Vondem Rose
Nearing the Republic/Federation border
Bridge

“Another three days and we’ll meet up with a Romulan freighter, the Setlik. We sell half the cargo to them, making up all expenses accrued so far, then we carry the rest on to Torkin IV, where Roelin will be awaiting his shipment of the syrup,” Na’roq said, reading off a padd in her hand. “I spoke with him a few hours ago and he’s informed me he has more up to date information – not just a name, but a location now.”

“Well, guess that’s worth the wait then,” Sidda said, signing off on the padd in her own hand and handing it back to Na’roq, only to have to accept another. Running a ship, a business and trying to get an aid relief organisation off the ground was a paperwork nightmare. The troubles of setting up fronts and blinds.

Fronts and blinds that she actually wants doing good work. After all, locals are far more willing to accept a criminal element if that criminal element is a key and vital contributor to their community.

“I still don’t understand why, if your goal is to ultimately visit Revin’s father, you just don’t go straight there. Surely you could claim the bounty yourself, yes?”

Sidda blinked, starred straight at Na’roq and blinked slower again. “Uh…that’s not what we’re wanting to do actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Revin wants a modicum of revenge on her father for her…poor childhood. We’re doing it in a proper Romulan fashion. Nipping at loyal lieutenants, weakening his position, showing that we can stop his and his underling’s plots. Once we’re confident, then we’ll strike.”

“Ah…a hostile takeover. Diminish the target’s assets before a final buyout action.” Na’roq nodded with understanding. “Not quiet the same, being Romulan politics and not civilised commercial matters.”

“To be fair, I don’t think either is very civilised.”

They both had a small chuckle at that, interrupted by beeping from Tactical and Orin tapping on his console to get Sidda’s attention. Incoming distress call, he signed before putting it through.

“This is the freighter Costaguana, mayday mayday mayday, we are under attack by four orion raiders. We need immediate assistance. Repeat, this is the freighter…”

“Enough,” Sidda said, a handwave emphasising the point. “Distance?”

Orin’s response was to just bring up the local region on the main viewscreen, highlighting the main shipping lane that Starfleet had established recently with its exclusion and safe transit zones. The Costaguana was almost directly in their path, a mere twenty minutes at their current pace, five if they increased speed but considerably increasing the odds of being spotted even under cloak.

“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath. “Louis, adjust course and lay on the speed. Orin, music please.”

The lights on the bridge immediately dimmed further and the klaxon of action stations started to ring throughout the bridge as the Vondom Rose rode to war.

****

SS Costaguana
Bridge

“We’ve got boarders in bay 4 and two more trying to get into Engineering. Mitchell’s people are keeping them out for now.”

The freighter rocked as another strafing run of the unoccupied pods took place from one of the raiders.

“God dammit! Where the hell is Starfleet?”

“We’ve just lost the impulse drives.”

“I’ve got the shields back up!”

Another series of hits and lights on the bridge dimmed, a console blew out and sparks showed the room.

“Nevermind. They’re transporting cargo off the ship Captain. Starting in bay 4. They’re grabbing all the artifacts.”

Captain Rodney Anderson wasn’t exactly expecting any of this today, or even this entire trip. Was supposed to be a simply little cargo run. Two months there and back. But then Starfleet had to impose new rules and funnel all the shipping into a shooting gallery, then not bother to police it properly.

“Hail the lead raider,” he finally said, dejected.

Without much fanfare this XO opened the channel to the orion raider, a large man appearing on screen surrounded by his bridge crew, all wearing some sort of uniform, likely self-designed if Rodney’s read of the style was anything to go by. “Surrendering human?”

“Yah I was just about to…” He stopped as the orion’s bridge suddenly was engulfed in flame and then suddenly the channel went dead, the viewscreen reverting to the starscape before the Costaguana.

One of the other raiders nipped in front of the Costaguana, only for its shields to flare in green, a combination of its own shield bubble and the barrage of disruptor fire that slammed into the ship, ripping away it’s meagre shields in the face of capital grade weaponry, then chewing through the hull and cracking the ship in half, soon disappearing in an explosion as antimatter containment failed and vessel immolated.

“The other raiders are breaking off. We’re being hailed.” Rodney’s nod and the viewscreen came to life, this time with a bridge of a klingon ship and again more orions. And some humans, a ferengi and an andorian. He just traded one lot of raiders for another hadn’t he?

****

Vondem Rose
Mess Hall

“I do apologise Captain Anderson for not getting here sooner, but the Rose isn’t as nippy as some Federation starships are,” Sidda said as she sat herself down in the mess hall opposite Captain Anderson and one of his crew members he’d brought along, arguably for some measure of protection.

“Yah, well, I won’t complain to much,” the older man said. “No one was badly hurt and you’ve been true to your word about getting us back on our feet. Lost our primary cargo though, so that’s a bit of a reputational hit.”

