The midafternoon meeting was underway, and Charlie Hargraves was tired.  He spent his CONN time on the bridge gathering reporters from the diplomatic team on the ground as they worked to interface with the various groups.  Late last evening, he’d made his way down to the planet to continue working on pulling together an election in just two days.  He finished, “We’ve begun upgrading the election systems and manufacturing replacement units.  Chief Katsumi’s timetable is aggressive, and we’ll have the systems ready for deployment on the morning of the election.”  He yielded the floor to the Security Chief, Seraphina Pearce.

“We’ve set up security checkpoints in the city and townships.  We spent last night evaluating their security teams with background checks and interviews.  After all that, we’ve got fifty.  I’m working with Kondo to get them in place at election sites.  We’ve also installed surveillance equipment at key points – we’ll be able to dispatch our teams quickly if things get…spicy.”

Wren continued reading through the detailed report the senior staff had pulled together in the early morning hours.  Each time they had come up against a challenge, they had found a way to impress her.  She was repeatedly thankful to Captain Harris for the choices he’d made in the people he had recruited.  Each of them held something special inside them.  In death, he continued to watch out for her.  “This looks solid, team.  We’ll…”

The unnerved voice of Oscar Reede broke through the briefing room’s communication panel, “Bridge to Captain Walton…incoming priority message from Captain Crawford, USS Olympic.”

She frowned.  Crawford had been assigned to work through a long list of Federation colonies a few days ago.  Had they run into trouble already?  “Put it through to the briefing room, Mr. Reede.”  The screen at the far end of the room flickered on.  “Captain Crawford…what can we do for you?”

Peter Crawford pursed his lips, “We’ve run into a stumbling block.  The Orion Syndicate has…saved the colony here.”  He explained the mild threat the leader had made.  When he mentioned the name, he noticed Wren frown.  “That name familiar?”

Walton explained Hensa Rigilia and their experience the previous day.  “She was young…you said your Rigilia was older?”  She tapped at the table console and transmitted the images from the conversation, “Daughter, perhaps?”

Pete wasn’t sure, “Family, house…could be anything.”  He accepted a PADD offscreen, “Fowler went back and pulled our sensor scans when we arrived in orbit.  It looks like your friend is friends with ours – their ship was scanned on the surface as a part of our data gathering.  They’ve talked.  It would explain why my Rigilia knew about us.  He’s been doing his research.”

Park interjected, “Your scans showed two ships…do we think this is a foothold or a base building?”  Walton gave her an appreciative nod.  She’d been working with her XO recently, and it was slowly starting to pay off.

Crawford shrugged, “I’ve had a handful of experience with The Syndicate…not enough to understand their ways and means…but given the history of this system over the years – they’re probably trying to do a little of both.  They do like to test defenses and boundaries.  Give an ensign a cookie…well, you know the rest.”

Walton did know the rest.  “Starfleet hasn’t exactly covered ourselves in glory in this part of space.”  She considered, “We’ve got an election in two days…we can leave a team behind once that’s certified and head your way.  I’d suggest putting some distance between you and them – The Syndicate has a habit of not letting things go.”

The Olympic captain gave a terse nod.  He understood.  “We’ll find a safe colony to assist in the meantime.  I’ll pull a report together for Fontana. Stay safe, Captain Walton.”

Wren replied, “You as well, Captain Crawford.”  The screen held his gaze for a second longer, and then he was gone.  She turned to her team, “We’ve got a time limit now on what we can do with the Mack on site.  Start the clock.”  The room broke up quickly.