They picked up the trail at Scarix. Initial sensor sweeps showed very little, but Thawn insisted they stop for several hours more. Kharth had been suspicious, yet once the radiation oozing from the dense clusters of borite in the asteroid field had been filtered out, the Betazoid officer gave them firm readings and a firm heading.

‘It’s some days old,’ she allowed. ‘But this was definitely the Kaplans’ course.’

Logan looked dolorously at the map display in the middle of the Vigilance’s cockpit. ‘Odds are good they headed for the Synnef Nebula.’

‘If they got too deep,’ chimed Lindgren, ‘no way we can track them.’

‘One step at a time,’ Kharth had said, not feeling very optimistic. The burdens of command meant she had to be the one reminding them they had to explore all options instead of warning how it might go wrong. It was not a pleasant feeling.

It took another two days of hunting. After one, they almost lost the trail, the Kaplans skirting near an ion storm that had since dissipated but obscured their warp trail. Kharth was sure this was intentional by the pirates, a small band wanting to avoid being followed after a confrontation with Starfleet. But their efforts to cover their tracks were, it turned out, no match for the sensor sorcery of Rosara Thawn.

‘It’s possible they took a more circuitous route so they could shake a tail,’ came her summary at last. ‘But if they were heading for the heart of the Synnef Nebula, I’m not sure why they wouldn’t travel at top speed. We’d never find them once they got too deep anyway. They ran the risk of someone catching up with them to hide their tracks.’

‘Which suggests,’ said Logan, scratching his beard, ‘they’re not just disappearing into the nebula.’

Lindgren reached up to the cockpit map display. ‘Sot Thryfar,’ she said, pointing at a dot on the coreward periphery of the nebula. ‘Intel always suggested it was the hub of raiders and smugglers in the region, but this was based on reports from the Republic. Those elements haven’t turned their eye towards Federation holdings before.’

‘Now we’re here,’ Kharth said, ‘that might be about to change. Don’t jump to conclusions yet, though. Follow the trail, Lindgren. If that leaves us to Sot Thryfar… so be it.’

The route wasn’t direct. But they followed the trail and, a day later, were entering the periphery of the Sot Thryfar system.

‘I’m picking up a lot of traffic,’ said Lindgren on the approach. ‘Most ships aren’t much, if any bigger than us, and the ones that are, are mostly cargo haulers.’

‘There’s one old Romulan bird-of-prey lurking around here,’ warned Logan from Tactical. ‘I think it’s more for show than anything else, I’m not reading a lot of activated systems.’

‘It’s a watchdog,’ Kharth agreed. ‘Any sign of our friends?’

Thawn at last shook her head. ‘Maybe I could pick out their warp trail, but now it’s overlapping with dozens. It would take time.’

Kharth looked from the sensor display to the view through the canopy. Sot Thryfar boasted numerous worlds and moons, many of which had settlements or platforms on the surface or in orbit. But it was the station at the heart of the system, a spoke-wheeled construction of old Romulan design modified and expanded over the years, that stood as the beating heart of activity. The nebula masked the system from most long-range sensors while allowing those here to see danger if it came their way. All manner of outfits, from smugglers to raiders to those whose business was simply illegal beyond Federation or Romulan space, could pitch up a hub or a base, and be about their business in a cease-fire of mutually assured destruction.

‘That station’s been there for decades,’ Lindgren said with a frown. ‘Since before the Supernova.’

‘The Neutral Zone may have kept peace between the Federation and Star Empire,’ said Logan, ‘but it also provided a no-go area for Starfleet and Galae Command, which was a gift to people who don’t care about interstellar law. Starfleet would shoot you down rather than let you breach the Neutral Zone, but if you crossed it first, they wouldn’t go after you.’

‘We’re being hailed,’ Thawn warned at a chirrup from her console. ‘It’s the station. Voice only.’

‘Put them on.’

‘Starfleet ship! Welcome to Sot Thryfar. This is a place of peace, of business, or negotiation. How can we help you?’ The voice was masculine, deep but ebullient.

Kharth heard the warning slide in. ‘Sot Thryfar Station, this is Commander Kharth of the Federation runabout Vigilance. We’re not here for trouble. We’d like to dock and stretch our legs.’

‘Of course,’ came the too-effusive response. ‘I’ll arrange you an approach pattern and a docking port. Leave all weapons aboard when you disembark.’

Kharth exchanged a frown with Logan before she asked, ‘Is that standard procedure?’

‘It is for Starfleet.’ The sickly sweetness did not stop. ‘Your safety is assured by the bonds of this station. Simply put, Commander, everyone else has something to lose by breaking the accord. You don’t.’

She sighed. ‘You’ve got me there. We’re just here to talk. We’ll be on our best behaviour.’

‘I know you will because you’ll be unarmed. Transmitting your docking directions now. Sot Thryfar Station out.’

Kharth reached up to scrub her face with her hands. ‘Marching into a neutral port where smugglers and pirates hang out, with no weapons. What could go wrong?’

‘More than you’d think,’ said Thawn, and Kharth would have snapped at her for responding to rhetorical snark if she hadn’t pressed on, gaze sombre. ‘I think those Kaplans are here.’