“Oh?”

Anderson snorted, then smiled. “Yah, just a bunch of stuffy old artifacts. They’d been sitting on a Republic world, Tren IV, for two months to be transported to a museum on Japori. We got them and were on our way home when all this craziness started. Then comes some order from Starfleet to deliver them to the nearest starbase ASAP. But for some reason those raiders went straight for the museum pieces so they must have some worth outside of museums and collectors if Starfleet and raiders want them.”

“Raiders want them because Starfleet wants them,” Sidda offered, pausing for Kevak to set down some drinks and as close to a small platter as he was want to make. Thank the Goddesses there was no gagh on the platter. “But if they’re this important, probably best someone recovers them.”

“Well, the Costaguana is certainly not a gunboat and we’re still making good our repairs,” Anderson said as he went for his cup. Only after he had sipped did the other man lift his cup, but didn’t sip from it.

So, to set them both at ease she lifted her own cup and sipped at it, then a larger mouthful before setting it back down and then picking a few things from the platter. “I’ll make you a deal Captain. I’ll send my escort ship with you to keep you safe to the New Providence yards and I’ll take the Rose in case of those artifacts. Once I have them, I’ll return them to you, but you share the reputation earnings with my crew, sixty/forty to you.”

“Where’s the catch?” Anderson asked at the overly generous offer just presented to him.

“A favour in the future and to remember who your friends are. I’m sure the Rose can offer services to you and yours again in the future, as you can to us.”

She could just about hear the cogs in Anderson’s mind turning, a bit more when he looked to his companion who shrugged at the unspoken query, then fortified himself with a healthy mouthful of the drink Kevak had brought out. “What the hell, why not. But I want those raiders gone too. That way we get reputation for clearing the shipping lanes as well, plus it’s just good for business. And we share that too.”

“Naturally,” Sidda said with a smile. “Naturally.”

****

Main Bridge

“Costaguana is underway and Thorn will intercept with them in an hour,” Lewis said from Helm.

Nodding, Sidda thought to herself about having a conversation with her cousin Orin about his speech. On the Vondem Thorn it wasn’t such a problem, but the Rose was so much bigger, so much needy of a fully capable crew.

Besides, he already got his revenge years ago. And surely his fiancée would also convince him? Unless that’s what she likes, the strong silent types?

“Right Lewis, set course on their last known trajectory and engage at warp six. Let’s go pick up the trail and follow them back to base. Don’t bother with the cloak for now. Maybe we’ll lure some dumb fools for a bit or even better, catch a few.”

“Oooh…big dumb freighter, coming right up,” the man said with some mirth and soon enough the Rose was at warp. “I’ve got a good read of their warp trail, should be able to follow them. Helps we shot one of them up as they ran for it.”

“Yes,” Sidda said, turning her chair to face Tactical and Orin standing there, “that was some good shooting.”

Thank you, he signed. If you’ll excuse me Cousin, I have an appointment with the Lady Revin.

“You, an appointment with my fiancée? Should I be worried? Should Rebecca be worried?”

Her Ladyship wishes to learn to shoot, so I shall instruct her since your aim, Cousin, could do with some work.

“Mock me like that once more Orin and I’ll show you my aim,” she said, smirking at him, then shooing him away with a wave of her hand. “Go, have fun! The gunnery range is there for a reason after all.”

Turning back around, Lewis was there looking at her with a smirk his own. “What?” she demanded.

“Oh, just, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fire more then once or twice in a firefight anyway ma’am. You tend to fire off full charge shots and empty the powerpacks.”

“Yah, and I hit each time.”

“And burn out the disruptors too. You’re taking the pirate thing a bit far I think,” he said turning back this controls. “You don’t need to charge in with flintlocks and settle things with a single shot you know.”

“Pah!” she exclaimed as a few others on the bridge nodded in agreement with Lewis’ statement. “Well stuff the lot of yah, I know what I’m doing.”

“No doubt ma’am, no doubt.”

****

Orion raider Sharptooth

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well what did we steal you idiot,” one of the brutish male orions said, looming over a much smaller man in the cargo bay. “It had better be worth two ships and their crews.”

“I…think? Maybe boss,” the small man said as he popped open one of the crates, this the first chance he’d had to inspect the haul after being tasked with multiple repairs as they returned to base. A padd sat in a recess in the padding, it’s screen coming to life and displaying a list.

“Oh…inventory list,” he said, pulling the padd out to look, only to have it snatched away.

“Tkon artifacts? Goddess and gods this is a disaster,” the brute said before kicking the smaller man and throwing the padd at him. “You had better hope we find a buyer for these useless dirt covered trinkets or I’m going finally space you Krent. Then at least I’d actually get some enjoyment.”

