Fleet Captain’s Log, Stardate 2401.4. After months of delay, Challenger Squadron has finally begun the mission for which it was formed; exploration of the Gamma Quadrant. Formerly Dominion-occupied territories are now accessible to Starfleet vessels, and Challenger Squadron has been instructed to learn all we can. While the Toronto surveys planets we’ve previously only seen on long-range scans, and the Endurance conducts scouting operations to gather intelligence on the security situation, Challenger’s primary goal will be to establish new diplomatic ties with planets formerly occupied by the Dominion.

“The Federation has spoken eloquently about wishing to re-establish full diplomatic relations with the people of Darox.” The woman on the viewscreen told Rix. “Your assistance with this matter would go a long way to proving yourselves worthy allies.”

There was no way, Rix told himself, that Prime Minister Hutek believed that tactic would work but it was a worthy attempt. “I’m afraid our hands are tied, Prime Minister. The Federation cannot involve itself in a matter of internal Daroxi security.”

“I’d like to speak with your Captain,” Hutek masked her frustration well with an even tone and carefully schooled features.

Forrester’s timing was impeccable. “Speak to me about what?” He asked as he emerged from the turbolift.

“Captain Forrester, it’s a pleasure to speak with you again.”

“Likewise, Prime Minister,” Forrester’s entire manner was one of politeness from his carefully calibrated tone to his features and the smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Rix was still trying to get a handle on his CO but Forrester was proving frustratingly difficult to read. “Congratulations on your recent election victory.”

Hutek smiled proudly. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Sir,” Rix interjected, “the Prime Minister has requested we track down a Daroxi fugitive who recently managed to escape off-world and return him to face justice. I’ve explained to the Prime Minister that we cannot get involved in an internal Daroxi matter.”

Forrester nodded slowly before addressing the Prime Minister. “I’m afraid Captain Rix is correct. We cannot get involved.”

“Captain, the fugitive in question is Penn Renos.”

Rix groaned inwardly. Hutek had omitted that detail from her request to Rix but he’d read the Challenger’s mission logs before arriving onboard and knew the significance of that name. He watched as Forrester’s smile disappeared, and his features hardened.

“Send us all the intelligence you have on him.” Rix was unable to hide his irritation. He opened his mouth to object but Forrester carried on, “We’ll track him down and return him to Darox.”

Hutek’s triumphant smirk caused Rix’s stomach to twist. She’d kept her ace well concealed up her sleeve and played it masterfully. Rix mused that she was well suited to her career in politics. “Thank you, Captain Forrester.”

“Sir,” Rix began as soon as the transmission ended, “we can’t go around hunting the Gamma Quadrant’s fugitives, even if the request comes from a potential ally.”

Forrester’s gaze remained fixed on the viewscreen. Rix wasn’t even sure the Captain had heard him. “Commander Anderson, analyse the Daroxi intelligence. I want you ready to brief me as soon as possible.”

“Aye, sir.”

Rix tried to protest again, but Forrester ignored him, stalking off into his ready room. Not willing to let this go, he followed Forrester, barging into the Fleet Captain’s sanctuary. It was an uncharacteristic move by the Trill but he was determined that Forrester would hear him out.

“Captain Rix, by all means, come on in.”

The Challenger’s XO ignored Forrester’s sarcasm. “Sir, involving ourselves in Darox’s internal affairs is a violation of the Prime Directive.”

“Prime Directive doesn’t apply,” Forrester shot back as he settled behind his desk. “We’re already involved in this particular matter.”

That wasn’t going to wash. “I’m aware of the events of your previous visit to Darox and I don’t believe they provide sufficient cover  to allow us to get involved.” He stepped forward and lowered his voice, “Sir, I’m worried you may be too close to this to be objective.”

“You think this is personal for me?” Forrester’s hazel eyes darkened but his tone remained even.

Rix nodded slowly. “I do.”

“Penn Renos,” Forrester sat back and met Rix’s gaze, “conspired with Romulans to assassinate the legitimately elected Prime Minister of Darox.” There was a fire in Forrester’s eyes that Rix hadn’t seen before. “This is not personal. This is about ensuring justice.”

Bullshit. The word was on the tip of Rix’s tongue. It was apparent that this was personal. Forrester was neglecting to mention that Renos tried to frame a member of the Challengers’ crew for the assassination and the crew member in question was his lover, Commander Bentley. How could it not be personal?

