“Tell me again why we’re out here trawling the station’s bars for our new chief engineer?” 

Hale Burton might not have been with the Resolute for long–a mere four months, which was basically just long enough to get his seat warm and figure out which setting was best for coffee on the replicator–but in that time he’d worked out that the CO did things his own way. Or rather, that Raan Mason tended to parse protocol and orders through a very specific, and if you asked Hale, totally not logical set of filters. 

Like right now. Dropping in at TFHQ for resupply and new crew assignments was routine. This morning they’d already welcomed aboard their new counsellor. That meeting had gone just as Hale expected. Counsellor Armstrong had arrived, reported in in a timely manner and left to get herself settled in. Hale had immediately warmed to the young woman’s professional, yet caring manner. Perfectly suitable for a counsellor.

He’d expected their new chief engineer to do the same. Perhaps with a little more grease on his hands but that was engineers for you. 

He’d been wrong. 

Oh, he’d been very wrong. 

When it became apparent that Lieutenant Bennett was not going to make an appearance, the captain had sighed, finished off his mug off coffee and levered his big frame out of his chair with the words, “We’d better go and find him before he blows something up.”

And that had not at all been ominous, which had led to them here, trawling all the second rate and frankly dodgy drinking establishments on the station. 

He didn’t think Mason was going to answer him, stood in the doorway of the latest bar. It was dingy and dank, and in the few steps they’d taken, the carpet had tried to hitch a ride on the bottom of Hale’s boots. 

Then Mason grunted and nodded to a corner of the room. “Bingo.”

Hale lifted an eyebrow as he looked that way. The guy half slumped over a table in the back of the bar could not be a starfleet officer. No way, no how. For one he wasn’t even sure that much hair was allowed by protocol. The big, bushy beard covered most of the guy’s face, and his hair didn’t look like it had seen a pair of scissors for months. 

“Might want to keep a step or two back,” Mason warned as they headed over. “Bennett tends to come up swinging. And he hits as hard as a shuttle at warp.”

“So… I assume you know this guy then?” 

Mason nodded, his lips compressed in a thin line. “Same species. Fought in the same war. Bennett here got a rougher end of the stick than I did.”

Stepping forward, Mason leaned in, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he winked at Hale.

“Bennett!” he barked right in the guy’s, his voice uncannyly like a drill sergeant’s. “Up and at ‘em soldier!”

Then all hell broke loose. 

Dayne Bennett, as always, came up swinging, a roar somewhere between that of a wounded bear and a pissed off targ erupting from his lips. 

Mason shook his head as he dodged the hammer-like blows with the ease of long practice, quickly wrapping his old friend and new chief engineer up in a restraint hold. 

“Dayne, it’s me. Raan,” he yelled over the sound of Bennett’s roaring, shifting his feet so his balance was better to hold onto the somewhat worse for wear engineer. “Calm down. It’s just me.”

But Bennett didn’t seem to be in the mood to be placated, instead, he just roared louder and twisted to try and throw Raan off. They stumbled against the table, and Raan got the hard edge right in the small of his back, over his kidneys. He groaned, but didn’t let go. 

“No! Don’t!” he ordered, spotting Burton’s set face and his hand already on the way to tap his commbadge to call for security. Burton was an odd one, very by the book most of the time. Which was the reason Raan had picked him when his previous XO had been promoted and assigned his own ship. By the book was good, it reminded him that there was a book and he should be paying attention to it. 

Which… he wasn’t at the moment. He knew that. But, this was an entirely different situation. 

Burton’s arched eyebrow mocked him and he grunted, struggling with the thrashing, twisting bull he was trying to hold onto. “He’ll tire himself out in three… two…”

One didn’t make it past his lips before Bennett went limp. Raan caught him before he could hit the deck, throwing him over his shoulder. 

“Hell Dayne, you’ve been hitting the gym lately,” he grunted, turning and coming face to face with his XO’s disapproval. Well, no, it wasn’t disapproval. Burton was too professional for that. It was disappointment, quickly veiled, but there. 

“He’s not a drunk,” Raan defended the man over his shoulder, scooping up the mug on the table and handing it to Burton. 

The human lifted it to his nose and took an experimental sniff. 

“What the… is this coffee?”

“Uh-huh,” Raan nodded as he led the way out of the bar, Bennett out cold over his shoulder. “He’s a chronic insomniac. Can usually find him in a bar when he has a bad episode trying to overload on caffeine. Much more and we’d have needed to take him to sickbay to stop his heart exploding.”

The promenade wasn’t crowded so it didn’t take them long to reach the turbolifts. Which he was grateful for. Unconscious, Dayne was a sodding lump to carry.

“Sounds… delightful. Does he do this often?” 

Raan didn’t get chance to reply to Burton’s question, his comm-badge chirping as they exited the turbolift opposite the airlocks. “Go ahead, Resolute.”

“Captain, we have an incoming message for you from Command,” his chief operations officer said. 

Raan nodded. “Just stepping aboard now. Route it to my ready room.”

The briefing room was silent. Full but silent. 

Raan sat at the head of the table and looked around at his senior staff. 

“And that’s as much of the situation as we know at the moment. Details are sparse and being updated as and when we get new information. Which means that we and the Resolute will need to be highly adaptable during this period and react according to on the ground intel, often rapidly. Questions?” 

There was more silence as his team digested everything he’d laid out. He had to admit, it was a lot. A new form of dilithium, a whole different quadrant. 

Bennett was the first to speak up, his voice rough like he’d been on a four-day bender. “We’re a Rhode Island class. We’re not set up for long range missions away from support, or heavy science shi… heavily scientific missions. So what gives?”

“Indeed we’re not.” Raan nodded, not at all perturbed by the engineer’s terse manner. 

He’d cleaned himself up from his attempt at coffee wipeout. The bushy beard was clipped back, as was the hair and he was in uniform. Given that was Bennett trying, Raan wasn’t going to push for a sir or anything daft on top of it. 

“Which is why we’ll be running short exploratory missions into smaller areas where there’s a heavy Devore Imperium presence. We’re small, fast and pack enough of a punch that we can get ourselves out of most kinds of trouble. If we find anything, even the sniff of anything, then we’ll pass that back up the chain for a ship with better scientific capabilities to check out. Consider us…” he paused for a moment to think of a term. “Putting marks on a map, building up a picture of what the fleet is facing.”

Burton shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. 

“We also have the issue of Blood Dilithium’s effects on our telepathic crew members,” he said, as he and Raan had discussed before the main briefing. He cut a glance to Armstrong, sat in the corner. “We don’t have many but one of our priorities will be their welfare during the mission. Should they wish to join us of course.”

The confusion was palpable in the room as attention shifted to Raan. He inclined his head to confirm that Burton’s comment was correct. 

“Since we know very little about the ongoing effects of this new form of dilithium, then members of the crew with any telepathic ability will be offered the chance to remain at TFHQ for the duration of this mission. Counsellor Armstrong?” he said, the expression on the young woman’s face catching his attention. 

“Sir,” she said, sitting forward, the movement neat and precise. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d read through all the briefing notes carefully. “Thank you for the offer, but given I’ve only just arrived, I certainly do not intend to sit this one out. We are Starfleet officers, we all knew the risks when we joined up.”

He smiled, approval at her manner rolling through him. But it was tempered with a concern for her and other members of his crew. Men and women who looked to him to make the hard calls and keep them safe. It would be very easy for him not to think much on the effects this new dilithium had. His species was as telepathic as a bulkhead, so he had to put himself in her shoes, and that of every other telepath aboard. For a moment a wave of protectiveness rose, the need to put her and the others in a little box where this new threat couldn’t hurt them, or order them off the ship so they couldn’t be hurt. 

But that was not his call to make. Any of the crew could be injured or worse in conflicts in the DQ. What right did he have to take that decision away from them… to refuse them the chance to serve and shine? 

“Very well. However, all telepaths aboard will need to wear monitoring equipment so that sickbay can monitor their readings in real time. Any adverse effects must be reported immediately.” 

The counselor nodded. “I’ll go through the records of the affected crew and make sure we have baselines recorded. And I’ll notify their team leaders to keep an eye on them, just in case.” 

“Excellent, thank you.” 

Bennett leaned forward again, a light in the blue eyes under craggy brows. “So… Devore Imperium? Are we looking at a boarding situation?” 

“Possibly, yes.” Raan knew where this was going. “No, you cannot rig booby-traps. I do not want anything in my engineering bay to explode. Understand?”

Bennett’s face split into a broad grin. “Absolutely, sir. Yes, sir. Nothing exploding, sir.”

Raan ignored him, hands on the table as he looked around at the rest of the senior staff. 

“If there’s nothing else then. Let’s lock and load, and get ourselves to that wormhole. The delta quadrant awaits.”

Some people played poker well. 

Lieutenant Rayani Kovash was not one of those people. The tall chief helm officer wore her heart on her sleeve, and her emotions plastered all over her face. 

“I not think telepaths should be allowed on this mission,” she declared in a voice loud enough to be heard two decks below.

Hale sat back in his chair, watching her carefully. He agreed with her, but as he played poker excessively well nothing of his personal feelings on the matter showed on his face. “The captain has decided that it would be unfair to make it an order and it should instead be a choice.”

“Raan is wrong!” she exploded, shoving off from the edge of his desk where she’d been perched and stalking around the room like an enraged tiger. Given his office was tiny, that gave her three steps before she had to turn around and four steps the other. 

“He might be captain, but he’s wrong. Look this way,” she slammed her hands down on his desk, glaring at him. “If I was telepath, in the middle of high speed maneuver, and this blood dilithium made brain fritz out, all die.”

Hale met her gaze levelly. He agreed, but he’d already made his feelings clear to Mason privately. 

“I will bring your concerns up with the captain,” he replied calmly, even though the pilot was anything but. She was rivan, and rivan’s were known to be crazy. Probably had something to do with their parents throwing them off their eerie-like tower homes in wing-suits practically before they could walk. What rivan’s didn’t know about flight wasn’t worth knowing, but even he had to admit, Kovash was a handful. 

“You’ve known the captain for a while then?” he asked after a moment, watching as her anger drained and she hitched one hip to perch on the edge of his desk in an elegant movement.

“Uh-huh, before fleet,” she nodded, walking her fingers along the edge of the desk. On another woman he might have taken that to be a flirtatious movement, but not with Kovash. She had him pinned with an eagle-eyed stare with no hint of that kind of interest. “We are eridaas.”

He waited a moment to see if any explanation was going to be forthcoming. “Eridaas?” 

Were she and the captain in a relationship he didn’t know about? It seemed highly unlikely. The Resolute was a small ship so he’d have seen something if they were. But there had been no kind of romantic indications between the two. If anything, they moved and interacted like old friends who were comfortable with each other. 

She paused for a moment, then picked up a pair of glasses from his desk, turning them over in her hands. The metal of the frames caught and glinted in the lights as his stomach automatically clenched.

“Eridaas,” she repeated again, as if saying the word slightly louder would automatically impart the meaning to him. “Those who have faced death together and prevailed?”

