“You’ve…you can’t be serious.”  Captain Helena Dread stood in the briefing room of Station K34104.  Geronimo Fontana, her Task Force Commander, was on the screen.

“Needs must, Helena.  They’ve called for Crawford to be assigned, and I’m not able to stand in the way.  I’m not sure I’d want to at this point.  The Daedalus should arrive any moment with the command crew that’ll take the Olympic home.”

She was floored.  They were giving her command of the Rhode Island class ship.  Wren Walton on the Mackenzie had asked for more firepower, and this was their answer?  She sat down in one of the chairs.  “I don’t want command, Fontana.  I’ve been clear on that.”

Her TFCO understood.  “I suggested Halsey, but they want him in medical.  He was an Olympic captain, and they think he’s not suited to take the chair on a scout like Daedalus.”  She watched his face for any tell, but there was none.  At this moment, Fontana was the messenger.

She leaned back in the chair, “This isn’t going to be easy.”

His response irritated and comforted her, “If it were easy, everyone would do it.”

“Welcome aboard, Captain Dread.”  Captain Antonio Lars handed her a PADD, “These are your transfer orders.”  She accepted it.  It was standard stuff.  She signed it and handed it back.

“You are relieved, Captain Lars.”  She handed her PADD with transfer orders for him to the Olympic.

“I stand relieved.” He signed and repeated her line to him, “You are relieved, Captain Dread.”

She replied, “I stand relieved.  Safe travels, Captain.”  Lars stood at attention and stepped up to the transporter PADD, vanishing moments later.  Helena turned and headed through the door into the corridor.  The Rhode Island class was tiny compared to the Olympic.  Eight decks made for a small crew.  She’d earned the senior staff transfers and had been allowed a few officers and crew.  A total of one hundred souls were now under her command.  The turbolift doors opened, and she soon stood on the bridge.

They had completed a refit on her since her last captain and an Akira-style bridge had been installed in recognition of the sports car label the class had earned.  It was compact and simple.  She stubbornly walked to the center chair and tapped the console, “Computer, transfer command of USS Daedalus to Captain Helena Dread, DreadJunoOde3924.”  A beep and the computer confirmed command had been transferred.  Helena sat carefully in the chair.  It felt…she wasn’t sure what it felt like.  It didn’t feel natural, and she stood staring at the confounded chair.  She would get used to it, she told herself.

She would have to.

“Captain…Helena”  Ensign Alanna Barker stood before Captain Helena Dread.  The ready room was barren, a stark reminder of what was facing the crew.  A new ship, and a new captain.

Dread held up her hand, sipping at her first cup of coffee from the replicator.  She spat it out seconds later, “That is…awful coffee.  Make a note for Chief Greer.”  She sat back in her chair, “I know.  This is going to be a wild ride.  Walton is on her way over for a mission discussion.  You think she knows I’m unhappy about this?”

Barker restrained the smile she felt pulling at her lips.  What she knew of Wren Walton was limited.  What she did know was Walton knew how to read people.  “She might have a hint, sir.”  Dread groaned and then sat up as the door chime rang out, “I hate this.”

Barker gave her a nod, “You’ve made that clear.”  She stepped aside as the door opened, and Captain Wren Walton stepped into the ready room.  

Dread stood awkwardly, “Captain Walton.  Welcome to the Daedalus.”  She tried for a smile but, failing that, settled on a look of expectation.

Wren chuckled and slid into the seat across from her, “For a woman who’s been thrown into a position she’s fought most of her career, you’re taking it pretty well.” She angled her head to Barker, “Ensign Barker.  Good to see you.”  She returned to Dread, “You’re this squadron’s new deputy commanding officer…and we’re going to have to learn to be honest with each other.”

Helena hadn’t thought about her additional title.  She leaned into the honesty her new CO asked for, “I…uh…I’m not real happy about it, Captain Walton.”

“It’s Wren, Helena.  I’m not happy about it, either.  Crawford was a good captain and a good deputy commander.”  She sighed at the next admission, “He is also my boyfriend, which complicates things.  Or uncomplicates things.”  She rubbed her hands on her upper thighs.

Dread scoffed aloud and stared at her, “You…and Peter…” she thought back to when they would have meetings in his quarters and not in the briefing room.  “Well…congratulations…I suppose.”  A scowl was her answer, “You didn’t come over here to talk about your relationship status.  And I’m a captain of a ship.  Which means I need to ask you what you need me to do.”

Walton wasn’t sure what to think of Helena Dread as a captain.  Her ratings as a Chief Medical Officer and an Executive Officer were strong.  She’d never held the center chair.  “That would probably be a good bet.”  She slipped a PADD out and handed it over, “We’ve got information about Patra and his connection to the True Way.  The Daedalus is meant to get out and find out.”  She stepped over and replicated a cup of coffee.  She made it halfway into the sip and spit it back in the cup, “That’s…bad.  Like… really bad.”  She put the cup on an end table, “You’re being sent to check up on a mining operation that recently went silent in the Demilitarized zone.”

Helena read the order details.  This wasn’t a shakedown cruise.  This wasn’t even a first mission.  This was throwing them straight into the dust of Vulcan from Risa.  “It’s a crap trifecta.  True Way, Syndicate, and Patra.”  She leaned forward, “I may hate this and be morally opposed to the center chair…but I’ll find a way to make this work.”

Wren stood, “I hope your view of the chair changes, Helena.  I do.  There are few places in this universe like sitting in the center chair.  I’ll be in touch.”  The ready room door closed behind her.  Dread muttered, “I hope so, too.”

Sadie Fowler sat awkwardly at the science station on the bridge.  It was smaller.  It was much tighter than the bridge of the Mackenzie or the Olympic.  The consoles were newer, at least.  The other bridge staff slowly made their way onto the command center of the Daedalus.  It had come as a surprise to them when the orders quickly came through.  They had rushed to clear out their quarters on the Olympic, and goodbyes had been brief.  Now, they felt numb.  Captain Dread walked onto the bridge.  A voice called, “Captain on the…”, but the CO waved it off.

“I appreciate the intent…but we can put that back in the protocol book where it belongs.”  She stood next to the center chair, “Captain Crawford’s the one with the words…I’m not great with speeches.”  Dread looked around the bridge into the faces, all familiar but now different in how they viewed her.  “We’re all going to have to learn our way around this ship…and each other.  With 100 souls… we’ll all get to know each other very quickly.”  

She gently let her fingers touch the arm of the command chair, hoping to feel a connection to the chair.  Nothing.  “We’re not going to have time for social time.  We’ve been ordered to investigate a mining operation.  We’re to get in, find out what we can, and get out.  It’s five hours away, so we have time to get your teams together and determine what we know and need to know.”  She once more looked around the bridge, the looks on their faces giving her some confidence about what they were about to do.  She turned to the helm, “Set your course, Prentice…maximum warp.” She glanced back at the chair.  

She’d have to sit in it eventually.  

She gave the order, “Engage.”

“You’re not happy.”  Captain Leopold Halsey sat in his office in sickbay.  He’d looked up and found his new CO, Helena Dread, walking into his office.

“That’s putting it mildly.  I need an XO.”  She sat down with a heavy sigh, “And you’re my choice.”

He chuckled and smiled widely at her reaction.  It was somewhere between annoyed and bemused.  “Captain Dread…Helena.  I know they didn’t want me for the chair.  I know why.”  He shrugged, to her shock.  “ I just don’t care. You remember the first time we met?  My interview.  I thought was pretty clear.”  His smile remained in place, further irritating at the edges of her nerves.

“I do. But…I didn’t want this.  They know that.  I’ve always been clear.”  She blew out a raspberry of annoyance, “So my next best move is to make you XO so I can have someone there to tell me I’ve lost it and need to go to Risa for a few weeks.”

Halsey observed dryly, “You don’t strike me as someone who would enjoy Risa.”

She let the silence hold before she admitted, “You’re right. I hate it there.  Everyone thinks I’m a lunatic because I have such an aversion to it.”

“You have a lot of hate in you.”  He said it with a sly smile, and she rolled her eyes, and he chuckled, “I’ll accept the role of XO.  Jordan’s going to be unhappy.”  Helena’s face asked why, and he answered, “She’s been avoiding the chief position for a long time.  She’s content as deputy chief.”

“We could just keep you, Chief, and XO.  It’s a small ship.”

“It is, but small ships need working XOs just as much as the big ones…or the fat ones.”

Dread decided, “Let’s see how it goes.”

Suddenly, the voice of Presley Atega interrupted, “Captain to the bridge!”

Dread jumped from her chair and headed out the door and down the turbolift.  A moment later she stepped onto the bridge, “Report?”

Catari spoke from the tactical station, “Long-range sensors are picking up two ships on an intercept course for the mining operation.  One Syndicate, one True Way.  We’re fifteen minutes out, while they’re 45 minutes out.”

Helena stood before the center chair, her mind swirling with ideas, commands, and directions.  “Do we know if the mining site is functional?”

Sadie Fowler had been working at science, and the question had several answers – none that made sense.  “Captain, I’m reading…some kind of phasing?”  She tapped at the console, her concern growing at the familiar readings.  “I’m detecting similar frequencies to our previous encounter.”  She put the readings on the screen, “You can see the original sensor reports, and this one…”  Various gasps were heard around the bridge.

Dread frowned, her mind shifting into her comfortable place – analyzing.  “We think this could be more of the Borg experiments they worked on?  To what end?”  She turned to Fowler, “What about the conditions on the mining site?”  She had an idea, and it was as unsettling.

Fowler nodded as she began to understand.  The sensors returned to her request, and she replied, “Temperatures are cold enough. You’d need heavy clothing to walk around.  The mines and tunnels would be similar.  Unless they’re modified Borg…and who knows what they’ve done to them this time.”

Helena remained standing.  They would need to get closer to the operation and see what was happening.  “Prentice, plot us an intercept course with the mineral operation on the moon. Catari and Fowler – let’s see what we see.  Yellow alert.”  The Daedalus adjusted course nimbly as it flew towards the moon.  The lights on the small bridge faded to yellow as the shields snapped into place.  Dread watched the screen as it grew larger.

Sadie confirmed what she suspected, “I’m not reading any life signs aside from the Borg.  No traces of human or alien life signs.”  A heavy weight had settled into her stomach.  Whatever had happened to the people who had been forced to sacrifice in the name of twisted science at the hands of the Syndicate?

Catari had also completed her work, “Threat screens are clear, Captain.  No defensive or offensive weapons detected.”  She frowned, “I am detecting a power reading consistent with a weapons system, but I’m unable to pinpoint where it’s coming from.”

Prentice pointed to the screen, “That doesn’t look good.”  A green glow from the center of the area suddenly started glowing brighter as they approached.  He asked, “Orders, Captain?”

The CO felt the cold twanging of her nerves.  There was a choice to be made.  Stay and possibly get blown out of the sky, but get good intelligence.  Or…run away to live another day.  She’d studied her share of captains in the Academy.  The varying responses based on their personality, experience, and willingness to take risks had led to victory and disaster in equal measure.  She decided she wouldn’t risk 100 souls and a new shiny ship.  “Get us the hell out of here, Prentice…and fast.”