“Sir-” The sound of the chime interrupts yet another attempt to make Forrester see reason.

Forrester’s eyes flicked to the door. “Come.”

The doors open to admit Commander Anderson, who carried a pair of PADDs in her right hand. “Sir, I’ve completed a preliminary analysis of the information the Daroxi sent us.” She handed one of the PADDs to Forrester. “They believe Renos was smuggled off-world by this man.”

“Daimon Lurg of the Ferengi Alliance.” Forrester read from the PADD.

Anderson nodded. “He visited Darox a week ago attempting to establish a trading relationship with them, which they ultimately declined.

“What do we know about him?” Rix asked.

Anderson consulted her PADD. “He’s been active in the Gamma Quadrant for the past two years and has developed a number of lucrative trading relationships in that time. Opaka Station also believes he’s been involved in a number of extra-legal activities, but hasn’t been able to acquire evidence to support that suspicion.”

“Do we know where he went after he left Darox?”Forrester handed the PADD to Rix, who immediately began scanning it.

Cleverly, Anderson dropped the bad news upfront. “We don’t,” a smile crept onto her features, “but we know where he is right now.” Both Rix and Forrester’s looked at her expectantly. “His ship has been on the Endurance’s long-range sensors for the past two days.”

Forrester’s smile caused Rix’s stomach to twist. “Contact the Endurance. Have Captain Dalton detain Daimon Lurg’s ship.”

“On what grounds? We don’t have any hard evidence of his involvement in Renos’ escape.” Anderson pointed out.

Rix was relieved Anderson pointed that out, but he was naive to believe that would deter Forrester. “No, we don’t.” Forrester agreed. “But the Daroxi Prime Minister voiced concerns about some emissions detected coming from the Daimon’s ship while he was in orbit and has asked us to investigate, so we’re going to conduct a health and safety inspection.”

“Sir-” Rix tried, in vain, once again.

Forrester ignored Rix’s latest objection and told Anderson, “Make it happen, Commander.”

Anderson nodded and withdrew without another word.

“Sir, we have no authority to conduct health and safety inspection.” Rix pointed out, though he knew Forrester was well aware of that. “This isn’t Federation space.”

Forrester activated his desktop terminal. “Like I said, we’ve been asked-”

“No, sir. We were not.” Rix, along with the rest of the bridge officers, had been privy to Forrester’s entire conversation with Prime Minister Hutek. “And Commander Lightford is never going to sign off on this.”

The Fleet Captain didn’t look up from the holographic screen at the mention of the Squadron’s JAG but there was a subtle tightening of his jaw. “You and he can note your objections in your logs.”

“Sir-”

“Lay in a course for Daimon Lurg’s position and take us to maximum warp.”

“Sir-”

“You’re dismissed.”

Rix stood there for a few minutes, being purposefully ignored by Forrester before he strode out of the ready room, his entire body vibrating with frustration. The desire to throw the PADD he was still holding at the nearest wall was strong but he wasn’t about to put on that kind of show for the officers on the bridge.

“Mister da Costa,” Rix reluctantly began, “prepare to alter course.”

Squadron JAG Officer’s Log, Stardate 2401.4. The Challenger is en route to rendevous with the Endurance. Despite Captain Rix’s attempts to talk Fleet Captain Forrester out of this course of action, he seems determined to press ahead.  I share the First Officer’s misgivings about this course of action, but for now, all our objections are falling on deaf ears.

Simon Lightford didn’t often spend time on the bridge and when he did, it was seldom for anything good. Today, he was here to ensure Fleet Captain Forrester didn’t break the law in his pursuit of information on the whereabouts of Penn Renos. His gut twisted at the thought of having to step in to save Forrester from himself.

Captain Rix occupied the centre chair as the Challenger hurtled through the vastness of space destined to rendezvous with the starship Endurance. He absently worried his lower lip as he studied something on the small LCARS panel on the chair’s armrest. It was Rix who’d requested Lightford’s presence on the bridge.

“Sir,” Lieutenant Commander Calderwood’s voice broke through the tense atmosphere, “we’re receiving a message from the Endeavour.” He held the earpiece against his ear.

Lightford noticed Rix’s fingers snake around the edge of the armrest, gripping it tightly in anticipation of what the next few seconds would bring.