“Please put those down,” he said automatically, his focus on her words. “So like battle buddies or maybe wingmen?” 

“Wingmen! Yes! This is right!” She placed the glasses down carefully and he let go a small sigh of relief. 

“We are this wingmen. We met during his war, I hired out as pilot back then. War ended, and we join fleet together. Raan is male, therefore dumb.”

He blinked a little at that scathing assessment of his gender. But as far as he knew, rivan culture was matriarchal. 

Kovash’s face split into a wide grin. “Stories I could tell. Captain and drink, ooooohhhweee!” 

She shook her head. 

“But not appropriate for situation without alcohol and deeper friendship. Is all now?” she asked, her head tilted to the side. 

“Of course,” he inclined his head and then, belatedly, offered a small smile. “Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention. I will relay them to the captain.”

“Gratitude.” 

He watched the tall woman hop off the desk and walk out the door, her white hair a banner that warned all others of her impending arrival.

As the door slid shut, he reached out and readjusted the position of the glasses on his desk so the frame lined up precisely with the edge. Silence crept in from the edges of the room, resorting his calm and balance.  

Not appropriate for situation without alcohol and deeper friendship…

He frowned, pondering the possibility that their crazy chief helm had just, indeed, made an overture of friendship.

The Delta Quadrant was much the same as any other stretch of space, certainly from Raan’s point of view. Blackness. Stars. A sense of space and freedom he’d never found when bound to a planet. The excitement that he chose his own destiny now, it wasn’t predetermined for him from birth anymore.

The Resolute had exited the wormhole just a few minutes ago with the bulk of the fleet and had immediately moved away from the wormhole. Call it his previous wartime experience, but the idea of so many ships in one place just felt like a duck shoot to him. Like recruits crowding around a gate to get through, if someone took pot shots at them right there and then, it could decimate their forces.

“Lieutenant Kovash, set a course for our first search area,” he ordered, with a glance toward the tall helm officer.

She was annoyed, that much he could tell from the angry set of her shoulders, and the way she stabbed at her console like it had personally offended her. It wasn’t subtle, but then neither was Kovash. He let the worry go. If she had that much of a problem, she would confront him head on about it. Until then, unless he picked up other worrying signs—which for Kovash would be explosive–he would ignore it. Not for the first time he was grateful she wasn’t a telepath. No one wanted to see Kovash under the effects that had been reported with Blood Dilithium.

“Talk to me,” he told his senior staff. “First search area, what are we looking at?” 

“Lotsa rocks and nothingness, boss,” Allen, his science officer, replied with a frown on his craggy face. He shoved a hand through his shock of pale hair as he looked at the console in front of him. Like most of Raan’s crew, Allen was an… odd one. Half the time he looked like he was in the middle of a hangover or a mental breakdown, yet when the proverbial hit the fan, he was as calm as a rock. 

“Three systems in this area. Two uninhabitable, filled with class D moons and asteroid belts. Looks like something blew up eons ago and the debris is scattered across the two systems. Lots of opportunity for Blood Dilithium though, warrants a closer look. Third system is dominated by a class J, with some Class L’s, one verging into Class M. Could be inhabited.” 

“Okay, let’s take a look,” Raan arched his eyebrow as Allen threw the information up on the holoscreen in the middle of the bridge. His brows snapped together as he considered all the options. “Any Devore Imperium presence in the area?”

“Not as far as scans can tell,” Burton replied, next to him, parsing information on his own screen. From this angle it looked like he’d hooked into various local news and intelligence networks and was cross referencing them. Interesting. Perhaps Burton wasn’t so by the book after all. “No distress signals, no reports of local disturbances. Not getting any local chatter though. Not recent anyway.”

“Okay,” Raan nodded, making a decision. “We’ll drop in this side of the possibly inhabited system, check that out first. We don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes. But the far more interesting target from our point of view is this asteroid belt.” He motioned to a large swathe of rock through the second system. “This could be a prime location for Blood Dilithium, which means it could have mining crews in situ and they’re likely not to welcome us much.” 

“Agreed,” Burton said, his voice calm. “I recommend we use the cover of the gas giant as we approach, use that interference to scatter our signal. Reports from the fleet say that technology on a lot of the smaller mining operation ships is significantly less advanced than ours.” 

“Yeah.” Raan rubbed at the stubble on his chin. Shaved this morning and the damn stuff was already back. He’d have to grow a beard or something. “Weapons systems are still weapons systems though and while we can punch back, we’re out here without support so the more we can do to cover our backsides the better. Send a report back to command, let them know our plans and we’ll update when we have more.”

“Aye sir.”

“Let’s rock and roll then.” 

Raan sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed on the viewscreen and ran through all his preparations in his mind. He’d covered everything, he knew that. But no plan survived first contact with the enemy. His job was to figure out which enemy the Resolute would face first…

Chief Counsellor’s Log

 Having been aboard the Resolute for only a few days, I have completed my initial review of the crew’s files and have started to conduct introductory meetings. While my initial feeling was that this crew is… experienced, I am a little concerned that they appear to be disparate personalities in such a way I am not entirely sure how they are actually working as a cohesive whole. Somehow, it appears to be working though. 

My first assessment, of course, would always be of the captain and senior staff. Commander Mason—

 Talia paused, and closed her eyes. What the hell was she even doing here? The ship was filled with misfits and outcasts that the captain seemed to have gathered around himself for one reason or another. The crew files were filled with disciplinary incidents and demotions galore. 

Their chief engineer, for example, should have been at least a lieutenant commander by now. And in fact, was. For about three hours before he’d called his superior officer an idiot, among other things, and gotten himself demoted. It was a theme that was repeated around the ship. Their chief medical officer had disciplinaries (multiple) for punching her captain… At least half the crew seemed to be war veterans from one war or another. All small system conflicts but still. 

She hadn’t even realised that there had been that many wars. 

And she was just… Talia Armstrong. Newly minted as a Lieutenant, she had no idea how she’d managed to land this assignment, especially to a captain as hard-edged and experienced as Raan Mason. She felt like a mouse in a tank full of piranhas, desperately swimming to try and keep her head above water and hoping like hell none of them realized her piranha suit was just that, a suit. 

Saving her report for now, she gathered her padd and left her tiny office. Her target was the chief helm officer, Rayani Kovash, who was due for mandatory evaluation. This was not that mandated meeting, but Talia just wanted to go ahead and introduce herself somewhere what wasn’t the senior staff briefing room. Perhaps grab a coffee or hot beverage of choice to break the ice before the official stuff began. 

Walking toward the turbolift, she rubbed at the small disc on her neck. She wasn’t a scientist, or an engineer, so she had no idea how it worked. All she knew was that the little metal disc reported on her back to sickbay, where all the telepaths on board were being monitored continuously because of Blood Dilithium. 

That was good enough for her, a sense of safety and security wrapping around her. She didn’t think that it would affect her overly much. She was only about an eighth betazoid, on her mother’s side. Just enough to get a general hint about things, and people… although that could just be more she read body language excessively well. 

Like the set shoulders of Quinn Allen, the ship’s chief science officer, who stood waiting for the turbolift just ahead of her. 

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Allen!” she said chirpily, offering a bright smile as she joined him to wait. “How are you this afternoon? Are you heading up to the bridge?” 

His expression was neutral as he turned his head to look at her, but she was stunned by the coldness in his eyes. 

“It was,” he said shortly. She almost recoiled from the rage and hatred emanating from him. 

Her abilities were purely passive, she didn’t read people’s minds or anything like that, but he was projecting so strongly she was surprised it hadn’t crossed over into sound as well. She stopped her half step back mid-step, somehow managing to keep the polite smile on her face. It had frozen halfway but she managed. 

“You should have stayed back at TFHQ,” he hissed, turning on his heel and stalking away, leaving her staring in shock at his broad back. 

Her stomach lurched and dropped, feeling like it hit the deck by her feet like a tonne weight. He thought she shouldn’t be here too? How did he know? Had someone said anything? She knew she was too inexperienced to care for a crew like this… did they all know it too? Where they laughing at her? The newb counselor playing at a real chief counselor’s job? Or did they think they could run rings around her?

Then she became away of Dayne Bennett, the chief engineer, one huge shoulder leaning against a bulkhead as he waited for the lift as well.

“I-err…” she fumbled her words for a moment, still surprised by the scientist’s viciousness. Then she lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I guess you can’t get along with everyone.”

“No,” Dayne rumbled, pushing off from the wall to walk toward her. 

She ended up tipping her head back so she could look him in the eye. Like the captain, he was huge, more a mountain than a man. Especially with that beard. Ship gossip, which she absolutely did not listen to thank you very much, said the captain had had to recover him from a bar before they’d left because he hadn’t reported in. That the captain had carried him aboard over his shoulder. Her mind boggled at how much strength it would take to lift a man like Bennett.

“No?”

“No. That was just plain rude.” Bennett looked up the corridor the science officer had disappeared down.  “If he does it again, let me know. Okay?” 

“Oh! I can take care of myself, but thank you!” 

A warmth spread out from the center of her chest at his offer. Far from being the big, scary not-nice person she’d assumed he would be, Bennett’s smile was gentle and the look in his eyes warm as he looked down at her. 

“Everyone needs friends, counselor,” he replied, motioning for her to precede him into the turbolift. “Especially on a small ship like this.” 

“Th—“ 

She had been going to say thank you, but her words were cut off by the red alert klaxon.

A gasp escaped her, but Bennett just chuckled. “Once more into the breach. Don’t worry, doll, stick with me and you’ll be fine.” 

“Nothingness and lotsa rocks indeed,” Raan murmured in a low voice to Burton as they rounded the gas giant and headed into the asteroid field. 

They’d checked out the planet nearby and discovered it was, indeed, uninhabited. There had been some indications of a civilisation, but since none of them were archaeologists of any kind, there was nothing of interest for them down there. 

“Okay people, what have we got?” he asked, a frown creasing his brow as he looked at the view ahead. There were rocks everywhere, some tumbling and twisting, crashing into each other like they were in a demolition derby. Others were larger and more sedate, like elderly high society matrons on the dance floor… once in motion, unstoppable. 

“Nothing on scans, sir.” A voice came from the science station. Female. Which meant Allen wasn’t on the bridge. Raan filed the thought away for now. 

“Okay. So no evidence of any blood dilithium?” That was odd. From the reports this should have been a prime location for new deposits. 

“No, that’s not what I mean sir. There’s literally nothing on the scans. I can’t pick up anything. No elements, rock composition. It’s like that asteroid field is just… not there.”

Raan blinked, and exchanged a look with Burton. “Could another ship in the area be blocking our scans?” 

“No sir,” the young science officer replied. “At least, I don’t think so. I can still pick up reading from the planet and the gas giant. It’s just the rocks. If I wasn’t looking at them, I’d say they weren’t there. I think something in the rocks might be blocking the sensors.” 

