“One Tholian webspinner,” Lin confirmed as Tikva and Mac both stepped onto the bridge, having come directly from the Captain’s Mess. “And it matches Commander Kaltene’s ship precisely.”

“Kaltene?” Tikva asked. “The one that helped against the Breen while I was off the ship?”

“That would be the one,” Mac replied as they joined Lin in the middle of the bridge. The viewscreen was consumed by the Tholian vessel, nose-on to Atlantis as it just hung in space. “Wanted to speak with you Cap, but had to deal with Lin and I instead.”

“Have they hailed us yet?” Tikva asked just before a series of chirps from the ops console drew the attention of all three officers. “Really?”

“Looks like it, ma’am,” Samantha Michaels answered as she tapped away at her console, then looked over her shoulder with a smile. “We are indeed being hailed by the Tholians.”

“I’m not kidding,” Tikva started as she glanced around the bridge ceiling, “I want an engineering team up here with a few from Ops and Security to check the bridge for bugs.” She turned to Sam, her expression serious. “Understood?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” Sam said, looking a bit confused as she turned back to her console. “Should I answer the Tholians, ma’am?”

“Yes, on screen.”

Only a moment later and the viewscreen changed, snapping to a tight image of Kaltene’s head, vaguely luminescent orange crystal with brighter points and lines of light flowing within, reminiscent of eyes and perhaps nerves or blood vessels. “Captain Tikva Theodoras, we finally meet.” The translation into Federation Standard was coming from the Tholians, overlaying the whistles, chirps and pops of their native language.

“Indeed Commander Kaltene.” Tikva took a half-step forward from her subordinates. “Commander MacIntyre has only positive things to say about you. Wish I had the opportunity to meet with you prior to today.” She nodded her head slightly in respect to which the Tholian responded in kind. “Your positioning to greet Atlantis upon arriving here indicates you wish to speak with me.”

“Yes Captain,” Kaltene said after a moment. “There has been an anomaly of considerable scale recently. One which has gained the attention of the Assembly.”

“The Lost Fleet’s return.”

Kaltene nodded her head. “Yes.” Then she leaned forward to whatever pickup she was in front of for this call. “The Assembly wants a report on the anomaly. And they wish to see it resolved or understand that it will not repeat. We currently lack sufficient vessels in the region to investigate in the face of Dominion forces.”

Is there a question in there?

No, but a statement. And an implication.

Okay smarty pants, what is she saying then?

She’s positioning us to ask her to help us to help her to –

Okay, I get it. Stop dancing then.

“Starfleet is looking into the matter. I’m sure I can speak to my superiors about having our findings passed along to the Assembly if that is acceptable.” She raised a hand to stop a protest before it formed. “If, however, the Assembly prefers first-hand accounts, could I suggest a temporary alliance? To help resolve the issue of Dominion resistance to a proper investigation of this particular anomaly.”

The pause stretched out for a handful of seconds, the lights within the crystal head that one couldn’t help but equate to eyes narrowing to little dots for a moment before returning to normal. “You wish for Tholian vessels to join your Federation Alliance against the Dominion. This is acceptable on the condition that we are provided with all information regarding the anomaly that allowed for this Lost Fleet to return at this time.” Those points of light narrowed once more, becoming intense pinpricks of light. “Failure to comply with your obligations will not be tolerated by the Assembly.”

“Then we have a deal,” Tikva said with a smile. “I take it you have more than just your ship in the region Commander?”

“My other ships will be ready at the appointed time.” And then just like that the communications channel was closed, the Tholian Assembly’s seal appearing on the viewscreen for a few seconds before transitioning back to space ahead, the webspinner already turning and moving away from Atlantis before jumping to warp.

“Well, that happened,” Mac said as he stepped up beside Tikva. “I know orders said to get the old band back together, but don’t think anyone will be upset with a few new faces.”

“Just hope that Admiral Beckett will have my back. Don’t exactly feel like making more deals than I can afford to really.” She shrugged. “Perhaps that’s why he’s sent a mere captain to sort out this mess – plausible deniability afterwards and the option to renege on what I offer.”

“Unlikely,” Lin said. “It would set a bad precedent to renege on deals made after all. Though perhaps moderation is best.” While Mac’s tone had been somewhat laid back, Lin’s was the model of a proper officer. “Though Commander Kaltene did just say she’d be ready at the appointed time without confirming with us how she would know, or how we could relay such information to her.”

“Tholians,” Tikva said with a shrug. “Honestly, I think the only part of the Federation they like is the Department of Temporal Investigations. Can’t live with them, can’t change the time on a clock without one popping out of the woodwork.”

“Indeed,” Lin said with a shake of her head. “Lieutenant T’Val, please bring us closer to Handl Dryf. Michaels, contact station control and ask them where they want us.” She turned to Tikva only after issuing the orders. “Unless the captain would like to take the conn?”

“No no, works for me. I’m going to go get ready for seeing the station administrator.” She gave Lin a wink and then turned to Mac, shooing him along and back towards the turbolift. “Come on, off with you. I want everyone well rested as much as possible.”

“Aye ma’am,” Mac chuckled as he led the way to the turbolift. “So, taking any young blood over to the station?” he asked as they entered the turbolift.

Oooh! I’ve got some ideas.

Me too.

Anyone got any serious ideas though?

Well actually…

Standing before Oraba Dryf on his rather ornate and expensive floor was a gaggle of meddlesome, troublesome, irksome and entirely too annoying anti-capitalist Starfleet officers. He knew what the Federation espoused. He knew what agenda it wanted to promulgate across the stars.

And he was entirely willing to exploit their naivety in the face of a superior cultural backing.

They might not have the lobes for business, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t become business.