With that the larger man left, leaving Krent to survey all they’d stolen. Eight crates of recovered artifacts, all in romulan containers, labelled in Federation standard for their new caretakers, if not for this little diversion. Now all he had to do was find some buyers before he took a walk outside.

“Defend the landing bay!” came the barking voice over the loudspeakers, urging the assembled men and women there further in tasks they were well aware of already. “Don’t let them into the base! Klingon filth!”

“Really wish the Old Lady would shut up,” Grell muttered just loud enough for those around him to hear as they all settled into defensive positions. Crates, a couple of shuttles, loading equipment all served as defensive cover in the inevitable assault that was about to begin. “Or get down here to fucking help herself.”

“I hear that,” someone down the line responded and a few chuckles went around as final checks on weapons were done.

Checking his own, Grell noted the power pack at half charge. More than enough for a prolonged firefight. Probably hadn’t been charged after the raid on that human freighter the other day and he had only grabbed it from the rack anyway. A quick check of his sidearm showed a full charge on the plasma pistol, his own personal weapon and fallback should this decades old romulan disruptor he had failed.

Now it was just a waiting game until the klingon attackers came through the landing bay’s atmospheric field and started their attack. The Old Lady, the matriarch of this little operation, had installed transport inhibitors years ago to ward against just this day. No point letting someone just beam out all their loot, or beam in everywhere and kill them all. Oh no, best to force them into the killzone that was this bay.

The whole station rocked again, clearing the klingon warship out there taking another couple of potshots. Dust and small debris rained down from the rock-carved ceiling and everyone raised a hand over their heads just in case, though nothing significant fell. “Any minute now,” came a loud voice from elsewhere in the bay. Good to hear someone else a little anxious as he was.

Then he saw it, the hulking mass of a klingon warship, rising from below, side on to the asteroid base. It rose slowly, gently, purposefully as if someone over there wanted to convey menace and Grell had to admit to himself, it was working. It took a few seconds to even register the ship wasn’t the traditional green of klingon ships, or the grey of older ones, but a lighter shade of purple.

“Shuttles!” a shout rang out and a few hands were pointing to the two shuttles departing the warship, heading in their direction. At least they were the right colour, if that mattered.

“Hey, Lif, ever heard of purple klingon ships?” he asked the woman at his side as she readjusted her own disruptor. In preparation for the assault.

“Not a big one, but heard rumours once of a purple bird of prey. Must be some crazy klingon captain or something, going for something unique,” she responded. “Doesn’t matter, there’s twenty of us in here now. Every advantage as we fall back. We’ll give them their stupid glorious death.”

Grell snorted to himself. The bluster and self-confidence of Lif was helpful. They were all going to need it shortly anyway. They knew the klingons had to come through this landing bay, they had the home ground advantage, but it was klingons after all. Brutal warriors who would press the attack despite their losses in order to avoid shame. It was going to be a grind.

And the twenty of them in the landing bay were just the first line. Engage the enemy, fall back when pressed and lure them into cross fires and traps inside the base. Wear them down until they left or everyone here was dead, there was no other option now that retreat the raiders was off the books.

“Ready yourselves!” that voice bellowed over the loudspeakers again, the Old Lady clearly watching via some security camera somewhere.

The shuttles neared the bay and then slowly pushed through the atmospheric shield, but instead of turning to present their loading doors, they kept their noses in and Grell could make out a figure in one of the shuttles pointing at him, or near him. No, past him, to the main door into the base. Then pointing at all the cover everyone had built or was hiding behind.

This wasn’t some straight up klingon assault, this attacker was thinking. “Oh…shit…DOWN!” he shouted as the assault shuttles opened fire, their phasers ripping into the assembled containers and other bulwarks.

“Fall back!” someone shouted and he could make out people dashing for the door, a door which was now gone, a smouldering ruin left in its place. He looked around and saw Lif running and didn’t even think about it, just got to his feet and sprinted for the door, the whine of disruptor fire filling the landing bay, followed by explosions and screams of terror as others weren’t so lucky to make it out of there.

The first fall back point was a decent barricade and the look of those defending it seeing the bay defenders falling back so quickly wasn’t much of a surprise. It wasn’t supposed to be this fast and klingons were supposed to be right on their tail, but nothing was going to plan.

“You cowards!” came the Old Lady’s voice again. “Get back in there and make them pay!”

“Fuck that,” someone said nearby.

“I was expecting them to eagerly rush us.”

“Doesn’t seem honourable to me.”

“We’re screwed, so screwed,” another started to chant, this chanting halted by slap to the face from Lif.

They could hear sounds in the bay, shuttles taking their time to land, doors dropping open in quick order, but no sounds of running bootfalls. Barely any noise at all. A few disruptor whines, likely killing off cameras, or injured fellow raiders.

