Foreshadow - Pt 1

Posted on Sun Apr 26th, 2026 @ 3:39am by Captain Marie Batel & Patin

2,659 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Beholder
Location: Celestial Temple

Marie watched as the altercation went down, feeling the changes in her body that wasn't really there as she kept half an eye on her real body that had been stolen and was now being used as bait. She rubbed her eyes, a habit when she struggled to understand something, not really understanding that she no longer had a flesh and bone body. She was getting to know this place, trippy as it was, and could feel the shifts in mood. This had been a big one.

She observed without interruption, watching the scenes, the corridors, the choices. And she began to understand. Patin would be sent back to being alive, as the Sunfire Captain's next child, to save Bajor. No pressure. The dawn of realisation hit. She would replace Patin up here.

"I see what you mean about not revealing the whole story" she caught Patin brooding afterwards, plonking on the nothingness the other woman was sitting on.

Patin didn’t look up right away. She sat with her elbows on her knees, hands loosely clasped, the faint blur at the edges of her form drifting in slow, uneven currents. The Temple around her had settled into something quieter, though it still carried the weight of what had just passed, a pressure that lingered in the bones even when the moment itself had moved on.

At Marie’s voice, Patin let out a soft breath through her nose, something between a tired laugh and a release that never quite finished. Her head tilted slightly, just enough to acknowledge her without breaking the line of thought she’d been staring into. “You got to see all of that, did you?” she asked, voice low, roughened at the edges like it had been used hard and recently.

She shifted, one shoulder rolling back as she leaned a fraction more upright, finally glancing over. There was a steady, assessing kind of curiosity that matched the question she was about to ask. “So,” Patin continued, one brow lifting faintly, “what did you think of them?”

Her gaze flicked upward, toward the unseen layers of presence that never really left, then back again, a small, crooked smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “And keep in mind,” she added, almost casually, “they can hear you.”

There was the ghost of a laugh, swallowed by the space and the heaviness of it all. She cast a sideways glance at the space where the Prophets had been, as if contemplating everything.

"I think there are motives still to be revealed, and they will do so when the timing suits them, not before. It's like we are pawns in their chess match where they see all the outcomes and choose between them to best suit their needs" Marie mused, comfortably close to Patin without intruding on her personal space.

"Beyond that - they seem to hold all the cards." She shrugged, wondering if this was to be where she spent eternity, was it really worth it? "I seem to doubt the fact I was 'invited' here through their sheer godwill without a hidden purpose yet to be unveiled"

Patin’s smirk deepened, a flicker of genuine amusement cutting through the weight she’d been carrying. “A gambling woman knows how to play those cards,” she said, the words landing light, almost teasing, though her eyes stayed sharp, thoughtful. She tipped her head slightly, studying Marie like she was placing her at a table, measuring instinct, risk, the quiet tells people gave without realizing it.

The humor softened, making room for something steadier. “Nozzie insisted you be invited here,” Patin continued, her voice easing into something more grounded, more personal. “She valued you. As a friend.” Her gaze drifted for a moment, unfocused, following a memory instead of the Temple’s shifting light. “And any friend of Nozzie’s...”

"She means a lot to you" it was a statement of fact, softened for the moment and grounded in respect. "I only knew her for a few days, but I understand what she did. She could have left me there on Skygowan, could have yielded to the pressure of an entire planet plus these guys" Marie motioned to the temple around them "but she didn't. She fought so hard foe what she thought was right, no matter the cost"

Patin leaned back slightly, bracing her weight on her hands, eyes lifting toward the unseen presence above them before dropping again, thoughtful now, quieter. The fuzz at her edges pulsed once, then steadied.

“I don’t know what they plan to use you for,” she admitted, blunt in a way that carried no cruelty. “They’ve got layers on layers, and they like revealing them like it’s some kind of ceremony.” A small breath. “But it sounds like they want me back in the game. Reborn as Nozzie’s daughter.”

Her mouth curved faintly, something almost fond there, tangled with something heavier. “I can think of worse things.” Patin turned her head, looking at Marie more directly now, the question settling in her expression before it reached her voice. “As her friend... what do you think?”