He agreed with her, “Yes, ma’am.”  The Chief Flight Officer slammed the Daedalus into a hard turn at full impulse, and the inertial dampeners held and didn’t even protest.  William Prentice smiled as the ship responded immediately to his touch.  It felt like the Raven Class USS Erigone, the first starship he’d piloted as an officer.  It also felt like he could push what he knew of the limits with starship piloting.  “I can put us behind the moon a system over…sensors should still pick up what we need.”

Dread fought the urge to sigh in relief out loud.  The mining site had a weapon that looked like Borg mixed with something else.  What was the Syndicate and The True Way up to out here?

She turned to the science chief, “Fowler – pull the data on whatever that weapon was and work with Catari.  I need to know what that is…and how much of a problem it will be.”  She turned to stare at the chair.  Still nothing.  She spotted Halsey standing in the back of the bridge; his brows furrowed as he motioned her towards the ready room.

“Tir, you have the CONN.”  She walked down the hallway to the ready room.  

The bridge officers eyed each other before Tir quietly rebuked them, “Steady on, everyone.  Let’s focus on the task at hand.”

“You want my advice?”  Captain Leopold Halsey sat on the couch in the ready room while his CO, Helena Dread, slowly paced before him.

Her brow was furrowed, and she wasn’t sure what she wanted.  The chair was her problem at the moment.  “Sitting in it feels like giving up.”  She threw up her hands in surrender, “And saying it out loud makes it sound even worse.”  She turned to him, “Sitting in that chair means I’ll never get out of it.  I will be stuck in it for the rest of my career.”  Dread threw herself down on the other side of the couch, covering her face with her hands, “This is not my brand or reputation.  Dread’s not afraid of anything.  She’ll take on anyone.  Except for that stupid goddamned chair.”

Halsey considered her reaction for a moment.  “Maybe that’s the problem, Helena.  You’re worried sitting in that chair will destroy what you’ve built for yourself.  There are days I look at your dossier and envy your path.”  He wasn’t lying.  She had climbed the ladder effectively.

She pulled her hands away and stared at him, “You sound a lot like my mother in her finer moments.”  She sighed, feeling the weight of those words lift from her shoulders and land somewhere else in her soul.  “She was a peach, that woman.  A rotted peach.”  She accepted a glass of water from Halsey, “You think I need to sit in that chair.”  She took a drink, feeling the coolness soothe her throat.

He shrugged from his place on the couch, “What I think isn’t important, at least right now.  What’s important here…is what you think.  I can tell you all day long what I think.”  He paused, “And I will do that…just not in this moment.”

She felt a smile on her lips, “You’re doing an awful lot of qualifying, Leopold.”

His eyes sparkled, “It’s Leo, but it’s nice to hear it in its full intensity.”  She rolled her eyes, and he laughed.  “Yes, you need to sit in that chair, Helena.  What do you think you need to do?”

She stood, smoothing her uniform, “I need to sit in that chair.”

The voice startled both of them, “Captain to the bridge!”

Dread walked out of her Ready Room, “Report.”  She moved to the center chair and remained standing.

Athena Catari spoke from the tactical station, “The two ships have entered the system.  They haven’t seen us.  Their weapons are hot, shields are up…and they are moving fast.”  She tapped at her console, her internal alarms increasing, “Fast was an understatement…they’re circling the moon and completing scans.”

Helena fiddled with her fingers.  They would only remain hidden for so long.  They could have taken one of the ships in a fight, but two were pushing it.  She asked Fowler, “Anything on the weapon?”  The clock at the front of the bridge clicked forward.”

“We think it’s a weapon designed to shut a ship down – power, shields, everything.  We also think some tractor beams were inlaid in the mine station somewhere.”

Dread shook her head, “Some kind of an assimilation weapon…or ship eater…and any proof is gone down its gullet.”

Catari shouted, “Captain, they’re coming our way. Intercept time is thirty seconds.”

Helena wasn’t about to try to play the hero, “Helm, engage intercept course for the Mackenzie, all available speed.”

The Daedalus dashed to warp in a flash.

At tactical, Athena Catari watched the threat screens carefully as the two ships fell slowly behind.  She reported as such.  The bridge crew relaxed, and Dread felt relieved at having put distance between them.  “Helm, let’s…”

Catari shook her head in astonishment, “Captain, we’ve got a new contact, identified as a medium Syndicate ship on a direct intercept course.”  She worked the sensors at her station, her heart rushing.  “They’re thirty minutes out…we’ll meet them here.” She put the sector map on the screen, “The other ships are returning to the mining operation.”  Athena knew herself.  She was a competent tactical officer.  She had been thrilled to move to the better-armed Daedalus.  She realized she was about to find out how good she was at her job.

Captain Dread remained standing in front of the command chair, her hands at her side as she fiddled with her fingers.  This was akin to the dreaded ‘No Win Scenario’ command officers trained in repeatedly.  Endless discussions were had between COs and XOs about how they would handle such scenarios.  She was now party to the hard decisions.  “Ensign Catari, how do we rate compared to them?”

She answered, “She’s a medium-sized ship, but we’ve got them in weapons and maneuverability.  It’s an even fight, almost.  Tactical evaluation suggests a ‘running and gunning’ offense.”  She didn’t add that she was ready to start firing weapons for the first time in her Starfleet career.  The Olympic had phasers; they’d never used them when she came aboard after graduation.

Helena shifted her attention to her Chief Flight Officer, William Prentice.  His file was filled with notices and notes from his academy career.  She had to give credit to the former Ambrose Harris.  Prentice had come aboard the Erigone undisciplined.  He’d left the Mackenzie an officer capable of maturity and learning.  “Prentice?”

He smiled slyly, “Sir, the Rhode Island class can run and gun with the best of them.”

Dread kept her lips straight and her eyes severe, “I didn’t ask about the class.  I asked about you, Lieutenant.”  She reminded herself that flyboys would always be flyboys.

His face reddened slightly, “Sorry, sir.  I can make the Daedalus fly like a leaf on the wind.”

Helena accepted his answer, “Well, we might be getting ourselves into a hurricane, so maybe strap onto that leaf.” She took a few slow breaths before she spoke, “We’re going to take them on.  Reede, update the Mackenzie.  Red Alert.  Report to battle stations.”

The lights dimmed to a ruby red as the klaxon loudly announced the status change.  Officers and crew scrambled to figure out their red alert station and where they would be for battle stations.  They had been onboard the Daedalus for mere hours.  There hadn’t been time.

On the bridge, Dread watched as the disoriented movement played out, doing best to remain calm.  Most of her bridge crew had come from the Mackenzie.  This wasn’t their first fight in space.  A few minutes later, Halsey reported from his XO station in the back of the bridge that all departments had found their way.  She turned to the screen, “Updated time to intercept?”  Fifteen minutes was the answer.  Fifteen minutes until they would find out what they could do when given the keys to the bright red sportscar.

She paced in front of the chair, touching it lightly.  A spark of energy jumped through her hands, eliciting a smile from Dread.  She quietly sat down in the center chair.  It felt right, at least.  “Count us down in increments of five minutes.”

Now, the waiting began.

The Daedalus dropped from warp, and Ensign Athena announced the Syndicate ship was thirty seconds away.  Dread remained in her chair.  There was a sense of order from where she sat.  The bridge of the Daedalus had gone through a fresh refit, and it was small but expansive.  Her chair sat towards the back of the bridge and allowed her to see most of it.  The red alert Klaxon was subdued.  Helena leaned forward as the clock below the view screen clicked forward.

“15 seconds.”

Dread ordered, “Activate safety restraints.”  They clicked into place as the clock ticked and tocked until Athena confirmed the ship had entered the system and was headed their way.  Helena watched the ship as it veered towards them, “Atega, hail them.”  Atega went through the process of sending the signal to the ship.  It grew closer.  She shook her head. No response.  “Helm, prepare for evasive maneuvers.  Tactical – engage on my order.”  She was determined that she would play by the book in her first fight as Captain.

Atega broke her focus, “Captain, they’re responding.”  As her captain glanced at her, she returned the same confused look.  She wasn’t sure what was going on.

Dread raised both her eyebrows and then frowned.  “What are the hell are they up to?  Are we alone?”  Athena checked the short and long-range sensors and confirmed they were alone.  “Well, that’s new.  They want to talk; let’s talk.  Be ready to get fancy if they pull something cute.”  She sat straight in the chair and glared ahead, “On screen.”

The face of an Orion appeared, and he was glaring at the screen.  He huffed, “You are ordered to stand down, heave to, and prepare to be boarded for inspection of improper possession of data.”  He glanced at his right manicured hand, “You are so ordered.”

Helena’s frown deepened as her annoyance skyrocketed like a mad torpedo, “I’m sorry…allow me to introduce myself…I’m Captain Helena Dread of the Federation Starship Daedalus.  You are?”

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter.  Do what you’re told, and we’ll do our best not to scratch the paint.”  He turned to his other hand, clicking his tongue in disappointment at their condition.

Dread turned to Atega, “Mute him.  Now.”  She stared at the indifferent Orion and asked the bridge, “What is happening?”  She was at a loss. The Rhode Island class starship wasn’t a lightweight; enough of them had punched around Syndicate ships, and they’d built a reputation.

Athena turned in her chair at the front of the bridge, “They don’t have a record of you, sir.”  As Dread raised her eyebrows, she explained, “They don’t know you as a captain.  They probably know that you just took command, and your history in command is spotty.  Syndicate captains are known for their arrogance and hubris.  Much of it is earned…but…this one seems more aloof than most.”

Next to her, Prentice turned to offer, “It’s almost as if he doesn’t care, sir.  As if you’re the least threatening thing…sir.  Not that that’s…”

Dread waved him off, “No need to dig yourself a hole to engineering, Prentice.”  His face reddened for the second time today as she looked at the bored face of her antagonist and chuckled, “You know…I wasn’t a fan of taking command of the Daedalus…but I’m coming around.  Maybe it’s time we all try her on for size.  Atega.”  The channel’s sound returned.

“You’ve had time to discuss my offer, Captain Dread.  Your response?”

She scowled, and she could see the Orion was confused at her response.  “My response is…I had a nickname back when I was a cadet.  You know what it was?”  Her anger was burning in her gut, eyes ablaze with a renewed fury.

Impatiently, he raised his hands, “Does it have anything to do with your surrender?”  She noticed he was starting to pay her a little more attention despite the act he was giving.

“It was Hell on Wheels.  Eventually, it got shortened to Hella.  With respect, your offer is refused.  Disrespectfully, go to hell.”  She watched his face, and his facade failed as he sputtered momentarily.

His eyes shined with a renewed rage, and he snarled his final line, “I’ll bring the hell to you, Captain.”

Dread ordered, “Evasive maneuvers!”

