“Captain – we’ve got a group of transport ships coming in under the designation of Harris Transport.”  The dock officer on duty was running the Docking Operations Center (DOC) and had been asked by Captain Peter Crawford if he could observe.  He was walking Crawford through the procedures.  “We’ve accounted for most of the transport group and verified their cargo, but two additional ships were not on the list.”

Peter glanced at the console, “Well, one of those is the SS Harris, which I suspect will have our leading representative onboard.  The other…” he scrolled down, “…is more of a mystery.  Hail the SS Harris.”  He turned to the screen and was soon greeted by the sight of Rachel Harris, CEO of Harris Transport and Trading Industries.  “Ms. Harris.  Captain Peter Crawford, Montana Station.”

She gave him a curt nod, “Can you clarify as to the delay of our docking and offloading, captain?’’

“I can.  I’m sending you an irregularity report.  I need to know if they’re yours or not. Given the large number of ships you brought with you…,”

She pulled up his report on her device and frowned, “That is not one of ours, Captain Crawford.  They must have joined our convoy late in our journey.  Given the readings I’m seeing, it appears The Syndicate is attempting to filter into your station.  I suppose you’d like to handle this yourself?”  

He returned her sly smile and turned to the console, tapping out orders, “I’m dispatching Douglas and Dragonfly to deal with them – the sight of an Obena class coming at you will make anyone second guess their plans.  One moment.” He slid into the chair and tracked the two ships that had moved to intercept the offending ship.  The Syndicate ship didn’t take long to turn tail and jump to warp, leaving the two starships to track it.  Crawford turned to Harris, “That takes care of that.  Dock bay doors will open once our dock officers officially clear the clearances and reports.  Welcome to Montana Station, Ms. Harris.”

“He didn’t want to see me, did he.”  Rachel Harris stood in the middle of her transport company’s new offices and operations center.  A swarm of movers and workers was working to make it less of a wide open space and more of an actual office.

Peter Crawford knew Rachel Harris – she had been in Starfleet for many years before stepping back into her family business.  He also learned not to lie to her.  “I think his connection to your son worries him about how you would see him, Ms. Harris.”

Rachel felt the urge to scoff.  She still missed her son in many ways.  She mourned him when she woke up in the morning and when she lay down at night.  He had been part of her for so long.  That empty space was an aching reminder of his meaning in her life.  She carried him with her everywhere she went, and yet she’d found a way to manage out of the darkness that had fallen around her early in the grieving process.  She chose her words, “My son would think so much less of me if that were indeed the case.  I’ll find him myself if I have to.”

Crawford admitted, “That’s fair.”  He shifted the conversation, “I’ve been assigned to work with you and your team – we’re not fully staffed yet.”

“Frontier Day did a lot of short-term and long-term damage – we’ll be dealing with it for a long time.  I hear they’re considering sending some upper-class cadets out on assignments like Montana.”

“Your daughter among them, I presume?”  The name of her daughter had come up in recent staffing decisions.  “Her grades and evaluations have been constantly strong.”

Rachel chuckled, “Natalie will make her own decision, but she could be an asset out here.  She’s in the operations and command track.  Something to think about?”  She gave him a parting smile and returned to the chaos, intent on bringing order.

“They wanted to get away from it all.” Commander Charlie Hargraves stood in the middle of Colony Operations, reviewing with one of the Colonial Operators.  For the moment, they were a team of three – the only active colony was on Rital III.  She continued, “They started it up about thirty years ago with fifty – it’s grown to around 1000 – that’s with births and emigration.  They’ve got fully functional water, heat, sewer…using a combination of growing their food and replicators…they’ve made a pretty good life for themselves.”

He asked, “You didn’t mention anything about medical care.”

She grimaced, “That’s where we come in – they’ve been doing what they can, but they lost their doctor about five years ago, and things aren’t great.  They never thought to ask for help, and there wasn’t a lot of Federation presence out here.  Now…,”

Charlie mused, “They have a massive starbase with all kinds of resources.”  He glanced around, realizing what he saw, “There’s an awful lot of desks in here – they’re planning to expand the colony?”

“Not just on Rital III.  Rital IV is habitable.  There’s already some talk about starting a settlement there.  There are also the other three planets, which have lots of resources to be mined and investigated.  We were working on the map of systems outside of Rital – the rimward edges of Federation space have lots of possibilities.”  Charlie wondered if he had chosen the wrong career path.  He was about to thank her for her time when she mentioned, “Oh, Commander Hargraves!  Are you related to Dr. Persefoni Hargraves?’

He blanched at the mention of his older sister, “Depending on the day.”  He chuckled nervously, “Why do you ask?”

She held up her PADD, “She’s been given a new assignment – The Rimward Journal!  She and her staff are transferring here to Montana Station by the end of this week!  Isn’t that something?”

Charlie’s smile thinned out, “It is…something.”