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Star Trek: Sixth Fleet

USS Saturn

Worlds On A String

A novel written by Graham Thomson, Moritz Kraft, John Parr,

Piotr Mierzejewski, Alexander Richardson, Joe English,
Michal Bartkowicz, Marina Bonomi, Anthony Wittrock and Sarah Crowther

Cover art by Moritz Kraft

Available as a free download on www.uss-saturn.com

USS Saturn is a Sixth Fleet PbeM RPG. Characters welcome.

Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
and Star Trek: Enterprise belong to CBS and Paramount. No copyright violation is indended.
The Sixth Fleet community is a non-profit organisation.

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Prologue.....................................................................................................................................4
Chapter 1 – That New Cat Smell...............................................................................................7
Chapter 2 – Thrusters On Full.................................................................................................14
Chapter 3 – Dalin In Wonderland............................................................................................21
Chapter 4 – In Which We Meet Captain Arax.........................................................................34
Chapter 5 – Thou Shalt Not.....................................................................................................50
Chapter 6 – Power....................................................................................................................66
Chapter 7 – Enemy Mine.........................................................................................................74
Epilogue...................................................................................................................................90

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Prologue

Stars streaked by the window Lieutenant Paul Toddman was gazing out of lethargically
as the Federation transport ship lumbered along at a mere warp four. A last minute addition to
the passenger list, Paul was roughing it on a seat in what was laughingly called the
promenade. The slightly open space he was in may have seemed large when the ship was
brand new, but it was barely bigger that the bridge of a Galaxy-class starship. And it was
busy.
Paul refocused his eyes on his reflection in the window. The cuts and bruises were still
quite visible. He had survived a few disasters in his time – his first assignment, the Lancelot,
crash-landed on a planet's surface. That was a particularly violent event. Then, just a few
years later, the same ship was rammed into an alien weapon to save umpteen million lives.
But before all that, he had been on board his mother's ship at Wolf 359. The last he heard
from her was her voice calling for the crew to abandon ship. A few minutes later Paul had
watched from an escape pod as the ship was torn apart by the Borg. However, all this paled
in comparison to the slow, lingering death of the Saturn. Never had he known a ship to take
so much punishment and still hold together.
He felt remorse for surviving. Many young crew members had died, some on their very
first mission. It seemed unfair.
Paul looked down at the PADD in his hand again. 'Report to U.S.S. Northampton –
Spacedock, Betelgeuse II' – that was the simple order handed to him by some errand boy on
Far Reach Station. With all his possessions he had had with him being vaporised by the
destruction of the Saturn, Paul had found the next available ship and jumped on board only
minutes before it departed.
And here he was. Sitting in a busy 'promenade' aboard an eighty-five year old transport
creeping its way through the cosmos. Still, it was better than nothing – at least he had a clean
uniform and a new pair of boots.
"My friend doesn't like you."
He looked up at the source of the voice that had disturbed his solitude. Paul was irritable
right now. His past assignment literally blown to pieces, his friends scattered about the
quadrant, and he was being reassigned and still had forty hours to go without a bed. This
Scotsman was not in the mood.
"Frankly, I don't give a flying f-..."
The man interrupted him by poking him square in the chest. "I suggest that you move, he
doesn't like being kept waiting."
"I've been here five hours and I'm not going anywhere. I suggest you leave," Paul said
and returned to staring out of the window.
There was a grunt as a large Nausicaan bodily lifted Paul out of his seat, turning him so
they were face to face.
"I warned you..." said the smaller man stepping back.
Paul was little surprised at being held aloft by a Nausicaan, he gave him that.
"I suggest you put me down, Dro'clegh," he said stiffly, hoping he had remembered the
correct Nausicaan profanity.
The low growling noise the Nausicaan made suggested he had. The impact between
Paul's face and the Nausicaan's forehead confirmed that absolutely. He picked himself up and

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touched his face with the back of his hand. The Nausicaan had reopened one of his wounds.
"Is that all you got?" Paul gritted as he stood fast.
Snarling, the Nausicaan charged at him. Paul delivered a driving punch directly to the
warrior's throat and swept this left leg around behind those of the attacker who lost his
footing and fell to the floor.
The anger was evident as the Nausicaan pulled himself to his feet, clutching at his throat
with one hand and reaching for the dagger at his belt with the other. Staggering slightly, he
growled and walked towards Paul with the blade held out.
"What's the matter, can't take me on with your bare hands, so you resort to a weapon?"
Paul sneered. "I've taken down Klingons bigger than you."
The growl became lower as the Nausicaan advanced, before turning into a scream as he
broke into a run.
Paul bent down and collected the charging Nausicaan with his arms and shoulder before
flipping him over his back with the momentum of the charge. The screaming warrior
somersaulted and landed headfirst into a glass table, shattering it. Paul checked his wounds
again, they were still bleeding but manageable. He turned his attention to the little man.
"Fancy having a go yourself? Or does your wife do all your fighting for you?"
The little man looked at the motionless Nausicaan before turning and running out of the
room – almost concussing himself as the doors failed to open quickly enough. The
promenade returned to normal, the fight forgotten as if it had never happened.
Paul knelt down to check on the Nausicaan. He was alive, but would probably be
spending the rest of the voyage in a forced slumber. Delving into his pocket, he produced two
slips of gold pressed latinum and flicked them over to the approaching barkeeper.
"Sorry for the mess," Paul stated as he sat back down, put his feet up on a coffee table
and resumed his stargazing.

Miya stood in the dimly lit space. Recently finished, the bridge module was still being
powered from the umbilicals and main shipboard power was still offline. She wasn't sure
how long she'd been standing there, but she just couldn't bring herself to sit in the centre
chair - it didn't seem right. It just wasn't quite 'hers' yet.
The doors to the main turbolift swished open to reveal the battered frame of Paul
Toddman. He stepped out and was visibly surprised to see her standing in the middle of the
darkened bridge.
"You? ...here? ...Er, I mean... ma'am... what are you doing here?"
Just as surprised, Miya turned round with her eyes wide. "Toddman," she said, then
frowned. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Well, aside from enduring forty-five hours travelling without a bed, a Nausicaan
decided he wanted my seat on the overly packed transport on my way here. He came off
worse than me," Paul answered as he began strolling around the bridge. "Is this our new ride,
then? I'd have preferred a better name though, say… Edinburgh."
Miya smiled to herself. "Well then, I have some good news for you. Before I get to that
though, I need you to do me a favour."
"If it's to get you a coffee, forget it. The only working replicator is on deck twelve and
the turbolift only goes down to deck six," he snickered. "Okay, seriously, what can I do for
you, ma'am?"
"I need a security chief, and I think you need a posting."
This was a bit of a shock to Paul. He regarded Solo's words carefully, to make sure he

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hadn't mistaken her intent.
"I'd be honoured, ma'am."
"Good," Miya replied. "Because you were the only person on my list. Welcome to the
USS Northampton's crew. Follow me, you need to see the cosmetic changes I'm having done
to the hull," she finished.
Paul followed the captain into the turbolift where she ordered it to the observation
platform that hung above the Northampton from the roof of the massive internal space dock
she was moored to.
"Cosmetic changes?" Paul quizzed as the lift car came to a stop and they stepped out.
Miya nodded and indicated the top of the saucer. Workbees and engineers in spacesuits
were just finishing whatever they had been doing. "What do you think?"
Paul's eyes widened. His breath fogged up the window in front of him, he wiped it clear
with his hand and regarded the sight before him with wonder. There, upon the saucer's upper
surface was the freshly painted name, U.S.S. SATURN NCC-71801.
"Gee, ain't she a thing of beauty..."
"I quite like her," Miya grinned. "I've managed to secure most of the crew, they should
arrive shortly. I think you must have caught an early transport."
"Indeed I did," he replied, his gaze fixed firmly upon the massive starship below. "I had
nothing to collect or look for, so I jumped on the first available ship once I received my
orders to report here."
"Well, the good news there is - you'll get first dibs on quarters," Miya grinned as they
walked back into the lift.

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Chapter 1 – That New Cat Smell

Gunnery Sergeant Don Jameson sat alone in the corridor, pondering what his fate would
be. On one hand, the former XO, Solo, had been given a clean bill of health by the regular
board of inquiry and was now taking command of a new USS Saturn, so they obviously
thought she had done a good job. On the other hand, he had been in command of a marine
unit and lost half of it. That was not a good thing for a career, and he could be chucked out of
Starfleet or even charged if they found him negligent.
Most of the surviving crew had been assigned as the cadre of the new ship. But it was
already apparent that the manifest did not include a marine unit. Quite where that left him, he
wasn't sure, but the answer would be found inside that meeting room where he was going to
face his own board from the Marine Corps.
The rest of the survivors of the Black Knights had already been seen by the board and,
although they had waited for him in a show of solidarity, he had sent them on their way with
a promise to join them in a bar later.
"Gunnery Sergeant Jameson?"
He looked up and rose from his seat at the sight of a young lieutenant looking out of the
meeting room. "Ma'am?"
"The board will see you now. This way please."
Don tugged at his tunic and followed her inside. She motioned for him to take a seat on
one side of the table and then sat at the end by a console. On the other side of the table were a
colonel and two majors from the corps. Don saluted and then sat down.
"Gunnery Sergeant, thank you for coming. I am Colonel Freihelm and I am president of
this board."
"Sir."
"We've already gone through your after action report. As we would expect from someone
of your calibre, it's very comprehensive. But we'd like you to take us through the events from
the point where you hit the anomaly in your own words. We will interupt when we have
questions."

Three long hours later, Don stepped out of the meeting room and paused to take a deep
breath as the door shut behind him. Then he turned and headed off to find the rest of his
platoon.
If there had been any observers in the corridor, they would have noticed a slight spring
in his step.

The marines that were gathered in a corner looked up as the door swung open to admit
Don. Although most businesses stayed open during the full 'day' on starbase Far Reach
Station, to pick up trade whatever the shift, all of them had quiet times depending on their
location and what they sold. With the outcome of the day uncertain, the Capital had been
chosen because it was empty of anyone other than the marines and a bored staffer.
They watched expectantly as he approached them with the most impassive poker face he
could muster. Sitting down, he took a swig from the beer that was pushed his way.
"Okay, listen in. There's good news, and there's bad news. The bad news is that the
platoon will not be reformed. The unit will be disbanded and then eventually recreated from

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scratch. So it's the end of the road for The Black Knights. The good news is that we, or most
of us, will still be working together. Schris and Eriga," he nodded towards where Kemper and
Hampool sat. "You're off to be instructors in your respective fields. As you know, Ricochet
and Quin were badly injured when we ejected. They're going to be in the hands of the medics
for months, and it remains to be seen if they will be fit enough to return to duty. The rest of
us..." Don paused and took another swig of beer, enjoying the tension for a moment, "...are
designated as Detatchment 71801 and will be cross trained to fill the role of Hazard Team
aboard the new USS Saturn, with yours truly as team leader."
The marines exploded with relief and he found himself being bombarded with questions
from all angles. Eventually he quietened them down.
"Colonel Freihelm gave me a hard time for not bringing everyone home, but he accepted
that we had done the best we could under the circumstances. With Solo being promoted and
given a Galaxy even though she lost a Prometheus, I guess he couldn't reasonably hang
anything on me alone. The Hazard Team will mean that we get trained in things like
engineering, science and suchlike. We'll need a new medic or two as well I guess. The
timetable hasn't been finalised yet, and I'll let you know when I get it. The Galaxy class also
has a truckload of space, so we'll be able to ditch the barracks and get over a hundred square
metres of living space for each of us. There's even space for spouses and families. So... beers
all round, and then we need to get Detachment 71801 a name, a motto and a badge."

***

Having taken farewell of her uncle, Lieutenant Commander Patricia Holmes met up with
two members of her former Security department in front of the airlock at the docking berth of
the new Saturn.
"This is strange." Petty Officer Emily Evanson piped up when she approached.
"What is?" Patricia asked.
"We're to report to the Saturn's security chief – and it's not you."
"It's... what? Who is it?"
"Toddman."
"Toddman?" She frowned. Wordlessly, the small brunette handed a PADD over to her.
Patricia studied it, scrolling back and forth through the list. "Huh. Several names missing.
Timor, for example."
"He was reassigned elsewhere," Petty Officer Dola chi-Trei stated.
"I thought he was on the transport with you guys?"
"He was," the Andorian confirmed. "Said they merged the Tactical department with
Security, and that he asked to be reassigned to another vessel."
"Oh. Well, almost the entire Security department is listed. There's you. Emily. P'Jol. But
no me."
"Aww... they forgot you," Emily teased her, then covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh
my God. I'm not on the list! This just in – saying a prayer didn't qualify me for keeping my
job!"
"Shut up, stupid head," Patricia scowled and tossed the PADD back at her.
Emily barely caught it. "Hey, watch it! That's a perfectly good pad!"
The blonde grimaced and looked around, at nothing in particular.
"This also just in," said Dola quietly, producing another PADD.
Patricia glanced curiously at the Andorian and took it.

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 "You're to report to the new captain in person," Dola revealed as Patrica skimmed the
message.

Miya was still struggling to shake the feeling she was intruding on someone else's space,
the only thing giving her any indication that things were otherwise was the still present
cellophane wrapping covering all of the seating. Walking round the desk in her ready room,
she sat down in the chair beyond, which caused the cellophane to gradually deflate with a
long hissing noise. Standing up quickly, she frowned – that moment, the door chime
sounded.
"Come in," Miya called.
With her hands on her back, the tall blonde lieutenant commander strode into the room,
slowing down and frowning slightly when she saw Miya.
"You're the captain," Patricia said - it was more of a surprised statement than a question.
Miya turned round. "Yes," she said and stared down at a small black box on the desk
again. "It seems I am," she finished quietly.
"I mean... sure. That shouldn't surprise me," Patricia uttered and composed herself. "Not
as much as not finding my name anywhere on the Security manifest, and hearing you gave
my job to Lieutenant Toddman. With all due respect, ma'am, what's that about?"
"I don't want you as my security chief anymore - after your performance during the last
mission I realised that." She looked over at the woman. "I'm sorry - I know you enjoyed that
post."
Patricia blinked and just stared back her for a moment. "Right," she then said. "Yeah, I
did. Most of the time anyway." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "May I ask what it was
exactly that you thought made me unfit for that role?"
"Oh no, that's not it at all. It's not that I think you're unfit for the role." Miya walked
round the room until she was standing right in front of Patricia. "I just think you'd be better
suited in another role." She sat down on the sofa and grinned slightly. "Executive officer for
example ..."
"Oh." Her brain's transition from a state of consternation to one of surprise being all too
visible on her face, Patricia turned to look for the chair opposite to the sofa and sat down,
mumbling, "You don't mind, do you?" Taking another deep breath, she composed herself
once more. "You want me to-... I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to give me the boot." Then
she frowned at Miya. "You were having fun winding me up there for a moment, weren't
you?"
"Oh yes." This time Miya couldn't hide the smile that was tugging at her mouth. "You
just made it so easy for me, there was no effort involved, really."
Patricia hung her head, smiling sheepishly. "I guess that's true."
"I'm surprised your uncle didn't tell you about..." Miya gestured at the room, "...this. Me
getting this command."
"Me too," Patricia nodded. "Though I was wondering what it was he was grinning about
when I left," she said, then pausing. "Wait... he didn't... did he suggest you make me your
XO?" she asked, frowning at Miya, suspicion resonating in her voice.
Miya held up her hands, her eyes going wide. "No, no. This was entirely my choice."
"Good." Patricia sounded relieved. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-..."
"What makes you think that your uncle suggested you?"
"It's just that he's somewhat... imposing sometimes, you know? I wouldn't put it past him
to think he has to look after my career a bit."

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 Miya nodded, putting a look of concern on her face. "Understandable, he would want to
look after his poor, misguided, wayward niece."
"Okay. You can stop doing that now."
Miya grinned again, and looked over at Patricia. "You still haven't given me a yes or no
yet."
Patricia blushed slightly, realising that this was indeed the case. Slowly, she stood from
her chair, walking over to the window, and stared outside at the section of the hull visible
from the ready room. It was a huge ship - and a huge responsibility. Finally she turned back
to Miya, a confident smile on her face. "Yes. I'd be glad to be your XO."
"That's a relief," Miya let out a sigh, standing herself and walking over to the desk once
more. "I'd already told Starfleet you'd said yes, so I had no idea what I was going to do had
you said no."
"In that case, quietly getting rid of me and putting up an android twin of myself would
seem like a good move." Patricia nodded earnestly, then paused. "Oh my. I've spent way too
much time with Emily," she said, glancing back at Miya. "Thanks for getting me out of
Security," she added quietly in a conspirative tone.
"It's not all good, you have to wear red now. Speaking of which, I'll need you to start
chasing the departments on board to make sure they are getting up to capacity." Miya's grin
returned. "That includes Security, by the way. I'm sure Emily will love to see you in red."
"Oh, everyone will. It goes much better with my complexion," Patricia grinned back.
"But yeah... I'm on it, ma'am. Off to the chasing and sure making."
"Excellent - again assuming you'd say yes I arranged for some fresh uniforms to be put
in your new quarters. Keep me posted. I'll keep playing the bureaucracy game and see how
quickly we can get this ship moving."
Patricia nodded giving Miya a last enthusiastic smile and turned to leave.
Miya followed her out onto the bridge and frowned as she spotted the command chair
once more – then, as if she had made up her mind, she strode over to it and began ripping off
the plastic wrapping. If there was a point where she finally accepted the ship as her
responsibility, it was now. No returns if the packaging was opened.

When she was walking around the ship half an hour later, Miya was in awe at how new
everything was - not that she hadn't been on new vessels before, but the Galaxy class was not
exactly the cutting edge in ship design. She shook her head grinning slightly as she
remembered that in fact, this one was cutting edge - based as it was on the latest and greatest
equipment Starfleet had to offer. One of the advantages of a complete refit of an empty shell,
she mused.
Arriving at the doors of the main crew lounge, she paused briefly, before walking
forward and through the double doors into the large empty space beyond. As yet, there were
no tables or chairs - just the skeleton of the bar and a lot of space where the replicators would
eventually sit. Heading for the windows, Miya sat on one of the supports and stared at the
inside of the massive spacedock. In the distance she could see an Excelsior class with men
and workbees swarming all over it. Closer, an Oberth class was being stripped - no doubt
either beyond its service life or deemed irreparable. The other vessels seemed to be of non-
Federation design - with the exception of a few transports, one of which had just docked.
Miya found herself wondering if any of the incoming crew were on board, then smiled to
herself - she would find out soon enough.

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 There were, in fact, several dozen Saturn crew members aboard that transport. Some of
them knew each other, others did not.
Strolling around somewhat lost in the docking area, Ensign Lisa MacDonald checked
her uniform one more time as she looked at her new fellow crew members. She seemed like
she wanted to make a good first impression and tried to look serious, the perfect Science
officer, but underneath it all, like with the rest of her fellow colleagues, there was the total
joy at finally reaching for a long-cherished dream.
"So... anyone have an idea where our ship is?" one of her colleagues asked, snapping her
out of her thoughts.
Looking around slightly disoriented, the small group found themselves in a huge stream
of people, apparently all of which knew where they had to go. Which seemed to be in all
directions.

Not far away, a delicate dark-skinned figure in a red-collared tunic was strolling along in
a much more relaxed manner. After the Saturn's survivors had arrived on Far Reach Station,
Lieutenant Nia Musu-Rei had gone out of her way to spend her time in the most crowded,
noisiest sections she could find, only retreating to her quarters when she was almost too tired
to stand, yet fighting giving in to sleep - and the dreams that she knew would follow.
In the chief diplomatic officer's native Waridi-Mura, solitude was a precious treat, to be
savoured for as long as possible before one of her innumerable relatives, age-mates and
assorted acquaintances would arrive to bring her back into the warm and lively, yet
astonishingly organised quasi-chaos of a place that was at the same time a 350-strong village
and a single fortress-farm.
Having found herself alone, with only an escape pod's bulkhead between her and the
frozen void, and in the sole company of a corpse, had been almost too much for Nia. Now
she dreaded solitude. And company was her antidote, the drug of choice against those
freezing moments of deja-vu that, according to the local counsellor, would pass - in time,
Lieutenant, in time.
She shook her head at the memory of the homiletic voice filling the allotted session time
with a white rumor of by-rote suggestions and encouragements. After the first time she hadn't
returned.
Now, she found her wanderings had brought her near a small knot of newly-arrived
personnel, a few junior officers evidently trying to get their bearings.
Shaking off her morbid line of thought and switching to a professional smile she
approached the group. "Welcome. May I help you?"
The ensign turned towards Nia and saluted almost by reflex. During the first year in the
academy it was drummed into the cadets to salute anyone senior, and at that point everyone
was senior to them. One poor cadet all but jumping to turn and salute a cat which had
meowed rather loudly behind him had become a running gag for his entire class.
Being out of the academy was almost as much of a culture clash as enrolling had been in
the first place. Back then it had been a change from the easy, carefree teenage life to a strict
routine with an army of tutors standing over the cadets telling them what to do, what not to
do, how to look, how not to look, and to make sure they didn't totally screw up. Now it was
real life, and a whole new level of strictness. Here, screwing up wouldn't just drop your
marks – here it could be deadly.
"Ensign Lisa MacDonald, ma'am, just been assigned to the Saturn," the girl replied,
checking the lieutenant's tags as she spoke, then looked round at the various docks. "I'm kind

11
of lost."
The dark-skinned lieutenant nodded sympathetically.
"It's easy to get lost here. I'm from the Saturn too – welcome," Nia stated and briefly
surveyed the gaggle of new arrivals. "All personnel assigned to the USS Saturn – with me,
please!"

***

The infinite wisdom of Marine Corps bureaucracy had delayed Detachment 71801's
departure from Far Reach Station. They had been subjected to their annual physical
assessments, followed by repeated 'skill set analysis' exercises, briefings on Hazard Team
operations and, for Don, the grandly named '8311 Detached Duty Leadership Control
Course', which had sadly just turned out to cover all the administration and reporting that he
would have to do. But the main delay seemed to be that the Corps couldn't organise itself
enough to work out whether the actual Hazard Team training would happen at Far Reach
Station, on the spacedock orbiting Betelgeuse II, or on the Saturn.
At the very least it had left plenty of downtime to see off the other survivors of the Black
Knights. The media interest that had accompanied their return had quickly evaporated and,
with the departure of the rest of the Saturn's crew, the dozen marines had closed ranks. None
of them had family on the starbase, or anyone close enough to visit, so they were keeping to
themselves.
Eventually, the brass had decided that they would get trained in all three places, and so
they started some of the specialisation courses before shipping out for Betelgeuse and the
waiting Saturn. It turned out that the exercises they had been doing were to determine who
would cross train into which area. This revelation sparked a debate that had become slightly
heated, forcing Don to assert his authority with the team and also negotiate with the training
officer to resolve it.
But they had come through it and now they were welded into a team. All they needed
was a ship. Which is why all of them were now gathered around one of the transport ship's
viewports as they slowly approached the starbase. Through the vast open jaws of the stardock
doors, they could see the stern of a Galaxy-class hull.
"That must be her," muttered Junebug, somewhat pointlessly as it was clearly the only
Galaxy in the dock.
"However often you see them, they're still big buggers, aren't they?"
"Yeh, no frakkin' kiddin'. How many laps of da saucer do we do for physicals, Gunny?"
"Enough to tire you out, Noggy." There were a few chuckles from the others.
"Heh, so enuff to leave ya in me dust then."
"You usually do."
"Think of all the space we'll have to live in! One hundred and ten square metres of
private cabin each so I hear. Not four in a bunk room."
"In that case you'll need a map to find your way to the bathroom."
"At least we don't have to smell Birdie's socks anymore." More laughter.
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with my socks!"
"Well, it must be you then!"
"Oi!"
"Okay, kids, calm down, grab your stuff and let's get ready to disembark this tub."
Barely thirty minutes later their boots were hitting dockside. Despite having a meagre

12
amount of baggage between them, they saw no point in carrying it if other means were
available. To that end, a nearby grav sled and its operator were swiftly expropriated and a
dozen marines set off along the broad dockside concourse towards the Saturn's docking bay.

13
Chapter 2 – Thrusters On Full

Being one of the so called 'lucky' ones, the first few officers allowed to come aboard the
new Saturn to help detail her and get her ready, Ensign Dalin Saine stuck mostly to the
medical stations and Sickbay. He did, however, lend a hand with some electrical work as
well. This, of course, usually led him to going right back to one of the medical stations or
Sickbay – for treatment.
And if that hadn't been enough, as the highest ranking officer in Medical - with Candice
gone, he actually was the only commissioned officer there right now - the new CO had put
him in charge of looking up all the new additions to the Saturn crew and get their medical
profiles. He used to serve on a Sovereign-class starship once, so a big department was
nothing new to him. However, being practically in charge of one and having to stock it for an
upcoming mission was something else entirely. Dalin was constantly asking for help from the
Starbase on everything. Luckily, Claire had volunteered her time to come to the ship and help
him out.
The ensign sat down on his bed and loosened the top button on his uniform. It had been
another long day, and it wasn't going to end soon. Grimacing he stared at the dress uniform
lying on the table next to the bed. Apparently there was going to be a crew meeting in Ten
Forward tonight, to celebrate the new ship and with commendations and promotions being
handed out. Dalin just hoped they wouldn't 'promote' him to department head. He kicked off
his shoes and sighed, lying back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling – and rolled his eyes
when something on his desk started to beep. He rolled up and looked over at the screen, then
stood up and started mumbling.
"Twelve and a half hours with the woman, and she still wants to talk!"
He sat down and activated the screen - and his eyes fell on someone he hadn't expected
to see. She had blonde hair down to her shoulders, a small nose and those blue eyes that
seemed to light up the whole room.
"Kaylee!"
"What's up big brother?" she said smiling.
Dalin sighed and shook his head. "Just got off my shift."
Kaylee looked away, then back at him. "You mean you worked over again? Dee, you're
gonna kill yourself if you keep this up."
He shrugged, smiling. "I can't sit there and wait until we get a new DH. Almost the
entire medical staff is new."
"I'm sure you're doing fine. Has Solo said anything about it?"
"Nope, she did a quick inspection..." he said while rubbing the back of his head. "...she
didn't yell at me. That's something, right?"
Kaylee laughed. "Right. Look, I got some news."
"Oh yeah?"
"I've got the nod to go out on residency!" She nearly screamed.
Dalin smiled. "That's great, kiddo! Where did you land?"
"Oh," Kaylee said casually, "just a starbase named Far Reach Station."
Dalin's face dropped and his mouth fell open. He blinked his eyes a few times, then
smiled from ear to ear. "No way!"
"Yes way! I'll be there in a week or so. I'm going to miss you this time, but the next time

14
the Saturn is in the area I will get to see you." She looked at something off camera again for a
moment before turning back to Dalin again. "Well, look, we are all going out to celebrate
leaving Earth. Could be the last time we all see each other! I'll call you later, okay? Love ya,
Dee!"
The screen went black and Dalin leant back in his chair. He smiled and looked over at
his shoes. Eventually he got up and took the dress uniform from the table. Now that he was
in a much better mood, putting it on didn't seem so bad.
After making his way down to the lounge which was now full of streamers and various
other party decorations, Dalin walked up to the CO who was talking to spacedock personnel.
Letting out a sigh and once more tugging at the uniform collar that felt way too tight on his
neck, he saluted sharply. "Ma'am."
Miya turned and looked at him up and down. Then she smiled a lopsided smile and
saluted him back. "You clean up well, Mister Saine."
"I'm going to burn this thing once I get out of it," he muttered playing with his collar
again.
She just grinned at him, nodded slightly and left him standing there while she resumed
her conversation. "Table-wise, we'll be looking at around ten or twelve..."
Dalin stood for half a minute, then lost interest and headed over towards the other side of
the lounge. The food was just beginning to arrive - and that was much more interesting to
him at this time. Lunch seemed so long ago now.

