USS Covelo
Romulan Republic-Federation Border

“Hail them again,” Captain Josiah Hu-Williams ordered as he paced the bridge of his ship between the command seats and the helm and ops consoles. His irritation was evident in his voice, in his stride, in his general aura.

“On screen now sir.”

He turned to face the viewscreen and once more found himself addressing ‘Captain’ Toril Lint of what had to be the single greatest disaster in modern shipping, the somehow still legally allowed to fly merchantman Lucky Dragon #987. A ship he and his crew had bailed out no less then four times in the last year alone.

“Captain Lint, again, you are hereby ordered to get underway towards Carmen’s World. Do not make me repeat myself again Sir,” Hu-Williams said to the elderly Bajoran man whose face filled his viewscreen.

“And I’ve already told you Captain Williams,” Lint responded, emphasis on the rank and not using Hu-Williams full last name, “I’ve got engine problems. We’ll get underway when we can and not a moment before. You don’t like it, you can get that sorry ship of yours over here and tow me out of this made-up space weather advisory zone of yours, if it truly exists! Lucky Dragon out!”

The comm channel cut after what looked like a sweaty, greasy, sausage fingered hand slammed down on whatever console Lint had been using, giving the entire bridge and rather unpleasant view of the man’s hand.

“At warp six, how long to his position?”

“Eight hours sir.”

He sighed, then continued his pacing for a moment. He knew what was at stake presently, just hadn’t been able to inform his crew. Hell, he’d been forced to depart Bucky IV without being able to recall his entire crew in order to enforce a no-fly zone along the Neutral Zone and get all civilian traffic out of it as quickly as possible.

In case the worst came to be.

“Anyone else nearby?”

“No sir.”

“Right, set course for the Lucky Dragon. Warp six as soon as you can Ms Xiao.”

“Course three four eight mark two six, helm answering warp six sir.”

****

“Goddam idiotic merchantmen!” Josiah bellowed out when his Ops officer reported a new contact on sensors, one that was travelling faster then his own California-class ship across the border into Federation space. All the border buoys had been reprogrammed to advise of close territories, of safe border crossings, but here was some damn fool flying into space that they would have been advised of multiple times was prone to category five ion storms.

It wasn’t the best cover story he had to admit, but no freighter captain would want to risk a category three, let alone the disaster a category five would wreck upon their ship. Of course, if any freighter had sensors worth a damn, he knew they’d be able to call the bluff, but then they had another thing to worry about – bureaucratic redtape. Starfleet traffic violations, UFP departments that would come descending down upon you for reckless endangerment, wonton dismissal of duly posted public notices and no doubt a handful of other things. Woe be the health and safety inspections.

“Name and captain,” he barked to his ops officer.

“Uh…Captain Sidda sir, of the Vondem Rose.”

“Get him on screen now!”

****

Vondem Rose
Main bridge

“Some Starfleet ship is hailing us,” Deidrick Osterman said from Tactical, silencing the annoying little alarm that made itself known whenever someone hailed the Rose these days.

Sidda had ordered it reprogrammed numerous times, but something in the ship’s Klingon manufactured brain kept resetting that one specific alert to its default noise and it irritated her something fierce.

“Why? Because we’re doing warp eight in a five zone?” Lewis chimed in from the helm, earning a few chuckles. Even a grin from Sidda. “Or to try and pull some rules lawyering on a poor, hardworking merchant ship?”

“Now now Lewis,” Sidda spoke up, her tone quiet but clearly amused. “We’re hardly hardworking merchants. Or poor even. Deidrick, put them on screen.”

Her hand had barely started to drop from waving in the direction of the viewscreen dismissively when some large barrel-chested Starfleet officer, dark of skintone and lacking of hair, appeared before her.

“This is Captain Hu-Williams of the USS Cavelo. You are in violation of Shipping Exclusion Zone 2399-RR-Baker-Sierra. Vacate the zone immediately.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Sidda asked, slowly rising to her feet. “Didn’t quiet catch that Commander.”

The man’s visage cracked only slightly at her dismissive tone and getting his rank wrong. “Vondem Rose, adjust course ninety degrees starboard and maintain speed.”

“Sorry Commander, I can’t make you out. Ion storms in this sector are rather intense. I say again, Ion. Storms.”

“Vondem Rose, adjust…” the comm channel was cut before he could say much more.

Turning, Sidda looked at Deirdrick who was looking down at his console. “Oh, sorry, I think I cut the channel. Should I get him back ma’am?”

“No no, I think we had our fun with him. How long till we make rendezvous with the Lucky Dragon?”

“Two hours.”

“Right, Deidrick, you’re in charge. If he calls back, just ignore him, or blast static at him, your call. I’m going to get some lunch before I miss the chance.”

****

USS Cavelo
Main bridge

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen the Captain that mad before,” one of the bridge crew finally spoke up in the silence that had followed the Captain’s departure from the bridge for his ready room.

“How’d you feel if you’re trying to enforce a space weather warning and there is no space weather, only to have some merchant popup and start telling you they can’t hear you because of it?”

“I think that’s just the straw on the camels’ back mate. Something’s been eating at him ever since that command lockout thing the other day. Hell, we couldn’t even get Commander Lim back aboard.”

“Tell me about it.”

****

Vondem Rose
Cargo Bay 1

“Awful lot of syrup you’re buying off of me Sidda. Didn’t think this stuff sold very well in the Republic,” Toril Lint said as he stood beside Sidda, having come aboard her ship to oversee the last few pallets of cargo and take payment for services rendered. “But hey, you’re paying latnium above market value, I’m not to say how your throw money away.”

