This Is Not the End

Posted on 03 Oct 2025 @ 4:43pm by Commodore Harvey Geisler & Lieutenant Commander Joey Geisler

3,246 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Imposters Among Us
Location: Confederation Command Ship
Timeline: July 8, 2390 || 0830 hours

Joey stumbled slightly as the guards shoved her inside, falling awkwardly against the wall before she regained her footing. Harvey was shoved in right behind her, followed by the hum of the forcefield sealing them in once again like a punctuation mark—final, cruel, and familiar.

She didn’t speak at first, only stood there staring at the cold floor, her mind a storm of fractured thoughts and buried emotions. The last few weeks had been a blur of pain, betrayal, and impossible choices. Watching D’rimo’s plan unravel should have brought relief—but it didn’t. Not really.

Instead, it cracked something open.

The image of the Black Hawk, her home, flashed in her mind. Her twins. Her life. A life that continued on without her.

Joey sank slowly to the floor, knees folding beneath her as the adrenaline from the bridge faded and exhaustion took its place. Her body ached, her skin still raw, but it was the emotional weight that pressed hardest.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she whispered, not to Harvey, not to herself—just to the silence. Even as those words escaped, Joey knew she would keep going. She had to. This fight was far from over even if she wasn't sure how much she had left in her.

Harvey's first thought was to sit down next to her and make an attempt at consolation. Instead, he stood in close proximity to the highly charged field, watching as the guards left. "We have to hold out a while longer," he said softly. His eyes looked around the brig, trying to see if anyone was lurking in a corner, or any surveillance devices were in place. Clearly, this area was unlike any Starfleet brig where a warden was always left on watch.

He still made no movement to sit beside her. Instead, he leaned against the bulkhead, and kept his gaze on the entrance where guards would have to pour in. "D'rimo won't hold back now. He's desperate. And we can use that."

Joey lifted her head slowly, eyes clouded with mental exhaustion, but Harvey’s words stirred something inside her—a flicker of hope, fragile but real. Getting back to their twins. The thought wrapped around her like a threadbare blanket, not enough to warm her, but enough to remind her why they were still fighting.

She exhaled shakily, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Desperate people make mistakes, and he's already made one,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “D’rimo’s pride is bigger than his plan. I just wish we had some kind of idea what his next step would be, then maybe we could try to get ahead of it.”

Her gaze drifted to the forcefield, then to Harvey. “But, sadly, we’re locked in a box, bruised, bound, and barely breathing. We can't do much of anything from here."

"No, we certainly can't," Harvey admitted. "But at least we have a job now. D'rimo is going to try something again, and we're going to have to find out what that is. As soon as we know, we can escape."

He turned towards her, just before deciding to sit down next to her. In order to work the plan, they would first have to formulate one. "How many escape pods did you see coming to and from the bridge?"

Joey leaned her head back against the bulkhead, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as she sifted through the images burned into her memory. “Not many,” she said quietly. “Three, maybe four. I was so focused on D'rimo and what he was doing that I can't really remember.”

She turned to Harvey, her expression grim but not defeated. “But one’s enough. If it’s functional, and we can get to it, it’s a chance. And right now, I’ll take that over nothing.”

Her voice dropped slightly, more thoughtful than hopeful. “Figuring out D’rimo’s next move, though… that’s going to be the hard part. He’s desperate, and that makes him more dangerous. Whatever he’s planning, it won’t be simple. And his crew? They’re loyal, or scared, or both. They won’t talk around us. Not unless they slip up.”

Harvey nodded, considering a possible plan for the escape pods. Sure they'd only need one, but escaping in a pod was risky. They'd need to have some kind of guarantee that the Confederation wouldn't turn around and try to pick them up. One step at a time, Harvey, he chided himself.

"We don't need to talk to the crew," Harvey stated. "As soon as they're ready, I'd bet our Selamat friend will pay us a visit. We can use their questions to find out what they're planning. Use their brains and desperation against them."

Joey’s eyes drifted to the floor, her thoughts spiraling toward Alison and Jameson. Nearly two years old now. She could almost hear their laughter, feel their tiny hands tugging at her uniform, see their wide eyes filled with wonder. They were being raised by imposters. By a clone who wore her face, spoke with her voice, and lived the life that had been stolen from her.

The ache in her chest was sharp, but she swallowed it down. There was no room for grief—not yet.

She looked to Harvey, nodding slowly. “You’re right. The Selamat will come,” her voice dropping, more thoughtful now. “But when we go to escape… that won’t be planned. It’ll be chaos. A moment. A crack. We’ll have to be ready to move without warning."

Joey shifted slightly, her eyes scanning the cell again, memorizing every detail. “We need to stay alert. Watch everything. Listen for cues. If one of us sees something, even a flicker of opportunity, the other has to be ready to follow.”

"Not a problem," Harvey quickly agreed. "As you are more experienced in these matters, I'll follow your lead. But, we'll need to make sure we have given ourselves enough time to find out what he's planning. The Confederation already destroyed Unity and a handful of ships. There's no telling who else they've been able to destroy since then."

