Darin Jaroo was a gracious host and a charming conversationalist, but this conversation was getting nowhere. Dwasina Roix could sense that he was hiding something, but he was very good at keeping his thoughts slippery and moving and his conversation light and pleasant. Always changing the channel so he never settled on anything long enough for her to glean what he was safeguarding.

She could enter his mind, sift through his thoughts and pluck the secret from his brain, but that would be immoral, and against every code of Starfleet ethics and surely ruin the negotiations. Jaroo seemed to know that, and he actively seemed to be enjoying leading her on a cat-and-mouse chase.

“Well, my Dear, you are welcome to see our docking bays, but I assure you that our commercial fleets are hardly worth noting for anything but the beautiful cargo they carry safely from one destination to another.” Jaroo fanned his hands and rose, offering Dwasina an elbow to lift herself up and walk beside him.

She offered a diplomatic smile. Every bit of Starfleet intelligence she had sifted through prior to this mission told her that he was lying, and this station had a reasonable if not impressive fleet of independent fighters to protect the area from those who wanted to seize the station, and now that she was on Mireya VII she understood why.  Despite the disparate architecture, Jaroo and the other merchants who called this place home had done an excellent job crafting a comfortable place that attracted like minded businessmen.

She accepted his elbow and rose smoothly, walking close to him. “Look at the bright side, Darin, you can indulge my curiosity and show off your beautiful station.”

Jaroo grinned, enjoying the bit of ego-stroking and waited for Lieutenant Haynes to join them, leaving Smith and Velix – and the two towering Nausicaans – to follow behind.

“I do enjoy showing off what we have built.  Come, let me make it worth your while.”

The team’s second walk through the mazelike architecture of Mireya VII was just as impressive as the first. This time they passed living areas and saw some open spaces where alien flowers were cultivated in geometric flowerbeds and even a twisted yellow tree, covered with pink blossoms, grew in a park that was circled by benches recycled from an old passenger liner. It was charming and oddly artistic.

They turned to the first wide hallway encountered on the station, which seemed to lead from a massive set of double doors and feed directly into the back side of the mercantile section. If Dwasina’s sense of direction was correct the double doors would be one of the two bulbous, circular docking bays of Mireya VII.

Darin Jaroo stepped forward as they approached the double doors and splayed his hands out in presentation mode. “Welcome to the illustrious docking bay, where the finest merchandise this side of the sector comes to be transferred from supplier to seller.”

The doors opened dramatically, as if this was a massive reveal… but the scene beyond was quite standard for a mercantile docking bay. There was a half dozen cargo ships are various sizes and a few smaller transport vessels.  One cargo ship was being actively unloaded and a pair of engineers were working on a separate ship repairing something that Dwasina couldn’t quite make out.

All in all she had to agree with Jaroo that nothing looked especially aggressive or militia-worthy, but she also didn’t expect him to keep any militia ships in a civilian docking bay where anyone and everyone could see them.

“It all looks quite mundane and put together. You do run a fine operation Mr. Jaroo.” She offered graciously.

Darin nodded smiling. “You’re welcome to take a look around if you like, and I’m happy to show you or second docking bay.  That’s where the really big freighters come in.”

And she expected that one would be as mundane as this one, which prompted her to wonder if he was hiding something, where was he hiding it? “Well, how can I pass up the offer of seeing really big freighters?” she laughed a bit, which prompted a return of laughter from her host and Dwasina hoped that with some mutual playfulness he might loosen up a bit and give her a glimpse of what he was hiding.

They started their stroll once more, a new banter of big cargo and big freighters with the underpinnings of humor and a bit of playful flirtatiousness. Certainly a diplomatic technique from the both of them, Dwasina cared for someone nestled safely on the Calistoga, and she could feel no spark of romantic chemistry from Darin Jaroo. No, this was merely an amusement between two adults who enjoyed the innuendo without any plan to act upon it.

As he laughed, he started to loosen up, and as he loosened up, he started to let a few thoughts slip. Tiny hints – so slim that Dwasina wasn’t sure if he was letting they slip naturally – or if his mind was trained enough that he was letting them slip just to tease her. The conversation became an acrobatic dance of wordplay between two skilled opponents, sweet and witty and prying ever so slightly, trying to get the slightest slip from the other person.