“Aw Lint, you sound concerned for my wallet.”

“Your wallet feeds into my wallet Sidda. Sure, I can ride a windfall for a bit, but I prefer steady income.”

“Then worry not,” came another voice that stepped up beside Sidda, hooking an arm around Sidda’s opposite side to Lint and hugging it possessively. “You’re being paid a fair share of the profits we’re making off of this run.”

“Afternoon Lady Revin,” the older man said, much different in appearance then he had been a few hours ago. “I take if you have interested parties.”

“Not going to give you my contacts,” Sidda said. “Where’s that padd. Want to pay you and get out of here before that patrol boat gets here. She packed on the speed when she noticed I was coming your way.”

“Ha! Rendering assistance to an old man like me. Receipts and everything for it too!” he exclaimed, producing two padds. One for the transaction of funds for the cargo, the other to provide paperwork for all parties to show this was a legitimate broken engine, helped out by another of the greater merchant community.

A few moments later, after reading things over, Sidda pressed her thumb to both padds, then kept the one that contained the real paperwork, its task done and memory circuits about to fuse, but no point leaving them on Lint’s ship for someone to find, making sure he had the other one before shaking his hand. “Stay safe out there old man. Hear the weather’s terrible.”

“Shocking even! Lint to Lucky Dragon, one to beam back.”

As the man dematerialised and the cargo bay was now just the crew of the Rose, Sidda spun her fiancée around and embraced her, stealing a kiss in triumph before breaking it with a smile on her face. “We got what Roelin wants, now we can get what he knows.”

“And all it took was ten pallets of maple syrup. What is a maple anyway?”

****

Their illicit trade completed, both the Lucky Dragon #987 and Vondem Rose both departed the dead-end system that had been a selected rendezvous point two weeks ago. Lucky Dragon #987 proceeded to heed the Cavelo’s warning, heading for Carmen’s World at a very pedestrian warp four. As for the Vondem Rose, she set course back for the Romulan border before disappearing under cloak after going to high warp.

****

USS Cavelo
Main bridge

“What do you mean cloaked?” Hu-Williams spun on his Tactical officer.

“Vondem Rose went back to warp eight sir, then disappeared under cloak.

“Federation registered merchant with a cloaking device? Those are illegal and you know it, so why don’t you tell me again what type of ship that was?”

“She’s a duly registered merchant ship sir,” the young man said. He wasn’t the ship’s senior tactical officer, just the most senior who was aboard ship when they had been ordered out post-haste. “Uh, sorry sir, armed merchant ship.”

“Armed merchant ship? There haven’t been any armed merchant ships since the Dominion War.”

“Captain,” another voice piped up from Ops, pulling Hu-Williams attention away. “Vondem Rose was apparently involved in some of the fighting in the Archanis Sector sir,” the man said as he threw the ship’s public record on the viewscreen.

And right there was the answer that Hu-Williams was looking for. A single picture to go along with a ship entry that was utterly and completely useless in identifying the ship’s class. A single picture that painted not a thousand words, but just enough words to tell him what he was truly up against.

A Klingon Defence Force K’t’inga class battlecruiser, painted in paisley purple, hung in the middle of what he had to admit was a well taken photo of the ship, the picture stamped with the name of some ship-spotter somewhere who had captured the vessel in orbit somewhere recently.

“Get me Starfleet Command, or someone who knows about that damn ship,” he growled.

****

Vondem Rose
Main Bridge

“What’s going on?” Sidda said as she stumbled onto the bridge in a state of undress, having been summoned from bed.

“Well, the computer has been…” Deidrick started before he got interrupted by a harsh, brutal Klingon voice filling the bridge.

“Particle anomaly detected!” the voice shouted, in complete violation of the voice style that was most certainly the one selected for the ship’s computer after their little refit at Kyban.

“Yah, it’s been doing that every two minutes,” Deidrick finished up. “I’ve tried to silence the alarm, but apparently only ship master codes will do the job. Hence why I called you boss. It’s kinda annoying.”

Nodding in understanding, that voice only having to have barked it’s warning once to get on her nerves, she approached the tactical console and input her command codes in, clearing the alarm. But instead of system flags clearing and going away, another series of displays popped on the screen for her.

Particle anomaly detected. Contact High Command immediately. Render assistance to any Starfleet vessel in range if possible.

“That’s it?” Sidda said as she looked to her erstwhile executive officer. “Get me Gaeda, I want to know if he’s getting the same error on the Martian Thorn.”

Martian Thorn
Bridge

“Particle anomaly detected!” shouted the Klingon voice once again, on queue. And once again Captain Gaeda Ruiz of SS Martian Thorn entered in his own command codes, which failed to do anything about stopping the alert.

“Getting a call in from the Rose,” Trid said at Helm, before bring it up onscreen.

Gaeda rolled his eyes, not looking forward to having to talk to once more about waiting for his orders. She never just jumped ahead whenever she was on the Rose, but on his ship she kept doing things like that. Almost like she wanted him to recommend she stay on the Rose.

“Gaeda, you getting the same orders on your screens as I am?” Sidda asked him. Looking up he could she was standing next to Deidrick in a dressing gown at the Rose’s tactical station.

“No, I’ve just got some klingon screaming at me that I can’t turn off,” he sighed, abandoning the tactical station back to Matt Horner, one of the new recruits they had brought into the organisation.