Lisa looked round her new quarters. They were bigger than those she had in the
academy, and those she had had to share with another cadet - these were all hers.
She put down her rucksack on the bed and turned to the two crates which had been sent
earlier. Her entire life could now be fitted into two crates and a rucksack. Lisa thought back
to the big house she had grown up in, where she used to run through the rooms giggling as
her father followed, his laughter echoing across the years to the present.
She particularly remembered the large library there, with real books in it. She lovingly
pulled out the old family bible from one of the crates. She hadn't been able to take all of the
books, and most were still in storage back on earth, but the bible was special. She opened one
of the cupboards at random and placed it in there.
Her other books she had on conventional memory, and she stood to slide that into the
computer slot on the wall. It did contain some of the books from that old library at home, but
the most of it was academy books, and her stuff on early technology.
A holocube of her mother and father went out on one of the sides, the cube showing her
time at the academy culminating in the graduation ceremony beside it.
The second crate contained her more fragile goods. She pulled away at the foam
packing, and removed the first layer. Her working steam tractor engine lay carefully beside
the small package of real coal. She had never actually tried it out, but it met the specs of one
of the early steam tractor engines precisely. Lisa lovingly placed it in one of the display
cases, nearly dropping it when the door chime sounded.
“Enter!” Lisa replied and turned around to see a lieutenant walk into the room. One
could almost hear her spine snap to attention. "Ma'am."
"At ease, Ensign," the lieutenant smiled. "Welcome on board, I am Lieutenant Rita
Orsini, the assistant chief science officer."
Lisa nodded quickly and moved over to the sack she'd left on the bed. "I've got my
orders here, ma'am, but I wasn't expecting to officially report in till tomorrow." She rifled

15
through her belongings trying to find the PADD she knew she'd put there.
"Tomorrow will be good enough. I'm not here to draft you into service on the double, I
just wanted to meet you. The Science departement is, shall we say, quite understaffed at the
moment." Rita paused for a moment. "If I may ask, what is your field of choice, Ensign?"
"Xenoethnography, ma'am. I like to see how other cultures work."
The other woman smiled. "Be careful what you wish for, Ensign. You'll definitely have
plenty of insight into cultural workings on the Saturn."
"That's why I was so glad to get the posting. I'd hoped for a diplomatic ship, my father
being in the diplomatic..." Lisa stopped and corrected herself, "I mean, in a diplomatic post
himself."
"If you like I'll introduce you to our CDO, Lieutenant Musu-Rei. Your predecessor often
co-operated with the diplomatic department, and as long as it doesn't conflict with your
duties to your own department I see no reason why you shouldn't do the same."
"Thank you, ma'am. I'd really appreciate that."
"It's settled, then." Rita glanced at the time. "We better rush! You had been told that
there's a ceremony taking place in the lounge? Dress uniform is required."
Lisa nodded sharply and turned to the second crate and pulled out her dress uniform. "I'll
just need to get it pressed quickly and I'll be ready in about five minutes."
"Maybe it will be faster replicating a new one," answered the Italian officer, with an
amused twinkle in her eyes at the groundling's attitude. "I'll leave you to get ready, the lounge
is on deck ten. See you there, then."

From the drawers in his office, Don produced a case of beers in old fashioned bottles.
When the team hadn't been doing their specialisation training, they'd all spent time unpacking
the kit that had been stacked inside the empty compartment. As a result, it was starting to
look a bit more organised. A large briefing table sat in the centre with a couple of separate
workstations on one side, next to his office. At the end of the room was a secure storage
room and a workshop. Along the other side of the room was a bank of equipment lockers that
they were gradually filling up.
As with the old Saturn, there was no dedicated training facility, but that was not a
problem. A resourceful marine could do plenty with the structure of a starship. Weight
training and assault courses in the cargo bays, endurance workouts in the corridors and, if
you talked nicely to ops and got them to reroute the cars, climbing and abseiling inside the
turbolift shafts. Not to mention scaring the hell out of the engineers by suddenly rapelling out
of the ceiling of main engineering. That was always a giggle.
Mind you, everything about this ship was big. Turtle had been right about the space in
the Galaxy, the cabins were huge compared to their cramped little quarters back on the old
Prometheus. Not enough to need a map, but definitely large enough to feel almost palatial.
They'd gathered in the office prior to going to Ten Forward for the meeting. All of them
were unused to dress uniforms and there was much tugging of collars and shuffling of
shoulders as they tried to get comfy. Don grinned at that and proceeded to dish out the
bottles. "Here we go, some Dutch courage. This may be a lengthy meeting."
"Wow, you got us the good stuff here, Gunny!"
"Yup. Don't let it go to waste." He waited until the others had opened the bottles and
then raised his. "Ladies and gentlemen, to the new Saturn and to us."

***

16
 Just like Commodore Tong had promised, there were enough commendations to go
around for everyone, and as a result, the ceremony was going into its third hour. It had been a
long day for the new XO, and it didn't look like it was going to end any time soon. Patricia
was tired. Unobtrusively stifling a yawn, she did her best not to let it show. Thankfully, the
ceremony merely required her presence, not her active participation - that was solely Miya's
job, and Patricia didn't envy her one bit. A weary side glance she caught from the captain
confirmed that Miya wasn't any less tired than she was.
Smiling at the man standing in front of her, Miya leaned forward and spoke quietly so
that only he could hear. "Be good tonight, if I have anyone turning up late for duty because
they got stuck in your quarters I'll not be happy." Leaning back again, she winked at Hanar.
"It is my great pleasure you award you the Decoration of Gallantry," she spoke out loud and
handed him a small box as the audience politely applauded.
Hanar chuckled, and thanked her politely. "You don't mind if I don't stay long? I've got a
ship to catch," he added.
"Not at all. Glad you could make it, Chief."
"My pleasure, ma'am."
Lifting one of the last black boxes from the table, Miya waited until the noise had died
down before speaking again. "Would Gunnery Sergeant Jameson please step forward." Miya
suppressed a laugh as the obviously uncomfortable marine stood and walked stiffly to the
front.
"You have more than earned this, please accept the Star for Loyalty and Merit." Miya
smiled as she handed the box to the awkward looking NCO.
"Thank you, ma'am," Jameson spoke softly as he took it. "But I'd trade it all in to have
the Knights back. Couldn't have done it without them."
"I know that, Gunny. There will be a unit citation going through for the platoon as a
whole. They won't be forgotten."
"That's good, ma'am. Thank you."
"Are you settling in?"
"Getting there. We'll be ready when you need us."
"I wouldn't expect anything else."
Jameson stepped back a pace, saluted smartly and returned to his seat.
Finally, there was only one box remaining. As Miya lifted it she glanced across at
Patricia, who was once more stifling a yawn. "Keeping you awake?" she asked quietly as the
applause died down once more.
In an attempt to look alive, the blonde quickly grabbed one of the cocktail glasses from
the table to her left and gulped down the drink. Then she turned to Miya again, smiling. "I'm
fine. Totally," she said quietly and paused. "This still going on, then?"
"Nearly there," Miya replied, before turning to the front once more. "Could Lieutenant
Nia Musu-Rei come to the front please." There was a hush as the rather surprised looking
woman stepped to the front of the room. Miya smiled at her as she handed the box across. "It
gives me pleasure to award you the Conspicuous Merit Cross."
While Miya was speaking, the doors parted to admit a small party of three into the
lounge. An elderly NCO and a young female officer, led by a bald, middle-aged marine
colonel with a leg prosthesis. It wasn't only the fact that they weren't wearing dress uniforms
that made them look odd among the crowd. There was something else, something on their
faces and in their postures. Watching the captain decorate the diplomatic officer, they stood

17
silently by the door and waited. Eventually the marine frowned and glanced over to the
lieutenant at his side.
"Stay here," he said and started to make his way forward, favouring his good leg as he
did.
While Miya was engrossed in talking to the diplomatic officer, the blonde next to her
caught the change of mood in the room. Turning, she looked over the suddenly silent crowd
that parted slightly to let the marine through. There was something about him that made her
feel uncomfortable. By now, Miya had noticed him too. Before she could react, Patricia put
her hand on her shoulder and stepped past her.
"Go on, I got this one."
"Thanks," said Miya quietly and turned back to the CDO while Patricia strode off,
approaching the colonel.
Coming to a halt in front of him, all but blocking his way, she saluted curtly. "Lieutenant
Commander Patricia Holmes, XO Saturn. How can I help you, Colonel?"
He regarded her carefully, his frown prominent before he finally returned the salute.
"Colonel Ambler Furry," he said guardedly, looking over her shoulder. "I need to speak to
Captain Solo."
Now it was Patricia who donned a frown. "We're kind of in the middle of something
here, Colonel."
He stared intently at her. "I don't care if you're in the middle of a romantic dinner,
Commander."
Patricia's frown turned into a grin. "If wishes were horses... Seriously, Colonel, I'm sure
whatever it is can wait a few minutes, no? Though I guess I could speed this up if you gave
me a good reason."
"Or I can start flaunting my rank and making things worse?" replied Furry, smiling back
briefly. "You choose."
Her grin froze. Looking him up and down, she changed her posture ever so slightly.
"Colonel, this crew lost several dozen good men and women during their last mission. If you
really feel the need to disturb what is supposed to be an evening of quiet and relaxation for
them commemorating their dead colleagues, by all means, do what you have to do," she
spoke, her voice cold as ice.
Furry nodded, seeming impressed with her reaction. However, he still wouldn't budge.
Quietly, he said, "Commander Holmes, I sympathise with your crew. I have lost friends and
loved ones, so I understand the need for some time-out. Unfortunately, Starfleet has given
priority to the rapidly deteriorating relations between the Bolians and Nausicaans, and in
their 'infinite wisdom'..." and here, one could hear the sarcasm, "...they believe that this ship
and her crew are still up to the task," Furry finished and straightened, folding his arms. "Or
should I call the Chief of Staff, and tell him that Saturn's crew would rather wallow over a
failed mission a little bit longer?"
That last part hit home, visibly. Patricia pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "Wait here,"
she said and turned to walk back over to the podium.
Situated near the port-side doors not too far off from where the XO and the colonel had
been talking, the Saturn's chief engineer hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as
he overheard the conversation.
"Did you know that Nausicaa was the name of a princess in ancient Greece, and that it
literally means 'burner of ships'?" murmured the new engineer's mate next to him.
The CEO glanced at the man to his left with a pained expression on his face.

18
 Petty Officer James Clark had been given the joyous task of testing the saucer section
windows, a job that mainly involved stalking across the outer hull in an EVA suit running
scans and storing data, and he had been working non stop on it since the Northampton had
arrived. As he had pointed out at the very start, a Galaxy saucer section had a lot of windows,
something that seemed to amuse the lieutenant who had given him the job in the first place.
Thankfully, he was now almost done – just deck one to go. He had already covered the
ready room window, and the conference lounge was the last group of windows left.
Approaching it, he pushed the flat probe against the pane and took a small step back –
scanner at the ready. It was just as he was starting that he noticed the room fill with people,
the most noticeable being a heavyset bald man who seemed both amused and rather angry. It
seemed a dark haired command officer was having a heated discussion with him.
James moved closer to the window for a better look, before realising that if he could see
them – they could see him too. Hastily, he stepped back and to the side to avoid being seen.
Staring at the scanner unit in his hands, he wondered if he could pick up sounds using the
probe on the window. Making some adjustments, he managed to get something resembling
audio, and fed it into his suits comm system. Garbled at first, his tongue stuck out as he
tweaked things further until he could make out voices – after that it was simple gain
adjustment and then he could hear everything.

"Listen, Colonel-..."
"No, you listen! Do you think I'm doing this for fun? I sure as hell didn't choose to be
here!"
To the XO, the small pause that followed seemed a good opportunity to get a word in
before the discussion got even more heated.
"Maybe it would help if we all just calmed down a bit..." Upon her saying that, both
Miya and Colonel Furry turned and glared at her. Raising her eye brows and making a
defensive gesture with her hands, Patricia quickly backed away. "...or maybe not."
Miya sighed and looked at the others in the room. Shouting wasn't getting her anywhere
- although she did feel better. "No, you're right," she sighed, sitting down at the table, "it
would seem we have little choice - so if we're going to work together we better start again."
The colonel grunted and crossed his arms. "Well. I never said I was a diplomat."
"Then why does Starfleet want you to head a diplomacy mission?" wondered Patricia
aloud.
"That's what I've been trying to explain. I'm not here to actually be in charge of the
diplomacy efforts - I'm here to give them a face. One that the Nausicaans would rather deal
with than this skinny little girl," he muttered, pointing at the CDO. "No offence, Lieutenant."
he added. "I'm sure you're good at your job."
"I like to think I am," replied Nia. "I'm also not a little girl."
Furry grunted once more. "You do get my point, though, don't you?"
Patricia looked at her, admiring how calmly the CDO took the marine's insolences.
"Yes I do," Nia stated, turning to the CO. "And I have to admit, the colonel is probably
right, ma'am."
Miya nodded. "I agree, however there are more tactful ways to put things, Colonel. I
suggest for the real negotiations you ensure the lieutenant is close by." Turning to Patricia,
Miya continued. "When are we scheduled for departure?"
Glancing at the wall chronometer and back to Miya, Patricia put her hands on her hips

19
and nodded. "Now. Pretty much."
Standing Miya gestured to the door. "In that case, we better get things underway.
Colonel, would you care to join us on the bridge?"
Furry grunted. "Not like I've got anything else to do."

"Spacedock reports all their Ops and Engineering crew are off the ship," reported the
Operations officer. "Umbilicals are disconnected, all hatches sealed. We are cleared for
departure, ma'am."
"Very well." Sitting down in the command chair, Miya looked at Patricia and smiled.
"Would you do us the honours, Commander?"
Returning the smile, Patricia nodded and stepped forward into the centre of the bridge,
her hands folded on her back. "Release docking clamps, Mister McGee."
"Yes, ma'am," the petty officer at the Ops station replied, beginning to press a few
buttons. A row of deep clunky noises followed, reverberating throughout the ship. "Docking
clamps released," he stated after a while.
Patricia nodded once more. "Helm, activate lateral thrusters."
"Thrusters on full," the response came, and the large vessel ever so slightly moved away
from the docking berth. On the forward view screen, the inner walls of the drydock were
teeming with workbees. "We have cleared the berth, ma'am."
"Take us out, then. Carefully, we don't want to run anyone over on our way out."

Very slowly, the USS Saturn began moving forward, first the saucer section and then the
nacelles clearing the drydock. A short moment later, the ship slowly turned about,
circumnavigating the spacedock facilities and accelerating to low impulse speed.
As soon as it had left the Betelgeuse system, the Saturn disappeared in a bright flash of
light as it jumped to warp speed - once more enroute to Nausicaa.

20
Chapter 3 – Dalin In Wonderland

The third engineer entered the compartment, a few minutes before the start of his watch.
A quick glance across the boards showed everything was nominal and so he went the rear of
the room to see what was happening. To one side of the vast space, he spotted the senior
NCO of the outgoing watch, hands on hips looking down at a group of techs who were
working on some equipment. As he approached, he realised that the techs were actually
wearing the green of the marines.
"What's going on here?" he enquired.
The petty officer turned. "Evening, sir. This is our new Hazard Team. We've been asked
to give them some on the job training."
"Greenies in Main Engineering? Whatever next?"
The PO laughed. "Actually, they're not too bad."
"Really?"
"Yes, sir. A bit slow because they're going by the book and checking every step of the
way but they take instruction well."
"Well, I'll be damned. Wonders will never cease."

"Enter."
The door of the Captain's ready room swished open and Patricia walked in. Miya didn't
look up from the PADD she was reading. A huge pile of the small data access display devices
was taking up almost half the space on the CO's desk. Patricia just placed the pile she was
carrying next to it.
That was when Miya looked up, a pained expression of "Oh no you didn't" on her face.
Patricia nodded, returning an apologetic and likewise non-verbal "Sorry, I just did".
Miya sighed. "Did you at least read some of those before piling them all up on me?"
"I did. All of them."
"And?"
"A couple promising ones. Some not so promising. I've ordered them top to bottom. The
good ones first."
"And?" Miya tried again, hoping that she wouldn't have to read them all herself.
"Well," Patricia said sitting down, "they're all fit for the post, going by their
qualifications. There are two main problems I have with this, though. First, it's hard to tell
what you get just by looking at a personnel file. And second, reading those is like watching
paint dry - none of them make me want to give a recommendation. I suggest you take a look
at the first three or so, then discard them and... go back to square one?" she finished, then
grimaced and paused. "I know – I'm not helpful."
Miya frowned and then placed her PADD on the table. "Here's a crazy thought, and stop
me if I go too far here, but who is currently running the department?"
Patricia regarded her for a moment. "You mean... drop all the boring work, move directly
to 'Go'? Can we do that?"
"We're enroute, we have a man who can do the job, and any new staff won't be here for
weeks." Miya raised an eyebrow. "I can't think of any reason why not."
"Not after digging through kiloquads of personnel files, you can't," grinned Patricia.
Then she slowly nodded. "You're right, though. He did do pretty well. And with him, we at

21
least know what we get, too. A field promotion, then?"
"My thoughts exactly. Although I think we could add a little twist to this one. Make it a
bit more... fun?" Miya smirked.
Patricia's grin returned. "This is suddenly starting to sound interesting."

***

"Alright, Dee. See you tonight, then."

The two men parted ways and the ensign continued further down the corridor, putting
the ear pieces of his mobile music player back into his ears, rhythmically nodding as he went.
Just as he was wondering why this section seemed so utterly deserted, he caught a
movement out of the corner of his eye. He slowed his pace and wanted to turn around, when
suddenly a cloth appeared in front of his face and was quickly pulled over his head. Dalin
shouted out in surprise, as a second attacker pinned him to the wall so that the first one had
their hands free to gag him and tie him up.
The next moment the song he had been listening to began to fade out toward its end, and
he was able to hear them.
"...-way easier than I thought. And you said I had the stealth skills of a rhino!"
"You do, and a drunken one at that. He just didn't hear you because he's listening to his
music."
A pause followed. Dalin could almost feel the owner of the first voice frown at him.
"Think he noticed us at all?" she asked, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him a bit, ignoring
his muted protest.
"Stop that, silly. Let's get him up. They're-..." was the last thing Dalin heard before the
next song started playing.
After being dragged into a turbolift car and through a long corridor, Dalin was
eventually dropped to the floor. A surprisingly soft floor as he was puzzled to notice.
For a long moment he didn't move, expecting to be picked up again, or anything else to
happen - but nothing happened at all. Once more the song that his little music player was
blaring into his ears stopped, and he listened intently. He could have sworn that one of the
voices he had heard belonged to a certain petty officer from Security. But now there was only
silence.
And crickets. ...Crickets?
As the music started playing again, Dalin rolled around onto his side and tried getting rid
of the rope that tied his hands on his back. It took him another two songs, but eventually he
could free himself. Finally being able to press the stop button on his music player and rip the
cloth from his head, he sat up and looked around, blinking.
He was outside, sitting in the middle of a moss-covered clearing in a forest, and the sun
stood high in the clear blue sky above him. A warm breeze was caressing his sweaty face.
And not a soul in sight.
I'm on the holodeck, it occurred to him. Dalin grimaced and stood.
"Computer, end program."
The sun kept shining, the breeze kept breezing, and the crickets kept chirping. Nothing
changed.
"Computer! Arch!" he tried, looking around for the exit to appear. It didn't. Maybe he
wasn't on the holodeck after all, maybe they had transported him down to a planet
somewhere? But why? And who? And... what the hell? What sick kind of a joke was that?

22
 "Hello!" he shouted into the silence. "Anybody?"
The noise of the crickets died down somewhat, and the breeze seemed to get a bit colder
all of a sudden. The medic looked around, scowling at the trees that surrounded the clearing.
The forest was thick and dark, and it looked rather uninviting to him.
The stillness was broken by the sound of someone or something crashing through the
undergrowth. No, make that lots of things. And they were heading this way. He braced
himself as four figures moved in the shadows.
"There's the thieving scumbag! Get him! Dead or alive! Get him!"
The roar of the voice filled the air as the figures exploded into the clearing and Dalin got
his first look at them. Three of them wore a motley collection of mismatched ancient style
armour, both metal and leather. Their faces were hidden by their full face helmets but red
lights glowed where their eyes should be. Two carried shields and vicious bladed weapons
with hooked ends, while the third, a huge mountain of a man (or was it something else?),
carried a large double bladed axe. The fourth, clearly the leader from his better looking
clothes, wore scale armour and was brandishing a large sword in each hand. His face was
also hidden by his horned helmet.
The leader pointed a sword at Dalin. "On your knees, scum! The emperor knows what to
do with thieving vagrants like you!"
The henchmen fanned out to either side of Dalin and the group approached him.
"What the hell are you talking about?" the medic asked, slowly taking a couple steps
backward.
"Don't play the fool with us, scum. Render unto the emperor what you have taken and
we'll see you die cleanly!"
Dalin glanced behind him and saw a gap in the trees. Surely it hadn't been there before?
But he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He turned and ran.
"After him! Take him! His guts are mine!"

Dalin didn't know for long he had run, but he seemed to have shaken off his pursuers, at
least for the moment. He slowed his pace, gasping for air. The forest had become less thick,
and here and there beams of sunlight filtered through the branches. The ground beneath his
feet turned into a slight downward slope as he continued to stumble forward, and eventually,
behind the trees ahead of him, he spotted what looked like a valley.
Crossing the treeline, he halted and marveled at the sight. The valley in front of him was
teeming with life of all kinds. Birds crowded the sky, and the shrubbery was full of swarms
of butterflies flapping their colourful wings. A bit further ahead he could see a herd of deer
grazing peacefully on the hillside meadow. In the midst of the valley was a large lake, its
surface reflecting the bright sunlight. And lying on a rock at its shore, a lone figure could be
seen. His eyes fixed on that spot, he started walking. He wanted answers. And he wanted
them now.
As he came closer, Dalin noticed that there was something odd about this person. It
seemed to be a female lolling around in the sun, but where humanoids tended to have a pair
of legs, she appeared to have a fishtail instead. Slowly, the medic approached her, a deep
frown prominent on his face.
She was lying there motionlessly, her breath calm and her eyes closed. A small silver
coronet adorned her head, and her long blonde hair was flowing freely onto her bare
shoulders. Her whole upper body seemed humanoid enough to Dalin, as far as he could see -
it was completely naked, save for a pair of shimmering seashells filling in as a bra. But none

23
of this seemed as strange to him as the fact that he knew her.
"Commander Holmes?" he asked incredulously.

Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked down at him from her rock.
"Commander, what are you doing here? And what's with the... you know..." Dalin
scowled at her half fish body, "...that."
Gracefully, she sat up and regarded him. "Greetings, mortal. You seem confused," she
purred in a velvet voice. "I am the Queen Of The Lake."
He frowned. "Um... no, you're the XO."
"No," spoke the mermaid and smiled at him indulgently. Then she pointed at her crown
and her fishtail. "I'm the Queen Of The Lake," she said and nodded slowly. "Fairly sure about
that."
His frown deepened. "Forgive me asking this, but... are you on drugs? Or did you drug
me? At least one of us must be on drugs," he concluded.
She tilted her head and gave him an odd look. "I'm not sure what you mean. But maybe I
can help you? If you told me what you are looking for..."
"What I'm looking for? The exit, duh!" Dalin exclaimed. "Someone brought me here
against my will! I want out!"
"Please," she replied in that soothing purr, "calm down. You seem rather upset. That is
not helpful."

24
 "We're on the holodeck, right? End this program. I want out of here! Now!"
"The holodeck? You mortals puzzle me sometimes." The mermaid looked sadly at him.
"It's such a beautiful world. Why would you want to leave it already? You're so young."
"No, that's..." Dalin hung his head, massaging the bridge of his nose. "That's not quite
what I meant," he said, looking back at her. "I didn't mean I want to die - I just want out of
here. This. This place, it's not real. And you, you're not supposed to..." he paused and
frowned at her fishtail again. "You're supposed to have legs. And wear a proper uniform."
"I can't change what I am." She shook her head. "And why would I want to? I live a
peaceful life, reigning over this wonderful realm." She gestured at the lake and the
surrounding valley. "It's very real to me. And to my beloved subjects as well," she said and
smiled.
He sighed and looked around. In the crystal clear water to his right he spotted two fish
looking back up at him - one of them, as peculiar as this was, looked awfully familiar. Its
face was that of a fish, and yet... its eyes... and something about the mouth... Evanson!
"You!" he blurted out, taking a step toward the water and pointing accusingly at the fish.
"You ambushed me!"
Their eyes widening, the fish turned with a quick flap of the tail and disappeared into the
depth of the lake.
"Come back here!" Dalin shouted after them, then turned around to the mermaid. "End
this, now. I want to go back to the real world."
"You ask me for something that is not within my power," she replied. "I can't work that
kind of black magic."
"Then tell me who can!" demanded Dalin.
The mermaid pursed her lips and turned her head, staring into the distance. Eventually
she spoke again, quietly and in an ominous voice. "There is one person that I know of who
might have the power do that."
"And who is that?"
"The Dark Elven Queen."
"Good." Dalin nodded. "Good. Now tell me where I can find her."
She returned her gaze to the medic. "She lives in the Caves Of Eternal Night. But I must
warn you, mortal. It's a dangerous journey. And even if you find her, she probably won't let
you leave. Or live, for that matter."
"Just tell me where those caves are," Dalin muttered, starting to massage the bridge of
this nose again.
"As you wish. Head east, into the forest. A few dozen miles in, you will find a small
stream. Follow it further north, it will lead you to the entrance of the caves."
"Thank you. I'm going there now. Goodbye," he stated and turned to leave.
"Woe ye, mortal. Whatever fate befalls you, you will have brought it upon yourself," the
mermaid cried out before flapping her tail and leaping off the rock into the water, the
concentric waves rippling its surface being the only sign that she had ever been there.
Dalin stared after her and shook his head. Then he took a deep breath and set off again.

***

From the looks passing crew members were giving her, Miya was beginning to wonder
if she'd overdone things slightly. In her defence, Patricia had egged her on - in the end the
two had been all but competing to see who could take things the furthest. From that

25
perspective, becoming a mermaid was probably slightly more extreme than Miya's current
appearance. Still, she doubted many people expected to turn a bend in a corridor and be
confronted by a Dark Elven Queen - least of all one who was clearly the CO of the vessel
they were on.
Reaching up to scratch her head, she momentarily surprised herself as she first
encountered her long pointed ears, sticking through her now silvery-white and waist-length
hair. Shaking her head slightly, she smiled and reached behind her, touching the long ponytail
running down her back. Holding up her other hand, she looked at the long (and rather sharp
looking) staff weapon she had replicated earlier. The image of herself in the mirror in her
quarters made her grin - showing an almost feline set of front teeth. All together, the image
was clearly too much for the petty officer rounding the bend in the corridor. He almost fell
over as she came into to view stumbling against the corridor wall.
"Are you okay?" Miya asked, stopping and looking down at the man. Ah yes, down -
surely no one could do any serious evil while wearing heels, Miya mused, if you needed to
run away you'd be screwed - especially in these thigh high monsters. "Crewman Green, isn't
it?"
"I'm... I'm fine," the man managed, looking more bemused than startled now. "What
eh…" Taking in Miya's appearance, he finally began to ask one of the many questions that
were going through his mind. "What happened to your eyes?"
"My eyes?" Miya asked, then realisation dawned. "Ah – you mean why are they glowing
red? Just lenses, I'm going to the Holodeck," she finished. A look of understanding crossed
the crewman's face, although his eyes kept flicking down slightly. Miya sighed. "It does
make them rather prominent doesn't it? I'm assured this is how all Dark Elven Queens dress."
"Ah ... sorry." He blushed. "The jet black skin rather confused me. I'll just go and err..."
"Sure," Miya said, trying not to laugh, "I'll let you get on."
As the man scurried away Miya turned the final bend and approached the door to the
holodeck, nodding at the similarly costumed Hazard Team members at the entrance. She
made one last check of the rather sparse and uncomfortable leather costume, then finally
stepped forward into a whole new world - and as its rather evil overlord, she was more than
certain this was going to be fun.

Don stepped out of the holodeck entrance to find Johnny and Tiny with broad grins on
their faces and Patch giving them a disgusted look.
"Hey, Gunny! You pick your moments. You just missed a real sight," exclaimed Johnny
in the tone of voice that he normally used to describe his tales of sexual conquest.
"Too right! You shoulda seen the state of the CO! Oh wow!" echoed Tiny.
"Ho yeah, she's real fit! I tell ya, I'm gonna need a long cold shower after this."
Patch crossed her arms in disgust. "You two are disgusting! Just because a woman is... "
"Slow down. Slow down. Okay, tell me what I missed."
"The CO's just gone in looking like a... a..." Johnny, uncharacteristically, was lost for
words.
"A dark elven queen," supplied Patch. "Jet black skin, long white hair. You can imagine
the sort of thing."
"Thigh boots that make her about my height and a few leather straps to hold it all
together," grinned Tiny, leaning on his huge axe.
"An' the pointy ears, man."
"Oh, yeah, pointy ears, is that what does it for you, Johnny?"