“Was that a romulan disruptor I heard?” asked Lif as she came up beside Grell.

“No, it sounded like a Feddy phaser to me.”

“Who the fuck are these people?” she asked.

Everything went quiet as everyone waited, watching for the first attacker to gun down and a shot whined off down the hall when a stick with a piece of cloth was waved in the doorway.

“Okay, we’re going to have to work on our manners,” a feminine voice came back, clearly not Klingon, from the landing bay. The makeshift flag was waved again and Grell could make out the hole in the piece of blue cloth. “This is your only chance to surrender before my boys and girls come in there and we take what we want. Any takers?”

“Kill the bitch!” came the Old Lady’s demands for all to hear.

“How about we all ignore the voices we all hear and think for ourselves, yes?” the response from the landing bay came.

Grell looked to his colleagues, looked to his friend Lif and saw her expression harden before she fired off her disruptor, hitting the stick dead on and dropping the flag to the ground. “You’ll never break us!”

Everything went quiet for a moment, everyone watching, waiting, then chaos. Figures poured through the door, firing weapons as they went. Everyone on Grell’s side, even himself, returned fire. But these attackers were practised and disciplined, unlike the raiders. The large orion in the front stepped through and fired off a disruptor rifle, each shot hitting someone. He took two shots before he went down, but from how he was moving, not out.

Another, a klingon now covered the fallen orion as a human, or something similar at least, dragged the orion back. More poured in and dove for what little cover there was, firing at the defenders. Their cover started to collapse under the barrage, pieces collapsing and forcing people to fall back, giving the attackers a chance to push forward.

“The line isn’t going to last long here,” Lif said as she scrambled to a new piece of cover as he gave covering fire, narrowly ducking to avoid a phaser beam.

“No shit genius,” he growled, firing a few more shots and then dropping down to avoid counter-fire.

The hallway was getting smokey now from the fires in the landing bays and smouldering cover in the hallway, the air warming with the amount of energy being discharged as well. He could see the closest attackers clearly enough, shapes of others past that and make out the door to the landing back barely. One figure strode forward though all of that, wielding what looked like just a pair of disruptor pistols and as she neared, he could make out her face.

“Oh shit…” he muttered, drawing Lif’s attention.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she replied, then stood with her weapon at the ready. “Die b…”

The single disruptor bolt took Lif right above the left hip and punched right through into the final line of barricades behind them. The blast, the shock of it, the pain stopped the woman and Grell caught her as she dropped like a leaf.

“Fall back!” he bellowed, carrying his friend out of that dreaded hallway. “It’s The Bitch!”

****

“Seriously, The Bitch?” Sidda asked as she watched the defenders fall back, diving out of the way of a near-miss and shaking her head. “It’s Queen Bitch!” she shouted back as she shook the disruptor in her left hand, banged it against a wall and then checked the charge indicators on it. “My fiancée says so!”

“Orin told you to stop firing them like that,” Orelia said as she checked her own weapon and stayed out of firing lanes as injured people either fell back or were pulled back and fresh troops moved up to join them.

“Yah, well, he got shot, I didn’t,” she snapped back and then holstered the spent disruptor. “Besides, it should have vaporised that woman, not shot through her.”

“You can’t vaporise everyone,” Orelia continued, then pulled her disruptor and handed it over. “You’ll wreck your weapons.”

“Watch me!” she snapped back and was about to move when Orelia grabbed her by the back of her jacket and pulled her back just in time to let someone fire a barrage of disruptor bolts down range.

The large klingon, one of the new cooks, came walking forward with one of the heavier weapons in the Vondem Rose’s armoury, a toothy grin on his face as he walked forward. To his left, a klingon woman wearing similar colours kept pace with a rifle, firing controlled shots instead. Wracking her brain Sidda recalled they were a husband and wife, apparently of such a low standing that they didn’t even try to claim some tenuous connection to any noble klingon house, no matter how low down.

“Goddesses that’s hot,” Orelia commented as she looked past Sidda to the slowly advancing couple, then gave Sidda a wink and moved to follow. “Coming Captain?”

****

Krent was, for all his faults, not oblivious to the assault underway currently, but it just failed to warrant much attention from him. He wasn’t liked here, a slave in all but name to the commander of the raider Sharptooth, though from what he’d been heard, likely now to the Lady Trelliah instead. So all in all a general downturn of events.

Either Trelliah would shoot him after all this, blaming him for the assault, or the attackers would shoot him. All he could really hope for was that they’d be swift about it as he knew Trelliah certainly wouldn’t. She’d take her time and frankly he didn’t relish that idea. Or taking his own life. He was a coward through and through.

And so that was why he was just going to keep working until someone killed him. He could at least take joy in discovering something before anyone else, right?