The Daedalus slammed into a dive, avoiding the barrage of blaster fire from the Syndicate ship.  At the front of the bridge, Lieutenant Prentice and Ensign Athena were navigating how to work together in an active battle.  It had been wholly different on the Olympic.  The Bajoran had primarily been responsible for security, and Prentice had managed the helm of the medical ship and the various shuttles and runabouts.

Athena huffed, “Get me in range, Prentice.”  She was relying on the phasers to soften up the attacking ship.  She’d trained in simulators and on ships at the academy.  That was different.  The Rhode Island class was a mad hatter compared to the ships she’d learned on.  The speed at which she flew and the turns she could make were astounding.

At the helm, William Prentice was having the time of his life.  He hadn’t flown anything this fast or this nimble since the Raven Class Erigone.  It was a sensation of pure joy to tap the helm controls and have them immediately respond.  The Daedalus had moves.  “Understood,” He pushed the impulse engines, turned hard away from a crash of plasma fire, and then threw the ship back towards the attacking Syndicate ship.

The tactical chief let loose her fire and watched with satisfaction the impact on the Syndicate ship.  She focused on her attack with the eleven phaser arrays across the ship.  “Syndicate shields are at 75%.”  The bridge shook slightly as the attacks from the enemy hit against the shields of the Daedalus.

Tir spoke up from operations, “Our shields are at 80% – engineering reports some power issues, but they’re identifying.”  He tapped at his console, “Sickbay reports two minor injuries.”  The deck shuddered more this time, and he updated, “Shields at 75%.”

Dread tapped at the consoles on the arms of her chair, “They’re figuring us out.  Ensign Athena, we need to mix it up to throw them off.”  She trusted each of them in the midst of the chaotic attack.  The Bajoran Tactical Chief was the newest officer, and her learning curve would be much shorter than the others had in their previous postings.

“Aye, sir.”  She tapped at her console, searching for something she hadn’t tried.  Some were familiar, and others were unknown to her.  She chided herself for not having done enough work to be ready while she had languished on the Olympic.  She picked several fresh routines and went to work with Prentice, giving him an apologetic look as she flew from move to move.  They had to work together to coordinate his movements and her attacks.  It was still chaos between them, and she knew he would probably yell at her after this.

Helena watched as the attack intensified with Ensign Athena’s renewed challenge.  She unconsciously gripped the arms of her chair as the Daedalus rocked under more heavy fire.  The lights flickered slightly.  She looked to Tir, who reported, “Shields at 70% – some damage to power operations.”  His hands constantly moved across his console, the entirety of the ship and her departments under his purview.  His symbiote helped organize the flow of information coming from the console and screens.

A shout from Ensign Athena, “Phasers have cut through the rear shielding.  Permission to target engines, sir?” Dread moved to confirm when suddenly the Syndicate ship jumped to warp.  She was gone.  “Tracking her course…she’s headed back towards the mining operation, Captain.  I suspect she intends to bring reinforcements.”

Dread scoffed, “We’re not sticking around to find out.  Put us back on the intercept course with Mackenzie.  They come wolf pack hunting for us, and they’ll have to answer to her.  Get us on our way, Prentice.”

“How bad is it?” Dread had come to main engineering and was kneeling beside the prone body of Chief Engineer Lieutenant Moore, who was inside a Jefferies tube, cursing up a storm.  She had worked little with Moore on the Olympic.  She had some work to do in their relationship.

Greer Moore groused from within the tube, “It’s damned peculiar.  I think whoever was chief engineer before just missed it.  The EPS conduits are fairly new and upgraded – she’s a sportscar with legs.  She’s supposed to move and shake with the best of them.  Somehow, some old bits and pieces ended up in them…and they nearly wreaked havoc on our lady.  Thankfully, we spotted the surges before they could really do the damage.”  The chief pulled herself out and up, her hands caked with dirt, dust, and whatever else she’d been into, “We’ll make the adjustments on our way back to Mackenzie.  I’ll have Miados triple-check to ensure I didn’t miss anything.”  She glanced around the small engine room, “She’s a beautiful lady, Captain Dread.  I appreciate you bringing me along for the ride.”

“I don’t understand most of what goes into this, Lieutenant Moore…I’m glad to have you.”

Greer smiled, “Call me Chief or Chief Moore, sir.”  She held her dirty hands, “I won’t shake your hand, sir…but thank you for coming down here.”

Dread gave her a nod, “Keep our lady running and together, Chief…and we’ll get along just fine.”  She headed back to the bridge.

Greer smiled, “I like this one.”

Halsey looked up from the center chair and stood as Dread returned to the bridge.  He glanced at her and then at the chairs that had held Prentice and Athena but now were filled with junior officers.  He warned her, “They’re in the conference room.”  His eyes asked her what she wanted him to do.

She replied, “Time to start earning that XO title, Captain Halsey.”  He nodded and walked out of the bridge and down the short hallway to the conference room, pushing through the door.

Prentice was in full shouting mode, “You gotta be shitting me, Athena!  You didn’t study a damn…oh, hello Doct…Captain Halsey.”  His face bloomed red, and he went silent.  Ensign Athena was on the other end of the table, her face hot with emotion and her hands balled in tight fists.  Her eyes spun to Halsey, going wide with terror.

“Mr. Prentice.  Ms. Athena.”  He pointed to two chairs on opposing sides of the table, “Sit.”  They sat.  He stood, “Mr Prentice – you wanna use language like that against a fellow officer, you do it outside that uniform.”

Will replied, kowtowed, “Yes, sir.”  He felt like an idiot and a fool.

“Ms. Athena, you will spend your off time, rest time, and any time not in battle studying up on tactical operations, maneuvers, management, and collaboration with the navigational officer and station.”

She gave a resigned nod, “Yes, sir.”  She had been exposed as incapable.  She was writing her resignation letter in her head as she sat, sinking into her embarrassing failure.

Halsey sat at the head of the table and spoke to both of them, “I’ve learned what I’m good at and not so great at.  I’m an OK to good captain.  But I’m a great XO.”  He gestured to both of them, “We’re going to meet every few days together.  I will ask you how your work is going and how you’re working together to be better at working together.”

Prentice offered, “That’s a lot of together, sir.”

Leopold observed, “There’s a hundred people on this ship, Prentice.  We will either be the best we can be as a crew, or I will end up refereeing a fight club in Engineering.  Which do you think I’m leaning towards?”

Athena answered, “Crew, sir.”

He stood, “It’s Doc or Doc Halsey.”  He pointed at each of them, “You both are capable.  Dread wouldn’t have kept you on if she hadn’t thought you were the best choice for the gig.  Prove her right.”  We’ll meet tomorrow at 0700 hours in my office. Don’t be late.”  He left the room.

Prentice offered, “I’m sorry, Athena.”

She leaned back in her chair, “Apology accepted.  I’m going to get better at this.  I promise you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Ensign.”

“And I’m going to hold you to not cursing up a storm at me.”

“That’s fair.”

Captain Wren Walton was on the viewscreen, her bridge a hive of activity, “Good to see you, Daedalus.  We’re sending you a track and prediction for the ship with their people.  Find them and get them back.  You are authorized to use force if needed, but the safety and health of those hostages come first.”

Dread replied, “We’re on our way.” The channel closed, “Prentice – plot intercept course and redline the engines.  Athena and Fowler – find us that ship.”

Ensign Athena left her station and pulled up next to Lieutenant Fowler.  They had been cordial since they’d picked up Baron Niner on the Olympic.  She had meant to try and settle the canyon that existed between them, but the time kept getting away from her.   Her view of the former Borg drone remained where it had been the day they found him last month.  He was a security risk.  There was no time to try and tend to the irritating wounds they’d given each other.  They needed to find the ship that had taken the hostages.  Athena slipped out her PADD, “The readings on the warp core are unique…like it’s specific to that type of ship?”

With hands dancing across the console, Fowler was ahead of her, “It’s a Stelara Mark32—an older model.  I spent time at Harris Transport listening to many excited engineers who were happy to have someone to talk to about all their research.”  She watched the screen as she manipulated the readings, “They made a lot of them, but there was a problem.  They have an off-again-on-again ionic leak that likes to act up every so often.”  Memories of the gathered group of men and women in the hangar in Montana as they told the story warmed her heart.  She blinked back the emotion connected to the time spent with them, “The Syndicate was an early adopter.  It’s a whole story.”  She worked the sensors a little more and exclaimed, “Got you, you little bugger.”

The Bajoran watched in wonder as the science chief plied her trade.  She looked young to an outsider, but she’d read the dossier. She had come aboard on the Edinburgh with Commander Harris and had been with much of the same crew to the Mackenzie, to the Olympic, and now the Daedalus.  She’d proven her worth several times over.  “We have a way of tracking the ship,” Athena noted.  The ionic readings gave them a clear path.  She pointed at where the ship seemed to be heading, “That’s…different.”

Fowler turned her attention back to the screen.  It was a planet off the beaten path, an aging tropical planet with volcanos that had recently begun to shake the planet through severe earthquakes.  She reworked the sensors as her eyes traced the path, and she began to suspect there was a story.  A science ship would eventually be dispatched, which was probably months away.  There was no sentient life on the planet.  It would be left alone.  She whispered to herself, “Months…hidden away.” She turned to Athena, a new energy driving her, “Follow me on this.”  She explained her thinking step by step, and the tactical officer nodded as the explanation finished.

Athena hypothesized, “It’s the near-perfect cover.  What if this planet is a gathering point?  Or the gathering point?”

Sadie chewed her bottom lip.  They were going to need to put eyes on the planet.  They risked exposing themselves if the Daedalus showed up in all her glory.  She was small, but Syndicate ships made it a habit to keep an eye out for Federation ships.  She turned to Captain Dread, “I have a plan.”  

As she explained, Athena interrupted, “You can’t go in there without a tactical officer.  Someone’s gotta back you up.”

The science chief gave her a cautious look, “You volunteering?”

In the short, awkward silence, Captain Dread answered, “I’ll make it an order.  Get your shuttle prepped and modified. Let’s get our people back.”

“You don’t think it’s a bit…of a bad idea to name a shuttle Icarus?”  Athena wondered aloud as she sat on the right side of the shuttle as they sped towards the mysterious planet that had the answer to some of their questions.  The Daedalus would watch them from a distance.

At the helm, Sadie Fowler kept her eye on the sensors as they drew closer to the intercept point.  She was adjacently aware of the ancient Icarus story.  She didn’t subscribe to the idea that the names of ships portended their future or their end.  “No, I don’t.  I think it’s…,” Fowler realized whatever she said would be run through the filter of their relationship.  She landed on “…an interesting thing to believe in stuff like that.”  She smiled weakly at the stare of annoyance from her fellow officer.  “That didn’t come out any better than what I was going to say, did it?”

The tactical officer scoffed, “No, it did not.”  She checked the console and changed the subject, “We’re nearing the drop point.”

Sadie brought the shuttle out of warp and angled them toward the pockmarked moon that was far from the planet.  “Powering down non-essential systems.”  The lights dimmed, and the cabin cooled as the signal presence of the shuttle was minimized.  They had examined the system and found the moon was close enough to allow for passive scans and far enough away to resemble nothing more than a meaningless blip on routine sensor sweeps.

