhausted of power & frozen in a natural cryogenic state, Synthya knew next to nothing of her origins, other than that she seemed to be some kind of genetic hybrid, determined in the course of her medical examination upon revival, rehabilitation & certification for pilot status.

Not much was known of that life pod either, other than it appeared upon the initial & rudimentary examination to be of unknown crude generic design & construction. Nothing was left of it either, as said salvagers, being who they were, quickly sold it for scrap, not realizing the incredible scientific opportunity & the intrigue which might have stemmed from the data crystal which they'd left in her possession out of a sense of respect, thinking it a personal memento & of no value.

Ever curious as to her origins as that prolonged near-death state & some unknown trauma seemed to have left her prior memories in jumbled fragments of vague images & sensations, she used what resources she had at her disposal to try to decipher & de-code the information within that data crystal, which she chanced upon after scanning it out of curiosity. It seemed that what she did find was as much a mystery as herself, & as fragmented & jumbled, but she did happen to stumble on some sort of log, or possibly archive, time, date & year unknown, fragments of which lead her to an even deeper mystery. She became determined to pursue them. She thought & hoped to discover who she was, & just where she came from...

She watched the screen, fascinated. So many mysteries unfolded before her eyes... she looked furtively over her shoulder, suddenly aware of what she read might mean to so many...

====blurred static, then===

"Misdirection is the key to survival; never attack what your enemy defends, never behave as your enemy expects, & never reveal your true strength. If knowledge is power then to be unknown is to be unconquerable."

===more blurred static, then===

Mr. Spock: "Earth believes the Romulans to be warlike, cruel, treacherous. & only the Romulans know what they think of Earth."

===blurred static===

Mr. Spock: "Sweeping the area of Outpost #2. Sensor reading indefinite. Double-checking Outpost #3. I read dust & debris. Both Earth outposts gone & the asteroids they were constructed on - pulverized."

Captain Kirk: "Go to full magnification. I don't see anything. Can't understand it."

Mr. Spock: "Invisibility is theoretically possible, Captain - selective bending of light - but the power cost is enormous. They may have solved that problem."

===blurred static===

Captain Kirk: "After a whole century, what will a Romulan ship look like, Mr. Stiles? I doubt if they'll radio & identify themselves."

Stiles: "You'll know, sir. They're painted like a giant bird of prey."

===blurred static===

Mr. Spock: "I agree. Attack."

Captain Kirk: "Are you suggesting we fight... to prevent a fight?"

Stiles: "These are Romulans! You run away from them & you guarantee war. They'll be back - not just one ship, but with everything they've got. We know what they look like..."

Mr. Spock: "Yes, indeed we do, Mr. Stiles. & if the Romulans are an offshoot of my Vulcan blood - & I think this likely - then attack becomes even more imperative."

Dr. McCoy: "War is never imperative, Mr. Spock."

Mr. Spock: "It is for them, Doctor. Vulcan, like Earth, had its aggressive, colonizing period - savage, even by Earth standards - & if the Romulans retain this martial philosophy, then weakness is something we dare not show."

===blurred static===

Romulan Commander: "Romulan women are not like Vulcan females. We're not dedicated to... pure logic, & the sterility of non-emotion. Our people are warriors. Often savage. But we are also many other pleasant things."

===blurred static, & file ends===

"So," she thought... "Earth... & these people, the Vulcans, the Romulans, who were they? There must have been some kind of war...". She knew of Earth, heard of it. An expansive & aggressively corporate faction called the Federation was based on/from Earth. Her mind raced. She almost jumped with the realization... "Could they be, or have been, one & the same as today?... & ships capable of invisibility, some kind of cloaking ability, & tremendously powerful weapons... am I a survivor, & from which ship? Just who the hell AM I?"

Her jaw set, her lips firmed, she was determined to find out more, to explore these mysteries, & with a flash of further realization, she thought of that crystal, damaged & the data it contained incomplete, was found in her possession. She backed up what data it contained, stored it in her personal data vault, & set an encryption key. She then placed the crystal in her safe & set another encryption key. There. That would have to do, the best she could do.

Her mysteries only deepened. She wasn't sure just what all of this might mean to her universe as she knew it, but something within her moved her to keep it all to herself now, at least until she figured out more details. She made her plans to set out on exploring these mysteries, & to be subtle & hidden with her goals & the reasons behind them. She could trust no one... What she read in that data crystal, the first segment, came back to her. "...If knowledge is power then to be unknown is to be unconquerable."

She began setting up her small ship, her mind whirling, buzzing with unanswered questions...