His work however got interrupted when five of Trelliah’s goons barged into the lab, really a storage room to which he was the only one who called it a lab. It was also incidentally one of the more secure rooms on the base, buried deep into the asteroid, near its heart. For anyone to have pushed through this far they would have either been solely dedicated to the effort, or had run of the entire facility already.

“Secure the do…” the order was cut short and changed into a cry of pain as a blast hit the man in the back, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Krent himself didn’t need much telling, scrambling to the floor and under a table in quick order, curling up upon himself and covering his head. Yes, he could hope the attackers would shoot him versus Trelliah, but that didn’t mean he was going to go seeking it after all. Cowardice had kept him alive so far, as well as having an intellect that others found ‘useful’.

Eyes squeezed shut, ears covered, he could make out the whine of disruptors and phasers, of cries of pain and silenced gasps before everything went quiet. The fight was over, one way or another. Peering out from under his table he could make out the unstaring eyes of one of the goons looking at him from where he lay on the floor and before he could even react he threw up.

He was on his hands and knees, hurling his breakfast all over the floor and didn’t see the two figures before they grabbed him and pulled him to his feet, or well, off of them, before setting him back down, but their hands remained on his arms, stopping him from moving. Before him stood an orion woman, one who’s face he was certain he’d seen before, but couldn’t recall. He could see the burn mark in her jacket on her left shoulder, what looked like bandages through the hole, stained slightly from blood and her left arm hanging somewhat limply at her side.

“No weapons, hiding under a desk…let me guess, Trelliah’s keeping slaves again?” the woman asked him, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to him, the guards on either side of him, klingons, letting his arms go.

Dabbing at his mouth and using the handkerchief to cover his mouth while he considered throwing up once more, he finally composed himself enough to speak. “Krent m’lady…” he said meekly so as not to offend. “I’m…Lady Trelliah’s appraiser.”

“Oh, this is rich!” the woman said with a smile. “Alright Krent, I’m Sidda, I’m here for some Tkon relics. Know where I might find them?”

Sidda.

That name rang a bell. A few of them even. Trelliah had a deep, fantastical loathing of the woman before him. Some job gone bad, or opportunity lost because of this woman. Something that fuelled the spite in her heart. But the others told fantastical stories as well. A cold blooded murderer, a pirate who sold out to Starfleet, or the Klingons, or the Romulans if that could be believed. Someone who tortured her competition, elaborate revenge plots that typically included killing family members.

All of which Krent dismissed for one reason – he was smart enough to realise any such figure would have been hunted down and taken out by starfleet years ago.

But this woman did match the description of Sidda, save for perhaps being a little bit shorter than expected and if the bandages were a sign of things, not as invulnerable as the tales go.

“Uh…yah, those crates over there,” he said, pointing at a series of romulan containers. Too many for this collection of people to carry out of here easily. “But…uh…”

“But what?” Sidda asked of him while she waved for one of her crew to close and secure the containers.

“Don’t you want what’s in the vault?”

“What’s in the vault?”

“All of Trelliah’s prizes, her truth worth really.”

Sidda’s grin grew and she looked to the others in the room who all nodded, some more enthusiastically than others. “Well, we’re not going to be able to carry much out of here Mr Krent and we’ve still got to fight our way out of here.”

“Uh, well…I can help with that. I know where the transport inhibitors are kept.”

Suddenly all eyes in the room were on him and he felt like being sick again. “Why are you being so helpful?” Sidda asked him.

“Well, I, uh…I want off this rock and safe passage to a Federation world or starbase. I’ll pay you with knowledge of the transport inhibitors and all the loot in Trelliah’s vault.” This was perhaps the bravest thing he’d ever done in years and it wasn’t settling very well with him.

“Mr Krent, you have yourself a deal. Telin, tag those cases, hell, stack everything in the middle of the room and tag the pile. We’ll take everything.”

****

The command center had become a desperate bunker, the screens not showing much outside save for where the attackers had left her defenders, or those parts of the station behind her defenders and still hers. Fully a third of the station was out of sight now, Sidda’s people gunning down cameras and sensors as they went. They couldn’t have been that many of them, but reports said the shuttles had left and returned two more times now. They could easily have outnumbered them by now.

“Got her!” one of the younger women said and Trelliah strode over to look at the screen. Without prompting the relevant feed was blown up and Trelliah could see Sidda walking down the corridor, leading her people down an undefended corridor. One they shouldn’t have been able to get into at all, the door at the other end having been secured from the start.

She watched as Sidda strolled down, her people behind her by some distance, looked straight at the camera, raised her disruptor and blinded the command center to their going ons once more.

“Dammit, where was that?”

“Blue five. Uh, that’s near the vault m’lady.”

“Fuck the vault, that’s near the transport inhibitors. She takes those out, we’re as good as dead. You three,” Trelliah said as she pointed to her personal guard, “with me. Let’s go kill that bitch.”