Athena spoke up, “Reading one small Syndicate signal on the plan…holy shit.  Look!”  They both glanced up.  The volcanos that had previously been three of four on the planet’s surface were pervasive across most of the planetoid.  Most of the topical features had been seared away, and the raging fires of lava now covered much of the surface.  The Bajoran officer scrambled to use the passive sensors and her eyes to understand better while Fowler carefully navigated the shuttle to land gently on the grey and listless moon.  The silence was held in the cockpit for several minutes until Athena could cobble together a report, “There’s a small section of the planet that’s livable, and that’s where the Syndicate ship is holding.  I’m guessing they’re underground.  We’d have to get active with sensors to know more.”

Fowler took the data the ensign had mined and fed it through her science console.  There was plenty of data to be examined.  She furrowed her grow, her mind searching the data for indicators of what was coming next with the eruptive cycle.  Every planet had a different rhythm as to how it moved and shook, yet there were core principles that guided the study overall. Given how quickly the eruption spread had shifted across the globe, she was worried.  There were Syndicate scientists, some of whom had done incredible work for the universe over the years.

She didn’t think this group intended to do any incredible work for anybody but themselves and Patra. She relayed her report and worries to Athena, who replied, “If this thing is moving as quickly as you say it is…they might not have the time they think they do.”

Sadie deliberated. She was the ranking officer on the mission.  Time was not on their side.  One more look at the sensors.  “Shit.  We’re going to have to take the risk.  Let the Daedulus know we’re making a move.”  The engines responded as she threw the shuttle into a hard climb and aimed them on an intercept course for the ship’s location.

The shuttle slid to a halt on the rough clay.  Fowler jumped out of the opening hatch in the rear, a phaser pistol in one hand and tricorder in the other.  Athena’s annoyed voice was shouting behind her, and she soon stood beside the impatient science officer. “Just what in the hell is wrong with you?”  She checked her phaser rifle while she dressed down her superior officer.  “I’m here for a reason, Lieutenant Fowler.  Your safety is my job.”

Fowler was tempted to ignore the security chief.  They needed to find the hostages, and they needed to find them soon.  The ground rumbled gently and shook hard as the rumbling boomed from the depths.  They both fell to the ground with a grunt and picked themselves up as the shaking subsided.  Sadie conceded, “I…may need your help.”  Athena ‘harrumphed’ and carefully led the way into the mouth of the cave.  They went down and around until they reached a large room.  Five bodies lay on the ground in the middle of the room, unmoving.

Sadie instinctively ran ahead, and Athena shouted as she ran after her.  Suddenly, the entrance behind them exploded in a rain of fire, smoke, and debris.  The Bajoran pulled herself up and looked back at the blocked entrance.  She checked the Science Chief, who rolled over and looked back at the wall of clay that prevented them from leaving through conventional means.  Athena stared at her accusingly, “So help me…if we can’t transport out of here, I’m going to throw you under the shuttle.”

Groaning, Fowler stood and dusted off her uniform.  She didn’t respond and instead shambled over to check on the hostages; a quick scan, and she reported, “They’re alive..but we need to get them back to the shuttle.”  She tapped at the tricorder, “We’re still in range.”  She smiled wearily, aware that she hadn’t done much to improve her relationship or standing with Ensign Catari.  She tagged each hostage and worked through the PADD to connect to the shuttle.  She handed it apologetically to Athena, who snatched it away with a huff.

“We’re going to have a lot to talk about when we get back to the Daedalus, Lieutenant Fowler.”  She tapped the energize key, and the white light spun up and picked them up.

Fowler opened her eyes and panicked.  She wasn’t back on the shuttle.  She was inside the cargo hold of a transport ship. A middle-aged woman stepped out from behind a stack of crates with a blaster rifle, her eyes drilling holes into Fowler.  She snarled, “You’re not Carolyn Crawford.”  She sighed, charged the rifle, and fired.

The world was hazy and hurt like hell.  Sadie Fowler pulled her head up, and her senses began to return.  The room smelled rank as if death had stayed over a few nights too many.  She blinked to clear her vision, feeling the ache of a stun injury.  Somehow, she hadn’t made it to the Icarus shuttle transporter.

“Where the hell is Carolyn Crawford?”  The voice came from the left, and a hard punch followed it, sending stars around Fowler’s vision as she remained strapped tightly into the chair.  The sharp pain blossomed into a thunderously dull pain.

Fowler cried out, “I don’t know!”  She was starting to put together what had happened.  Somehow, the doppelganger to the Carolyn she knew had thought Sadie was Carolyn, subverted the transporter connection, and been ready to do…whatever she was going to do to the real Carolyn.  Sadie began to pull herself together.

“Patra said she would be here.”  Alternate Carolyn was older and more worn.  Her face was marked with scars, and her eyes were a window into a tortured soul.  The science chief knew the life of the mirror universe was a terrible place and had read enough reports on the interactions with it to know the woman that paced before her now was more likely to kill her than let her live.  The only thing that might save her is the real Carolyn Crawford alive and on the Mackenzie, wherever she was.  Alt Carolyn was still talking about Patra, “He doesn’t lie.  His plans are perfect.”  She advanced on Fowler, “She’s not dead…I would know it!”  Her left half dug a deep slap across Fowler’s face, shocking the young woman out of her mild stupor.  “Tell me where she is, or I will make the hurt deeper than you can imagine.”

Sadie tried to get her breathing under control as she stared at the hulking mess that was alt Carolyn Crawford.  The woman’s eyes burned with an intensity that plucked at Sadie’s nerves.  Her mouth was shaped by rage in a sour frown.  The woman was scary.  Fowler sensed the woman would find her doppelganger eventually.  She was tenacious and terrifying.  Fowler groaned as the shock wore off, and the pain shot from all corners of her body. “She’s on the Mackenzie.  And no, I don’t know where she’s at.”

Alt Crawford’s response was a menacing smile, “I’ll find her.  And you’ll help me get so close to her.  Close enough to cut the life out of her.”

Fowler shook her head, gagging on the imagery the woman described, “That’ll be the day.”

Carolyn’s reply was a hard punch to the gut and a hard elbow punch to the head.  As her victim sputtered and moaned in the resulting pain, she cackled, “Life and death can be such wonderful motivators.  You’ll do it.  And we’ll both get to watch her die.”  She spat on Fowler and walked up the stairs and around the corner to the cockpit of her ship.

Sadie stifled her cries of pain.  She glanced at her uniform.  Her badge was still there.  Why hadn’t alt Carolyn removed it?  She looked around the room cautiously, playing as if she was stretching her head and neck against the pain.  She couldn’t see any cameras.  Didn’t Crawford know how communicators worked in this day and age?  If her hands had been free, she should have smacked her head.  Alt Crawford was from a time and place when communicators were advanced but not 2401 advanced.  She fought the urge to smile and spoke quietly to her badge.

“Where did she go?”  Captain Helena Dread was in shock.  Her tactical and security chief had informed her that Sadie Fowler had not returned to the shuttle via the transporter.  Someone’s transporter system had picked her up, and Ensign Athena was doing everything she could to figure out who.

“Unknown.  I’ve stabilized the five hostages…but I think they were artificially sedated.”  She tapped at the console in the cockpit, sending the results of the preliminary workup.

On the screen, Helena read through the notes and reports, “Your theory is probably right.  This was a trap.  We were so worried about the hostages we rushed to save them…and in the end, fell right into their plans.”  She hit the arm of her chair in frustration.

Athena began plotting a course back to Daedalus when she thought, “Captain…if we hadn’t been reassigned to the new ship…the Mackenzie would have been sent here eventually.  Prentice said it – they don’t know you or the ship.  They would have expected Captain Walton and her team here.”

Dread appeared lost in thought until her eyes brightened at a realization, “Carolyn Crawford is on the Mackenzie.  You think this was a play to get her?”  She motioned to someone off-screen and accepted a tossed PADD.

Athena was about to respond when suddenly the Syndicate ship raced from within the planet’s atmosphere and immediately went to warp, leaving the shuttle in the system again.  A tap or two at the console, she felt some relief, “Captain, Fowler is on the Syndicate ship.  She just flew past me.  She’s moving quickly towards…course projected is for the Mackenzie.”

Helena snapped her fingers, “That’s as much of a confirmation as we’re going to get.  Bring your passengers home.  We’ll alert Mackenzie and head her way.  Keep an eye out there – Patra’s just getting started.”  The channel closed on the bridge of the Daedalus, and Dread moved quickly, “Prentice, with me in my ready room.”  

He glanced up as his deputy chief appeared on the bridge.  His confused look was replaced with a knowing understanding.  She wanted him off the bridge.  He followed her into her ready room, “Captain, I…”

She waved dismissively at him, “Sit down on the couch, William.”  He felt as if his mother was yelling at him, but he didn’t protest and sat on the couch as ordered.  Captain Dread rattled around in what looked like a mini fridge and tossed him a cold can of something, which he caught.  

He looked at the label, “Root Beer?”

She snagged a can of her own, “It’s a recent addiction.  Also, we’re still fighting with the replicator with coffee.”  She slid onto the opposite side of the couch as the stars streamed by behind them.  She popped her top and took a long swig, exhaling in satisfaction.  She watched as Prentice opened the can and hesitantly took a drink, his eyes wide at the flavor explosion.

“That’s…that’s amazing, Captain.”  He turned the label around, “Morgan Mustangs Soda.  Never heard of them.”  He sat back and asked, “Why am I here, Captain?”

She took another sip, relishing the flavor.  “You are here because your girlfriend’s been kidnapped by the other Carolyn Crawford…and I don’t know much about commanding a starship beyond what I learned in class and simulations…but I don’t think it’s a good idea to put an angry, vengeful boyfriend at the helm of our brand-new ship.”

He blinked twice before his face reddened with a mix of embarrassment and anger.  “I am starting to get a little pissed about the situation.”  The door to the ready room and Chief Counselor Milton Ford walked in.  Prentice rolled his eyes and turned to Dread, “Captain…I…”

She stood from the couch, “You’re off duty until we get her back, William.  It’s for your good and ours – we’re getting her back.  Your heart will be fighting with your duty and responsibility… I’m not willing to put you through that.”  She gave Ford a nod and left the ready room.

Ford grabbed a soda from the minifridge and sat on the couch’s end, taking a sip from the can.  He remarked, “These are really good, aren’t they?”

The modified transport ship Hound had been her home since her escape with Patra in April.  Since then, they had grown close as they planned the revenge tour.  She trusted him through their shared exploits and desire for the future.  In less than five minutes, her eyes had been opened.  The last four months were suddenly in question.  She had sat Rigilia down for a long conversation as they traveled at warp speed.  He had spoken at length about how Patra had done the same with him - their interests aligned, so he brought in what he thought was a legend.