“They say they’ve intercepted Daimon Lurg’s ship, but that he’s refusing to allow his ship to be inspected,” Lightford couldn’t keep the look of disappointment from his face. “But…he’s willing to divulge the location of Penn Renos…for a price.”

As his disappointment morphed into confusion, Lightford turned to Rix with a questioning look. “How does he know we’re looking for Renos?”

“One day he’s smuggling a wanted man off Darox, the next a Federation starship is intercepting him,” Rix pointed out. “Doesn’t take a genius to make the connection.” He hit a control on the armrest of his chair. “Captain Forrester to the bridge.”

“Report,” Forrester barked when he emerged from the ready room moments later. His eyes darted briefly in Lightford’s direction. “I see you brought back up,” he mumbled to Rix as he settled into the command chair.

Ignoring Forrester’s needling, Captain Rix gave him a quick rundown of the message from Endurance.

“What’s his price?” Forrester asked, turning to Calderwood.

With a shrug, Calderwood replied, “Apparently he’ll only discuss that with you directly.”

“How long until we reach the Endurance’s position?”

At the helm, Lieutenant da Costa consulted his console. “Thirty-seven minutes.”

“Captain Rix, I want you and Commander Lightford to greet our guest. Find out what his price is” Lightford couldn’t help but feel he was being punished for something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what, “and have Ensign Bakshi lay out some food.”

With his orders given, Forrester retreated once again to the privacy of his ready room. Lightford’s gaze fell on Captain Rix, who was smoothly retaking his place in the command chair. “There’s something I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?” Rix asked.

Lightford perched himself on the chair to Rix’s left. “Why is Lurg so willing to give up one of his clients?”

“You’re forgetting Rule of Acquisition number seventeen, ‘A contract is a contract is a contract, but only between Ferengi’,” Rix replied.

The Rules that governed Ferengi life had never been Lightford’s strong suit. He was forever mixing up rules six and twenty-one. “But, if it gets out that he’s burned one of his clients, won’t that damage his reputation and make it difficult for him to do business in the future?”

“Maybe,” the First Officer replied with a shrug, “but like any good Ferengi, Lurg will have done his cost-benefit analysis. He’ll have concluded that whatever price he can extract from us in exchange for his information will outweigh whatever long-term reputational damage he does in the process, and he’ll only be damaged if it gets out that he rolled over on his client.”

Lightford nodded. His experience with the Ferengi was limited. He’d spent most of his career on starbases. This was the first time in his career that he’d spent any time beyond the confines of Federation space. “What do you think his price is going to be?”

“I have no idea,” Rix slowly shook his head, “but I know this much; it won’t be cheap.”

Fleet Captain’s Log, Stardate 2401.4. Having made a deal with Daimon Lurg, we now know where he delivered Penn Renos: Janea II. A regional trading hub, it was once run by the Karemma. Since the Dominion’s withdrawal from this region, the Karemma’s control over the planet has been broken. Now, it’s a haven for pirates, mercenaries and other criminal elements. It’s the perfect hiding place for someone like Renos. Starfleet has never been particularly welcome here, so I threw in something extra to secure passage with Lurg.

The thin layer of foam that Lurg laughably referred to as a mattress did little to make the bunk comfortable, though he doubted their comfort mattered much to the Ferengi Daimon. Forrester rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, staring at the bunk’s ceiling. A sigh from the occupant of the bunk above him suggested they were having no more luck sleeping than Forrester. “Everything okay up there?”

“Yes, sir.” Commander Elizabeth Wescott replied. “Just trying to get comfortable.” Forrester could hear her shifting around in the bunk above him.

The door to the ‘guest quarters’ they’d been assigned opened, allowing the light from the corridor to spill into the room. Doctor Henry Young stepped into the room with a slice of toast in his mouth and a cup in his hand.

“Is it breakfast time already?” Wescott asked.

That doesn’t seem possible, Forrester thought. We’ve only been underway a few hours.

Young seemed startled by Wescott’s question. “Sorry, I didn’t think you guys were still awake.” 

“These shelves don’t lend themselves well to sleep,” Forrester grumbled. He couldn’t bring himself to refer to the shelves and foam pads they’d been given as beds.

Young moved to the bunks on the opposite side of the room, no more than a metre away, and sat on the edge. “To answer your question, it’s only about zero-three-hundred. I’m a bit of a late-night snacker.”

He listened as Wescott repositioned herself on her shelf. “How’s the food?” She asked.

