The USS Century slipped through warped space, its course bring the ship ever closer to Federation space. A week had slipped by for the crew as they stood vigil just inside Romulan Republic space, attempting to glean what little information they could regarding the sudden and inexplicable incursion of a Borg vessel through both Federation and Republic space in the days prior to their arrival in the area. While their sojourn had not been completely fruitless, they hadn’t managed to glean any overtly useful information, nor had they been able to track the strange intruder any further than the first hostile engagement it had fought against Romulan opposition forces. With little to show for their efforts, the Century retreated from Republic controlled space to return to their original task, patrolling the Federation’s border with all the Romulan factions. 

Despite the Century not being a patrol vessel by design, it had the longevity required to conduct prolonged sweeps of the border without the need to resupply, making it an excellent platform despite its lack of specialization in the area. And after the somewhat disappointing ending to their last foray, a welcome if not functionally routine mission to tackle. It was with that in mind that the Century’s Captain concluded his status report to Starfleet Command.

“…I hope that the continuation of our original patrol assignment will help the crew readjust to a less tense state of operations. The heightened level of alertness and hyper focus they were expected to maintain throughout our encounter with the Borg Scout has likely taken a toll on their mental health, something that I will need to address with the ship’s medical officer soon. End of log.”

Captain Gar’rath leaned back in his chair and slowly drummed his clawed fingers against the left armrest of his chair as he mulled over the things he had just said aloud for the report. In his younger years, considerations such as stress levels would have been an alien concept to him, given that his mind didn’t work in the same way as his mammalian counterparts. In fact, it was only once he had assumed command that he had to give any real consideration to such things. Even as a department head, his focus had been on mission readiness, leaving his deputy to handle the psychological issues that came with being in the security field. 

As he mulled over his past positions, he recalled one of his former commanders point out such a deficiency in his leadership. His old CO had told him that his “dismissal of mammalian emotional states gave his subordinates the impression that he viewed them as objects and not at thinking, feeling beings.” The Gorn had scoffed at the notion at the time, but after it had been pointed out to him, Gar’rath had noticed that his interactions with his staff always followed a very brief script of noncommittal responses and sour expressions. It took nearly a year for Gar’rath to climb his way out of the deficit he had inadvertently found himself in simply by not giving any thought to the emotional reactions of those around him, both positive and negative. In the end, a Saurian on the ship had to explain to him in terms that were comprehensible to a reptilian before he truly grasped the damage he had done. After that, his improvement in interpersonal relations was evident, though far from perfect. Even as he sat behind the desk having such retrospective thoughts, he still made mistakes.

One such instance that could be labelled a mistake happened only a few days prior, when his Executive Officer made an impassioned plea to wade into the wreckage of the Borg attack on a secret Romulan station to attempt to rescue survivors, only for her emotional appeal to be denied almost as soon as it was made. Despite the fact that his decision was supported by his superiors, it left his XO in a rather foul mood, making interactions since then rather glib if not outright nonexistent. It wasn’t the first time they hadn’t seen eye to eye on things, but this particular case seemed to upset the Commander a fair bit more than previous cases, and while the Captain had come a long way in dealing with his crew since his youth, he couldn’t nail down the reason for her continued ire.

Gar’rath glanced up to the corner of the display he had open, catching a glimpse of what time it currently displayed. His official bridge shift had ended nearly an hour ago, according to the display, which meant that he had once again allowed his thoughts to carry him far beyond where he normally was by that time of the duty day. The Gorn growled softly in annoyance at himself before pushing himself away from the desk and plodding slowly for the door of his Ready Room. On the Bridge proper, the night watch had already taken over and was keeping themselves busy with the continuation of the plan for their day. Gar’rath exchanged a nod with the Watch officer, not bothering to approach him as he made his way up the small stairway before making his way inside the turbolift. 

The hum of the lift droned on in the background as the Gorn continued to ponder the events that had taken place over the last few days. His habit of dissecting encounters, interactions, and reactions driving his mind to replay things over and over while he struggled to make sense of them. Had someone been in the lift with him, they might have seen the slight shifts in his brow, or the slight parting of his maw sporadically as he contemplated things. Most non-reptilians would have found such micro-expressions to be rather unsettling, even when coming from someone they knew fairly well. It was lucky, then, that Gar’rath rode the turbolift alone, his countenance unseen by his crew.

When the turbolift slid to a halt, the door parted, allowing the Captain to exit. His destination drew closer as he walked slowly down the corridor, the small glinting of passing stars catching his attention for a fraction of a second as he approached the doors to the large lounge that dominated the forward section of the ship. As they parted, the view within was one of general merriment, with many of the crew sitting together at the many tables in the room, enjoying a drink and a conversation with their peers. Unlike when he had first taken command of the Century, no one looked his way in shock, there was no cessation of conversation, no indication that anyone in the room had taken notice of him at all. Gar’rath nodded his head just once in acknowledgement of the lack of change the room took on before making his way to the large wood paneled bar further inside the space.

On his approach, the Captain took notice of a figure that stood out from the others around him, namely that of his Security officer, Lieutenant Khar, sitting at one end of the bar with a pewter mug filled with what he could only assume was some version of blood wine. Taking the absence of other company around the Klingon as a sign, Gar’rath stalked over to a stool next to Khar and slid onto the seat.

“Captain,” the man acknowledged his new bar mate, “I don’t see you here very often.”

“I tend to visit the lounge when I find myself at an… impasse. The liveliness of this place sometimes helps me to find the answers I seek when solitude denies me wisdom,” the Gorn remarked as he flagged the bartender down to order a drink.

“I do not pretend to know what might go on in the mind of your kind, Captain,” Khar said, taking a shallow swig of his drink, “The few I’ve met beside yourself have been arrogant, boisterous creatures that fight well, but lack a sense of honor. They are as alien to me as I’m sure Humans are be to the both of us.” The Klingon let out a hearty laugh at his own words.

“It is a struggle to figure out what they are thinking at times, I agree,” Gar’rath nodded, though he intentionally left vague which species he was referring to. Once his drink was delivered, the Captain tossed a bit down his gullet before replacing the vessel back on the bar’s surface. “I seldom see you here when I do come in. Do you prefer to drink in your quarters?”

“Hardly,” Khar sneered at the thought, “Most of my off duty time is spent training… either in the holodeck or in the gymnasium. A warrior’s body is a weapon, one that must be honed daily if it is to be of use. Only when the mood strikes me do I come here to enjoy a bit of drink. Sadly, the artificial blood wine is… well… lacking…”

Gar’rath grunted in agreement, “It is one thing I’ve noticed about Federation culture… their synthahol leaves much to be desired…”

“True,” the Klingon agreed, “But you being the Captain affords you certain… liberties when it comes to that. I’m sure you have a personal stash of the good stuff somewhere.”

“I do not,” the Captain replied, in direct opposition to the twinge of hope that had laced Khar’s words, “I do not imbibe alcohol with enough frequency to want to have my own stash, as you put it. While the flavors of them are novel, they do not affect me in the same way they do a mammal, and what affects they do have I don’t necessarily enjoy overly much. I use my privilege as the Captain in other ways.”

“Oh?” the Klingon turned to look at his Captain fully.

“I have a small stash of non-replicated meat that I keep in cold storage,” Gar’rath said, turning slightly to regard his companion, “Every so often when we visit a planet for a few days of crew rest, I partake in a bit of game hunting and bring back a little of my catch.”

Khar let out another boisterous laugh, “Hunting is a fine past-time! Perhaps the next time you do so, I could join you. I would enjoy a good hunt with real prey!”

“I’m not sure you could keep up…” Gar’rath said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Ffah!” the Lieutenant exhaled in feigned annoyance, “No Klingon would impede a hunt, the very idea is laughable! If that was meant to be a challenge, I will happily prove just how great my prowess is at hunting down prey!”

“I wasn’t doubting your prowess at a hunt you were used to, Lieutenant,” Gar’rath responded, “But my people carry out hunts in a markedly different manner. While you use a wide assortment of weapons in your hunts… I am the weapon.” The Captain clacked the bar’s surface loudly to emphasize his point.

The Klingon squinted at the Gorn’s claws for a moment before looking back up with a fearless, toothy smile, “A hunt with just our bare hands sounds like a glorious challenge! I shall look forward to it.”

“As will I,” Gar’rath said with a firm nod. After a short silence, the Gorn picked up his drink glass and imbibed the remaining liquid in a large gulp before returning it to its former place. Once his hand was free, the Captain pushed himself back on his feet and gave his drinking partner a firm clap on the shoulder. “Have a good evening, Lieutenant.”

“Leaving already, Captain?” the man looked up at the reptilian with a look of slight disappointment.

Again came a nod, “I still have some reports to send out before I seek sleep. It is the curse of being a ship captain… there are never enough hours in the day no matter which clock you use to mark time.”

The Security officer let out a sharp laugh, “I haven’t heard you make jokes before, Captain. Today must be a special day indeed.”

“Not especially,” Gar’rath shrugged the comment off, “I have spent enough time around mammals to have picked up a few things about what they find humorous.”

“So you have,” Khar chuckled and lifted his mug in salute, “Good night, sir.”

The Gorn waved in response as he trudged back toward the entrance of the lounge, his form soon disappearing into the corridor. Lt. Khar snorted at the sight and returned his attention to his own thoughts as he mulled over his odd interaction with his commander.

“…It’s just frustrating…” Commander Peters remarked for the nth time in her conversation with the Century’s Medical officer. She was sitting in a small corner booth of the ship’s lounge, a cup of coffee in her hands and an empty plate in front of her. Dr. Odaim still had a small bit of salad left on her own plate and the glass on her side of the table had been emptied some time ago as she sat passively, listening to her friend unload in what seemed like a never ending loop.

“Couldn’t it just be that you’re trying to attribute some sort of malice where none exists?” Reli offered with a shrug. As a general rule, the doctor did everything she could to avoid reading her crew mates minds, which meant that a great deal of the time she was only offering advice out of hand rather than after digging around in the depths of someone else’s thoughts. Given her lack of focus in the realm of psychiatry, Reli felt her stance wasn’t a bad one.

“How can it not be malice? Or at least willful avoidance if not malice?” Abigail let out a long sigh, “Maybe it’s because I can’t wrap my head around how he came to that conclusion.”

The doctor let out a small sigh of her own, “Abby, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that trying to think like someone else is an exercise in futility…”

Peters frowned at the comment, “Easy for you to say… you can literally read minds.”

“Can and do are two very different things…”

“Yes… yes… I know…” the Commander remarked glibly as she put her coffee back onto the table, “But I am curious to know what kind of things you’re able to see in his mind.”

“Except I really can’t,” the doctor retorted, “not to any great degree. Surface emotions, sure… but the minds of non-sapient beings aren’t easy to read. And with how closed off the Captain keeps his thoughts and emotions, it’s easier to just take what he says at face value and move on.”

“Do you know why he does that?” Abby asked, leaning forward slightly.

Odaim shook her head, “No, I’ve never had a reason to ask. I’d assume it has something to do with his upbringing on Cestus III, but it could very well just be his unique personal choice and not some function of trauma. And anyway, that’s not really my wheelhouse as it is.”

“Where did you pick up that phrase?” Peters snorted in laughter.

“One of the doctors back at Starfleet Medical used to say it. Guess I just picked it up along the way,” Reli replied with a casual shrug.

“Do you think deep down, the Captain doesn’t actually care about any of us… I mean personally. Professionally I know he has to at least a little, but deep down…” Abby started to ask before trailing off.

“You’re asking if he sees us as food, aren’t you?” the Betazoid asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” Peters replied sheepishly, “Kind of…”

“He does not,” Reli remarked firmly.

“But how do you know?”

“Starfleet never would have allowed him to get as far as he is if he truly believed his peers were just meals on two legs. There are several species out there that have carnivorous proclivities… and I do mean eating sapient life. Those species are still allowed to serve as long as they pass a comprehensive evaluation, which includes a psych eval. If he truly thought everyone here was food, he wouldn’t be in command. He wouldn’t have even made it through the Academy,” Reli explained, exasperation laced throughout her words.

“Ugh…” Peters said, slumping into the booth a bit, “I know it’s a stupid concern… but sometimes I can’t help but wonder, you know? It’s not like there’s a manual for how to deal with your Gorn Captain out there…”

“The same thing could be said for there not being a manual for him covering how to deal with a ship full of emotional mammals,” the Betazoid smirked.

“Is there not?”

Reli dropped her head into her hands for a moment before looking at the XO, “Any manual about dealing with crews is going to be written from a perspective he doesn’t share. It’s easy for you and I to understand something written by people similar to us… we have plenty of the same frames of reference. We experience the world around us in much the same way, our emotional reactions to things are similar, so we don’t have to go into a great deal of detail because we’re all pretty much working with the same foundation. Now hand that book to someone who has none of those similarities. You might as well be handing them a book written in Iconian for all the good it does.”

Abby recoiled a bit at the thought, “Yeah… I didn’t think of that…”

“Right… so here we have a Captain who doesn’t share our frames of reference for a great many things having to tackle problems that he might very well never have encountered previously. I know he was a security officer throughout most of his career, but that really doesn’t tell you much about what kinds of departments he rose through the ranks in, or how much they did or didn’t teach him about how us mammals think. They could just as easily kept him at arms length and only dealt with him professionally and never showed him the dark side of the emotional spectrum. For all I know, you throwing your little tantrum is the first time he’s ever dealt with this and he’s even more lost than you are as to what he can do to fix it. And you’re sitting there idly wondering if he thinks you’re just a light meal…” the doctor said, eying her friend a bit coldly.

Peters raised her hands in mock surrender, “Alright… enough… I get it… sheesh…”

A sudden thunderous bout of laughter tore the two’s attention away from their conversation, pulling it toward the bar on the other side of the room. Abby leaned over to see beyond Reli, while the doctor had to turn fully around to take notice of the source of the sudden noise. Sitting side by side where the Century’s Captain and Security officer, and judging by the jocularity emanating from the latter, they were enjoying themselves. The doctor turned back to her table mate with a smug look on her face.

“What’s that look for?” Abby grumbled.

“Oh… I think you know…” came the catty reply.

An eye roll was her only response, so roll her eyes she did. Deep down, Peters knew she was only grasping at straws with her rationale for why their dalliance into Romulan space had ended so abruptly and without thought to rushing in and doing a much more thorough investigation. And for all she really knew, it might very well have been the right choice from the get go given the shaky foundation her argument had been built on in the first place. Her former commanders had been a lot less deliberate in their actions, one of them qualifying as the definition of hotblooded. Those experiences might very well have tainted her perception of how a Captain should behave, and she was merely silently rebelling against something that was unfamiliar to her just for rebellion’s sake.

