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Isabella settles in. She reads. She works with her appeal representative.

She is less and less sure about expecting rescue, as time wears on.
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And then, one day -

The asteroid is guarded, but not patrolled. The guards watch the prisoners over cameras.

Three things happen in sequence: one, a supply ship arrives from a nearby station and unloads food and various amenities in a completely regular fashion.

Two, the computer system reports loss of pressure in the main control room. The doors seal to contain the breach while the personnel inside don their emergency gear and try to find and fix the leak.

Three, every cell and corridor in the entire facility unlocks and opens at once - except the staff mess hall, which simultaneously reports another loss of pressure and locks down.

It is at this point that the Starfleet personnel begin to perceive a problem. But there simply aren't enough of them outside the pressure-sealed areas to contain the prisoners effectively, and on a station this small, the protocol is to deal with pressure loss warnings as though they're real no matter how false they obviously are. So they can't get out until they fix either the leak or the reporting error, whichever one it is.
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...That's interesting.

Isabella goes out of her room but not far; she doesn't know where she needs to be, and this way she'll be locable.
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A few prisoners start making for the docking bays, and once they get the idea, so does everybody else. Isabella is left alone within two minutes.

Not long after that, Lalita appears at the end of the corridor and beckons.
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She runs to him, tears prickling her eyes.

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He wraps his arms around her and gives her a kiss, then tows her toward the docking bays. Most people are loading themselves onto the supply ship, having gently ejected its original crew; a few more are commandeering the other available vessels. He picks one that has gone unmolested so far, a little state-of-the-art four-person-crew interstellar scout, and gets them on board with a minimum of fuss. They are neither the first nor the last stolen ship to leave.

"I love political prisoners," he says as they depart the asteroid. "They're so cooperative. I could never have pulled this off in a high-security joint."
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"I love you," breathes Isabella.

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"I love you too."

Their course is set and they're on their way. Time for hugs.
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Hugs, hugs.

"I missed you. I didn't think they knew about you so I didn't try to write - but I missed you so much."
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"I missed you too," he says, nuzzling her face.

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"Where are we going?"

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"Remember Davlia?"

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"The one with the anonymous messageboard science. Yes."

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"Given that they're still holding out on joining the Federation because they think the Prime Directive is against every reasonable principle of collaboration and social unity, I figured it was the logical place to go."

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"That sounds good to me." Kisses!

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Yes. Kisses. He missed those.

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She missed him. She's got her palm on his cheek. It's been months. "Can I -"

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"Of course."

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She missed him she loves him she's so glad he came and got her.

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He missed her, and he loves her, and he's so glad he came and got her.

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Kisses. She wonders if this thing has decent autopilot.

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This thing has excellent autopilot, and can safely be left to navigate them out of the system on its own while they celebrate their reunion.

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Celebrations! Telepathic lovey snuggly celebrations. She missed him so much.

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Yes. Telepathy and love and snuggles. All of these things are good things.

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Eventually she asks, "What's this ship we have stolen called?"
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