Asked And Answered Part I
Posted on Sun Mar 22nd, 2026 @ 1:25am by Commodore Tyler Malbrooke & Lieutenant Commander Alyssa Maren & Maren Malbrooke
Edited on on Tue Mar 24th, 2026 @ 3:11pm
3,147 words; about a 16 minute read
Mission:
The Mysteries of Maren
Location: Captain’s Ready Room – Deck 1 - USS Herodotus
Timeline: MD002 1045 hrs
Maren did not like being escorted.
It wasn’t the physical act of it so much as what it implied. Two steps ahead, someone behind, doors opening for her before she reached them. It felt too close to the way Dominion patrols moved prisoners between checkpoints, and the instinctive part of her brain had never learned to separate the two.
The ready room door slid open and she stepped inside with obvious reluctance.
The space was… normal. A desk. Chairs. A viewport showing the slow drift of stars beyond the bow. No restraints. No interrogation lights. No Dominion insignia watching from the walls.
She noticed all of that immediately.
Maren lowered herself into the offered chair with a careful motion, one hand briefly pressing against her ribs before she leaned back. The medical work had taken the edge off the pain, but it hadn’t erased it completely. Her posture still carried a guarded stiffness, the kind that came from someone used to keeping their body ready to move even while sitting still.
Her eyes moved across the room once, taking in the layout, the exits, the distance between herself and the door.
Only then did she look at Thorrin.
“So,” she said, the word carrying a tired, faintly irritated edge. “This the part where I get interrogated, or are we pretending it’s a conversation?”
Her gaze flicked briefly to Marisa, then back to the captain.
“Because I’m fine with either,” she added, a small trace of defiant teenage sarcasm creeping back into her voice. “I’d just like to know which version we’re doing.”
Thorrin smiled silently as he poured from a 450 year old González Byass Tio Pepe Cuatro Palmas Amontillado. Something he had taken from his private cellar just for this. Three glasses were poured. He slid one across he desk to Maren, left one on the corner for Marisa to take at her leisure, and kept the third for himself. Thorrin took a sip and savored the flavor as was his way. When he spoke, it was with a relaxed, confident cadence. His voice dripped with the honey of his home, and a genuine caring for the girl. "Maren Malbrooke, please understand—you are not here to be interrogated. We only require that you answer a few questions, and afterward you may return home in the most civilized manner possible. We simply need to know when you came from?”
Maren watched him pour the wine without saying a word.
Her eyes followed the bottle first, then the slow, deliberate way he filled each glass as if this were some quiet evening conversation instead of what it actually was. The smell reached her before the glass even stopped sliding across the desk toward her—sharp, unfamiliar, and immediately suspicious.
Her gaze dropped to it.
For a moment she just stared.
Her father had never let her drink. Not once. It had been one of the few rules he never bent, even when the rest of the people around them ignored it. She had managed it twice anyway when he wasn’t looking, which had somehow still ended with him finding out.
So the glass stayed where it was.
Maren leaned back slightly in the chair instead, one arm folding loosely across her ribs as she studied Thorrin over the desk. The room was too calm for her liking. No guards. No restraints. No Dominion banners watching from the walls. Everything about it felt wrong in a way she couldn’t quite trust.
“Oh good,” she said dryly, the sarcasm slipping easily back into her voice. “Because getting escorted out of Sickbay into a captain’s ready room definitely feels like a casual conversation.”
Her fingers tapped once against the armrest before she answered.
“You already know when I’m from,” she added, the faint irritation of someone who had actually been listening while the adults talked settling into her tone. “Your doctor said it in Sickbay.”
Her eyes lifted to meet his without hesitation.
“Timeline twenty-six twenty-two zero-two.”
The number hung in the air for a second before she tilted her head slightly, studying him now instead of the room.
“That the answer you wanted,” she asked, “or do you want the part where the Dominion runs the Alpha Quadrant too?”
Her gaze flicked briefly to the untouched glass of wine and back again.
“Because that’s the bit people usually get stuck on.”
"Beg pardon. Allow me to be more specific. I know what timeline you are from. However, I do not know exactly what time you are from. Would you be able to tell me the date and time that you left? It would help us learn where to return you." Thorrin took note that she looked at the glass as if she wanted it. However, refused to take it. Internally he knew that she was still quite wary of him and his crew.
Maren watched him for a moment after he finished, her expression flattening slightly as the clarification sank in. Then she leaned back in the chair with a quiet sigh, her eyes flicking once more to the glass of wine before returning to him.
“You know you could’ve just said that the first time,” she muttered. “You make it sound like you’re filing a report or something.”
Her gaze drifted to the glass in his hand again and she tilted her head faintly.
“Maybe that’s why you’ve got the wine,” she added, a trace of teenage sarcasm slipping back in. “You seem like you probably need it.”
She shifted slightly in the chair, wincing faintly as her ribs reminded her they weren’t fully healed yet, then glanced back up at him.
“Before I answer that,” she said, her tone more curious now, “what’s the date here?”
