Renak had expected the paperwork.

He had not expected there to be quite so much of it.

Standing before one of Starbase Bravo’s civilian administration terminals, the forty-year-old Ferengi patiently worked his way through permit applications, business licenses, tax declarations, health certifications, and commercial occupancy requests. Every completed form brought him one step closer to establishing two ventures he believed would thrive aboard the station.

The first was straightforward.

A trade emporium specializing in rare imports from Ferengi space, independent colonies, and the frontier—everything from luxury goods and industrial equipment to collectibles and curiosities.

The second was far more ambitious.

A restaurant, bar, and casino.

Not merely another establishment serving drinks, but a gathering place where merchants, captains, Starfleet officers, diplomats, and travelers could relax after a long voyage. Good food brought customers through the door.

Good drinks kept them there.

And a few friendly games of chance encouraged them to return.

Renak smiled to himself as another application disappeared into the station’s administrative network.

This station wasn’t simply a place to conduct business.

It was a place to build an empire.

A modest one, perhaps.

But one entirely his own.

He was halfway through reviewing lease opportunities on the Promenade when the station suddenly shuddered beneath his feet.

A heartbeat later—

**Whoop… Whoop… Whoop…**

The calm atmosphere vanished as flashing emergency lights illuminated the corridor.

An alarm echoed throughout the Promenade.

**”Attention all personnel. Evacuation procedures are now in effect. Proceed immediately to your designated emergency assembly areas.”**

Renak’s ears shot upright.

“…Evacuation?”

Around him, Starfleet officers immediately began moving with purpose. Shopkeepers secured their businesses while civilians calmly filed into the nearest corridor under the direction of security personnel.

Calmly.

Far too calmly.

Renak blinked.

“Wait…”

He looked around, clutching his PADD.

“Designated assembly area?”

He’d been aboard the station less than a day.

He had absolutely no idea where that was.

A pair of Bolian merchants walked past discussing inventory as though this happened every week.

A Vulcan calmly locked the doors to an antiques shop.

Someone even paused to finish their coffee.

Renak frowned.

Either these people possessed nerves of duranium…

…or they knew something he didn’t.

Choosing not to assume the latter, Renak approached the nearest Starfleet security officer directing pedestrian traffic.

“Excuse me!” he called, hurrying over.

“I’ve only just arrived. I’ve filed approximately forty-three business permits in the last three hours, and none of them included instructions on surviving catastrophic station failures.”

The officer looked at him with practiced calm.

“Sir, please proceed with the other civilians.”

Renak gestured helplessly.

“I would be delighted to.”

He looked down both corridors.

“…if I knew which direction qualified as ‘the other civilians.'”

The officer pointed toward a nearby turbolift.

“Deck Twelve. Emergency Assembly Section Bravo.”

Renak nodded rapidly.

“Excellent! See? That’s useful information.”

Tucking his PADD securely beneath one arm, he hurried after the growing crowd, mentally making a note to acquire a station emergency handbook as soon as this crisis was over.

As he stepped into the turbolift, another announcement echoed overhead.

**”Attention all personnel. This concludes today’s emergency evacuation exercise. Normal station operations may now resume. Thank you for your participation.”**

Silence.

Renak stared at the ceiling.

Then slowly looked around the turbolift at the amused expressions of several Starfleet officers who had recognized the bewildered newcomer.

One of them smiled politely.

“First day?”

Renak let out a long sigh before allowing himself a small grin.

“…Is it that obvious?”

The officers chuckled.

Renak couldn’t help but laugh with them.

“Well,” he muttered as the turbolift returned to the Promenade, “I suppose every successful merchant should know the local emergency procedures.”

He glanced down at his still-open permit applications.

“And perhaps I’ll add one more item to my business plan.”

He smiled to himself.

“Offer a discount to the first responders.”