“Are you going to go talk to him? Work this stuff out?” Reli asked, a playful smirk still dancing on her lips.

Abby let out a petulant sigh, but started to move toward the edge of the booth nevertheless until she noticed that the Captain had already disappeared. “Guess not…”

The Betazoid turned to see the Gorn absent and shrugged as she turned back around, “Lost opportunity I suppose.”

“There’s always tomorrow…”

“Try not to let too many tomorrows pass by before you… you know… actually do it,” the doctor remarked.

“What are you, my mother?” Abby countered with a grumpy frown.

“Impossible,” Reli laughed, “You’re older than me.”

Captain Gar’rath walked onto the Bridge of the USS Century following a long night of filing reports and a rather short and somewhat fruitless slumber. Though his didn’t exhibit any outward signs of fatigue like most of his crew when they had trouble getting rest, he was a bit slower making his way to the central chair, which until his approach had been occupied by the Watch officer.

“Lieutenant,” Gar’rath nodded to the woman who vacated the chair.

“Good morning, Captain,” came the standard greeting before the woman launched into her pass down, “It was a fairly quiet shift. Engineering reported an outage of several replicators on deck seven, but they’ve already completed the maintenance and had them back up by 0200. We crossed back into Federation territory at 0453 and are currently resuming our patrol course. Standing by for any questions, sir.”

“No questions, Lieutenant,” the Gorn responded, “Thank you. Please get some rest.”

The woman nodded and made her way off the bridge, passing by some of the relief crew members who had arrived just as the turnover period began in full swing. With the exception of Science and Engineering, within 30 minutes the crew had fully changed over from the night watch to the morning watch roster. Lieutenant Commander Sorreth was the only other senior officer that had reported for the early morning watch rotation, as was his usual routine. 

“Anything in the message traffic this morning, Commander?” Gar’rath asked after the Vulcan had had sufficient time to sift through all of the communication logs that had come through since the night watch took over.

“Nothing significant to report, Captain,” the Operations officer replied without looking up from his console.

The Gorn sat back in his chair for a moment, running through a list of things he had yet to tackle, administratively at least, and began to push himself out of his chair when his thoughts were interrupted by the Ensign manning the communications console.

“We’re receiving a message from Gateway Station, Captain,” the man reported.

Easing himself back down, the Captain swiveled his chair toward the communications officer, “Is it a hail or just a message?”

“Text only, sir.”

Gar’rath nodded and committed to leaving his seat finally, “Send it to my Ready Room. Mister Sorreth, you have the Bridge.”

“Understood, Captain,” the Vulcan replied without leaving his station.

Once the Captain was inside his office, he brought the message up the message and skimmed the contents of it, gleaning the relevant information from the rather large block of text that had been sent out en masse to vessels in the area. In essence, an autonomous mining platform in a nearby system reported several mineral transports falling off the transport route. Given the proximity of the platform to Romulan space, it wasn’t being ruled out that the installation had been the victim of a clandestine raid into Federation space by members of any number of factions operating in the contested regions of Romulan space that weren’t under the direct control of either the Republic or the Free State. And because their patrol route carried them through the system in question, Capt. Gar’rath decided to send a reply back to Gateway Station indicating that the Century would look into the matter on their way through.

After a brief pause to ensure the message had been received and acknowledged, the Gorn made his way back onto the Bridge, making his way to the flight control console rather than his own position on the bridge.

“Lieutenant,” Gar’rath addressed the junior grade officer sitting in the seat, “change course to the coordinates I sent to your station and increase speed to Warp Eight.”

“Yes Captain,” the woman responded as her fingers began dancing over her workstation.

With a nod of satisfaction, Gar’rath turned toward the center of the bridge and began to move toward it, “Gar’rath to all Senior staff, report to the Observation Lounge for a mission brief.” Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth swung himself out from behind the console he was manning and walked quickly behind the Captain as he continued past the command chairs and headed for the rear of the Bridge. The two officers climbed the stairs in lockstep and each took their positions inside the Observation Lounge.

“Might I inquire as to the basics of the mission prior to the meeting, Captain?” the Vulcan asked, resting his arms against the surface of the table in a contemplative manner.

“An autonomous mining platform appears to have been the target of some manner of raid, as it has lost three automated cargo haulers in the last twenty-four hours. Because it was along our patrol route as it stood, I informed Gateway Station that we would look into it,” the Gorn explained briefly.

“I see,” Sorreth said, his right eyebrow arching upward as he considered the information but kept his thoughts to himself as he waited patiently for the others to arrive. 

Scarcely two minutes slipped silently by between the pair before the Observation Lounge saw a flood of new occupants. First to arrive was Commander Peters, followed almost immediately by Lieutenant Commander Odaim. A brief pause saw Lieutenant Khar and Lieutenant James into the room, with Lieutenant Commander Brak bringing up the rear. Once the staff had finally taken their places and exchanged the token greetings that usually came from seeing one another for the first time in a day, Capt. Gar’rath brought the meeting to order with a sharp clacking of his clawed index finger against the table. Silence swiftly settled in the room and all eyes drifted to the owner of the clawed hand.

“Good morning to those of you just arriving,” Gar’rath offered a formal, if brief, greeting before moving straight to business, “Gateway Station sent a message to ships in the area regarding missing cargo haulers from an autonomous platform along our patrol route. As we were already headed in the general direction of this installation already, I accepted the task of investigating the incident. We will need to do most of the ground work in piecing together what has transpired, as there were no actual witnesses and the cargo haulers haven’t been received by the outpost they were headed to.”

“Were we provided with any leads or suspects?” Lt. Khar asked from his place at the table.

“We have only been given the bare minimum of information so far. Three transports have gone missing from their intended transport route, and neither the station itself nor the outpost they were headed to have been targeted by follow up raids. It is plausible that this was not a raid, and merely a malfunction in the guidance systems or something similar, but it would be premature to rule anything out until we have investigated the area,” Gar’rath responded to the question.

Lt. Cmdr. Brak pulled up the schematics of the haulers in question from his seat at the table and grunted a few times before speaking up, “These are fairly old models. A navigational computer failure isn’t so far-fetched with something like this. And depending on how stingy they are with maintenance cycles, it might have only been a matter of time before they lost a few of them.”

“That is a fair assumption,” Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth remarked, “Thought it is possible that this was indeed a raid carried out in such a way as to not draw attention to the culprit’s illicit activities. Given our proximity to contested space, it is not illogical to assume that there is a responsible party and said party is taking precautions to avoid scrutiny.”

“It certainly is something to keep in mind once we get there,” Cmdr. Peters offered her agreement.

“Do we know what they are mining on that platform?” Lt. James inquired after a short pause in the conversation.

“That was not included in the message,” the Captain responded after a moment’s contemplation, “Given the location of the platform it might be harvesting various materials simultaneously. We will simply have to check the installation’s logs once we arrive and proceed from there. Any other questions?”

The gathered officers glanced at one another, but it seemed that everything that needed to be said had already been addressed. Once sufficient time had elapsed without commentary, Gar’rath pushed himself away from the table and stood up, “Then let us prepare for our arrival. Dismissed.”

The majority of the staff followed the Captain’s example and rose to their feet, departing the Observation Lounge to return to their respective stations. Only two people other than Gar’rath lingered within the room, the Executive officer and Medical officer. The latter of the two was giving the former a rather stern look from her chair in the room, which perplexed the Gorn greatly. Cmdr. Peters, for her part, was attempting to avoid both the stern glare as well as the Captain’s curious gaze.

“Is something the matter, Doctor?” Gar’rath asked after watching the tense display for a few long moments.

“I wouldn’t go that far…” the Betazoid woman said with an icy twinge to her voice, “But I wouldn’t say things are great either.”

“Can we not do this right now?” Abigail grumbled.

“If not now… when?” Reli countered in exasperation, “We talked about this yesterday. If I don’t make you hash this out, you’ll just let it fester and I’m tired of having to hear about it already.”

Gar’rath’s brow drew down in what was the Gorn’s best imitation of a frown, “What exactly is in need of hashing out?”

The doctor looked up at the Captain before returning her gaze to Peters, “Are you going to tell him or shall I?”

“This is hardly the time and place,” Abby tried to sound stern.

Odaim only snorted in response. After a pregnant pause, the doctor shrugged and turned fully to Gar’rath, “It would seem that Commander Peters is upset with your decision not to violate contested Romulan space. She can’t reconcile your actions with her feelings and it’s resulted in her pouting and moping around like a child.”

“Hrmm…” came the grumbled reply from the Gorn as he took in what was being said. He knew that the two officers were friends, and had often seen the two of them sharing meals together in their off hours. The Captain could visualize them sharing their private thoughts and opinions with each other, but he hadn’t expected that to carry over in a more professional setting. 

“I’m not pouting or moping…” Peters grumbled, though her words didn’t seem overly convincing given the delivery.

“And I am to take it that I am the cause of this… moping?” Gar’rath ignored his XO in favor of addressing the more cooperative participant in the conversation.

“Indirectly, yes,” Reli nodded, “Personally, I agree with your decision, given that it was in the best interests of not just the crew, but our fragile relationship with the parties that would have been involved had we just brazenly waltzed in and started digging through the wreckage after the Borg attack. Unfortunately, my friend here is overly compassionate at the strangest of times and hasn’t been able to get over the fact that not every well-intended action is met with positivity all the time.”

Gar’rath let out a long sigh after listening to the explanation before turning to the Commander, “You believe me to be unsympathetic to the suffering of others because I am reptilian rather than mammalian, is that correct?”

The woman flinched at his words, which was more than enough of a reaction to validate the statement. Again the Captain forced a great deal of labored breath from his lungs, as if to mimic the frustrated sighs of the doctor earlier.

“You aren’t the first to think that,” the Gorn said before sinking back into his chair finally, “And likely not the last.”

“I’m sorry, Captain…” Peters started to apologize before being cut off.

“Stop. I wasn’t looking for you to apologize for having those thoughts,” Gar’rath said as he held up his left hand, “I was merely stating what I believe to be the obvious. I am different from the majority of the crew in ways that aren’t easily reconciled. Logic and well reasoned arguments only go so far. I’ve only really found a few species outside my own that are willing to accept my presence with minimal resistance, and Humans have not historically been one of them. I have accepted that my appearance alone is disturbing to people who don’t know me personally. I understand that some species have a visceral fear of reptilians given their history with them, and more specifically with the Gorn. My people are not innocent in our dealings with other cultures, and have done a great deal to earn our reputation for being dangerous, bloodthirsty predators. It would be foolish of me to deny these things, as they are irrefutable facts.”

Lt. Cmdr. Odaim continued to stare holes into Cmdr. Peters while the Captain spoke, and Abby continued to shrink into herself as she listened to him speak. 

“I would remind you, however… that I am not like most Gorn. I purposely left my people to join the Federation. I did so knowing full well the history my kind have had with yours, knowing that to live among the many species of the Federation would mean running across people who could not see Gar’rath, the individual, and only saw a Gorn waiting for his chance to pounce.”

Cmdr. Peters crossed her arms pensively, her eyes cast toward the floor as her Captain carried on. While he didn’t know the contents of her conversation with Reli the previous day, it seemed that her baseless fears were far from unique. It brought into sharp contrast the rebuttal she had received from her friend regarding their shared ignorance of what he had experienced on his path leading up to his taking command of the Century.

“While it doesn’t make up for it, nor do I speak for any who have seen you that way… I am sorry that you endured that kind of prejudice, Captain,” Dr. Odaim cut in.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you are correct in that it neither makes up for, or had anything to do with you personally. I have always found our interactions to be genuine and I am grateful for it.”

Cmdr. Peters sucked in a breath, an attempt to calm her nerves, before finally looking up from the floor to lock eyes with the Captain. A storm of different excuses and different apologies raged in her mind, but none of them felt anything other than hallow. The longer she stared into his eyes, the fewer words came to mind until she was left with her naked emotions.

“I was scared…” she finally spoke up, “I was scared that if it had been our people who needed to be saved, that you’d turn away just as easily as you turned away from those Romulans. I was afraid that you didn’t really see us as… as equals…”

Gar’rath leaned back a little in his chair, his gaze never shifting away from his XO as she finally let loose the things that had been weighing on her mind.

“Somewhere in the back of my mind, you were this… this monster that didn’t really care… you were just pretending to. I didn’t give a single thought as to how you even came to be where you are. I’ve heard stories of people joining the Federation despite their people either being on bad terms with… or even being at war with the Federation because they personally believed that their people were wrong about the Federation and that they could co-exist with us peacefully. But I never really believed you were one of them… not really. And then Reli and I started talking about it and she put the idea in my head that maybe I had the wrong idea this entire time and I just… started feeling guilty and stupid and…”

“You are hardly stupid,” Gar’rath said when Abby couldn’t find the words to continue, “If I were to assign any fault to you at all, it would be that you waited this long to confirm your fears… or even give me an indication that you had them at all.”

Reli leaned an arm on the table and held her head up with her hand, “It’s almost like he wasn’t given a manual on how to deal with emotional crew members…”

The offhanded comment forced a laugh out of the Commander despite her best efforts to suppress it. While Gar’rath wasn’t entirely certain what was so funny about the comment, he could appreciate that it had lightened the heavy atmosphere that had settled on the room.

“If only I had been. It would have made the last dozen years of my career a lot smoother,” the Gorn remarked soberly.

“You’re right, Captain… I should have talked to you about this a lot sooner… and definitely before I made a spectacle of myself in front of the crew. It’s not hard to imagine that Reli wasn’t the only one that saw my behavior for what it was,” Peters admitted.

“As long as we have corrected your misconceptions and are able to move forward from here, it was worth the temporary loss of face,” Gar’rath responded.

After a brief silence, Dr. Odaim clapped her hands together, “Great, now everything is out in the open and I can stop playing counselor.” The Betazoid rose from her seat and strolled casually out of the Observation Lounge as if she hadn’t just forced an intervention between her superiors. Her abrupt departure caused the two left behind to look at one another with their own versions of confused faces before they both broke out in laughter at the absurdity of it all.

Midway through the duty day, the USS Century slipped out of warped space and coasted silently through an cosmic debris field occupying the outer most reaches of the gravitational field of a nearby star. Dozens of mining platforms clung the the surfaces of the largest objects in the area, each of them drilling away at the rocks they held onto in search of the rare metals and minerals encased within. 

