“Is he… skipping?” Shubri whispered to the tall blue form of Command Atil’ika as her eyes narrowed towards the figures ahead of them in the corridor. Several metres away, Captain Nemros walked alongside the young Divine with an unusual, childlike energy. His steps seemed light, and his usual slow pace seemed to be completely overtaken, though his speed was limited by the tiny shuffling steps of the small figure beside him.

“He is very excited to meet the Divine. He’s been researching the history ever since we set off from Deep Space Forty Seven.” Atil’ika replied with a smile. Nemros seemed to tower over the tiny white clad doll form of the young woman, and despite his signature hunch, he still stood a head or two above her. In any other situation, it might appear like an elderly master educating a neophyte, but there was a spring in the old man’s step and a glint of excitement in his eye.

Atil’ika was pleased to see the old man imbued with such energy again; only a month or so before, they had been discussing his retirement and his successor. That late-night conversation seemed all but forgotten now as he bounced down the corridor.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited by anything.” Shubri jibed as the group took a turn onto the central corridor that led from the main shuttle bay towards the head of the ship. Several steps ahead of the four, a plethora of officiants in dark cloths forged the path ahead, suspiciously eyeing doorways for threats both physical and spiritual.

“It does happen,” Atil’ika stroked her chin performatively. “I think the last time was when he discovered a recipe for blueberry pancakes in 2398.”

A young ensign appeared unexpectedly at a doorway, eliciting a defensive hiss from an officiant and causing them to stumble back into the adjoining room with panicked apologies. The raisin-skinned escort raised her tiny fist, causing the entire retinue to stop before another step could be taken.

“Lower your eyes!” She spat towards the fearful ensign, who hovered in the doorway, caught in the shrivelled woman’s piercing headlights. “You are not worthy to witness she who is keeper of the light.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot about-”

“You forgot?!” The officiant hissed with venom. “You forgot about her most holy! You forgot about she who is the voice of the Yomaji?! ”

“Should we do something?” Shubri quietly asked the tall Andorian XO, her weary ankles already priming to dart across the wide corridor with apologies.

The tiny woman raised a hand as high as she could, though it barely reached the young ensign’s shoulder as she suddenly made to strike her.

Before Atil’ika could leap across the corridor to intercept the woman, a high-pitched melodic voice rolled across the short distance from behind the tiny white veil the young Divine wore. It dripped honey sweet with a lightness of spirit and care, barely a whisper but enough to stop the tiny, furious woman in her tracks.

“Ayíólu tгmariшi Olykyna. Ayíólu.” Her words were like a salve against the ear compared to the tiny raisin woman’s harsh tongue, and for a moment, Akil’ika expected butterflies to erupt from the nearby planter at the fae-like tone. “Minаъ ӥкашф.”

The officiant suddenly cowed, falling to the floor and pressing her forehead forcefully into the dark blue carpet; any harder and she would have disappeared into its deep weft.

“Gсошод, Dзeven.” The suddenly humble woman begged, her thin lips pressed almost into the deck.

“I apologise for my retinue.” The melodic voice of the divine turned towards the still wide-eyed ensign. “The threats against my life give them much to worry about, and this sometimes leads to an unhealthy paranoia of spirit.”

The young ensign’s saucer eyes turned towards the tiny figure. All the Yomaji visitors were barely three feet tall, but the Divine seemed even smaller compared to her compatriots, yet her voice carried a strange weight.

“There is no need to apologise, Your Holiness.” Nemros offered as the jaw of the ensign now threatened to flop around like a fish out of water. His tone was reverential as he took in the young girl’s grace. “Your retinue was quite specific in their requests that you be able to make it to your quarters without interruption; Ensign Tribolus was unfortunately forgetful of her responsibilities.”

“There is no harm here, Captain Nemros.” The angelic voice continued. “Ensign Tribolus?”

The young woman nodded slightly, her mouth slowly sliding shut as the awe waned somewhat, though only slightly. To be witness to the honeyed voice of this tiny white clad cherubim was more than the woman had expected as she nipped across the ship.

“Would you join us? I would love to know more about the daily life of the Federation.” She turned her veiled face towards Nemros, a glimpse of her porcelain white face cut with a tight smile barely visible through the light lace. “Not that I am not enjoying your company, Captain Nemros.”

Nemros wore a curious look for a second, as he subtly offered a sideways look towards the rest of her retinue. Wizened faces stared back blankly. It seemed that what the Divine wanted, the Divine got.

“Of course Your Holiness, Ensign?” With a slow creaking beckon of his long arms, he called the young woman, her jaw still slack to her chest, to join them, and the convoy set off again.

“Way to anger the boss,” Shubri muttered jokingly, eying the still-prone form of the officiant as the group stepped past her. The woman seemed to shrivel into the deck even further with each step the group took. “What do you think she said?”

Atil’ika shrugged in response, a sudden misgiving tugging at her antenna as the group turned along the ship’s axis towards the turbolift cars. Unable to dismiss her doubt, she glanced back at the humbled woman just before she disappeared out of view to see two dark-clothed Yomaji appear from the shadows and lift the shrivelled officiant by her shoulders. Seconds later, she was gone, disappeared back towards the shuttle bay that lay at the end of the long corridor.

“I don’t know Shubri, but whatever it is, I think that woman’s going to regret it.”