26
 "Hey look, she's a babe! With or without the ears!"
"Hmmm. Sounds like I did miss something." Grinned Don. "Did you get a picture?"
"Gunny!"
"What?"
"You're as bad as they are!"
"It's better than studying, Patch," chipped in Tiny.
"I give up, you're all sexist pigs."
Don laughed. "Okay, let's get ready. Once she's put the Doc on the run again, we'll go
back in and try to grab him. But remind me to collar the distribution rights for this episode.
We'll make a fortune."

***

It felt like he had been walking for a hundred miles but Dalin had yet to find the stream.
He had no idea what was going on. Why should he listen to that fish lady who looked like
Holmes only with, well, fins. Although, those were some seashells she had going on. Dalin
shook his head. He needed to keep focused.
He stopped walking and looked around, letting out a sigh as all he could see was more
trees. His legs were starting to hurt from all the running and the walking. Grimacing, he
walked over to a small tree that had fallen down and sat down.
"This is just crazy. What did I do? I go to work everyday. I help people - and what do I
get? Dropped into a Holodeck with no way out. That's just-..."
Suddenly he stopped complaining and sat up when he heard rustling through the trees
not far from him. He stood and walked a few steeps trying to locate the source of the noise. A
chill went down his back as something told him he really didn't want to know what the cause
was. His chill was right. Out from behind a tree came the 'something' that had been chasing
him earlier. Dalin quickly turned to run away, but the tree standing in his way made that
rather problematic. Dalin bounced off the trunk and stumbled back. He let out a groan as he
grabbed his nose.
When he brought his hands away from his face and turned around, the 'something' was
right on top of him, wielding its huge battle axe. It swung at Dalin, who stumbled back, out
of its way. The weapon's blade flew past him cutting air as it did, before the man-beast
brought it back around for another swipe. As it came right for Dalin's head he ducked and the
axe went right into the tree.
The 'something' grunted as it tried to pull its weapon free. Dalin looked up at the axe and
back at the thing standing in front of him. Then he lifted his foot in a swift motion in between
its legs. When his shin bone impacted its intended target, the 'something' let out a high
pitched screech and fell to its knees.
"Yeah!" yelled Dalin. "What now, huh?"
"There he is! Get him!" shouted a voice from not far away.
He turned and looked to see the rest of the gang still after him.
"Oh for f-..." Dalin muttered and ran off.
Slowly, the leader of the pack walked up to the 'something' and looked down at it. "You
okay, Tiny?"
"Yeah," it said in high pitched voice. Then it cleared its throat and spoke in its regular
deep haunting voice. "I mean... yes, sir!"
In response, the leader kick him in the rear end. "You oaf! You let him get away! You

27
should have had him! Now get up and bring him to me!"

"Halt, who goes there?"

Dalin stopped and looked around for the owner of that voice. Given his previous few
encounters he thought he was prepared for anything. Creeping forward cautiously, he decided
to try a bit of boldness.
"It is I, Dalin! Dalin, the adventurer," he stated with mock enthusiasm, getting ready to
sprint if something suddenly sprang at him out of the brushwork. In his imagination he saw
many things - from dragons to trolls and giant spiders. What he did not see, and certainly did
not expect, was what actually appeared in a magical flash on the path in front of him.
"I am," boomed the creature that had appeared, "the Pickle of Discontent." It paused and
stared at Dalin, as if daring him to comment, before continuing. "Although my friends call
me Mister Pickle." Once more it paused and gave Dalin a long hard look.
Dalin, for his part, was as surprised as he had yet been by anything encountered so far.
He was also desperately trying not to laugh. This reaction though, was in direct competition
with the rampant curiosity that had been plaguing him since the creature arrived.
"I see," he finally stated, relaxing slightly and trying to think of what to say next.
Eventually, the curiosity won out. "You look a bit like Colonel Furry in a pickle costume," he
stated.
"I know not of this Furry," stated the pickle, "but I'm sure he would not take kindly to
you mocking him."
"No, you're right," Dalin replied thoughtfully. "He probably wouldn't." Stepping forward
slightly, he indicated the sheer cliff a few hundred yards ahead of him. "Does this path lead to
a cave or something?" he asked.
"Yes, although not a very good one," stated Mr Pickle, "I'm not really very happy with it,
to be honest. And they won't give me a better one."
Dalin just stared. This was not what he had expected to be doing this evening, and the
levels of weird he was encountering were really quite high. The more he thought about it, the
more Mister Pickle seemed like a normal occurrence, really.
"Why not?" he finally asked, thinking he might be able to get Mister Pickle onside if he
showed an interest.
"They keep telling me I'm never happy with anything. I explained that I am The Pickle
of Discontent and that it was my job to never be happy, but would they listen?" He scowled
and tried to cross his arms, then gave up as the costume prevented it from being remotely
possible. "Well?" he finally asked.
Dalin frowned. "Well what?"
"Would they listen?" the pickle asked.
"Eh... no?" Dalin replied, rapidly loosing what little thread of conversation still remained
at this point.
"Damn straight!" Mister Pickle replied. "Bastards."
He reached round behind himself and retrieved a card with 'Gamble Your Life!' written
on it. "Apparently I need to ask you this question, then kill you if you get it wrong." He
looked up. "Not a situation I'm entirely happy with, I'll be honest, but what can you do." He
stared at the card for a minute, mouth moving as he read it, then scowled. "And the question
is frankly quite rubbish too. You really cannot get the staff these days."
Dalin just stared, why did everything here seem to revolve around his death?
"The question is: what is it that walks on four legs, metaphorically speaking, for about

28
twenty minutes just after midnight, on two legs, barring accidents, until at least supper time,
when it continues to walk on two legs, or with any prosthetic aids of its choice?"
Dalin continued to stare. He knew this, in fact he knew exactly what the answer was, but
the question was wrong. A lot more accurate he supposed, but still inherently wrong.
Deciding that he would let it pass in order to remain alive, he finally gave his answer.
"Man?" he asked.
There was another long silence while Mister Pickle stared hard at Dalin, as if daring him
to do something.
Eventually Dalin decided enough was enough. "So can I go now?" he asked, pointing to
wards the cliff face once more.
"I suppose so," the pickle stated. "Although I warn you, it's a rubbish cave."
"I'll bear that in mind," Dalin said, gingerly edging round him and trying to avoid the
constant stare. "Nice meeting you," he added, starting down the path once more.
"Yeah? Well meeting you was something of a disappointment," Mister Pickle stated to
his retreating back. "Adventurers were so much better before. Now they just look like
slightly confused starship medics."
Dalin turned round quickly. "Starship med-...?" he began to ask but was too late. The
pickle was gone. In the distance, he could hear the gurgling sound of running water.

The interior of the cave was pitch black. Dalin paused, letting his eyes adjust after the
bright sunshine, as soon as the blackness resolved in darker and lighter shapes, he found
cover behind a huge stalagmite.
The cavern smelled, dampness and the musty odour of mould and fungi mixed with...
bilberry pie? Dalin shook his head to clear it, his senses were playing tricks on him and this
was the worst possible moment for it. Yet, his nose and his brain kept giving him the same
message: warm, delicious bilberry pie, fresh from the oven - he could smell the rich, buttery
crust and the sweet-tart perfume of the fruit. His stomach rumbled.
"Who dares to intrude into the Kingdom of the Dark Elven Queen?" The voice floated
from above and inside, clear and commanding. Dalin hid deeper in the shadows, no one
could have heard him from that deep inside, unless... distant memories of an ancient history
lesson about a tyrant and a cave teased him, what was it? 'Ear of Dionysus'?
"We know you're there, mortal. How big your vanity, in thinking you could hide your
presence, and your guilt, from those of the Dark Realm."
"Come out, sweetie," purred a different voice, "don't make us come find you."
"On second thought, sister, that could be fun. Don't you dare to move, poppet,
understood? We are coming for you."
The anticipation in the second voice made Dalin's sweat run cold, he tried to hide deeper
in the shadows. Something rustled over-head, and two figures floated down near the entrance
of the cave, two females, their skin jet-black, their hair silvery-white, their eyes a nocturnal
predator's red.
If he could have crept right into the rock, he would have done that. His second
instinctive thought was to run back the way he had come, but that avenue was blocked now.
Then he remembered why he had come here in the first place. Slowly, with weak knees, he
rose, about to reveal himself and ask to see the Queen.
The two voices rose in unison, coming closer and closer. "Hmm... mousy, mousy
creeping around, you really think you won't be found? Come out, come out, come take a
stroll, or soon the cat will eat you whole!"

29
 Then again, maybe coming here hadn't been such a great idea. Dalin turned and ran.
Deeper into the caves - anywhere, just away from those demons. Unwittingly, he ran directly
into a large labyrinth. He ran to the right... to the left... then right into a wall. He stumbled
back holding his nose.
"The hell! Why am I always running into stuff!" he said with his nose covered.
Suddenly Dalin heard two screeches from overhead. Quickly he hit the dirt, or rock, and
laid on the ground.
"We can hear you!" taunted a woman's voice.
"I think he has found the maze," giggled the other one.
"Wonder if we can find him before he gets lost?" said the first one.
The sounds of laughter filled the cavern, echoing on and on. Dalin looked up from the
ground and sighed silently. He had hardly spoke with any volume. How could they have
heard him? He told himself no noise... from now on, no noise what so ever. A maze... why
would there be a maze inside the cavern?
After Dalin hadn't heard anything for a while, he carefully got up and started walking.

***

Oblivious to the recreational activities of his fellow senior staff, Paul Toddman was in
one of the main computer access rooms trying his best to get the tactical systems to link up
with the ships main power grid and sensor arrays. Typically this would have been a ten
minute isolinear chip switch around job. But the bio-neural gel packs this particular Galaxy-
class starship had been outfitted with were not only organic, they were stubborn. As soon as
he had configured the chips, the gel packs would reroute his reroute.
So far, Paul had invested two hours in his fruitless venture. Disgruntled, he stood up
from underneath the console and slapped the console in frustration.
"Computer, disable gel packs 223 Alpha through to 312 Delta."
"Unable to comply, level seven security clearance or higher required."
"Authorisation Toddman Pi Delta 541."
"Unable to comply, specified code does not have sufficient security clearance on these
systems."
"In the name o'..." Paul started, but then stopped himself. There was only one person
who could sort this out.
"Computer, locate Captain Solo."
"Captain Solo is in holodeck four."
Pulling his tunic straight, Paul headed out of the room to find a turbolift. Directing the
lift car to take him one deck below, he set off for the holodeck. When Paul got there, he
pressed the entry button at the door - and frowned as the door remained closed.
"Access denied. Only those in proper garb are allowed into this holodeck simulation."
Paul rubbed his hand over his eyes, this was really not what he wanted to be doing.
Sighing, he checked the type of simulation and accessed the holodeck costume library.
Scanning the genres, he selected a fictional garb from his childhood. Pressing the execute
button, the door to the holodeck opened. As Paul entered the holodeck, his uniform was
instantly replaced with the costume of his choice.
Grinning, he reached up with his right hand and grabbed the handle of a sword that was
placed in a scabbard on his back. He removed the sword and swung it down in front of him.
Clasping the handle in one hand and the blade in the other, Paul thrust the sword forward and

30
giggled. His bobbed blond hair and animal fur shorts looked exactly as he remembered them
to be like on his chosen character. Looking down, he touched the four straps on his chest,
staring at where they met with a stylised red cross. Holding out his arms, he stared at the
plain gold gauntlets - then put the sword back on his back and strode into the forest in front
of him.
By the power of Grayskull, he had a Captain to find. He just hoped he would recognise
her.

Lieutenant Morgan LaTaer shook his head disbelievingly and three bells attached to his
purple hat ringed softly. This had to be the worst day of his life. Once he heard about what
they came up for Dalin in that holodeck, the Betazoid couldn't miss it so he made his way
there pronto, only to realise that they were just in the process of looking for a suitable
scapegoat - as in finding someone fitting for the role of jester elf.
As he pulled on his gloves he pondered how dark elves could have something like
jesters. With pompons. And bells. And rather odd artwork of a jester rod. But from what he
gathered, coherency wasn't the strongest side of this holodeck adventure, so he just went with
the flow.
"Let's just get this over with", he sighed as he grasped his jester rod. "Computer,
energise."

***

The air behind Dalin ionised and a purple clad elf appeared out of nowhere. Thrusting
with his jester rod, he poked the medic in his ribs, producing that annoying, jingling sound
from multiple bells attached to it.
"Hey, hey, hey, gut yer whine inta yer smile," he shrieked, jumping away in his best
ballerina performance. "Sad be nay fer yer inta a frey," he continued his rather inelegant
rhymes.
Dalin simply stood there and stared back at him. "What?" he asked before the air around
started to ionise once more.

The darkness was broken by a bank of torches lighting around the walls of the large hall
as Dalin and the jester found themselves in the middle of a circle of flagstones, and very
much surrounded by armed guards. Finally, a darker shadow detached itself from the far
wall, and Miya appeared - walking slowly towards the two in the centre. She stopped in front
of the jester, the sad jingle of bells that accompanied his every movement suddenly louder in
the frosty silence as he stood awaiting her comments.
"You did well. You may leave now - I have no further use for you at this time."
Relieved, the jester ran from the hall, the bells still sounding as he vanished through the
far archway. Miya walked the final few steps, stopping in front of Dalin. "As as for you,
brave adventurer, I have but one question..."
Dalin stood his ground, but said nothing. Miya leaned forward till she was right in front
of him, then spoke again. "Would you mind being the CMO? We're really struggling to find
anyone else and we thought you'd be the best person for the job."
There was a silence. Dalin's face showed signs of shock, then confusion, then anger.
"You put me through all of that... to ask me to be CMO?" he asked loudly.
Miya grinned. "Yes. So? What's the answer?"

31
 Dalin just stood there, staring back at her in silence. One of the guards walked up behind
Miya and looked round her at Dalin. "He's taking it rather well, isn't he?" he asked.
"He is indeed," Miya answered, looking round as a ragtag assortment of characters
walked in the archway at the far end, including He-Man and a giant pickle. "And here are the
rest of them now." She smiled, before looking shocked for a moment. "Oh crap, two
seconds," she muttered, before speaking quietly into the staff she carried. There was a flash
and a large paddling pool appeared with a mermaid in it.
"How's he doing?" Patricia asked, squinting across the room at Dalin's face, which was
still giving away nothing.
"Not sure," Miya replied. "I think we may have broken him." As she finished the
sentence Dalin began to laugh, then looked round at Miya. "Okay – Yes, I'll do it, and you
guys are completely nuts!" he finally said.
"So that's a yes then, is it? Good stuff." Miya grinned and nodded at Patricia who smiled
and flapped her fish-tail in response, elicitating several outcries of protest. Looking over her
now soaking wet crew mates, Patricia bit her lip and blushed. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I
was kind of waiting the whole time to do that."
Without warning, the doors at the end of the hall collapsed inwards as a giant axe
smashed into them. As the assembled crowd turned to look, a huge armoured figure with
glowing red eyes behind its helmet stepped in, tugging the axe lose from the door as it went.
Hefting the axe, it stepped to one side to reveal three smaller warriors behind it.
"Right! Nobody move!" announced their leader in a commanding voice. "We are
licenced bounty hunters from the Imperial Court, and we are looking for a fugitive from
justice."
The Dark Elven Queen stepped forward, trailed by the two elves that had followed Dalin
into the maze. "And what makes you think the Imperial Court," the words dripped venom,
"has any authority in my palace?"
"Frak," muttered one of the warriors, "there's three of the babes now!"
"Sexist pig!" retorted the smallest, kicking his shin.
The leader ignored them. "The 2753 Act Of Overlordship gives the court authority over
all the lands of the Empire. And that includes you, love."
He-Man grunted and stepped forward, hand on sword ready to avenge this insulting
behaviour. In response, the giant with the axe also stepped forward, "Come an' 'ave a go if
you think yer 'ard enough!"
The Queen waved her hand at them. "Calm down, you two." She turned back to the
bounty hunter. "So who are you after, then?"
"Him!" He pointed at Dalin who was just wondering if it was all going to start again.
"Okay, so where's your paperwork? Even the Imperial Court issues warrants," demanded
the Queen, firmly standing her ground.
The bounty hunter rummaged in his pouch and produced a scroll which he handed to her.
Unrolling it, she scanned the words.
"This says it's for one Dal Insane," the Queen announced at length. She glanced at Dalin.
"Is that you?"
"No, I'm Dalin Saine," Dalin said, turning to scowl at the group's leader.
"Well, sorry. Wrong person," stated the Queen, rolling up the scroll and handing it back.
"Frak. Hang on, I'm sure I've got it here." The bounty hunter rummaged in his pouch and
leafed through some more scrolls. "Thysa Kymbo, Ig Nominious, Mike Holesterol, Edna
Bucket ... Damn! Those useless quill pushers have screwed up."

32
 "What we going to do now, Gunny? I mean, boss," asked the smallest.
"We could have a pool party with the babes-... oww!" Johnny began to suggest and
cringed as a boot met his shin rather violently.
The Queen put her hands on her hips. "You can get out of my palace, that's what. And do
tell the Emperor he owes me a new door."
The leader saluted. "Alright, ma'am. Do you know the way to the pub?"

33
Chapter 4 – In Which We Meet Captain Arax

Morgan's return to the world of consciousness was rapid, although somewhat lacked in
style. He blinked and looked about before regaining focus. Mess hall... at least, this time, he
didn't dream of any penal colonies or otherwise space-inhibited locations. Only those
damned bells. He must've been wearing the jester hat way too long.
His senses, both mental and visual took a moment to reset as they showed him a
towering shape of waiter Jenbis, one of the more intimidating people on this ship. With his
height and bulky frame he seemed more like a bouncer than a waiter and he'd been said to
have a hobby of competing in strength competitions with Klingons.
Considering this, his personality, peaceful tone of voice and overwhelming politeness
seemed strikingly out of place which usually brought confusion on faces of new crew
members.
"You're alive! Thank heavens," Jenbis exclaimed. "Thought you were a goner."
Morgan's mind was still partially away, but he recorded the meaning of the first two
words. "Err?" was all he could reply to it.
"You were sitting here with open eyes for over two hours," the waiter explained.
Morgan looked down at his table. A full cup of now ice cold tea and two PADDs. He had
dozed off over his work. Again. Fortunately, all Intel documents were properly coded these
days, automatically shifting into full-lock mode after several seconds of not paying attention
to them, and whoever wished to return to browsing had to input the entry codes again.
"Then you started muttering something inaudibly. Well, inaudibly – I mean your lips
weren't moving, but I heard some odd whispers in my head," Jenbis continued, "Several
people came here, claiming they heard strange voices as well."
"And that was m-..."
"And then! It stopped, but a strange, high pitched sound just filled my head and not just
mine, I think," the waiter thought a moment. "It seemed like sitting in absolute silence –
pierces your ears, you see. Like needles."
"I did all that?" Morgan blinked.
"Well, yes, I believe so. The changes in... uhm... 'audibility' seemed to be in par with
changes on your face."
"So..."
"And then you fell silent, your eyes went wide, almost as if they'd fall out of your
sockets and you didn't move for an hour. After that time I called Medical and told them about
all of it..."
"That must be why my eyes hurt like hell..."
"Ehm. Well, they told me that it's a clear sign of a telepathy-related disease and it's good
that I noticed those symptomes."
Morgan stared at him disbelievingly. "Wait, what? What disease?"
"The one you're suffering from, clearly. They told me it's rare, but the officer on duty
seemed to have been doing research on rare mental illnesses recently and could diagnose it
just from what I told him," Jenbis nodded. "But don't worry! They're already preparing for
the surgery."
A long moment of silence fell down like a heavy curtain. "Surgery?" the accent Morgan
put on it seemed equally heavy.

34
 "That's right. The team's already on route here to pick you up. They'll be glad to see
you're awake now."
"But how can...?"
"Ah, they mentioned you could wake up at some point. But the disease is still there and
still to be cured," Jenbis picked Morgan's cup and looked at the brown liquid. "I don't think
you're going to finish that."
Morgan just sat there in complete confusion. Disease. Surgery. What in the blazes? It's
all he needed, some crazy doctor looking literally into his head. Everything...
No, wait.
"Very funny, Jenbis," he said, regaining posture. He fixed his collar automatically and
pulled down on the uniform's jacket.
"No, I'm serious."
"You can't lie to me, you forgot? Well, not in the long run..."
Jenbis turned his grin towards him. "The look on your face was priceless. Shame I didn't
have anything to record it... but wait, I think the security cameras have it all. I'm sure a lot of
people would get a kick out of seeing them."
Morgan rolled his eyes. "Careful. You ever heard of forged evidence? Us spooks excel at
it."
"As much as I'd like to see what horrors you'd come up for me in revenge, I think I'll
pass," the waiter snorted. "Why did you doze off, anyway? Work that boring?"
Morgan shrugged. "No idea. It's easy to lose focus if your only perspectives for the
upcoming missions are negotiations with species that cultivate violence," he grunted. "Hoo-
rah. Two strips we'll be forced to shoot first, explain things later. Anyway... where is
everyone? Did my daydreaming scare them all away?"
The waiter hinted at the chronometer.
"You weren't exactly day-dreaming all the time..."
"Crud," said Morgan, grabbed his PADDs and ran out of the mess hall just as if the
surgery crew was really going after him.

"Ma'am," a young ensign broke a long-lasting silence of the bridge's Beta shift. "We're
receiving a distress signal. Audio only."
Patricia looked up from a set of duty schedules she had been browsing.
"Patch it through, Ensign."
A blurred audio recording, packed with interferences, boomed in the bridge's speakers,
featuring a strong male voice. It was toned down by the chaotic ambient, possibly explosions
or electric overloads.
"To anyone in range. This is the freighter Reilles Quaz. We are under attack by
Nausicaan pirates. We require immediate assistance! I repeat... we are under attack!"
"The transmission continues to loop in SOS mode," the ensign concluded as he stopped
the playback.
"How far are we from the source?" the XO asked.
"Two hours at maximum warp, ma'am," Ops said.
Patricia grit her teeth, considering how close to the Nausicaan border they actually were.
"Hell of a way to start negotiations," she muttered to herself.

Miya stepped out of the turbolift, all the while staring at those on duty as if daring them
to comment. After accepting his new post, the CMO had elected to perform some training as

35
well as some diagnostics. Both were well within his rights, especially since they were just
embarking on a mission. Sadly this apparently took precedence over small unimportant jobs -
jobs like undoing the cosmetic changes some of the crew had recently undertaken.
As a direct result, Miya was still sporting white hair, red eyes, long ears and jet-black
skin - albeit wrapped in a Starfleet uniform. Rounding the bridge to the command chair, she
caught the grin on Patricia's face as she stood up to let her in. As if having anticipated
something like this from the get-go, the XO had opted for a change in appearance that had
been entirely holographic in nature - a decision she was now rather grateful to have made, as
a fishtail would have been seriously impractical on the bridge of a starship.
"Go on, say it," Miya sighed as she sat down.
The XO shook her head, although unable to lose the grin.
Miya sighed again, before taking the PADD Patricia was holding out. "A mission of
mercy," she stated, looking sideways at the XO. "How long till intercept?"
"Slightly less than two hours," Patricia replied, her voice adopting business tone as well.
Miya sat back in the chair. "That's not long. Have the senior officers report to the
observation lounge, we better make ourselves - and the Saturn - ready."
The XO nodded curtly, walking to the back of the bridge and proceeding to inform the
senior staff.

Sitting at the head of the table in the Observation Lounge an hour later, Miya was
thankfully back to normal - having made use of the hour to go and tell the CMO about the
meeting personally. While there, she had impressed upon him the need to stop running
diagnostics and instead undo the changes previously made by conspirators on his medical
staff.
Morgan sat in his usual spot and straightened his jacket, casting a side glance at the CO
and doing his best to cover a grin. Very much unsuccessfully.
"I can see you smirking," Miya said quietly, not looking round at the CIO.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he grinned. "Gossip travels fast around a ship this size."
"I never would have guessed," she stated in an obviously sarcastic tone.
"I actually heard," Morgan unsolicitedly went on regardless, looking round the table,
"that some of the bridge crew had already taken bets on reactions of the Nausicaans and
Bolians at the sight of the Captain's make-up."
"What?"
"Yes." Don Jameson couldn't help but chime in with an equally amused smile. "Theories
varied from the Bolians withdrawing from the Federation to Nausicaan ambassadors actually
trying to hook up on a date with you, ma'am."
"Oh. Well, I guess it's a shame that our newly appointed CMO managed to undo the
deed, then," came Miya's retort, earning her a few chuckles around the room.
"Aye," the chief engineer remarked from the other side of the table. "Really, I would
have given an arm and a leg to partake in that little adventure. Sadly the main impulse
engines had other plans for me."
Miya frowned slightly. "Should we be worried?"
"Nah, nothing to turn the ship around for, ma'am. Just a small issue with one of the drive
coil assemblies. It's been taken care of already."
"Good." She sounded relieved and looked up as the last few missing senior officers
arrived and took their seats.
Once she had assured herself that the department heads were all present, Miya nodded to

36
Patricia who brought up a rather basic schematic of a freighter on the display.
"This is where we are headed. The distress call was received less than two hours ago,
we'll be on site in thirty minutes." She paused, looking round the room. "Long range sensors
are indicating we may be dealing with a crippled vessel. The distress signal is automated, and
there seems to be a lot of radiation in the area. No sign yet of the vessel that attacked them,
but we will need to maintain alert status while we are in the area."
She stopped again, waiting for any comments those present might want to offer.
"A distress call from Bolians at the same time when we're near Nausicaan space?"
frowned Morgan. "Hard to believe in a coincidence like that. I think we have to assume the
possiblity of a trap. A Galaxy-class vessel lost in this area could benefit Nausicaans in terms
of political relations. Officially, they'd decline any connections to it, but gossip would carry
its weight for the neighbouring systems."
"I considered that, too," Patricia nodded at him. "However, it is a distress call." she
emphasised, referring to Starfleet regulations.
"And, by all means, we should respond to it," Morgan agreed. "I recommend extra
caution, though - probe scans, shuttle scouts, on raised shields."
"We will be approaching this situation at yellow alert, but too much caution during a
rescue operation could potentially cost lives," Miya stated, before turning to Don. "I'd like
your team to be ready, we might need to board this ship if transporters are out."
The Hazard Team commander just nodded curtly.
"Anything else?" she asked, looking round the assembled officers.
"I'd just like to second mister LaTaer's suggestion, ma'am," said the CDO. "This may be
a coincidence, but a distress call from a Bolian ship near Nausicaan space while there are
ongoing talks about Nausicaans occupying a Bolian mining operation is quite suspicious.
Either party might be trying to put the Federation in a difficult position, vying for
advantage."
"I'm suspicious of this situation, too," Paul added. "We could be heading right into an
ambush. However, I should think the Nausicaans would think twice about tackling a Galaxy-
class starship. As for the Bolians, their most offensive ship wouldn't stand a chance against a
Type 9 shuttle, let alone the Saturn. Nevertheless, I recommend we go in with our arms open
but phasers charged, just in case."
"Noted. However, it is equally likely that we are dealing with a genuine emergency."
Miya frowned. "I appreciate your concern, all of you, but I don't think we have any choice
other than to proceed as planned. Hopefully none of you will be required to say 'I told you so'
at a later stage."
"I would like to have it on record, ma'am, that I wasn't recommending ignoring the call."
specified Nia.
"Well, I am," grunted Colonel Furry who was sitting right besides the CDO. Returning
the several dumbfounded stares with a glare, he went on. "Really, isn't there any other ship
nearby?"
"Frankly, no. And unfortunately, by proceeding cautiously there is also the chance we are
risking lives which may already be in danger," Miya stated and paused. "As such I don't see
we have any choice in this matter."
The colonel shrugged. "You're the boss."
Don half rose from his seat. "If you'll excuse me, ma'am. I'll go and get the team to kit
up so we're ready to go if you need us."
Miya nodded. "Carry on, Gunny.