Captain Gar’rath stared at the forward view screen, watching the stellar fragments tumble in all the many directions possible in the vacuum of space as the Century slowly approached the platform that they had been sent to investigate. With the expectation of conflict low, the crew had not been put on any heightened alert status, though the ship’s Security officer was busily conducting scans of the vicinity around the vessel on the off chance that an ambush had been set in anticipation of someone coming to look in on the missing cargo vessels.

“We are approaching our target,” Lieutenant Commander Sorreth announced after several minutes.

The screen shifted to display, in great detail, one of the autonomous mining platforms, the designation AM-22161 stenciled along a part of the structure as a means to identify it. The installation looked entirely intact, and several of the automated cargo haulers that serviced it were buzzing about collecting harvested material from various loading bays dotting the structure. The scene unfolding gave those present on the Bridge no indication of what might have happened to cause the incident that had brought them to the area.

“Are you able to access the station’s computer systems remotely, Mr. Sorreth?” Commander Peters asked from her place on the Bridge.

A brief pause ensued after the question was asked, followed by the response, “Negative, Commander. It would appear that the station is not accepting unencrypted system inquiries.”

“Could we board the facility and access records from there?” Gar’rath asked.

“It is logical to assume that directly accessing the mainframe from within the installation would be a viable option. Sensors indicate that the facility does not have life support systems active. Any boarding attempt would need to be made with the aid of EV suits.”

The Gorn turned to his XO, “That rules my participation out.”

Abigail couldn’t help but snicker at the Captain’s comment, more so now that they had finally reached a place of mutual understanding after their ‘intervention’ hosted by the ship’s Medical officer. Several eyebrows around the room found themselves drifting upward, not just on the Vulcan in the room, at the change in demeanor by the XO.

“For now,” the Commander said after managing to stifle her laughter, “Mister Sorreth, Mister Khar, please join me in Transporter Room One after getting outfitted for an EVA.”

Lt. Khar left his console first, disappearing into the turbolift not far from his station. Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth departed his own station, coming up behind Cmdr. Peters as she made her way to the rear of the bridge herself. Capt. Gar’rath turned to the Ensign manning the communications console after the trio had all departed.

“Contact the outpost in the area and request the details of the missing shipments. I want everything they have so we can look it over,” the Gorn ordered.

“Aye sir,” came the response from the Ensign, who set about raising the outpost further within the star system.

While the Bridge carried out their piece of the investigation, Cmdr. Peters stepped into Transporter Room One, outfitted in an EV suit, followed closely behind by the Operations officer and the Security Officer. The transporter operator on duty gave them a puzzled look as they filed in and mounted the transporter pad.

“Beam us to the mining station, outside of the main computer hub,” Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth remarked, snapping the Ensign out of his frozen state.

Pale blue and green indicator lights were the only illumination inside the mining platform, no other lighting was required for the station to go about its task of hollowing out the asteroid it had been affixed to. The sudden blinding white-blue light that shimmered into existence for a scant second banished the shadows within the installation, only for the darkness to reclaim the space once the three invaders had fully materialized onto the station. Each of the officers poked at their wrist displays to activate the lights on their helmets before looking around the room they’d been sent to in an attempt to gain their bearings. 

Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth retrieved the tricorder he’d brought and began to scan the area, nodding within his suit once he was sure where it was they had ended up. The station’s artificial gravity was engaged, allowing him to move through the area without having to rely on his own boot’s magnetic properties or his suit’s micro thrusters. Cmdr. Peters and Lt. Khar fell in behind the Ops officer, glancing around the station as they did so in case there were signs of tampering as they went.

The away team passed through several large areas, all of them cluttered with machinery ranging from rock tumblers to sorting bins, all of them humming away oblivious to the presence of the three new occupants to the station. After a few twists and turns, the group finally managed to locate the manual interface terminal that was generally used by maintenance teams to conduct on sight repairs when the automated systems weren’t enough. Sorreth stowed his tricorder and activated the dormant monitors, each of them displaying different parts of the station’s operations in graphic form.

“It may take some time for me to locate the files we are looking for,” the Vulcan transmitted through the suit’s communications network.

“Understood. We’ll keep a lookout while you work,” Peters responded, turning her attention toward the side of the room they had not entered from.

“According to the station’s internal sensors, we are the only occupants currently aboard,” Sorreth remarked as he continued to scan through the data logs.

“It never hurts to be vigilant,” Abigail shrugged the statement off.

The trio stood silently for several long moments before Lt. Khar finally turned toward the XO, “You seem a lot more… cheerful… all of a sudden.”

“Hmm?” Peters murmured, then turned toward the Klingon with a puzzled look on her face, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Khar retorted, “For the last few days, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid the Captain, and now suddenly you are laughing at statements he makes without even thinking about it. I have never seen a Human change moods so dramatically.”

“I thought you were dating a Human, Lieutenant,” Abigail countered, avoiding his accusation.

The Klingon shifted his weight slightly, “I am. But she does not behave so erratically. When she is angry with me, we generally have a confrontation before her mood changes for the better.”

“Not everyone has to fight to reconcile,” Peters pointed out.

“Indeed,” Sorreth cut in, “However, taking into account the history of interactions between yourself and the Captain, this is the first instance in which your emotional stance has gone from negative to positive in such a dramatic fashion.”

“Exactly!” Khar agreed enthusiastically.

Abigail folded her arms across the breastplate of her EV suit, “And what of it? Is it a bad thing that we’ve come to an understanding and are able to work harmoniously as a command team?”

“I do not believe that was the intended meaning,” the Vulcan remarked flatly, “It is the timeline that is of concern, not the result. I do not find your ability to work with the Captain effectively a negative outcome, but I am curious as to what mechanism drove this conclusion that would have otherwise resulted in a protracted period of dissonance.”

“What he said…” Khar muttered, unable to come up with a suitable follow-up.

Abby rolled her eyes at her two companions, “If you must know, Reli put me in a spot where I couldn’t just avoid the issue like I have in the past…”

“Ah…” Sorreth exhaled upon hearing who had driven the change, “I am disappointed that I did not arrive at that conclusion for myself.”

With how often he’d seen the XO and Medical officer socializing off duty, it seemed obvious that the doctor would have been the vehicle for such a rapid change, given her own personality. Lt. Khar, meanwhile, didn’t seem completely satisfied with the explanation and pressed further.

“And why would Dr. Odaim be involved in the two of you coming to an understanding?”

Peters looked over at the Klingon, “Because Reli and I have been friends since the Academy and she’s always played peacemaker when I’ve had… misunderstandings with people in the past. I’m grateful for her doing it, but I wish she wasn’t be as pushy as she is sometimes…”

“And what ‘misunderstanding’ did you have with the Captain?” Khar inquired.

Sorreth interrupted before the XO could respond, “I have found logs pertaining to the cargo haulers that have gone missing.”

“What do they say?” Abigail asked, moving over to stand next to the Ops officer.

The Vulcan brought up the projected flight plan the station had sent to the haulers, which also contained information on their cargo, “It would appear that the transports broke off contact with the control unit just after passing through the orbit of the sixth planet in the system. Prior to this, there were no indications of any malfunctions nor did the sensor telemetry from the haulers indicate any vessels in the immediate area.”

“And it looks like…” Peters paused as she glanced over the records, “they were hauling mostly basic building materials… except for…” reaching out, Abby tapped on a mineral name she didn’t recognize, “something called Chimerium…”

“The quantities of that material were less than twenty kilograms between the three transports,” Sorreth noted.

“But what is it used for? I’ve never heard of it,” the XO remarked.

“Unsurprising,” Sorreth stated blandly, “It is incredibly rare and difficult to harvest in any way but manually. It scatters sensor signals in its unprocessed form and has been historically used as a catalyst in cloaking technologies for that reason. It could be classified as contraband within the Federation when used in such applications.”

“Could that be why the transports went missing?” Abby asked, leaning against the console.

“It would be illogical to assume that the material in that quantity spread over three separate vessels would hinder the station’s ability to track them. At best, the material would hinder a vessel’s ability to transport the cargo out of the transports, as it would cause a great deal of quantum errors within the transport matrix,” the Vulcan relayed.

“How much of this Chimerium has this station managed to produce?” Peters inquired.

Sorreth brought up the harvesting logs and pinpointed the data on the mineral, “Sixty seven kilograms total, the last of which left on the three transports that are now missing.”

“So someone could have caught wind that this asteroid was producing this stuff and decided to take it before it ran dry,” the XO surmised from the information provided.

“That is a logical assumption,” the Vulcan agreed.

“The question remains,” Lt. Khar spoke up, “Who could have intercepted the shipment without detection, and to what end?”

“Let’s get back to the ship and share this with the Captain,” Peters announced, pushing herself away from the console.

For the second time, the Observation Lounge of the USS Century was occupied by the senior officers, minus the Medical officer who had been excused from attending given the nature of the discussion. The rest of the gathered officers sat around the conference table as they listened to the report from the away team that had just recently returned. The information that had been gathered indicated that the thieves, who still remained a mystery, might have been after something that had only by sheer chance been present in the cargo holds of the cargo haulers that had gone missing. Lieutenant Commander Sorreth had just finished summarizing the utility of the mineral in question and the gathered officers were beginning to throw around ideas.

“It would make sense to conduct a survey of the area that the transports went missing in, see if there’s any debris we missed simply because we didn’t know we needed to look there,” Lt. Cmdr. Brak said from his seat at the table.

Sorreth nodded at the Tellarite’s suggestion, “That is a logical first step.”

“Scans of the sixth planet indicate that it’s an L-Class with a barely breathable atmosphere and no real life to speak of. Plans were initially made to terraform it, but they’ve since been abandoned,” Lieutenant James remarked, “So if we do need to send an away team down, it could be done without an EV suit, but I wouldn’t recommend anyone stay down there for more than a few hours, tops.”

“Something to consider, should the transports have been forced to the surface for some reason,” Lt. Khar said contemplatively.

“Then our next course of action is clear, we will need to investigate the area around the sixth planet and see what we find. Let us get to it,” Captain Gar’rath said, bringing an end to the meeting. The gathered officers all rose from their respective seats and filed out onto the Bridge, assuming their usual positions.

“Helm, take us to this system’s sixth planet, full impulse once we’ve cleared the asteroid field,” Commander Peters ordered from her chair.

“Aye,” the junior grade Lieutenant said from her station. The view screen began to shift, the mining platform leaving the center of the display swiftly as the Century turned about and began the painstakingly slow journey back out of the clusters of rock and stellar leftovers that dominated the region. Once the ship had left the last group of objects firmly behind them, the ship sped up to full impulse speed. The intervening quarter hour between their departure from the edge of the solar system and the sixth planet was spent on initial long range scans of the area of interest, as well as sweeps of the planet surface. 

Even after their arrival into orbit, there didn’t appear to be any obvious signs of the missing transports. Scans for hull debris came up negative, and there didn’t seem to be any wreckage on the planet surface. The longer the crew looked, the less they seemed to come up with. Whatever fate had befallen the haulers it was not a violent one, at least in the immediate area around where they vanished. 

As the duty day drew to a close, the Century’s crew had found little in the way of evidence to show what might have taken place in the area, which meant that the night watch would be handed the project in hopes that they might come up with something in the interim. Once their respective reliefs arrived, the various members of the senior staff departed the bridge to spend their off-duty hours in their own ways.

Lt. Khar stepped out into the corridor on deck six, just a few hundred meters from his quarters. The end of his shift had brought about a feeling of frustration over how little that he had been able to find after his sojourn to the mining platform. The list of potential culprits had only grown after finding out what had been on the cargo haulers, and their inability to find any trace of the craft after following their one solid lead was vexing. As he arrived in front of his door, Khar punched at the door release with his knuckle, the frustration rolling around inside him bubbling to the surface.

The door parted, allowing the Klingon to enter only to find that his relationship partner was already inside. The woman in question looked up from a PaDD she was holding and noticed the sour look on Khar’s face, causing her own features to stiffen a bit.

“Bad day?”

Khar sneered at the question as he moved inside the room and started removing his uniform top, “It was an aggravating one, Lily.”

Lily pulled her legs out from underneath herself and stood up, walking over to give her partner a firm hug, “I’m sorry to hear that, Khar. We didn’t have any less an aggravating day down in the science labs either, so I sympathize.”

Lily, or more formally Lieutenant Lillian Grant, was a member of the Century’s science department, so it made perfect sense to the Klingon that she might share in his frustrations over how fruitless the day had been. He returned the hug she’d given him with a firm squeeze of his own before wandering over to the replicator.

“Have you eaten?” Khar asked, looking over his shoulder.

Lily shook her head to indicate that she had not, prompting Khar to punch up a menu and replicate some dinner for the pair. The two had been together long enough that he could gauge with a decent degree of success what she might want, and brought the freshly materialized sustenance to the table. Khar flopped dramatically into his chair while Lily slid into her own rather silently.

“I heard you boarded the mining platform today,” Lily mentioned in between bites, “How was that?”

Khar grunted at the question while he chewed on his food. He put his fork down a moment later and leaned back as he reflected on what had happened there. “It was… empty…” he muttered the observation in a low tone, “I did not expect it to be so large and yet have so little actually working inside of it. It seemed wasteful…”

“Older mining stations like that one tend to be needlessly big. I can only imagine that the designers envisioned them being filled to the brim with usable material, only to find out that a good portion of the asteroids they get put on are nothing but trash rock and only a small percentage of them are actually worthwhile minerals,” Lily said with a shrug.

“Such greed reminds me of the Ferengi…” Khar frowned.

For her part, Lily wasn’t nearly as put off, “I think it was less about greed and more about unreasonable expectations. You see a handful of asteroids out there that are almost entirely composed of viable metals or some such and you get it in your head that they all ought to be that way. Speaking of which, we got told that some of those transports may have had Chimerium in the holds. Is that true?”

“It is,” the Klingon nodded in response.

Lily let out an annoyed sigh and slumped over to one side, her head cradled in her hand, “That would explain why we’re not having a whole lot of luck finding traces then.”

Khar cocked his head to the side just slightly, “How so?”

“Well…” Lily took a second to gather her thoughts, “Chimerium has a nasty habit of scattering sensor signals, as I’m sure you know. But that also means that as any significant amount of it passes through an area, it scatters certain particles about as well, like ion trails and things like that. A few milligrams of the stuff isn’t really a problem, but in a large enough quantity, it could disperse energy patterns well enough to mask their trail after they were forced off their control network.”

“Which means the ones who hit the convoy wouldn’t have had to cover their trail very hard because the cargo would do it for them,” Khar postulated.

“In theory,” Lily agreed, “If we’re talking tonnes of the material, I’d say our chances of finding the trail are zero…”

“And if there were only 20 or so kilograms?”