“It has been a nightmare.  He's taken what was once a strong part of the Syndicate and begun to make it his own.  Some have tried challenging him…, but they die at his hand.  The rest of us…we've been waiting and plotting. He is old and confident.  I will contact my friends and see what to arrange when we arrive.  There may be fighting.”

She had smiled in her maniac style then, and the smile remained on her face as she piloted the ship closer and closer to the headquarters inside a large asteroid.  She had suffered in the Federation high-security prison for too long to let some has-been ripping her dreams of revenge from her.  Murder was her song, and violence was the orchestra that sang within her.  The Hound dropped from warp and swung around to the hidden entrance.

The door to the administration building was open, and it was the first odd thing she noted as they stepped off the ship and onto the bay floor.  Rigilia gave her a curt nod.  Their allies were moving and had cleared the way.  He tapped his blaster and unhooked the holster strap.  Caution was still the game to be played.  She rested her hands on her twin phaser pistols as she walked, her eyes and ears tuning into the world around her.  As they turned down hallways on their way to the throne room, the evidence of quiet violence was seen in the traces of blood in corners and the smell of small arms fire.  Closer and closer, they came until Rigiliia held up his fist.  There were sounds ahead.  Carefully, they inched forward.

“…you hear back from 47?  He's not responding.”  The tall Romulan tapped at his communication unit, “These things are useless down here.  Half the time, they don't work.”  He blew out a raspberry, annoyed.

The shorter human shook his head, worried, “I lost contact with 72, and it's showing his channel is actually dead.” He looked around, alarmed, “When was the last time the walking patrol came through?”  His answer was a shrug, and the human's voice began to panic, “I think we have a problem.”  His hands were visibly shaking as he struggled with his device.

“You don't have a problem…anymore.”  Crawford stepped out of the shadows and cut them down.  They dropped to the ground with a sigh, and then…nothing.  She kicked them both to make sure they were dead.  And shot them both again to be sure.  She started off down the last hallway to the massive throne room doors.  She wondered how he would receive them both and if he would realize something was wrong.  Or would he carry on as if nothing really had happened?

The doors stood closed, and the guards that were usually standing in place were gone.  Rigilia shrugged and pushed at the door. It opened with a groan and swung slowly wide to reveal Patra at the console in the middle of the room, his eyes searching the holo display for something, his brows furrowed.  He glanced up to see who it was.  Rigilia didn't catch it, but Carolyn did.  His mask dropped for just a moment.  It was long enough for Crawford.

He gave them both a nod, “Welcome back.  You have news, I suppose?”  He was the usual affable menace, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he met Crawford's gaze.  The more she stared at him, the more his face seemed to steel itself for whatever was coming.

Carolyn narrowed her eyes and glanced around the room, “Your usual honor guard isn't here, Supreme Commander.”  She stepped forward a few feet, her hands dangling near her pistols.

The old Romulan's smile had faded.  The pretense was gone, and with it, the subtly of the moment.  “They were required to deal with…something.”  His head turned to Rigilia, “I suppose that was your doing.”

The younger Romulan shrugged, “You couldn't think you could try and make us anything but what we truly were.  Syndicate soldiers and operators.”  He stepped to the side of Crawford.

Patra growled, “I wanted more for you.  Your…piddling little operation wasn't getting the job done.  You have to admit, profits and reputation grew during my time.”  He looked around the room and sighed, “I suppose you want an explanation.”

Crawford stepped forward, “No.”  And fired.

Patra shouted in surprise as the low stun blast hit him, sending him to the ground, groaning in pain.  She stalked forward and kicked him in the stomach, “I want you to die knowing you could have lived if you'd not tossed us aside like toys.”  She kicked him, this time with a swift right boot into his head.  He screamed in pain, gripping his head.  She knelt down beside him, “You are old, Patra.  You thought you could toss someone like me away and hope I'd die quietly…or run away embarrassed at my failure.”  She forcefully rolled him over, setting her knee hard in his chest, “You've never met someone like me, Patra.  I come from a place that'd chew you up, swallow you, and burn you up in their insides.”  She grabbed her pistol and forced it into his mouth as his eyes went wide in realization.  “I'm taking over.  Your services are no longer needed.  As a favor to the Federation, I'm turning your body over to them.”  He fought to dislodge her, but she only pressed harder, his eyes glittering as she slipped her finger on the trigger.  She smiled, “No last words for you.”

And fired.

“You're really going to send his body to them, Crawford?”  Rigilia sat at the table, enjoying a real meal for the first time in what felt like weeks.  The burnt husk that was once Patra lay where it had fallen.

Crawford gave a nod.  “They deserve to know he's finally off the board.”  She sipped at the drink, relishing the burn in her throat and the warmth it brought her.  “I need a new name.  Carolyn just…doesn't fit.” She thought momentarily and picked up a device to do a surface search for names.  For some reason, she found Patra had a unique collection of Greek and Celtic texts. “Man loved mythology; I'll grant him that.”  She found a list of names, and she found her choice near the middle.  “Pandora, a woman who unleashed evil into the world in Greek mythology.”  She turned to Rigilia, “Pandora Crawford, unleasher of evil.”

He wondered what he had gotten himself into and asked, “Dare I ask what your last name means?”

She knew what it meant in her universe but wasn't sure it carried over. She did a quick search and chuckled darkly, “It's Gaelic.  Means a crossing of blood.”  She smiled as she stood, "Let's make good on my new name.  Get those who are loyal together…and let's clean the rest of this house, shall we?

“She’s going to need time, Will.”  Captain Leopold Halsey sat in his office with William Prentice opposite him.  The Mackenzie had met up with them and transferred Sadie Fowler.  She was now resting in an intensive care biobed on the other side of the sickbay.  “You’re going to have to be more of a support than you’ve ever been…making sure she follows the treatment plan, does her follow-ups, and sees the counselor.”  He handed over a PADD, “I’ve got a prelim schedule worked out.”

Prentice held it tightly in his hands, his emotions still a flurry of florid emotions.  “She’s still out there, Doc.  She’s…that woman is still out there.  Why did we let her go?”  His heart was racing as he attempted to control his breathing.

Halsey stood, grabbed a chair from against the wall, sitting beside him.  He sat there, sharing the space with the young helm officer.  He picked at the right words in his head before replying, “I did it this way with another young man in my old command.  A counselor, which made it that more interesting.”  He let out a long sigh, “You’re not going to like what I have to tell you, Will.”

Prentice had balled his hands into fists.  “I know.”  He seethed as his breathing slowed, and the burning sensation in his gut faded in time.  Soon, he released his hands into open palms, “We had to trade for Sadie.  Without it…she would have killed her.”  He leaned back, his eyes wet with grief and rage, “Why does it have to be so hard?”

Leo noted, “Emotions?”  Will nodded as he stared at the ceiling, contemplating everything and nothing.  The doctor smiled, “I had a Vulcan first officer.  Commander Sorek.  Brilliant.  Logical and focused in every way.  I envied him at times…many of the times when my emotions or feelings were starting to get in the way.”  He explained, “When you study how much work it takes to do what the Vulcans do, and what they go through every so often to maintain control…it’s not easy for them either.  Study any of the alien species we’ve connected with and brought into the Federation…emotion doesn’t go away the farther you go from Earth…it is one of few truths left in the universe across all of us.”  He turned to the young officer, “It’s hard because it was designed that way.  You can debate the higher religious teachings of everybody and anybody…but you can’t deny the presence and power of feelings in our lives.  The universe was designed to feel.”

Prentice felt the words soothe the rage-filled burns that had scalded his heart.  He breathed in and out for five minutes as Halsey watched, observing but saying nothing.  He felt himself returning to himself.  A wry smile filled his lips, “What about the Borg, Captain.”

Halsey chuckled at the officer’s return to humor, “I didn’t say my theory was perfect.”  He stood from the chair, “Did it help?”  Prentice nodded, and the doctor replied, “I’m going to have you visit with Milty and his team for a couple of days before I put you back at the wheel.  What you felt…that’s not gone away with a wave of my hands.  It’s gonna stick with you…and our job is to help you know how to get unstuck.  Fair?”

“Fair, sir.”

“Good.  Go and sit with your girlfriend.  She could use a friendly face when she wakes up.”

After he left, Halsey returned to his desk.  He hadn’t spoken to Sorek or Choi recently.  He made a note to change that.

“The body arrived a few minutes ago.  We’ve confirmed it’s Patra.”  Walton spoke as she sat in her ready room on the screen, her face a mix of emotions.  Dread watched her move through those feelings as she spoke.  It was a victory that felt half-full.  They had rescued one of their people.  Sadie Fowler was resting comfortably in sickbay, and the relief it had brought Dread and the crew of the Daedalus was invaluable.  With just over one hundred souls on board, the connections with each other had quickly formed in the few days they’d been together.  The firming of those bonds would begin soon.

Dread tapped at her desk console, pulling up the reports that science and tactical had gathered.  “We’ve been unable to trace Crawford to Patra’s headquarters.  We’ve had scattered reports from connections inside Syndicate space about some of those loyal to the dead Romulan going dark or vanishing entirely.  There’s a lot of second and third-hand information, so the veracity of any of it is suspect.  It could be disinformation from Crawford trying to throw us off the track.”

Walton sighed, “I don’t feel like I have to hide my feelings on this with you, Helena.  I don’t think I’ll be truly satisfied with what we did until Crawford is off the board, for good.”  She switched subjects,  “We’re focusing on making some inroads with local colonies while keeping an eye on the True Way.  Your orders are a little different.”  She felt conflicted about the orders she was to hand over.  Dread and her team hadn’t been together for long.  They’d worked on an Olympic class and were just getting used to the sleek Rhode Island class starship.  She had confidence in them, but it was tempered by an untested captain and crew being tossed into larger galaxy conflicts.

Dread echoed Walton’s sigh, “Given our size and power, we’re the ideal ship to scout with a little running and gunning if we have to.”

Wren’s face remained impassive while her eyes did most of the talking, “It’s not ideal.  Your people have my confidence – they’ve got the training and bearing to take this on.”  She sat back in her chair, dropping her posture to a more relaxed tone, “How about you, Helena?”

Dread chuckled, “How is it being a ship captain for the first time?  We got everyone home safe and sound, so that’s something.”  She shrugged, “It’s…not easy.  I have to carry a different weight in that chair.  When I was XO, I walked the ship.  I made my weekly department meetings like clockwork.  I knew much of the crew by name or at least by face.  It was…good.  It was a good place to be.”  She leaned back in her chair, “I finally sat in the chair…and it felt right.  Not good yet, or even great…but I’m working towards it.  And you, Wren?”  

The wry tone was not lost on Walton as she replied with amused sarcasm. “Thank you for reminding me of my path to the chair.”  She remembered the notification of her assignment, her meeting with Task Force Command, and that first day on the bridge.  “The weight is different, I admit.  The difference is…I wanted this so much.  If I hadn’t gotten the Mackenzie…I’m not sure I would have stayed in Starfleet.”  She pulled herself back up in her chair, “None of that matters…we’ve both got our center chairs…and our duty is to serve.”