37
 Having passed the word as soon as he left the meeting, Don entered the office to find his
team pulling kit from lockers and struggling into their field uniforms. Immediately, his own
uniform came flying through the air, courtesy of Mike Dushon. Catching it in one hand, Don
raised his voice as he started to pull off his regular duty uniform. "Listen in. Prepare for
shipboard search and recovery. Briefing in five."
A few minutes later, the twelve marines gathered at the briefing table to listen to Don's
briefing. "Right. The Saturn is going to the aid of a Bolian freighter that is broadcasting an
automated distress signal. The nature of the emergency isn't clear at this time so we are on
standby to board in case transporters can't pull the crew off. So let's take a look at the
playground."
As he spoke, a rotating holo schematic of the freighter, drawn from the archives,
appeared over the table. It consisted of a hemisphere with the apex pointing forwards with
the bridge as a bulge at the very tip. Around the circumference were six stubby pylons with
engine nacelles at the ends. The base of the hemisphere was covered in mag locks, tractor
beams and clamps to handle the trail of cargo pods the vessel pulled behind it.
"Okay, this is a schematic of the stock vessel. Apparently they do get customised to
some extent so the details may vary but the overall layout should be the same. The bridge is
here on the bow. Note that the gravitation is set so that the bridge is 'up' and the cargo is
'down'. So, below the bridge are two habitation decks. According to the specs, it provides the
capacity for twenty-two crew but how many are actually aboard is unknown. Below the
habitation is deck four, which is a services deck for consumable supplies, utilities, computer
and so on. There are two docking ports on opposite sides of deck three for personnel and one
on deck four for crew cargo. The rest of the space is devoted to fuel and the big frak-off
engines this thing needs to move all the cargo, with the engineering control room sitting on
top of everything at deck five, just below the services deck. A spiral ramp running up the
centre serves all five decks, supplemented by the usual ladders and crawl ways."
Junebug leaned forward. "So anyone aboard is going to be in a fairly small area then?"
"Yup, or in the engineering access ways below deck five. Basically they go straight
down and then radiate out to the engine nacelles with a couple of concentric rings to give
access to the cargo handling equipment."
"What about the cargo pods?"
"Not sure. It isn't clear if there is access to them during flight. It might depend on the
type of pod that's being used, I guess."
"Do we know what the cargo is?"
"Not at this time. Or how much of it there is either."
"Weapons?"
"Not as standard, but there's an external hardpoint between each engine nacelle for
fitting so-called accessory pods. Conceivably some sort of weapon could be fitted to those.
We'll only know when we get in close. The other thing is that being this close to the
Nausicaan border makes the skipper suspect foul play from some angle. We'll carry phasers
as well as rescue kit."
"They wouldn't be able to mount much on that thing would they? Nothing that could
bother us, anyway?"
"With the size of those engines they could run a pretty heavy energy weapon if they
wanted to. But that costs big money and when did you last hear of a rich freighter crew?"
"There's the possibility of weapons being concealed in a cargo pod ready to open up on

38
us as we arrive."
"Agree. But they'd have to keep tight emission control, otherwise our sensors would pick
it up as we approach."
"Is the atmosphere intact?"
"We'll assume not. Any more questions?" After a pause, Don continued. "Okay, load data
for Bolian meds and tech into your helmets and make sure you get this ship schematic in
your heads. If we go aboard, here are your assignments. I'll lead team one to the bridge. Team
two sweeps the habitation decks. Team three works Engineering from deck four downwards.
All clear?"
Nods all round.
He checked his chronometer. "You have ten minutes until arrival. Go to it."

Paul sat on the bridge, at one of the rear stations, reviewing data on the specifications of
the ship in distress. Like the Hazard Team, he identified the opportunity for heavy
armaments, but the most powerful weapon possible without significant engine upgrades
would pack a punch similar to a phaser on a Constitution-class ship, easily repelled by the
Saturn's regenerative shields.
Nevertheless, he decided to be vigilant. He studied the readings from the long range
sensors - the Bolian ship was just in range, but the space leading up to it was completely
devoid of any activity. He'd have to wait another minute before the scene would show up on
the short range sensors.
Paul called up Starfleet records of the location the freighter reported itself in. It wasn't
looking all too welcoming from a tactical point of view. In the immediate vicinity there was a
class 7 nebula, a dense asteroid belt and a binary star system with no less than sixteen
planets. All of these features could hide an entire fleet of ships and the Saturn would know
nothing about them.
"I assume the frown is concentration?" asked a voice from behind, breaking Paul's train
of thought. He spun round and was greeted by smile from the Captain's face.
"Just doing some home work, ma'am. I've concluded the ship sending the distress call is
itself unlikely to threaten us, but it's the area of space it is in that is causing me concern. The
Bolian ship is conveniently right in the centre of what I would call a killing zone. My gut is
telling me we are running right into a trap."
Miya looked around the bridge, a feeling of grim determination hung in the air as the
blinking red lights confirmed the Saturn was going into the situation with fangs showing and
claws bared. "You're not the only one," she replied quietly. "This whole situation feels wrong,
but we have no choice but to attempt to render assistance. I want you prepared to take us to
full combat readiness at all times, and as you suggested - keep the phasers charged as long as
we are in this area."
"Aye, ma'am," Toddman replied, logging out of the terminal.
"Let's just hope we're all wrong, and we don't have to use them," Miya finished, before
walking back round to the command chair.

***

39
 The Saturn slowly approached the stricken freighter. Gases were venting from various
points, the pressure of which was enough to cause it to spin in a lazy spiral across the main
view screen. Several cargo pods had been detached and were floating lazily along behind it.
"Mister Toddman?" Miya asked, standing and taking a few steps forward.
"Sensors are reading twenty-four life signs on board, ma'am." Paul answered.
"Get them aboard now, and alert Medical we may have casualties," Miya said, turning to
Patricia. "Go down to the cargobay and see if you can find their captain - I want to know
what happened on that ship."
The blonde nodded and left at once.
"How bad is it?" Miya asked, staring once more at the view screen depicting it spinning
through space.
"The freighter has suffered significant damage to both warp and impulse engine
systems," the chief engineer reported from the engineering console. "Looks like their main
power is completely offline. Auxiliary power is functional, but barely, and their batteries look
to be completely exhausted. Shields depleted to uselessness. Several external hardpoints have
been wrecked, the remainder are empty. Their navigational deflector is also offline. From
here it looks repairable, but I'd have to send in a full engineering crew to take a look. Beyond
that, their structural integrity is good. Patch up those holes, and their atmospheric integrity
will be restored."
Miya nodded and sat down once more. "Let's see what the Bolians can tell us."

40
 "Hey. Where are you going?" Patricia stopped the CMO as he was about to leave the
cargo bay just when she arrived.
"Oh, hey. Well, there were just a couple minor injuries. Some second degree burns, one
small fracture. Nothing serious," Dalin stated. "All in a minute's work, so to speak."
"Really..." The XO frowned. "And here I was thinking we had an emergency on our
hands."
"Yeah, well. Feel free to go in there and rough some of them up a bit more. But they're
fine, medically speaking."
"And... not medically speaking?"
He looked back over his shoulder at the two dozen Bolians that were sitting, standing
and walking about in the large room, and gestured at the small blonde officer standing next to
one of them. "They're rather annoyed. Colleen is trying to calm them down somewhat."
"Okay. That makes sense. I don't think I'd like it very much either if my freighter were
ambushed by notorious space muggers."
"No, they're..." Dalin turned back to her and lowered his voice. "They're angry at us,
actually."
"What? Why?"
Dalin shrugged. "Maybe because we're not shooting at Nausicaans right now? I have no
idea." He turned to the door once more. "Anyway. I'll leave you to it, give me a shout if I'm
needed."
Nodding, she took a deep breath, donned a friendly smile and approached their guests.
Colleen stood before a crowd of angry Bolians, their captain in particular being clearly
infuriated. "There'll be an investigation," she assured them.
"An investigation? Really?" The Bolian captain scowled. "We were attacked by
Nausicaan pirates, again! What is there to investigate? We deserve retribution! If we don't
stand up against our attackers, how is the Nausicaan slime ever going to learn?"
The counsellor put her arms at her sides in akimbo. "Captain Arax, it's perfectly natural
to want retribution - but it's not a recommended next step of action."
"They-..."
Shaking her head, she cut him off immediately. "I'm serious. They expect that your
people will retaliate. And will retaliate in turn."
"Captain," Patricia politely greeted the Bolian and gave a curt nod to Colleen as well.
"Lieutenant. What is this I'm hearing about retaliation?"
Colleen was about to reply when Arax assertively motioned for her to remain silent.
Giving him an astounded glance, she closed her mouth again and watched him as he regarded
Patricia for a moment, looking her up and down.
"Where is the captain of this vessel?" he finally asked.
"Captain Solo is on the bridge." Patricia smiled. "I'm the first officer, Lieutenant
Commander Holmes. Rest assured that we're going to render you any assistance you'll need."
"Good," Arax stated. "Good," he repeated and nodded, looking at Colleen for a moment
and back to Patricia. "Your ship is powerfully armed, is it not?"
The XO exchanged a telling glance with Colleen. "It is," she then confirmed.
"And will you pursue the ship that attacked us?"
"Yes. We probably will." Patricia nodded. "As soon as we know where it went. Please,
Captain - join me on the bridge, will you?" she asked, gesturing towards the turbolifts.

41
 "Solo to Hazard Team," the headset in Don's ear came to life.
"Bushman here."
"We've managed to transport the Bolian crew off. They say they were attacked by
Nausicaan raiders but I want a second opinion. I want you to take your team over there and
have a quick look around."
"Roger, we're moving. Bushman out." Don switched to the team's private channel.
"Okay, listen in. The Bolians are safe, but the boss wants us to go and check the vessel out.
We're to see if the Bolians are pulling our legs or not. Let's move."

The deserted bridge was dimly lit by emergency lighting when twelve figures
shimmered into existence in the middle. As the transport completed, the figures looked
around them.
"Respect. Somebody knows how to trash a place as well as us."
"Yeah, it's a bit of a dump, innit."
"Hmmm. This may be the way it is normally. Okay, tech team head down to engineering
and see what state that's in. Turtle, see if the computer still works. Torchy, cancel that distress
signal and then see if you can retrieve the log and the cargo manifest. The rest of you, sweep
through the habitation decks. Keep your suits sealed until we can check if the atmosphere
isn't leaking on us."
As the others moved out down the central ramp, Turtle moved over to where the
tricorder in his helmet said the computer console was. The panel was dark and unlit and
looked seriously unpromising. He prodded the console hopefully but it stayed resolutely
blank.
He leaned down under the console to look at the panels underneath. As he looked a bit
deeper, his questing fingers found a loose panel. He tugged and was rewarded with a crack as
it popped out, allowing him to shine a light inside. A fat cable with a connector on the end
hung down with a temptingly shaped socket behind it. It couldn't be that simple could it?
Shoving the connector into the socket, it snapped into place and he peeped up at the console.
It appeared the answer was that it could be that simple. A light had come on, to be followed a
few seconds later by screenfuls of Bolian script that eventually cleared, to be replaced by
some sort of logo. Consulting the data on his helmet HUD revealed the existence of a
manufacturers login sequence and he prodded the controls with gloved fingers. Seconds later,
Turtle was in and starting to search the core.
At another console nearby, Torchy was pushing controls. "Hey Turtle, is there any life
over there?"
"Not sure yet. Someone unplugged the console."
"Unplugged it?" Her voice was incredulous.
"Yep. Cable was dangling loose."
"Could it have got knocked loose?"
"Don't see how, it's a positive fit. Weird, huh?"

Mike Dushon and his team walked into the gloom of the engineering control room. Like
the bridge, it was lit with emergency lighting but a large wall display showed a schematic of
the ship. Most of it was red or orange, which looked about right.
He turned to Birdie and Noggy, "You two take a peek down below while I try and make
sense of this. Be careful, okay?"
"Copy, Sarge."

42
 Bongo turned back to the display and the console underneath it. It seemed to be alive
and he started to look for the sequence that would convert the display into Fed standard
script. He was rewarded just as Noggy came on the comms.
"Noggy to Bongo."
"Go ahead, Noggy."
"The power stack is frakked..."
"So what's new?"
"Hang on, I'm tryin' ta tell ya. It's been blown up wiv demolition charges."
"You sure?"
"Sure I'm sure, sarge. There's a big ol' 'ole in the top of the unit wot's drilled down inside
an' its' got burn marks all roun'd it. Looks like a shaped charge."
Birdie's voice took over. "Tricorder confirms explosive traces, sarge. I think they're
improvs though. We found a bit of a wrapper that looks like it came from some commercial
explosives. And there's the top of a metal cone embedded in the roof above the hole. I'd guess
it's the top of the charge casing."
"Okay, get it recorded and move on. I'll let Bushman know."

Don considered the information he had got from Bongo. So there was deliberate damage
from explosives in Engineering. On the bridge, Turtle and Torchy were finding a whole lot of
nothing in the computers storage. But the change log showed that a whole load of stuff had
been deleted recently. Very recently. They'd also found a console on the bridge configured for
fire control, but no software in the computer to support it and there were no weapons on the
hardpoints. On the habitation decks, his search team had found precious little in the way of
personal effects. No pictures on the walls, no discarded clothes in lockers. They weren't the
sort of things raiders would take, but they were the sort of thing a crew abandoned if they
were in a derelict ship and escape beckoned.
What sort of raiders took the trouble to disable a ship so thoroughly? Maybe they'd trash
the comms to prevent the alarm being raised, but clear the computer or demolish the engines?
Or unplug the consoles and then put the panels back? It didn't make sense.
As his Dad liked to say, a problem shared was a problem halved. Time to do a little
sharing.
"Bushman to Saturn..."

***

Miya was still digesting the information from the Hazard team when something caught
the attention of their sensors, prompting a brief flurry of activity on the bridge.
"What was that?" Paul blurted out, staring at his console. "Mister McGee, did your
sensors pick up anything unusual just a few moments ago?"
Petty Officer Erik McGee called up his sensor logs and checked the last sixty seconds.
"Affirmative," he began. "The sensors picked up a faint power signature coming from
the nearby solar system."
"Can you identify it?" Miya asked.
"Aye, ma'am, the signature appears to be of Nausicaan origin. I can't be more specific
than that with the limited data we have."
"Launch a probe, Mister Toddman, I want to know what that was."
"Aye, ma'am," Paul responded. He punched the appropriate commands into his console

43
and launched a probe from the ships aft launcher. "Probe away. It will reach the solar system
in three minutes."
For the remainder of the time he watched the telemetry of the probe as it passed the
outer most planet and its four moons without picking up anything but cosmic dust and
radiation from the system's sun. Then, as if someone had pressed the power switch, the
telemetry stopped.
"What the...? Ma'am, I've lost the probe," Paul reported.
"What do you mean, lost it, Lieutenant?" Miya asked, rotating on her chair to face the
security chief.
"It had just cleared the outer planet when all the telemetry just stopped."
"Destroyed?" suggested the Captain.
"If any weapon had shot at it, I'd have read something before the impact."
There was a moments silence before Miya reached a decision. "Solo to Bushman, we
have detected something nearby we would like to go investigate. Can you hold out over there
at present?"
"Copy that, Saturn. Wait one." A few seconds later, the voice was back. "Go ahead
Saturn, we're fine here for the foreseeable. I just wanted to check that we could restart the
distress signal if anything went wrong while you were away. Just don't forget about us, it's a
long walk home!"
Miya grinned. "Don't worry, Gunny. We'll be back for you. Saturn out." Standing she
walked towards the helm. "Set a course for that power signature, and engage when ready."

The massive frame of the Saturn gently manoeuvred till it was clear of the drifting
Bolian freighter before beginning to move forward. Listing to port, the ship banked to
conduct the 120 degree turn towards the solar system - her shadow temporarily plunging the
small freighter into complete darkness before moving off at full impulse, tracing the path the
probe had followed such a short time ago.

***

Morgan crooked his eyebrows at medical and engineering reports from the rescue
procedure. No casualties, minor wounds, but the freighter was crippled, nearly falling apart.
Right. Looks like some Bolians were fed up with Nausicaans and decided to act in a little
way out of standard.
His eyes stopped at the static recording of the one that introduced himself as Captain
Arax. A disproportional large jaw to a rather contained frame and deceptively calm and
gentle eyes, despite a rather annoyed look on his face, and the facial ridge a bit wider than
most Bolians he'd seen. Morgan inputted a search pattern into his own database while
reaching into the secure reaches of his desk. Producing a portable transport enhancer he
started fiddling it in quick, experienced motions.
The computer finished his search before he even started configuring the device, but he
already knew the results. Standing and quickly leaving his room, he headed for the nearest
turbolift and directed it to the bridge, where he emerged from the lift car as soon as the door's
gap was big enough to let him through.
"Captain Solo," he started and hung his voice as he spotted the Bolian captain.
The man slowly turned around to look at Morgan. LaTaer tapped the Bolian's mind
gently with his own, only to find what he expected – telepathic conditioning. It didn't matter,

44
though. He already knew what he wanted.
"Lieutenant?" repeated Captain Solo. "Something on your mind?"
"May I have a word with you?" Morgan said, his eyes pointing towards her ready room.
As the doors hissed shut behind them, Miya walked round the desk and raised an
eyebrow at the Intelligence Officer who had followed her in.
"I assume you have some information you would rather our Bolian friend didn't hear?"
she asked, sitting down and leaning forward on the table.
"Assuming he didn't already figure it out," Morgan remained motionless, but within
himself, he was furious at letting his guard down on the bridge. "Our... Bolian friend, as you
put it, is not unknown to us. He was involved in the Malorian Incident three years ago.
Suffice to say - they're not just random Bolian merchants that think Nausicaans don't deserve
peace talks. We're looking at something bigger than that."
Miya frowned. "How big are we talking? Should I be looking at this entire mission in a
different way?"
"Most certainly," Morgan agreed. "Captain Arax, as he calls himself now, has suspected
affiliations with splinter para-political organisations in spheres of Bolian government. One
that would like to see a shift of power in this sector and one that has the means, agenda and
resources to seek it in unconventional ways. Ways that might put us in a situation where all
the choices have been made for us. In other words," he resumed after a pause, "if we won't
act as they want us to, they might try to ensure we do."
Miya looked down at her hands for a moment. Then stood up and walked back round the
desk. "I want you to liaise with Security with regard to our passengers. They go nowhere on
this ship without an escort, tell them it's for their own security." She paused, "I'm not sure
there is very much else we can do at present."
Morgan grimaced, not entirely surprised, but not entirely satisfied either. He tugged at
his collar, aware of the fact that Solo wasn't going to like what he was about to suggest.
"I recommend more radical approach, ma'am. They're counting on us using standard
procedures – that even if we're going to start suspecting something, we will wait until the
situation becomes clear."
Before Miya had a chance to respond, Morgan continued, slightly lowering his voice,
but speaking firmly.
"Being ahead often means becoming less predictable. I think it's time to be just like that.
They expect us to be defiant to any rash actions. I gathered that Arax is all fire and brimstone
over being attacked and wanting retaliation? Let's give it to them. Make them think we're
going to put more pressure on pursuing Nausicaans - perhaps they'll fall for it and expose
themselves somehow. All in the manner of not becoming too obvious, of course."
"What do you suggest?"
"At this moment, we have a lost probe and we're heading to intercept, after it
mysteriously disappeared. Let's do it differently again - instead of going there up and
personal, let's send a remotely controlled shuttle. I'm sure our Engineering folks can make it
seem that we're sending live crew there, at the same time boosting telemetry so we can
determine what happened should we lose the craft just like our probe. That's my
recommendation anyway."
There was a long silence as the information was digested. Eventually Miya nodded.
"Right, we'll do this your way," she said. "I'll speak to Arax – I still want you to speak to
Security. Lets see if we can trip them up."
"Yes, ma'am," came the reply. With that, the two officers made their way back onto the

45
bridge. Morgan grinned slightly, but when the bridge doors slid open before them, his face
was straight and composed.
Miya nodded at Lieutenant Toddman before taking the centre seat once more. Turning to
the Bolian next to her, she gestured him to lean over then spoke quietly.
"We have a few ideas to try and flush out the Nausicaans involved in this attack. Be
aware that while I cannot tell you everything, I have authorised certain... measures... to
ensure we find them sooner rather than later."

A sudden flash in the void of space was the only thing to herald of the arrival of a ship
from FTL, the starlight glinting off its metallic hull as it slowed to a stop. After a few
minutes it began moving again, but slowly, like an animal that had scented its prey and didn't
want to spook it.
Arriving alongside the first of the cargo pods shed by the Bolian freighter, the ship
paused – its sensors wrapping the floating pod in their delicate tendrils – before moving on to
the next. Each time it stopped and scanned the cargo pod, determining the contents and life-
sign readings, before moving on to the next.
Eventually, it arrived at the freighter itself, still in darkness as the marines on board had
barely finished stabilising life support – exterior lighting was not high on the list of priorities
– and neither were external sensors. After all, what were the chances of another ship
happening across the freighter? Especially given that the distress call was no longer
broadcasting.
Once more, the newly arrived ship's sensors did their work, and this time they spent a lot
longer probing the freighter itself. Eventually, they stopped – and once more the ship seemed
to be considering its next move, hanging stationary alongside the stricken vessel. Eventually,
a decision must have been reached. Moving closer to the freighter, an umbilical cord began
to extend towards an airlock – the sound of the couplings clanking into place reverberating
around the hull of the freighter. A hiss later and the connection was ready, heavy footsteps
echoed along the umbilical before accessing the freighters outer hatch.

Don had gathered the Hazard Team in the darkened canteen on deck three of the stricken
freighter, less Turtle who was still on the bridge. They had given the vessel the once over and
the smell was worse than Noggy's socks. They were going over the ship's schematics once
more when they all felt a tremor run through the hull, followed by a loud clang.
"What the frak was that?"
"Turtle to Bushman."
"Go ahead, Turtle."
"Something has docked with the cargo lock on deck four. They haven't opened the door
yet though."
"Can you get a visual?"
"Partial sight from the bridge window. Hard to tell because of shadow but it looks like a
runabout of some kind. About fifty percent bigger than a Danube I'd say."
"Any markings?"
"Not that I can see."
"Copy Turtle. Hold position and let us know when they open the lock."
"Roger that, Bushman."
Don looked up at his team. "Junebug, take Tiny, Boggy and the Padre and get out to the
rim of deck three above the cargo lock. Be ready to blast through the floor and take out the

46
runabout. The rest of you come with me, we'll deploy on deck four at the central access way
ready to meet them. Move!"

Sitting in her ready room, Miya was frowning. Her brief discussion with the CIO had
left Miya with a bad taste in her mouth. Not that LaTaer was to blame, but if his information
was correct the suddenly amicable Bolian in one of their guest quarters was trying to play her
and her crew to achieve their own ends. The thought of pandering to his requests sickened
her, but if that was what it would take to expose him, so be it.
They had launched an unmanned shuttle, complete with systems to simulate life signs on
board and uprated sensors, towards the probe's point of disappearance almost two hours ago.
It was still intact and had, as yet, found nothing to explain the sudden vanishing of the probe.
She was once more reviewing the telemetry it was returning when she was hailed by the XO
and called through to the bridge.
"Long range sensors indicate another vessel has approached the freighter," Patricia
reported, relinquishing the centre seat as Miya approached. "Have readied a course to return,
but was awaiting your command."
Sitting, Miya nodded to the Ensign at the helm. "Take us back there." She stated, "I
made a promise to the Gunny we'd be back if he needed us - and I think this situation
counts."
"What about the shuttle craft?" Patricia asked.
"What's the effective range for us to maintain control?" Miya asked.
"Not quite enough, we'll lose it just as we enter the area near the freighter."
"In that case keep it automatically patrolling, I want all data continually sent back to us.
If it's approached by any other vessels, have it head for us immediately. Hopefully we can
lure someone out into the open."
"Aye, ma'am."

Junebug's voice whispered over the comms. "Sensors show they're Nausicaans! Four
cycling through the lock with two, maybe three more still on their ship. Bushman, do we jump
'em?"
"Negative, Junebug. Hold your position but be ready to go take control of their ship and
cut off their retreat if I give the word."
"Copy, Bushman."
Don glanced round at the marines with him. They'd spread out around the spiral ramp
that went around the open central well and from there they could cover the corridor that led
from the airlock. He himself was close to the doorway, ready to face the newcomers. The
visor display from the tricorder flashed a schematic at him and he saw the traces of the four
Nausicaans approaching. They were moving confidently so either they hadn't spotted the
Hazard Team or they weren't scared of them.
The door slid open and the first Nausicaan stepped out into the glare from Don's helmet
lights. "Welcome aboard. Can I be of assistance?"
The Nausicaan started backwards and hissed a reply. An instant later, the translator
module in the comms system kicked in. "Who the colloquial are you?"
Don sighed inwardly. The translator was clever but language developed quickly and it
took a while for it to catch on to new words ... especially swearing. "Starfleet. Who are you?"
"Expletive Starfleet? What the colloquial are you doing on this pile of fecal matter?" The
other three Nausicaans had edged out of the corridor behind their leader.

47
 "What's it to you? We're here and we're staying. Now, please identify yourself."
"Well Fleeter, we're colloquial salvors and we're having this expletive ship. So colloquial
the expletive out of here!"
Don's mind raced. Hazard Team training had covered some points of law but not salvage
rights. He seemed to recall that it was something to do with getting a reward for rescuing a
vessel but didn't it have to be abandoned? For once, it would have been useful to have a JAG
officer handy. What the heck, it was worth a try.
"Sorry, you're too late. I'm salvaging this ship."
"Yeah, right. All on your expletive own?"
"No, me and my gang of Starfleet marines! Go, Junebug."
Six helmet lights switched on around the Nausicaans, and, from back the way they had
come, there was a loud bang as Junebug and her team dropped through the floor and charged
into the salvage ship. The salvors dropped into a defensive stance and then the leader looked
at Don.
"Colloquial. So you want to do an expletive deal?"

As the Saturn approached the freighter and the vessel still connected to it, Miya leaned
over to Patricia. "See if you can get through to the Gunny," she whispered, before turning to
face the front again.
"Yellow alert," she commanded, standing up and walking towards the view screen.
"Mister Toddman, open hailing frequencies - try and raise someone on that ship."
"Aye, ma'am," Paul replied, his fingers tapping in the appropriate commands into his
console. Radio silence was the only thing that came back.
"No response, Captain. Scanning the vessel now." Moments passed while the sensors
gathered information on the unknown vessel. Eventually, Toddman spoke up again . "I'm
reading two Nausicaans on board the attached vessel along with some of our away team, and
a further four on the freighter."
It was at this point that Captain Arax exploded, standing and walking across the bridge
until he was right in front of Miya. "I told you, Captain! They cannot be trusted! I suggest
you fire on them immediately!"
Miya turned her head slowly and stared at the Bolian. "Fire, Captain? Are you aware that
your freighter would be destroyed also?"
"That is of no consequence!" the Bolian countered. "I suggest you fire on them now,
Captain, before they can get away again."
"I suggest you sit down," Miya responded, diverting her attention back to the ship on the
view screen. "Mister Toddman, what is your analysis of the capabilities of this vessel?"
A series of taps on the console were the precursor to the response. "Negligible Captain,
the vessel is more than a match for the freighter, but we could easily disable them."
Miya frowned. "Still no response to our hail?"
"Negative, Captain."
Patricia approached Miya. "I've reached the Gunny, he and his team are fine - I don't
think the pirates on board were expecting them to be as well trained and equipped."
Miya grinned. "At least he had fun. Tell him to prepare to be beamed back aboard, as
well as any prisoners. Mister Toddman, lock on to the away team."
"Locking on," Toddman confirmed. "Away team signalling ready, dropping shields."
"Energise, Mister Toddman."
"Transport in progr-... no, transport aborted, there appears to be a transport inhibitor in

48
place."
The ship lurched suddenly, sending anyone standing to the deck. An unfortunate
crewman manning the engineering console was thrown forward into it just as the EPS
conduit supplying its power overloaded. Scrambling to his feet, Toddman tapped his comm
badge.
"Medical emergency, main bridge!" he managed before frantically reaching his console
to get the shields back up and make sense of what was happening.
Lifting herself up off the deck, Miya turned to the rear of the bridge. "Report!" she
demanded, reaching the command chair and gratefully sinking into it.
Paul's eyes scanned his console as a plethora of information scrolled over it.
"A Romulan warbird has de-cloaked directly astern and fired on us. I have managed to
raise the shields, they are at eighty-five percent. The port nacelle is venting plasma and
several EPS relays have blown. Reports of light casualties only." He paused in his report as
his console began flashing another message. "The warbird commander would like to speak to
you, ma'am."
Standing, Miya approached the view screen once more. "On screen."
The image that greeted them was not what they expected – instead of a green lit bridge
with a Romulan commander, an orange lit interior appeared on the screen, with a large
Nausicaan standing in the frame. Eyeing Miya, he stepped forwards.
"Federation vessel, surrender and prepare to be boarded. Your ship is ours now."