“Horrible,” Young replied, his nose scrunched in disgust. “I think their replicators are programmed more for tube grubs and gree worms than tea and toast.” He gulped down a mouthful of tea with a grimace.

Forrester closed his eyes and rolled onto his side. “We didn’t book onto a pleasure cruise. The main thing is that we get to Janea and find Renos.”

“I wish you’d stayed on the Challenger,” Wescott muttered after a few minutes where the only sound in the room was Doctor Young occasionally slurping his tea and making sounds of disgust.

Rolling onto his back, Forrester glared at the roof of his bunk. “Both you and Captain Rix made a valiant effort to persuade me not to come on this mission, but that ship has sailed…literally,” He told her shortly. Besides, the Cernan is tailing us and will hold position on the edge of the system. If anything happens, help won’t be too far away.”

Forrester rolled back onto his side, “Let’s focus on the mission at hand.”

Two days. That’s how long they’d spent on Janea trying to hunt down Renos with little success. Everywhere they went, they were met by walls of silence. Given the locals’ dislike of Starfleet, Forrester had decided the team would carry nothing that identified them as Starfleet. Only a small subdural transmitter allowed for them to communicate with the Cernan.

Forrester pulled a Bajoran PADD from one of the inside pockets of his coat and activated it as he set it on the bar and pushed it towards the barman. The burly Dosi gave the face displayed on it little more than a cursory glance before shaking his head. “I’ve never seen this man.”

“You sure?” Forrester asked, a sinking feeling of futility settling in his chest. His reply came in the form of a deep growl coming from the barman. “Thanks for your help.” 

Recovering the PADD and stuffing it back in his pocket, Forrester returned to the table in the dark corner where Young and Wescott were sitting. “Now what?” Young asked.

“Now we start considering the possibility that Renos is no longer here,” Although Wescott’s voice wasn’t much above a whisper, the force of her tone was unmistakable.

Forrester shook his head, “He’s here. I know-”

“You don’t know that, sir.” Wescott cut him off. “You have no way of knowing that.” She let out a frustrated sigh and leaned forward. “I tried telling you before we left the Challenger that he was probably long gone. If I were in his shoes, I’d only stick around long enough to arrange onward travel to some new destination where Daroxi Security or Starfleet wouldn’t find me.”

She’s right, Forrester thought sourly. He’d been a security officer for long enough that he already knew their chances of catching up with Renos were slim, but he’d been so blinded by the need to bring him to justice that his judgement had been impaired. Not that he would ever admit it, of course.

Before he could reply, a young man slid into Forrester’s lap and snaked his arms over the Captain’s shoulders. Forrester looked up to find himself looking into the face of a young Rakhari man with messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The man in his lap was no older than thirty. “Can I help you?”

The Rakhari man stared silently into Forrester’s eyes for a few seconds, his fingers running through Forrester’s chestnut hair. He slowly leaned closer and, for a split second, Forrester thought he was going to be kissed but at the last moment the young man leaned to the side and whispered into his ear. “The man you’re looking for is staying at the hotel across the street. Room Four-Thirty-Eight.”

“How do you know who we’re looking for?” Forrester asked. “And why are you telling me where he is?”

The man didn’t say anything more. He planted a gentle kiss on Forrester’s cheek before slinking off, leaving Wescott and Young staring at their Captain in shock. “What was that?” Wescott asked.

“He told me where Renos is,” Forrester replied. “Hotel across the street. Room Four-Thirty-Eight.”

Wescott eyed him warily. “He just gave you the information? For free?”

“Looks like it,” Forrester told her with a nod.

With the same worried look he had worn since arriving on Janea, Young asked, “Could this be a trap?”

“Is the sky blue?” Wescott shot back immediately with a withering look.

Forrester was quick to chip in, “Actually, the sky’s green on this planet, but I agree with Wescott. There’s no ‘could’ about this. It is a trap.”

“So what’s our next move?” Young asked, looking from Forrester to Wescott and back.

Their options were limited. Their closest support was on the edge of the system, too far to get detailed sensor scans and too far to beam them directly into the building. As a plan began formulating in Forrester’s mind, a smile began pulling at the corner of his lips. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“No,” Wescott announced out of the blue.