Dread allowed a smile of admiration to slip through, “I hope I can see it from your side eventually, Wren.  I do.”  They talked back and forth about the latest status reports, and the channel closed.  Helena stood and walked to the door that led to the bridge.  It would take some work, but she would make Daedalus her home.

The deep blue lights cast an uneasy glow across the bridge.  Several days had passed since Daedalus was assigned to find out what they could about Caroline Crawford’s movements.  The first discovery had been her new name.  Pandora.  It had been the subject of conversation across the small ship as the intrigue of her choice equal parts fascinated and worried the crew.  Captain Dread had ordered the engineering and operations teams to find ways to make the Rhode Island class able to run under the auspices of ‘silent running.’  They had come as close as they could. Prentice was back at the helm station after Doctor Ford had cleared him.  Fowler remained in sickbay, with medical and psychological care being an important part of the process.

Helena stood in front of the center chair, watching the screen as they searched for Orion Syndicate signals.  The connection with The True Way remained murky.  She’d read the reports from Hasara on Mackenzie. They were believable, but the real question was whether they were credible.  Any cooperation between The True Way and The Orion Syndicate would be an escalation.

Atega at communications turned in her chair, “Captain, I’m picking up a signal a few sectors over.  It’s weak, but it’s coming from what we think is one of Patra’s Syndicate commanders.”  She tapped at the console, “ I can refine and boost the signal.”

Dread was curious, “Let’s hear it, lieutenant.”  The speakers crackled to life, and slowly, the signal clarified.

“How long do I have?” 

“Not much time.  She’s making one-time offers…and not given much time for that choice.  I heard she blew Kurzona apart when he asked about conditions.  Didn’t even hesitate.”

“Shit.  I knew she was intense…but this is insane.  We can’t try and crawl back anybody else.  Patra was the only one willing to take me.”  There was a pause in the channel, and Dread glanced at Prelsey.  The communications chief shrugged.  The channel was still open.  There was a burst of static, then, “Well, that’s the choice.  Die by her hand…or join up hoping she doesn’t kill you for pissing her off.”  

“I know which choice I’d make.  Better alive and scrabbling than whatever darkness waits for me on the other end of this ride.”

There was a chuckle, and then, “You getting philosophical on me, Darren?”

A sigh on the other end, “No, just a simple want to keep on livin’.  Hey, I’ve got a contact on sensors…looks like her greeting party is headed my way.  I’m taking the deal.  You better get your dossier cobbled together to impress her.  She’s not like the others.”  The channel cut at last.

Tir spoke up from Operations, his face in his usual frown of concern, “We knew Patra had pulled together some pretty rotten apples, but if the larger Syndicate isn’t willing to take them on…Pandora’s going to be looking for the most desperate out there.  You don’t take over the Supreme Commander’s chair and start blasting without intending to pull more in.”

Catari shuddered at the thought, “You’re talking recruitment.” Tir nodded.  She turned to the bridge from her station, “She’s not finished with us or Mackenzie.  My read on her is she’s willing to look at the long-range map.  She sat in that prison for a long time…and she’s just jumped up and ripped the arm off that held the brass ring.”  She felt the realization creep into her understanding, her heart sinking, “We’ve given the biggest monster in the land the keys to the dungeon.”

Helena Dread acknowledged the truth in their words.  This fight wasn’t over.  It was going to get worse.  The chances of it getting better, she imagined, would be on a sliding scale and uneven spectrum for a long time.  She remained standing.  They were a good crew, cobbled together as they were.  It impressed and humbled her their insights – they were not an island of misfit toys who had been tossed to the Olympic after the loss of their captain.  They were capable and knowledgeable, and she was lucky to have them.  

She addressed the bridge crew, “It’s not the most ideal scenario.  I accept that.  But it is the scenario we must face and find a way to break.  We need to get more information on what she’s up to.  If we can find one former partner of Patra’s who’s willing to talk to us…that might make some difference.  Let’s keep moving and listening.  We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.  Prentice, let’s keep moving.”

The Daedalus slowly changed course and slid through space, silently observing the world around her.

Fowler stood at the center console in Stellar Cartography as she worked through the sensor reports that were constantly updating. They were tracking several Syndicate ships and groups as they moved silently from sector to system to sector. She used the expansive screen and systems to map, plot, and track the movements. They hadn’t yet found Pandora Crawford’s armada, but they were getting closer. It was her first day back on full duty after the incident. She felt stronger and yet still weak. Captain Walton had assigned the task to her to start her back into the rhythm of her position as Chief Science Officer. The door behind her slid open, and Ensign Athena stepped over the threshold gingerly, her eyes cautiously searching the room until they settled on her.

The Barjoran had taken a few steps and stopped as Fowler turned to face her. Athena gave a nervous wave, “Hi.”

Sadie wasn’t sure what to say to her colleague. Fowler had nearly killed them both on the away team mission. That weight still rested on her heart. She’d talked to Milton Ford each day, which helped move the pressure off her shoulders. It was manageable. She replied, “Hi.”

“I thought you could use…some help.” Athena’s arms were at her side, restlessly. She was desperate to heal the rift that had been cleaved open between them. “I’ve also never been in this room. It’s beautiful.” The screen that wrapped around the entire room was bright, and the consoles in the center of the room hummed, awaiting orders.

Fowler started first, “Look…I’m sorry. I…didn’t make the greatest choices down there.”

“No, it’s….”

Fowler shook her head tightly, “It’s not ok, Ensign. It was wrong. I’m a lieutenant. I should know better. I know better.”

Athena took a few more steps forward, “I’m sorry…for what happened to you. And how I talked to you…I…”

Fowler drifted a small smile across her lips, “…can be a stubborn and thorny person sometimes?”

“Yea. That’s some of it.”

Sadie motioned to join her as she stood at the console, “We’re imperfect people, Athena. I don’t think we’ll be best friends soon – we’re both raw and dealing with…things.” She tapped at the console, “But together…we might be able to solve a mystery or two. I’d gladly share that search with someone…even if we’re not always on the best terms.”

Athena gave her a look of confusion. Fowler was full of surprises. It struck her as exceedingly diplomatic to shift away from the wounds they had given each other. “I think I can agree to that. Where are we?”

The Science Chief tapped the console, and the screen shifted to the sector and system, “We’ve been tracking some Syndicate group. This one is a transport group with a couple of escorts – nothing fancy. They’ve been holding course. This,” she shifted the focus to another group of Orion ships, “…is something else. Your team did a workup on this yesterday – the three transport ships are hardly transport ships. Weapons analysis identifies several hidden phaser banks and engine vents that look suspiciously like torpedo launchers. They’re being escorted by two additional battle-ready ships.”

Athena walked over to the wrap-around screen, adjusting the zoom on the ships, “This looks like someone that Pandora Crawford would want in their group.” She tapped at the screen for the deeper details on the ships, “Wait…I know these ships.” She returned to the center console station and ran a report comparison. She exclaimed with a shout, “Yes! Three of those ships were observed working with Patra’s battle group in the last month.” She turned to Fowler, “Whoever they are, they’re far enough out from wherever Pandora is running…or they’re intentionally staying away.”

Sadie focused on the five ships. They’d been looking for someone who had been loyal to Patra. This might be the answer. “I’ll take it to Captain Walton.” She stood and went to leave but stopped. She turned around and spoke directly to Athena, “Thanks for coming to find me, Ensign. Let’s try this again sometime.” She left Athena in her chair, a small smile on her face.

She’d made progress.

The shuttle flew through space with William Prentice at the helm and his captain, Helena Dread, sitting beside him. Chief of Security Athena sat in the back cabin, where she would stand every few minutes, pace, and sit down again. They’d made contact with the Patra loyalist. An agreement to meet on a planet out of the way to see what they could discuss had been made. The Daedalus would keep her distance.

Dread looked back at Athena, “You know pacing isn’t going to solve anything, Ensign.” She leaned back in the chair, sipping a fresh cup of coffee.

“I’m just…nervous, that’s all. Sir. It’s…,” she walked up to the doorway, “…just that my last away mission didn’t go according to plan.” The Security Chief sighed and went back to pacing the back of the shuttle.

Dread stood and moved into the cabin, where she pointed hard at the seating, and after a brief hesitation, Athena sat. She sat next to her, turning to face her, “Ensign. You had a mission that didn’t go according to plan. I know your file and your personality. I do have that part of being a captain down, at least. You’re a perfectionist.”

The young officer winced at the accurate reading of her dossier. “I just want things to go the right way, sir.”

Dread smiled quietly, “And how has that worked out for you, Ensign Athena?”

“It has been…challenging at the best of times. The Daedalus is the first ship where it’s becoming clear that I must find a way to cope with it, sir. The Olympic allowed me to perfect things easier.” She sat back, another sigh escaping her lips, “Lieutenant Fowler said me something this morning… ‘We’re imperfect people.’ And it stuck with me.”

Helena’s quiet smile became a quiet chuckle, “Our imperfections make us a team. That’s from the training course on command that I crashed through. It’s one for all and all for one, Ensign Athena. I’m still learning about it. What do you say we learn it together?”

“I would like that, sir, very much.”

“You want me to tell you where Pandora Crawford is?” The old Cardassian captain scoffed, “You’re as crazy as they say you are; I’ll grant you that.”

Dread felt some of her pride returning. “Well, it’s good to be talked about, I suppose. I’m not asking for the secrets to the universe. I’m just looking for something…anything to get us closer to her. You’re not a fan of her, Davos. I know that much.”

“That’s understanding a bit, Captain Dread. I’m getting out of here once I’m done with you. She’s not one to be messed with, and I’m too much of an independent rebel to bend the knee. Plus, arthritis, you see.”

Helena stared at him as if he’d grown another ugly head, “I’m sorry… arthritis is part of why you’re getting out of the business?”

Gul Davos shrugged, “Old bones get tired no matter the species or the quadrant. These bones don’t need to live under the threat of another crazed tyrant.” He tapped at a device and tossed it to Dread, “That’s the best I can do, Captain. You got rid of Patra, I’ll give you that. What you woke up and let loose…I don’t want to be around when she begins whatever it is she’s planning.” He gave a half-hearted wave and vanished in a yellow transporter beam.

Dread examined the data and tossed it to Athena as she started the walk back to the shuttle, “The best he could do is give us the location of a possible outpost that she’s taken over and is running. This is the part I hate.”

Looking over the data as she ran to catch up with her CO, she asked, “What part?”

Helena stalked up the shuttle walkway and into the cabin, “The part where I have to follow a trail of clues that make little sense and give me very little indication as to what the hell is going on. It makes me yearn for the days of shooting first and asking, maybe never diplomacy.”

Prentice turned in his chair, “Sounds like things went…well?”

Dread tilted her head back and took a few deep breaths, “That is a sliding scale on the back of an angry Targ, Lieutenant. Start launch procedures.” She turned to Athena, “Find out what you can about this station. I rarely enjoy surprises.”