Raan gave a short nod. “Keep working, see what you can do with the sensors. Kovash, can you get us closer, perhaps distance will make a difference.”

She nodded, her concentration absolute as the Resolute nudged closer to the edge of the asteroid field. 

“You want closer, sir?” she asked, not looking over her shoulder at him but keeping her focus on her console. “Will be flying blind but possible.”

“No, thank you Kovash. Here is good. Ensign…” he turned his attention to the science officer, searching for her name. “Callahan. Any luck with those sensors.” 

Her lips were pursed, brow furrowed as her hands danced over the console interface in front of her. “Yes sir. There appears to be large deposits of something close to veltranian seven in the asteroids. It’s playing havoc with the sensors but I think with a tweak, I can filter… it out… there we go!”

She’d barely finished the sentence when the nearest large asteroid tumbled and turned through space in front of the view screen. As it did, a ship clinging to the rock came into view, it’s hull lights stabbing through the darkness and blinding them. 

“Sir! They have some kind of lazer weapons system locked onto us!” Callahan gasped. 

“Shields up, red alert,” Raan ordered, on his feet in a heartbeat. He never liked sitting down during emergency situations. It just didn’t feel right somehow. “Bring weapons online. Kovash, prep the ship for high speed defense. Callahan, tell me what I’m looking at.” 

The atmosphere was tense on the bridge for a moment, everyone waiting for the other ship to make a move. Raan deliberately relaxed, making sure his balance was good and centered on the balls of his feet. He thought better that way, prepared for everything. 

The other ship did not fire, and the asteroid turned. Raan frowned again. “It looks like it’s got legs?” A ship with legs didn’t make sense. It looked for all the world like a fat spider clinging to the rock, burying its legs beneath to hold on.

“Okay, it looks like they’re drilling modules,” Callahan replied, the entire bridge watching as the ‘weapon’ that had targeted them plunged down into the rock. There was a brief spray of debris and then it sank further. “Sir… with the alterations to sensors. It’s Blood Dilithium, sir. They’re mining Blood Dilithium.” 

“Cancel red alert. They’re not shooting at us,” Raan ordered. In fact, the other ship didn’t even appear to be aware of their presence. “Hail them. We need to play nice with the locals.”

The bridge door opened behind them and he looked back to see Bennett and Armstrong emerge onto the bridge. 

“Ah, good. Lt Armstrong,” he motioned her to take the fold down seat next to his command chair. “We’re about to initiate contact with our friends over there. Any insights would be most welcome,” he smiled and turned back to the viewscreen. 

“This is Commander Raan Mason of the Federation starship Resolute to the unidentified mining vessel on the asteroid. Please respond.”

Expectant silence stretched out on the bridge, all eyes turned toward the asteroid as it made another revolution and the mining ship came into view again. 

“Kovash, hold position relative to the mining ship.” Raan ordered and hailed again. “This is Commander Raan Mason of the Federation starship Resolute to the unidentified mining vessel on the asteroid. Please respond.”

There was a crackle and then something appeared on the view screen. It looked like a shock of unkemp red hair. There were no distinguishing features. No eyes, nose or mouth. 

“We ‘eard you the first fecking time. What do ye want?” a heavily accented voice demanded. “Oh, fer fecks sake. Aaver, ye’re a fecking kernestag!” A beefy hand appeared, grabbed the side of whatever camera was providing the feed and angled it downward. 

The view was not a lot different. There was still a lot of hair. An awful lot of hair. Red hair. And a red beard. Two beady and very suspicious eyes glared out of the mass of red at them. 

“I said…” the being snapped. “What do ye want? We’re busy.”

For once, Raan was on the back foot. He was quick to collect himself though. “Nothing other than a little information, my friend.”

“I ain’t yer friend.” 

“Of course,” Raan inclined his head. “I meant no disrespec—“

“Bored now,” Redbeard announced, his gaze sliding past Raan. “Although if you put the pretty wee lass on, we ken talk more.”

Keeping the surprise off his face, Raan turned to Talia and motioned her foreward. 

“In that case… May I introduce our chief counselor, Lieutenant Armstrong.”

She was in her own personal nightmare. Except she wasn’t naked and there were fewer spiders. 

Talia blinked for a second or two at the big captain, then panic welled up in a hot rush. 

“Lieutenant Armstrong?” the captain prompted again, and then he smiled. 

She knew his species wasn’t telepathic, but that small smile and the little nod of his head held support and approval all wrapped around an unspoken ‘you got this’. Regardless of that, a hot rush of anger surged through her veins. Why was he doing this to her? Putting her on the spot in front of the whole bridge crew, not to mention the guy on the other ship. 

Then sense returned. She was a starfleet officer, trained for this. She could do this. She could totally do this. 

Gathering herself, she stepped forward with a smile on her face. “Greetings sir, I’m Lieutenant Talia Armstrong. It’s a pleasure to meet you. May I ask your name?”

Redbeard’s face split into a broad grin, revealing sharpened teeth. She suppressed a shudder and concentrated on her training, her intuition and the mission brief. They were here to map areas of space for signs of blood dilithium and report back to command. Nothing more. Nothing less. Oh, and stay out of the way of the Devore Imperium. From what she knew though, Redbeard definitely didn’t fit for the Imperium. 

“Oh, were are me manners? I’m Vosteth B’chan, fourth of the name, of the Ison-B’chan clan. Captain of this ship, the Tanvas” He puffed up proudly and lifted a hand to smooth down the riotous red beard covering his face. “A pleasure tae meet’cha, Lieutenant Talia Armstrong. What can we be doing for ye?”

She clasped her hands in front of her, making sure her posture and tone were friendly rather than aggressive. She totally understood why the captain had taken a step back when Voseth had reacted badly to him. You caught more flies with honey than vinegar and out here they needed to play every advantage they had. 

“We’re mostly looking for information,” she said, hoping that, given he was a miner, he didn’t see the value in information for information’s sake. “We’re interested in the blood dilithium you’re minin–”

Voseth’s face hardened. “This field is ours. If ye’re looking for some, go find yer own field to mine. But…” he shrugged. “That piffling little ship needs some major upgrades if you wanna get down to it. The ferastnite ore in these rocks, it’s tough as fecking nails. We’ve burnt out several bits and had to do two leg rebuilds just in the short time we’ve been here.”

She shook her head, giving a small chuckle. “Oh no, I think we’ll leave the mining to the experts like yourself. We’re mostly interested in how it appears to be spreading across space. Is this the first deposit you’ve found.”

“No. But I ain’t telling you where the others are. You might be pretty, but Voseth ain’t stupid.” 

She put her hand on her heart. “Oh no, I didn’t think you were. Not at all.” They weren’t going to get locations out of him so she tried a different tactic. “Do you have any telepathic crew? If so, would you mind sharing how the new dilithium is affecting them?”

Voseth’s friendly expression disappeared. 

“Telepaths? No, we ha’ no telepathic crew. Why?” He leaned forward, his dark eye filling the camera as he glared suspiciously. “Are ye Imperium spies? Are ye accusing me of harbouring telepaths?” 

Oh hell, this was going to hell in a handbasket and no mistake. 

“No, no… not at all,” she reassured him. “We’re nothing to do with the Imperium and definitely not spies. We’re just interested in information, that’s all.”

“We’re done talkin’,” Voseth snapped. “We want naught to do with people who talk about telepaths. Stay the feck away from us and get out of our asteroid field!”

The viewscreen went blank, cutting back to a view of the Tanvas clinging to the rock in front of them. One, then another of the legs started to move, as the spiderlike ship began to pull itself free of the rock. She blinked in surprise, turning to look at the captain, but a deep voice sounded behind her. 

“Sir, they’re pulling up the drilling legs,” Allen advised. “Given the laser-equipment they’re loaded with, if they manage to latch on, they could do serious damage to our hull.”

“Could they–” She didn’t get time to finish her sentence as she turned back to the view screen. A scream ripped from her throat as the spider-ship launched itself from the asteroid. 

Directly at them…

It sat in the darkness. Alone and tired. 

Screams split the air, each one making it flinch. They were screams from corporeal throats so there was nothing it could do to help. But it tried. It couldn’t invade their minds, these flesh creatures had minds that were different. Not like the ones it was used to. Remembered. Missed.

But it tried, wandering through the unfamiliar landscape. It was not constrained by the walls the flesh creatures were, so it could reach them with ease. With gentle ‘fingers’ it reached out, easing despair here and upping a pain threshold there. 

Each time it touched a mind, it took on the pain and fear it found within. But it couldn’t stay for long. The mind ejected it, time after time, without knowing what it was. 

Each time it was long enough to share the suffering though. Anger grew. These creatures did not deserve what was being visited upon them, for something they could not help. It could help, if only it could find the right mind. One that would allow it entrance… companionship… sanctuary. 

Each time a new wave of creatures was brought in it searched and each time the search was fruitless. 

Despair multiplied with the passing days. 

It needed to do more for these creatures, but it couldn’t. Once it had razed empires to the ground, but without a mind link, it couldn’t even move a pebble on the dank, cold ground. It couldn’t remember how it had gotten here, but it knew one thing. There was, had to be, a mind that would accept it. But it couldn’t find that bright, shiny mind. Not here.

Defeated, it slunk back to the shadows away from the screams.

It was tired and alone, and the darkness was infinite.

“Flip and burn!” Raan bellowed, grabbing hold of Armstrong and holding her steady as Kovash threw the ship into a high speed maneuver and the deck lurched. “Shields up, red alert. And get me a firing solution on some of those legs!” 

The situation had gone to hell in a handbasket and no mistake. But Raan was in his element. He’d been brought up as the premier of an entire planet but combat was where he’d found his home. 

“Aye sir, locked on,” came the deep, no-nonsense voice of Harrow, the Resolute’s chief security officer. 

“Take out a couple of those legs, give them something to think about,” Raan ordered, the view screen in front of them filled with the asteroids behind them. 

The damn spider-ship was running just like the arachnid it resembled, leaping from rock to rock after them. It was far more agile than he’d given it credit for but there was no visible source of power. He didn’t want to take out their main engines though. Not when they were operating from a position of fear. 

“Aye sir.” Harrow fired in controlled bursts and two legs were sheared off with laser precision. That was what Raan appreciated about the tactical officer. He was as cold and calculating as the vicious winters on Raan’s homeworld, accomplishing the mission objective with lethal efficiency.

The spider stopped, crashing into the rock beneath it and skitter-sliding across the unyielding surface. For a moment it looked like it would slide right off the surface of the asteroid and tumble into the next but at the last moment it lashed out with two legs, driving them deep beneath the surface to stop its uncontrolled tumble. 

The entire bridge crew held their breath, as did Raan. Would the spider mining ship regain its equilibrium and come after them again. But no. Once it had a hold on the rock, it hunkered down, clinging once more to the surface. 

“Hold distance,” Raan ordered Kovash, and looked over at Callahan only to find Allen was back at his post. His hair was wilder than usual, like he’d run his hands through it with abandon, but his gaze was focused. 