“Let me see what I can do from here,” Sidda said and then finally a bunch of new screens started popping up around the cramped bridge of the Martian Thorn. “Though it’s odd your codes aren’t working. I’ll send R’tin over shortly to see what’s going on.”

It took him a mere moment to read it before looking back to his boss. “So, what’s the plan? Because I don’t think we want to call Klingon High Command.”

“You’re right about that,” Sidda said, nods of agreement from both ship bridges visible for all to see. “We’re seeing Starfleet vessels changing course, moving around, doing all sorts of weird stuff on sensors.”

“And setting up exclusion zones, or transit lanes, quarantine areas. You didn’t have to harass that captain the way you did,” Gaeda said with a smirk that said ‘but I would have too if roles were reversed’.

“He’d have been a bit more…directly hostile if he’d seen us both decloaked.” Sidda had sat herself down in her command chair and Gaeda took the opportunity to mirror her. “I want to just run across the border, deliver this maple syrup and get the information we’ve been wanting, but I can’t just ignore this opportunity to make some new friends.”

“So Robin Hood it is then?”

“Not quiet. I don’t feel like loosing this fancy legal status just yet. We’ve got two starships, warp drives and replicators. Surely Starfleet left something unfinished around here for us to go do. No one ever remembers who did all the ground work, just who was around for the ribbon cutting.”

“Now that’s just devious. I like it.”

****

Vondem Rose
Main Engineering

“And I keep telling you sis, I think we can push these Klingon engines harder. Warp eight is so…pedestrian.”

“I wouldn’t if I was you,” came a thickly accented Andorian voice. The man easily out massed R’tin but was in fact shorter than the Romulan average, which left R’tin wondering just how dense the man truly was. “Klingons might build sturdy ships, capable in their own right, but they don’t take well to tinkering. Mess something up and you’ll regret it.”

“Going to have to agree with Shev,” T’Ael said as she pondered a warp core read out. “These engines aren’t the fastest, or the best in the galaxy, but I’d wager poor maintenance would keep them running for years. Heck, we could all probably go on holiday and no one would know until a sonic shower gave out.”

“I’d know,” came a fourth voice into the conversation as R’tin turned his attention to his barely dressed commanding officer. “Because I wouldn’t have you two around chattering away all the time. Shev, I’d have hoped you’d teach them to be proper engineers by now.”

R’tin couldn’t help but gulp at the sight, before he straightened himself out. Not exactly common sight seeing his boss walking around in just a dressing gown, but he had to admit, she was good looking. Not like anything would ever happen though, but a man could dream right?

“You don’t pay me enough for that. Besides, nothing I can teach them about this barge,” the Andorian said before giving a respectful little nod of his head and excusing himself.

“Mistress Sidda,” T’Ael spoke, “to what do we owe the pleasure of your appearance so early in the morning?”

“Martian is going to decloak in about ten minutes so R’tin can beam over and look into their computers. Gaeda’s command codes couldn’t clear an error message and I’d like that fixed please.”

“Oh, sorry,” R’Tin answered as he looked back up to his boss. “I kinda didn’t give Gaeda the highest-level access on the Martian. I thought you’d want to keep those for yourself just in case.”

The look on her face as she closed her eyes, bringing a hand to rub at the bridge of her nose, told him he’d made a mistake. “This isn’t a Romulan enterprise R’tin, I don’t need to maintain absolute control. Besides, I trust Gaeda with our escort ship. So please, get over there and fix his computers for him.” With that she spun and left, leaving R’tin to feel like he was about half his height.

“Well, could have been worse,” T’Ael said as she walked over and punched her brother in the arm. “Could have fucked up the Rose’s computers too, then you’d likely be dead.”

“Which is why I didn’t.”

****

Vondem Rose
Main Bridge

It had taken a good few hours to sort out some likely targets, though that probably wasn’t the right phrase, another few to decide which would give the best results and then a day to arrive at their first market opportunity. Na’roq was lucky enough to be born in an era where a decent Grand Nagus had taken over the Tower of Commerce and actually recognised that hey, if the economy does alright with fully a half of the potential work force not working, what would it do with everyone capable of working.

So here she was, amongst the stars, proving that women had just as good, if not better lobes for business. And fashion sense. And morals.

It was that last bit she had to admit her entire species was still working on, but every once and awhile trying to this ‘moral’ thing also came along with a brilliant business opportunity and she had to admit, those tended to feel…better. Maybe that was the way to grade moral options? Now, how to write the self-help guide and make some money off this discovery?

Shaking her head to clear the errant thought, though banking it for a later payday, Na’roq stepped up beside her Captain and delivered the padd with her assessment of the colony’s needs and requirements, her intelligence about what they could provide and even better yet, who she could instead extract favours from for later use.

The return on investment of favours, assuming the debtor didn’t up and die, was much, much higher than a straight up financial reward. Sure, those had their places, but sometimes you wanted something done, or information, down the path of the Great Material Continuum and then those favours start looking mighty fine indeed.

“Seriously? This colony looks like Starfleet just abandoned them yesterday. How many others are there like this along the border?” Sidda said as she reviewed the intelligence she’d just been handed.

“By my estimates and projections, six more. Depending on how long Starfleet is dragged out of position dictates how many we can set right and make friendly with the locals. I’ve outlined best targets for Rose and Thorn each to maximise potential in as little a time frame as possible.”

