It had taken eight hours to inspect, scan, and clear every package of files that littered the halls and rooms of the ten civilian ships. Processing each piece of paper, scanning the document, and ensuring its correct cataloging also took the science, security, and operations teams another eight hours. The chronometer in the Justice’s cargo bay flashed 22:42:34, and Commodore Geronimo Fontana stood in amazement at the organized rows with labels, PADDs, and paths marking who, what, and where. He turned to Captain Helena Dread. “They did good work.”

Dread’s face was tight, and her eyes narrower still. Ten ships. All filled with documents, equal parts alleging, proving, and accusing. She grumbled, “They did. Makes you wonder how Selene Voss got to us all the way out here. She’s outside the rimward.” Helena felt the cold fury bracket her heart as her mind worked to understand the play. Fontana nodded slowly, his eyes wide open, concern lining his face, and she felt a cold, quiet worry whisper in the back of her mind. Helena pointed out the sections. “Voss didn’t discriminate. Mackenzie’s file identifies Walton, Dread, McKee, Catari, and Wyatt. She also named the Mackenzie as a target herself. According to Voss and her files, the Devore Imperium believes the ship needs punishing and cleansing.”

Fontana snapped his head around, his stare startling her. “I thought the death of Captain Harris had been the death that had satisfied them.”

She felt the weight of his eyes, dimly remembering the connection Fontana had shared with Harris in the past. “It seems they’ve had a recalculation,” she groused. Targeting a Starfleet vessel in the Fourth Fleet had never been a wise choice, and the Devore Imperium hadn’t made many of those kinds of decisions and didn’t seem like they were going to stop ignoring the road that most choose to keep peace at home and beyond.

Fontana rubbed his eyes and placed his glasses back on his face. She knew he was tired. Hell, he knew he was tired. And yet, she continued. “Relentless didn’t escape her fury. Raelin, Pelletier, and Stroude all made the list. Raelin’s is history we knew something about, and some we didn’t.” She didn’t look up at the long stare she knew he was throwing across the table. “That is a you conversation, Commodore Fontana. You brought her in.” She remained focused on the PADDs, but smiled at his quiet sigh of resignation. Dread continued, “Denver is odd. Only one name. Yaaya Deepre.”

Fontana bowed his head. “That one, I know. She’s an operator.”

Helena raised her eyebrows high, enunciating her reply, “Commodore, the list for Denver’s Head of Hospitality is longer than anyone else’s , almost combined.” She looked up, her frustration reaching her eyes. “They’ll come for her first. I got to page five before I had to move on to the others.”

Fontana held her gaze, keeping his dialed right back. “You seem surprised she’s lived this long, Helena.” There was no emotion to follow his words, and his face remained an open question.

Dread scoffed at first but threw up her hands when she knew she had no cards to play against his hand. “She’s survived multiple wars, conflicts, and incidents. Some we know about ,” she held up the PADD with Yaaya’s dossier, “and others we’re just finding out about. Operators, or at least the real ones, have a low life expectancy. The people she’s upset will not like her sticking out of their balance sheets.”

Fontana cocked his head to the side, and she knew she’d said too much. He was a perceptive bastard. He asked, “Are you afraid?”

It was her turn to sigh in resignation, and she gritted her teeth at his small smile of satisfaction. “Of you, never. Of whatever Selene Voss is sending at us, absolutely. We’ve faced plenty in our time in this squadron, Geronimo. The good, the bad and the rare one or two ugly. This,” she gestured to the PADDs, “is on another scale. You asked me to dig into this. You wanted the truth.” She felt her face burning hot, and she clamped her mouth shut.

Fontana didn’t yell or get angry. Of the few things she appreciated about him, it was that. He just asked, “And the truth?”

She took a long drink from her water glass, feeling the cool liquid quench her frustration and fear, if only for a moment. The threat remained. The targets unchanged. Dread looked him in the eye, “We’re damned Geronimo. Damned on every ship with this list.”

He shifted his stance and returned to the data at hand. “And the rest of the list?”

She returned to the familiar list. “Justice. Ford, Pearce, Greyson, and Wright. Olympic is Drayton, Solas and Crawford. Perseverance. Park, Wallaker, Harris, and Baron Nine.” She tossed the PADD back onto the table. “I’m recommending centering all this on Montana with a dedicated, vetted, and secured group to work with COs and the officers affected. We need to move on this, Geronimo.”

Fontana remained impassive, looking from pile to PADD and back to Dread. He, at last, asked, “Were you surprised not to find either of our names?”

Dread winced. “That’s not entirely true, Commodore.” She pulled a PADD that was set aside and handed it over to him. “It’s encrypted, secured, and biosensor-protected. You made the list, and so did I. I’m there because of my past with Greyson. Yours, well, yours is your own.”

He frowned, asking, “You didn’t look?”

She felt something soft in his tone and marked the moment. “You are a commodore. That still means something to me. The officers alerted me. I assigned one officer the job, and he is secure. He verified with me that none of it is actionable by Starfleet or anybody else. That was my only question I asked.”

Fontana’s face was softer as she watched him hold the PADD in hand, as if something precious was in the balance. He replied, “Thank you, Helena.”

She stood awkwardly, waiting to be dismissed. The word did not come. She watched him as he kept staring at the screen on the PADD, wonder and worry filling his eyes. Dread gave up waiting. “May I be dismissed, sir?”

Fontana looked up after a few more long moments of silence, and his eyes somberly met hers. “You are dismissed, Captain Dread.”

She stood at attention and headed out the door into the corridor.

Fontana, for all his faults, was still human in the end.