“Fly casual.”

Lieutenant William Prentice looked back at his captain, “Fly…casual?” He was at the helm of an aging shuttle, dressed as a mercenary pilot. They were approaching a trading station slated to host a meeting of various Orion Syndicate operatives tomorrow. Captain Helena Dread had been assigned to attempt to ascertain further details.

She was dressed similarly to her chief flight control officer. Beside her was Commander Milton Ford, completing the triad of outfits. She caught his eye, “We got lucky with their doctor.”

He chuckled dryly, “Doctor Abraham Greyson. Your history with him was the lucky bit.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Marrying someone twice and then divorcing them twice isn’t the greatest origin story, I admit. Using him as a cover for our visit will help keep us in the background.”

The XO leaned back, “He must still love you to agree to this harebrained operation.”

The shuttle rocked as it locked into the docking port, “I don’t think it’s love. He owes me a mountain of favors.” She stood and caught his look of amusement. He’d fit smoothly into the Executive Officer position. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to let him go anytime soon.

Ford replied, “We’ll have to see what the man says, I suppose. Will, follow behind us with the goods.” On the trip, they’d discussed that they were working off the books from Starfleet, making trade with Greyson and his undersupplied sickbay. The cover story had been built on the Douglas side. The ship was three sectors over on its own supposed mission.

They all stood at the back as the door slid open, revealing a dingy docking area, a lone figure sitting back in a chair as they stepped down from the shuttle. He glanced up while Ford handed over the data chip. He snatched it from the XO’s hand and slammed into an aging reader that squawked more than it beeped. He read the data readouts, glanced at the three of them, and then went back to the readout. “Doc vouched for you. Stay in sickbay and your temporary quarters. You’ve got one night’s stay paid.” He tossed the chip back to Ford and returned to leaning back in his chair and ignoring them.

Milton scoffed, leading them out of the docking area and down a long corridor. “I forget how loose security is at these smaller stations. As long as they get their money, they’d just as much rather forget you exist.”

They turned a corner, spotting sickbay just down the way. Helena asked, “You think the meeting tomorrow will be higher security?”

He chuckled, “Not by these guys. Whoever’s meeting will bring their crew – they’ll be bossing the station’s crew around, not the other way around. We’ll need to stay below their radar since they will care a great deal more about us and whoever else is here.” He gestured to the door, “The contact is yours, Helena.”

She smiled wide and tapped the call button on the door to sickbay. A few seconds later, the door flew open, and the worn eyes of Abraham Greyson searched the faces before him before reaching out and embracing Dread, “Ah, it is so lovely to see you, my love. Welcome to my home away from home. These are your friends – William and Milton. What great names. Come, come.” He released his hold on Helena and wrapped his fingers around hers, pulling her with him through the sickbay, drawing glances from the nursing staff until he had the Douglas crew in his office, where he drew the shades. The door rumbled shut behind them, and he waited and listened—a beep, then another…and then a third. “We are secure. My apologies for the excessive physical greeting, Helena. Except for here, every part of this station has some kind of listening device or video surveillance. I sweep it three times a day.”

Dread stared at him in shock, “They weren’t kidding when they said you were a proper spook. How bad is it?”

Abraham gestured for them to sit as he slid into his chair behind the desk, “The Orion Syndicate has slowly taken this place over – bit by bit. They haven’t thrown me out simply because I manage to patch them back together and keep them healthier than any doctor has in the past.”

Helena shook her head, still in awe of her ex-husband’s transformation. “You always were a better doctor than I was…I wondered where you’d find yourself.”

Abraham told her, “You were always better at running things, Helena. I just wanted to be a doctor.” He shrugged, “I never imagined I’d find my way into the middle of an operation with Starfleet Intelligence..and you.” There was a quiet pause between them, and the other two shared a curious glance. Greyson pressed on, “The meeting tomorrow will be a lunch between the three major operators in the surrounding sectors. An Orion named Sarge, a Romulan named Argelian, and a Ferengi called Factor. I’ve got limited details on them, but Factor is not your typical Ferengi. He’s known for his violence and cutthroat negotiations…sometimes it’s literal.” He handed Helena a small spiral notepad, “There’s a fourth one in the mix – he’s higher in the food chain than these three.”

Helena opened it and began to read. She frowned as she turned the pages and handed them to Milton to examine further. “You’re trying to figure out who he is,” she said. “That’s downright dangerous, Abe.”

He leaned over his desk, “I had to do something…look, they’re getting harder on the rimward colonists – I got called out to a few just last week because they were roughing ‘em up to get answers. People are scared, Helena. There’s only so much space you and yours can cover – it’s a big backyard out here and lots of room to play in the deep grass.”

Ford turned page after page, “This…Orion dresses like a cowboy?”

Greyson clicked his tongue, “That’s the one thing I keep hearing consistently. Most of the other chatter is all over the place…and I think that’s intentional. Keep enough conflicting stories out in the ether; nobody can connect the dots.”

Milton finished reading, “And you think he might be here tomorrow.”

“I listen…a lot. In the bar, or on colonies I get called out to, or the other stations where I have to train some poor med student who’s made bad decisions…I listen. As much money as they’re looking to make with all this stuff, organizational issues are getting in the way. I think he’s coming here to set his people right.”

Helena let out a long sigh, “Well, shit. We thought we were getting in on the ground floor…looks like we might end up at the top before tomorrow’s over.” She turned to Ford, “We’re going to need a new plan.”

Milton flipped through the book, “We’re going to need to see if Hasara and his team can lend a hand…bring some chaos to the order.”

Dread chuckled, “They excel at that. What about us?”

Ford held up the notes, “We came here to get an idea of the operation and the operator. We stay true to our mission and let the grey handle the grey.”