“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

H.P. Lovecraft – (1927)

“When you think about it, it really is beautiful isn’t it?”

Isidora Arriagada Arias let her appraising gaze stray from the readout before her and regarded the omnipresent – energies that signaled the aperture that transcribed the intrusion of Underspace into RealSpace and the myriad possibilities of the Labyrinth beyond, with her warm almond – eyes.

Ensign Neva Vikander was intent on the task of piloting the Runabout and not straying too far to the event – horizon of the Anomaly and the ensnaring threshold of Gravitational shear that emanated from the tear in subspace.

“If you say so.” Neva commented, as the USS Savannah’s Astrometric Specialist gazed out of the viewport with an incongruous mixture of childlike wonder and intense, scientific detachment.

“It’s not just a gateway to other places.” Isidora murmured, her voice wistful with imagined possibilities, “It’s a portal to limitless potential – a turning point in the developmental evolution of all space – faring nations.” She turned back to Neva, her eyes shining.

The USS Savannah’s OPS Officer shrugged as she gently banked the Runabout “Chatham” away from a sudden spike of Tachyon radiation that was building to discharge from the screaming energies of the portal.

“I know that we almost died in there, many times over and I have no great desire to go back in there anytime soon.” The young Dane replied dryly.

“Pah! “ The Chilean riding shotgun flapped her hand dismissively. “Think of what we can learn about the network known as the Labyrinth, Neva, think about what it can teach us.” The young scientist would not be dissuaded from her wool – gathering.

 “Think about it – REALLY – think about it? With a stable subspace network spanning known space and even beyond, Starfleet can travel untold distances in a fraction of the time. A step – change of that magnitude would be the catalyst that could catapult the advancement of science, or diplomacy of…. of…EVERYTHING! Here we are on the cusp of something truly wonderful, my friend, and all you can do is see the negative. We must all learn to look upon wonder with new eyes!” Isidora enthused passionately, the fervor of unfettered possibility bright in her eyes.

“Well, you may be right Isidora, but I’m sure that I would be more comfortable being this close to that thing from the relative safety of the USS Savannah, instead of hanging our asses out here in this pokey little bean-can!” Neva admitted. Next to the Aperture, even the New – Orleans class frigate would have been dwarfed, but by comparison – the tiny Runabout did seem a fragile craft indeed – when face with such a locus of furious energies.

With the USS Savannah being effectively confined to Terminus spacedock, whilst Starfleet Engineering sought to salve the wounds the little – ship had sustained over the last week – Lieutenant Commander Sammantha Hyland had been instructed by Taskforce – Command to deploy all Warp – capable Smallcraft to assist with the near – impossible task of monitoring the multitude of Multicursal Subspace Apertures that had sprung into being in the immediate area, that Terminus Station occupied at the edge of the federation side of the Former Demilitarized Zone.

“It’s a New Frontier, you’ll see!” Ensign Arias smiled and returned her attention back to her readouts – fascinated by the data that was being returned from the Runabout’s sensor – pallet.

A keening warble cut through her reverie and Ensign Vikander frowned as she turned her attention to the navigational sensors.

“There’s a vessel approaching the Aperture.” Neva’s hands flowed over the controls. “Its course will put it on a direct line of approach. I’ll hail it.”

“Unidentified vessel, this is the Starfleet Runabout “Chatham”, you are entering restricted space and are requested to change course. This area has been designated a hazard to shipping. Please respond.” Ensign Vikander sent to the incoming vessel.

Over the next few seconds, the encroaching ship remained determinedly on – course and did not deign to reply to her hail with anything more than naked static.

“I say again. Unidentified vessel, this is the Starfleet Runabout “Chatham”, you are entering restricted space and are requested to change course. Your ship is in imminent danger of ensnarement within a Class 5 Gravitational – Anomaly. You are ordered to change course immediately.” Neva transmitted again, this time with more authority.

Still the unidentified vessel persisted on its course – unheeding.

“They’re launching something…” Ensign Arias sounded more intrigued than perturbed.

“Raising Sheilds, going to Yellow Alert.” Neva’s voice had a definite note of concern. “Plotting a vector to intercept.”

“It looks like a probe…..” Isidora wondered aloud, “But the telemetry is all off, that’s….. odd?”

As the Runabout altered course to intercept the incoming vessel, the Tactical Sensors gained enough range to give its occupants a more cohesive picture of the type of intruder that they were dealing with, from incoming data gleaned from passive scans.

“It’s Cardassian.” Neva confirmed, “A Hideki-class Patrol – ship. More than a match for us. I’m calling this in.” The young Danish officer opened up a hail to Starfleet.

“It’s like a probe carrier signal. “Ensign Arias sounded genuinely intrigued, “But unlike a probe it’s not set to receive telemetry, it’s broadcasting it….”

That stopped Neva and she turned to the Astrometric Officer.