Joey nodded slowly, absorbing Harvey’s words, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere—somewhere quieter, more personal. The mission, the Confederation, the destruction of Unity… it all loomed large. But beneath it, a smaller, more fragile question clawed its way to the surface.

She turned her head slightly, her voice soft but edged with urgency. “Before you were taken… how were Alison and Jameson?” Joey asked, her eyes searching his face, needing more than just a tactical update. “Did they seem okay? Were they sleeping through the night? Eating well?”

There was a pause as she swallowed a lump in her throat, her voice cracking with emotion. “I know the clone’s been raising them. I know it’s not me... not really. But I need to know they were safe. That they were still… themselves.”

There was no need for Harvey to lie, or even go so far as to bend the truth. "The other you... whatever she is... she fooled us all. The twins didn't know the difference, and they're well taken care of. I imagine that they'll be well looked after until we get back."

He knelt down beside Joey and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Besides, Mila keeps checking in on them. Familiar eyes are watching."

Joey closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle in her chest. They’re okay. It wasn’t everything, but it was something. A fragile thread of comfort in a storm of chaos. She reached up slowly and placed one gently over Harvey’s. The warmth of his touch grounded her, reminded her that she wasn’t alone in this fight. “I missed them,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I missed you.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, carving a quiet path through the grime and exhaustion. Guilt ate away at her. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve been the one holding them when they needed me. I should've been more aware of my surroundings and not been taken in the first place.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears save for the one, but there was a fire burning within them. “I know we’ll get back. I have to believe that. But when we do… and if I come across the woman who stole my life... I don't know what I'll do."

"Hey..." Harvey gently said as he reached out with his free hand to stroke the side of her head. His fingers were met instantly with matted and knotted hair, which he made little attempt to repair. Instead, he just brushed it back behind her ear the best he could. "Surviving is our job right now, and you've been excelling at it. Anyone else would have cracked or perished by now. This is how we get back to them."

He sighed, not from annoyance or anything else, just mere exhaustion. "One final push," he encouraged her. "One final push and we can get out of here, and then figure out what to do with those who've stolen our lives."

Joey leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers brushed the tangled strands behind her ear. For a moment, the cell faded away—the bruises, the restraints, the cold metal walls. All of it disappeared beneath the warmth of his hand and the quiet strength in his voice.

She let herself breathe. Just breathe.

When she opened her eyes again, they shimmered with emotion, but her gaze was steady. She nodded slowly, the gesture small but resolute. “One final push,” she echoed, her voice soft but certain.

Her hand, still bound, shifted enough to rest against his knee. “We will get out of here. We’ll get back to the twins. Back to our lives," Her voice tightened, but she didn’t look away. She sat up a little straighter, the fire returning to her eyes. “They haven’t broken us. And they won’t.”

Harvey smiled, grateful to see his wife's fighting spirit returned. For a moment, he wondered which of his roles he had channeled in his attempt to raise her spirits. Was it the Starfleet officer? The husband? The father? His smile faded as he realized that not one of them mattered right now, aside from simply "Harvey." And Harvey had but one job: to get Joey off of this ship. At a worst case scenario, he would lay down his life to ensure her own survival.

"Escape pods," he reminded her, bringing her back to an earlier portion of the conversation. "Three or four of them. That's our escape route." A shuttle would be better, as it would give them the ability to defend themselves and evade.

"We make a run at the first opportunity," he again said. "And gather any intel we can."

"Yes, and cause as much damage to their ship as we can so they can't come after us," she said. It sounded simple enough, but actually accomplishing that task was going to be hard. "How to get that done is another story."

"One step at a time," Harvey cautioned. He adjusted his stance, transitioning from a kneeling pose to sitting cross legged beside her. "Let's recount what we know. D'rimo found a way to our universe, likely from the same way went in and out before. He brought with him at least this ship, likely more, and then got stuck here when the doorway collapsed for good."

Joey took a deep breath to ground herself. He was right. One step at a time. "And his numbers are much smaller than he would like them to be, which is why he wants to open it again. His first attempt failed in dramatic fashion," she said, trying to hide her smirk. Part of her found unmistakable glee from that failure. "He's going to try again. We both know that. The question is... is how? What could he possibly think would open a doorway to his universe?"

Harvey gave the matter a little bit of thought. "He doesn't have a chance of getting to a Romulan ship, much less a Thalaron device," he surmised. "But there's no shortage of subspace anomalies in the quadrant. The two I can think of off the top of my head are the wormhole and the Convergence Zone. He'll have to go through Federation or Dominion space in order to get to either of them. The Confederation may have dealt us some blows, but if D'rimo hasn't walked over us already means that he's got a weakness or two that he's being careful to not expose."

Joey pressed her back against the bulkhead, arms folded tightly as she mulled over Harvey’s words. D’rimo’s desperation was no secret, and that made him very dangerous. Unpredictable. The kind of man who’d gamble everything on a half-baked plan just to accomplish what he wanted.

