Humanoid, or humanoid adjacent life, on numerous worlds, had evolved predominantly as diurnal creatures. Their eyes were suited for the light, as so much of the world was active at the time. And as such they developed an aversion to the dark. Other animals hunted in the dark, stalking those that couldn’t see as well as they could. So tribes banded together, created light at night to keep safe and then taught generations after generations that scary things were in the dark.

Of course, the dark differed from species to species, evolution playing out with slight changes on many different worlds depending on their circumstances. Some could see into the infrared, others ultraviolet, all depending on what their species’ birth star produced. Nausicaans as it were were of the former, their eyes well suited for dim light.

But not nearly as well as the Xindi-Insectoids, adept at seeing further into the infrared than Nausicaans.

For Lieutenant Ch’tkk’va the brig aboard Atlantis was perhaps dim, but they could still see just fine.

For the Nausicaans it was pitch black save for the faint blue glow of the forcefield emitter and a dim light designed to be visible to all known species to help indicate where the recessed toilet within the cell was hiding. The designers after all wanted any long-term visitors to be able to find the refuse collection station with barely any effort.

Under orders, Ch’tkk’va hadn’t consulted the Federation or Starfleet networks as to who was residing within the cell right now, having to confirm their identities with Ferengi authorities. A conversation that would need to be relayed to the Captain later, but for now had sufficed to inform them of just who was unconscious on the floor, dumped there rather unceremoniously by Silver Team.

A series of clicks rung out in the empty brig, nothing translatable, just them clacking mandibles against each other. The humanoid equivalent to making clicking noises with one’s tongue. It had the desired effect as one of the Nausicaans started to stir and realised the situation they were in. The taller of the two then jostled the smaller awake, looking out in Ch’tkk’va’s direction, trying to find the source of the indeterminate clicking despite the lack of light.

It was, in a cruel way, entertaining. To watch these two individuals, whose reputations were known to them, scared and concerned for their safety. They had been willing to kidnap someone off the streets of Handl Dryf and yet when it had been done to them acted scared, huddling together in the dark, moving closer to the field emitter and its poor miserable light. It cast its blue light over their yellow-green mottled skin and did nothing to help them see in the dark.

“Whose out there?” the larger one, Klerda the Ferengi Security Enforcement Agency files attested, said as she looked out, eyes sliding over Ch’tkk’va without noticing them.

More clicks, this time the equivalent of a laugh, followed. They moved slightly, dragging the Nausiccan’s attention as they tried in vain to see the source of their tormentor.

“You don’t frighten us,” Klerda continued.

“Yeah,” Temlur, the shorter sister, the more violently inclined one too, said as she got to her feet. A hand used Klerda’s shoulder for purchase as she stood, the other experimentally tested the forcefield, pulling it back after a moment. “Ugh, barely a shock.”

“Federation forcefield,” Klerda said. “But can’t be. Federation like their lights.” She took her sister’s offered hand and got to her own feet. “Show yourself, coward.”

That was the queue for the other person hiding in the dark to start speaking.

“And why would we do that?” Counsellor Gavin Hu asked. He’d taken a seat against the far wall of the cell and had confirmed for Ch’tkk’va nearly five minutes ago that the room was adequately dark, thank you very much. But he had agreed to assist in the interrogation of the Nausicaans, to help judge if what they had to say was accurate or not. Not a telepath, but Ch’tkk’va preferred to rely on trained skills versus natural talent. Trained skills meant one had to work at it, be prepared to read nuance and make educated conclusions.

With that question, Ch’tkk’va stepped up the clicks and chirps, again moving slightly.

“To show us you’re not afraid. Hiding in the dark, what are you, hideous?” Klerda again, the mouthpiece for the two Nausicaan kidnappers.

“You were going to kidnap a young human woman. Then settled on a man in an alleyway. Why?” Hu asked.

“None of your business,” Temlur spat out.

“You said one human was as good as any other. Why?”

“Not gonna tell yah,” Klerda answered, a hand resting on her sister’s shoulder.