“It isn’t impossible to find a trail that was influenced by that amount of Chimerium… except that we don’t know how pure it was. If it was exceptionally pure, 20 kilos would be more than enough to make it a needle in a haystack kind of endeavor… and if it were less than ten percent per gram…” Lily began to mutter to herself before leaving the table to grab her PaDD.

“Think of something?” the Klingon asked, leaving the table to stand behind the woman.

“Maybe…” Lily mused, leaning back against Khar as she continued to fiddle with the variables on the display. Taking it as a sign that she wanted him to hold her while she worked, Khar wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder, watching but not fully understanding what she was doing.

“Maybe we should sit down,” the Klingon suggested after the pair had stood in the same spot for nearly twenty minutes.

“Hmm?” the woman muttered distractedly, “Sure…” When Lily didn’t make any effort to move on her own, Khar let out an amused chuckle and lifted the woman off her feet, carrying her over to the couch and slumping down on it, bringing her down into his lap as he did so. He felt the woman shift a little to find a comfortable position, then watched as she busily plucked away at the information scrolling about on the PaDD.

Lieutenant Grant rushed into the stellar cartography lab, PaDD in hand, her mind buzzing with new ideas after spending a rather sleepless night fiddling away on calculations on her partner’s couch the night before. Her taciturn Klingon companion had been oddly supportive of her eccentric behavior, staying up with her for most of the night as she toiled away to give form to her thoughts. When the two of them did drift off, they had done so on the self-same couch, though Lily wasn’t entirely certain who actually passed out first.

Sliding into one of the chair around the room, the woman called upon the sensor suite devoted to particle density and compositional scans and began to input the various formulas she had devised in her feverish state only a half dozen hours prior. The first set of search parameters took a while to input, given that she had to input different portions of the entire draft she had developed into different sensor arrays that specialized in the types of scans she wanted them to perform. Then entire process took just shy of an hour, and the scans themselves took another ten minutes to complete thanks to how targeted they were.

Somewhere along the process, her resource requests to Operations must have found their way to her department head’s desk, because Lieutenant James had entered the lab shortly after the first scan results had been calculated.

“What’s with all the access requests this morning, Lily? I’ve never seen you try to take over half the sensor arrays on the ship before,” Brian inquired as he made his way over to the station the woman was working from.

“Had an idea last night while talking with Khar,” Lily responded, her tone a rather distracted one.

“Oh?” muttered James with a raised eyebrow, “I thought you two didn’t talk shop in your off hours.”

The woman shrugged, “Not usually, but he was in a bad mood after yesterday’s roadblock, and as we were discussing it, he mentioned something that triggered an idea I hadn’t thought of… so I started jotting it down. Ended up falling asleep on the couch in his arms because of it, but I did manage to come up with something I think will work.”

“Do tell,” Brian said, pulling out a chair from beneath an adjacent console to sit down on.

“Give me a second, I need to make some adjustments for another scan,” Lily murmured, her fingers busily tapping away at the console in front of her as she made small adjustments to her scan parameters.

Lt. James looked at the display, watching the figures change in real-time as the woman worked. Just from what he could see of her idea, he got the impression that it was a new approach to their scanning methods in the hunt for the missing transports, and that it took into account a few variables he himself had missed the day before. Once she’d made the last change and set the sensors to run another scan, Lily turned to her department head.

“Since we didn’t have any samples of Chimerium to work with, I spent half the night digging through archival data from Daystrom and a few other scientific research agencies that have published papers on particle scattering efficiency of various purity indexes. Right now I’m working my way down the purity scale from zero to ninety percent mineral impurity to see when the scans match with historical data. Once we narrow down the actual amount of particle disbursement the cargo they were carrying was capable of producing, we should be able to find a disbursement wake that will lead us to where they were taken… provided whoever did this didn’t account for all of this in the first place,” Grant explained at length.

Brian leaned back in his chair and nodded as he ran the information through his own knowledge of the material in question, “That’s actually a pretty brilliant way to look at it, Lily. I’m honestly surprised I hadn’t come to that same conclusion myself…”

“I think it was because we were attacking the problem from the wrong angle. The transports themselves weren’t… and probably aren’t behaving like a cloaked vessel since the amount of Chimerium they were carrying wasn’t abundant enough or pure enough to actually mask them entirely. Line of sight wouldn’t be affected, just sensor sweeps of the areas they no longer occupy. Once I thought about that, the rest just started to fall into place,” Grant remarked.

“Huh…” James muttered, “Putting it that way, it seems almost obvious. Talk about tunnel vision…”

A sudden chiming from the console in front of Lt. Grant pulled both people’s attention away from their conversation. Lily brought up the results and grinned triumphantly, “Got ’em!”

“Let me see,” James pushed himself out of the chair and leaned over Grant’s shoulder. The display began to render a cavitation in local space, as if something had plowed through fresh snow to leave a barren walkway. The image then shifted to outline a path that led away from the sixth planet toward the fourth, a world that was riding the border of L and M class in terms of habitability, but one that had not yet been colonized. The trail didn’t extend beyond that planet, meaning there was a high likelihood that they had tracked down the final destination of the three craft.

“Great work,” Brian clapped his fellow scientist over the shoulder, “I’ll bring this up to the Captain.”

Lt. James stepped onto the bridge, finding the space to be occupied by most, but not all, of the senior staff. The two missing members were the very two he was hunting for. Lieutenant Commander Sorreth was, by a quick sweep of the occupants in the space, the senior most individual and the most probable candidate for having the watch at that moment.

“Commander,” the science officer asked as he walked toward the Operations console, “Where are Commander Peters and the Captain?”

The Vulcan turned in his chair to look at the Lieutenant, “They are in the Captain’s Ready Room at the moment. Is there something I can assist you with?”

“Thanks but no, I need to give them this information,” James remarked, heading quickly over to the Ready Room door to ring the chime. The resonant voice of Capt. Gar’rath called out with a firm “Enter” a second or so after he’d hit the call button, and Brian headed inside to find the two command officers sitting across from one another.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Gar’rath was the first to address him upon his fulling entering the space.

“My team has managed to locate what we believe to be a trail leading to the fourth planet,” James informed him of his reason for disturbing them.

“How did you manage that? I thought we’d hit a dead end with the sensor scans,” Cmdr. Peters asked, looking at the scientist with interest.

“It looks like we had tackled the problem from the wrong angle. Lieutenant Grant came in this morning with a theory that the cargo didn’t fully mask their trail, only scattered it enough that our sensors wouldn’t see it for what it was. We were looking for their trail under the assumption that said trail would be obvious once we got here. It hadn’t occurred to me that once the control signal was cut off that the trail leading from the mining platform to this area would be similarly masked by the displacement effects of Chimerium. Essentially, we had a bit of tunnel vision,” James explained, accentuating the last part of a self-deprecating grin.

“What matters is that we now have a solid lead,” Gar’rath said from his chair, “Please relay my appreciation to Lieutenant Grant for her excellent work. Commander, have the ship assume an orbit around the fourth planet and begin scans of the area as well as the surface.”

“On it,” Abigail said, quickly abandoning the chair she had been occupying and passing by Lt. James, giving him a pat on the arm as she went.

“I’m sorry for bothering you while you were having a meeting, Captain,” Brian began before the Gorn lifted a hand to stop him.

“Not at all, Lieutenant. We were discussing our next course of action when you walked in and provided the very thing we were struggling to formulate. If anything, you have my gratitude for saving us from wasting precious time. If you would, please remain on the bridge to assist in the scans of the fourth planet now that you have a better grasp of what we should be looking for,” Gar’rath remarked.

“Aye sir,” the scientist said firmly before making his way out of the Ready Room. Once he was back on the bridge, Brian smirked to himself and made his way over to the Security officer’s station, even though his own was on the other side of the bridge.

“Mister James,” the Klingon gave the man a brief greeting.

“Mister Khar. I heard you were instrumental in Lily’s flash of inspiration last night,” Brian said in a teasing tone.

Khar frowned a bit at the statement, “I am not certain I understand what you mean.”

“She explained to me that talking to you about yesterday’s lack of results inspired her to look at the problem from a different perspective, and lauded you for your comfortable lap while she worked,” James said with a playful smirk.

“She did not compliment my lap,” the Klingon retorted.

“Maybe not overtly, no. But the way she talked about how it all went down and having known her for a few years now I can read between the lines a bit and figure out what she was saying without actually saying it,” the scientist continued to prod.

“Do you have a point to make with all of this?” Khar growled impatiently.

“I was just trying to pay you a compliment for being such a supportive partner, that’s all,” James said, laughter threatening to bubble to the surface.

“You are an insufferable man sometimes, James…” the Security officer grumbled.

That statement was enough for Brian to actually start laughing. A few officers turned to see what the fuss was, only to find a surly Klingon staring down a chuckling Human. And because this was only one of a hundred times they’d see this particular duo perform this particular show, they quickly lost interest and returned to their own duties.

“Do you not have some sensor sweeps you could be conducting?” Khar grunted at the man.

James turned toward the view screen, taking note that the ship was rapidly approaching the fourth planet of the system, “It looks like… for once… you’re actually right.”

The USS Century’s arrival in orbit of the fourth planet has sparked a renewed level of activity among her crew. Each department was coordinating with one another in the hopes of narrowing down the location of the missing vessels and perhaps locating the parties responsible for their disappearance. Orbital scans showed that the craft they were in pursuit of were not in orbit with them, which made a surface landing the most likely path for the ships to have taken.

Lieutenant James set to work comparing the predictive models of the planets location in tandem with the path that their scans had picked up that had led them to conclude that the fourth planet was a likely candidate for the ships’ last destination. Given the length of time that had passed between the transports being reported missing and the Century’s arrival into the system to investigate, the computer models could only provide a vague picture of where they might be if they truly had been forced to the surface. With a search radius of a few hundred kilometers coupled with the amount of time the thieves had already had to make their prize disappear, the crew was working at a disadvantage.

The planet that filled the screen had only small patches of green that encircled relatively small bodies of water on the surface. The rest of the terrain was little more than deserts, even if the conditions on the surface would usually allow for a much wider disbursal of vegetation under normal circumstances. The lack of abundant surface water was the logical culprit for the large voids in habitable landscapes.

After silently observing the activity around the Bridge for nearly an hour, Captain Gar’rath finally spoke up, directing his attention toward the Science officer, “Have you been able to make any headway with your scans, Mister James?”

Brian turned toward his commander, “I’ve managed to calculate a probable search grid, but it is roughly two hundred square kilometers, and much of the terrain is mountainous and difficult to get clear scans of. It may take a few hours to come up with anything solid.”

Gar’rath nodded at the response, “Very well, do what you can.”

“Mister Sorreth, are you picking up any transmissions from the surface? Anything that might indicate our suspects are in communication with anyone either on the surface or nearby?” Commander Peters inquired.

“There have been no signs of subspace communications since we entered orbit,” the Vulcan reported.

“What about less advanced communication methods?” the Captain followed up.

The Ops officer repeated the sweep of frequencies coming from the surface, this time looking for signals beneath the subspace band. He sifted through several frequency types and a sizable number of power outputs before discovering what looked to be coded impulses near the lower limits of the AM radio frequency, a rather archaic but still perfectly usable method.

“There appears to be low band AM frequency transmissions coming from the surface, however the signal is incredibly weak and I cannot pinpoint an exact location,” Sorreth remarked.

“Can you send me the general location you’re picking these signals up from?” Lt. James asked from across the room.

The Vulcan nodded silently and sent his readings over to the Science officer. Brian used the information regarding the radio signals as an overlay on his own estimated probable search area, generating a much smaller search area than he’d been working with before. With that information, the man was able to conduct a far more detailed analysis of the area, finally coming across a possible match for their missing craft.

“I’m detecting metals consistent with the hull composition of our missing cargo ships,” James called out before sending his findings to the main view screen. The area indicated looked to be a deep tectonic trench that would usually have been at the bottom of an ocean on most worlds. The depth as well as the chaotic nature of the massive ravine made it an excellent place to stash small vessels like the ones they were looking for. It also did a naturally good job of scattering sensor signals and other passive scans, making it almost impossible to find if one didn’t know where to begin searching.

“Can we get a lock on any life-signs in the area?” the Captain asked. A brief pause preceded Lt. Khar responding in the negative. With that information, Gar’rath surmised that attempts at transporting an away team down, or bringing anyone back up would likely be a risky venture. “Mister Khar, assemble a security team and head down to the surface in a shuttle. Try to find out what you can about who is down there and if you can discover they are responsible for the theft of our missing transports, apprehend them.”

“Will you be joining us, Captain?” the Klingon asked as he moved away from his station.

For a brief moment, the Gorn was tempted to accept the invitation even though it hadn’t been a completely serious one. Sadly, when weighed against the chances that they may end up in some manner of confrontation should the group responsible for the theft be none too willing to cooperate, it was a risk he couldn’t justify.

“If we knew more about the situation, I might have, but the risk is too high,” Gar’rath shook his head.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to try and talk you out of it,” Peters said with a smirk, “I’ll go in your place.”

“Very well,” the Captain nodded to his XO.

The two officers departed the bridge together, boarding the turbolift and taking it down to the shuttlebay on deck nineteen. While they were on the turbolift, Lt. Khar reached out to his department and had a detail on their way to meet them, placing the contingent of officers departing the ship up to a solid six, not including whichever unlucky pilot they were about to wrangle into the team as their chauffeur. The pair stepped out into the corridor flanking the shuttlebay just in time to meet with the security crewmen who had been selected to accompany them, each of them armed with both a phaser and phaser rifle. One of the group held an extra rifle while another member held a spare phaser, each one handing the spares over to their department head before the entire party moved into the shuttlebay proper. 

The sight of five heavily armed security officers flanking the ship’s Executive officer was enough to prompt Lieutenant Junior Grade Connor to wander down from the control room to greet them.

“Good morning, Commander. Is there something we can help you with here in the shuttlebay?” the man asked.

“Are you a pilot, Lieutenant?” Peters asked.

“I am, yes. Why, do you need one?”

Abigail gave the man a friendly smile, “I do, as a matter of fact. I need you to prep a shuttle for an away mission to the planet surface. How soon can you have one ready?”

“We usually have a shuttle on standby throughout the shift, so I can have her ready in about three minutes,” came Zac’s immediate reply.

“Perfect,” Peters nodded, “Lead the way.”

Lt. JG Connor looked around the shuttlebay until he spotted the craft that had been brought up into standby a few hours previously by his shift. With a nod to himself, the Lieutenant took off at a brisk pace toward the small vessel that would carry the group off the ship and onto the planet below. The group of security officers followed behind the man, with the XO bringing up the rear, coming to a stop just outside of it while the young pilot ran a few checks. Once he was satisfied that everything was in order, Zac sent the shuttle a command from the console he was working at to open the shuttle door to allow the group chatting near the rear of the craft to board.