49
Chapter 5 – Thou Shalt Not

"Doctor Fisher. About time."

The Bolian intendant looked up from the PADD he was reading.The human that entered
the office was young and good looking, probably in his early thirties, dressed in a white lab
coat and sporting a three-day stubble. Slowly, his hands folded on his back, he approached
the Bolian, cocking his head.
"You rang, Mister Brott?"
"I did." Brott nodded, pressing a button on the PADD and putting it aside. "Please," he
gestured at the empty chair on the other side of his desk. "Have a seat."
The human did as asked. "So?"
"There's been a development. Which may or may not affect our work here in this
facility."
"What kind of development?"
"That doesn't have to concern you. But we need to hurry up. You... need to hurry up."
Fisher shook his head. "It's not my fault there hasn't been much progress lately, what
with the shortness of certain chemical compounds and all that - one compound in particular,
it's-..."
"So you've been telling me for the past few months. You know we can't get more of it at
the moment. You will have to make do with the reserves you have."
"You don't understand," the human replied slightly irritated. "If I am to speed up the
tests, I need higher amounts than planned for. It's not possible."
"Make it possible!" Brott slammed his fist on the table, his pale blue face turning a
slightly deeper blue. "We had half a kilogram of that stuff! Where did it all go?"
Fisher grimaced and started massaging the ridge of his nose. "It would be a lot easier if
you told me what this is all about. If I don't know what I'm looking for, a waste of both time
and resources is bound to happen."
"Oh, I'm going to tell you something, Doctor. If you haven't successfully completed the
rest rows by week's end, certain people are going to learn your whereabouts. And we'll
happily hand you over to them."
For a long moment, the Bolian and the human stared back at each other. Finally Fisher
nodded. "I understand. I'll see what I can do."
"Excellent." Brott smiled as the man rose from his chair. "And by the way, I expect daily
reports from now on."
Turning around to the Bolian one more time, Fisher shot him an annoyed glance. "Yeah,
I'm sure that's going to speed things up."
"Just do your job, Doctor. Just do your job."

***

Turning from the view screen, Miya dragged a hand across her throat causing Paul to cut
the signal. "Nausicaans! Scan that warbird, how many crew on board?" she asked, sitting
down in the command chair.
His fingers danced over his console bringing up the required information from the
sensors.

50
 "Two hundred and forty lifesigns, a hundred of them Nausicaans, and a mixture of
several races from across the alpha and beta quadrant," he reported while keeping his eyes fix
on his readouts. "They're firing again!"
The ship rocked again but not as violently as before, her shields had taken the brunt of
the attack.
"Shields down to eighty percent, ma'am," Paul stated, itching to fire back.
Miya scowled. "Helm, bring us about to an attack posture. Toddman, show them we
decline their request."
"Aye, ma'am," he replied with relief.

The Saturn swiftly began to do a half barrel roll, levelling out to face her foe head on.
Balls of energy sped along her main phaser arrays and lanced out toward the warbird as
they met, aimed at the warbird's port nacelle. Green bolts of disruptor fire returned the
favour, impacting the Saturn's forward shield.
The Galaxy-class starship began rolling on its back and flew downward toward the
warbird's ventral surface, her phasers spat out in anger again, concentrating on a small area
just aft of where the lower neck structure met the main hull. The Saturn continued to roll,
bringing all of her phasers to bear in succession until she was upright again. There was
hardly a moment where the starship was not firing at the same spot on the warbird.
As the Saturn passed her target, a spread of torpedoes left her aft launcher and flew
toward the same spot again. With the shields in that area weakened, the torpedos passed right
through and hit the green hull, exploding in bright flashes.
The warbird began to show signs of system wide power failures, windows that were lit
from inside began flickering. With a sudden flash, the Romulan vessel's shields collapsed, the
green glow of its nacelles started to flicker as they began to be starved of power.
The Saturn was now to the warbird's stern. Pulling another half barrel roll, she
positioned herself atop of the huge vessel and began pounding its upper surface with
relentless phaser fire. Several well aimed torpedoes left the Federation ship and hit the
warbird's nacelles, which flickered even more under the strain and then extinguished, their
power feeds collapsed by the pounding.

"Report," Miya stated, standing up and looking at the crippled warbird on the screen.
Paul called up the sensor data and studied it for a moment before reporting.
"Their shields are down, warp power offline and they are experiencing power failures on
most decks. I'm also now only reading two hundred and twenty-nine life signs, ninety-two of
which Nausicaan. We received several hits, our shields are down to sixty-five percent but
holding. The port nacelle is offline, Sickbay reports a few minor injuries, and there are
damage control teams already in place replacing damaged components. We're certainly better
off than the Nausicaans, ma'am."
Miya turned round and walked towards her chair while looking directly at Toddman.
"Very good. Beam our Hazard Team to the warbird, tell them to take control of their bridge
and secure the ship's systems. I want you to assemble a security force to help take control of
the ship. I want their computer cores intact, Mister Toddman."
Paul simply nodded at Miya. He had already tapped a short message to the Hazard
Team's visors and set the transporters to beam them to the command deck of the warbird
once the Saturn's shields had been deactivated. Then he tapped his communicator.
"Toddman to Security teams Alpha, Beta and Gamma, report to transporter rooms one

51
through three, armed for boarding party duties."

As soon as it was apparent that they would not be returning to the Saturn immediately,
the Hazard Team had vacated the crippled freighter for the slightly safer surroundings of the
Nausicaan salvage vessel. Shipmaster Varus Te-Kreth snarled at Don as they faced each other
on the bridge of his vessel. Any nuances of speech were lost in the professionally neutral tone
of the universal translator and its habit of stating inferred meaning for words it did not fully
recognise. "So let me get this expletive clear. You expletive want us to do the expletive work
and you take half the expletive money for doing expletive nothing. Correct?"
"You got it."
"Why shouldn't I just claim the expletive salvage my expletive self then and take all the
expletive money?"
"Look. We took possession of an abandoned vessel and we are claiming salvage rights.
Our claim is entered in the logs. What I am offering is to sub-contract you the actual work of
recovery. Now, I could get somebody else to do that but that would take time and you're here
and available. So how about it?"
"You'd better make a real expletive offer, fleeter."
"Okay. Sixty percent of the salvage award."
"Expletive ninety-five."
"Eighty."
"Ninety, fleeter."
"Okay, shipmaster. Eighty-seven and that's it."
"Hah. Eighty-nine and we're expletive done."
Don's visor flashed a message. Time to wind things up. "Split it. Eighty-eight."
"Eighty-eight. You've got an expletive deal, fleeter." The shipmaster held out a fist.
Hoping he was doing the right thing, Don made a fist and tapped the others. "Deal,
shipmaster."
"So why did you give in so expletive easily?"
"Have to hurry. I think we're going to go and have to arrest some other Nausicaans who
were dumb enough to attack a Galaxy-class starship with a stolen warbird."
"Hah!" The contempt came through the translator. "That'll be those expletive colloquials
Ta-Heth. Got Garumba down to their expletive testicles but expletive colloquial for brains.
Too expletive stupid to live, too expletive stupid to die."
Don's visor flashed him another message. He keyed the team channel. "Heads up. We're
about to be relocated. Be ready to fight when we emerge."
"Gunny, why did you settle for eighty-eight percent?" came Noggy's voice.
"Well, I'm not sure we are entitled to claim salvage at all, but if we are, salvage awards
or even the scrap value of a starship is a heck of a lot of money. So twelve percent of a lot is
still a lot, especially for doing nothing. Now get your head ready to fight. Phasers on stun."
"Copy, Gunny."
The transporter haze enveloped the team. When it cleared they found themselves at the
rear of a battered bridge of a Romulan warbird. Electrical arcs and a few emergency lights lit
the compartment and its occupants.
"Starfleet marines! Nobody move!" roared Don as shadowy figures turned towards them.
The spiky figure of a Nausicaan rose from the centre seat with a menacing snarl and Don
casually stunned it with a phaser bolt. Movement stopped. He advanced towards the seat
himself. "This ship is under new management. Co-operate and you won't have to walk home

52
without a vacsuit."

"Let me know when that ship has been searched," Miya said, standing and walking
towards the back of the bridge. "You have the Bridge, Commander," she called over her
shoulder as Patricia slid across into the command chair.
"Yes, ma'am," the XO replied, punching up the current status of their teams onto the
view screen as the captain disappeared into the turbolift.
"Computer, locate Colonel Furry," Miya asked.
"Colonel Furry is in Holodeck five," came the reply.
Nodding, Miya leaned against the sidewall of the lift. "Deck ten," she stated, closing her
eyes as the hum of the lift picked up it's pace.

As assignments went, this one sucked rotten eggs - of the Ferengi variety no less. Oh,
sure, Colonel Ambler Furry understood his orders crystal clear, which was to rubber stamp
whatever the chief diplomat and Saturn's command staff were doing, and on occasion go out
and make an appearence. Furry understood that perfectly, as Starfleet did not promote just
about anyone to colonel or captain. But all this inactivity and all that paper pushing was
beyond a joke. Furry was not a bureaucrat. He was a soldier first and foremost, a leader. And
all this paper pushing and outright prospect of being ignored was not sitting well with him.
So, he was in the holodeck, beating the crap out of holographic Klingons.
Suddenly everything stopped as a doorway appeared in the middle of the battlefield.
Sliding open, a rather grim looking Starfleet captain walked through - glancing round, she
spotted Furry and walked towards him, stepping over several holographic corpses.
"Bored?" she asked.
Furry paused, and cocked his head. "What gave you that idea?" he asked.
Miya looked round and quickly added up in her head. "Thirty-two dead Klingons?" she
suggested.
Furry looked around, and realised the carnage for the very first time and then back to
Miya. "They were never alive to begin with, so it's not like they'll be complaining," he said.
"What do you want?"
"Your expertise and advice." Miya sighed. "I thought Nausicaans were going to be the
problem I needed you to deal with." She shrugged. "To be honest - they might still be, but at
the moment I have some Bolians I'd like you to speak to."
"Oh?" Furry's interest piqued up. "And where exactly are these Bolians, and what sort of
a talk we're talking about?"
"We have some Bolians aboard, not your average freighter crew, they seem to have
sabotaged their own freighter in order to blame the Nausicaans." Walking to one of the dead
Klingons, she sat down on his corpse and ran her hand through her hair. "They are
extremists, Colonel, and in order to expose them, I need to convince them that we are playing
their game. That we are doing all we can to find these 'Nausicaan slime'," she finished,
mimicking the Bolian captain's voice.
She looked up at Furry. "What better way to convince him we are taking this seriously
than to show that the decorated Colonel Furry is actively involved in the hunt."
Furry snorted. "I'm not a show pony, Captain."
"I'll cancel the ribbons and bells for your uniform, then, Colonel." She looked up at him,
"I'm aware this isn't why you signed up for this mission – but I would greatly appreciate any
show you were prepared to put on."

53
 Furry eyed her, and slowly nodded. "Give me access to your security chief, this holodeck
and your EMH."
"You can have the last two, but Mister Toddman is rather busy at the moment," Miya
responded.
"What about your first officer?" asked Furry.
There was a pause while Miya considered this. "She's all yours," she then said. "Let's
hope she forgives me..." she finished quietly.
Furry grinned. "We get to do things we don't like, Captain," he said, and then shrugged.
"It's our job to lead, not to be liked."
"Being liked is a nice bonus though," Miya said, standing once more. "I'll leave this in
your hands, Colonel. If you need anything else, it's yours. If anyone has an issue - point them
to me."
Furry turned, nodded and turned to regard her. "I hope you'll have the time for those
issues."
"So do I, Colonel." Miya replied, walking out the doors of the holodeck once more.

***

"Colonel Furry!" Patricia's voice took on a rather exasperated tone. "This is not how-..."
she stopped and turned about as three Bolian figures materialised behind her.
"What is this about?" Captain Arax demanded to know as soon as the transport was
completed.
Patricia walked over to him, slightly shaking her head. "This is getting out of hand.
Would you please tell the Colonel that such measures are neither necessary nor appreciated?"
The Bolian looked back and forth between the XO and Colonel Furry, and cocked his
head, an icy smile appearing on his face as he noticed what Furry was doing there.
"Actually... we would very much appreciate if you just let him do this, Commander. We
need information, and we need it fast, isn't that right?" he stated and walked past Patricia.
The colonel was standing bent over a biobed, regarding the Nausicaan shackled to it and
taking in the thick muscular chest and arms with an expert eye of someone long experienced
with inflicting pain. The Nausicaan defiantly glared back at him, his arms and legs under
what was essentially lock and key while a couple of mean looking security guards in full
tactical gear stood on either end of the small room. A number of medical scanners showed off
life support readings, such as breathing, heart, blood pressure and even the alien's damned
cholesterol level.
Furry focused at that, while a bald headed human male in medical teal hovered near.
Finally, the colonel straightened and turned to the hovering man in teal. "I believe we're
all here, Doctor," he said curtly and very much disinterest evident in his tone. "Let us begin."
The doctor looked between the Nausicaan and Furry. "May I remind you that this goes
against every-..."
Furry cut him off, looking to the ceiling somewhat. "Computer, disengage ethical
programming to the EMH. Authority of Ambler Furry, Colonel."
The computer bleeped, and the doctor's demeanor changed instantly.
The colonel gestured invitingly at the Nausicaan. "Doctor, if you'll please administer the
first drug on your patient."
"Of course," the EMH replied with newly found enthusiasm and proceeded to take one
of the hyposprays from the table next to them.

54
 "For your benefit," Furry was telling the Nausicaan, "the good doctor is injecting you
with a little cocktail one of my earlier medics cooked up before having to do a disappearing
act worthy of the Great Houdini. Basically, it acts in two ways. Shuts down your entire pain
receptors that link into that tiny brain of yours for the most part. But there's a catch, you see.
Wherever I touch you, your pain increases as your pain receptors compensate from the lack
of feeling." Furry poked the Nausicaan gently, and the alien winced.
The colonel grinned. "Pretty nifty, no?"
Patricia grimaced at him from across the room. "You don't really expect me not to
mention all this in my report, do you, Colonel?"
Furry shrugged. "Report all you like, Lieutenant Commander. Not that the Federation
would do anything to stop piracy in this sector, as the Nausicaans – these animals if you like
– have no standing treaty with us."
"This is a sentient being in front of you, Colonel. You're breaking half a dozen laws
already and that doesn't even include torturing him."
Furry paused, and cocked an eyebrow. "Sentience is a matter of opinion, Lieutenant
Commander," then, turning a piercing look at the Bolian captain and allowing himself a
quick smile. "Wouldn't you agree, Captain?"
"I couldn't agree more, Colonel," the Bolian smiled back at him. "By all means, carry
on."
Patricia hung her head and started pacing around the room, massaging the bridge of her
nose as the Nausicaan prisoner started screaming.
After a few minutes she couldn't take it anymore. Spinning around, she walked up to the
biobed, jerking the Nausicaan's head around to face her and staring him in the eye.
"Look. I don't want him to do this anymore than you do, but he outranks me. Only you
can make him stop. Do you understand? You can end this. Just tell us what you know. Which
one of your ships attacked the Bolian freighter, and where do we find it?"
The Nausicaan swallowed. "Screw you, Starfleet." he snarled.
Furry shook his head in mock dismay. "My, my... I understand that she's a fine specimen
to screw, but that's no way to talk to a lady." Ignoring the XO's narrowing eyes, the colonel
tightened his grip on the Nausicaan's wrist to emphasise his point, and smiled whimsically
when the alien screamed in pain. "Now, which one of your sorry excuses for starships
attacked that freighter? Tell me, or I'll get the doctor to start carving you up like a turkey on
Thanks Giving," he promised, tightening his grip even more. "Where is the ship?"
"Stop! I'll tell you everything!" the Nausicaan finally caved in. "Just stop!"
"Tell me, and maybe I'll stop," Furry offered.
"Colonel!" shouted Patricia. "That's enough!"
"Alright, alright." With an expression bordering on indignation, the colonel let go of the
prisoner, who was still whimpering in pain.
"The ship," Patricia demanded. "Where?"
The Nausicaan nodded quickly. "There is a binary star system nearby, surrounded by an
asteroid belt. The second largest asteroid houses a small starbase out of which our ships are
operating. The only ship of ours besides my own that is space-worthy at the moment... is the
Garumba's Fist. That must be the one you're looking for."
The XO looked at the colonel. "Let's go."
Furry nodded, and regarded one of the guards. "Put him in the brig."
Turning to the Bolians, Patricia gave them a nondescript glance. "If you would follow
me to the bridge, please."

55
 "Of course." The smile on the Bolian captain's face couldn't be more repulsive to her, but
she had to keep appearances up. They got what they wanted, after all. One after the other
followed the woman out of Sickbay and onto the corridor, towards one of the turbolifts.
Furry followed as well, entering the lift car behind the youngest of the Bolians whose
facial skin looked a tad less blue than normal.

Arriving on deck one, Patricia took charge of the bridge crew, and Furry nodded to a
couple of guards who were out of sight.
Getting nods back, Furry positioned himself behind Tactical and pretended to study the
instruments.
Not very long after having located the star system in question, the Saturn arrived at the
asteroid belt.
Standing from the command chair, Patricia took a step toward the view screen, crossing
her wrists on her back. "Helm, position us out of sight. Tactical, use passive sensors to scan
the area for ships."
The Bolian captain stepped up next to her. "Commander, I just wanted to let you know
how much we value your help. I know all too well that torture isn't something we do, but
sometimes drastic situations require us to-..."
"Contact on three zero mark fourteen," Furry interrupted him. "Bearing three nine nine
oh seven."
"On screen," demanded Patricia.
The picture on the main view screen changed to show a small vessel scurrying along in
between the asteroids, heading for one of the bigger ones.
"We're in weapons range," added the colonel.
"Is this the ship that attacked you?" Patricia asked the Bolian captain.
"The hull, size, configuration... it all matches up," he replied, exchanging a glance with
his first officer. "Yes, Commander. That's the ship."
"Are you sure about that, Captain?"
"Positive. This is the ship that attacked us... Destroy it!"
"That's funny..."
"Funny?"
"...because this actually isn't a ship at all," Patricia stated. "Computer, end program."
With a sizzling sound, the familiar surroundings of the bridge disappeared, leaving three
quite confused looking Bolians behind with the XO, Colonel Furry and a trio of Security
guards, standing in what suddenly became one of the Saturn's holodecks.
Furry stepped forward, and pointed at the Bolian captain while throwing a glance at the
guards. "Take him."
The guards started to move, but Furry raised a hand to stall them when the Bolian went a
dark shade of blue and his eyes widened. "Captain," Furry said gravely, catching his
attention. "I seriously suggest you cooperate to whatever Lieutenant Commander Holmes
may have in store for you and your crew, as spending quality time with me tends to be
hazardous to one's health."
"And here I was hoping you only did that to holograms, Colonel." Patricia arched an eye
brow at him. "Naive little me. Security, this is the XO," her voice changed from sarcastic to
business tone, "have all crew from the Bolian freighter confined to their quarters until further
notice."
"Yes, ma'am," it came back.

56
 "As for you," she turned to the Bolian captain, her hands on her hips, not even trying to
conceal her disgust with him anymore, "you're coming with me. My captain would like to
have a word with you."

The lighting in the observation lounge was darker than normal, all that could really be
made out was the large table. Captain Arax was pushed down into a seat while the security
officers stepped back into the darkness by the door. He looked around as Patricia sat down to
his left, turning as Furry sat down on his right. Neither were smiling, and both avoided any
eye contact with him or each other. Finally following the line of their gaze, he stared across
the table just as Miya stepped forward and sat down opposite to him.
"I've just had an interesting conversation with an official with your government," Miya
began, leaning back in her chair. "They claim they have never heard of you, Captain. They
also claim your freighter was reported stolen three days ago."
She leaned forward. "The really interesting part is that I was then passed to a member of
your planetary security organisation. Happily, he had heard of you. He also said we could do
with you whatever we liked as you were officially a non-entity in any of their main
population databases, apparently of your own doing."
Furry shifted in his seat, and merely turned his scowl on Arax and cracked his knuckles.
The Bolian remained silent for a moment. Then he licked his lips and took a deep breath,
leaning back and folding his hands on the table. "The fact that my government has forsaken
me does not mean I'm entirely on my own, Captain. The people I'm working for are not at all
powerless. You should keep that mind."
"And you should keep in mind where you are," said Furry matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I am quite aware of that, Colonel. But you see, I'm not as important in the greater
scheme of things as you apparently think I am. I'm but an agent, one of many. I'm also not
afraid of you."
Furry half rose, and snarled as he leaned towards the Bolian. "Then you won't mind
being beaten into a bloody pulp?"
"Colonel..." Patricia cautioned him. Grimacing, he sat back down.
Miya smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile. "Terrible thing, the Dominion war. The
Cardassians were particularly nasty to their prisoners. They had these rather interesting
techniques of getting information out of people - a strange mixture of drugs, torture, and
electrical stimuli." She leant back once more. "Of course, it would be against everything the
Federation stood for to even contemplate this." She paused and let this sink in. "But then
again, apparently you don't exist."
"Let's not kid ourselves here," the Bolian captain said, casting only a side-glance at the
colonel. "You won't do that to a fellow Federation citizen, no matter what the databases say
or don't say about me. I can see it in your eyes. And even more so in the eyes of this one," he
added, pointing at Patricia, who pursed her lips and looked away. "Clearly you are bright
young Starfleet officers, and I've seen my fair share of you people. Torture isn't something
you do, as your colonel proved once again just an hour ago with his little holodeck theatrics."
"Which you completely fell for, by the way," interjected Patricia quietly in a slightly
sulky tone.
"What I mean is that he wasn't even allowed to actually torture that hologram." Arax
turned to the XO. "I didn't have any trouble believing that some savage would succumb to a
great deal of pain. Real torture, however, especially of the Cardassian variety..." he turned
back to Miya, "well... let's just stop pretending, shall we? I'm not impressed."

57
 "And I'm not pretending." Miya leaned forward again. "Last chance," she stated, rising
from her seat.
"I'd like to go back to my quarters now," Arax stated.
"Very well," Miya replied. "He's all yours, Colonel," she finished, walking across the
room and exiting via the far door.
"Captain!" Patricia exclaimed, standing and going after her.
Furry stood as well, straightened his broad shoulders and gestured at the door. "After
you, Captain Arax."
Giving him a blank stare, the Bolian eventually rose and started walking, only to stop
and turn back to Furry. "May I first have a glass of water, please?" he asked.
Furry grunted and turned to the replicator. "Computer, glass of water, arctic
temperatures," he said and gave Arax a not so gentle nudge towards it. The Bolian afforded
him an uneasy smile as he lifted the glass to his mouth. His other hand suddenly made a swift
movement in and out of his pocket, and the next second saw him pop the small white pill and
gulp it down with the water. Furry's eyes bugged out as he realised what was going on.
"Oh shit!" he growled as the Bolian crumbled, and instinctively tapped his combadge
while going to check for a pulse. "Furry to Captain Solo, need you in Sickbay – Computer,
medical emergency transport!"
Letting out a weak breath before the twinkle of the transporter beam engulfed them both,
Arax grinned at Furry. "Good luck with that..."

"I can't believe you did that," hissed Patricia, struggling to keep her voice down as the
two women walked onto the bridge.
Miya wordlessly strode over to the centre chair and sat down, without even so much as
glancing at her XO.
Patricia continued to stare at her incredulously for a few seconds, then turned away,
shaking her head when Furry's voice came over the comm system. That was when their eyes
met once more, Patricia looking forebodingly, the captain's expression inscrutable.
Miya opened her mouth, then seemed to change her mind. Turning, she nodded at the
security chief behind her at the Tactical station. "You have the bridge, Mister Toddman."
Without another word she stood and headed for the turbolift, with Patricia hesitantly
following her.

Rematerialising in Sickbay, the colonel stepped out of the way while medics fell on the
Bolian like a pack of over-eager hyenas.
"What happened?" demanded the chief medical officer, turning to Furry.
"He popped a suicide pill," growled the colonel, angry and frustrated as he glared at the
dead Bolian. "Son of a bitch."
"What?" it came back again, but it seemed merely a reflex as Doctor Saine was already
back to checking the limp body lying in front of him. Furry cocked his head watching them
attempt to revive the Bolian.
After a couple minutes the CMO rose, apologetically shaking his head. "I'm sorry,
Colonel. The poison has already started to deteriorate his organs and brain tissue. There's
nothing we can do for him."
Furry grimaced. "Can you determine the chemical composition of the poison?" he asked.
"Yes, of course. It seems to be a rather aggressive form of cyanide, from the looks of it. I
can tell you more after an autopsy," he was offered.

58
 About to reply, the swishing of doors behind them interrupted him.
"What's going on, Colonel?" demanded the Saturn's captain walking into the room.
"The good captain here took the liberty of choking on a suicide pill moments after you
left," he said, filling Miya in on the sequence of events from when he stood to when the
Bolian asked for a glass of water. "I've ordered a chemical composition done, and would
suggest the rest of his crew to be searched."
As he was speaking, the XO entered behind Miya, her pace slowing to a halt as her stare
fell on the dead body on the floor.
Miya looked back at Furry for another moment, then tapped her commbadge. "Mister
Toddman, I want you to organise a search of our Bolian guests, have our people look for and
confiscate any hidden weapons, poison and anything else deemed even remotely harmful."
"On it, ma'am," Toddman was heard replying.
"And get me their first officer," she added. "Have him escorted to Sickbay."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Looks like we'll have to move further down the ranks, then," she stated, regarding Furry
once more.
The XO eyed the two warily. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"
"Not now, Commander." Miya replied, still not affording her a glance.
Patricia paused, visibly taken aback. "I'll be on the bridge, then," she then said nodding
slowly and turned to leave. "I don't think you're going to need me here."
Silently, the captain watched her walk out the door before turning back to Furry.

Approaching the turbolifts, Patricia noticed the ACSO waiting by the doors. Lieutenant
Orsini turned around, flashing her a quick smile as she realised who it was. Giving the
scientist a curt nod - she didn't particularly feel like smiling at the moment - Patricia came to
a halt next to her, staring impatiently at the door.
"You don't look so good," Orsini remarked when the lift car arrived.
"Gee, thanks Rita," replied Patricia, grimacing as they stepped inside.
"No really, are you alright? You look a bit pale."
"I'm fine. Bridge," she added.
A few seconds into the ride, Patricia reached for the wall controls and stopped the lift.
"Something's not right with Captain Solo, though," she stated, glancing sideways at Rita.
"What do you mean?"
"The captain of that Bolian freighter - he's dead. Killed himself."
"What? When?"
"Just now. We suspected they were up to something, so we tricked them. He fell for it.
And she threatened to have Colonel Furry torture him if he didn't tell us what this was
about."
"Oh dear."
"Yes. So, rather than submitting himself to the colonel, he committed suicide."
"That's... odd. I mean, for a Bolian. Right?"
"There's something weird going on here. That crew... they were bent on creating a
diplomatic incident. And we need to find out exactly why, I get that. What I don't get is what
has gotten into Solo. I mean, torture? Really? We do that now? I would have expected that
from Furry. Not not from her. And now they're going after their first officer."
"Jesus," muttered Rita. "What are you going to do?"
"There's nothing I can do. That is, until after the fact."

59
 Rita shook her head. "You think you know someone..."
Reaching for the controls once more and ordering the lift car to continue, Patricia
seemed lost in thought. "Yeah," she murmered. "I guess I really don't know her that well."
The lift car stopped once more and the doors opened. Rita stepped out onto the bridge
and was half-way to the Science station when she realised that Patricia didn't follow her out.
With a frown on her face, she turned around.
"I've... got something to look into," the XO just said as the lift doors were closing
between them again.