“Tell us what we want to know,” Gavin stated and Ch’tkk’va played their part, clicking away again, a chorus of sounds that was hoped would spark primitive fear responses.

It had drawn some response as both women retreated a half-step from the forcefield. Then Klerda summoned up some inner strength and stepped forward once more. “Why should we?”

“Tell us what we want to know and we guarantee your safety.” Hu had continued to use plural pronouns, all to add to the mystery.

The queue given, this was the time for Ch’tkk’va to ramp up the pressure a bit more. A few serious clicks, then they stepped forward, quickly, right up against the forcefield from the other side. Suddenly appearing from the darkness, dark chitin lit only by a faint blue light – it all had the desired effect.

Both Nausicaans let out a scream, retreated, fell backwards and then continued scrambling backwards.

“Tell us what we want to know and we guarantee your safety,” Hu repeated.

“That was an interesting experience,” Hu chided as they both sat themselves down in Ch’tkk’va’s office an hour later. “But considering what we know of those two…” He trailed off, not giving voice to those thoughts.

“It was one reason why I requested your assistance, Counsellor. I knew you would stop if we went too far.” Hu nodded in assent at that. “Unfortunate that they couldn’t provide us much more information than they did,” Ch’tkk’va said. “I will need to consult with station security as to who Grelmek truly is.”

“Some crime lord most likely. And this being a Ferengi station, if they haven’t brought them in already, it’ll be because they’re all paid up.” Hu shook his head and smirked at the chief of security. “I find it interesting that their boss only dealt with them via voice-only communications or dead drops. Almost like they don’t want to be seen.”

“And that they weren’t after Ensign Leckie for any specific reason, they just concluded she was a single lone human female they could overpower. That they were after any Federation citizen they could get is a bit concerning.” Ch’tkk’va clicked their mandibles in thought once more. “What did you make of their responses Counsellor? Can we trust the information they provided to us?”

Gavin Hu sighed. Raising a leg to cross one over the other, the folded his hand one over the other on the higher knee, taking the moment to collect his thoughts. “They were quick to answer, with no hesitation at all with our initial rapid-fire questions after your jump-scare. And both of them don’t strike me as the type to prepare lies well in advance. Klerda was smart enough to clam up after a bit, but her sister was, how shall I put this, stupidly honest?”

“What do you mean Counsellor?”

“All muscle, no brains. Sad really. But leaves her ill-equipped to lie on the spot. She spat out answers because she had them and before Klerda could stop her. Then once the jig was up, Klerda at least came in, attempting to smooth things out. Preparation no doubt for whichever magistrate we hand them over to.” Hu shrugged his shoulders. “I’m admittedly not an expert on Nausicaan psychology. It wasn’t exactly required reading.”

“Your insight is appreciated,” Ch’tkk’va replied. “Though Grelmek’s insistence on standoff communications could prove useful.”

“What are you thinking?” Hu asked.

“Masquerade our captive’s voices, communicate with their hive-leader and attempt to learn more.” They reached out to the computer on their desk, bringing up a feed of the now well-lit brig, both Nausicaans still in Holding 1 and from the look of it having quite the row. “They are providing enough audio samples for the computer to render suitable renditions.”

“Interesting plan. Should run it past Commander MacIntyre first.” Hu leaned back in his chair, arms crossed in thought. “The trick will be in laying a trap while not getting caught in one. That said, baiting Grelmek is perhaps your best bet for luring them out into view.”

“Bait?” Ch’tkk’va asked, head cocked to the side.

“Klerda and Temlur were hired to procure someone, anyone, for this Grelmek. Let’s provide them with someone. Have a team standing by, pounce when Grelmek, or likely another series of goons, shows up to collect their package.”

“Interesting plan,” Ch’tkk’va replied. “Very interesting.”

“Why me?” Amber Leckie whined as two large Nausicaans pushed her through the service corridors that pervaded the support areas of Handl Dryf.

Of course, the two Nausicaans weren’t the real Klerda and Temlur, just two other members of Silver Team wearing holographic disguises. Brek and Rosa had been the best fits for the disguises, though neither was perfect for Temlur. “You are the most believable,” came the snarling, growling Nausicaan voice of Klerda from Brek as he marched her along on her left.