Her brow furrowed a little as she thought about it.
“Because I honestly have no idea when I ended up.”
"Why today is March the 11th 2399. You are in the universe labeled 616. Now, I realize that from your perspective we are a parallel universe to you, just as from our perspective you are parallel to us." Thorrin paused to sip the wine as something occurred to him. "Where are my manners? Here I am talking about sending you home and I never asked if that is even what you want." He allowed his statement to hang in silence. He spoke with a friendly twang and even slightly befuddled. However, Thorrin did everything for a reason. He brought this up to see what this woman was made of proverbially speaking. "Well, my dear, is it?"
Maren frowned slightly when he gave the date, the number settling in her mind as she leaned back a little in the chair. “2399,” she repeated, mostly to herself, her eyes narrowing as she tried to line that up with what she remembered before the jump. “Yeah… that sounds about right. It was around there when we left too. So at least I didn’t land a century off or something.”
Her attention shifted back to him when he mentioned the universe number, and for a second she just stared at him like she wasn’t sure if he was serious. The corner of her mouth twitched faintly despite herself. “Universe 616?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s funny. Where I’m from that number’s supposed to be the main Marvel universe. Y’know… X-Men, Avengers, all that. Could have used them on Earth... Thor especially.”
The faint humour didn’t hold. As the moment stretched, the quiet of the ready room began pressing in around her in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable. There were fewer people here than in Sickbay, but the emotional noise was still there—steady, controlled currents of curiosity, caution, patience. Without the constant background fear she was used to, it felt almost louder, like someone had taken away a wall she hadn’t realised she depended on.
Maren shifted slightly in the chair, rubbing a thumb against her temple as she tried to push the sensations back down where they belonged. “You know the weird part?” she muttered, glancing toward the viewport before looking back at Thorrin. “Everyone here feels… calm. It’s actually kind of annoying.”
Her fingers drummed lightly against the armrest as she forced her focus back onto the question he had asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment, the answer clearly not an easy one. “Going back means everything I know is still there. My dad. The people we worked with. My mom might still be out there somewhere.” She paused briefly, the thought weighing heavier than she liked. “But here…” she said slowly, her gaze drifting around the room again as if testing the reality of it, “there’s no Dominion breathing down everyone’s neck all the time.”
She looked back at Thorrin then, the conflict in her expression obvious even if she tried to hide it behind a tired sort of teenage stubbornness.
“So yeah,” she finished with a small shrug. “I guess the answer is I don’t know yet.”
"Well, my dear. I can tell you that I cannot allow you to stay here without reason. Your absence could theoretically be detrimental to your timeline just as much as this one." Thorrin paused to sip his wine as he set the glass down again an idea came to him. "You can't make a decision, and we cannot find any reasons without you knowing what you are gaining or losing. So, why don't we reverse positions here. You ask us any question that you may want and so long as what you ask is not detrimental, we will answer." Thorrin knew that Marisa understood detrimental meant classified.
Marisa nodded. She didn't think Maren should go back simply because going back to her own timeline likely meant death, but she couldn't decide for the teenager. She had to choose her own destiny. the half-Vulcan just hoped she would choose wisely.
Maren didn’t answer right away.
The offer sat in front of her longer than she expected it to. Any question. For a second her mind raced through a dozen things she could ask—about the Dominion, about the war, about how the Federation had actually managed to win here when they hadn’t in her world.
But none of those questions were the ones that mattered.
She leaned forward slightly in the chair, her hands coming together in her lap as if she needed something to hold onto while she thought about how to say it. The sharp, defensive edge she’d carried with her since the shuttle bay was gone now, replaced by something quieter.
“My mom…” she began, and the words caught for a moment before she pushed through it. “Her name is Tarelle Von.”
The way she said the name made it clear it meant something to her. A lot.
Her eyes moved between Thorrin and Marisa, searching their faces with a kind of hope she clearly hated showing.
“Is she here?” she asked, the question coming out softer than anything she’d said since they met. “I mean… in this universe.”
There was a pause, and when she spoke again her voice was even quieter.
“I haven’t seen her since I was little,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “My dad always said she was out there somewhere. That she was alive. That we’d find her again when things got better.”
Her fingers tightened slightly against each other as she swallowed.
“So… I need to know,” she said, forcing herself to hold their gaze. “Does she exist here?”
Marisa watched her, but said nothing. She would let the captain answer that particular question. Delicately, she hoped. The girl was opening up, but she was still fragile.
She hesitated before continuing, the second question clearly harder to ask.
“And my dad,” she added, her voice steadier now but still carrying that same fragile edge. “You said there’s a Tyler Malbrooke here.”
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the viewport before returning to them.
“Is he okay?”
Thorrin had yet another sip of wine. It seemed to be his way to gather his thoughts before he spoke. When the glass was set down he noticed that Maren had not touched her wine. "Before we begin this journey you must be in need of something. If wine is not palatable. Can I get you something else to drink, perhaps some food. We are going to be here a while or so it seems."