Striding quickly, Patricia entered the main security offices. They were largely deserted
due to Toddman's orders to have the Bolian crew searched, only Dola chi-Trei was sitting in
front of a console. Judging from the way she looked at her, the Andorian was picking up on
the XO's mood rather quickly as well.
"Can you leave me alone with one of those terminals for a moment, Dola?"
"Sure," said the petty officer and kept staring at her. Patricia cocked her head, returning
the stare. Then it dawned on the Andorian, "Oh. By alone you mean... alone alone."
"Yes."
"Sure," Dola said again, getting up and heading for a smaller office nearby.
"Thanks."
Patricia waited for the door to close, then walked around the console and sat down.
"Computer, bring up personnel file and medical reports for Captain t'Miyaken Solo.
Authorisation Patricia Holmes, beta sigma gamma seven five."
A compliant chirp later the large display in front of her began being filled with
documents. Moving the documents across the touchscreen with her hands, she started
skimming them. "Add psych evals."
"Dating back how far?" the monotonous computer voice asked.
"All of them."
Another chirp and more virtual documents poured onto the screen. For several minutes
Patricia sat there, reading, searching, looking for clues. Nothing came up that stroke her as
noteworthy. Then again, she wasn't a psychologist by any means.
"Add personal history before Starfleet Academy," sighed Patricia. The computer did as
asked. There. The first odd thing. Miya was half Bajoran, but neither of her parents were
from Bajor. As the document indicated, her parents had adopted her as a young girl, still a
toddler, after finding her abandoned on Starbase 106 on the fringes of Federation space.
There was no information about her biological parents.
Patricia shook her head. So she was adopted, but that didn't explain anything. A clean
bill of health, no mention of anything out of the ordinary in her psychological reports, a
storybook career. The most telling thing in these documents was that they didn't tell Patricia
anything.
She was about to give up. Maybe she was chasing ghosts here. Maybe the captain had a
good reason for her behaviour, one that Patricia wasn't privy to. Maybe... or maybe she was
going about this all wrong.
"Computer. Bring up the personnel files of Captain Solo's relatives in Starfleet."
Two more files appeared, those of John and Natalie Solo. Her father, by now the most
senior security officer on Starbase 106. The mother, a scientist specialising in Xenobiology.
Both nice people of outstanding merit, apparently. Again, nothing out of the ordinary.
Shaking her head Patricia skimmed over the list of family members - and paused.

60
 "Computer, add personnel files of deceased relatives."
"Dating back how far?" it came again.
"Actually... I think I need only three of them," she stated and pressed her finger on three
consecutive names in the list. "Close the other ones." The documents on the screen vanished
and made room for the three she had requested. After skimming them roughly, she pushed
one of them aside and focused on the two that had the same date of death.
Eventually Patricia rose. "Computer?" she asked quietly, "locate Captain Solo."
"Captain Solo is currently in Sickbay."
"Close all files," she said before leaving the room.

Shipmaster Te-Kreth had been right, reflected Don as he leaned on the back of the
command chair, the Nausicaans on the bridge of the warbird had more aggression than their
brains could safely handle. The team had had to stun a few more of them before they figured
out that the Hazard Team were serious about taking over the ship. By now the message had
sunk in and they were huddled in a group at the rear of the bridge, watched over by the
members of the team who weren't involved in taking control of the ship systems.
"Gunny, this is Toddman. Are you in control over there?"
"The crew aren't at their bridge stations but we're still trying to work out what's what
here, sir."
"Copy. Keep me informed, please. Security teams are in control of Engineering and the
computer core and are working on suppressing the crew. Out."
"How are we doing, guys?" Don asked his team.
Mike Dushon turned from the console he was at. "Well, it would help if we had more of
these consoles working. But Torchy has got comms secure and is going through the logs, and
Turtle is checking on the computer. It looks like it's intact but he's trying to lock it down.
There's a few references to Ta-Heth so it looks like that shipmaster was right."
"I wonder how he knew? Anyway, make sure you don't damage anything. We'll want to
analyse that stuff. What about Navigation and Tactical?"
"As far as I can make out from damage control, Tactical hasn't got anything better than
frying pan to fight with and Nav isn't important if you haven't got any engines. This thing is
frakked even worse than that Bolian tub."
"Okay, Toddman's teams are aboard. They're sweeping up through the ship. We sit tight
here for the moment."
"Right."
Don opened comms again. "Saturn, this is Gunny."
"Saturn here, Gunny." Toddman's voice again. He must be in charge. Don wondered
what the CO and XO were up to.
"The warbird bridge is secure, sir. Note that the Nausicaan vessel docked with the Bolian
ship is not hostile. They are a salvage team who are going to recover the vessel."
"They'd better hang on, Gunny. It seems like that thing was stolen."
Don sighed. "Stolen? Great. Okay, I'll tell them. By the way, do we have a legal officer
aboard the Saturn?"
"Uh, yes. Lieutenant Shining-Fin-In-The-Dawn. Have you been breaking the law then,
Gunny?"
"Lieutenant who?"
"She's one of the cetaceans."
Don paused. "Our lawyer is a dolphin?"

61
 "Would you prefer a shark?" the Scotsman quipped.
"No. Okay. Can you patch me through please?"
"Copy. Are you in trouble?"
"No. Or not yet anyway."

"I really don't want to resort to this - but you're not leaving us much choice," Miya
stated, as Furry appeared over her shoulder.
The colonel grunted as he looked down at the first officer of the Bolian crew and smiled
without humour. It was the same one that had nearly fell ill during the holodeck simulation,
and Furry reckoned that breaking him was going to be easy.
"Do you know who I am?" asked Furry quietly, forcing the Bolian to listen.
The Bolian shook his head.
Furry nodded at that. "Then you should watch the news more often, my friend," he
suggested and glanced over at Miya briefly before continuing. "Needless to say that I'm
considered the Federation's last resort to maintaining the status quo. With me thus far?"
"Surely you're laying it on a bit thick, no?" The young man tried acting tough, but his
tenseness was all too apparent.
Furry grimaced. "No. Despite what you saw on that holodeck, I'm not into theatrics," he
said, and leaned towards him. "Now. You tell us everything you know, and I'll see to it that
you won't end up in a Naausican prison. How's that for fair?"
"Honestly? It sounds like a bad deal for you."
Furry walked around, and stood directly behind him. Nervously, the man's eyes followed
the colonel until he was out of sight. Then, placing a gentle hand on the Bolian's shoulder,
Furry asked, "Why do you say that?"
"Because I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to know that you could possibly want?"
"Well," began Miya, "why don't we start with your reason for being here? Since we
know you weren't actually attacked by Nausicaans, but sabotaged your ship yourself, I can't
help but wonder... why?"
"It was the Captain's order. Does he have to explain himself when he gives an order?"
"So," mused Furry, "you being a good second in command, you never questioned his
orders?"
"Not outspokenly, no."
Furry grunted. "And inspokenly?"
"I... I really don't know what to tell you. It kind of made sense, what with all the pirates
out there and a Federation ship nearby. Do you know how often they're raiding our ships?
And Starfleet isn't doing a damned thing about it. Someone had to do something, right?"
"By trying to get us to shoot down any Nausicaan ship we come across, possibly causing
an interplanetary incident?" asked Miya.
The Bolian pressed his lips together and stared past her. Then he seemed to have reached
a decision. "I'm not saying any more. Where is Captain Arax?"
Furry eyed Miya, and shrugged. "It's not as if Arax is going to object, is he?"
The captain arched an eye brow. "Probably not. Nurse?" she asked, turning to a woman
waiting at the door. "Would you bring in Captain Arax, please?"
The nurse gave her an odd look, then left the room, ever so slightly shaking her head.
While waiting, Furry looked down at the Bolian. "So tell me this at least, do you have a
name or can I call you Blue Boy?"
"Korvin Mot," the young man replied, quickly adding, "I'm not going to tell you

62
anything else until I see Captain Arax."
Furry nodded understanding, and placed his hand just below Mot's neck. Just then, the
door chime rung, and the two Starfleet officers looked at one another while their prisoner
licked his lips.
"Enter," ordered Miya. Furry could sense her uneasiness.
The door swooshed open and the nurse returned - backing in with a portable biobed. As
the bed was hovered in, a rather peaceful looking Arax lay atop it.
Mot jerked, but was held fast by Furry. "I believe that the good Captain passed the buck,
Mister Mot," he said calmly as his grip around the Bolian's shoulder tightened. "Now,
Captain Solo may have the patience that Starfleet COs are renowned for, but I don't. You've
seen your captain. Now spill it already."
Clearly agitated, the Bolian looked back and forth between the two and Arax, his
terrified eyes eventually coming to rest on Miya. "You allowed this to happen? How? Why?"
Miya crossed her arms, silently looking back at him.
Furry had enough. Ignoring Miya's flinch, he slammed Mot's head into the back of the
chair with a thump. The Bolian screamed in pain. "Your loyalty to your captain is
commendable, Mister Mot, and I'm touched by it – really," he said levelly, "but let's not lose
focus here, eh? I want to know why you sabotaged your own ship – who did Arax work for?"
"I don't know!" Mot wailed.
"Think!" the colonel snarled, grabbing him by the neck again.
"I don't know! I don't know!"
"Captain!" The XO suddenly appeared behind them.
Miya winced. "Commander. I didn't hear you come in."
"Small wonder, what with the beating and screaming and thrashing... a word, please?"
"Not now," she tried getting rid of her once more, turning around again, but Patricia was
adamant.
"Yes, ma'am, now. I insist," the XO gestured toward the CMO's office. "Please?"
Miya exchanged a glance with Furry who had stopped tormenting Mot and was
watching the two with his hand still around the Bolian's neck as though he didn't realise he
was still holding someone down. Then she nodded.
"Very well. After you," she allowed and followed Patricia out of the room.

"Okay," Patricia began right after the door closed behind them. "Allow me to recap so I
can get this straight - we're on our way to Nausicaa to jump-start stalled negotiations over
mining rights on some backwater asteroid, we get an emergency signal and we change
course. So far, so good. Now it turns out it wasn't really an emergency, but we don't change
course back to Nausicaa, instead we go and put the screws on someone after the guy we
initially wanted to torture kills himself. Am I still on track? Because I feel like I missed some
important middle part here or something."
The XO paused for a moment to take a breath and continued with an expression of
slightly creeped-out confusion. "Does that make any sense to you? What are we doing here?"
Miya stared at her for slightly longer than was comfortable, before sitting down beside
the desk and running a hand through her hair. "It's not as simple as that anymore. It's gotten a
lot more... complicated." She looked up at Patricia. "Political would be a good way to
describe it."
Patricia blinked, the confusion still visible on her face. Slowly she walked up to Miya
and propped her hands on the desk, staring her captain in the eye for a moment. "I don't know

63
what you think this is. Last time I checked, this was about mining rights," she stated, raising
her voice. "A man is dead. Pretty much of our doing. And right now, we're torturing another
one. With all due respect, ma'am, this is not a road I'm willing to follow you down."
Miya closed her eyes. "It's about more than mining rights." she said quietly, "much more.
These people have an agenda. They were willing to blow up any Nausicaan ship out there
just for us to buy into their little plot." She stared at Patricia with a hatred visible in her
expression. "We are dealing with Terrorists..."
Patricia hung her head. "We don't know who we're dealing with," she said without
looking up.
Miya stood so fast that her chair fell over behind her. "We know exactly who we're
dealing with!" she snarled, "We're dealing with people who care nothing for the value of a
life. So why should I have to care about them?"
"Because you are a Starfleet captain," the XO replied. "Tell me you're making these
decisions with a rational mind and for good reasons that I can comprehend once you explain
them to me," she demanded, hesitating to go on. "Tell me this has nothing to do with a Bolian
paramilitary group blowing up a civilian transport with your aunt and cousin aboard thirteen
years ago. Can you?"
Miya reacted like she had been slapped, staggering backwards with her face a mask of
complete shock. "That was... that..." she finally stopped talking, her face going completely
blank.
"There was nothing I could do," she eventually murmered. "Nothing..."
"It wasn't Arax, Miya," Patricia said quietly. "And it certainly wasn't that poor sod you're
having the colonel beat up out there. End this. End it now, and I'll try to forget what I've seen
in that room. Please."
The captain continued staring into space for a minute before pulling herself together.
Wiping her eyes, she then straightened her uniform and turned to Patricia. "Thank you," was
all she said, before walking into the main sickbay once more. Taking a deep breath, Patricia
straightened her back and followed her.

"That will be enough, Colonel. Thank you for your assistance," Miya stated, walking
into the room.
Furry frowned, but didn't say a thing. As Patricia stepped up to them, he shot her an
inquiring glance. Patricia simply ignored him, instead she watched Miya intently as the
captain walked across to the frightened Bolian.
"I'm sure Mister Mot is more than ready to tell us everything he knows." Miya finished,
standing over the Bolian. "Am I correct?" she asked, addressing him directly.
"I already told you everything I know," Mot said in a whimpering tone. "What more do
you want from me?" he added, fearfully looking past her.
Patricia followed his gaze to the colonel, who was about to take a step forward,
aggression once more welling up in his face. Determinedly she stepped into his way, their
eyes locked for a long moment.
"Out," she said, very quietly.
Furry looked to Miya and back to the XO. Finally he shrugged and turned to leave,
glaring at Patricia with a dark scowl as he walked out the door.
Miya tapped her comm badge. "Solo to Lieutenant LaTaer."
"LaTaer here, ma'am."
"Would you join us in Sickbay, please?"

64
 "On my way."
"Now," Miya regarded the Bolian again. "You were second in command, were you not?"
"Yes."
"Well. You can start by telling us your flight plan," she stated. "In detail."

***

Repair and Maintenance Outpost 451's cafeteria wasn't its usual quiet self. In fact, today,
it was a much more bloody, violent and gory version of itself.
"Look out!"
"What is this thing?!"
"Oh my god! Help! Heeeeelp!"
"Someone call Security! Someone-aaaaah...!"
Which was largely due to the fact that the patrons were fighting for their lives and trying
frantically, albeit entirely unsuccessfully, to avoid being devoured by what looked like, and
behaved like, a horrifying arachnoid monster more than ten foot in size. And that didn't
include its razor-sharp, chitin-clad legs.
Chairs were toppled, tables were tipped and used as cover. Both were trashed and bodies
were mutilated all at the same time, and wherever the thing moved people died, sometimes
several of them at once.
This went on for a while until the screaming got less frequent and eventually died down
completely, giving way to a voracious munching and slurping.

The corridor outside the cafeteria was silent. The doors swooshed open and out came a
young, delicate human redhead, taking a deep breath and donning a thin smile as she adjusted
her neat business suit and looked around, deciding to take the corridor to her left. Rounding
the corner, she stifled a burp.

"Miss Thorne. How was your lunch?" asked the elderly man, turning around to the
young redhead as she entered the small bridge.
"Quite delightful, Mister Erhardt," Miss Thorne replied as she sat down in the centre
chair, crossing her legs and flashing him a quick smile. "Thank you."
"We can get underway, then?"
"Please. By all means."

One by one, five brand new Defiant-class vessels undocked from the small station,
assuming a loose formation, then accelerated slowly and went to warp.

65
Chapter 6 – Power

"Your little diversion hasn't quite panned out, now, has it?" asked Doctor Fisher as Brott
walked past him in the lab.
The Bolian stopped dead in his tracks and frowned, slowly turning around and walking
back over to Fisher. "How did you know about that?"
"Remember when you told me to use every resource at my disposal to have the test rows
completed as soon as possible?" the scientist asked back without looking up. "Yeah, I went
and did just that. And that included using every bit of computing power in this facility. That
was when I... kind of stumbled across an unencrypted communication stream..."
"Unencrypted? Hardly," Brott scoffed.
"Well. Hardly encrypted." Fisher shrugged, giving the Bolian a sly smirk. "Semantics,
right?"
"You watch your tongue, human, or I'll have it surgically removed," Brott snapped at
him.
"So the Starfleet ship isn't going anywhere," Fisher ignored the threat. "What are you
going to do now?"
"Well, Doctor, that's what contingency plans are for," Brott suddenly smiled. "Of which I
have many. Always. You worry about one thing, and that is your job here. Understand?"
"Certainly. Did you get my message earlier?"
"Yes," Brott replied, still smiling.
"It doesn't bother you, then?"
"No. I had expected that we were running short of that stuff. Fret not, good Doctor -
you'll soon have more."
Now it was Fisher who was taken aback. "But... I thought the place was crawling with
Nausicaans?"
"Not for much longer it isn't," said Brott melodically and wandered off.

The noise from the five Defiant-class vessels which just had landed in the large hangar
bay slowly died down and Brott walked over to the first one. Just then the port hatch opened,
and the Bolian donned his most subservient smile, greeting the small human redhead in
business attire that disembarked the ship.
"Miss Thorne. A pleasure."
"Good day, Mister Brott," chirped Ivy Thorne. "The company sends its regards."
"I can see that. Nice," he replied and let his gaze wander across the brightly shining
hulls. "I take it these are a loan?"
"Please," she said with a small frown. "You're looking at ten billion Federation credits.
Until your little project here, which by the way we wholeheartedly support, pays off, I doubt
you'll have that much cash to spare. So, yes. They'll be a loan for now."
"Right. Thank you," he said, bowing. "Much appreciated."
"I have no doubt about that. My transport has been arranged?" Ivy looked around the
hangar bay.
"It has, right this way. It will leave whenever you want it to."
"Right now would be perfect." She sighed and they started walking. "Two weeks on a
lovely little planet are waiting for me. Sunny climate, friendly locals - full board."

66
 "Sounds marvelous," Brott sounded enthusiastic.
Ivy let out a joyous laugh. "Right?"

***

The Hazard Team had secured the warbird, and now they were working on grabbing as
much data as possible from the remains of its computer systems. It was in a lot worse shape
than initially thought, the pirates on board had barely patched it enough to keep it together –
current thinking suggested it had been abandoned as beyond economical repair by the
Romulans during the Dominion war. The rules of such abandonment made the likelihood of
them finding much useful data negligible, but the opportunity seemed too good to pass up.
Turtle was hunched over a console with a furrowed brow as he tried to extract data from
the main core. Don leaned over his shoulder. "How's it going?"
"In a word? Crap. I've downloaded a pile of stuff that has some suitable labels but they
don't seem to have been big on organisation. There's stuff all over the place."
"Have you looked for stuff that has been accessed recently?"
Turtle leaned back and gestured to the adjacent console where a stream of characters was
pouring across the screen. "Yup. On it."
"Good man." The screen in front of Turtle flashed red. "What's that?"
"Encrypted data. Happened a couple of times before."
"Can you crack it?"
"Not here. I'm just copying the raw file and Intel can look at it back on the Sat."
"Okay, I'll leave you to it." Don moved away to see how Torchy was doing with the
comms. Earlier she'd found that there didn't seem to be a comms log but a lot of messages
had been cached for some reason and she'd got to them before they had been flushed. She
looked up at him as he arrived.
"I can't be sure but some of these messages have been through Federation commercial
relays."
"Are you sure?"
"Oh yes, I don't recognise which ones but the format of the routing tags is right."
"Which means?"
"They were communicating with someone in Federation space. Civilian, not Starfleet."
"Industrial espionage?"
"I could be wrong, but this lot don't strike me as being anything more than smash and
grab types. Maybe they were smuggling or doing some black ops for some corporate."
"Hmm. Not good."
"Gunny! Over here!" It was Bongo, who was standing with Noggy and Birdie at the
engineering panel. Battle damage had stuffed most of the unit but the engineers had been
working to get tech readouts from what was left of the damage control monitor.
"What's up?"
Bongo pointed at the display which showed a schematic of the port 'wing' of the warbird.
"There was a fire in this compartment when we arrived. It's been suppressed but we think it
damaged this power node in the next section. It fluctuated for a few seconds just now so it
may be on its way out."
"Can you route around it?"
"No, because the centreline and starboard nodes are already dead. This one is carrying
the load for the whole aft section. If it goes, we lose power for most of the ship."

67
 "Okay, keep me informed."

Miya walked in from the turbolift with Patricia not far behind her, the two of them were
still having a conversation that had obviously started well before they arrived on the bridge.
"He clearly doesn't know anything else – Arax had them all completely in the dark."
Miya paused. "I still wonder why they followed him so blindly."
"You really never had much contact with Bolians, did you? They're all about hard work,
duty, order... questioning their leaders? Not so much."
Miya nodded as she sat down in the command chair, casting a glance at Colonel Furry.
"How long till the Hazard Team are back aboard?"
Patricia looked to Paul, who pressed a button on the console in front of him. "They're
still trying to get some data off the main computer," he replied.
"What are we going to do with the Nausicaans over there?" asked the XO. "Not to
mention the warbird."
Miya frowned. "I've not worked that part out yet, to be honest. Suggestions?"
"I think we have an unprecedented opportunity to study Romulan starship design
parameters," Furry stated. "I can arrange for Starfleet Intelligence to take it off your hands
within a couple days."
Miya narrowed her eyes as she turned to the Colonel. "And leave it unattended until
then?" she asked him.
He stared back at her. "Who said anything about leaving it adrift, Captain? Starfleet
Intelligence has the means to take it, that's all you need to know."
"You suggest activating its cloak?" presumed Patricia. "Do you really think the
Romulans left it intact, just like that?"
Furry either ignored her, or his ears had all of a sudden developed the ability to perfectly
filter out anything the Saturn's second in command said.
Miya continued to stare at him. "That's all I need to know?" she repeated. "Colonel –
what would your connection with Starfleet Intelligence be exactly? Is there perhaps more
than one reason you are with us on this mission?"
Furry shrugged. "You know perfectly well why I'm here, neither Starfleet Command or
the intelligence community have an ulterior motive beyond that," he said. "As for my
connection to SFI - I spent the better part of my career in its service in one form or another."
The captain sighed, and was about to reply when a klaxon sounded on the bridge.
Paul frowned at his console before looking up. "It's the warbird," he announced. "I'm
picking up a massive power build up in their engineering section."
Miya turned around. "Open a channel to the Hazard Team."

Dwarfed by the massive structure of the Romulan ship's warp core, Petty Officer Emily
Evanson and Ensign Lucio Garcia stood overseeing a small crew of engineers when the
power build-up started.
Slowly turning around, they regarded the huge pillar of pulsating green lights with no
small amount of discomfort. After a short moment, Garcia produced a tricorder and started
taking readings of their surroundings.
"Okay. Why is it doing that?" demanded Emily to know, clearly sounding suspicious of
the mischievous apparatus that had kindly been so quiet since their arrival.
"It's been switched on, obviously," the engineer replied without looking, pressing a
button on his tricorder. "Seems to be safe, though. I don't detect any leaks."

68
 "I don't like that it's doing that," Emily insisted.
"Come on, someone probably just needed a bit of juice somewhere," chuckled Garcia.
"Yeah? Like, for what?"
"I don't know. Want me to call the Gunny?"
"No," she murmered, tilting her head slightly and taking a step towards the core.
"Actually, it's kind of beautiful. I mean, if you like your rooms green. Lots and lots of shades
of green. And a tinge of blue..."
Suddenly the noise levels went through the roof as the pulsating quickly picked up
speed.
Startled, Emily jumped backwards. "Call the Gunny! Call the Gunny!"

Don was about to head aft when a klaxon barked and Birdie yelped in alarm. "Frak! The
warp core is building power!"
They gathered round. "What's going on?" asked Noggy, rather unnecessarily.
"All the power regulators have gone offline. That faulty node must have screwed them
with feedback or something..."
"So the warp core thinks it's losing power and is increasing output to compensate."
Bongo finished the sentence for Birdie.
"Gunny, this is Ensign Garcia in engineering. Emergency!"
"Go, Garcia!"
"The warp core is fluctuating dangerously. What's happening?"
"Damage control is showing the power regulators have failed. Can your team fix them?"
"Only given time. And I don't think we're going to get that."
"Copy, Garcia." Don paused for a second. "Dump the core."
"Are you sure?"
"Affirmative. Do it."
Just then the CO's voice sounded in his ears. "Gunny, this is Saturn. We're reading a
power buildup on the warbird. What's the situation?"
"Bad, Saturn. We're dumping the core. Power regulators have failed and the core is
going into overload. I think we'll have to evacuate."
"Understood. We'll beam the warbird crew over to a cargo bay for security."
"Roger that, Saturn." Don switched channels. "Attention all boarding parties. We are
evacuating the warbird. The crew will be transferred to a cargo bay. Security teams, stand by
to accompany them."
"Gunny, this is Garcia. The warp core is jammed, we can't dump it."
"Frak. How long have we got?"
"Should be good for about fifteen minutes. Not much more."
"Copy, Garcia. Break. Saturn, this is the Gunny. I've just been informed that the core is
only safe for another fifteen minutes, and we can't dump it. We're up against the clock now."
"Roger, Gunny. We're on it."
Don paused before he switched channels again. "Shipmaster Te-Kreth, this is Gunnery
Sergeant Jameson. Immediate response please."
"Yeah? What you expletive want now, fleeter Jameson? We're expletive busy."
"You'd better drop what you're doing and run. This warbird is going to blow. Soon."
"Did you push an expletive button you expletive shouldn't have?"
"No, it's doing it all on its own. Now, just get out of here and stand off until it quietens
down. Then you can come back and sweep up whatever's left."

69
 "Colloquial fleeter. You know how to expletive ruin a colloquial day. Okay, we're
expletive moving."

The clattering of the tricorder making its way unassisted down into the bowels of the
Saturn's port nacelle pylon went on for quite some time. Petty Officer Samantha Kerr just
closed her eyes and let it happen, eventually opening them when the final resonating echoes
had died away. Opening the hatch beside her, she climbed through and sat down just inside
the opening, fighting to hold back the tears trying to form in her eyes.
Having a fantastic time would be entirely the wrong way to describe how Samantha was
finding her day so far. An incredibly heated argument with her mother the previous night had
set the tone for her next twenty four hours. The morning had arrived as something of a shock,
the alarm failing to sound as she had completely neglected to enable it. A frantic rush around
the small quarters resulted in her arriving for her shift just in time, but also resulted in her
getting the task everyone was hoping to avoid. Being asked to spend several hours in a
nacelle pylon was likely a subtle punishment for her tardiness, but when her extreme fear of
heights was brought into the equation the punishment seemed to far exceed the crime. Not
that the person who asked her to do it was to know of her phobia, as she'd managed to keep it
to herself till now. It really wasn't often you were required to face a sheer drop in normal day
to day service as a Starfleet officer. Well, until now.
Leaning over, she made sure she had a firm grip of the handles mounted into the deck
and then forced herself to look down the ladder. It was clearly lit all the way down, and she
had to sit back suddenly as the vertigo completely overtook her, almost causing her to fall
head first downwards. So here she was. Stuck halfway up the nacelle, her tricorder at the
bottom, and the task she needed to do at the top. A wave of anger at her mother swept over
her, before she got a grip and realised that this situation was entirely her own fault. She
should have said this job was a bad idea long before now. The tears were starting to come
back again, so once more she closed her eyes and retreated further back away from the hatch.
There had to be a way out of this, there had to be - and preferably one that avoided the whole
looking down thing if possible.
After a minute or two of sitting there, she heard someone climb up the ladder. After a
while the sounds came closer, and then someone's face appeared in the hatch. A fellow petty
officer's face with a slightly bruised forehead and a rather annoyed expression.
"I believe you dropped something," he stated, handing her a tricorder, "on my head."
Samantha found herself desperately trying not laugh. A strange reaction, and something
that had plagued her since childhood. Whenever she accidentally hurt someone, she had an
uncontrollable urge to laugh. She could still vividly remember playing tennis with her dad
when she was about thirteen. The racquet had slid from her hand and lamped her dad in the
forehead, at which point she had burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter as he held onto his
head and tried to stop the world spinning around him. That had resulted in almost a month
stuck in her room to make up for the transgression.
"I'm really sorry," Samantha finally managed, before having to cover her mouth once
more as the laughter threatened to take hold. "It was an accident," she added, forcing herself
to breathe slowly.
"So you're not usually lurking around in Jefferies tubes all day hurling equipment at
people? That's kind of reassuring," he muttered. "What are you doing, then?"
"Checking the power flow across all the systems in the nacelle. Apparently there are still
some spikes appearing in the readouts." She paused, as if she'd just remembered something.

70
"I'm Samantha," she finished, frowning at a dent in the tricorder.
"I'm Erik. Pleasure to meet you. Kind of," he added rubbing his still hurting head.
"So what are you doing here?" Samantha asked, banging the tricorder on the deckplate to
try and push it back into shape.
"Let me try that," Erik said, holding out his hand for the tricorder.
Samantha handed it over, sliding back from the entrance slightly to give him some room.
Erik turned and searched the Jefferies tube for a suitable edge, then banged the tricorder
against it, two times, looked at it, banged it against the edge one more time and looked at the
device again. With a satisfied expression on his face he gave it back to her. "At least the
casing's back in shape now. Need a hand with anything else?"
"Getting down?" Samantha suggested, looking over the edge and shuddering.
Cocking his head, Erik gave her an odd look.