She watched the orion woman study the padd, nodding along to the points, tapping at a few for a more detailed breakdown before turning the padd off. “Knew hiring you was going to be a payday. Go ahead and send this along to Gaeda, tell him to get going, my orders. Telin, raise Administrator…” Sidda trailed off.

Na’roq smiled and spoke up. “Lirin. Administrator Lirin. He can be reached via the largest settlement on the southern continent.”

Sidda smiled, then looked to Telin. “What Na’roq said. Let’s see if we can’t make a deal with these folks to help them finish of their water treatment facility.”

****

Colony Administrator’s Office
Administrator’s Office

“You’re not serious, are you?” asked the older Romulan man seated in one of the four seats opposite Lirin. All of them were occupied by men that frankly could all have been the same person. Old guard, stuck in their ways, grey haired and with the same skin tone and pompous look on their faces.

The only reason they weren’t running things was because Lirin had proven to be a bit more devious, a bit more cunning and lot more likeable than this lot of has-beens. They’d have been lucky to have sat on a local council back in the ‘good old days’ and here they formed the Executive Council of this little colony, really a refugee camp with pretentions of glory, which to be fair they were making good on in recent years.

“Starfleet,” one of the other spoke up, “promised they’d return as soon as possible to finish the work. I find it hard to believe I’m saying this, but we should give them the opportunity to return and finish their work.”

Lirin silenced the next doddering old fool with a raised hand and waited to let them all settle before he spoke. “And when would that be?” He raised his hand a touch more to indicate he wasn’t finished. “This orion woman has a ship in orbit right now. She had the parts we need, right now. She even has engineers, right now. Do you really want to tell the people of this town, this world even, that we denied assistance because you’d rather wait to let Starfleet come and finish what they started?” No protests as he lowered his hand. “Good. This way we get the treatment facility finished and we don’t have to have Starfleet back here when whatever self-inflicted disaster finishes. We’ll be another step closer to self-sufficiency.”

The old men all nodded an affirmative after some grumbling. Their main concern wasn’t about Starfleet, or who finished what, but who was in the Administrator’s seat when things were finished. They wanted to drag things out, potentially make power plays or the such to seize leadership and glory. But instead, they’d have to settle for standing behind Lirin in all the photos shortly to come.

“Now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I think I have a business arrangement with an orion pirate to settle.”

The First Drink
New Home
Naos IV

For a Romulan watering hole, Sidda had to admit, this place actually had its charm. It wasn’t like the parlours and establishments she’d been frequenting of late in the Republic while trying to track down information, make contacts or occasionally try to make her and Revin a target to draw people out. No, this was much more like some of the places on Ayer’s Rock or other such establishments on Federation border worlds where a frontier vibe had become the culture de jure.

To be fair to the inhabitants of Naos IV though, their colony was young, it still was frontier and, in some places, still evident to have been prefabricated structures or rapidly printed using archi-printers in preparation for refugees. Which is one of the reasons perhaps why The First Drink stood out.

It was one of a few two story structures in this part of the city of New Home, though that was a rather generous use of the word city. It had the tell-tale signs of archi-printer work in the walls of the bottom floor, but the second floor was entirely natural and local materials. Distinctly beautiful hardwoods had replaced the interior of the structure, giving it a nice homey feel to the spaces within which were also distinctly un-Romulan.

No small spaces to squirrel away a conspiracy, or an assassin, no twisting corridors of power and intrigue, just a large single space, with appropriate back rooms for the service side of such a place as this. The upstairs had been given way to a series of smaller rooms with a wraparound mezzanine that looked over the main room. A bar dominated the left wall as she entered the saloon, the entire place vacated save for a handful of old Romulan men and one somewhat younger man whom she’d spent the last few days conversing with, making deals to benefit herself and coincidentally the populous of Naos IV.

She’d found this place on their first day and had decided rather quickly that she rather liked the location. The staff were friendly, the drinks were good and the atmosphere was her kind of controlled lawlessness. And so, for this occasion, she’d spoken with the owner to have it vacated for the afternoon, at double an average day’s takings, so she could invite the colony’s leadership for a drink to celebrate a new era for her fledgling company and Naos IV, assuming everything went off without a hitch.

Guards had been outside keeping the ‘common folk’ away from the saloon, but they hadn’t even looked in the direction of Sidda, or her retinue, as they had walked across the unofficial square outside and into the establishment.

Revin was with her for this and looking absolutely like the royalty she could have been, which contrasted a little with Sidda’s own rough and ready look. Na’roq had a case of padds, all the contracts and paperwork ready to sign that she’d drawn up to make everything all official like. Telin and Orin both had come along to act as muscle and because frankly when it came to her safety, after her own skill, Sidda trusted her cousins most of all, even if Telin was an ass who was still working his way up from deserving to be shot for something, anything really.

Three Orions, a Ferengi and a Romulan walk into a Romulan bar. Okay, so what’s the punchline to this joke?

“Administrator Lirin,” Sidda started as she walked towards the single table that had been placed in the middle of the room, the rest stacked against the wall furthest from the bar. All four Council members sat on one side of the table, facing the door, with Lirin in the middle of them. “I was hoping to arrive and get some drinking in before you arrived, but I see you’ve decided to arrive, what, an hour early?”

“Forty-five minutes love,” Revin said from Sidda’s left, not clinging to her but just holding her hand and playing the part of the lost, blind Romulan.

“Yes, quite so,” he said, his tone dry and bland. Exactly the tone to set Sidda at unease actually. “I’ve been discussing matters with the Council,” the old men perking up at a mention of them and being relevant to the situation, “and we’ve decided to amend our little agreement actually.”