“Commander Sorreth should transfer the coordinates of our intended landing site to you once we’re ready to depart. It’s going to be a very narrow fit going down there, just so you know,” Cmdr. Peters said as the pilot headed toward the back of the craft to board himself.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, ma’am. As long as I have about a meter of clearance on all sides, we should be fine,” Connor remarked with a daring smirk.

“You’re a confident one, I’ll give you that,” Abby chuckled, amused at the bravado the young man was attempting to exude for some reason.

“I’d say so, yeah,” Zac nodded as he climbed up the ramp, “Flown enough close formation maneuvers to feel pretty good about my skills.”

Cmdr. Peters took the seat on the other side of the cockpit, “Well, just in case, I think I’ll play co-pilot for this trip.”

“I take it you’ve flown, Commander?”

The XO nodded, “I’ve flown everything from a cargo shuttle to a starship, made a career of it before I took this assignment.”

“Oh…” Connor murmured, his previous confidence seeming to evaporate after finding out that the person he’d been bragging to was herself a more than capable flight officer.

“Take us out, Mister Connor,” Abby said with a thin smirk from her side of the small compartment.

“Aye, ma’am…”

“Control, this is shuttlecraft Thorne requesting clearance to disembark,” Lieutenant Junior Grade Connor said after completing his pre-flight checks. There was a short pause before a voice responded, “Shuttlecraft Thorne, you are clear for departure. Flight path has been transmitted to your station. Good luck.” Zac looked down at the flight plan the Century had sent over, giving special attention to the post atmospheric entry path they had calculated in advance.

“Pretty standard stuff,” the young pilot mused.

“It should be,” Commander Peters said from the seat next to his, “Until something happens and it stops being so standard.”

Connor shrugged as he brought the shuttlecraft off the deck toward the large bay doors that were now wide open, “Being able to adapt is part of the job.”

The XO chuckled at the comment but didn’t actually say anything further, content to let the young Lieutenant handle the trip so long as he didn’t do anything too crazy. Behind them in the main body of the shuttlecraft, Abigail could hear Lieutenant Khar discussing unit tactics with his team. Abby knew enough about the workings of security to know that she had no idea how it worked, which meant she offered no real commentary on the plans the group was putting into place for their sojourn to the surface.

The shuttlecraft glided out of the rear hanger of the Century, dipping sharply and making a somewhat hard right turn a few moments after clearing the hull of its parent craft. The decent toward the surface was rapid, taking the craft only  three brief minutes to cross the threshold between space and planetary atmosphere. From there, the turbulence became increasingly noticeable, often times overwhelming the inertial dampeners to cause the vessel to buckle and jerk one direction or another. Even after the small craft passed below the thousand meter mark in altitude relative to the surface, the winds whipping across the planet were strong enough to jostle the occupants about despite all of the measures the vessel had onboard to stop it.

Five minutes into their journey, the shuttle passed the zero meter altitude point, their speed leveling out to just short of 100 meters per hour. The tenuous nature of the ravine the shuttle had entered forced even further decreases in speed along the way as various outcroppings and loose material began to assert dominance in the airspace. After crossing the thousand meter point below the surface, Lt. JG Connor and Cmdr. Peters had to work in tandem to ensure that the shuttle didn’t run afoul of the various hazardous terrain that the Century’s scans weren’t able to pick up from so far away.

One advantage to the shuttle being so close in proximity to their intended target was that the sensor suite aboard managed to pinpoint which area the metallic signatures they’d detected were located. Along the wall of the ravine sat ancient lava tunnels from the now dormant volcanic subsurface magma chambers that had once helped sculpt the landscape. The vessel was able to glide into a nearby connecting tunnel that still provided a good deal of cover, allowing the away team to land and disembark without alerting their quarry.

“Mister Connor, stay with the shuttle and monitor the situation. Be prepared to beam us out if we get into a situation we can’t handle,” the XO ordered as she pulled a hand phaser out of the shuttle’s small arms locker.

“I’ve already tried locking on to objects in that camp up ahead, and I’m not able to get a solid lock on anything, let alone a person. Best I’ll be able to do is bring the shuttle around to the edge of the cave and have you all jump aboard,” the pilot explained.

Abby frowned at the news. She’d been hoping that once they’d made it to the surface, the transporter interference would have abated. “Very well. However you have to do it, just be ready to ride to the rescue,” the woman said before hurrying off the shuttle.

The Commander approached Lt. Khar, delivering the news about their inability to rely on the transporters for an emergency evacuation should things turn violent. While the Klingon himself didn’t seem too upset by the news, some of the security crewmen began exchanging sour looks but kept whatever thoughts they had about the situation to themselves. Khar motioned for his team to move out, taking the lead while Cmdr. Peters found herself somewhere in the middle of their hodgepodge formation.

The away team slowly and methodically approached the outskirts of the camp that had been set up in the caverns, though by some miracle they didn’t seem concerned with intruders as they hadn’t run into any patrols or encountered any sentries on the lookout. The only real sounds that could be heard was the popping and hissing of a large bonfire that was likely in the center of the encampment the suspected thieves had created. Carefully and quietly, the away team infiltrated the shambolic structures, catching hints of fragmented conversations as they grew nearer to the middle of the camp.

“…sure hope all this work will pay off…” came one disgruntled comment.

“’Course it will, this job should nab us a crate load of latinum at least…” another voice called out a bit closer to the team.

“Quit your yapping and get back to scrappin’!” a third voice demanded.

While the rest of the security officers started to fan out, Lt. Khar and Cmdr. Peters continued their approach together. The pair had spotted what looked to be a large shack put together with a lot more care than some of the others and decided it might be the likely place to find either the leader of the group, or the cargo the thieves had taken off the transports. After having made their way undetected about halfway into the makeshift hideout, the group had been able to confirm that the transports had indeed been brought down to this planet, as all three of them were lined up on a makeshift landing pad adjacent to the camp in a half-cannibalized state.

“At least we know we’re in the right place,” Peters whispered as she and Lt. Khar continued to inch closer to their target from behind cover.

“Now we only need to determine what their purpose for committing the theft was in the first place,” the Klingon frowned in response.

Thanks to the work being carried out to scrap the cargo haulers, the half dozen people around the camp hadn’t picked up on the away team’s presence, allowing the pair arrive at the largest structure in the camp unseen. Khar slowly rose from his crouched position to sneak a look inside the shack, ducking back down and flagging Peters to move toward the rear of the makeshift building. Once there, Peters caught sight of cluster of storage crates softly glowing an off pink and orange. From what she could recall from the briefing about the cargo, she assumed that it was the Chimerium they were looking for. A bit further away, a large man wearing a long leather trench coat was standing over what looked to be archaic communications equipment, a small object held up to his mouth.

“We’ve got the goods off the transports. My boys are pulling them apart right now. Give us another hour and there won’t be anything left of them but hunks of scrap,” the man said into the device.

“Good… be sure… unrecognizable… no loose ends…” a static riddled voice answered back.

“When can we expect pickup?”

“Three hours… make… leave… have cargo ready… will send… detonate…” the signal seemed to be getting worse as less of the conversation could be made out from where the two officers were hiding.

“Got it. See you in three hours,” the man replied before setting down the small device and flipping a switch on the device it was attached to. Peters and Khar ducked down when the man began to turn, looking to avoid his line of sight as he went back into the interior of the shack.

“Looks like these are just hired thugs, not the masterminds…” Peters grumbled in a low tone.

Khar sneered, “If they are expecting someone to pick them up in three hours, we do not have a lot of time to decide what our plan of action is to be. Shall we apprehend them now and try to interrogate them, or wait for potentially far greater numbers and a much harder fight?”

Abby let out a sigh, “When you put it like that, feels like we only have one real option. If we take out that box over there, they probably won’t be able to call for help…” The woman chewed on her lip in thought for a few seconds before making up her mind. She slapped her commbadge and issued the order, “Peters to away team, phasers on stun, let’s take them by surprise.”

Khar grinned viciously and shouldered his phaser rifle, moving away from his patch of cover to approach the entrance to the building. Peters followed closely behind with her hand phaser at the ready, moving slowly toward the communication equipment. Once the two were in place, Abby nodded to the Klingon, who took it as the signal and slapped his own commbadge, muttering the word “Now,” before breaching the room and opening fire on the two occupants inside. The man garbed in the trench coat was struck square in the back, dropping to the ground like a puppet after its strings had been cut. The other occupant, a rather disheveled looking Human in what could only be described as worn out rags leapt to his feet, attempting to draw his weapon to retaliate. Khar proved to be the quicker of the two, unleashing another bolt into the man’s chest, dropping him as swiftly as his first target. 

While the Lieutenant was breaching the building, Cmdr. Peters hurried over to the box that the man had been using and started following the wires that were sticking out of the back of it. This led her to find a small communications antenna that was sticking half out into the ravine. Leveling her phaser at a large cluster of the wires, she let loose a short beam, severing some and fusing most of the others. Confident that she’d disabled the device, Abby hurried back toward the building to find that Lt. Khar had already taken care of the occupants. A half dozen or so phaser bursts rang out across various points in the camp before silence returned to the area. Several minutes later, the security officers came into the building to check on their superiors.

“How many total?” Khar asked the senior most Ensign of the group.

“Seven, minus these two,” came the swift reply.

“Surprisingly few…” the Klingon grumbled contemplatively.

Another of the officers spoke up, “We found an old shuttle further back, the warp core on it must of given out when they entered the atmosphere. The backup generators look to be fried as well.”

“That would explain why they needed a ride off this planet. Only trouble is, we don’t know who’s supposed to come get them or how many they’re planning to send to do it,” Abby remarked.

Khar walked over to the trench coat clad thief and gave his leg a light kick, “I used a lower stun setting on him than the other one. If we grab a med kit from the shuttle, we can have him up and awake in a matter of minutes.”

Peters tapped on her commbadge, “Peters to Connor, bring the shuttle around to the camp, set her down in the makeshift hanger they have. We need to grab a med kit and get this contraband aboard before their reinforcements arrive.”

“On my way,” Zac’s voice called out from the badge.

“Gather up the goons and make sure they’re restrained. It’s gonna be a tight fit in the shuttle once we get everything loaded,” the XO ordered.

The security officers nodded and got to work dragging the unconscious thieves out to the makeshift hanger, making sure to restrain each of them securely before loading them onto the shuttlecraft. Once they were aboard, one of the men brought out a med kit, handing it off to Lt. Khar before hurrying to help his comrades secure the shipment of Chimerium that the thieves were looking to offload.

“Are you sure you want to interrogate him here?” Peters asked after giving the matter a little more thought, “It might be better to do this once we’re back on the ship.”

“If he provides us with any information that can only be made use of while we are still here, we will not get another chance to return. By the time we make it back, get the information we need, and make ready to return, whoever they are waiting for will have already returned and removed all the evidence of them ever being here. You heard that voice tell them to detonate something. That can only mean that this place is rigged with explosives and their intention has always been to abandon this position,” Khar explained as he finished binding the man he intended to pry answers out of.

“Alright then…” Peters relented, “Do what you need to do. I’m going to report back to the Century while you… handle it.”

“It should not take long,” Khar said with a wicked grin.

“Just nothing that won’t hold up in a tribunal later, please…” Abby requested before turning around and making her way through the camp toward the shuttle. By the time she’d reached it, the security officers had just finished loading the last container and had taken up positions around the thugs they had collected. The woman passed by all of them and sank down into the co-pilot chair, bringing up the communications protocols.

“Peters to Century,” the Commander said, waiting for a response.

A few moments later, the voice of the ship’s Captain called out, “Go ahead, Commander.”

“We’ve found the missing transports, they’ve been scuttled. The responsible party has been captured but it appears they are working for someone else. They’ve made contact with whomever it is they stole the cargo for, supposedly they are due to arrive here in about three hours, after which it sounded like their plan was to collapse the tunnel in the hopes of obliterating any trace of them having been here. Lieutenant Khar is attempting to extract more information from who we believe to be the leader of this group to find out more,” Abby relayed to her commander.

“I see…” the Gorn’s voice trailed off for a moment before he continued, “I want your team off that planet in no more than an hour. If the Lieutenant cannot gain any useful intelligence by then, it will not be worth the risk of your team being discovered and attacked.”

“Understood, Captain…” Abby was about to terminate the transmission when she caught sight of the Klingon boarding the transport with a very sour look on his face.

“Standby, Century,” Peters said, suspending the transmission before returning her attention to the Lieutenant, “What’s wrong?”

“It would appear that rather than give up any information, the man ingested some manner of toxin from a device implanted in his mouth. He chose a coward’s death over revealing what he knew,” Khar explained.

Abby turned around and reestablished communication with the ship, “Captain, it looks like their leader had some manner of suicide implant, he used it before we could get anything from him. It’s likely that all of these men have something similar, we’ll need to have Medical check them out prior to waking them up to prevent this from happening again.”

“Understood, return to the ship, Commander,” the Captain ordered.

“On our way.”

The return of the away team had brought with it a flood of patients into the Century’s sickbay. The nursing staff was busily moving from bed to bed, checking vitals, running tests, and a whole gambit of other duties, all while being mindful of the fact that the individuals currently occupying their workspace were criminals, and most likely dangerous ones at that. Impressive as the sickbay facilities were, having to erect containment fields around all of them would have been an unreasonable task, meaning that their only viable course of action was to keep them sedated while they were in the facility.

Doctor Odaim was currently orchestrating the activities of the medical staff when she felt the unique presence of her Captain behind her, causing the Betazoid to whip around a bit faster than she’d intended to, “Captain, what can I help you with?”

“Have you managed to identify if any of the individuals the away team brought aboard have the same device their leader possessed?” Captain Gar’rath asked, choosing not to comment on the skittish greeting from the Medical officer.

“None of the others seem to have any such device implanted in them. A few of them have assorted injuries, but most of them are older than their encounter with our security team. We’re currently tending to those injuries while keeping the patients sedated,” Reli reported.

“Which means that either they were kept completely in the dark, or were only given the smallest scraps of information that wouldn’t harm whoever hired them,” the Gorn grumbled as he looked around the room at the various occupied beds.

“That is rather possible,” the doctor nodded as she turned toward the patients as well, “We’ve run their DNA through Starfleet’s databases. They’re all from different fringe colonies, most of them are wanted in at least two systems a piece, but only one of them has a history of violent crimes.”

“Which one would that be?” Gar’rath asked.