****

“Krent! There any other way in there?” Sidda shouted as a barrage of fire pinned everyone down, unable to proceed any further.

“That’s the only entrance to the room! That’s why she put them there!” Trent half screamed back, somewhat further down the corridor and frankly not at all in danger right now, but clearly freighted by the weapons fire going on.

With a heavy sigh, she pulled out Orelia’s disruptor and started playing with some of the controls on it, earning her a filthy look from the other woman, returned the look, then tossed the whining weapon around the corner blindly. The massive green explosion was followed by Orelia and Sidda both rounding the corner and firing their weapons haphazardly into the clearling corridor.

There wasn’t any opposition until they entered the room itself and Sidda found a scrambling Trelliah bringing a weapon to bear. A swift kick sent the weapon across the room and Sidda leveled her own weapon at Trelliah. “How the fuck are you still alive?”

“Bitch!” was all the response she got, aside from Trelliah’s half-hearted attempt at a spit.

“Seriously? All this anger because I stole a bounty off of you? It was business, as is this.”

“I’ll gut you child! You, your crew, that precious little prize of yours”

Sidda looked at the older woman in absolute confusion. She just couldn’t figure out where Trelliah’s anger was coming from. Sure, she’d spent a few years harassing the raider boss and her ships, then stole the single greatest prize in the universe from her, and of course this, but she didn’t really know she’d be facing the woman this time.

“You know Trelliah, if you’d only threatened me, maybe even just my crew, I’d have let it slide. But you just threatened Revin.” The disruptor was fired once, straight into the older woman’s shoulder. She cried out in anguish, but the seething hatred was still there. “Never, ever threaten Revin.” She fired again, same shoulder. “Now, I’m intending on robbing you of everything you’re worth, then I’m leaving. No doubt your employees will have complaints to lodge with you shortly. This way one of them gets to claim to be the one that killed one of the last great pirate queens.”

“Bitch!”

“That’s Queen Bitch,” Sidda said and with a nod from Krent they all disappeared in a shimmer of red lights.

The sound of transporter beams snatching equipment and supplies from around the base echoed throughout as Sidda’s crew were recovered, supplies were lifted, the vault and lab emptied and in the last steps the transport inhibitors that Trelliah had spent so much treasure on in ages past were stolen from her.

****

“That everyone?” Sidda asked as she watched the last batch of her people return to the ship, all of them looking as equally surprised as the last six batches at being beamed out.

“That’s all of them ma’am,” the human at the controls of the transporter answered.

“Good work Sami,” she offered as praise before leaving the compartment and following the trail of people making their way to sickbay for at least a check up, or because they were helping a friend, or going to check on a friend.

Having a large crew was still taking some getting used to and arriving in sickbay to find not just Bones but a number of people taking orders from her running around was a vast improvement over the Thorn days, or even the same day they’d stolen this very ship.

The door had barely closed behind her when it opened again and curious, she turned to see who it was. Curiosity was met by Revin who glared at her shoulder, the ruined jacket hurt Sidda more than the disruptor blast, though that was still considerable and she’d only just started regaining feeling in her arm. Before much longer it would hurt more than the jacket. Before she could say a word though Revin cupped her face and kissed her, right there in front of the entire sickbay which, being a ship of rogues and scoundrels, was rewarded with a variety of encouragements.

Her own hands found Revin’s waist and when her lover broke the kiss, ignoring everyone there, Revin rested her forehead on her own. “I heard you got shot.”

“Only a little bit,” Sidda whispered back. “Ruined my jacket.”

“I’ll buy you another.”

“I should be seen by Bones.”

“Yes, but then by me.”

“Bones, bridge, check on the loot, then you.”

“Lewis has the bridge, Na’roq is checking the loot, so Bones then me.”

There was a clearing of the throat behind them and Sidda turned to see Bones standing there with a medical tricorder in one hand, a dermal regenerator in another. “Bed 3, now.” This was a woman used to being obeyed in her domain.

“Okay, geez, I know when I’m outnumbered.” She turned once more to Revin and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Tell Lewis to set course for the nearest Starfleet base of ship he can spot on sensors and get us underway, best speed possible.”

She turned to face her people, those in sickbay at least. “We have some loot to sell to the Feddies after all people, best get paid quickly.”

Despite proper registration, despite playing by the rules, Starfleet still had a tendency to distrust a klingon warship, armed merchant freighter that is, arriving at a fleet base at high warp without seventy-two hours’ notice, forms in triplicate and announcing intent to visit hours before arrival. They might have some distrust as well based on reasonably good sensor readings of said same starship violating mandated traffic zones, disregarding orders from a Starfleet vessel and a healthy ‘respect’ for the reputation of the ship’s captain.

Trouble.