"The replicator has a wide variety of drinks, herb teas, and even soft drinks," Marisa said. "The captain only serves the best wine, but I will be happy to get you anything else you prefer."
Then, just to show the wine was safe, Marisa picked up her own glass and took a sip.
Maren’s eyes flicked down to the glass again when he mentioned it. It had been sitting there the whole time, untouched, the amber liquid catching the light from the viewport behind him. For a moment she just looked at it, weighing the idea the same way she had everything else since arriving here.
Then she reached forward and picked it up.
“Relax,” she muttered lightly, lifting it just enough to inspect the colour. “I wasn’t refusing it. Just… thinking.”
She brought the glass to her lips and took a careful sip. The flavour hit sharper than she expected—dry, warm, and far stronger than the cheap contraband stuff she’d once tried behind her father’s back. For half a second her expression almost betrayed her.
Almost.
Maren swallowed and set the glass back down on the desk with a casual shrug, doing her best to pretend it hadn’t caught her off guard.
“…not bad,” she said, leaning back in the chair again as if she drank centuries-old wine with starship captains every day.
"Excellent. Now answering questions about your father is easier than your mother. In this universe your father is Commodore Tyler Malbrooke. He commands the USS Pioneer Intrepid Class Starship. Came up through the ranks through the Operations Department. He is married to Lieutenant Commander Katherine Malbrooke currently assigned to Starfleet's Corps of Engineers. See for yourself." Thorrin handed Maren a PADD that contained Tyler's complete service record starting with his entrance to the Academy. It also contained information about some of his more prevalent accomplishments.
Maren took the PADD a little slower than he handed it over, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked down at the screen. For a brief second she flicked her gaze back up at Thorrin, a faint crease forming between her brows. It was an awful lot of information to hand to someone you’d met less than an hour ago. She didn’t say anything about it though. If he wanted to hand her the keys to his universe’s version of her father, she wasn’t about to argue.
Her thumb moved across the display and the service record began to scroll.
At first she read it with the same guarded curiosity she’d been carrying through the whole conversation. Academy. Operations track. Probability mechanics. Systems engineering. Ship assignments. Promotions. The longer she read, the quieter she became, the sarcastic edge that usually sat in her expression fading into something more thoughtful.
“Huh,” she murmured under her breath.
She kept scrolling, eyes moving quickly now as she tried to picture the man described on the screen beside the one she knew. The timelines were different. The choices were different. But pieces of it still felt familiar.
Then she hit the name.
Katherine Malbrooke.
Maren’s nose wrinkled instinctively.
“…Katherine?” she said, glancing up from the PADD with a look that was half suspicion and half teenage judgement. “Seriously?”
Her eyes dropped back to the screen again, studying the line as if it might explain itself.
“So fake-dad’s married,” she muttered, the phrase slipping out before she could stop it. “That’s weird.”
She leaned back slightly in the chair again, still holding the PADD as her gaze drifted back across the list of accomplishments. The pride she refused to openly admit was there though, quietly flickering beneath her composure.
“…he commands a starship,” she added after a moment, almost to herself. “That’s actually pretty cool.”
"Now as to your mother. I must confess that I have never heard of that name. That does not mean she does not exist in this universe. Simply, that I have not met her or heard tell of her. This ship is equipped with a Temporal Library Computer and can find any piece of information, from any time, and anywhere. Computer kindly give us any information relating to Tarelle Von." Thorrin looked toward the ceiling again as he spoke to the computer.
There was a moment of silence as the computer did its work. In due time the soft spoken female voice of the computer could be heard. "The Tarelle Von of universe 616 served in Starfleet as a Counselor. Lieutenant Junior Grade Tarelle Von was born on the planet Betazed in the year 2357. She was raised on her homeworld and became an accomplished telepath and empath. Tarelle specialized in using her empathic skills to assist in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Something she used to assist in the aftermath of the Dominion occupation of Betazed. This led to her entrance into Starfleet Academy in 2376. She graduated Starfleet Academy in May of 2379. The rank of Ensign was granted upon graduation. She graduated Starfleet Medical in May of 2383 with a degree in Psychology. The rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade was granted upon graduation from Starfleet Medical. Her first assignment was Junior Counselor to the staff at Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards. Lieutenant Junior Grade Tarelle Von was found among the dead in 2385 in the aftermath of the Synth Uprising at the Fleet Yards. She was granted the Starfleet Medal of Honor posthumously for her bravery and actions during the uprising." The computer recited the brief record and then went silent as if it waited further questioning. Thorrin was not sure how Maren would take the news of her mother's death and he felt an amount of sadness for her and everything that she went through. However, he did not show it physically and used his skills to hide it from the empathic Maren.
Maren didn’t move while the computer spoke.
A Joint Post By
Captain Thorrin
Commanding Officer, USS Herodotus
Maren Malbrooke
Civilian, USS Pioneer
Commander Marisa Sandoval
Executive Officer, USS Herodotus
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