“Sorry babe,” Rosa said, though any relief was buried and munched upon the even worse growl of the Nausicaan Temlur. “But he’s got you there.”

“I meant it in that of the entire team, she would, from appearances only, be the most vulnerable,” Brek tried to correct. “You are still a highly capable and respected asset to the team.”

“Flirt,” Amber teased, watching the holographic disguise raise an eyebrow to match the expression beneath it.

“I was not flirting,” Brek reassured her, tone as flat and neutral as ever for the Vulcan. “We are nearing our destination.”

“One and Three better be ready,” Amber muttered before she started to struggle, enough to make Brek and Rosa have to lift her bodily by the arms so she couldn’t get purchase on the deck.

Not only did the corridors disappear until steam and other particulates in the air made things disappear, but they curved ever so slightly upwards along the circumference of the station as the distance grew too, giving the place a definitive otherworldly vibe. The service walkways varied from large paths meant for vehicles, be they automated or manned, to the warren of smaller ones that run under the shops, accommodations and sparse green spaces. They left one of the larger non-vehicle paths for a smaller path, a junction of such corridors not far from them and inside stood a single figure.

Whoever the figure was, they were wearing a dark brown cloak, the hood up and covering their head, casting their face into shadow and obscuring their figure. The look was helped by the single light of the junction, flicking with a lazy fan spin, mounted directly above them.

As Brek and Rosa marched Amber then, her wrist nominally bound behind her back, then roughly set her on her feet, then both pushed down on her shoulders so she went to the floor with an exhalation of pain as her knees met the hard floor. “As we agreed,” Rosa-as-Temlur growled.

“Indeed so,” the figure said. “Make her talk.” The voice was indistinct, treading the line between masculine and feminine.

“You heard the boss,” Brek-as-Klerda said, adding as much emotion to his voice as he could but perhaps a bit more reliant on the voice synthesiser than Rosa was. He followed it up with a hand in Amber’s hair and pulled her head back, giving the performance that they had both practised more than a few times before leaving the ship. He’d been concerned about hurting a fellow teammate and she’d been concerned about her hair, which he’d remarked was foolish at the time.

“Bite me you B-rated drama queen,” Amber growled in faux-pain, looking up to try and get eyes on just who Grelmek actually was. She then gasped and fell backwards, Brek’s hand falling out of her hair as she scrambled back a bit. “What the fuck?!” she exclaimed.

“Grab her,” the figure said, its voice changing slowly as it spoke the two words. “I still need her,” it commanded, the voice softening as the figure shrunk some in stature, the cloak now pooling slightly on the floor before the figure pushed back the hood, its features an exact duplicate of Amber’s own.

“Payment first,” Rosa-Temlur demanded.

“What?” the Faux-Amber asked, attention shifting from the young purple-haired woman still scrambling back, to the Nausicaan imposter.

“We want payment before we do anything more.” This was all standard stalling, agreed-upon code phrases for Mitchell and Fightmaster to hurry the hell up. “You want us to do another job,” Rosa pointed at Amber, “we get paid first.”

“Solids,” Faux-Amber sighed, then produced a small bag from under the cloak, the entity looking for all it was worth like it was dressed just like Amber was. The bag was tossed at Rosa in a carefree manner. “Your payment,” it said, clearly sounding exasperated at the whole ordeal. “Now get her.”

While the Changeling’s attention had returned to Amber, head cocked to the side in consideration, its features shifting slightly as it continued to watch its prey, all attention suddenly shifted as it heard the clattering echo of a bag full of hard credits hitting the floor. Eyes fell on the pouch, then up to the Nausicaan-Rosa, who had drawn a phaser and was pointing it directly at the Changeling.

“Starfleet Security, you’re under –“ Rosa was cut off as an amorphic tendril smashed into her, knocking her off her feet and slamming her against the wall.