"It's an opportunity, to live properly again. Not like this I mean, this is existing... that is living" Marie pointed somewhere below the mist as though they were high in the clouds. The clouds thinned, and revealed a tall dragon like woman, regal in statue, standing before Rhenora who was sitting at a desk, looking concerned.

"Who's she? And why does she look like she's reading the riot act?"

A slow, crooked smile tugged at Patin's mouth, something smug and quietly entertained. “Probably because she is,” Patin said, tilting her head as she took in the scene. “That would be the Dragon Lady.” She let the name hang there for a moment, as if it explained more than it did.

“Never met her in person,” she went on, tone casual, “But she carries a reputation. Right foul Bitch, from what I’ve heard.” A soft huff of breath, almost a laugh. “Nozz once told me the Dragon’s some kind of Judge Advocate. Likes rules. Likes structure. Likes making sure people feel both when they step out of line.”

Patin shifted her weight, one shoulder rolling back as she settled into the view, the faint blur at her edges steadying as her focus narrowed. “Looks like Nozz is about to get the full sermon,” she added, voice lighter now, though there was an undercurrent of interest there, something more attentive than she let on. "Nothing our mutual friend can't handle, I'm sure."

"Judge Advocate you say, must be serious then" Marie mused with a concerned expression. She looked for context, reading the room, the expressions, she couldn't read the data on the padd, or could she? She dug around, and what she found wasn't pretty. "She's getting grilled for letting me die. Apparently the Admiralty didn't agree with it. When did they lose their balls and stop seeing the human factor?" She shook her head. "April would be turning in his grave.... if he has one"

Patin’s mouth quirked at that, “Supervisors and managers being without balls?” she said, a quiet chuckle slipping through. “That’s been standard operating procedure since forever. Titles get bigger, spines get smaller. Keeps the machine running, I suppose.”

Her gaze lingered on the scene below for a beat longer, tracking the tension in Rhenora’s posture, the measured authority in the Dragon Lady’s stance. Then, with a small, almost absent flick of her wrist, the space beside her shifted. A bottle appeared.

Dark glass, worn label, the kind of bourbon that burned on the way down and stayed with you long after. A second flick, and two glasses followed, settling into existence like they had always belonged there. Patin took the bottle by the neck, turning it once in her hand before pouring without ceremony, the liquid catching what little light the Temple chose to offer.

She held one glass out toward Marie, casual, like they were leaning against a bar instead of standing in the middle of eternity.

“Seems a waste to just watch,” Patin said, tone light but carrying something underneath it now, something more intentional. “You ever get tired of being on the outside looking in?”

Her eyes flicked back to the scene, then to Marie again, measuring, inviting without quite pushing. “Because we don’t have to,” she added, lifting her own glass slightly. “Not completely.”

Marie took the glass and sipped, relishing the burn that was familiar and yet different all at the same time. She waited, watching with intent as Patin manipulated space and time.

The Temple responded to the shift in her intent, subtle at first. The mist below thickened, the image gaining weight, depth. Sound threatened at the edges of perception, like something just beyond hearing waiting to be acknowledged.

Patin’s smirk returned, quieter this time, edged with something a little more dangerous. “I can’t rewrite it,” she said, almost offhand, though the precision in her voice gave the truth weight. “No changing outcomes. No saving the day.” A small pause, her fingers tightening slightly around the glass. “But stepping closer? Feeling it the way they do?”

She tilted her head toward the unfolding moment below. “That part,” she said softly, “I can manage.”

"So non-interference, is that what it comes down to? Although toeing the line is an artform in itself" Marie commented with a smirk, sipping from the glass and watching the events unfold as though Patin were conducting an orchestra.

"Something like that." Patin didn’t wait. The decision moved through her like instinct, quick and clean, before the Temple could weigh it, before Marie could second-guess it. Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass, and the space around them answered. It folded with a quiet, decisive shift, like a page turning that revealed something already written. The mist drew inward, thickened, and then released them.

They stood in Rhenora’s office. The transition carried presence, immediate and complete. The weight of the room settled around them at once. Air pressed softly against skin that only half remembered what that meant. The scent of metal, faint circuitry, something lived-in and human threaded through the space. The low hum of systems filled the silence between words, grounding it.

Patin exhaled, slow, deliberate, like she’d stepped into something real after too long in abstraction. “There,” she murmured, almost to herself.