Her hand came up to rub the bridge of her nose as she stopped walking, halfway between door and table. “Seriously Administrator, our negotiations have been so fruitful. A good deal for you, for this world, for my crew and I. Don’t fuck this up at the finish line.”

He smiled at her, a confident, cocky smile before he stood. He wasn’t the young man he used to be, back in the days of the Empire. He was middle aged when everything had fallen apart and was barely younger than those he allowed to sit as his Executive Council now. “See, the way I see it, Captain,” his tone of voice not very respectful of her rank, “I have more guards than you do. I have more armed forces then you, more then enough to take your ship and commandeer it. Then Naos IV will be self-sufficient, with our own Armed Merchant Freighter, which I must thank you for getting a warship registered as such with the Federation.”

As he had spoken a number of guards had appeared from the back rooms, or from outside the main doors. But none appeared on the mezzanine above, and Sidda smirked at that. All were armed, guns pointed at Sidda, twenty in total. The Executive Council members looked rather pleased with themselves and Lirin was the worst of them, but watching his expression shift when she started smiling back at him was priceless.

“You could have just signed the deal, been the big damn hero of the colony, but no, you just had to overreach. What is with you Old Empire bastards and your never-ending ambition?” she replied.

“It’s not ambition if it succeeds, then it’s called cunning. You never stood a chance, but then again your people never did, after all you’re either slaves to the Federation or the Klingons.”

Sidda shrugged and then let go of Revin’s hand, checking momentarily that her fiancée retreated back to Orin before turning her attention back to Lirin. “Funny thing about places like this, there’s always someone who doesn’t like the local mayor, especially when he’s some trumped up ex-noble.” She clapped her hands twice and the rooms upstairs all opened up, members of her own crew, some of the locals and the owner of The First Drink herself all stepped up to the mezzanine railing all branding a variety of weapons, though predominantly Klingon disruptors from her own ship’s stories.

“You boys be putting down those guns of yours,” Mistress Rel said while waving her disruptor at the guards on the ground floor, all of them busy taking in the fact they were outnumbered. Slowly weapons started to be laid down.

“It’s called cunning,” Sidda said as she returned her attention to Lirin who’s face was going an interesting said of green, about the same as his collection of old fools around him. Then she stepped forward and unholstered her own disruptor pistol, taking an exaggerated moment to check the charge on it before aiming it straight at Lirin. “Were you planning to kill me or make me a slave I wonder?”

Before he could respond she pulled the trigger on the weapon.

****

The bar was littered with shot glasses as Sidda sat there with Mistress Rel on the other side, pouring drinks for the two of them. They’d been given space to finish discussions she’d started mere hours after her very first discussion with Former Administrator Lirin and could be summed up on the padd between them, it’s screen only slight splashed with a little alcohol.

“So, yah prom…promise to make some changes?” Sidda asked, her words only slightly slurred.

Rel was a hard looking older woman whose capacity for drink would rival of Klingon. A thought went through Sidda’s mind about how she now had not one, but three Klingons she could sacrifice to test that assertion. The honour and glory of their species would be at hand!

“Free and fair elections? Actual democracy and not the shame those bastards were running? Most certainly. I have enough trouble running this place and my own criminal enterprise, I don’t want to run an entire colony.” Rel poured another drink for herself and downed it. “Our deal still good kid? You help out Naos, Naos helps you out, right?”

Sidda glared at Rel for calling her that, then grabbed at the padd, flicked through to the screen to confirm and pressed her thumb down then spun it for Rel to do the same. That done, she leaned over the bar and stole the bottle Rel had been pouring from for herself, got to her feet and headed for the door. “I want a statue, five meters tall!” she shouted over her shoulder, lifting the bottle high in the air before bringing it to her lips.

****

Vondem Rose
Captain’s Quarters

“You’re drunk,” Revin stated as Sidda passed through the door into quarters many, many times more luxurious than she ever had on the Thorn. More space allowed for more sumptuous furnishings after all.

“I am not, I’m just tipsy,” Sidda responded, stumbling slightly while setting the bottle still in hand down on the wall mounted table that served as a small desk, the only piece of original furniture still present as it served a minor purpose as somewhere to store stuff.

Turning to face her fiancée, she found Revin suddenly right there and before she knew it, she was disarmed, the disruptor liberated of its power cell and both items thrown across the room. Then came the shove and she was pushed up against the desk, pinned there bodily by Revin. “You shot a man in cold blood,” Revin said, a finger jabbing Sidda just above the collar bone.

“He was going to shoot all of us,” she responded, not trying to fight Revin off at all, her hands finding the edge of the desk to brace herself a bit better. “I just bested him, then made sure he never threatened anyone every again.”

“He was about to be arrested like the others.”

“I was sending a message,” Sidda said, slowly looking down to avoid Revin’s eyes. “Don’t fuck with the Rose.”

“You liberated a people,” and with that the accusing finger faded and a hand came up to cup Sidda’s face and Revin pulled her into a kiss.

Confusion at first from the rapid shift from unhappy tone of voice and accusations to a kiss, then the heavenly scent of her woman hit her and Sidda’s hands moved from desk to hips. Then the kiss broke and Revin slapped her hard across the face.

“Never, ever do something like that in front of me again, am I understood?”

A hand came to her own cheek in quick order to rub at the alcohol numbed pain, though the shock of Revin slapping her was perhaps more painful really. “I…yes dear,” was all she could offer.