“It’s doing what?”

“It’s broadcasting. I can’t determine the content of the signal packet – it’s too heavily encrypted. The computer on the Runabout just doesn’t have the processing to penetrate a cipher of that level of complexity within any discernibly useful timescales – but the object is acting like a Subspace Nav – Bouy? That’s really, really…. odd.”

Neva frowned again, as their course converged with that of the Cardassian Vessel.

“Where is it signaling to?”

“That’s what’s really odd.” Isidoria shook her head and wondered aloud. “If it was being placed to gather data from the anomaly – that would make sense. Or if it was being placed to warn other vessels of the danger the Aperture represents to navigation – that would also be logical.”

Isidora brought up an infoglyph of the transmission vector for Neva to look at.

 “But for the life of me I can’t think of one tangible, scientific reason why it should be broadcasting its signal directly into the Anomaly itself?”

Location: Terminus Station / “The Last Resort” / Deck 21

Stardate: 2401.7.17 / 04:35hrs (Shipboard Time)

The contrasting, hypnotic beats reverberated through the smoke – hazed atmosphere – emanating from two opposing and competing speaker arrays, filling the space within the bar with the audiometric equivalent of a civil war being fought by warring brethren from radically different antagonistic – antipodes of the musical spectrum. The effect was near – nauseating (but with the right combination of narcotics inside of you – arguably/probably transcendent).

Kennedy Zhao looked up at the garish and lurid Holosign that emblazoned the lower – promenade establishment and its dubious wares to this grubby corner of the aging – station with all of the subtlety of a Metaphasic weapons strike and knew that she had found the right place.

With a small smile on her face, she adjusted the collar of her jacket and stepped inside “The Last Resort.”

Inside the atmosphere was soupy with drug-bowl smoke, pheromonic atomizers and the staccato – strobing of neura – jack emitters as a myriad of pleasures designed to achieve catastrophic sensory overload in all but the most nullified of the establishment multitude of species (barring those that were either deceased or just barred from re-entry) competed with the pervasive beats and clamor of lively & coarse conversation.

Jack-joint or Dive Bar – Kennedy Zhao knew that there was one reliable constant in the entire known Galaxy. 

Where there was civilization and the mollifying structure of law & order that mature civilizations like the United Federation of Planets embodied – there would always be a profit margin to be carved out by catering to those who wished to escape such strictures and indulge their most base and hedonistic urges – away from the prying eyes of puritan-authority.

That truth – you could take to the bank.

Kennedy was squarely in her element and was hunting in this most familiar of jungles for that rarified prey that such establishments really thrived upon. A coin more precious and universal than Latinum.

Information.

The diminutive Asian woman in the eye-watering fashionable Syn-leather jacket situated herself innocuously at a spare seat along the bar and did not so much catch the eye of the Orion – woman tending to customers further along – more that she sort of effortlessly transmitted her presence by her body-language and created an opportunity to be parted with her money.

After waiting the requisite amount of time to infer that she had noticed Kennedy and would get to her in her own sweet time, the lithe Orion sashayed along the bar with a studied practice of disinterest and alighted in Kennedy’s general vicinity and seemingly asked the air over her shoulder.

“What’ll it be?”

Kennedy smiled easily and ran her finger around in little circles in a suspiciously wet part of the bar in front of her.

“Romulan Ale.” Her eyebrow raised just a fraction.

The Orion heaved a weary sigh, like she had some rube – bloody tourist come in here every other day and plaintively pestered her for the infamously illegal brew.

“We don’t carry that.” The green – skinned woman looked flatly at Kennedy, her voice redolent with boredom. 

“No one does anymore. You might have not heard, but the place where they used to make it – kind of don’t exist anymore. We also don’t serve unicorn – piss, The Water of Life or Mountain – Dew. Maybe I can interest you in a nice Saurian Sunrise instead? Not my kind of thing, but you tourists seem to love it – I’ll even put a little umbrella in it.” The barkeep replied acidly.

Kennedy’s smile didn’t waiver an inch.

“I wouldn’t order a Saurian Sunrise if you were on fire and begged me to piss on you to put it out, honey – I think you got the wrong Idea – I said ‘Romulan Ale’.”

The Orion woman glared at her and spoke really slowly – enunciating each word carefully – as if to a particularly dull child.

“And I’ll say it again Pinky – We – don’t – got – none!” She shook her head, “And even if we did, it’s illegal – you ‘Five-Oh?’” She frowned her dark eyebrows at Kennedy.

Kennedy laughed lightly.

“No, I’m ‘Trade’, honey and I mean that I HAVE Romulan Ale – but if you’re not interested…..” She started to rise from her stool with a shrug.

That stopped the Orion in her tracks, and she looked quickly around the bar with suspicion.

“You lie.” She hissed, but Kennedy could tell that her interest was piqued.