“Either of those could be catastrophic,” she said finally, her voice low. She shook her head slowly. “The Dominion wouldn’t let him anywhere near the Convergence Zone if we could warn them. Same with the wormhole—if we had a way to reach the Federation, they’d lock it down in seconds. But we’re cut off. At least for now.”

"True," Harvey stated. "For now. All the more reason to get off this ship. His best chance to get to either of those places will be near New Bajor. Anywhere else, he's got a decent chance of being discovered. But that also makes a great spot for us to eject. Greater chances for us to be recovered. We'll have to deal with either Starfleet or the Dominion when we get out, and hopefully they'll be easy to convince."

Joey lifted her hand slowly, fingers brushing against the raw, mottled skin along her jawline and neck. The burns were still healing, a slow process given the lack of medical attention. Angry patches of red and silver trailing down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt. She shifted slightly, revealing the bruises along her ribs and the scorched and torn fabric clinging to her torso.

“They’ll believe us,” she said, voice low but certain. She knew she was a mess, and had she the opportunity to even think about how bad she looked, Joey would have been completely mortified. “They’ll have to. No one walks around looking like this for fun.”

She glanced at Harvey, her expression hardening. “Between the destruction of Unity and the other ships, they would be foolish not to."

That was easy enough for Joey to say, especially since she didn't have to share space with cloned versions of themselves, especially ones that were very convincing. Harvey shuddered, wondering what horrors his double was unleashing on the Black Hawk.

"If only we could take that for granted," he confessed. "But one step at a time. Let's talk escaping. We saw escape pods. How about weapons? We'll need to be able to defend ourselves."

Joey nodded, her mind already scanning through the memories she’d collected during their time aboard the ship and around the crew. “I saw a few,” she said, voice low but focused. “The Selamat’s torture prod, obviously. Nasty piece of work, but it’s short-range and he’s cocky with it. If he comes alone, we might be able to overpower him—especially if we catch him off guard.”

She shifted slightly, wincing as her bruised ribs protested. “There were disruptors too. Standard, nothing fancy, but lethal enough. The guards have them, and I spotted two holstered on bridge crew. There was one mounted near the tactical station. If we can get our hands on one of those, even briefly, it could tip the scales.”

Her eyes met Harvey’s, steady and determined. “We won’t get a clean shot at this. But if we’re fast, if we’re smart, and if we’re willing to take a risk… we can do this.”

"I doubt we'd make it to the bridge," Harvey remarked. He closed his eyes and carefully recounted the paths they took to and from the command center. "I think I saw a weapons locker along the way. We probably won't be able to break into it, but if we can leave a disruptor on overload near it, it might cause a distraction long enough for us to make it to a pod."

Opening his eyes, he looked over at Joey. "We start with the Selamat, and from there we should be able to overpower the guards with his torture rod. The real trick will be concealing our intent from his telepathy."

Joey pushed herself to her feet, her joints a bit stiff but her mind already racing. She began pacing the cell, slow deliberate steps that helped her think through the haze of exhaustion. “That’s the real danger,” she muttered. “The Selamat doesn’t need us to speak," she said before pausing and turning toward Harvey with a flicker of determination. “We need noise. Mental noise. Distraction. If we flood our thoughts with something chaotic, something emotional, it might blur the signal enough to keep him out.”

She resumed pacing, her voice gaining strength. “We could focus on memories. The twins. The clone. The pain. Let it swirl, let it dominate. If we’re thinking about how much we hate him, how much we’ve lost, how much we want to scream—he might mistake it for raw emotion instead of calculated intent.”

She stopped near the forcefield, eyes narrowing. “And if we time it right—if we let the rage boil just as he gets within reach—he might not see the strike coming until it’s too late.”

Joey turned back to Harvey, her expression sharpened by resolve. “We use our pain. We weaponize it. And we make sure the Selamat never sees the real blow until it’s already landed.”

"That won't be complicated to do," Harvey said, rising to his own feet before moving to the poor excuse for a bed. He'd been swimming in those emotions for the last few days; although, he hadn't been afforded the time that Joey had to dwell in them. "And he's already been sensing those emotions, so all we have to do is amplify them."

He allowed himself to review the plan they'd assembled. Overpower the Selamat and guards. Obtain weapons. Create a distraction. Escape. Four seemingly simple objectives, but nearly impossible to do without knowing every obstacle before them. "We know what to do, so now we put our energy into executing the plan."

It wasn't going to be easy, but there was so much riding on their success. Their own safety, getting back to their children, and just as important, taking down D'rimo and his completely unhinged plan. "We can do this," Joey said, moving back over to retake her seat. "There's quite a bit riding on it."

There was no time to discuss or prepare any further. The doors to the holding cells opened, and in walked four guards, each holding a rifle ready to escort the prisoners to the interrogation room.

Harvey helped Joey to her feet, and muttered, "And, here we go."

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