Brek for his part didn’t try and announce himself, merely fired his weapon point-blank into the Changeling, three rapid shots into its centre mass. The Changeling rocked with each shot, then turned on him, Amber’s visage rendered in pure unadulterated rage before it grabbed Brek by both wrists, twisted hard so that even the Vulcan hissed in pain before dropping his weapon, then flung him across the room at Rosa as she was coming to her senses. Both holographic disguises gave up the ghost as the fields interfered with each other, rendering the Orion and Vulcan plain to see.

“That’s my face,” Amber hissed, having freed herself of the handcuffs and produced the small phaser that had been tucked into her belt. The Changeling had spun on her, barely getting a chance to notice the phaser before Amber fired, the first shot wiping her face off the creature, the second blowing apart its head in a shower of golden-brown goo.

That didn’t stop the Changeling as it gave up any pretence, its form now just a roughly human-sized blob of goo and as it towered over Amber. Tendrils, multiple tendrils now, snaked out for her, the creature blocking out the light as it slid over the floor. “I was going to keep you alive, but not now,” it hissed from somewhere.

“We were thinking the same thing,” came the comeback from down the corridor opposite where the team had entered.

The Changeling had barely turned towards the spoken statement when the sound of two phaser rifles firing off came reporting down the corridor. Shots slammed into its mass, a few penetrated and went right over Amber’s head, down the long corridor to who knows where.

A hiss mixed with a cry bellowed forth from the creature before it grew towards the nearest air duct, tendrils slipping between the grates, then its whole singular mass slurping up behind it in retreat.

Phaser fire from Mitchell, Fightmaster and Amber pummelled its retreating form, even smashing into the bulkhead around the air duct to convince the being what awaited it should it return. There was carbon scoring on the wall, and debris of Changeling littered the room, all slurping towards dark spaces slowly.

“Clear,” Mitchell announced.

“Clear,” Fightmaster echoed as the two men entered the junction properly, both still watching the air duct the Changeling had used.

“Fuck, where is it?” Amber exclaimed as she fumbled in her pockets, ignoring Fightmaster as he offered her a hand to stand. Mitchell was doing the same for Brek and Rosa. “Crap, come on, I know I…got it!” she announced, producing a hardened clear plastic tube with a dark red stopper. She looked to Fightmaster with a triumphant smile then scrambled on hands and knees to the nearest retreating blob of Changeling, running the vial through the mass and quickly stoppering it before the captured mass could escape.

“You carry a test tube?” Stirling asked, now helping her to her feet. The questioning look on his face was echoed by Rosa and Mitchell, Brek just sporting another raised eyebrow.

“I’m the medic,” she defended herself. “I might have to get field samples.” They continued to stare at her. “In case you get sick, or poisoned, eat something bright green you shouldn’t have or rendered into a pile of ash.”

“Charming thought,” Mitchell declared. “We all saw that right?” he asked the team.

“Fucking Changeling,” Amber answered, a nod in the affirmative from Rosa and Brek. Amber emphasised her point by waving her little test tube of prisoner for all the see, the golden-brown goo settling to the bottom, motionless.

“Surprising a Founder is here of all places,” Stirling spoke up. “But then again, this is a transit hub. Kidnap and replace a Federation citizen, hop a ship back into the Federation, rinse and repeat.”

“And refugees from worlds in the Deneb Sector have flowed through this station,” Brek added to the ad-hoc analysis. “Logical to attempt such a first-order replacement here. Little security, a large transient population, plenty of opportunity.”

There was a moment of silence amongst the team, interrupted by Mitchell’s declaration “I count five.”

“Five going home,” the team answered.

“But maybe we stop by the bar first?” Rosa then asked as she lifted the bag of currency and gave it a small jingle. None of the team, even Brek, could resist a glance inside when she opened the pouch.

“If kidnapping Amber is worth this much, we should do it more often,” Rosa teased.

“Next time you get to slam your knees into the floor,” Amber responded.

“You get thrown across the room then,” Rosa snapped back with a smile. Then winched before a hand went to the opposite shoulder. “Son of a bitch that hurt.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Mitchel cut in. “Let’s roll. Three, take the rear, I’ve got point. Five, hold that tube tight. We move to the beam out point.”