“Two mining legs have sustained major damage,” he reported. “Plus damage to their primary drive during the tumble. Looks like they’re staying put for now.”

Raan nodded. Staying put was the sensible option given the Resolute was agile, armed to the teeth and not afraid to get into a tangle. He paused and looked down at Armstrong, still clinging to his arm. 

“You did well, Lieutenant,” he offered in an undertone as he extricated himself from her grip. The young woman straightened up, a flush on her high cheekbones as she brushed her uniform down and then stalked over to the seat beside his. 

He watched her for a second, assessing her reactions. For a moment there, he’d thought he’d seen anger in the depths of her eyes which was not what he’d expected of the apparently mild-mannered young counselor. His gaze sought the little disc on the side of her neck, just below her ear, but the light was green. No warning signs detected. 

“Okay, let’s keep our distance, complete our survey of the asteroid field and move on, shall we? Keep an eye out for more mining ships,” he added. “Just in case the Tanvas has any friends out here.”

Turning, he returned to his seat, ever alert as the Resolute carried on its survey through the asteroid field, the bridge quiet and tense. Raan rubbed the stubble on his jaw. The miner’s reaction to the mere mention of telepaths was telling. The fear under the anger had been real, very real. That kind of fear was the type that made people make foolish and very dangerous decisions. 

Which meant the sand had begun to run in the Resolute’s hourglass. Whether that was just a trickle, or a raging torrent about to sweep them away was yet to be discovered but one thing was for sure… Raan didn’t intend to be caught on the back foot. 

“Bennett and Harrow, would you join Burton and I in the briefing room please? Kovash,you have the conn,” he said as he levered himself out of his chair again, barely having sat in it long enough to warm the cushioning. But his mother did always say he never sat in a seat, he merely polished it for a second before he was on the move again. 

As he walked, he tapped his commbadge to contact the ship’s chief medical officer. “Micheals, report to the briefing room.”

“Grab a drink, people, and take a seat,” Raan ordered as the small group entered the briefing room, waving toward the replicator set in the corner. He was glad of the addition. He’d been in meetings that had gone on for days. The only thing that had kept him going was coffee strong enough to jumpstart a warp engine. 

His own mug in hand, he settled down at the head of the table, the chair creaking a little as he leaned back. His officers dutifully headed for the replicator, Bennett there first. Raan already knew what his drink of choice would be. Coffee as strong as his, laden with enough sugar and cream that it could be considered more a dessert than a drink. It was a habit that ensured the engineer rattled between borderline caffeine overdose and a permanent sugar rush. 

Harrow was next. The guy drank tea. Not earl-grey as some human’s Raan had observed did, but green tea. His build and the way he carried himself would indicate he spent most of his off duty time in the gym but Raan had yet to see him there, or indeed do any form of exercise. He played poker to professional level and organized the poker evenings where Raan regularly lost. He still hadn’t worked Harrow out. 

Burton was about to step forward when the door opened and the last of their number, Aida Micheals, the ship’s Chief Medical Officer, joined them. Burton stepped back from the replicator with a small gesture. The tall, rangy doctor fixed him with a look that could have eviscerated entire battalions in battle then shrugged and grabbed her own drink (Kraav, some kind of drink from her homeworld apparently. Raan was convinced it was actually engine degreaser). 

He kept his amusement at the interplay between the two officers to himself. Burton was the perfect gentleman which Micheals wouldn’t even notice, and if she did, it would just get another shrug then ignored. Hard as nails didn’t cover it when it came to Aida Micheals. 

“Gentleman and lady,” he inclined his head to Micheals. “Thank you for joining me.”

“Better be good,” Micheals retorted. “I’m supposed to be watching our telepaths to ensure they don’t go loco on us, remember?” 

“Indeed,” Raan replied. “However, we’ve just had a development. During an interaction with a local mining ship, their reactions when it came to the mere mention of telepathic crew was concerning.”

Micheal’s brow lifted. “Concerning in what way?”

“Their ship jumped off an asteroid and tried to attack us,” Dayne broke in. “Damnedest thing. I’d like to get my hands on that propulsion system and space frame. Never seen anything move like that before.” 

“Not what we’re here to discuss,” Raan cut him off. “The clock is ticking people, and we won’t have much time to get plans into motion.” 

“Plans?” Burton leaned forward in his seat. Along with Harrow, Burton was one Raan hadn’t fully worked out yet. “What plans?”

“We have telepathic crew,” Raan lifted his mug, taking a sip. “Which means we’re going to run into problems when the Devore Imperium catch up with us. We need a plan to head that off at the pass.”

Bennett chuckled. “I assume we’re not going to try and stay out of their way then?”

A wry smile crossed Raan’s lips. “Of course, but there’s only so much running we can do. And we’re a small ship. If they come for us with one of those big destroyers they have, we’re going to run into trouble. So… we’re going to work on solutions. And I have a plan…”

Putting his mug down, he leaned forward, outlining his plan of action to the small group in the room. A group that included three veterans of nasty as hell wars, one con-artist, and a former spy. Their expressions went from cautious interest, right through to smiles and one very sadist grin. 

Finally Raan sat back, his now cold mug of coffee in his big hand. It wasn’t a starfleet plan, that was for sure. Hell, it wasn’t even a sane plan and Burton looked vaguely horrified, especially when Bennett cracked his knuckles, the sound like gunshots in the silence of the room. 

It wasn’t a plan he would have gone for in normal times, but he had to assume that the Devore Imperium had already captured at least some starfleet personnel, which meant they would be expecting a certain set of responses from the Resolute. 

Which they would absolutely get. 

But that wouldn’t be all they would get. Not by a long shot… 

He hated telepaths. Loathed and detested them. 

It was something that he’d made very sure to keep from the counselors throughout his starfleet career. Very sure given that most ships contained at least one of them, and generally Starfleet took a dim view of any desire to stab them in the eye with a blunt spoon. 

But it was even worse when the telepath was actually a counselor. That made keeping up the pretense harder. Quinn Allen ground his teeth, pretending to busy himself at his station on the bridge, but the lights on the console in front of him might as well be pretty christmas lights for all the attention he was paying them. 

Instead, all his attention was on Armstrong, sitting all prim and proper on the little fold-down seat next to the captain’s. She’d totally screwed up the interaction with the Tanvas, which could have led to damage and loss of life on the Resolute. She should have been thrown in the brig, he grumbled to himself, his annoyance safely kept in his head. For now. One day, it would come out. When he was sure the telepath wasn’t controlling the Captain and the executive officer. 

He was sure she was. Otherwise why would the captain have let her off so easily? His hands moved over the console, reacting to the scans the ship was currently performing, reacting to the results that came in a few seconds after his fingers touched the input panel. He didn’t notice, his anger simmering about Armstrong. 

At least she couldn’t affect him. His life, his childhood under the brutal regime of the Kerlation, and their telepathic bulldogs, had ensured he knew all their tricks. They’d punished him for it, of course, once they’d realised he was immune to their manipulation. He’d been younger then as well, not as strong as he was now. 

“Allen.” Kovash’s voice broke through the chaos of his simmering rageful thoughts. “Need me to loop again or are scans complete?” 

He blinked and looked down at his screens. Actually looked at them. A map of the asteroid belt was laid out in front of him, with each deposit of Blood Dilithium clearly marked. As was the Tanvas, currently hunkered down on the other side of the field. There were no other ships that the Resolute’s sensors could find. 

“No, we’re good,” he replied, his brow furrowing as he paid attention to the results. This area had a higher percentage of the new dilithium than he’d expected. 

Expanding the map around the area, he marked a couple of nearby systems and looked around. The captain was still holed up with some of the other senior staff in the briefing room, so he threw the new coordinates over to helm. 

“New areas I think we should survey, or at least confirm the presence of Blood Dilithium so we can get a more dedicated vessel out here to check.”

With that, he pushed off his console and stalked off the bridge. He had projects and other things to check on in the science labs… and he absolutely needed to get the hell away from that telepath before he did something that someone else would regret… 

It took less than a day for the Devore Imperium to catch up with them. But rather than the scout they were expecting, it was a destroyer big enough to blot their view of space out when it loomed threateningly above them. 

“Captain, they’re demanding we drop our shields and prepare to be boarded,” Burton announced into the dead silence of the bridge. 

Raan nodded. “Open a ship wide channel… This is the captain to all crew. We have encountered the Devore Imperium, report to your assigned locations and standby to be boarded. Offer no resistance and do not impede their search teams. Mason out.”

Less than two minutes later the ship was swarmed by Imperium search teams, a team barging onto the bridge, weapons drawn. Following behind them was the ‘inspector’. Average height and thin, his gaze was hard as he looked around the bridge.

“More federation,” he said, his voice holding the edge of a sneer. “We have heard of you. I am not impressed. I had been led to believe your vessels were… larger than this, and in better repair. Our scans indicate several issues with your engines and operational systems.”

Raan rose slowly from his chair, just as the deck lurched beneath their feet. 

“You will have to excuse us, Inspector,” he said, keeping his voice mild and un-challenging. “Unfortunately our new engineer doesn’t seem to be up to the job, we’ve been having trouble since we left the alpha quadrant…”

Meanwhile in engineering…

“Ola-hai trivarmia te veeeee-AAAAHHHHH-nnnooow!” Dayne sang at the top of his lungs as he rebounded off a bulkhead and into the Imperium search team that was trying to search engineering. 

Trying because it was a small engineering bay and everywhere they were trying to look, Dayne was there, a mug of coffee in hand singing one of many old war songs from home. They all had several things in common, mainly they were long, in a dialect that the universal translator didn’t know and he could happily bellow them at the top of his lungs. 

While all but flattening the searchers. 

“Oh feck, so sorry,” he muttered as he picked one up, making sure they were steady on their feet as he brushed them down. 

“Don’t know me own strength. Whoa! There she goes again!” he chortled as the lights all flickered on and off rapidly, and there was what felt like an explosion on a deck below. “Captain’s a useless piece of shivanish,” he announced, somehow now on the opposite side of the search team to the one he’d started. 

“I TOLD him that we needed a full overhaul, so I did. But did he listen to me? Oh no, we had to come all the way out here with a busted engine. I doubt we’ll even get back in one piece.”

At his last words, at least three consoles started to blare alarms and the computer announced, “Warning. Coolant pressure in main reaction chamber below optimum levels.” 

“Oh feck,” he hissed and hurried across the engineering bay, sliding the last two feet as the ship suddenly lurched. The Imperium searchers went down like skittles, sliding across the suddenly bucking deck to slam into the opposite wall. 

“What’s going on?” their lead officer demanded, a snarl on his lips as he rounded on Dayne. 

“The ship’s falling apart!” Dayne yelled back over the increasing noise of the alerts. “Coolant pressure still falling, if I don’t get that under control it’ll interfere with the… err, how do you say it?” he threw his hands up in frustration. “The therisamide will be out of alignment which will cause a containment leak and BOOM! The ship is toast! TOAST!” 

The search team suddenly looked very nervous. The officer looked at his second in command. “Have you searched every inch in here?”

