“That…” He frowned as the ship that burst through the underspace aperture seemed familiar. Very familiar. “That’s a Rhode Island. Why do I know that?”

For a moment he just watched as it set about cutting through the fighters that swarmed all over it like ants, then he kicked himself.

“Time to get back into the game.” Lifting the heavy pulse pistol he’d liberated from one of his ‘hosts’, he stunned both men sat in front of him and transferred control of the ship to his station. “Sorry, boys, but three’s a crowd.”

Holo-displays sprang to life around him as he re-holstered the pistol. Hitting the throttle, he threw the small ship into a hard arc, coming at the group of fighters from the other side of the Starfleet ship. All guns blazing, he used everything the little ship had (and it was hideously over-armed for its size, more proof of it’s lineage as a pirate vessel) to make sure none of the enemy got away from the killing field between him and the Rhode Island. The…

He squinted as he flipped his ship over the over vessel, letting a good look at the identity markers over her hull.

The USS Resolute.

Now that was familiar. He had no idea why, but it was.

Between the two of them, they decimated the fighter group, but by that time, his computer came back with an analysis of the weird outpost facility the fighters had emerged from. And it wasn’t good.

Hitting the comms on his console, he opened a channel to the Resolute.

He frowned. Shit, what was the ship name? He didn’t have time to figure that out. An alarm on his console got his attention. Something was happening with the facility.

“This is Murphy to the Resolute.” Huh. Murphy… Was that his name? “We’re gonna need to move on whatever the hell that is, because my readings say it’s hotting up for something.”

______

Silence rolled across the bridge of the Resolute.

“Did he say Murphy?” Mason asked, sliding a glance at Andrews, who shrugged. “On screen,” he ordered.

“This is Captain Mason of the USS Resolute. Identify yourself,” he said. “Kovash, get us closer. Allen, check out that facility, see if our friend is telling the truth. Harrow, keep an eye on both,” he added.

The voice sounded like Murphy’s, for sure, but that could be faked. Easily.

“Another hail coming through. On screen,” Rennox, manning the comms console said from somewhere behind him.

A figure materialised on the main viewscreen and Mason had to fight to keep his expression level and neutral. A younger officer somewhere to his left wasn’t so controlled, her gasp audible.

It was Murphy, but not as Mason had ever seen him. Probably not as anyone had ever seen him before.

He lounged in the command chair of the heavily armed and armoured pirate vessel in front of them. Mason didn’t recognise the class, it looked like the bastard lovechild of more than a few, but the class was the least of his interests at the moment.

Murphy was dressed head to toe in black. Leather by the looks of it. One side of his face was a mess, angry, red furrows across his  forehead that slashed down across his cheek. In the middle of it all, a patch covering his eye. The other fixed on Mason with disturbing intensity.

“Good to see you again Captain Murphy,” he said with a nod. “We’d wondered where you’d disappeared off to.”

Murphy inclined his head, but there was no recognition in his eyes… eye. “I take it we know each other, then?”

“We do.” Mason confirmed.

“Boss… you were right.” Allen piped up from the science station. “Analysis came through. Whatever that is, it’s putting out some heavy-duty readings. This close to the aperture, it’s either controlling access, or about to do something nasty. We probably should deal with that.”

“Agreed. Captain,” he returned his attention to Murphy. “Shall we… and then after, we can have a catch up.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Murphy inclined his head, a hard look in his eye as he tapped on his console. “Pushing through a battle plan. The assholes who own this appear to have been watching this other bunch of assholes for a while. Sending you all the weaknesses. Now… let’s do this.”