Rule 7 – Keep your ears open.

The shortest of the three before him was apparently the ship’s captain – a female. Another sign of their cultural degeneracy. But he was always open to entertaining such things – after all, such a public attitude was responsible for turning the family’s space station from a break-even operation and into a thriving port of call over the last twenty years. Well, his space station now that he’d bought out his brother’s shares.

After ruining his brother’s other business ventures and convincing him to sell to give him the capital he needed to try again.

“Shore leave?” he asked after the female, the shorter of the two before him, had finished speaking. “You want permission for some of your crew to take shore leave?”

“Just those that have earned it while we make repairs,” the female continued. “And a few officers will need to come over for procurement of supplies as well. We strained our engines recently and my chief engineer is insisting we undertake some priority repairs. His cost-benefit analysis was rather convincing as to spending a small amount of time and materials now versus considerably more of both in the future.”

“Cost-benefit analysis?” he repeated, squinting at her. That was the single most infuriating thing about humans in his opinion – their ability to make complete and utter sense one moment, fleeting as it always was, before slipping back into their egalitarian equitable dystopia the next. “Your engineer won’t find better parts than what the markets here on Handl Dryf have to offer. Far superior to anything your unskilled, unpaid workers will have produced I assure you.”

She smiled at him, nodding a few times. “I shall let him know. With such a recommendation he is sure to make some purchases.” She then waved the other female who was with her forward. This one was similarly garbed – far too much for a female – but her height, frame and darker skin tone made her appearance more exotic. And if his memory served him right was only an ensign. Or sub-lieutenant. Whatever the single pip represented. The way she acted she was only a sales representative at best.

The young woman stepped forward and placed a small box on his desk before returning to stand behind her captain and beside the young human male who he wasn’t sure had breathed once since coming to rest where he stood. He waited, then waved one of his servants to pull the box across his large desk and closer to him so he could open it.

“I trust Administrator Dryf that shore leave is a more than adequate explanation for our visit?” the captain asked with a smirk on her face.

Inside the case before him was a clear crystal hollow cylinder. Worthless on its own, no matter what the crystal was, but the contents held within it were a different matter altogether. Nothing had the same lustre, the same sheen, the same unadulterated beauty as the liquid metal that sloshed within that crystal tube.

Latnium.

Bricks and bricks worth of latnium.

“Welcome to Handl Dryf,” he said, rising out of his chair and smiling, teeth on full display as would be befitting for a wealthy client. Whoever these Federation types were they at least had value and he could accept that. “Never let it be said that Oraba Dryf isn’t a welcoming host, for the right price that is!”

“Permission to speak ma’am?” Ensign Kelly Tabaaha asked as she followed in the wake of Captain Theodoras and Lieutenant Fightmaster. She didn’t know why she’d been selected to accompany the captain for her excursion to the Ferengi station, just had been ordered to Transporter Room 1, given a package by the lieutenant and then told to ‘come along, it’ll be fun.’

“For the duration of this trip, consider it granted Ensign,” the captain said and she could just about hear the captain’s grin.

All three of them had gathered in the transporter room, donning excursion jackets before beaming across. The leather jackets with the red trimming did work some wonders in breaking up the familiar Starfleet uniform, but it was still a uniform after all. Her jacket however was squeakier and cleaner than both the captain’s and lieutenant’s, which she thought was odd, knowing Fightmaster’s reputation. There’s had some sort of mystical wear to them that made them look damn good without being freshly replicated.

“Um, well ma’am, just what did I give that Ferengi?” she finally asked.

“How much was it, Stirling?” the captain asked out loud without turning to face her yeoman.

“Equivalent of ten bricks of latnium.” Fightmaster looked at her and there was a faint smile on his face. “Just without the worthless gold. Would have been unfair to ask you to carry that, Ensign.”

“Is that a lot?” she asked. Her knowledge of the Ferengi and economics outside of the Federation’s internal model was understandably lacking. It had no impact on her life, so why should she know it?

“Depends on who you ask,” the captain answered. “Now, Ensign, walk with me.” Waving her forward, Kelly joined the captain, noticing Fightmaster moving so he was behind both of them. “I invited you along because I’m woefully behind on my getting to know the crew goals. So, tell me about yourself?”

“Well ma’am, I was born on Earth in the Deinetah and –“

“Humans with that much latnium Administrator are –“

“Shut up Kreg. If I want your opinion, I’ll pay you for it.” Oraba sat back in his chair, turning the crystal cylinder back and forth, watching the precious substance within slosh around. He had substantially more latnium to his name. All safe and secure in multiple banks, or invested in businesses across the Ferengi Alliance. Even some hidden inside an asteroid only he knew about. What he had before him was what he expected to find in his couch cushions if he never checked.

But instead of heavy and worthless gold bricks to encase it, these humans had opted for a simple crystal cylinder. A scan showed it to be a simple carbon crystal of exacting purity, no doubt assembled by nano-machines or a replicator specifically for this task – told hold latnium.

It had a simple, lightweight, sturdy and mostly scratch-resistant beauty to it.

As far as bribes went to stop asking questions it wasn’t too bad. Not too bad at all.

“Ensure the Federation types have their privacy. They’ve paid for it and then some,” he said waving the little cylinder at his lackey. “And I mean it. If I hear of anyone attempting to pry into their business –“

“You’ll have Orgu throw them out the nearest airlock, yes Administrator. We’re all aware.” Kreg bowed at the waist, cupping his hands in supplication as he backed away. “I’ll have it done right away sir.”

“And get my cousin Trem in here right now. I think I’ve got an idea on how to change the hard currency market.” His eyes went from watching Kreg scurry out and back to the trinket in his hands. “Yes…this is far, far easier to carry in your pocket.”