Why the guy was asking his subordinate, Dayne had no idea, since they’d both been in here the same amount of time and he’d been getting under their feet every step of the way. But that was the manner of bullies everywhere… if in doubt, pass the buck. 

“I believe so, sir.” The second in command cast a concerned glance at the warp core, which was now glowing an ominous shade of red. “I… err, given the unstable nature of the ship, perhaps we should hurry and complete our search for the telepaths and make our departure.”

“Indeed, indeed. Excellent plan!”

Dayne kept his grin to himself as the officer in charge hastily agreed, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. As if on cue, the sound of another blast somewhere below their feet rocked engineering and the computer squawked again, “Warning! Antimatter containment at 95% and falling!”

That did it. The search team lost their bottle and practically ran for the exit. 

Dayne leaned one hip against the console and resisted the urge to wave them off as they all tried to ram their way through the door at the same time. They bounced off each other, but eventually made it all through and the door shut behind them. 

He chuckled, dropping the drunk act. “Computer, cut the alerts in main engineering. Maintain possum protocol throughout the rest of the ship. Lock main engineering, authorisation Bennett Kilo Alpha four seven.”

Tapping his combadge three times, he strode across engineering and opened an access hatch to one of the maintenance tubes. And then he was gone.

Meanwhile in Sickbay…

“These are all the telepaths on board?” 

Aida Micheals crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw tight. She didn’t want to answer, she’d sworn oaths to protect and preserve life, and handing over the crew’s telepaths to these… she didn’t even have words harsh enough for the men in front of her, despite serving as a planetary marine before she’d joined Starfleet. 

“You have your own methods of detecting telepaths,” she said bluntly. “Why don’t you tell me?”

The small group of men and women corralled in the middle of sickbay all wore the monitors, their neural signatures showing on the screens behind her. 

The Imperium officer in front of her grinned, his expression chilling as he indicated the screens behind her. The ones showing the neural activity of the telepaths that had been gathered up. 

“Why bother, when you have done our work for us? Round them up,” he ordered his men, and Aida was forced to stand there as they were taken. Forced to stand there and do nothing but watch the men and women under her care be taken into custody where she knew they would be mistreated. Possibly worse. 

But stand she did, even when one of the men at the back turned and caught her eye. Harrow. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, she reached up and tapped her combadge three times. Then she turned and headed for an access hatch… 

“No! You’ve got it wrong!” Quinn bellowed as four Imperium heavies hauled him toward the telepaths assembled in the shuttlebay. They were all chained, looking back his way as he screamed and fought. 

“I’m NOT a telepath. Believe me, I freaking hate them!” He shouted, kicking out, but the heavies crowding around him snarled and lifted a baton. The blows rained down heavy over his head and shoulders, but they were nothing compared to the beatings from his childhood and he refused to be cowed. 

“I’m not a telepath!”

“The tests don’t lie,” the heavy nearest to him snarled and punched him in the stomach. Quinn groaned and folded up, the wind knocked out of him. 

 A second later firm hands had a hold of him, a deep voice sounding somewhere above him. 

“He won’t be any trouble,” Harrow said to their captors, easily manhandling Quinn to block any more blows with his own body. “I’ll keep him quiet.”

They were hustled aboard a secure transport before Quinn caught his breath properly and he found himself chained to a hard bench next to Harrow. He jerked upright, the chains rattling as he saw Armstrong opposite. Her expression was tight, fear in her eyes as engines roared and they left the Resolute. 

He looked around to find the rest of the ship’s telepaths in a tight group around him, their expressions as grim as Armstrongs. They’d even picked up Kyana Taerial, the Resolute’s youngest crewmember, assigned to the ship just before they’d left for the delta quadrant. 

“Easy,” Harrow murmured, his deep voice somehow fortifying the small group. 

Quinn turned to him with a frown. “You’re a telepath?”

“I do have a talent for seeing the future.” Harrow gave him the smallest of winks, then flicked a glance at the guards either side of the loading doors. “Perhaps that picked up on their tests.”

Quinn sat back, the cuffs pulling on his wrists and closed his eyes. He was in a nightmare of his own making. Imprisoned on a ship full of telepaths with no way of escape. 

Meanwhile in the darkness…

It sat in the darkness. Exhausted and beyond hope. 

The screams of pain tore at its soul but there was nothing it could do. It folded in on itself, wishing for oblivion. Wishing for the peace of death. 

Then it came. 

The first whispers of a mind that shone in the darkness. A bright, shiny mind that drew it like a moth to a flame. It uncoiled itself in the darkness, reaching out tendrils to investigate. 

The mind didn’t belong to any of the flesh and blood creatures in the cells. Panic filled it. Where was it? It had sensed it, it KNEW it had. It had to be here!

Before the panic could become overwhelming, it realised the mind… the bright shiny mind that called out in a siren’s song… wasn’t on the surface. 

It was on a ship that approached, growing brighter and louder with each moment. 

It sat in the darkness, waiting for that moment the shuttle touched down and it would no longer be alone.

“Quinn…”

“You are in our space without authorisation. As a result your ship will be impounded,” the Devore Imperium Inspector in front of Raan announced with barely suppressed glee. 

Raan gave him a politely, concerned expression to look at. One he’d dubbed ‘starfleet standard’ even though he’d like nothing more than to rip this odious little man’s head off his shoulders. They’d all known that as soon as the Imperium set foot aboard the ship, they would hunt down every telepath they had but the level of brutality they’d employed was totally beyond the pale. Raan had noted every one, mentally promising payback. A lot of payback. 

“Of course. We didn’t realise that we had strayed into areas that were out of bounds.” It was a total crock of the proverbial but Raan lied with a straight face, and a ‘by the book’ attitude. “I’m assuming that we have some right of appeal? A body we can make our case to?”

The inspector shoved his face into Raan’s. Or he would have, but then realised halfway through his surge forward that Raan was significantly taller. The bullying tactic didn’t work when you were eye to nipple height with the person you were trying to bully. He settled on glaring up instead and sneering.

“Appeal? I don’t think so. We know all about you federation and your tricks! Including hiding telepaths in your transport buffers.”

“We did not hide anyone,” Raan countered, then frowned as an explosion somewhere aboard the ship rocked the bridge. 

“Report! What’s going on?” he barked, just as three more explosions went off somewhere on the lower decks. 

“Internal sensors offline,” Callahan called back. “Working on rerouting power now.”

“Someone get in touch with engineering!” Burton ordered, striding across to the engineering bridge station, empty because the officer there had been hauled away by the Imperium heavies and Bennett was down in main engineering. 

One of the Imperium soldiers went to block his way. To Raan’s surprise, Burton snarled back at the man. “Unless you can operate an XT-7000 line engineering console, then I suggest you get out of my way. If we have problems down in engineering, the whole ship could go up!”

“I’ve managed to get sensors back on decks three and four sir, but we have hull breaches on deck five. Emergency procedures in place.”

“Talexar levels are out of phase,” Kovash added her voice to the cacophony. “That’s going to caus—“

Another, closer explosion rocked the ship. 

“Captain, we have problems in engineering,” Burton called out. “I can’t raise Bennett and we’re losing containment.”

“Talexar systems failing!” 

“Warp core breach imminent!”

The calls came thick and fast, punctuated by more explosions. The Inspector looked up at Raan, a nasty little grin on his face. 

“On second thoughts, I think I will let this little problem resolve itself. Teams, wrap it up, we’re leaving.”

Raan bit back a gasp, allowing an expression of panic to show over his face. “You’d… leave us here? Like this? The ship is about to blow!”

The Imperium teams had already filed out, and the Inspector followed them, his laugh echoing around the bridge as they beamed out. 

Raan dropped his panicked expression and slid a glance over to Burton.

“Are we clear?”

They were herded out of the transport and into some kind of dank, dark building. Talia had no idea what this place had once been but now it was a prison. No, a mausoleum. The people inside just weren’t dead yet. Not all of them anyway. They’d definitely passed cells on the way in here that had held bodies, not prisoners.

She moved closer to Harrow as their captors started shoving them into cells three at a time. A few people fought back. Cries of pain and the shotgun cracking of bone made her wince. 

There was no fighting back after that. 

“They’re all telepaths,” she murmured to Harrow as they were shoved into a cell along with Allen. 

The tall science officer nodded, his pale gaze on the door as it clanged shut. “I thought so.” 

“You can’t tell?” she asked in surprise. She wasn’t much of a telepath, but she could feel all the minds pressing against hers. Even Allen’s, but she walled herself off from the panic and pain he was broadcasting. Even with his attitude and the way he’d turned on her, she felt sorry for him. 

Something had happened to him somewhere to make him fear telepaths, which was the root of his anger and rage. And now he was surrounded by them, locked up with two. 

Apart from the fact she couldn’t feel anything from Harrow. Not even the normal chatter from a human mind as she would expect. 

He shook his head as he stalked across the small cell and sat on the end of the hard bunk. Allen had taken the other end, as far away from them as he could. 

“Not a telepath,” he said in a low voice as he pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and started to shuffle them. He was a card shark, so that wasn’t surprising. She’d been to a few of his poker nights, and watched him soundly beat the captain every time. 

Surprised, she looked at the side of his neck where the monitor disc had been. “You… they picked you up with their tests.” 

He shrugged. “Which was somewhat fortuitous given the efforts I made to be here. My guess is that their equipment is so sensitive they’re picking up anyone with any kind of telepathic-adjacent abilities.”

“Huh?” she asked, confused as he fanned the cards out in front of him on the bunk, then closed his eyes as he ran an outstretched hand over them. Quickly he selected four, placing them in two lines. One alone, then three in a line. 

“My best guess is that Allen here is psychic in some way,” Harrow continued, collecting the cards he hadn’t selected together and putting them to one side. Then he began to turn the others over, which was when she realised it wasn’t an ordinary playing card deck. Instead, the cards had pictures on them. 

“Three of swords.” Harrow pursed his lips as he tapped the first card. A heart pierced by three swords. “Heartbreak and sorrow, grief and pain. It signifies a heart damaged by the sharp blades of others hurtful words and actions.”

She knelt in front of the bunk, fascinated. She’d seen tarot cards before, but only in museums and in old films. She’d never met anyone who could read them.

Harrow tapped the second card. On its surface, a man lay face down, swords buried in his back. “Ten of swords. Deep wounds. Betrayal, loss and crisis. This is in the past position so these are old wounds. Historic, but with the three, still affecting the present.

She nodded, listening to the hypnotic roll of his deep voice. Their current situation fell away in the mystique of the cards and the spell Harrow wove. 

The next card was turned over and she frowned. She’d expected more swords or hearts or something. Instead the card had a building being struck by lightning, people falling from it. “A storm? Natural disaster?”

“Of a sort. The tower card,” Harrow replied, his expression focused. “When it appears change is comin’ and there’s no escaping it. It’s here to tear everything up, destroying everything in its way. The tower in the present position here? Then something is going to happen and its happening now.” 