Which is how Commander Chuck LaCroix found himself leading a customs inspection of the SS Vondem Rose with a team of no less than twenty engineers and security personnel. The two shuttles had departed New Providence as soon as the ‘freighter’ had dropped out of warp and been ordered to heave to. And dutifully they had – at the system periphery, forcing a rather laborious four-hour shuttle flight to get here.

That flight hadn’t left Chuck in the best of moods as the two shuttles set down in the Vondem Rose’s cargo bay, which at first glance seemed to be kept in a tidy state befitting the ship’s original purpose. He had been expecting, as all freighters tended to do, to continue in system and then heave to when ten minutes away from the outward racing shuttle so the lack of preparation had left everyone in the customs teams sorely grumpy.

“Green light,” came a voice from the pilot’s station and Chuck nodded, more to himself then anything and stood up from his seat, watching those around get up and start shaking limps or rolling their heads to wake up and be presentable before some rabble freighter crew. Taking a moment himself, he stretched, careful not to clock anyone, then looked around to confirm everyone was ready then reached out and hit the hatch button.

In front of him stood exactly three people, none of them the same species as another and all them in the ship’s dossier he had been given. The shipmaster, Sidda Sadovu, who he had been told had styled herself at one point as the pirate queen of Archanis, a quartermaster, a ferengi woman named Na’roq who he knew was actively being investigated by the FCA for financial irregularities, code for not having paid her bribes most likely, and a large older klingon man, Kevak, who was officially on the records as ship’s morale officer.

This was going to be a terribly boring and simultaneously interesting inspection; he just knew it. Slapping on that professional detachment, straighten his back another few points towards ‘aspiring admiral’ and tucking the relevant padd he was going to need under his left arm, he stepped out seemingly in time with the second shuttle’s crew disembarking.

“Captain Sadovu, Commander LaCroix, New Providence Customs,” he introduced himself, offering his free hand to the woman as he approached her. “Thank you for acknowledging the request to heave to so promptly.” He thought he did a reasonable job of hiding the sarcasm in his voice with his deadpan best. “We don’t wish to take up too much of your time with this inspection.”

“I’d hope so,” the orion said, her grip reasonable. “I’ve asked my crew to be fully compliant with your inspection, but you’ll be escorted at all times by at least one crew member per team. Safety, you understand.”

“Certain ma’am, this is your ship, your people are best informed upon any safety issues aboard ship, though we will be documenting those as part of the inspection.”

“Best stay out of the kitchen then,” Kevak growled as he looked over the inspectors as they started to assemble and group up into their teams. “Cargo bays, follow me,” and with that the klingon started to walk towards the main door out of the bay.

Quick glances, head nods and the entire other shuttleload of personnel broke off and followed, leaving Chuck with his own people. “I have clearance here for you Captain to proceed to New Providence orbit, so that the inspection won’t delay you any further than it needs to.” The padd presented, he noticed that she only looked at it, nodded and then looked back up at him with a smile.

“Very good Commander, we’ll get underway shortly. Tell me, did the Costaguana make it safely back?”

“Seriously?” Jenny asked Matt as he scanned a pallet of cargo and had voiced his findings for her. “Maple syrup?” She abandoned her own scans to turn around and look at the proffered tricorder before her and squinted at it as if that could make the device suddenly report something more sensible.

“Twenty-five thousand litres of maple syrup. All bottled in seven-fifty millilitre bottles. All dutifully registered products of Earth. Canada even.” That bit he didn’t need the tricorder for, for the pallets themselves proudly announced it. They were stacked and secured in bay three, along with a collection of other cargo bound for wherever the ship’s quartermaster had been able to forge papers for in Jenny’s mind.

Anyone carrying that much maple syrup with a ferengi in charge of cargo couldn’t be legitimate.

“What’s its destination?”

“Listed as Crateris inside the Republic.” Matt’s brow scrunched in that way Jenny had learnt meant he was digging around in his own memory for some specific piece of knowledge or trivia. That look that was typical of him throughout an entire pub quiz or when something specific had just come to mind. “Uh, maple syrup is a band substance within the Republic.”

“Maple syrup, banned? It’s tree sap.”

“Yah Jenny, but’s a direct competitor to romulan hillia syrup. I bet the ban is just some stupid law to protect a domestic industry, but it’s still a banned import.”

She shrugged and set her tricorder down to pick up the padd in their joint kit resting on the floor and started entering in the details of the find. “Is it an agreed ban export?” she asked while filling out the form.

“No, just a banned import. It’s a purely one-sided law. As long as the Federation doesn’t respond we don’t get some stupid Chicken Tax situation,” he continued as he went back to his scanning.

“Seriously, do you just study stupid trivia for pub quiz?”

“How else do we keep winning? Certainly not my knowledge of popular music.”