The glasses remained in their hands, unchanged, the bourbon catching the ambient light of the room as though it had always belonged there. They stood just off the line of attention, close enough to feel the tension without disturbing it, fixtures in the space that the moment had no reason to question.

Voices carried now. Clear. Immediate. Every word landed with weight. Every breath held shape.

Patin’s gaze moved between them, tracking the exchange, the subtle shifts in posture, the tightening of shoulders, the controlled cadence of authority meeting resistance. She took a slow sip, the burn grounding in a way that felt almost unnecessary and entirely right.

“Different, isn’t it,” she said quietly, not looking at Marie, her focus fixed on the living moment in front of them "Something, otherworldly..."

"You can say that again" Marie smirked, looking around this space she had never visited but felt so familiar. Her own workspace on the Cayuga had blended with the briefing room, creating a large multi-use space. Here it seemed the ready room was a smaller private affair, creating more intimate and direct moments. She could feel the tension in the room, the begrudging alliance these two seemed to have formed that felt both old and new all over again. They had done this dance before.

"Can I touch things? Or are they not really real?" Marie asked, still unsure of how this new universe operated.

Patin’s eyes stayed on the exchange a moment longer, before she finally glanced sideways at Marie. There was a knowing look there, something that had learned the rules the hard way and never quite agreed with them. “We can touch,” she said, voice low, steady, like she was handing over something fragile. “It’ll feel real. Texture, weight, all of it.” A faint smirk tugged at her mouth as she lifted her glass slightly.

“They’re generous like that.” Her gaze drifted briefly, upward, toward the unseen presence that always lingered just beyond the edges of perception, then back again. “They just don’t let us mess with anything unless it lines up with whatever grand design they’re running today,” she continued, tone dry, carrying a quiet edge of commentary. “You’ll feel it if you push too far. Like the room deciding you’ve had your turn.”

She shifted her stance, rolling her shoulder once, grounding herself in the moment before taking another small sip. “But,” Patin added, that smirk returning with a sharper glint now, “I can fast forward, rewind, slide sideways into a different version of the same moment if I feel like it.” Her eyes flicked back to the scene, then to Marie again, measuring how much she wanted to see. “You can see almost anything they’re willing to show.” She waited just long enough for the weight of that to settle.

“And a few things you’ll wish they hadn’t,” she finished quietly, her voice softening just a fraction as her attention returned to the unfolding moment in front of them. "Have anything particular in mind?"

"But they have to be willing to show it...why do I have the feeling they hold all the cards?" Marie scoffed as they moved between timelines, seeing the differences between them. "I also have the feeling you are getting around the rules" she whispered the last line as though the lower volume would keep it between themselves.

Patin’s mouth curved, “They don’t call me the Prophet of Chaos for nothing,” she said, though there was no real effort to hide it.
Her gaze drifted across the shifting timelines, “They hold the cards, true...” she went on, tone thoughtful now, the edge of humor still threading through it. “But they’ve got a habit of laying them out in patterns.” She lifted her glass slightly, tilting it as if inspecting something unseen within the amber. “Patterns are easy to control… depending on how stubborn you feel.”

“They let me get away with more than they probably should,” Patin added, almost conversationally. “Partly because I get results. Partly because I irritate them into learning something new.” A quiet beat. “And partly because they’re starting to understand that control and understanding aren’t the same thing.”

She leaned a fraction closer to Marie, just enough to bring the moment back between them. Her eyes flicked back to the unfolding scene, then sideways again. “I just don’t like to play by their rules. I mean, where's the fun in that?”

Marie noticed the sly grin, not even moderately concealed.

"How long have you been here?" She asked quietly, understanding there was a deep history between Nozzie and the Prophets. "How did you...you know...end up here?"

Patin’s smirk slipped, folding in on itself until it left something quieter behind. Her gaze drifted, unfocused for a moment, as if she were trying to catch hold of a mischievous thread. “Not sure, really,” she said, voice softer now, less guarded. “Time doesn’t behave here.” She let out a small breath, almost a laugh without humor. “I try to find a starting point, trace it back, count the steps. Somewhere in the middle it all blurs together and I lose track.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass, then eased. “As to how…” she continued, head tilting as her eyes sharpened again, something more familiar returning, a spark under the surface. “Now that’s a story.”

TBC

 

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