“Oh hell, that’s not good. Is it?” She looked up at him, searching his expression for some clues. 

He shrugged. “The tower is neither good nor bad, it just means change. So it depends how a person reacts to change. Do they accept it, accept the tower has destroyed something built on shaky ground and rebuild stronger, or do they give into the chaos?” 

“Oh…” 

She watched in silence as he turned over the last card. Her breath escaped her lungs in a hard rush. This card she recognised. No one could mistake the sight of death on his white charger. 

“Oh my god.” She bit her lip. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

Harrow reached forward and gripped her shoulder. 

“The death card doesn’t mean physical death.” His gaze held hers, and she was enveloped in his calm somehow. “It signals transition. Transformation from one state to another. It means closing the door on the past and opening up to something new. Something better. To move forward transformed.”

She nodded again. “What does it mean? Is this reading mine?”

“It means something big is going to happen.” Harrow smiled at her and shook his head. “No. It’s not your reading.”

He turned to look at Allen. 

“It’s his.”

There was silence on the bridge for a second, Burton holding up his hand. Then he nodded, a small smile playing over his face. “Oh yeah, they bought it and then some!”

“Good.” Raan chuckled and turned toward Kovash, one eyebrow raised. “The Talexar systems?” 

She shrugged and held up a mug. “Coffee is life.”

“It is indeed,” Bennett grinned as he and Micheals emerged from maintenance hatches armed to the teeth.Raan had always wondered how a man Bennett’s size managed to fit into such tiny spaces, but he had always had an affinity for underground work during the war on their homeplanet. 

The big man unfolded himself to his full height. “Although I think anyone drinking that shi-substance will find themselves needing sickbay sooner rather than later.”

Kovash grunted. “Is not my fault your systems not as robust as Rivan’s.”

One of the junior officers looked around the bridge, surprise on his face. “So the ship is not about to blow?”

Bennett clapped a hand on the lad’s shoulder. 

“The thing about engineers, doll,” he said in a deep voice. “Is that we’re as good at taking ships apart as we are keeping them together. Or… giving the impression that they’re about to come apart.”

Raan motioned towards the bridge consoles. “Check the systems again.”

Several officers moved for their screens, surprising an audible wave over the bridge. 

“Oh my god, they’re all normalising,” the junior officer who had spoken before gasped. Raan searched for his name. Williams, that was it. “The only damage appears to be to minor systems and several replicators have… blown up?”

Raan turned to Bennett, who shrugged. “You said secondary systems. Have you people never heard of a kettle?”

“Is called Trojan Donkey,” Kovash spun in her chair to add, grinning from ear to ear. “We offer present with visible danger and they not want.”

Burton frowned. “You mean Trojan horse? When the Greeks hid troops inside a huge wooden horse and left it outside the city of Troy to gain access to the city?”

Raan almost facepalmed, but Burton had yet to learn ‘Kovash-speak’. She had a unique way of looking at things. 

Sure enough, she turned a look on him that would have given a rattlesnake’s own reflection a headache. 

“And this worked? Humans are dumb. Oh, is huge thing made of wood that not there before. Lets take it inside…” She said in a sing-song voice. “Oh, where these warriors suddenly come from? Obviously male idea.” 

She waved her hand in dismissal. “No. Is donkey, because Resolute ‘prize’ they no want.”

Callahan piped up, confusion in her voice. “By why didn’t you tell us? The crew could have helped.”

He easily saw the suppressed hurt in the back of her eyes. Callahan was one he had his eye on for promotion, so he could understand why she felt left out. 

“You and the crew were the most important part of the plan. The Devore had to believe what was happening. They had to think we were reacting exactly as a Starfleet crew would. Your responses were perfect and all federation standard, which was key to selling this.”

She blinked, but then smiled. “I’m glad we could be of service. And it makes sense. What crew would blow up their own ship to fake a disaster? So, what happens now?”

Raan grinned. “We’re in a starship the Devore think is dead, we have a full tank of gas and Bennett has his shades. We’re about to kick ass and take names.”

“The captain is now banned from watching old earth movies.” Micheals groaned. “By that he means, we’re going to fix the shit Bennett blew up, then go rescue our people.”

This was not happening. It just couldn’t be happening. 

Quinn leaned his head up against the cold stone of their cell, his eyes closed. If he didn’t open them, then he could pretend he was asleep. That this was just an awful nightmare and he was going to wake up. 

It wasn’t alone in the darkness anymore. The bright, shiny mind was here!

He could hear Armstrong and Harrow talking. Some nonsense about cards. Harrow liked cards, played poker better than any pro player Quinn had ever seen. Certainly well enough to make a living at it, which made him wonder why the guy had gone into the fleet. 

Here. Here. Here. The mind had to ‘see’. Had to ‘hear’. Contact was made. But there was something wrong. Something dark. 

Sorrow. Pain. Old wounds.

Fleet. The fleet. Starfleet. He was a starfleet officer. Confusion filled his mind for a moment as he fought to frame the concept in his thoughts. It was all these telepaths around it—him. He couldn’t think properly. Telepaths were bad. 

A frown creased his brow. Why? Why were telepaths bad? It was telepaths screaming in the distance. Sharp sounds to match the sharp spikes of pain. 

The screams… screams… 

The screaming of his mother as his father was beaten to death in front of them. Her screams during punishment for every minor infraction. The punishment was worse for thoughts of disobedience picked up by their telepathic owners. 

But never his. He didn’t scream. 

Instead he plotted and waited. Waited for the day he could wreck vengeance on their owners. Free them from their indentured service…

Quinn shook his head. He was a starfleet officer. He shouldn’t be cowering in the corner like this. Opening his eyes, he looked at Harrow and Armstrong. She was a telepath, Harrow wasn’t. As he looked, a faint glow surrounded Harrow’s hands. Around the cards he shuffled over and back. Something there, but Quinn wasn’t sure what. 

Harrow noticed him looking. “Okay, he’s back.”

“Allen?” Armstrong moved forward, wariness in her eyes. He didn’t blame her. Not after the way he’d treated her. His mind was stronger now—

Complete…

He knew she wasn’t one of the telepaths who had caused him and his family so much pain all those years ago. Her body language and expression all screamed honesty and sincerity. 

“Yes. I’m back.” He shoved to a sitting position. “So, when are we getting out of here?”

Harrow’s eyebrow winged up and Quinn snorted. “You’re not a telepath. Which means there’s a reason you’re here.”

Harrow slid the cards away in his inside pocket. The glow around his hands faded. “Someone give that man a medal. The mineral deposits on the planet I grew up on are unique.

Armstrong gasped and looked at him. “A beacon?”

“Eh,” Harrow shrugged. “Not that strong, but certainly enough for Resolute to pinpoint me in a crowd. We just have to get out of here and cause some havoc.”

Quinn nodded and then looked beyond them to the door. “A guard will come for Armstrong in four minutes. His partner will stand to the left of the door, less than half a meter distance.”

Harrow grinned. “Now that’s the kind of intelligence we need. You take the guard, I’ll get the partner.”

Quinn inclined his head and rose. 

Vengeance…

Hale walked onto the bridge, feeling the tension as every officer present worked to get the ship back up and running after their little deception for the Devore. He had to admit, it wasn’t what he’d expected. Starfleet had rules and regulations for good reason. 

He’d learned that as a rebellious teen rapidly heading down the wrong side of the tracks, falling in with some very nasty people. His cousin had tracked him down, hauled him the hell out of there and set him on the straight and narrow. It had been tough love, and he’d had bruises for weeks after. Shortly after that he’d joined Starfleet just like Titch and put the skills he’d gained on the wrong side of the law to better use. Obeying the rules and regulations this time.

And those rules and regulations kept the fleet, kept the ship, kept him on track. Controlled. In balance. 

Raan Mason strode over those rules and regulations, and it should have gone to hell in a handbasket. Blowing up parts of their own ship, armed department heads crawling around the ship… it was ludicrous. Absurd. It should have gone wrong. The Devore should have realised what they were doing and hauled Micheals and Bennett out of the jeffery’s tubes, and they should all be on their way to an Imperium Detention facility.

But they weren’t. They were free, and rapidly putting the ship back together as they hurtled through space following the detention transport that had taken their people. 

Hale sat down next to Mason. “Are you sure we’ll be able to pick Harrow up?”

Of all of the plan, that was the part he thought the weakest. At least, it had been the original second weakest part, but to be fair, he hadn’t realised that Bennett could blow things up with such a degree of accuracy. 

Mason lifted a huge shoulder. “If we can get close enough, yes. And with the intelligence you’ve managed to cull from local sources we have a one in three chance at hitting up the right place first time.”

Hale grunted, leaning back in his chair. The ends justifies the means. The old saying came back to him, as his fingers moved quickly over the console embedded in the arm-rest of the XO’s chair. He glanced over the information he’d been able to gather with an experienced eye. 

“Of the three locations,” he said, sending the information to Mason’s display. “This would be my guess. It’s smaller, more contained and away from major traffic routes. Given the furore that the Devore like to whip up about telepaths, building them up into monsters and justifying their treatment then they’re going to want to keep them out of the public eye. Keep the mystique and they can control the narrative.” 

Mason nodded, pale eyes narrowing as he studied the intelligence Hale had been able to gather about the location. “Uninhabited planet. This looks like some kind of abandoned facility. Do we know what happened to the original inhabitants of the planet?”

Hale shook his head. “I can’t dig anything up. Either they decided to get the hell out of Dodge when the Devore showed up, or they’re still there in shallow graves. There’s nothing I can find from local sources to say what happened to them, which tells me the Devore wiped them from the records as well. We could see if there’s a black market trade outpost nearby… I might be able to dig up more. The truth often hides in bar tales and gossip when it isn’t in official documents.”

Mason shook his head. “We have the element of surprise. I don’t want to tip the Devore off that the Resolute isn’t a scattered debris field as they think she is. No, we’ll go with your gut instinct and hit this one first. Besides, if we have the right place, we’ll know. Harrow will already have gone to work and if that fails, we’ll be able to pick up the kenterium-17 deposits in his bone marrow. It’s unique to the planetary system he hails from.”

“Harrow? What’s that guy’s deal?” Hale leaned in to murmur. “I checked his service record and he doesn’t have any combat experience. Why’d you send him in with the telepaths? I’d have thought you’d send Bennett in to kick doors down and blow stuff up.” 

“I don’t think even I could pretend Bennett is a telepath,” Mason chuckled and leaned back, amusement in his enigmatic gaze. For a moment Hale saw him as a spider sat in the middle of his web, pulling all the strings. A very large spider. 

“Harrow has no combat experience that shows on his record,” the captain pointed out. “But Linis is talented when it comes to making people do what he wants, shall we say?”

Hale blinked, thinking back to the poker nights and the easy way Harrow dealt with those around him. Persuasive almost, able to read others and use that to—

“He’s a con-man?” 