“Eighty-seven torpedoes. Products destined for the Romulan Republic that are banned imports. A warp field regulator I’m informed is twenty hours overdue for servicing,” Check read off the list on his padd as he sat in Captain Sadovu’s ‘ready room’ opposite her. “Captain, these are all rather serious.”

“Please,” she said dismissively. “This is an armed merchant ship, properly registered. I’m allowed a full inventory of torpedoes, if I can source them. The maple syrup is a banned import, not an export, so there is no need for anyone to get worked up about it. Let me deal with that problem on the other end.”

He restrained himself from huffing at that, instead opting for a sip of the tea she’d provided. Some orion blend that he’d had to look up later, but that he couldn’t ask about. It would distract from the seriousness of the moment.

“And the warp field regulator, well, we had planned on getting that serviced, but I had to go do a little pirate hunting because Starfleet aren’t doing their proper jobs at the moment.” He watched her throw herself back into her chair and glare at him, daring him to object.

And he couldn’t. He knew what she was getting at and somewhat agreed with her. To many merchants in the last week had arrived at New Providence with some story of pirates or brigades, more so then was regular.

“And I have listed here that you’re carrying the Costaguana’s priority cargo as well.”

“It’s being kept in the armoury for safe keeping. It’s all there and accounted for. Payment to go to Captain Anderson. We’ll hand it over happily when we arrive in orbit Commander, don’t you doubt that.”

He looked at her, studying her for a moment before looking back at his padd, tapping a few things and then offering it to her to study and approve with a thumbprint.

“Everything is in order. We heavily suggest servicing that regulator before breaking orbit.”

She waved dismissively at him after tapping the padd, which he took as her way of saying ‘dismissed’ and stood, making for the door. “Oh and Captain, you do actually have a find ship. My crews likely wouldn’t have found that regulator issue if your own engineers hadn’t mentioned it in passing.”

“We’ll be in orbit in twenty minutes. You’ll see yourselves off, won’t you?” she asked as he stood in the doorway.

“Certain ma’am. Have a good day.”

“Mr Krent,” the rotund bolian greeted him as he entered the suite overlooking the largest city on New Providence. “Mottin Brek, Office of Emancipation and Resettlement, absolute pleasure to meet you!” The man’s enthusiasm filled the space and initially set Krent back on edge before he settled himself and shook the bolian’s free mitt of a hand before directing him to the table and chairs by the window where he could sit and set down his brief case.

The morning sun, actual sunlight, was streaming in through the windows and Krent had been sitting at that table enjoying a bountiful breakfast from the replicator, reading some news and just soaking in the infrared radiation when his visitor had arrived and now, they returned there which he was thankful for.

“Mr Krent, we’re all so happy to see you here in the office! I live for these moments, helping someone be free of oppression and getting them on a path of their own choosing within the Federation.”

“I…yes, that’s why I insisted Mistress Sidda bring me here,” he said quietly, an opposite to the Bolian’s volume and tone of voice.

“Oh, I was under the impression she was your liberator, yes?” the bolian stopped in the process of unloading a padd and a recording device on the table.

“Oh, yes, yes she was. But she’s a ship leader.”

“Ah! Cultural thing. We can work on that later Mr Krent. For now though, it’s all about you. I’ve got rather good news actually. Turns out, you’re a reasonably well-off individual it seems.” Mottin tapped on his padd to wake it, held his thumb on it to unlock the secure files and then brought one up. “Seems here that last night a trust was set up in your name with the Bank of Bolus, lovely institution, my sister works there you know, and deposited a sizable fund to accrue interest in your name.”

The padd was turned around and Krent looked it over, his eyes immediately glazing over at the financial figures. It meant absolutely nothing for the self-trained appraiser. “I…what?”

“Mr Krent, you have enough funds at your call currently to live more then a comfortable life style above the mean Federation average. And according to the trust, you’ll have full access to the funds in a year’s time. There’s enough here to buy a small starship, nothing fancy mind you. But otherwise, the interest alone should see you fight until old age.”

“But I have no money. I wouldn’t even know what to do with money, or funds. I thought the Federation was without money.” He was confused by this turn of events.

“Its…complicated. Suffice to say Mr Krent, you’re going to have a happy life, I think. But, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to help you settle into the Federation. Find a place to live, something to do, any educational catching up you might like to undertake. Help you adjust to life within the Federation, or someone from the Office wherever you plan to live will at any rate.”

Now this was a bit more like what Krent had read in all the documents he’d been left with overnight. Assistance getting adjusted, find a place to live, engage with local communities. So on and so forth it all went. “I…I want to formalise my skill as an appraiser.”

“Ah! Now that I can help with, but maybe we can also look at some academia, yes? Museums always love a good appraiser.”

And with that there was no stopping Mottin Brek, for he had a mission.