Dr. Odaim pointed to the man inhabiting the bed removed from the other patients. His background had warranted a bit of extra precaution and he was currently behind a containment field. The Captain started moving toward the bed, looking back at the doctor purposefully after reaching the boundary of the field. Reli picked up on what the Gorn was looking for her to do and tapped a command on her PaDD, lowering the field to allow the Captain to continue his approach. Once he was standing just off to the man’s right, Reli moved over to the patient’s left, sliding her PaDD into her lab coat pocket as did so.

“If you would be so kind as to wake him, Doctor,” the Gorn said, turning from her down toward the man currently laying in the bed, oblivious to his visitors.

A smirk of realization tugged at Reli’s lips as she retrieved a hypospray and the required medication to suspend the man’s sedation. After loading the vial into the receptacle, Odiam pressed the device to the man’s neck and triggered the injection. Once the audible hiss subsided, the doctor took a step back and switched out the vial with the sedative the man had previously been given to ensure she was ready on the off chance the man needed to be restrained.

Gar’rath watched as the man’s eyes fluttered, the fog of the sedative slowly but surely loosening its grip on his mind. It took him a moment to be able to focus on anything, but when he did, his eyes grew wide and his pupils shrank as he beheld the toothy maw of a reptilian biped he’d never seen before. A shrill shriek tumbled from the man’s lips, his legs and arms furiously pushing him backwards in an attempt to escape the monster that was hovering over him.

The Gorn reached out and seized the man’s right shoulder, his grip strong enough to arrest his backward momentum with very little effort. Feeling the sharp claws pinching the surface of his skin coaxed another panicked scream from the man. Several stings of incoherent utterances passed his lips, and his legs continued to push against the bed in a futile endeavor to separate himself from the carnivore staring him down.

“I need you to answer some questions,” Gar’rath spoke to the man in a low, gravelly voice that seemed to come from deep within his chest.

“I don’t know nothin’! I don’t know nothin’ at all!” the man screamed in terror.

Gar’rath turned his attention to the doctor momentarily, at which point the Betazoid focused on the man for a quick second and said flatly, “He’s lying…” The Captain returned his attention to the man squirming under his iron grip, his maw parting just a little as he drew a bit closer. “Try again…”

The man continued to struggle, trying as hard as he could to wretch his shoulder free from the Gorn’s grip, succeeding in doing little more than dislocate it for his trouble. The sharp pain caused his face to scrunch up, bringing a bit of coherence to his thoughts. Once he finally came to terms with his inability to escape, he started searching for other avenues to free himself from his predicament. His first instinct was to deflect any responsibility onto his former boss.

“Tarmer… he’s the one who made the deal… talk to him,” the man shouted.

The Captain returned his gaze to the doctor, who in turn took out her PaDD and glanced over the names of everyone who was in the sickbay. After a few moments, she found the name on the list, but shook her head once she located it, “He’s the one that had the toxin injector.”

Gar’rath returned his gaze to the man he held, “It would seem that this ‘Tarmer’ chose death over capture, leaving the rest of you to suffer the consequences alone.”

Again the man started to struggle, his mind reeling from the revelation that his former boss had taken the easy way out of their now hopeless situation. A few more seconds of futile effort bought the man a wave of exhaustion and not even a millimeter of gained distance away from the sharp claws or frightening visage that was currently terrorizing his psyche.

“He told me he made a deal with some crime syndicate in the area, said they were looking for those crystals we took from those transports. We were supposed to just hand over the goods and get paid,” the man fired off rapidly, his eyes darting from the Gorn to the doctor standing on opposite sides of him. This time, the woman nodded once he finished, confirming what he’d assumed, that she was a telepath of some sort.

“And the name of this syndicate?” the Captain growled in a menacing voice.

“Eep!” the man squealed, “I don’t know, he never said! I swear, he was always cagey about everything to do with that cargo… never told anyone any more than we needed to know to do the job.”

“How did your group know what those transports were carrying in the first place?” Gar’rath asked, his eyes narrowing.

“The outpost! Tarmer said he knew someone at the outpost that moved goods under the table for some extra latinum from time to time. Said he was tipped off by this guy and scored some override codes off him. Said we wouldn’t get caught if we used them.”

The Captain rose to his full height, putting just enough distance between them to cause the man to relax just a little, “Do you have a name?”

“No,” the man shook his head feverishly, “Tarmer only ever called him his contact. Like I said, real cagey. We only took the job because of the payout we were supposed to get. Didn’t have anything to do with the planning, just hijacked the cargo and chopped up the haulers once we got what we were after. Wasn’t even sure we’d make it to the hideout alive when the shuttle’s main power coupling blew. Hell, we might have been expendable this whole time and Tarmer was never gonna pay us at all…”

“That does seem likely, since that whole place was rigged with explosives,” Gar’rath nodded.

“Wait… what?!” the confusion and shock on the man’s face wasn’t something that a bad actor could replicate easily.

“You didn’t know?” the Captain inquired, “Were you not the ones that put that place together?”

Again the man’s head shook back and forth, “Nah, we’d never been there before we boosted those goods. Tarmer was the one that told us he knew a good spot, place nobody would think to look, and even if they did, they wouldn’t spot us without knowing beforehand we were there. Said his contact used it sometimes for deals with the people we were supposed to meet there. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time…”

“Then perhaps it was a good thing we did know where you were before we arrived. All things considered, you might be buried alive under kilometers of rock, if not outright dead by now,” the Gorn mused.

“Yeah…” the man chuckled nervously, “Who’d want that when they could be eaten by a lizard…”

“Who said I was going to eat you?” Gar’rath asked, his grip tightening just slightly, “You don’t look all that appetizing to me.”

Another frightened yelp escaped the man’s lips as the Captain turned to Dr. Odaim, “I think we’ve gotten everything we need from him. If you would?”

Reli nodded and pressed the hypospray against the man’s neck, the snap and hiss that followed signalling that the device had done it’s job. The pair watched the man’s eyes drift closed, and Gar’rath waited a few moments for the medication to fully take hold before dragging the man off the edge of the bed to return him to his former position.

The doctor retrieved a medical tricorder and did a quick scan, frowning when she noticed the muscle tears in his shoulder, “You really scared the wits out of him.”

“I cannot help how I look, doctor,” Gar’rath retorted with a hint of mirth in his voice.

Odiam let out an exasperated huff of air, “I suppose not. You aren’t exactly a common sight in this part of the galaxy, so I suppose his fear wasn’t completely unjustified…”

“No, doctor… you are just desensitized to my presence. Even in parts of the galaxy where my kind are a common sight, the reactions are generally the same,” the Captain chuckled.

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way,” Reli smirked, “But even I would probably crawl out of my skin if I woke up to you hovering over me, and I’ve known you for a good while now.”

“No offense taken, doctor. Were I in your place, I doubt my reaction would be any different. But that aside, thank you for your assistance. You were most helpful in coaxing the truth from him. Had he been more confident that lies would speed things along, we might not have garnered anything of particular value,” Gar’rath said, nodding to the Betazoid.

“I was happy to help, Captain. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a shoulder to mend.”

Captain Gar’rath stepped onto the Bridge following his sojourn down to the Century’s sickbay to gather what information he could using his rather unique visage as a potent psychological weapon. As he approached his usual position in the compartment, he turned his head toward the communications console. “Ensign, send a message to the outpost’s administrative office. Inform them we have a lead on their missing transports,” the Gorn ordered before sliding down into his chair.

“Only a lead?” Commander Peters asked, turning her chair toward her commander.

“I’ll explain later…” Gar’rath muttered in a voice low enough for only his XO to hear. His response prompted the woman to nod and return her attention to the front, watching the screen with anticipation. The silence that followed was tense, the outpost had yet to respond formally to any attempts at contact with the Century, and the responses they had received had only been in text form and devoid of any real substance. 

“We’re receiving a hail, sir,” the Ensign at the comms station reported.

“On screen,” the Captain said, rising to his feet and striding forward just a step. The image of the planet below blinked away, replaced quickly by the face of a surly looking Bolian in what looked to be a dimly lit room with sparse decoration. The barely control sneer on his face upon finding the Gorn on his screen did not go unnoticed.

“I’ve been told you have a lead on our cargo, Captain,” the man on screen launched straight into questions, skipping over any semblance of pleasantries.

“We have, Mister…?” Gar’rath paused pointedly, waiting for the introduction the man had decided to skip.

“Vol…” the Bolian muttered impatiently in response to the prompting.

“Mister Vol,” the Captain repeated, “In answer to your question, we have discovered the possible location of your missing cargo haulers, but we’re picking up strange readings from the surface. We wanted to be certain that your people were not in the area we intended to search and mistakenly apprehend colonists conducting legitimate operations.”

“So you have not gone down to the surface then?” Vol asked, his eyebrow lifting just slightly.

The Gorn shook his head as he stepped down from the platform and walked to stand next to Lieutenant Commander Sorreth, “We have only begun to conduct scans of the surface, and we have discovered an area that is giving us some interesting readings. Would you be willing to look them over and share with us anything you might know about the area in question?”

“Of course, Captain. I am eager to see our goods returned to us, so if you believe I can be of some assistance…” a smile tugged at the Bolian’s lips.

Gar’rath reached down and tapped at the readout of sensor scans they had previously conducted near their landing coordinates. Rather than select the actual area the away team had investigated, he selected a part of the ravine nearly 20 kilometers away. Once he had designated the spot he wanted the Vulcan to transmit, Sorreth nodded and initiated the transfer. Vol’s head lowered on the screen, his eyes darting side to side several times before looking back up.

“Yes… that area is notorious for producing erroneous sensors scans, Captain. Our scientists had difficulty with it when they were doing the initial surveys. It should be safe to assume that whatever you picked up down there is not what it appears. Better to save you the effort of a fruitless expedition that my people have already embarked on,” the Bolian explained, his smile a bit sharper than before.

“Well then, I’m sorry to have disturbed you with a false finding, Mister Vol. We will contact the outpost again should we find something more concrete. Century out.”

The screen reverted back to the view of the desert landscape below them. Gar’rath turned to find Cmdr. Peters giving him a rather puzzled look. “You are curious why I approached it in that manner, I take it.”

“That’s a word for it, yes,” Abigail nodded. 

“One of our ‘guests’ in sickbay informed me that they had a contact at the outpost that was feeding them information on the composition of the shipments. Because he couldn’t give me a name, even with Dr. Odaim’s help, I decided to feed just enough information to see who might answer. Since our last attempt ended in a roadblock, it seemed likely that someone was intercepting out communications fearing they might be discovered. Mister Vol is likely an accessory to the theft, if not a major player since he went out of his way to reach out and attempt to divert our attention from the site you recently investigated. The fact that he didn’t already know we have sent a landing craft down and discovered the operation means their ability to surveil the area is either substandard or nonexistent. Now we merely need to monitor any traffic leaving the outpost to see if he attempts to warn these unknown contacts they share of our presence here,” the Captain explained his methodology as he climbed back up the platform to his chair.

“Interesting,” Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth commented from his station, “By feeding him information that, while not being correct it was also not a complete fabrication, you gauged his involvement in the thefts and evaluated his trustworthiness without providing actionable intelligence to someone who might reveal themselves to be in opposition of our goals here.”

“It was a tactic I learned from my mentor when I first became a security officer. ‘Just because a security officer looks for the truth in every investigation, that doesn’t mean we have to be equally truthful to a suspect to get an honest response from them’ is what he would say every time I confronted him over using deception as a method of interrogation. And there were a number of years afterward that I thought the practice to be abhorrent… until doing so saved my life. Since then, I have always sought to weave a lie or two into an interrogation when I felt I had the upper hand,” the Gorn remarked from his chair.

“And here I thought that kind of thing only happened in bad holo-novels…” Peters commented with a chuckle.

“What holo-novels are you using?” Lieutenant Khar asked from his position.

“Me?” Peters motioned to herself, “I don’t actually care for them. I had a roommate on a previous ship who adored them though, and would constantly drag me to the holodeck to play along in her little fantasy worlds. Had this… fanatical obsession with gangster dramas from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century on Earth. I ended up having nightmares because of how terrible those things were. But the ‘coppers’ in those stories would always lie about what they knew and who told them what to wring confessions out of people.”

“I see…” the Klingon muttered, “Perhaps I should look into some of these holo-novels.”

Abby shrugged, swiveling back forward, “Might be right up your alley, Mister Khar.”

“Captain,” the Ensign at the comms station interrupted the banter, “I’ve detected a signal being directed toward the away team’s landing site. It is operating on the same frequency we detected earlier.”

“Can you intercept the transmission without alerting them to our intrusion?” Gar’rath asked.

The Ensign tapped a few commands before nodding, “Yes, we can monitor the transmission passively.”

“On screen,” the Gorn ordered.

“It’s audio only,” the Ensign stated before filtering it through the Bridge’s audio transmitters.

“Tarmer… Tarmer… do you read?” a distorted voice called out, “Respond, dammit!” A long silence filled with intermittent static ensued before the audio cut out.

“They’ve terminated the transmission.”

“Can you trace where that transmission came from?” the XO asked.

“There appears to be a relay station nestled in the third Lagrange point around the planet,” Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth reported, “Prior to it transmitting a signal, the relay merely showed up on scans as a small rocky object that seemed to have settled there naturally.”

“Quite the methodical set-up…” Abby grunted, “How far back can you trace the signal? Did it originate at the outpost?”

“Unknown,” the Vulcan remarked after a moment of searching, “It would appear that the device acted as a relay, converting one frequency type into another. It does not appear to be capable of receiving any subspace messages, which will make it difficult to narrow down a point of origin until we can ascertain the exact frequency it received before the conversion.”

“Sir, I am detecting a vessel approaching the planet,” Khar called out only a few seconds later.

“Identify,” Gar’rath said. 

Lt. Khar ran the vessel profile against known vessels in the database before answering, “It appears to be a conglomeration of three different vessels.”

“Tactical analysis,” the Captain followed up.

“The vessel has two torpedo launchers…” Khar paused as the computer finished up the more in-depth scan, “And four disruptor style pulse cannons, all forward mounted.”

“Red alert,” the Gorn ordered in a low tone, “Arm phaser arrays and load torpedo tubes, standby to fire on my order.”

“They are conducting a scan of the area the away team recently visited,” Sorreth informed the Bridge.

Cmdr. Peters frowned, “Looks like the mole worked quickly…”

“Shall I attempt to hail them, Captain?” the communications officer inquired.

“Likely futile, but try anyway,” came the dispassionate response.

If not for the low buzz of the alert klaxon, the Bridge would have been completely silent as they waited for the unidentified craft to make whatever moves it intended to make. Tense seconds grew ballooned into minutes as the craft hung ominously quiet in the center of the view screen, the happenings within a mystery to the crew as they monitored their respective displays in anticipation of having to react. 