Mason inclined his head. “Actually, from what I understand, his father was the grifter. A really successful one. Harrow chose the straight and narrow, but he’s not adverse to using that skillset for good reasons. I anticipate that right now, he’s figuring out how to get out of where-ever they’re keeping him to cause chaos and havoc so we’re dropping into a soft target when we get there.”

Hale blinked again. The captain was crazy, utterly crazy. There was no other explanation for it. 

Four minutes was an eternity.

At least it seemed that way to Talia. It felt like an eternity as she, Harrow and Allen flanked the doorway. Both men’s expressions were hard, focused. And there was something about Allen, on the opposite side of the door which seemed… odd to her. Different. Not quite himself.

As though he knew what she was thinking, he looked at her and she shivered. His gaze was hard and cold as marble, difficult to meet and impossible to break away from. The fanciful thought that something else looked out of his eyes crossed her mind.

But that was crazy, wasn’t it? Allen wasn’t a telepath, and he was human. She was just seeing ghosts where there were none. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself tighter. It was this place, it’s darkness was seeping into her soul.

Harrow leaned in. “Deep breaths,” he murmured softly. “We can do this.”

“Incoming,” Allen breathed, the sound a bare smudge on the air and the three of them tensed.

The lock scraped as it turned, metal squealing against metal. The seconds stretched out to hours as the handle turned. It was ornate and carved. For a second she wondered what this place had been before it was a prison.

But then the moment was gone as the door swung open and they burst into action. Harrow bellowed, and ducked to the side as Allen took on the guard opening the door. Talia’s eyes widened as the sound of fists hitting flesh filled the corridor. Grunts of pain echoed and blood painted a vivid pattern on a nearby wall.

She stood as if frozen, watching those red droplets roll down the rough surface. Pain and violence washed through her mind and she flinched as a hand dropped onto her shoulder.

Harrow’s calming presence cut through the spell and she looked up into blue eyes. “You good, Armstrong?” he asked and her gaze flicked to the cut at the corner of his lips.

“Oh my, you’re hurt!”

He lifted a hand, dabbing at the cut with the edge of his cuff. “Yeah, I was a tad too slow this time, he got me a good one. Getting too old for this shit.”

She turned as Allen joined them, again with that hard look on his face. She tried not to look at the crumpled form of the guard behind him. She knew these beings were responsible for so much pain and suffering, but still… But then she shoved her emotions down hard. They had people here that didn’t deserve what the Devore was doing to them. They should be her focus. Not the guards.

Allen joined them, his expression still hard. For a moment she almost saw another face overlaid behind his features, but when she blinked it was gone.

“This way,” Harrow jerked his head down the corridor. “They brought us in past a control nexus.”

“What are we going to do?” She hissed as they jogged down the corridor into the darkness.

“Havoc and chaos…” He grinned. “We’re going to start a riot.”

She blinked but didn’t get time to ask questions because the next turn in the corridor brought them to the nexus Harrow had seen. Her breath caught in her throat as the corridor opened out and they came face to face with two more guards.

“Hey! What are you doing out?” One demanded while the other leaped for an alarm on the desk in front of them.

Allen hissed and thrust his hand out. For a moment Talia thought he’d found a weapon somewhere that he’d thrown because the guard stopped, his shoulder arching back and his mouth open in a gasp.

But he hadn’t thrown anything. No bloom of red blossomed over the guard’s back. Instead, Allen curled his fingers, turning his hand and somehow making the guard turn on the spot like a juddering marionette. His eyes were wide with fear, locked onto the blond Starfleet officer.

“What the…” The other guard went for his weapon, but Harrow was already there.

“Sorry bud, I don’t think so,” he said, neatly clipping the guard at the back of the head and dropping him into unconsciousness. Harrow looked up at Talia, spearing her with a look. “Come and help me cuff him. Allen, Allen!” he yelled to get the other man’s attention.

Allen blinked and looked at him, his hand still outstretched. Talia tried to avoid looking into his eyes.

“He’s not the only one in there,” she murmured in an undertone to Harrow, retrieving cuffs from the guards pocket and securing him to the desk legs. Harrow flicked a look at Allen and gave her a small nod. “I assumed as much,” he said, making sure the cuffs were tight as he stood and moved toward the guard Allen was holding captive. Somehow.

“Allen,” Harrow’s voice was low but firm. “Let him go so I can cuff him.”

The guard’s eyes were almost popping out of his head, his skin slowly turning purple. His breath came in short gasps, each shorter than the last. Her eyes widened. Allen was killing him.

Allen’s face was still hard, the look in his eyes alien. Gathering her courage, she stood, approaching him slowly.

“Quinn?” she said softly, placing her hand on his arm.

And was sucked in.

Pain and anger. Two minds connected, wrapped around each other in a never-ending spiral. Feeding off each other. Strengthening each other.

Vengeance.

She gasped as she broke away, lifting her hand. Everything was laid out in front of her in one, blinding moment.

“Oh Quinn,” she murmured. He’d suffered so much and kept it all in for so long. Dealt with it alone. Between one heartbeat and the next her worries that she was in the wrong place were swept away. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Here. Now.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” she said, reaching up to turn his face toward hers with gentle fingers on his jaw. “Let him go and we can help everyone else as well.”

He blinked, focusing on her. Then relaxed his hand.

The guard sagged forward, half-conscious. Harrow caught him and in a few deft moves had him cuffed to the desk, and gagged.

“Okay then. Let’s get this party started.” 

“Bring us around,” Raan ordered, his expression set as he focused on the main viewscreen of the bridge. “Have we picked up Harrow’s signature yet?”

“Confirmed. Harrow is definitely on the surface,” came the call back. Callahan. Raan had noted her unflappable and professional manner. “He appears to be in a partially ruined complex on the northern hemisphere. All the life signs on the planet are concentrated in this area.”

The view screen changed to show a schematic of the building she was referring to, with blue dots for lifesigns showing on all floors.

“Red for Devore, I assume?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

She nodded. “Yes sir, although they appear to be concentrated in this area here.”

Moving her hands, she changed the view the bridge crew saw. The Devore personnel were all crowded into one area, on one of the lower floors. There were no blue dots near them.

“I’d like to think that means Harrow has them contained,” Raan commented. “But hope for the best, expect the worse. Mason to Bennett, are you ready for go?”

Bennett’s gruff voice replied almost immediately. “Locked and loaded, boss. What are you dropping us into?”

“We’re going to drop you on the second floor. I suspect Harrow and his forces are on four. But it looks like the Devore are marshalling a defense and possibly re-arming on sub-level one. Expect heavy resistance.”

“Awesome. I do like a bit of heavy resistance.” Bennett’s voice held the edge of a chuckle. “We’re ready to go on your mark.”

Raan nodded. “Happy hunting, Primus. Bring our people back.”

| Seconds later on the surface

Dayne Bennett rematerialised in a swirling spiral of blue. His rifle was up in his shoulder in an instant as he swept his assigned fire arc. It was second nature, his movements all down to muscle memory as he sighted through the scopes.

Nothing.

“Clear,” he said, voice loud enough to carry to the away team around him, the word echoed by the others. Halstein’s deep voice followed by Velor, then Micheals.

“Moving.” His voice was a gruff bark in the air, and as one, the away team moved like the well oiled machine they were. They should be, they’d trained often enough on the holodeck and off ship as much as the captain could arrange.

Happy hunting, Primus.

The words hung in Dayne’s mind as they moved, covering all the angles and working their way up to the level Harrow and the others should be on. It was a message from the captain, a reminder of the war they’d served in together.

Mason had been his commanding officer back then as well. Dayne hadn’t liked him much. He’d assumed the feted son of the planet’s premier would be a spoilt brat more interested in bling and braid rather than getting his hands dirty. Dayne hadn’t expected him to survive his first battle, much less turn out to be a decent soldier.

Happy hunting mean a wealth of things from ‘don’t die’ to ‘do what needs to be done’. It was responsibility and release all in one. Get the mission done, no questions asked.

“Keep it tight,” he ordered as they moved down darkened corridor after darkened corridor.

It was cold and dank, some of the flooring beneath their feet slippery. In places dark stains spread out from closed door ways. Dayne had seen enough combat to know what blood and death looked and smelled like. So did the team with him, their silence becoming more and more weighed as they moved forward, overlapping each other to take cover and provide it as their team members moved.

Dayne’s breath rasped in his ears, all his senses on alert for any movement. When it came it was a surprise and a relief all at once. Movement ahead resolved into a small unit of armed Devore, and a second later the narrow corridor erupted into a vicious firefight.

| Meanwhile, also on the surface.

“The cavalry has arrived,” Allen commented, his eyes still strange, a second before the sound of combat filtered up from a lower floor. “Bennett and his team are here. They’re fighting a unit of Devore two floors below us.”

Harrow nodded, and looked around the large group they’d already managed to liberate. How he and Allen were so calm, Talia didn’t know. Her heart was pounding like a drum, and she was sure everyone near her could hear it.

“Okay,” Harrow’s voice carried across the small hall they’d gathered in. They’d found whoever they could who was still alive. Most weren’t. The memory of walking into some of those cells would haunt her forever.

“We have help incoming,” Harrow continued. “But we’re going to need to secure this location. Protect ourselves until they get here. So we’re going to sort ourselves into three groups. Anyone combat capable and willing join me. Anyone with technical abilities or prefer to help build defenses with Allen. Wounded, you’re with Armstrong. Let’s move people!”

There was a certain tranquility to combat.

It was tranquil because once the first shot was fired, that was it. Whatever problems and issues had been may have been clamouring for attention in your mind before the battle were washed away. Consigned to irrelevance under the primal need to survive. To fight.

Dayne was tranquil at the moment. His world had narrowed down to this single corridor and the enemy firing at him. Being pinned down in a corridor wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in. He and the team scattered, seeking what cover and then the air was alive with live fire.

Dayne’s shoulder hit the concrete of a door jam, and he laid down a few bursts of fire to keep the Devore down as he checked his team’s placement. Halstein was tucked in behind him, while Velor and Micheals were on the other side of the corridor, Michaels blonde hair was a flash in the darkness.

“Moving!” Micheals bellowed over the sound of the firing, and both Dayne and Halstein leaned out to cover them as she and Velor sprinted forward a few steps to find new cover. As soon as they tucked in, Dayne and Halstein were on the move.

He didn’t think about the fact he was out in the open, and most people liked to fire at the biggest target. Halstein was behind him so he’d cop the first rounds for sure. But there was no time for that, no regrets in his heart. If this was his time to go, then that was the will of the gods and there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, Mason had always taught them that they were dead as soon as the first bullet was fired, so they might as well take as many of the enemy with them as possible.

They made cover, and he had the enemy in his sights again. There were less of them now, but the faces were grim and determined. One thing was for sure. Wherever the Devore had found this lot, they were dedicated to the cause.

He grit his teeth, firing again. Two more dropped. Only a small group left now.

Looking across to where Micheals was tucked into a deeper doorway, he nodded. They were out of corridor. From here on out, it would have to be a full assault.