****

Sidda Square
New Home
Naos IV

“Didn’t she say she wanted a statue?” one man said to another as they looked at the bronze plague mounted on the plinth in the middle of the square’s water fountain.

“Five meters tall even,” the other responded. “Might even happen one day, but right now, I think Old Lady Rel has done good enough.”

“But it’s just a plaque.”

“Yah, but’s dedicated to our first political assassination. Kinda need to commemorate that, don’t we? Plus, we finally got a name for the square, instead of just ‘that one south of South Square’.”

“Guess so.”

Both of the men shrugged and then raised the glass they both hand in salute to the plaque, then headed back to The First Drink as the sound of the grel flies started to buzz in the warm evening.

Twenty meters from this spot, Captain Sidda Sadovu of the SS Vondem Rose shot and killed the last Old Empire noble.
Her actions led to a new, more prosperous era for Naos IV.

-This plague brought to you by the New Home Historical Society

****

USS Covelo
Romulan Republic-Federation Border

“The Plaster City reports she’s just taken up our patrol route Captain and Sector Command has come back agreeing with your intent to pursue to the Vondem Rose. They even sent along all information pertaining to the ship and crew.”

Josiah sighed in relief as he turned his chair to face this terminal on his ready room desk and brought the file up to look over. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Plot a course along their last known vector and engage at warp six.”

“Very well Sir,” the response came before the comm channel went dead.

His attention went immediately to the specifications of engineers who had managed to get aboard and study the ship, to bios written up by someone from Intelligence, though depth and notes made it obvious to him there was a spy aboard ship. Then his eyes settled on a legal document provided to the Vondem Rose upon the end of the recent troubles in the Archanis Sector, then plenty more that followed, including some for the formation of an actual salvage company to take advantage of the salvage writ given by a Captain Rourke – Totally Legitimate Salvage Operations.

His eyes couldn’t have rolled any harder if he had tried.

“Well, well, well, these smugglers might have fooled some people, but they haven’t fooled me.”

Captain Josiah Hu-Williams stood, pulled on his uniform tunic to straighten it up and got exactly five steps to the door when the Covelo shuddered slightly and then dropped out of warp. He only had to look at a single console to see that dreaded symbol again on display.

He sighed loudly; smuggler hunting would have to wait.

****

Martian Thorn
Three hundred kilometers from the USS Cavelo, under cloak

“You know, the boss is expecting us to be making inroads in this area, making deals, undermining Federation and Starfleet authority and moral standing,” Trid said from her spot at the helm of the bird of prey that had been renamed to Martian Thorn after Gaeda’s homeworld and Sidda’s insistent it was a thorn to her Rose.

“Yah, I know. I’ll deal with her displeasure later. I’m sure she’ll forgive me if we get any more information about why Starfleet is acting so…queer.”

“Oh, look who’s been eating his thesaurus,” Orelia, the only other Orion female in their entire operation and Gaeda’s current tactical officer, at least until they met up with the Rose again and people swapped around again.

“Hey, I’m the only one allowed to be insubordinate around here,” Gaeda responded with a smirk on his face. “Anything about that shockwave that was different?”

“No, just a subspace shockwave. Cavelo shouldn’t even have slowed down, let alone stopped,” Trid said. “But that particle anomaly alert just fired off again.”

Gaeda sighed and jammed in his command codes before some gruff sounding Klingon could yell at him again. “Right, we’ll follow them for another day or so, then we’ll give the Boss a call and see what she says.”

Martian Thorn
Bridge

“Just what the hell are they doing?” Gaeda asked as he sat forward in his seat, an elbow on his knee and chin on his fist.

The Martian Thorn had been following the USS Cavelo for over a day now, following a rather strict regime of emission control while under cloak and with the skill of Trid at the helm, sitting right in the patrol ship’s warp wake to further help the cloaking device along.

Unlike back in the day with the Vondem Thorn, Martian’s cloaking device was several generations newer and in much, much better condition. It wasn’t just capable of letting them skulk about following merchants for the odd jump scare, it was KDF quality meant for jump scaring Starfleet ships.

Maybe not those fancy pancy fleet command ships with the new ship smell and uniform starch dispensers throughout the ship, but certainly good enough for older California-clas starships.

But right now, the Cavelo was proceeding into an empty nondescript red-dwarf system at full impulse, uncaring seemingly for anyone else around them, not that there was. There were a few blasted terrestrial worlds in this system, none of them at first scan containing anything even remotely worthwhile and all of them so close to the central star and its volatility to make any sort of exploitation prohibitively costly.

But for some reason the Starfleet patrol craft was heading for one of the planets like a bat out of hell.

“Wish I knew,” Matt Horne at Tactical said. “But she’s not being shy with active scanners, though only at Delta,” he continued, using the shortened catalogue designation for the not named planet. “We’re getting some return scatter. If anyone was down there, they’d not be having children for how intense they’re scanning that dirt ball.”

“Huh,” Gaeda responded, then sat back. “We’re still an hour out from orbit with Delta?”

“Close enough,” said Trid. “But if we get much closer the solar emissions in system might start fouling up the cloak.”

“Then we’ll wait here. All stop, maintain EmCon. We’ll just have to watch like an idle tourist.”