Forrester could see in her eyes that she knew what he was thinking, “Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Sir,” Wescott began, “you cannot seriously be thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

The smile on Forrester’s lips widened. It was a high risk plan, anything they came up with would carry a certain amount of risk. But as far as he was concerned, it was a risk worth taking. “I think I’m thinking exactly what you think I’m thinking.”

“I think,” Doctor Young injected, “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.

Wescott shot the Doctor a dirty look as she sat back and let out a frustrated sigh. She glared at Forrester for a few silent seconds, the air thick with the tension between them. Finally she announced, “He wants to spring the trap.”

“If Renos wants me, he can have me,” Forrester told them with a shrug.

Wescott leaned forward, a pleading tone in her voice that Forrester hadn’t heard before. “Sir, please. We need to take time to gather intel, recon the building and come up with a proper plan.”

“Renos is in my sights. The longer we wait, the higher the chance he’ll slip away. The decision’s been made, Commander,” Forrester pushed himself to his feet. “Be ready to go in five.”

As he walked away from the table, he could hear Wescott mutter, “This can’t end well.”

“Check, check.”

Using the subdermal implants to maintain an open comm channel meant that Wescott and Young would hear everything that happened once he stepped into Renos’ hotel room. Wescott responded almost instantly, “We hear you loud and clear.”

Forrester was thankful for the dim lighting in the corridor. It hid the worst of the hotel’s ‘charms’ from him, but even the low light was enough for him to make out a few details. The threadbare carpet had what looked like occasional burn marks on it, the thin film of grime coating the walls. What the low light couldn’t hide was the smell. It was a good thing his team had strong stomachs.

Renos’ room was about halfway down the corridor, and it didn’t take Forrester long to reach it. He found the door unlocked. Pulling his coat back, Forrester revealed an old Klingon disruptor at his right hip. He wrapped his fingers slowly around the grip and removed it from its holster.

“Standby,” Forrester muttered before he pressed the control to open the door. If he thought the smell in the corridor was unpleasant, it was nothing compared to the stench when the door slid open. He recoiled momentarily and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pressing it against his nose as he stepped inside with his disruptor raised.

The lights were off, but the room was bathed in an ethereal green glow from the lights outside. It was enough for him to make out the figure of someone sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. Their wrists were shackled behind them, their head slumped forward.

Forrester moved deeper into the room. Satisfied the seated figure wasn’t going to move, he ducked into the bathroom to find it empty. “Room’s clear,” He announced as he approached the figure.

“Renos?” Wescott asked.

Crouching in front of the figure, Forrester looked up into the lifeless eyes of Penn Renos. “He’s dead.”

“How?” 

“That’s what you’re going to tell me, Doctor,” Forrester replied. “Get in here. Both of you.”

Since they’d only been waiting down the corridor, it didn’t take long for Wescott and Young to arrive.  “It stinks in here,” Wescott spoke through the handkerchief she held against her mouth, “smells like-”

“Death.” Forrester helpfully finished for her. He turned his attention back to Doctor Young, the only one of them not holding something against his nose to shield him from the smell. The Medical Officer was crouched beside Renos’ body with a Cardassian medical tricorder in his hand. “What can you tell me?”

Young didn’t reply immediately. His attention was focused on the tricorder’s screen and what it was telling him. It was only when Forrester asked again the responded. “He died from a single disruptor blast to the chest at close range.”

“How long ago?”

Young consulted his tricorder again before answering Commander Wescott. “About forty-eight hours ago, give or take.”

“Around the time we arrived on Janea,” Forrester commented. As much as he hated Renos, he didn’t want to see him dead; he wanted to see him stand trial for what he did and be punished according to Daroxi law.

Wescott moved towards a panel on the wall. “The heat’s been set on high. That explains the advanced state of decomposition; and the smell.”

“There’s something in his hand.” Young reached out and removed a baseball-sized sphere from Renos’ left hand. The device began emitting a high-pitched whine almost immediately.

The room was momentarily filled with a blinding flash of light emanating from the device. The three Starfleet Officers crumpled to the floor, the light the last thing any of them remembered.

He’d been watching everything from a nearby room on a sensor feed from a device he’d hidden in the room. Once his trap had been sprung, he left his companion and made his way to Renos’ room. The Daroxi man had been a loose end, one that had been dealt with. Now, he could focus his energies on Forrester.