“Taking point,” he yelled at the rest of the team and with a bellow of rage, he broke from cover. His heart pounded, the massive muscles in his thighs propelling him forward. Something zipped by him, whispering across his cheek, but then he was on them, crashing through their makeshift defensive position like it wasn’t even there. A table caught him in the thigh but he barely felt it, dropping his rifle around his back on it’s sling as he swung a massive fist back.

The fight was short and sweet. Whatever the Devore had expected, it obviously hadn’t been nearly seven feet of very cranky, sleep-deprived ex-soldier to land in the middle of them. A very cranky, sleep-deprived ex-soldier who’d been his unit’s bare knuckle boxing champion.

He blinked as he ran out of people to fight. The Devore guards lay in small heaps, groaning in their own little worlds of pain. Micheals stepped up next to him as he looked at the ones they’d shot.

“Will they live?” he grunted, a frown in the middle of his brow.

Micheals nodded. “Highest stun setting will keep them down for a while, and they’ll have a hell of a headache when they wake up. I could prescribe them an analgesic if you like?”

He snorted. “Nah, let them contemplate their mistakes, and the fact it could be a lot worse, with a sore head. Secure them in the nearest cell and then we’ll move out.”

“Yes, primus,” she winked and turned tail as Dayne checked the map. 

“Okay guys,” he called out. “Harrow’s signal is a couple of floors up. We need to get moved asap, find our people and get the hell out of here.”

The defenses weren’t going to be enough. Quinn stood back and looked at what the small group had managed to build. They were rudimentary at best, crude barriers constructed from the remains of beds and other debris they’d found in the cells. 

Power… just a thought away. Here. Bright, shiny mind. Take. 

He grit his teeth, avoiding the thoughts swirling around his head he knew weren’t his own. His gaze slid sideways, assessing all the people around him. All the telepaths. 

It wasn’t any of them, he was sure of it. They were broken down, beaten. Only those from the Resolute crew would meet his eyes. Some even shied away from him. His stomach soured. What had they been through here? 

Pain. Agony. Misery. Hopelessness. 

The wash of emotion almost brought him to his knees. They weren’t his emotions but he felt helpless all the same. 

Couldn’t help. Minds are wrong. Can’t touch. Couldn’t STAY!

He felt the frustration as keenly as if it were his own. 

“Incoming!” Harrow warned from the other side of the room. “Arm yourselves and hold your positions!”

They will die, the voice in Quinn’s head warned as he readied the chair leg he was using as a club. It was scant protection against the energy weapons and prods the guards had but he at least had hand to hand combat training. He looked at the young girl next to him, seeing her clearly in that moment. 

She couldn’t be more than nine years old. The age he’d finally escaped his tormentors. Her eyes were wide, bright green, with purplish bruises beneath that told the tale of mistreatment and lack of food. Her hands were too tiny to go around her own chair leg, identical to the one Quinn held. 

Let me help, the voice whispered and Quinn shook his head, finally speaking to whatever was in his head. And what if I do, and you kill everyone? 

Amusement washed over and through him, and in the next second, his mind… expanded. He grunted as the momentary glimpse into the consciousness lodged in his brain drove him to his knees. It’s journey to become trapped in this place when the mind that had hosted it died. 

Misery and pain. Alone. Helpless. Watching them die. Watching them be killed. Killed. Killed. No MORE!

“No more,” Quinn agreed, rising to his feet as he let down his guard and let the thing in his mind in. 

“They’re coming!” Harrow bellowed and the sounds of fighting and weapons fire reached the duo that had been Quinn’s ears. 

“NO MORE!” he snarled, turning and lashing out.  

The shockwave took Talia off her feet as all around her the Devore guards screamed, dropping their weapons and falling to the floor to clutch their heads. 

She blinked, looking at Harrow, who shrugged. The other prisoners milled around, confused at this turn of events, until, one by one, they all turned to look at… 

“It’s Allen,” she breathed, watching the tall science officer. His hair was a wild mess of blonde spikes, his eyes blazing with fury. 

Harrow leaned in to murmur. “He’s human, right?” 

She nodded. 

“So his eyes shouldn’t be glowing like that?” 

She shook her head, watching as Allen lifted his hands. “That’s not just Allen in there. There’s something else in there.”

Harrow grunted, hefting his makeshift club. “Something dangerous?”

A soft snort escaped her. “Considering he just dropped the devore with a thought and none of us are affected, I’m going with not.”

There was a clatter behind them as Bennett and his team arrived, the look on the big engineers face confused as he looked around. Instantly his gaze snapped to Allen and he started to lift his rifle. 

“No!” she gasped, getting herself between him and his target, hand shoving the rifle down. 

“What the hell, doll!” Bennett snapped, a huge hand snaking out and yanking her to the side before she could do anything else. “Don’t ever get yourself that end of a rifle!” 

“Don’t hurt him,” she hissed, even as she was forced to clutch at the big man for her balance, he’d pulled her so hard. “He’s not on his own in there.”

“Glowy eyes? No shit,” Bennett grunted, pushing her behind him to approach the science officer. 

“Allen, dude… you mind ratcheting it down a notch? You’re going to kill this lot,” he said, motioning to the guards writhing on the floor. Talia stepped out from behind him, her hands out so she didn’t appear threatening. 

“Quinn… you’re hurting them.”

His gaze snapped to her and his lips curled back from his teeth. “They deserve it. Every one of them. Do you know what they’ve done? How many innocents they’ve tortured and killed?”

He curled his hands into fists and the guards on the floor screamed. 

“No,” she whispered, walking past Bennett to approach him. “But if we do the same, then we’re no better than them, are we?” 

He looked down at her, the eerie green glow in his eyes almost making her whimper. Whatever was looking out of her from behind his eyes was ancient and more powerful than anything she’d ever encountered. More powerful than anything she’d ever even heard of. 

“He’s not this…” she begged whatever it was. “Please don’t give him new nightmares on top of the old. Please let him go.”

“Bright shiny mind,” he rumbled, reaching up to touch her cheek softly. “Too shiny to stay, to hold onto. His is bright, but the scars give me purchase.”

She shook her head. “Don’t give him more. Please.”

The entity tilted Quinn’s head to the side. She could tell there wasn’t much, if any of Quinn, in control now. “He hated you, yet you protect him. Why?” 

“Because he is my crew. My family,” she said, honestly. “Family doesn’t always get on, but we always look out for each other.” 

“Family…” Then it nodded, and the screaming stopped. There were gasps behind her as the guards all got to their feet. Moved one after the other, marching out of the room toward the cells. 

“They will suffer in their own way,” the creature controlling Quinn said, its voice softer. “Every innocent they hurt, they will feel that same pain. Feel the knowledge and weight of that. Over and over, for the rest of their days.” 

She tried to feel sorry for them, tried to feel horror at that sort of unending torment. But then she remembered the cells whose occupants would never leave this place. Her expression hardened and she nodded. 

The clang of cell doors shutting and locking reached them, and a second later Quinn gasped and collapsed. She managed to reach him a second before he hit the floor, his taller form almost crushing her. 

“Help me!” she gasped, looking around for the Resolute team. “We’re going to need to get him to sickbay! Now!”

“So, he’s going to be okay?”

Raan stood by Allen’s bed in sickbay, his arms folded over his chest as he looked down at the unconscious form of his chief science officer.

“As far as I can tell for someone who’s had an alien entity stuffed in their head, yes,” Micheals, never one to mince her words, replied. “Whatever it was, it’s sent his neurotransmitter levels crazy.”

Raan slid her a sideways glance. “Layman’s terms, doc. I’m just a grunt sitting in the captain’s chair, remember?”

She grunted, muttering something that may or may not have been, ‘grunt, my ass.’

“What was that, doc?”

“Nothing, just clearing my throat. Okay, layman’s terms. The chemicals in his brain are on the fritz. Whatever that entity was, it stripped him of stuff that let him make decisions and ramped up all the feel good shi- the feel good ones.”

Raan nodded. “Okay, so he was high most of the time and not responsible for his actions?”

Micheals wrinkled her nose. It was a surprisingly cute expression on the no-nonsense doctor. “Yes and no. When he was under it’s control, he wasn’t in control. But… yeah, he was totally operating on happy-happy times there.”

Raan compressed his lips into a thin line. “And is it still in his head?”

“That. I have no idea,” Micheals said, moving around the bed and switching the display above Allen’s head.

Instead of a bodily scan, there were other readouts that Raan assumed were something to do with his brain functioning, given the image of a rotating brain on the left-hand side. He avoided looking at the eyes on stalks and concentrated on the other areas of the image. Several areas were lit up red.

“So far I’m working on stabilising his body chemistry and transmitters. But I’m not a telepath and we don’t have any way to monitor that in a patient who, as far as we knew, had no telepathic ability.”

“It’s not in there anymore,” Armstrong said as she joined them.

Raan looked down at the young woman. Since the Resolute had picked up the away teams and all the former Devore prisoners, the counselor had been patched up and looked like she’d managed to get at least a few hours sleep. He hoped she had, because he knew that she’d been back on duty when they’d transported the last of their refugees over to ships sent to either take them home or onwards to safety, places far from Devore reach.

“Are you sure?” he asked, a frown creasing his brow.

His species were as telepathic as a brick, so he was always a little in awe of those who had such abilities. Imagine being able to read minds, or know how someone was feeling.

The first struck him as dangerous, but the second… yeah, that might have helped him avoid landing in the divorce courts. Who knew some people were so weird about multiple marriages? His ex-wife, obviously. But he hadn’t known that at the time.

She nodded.

“I can’t feel it at all now. It was like something pressing against my mind all the time.”

Her expression softened as she looked at the unconscious man on the bed. “He’s been through hell,” she muttered, moving closer.

Raan had to admin, Allen looked a lot better than he had when the away team had brought him back from the surface, draped over Dayne’s shoulders. All the cuts and bruises were gone as was the gaunt look he’d had about him. Rather than looking like he’d walked out of a nightmare, he merely looked to be asleep.

“So Allen’s not in danger from it, nor is the ship?” Raan asked, needing to make sure. His primary duty was to make sure his crew weren’t in danger, even if the danger came from one of them. And the last thing he wanted to do was have a hitch-hiker like that tag along with them back to the alpha quadrant.

Armstrong shook her head. “I don’t think it meant to hurt him. And it definitely didn’t want to hurt anyone but the Devore. I think it let him go when the Devore were defeated. But…” she looked up, her expression a little unsure, almost like she expected to be refused. “I’ll stay with him until he wakes up, make sure he’s okay?”

Raan smiled, reaching up to squeeze her shoulder. “Thank you, Lieutenant, I’d appreciate that. Just make sure you get enough rest as well, okay?”

“Of course, sir.”

Smiling again, Raan turned to leave. He had other matters to attend to as the Resolute made its way back home with the rest of the fleet. Even though they hadn’t managed to aid much in the Blood Dilithium situation, he’d been relieved to discover the more science-capable members of the fleet had solved the mystery and they could return home.

He just had to hope that it was without a possessed science officer…