Paul Toddman sat on his stool at his station behind the massive oak horseshoe that
surrounded the command chairs. His tactical sensors monitored the ever increasing energy
build up in the warbird's engineering section. The artificial quantum singularity that powered
its warp core was increasing in energy output and instability. A massive system wide failure
was inevitable. He checked the transporter logs once more.
"Ma'am, I reckon we're about done retrieving our folks from that crate."
"How many do we have?" asked Miya.
"All of our own personnel, and about two hundred crew of the warbird, ma'am. I'd say
we have three or four minute tops, before its systems go critical. When they do, we want to
be somewhere else."
"Helm, set a course and prepare for maximum warp. As soon as the last Nausicaan crew
are aboard, we need to-..."
The blaring alarm klaxon cut her off.
"Too late!" Paul blurted out. His console beeping wildly with critical sensor data, he
frantically bashed away at the touchscreen.
The warbird began to come apart as its power distribution net gave up. First to go were
the nacelles, shattering into myriads of pieces, followed shortly by the main body of the ship.
With its connections to the body severed, the head of the warbird lurched forward drifting
sideways before exploding in a bright fiery ball. An instant later, the warp core's artificial
singularity collapsed, sending out a vicious shock wave that only served to speed up the rate
at which the debris of the warbird spread out.
The Saturn, barely a thousand meters away, took the brunt of the explosion, the initial
heat blackened the parts of her hull that faced the warbird. Just as the debris came hurtling
along, her primary shields flickered to life, forming barely a meter over the hull and hugging
it's contours. As the shock wave of the singularity collapse hit, the shields did their job and
stopped the debris from making direct contact with the hull, but the sheer force of the wave
caught the Saturn almost broadside on, sending the Galaxy-class explorer violently onto her
port side and rolling her fully over until she was almost upright again. Her nacelles flickered
as their power faltered under the strain before going completely dark. One section at a time,
the lights behind the windows on the Starfleet ship winked out, followed closely by the
navigational deflector that got brighter then fizzled out until the elegant lady was completely
dark, only her running lights remaining unaffected.
"Report!" shouted Miya as the room stopped spinning around her. The bridge, only
dimly lit by red emergency lighting, came slowly back to life.

71
 Paul clawed his way back up from the floor and checked his flickering console. "Main
power down, the core has scrambled offline and we've lost gravity to all decks below deck
twenty-four," he reported. "No casualties reported yet. It would seem everyone one heeded
the collision alarm this time round."
"Bridge to Sickbay," the XO activated the intercom, "alert medical teams and check for
wounded."
Miya leant back and took a deep breath. "Managed to get out of there with a black eye,
didn't we..."

As consciousness returned, Samantha wished it hadn't. It brought some friends along

with it, namely confusion, pain and fear - none of which were serving to improve her mood
or the situation she was in. Looking round, she realised she was floating around about the
hatch she'd been hiding in previously.
Reaching across to grab a rung of the ladder, the pain arrived in force. Her right wrist
looked very, very wrong, likely shattered from the roller-coaster ride she'd just had in the
Jefferies tube. She forced herself to look away and used her left arm to pull herself over to
the hatch - then suddenly remembered about Erik.
"Erik?" she called, trying to see him using the dim emergency lighting that had flickered
into life moments ago. "Are you okay?"
Somewhere above her, someone moaned in pain. Slowly moving to turn around, she
could see him float near a juncture, spinning about uncontrollably as he tried getting hold of
the ladder next to him.
After finally managing to do that, he looked downward noticing Samantha below. "I
think I've hurt my head. Again."
"I'd hang on to something," Samantha called up to him, "If they get the gravity working
again you'll be in trouble."
"Right." Erik pulled himself closer to the ladder, slowly descending towards her rung by
rung. It seemed to take ages. "Sorry," he mumbled approaching her, "it's been a while since
zero-grav training."
Samantha nodded and began descending also, trying hard to ensure she had a good grip
with her good hand after each rung. The thought of gravity returning and her falling was
constantly at the back of her mind, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Strangely the
pain in her right wrist helped her focus on something else, although it would not have been
her chosen method to avoid vertigo.
"What's wrong with your hand?" Erik asked as if it wasn't obvious.
Samantha grunted. "Not sure, but it's definitely the wrong shape." She paused and
looked at it, frowning, "My fingers are going really white - it's not as sore as it was, though."
"That does look bad," he said as he came closer.
Samantha started climbing down once more. "I think I may be better going to Sickbay."
she stated, shifting her weight and keeping her right hand out of the way. They were not far
from the bottom now, although until gravity was restored it could just as easily be the top.
"Hang on," Erik motioned her to stop and edged his way to her side. "Hold on to me,
should make it a bit easier for you," he added, wrapping one arm around her while holding
on to the ladder with the other.
"Thanks," Samantha managed, stepping down onto the third last rung. No sooner had
she done so than gravity snapped on once more, causing her to fall heavily into Erik - and
him to grunt as he suddenly took the weight of them both.

72
 "Uh... thanks," she said again, stepping down and taking her own weight once more.
"You're welcome," Erik replied, going rather red and gesturing to the doorway opposite.
"We should, uh..."
Samantha nodded quickly, and walked past – Erik following her out and the doors
closing behind them.
A couple seconds later, and with no one there to witness it, a tricorder bounced down the
rungs of the ladder and came to a halt at the bottom. It had a really rather nasty dent visible in
its casing.

73
Chapter 7 – Enemy Mine

Miya looked around the table as it gradually filled, the staff arriving individually or in
groups of two or three. The mission was not going at all according to plan, and the extra
work some departments were undertaking was in stark contrast to the complete lack of any
work being required in others.
The doors at one end of the room parted once more with their usual hiss to reveal the
frame of Paul Toddman. His usually crisp, immaculate uniform slightly ruffled. A couple of
the detained Bolians had decided to make a break for freedom. To where was a mystery, but
Paul happened to be at one end of a corridor they had been running down. There had been a
tussle, but the Bolians were subdued and placed back in their quarters, the doors this time
sealed magnetically and then secured even further with an anti-tamper device on the outside.
Before heading up to the conference room, Paul had taken the time to implement the same
security measures on all of the quarters containing the detained Bolian crew.
The lieutenant took a look at the table to find an empty chair, then sat down on the
nearest one, smiling a hello as he did so.
Colonel Furry was among the last ones to grace them with their presence, and opted to
stand out of the way by the means of being near the replicator. He looked around, gauging
the ship's rather young senior staff, and sighed with bemused resignation. Eventually he
locked eyes with Miya, who frowned once more before staring at the PADD in front of her.
She couldn't help the feeling that he held her responsible for the warbird's destruction, as
if she somehow knew their repair efforts on the ships computer would trigger such an event.
The conversation he had with her afterwards in her ready room made his feelings clear.
Apparently she had strayed into an area that infringed on his personal history, and as a result
she now knew about a part of his past she really wasn't interested in.
It seemed a deal was brokered with the Romulans at some point in the last fifty years. A
previous administration offered blueprints of a number up and coming starship designs in the
hope the Romulans would do the same. Apparently a previous owner of the name 'Furry' (the
current colonel's grandfather, a computer search later revealed) had taken up his unhappiness
at such an idea with one of the senior science advisers.
The more militant factions within Starfleet Command, championed by Furry senior,
believed that openly sharing secrets with a sentient species legendary for giving nothing
away was the dumbest move since the discovery of the Ferengi. Yet, despite their
protestations, the politicians went ahead and did it anyway. As predicted, they received
nothing in return at the time, and the good colonel had seen this damaged warbird as a way to
level the playing field once more, and no doubt justify his grandfather's actions in some way.
"Good luck with that one," Miya muttered as she finished reading the report from the
Hazard Team.
"Sorry?" Patricia asked, leaning across.
"Nothing." Miya sighed and checked everyone was present. "Shall we?"
"Sure."
"I wanted to give all of you a little update," Miya began addressing the senior staff.
"Lieutenant Commander Holmes, Lieutenant LaTaer and myself have been interrogating the
Bolian crew, mainly the first officer - and while we didn't learn very much from them, I think
what we did learn warrants taking a step back and analysing the situation again."

74
 The attendant senior officers leant back in their seats, looking expectantly to their CO.
"Lieutenant Musu-Rei, since you're the most familiar with the political side of this, I'd
like you to chime in whenever you can add something," Miya said directed at the Saturn's
chief diplomat.
Nia nodded. "Of course."
"Mister LaTaer?"
The Betazoid rose and walked over to the wall screen opposite of the large window
panes and activated it before turning around again. "There were mainly two things that could
be gleamed from their flight plan, combined with their intention of sending us on a goose
chase," Morgan began. "One, they either wanted to keep us from continuing onward to
Nausicaa. Or two, maybe more interesting, keep us away from this area," he added, pressing
a button on the wall screen which zoomed in from a generic overview of the Federation
coreward border to a specific place not too far off their previous route.
"A bunch of rocks?" Gunnery Sergeant Jameson did not seem overly happy at the
prospect.
"Precisely. What you're seeing are remnants of the planets of two star systems that
collided several million years ago, forming a large asteroid field. In which the asteroid in
question is located, the one currently occupied by Nausicaans. But claimed by the Bolians."
"Which is understandable considering it's in Federation space," grunted Colonel Furry
from the back of the room.
"Just barely," stated Nia. "In fact, this whole area, including the neighbouring systems,
has been a constant subject of conflict between Nausicaa and Bolarus over the past few
centuries. Nausicaan officials are denying any kind of involvement as of late, but the
steadfast presence of Nausicaan pirates has always made it impossible for the Bolians to gain
an actual foothold there."
"Yes," Morgan allowed. "However, so far the Nausicaans have never occupied a Bolian
settlement before, or even just a mining colony. They've raided those, yes - countless times,
rendering them pretty much unsustainable - but they always left. This asteroid is a first."
"Which begs the question, what exactly are they mining for there?" the CDO asked.
"The Bolians are saying it is dilithium, but there are many dilithium-rich planets on both
sides of the border. During the previous talks, the Nausicaans never stated otherwise. I am
still inclined to believe that there is more to this than either side is letting on."
"I believe that also," agreed Miya. "Would you think it's acceptable for us to take another
small detour instead of continuing directly to Nausicaa, Lieutenant?"
"I cannot think of a reason why not," replied Nia. "It is unlikely that we would make the
situation much worse than it already is, Captain."
Miya nodded at that and looked across at Patricia, before turning to the rest of the senior
staff. "Does anyone have anything else to add?" she asked. It looked suspiciously like the
colonel was about to do just that, but to Miya's surprise he merely shrugged. Since her
question elicited no response from the other officers present, she nodded and stood. "Very
well. Dismissed."
As they stepped out of the lounge, the crew filtered back to their positions, the bridge
gradually becoming staffed as normal once more. Miya sat in the command chair, a frown of
concentration on her face.
"Helm, set a course for the asteroid - warp four," she said, before turning to Patricia.
"What do you think we're going to find?" she asked.
The XO, standing in the centre of the bridge, turned around to her, an inscrutable look on

75
her face.

***

The Saturn dropped out of warp at a safe distance from the asteroid field, slowing down
to low impulse speed and taking a course towards the centre.
On the bridge, Miya stood from her chair and looked intently at the view screen which
had zoomed in on one of the larger chunks. Orbiting the asteroid was a small group of ships
with a rather familiar hull shape.
"Defiant-class vessels," Patricia stated the obvious, taking a position next to the captain.
"Mister Toddman, are we aware of any other Federation vessels due in this sector?"
Miya asked.
There was a pause while Paul checked the flight plans they had on record. "Nothing
listed, ma'am," he replied.
"Open hailing frequencies," Miya asked, walking towards the view screen.
"Wait," Patricia interrupted, and pointed at one of the nearer vessels. "Magnify." The
screen zoomed further in on one of the vessels in particular. The XO frowned slightly and
turned to Miya. "Those aren't Starfleet."
"No registry numbers," Miya realised with a frown of herself.
"They're broadcasting civilian IDs, ma'am," Paul was heard from behind. "These ships
were never assigned to Starfleet. It's like they're fresh out of the drydock."
"Scan the asteroid for life signs and weapon signatures, Mister Toddman. Federation and
Nausicaan."
The security chief nodded and pressed a row of buttons on his console. After a long
moment, he looked up again. "I'm reading over two hundred life signs. None of them
Nausicaan."
"Bolian?"
"Almost exclusively, yes."
Miya stood and stared at the view screen for a few seconds, then turned and walked back
to the command chair. "Colonel," she said to the man sitting left to it, "Do SFI know about
this?"
Furry folded his and furrowed his brow in concentration as he regarded the screen. After
a long minute, he pinched the bridge of his nose and glared at the screen. "Starfleet
Intelligence has a number of theories, Captain," he said finally, sounding annoyed. "But
nothing tangible. Yet."
"Theories? About what?" Patricia shook her head with a look of incomprehension.
"Who builds these ships?" asked Miya.
"The Defiance class has been built by Starfleet at the Utopia Planitia shipyards on Mars,
and two subcontractors, one on Andor and one on Earth," stated Furry. "However, since the
end of the war, only Starfleet has built them. Officially." He looked annoyed. "The point is,
we're not the only ones who can build them." He shook his head, and regarded Patricia before
focusing on Miya. "Like I said, Starfleet Intelligence has their share of theories, but nothing
too concrete. We all know that as a whole, Starfleet has somewhat shrunk away from certain
duties, and one of the theories being entertained is that one of those two corporations hasn't
stopped working on several key technologies on which Starfleet collaborated with them
during the war."
"Isn't that illegal?" Miya wondered.

76
 "Actually, no, it's not. It was even encouraged, but since Starfleet had stopped its
funding, it was seen as unlikely. There were several instances of those key technologies
popping up in the private sector here and there. However, warships in private hands... that is
an entirely different matter." Then, turning to Miya, Furry added, "Captain, you may never
like my tactics, but I for one would appreciate if you and your crew could help me put a stop
to this."
"I'm not sure we can be of much help there, Colonel," Miya sighed. "Especially
considering they're not breaking any laws. What I would like to know is, what are they doing
here?"
Patricia had listened quietly while Furry was speaking, but became visibly
uncomfortable the more information he disclosed. "Colonel," she asked, "which corporation
are we talking about here?"
Furry hesitated for a second. "Cutler & Pierce, Commander," he stated, and quirked an
eyebrow. "Had a run-in with them too at some point, I take it?"
Miya regarded her XO who stood there staring at the colonel as if he had stolen and read
her highschool diary.
"Yes," Patricia finally said.
Furry grunted. "Then you know what honourable and well-connected people they are,
don't you?"
"I do," she replied, walking over to the chairs in the centre of the bridge and sitting
down, biting her lip.
"Care to enlighten me?" asked Miya regarding her XO.
Patricia gave her a long ominous look. "They're trouble. Them being involved here, that
can't be good."
"Captain, we're being hailed," Toddman piped up, "from the asteroid's surface."
"Put them on screen," Miya said and turned around.
A middle-aged Bolian in business attire appeared on the view screen, donning a friendly
smile as he realised the channel was open. "Welcome, Captain Solo. I'm Daro Brott of the
Mitena Institute. To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"
Miya scowled at back at him. "Mister Brott, explain to me what these Defiant-class
starships are doing here."
"Captain," Brott smiled, "the asteroid field is in Federation space, and this mining
facility belongs to the Bolian people. If we have to take defensive action to ensure our rights,
it's because Starfleet's attempts at diplomacy have been, shall we say, less than effective. But
then, you know that already, don't you?"
"Where did you get those ships?"
"I assure you, we obtained them in an entirely legal way."
"Undoubtedly. What happened to the Nausicaans that were occupying the facility?"
"As I said, if we had to take drastic measures in order to-..."
"Mister Brott, I'm going to send a team down there in a couple minutes," Miya cut him
off in mid-sentence. "And if we find out that you have perpetrated a massacre, you will be
held responsible."
"I'm afraid I cannot allow that, Captain Solo. For your own safety - these mining
operations are highly risky, I cannot allow unauthorised personnel access to the facility."
"Prepare to make an exception, then. Saturn out," she stated and motioned for Lieutenant
Toddman to close the channel.
"Bridge to Hazard Team." Miya sat down in her chair as the response came through.

77
 "Go ahead, Captain," came the reply.
"Sorry to send you out so soon again, Gunny, but I think we may have a situation on the
asteroid. How quickly can you be ready to deploy?"
"As soon as you need us."
"Transporter room two, five minutes," Miya replied, "Bridge out."
To her right, she could see Patricia getting fidgety in her chair, looking at her as if about
to say something.
"Let me guess," asked Miya, "you want to head the away team?"
"With pleasure, ma'am," the XO grinned.
Miya nodded. "Go do that, then."
"Thanks," replied Patricia and stood, quickly heading for the turbolift.
Furry looked just as keen, and the captain gave him a cautionary look. He grimaced, and
raised his hands in defence. "I'll promise not to intervene, and let your XO run the show," he
indicated.
"Fine," Miya said. As the marine colonel followed Patricia out, she turned her attention
back to the task at hand, rising from her chair again as well. "Mister Toddman, please keep
an eye on those Defiant-class ships."
"Aye."
"Mister LaTaer? I need you to find me everything you can on the Mitena Institute - and
this 'Brott' character in particular. I get the feeling there is more to him than meets the eye."
"Yes, ma'am."

The Hazard Team members on the platform were done checking their equipment, and
Gunnery Sergeant Don Jameson gave them all a reassuring nod before turning towards the
control station.
"All set?" asked the transporter chief.
Just then the doors parted and the XO strode in, followed by Colonel Furry. "Wait one,
Gunny."
"Going down?" Don smirked at the tall blonde as they stepped onto the platform next to
him.
Patricia shot him a bemused glance, then nodded at the transporter chief. "All set."
The petty officer nodded back and pressed a row of buttons on his console, starting to
initialise the pattern buffers.
"Bridge, this is the XO," Patricia spoke, tapping her comm badge. "We're ready."
"Copy that, Commander," it came back. "Good hunting."
Patricia smiled at that, then regarded the transporter chief once more. "Energise."
Carefully, the petty officer moved the slide control upwards. Blue light started
shimmering around their bodies as the containment beams grabbed hold of their molecules.
Suddenly he frowned. Pressed a button. Moved the slider back down. Pressed another button.
Started moving the slider up again. His frown deepened. Finally he shook his head and
aborted the procedure.
"What's going on?" Patricia demanded to know as soon as the containment fields faded.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I cannot get a lock on the target coordinates."
"Holmes to Bridge," she tapped her comm badge once more. "We can't beam down, no
lock on target."
"Already on it, Commander, they're blocking our transporters," Miya's voice came back.
"Helm, get us closer to the asteroid. Mister Toddman? As soon as you can make out anything

78
that looks like a power generator - fire at will."
"Ma'am," Paul was heard, "the Defiants are moving to intercept."
Patricia and Don exchanged a glance.
"Battle stations," she ordered sharply, stepping off the platform and heading for the door.

The main lights on the bridge dipped several levels and the red alert beacons had started
flashing, casting an eerie light. Paul monitored his console intently and watched for all the
systems to respond to his commands.
"Shields are up, phasers online and I've got a spread of photon and quantum torpedoes
hot and ready, Captain. The hostiles are taking up a classic attack formation," reported the
Scotsman.
"Fire a warning shot, Mister Toddman. Let's see if we can stop this before it starts,"
Miya said, watching the Defiant-class vessels line up on the view screen.
He tapped a single button to initiate a preset command, and the upper phaser array on the
saucer of the Saturn came to life. An orange orb of energy left each end of the saucers main
array on either side of the bridge, each rapidly making its way towards the other before
meeting up and generating an orange lance of phased energy. The beam shot through the
emptiness of space, straight through the centre of the approaching formation of ships. They
did not alter their course one fraction. Instead, the lead ship spat a volley of bright white
quantum torpedoes at the Galaxy-class vessel, impacting its outer shields.
"I guess they're not for talking, ma'am," Paul reported. "Shield at ninety-eight percent."
"We gave them their chance. All yours, Mister Toddman," Miya replied, making sure she
was firmly ensconced in her seat.
"Aye, ma'am," Paul replied, tapping several buttons on his console, triggering a preset
pattern of weapons fire.
The two main phaser arrays on the Saturn's saucer spat phased energy at the lead vessel,
concentrating on its forward left quarter. A spread of torpedoes launched from the forward
launcher, spreading out to simultaneously hit the second and the third ship in the hostile
formation.
The hostile vessels returned fire before breaking formation and maneuvering tightly
around the Saturn.
Paul stuck with the lead ship, pounding its shields with phaser salvos.
The Saturn rocked as her shields began to take a pounding themselves. A Galaxy-class
ship could hold its own against one or two Defiant-class ships, but not five, not for long.
"Shields down to seventy-five percent, the lead hostile is fairing slightly worse. I've
given them a fairly good shellacking," Paul reported. "I could do with the auxiliary power to
the shield to boost them up again," he continued but then fell silent again to concentrate on
firing his weapons.
The lead Defiant began a strafing run along the Saturn's dorsal shield, intent on
knocking her impulse engine out. Paul responded forcefully with a full spread of torpedoes at
near point blank range and triangulated fire from the two small phaser arrays on her neck and
the two arrays on the pylon faring at the very aft of the ship. The effect was devastating. The
lead Defiant's shields crumbled with the eight torpedoes, and the triangulated phaser fire
knocked a hole in the port underside of the ship after which all external light sources on the
ship flickered out and it began to drift of course, bouncing off of the Saturn's shields and
tumbling away.
"That'll take them some time to fix," Paul stated with a hint of pride. "I took out their

79
primary power relays and secondary command processors. They're alive but defenceless," he
finished.
Paul had hardly finished when the ship rattled under a joint volley of fire from the
remaining Defiants. The ferocity of the attack knocked him off balance, causing him to grab
hold of the massive oak horseshoe in front of him to steady himself.
"Awe hell," the Scotsman exclaimed has he righted himself and checked the status of his
systems. "Shields down to fifty percent."
Paul swiftly returned fire, jabbing at the second Defiant with the the Saturn's full
arsenal. It dodged several hits, but the spread of torpedoes issuing from the Galaxy-class
vessel was too much. Several direct hits knocked its aft shield offline long enough for the
Saturn's phasers to cut into its hull - knocking out its impulse engines.

The other three Defiant-class ships retaliated and sent a hail of torpedoes at the Saturn.
The massive ship rocked hard as her shields struggled to absorb the impacts. The port quarter
shields finally gave way and a handful of torpedoes made contact with the Saturn's primary
shields, rocking the ship once more.
At that moment the turbolift doors swished open, and stumbling out came Patricia and
Colonel Furry - both struggling to remain upright as the ship took another hit. The XO
quickly moved to support the colonel's steps, but he gripped the door frame instead and
glared at her. Holding up her hands, Patricia backed away from him before walking down to

80
the centre of the bridge, taking her seat to Miya's right.
"How are we doing?" she asked.
"Not that bad, actually," replied Miya. "That old dent in the port nacelle is gone now, and
I found my ring I'd lost under your chair when I knocked my head against it two hits ago."
Patricia nodded, a wry grin on her face.
Furry sat down to Miya's left. "I'd like to wrap my hands around that Bolian's neck," he
growled, clearly annoyed.
"I'm sure he'd like that too," chirped Patricia, right as yet another direct hit jolted the ship
underneath their feet. The hostile ships had regrouped and made a strafing run along the
larger vessel's port side, exploiting the collapsed section of the Saturn's outer shields.
A full volley of quantum torpedoes made short work of the her remaining shields, and
tore into the upper surface of the saucer section.
This gave the crew the most vicious jolt so far. Anyone and anything not strapped down
took a trip to the floor. A console behind Toddman exploded, showering him and a junior
officer working on the console alongside it with shrapnel and burning circuitry.
"Seriously though, we can't take much more of that," remarked Miya with a worried
tone. "We might need to pull out."
"Wish we had some back-up," grunted Furry. "But we've got to put an end to this shit."
"One way or the other, this is going to end very soon, Colonel. Although I'm not sure
we're going to like how."
Then, all of a sudden, the ship fell silent.
"Well. How about that," Furry muttered, his eyes narrowing.
"Ma'am," Paul directed their attention to the view screen. The remaining Defiant-class
vessels were seen uncontrollably drifting through space, tumbling around on their axes, their
lights winking out. "They've lost power. All of them simultaneously."
"What just happened?" Miya stood from her chair, frowning.
"Wasn't anything we did," Paul replied with a puzzled tone, "although I-... wait. Another
ship has just dropped out of warp. Civilian ID."
"Who cares," grumbled Furry. "Shoot the fuckers, and be done with it."
"No," stated Miya. "Put it on screen, Mister Toddman."
The view screen changed to show a sleek-shaped yacht, approaching the scene on low
impulse.
"We're being hailed, ma'am."
Miya just nodded wearily, and Paul relayed the incoming transmission onto the large
display in front of them.
Surrounded by a small but highly modern bridge, a female human of delicate build
appeared on-screen, with long red hair and a neatly pressed business suit, likely in her mid-
twenties - and a friendly yet sad expression on her face.
"Captain Solo, isn't it? I'm Ivy Thorne, of Cutler & Pierce. I'm so glad I was in the
neighbourhood and was able to get here as fast as I did. On behalf of my employer, please
accept my apologies for this most unfortunate mishap."
"Mishap?" Miya didn't seem very fond of Ivy's choice of wording.
"Yes. Hadn't it been for a profound error in judgement on our part, none of this would
have happened. Intendant Brott came to us for help - he cited severe problems with
Nausicaan pirates - and we agreed to a lease contract with his institute for five recently
completed Defiant-class ships, to help alleviate these problems. We had no idea that this was
how he was going to use them. Please believe me when I say that we are deeply, sincerely

81
sorry for all those members of your brave crew who were hurt in this tragic, tragic incident."
Furry snorted at that, and Miya took a step sideways.
"I'm surprised you seem to have grown somewhat of a conscience since we last met,
Miss Thorne."
"Oh! Colonel Furry! What a pleasant surprise indeed," Ivy chirped in an instant change
of mood. "And I see you haven't grown your leg back yet."
"Yeah, well, you might not know that, but we humans don't tend to do those things," he
grunted.
"A shame. You know what? You should come in to our offices some time. Our experts
and labs are equipped with medical technology years ahead of what's available anywhere
else. You'll be as good as new!" She smiled and regarded Miya once more. "That offer of
course stands for all of your crew too, Captain," she added like it was an afterthought.
The frosty silence Miya left hanging said more than a thousand words could have.
Eventually she broke the silence, choosing her words carefully. "That's very kind of you,
Miss Thorne, but I think we should be able to handle the injuries on board the Saturn. I think
the crews of your Defiant-class vessels may be willing to subject themselves to your labs
however, I'm sure we've made life... uncomfortable... for many of them."
Ivy nodded sympathetically. "I understand. Again, I'm profoundly sorry. Trust me, our
company deeply regrets what happened here today. If there is anything we can do, anything
at all, please don't hesitate to ask. Cutler & Pierce has a long and proud history of providing a
multitude of services to Starfleet, and we'd rather not see that relationship be tarnished by the
actions of as insignificant a customer as Mister Brott."
"I will, of course, mention your sincere apology in my report," Miya responded. "And
now, Miss Thorne, if you will excuse us - I think we may need to speak to Mister Brott
ourselves."
"Of course. Thank you for your time, Captain Solo," Ivy said, flashing Colonel Furry a
last quick smile before the screen went dark.