“Let me assure you we have the best loading ports in the sector. If you ever want to see a freighter get packed, we can certainly sate that thrill.” Darin was smiling as the dance continued.

She laughed and shook a finger at Darin as if to chide him for his last statement, while her eyes sparkled with humor. He paused to pose in front of one of the wide observation windows overlooking the asteroid field, strong and virile, grinning from ear to ear – the master of his domain.

And then the space beyond ripped open like a massive maw had been torn through the fabric of reality and it vomited up a swarm of insects.

No, not insects. Fighters. Small fighting craft that opened up with a volley of fire and fury.

Dwasina didn’t have time to scream. She leapt forward, grabbing Darin Jaroo and pushing him into cover. He protested for a moment, thinking it an attack, getting one syllable of the word ‘guards!’ out of his mouth before the “gua—” died in his moth turning into a dark profanity.

He allowed himself to be carried backwards and pressed into cover. Dwasina yelled at her team to get into cover. The Nausicaans responded similarly.

The entire station moved so sharply that the inertial dampeners screeched and failed. Dwasina found her feet were half a meter away from where her body wanted to be and she hit the ground with a flash of pain as white light blurred her vision.

Alarms started screaming throughout the spaceport.

She blinked, and hazily she could see golden spikes of phaser fire. The Calistoga was engaged.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Jason.

By the Rings, if the last conversation she ever had with him was a fight, she would never forgive herself.

A vicious cracking sound thundered through the hallway, bringing Dwasina back to the present and she clenched her teeth. Whether she ever had the chance to apologize or not, she would have to live in order to face those consequences.

The crack was followed by a hiss and the hallway was quickly filled with the smog of a burst ventilation system recycler. There was a foul, sulfuric tang in the air that made her nose wrinkle, and the entire area was bathed in an eerie green color.

Hands were on her shoulder. She almost jumped, but Darin Jaroo’s voice was surprisingly calm considering all that just happened. “We need to get out of here!”

“Not without my crew.” She hissed back, pushing herself up. Her muscles ached, her chest was sore, and her left ankle stung with pain when she tried to stand up. Warning pain – pain that said she was stressed and bruised and strained and sprained, but not yet broken. Pain that demanded caution moving forward.  She wobbled at the last bit of her rise to standing and found herself leaning on Jaroo’s offered arm. Blinking away the smog, she struggled to see anyone or anything.

Was she imagining it?  It felt warmer in here. Maybe that was the adrenaline surging through her. Squinting in the foggy hallway, she struggled to see anyone or anything. Thin strips of clarity filtered through as the overtaxed environmental systems blew a bit of clean air.

The very first thing she could see clearly was a dead Nausicaan, or at the very least a non-moving, painfully awkwardly laying Nausicaan. And the question of what could be so potent that it could kill a Nausicaan but spare her and Darin filtered through her mind before her eyesight focused enough to determine the source of the green glow.

Plasma fire.

“Why do you have warp plasma lines running through here?” she turned her head and blurted before any sense of diplomatic decorum could stop her.

“They’re not warp plasma lines, my dear, this station doesn’t have engines.” Darin Jaroo was still impressively calm all things considered and in response Dwasina felt her cheeks heat up far faster than the plasma fire would cause.

She should be focused on her people, she should be focused on surviving, she shouldn’t let anger and frustration get the better of her. She clnehced her teeth and was rewarded by a voice in the smog.

“Commander!” It was Smith – the newly transferred Ensign. His tone was strong but full of concern. “Lieutenant Haynes is injured!”

Suddenly her focus narrowed only to the task at hand – getting her crew out safe. “Where are you in relation to the fire?”

Smith paused a moment and then spoke carefully. “We’re in the alcove before the fire. We are not currently threatened by the fire. But when I tried to move out, I disturbed the ventilation fog and it caused a preliminary flare. I’m worried that if we move, we’ll trigger a plasma explosion.”

She frowned, narrowing her eyes into the haze. “And where is Ensign Velix?”

