“They’re hailing us.”  Oscar Reede had felt his jangled nerves bouncing around ever since the heavy Syndicate cruiser had been spotted.  There were pirates, and there were pirates…and then there was the Orion Syndicate.  Notoriously violent and empty of any values or honor, they’d built a reputation.  Enough of one that Starfleet had stepped up enforcement and patrol operations.  Which troubled Oscar as he sat at his communication station.  How desperate was this Syndicate member that they would try and down an Excelsior II class starship?

Captain Wren Walton stood, “Onscreen.”

A dark and seedy Syndicate bridge filled the viewscreen, and a lone Romulan woman stared back.  “Where is Brody Daltone?”

Wren jerked her thumb towards a station in the back of the bridge where the man was bound and gagged, “He appears to have failed your mission.  Captain…?”

“Captain Hensa Rigilia.  It appears he has failed to come through on our deal.  Our objective was to collect him and the supplies he was going to steal. I may not get my torpedoes, but we still wish to collect payment however possible.  We aim to collect. Him.”  Her face was impassive, but her words were below a growl.

Walton shook her head, “That’s not how law and order works, at least in the Federation. Captain Rigilia…I promise you, Mr. Daltone will see justice.” Rigiila didn’t respond right away.  She seemed to be considering the words of the Starfleet captain.  Wren kept an eye on Kondo’s console as he continued to scan and monitor the Syndicate ship.

The Romulan woman replied after taking her time to think, “I would be unwise to attempt to take it from you.  I’ve heard about the poor fools who tangle with ships like yours.  You would still…protect this idiot?”  She pointed right at Daltone, “He spoke much of himself…That should have been our first alert to his stupidity…but you know how pirates and Syndicate members talk about themselves.”

Walton wasn’t sure if the Romulan captain was trying to be her best friend, engage in flirtatious small talk, or a little of both.  It was odd finding yourself talking about the everyday troubles of a warp core in the Syndicate’s engines.  “I wouldn’t know, Captain Rigilia.”

A quiet smile passed over the lips of the Syndicate captain’s serene face, “You’d make one an incredible captain.  I could show you one day.”

Wren wasn’t usually speechless.  She opened her mouth and then closed it.  Twice.  It took her a moment but she found her voice, “I’ll respectfully decline, captain.”

Rigilia sat back in her chair, blowing a raspberry in annoyance, “All business, your Starfleet types.  A woman’s gotta try, you know.”  She leaned forward, her face twisting with a warning, “Remember this: we never forget in the Syndicate.  We meet again…it’ll be for keeps.  You’re pretty…but not pretty enough to spare.  Watch your back, Captain Walton.”  The channel closed, and Wren let out a long sigh.  It was one of confusion and relief.

Her XO sat next to her, a bemused, amused, and confused look on her face, “A Syndicate captain flirted with you, Wren…and tried to…recruit you?”

Walton shook her head in disbelief, “I think that may be the strangest thing in my career so far.”  She turned to her tactical chief, “Add her to the list of people we’ve pissed off.  What’s her course?”

De La Fontaine fought the amused smile that threatened to break his concentration, “She’s leaving.  I’ll track her as long as I can.”

Wren blew her own raspberry, “Good riddance.  The real problem still needs to be dealt with. Our cult problem.  Mr. Reede, any communication from Janoor III?”

Oscar turned to answer her, “Yes…and no.  The image of the Mack returning to orbit and heading back into space has had an effect.  The holdouts at the township are down to an estimated 500.  I’ve had messages from Janoor’s interim government that they intend to hold elections within three days.  Chief among the platforms is the issue of disinformation related to the forming and harm caused by the cult.”

The turbolift door opened, and their diplomatic officer, Charlie Hargraves, stalked in, “I’m sure you’ve heard…but elections in 72 hours is nuts.”

Walton replied, a wry smile decorating her face, “Be positive, Charlie.”

He blinked twice and restated, “I am positive that elections in 72 hours are nuts.”

The captain waved him off, “We don’t have to like it…we need to help them make it happen with the support of our equipment and diplomatic office.  Which means you, Charlie.”

Hargraves scoffed but relented, “I accept the things I cannot control…something about peace, love, and space whales.”  He was being sarcastic, yet he had a slight smile.  “I’ll do my duty, captain.”

She returned his smile, “That’s the spirit, Charlie.  Get the team up to speed and head down to Janoor.  We’ve got some patchwork to do.  And if they ask, yes…the leader has been captured but will face Federation JAG charges since he’s a former Starfleet Officer.” Hargraves stood at attention and then departed back the way he came.  Wren turned her attention back to the bridge, “Let’s get a damage report and get this idiot locked in a cell in the brig.  Our JAG officer will be very interested in talking to him.”

Park mused, “Interested is a word to use…especially with Murdoch.”  She put her hands up on the stare she earned from her captain, “I’ll handle it.”

Wren stood, heading for her ready room, “No hitting, spitting, or kicking.”

The XO rolled her eyes as she entered the turbolift, “Peace, love, and space whales?”

Walton gave her thumbs up as she passed through the doors to her sanctum.  Hargraves glared at Park, “That was my joke.”  The XO stuck out her tongue as the doors closed, leaving the Diplomatic officer on the bridge, eyes from the crew on him.  He sighed, knowing full well the two of them stranded him here intentionally, “Yes, I have the CONN.”  He flopped down in the center chair.