“Sir, they are powering up their weapons,” Khar reported, followed almost immediately by the communications officer announcing, “We are being hailed.”

“On screen,” Gar’rath ordered as he rose to his feet.

“It would appear you have some people who belong to us, Starfleet. I’d appreciate it if you handed them over… and our cargo…” a gnarled looking Human demanded.

Gar’rath grunted at the request, “I do not believe we do, perhaps you are mistaken.”

“Don’t lie, lizard. We’ve already scanned the camp, none of our people are there,” the man hissed angrily.

“Interesting… there was a camp on the surface that you were able to scan for so easily? Our sensors should be far more sensitive than what you’ve managed to scrape together…” the Captain commented, purposely ignoring the man’s ire.

“Hand over the goods and our people, or we’ll drag them off your ship after we’ve had a bit of target practice with your ship,” the man threatened.

The Gorn lowered his head in a display of disappointment, “It would seem that negotiations have failed. Mister Khar, if you would kindly show our friends here what the Century is capable of?”

“Gladly, Captain,” the Klingon smiled viciously as he set to work picking out weak points in the hostile vessel’s shields and hull. A few seconds later, the transmission from the ship wobbled violently, several of the men standing at various stations in the background getting thrown unceremoniously around the compartment in response to the punishing assault from the Constitution-III class vessel. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” the man on the screen hollered in rage.

Gar’rath shrugged in an almost comical fashion, “Target practice?”

The transmission from the ship cut out, returning the view screen to that of the vessel itself floating in space. Several portions of the hull were now glowing white hot after having be sliced by the Century’s phaser array. Several bolts of green disruptor energy leaped away from the front of the craft, slamming into but failing to penetrate the ship’s shields.

“Shields down to ninety-three percent,” Khar reported.

“Target their propulsion systems with a torpedo volley,” Gar’rath said before issuing the order, “Fire.”

Several torpedoes entered view from behind the view screens sight line and curved around toward the back of the craft. The first impact tore a gaping hole in the vessel’s aft shields, while the two follow-up torpedoes collided with and blasted large chunks of the propulsion system protruding from the rear of the craft. Several of the glowing lights from view ports along the forward hull blinked out, indicating that the strike had caused a considerable disruption to the craft’s power distribution.

“Their warp drive has been rendered inoperable, Captain.”

“Good, Mister Khar. Hold your fire, I would like to see what their next course of action will be.”

“Captain, incoming transmission,” the communications officer called out suddenly.

“Is it the vessel?” Gar’rath asked.

“Negative, it’s coming from the outpost…”

“What is the meaning of this, Captain?!” a very agitated Bolian by the name of Vol bellowed the moment his face appeared on screen. The Captain in question leaned over to his right side, perching his elongated maw onto his balled up fist in a rather strange recreation of the Thinker statue, though he himself had never actually seen it.

“Is something the matter, Mister Vol?” Capt. Gar’rath asked as if the question had bored him.

“Why would you open fire on one of our ships?!”

The Gorn let out a hum of confusion, “It was one of your ships, Mister Vol? That is strange… it came from outside the local system. I don’t remember receiving any reports that you had any warships defending your outpost such as this one. And if you did, should it not have been patrolling the area around your mining platforms to prevent thefts from occurring?”

“Don’t try to wiggle out of responsibility here,” the Bolian growled, “You opened fire on one of our vessels without provocation!”

Gar’rath closed his eyes lazily, sucking in an exaggerated breath before exhaling dramatically, “Unprovoked… Such a strange way to describe the situation, Mister Vol. I wasn’t aware that taking action after a vessel has declared their intention to use my vessel as a means of ‘target practice’ before boarding and forcibly removing prisoners and confiscated contraband to be an unprovoked response…”

Vol sputtered and fumed for a moment before countering with, “Preposterous! That crew would never make such statements!”

“Commander Sorreth, would you kindly transfer the communication log of our conversation to our friend here,” the Gorn asked.

“Aye, Captain,” the Vulcan nodded, carrying out the request he’d been given.

As soon as the Bolian scanned the transcript, he began to shake visibly. At every turn, each and every attempt to misdirect or cover up the truth seemed to meet with cold facts and unflappable evidence. Vol ran his hand over his moistened brow as he tried to come up with some rebuttal that the Starfleet Captain didn’t have a response for. The longer he took, the more bored the Gorn he was staring at one his screen seemed to become.

“I take it by how nervous you look, the excuses you had are now all dried up and we can move on to the truth, yes?” Gar’rath inquired, finally opening his eyes again.

“How dare you accuse me of lying, Captain! Do you not know who you are talking to?!” Vol growled.

“Actually…” the Gorn said, straightening up, “I haven’t the slightest idea. You have gone out of your way to keep your identity as hidden as possible. If it were not for my inquiry when you first contacted the ship, I wouldn’t even know your name. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to who you are… or better yet, perhaps I should tow this ship we’ve crippled into orbit of your outpost and ask the station administration directly… in person.”

The transmission cut out a second after Gar’rath made his declaration, which made him laugh aloud at the Bolian’s behavior. “Ensign, hail the outpost again. Let us see if someone who might actually be in charge decides to answer,” the Captain requested, leaning back in his chair and lowering his raised arm. Several brief seconds later, the crew was looking up at a different face, a much more agreeable one.

“Greetings,” the Human said with a smile, “I am Administrator Roe. We’ve been monitoring you on our scanners but were worried that you would continue to refuse our calls.”

“It would seem that we were both led to believe that very thing was happening to us when we hailed your outpost on our arrival. A ‘Mister Vol’ seems to be responsible for our delayed greeting, Administrator,” Gar’rath explained.

“Vol? He’s merely in charge of our shipping fleet. He doesn’t hold a position of authority high enough to be representing this outpost,” the man remarked in obvious confusion.

“He does not see it that way, Mister Roe. It would seem, given the evidence we have collected so far, that he is party to the thefts you reached out to Gateway Station about several days ago. We encountered a hostile ship soon after we attempted to report to you that we had a lead on the suspects. It seems they were dead set on taking the stolen cargo by force, and Mister Vol attempted claim that the ship was part of your defense fleet after it threatened by ship and demanded we hand over contraband we seized from the surface,” the Gorn outlined.

The Administrator turned around to someone not in view of the screen and shouted, “Arrest Vol at once! Terminate all of his access privileges and get me an explanation of how he managed to hijack our communications network!” Once the people he’d been addressing hurried off to carry out his orders, the man returned his attention to the screen, “Thank you for telling us about this criminal activity. It shames me to learn that someone we’ve worked with so closely for years could be involved in some manner of illicit dealings. Rest assured we will bring him to justice.”

“What would you like us to do with the ship we’ve disabled, Administrator?” Gar’rath asked.

“If they attempted to harm your crew, I believe they are yours to deal with as you see fit, Captain. We would gladly offer to hold them temporarily until Starfleet could dispatch a prisoner transport here if you like, but beyond that, we do not have the means to hold anyone for extended periods of time. Our holding facilities are meager at best, and probably not advanced enough to hold hardened criminals,” Roe said apologetically.

“Your offer is appreciated but unnecessary,” the Captain said before turning to Lt. Khar, “Beam anyone aboard that ship directly to the Brig. Once you’ve confirmed they are all secure, send a security team over to search for any evidence of that vessel’s origins.”

“Aye, sir,” the Klingon nodded, setting about his task.

“Once we have what we need from the ship, would you like us to scuttle it for you, or do you think you might have use of it?” Gar’rath asked after returning his attention to the screen.

“We have a decent enough dry dock here,” the man replied, “We can send a work crew to fetch the ship and bring it back to the outpost. If anything, we can hold it in evidence for you, should you need to examine it further.”

“A solid plan, thank you for your help, Mister Roe. I believe that is all we have to discuss at the moment. Once my crew has finished their sweep, we may reach out to you again before departing the system.”

“We look forward to word of your success in locating the masterminds of these thefts, Roe out.” The screen shifted back to the image of the crippled ship, which still hung lifeless in the void. After giving the Security officer a few minutes to work, the Captain swiveled back around the face him. “Status?”

“All life-signs aboard the ship have been transported to the Brig, a security team is preparing to depart as we speak,” the Klingon replied.

“Very good,” Gar’rath said before turning to his XO, “I will make a report to Starfleet regarding our current status. You have the Bridge in the meantime.”

“Aye sir,” Abby said as she watched the Gorn trudge off into his Ready Room.

“… After the investigation of the vessel is complete, the outpost will tow it to their dry dock facility and store it there in the event it is needed in any follow-up investigations. The crew has been taken aboard the Century to await transport to the nearest holding facility once we have determined who is responsible for staging this elaborate scheme,” Captain Gar’rath explained to the officer being displayed on his office terminal.

“Understood, Captain, we’ll await your next report,” came the reply before the image cut out and shifted to the Federation logo for a few seconds before the display powered down completely. Gar’rath leaned back in his chair, running a knuckle under his maw contemplatively while considering what the ship’s next step should be. His security department was handling the interrogations of the newly acquired prisoners as well as sweeping the now deserted ship nearby. Depending on the information gleaned from those sources, the decision on what to do next might be made for them.

As he considered all that, another thought came to him as he remembered that the outpost was currently hunting for the illustrious Mister Vol. If the station managed to capture him before he made himself scarce, they might gain a better understanding of just how complex the smuggling operation actually was. That did, however, rest entirely on how honest the Bolian was upon capture, which seemed like a lot to ask for given just how dishonest their dealing with him had been. Even without his cooperation, they still had the cargo, they had still managed to thwart Vol’s smuggling operations, and they had managed to come through the other side of it all relatively unscathed. 

As his thoughts began to wander even further, the chime to his Ready Room door sounded, pulling his focus from the middle distance it had settled on toward the door. “Enter,” Gar’rath said, watching as the doors parted to allow his Security officer to step through the threshold. When the Lieutenant reached roughly midway into the room, he stopped and rested a hand on the back of one of the chairs in front of the Captain’s desk.

“The boarding party has just returned to the ship, Captain. It would appear that they were not carrying any additional cargo aboard, nor did any of their databases contain any information of note. Either they deleted all their records prior to being taken aboard the ship, or the vessel was used solely as an attack craft and nothing else,” the Klingon reported.

“Was the team able to establish where they came from?” the Captain inquired.

“Yes sir,” Khar responded, “The vessel came from what appears to be a stellar debris field in deep space. It sits approximately half a light year away from the leading edge of the Paulson Nebula. Long range scans of the area are currently being conducted.”

“What about our new ‘guests’? Have they given your people any actionable intelligence?”

“They are rather tight lipped, it would seem,” the Klingon frowned, “I doubt any of them will betray their superiors. While I respect their sense of loyalty, it does make our mission here far more difficult.”

“I believe Humans call that ‘honor among criminals’…” Gar’rath offered.

“Thieves,” Khar corrected him, “Lily often uses that phrase when she is discussing scientific journals and declaring some of her colleagues in the field possessing no honor.”

“Ah yes…” the Gorn nodded in realization, “You are currently in… courtship? Is that the word?”

Khar mulled over his response for a moment before replying, “I suppose in a broad sense, yes. We call it a partnership, her and I, but it does share a great many similarities to the concept of courtship.”

“I see. Thank you for clarifying that,” the Captain said before shifting back to the previous topic, “Depending on whether the outpost can apprehend Mister Vol or not, and subsequently pry information from him that we can use, we may need to bring our friends in the Brig to Gateway Station and let their personnel handle them from there.”

“I’ll head down and see where we are with the interrogations,” Khar offered.

“Please do,” Gar’rath nodded before turning his attention back to his desk display. The Lieutenant took his Captain’s shift in focus as his cue to leave and departed the office. The Gorn brought up the information on the stellar debris field his away team had identified and began to look it over, his mind beginning to connect more pieces of the strange puzzle they were currently trying to solve. His surveillance of the map allowed him to watch in real-time as the ship took the measure of the area’s various celestial bodies, displaying bit of information one after another as different long range scans completed their analysis. Some twenty minutes slipped by as the Captain watched the various readouts flash before his eyes until finally the updates stopped. Judging from the information they had gathered, this particular area was likely a dead end. The warp signature from the ship they’d encountered did indeed pass through it, but it was not where the trail originated, meaning it had been a stopping point for the to redirect course… probably when they got the call from their contact on the outpost.

A frustrated sigh erupted from the Gorn’s chest, a fairly natural response to having invested so much time watching something prove to be fruitless. Gar’rath slumped back in his chair and quietly mused about how their string of luck with finding clue after clue seemed to have finally come to an end. 

“Bridge to Captain Gar’rath,” the voice of his XO called out over the audio system in his Ready Room.

“Go ahead.”

“We’ve received word from the outpost that Mister Vol has been found,” the woman reported, “However he was dead by the time their security team caught up to him. Their initial investigation into his demise indicates that it was some manner of power surge that triggered an overload of a panel he was near while trying to climb up an access tunnel toward their shuttlebay. They aren’t certain if the explosion or the fall is responsible for his death.”

“Has the station managed to get anything from his personal terminals or his quarters?”

“It seems like he introduced some manner of virus into his access terminal right after we spoke with him. It took out half their data core and temporarily blacked out their security systems. Nothing he left behind gave any indication as to who he might have been working for,” Abigail responded.

“A literal dead end…” Gar’rath muttered mostly to himself.

An amused snort could be heard over the comm before Peters asked, “What’s our next course of action?”

“Take us to Gateway Station. We’ll offload our prisoners and the cargo and let the authorities there handle the clean-up from this incident. I’ll let them know we’re coming,” the Captain instructed.

“Understood,” Abby responded before the communication line was terminated.

Captain Gar’rath looked at each member of the senior staff that had been asked to join him in the Century’s Observation Lounge. Each of them, along with the members of their respective departments, had performed exceptionally over the past few days and their efforts had brought about a swift close to the investigation that had looked hopeless when they’d first arrived in the affected system. The the loss of life during their mission had been unavoidable, it still paled in comparison to the tangible gains the crew had made in protecting the outpost from future exploitation at the hands of as of yet unknown manipulators.

“I wanted to take a moment, now that we are on our way to Gateway Station, to thank you all for the outstanding work that both you and the departments you represent carried out during this ordeal,” the Captain said broadly before turning toward individuals.

“Lieutenant James, had it not been for your team giving us a means to track down the missing transports, we might still be wandering through the system scanning planets and asteroids alike in a fruitless search. Please express my gratitude to all who played a role in this achievement.”

“I’ll pass it along, sir,” Brian said with a please smile.

