“Honestly didn’t expect you lot to come back so quickly,” the older Romulan woman said.  She was standing some distance from R’tin, watching him as he manipulated the controls at the base of the new comms tower. She was leaning against one of the main beams of said tower, arms crossed, with a perpetual scowl on her face that reminded him of his mother, a few aunts and pretty much any mother of any girl he fancied.

“Well Merbel, when the boss says we’re going to help, we help. And when the boss sees a chance to one-up Starfleet, she takes it. So you get a brand new comms tower since the Rebirthers blew up your last one and even the comm frequencies of a bunch of nearby worlds we’ve helped out recently too. Even a few Republic worlds that might like to be your friends.”

“We’ll see about that,” Merbel grumbled. “The Republic is just as bad as the Federation – only interested in taking care of their own.”

“Well that’s not fair,” he countered. “The Republic is just skint broke. Well maybe not completely, but they are a bit tight on ships, resources, and manpower. And they’ve got warlords for neighbours, Klingons, occasionally the Free State. What I’m saying is –“

“They’ve got a reason to be tight-fisted bastards while the Federation doesn’t,” Merbel finished, a cutting tone to her voice. “At least they aren’t trying to harp on about being the galactic moral authority.”

“No argument there,” he had to concede. “But hey, talking to your interstellar neighbours can’t hurt. And being able to call for help might come in handy.”

“Hrumpf,” Merbel replied. “Not my call. I’m just the repair woman after all.”

“And a magnificent one you are,” he said, laying on the charm and a smile to a woman easily twice his age. And the response he got from her was another ‘hrumpf’. She could tell he was being charming for the sake of being charming and wasn’t buying it at all.

“I managed to sneak you a little gift as well to help with all of this new-fangled and twitchy Federation comms gear.” He pointed at a container near her with his chin while he continued with the setup. “I wouldn’t dream of making you climb all the way up this mast to do repairs or even some of the more interesting parts on the fusion reactor we’re building in the valley over. In fact, it should be able to take care of the fusion reactor most of the time anyway.”

“This better not be some automated replacement. I’ll break it if it is.” Merbel pushed off from the pillar and approached the container, expertly flicking at the two latches with her foot before lifting the lid, at no point uncrossing her arms. “What in the green hells is this?”

“Well it is automated, but it’s not a replacement.” R’tin fished out a controller from a pocket and tossed it at Merbel, forcing her to catch it. “It’s a civilian DOT. Designed primarily for regular maintenance of dangerous locales, like up fifty-meter subspace masts, or around fusion reactors.”

“Huh,” she replied, before pocketing the controller, dropping the lid and securing the latches. “I’ll take it apart later.”

“Just give it a try will you?” he pleaded. “It’s not going to replace you. It’s a civilian model, which means it’s pretty damn good, has a lot of modability and takes instructions very, very well.” He’d argued for getting the best the market offered for Meltex II and Na’roq had agreed. If just to help maintain their investment. “And no, it isn’t sentient, it won’t lead a revolution to overthrow organic life and yes it will prioritise rescuing people over itself or other equipment. Apparently, the human who sold it to me said it was Three Laws Safe, whatever that means.”

“Some stupid human robotics idea no doubt,” Merbel complained. “How much longer?”

“Just finishing the setup now. Just hacking through all the licensing and registration software. Not a crime since we’re, well, not in the Federation.” He grinned. “Yarrr.”

“Yarrr?” Merbel asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Human pirate thing. Gaeda taught it to me. Honestly, human fascination with pirates is weird. They hate them, chase them down, but then even the goodie-two-shoes amongst them love a good pirate story.”

“Back in the day, I’d have said you and your crew should face an airlock and be done with it.” Merbel shrugged her shoulders as she looked up straight at the comms tower. “In fact, I participated in more than a few spacings while in the fleet. But now?” Her gaze went from the tower, perched on a small rise, to the township off to the west. “I’d still space any pirates I met. But vigilantes are a different story.”

“Oof, a vigilante? Really? That hurts,” he said, hand to heart, feigning pain. But his act was cut short by the control panel chirping at him in a delighted little ditty. Then a solid ‘clunk’ somewhere in the electronics box behind the panel followed by the reassuring hum of high-power systems coming online. “Meltex II is once more back in the interstellar community. Not bad for three days’ work.”

And just as he finished the panel chirped a few more times, drawing his attention. “And the first bit of routed communications have just passed through. Congratulations.” Closing up the access panel, securing it against the elements and the curious, he handed the tool over to Merbel. “I’ve made sure the tool’s pattern is in the replicators just in case you lose this. And with that, I’m done.”

“About time,” Merbel responded. “Now help me with this,” she indicated the box with the DOT still inside of it. “There better be charging ports or whatever over at the fusion reactor for these things.”

“Four ports, four DOTs,” he answered as he picked up one end of the crate. “Trust me, you’ll come to love these things, they’re good for…”

“Sidda my dear,” Ardot’s voice was cheerful, as always. “I haven’t managed to track down Gavalore, but I have managed to find out that Mr al-Jabar did indeed speak with him not too long ago. As in the last few months. And I happen to know where he is. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more direct, but since your little escapade against The Last Pirate King, the new one is less responsive to my requests for information.”

Sidda watched the recorded message from behind a cup of tea in her office, sitting on the floor cushion cross-legged. She hadn’t expected an update from Ardot so quickly, but he had come through, at least somewhat.

“Coordinates are attached.  The bolt hole he’s decided to hide in doesn’t even have a name. It’s located in that rather odd patch of space between the Republic, Federation and Free State. Not far from that Meltex system I hear you’ve been favouring lately.” Ardot leaned closer to the recorder, the light changing as it compensated for him blocking the window that was behind him. “I’m also sending along some information about al-Jabar I’ve learned recently. It would seem he’s somewhat desperate to rebuild a powerbase and is engaging in some…less than savoury practices I know you’ll want to know about. I’m sure you’ll lodge your displeasure with him when you catch up with him.”

She huffed at that. Ardot had learned something he knew she’d object to and instead of learning it on the fly, he thought to warn her about it ahead of time, to let her digest it before confronting it and making a rational choice. Or let it really stew and make a rash choice but with internalised rationalisation.

“Oh, and I asked around about your new friend Manfred. Last I heard he had procured a ship at Argelius and was last seen heading into the Republic. So he is in the area as well. Be careful Sidda. Avoid him if you can. But if you end up running into him, do me a favour – use the biggest weapon you have as often as you can. I wish you the best of luck, my dear.”

And with that the image on the screen disappeared, replaced with the purple background and black rose she’d had set as the Rose’s default idle screen. It took her only a few moments to bring up the attached coordinates, compare them against a star chart, and then flick them along to the helm.

The Vondem Rose was going hunting.