“6 Crates of the Finest Blue.” Kennedy leaned conspiratorially forward, baiting the hook.

“That would be a prize indeed.” The Orion’s greed started to overcome her natural suspicion.

“Actually, the word that you are looking for is “Priceless. What’s more – they’re very probably the only existing examples from the penultimate vintage of the Vvalti Estate.” Kennedy made a delicious show of inspecting her own fingernails, as if she had discovered something far more fascinating there, than this conversation.

Hook, line and sinker.

The Orion brought up an equally fine bottle of reserve Saurian Brandy (Kennedy approved of the particular vintage) and poured a generous draft and offered it unbidden.

“Let’s say my interest is piqued.” The green woman smiled smoothly and introduced herself guardedly. “D’Taani Varada.”

Kennedy took a sip of her brandy and inclined her head slightly in response and an ‘H’mmm, to signify her gratitude for the fine beverage. 

“Kennedy Zhao.”

D’Taani Varada poured herself a measure of the fiery spirit and leant, conspiratorially, on her side of the bar in a gesture as old as the calling of Bartenders themselves, the Galaxy over.

“So – I know what you’re selling.” D’Taani smiled a predatory smile like a well – oiled snake, “Which inevitably leads to the question of what you may be seeking in return, Kennedy Zhao?”

Kennedy nodded and produced a slim holo – slate from her jacket and slid it onto the bar.

“Information.” She said simply.

D’Taani Varada (not being as naive to activate the holo in plain sight of the entire, dubious, patronage of the bar), slid the holo-slate into a pocket in her apron and nodded.

“Only thing that never goes out of fashion.” Grinned D’Taani, “Care to be a little more specific?”

Kennedy looked her in the eye and made her demand.

“Sometime, probably in the last month to six – weeks, a consignment of Holo-emitters were sent to Starbase 72 in the Minas Korva System. At least one of these emitters ended up being ‘altered’ in some very subtle ways.”

D’Taani Varada pursed her lips and enquired casually “Military Tech?”

Kennedy took another slug of her Saurian Brandy and shook her head “No, Hospitality models – but the reprogramming was a very subtle job, professional – more likely done on SB72 after the consignment came on board.”

“So, what do you need from me? A lowly bar – owner, half the Quadrant away?” The Orion bar – owner asked innocently, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Kennedy shrugged lightly, enjoying her own riposte in this subtle fencing around extra-legal niceties.

“You seem like a woman, who knows people, who know people – who know things and how to get things done.” She smiled innocently enough and looked around the bar. “Something also tells me that you don’t give a flying – flark what the Syndicate thinks, otherwise there’d be at least a couple of their Solo’s in here – doing their predictable best to fail at blending in.”

“I need you to find me whoever the hacker is.” Kennedy nodded

“Not who they are working for?” Varada frowned.

“I know who they are working for.” Kennedy rolled the half – empty glass between her slim hands. “They are in the employ of the New Marquis.”

It was D’Taani turn to laugh, and she did so from the gut – throwing her long hair back and she downed the last of her drink and slammed the glass on the bar resoundingly.

“I like you Zhao. You got balls on you, that’s for sure!” The Orion laughed. “Probably gonna get them cut off one of these days – but that’s your business, not mine. Say I can do this “Favour” for you? Let’s get to my favorite part of this little tete – a – tete (and quite frankly – my favorite bit), the bit where D’Taani gets what she wants. All six crates.”

Kennedy took out a slim cheroot of Choan and lit it with a pocket conductor. She puffed languidly until she was sheathed in a miasma of sweet-smelling blue smoke.

“Two.” She shook her head firmly.

“Six crates and I’ll thrown in the hacker – alive if that’s how he’s found.” The Orion countered.

“The offer is Two Crates – no more.” Kennedy bluffed – a consummate gambler. She knew what she was offering was of immeasurable worth and cachet to D’Taani Varada, whether she auctioned the Ale off to a higher bidder, decided to serve them to exclusive clientele for cachet or just enjoyed the street – credibility & reputation of being canny enough to acquire them in trade and hang onto them for bragging rights, whilst they appreciated in worth.

“Fuck you and the clunker you rode in on.” D’Taani narrowed her eyes and hissed “Three Crates and I will take no less or you can take a walk out of the nearest airlock. Take it or leave it.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

Kennedy knocked back the last of her drink and nodded.

“Deal.”

D’Taani Varada spat in her palm and together they clasped in a handshake.

“Deal.”

Kennedy nodded and rose.

“Thank you for the drink, I’ll be in touch.” She looked around ‘The Last Resort’. “Charming place you have here, love your work, by the way.” She smiled and made for the door at a languid pace.

D’Taani Varada shrugged and grinned diffidently.

“It’s an utter shithole at the arse – end of who – gives – a – fuck – fucking nowhere, but a Girl’s gotta eat – right?”