“And here we have,” Matt started with a put-upon upper-class accent, “the ubiquitous California-class starship in its native environment, being a nosy little git and poking around while being a busybody. This one, with its bland grey plumage…”

Gaeda couldn’t keep the smile off his face as his Tactical officer gave everyone the nature documentary that they all needed. And smiled more when he told Orelia what she missed by being asleep and letting her off sider actually be on the bridge.

****

Vondem Rose
Burque III
Main bridge

“Wasn’t Gaeda supposed to be here already?” Sidda asked as she stepped through the hatch to the bridge, Revin in her wake. The romulan woman had been accompanying her more and onto the bridge, but removed herself to the back to simply watch and listen. And to interject as a soothing balm when she needed to.

Orin looked up and started to sign, his fingers a fast blur in Orion Sign which more and more of the crew were picking up. There are no signs the Martian has been here at all. We’re the first ship to arrive in five days since Starfleet ordered all merchant shipping out of the area.

“All merchant shipping out of the area? That’s a border colony of two million people down there,” Sidda said, looking around her bridge for some sort of response.

Unlike so many other border worlds however, Burque III was self-sufficient for the most part. Sure, if they ever wanted to do major development work, they’d likely need Federation assistance, but for the fundamental day to day operations, they could get along just fine without the rest of the Federation. Power was plentiful for things like replicators, they had plenty of arable land for crops, the environment was rather pleasant where the three major cities were built and numerous little townships that sprung up whenever someone decided to ‘go frontier’.

But Burque III served as a decent little transshipment point because of all that. Orbital traffic here usually had three or four freighters loading or unloading, not enough to warrant a full-time traffic management, but enough to warrant a few buoys, an automated notification about flight paths and repercussions for violators of such rules.

And here, now, there was nothing. The buoys had been set to advise all shipping to progress on a very narrow flight path at maximum warp deeper into the Federation via two checkpoints, as if Starfleet was trying to route shipping around something peculiar.

“Any Starfleet ships on sensors?” she asked as she threw herself into her command chair and was rewarded with Orin bringing up a long-range tactical display on the main screen.

USS Cavelo was just on the edge of the Rose’s sensors, essentially standing still wherever it was and whatever it was doing. Another couple of ships were running here or there at high warp, some looking to be attempting to chase down freighters, others escorting convoys that other freighters looked to be running towards. A few larger ships were scattered around inside the advised Red Zones or Transit Exclusions Zones.

“Goddess, that’s what, fifteen ships just on long range scanners? Is that a Romulan warship?” Sidda asked as she pointed at a blip and Orin readjusted the display to show the point of interest. A single romulan starship, Romulan Star Empire to be precise, was running at full speed towards the border from inside the Federation, two Federation starships in hot pursuit. It was too fast for a cloaking device to be of any use and from the speed of the two pursuers, shields were likely to be far, far more useful in the next few hours.

“Christ,” one of the humans on the bridge spoke up as the tactical display updated, showing that the two pursuing vessels were both top of the line cruisers and both pouring on the speed. The interception point was lightyears inside Federation territory. “Someone’s about to start a war.”

“What the fuck is Starfleet thinking?” another spoke and Sidda had to agree. One didn’t throw an Odyssey-class and a Prometheus-class at chasing down a scout unless you wanted it either very dead, or very captured.

“They’re thinking something is important enough to warrant a war,” Sidda said out loud and looked to Orin, who nodded in agreement with her. Then she looked around the bridge. “We’ll stay here, but cloaked for twelve more hours. I want to give Gaeda a chance to show his ass before we go looking for him to bail him out of whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into.”

****

Martian Thorn
Bridge

“Cavelo stopped scanning Delta like it was trying to count it’s individual atoms,” Matt said. “But I don’t think you’ll like why.”

“They spent an hour irradiating a planet, I don’t think I’m going to like anything they’re doing.”

Matt punched up a sensor read he had on the main screen and then highlighted the odd power signature he was seeing. A massive, truly massive gravimetric signature from inside the Cavelo’s magazines. Between 50 and 100 isotons, the best the sensors could make out from passives and at this range. “They’ve built themselves a warhead big enough to crack that dirt ball in half I wager. Looks loaded to.”

Gaeda blinked at the screen a few times, then put two and two together. The exclusion zones, Starfleet corralling ships in places, now this. Something dangerous was up and they were trying to get all the warp capable ships to safe zones, away from the dangers they weren’t bloody well telling people about.

But they must have a reason.

A damn good reason.

A scary reason.

“Christ. Trid, bring us about for Burque, maximum warp right now,” he ordered and threw himself into his command chair.

****

USS Cavelo
Bridge

“Torpedo is armed as per your specification sir,” the officer at tactical said.

Josiah Hu-Williams was a lucky man right now. His second Omega detection in a few days and no one could take over this time. But luckily his mission was to deal with a single molecule in a remote system with no one around. Order a special torpedo built, find the offending bugger and wipe it from existence.

Nice and easy.

“Contact, bearing one eight five mark zero. Range three light minutes. Looks like a ship under cloak going to high warp.”

Fuck!

He knew those pirates had to be about somewhere, just hadn’t expected them to be following him. How the hell did a K’t’inga-class even follow them at warp and not give away its location? Those things were old, dirty, clumsy and stupid as bricks.

Cavelo wasn’t much better though, being a block 1 California, but dammit, she was his.

But it was a problem for another day.

“Right, soft launch the torpedo please. Helm, set source for waypoint Romeo-Romeo-14, warp six and engage once the torpedo is away.”

“Aye sir,” came a chorus of responses and Cavelo went about her destructive duty, keeping space safe for another day.