***

The away team crew materialised in a long and dark corridor. Smoke came from one
end, the direction of the facility's power generator. The other end seemed clear. Instinctively,
the Hazard Team moved to cover both directions without having to be told.
"Which way, ma'am?" inquired Jameson from behind his visor.
"This way," Patricia gestured towards the clearer end. "There's just a service area at the
other end, but send a couple of your team that way to check."
"Copy, ma'am. Bongo, Birdie - give that smoke the once over. Quick eyeball, then out."
"Roger, Bushman."
"Alright, Gunny." Patricia nodded. "Lead the way if you please."
With the bulky figures of Tiny and the Padre taking point, phasers at the ready, the group
moved off to hunt for the residents of the complex. As they emerged from the end, they
found themselves in a wide corridor, curving off in both directions. The emergency lighting
was slightly brighter than the corridor they had left.
"This must be the main surface corridor," suggested Paul, somewhat unnecessarily. They
had all seen the orbital pictures of the surface part of the complex before they left the Saturn.
They had shown a squat central tower with a belt around it, from which radiated various
structures such as the power and service block they had left behind them, staff quarters and

82
storage buildings, a couple of large warehouses for storing the output from the mine, a
hangar for surface vehicles and shuttles and a cube vaguely labelled as 'operational support'.
As the XO consulted a PADD which showed a plan of the facility, Bongo's voice came
over the comms. "Power centre is clear of personnel. But all the equipment has been
wrecked. This place is on battery power now. I had a quick look at the readouts and it
reckons it should hold up for twenty-four hours at least. Power consumption is very low."
"Roger that, Bongo. Rejoin the party."
Patricia came to a decision. "Mister Toddman, you and your men go and inspect this
operational support place, it's the next arm down that way. Then sweep round this corridor
and contain any personnel you encounter. If anyone objects, stun them first and we'll ask
questions later. Keep in contact at all times."
Paul nodded and headed off.
"Gunny? Colonel Furry and myself will take four of your team to the control centre.
Maybe we'll find Brott there. You go and search the rest of the area."
With that, Patricia led the way through a doorway towards the central tower, with the
colonel and a team of marines in tow. The remaining marines waited until Bongo and Birdie
caught up before they set off, four in each direction around the corridor.

There was nothing more reassuring than having a phaser at your hip, ready and waiting
in case it was needed.
As he followed Saturn's first officer, Colonel Ambler Furry fingered his phaser pistol to
check if it was set to heavy stun. Not that he planned to use it, but if he had no other choice
he wanted to have the option of taking one of the corporate bastards for a little bit of a chat.
He grimaced, irritated and annoyed at the same time - which probably meant nothing to those
who did not know him, as he was normally the type of personality most of Starfleet found
disagreeable.
Yet, there were minute ounces of momentary uncertainty as his instincts were screaming
for him to run.
Without thinking, he unholstered his phaser and double checked the setting.
"Damn," he hissed.
Patricia gave him an odd look. In answer, he just showed her his phaser and the fact that
it was set on kill. The XO stared at it, looked back at him and reached over to dial down the
setting of his weapon herself.
To his own surprise, he handed the phaser over to her. "Keep it, in case I might
purposefully want to kill me a corporate executive or two," he stated.
Cocking her head, she regarded him for another moment before adjusting the setting and
giving him the weapon back. "This isn't the time for a game of redeem-myself, Colonel
Furry. We need everyone to stay sharp - and armed."
Furry snorted. "Don't whine I didn't warn you, Commander."
"I don't whine, Colonel," she retorted coldly, gesturing for Junebug and Torchy to lead
the way. "Just keep it set the way it is," she added.
He muttered something unintelligible and followed them. Behind him, Noggy frowned
for a moment, about to contribute to the strange conversation, then stopped as Turtle quickly
drew a hand across his throat, shaking his head and forming a quiet 'no!' with his mouth. The
burly Klingon female shrugged and picked up her pace once more.

The Hazard Team advanced two at a time, either side of the corridor. So far, they had not

83
encountered anyone either visually or on sensors and the tension was starting to get to them.
At each spoke, they had checked for life signs and then tack welded the doors shut with a
phaser. Don didn't like the idea of allowing anyone to get into the corridor behind the team.
Suddenly, a couple of green carets flashed on their visors as the sensors picked up life signs
around the bend of the corridor, at a junction that led off to the recreational centre.
"Bushman to Bongo. Where are you up to?"
"Just past section seven. No contact. We've just sealed off the mine access for the
moment until we can look deeper."
"Okay, we got a contact as we're approaching section five. Don't think they've spotted us
so we'll hold until you get closer."
"You only got as far as section five? You slowing down in your old age or what?"
"Yeah, yeah. Those accommodation blocks take time to clear. Not like your
warehouses."
"Okay, let you off then."
Fifteen minutes later, Bongo was back on the comms. "See what you mean about those
dormitories. Okay, we're in position."
"Copy. Contacts have been pretty static while we've been waiting. Advance until they
show on your sensors then we'll hit them from both sides. Looks like they've all holed up in
the rec centre to wait for us."
"We got them on sensors."
"Bushrangers, go, go, go!"
The eight marines surged forward down the corridor to find a couple of Bolians in
grubby coveralls standing in a pool of light outside the entrance to the recreational centre.
They found themselves swept up by Tiny and the Padre, and hustled inside with the team.

Miya was standing at the Tactical console, much to the discomfort of the crewman on
duty, watching the away teams progress on the sensors. Behind her she was dimly aware of
the CIO sitting at one of the Science consoles, although she hadn't really been focussing on
what exactly he was doing.
"Got you!"
Turning, Miya raised her eyebrows and stared at the CIO. "Got who?" she asked.
"What, rather," he replied. "The automated shuttle craft we left behind. I'm receiving a
data stream from it. Apparently it found something."
Nodding to the Tactical officer, Miya walked over and stood behind LaTaer. "What do
we have?" she asked, trying to make out the sensor readings on the display.
"It stopped patrolling, somewhere in a star system nearby. Must have picked up
something, maybe the probe we sent out earlier. I'm just waiting for the rest of the sensor
data to come through, then I'll be able to tell you more."
Miya nodded, and they both sat and stared at the display for what seemed like an age.
Eventually, something arrived. Frowning, Miya looked at the information flowing over the
display. "Debris of some kind?" she asked.
"Yes. Too much of it to be our probe, though."
"A ship?"
"Perhaps."
Again silence fell as they both watched intently. Then the information that caught them
both by surprise arrived. "A power signature!" Miya exclaimed, "It has to be – far too regular
to be natural."

84
 Morgan frowned and shook his head. Then he nodded. "Yes, but that's not the debris.
The emissions are coming from that planet," he added, pointing at a small dot in the detailed
view of the star system on the upper portion of the screen.
"What do we know about that system?"
"Not much. Uninhabited, only two planets - one barely class M, the other just a giant
chunk of rock."
"This is the class M planet, I take it?"
The CIO glanced back at her. "Should we go take a look?"
The next moment the comm system sprang to life.
"Saturn, this is the XO," Patricia was heard. "No sign of the Nausicaans. But we found
Daro Brott. He's dead."
There was a pause before Miya replied. "Acknowledged. We have another lead that may
shed some light on this whole thing. Secure the mine and prepare to come back aboard."
"Copy that. Holmes out."

***

The Saturn came to a halt just a few light minutes away from the Class M planet, and
positioned herself right behind its rocky Class K companion outside of the habitable zone
around the white dwarf star. There, the telemetry from the unmanned shuttle craft could still
be received, but the ship itself would be in a blind spot for any sensors that might or might
not be situated somewhere on the Class M world.
This cautiousness had its root in information provided by the data stream from the
shuttle, namely the fact that the Class M planet was circled by a moon in a rapidly decaying
orbit - causing massive electrical storms that made it rather hard to tell exactly what was
waiting for them on the planet's surface - and that the debris likely belonged to a Federation
ship. Employing the Saturn's active sensor arrays to full capacity as soon as they were in
position, the crew planned on gathering more information first before deciding on their next
step.
"Definitely Nausicaan," the CIO relayed his latest findings about the kind of weapons
used in the attack on the unknown ship, the debris of which was now floating about in
between the two planets.
"That means the ion trails we found belong to the attackers, likely Nausicaan pirates,"
concluded Miya.
"Which showed up here high in numbers just a few hours before our shuttle arrived,"
Morgan nodded. "There is further residue of weapons fire near the Class M planet, and in
much higher concentration, too. But no debris there," he said, pressing a button and turned
around as the main view screen lit up.
Miya frowned. "They were firing at something on the surface, then?"
"Either that," Colonel Furry grunted, "or they were giving the planet one hell of a salute.
Look at that," he added, pointing at the view screen which showed the planet from the shuttle
craft's current perspective. On the southern hemisphere, a dark spot was visible, smoke and
dust blackening the sky over an area the size of a small continent.
"Whatever was there before, there probably isn't much left for us to find after that kind
of orbital bombardment," stated Morgan.
"Those Nausicaans just made my day," snorted Furry. "This is clearly Federation
territory. If that doesn't constitute an act of war, I don't know what does."

85
 "If that planet were inhabited," cautioned Miya. "Which it isn't. Let's not get ahead of
ourselves here, Colonel."
"But what was down there, then?" Patricia wondered. "It must have been huge."
"Or," Morgan pointed out, "they didn't bother to be very accurate and just carpet-bombed
the whole area. I doubt they were able to see through those storms any better than we are."
"Either way, someone was down there, and is rather dead now," Furry muttered. "Not to
mention the ship they shot to bits and pieces. I don't think Starfleet Command is going to like
this."
"We should take a look first," suggested Patricia. "Get all the facts. Then report back to
Starfleet."
"Agreed," Miya nodded. "Please assemble an away team, Commander. Take the Hazard
Team along, just in case."
"Yes, ma'am," Patricia replied and rose from her chair, tapping her comm badge while
heading for the turbolift.
"Captain?" interjected Furry, "A moment..."
Miya turned to him. "Of course?"
"In private," countered Furry, giving the ready room a pointed nod.
The captain regarded him and then her office door, wondering what the former
intelligence officer wanted this time. "Sure."
As the doors slid shut behind them, Furry pointed an accusatory finger at her. "I'm not
taking 'no' for an answer," he started. "But I need to be in command of that away team. This
is the Nausicaans we're talking about, and a corporate entity that frankly I would rather see
out of business. If one or both are trying to drag the Federation into another war, then we
need to stop it."
Miya just stared at his finger, saying nothing. Eventually the colonel lowered it and
stood glaring at her.
"The away team is being led by Lieutenant Commander Holmes. You're welcome to join
them, in fact I would value your experience being used down there, but please, Colonel -
don't try and dictate what happens on my ship."
Now it was the Colonels turn to stare. "Very well Captain, we'll do this your way - but if
anything should be waiting for us down there that requires my experience, I will be pulling
rank."
"If the situation requires it, Colonel, I have no objections. If i find that the situation does
not require such an action, be aware I will make sure you are pulled up for it." Miya walked
to the door causing it to hiss open. "I suggest you hurry, Colonel, they will be ready to
transport shortly."
Saying nothing, Colonel Furry stalked out of the ready room door and into the turbolift
opposite – his face a mask of barely contained anger.
"Maybe you are capable of being more diplomatic than you think, Colonel," Miya
muttered, before walking back across to the command chair. "Signal the away team to hold
until the Colonel arrives."
"Aye, ma'am."

The towers that had marked the accommodation blocks were no more than jagged
outlines of their former selves, the floors stacked neatly on top of each other in great piles of
rubble, and the remains of the windows scattered like jewels across the main plaza.
Fires were still burning in the ruins near the large hangar bay, and a few bodies were

86
lying where they had fallen – caught in the sudden weapons fire from the orbiting vessels.
Suddenly, in the middle of the plaza, a group of shimmering blue lights coalesced into the
away team, who immediately began to scan the area - fanning out as they tried to find any
trace of what had been going on in the huge facility.
"Over here!" Lieutenant P'Jol eventually called out.
"What is it?" Patricia made her way over to him through the rubble and stood behind the
lieutenant, looking down. The Vulcan was standing at the edge of a gaping hole in the
ground, opening up to a room underneath. He pointed at what looked like a hatch in the floor
downstairs, partially covered by debris from the ceiling.
"I am reading three life signs in there."
"God... finally." Patricia turned around, looking for Don. "Gunny!"
Barely five minutes later, they had unearthed the hatch and managed to open it.
Underneath, they found two men and a woman, all three clad in now rather dirty white lab
coats. The woman was almost catatonic, and one of the men was still shivering all over his
body, screaming in fear when the flashlights illuminated the dark space of the improvised
shelter. When they realised that the team was Starfleet, they began to calm down and were
willing to come up.
"Can you tell us what happened?"
"They left us here," the woman whimpered, climbing out of the hole with the help of one
of the marines. "They left us to die!"
"Who did?"
"The Bolians," the third survivor stated, sitting down slightly apart from the rest on a
bent T-girder. Unlike the other two, he seemed suspiciously calm - a young, rather good-
looking man in his mid-thirties, with a somewhat unkempt appearance, and alert eyes with
which he was observing the away team members. "They had a ship in orbit, they were gone
before the Nausicaans got here."
Furry grunted quietly. "Yeah. I bet that turned out well for them."
Letting out a sigh, Patricia walked up to the man.
"You seem to be doing okay. What's your name?"
"Fisher," he replied looking up to her. "Doctor Logan Fisher."
"You worked for the Mitena Institute?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
She arched an eye brow. "I get around."
Looking her up and down, Fisher shook his head. "A pity, that. You should be ashamed
of yourself," he quipped with a weary half-grin.
Cocking her head, Patricia grimaced. "The institute, Doctor. What did they have you
do?"
The smirk vanished from his face and he looked down at his feet. "I'd rather not say,
really."
"Well - you can either tell me, or a Starfleet investigation board. Your call."
"How about my lawyer?"
"I don't know, how quickly can he get here? Might take some time. And we do need
some answers now."
He sighed. "I guess you do."
"Well?"
"We weren't supposed to know. They compartmentalised everything. I figured it out
anyway. I mean, really, with an IQ of one hundred eighty-five, what are you gonna do?

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Twiddle thumbs? What were they thinking?"
"Doctor..."
"Right. They wanted a weapon. A bio-genetic weapon, capable of rapidly degenerating a
certain kind of DNA."
"Nausicaan," Colonel Furry stated, approaching the two.
"Yes. They gave everyone little bits and pieces, no one was working on a specific piece
of the puzzle longer than absolutely necessary. But eventually it became clear to me what it
was that we were involved in here. And I didn't like it one bit."
"But you continued your work anyway."
"No! I mean, yes, but... I stalled them. I did everything I could - altered test results,
wasted resources... re-ran tests that were already completed. But I had to be wary, they were
getting quite suspicious at one point. That was when I sent the messages."
"What messages?"
"To the Nausicaans. I knew they had ships in the area, so I sent them a row of encoded
messages, warning them. Pointing them to the asteroid. That was seven months ago, you
probably know what happened after that. It bought me some time. That is, until the Bolians
told me that the shortage of a chemical compound needed for the weapon would soon no
longer be a problem. I knew then they were going to take back the asteroid."
"So you sent another message," Patricia concluded.
"Yes."
"You told the Nausicaans where to find this facility?" Colonel Furry asked incredulously.
"Yes." Fisher hung his head.
"You do realise that this could trigger a war, you damned fool?"
"Leave him alone, Colonel. He is co-operating."
"Thanks, Commander, but I think I can deal with the cripple," Fisher snorted.
"What did you just call me?" growled Furry, slowly walking towards the scientist.
"What... you're deaf, too?" the man sneered. "Man, it must suck to be you."
"You little prick, I ought to-..."
"Colonel. Back off," Patricia demanded, stepping in between the two men.
"I'll be damned if I'm going to let you tell me what to do, Commander."
"Well. Go to hell, then," Patricia shrugged and turned back to Fisher, who was watching
the two with amused interest.
Furry's expression hardened, and he put his hand on her shoulder to turn her around to
him once more. She swung around - a lot faster than he anticipated - and planted her fist
squarely in his face, the punch sending him stumbling back a few steps.
"Touch me one more time, I'd like that," she hissed.
Lifting his hand to his nose, he looked at it for a moment as it came back red with blood,
then looked at Patricia.
"You're lucky we're on an away mission, or I'd give you a hiding your own uncle won't
want anything to do with you..." he said quietly, audibly struggling to suppress his anger.
She snorted. "Always the gentleman, eh?"
"Funny," he grumbled. "Want me to make an exception?"
"Please. Bring it."
"Commander," Lieutenant P'Jol interjected calmly, "I strongly recommend that we do
not escalate this further." The Vulcan had stepped up beside her and regarded the colonel
with a stern look, his hand resting on the phaser at his belt.
Shooting the lieutenant a deadly glance, Patricia turned and walked off, leaving him with

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the colonel. Furry's glare was alternating between her back and the blood on his hand before
it finally settled on the Vulcan.
"Lieutenant," he barked. "Arrest the Commander."
Hearing his order, Patricia came to a halt. P'Jol looked back at him, then started walking
over to the XO with a blank expression on his face - only his initial hesitation indicating the
amount of the Vulcan's discomfort.
"Commander," he formally stated, "I have to place you under arrest."
Slowly, Patricia turned and regarded him, pursing her lips. Still not affording the colonel
with so much as a side glance, she eventually nodded ever so slightly.
Having somewhat calmed down, Furry tapped his comm badge. "Saturn, this is Colonel
Furry. We found three survivors. And some answers, finally."
"Glad to hear that," Miya's voice came back. "Are you finished down there, then?"
He looked towards Patricia for a moment before he replied. "Yeah. We're done here."

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Epilogue

The growling and snarling, hissing and shouting that emerged from the cells filled with
Nausicaans and members of various other species created an almost unbearable level of noise
in the brig - it was raw anger, verbalised in a most colourful language, directed at the sole
occupant of one cell in particular. Leaning against the wall opposite the force field,
Lieutenant Commander Patricia Holmes sat on the floor next to the rather frugal plank bed,
her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the inmates in the cell on the other side of the
corridor with a stoic expression on her face, as though she didn't even notice their violent
screaming and cursing at her.
Someone stepped into view, ordering the computer to dampen the noise from the rest of
the cells. A few seconds later the force field dropped and Miya looked into the cell. "Walk
with me," she said, turning and heading for the exit without checking if the cell's occupant
had even acknowledged her.
After another moment, Patricia stepped out onto the corridor, giving the Nausicaans in
the other cell a last glance and following the captain wordlessly.
"You should have let him hit first," Miya sighed and turned to her. "It would have made
things a lot easier."
"I don't regret what I did, if that's what you want to hear," the XO stated. "Hitting a
superior asshole is not the worst thing on my record. I'll live."
"Ah well," Miya said. "That's the thing. It's not going on your record." She turned and
looked at her again. "The scientist, Logan Fisher, made that situation a lot more heated than
was required. That, plus stress et cetera-..."
"Frankly, he had it coming," Patricia said in a slightly irritated tone, stopping and finally
regarding Miya, "pretty much from the get-go. The things he had the nerve to do and say, all
his obvious and less obvious little insolences he accumulated over the course of the mission...
he's lucky I only smacked him once."
Miya grinned, then forced her face back to something approaching neutrality and turned
to Patricia. "I'm afraid I can't let it slide completely," she finally managed, keeping a straight
face. "As a direct result of your actions, I'm sorry to inform you that you're grounded for the
next two away missions."
Patricia stared back at her for a moment, her eyes narrowing a bit. "So it's not going on
my record, then?"
"No."
"A pity," the blonde muttered and resumed walking.
"And no chocolate for the next two weeks either," Miya continued.
"Okay, now you're being unfair."
"Well, maybe a little," Miya conceded as they boarded a turbolift. "That scientist of
yours is proving to know a lot more than we first thought. He's in the observation lounge now
– I think you'll be interested to hear this."
"That guy is one pompous smartass," snorted Patricia. "Are you sure he's not just
shoving his weight around?"
Miya nodded. "Mister LaTaer managed to decode some of the files we collected from
the warbird. So far everything he's said has tallied with what's been found." There was a
pause, "Well, that and it's been made clear that a lack of co-operation would result in a lack

90
of freedom. A severe lack of freedom."
"I don't get it," Patricia said, shaking her head. "Why didn't he just leave? Or tell anyone
in Starfleet about this?"
"Apparently the good Doctor has quite the record himself. Him being somewhat of a
persona non grata in scientific circles is the least of his worries - there are several standing
charges against him. Cases of fraud and imposture, unlawful possession of illegal
substances... you get the picture."
"Pompous and devious. Nice combination."
"Yup. Quite the stellar personality," Miya finished, stepping out onto the bridge and
making for the observation lounge.
Inside, Lieutenant LaTaer was still talking to Fisher, making notes on a PADD. As they
entered, the doctor looked up, a lopsided grin appearing on his face as he spotted the XO.
"Ah! My hero," he smirked, turning to Morgan, "you've got to love a woman that's
willing to fight for you. Literally. With her fists."
"And yet there is something less than admirable about a man who will let a woman do
his fighting for him," Miya said, placing he hands on the back of one of the chairs. "Got
everything you need?" she asked the CIO.
"Obviously it wasn't my fight..." Fisher protested in mock indignation.
"One more thing, actually," Morgan said, ignoring him and turning around to the captain.
"We need him to testify in a court of law. And he's... making demands," the Betazoid added,
scowling at their guest.
Fisher leant back in his chair and folded his hands on the table, making sure he had
everyone's attention. "Just a few tiny, tiny things, really. A full pardon – I want all charges
against me dropped. And I'm going to need a well-equipped lab, to continue some of my
earlier work. It was... rather important, even though parts of the scientific establishment
might be inclined to tell you otherwise."
Miya grinned and leaned forward. "And would you like some coffee, too?" she asked.
"And a cake perhaps?"
"Please, Captain," he grinned back. "At least pretend you're going to consider it. I think
I'm quite right to assume you need my help as much as I need yours. And in all seriousness,
what do I have to lose?"
Pulling out a chair, she sat down opposite Fisher. "At the moment, I can promise you
nothing. Your co-operation has been noted in my logs and, believe me, is much appreciated.
I'll do everything I can to make sure you get a smooth ride – but I don't have the authority to
make a decision on the requests you've made."
"In that case I hope you find someone who does. Or I'll have to retract everything I've
told you so far. Which would make it rather worthless in court," he added, smiling at
Morgan. "Or so I've been told."
"Well, isn't he adorable..." Patricia shook her head, glancing at Miya.
"I know," he grinned at her. "Admittedly it's kind of hard not to fall for my charms."

***

"The damage to the Saturn is almost completely repaired," Morgan stated, consulting the
PADD in his hand as he followed the captain into her ready room, the XO trailing them. "We
will need to make a stop at a starbase to fix things completely, but we will be fully
operational in terms of the main systems and propulsion."

91
 Miya nodded and walked around her desk, offering them chairs and sitting down herself.
"That's good news. Mister Saine told me that the injuries sustained during the attack have all
been treated. Mainly broken bones and burns from the firefight."
"That's good news too," Patricia chimed in and sighed. "Ready for some rather
uncomfortable news?"Miya frowned. "Not really, but go ahead anyway."
"While you were busy making sure our dear guest is comfortable in his new quarters, we
received a message from the Nausicaan government."
They looked back at her, expecting her to continue. Miya's eyes narrowed as she leant
forward once more. "Do go on..."
With another sigh, Patricia nodded. "Somehow they learned what happened at the
asteroid. They're sending someone. We are to stay put there and wait for them."
"Well. If you don't go to the talks, the talks will come to you," Morgan smirked, then
grimaced slightly when he noticed the way the two women were staring back at him. "Sorry."
"Great," Miya said, leaning back in her chair. "Another Nausicaan onboard. How long
are we expecting them to take?"
"Seeing as they seem to have their eyes and ears everywhere around this area, I wouldn't
expect them to take very long," Morgan said.
"We better get back there fast," Patricia agreed.
Miya nodded, staring at her desk for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and brought
her hand up to her comm badge, tapping it slightly. "Colonel Furry, please report to my ready
room."
The answer came back immediately. "On my way. Furry out."
Miya turned back to the others in the room, noting the frown on her XO's face.
"We have to involve him," she stated, cradling the coffee cup on the table in front of her.
"To be fair, he is still meant to be in charge of the diplomatic side of the mission."
Patricia grimaced, causing a smile to tug at the CIO's mouth - the obvious clash between
similar fiery temperaments amusing him. "Yeah... I think we need to talk about that."
Miya looked back at her for a moment, then nodded. "I'm listening."

The doors parted to allow Colonel Furry into the ready room. He stopped dead in his
tracks immediately when he spotted the XO sitting at the table.
"Why aren't you in the brig?" he barked gruffly.
"Please, Colonel," Miya said, gesturing at an empty chair by the table, "join us, would
you?"
His glare fixed on the XO, he slowly made his way to the chair, all the while Patricia
stared back at him, wordlessly.
Finally he sat down and regarded the captain. "I gather we are expecting a diplomat from
Nausicaa?"
"Yes." Miya nodded. "But that is not what I need to talk to you about."
"Oh?" Furry arched a brow, leaning back in his chair. "And what's that?"
"When we arrive back at the asteroid field, a Bolian transport ship will be meeting us.
That will be your ride home, Colonel."
He took a moment to digest the information. "You're kicking me off your ship?" he
finally said. "Before I get the opportunity to do what I was sent here to do? I doubt your
superiors will be very happy about that, Captain."
"You are quite right, Colonel," Miya replied with a smile, "it's my ship. My mission and
my crew, and I'm entirely confident they're up to the task - on their own."

92
 "Heh," Furry grunted. "Can't say I'm overly displeased. Never chose to be here in the
first place. Besides, your-..."
"Thank you, Colonel, that will be all," Miya cut him off calmly, still smiling.
Slowly nodding, he stood. Shooting a last glance at Patricia, he snorted and left the
room.
As they rose from their chairs as well, Morgan voiced a concern that was still troubling
him. "What about the mining installation? As long as it remains on the asteroid, there will
still be trouble between both races."
"I wouldn't worry about the mine," Miya said, placing her mug in the replicator, "That
particular problem should already be well in hand."

As Don stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge, he pondered on the conversation
he had had earlier with the lawyer. Apparently it was a bit of a grey area. The regulations
didn't specifically state that Starfleet personnel could not claim salvage rights, but neither did
they say they could. He sighed. As with conversations he had had with his law lecturer as a
business student, he was left with the feeling that the answers he had got didn't actually get
him anywhere.
"Did they answer?" he asked, sitting down in the left-most seat in the centre of the
bridge.
Paul nodded. "They did. Kept the frequency open for you, Gunny."
"Thank you. Put them on screen, then."
The Nausicaan salvor's face filled the view screen. He looked even more morose than he
had the last time that Don saw him.
"Shipmaster Te-Kreth, it is good to speak to you again."
"Expletive fleeter Jameson. I expletive cannot say the expletive same."
"Oh, what's wrong?"
"That colloquial warbird shredded the expletive freighter. There's just expletive scrap
and a few colloquial cargo pods left. The expletive value is fecal."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Shipmaster..."
"You expletive will be fleeter. You expletive owe me money. Colloquial loads of it."
"May I ask how do you get to that conclusion?"
"Expletive compensation for lost expletive time. You promised an expletive ship to
salvage and then expletive took it away. We expletive wasted time on you."
"Well, if you'd like to put it in writing then I'll ask my lawyer to respond..."
"Expletive colloquial lawyers. I expletive spit on them."
"Right. Anyway, I think I can help you again..."
"I'm not expletive sure I can expletive handle any more of your expletive help, fleeter."
"Well, please hear me out first. We came out here to resolve a mining dispute on an
asteroid near here that the Bolians' took over. When we showed up, they tried to trash the
place but there's still plenty of equipment to salvage. Do you want to clean it up? It's a big
place."
The Nausicaan frowned. "...how big?"
"I think they had about over a hundred miners there and warehouses that could hold
several hundred tonnes of output."
"Fah! There's just six of us, fleeter. How the expletive do you expect us to tackle that?"
"Well, the Bolians are still there. You could put them to work."
"And how am I expletive supposed to keep control of a bunch of expletive Bolian

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colloquial?"
"I was thinking about that. We've got the Ta-Heth crew of that warbird aboard. We could
drop them off to help you keep order."
"Ta-Heth! They are expletive pieces of colloquial. They'd just expletive overrun me and
take over."
"I don't think so. You have the only ship that will take them home. You can charge them
for their passage. But since they don't have any money, they will have to work to earn it.
Besides, don't tell me they wouldn't like to boss some Bolians around and get paid for it?
Also, we'll be staying in orbit for a while, just in case."
"Hmmm. Fleeter, you expletive sure you're not expletive Ferengi?"
"Only some of the time. So, shipmaster. Do we have a deal?"
"We expletive need to settle on an expletive price."
"Okay, eighty-eight to twelve like before?"
"No. I want expletive more. Ninety-seven."
Don laughed. "Now who's a Ferengi? Let's settle on ninety-two and be done,
shipmaster."
"You are no expletive fun fleeter. Very well, ninety-two it expletive is. You have an
expletive deal."
"Good to do business with you, shipmaster. We'll send you the coordinates. Saturn out."
Don leaned back in his seat and turned to Toddman. "Game on."

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