He found the Starfleet Officers unconscious on the floor. He ignored the two he didn’t recognise. They were of no consequence. He was here for Thomas Forrester. Removing a small scanner from his pocket, the man scanned around Forrester’s shoulder. Sure enough, he detected a small implant just below the elbow. He pulled a knife from his best and made a careful incision in Forrester’s skin.

“What are you doing?”

His companion, a young Rakhari man named Ashon, stood in the doorway watching him. “The Captain has a subdural implant for communication and tracking,” He explained as he used the tip of the blade to remove the device. “I’m removing it.”

“Should I go back and wait in your bed?” Ashon asked. He had been a pleasant distraction while the man waited for Renos and then Forrester to arrive, but his use, like Renos’ had come to an end.

The man removed the knife from Forrester’s shoulder, a tiny implant on its tip. “No, I’m afraid our association is at an end.” He tapped the blade of the knife on the ground, causing the implant to fall to the floor beside Forrester.

“But, you said you were going to take me with you,” Ashon cried, visibly upset. “You said my eyes reminded you of a sunset on Romulus. You were gonna take me there and show me.”

Standing to his full height the man moved to his companion. “My dear,” He placed a gentle hand on the back of Ashon’s neck, causing the young man to look into his eyes, “Romulus is dead.” In one swift move, he pulled his disrupter, placed it against Ashon’s stomach and pulled the trigger. “Something else you have in common.” He muttered as Ashon’s now lifeless body fell to the floor.

“Come, Captain,” He said to Forrester’s unconscious form, “It’s time for us to leave.” He removed a small device from under his sleeve and attached it to Forrester’s neck. Within seconds they were dematerialising in a green transporter beam.

Acting Captain’s Log, Stardate 2401.5. Captain Tarven Rix recording. It’s been a week since Fleet Captain Forrester went missing on Janea II, and we’re no closer to finding him than the day he disappeared, even with the combined resources of the entire squadron. There was no ransom, no communication from his kidnappers. We have no idea why he was taken or by whom. But, as frustrating as it’s been, we’re not giving up. He’s out there, somewhere, and we will find him.

Sleep continued to prove elusive. He couldn’t have gotten more than two or three consecutive hours since Forrester’s disappearance. Sometimes he thought that he would wake up to find his boyfriend snoring lightly beside him, and this whole thing would be a nightmare that he quickly forgot. It was a nightmare, but a waking nightmare that Matthias Bentley was living through day after day.

Giving up on sleep for now, Bentley pulled back the covers and reached for a nearby pair of pyjama bottoms that he quickly slipped on before padding downstairs to the kitchen where he replicated a steaming cup of herbal tea. Forrester had once recommended a blend of spiced apple, vanilla, camomile and passionflower to help him sleep and at this stage, he was willing to try anything.

As he settled on the couch with the cup nestled between his hands, Bentley was struck by a strong sense of deja vu. He’d been here before, over fifteen years earlier. Then he was waiting to hear what fate had befallen his husband, Cole, during the Synth attack on Mars. They destroyed the shipyard and set Mars alight, a fire that continued to burn even now more than a decade and a half later.

It took weeks for Starfleet to confirm that Cole was dead. All Bentley could do until he received that confirmation was wait. Back then he’d been able to bury himself in his work but that option wasn’t available to him now. Captain Rix had relieved him of duty out of some misguided sense that he was doing right by Bentley, but it just meant he had more time to think and concoct the worst-case scenarios.

The sound of the door chime cut through the silence of his quarters and brought Bentley back to the present. He was unsure of who would be calling on him at this time of night; a glance at a nearby clock told him it had just gone zero-two-hundred. Placing the cup on the coffee table, Bentley walked to the door and came face to face with the last person he expected to see.

“You look like hell,” Lieutenant Commander Alexander Mitchell, AJ to his closest friends, may have been an unexpected guest, but his greeting was on brand. Mitchell didn’t wait for an invitation and brushed past Bentley.

It took a few seconds for Bentley’s sleep-deprived brain to catch up. “It’s good to see you too.” He closed the door and followed Mitchell into the room. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the Alpha Quadrant on the Horatio?”

“I took a leave of absence,” Mitchell told him as he picked up the tea and brought the cup to his nose. The smell clearly didn’t appeal to him because his nose wrinkled and he quickly placed the cup back on the table. “I couldn’t sit on the sidelines while Tom’s missing.”

Bentley felt sorry for Mitchell. He and Forrester were like brothers and had been since their Academy days. When Mitchell disappeared over a decade ago, Forrester had been part of the search for the missing USS Hypatia. Now the shoe was on the other foot.