She knew before he said it.  She could feel it before he spoke the words.  “He’s not moving, Sir. He hit his head in the initial jolt, I couldn’t reach him fast enough. He was in the direct line of the plasma fire.”

She took in a breath and regretted it. Now she could identify the hints of charred flesh mingling with the sulfur. It wasn’t just the Nausicaan. She stuffed whatever emotions came welling up in her chest to the blackest pits of her mind and focused on the problem at hand. “Is there anyone else in the area?”

“No, the second Nausicaan ran away, and Lieutenant Haynes is with me.  She’s woozy, Sir. I’ll have to help her move.”

“I’m fiiine…” Haynes slurred, it was enough to convince Dwasina that Haynes was anything but.

Looking towards her unlikely helper she fixed Darin Jaroo’s gaze. “Please tell me this lovely station of yours has fire suppressant measures.”

“Of course it does. But the framework is Klingon Class B-7 make, and I don’t know if you’re familiar with Klingon fire suppressants… ?” He trailed off as if there was not an impending emergency playing out before them.

“I don’t have time for games, please tell me.” Dwasina returned through clenched teeth.

Darin nodded once, “They will suffocate anyone caught in the spray. Your people will need to move quickly.”

“How quickly?”

And for the first time Darin Jaroo’s mask of the cordial, somewhat naïve, profit-motivated businessman slipped and with a precision that would have made a Starfleet Science officer blush he returned, without hesitation, “When I enact the suppression command, it takes fourteen seconds for the system to register and send the signal and three more seconds for the suppressors to activate. Class K-43 suppressors will pour out 50 cubic centimeters per second, and your people will want to move after the suppressors have fired so they don’t trigger an explosion, but that whole area will be covered in no more than ten seconds.”

Dwasina blinked and her mind churned. “Ensign Smith, can you safely carry Lieutenant Haynes.”

“I can walkkk…” the slurry voice came back.

“Evie, let Smith carry you!” Dwasina’s voice was sharp and cutting, and it stopped the protest immediately.

Smith hesitated and replied, “I can. Give me a moment.”

“Position her for maximum mobility, Ensign.  We’re going to trigger the fire suppressants; you need to wait until they fire and then move away from them as fast as you can. Seventeen seconds after the command they will fire and you need to move, you have seven seconds to clear the distance.” She knew he might have more, but she wanted him to move as fast as possible to escape the suffocating embrace of the Klingon suppressant foam that might save him or might kill him.

After a shorter, but still careful pause, Smith returned, “Understood, Sir.”

His voice lowered and Dwasina could hear Smith soothing Lieutenant Haynes, and getting her into position, and then finally he called out, “We’re ready, Sir.”

Dwasina looked to Darin. Darin nodded. He punched in an override on a nearby computer panel and hit the activation switch. “Counting… NOW.”

Seventeen seconds crawled by, agonizingly slowly, as golden phaser fire lanced out again and a Vaadwaur fighter passed far too close to Mireya VII’s observation window. Somewhere at the far end of the station another fighter took another pot shot at a cargo freighter that was trying to disembark like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.

And then the gurgle of the old Klingon fire system announced it presence and a thick grey foam started spraying down from the ceiling at a terrifyingly rapid rate.

“RUN!  Now!” Dwasina screamed, mostly for her own edification, because she couldn’t see where Smith and Haynes were starting from.

She did see where they were going.  Smith had Haynes in a fireman’s carry and he was running across the field like a star track athlete, jumping over hurdles and navigating the increasingly marred and slippery floor with ease. He seemed to have an excellent sense of where his body was and what it was doing at any given moment, moving out of the way of obstacles and shielding Lieutenant Haynes as he went.

Dwasina reached a hand out to help catch the two as Smith slid to a halt, panting for breath.

“Now can we get out of here?” Darin Jaroo had already returned to his petulant naieve merchant tone.

“Thaaaa’sa good idea…” Haynes murmured.

Dwasina place a hand on smith’s shoulder. “Excellent work, Ensign.  Let me help.”

They repositioned Haynes between them and then Dwasina looked towards Darin Jaroo. “Yes, lead on.”

She didn’t know what was to come, but anywhere would be safer than the outer rim of a station under attack.