“That is an old station.” Lieutenant Elizabeth McKee stood behind her Chief, Greer Moore.  They had acquired an older civilian shuttle to get aboard the alleged Syndicate-controlled station that Pandora Crawford had recently brought under her control.  Allegedly.  There were many mysteries in the universe to chase down, and this one was the job of the Daedalus and her crew.

“Age on a station or ship isn’t always bad, Beth.  Frontier Day taught us a lot about that.”  Greer piloted the ship casually closer to the Regula-style station, “I’d rather be trying to sneak onto something I know a lot about rather than something I have no idea about.”  She slowed the shuttle and tapped the channel open, “Shuttle Horizon from Harris Transport requesting docking.”

An annoyed voice answered, “Dock at Port 12.”

Geer snapped the channel shut, “Well, at least they’re straightforward.”  They were dressed in the uniforms of the transport company, and Rachel Harris had even input their employee records into the system after the idea came to their security chief.  McKee had reached out, and the rest was history.  The shuttle rocked slightly as it slid into the docking mechanism.  Moore chuckled, “Like a glove.”

They walked through the secured door and onto the station, where a worker stood, indifferent.  He held up his hand, “What are you here for?”

Greer handed over a Harris Transport tablet, “We’re here to see about setting up trade operations with your station.  Heard you needed some older model replicators and consoles.  We’ve been picking up some of the scuttling operations with some Federation agencies, and we’ve ended up with a bunch of outdated stuff.”

He clicked through the tablet and handed it back, “I’m interested.  Bring what you got to our workshop, and we’ll see what we like.  Loaders are over there.”  He stalked off, leaving the two of them alone.  The dock area was drab and run down.  Some lights weren’t functional, and the air circulation system felt like it was working at half capacity.

It took them fifteen minutes to load up and move the units to the workshop.  The leader of the station identified himself as Chatsworth Hossa.  He was short and stocky, with an air of indifference around him.  He moved from piece to piece, scanning both with his eyes and a portable device.  Greer and  McKee stood off the side, waiting patiently.

Hossa did two rounds of the table, making notes on his device as he went.  “It’s outdated, that is for sure.  You do your research; I’ll give you that.”  He turned to them, “How much?”

Greer took the lead, “We’re interested in a longer relationship.  We’ve been reaching out to other stations and operations that have the older units.”  We’re about finding a use for this old junk and not throwing it away.”

He scoffed, “You’re also looking to expand your business.  I’ve been hearing about your operation.  You sure you want to play in the dirtier end of the galaxy?”

McKee replied, “We’re not interested in supplying weapons.  We’re interested in keeping these old stations working.  Harris Transport does good work with refurbished pieces.  We’ve got a pretty good track record.”

Hossa narrowed his eyes at them, considering the offer.  He drummed his worn fingers on the table before giving a nod, “We’ll take them.  I’ve got a list of stuff we could use.”  He picked up a stack of papers and handed it over, “That’s the latest.  You can grab some chow on the promenade if you’re hungry.  It ain’t great, but it’s good enough.”

“Chatsworth Hossa.  A known Syndicate operative.  Last known position was freelance.”  Greer tapped at the shuttle’s computer.  As old as it looked, they had stored as much intelligence data to review in case they needed information.  She kept reading, “Wanted by three governments for alleged terroristic actions he’s participated in, alleged to have ties to several illegal drug operations.  Accused in at least three murders with complicit evidence in one.  And he seems so nice.”

McKee mused, “There’s nothing here tying him to Pandora Crawford or The Orion Syndicate.”  She leaned back in the chair, “What if that’s her game?  She’s at least aware that we will be looking for her and connections we can chase down.  What if she’s staffing her more out front stations with faces and names we can’t tie to her operation.”

Moore agreed, “She’s smart; I’ll give her that.  She might also be practicing a more refined version of Patra’s style of shielding the various operators from knowing certain things.  Hossa may know he’s working for Pandora, but he may only know what she’s telling him.”

The Deputy Chief asked, “With what she’s capable of…maybe it’s safer for these guys not to ask and go along with whatever’s supplying the replacement equipment and keeping the replicators stocked.”  McKee leaned forward, “What if…we found a way to put some passive stuff in the equipment or on the station…that could give us information.”

Greer scoffed, “Like intelligence gathering?  To quote my great grandfather, ‘James Bond, you ain’t.’  You can’t be serious.  You know how many treaties, rules, and procedures that would break?”

McKee quipped, “Probably in the double digits.”  She thought for a second more, “What if…we stayed longer?  Daedalus isn’t going anywhere far with their searches.  Instead of risking breaking all those…things…what if we were the listening and observing equipment?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about being called equipment…but you suggest we work with him?  He’s a badass bastard, McKee!”

“Yes.  And we need information.  We need to know what the hell is going on.  And nobody seems willing to give us anything.  We can only threaten so much until we actually have to start punching or shooting someone.  And I think that’s another round of violations to count.”

Moore grumbled, “I hate having no other options.”

“Then let’s pull a Captain Kirk in the Koybe…”

“That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“You were going to say we break the rules, reprogram the station in some madcap adventure, and bend, then snap the reality of the Orion Syndicate to get us to Pandora Crawford.”

McKee mumbled, “You got most of it.”

Moore patted her shoulder, “Let’s send our encrypted message to Captain Dread.  She’s going to love this.”

“Is she?”

“No.  She is going to hate this.  I’m trying to stay positive.”

“Then you should have said you’re positive she will hate this.”

Greer grinned, “I knew there was a reason I kept you around. Helping me see the brighter side of life. Let’s get this message sent.”

“Here's the spanner.”  Greer Moore stood above a prone Elizabeth McKee, half in a Jefferies Tube on deck 2 of the station.  They were installing one of the refurbished EPS units.  Hossa had leerily accepted their offer to stay and do the repair work themselves.  He was up against a deadline, and his crew on station with him as operators wasn't an all-star team.  One had been assigned as an engineer, but he was more of a food engineer.  Another had been a medic on a few transport runs, so he was put in charge of medical.  The last one was a curious mystery.

Burton Thasta had claimed to be a washout from Starfleet Academy in his senior year, earning him the job of operations and engineering.  Greer had spent fifteen minutes with the man, coming away less than impressed.  His Starfleet and Federation knowledge wasn't what you would expect from someone who had spent nearly four years learning about either.  She hadn't been worried about him until she'd asked Chatsworth about him.  He said Thasta had shown up three months ago with a bonafide resume that confirmed his story.  That had been enough for Hossa.  They were shorthanded anyway; he had groused and returned to his work.

McKee made the final adjustments and slid out, activating the unit.  The flickering lights in the corridor slowed and then stopped blinking, casting a consistent glow down the hallway.  She returned the tool to her Chief, “Four down, ten to go.”  She hadn't seen any issue with Thasta at first, but his glances her way and his seeming to appear at odd moments had begun to give her pause.  She'd made a point of having her and Greer room together on the station.  They started walking down the next corridor to take the turbo lift down to deck 3 when suddenly the lights clicked off as if turned off at the source.  

Greer, without thinking, snapped up her torch, waiting for the emergency lights to kick on.  She counted out loud, “1…2..3…4…5..6…7…shit.  Should have been on by now.”  She listened carefully, putting her hand down against the floor, eyes closing, “The power plant is still active.”  She moved to the turbolift, pushing the call console.  Nothing.  “Shit.  We need to get to deck 1 and back to the shuttle.”

Her Deputy Chief frowned as she turned on her flashlight, “What about the crew?  What about Hossa?”

“I have a feeling our arrival may have sped up whatever was going to happen here eventually.  Hossa seemed indifferent about Thasta, but Thasta was interested in everything else.  Whatever either of them will do, it will be nasty.”  She moved to the Jefferies tube they had just repaired, “Let's get moving.”

Greer peaked out of the Jefferies tube.  The promenade was dark and listless.  Aside from a content clanging coming from over near the docking ring, there wasn't much noise.  She rolled out, followed by McKee.  Both had an older phaser in one hand while a flashlight occupied the other.  The Chief Engineer stalked forward, clearing as much of the world around them in the dank darkness as they could.

McKee followed up behind her and walked backward.  Her security training had been minimal, but one of the things she remembered was never forget about your flank.  Life and death came at you from the rear, she had learned.  Cautiously, they approached the docking area.  The sound was coming from the transport ship dock.  Elizabeth worried, “There wasn't a transport ship…oh god!”  She nodded at what stared back at them from the docking port.  The exasperated face of Chatsworth Hossa in an old EVA suit banging on the outside door.

Moore growled, “This assignment didn't get a chance to be boring.  Let's get him in and secure him.”  She looked severely at McKee's startled reaction, which hastened her to move.  “We don't know who is who, McKee.  I'd rather live to see Daedalus again.”

Elizabeth nodded and kept her mouth shut as she worked the still-powered console while her superior swept the darkness with light and phaser.  Something had happened that had put Hossa outside of the station.  The exterior door groaned open, and she watched worriedly as the station manager pulled himself in.  With a quick tap of the console, the door thrummed shut with gravity and pressure restored inside the space.  He hit the ground with a shout, and she could see there was blood splattered over his suit.  “Moore!”

Greer arrived and made her visual inspection, “Well, it wasn't a walk in the stars then.  Get what you can out of him.  I need to get some lanterns put down.”

McKee tapped the console, and the communications channel sparked to life.  She remembered that on some docking systems, a battery backup could handle docking operations minimally when the main power was offline.  “Hossa!  Can you hear me?”

He remained on the floor, but she could see his body moving, his breaths coming in spurts.  He rolled over to face her, and she gasped.  His face had been stabbed several times over.  His smile of recognition looked awful.  “Oh…hi.  You're probably wondering how this happened.”  He pushed himself up, the blood creating a scattered splatter pattern on the floor.  “You were right to wonder about Thasta.  He was here to check out my operation…which isn't really much.  I guess his boss thinks this would be a nice place to have.”  His cough was liquid and gave McKee chills.  He continued, “I don't know where he went…I think he took my shuttle…couldn't get into yours.  You might be connected with Harris Transport, but you are not Harris Transport.”  He spat at the floor, “Starfleet…or some Federation operation.  You're too good at your job.  Not that I minded…but he minded.  He was upset when he was talking about you two.  Said he'd be back to shut you up.  I think he thought I would die out there.  Is he right?”

McKee turned as Greer bounded up, her eyes furious at what she had found as she'd run through the rest of the main deck area, “He's gone.  The other two are dead.  Open it up.  Let's save at least one life today.”

“He’s going to survive.” McKee sat in the chair in the sick bay.  She threw the makeshift gloves into an overflowing bin and grumbled about her dirtied clothes.  “Thasta is coming back for us, isn’t he.”

Greer did the final checks on the equipment that was monitoring and healing Hossa.  “Probably.  He thought he killed this one, so he figured we might get caught up in recovering his body or trying to search the station for more.  Thasta had to be suspicious if this one was.  The difference is, Thasta cares.”

Elizabeth wondered, “Could we get him to the shuttle and back to Daedalus?”