“Do they have any leads?” Mitchell asked as he took a seat in a nearby armchair.

Bentley shook his head. “Every lead we’ve found has gone nowhere, just one dead end after another. It’s like he vanished into thin air.” Without realising it, he began pacing.

“That’s what they said about the Hypatia and we turned up…eventually.”

A snort escaped from Bentley. “Yeah, after ten years.” He could feel tears prick his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this again, AJ.” Bentley’s voice was uneven. “I’ve already lost a husband. I don’t know if I can lose Tom too.”

“Hey,” Mitchell had suddenly pushed himself out of his seat and closed the distance between them, pulling Bentley into a firm hug. “You aren’t going to lose him. He’s out there somewhere, and we’re going to find him. Okay?”

Bentley wanted to believe him more than anything, but in the week Forrester had been missing, any hope he felt had dimmed considerably. All he could do was cling to Mitchell’s confidence as a life raft to keep him from slipping into the depths of despair.

Acting Captain’s Log, Stardate 2401.5. Lieutenant Commander Mitchell’s arrival three weeks ago provided a much-needed infusion of energy into our search for Fleet Captain Forrester. Now, however, I fear that energy is waning. Every time we follow some clue to the Captain’s whereabouts, it leads us nowhere. The crew is beginning to accept that we may never find Captain Forrester, or learn what happened to him.

The Challenger has been ordered to rendezvous with the USS Horatio at which point the flag officer they’re carrying will be coming on board. The presence of a flag officer this far out is worrying and I believe it can mean only one thing; Starfleet means to put an end to our search for the Captain.

The Challenger’s senior officers gathered in the briefing room, the large windows looking forward over the bow of the mighty Odyssey-class starship. At the head of the table, Captain Rix sat silently as his officer’s murmurs slowly died down in anticipation of what Commodore Wyatt had to say.

She sat at the opposite end of the long conference table with her two staff officers seated on either side of her. “I’ll come straight to the point,” Wyatt announced as she stood up to address them. “I’ve been placed in command of Challenger Squadron.”

“You,” Bentley paused and took a deep breath, “you think he’s dead.”

Rix’s eyes flicked back to Wyatt, who shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry but I do. ” Her hazel eyes softened. “You have my sympathies, Commander. I know this must be an incredibly difficult time for you.”

“He’s not dead,” Commander Mitchell replied vehemently. “We can’t just abandon him.”

Wyatt didn’t get a chance to respond because one of the officers who accompanied her, Captain Axelrod, spoke first. “You’ve been searching for a month, Commander. How long should we tie up the Challenger with a search for one man? A year? Ten?”

“As long as it takes,” Mitchell quickly shot back.

Axelrod looked like he was gearing up for a retort of his own but Commodore Wyatt stepped in to calm things down. “I understand your desire to keep looking but Captain Axelrod is correct, we can’t spare the Challenger any longer. If you’re right and Fleet Captain Forrester is still alive, then he’ll have to find his own way home.”

“Who’ll tell his parents?” Bentley asked in a quiet voice that was a contrast to the more passionate exchange they’d just witnessed.

Commodore Wyatt’s tone grew softer. “When the Horatio returns to the Alpha Quadrant, it’ll travel to Coltar where Commander Daris will inform Captain Forrester’s family.”

“I should be the one to tell them,” Bentley replied. “It should be me.”

Rix met Wyatt’s questioning look and silently communicated his agreement. “Of course. Captain Rix will work out the logistics of your leave. The Horatio will be departing in two hours.” She turned to Mitchell, “I fully expect you to be back at your post when it does.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Mitchell replied begrudgingly.

Wyatt turned her attention to Rix. “Captain, command of the Challenger now falls to you,” That wasn’t much of a surprise. “A memorial service will be held for Fleet Captain Forrester in due course.” She took a breath. “I wish it hadn’t come to this, but I know that Captain Forrester would’ve understood the need for us to carry on with the Challenger’s mission of exploration.” Wyatt looked around the room once more. “Dismissed.”

Rix remained seated while everyone else filed out. Being promoted to Captain of the Challenger should’ve been a happy day, the peak of his career to date. But a dark cloud hung over this promotion. He stepped over to the window and stared out into the depths of space, wondering if Mitchell was right; was Forrester really still out there?