****

Vondem Rose
Main Bridge

“Fucking hell Gaeda, you’re late,” Sidda said to her offsider as his face appeared on the viewscreen.

“Sorry boss, got busy keeping tabs on that patrol ship that chased you for a bit. Think I might know what Starfleet is up to.” There was no grin of ‘I know something you don’t know’, but concern and worry as the screen split to display sensor readings from the Thorn earlier in the day.

Suffice to say the results showed a planet, then an almighty explosion and then parts of planet afterwards.

“They blew up a planet? Are they testing weapons out here?”

“I don’t think that’s it boss,” Gaeda said. “Starfleet doesn’t go in for planet cracking. Besides, they’ve got something better anyway. I’ll tell you about those rumours another day, but yah, cracking planets isn’t Starfleet’s normal parlour trick. Something must have them spooked if they’re cracking out weapons that make tricobolt warheads look like firecrackers.”

Those were weapons that Sidda could compare things to, having seen them in action once before, but in their more conventional use as demolition charges, used for cracking asteroids apart in a hurry, or making navigational hazards go away.

“80 isoton explosions…that must be a lot of scared. They can’t be doing this everywhere though, people would notice, if not just the public, then the KDF, the Romulan fleets, Cardies…this is going to get out of control. It’s going to get out of control and someone is going to start shooting.”

Gaeda looked at Sidda as the sensor feed disappeared from the viewscreen, his whole face dominating it once more. “What are you thinking boss?”

“Trying to figure out how to make money out of this and be enough of a scape goat for Starfleet if they need it to stop a war. We can’t do anything anywhere else, but we might be able to stop something with the Romulans if it comes up.”

“Sounding a bit Fleet-like there boss,” Gaeda teased.

“Fuck you,” she snapped back. “Get your ass to Burque now, we’ll regroup and figure out what to do. I’m going to make some calls in the meantime. Maybe mother will answer, but we know a couple of alright mannequins, maybe we can help them.”

“Maybe get another salvage contract out of it,” Gaeda answered. “We’ll pile on the speed, be there in a couple of hours.”

****

USS Sunshine Coast
Berengaria Sector
Evacuation Convoy BER-9-A

“Captain Sadovu, we’ve got a hail from an IKS Va’thu, clear across the Federation. They’re using a priority code.”

Tisa Sadovu rolled her eyes and looked to her XO, Gervais, then sighed. “Next round it’s my daughter,” she said.

Gervais looked up from his console and smiled. “Va’thu is a KDF reservist ship. I bet it’s some KDF captain calling to verify something before he drags her to the nearest Federation starbase and dumps her on their door step.”

That drew a snot from Tisa, who then raised a hand and waved it for De Santos to put the hail through. And sure enough, just as she thought, the view screen snapped to showing the bridge of a klingon cruiser, not some mothballed little bird of prey, with a full eclectic crew, and her daughter sitting smack in the middle of them all.

At least the Romulan girl wasn’t draped all over Sidda this time. Though, she had to admit, Revin was good looking, but to young for her, and to Romulan. Shaking her head, she rolled those eyes again and looked to Gervais to see his defeated face.

“What do you want Sidda?” she asked. “I’m kind of busy. All of Starfleet is.”

“I want to know why,” came the response after a delay.

“Classified. And no, I’m not going to discuss it with you. This is serious Sidda, stay out of it.”

She waited, then saw the look on Sidda’s face. The delay was intolerable, but subspace had its limits and Sunshine Coast wasn’t equipped for hyperspace like the newest deep space explorers were.

“I’m serious rebenok, stay out of this,” Tisa tried once more with her daughter. She stood and walked forward. “I’m not joking, I’m not even going to get angry. I’m going to tell you – stay out of this. There are captains out there right now with blank checks to do what needs to be done. Don’t be in their way.”

She waited, saw realisation hit Sidda. Theirs was a tense relationship, usually best summed up with resentment, anger and screaming matches. If only her daughter had just listened and more disciplined and not like her disaster of a father. But it seemed that Tisa’s calm approach was at least sinking in how dangerous this was.

“Fucking Starfleet. This is all going to blow up.”

“Likely has rebenok, but I pray it won’t.”

She saw Sidda reach sideways, grab Revin’s hand and squeeze it. Then she saw the ring on Revin’s finger, her own eyes darting and seeing a ring on Sidda’s matching hand. Her eyes narrowed, then she took a breath and relaxed. So, her daughter had finally settled down.

“Stay safe out there rebenok,” she said.

“This isn’t over pozhilaya dama,” Sidda said, then the channel went dead.

Tisa sighed, purposefully dampening the desire to scream at her daughter who she knew, just knew right now was planning something that would get her shot at by someone. “Get me someone, anyone over that side of the Federation. I need to make some calls and let people know just what ship my daughter is totting around in. Gervais, you have the bridge.”

And with that she stalked to her ready room. There had to be something left in that whiskey bottle she kept in there.

Everyone waited till their Captain had left the bridge, then De Santos was the first to speak once the doors to the ready room had closed. “Has our day gone to shit again?”

“Only if the Cap doesn’t get to speak to someone helpful. Hail Sector Command would you De Santos, lets work our way up the 2^nd Fleet chain to someone who will know who to talk to over by the Neutral Zone.” And at that Gervais winced, showing his age at still calling the area the Neutral Zone. “You know what I meant,” he said glaring at De Santos. “And be quick about it or when the Cap comes after me, I’m passing it along.”