Samson Bradley stared at the threat board, his eyes watching the Syndicate ships arriving at the scuttled transport ships.  The ruby-red lights illuminated the Zephyr’s bridge.  Each officer was sitting poised at their stations, watching their screens as the Typhoon-class starship sped away from the site.  They’d left nothing to chance.  The debris field of the scuttled ships was massive and extended a considerable distance.  The Olympic-class Cushing had fled hours earlier and was returning to Montana station.

“Will they or won’t they?”  Bradley asked as he sat in the center chair, the display of the sector they had departed on the viewscreen.  The discovery of Syndicate slaving operations in the rimward had left a permanent chill over his heart; his throat tightened in anger at the revelation.

To his right, Commander Augusto Vargas perched on his chair, lightly tapping at his console.  His brows were tightly furrowed.  “Two medium frigates against our tactical systems besides our starfighters would end badly for them.”  The ‌executive officer’s eyes remained full of fury, staring at the evolving sensor map on the screen.  “Part of me wishes they’d try.”

Samson felt a small amount of pride.  Vargas had come a long way since the academy days with his own son.  The journey ‌rimward had been long for both of them.  “Normally I would agree with you, Commander.  We don’t know what other friends the Syndicate may have in the wings.  I’d rather not risk our cargo.”  He saw a flash of annoyance cross the face of his XO.  “We’ll have our chance of settling the balance sheet.  That time will come.”

A few hours later, the Zephyr arrived at the rendezvous point with the Cushing.  The process of transferring patients to the Olympic-class starship was underway with Commander Vargas supervising.  Captain Bradley sat on the bridge working through the various reports from the department heads.  Suddenly, a klaxon rang out.

“We have a ship decloaking!”

Bradley stood, instinct taking over.  “Red Alert!”  The lights flashed, and the alarms sounded throughout the ship.  The soft rumble of boots shifting on the bridge thundered under the ambient sound of battle stations.  “Report!”

Lieutenant Kondo De La Fontaine tapped furiously at his console.  “Unknown ship type.  Her shields are down, and weapons are not active.  We’re being hailed.”

Samson glowered at the screen.  “Put it on.”

After a flicker and a buzz, an amused Orion appeared on the screen.  “Captain Samson Bradley.  A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Bradley felt his jaw drop.  “Tougun.  What are you doing here?”  The leader of the Tougun Network had been missing in action, and his death had been rumored several times over.  What had brought the murderous maniac out of hiding?

“I’m not here for your cargo, if that’s what has you worried. I’m far too outclassed in my little ship by your beast.  I’m here to give you a warning.”

Samson gave a gentle warning glance to Vargas.  He had seen the young officer leaning forward, mouth nearly in motion with a retort to the Orion.  It would be easy to rile Tougun in his diminished status. Tougun was wily.  Avoiding the possibility of delayed retaliation was a priority.  “A warning from you or a warning about someone else?”

Tougun shifted in his seat, a wry smile ripping across his lips.  “An intelligent question, Captain Bradley.  I’m not your friend, so my warning is year-round and universe-wide.” He paused, taking a sip from a large mug, slurping the contents loudly.  The bridge crew glanced awkwardly at Samson, who remained placid in the face of the Orion’s actions.  “You have the look of wanting to get down to business, so I’ll spare you the witty repertoire.  My old family has decided to test the waters of the Rimward.”

Bradley had read Tougun’s file.  His service as one of the better slave bounty hunters in the Syndicate had been most of what they knew of his time in service to his old family.  “I don’t suppose you can push them out or encourage them to leave?”

An unusual look of annoyance blinked on and off the face of the Orion.  “Would that I could.  I am rebuilding my empire, and my strength is nowhere near what it would take to encourage them to seek their profits elsewhere.”

“So you want us to do it.”

“I would never give orders or demands to Starfleet, Captain Bradley.  You all have long memories, as do I.  I’d rather our relationship remain cordial at best, and tolerated at worst.  I have information on their locations, their transit lanes, and the operations they’ve been building.  What you do with that information is up to you.”

Samson drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair.  “No conditions?”

Tougun looked amused at the question.  “That is laughable.  Putting conditions on you and your squadron?  I’d be better off trying to make a deal with the Borg.  I’m in no position to be doing anything but passing along information, Captain.”

“And once you’re in the position?”  Bradley caught his XO’s eyebrows shooting up in his peripheral vision as he asked, “What will happen then?”

“Not your first time playing in the deep end of the holodeck pool, I see.  In the interest of clarity, I do not know, Captain.  I do not know how long it will take for me to return to such a position.  What I know is that the Syndicate is getting in my way by taking part in slaving operations.  And the Federation is not a fan of such activities.  You have the position and the power to bring some balance to the rimward.”

Samson didn’t like it.  He hated it.  Tipping the balance towards Tougun hadn’t been the plan.  “How do I know I can trust this data, Tougun?”

Tougun chuckled.  “You don’t.  Even if I told you that you could, you wouldn’t.  To be clear, I won’t unlock the data until I am far enough away from your weapons.  Trust goes both ways, Captain.”

Bradley couldn’t stop his eyes from going wide at the new information.  He fought the urge to order Tougun’s ship disabled and boarding parties readied.  The data would remain locked, or be destroyed.  Samson stared at the amused face of Tougun for a moment longer before replying, “Very well.  Transmit the data and depart this system.”

“A wise choice, Captain Bradley. Until we meet again.”

The bridge watched as the small ship drifted away from the Zephyr before jumping to warp.  Bradley turned to his science officer.  “Ms. Morrison?”

She tapped on the console, waiting.  As if someone had flipped a switch, the data rapidly scrolled onto the screen.  Morrison’s face filled with relief.  “We have it, Captain.”

Bradley remained focused on the screen.  Tougun was still out there.  His time would come, he hoped.  He stood thankful for something with which to direct his fury and frustration.  “Then let’s get started.”