Moore had been thinking the same thing, “Let me see if I can raise them.”

On the Daedalus, Presley Atega was finishing her shift at communications.  They had all been closely watching the station’s system from a distance.  Putting the Chief and Deputy Chief on the station had been a gamble, and she had watched Captain Dread’s deliberations on the bridge.  There was concern that a security or operations officer would raise suspicions.

Sadie Fowler shouted from her science station, “Picking up a signal departing the station…sensors identify it as an older model civilian shuttle.  Checking against ours…it’s another model.”  She turned and gave Lieutnenant Tir an apprehensive look.  He was the man in the chair, having been given the CONN from Captain Dread several hours previous.

Don’t freak out, Calog.  Let’s take this one step at a time, was the words from Tir, his symbiont.  She was soothing his nerves as best as she could.  He tapped his badge, “Captain to the bridge.”  He stood from the chair, “Do we have a track on where it’s headed,” he asked Sadie.

She was looking at both the sensor and tactical readouts on her display, “They’re moving fast, whoever they are.  Tracking…they’re headed into our suspected Syndicate-influenced space…but if they’re smart, they’ll change their course, and we’ll end up chasing a ghost of a signal.”

The turbolift doors opened, and Helena Dread stepped through, “Report.”  She was still getting used to being the captain.  It wasn’t easy, but she was learning.  It helped to have Captain Halsey as her XO and Ensign Barker as her Yeoman.  Tir ran down what they knew.  She grimaced.  It wasn’t much, but it was unusual.  The station hadn’t had much traffic in and out before, and to have a shuttle blazing a trail into the unknown was…unusual.  “Our shuttle is still docked?”

Fowler checked the passive signal they had planted on the shuttle, “Still docked.  There was a disturbance…looks like someone tried to get into the shuttle…but failed.”  She pressed the console for more information, “The attempt lasted…five minutes.  Shortly after that, the other shuttle took off.”

Helena sat down in her chair, “Damned peculiar.”  They were parked far enough away to look as if they were conducting science studies of the planet below…and were, to a point.  They were also close enough that they could rush to break up whatever might be breaking loose at the station.  Dread was learning what kind of captain she was, and she wasn’t one to wonder when it came to the safety of her team, “Prentice – intercept course with the station – fast as she’ll go.”  The Daedalus shifted in space, blasted to warp, and was on her way.

Dread sent a message to sickbay to be ready in case of injuries.  She checked the latest scans from Fowler.  Nothing remarkable.  They had lost the shuttle’s track pretty quickly.  They were ten minutes away.  She turned her attention to Ensign Catari at tactical, “If that shuttle comes back, it’ll be back with friends.  Daedalus can fight…but we may have to pick up our people and run.”

Catari grimaced, “I’d love to bloody some Syndicate nose as much as the next girl, captain…but we’re not the Mack.  We can throw some punches depending on the content of the friends they bring back.  You order me to stand down, I’ll stand down.”

Helena smiled.  Her tactical chief was a bruiser willing to fill boots when needed.  She’d also recently understood the old adage of keeping one’s powder dry.  The Bajoran ensign had come a long way, and Dread had been discussing promotions with Halsey when she’d been called away.  “Good to hear, Ensi…”

She was cut off by Atega, “Captain, I have a secure hail coming from the shuttle.”  Dread stood and gestured for her to open the channel.

The grainy image of Chief Greer Moore appeared, “Captain – we’ve had some developments.”  She explained the finer details and finished with, “He’s alive and stable…but there’s only so much the mess of a sickbay can do for him.”  She glanced at the sensors, “We haven’t seen any signal of Thasta’s return..but…”

Dread huffed, “But the station has value to him and his employer.  So this place isn’t owned by Pandora?”

Moore shrugged, “Her name never came up…and we were going to work our way to asking today before all hell broke loose.  I can try and get McKee to wake him up, but we pumped him full of stuff to keep him out and healing.”  She paused, “I don’t think the information from our contact was incorrect.  I think Pandora might be testing out her people…or her former people.  If our friend hadn’t gotten out while the getting was good…he might be dead by now.  She might just try and find him to kill him anyway.”

“Let’s hope we can avoid her orbit of obituaries.  We’re five minutes out.  Can you get him into the shuttle and head our way?”

She glanced behind her, asking something of McKee.  She turned back, “We can.  I’d rather not stick around this empty station longer than I have to.  We packed up the equipment we didn’t install, so they’ll get nothing from us.”

Dread gave a nod, and the channel closed, “Fowler?”

Sadie didn’t have good news, “The shuttle is on its way back, and it’s bringing a medium-class Syndicate transport.  They usually have a boarding team and some weapons of choice to light up whoever they’re coming after.  Seven minutes out.”

Helena felt the pressure increase, “They sure must have some love for that station.  Prentice – redline the engines.  Red Alert.  Tir, get the shuttle bay ready for an emergency landing…bumpy ride isn’t really going to cover this.”

The klaxon sounded, and the lights shifted to the traditional ruby setting.  The minutes counted down.

“Approaching intercept vector…dropping from warp.”  William Prentice was poised at the helm, his safety restraints secured.  He immediately slung the Daedalus 180 degrees; down below, the shuttle bay team jumped into action.  Doc Halsey stood behind the shield with a medical bed and the trauma team.  The display clocks across the ship displayed the time left before the Syndicate ship arrived.  Two minutes clicked to 1:59:00 and continued downwards as time bled away with each second they waited and watched.

Helena Dread stood in the center of the bridge; her hands clenched tightly as she attempted to slow her pacing.  It was working, for now.  The reality of command continued to be revealed to her each minute and hour she held the center chair.  She was learning, but she didn’t like it yet.  

Sadie Fowler was at science, “Shuttle is fifteen seconds out.”  She felt the tension on the bridge slowly tighten around them.  They were all concerned for their crewmates, and they were all concerned about whatever the Syndicate ship had planned for them.  The next few seconds would answer the question. Fowler reported, “Shuttle entering the system.  Thirty seconds until they reach us.” Her nerves scattered and held loosely.  She watched the clock and the path of the shuttle.  She could imagine the terse conversations within the shuttle as they prepared to commit to an emergency landing into the shuttle bay.

Captain Dread stopped behind the helm and tactical consoles at the front of the bridge.  Her eyes studiously watched the science screen against the wall and then returned to Catari’s threat screens at her console.  “How long?” she asked the Bajoran, who refreshed the estimated time.

“Forty-five seconds.  They must have picked up some speed.”  Catari reworked the intercept course, “They’re really desperate to get to us.”

Presley Atega called out at communications, “The shuttle is nearing the shuttle bay entrance.”  There was a moment when the bridge crew unconsciously held their breath, waiting for the next report.  It felt like minutes, but only five seconds until Presley followed up with, “Shuttle is secured, damage control and sickbay teams are in motion. S shuttle bay doors are closing….,”  It was another breathless wait, another seven seconds until, “Shuttle bay doors closed!”

“Resume Red Alert, battle stations.  Helm, get us…”  The klaxons and lights returned, but the Syndicate ship flashed out of warp on screen, moving quickly to intercept the Rhode Island class scout.  Dread returned to her chair and activated her restraint, “Atega, hail them.”  The obligatory sound rang through the bridge.

Atega chewed on her bottom lip out of nervousness, “They’re responding.”  

Dread waved the channel open.  The face of Captain Hensa Rigilia appeared with her snarl at the ready.  She sat back in shock, “Another woman captain.  You are as good-looking as the other one…or maybe even better.”

Helena had read the reports on Hensa, “I’m aware you have a thing for Captain Walton.  I’d hate to think she’d feel jealous if she heard you were hitting on me.”  She faked a fake smile, “You can have the station.  Your errand boy shed enough blood to keep us away.”

Hensa scoffed, “Who said he was my errand boy?”  She stood from her chair, the camera adjusting, “I’m just here to make sure you don’t dig any further into our business out here, Captain Dread.  I’d hate to have to take my best shot at you.  I might be too much for you.”

Dread caught a wide-eyed glance from Fowler.  Helena chuckled, drawing a look of surprise from Rigilia, “I may be new to this chair, Captain Rigilia…but threatening me with anything more than a good time is not something myself or the Federation will accept. We can..and will be back to investigate whatever needs investigating.”

“Diplomacy isn’t your strong suit, is it Captain?”

Helena returned the stare she was getting from her Romulan counterpart, “When someone tells us not to investigate something, or they’ll punch our lights out…diplomacy takes a back seat.  Good day.”  Atega snapped the channel shut, and Dread ordered, “Prentice, get us out of here fast.”  

He worked to shift the Daedalus to another warp vector but was soon shaking his head, “She’s moving to keep us here, sir.  Permission to go evasive.”

“Evade as you see fit, Prentice.”  She watched as he did just that, but the Syndicate ship was quick enough to get back in their way.  It was Dread’s turn to shake her head, “She’s persistent; I’ll give her that.”

Catari shouted, “New signal, coming in hard and fast…it’s the Mackenzie!”

Dread smiled wide as the larger Excelsior II class ship thundered into space, overshadowing the Syndicate ship and Daedalus.  The screen clicked to a furious Captain Walton on the bridge of the Mackenzie, “Captain Rigilia, you are ordered to either heave to and prepare to be boarded or get out of this sector.  If you do not comply within one minute  by communications signal, we will open fire.”

The face of an amused Hensa slid up against Walton, “Ah, my favorite lady with my new favorite lady.  We couldn’t have a sit-down talk over dinner…candlelight…and some…mood music?”

Walton’s face was placid.  Her eyes bored into the screen.  Not even a flicker of a smile or a scoff, Dread observed.  The squadron commander had a reputation.  “No.  Forty-five seconds.”

The Romulan Syndicate Captain groaned, “My flirting is wasted on the both of you.  Someday, you’ll come around.  And then we can…,”

Wren’s tone tightened, “Thirty seconds.”

Rigiila rolled her eyes, “Fine.  Next time, there be less flirting and more shooting.”  The channel closed, and Fowler reported the syndicate ship leaving the system.

“Thank you, Captain Walton, for the interruption.”

Wren motioned behind her and then returned her attention to Dread, “I just had Reede encrypt this channel. Chatsworth Hossa isn’t Syndicate or freelance.  He’s one of our operatives or something.  I’ve got orders to get him back to Starbase 72…and to get you out of this system for a bit.”

Dread frowned, “What?”  She was confused, as was most of the bridge crew.  They were making progress.

“True Way has been stirring up something…and we’ve got some planets acting like an out-of-alignment warp core, so we need to make friends and influence people.  There are eyes on Pandora.  Just not ours, for now.  I’m sorry, Helena.”  The channel closed, and Dread stared ahead, shocked.

She released her restraints and stood, “Prentice, set course for Starbase 72 as fast as you can.  Mr. Tir, you have the CONN.”  She stalked to and through the door to her ready room.

Lieutenant Tir stood and slid into the command chair, glancing around the bridge, “Steady as she goes, everyone. Steady as she goes.”

The Daedalus flew through space on her way home to Starbase 72.