“Lieutenant Khar,” the Gorn said, shifting his attention to the opposite side of the table, “The team you lead to the planet surface, along with everyone who has diligently dealt with our prisoners showed the highest standard of professionalism in the performance of their duties. The fact that not a single officer was injured is a testament to their dedication to their training and readiness.”

The Klingon gave the Captain a deep nod, “It is an honor to receive such praise for my people.”

“And to your medical staff, Doctor Odaim,” Gar’rath turned to the final member of the group, “Please know that I am grateful for their ability to adapt to the sudden and unexpected influx of patients, while still delivering superior care even when dealing with individuals who could have turned violent at any moment while in your sickbay. Your assistance with my interrogation also assisted greatly in bringing our investigation to a speedy conclusion.”

The Betazoid nodded with a small smile, “It was interesting to see you work, Captain. And I’ll pass along the message to my team.”

The Gorn turned his attention to his XO, “Do you have anything you wish to add, Commander?”

Cmdr. Peters gave the query a bit of consideration before responding, “I share the Captain’s opinion that each of your departments played a critical role in the success of our endeavors of the past few days. The teamwork and innovation that was on display showed how well the crew can come together to accomplish a common goal. I hope that this is only the first of many excellent conclusions to our many missions to come.”

“Thank you Ms. Peters,” the Captain said before giving the room one last look, “I know our respective shifts have long since ended, so I won’t keep you here any longer. Enjoy your evening and I will see you all tomorrow. Dismissed.”

Everyone in the room rose to their feet and filed out of the Observation Lounge, with Capt. Gar’rath being the last to exit, each of the officers boarding a turbolift on either side of the bridge to descend to the decks where their respective quarters resided.

Cmdr. Peters and Lt. Cmdr. Odaim, garbed in casual clothing after taking a moment to change, sat across from one another with meals before them and a conversation ebbing and flowing between bites. Some unusual additions to the table were Lt. James, who was sitting one side of the four person table that would have normally been empty, and Lt. Cmdr. Sorreth on the opposing side of the scientist. Abby marked the occasion in her head as the first time she’d shared a meal with anyone other than Reli since coming aboard.

“I am rather interested to hear your interpretation of the events that took place in sickbay, Doctor,” the Vulcan said after making it halfway through his meal, “While I am aware that the Captain was a former security officer, I have not encountered anyone who knew him during that period and could enlighten me on his method of handling suspects.”

“I’m actually curious myself,” Peters said before ingesting a bite of her steak.

The Betazoid snorted at her friend, “You’re still hung up on the whole ‘Is he gonna eat us’ thing, aren’t you?”

“No!” Abby protested before the glare she received in turn forced her to sink down a bit and mutter, “Ok… maybe a little…”

“Seriously?” Brian asked, his fork drooping in his grip upon hearing that exchange, “I’ve never gotten ‘you are food’ vibes from the Captain. Am I just not appetizing enough?”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?” Reli asked after laughing for a moment.

“Please, Ms. Odaim, continue,” Sorreth prompted impassively.

“Right. So after Abby went down to the surface with the away team and captured all those thugs, the Captain came walking in to sickbay and started looking around at everyone you’d brought up from the surface. He came in so abruptly that I felt him before I saw him and I’m ashamed to say it scared me half to death,” the doctor started.

“What is it that you felt that disturbed you, doctor?” the Vulcan inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh… right… so, you know how most races kind of radiate a kind of white noise of thoughts without really meaning to?” the woman asked.

“I believe I have heard of this phenomenon before, yes,” Sorreth nodded.

“Ok,” Odaim nodded before continuing, “So with the Captain, it isn’t like a low hum of thoughts like with a Human or some other sapient race. With him, whatever objective he is looking to accomplish is the single thing being broadcast from him at all times. I hate to describe it like this because it isn’t very flattering… but it feels like a predator staring you down, and it just makes you want run and hide. Even knowing that his focus wasn’t on me, I flinched pretty badly and spun around like a scared animal. I know he noticed, but he was nice enough not to mention it.”

“Huh… I never knew his species projected their telepathic presence in such a way. I’d love to do a study on it…” James muttered from his seat.

“I’m not sure his entire species does,” Reli pointed out, “I’ve only ever met the Captain. He could be unique among his kind in that regard for all I know.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s true too. And it would be hard to narrow down some manner of control for the experiment…” the scientist frowned as he realized his budding project would never get off the ground.

“So after you did exactly what you got on my ass for doing…” Abby smirked, “What happened?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t pick up on that,” Odaim said with a sigh before continuing her story, “So yes, after I embarrass myself a bit in front of the Captain, he starts to ask me about my patients, their general condition, so on and so forth until he spots the guy I had in isolation due to his violent criminal record. The others were just small time petty thieves, but this one fellow is wanted for at least three different murders, so I wanted to make doubly sure he didn’t hurt my staff.”

“Understandable,” Sorreth nodded in an approving manner.

“Well, as soon as the Captain sees him, off he goes to hover over the man’s bed. I knew what he wanted even without reading his thoughts, and woke the guy up after turning off the containment field. As soon as his eyes flutter open, he lets out this spine tingling shriek and starts scrambling for the bulkhead. For a second I thought he was going to launch himself off the bed and fly head first into the wall. Then, faster than I’ve ever seen him move, Capt. Gar’rath launches his left arm and seizes the man’s shoulder, robbing him of any chance to escape. It was like watching a tractor beam grab a small asteroid and just stop it dead.”

“No way!” Abby exclaimed, her eyes wide in shock.

“Seriously,” Reli assures her friend, “At first I thought for sure his claws were going to tear into his flesh and was bracing myself for that, but he didn’t stab him with them. All he did was apply just enough pressure to keep a firm hold on him and nothing more. That man tore his own shoulder out of its socket trying to break loose before realizing that grip wasn’t every going anywhere until the Captain wanted it to.”

“Is that when the interrogation began?” the Vulcan inquired.

“In a manner of speaking,” the doctor shrugged her right shoulder a bit, “It was more like he just held the guy near his face and practically whispered the questions at him. His tone was so low and so deep I wasn’t even sure it was coming out of his mouth for a minute. And the first time, the man tried to lie to the Captain’s face. It was such a panicked lie I didn’t even have to try to dig into his mind to tell. When I told the Captain as much, he whipped his eyes back on this guy and I swear he lost almost all the pigment in his skin all at once. After maybe… two… three seconds tops of getting stared down by a none-too-happy Gorn, information just started spilling out of his mouth. He gave up the name of his boss, told him about their mysterious contact on the station, everything. Then when Capt. Gar’rath clued him in on the explosives in the cave structure, he made some comment about not being sure whether being buried alive was any better than being eaten. I almost burst out laughing when the Captain told him, point blank, that he didn’t even look remotely satisfying before having me put him back under.”

The two Humans at the table had been on the edge of their seats while listening to her recollection of events when she’d reach the ‘punchline’. Both of them burst into a fit of laughter, while the Vulcan at the table merely retained the signature arched eyebrow that usually accompanied something that their emotional peers found humorous and they did not.

“To be a fly on the wall,” Brian said between fits of laughter, “How did your staff handle that spectacle?”

“A few of them got a bit jumpy in the middle when the man tried to tear his own arm off, but overall I think they handled it pretty well. Most people have seen the Captain around the ship enough to be used to him being around, but I think sometimes we forget just how fearsome he looks to people who aren’t used to a two meter tall reptilian being among a Starfleet crew, never mind the Captain of one,” Reli remarked.

“That is a fair assessment, doctor,” Sorreth nodded, “It was difficult for me to accept the reality that we were to be led by someone of such a unique heritage. When I was first informed, I had anticipated a great deal of friction between his ideologies and what would generally be accepted as logical and prudent to us.”

“Did your hypothesis withstand the realities of your experience?” the scientist inquired with a smirk.

“No, Mister James, it did not,” the Vulcan responded, “The Captain has proven on more than one occasion to be an exceptionally logical creature. While I have not always agreed with every conclusion he has reached during his tenure aboard the ship, I have not been able to find any inherent flaw in his reasoning when he has chosen to share it with us. His ability to act in a manner devoid of emotion while still being an inherently emotional being is a commendable ability.”

“Of course a Vulcan would like how cold he can be,” Abby muttered, rolling her eyes.

Sorreth turned to face the XO, “On the contrary, Commander, I do not find the Captain to be… as you put it… ‘cold’ at all. While there have been examples of decisions being made in a methodical and purely logical manner, there are just as many examples of the Captain acting on instinct and feeling alone. I cite his decision to open fire on the vessel that threatened the ship with violence as an example of an emotionally motivated response. Putting aside the question of whether striking first was the logical approach, the fact that it was carried out with split second precision and ended what might have been a much longer and potentially hazardous exchange could only be carried out by someone who was capable of allowing their emotional state to influence their decision making. If what the Federation does know of the Gorn is to be believed, their territorial nature is based on emotion rather than logic. It was that emotion that is responsible for his rapid and unilateral response to the threat of violence against our ship, and not one made through the filter of cold logic.”

“Huh…” Peters muttered, giving serious thought to what he’d just said.

Brian leaned back in his chair, “So what you’re saying, basically, is that because the Captain sees this ship and everyone on it as his territory, the only people who have to worry about getting eaten or clawed to death are intruders.”

“It is a crass generalization, Lieutenant, but it is not completely incorrect.”

James nodded to himself, “That could be a good way to spin it for folks who aren’t sure about where they stand with our Captain.”

“I believe the Ferengi would call that a marketing strategy,” Sorreth remarked casually.

“But can you really market a person?” James said before cocking his head to the side in thought, “I suppose you can, actually. That’s what all those public relations people do for a living, isn’t it?”

“You know who would be great for running point on a public relations campaign for the Captain,” Reli said, turning her eyes on her friend sitting across from her. The other two officers joined her in it, causing Peters to slump forward with her head in her hands.

“Ugh…”

Two days travel had elapsed since the USS Century had wrapped up their investigation into several stolen cargo vessels. Most of the crew, with the sole exception of the security department, had returned to their usual duties and were mostly settled back into their routine. The added population of temporary prisoners were somewhat restless in their holding cells, but they presented the crew with no real problems in terms of violence or attempts to escape confinement. 

Sitting behind his desk, Captain Gar’rath went over the last few reports he needed to process prior to their arrival to Gateway Station. One such document was the final inventory of the cargo that they had recovered, as well as all the items their prisoners had been in possession of immediately following their capture. The operations department had consolidated everything into one large cargo container that they would be transporting to the station via a shuttlecraft once they arrived, given the inhibiting properties inherent in Chimerium. There was also the matter of ensuring that the prisoner transfer documents were correct, as well as the list of charges that had been assessed for their criminal activities in Federation controlled space. It was likely that the men who were wanted for murder would be extradited to other systems once they were processed aboard the starbase, but their fate was of little concern or consequence to Gar’rath once he’d relinquished custody.

The Gorn had just completed the task of transferring the required documents to a PaDD when the comm system in his Ready Room invaded the otherwise silent space.

“Bridge to Captain Gar’rath, we’ve entered Starbase 23’s control area and are in a parking orbit relative to the station,” the voice of Commander Peters echoed in the room.

“Understood. Have Lieutenant Khar begin moving the prisoners to the transporter rooms and instruct flight ops to arrange for delivery of the cargo. I will have the transfer paperwork ready in just a moment, and I will also depart for the station,” the Captain remarked as he finished the last batch of authorizations.

“I’ll relay your orders. Peters out.”

Gar’rath nodded to himself and finished the tasks he needed to before departing his Ready Room. Once aboard the turbolift that was positioned at the rear of the bridge along the same bulkhead as the office he’d just departed, the Gorn was carried swiftly down to deck 10, the closest cluster of transporters to the Brig. As he approached, the Captain could see several prisoners shuffling along flanked on all sides by armed security officers, with his Chief Security officer standing just outside the Transporter Room door.

“How is the transfer progressing, Lieutenant?” the Captain inquired, coming to a stop just next to the Klingon.

Lt. Khar glanced up at his commander with a stern look on his face, “This is the last batch. Once they are aboard the station, we shall have an empty Brig again.”

“Any issues?”

The Klingon shook his head, “None.”

“Excellent,” the Gorn said as he watched the last of the prisoners parade through the door of the transporter room. With a curt nod to the officers who had brought them, Gar’rath entered the compartment and watched as the last group of criminals de-materialized into a transport pattern haze.

“If you would accompany me, Lieutenant, we can make this transfer official,” Gar’rath said, waving the PaDD held in his left hand.

“After you, Captain,” Khar motioned toward the transporter pad. Gar’rath took the invitation and stepped up first, taking one of the six positions along the outer ring of the platform. Once Lt. Khar was also in place, the transporter operator activated the device and the world fizzled into a haze of bright white.

A second or so passed before the world dimmed back into the familiar shapes and colors of the material world, though their exact location had shifted from one transporter room to another much larger one. A Lieutenant Commander was standing just off the platform, clad in the same mustard color as his Security Chief. Gar’rath dismounted the platform and approached the man, extended the PaDD he was holding toward him.

“I have the transfer request, as well as the list of charges for each individual based on their involvement with the theft and attempted attack on our vessel,” the Gorn explained.

The man took the PaDD from the Captain and scanned the authentication codes to ensure they were valid. Once he was satisfied, he let his arm drop to his side and flashed the two an amiable smile.

“Quite the band of outlaws you’ve collected, Captain. It’s been a while since we had to take care of so many people from one incident,” the man remarked.

“It was preferable to leaving them on an outpost that was undermanned and unequipped to handle them,” Gar’rath responded, having taken his remark a bit more seriously than the man had intended it to sound.

“Of course, sir,” the man chuckled a little, “We’ll take care of things from here, don’t you worry.”

“We are also sending a shuttle over with the cargo that was stole. Given its unique properties, we were not able to send it via transporters,” the Captain continued.

“I’d heard something about them hijacking some kind of mineral that was dangerous if mishandled,” the officer responded.

“The shipment manifest is included on that PaDD,” the Gorn pointed out, “Along with an inventory of everything confiscated from the prisoners. Some of the items are illicit in nature and will likely have to remain impounded or destroyed, but there is a good number of personal items that can be returned in the batch.”

“We’ll see to it anything that can be returned is,” the security officer said.

“Will you be requiring anything further from us before we depart?” the Captain inquired.

The man looked over the documents he’d been handed one more time before shaking his head, “No, Captain. That looks to be everything we need to accept custody of the goods and personnel. But if something else does come up, the station will contact your ship. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Gar’rath nodded at the man and watched as he headed out of the door to the transporter room before remounting the pad and returning to his ship.