What had once started as a deep space biology lab had found itself repurposed to a small garden, then a park and now a large part of Gilligan station's lower ring had been converted with root and seed into the small forest. The expansive room played host to much of Gilligan bases' events, both public and personal. Over the years the rows of surprisingly fragile Andorian daisies had watched as nervous first dates grew into gentle first kisses. Bright bushels of Trill petunias that hung within secluded gazebos had witnessed the declaration of love and commitment, trumpeting for the newly wedded couple. Silent blossoms of the Terran Cherry trees had fluttered in windless breezes over weeping processions. Today towering pines watched stoically as the silky voice of the young Orion, clad in his best dress uniform, was drowned by the acclamations of the assembled crowd. The room rolled with a current of approving cheers beneath each word, echoing through the station's open arboretum, tensions reaching up with the leaves towards a surreal sunless sky. 

Jhozan, the engineer from platform 25, his overalls dirty with grease, punched the air with calloused hands as the orator declared the failures of the Federation to protect its colonies in the Deneb Sector. Aymera, a slight woman who worked in the bases central offices, howled like a frenzied animal as the speaker reminded them of the cruelties of Starfleet when hunting down their brothers and sisters in the Maquis. Nyma, the aged deckhand, silently wept through heaving breaths as the young man reminded the crowd that Starfleet could not even defend themselves from their own officers above their mighty citadel. At the rear of the swelling group, gathered beneath the protective screen of a willow, three figures watched quietly at the unfolding scene. Had any of the crowd found themselves able to tear themselves away from the rebel-rousing visitor they might have noticed the oddly placed satchel worn by the young Tellerite, or the nervous way the tall Orion woman braided her long jet black hair. If they had looked even closer they might have noticed the blonde man in the centre, his arms crossed, a golden delta hidden within his palm, his marble face cold and focused. 

“There's a lot of anger there.” Hermira whispered as she aimlessly wove her hair back and forth. “I think the Captain downplayed the anger.”

“Obviously things have developed since Administrator Gand's initial message.” Maine cast an eye towards the young Tellarite to his side. “Anything?”

His eyes locked on the tricorder hidden within the satchel bag, Log sighed frustrated. “No. Well I don't think so.”

“You don't think so?” Maine turned his head slightly, his focus still on the crowd as a gasp rippled through assembly. The Orion choked as he told the story of a young crewman who had lost his life in the recent Deneb conflict, serving to the last moment on a civilian hauler. A tear rolled down the Orions veridian cheek as he listed the names of the children, left behind to struggle on.  Maine felt a lump in his throat, his own recent loss tightening his chest. The young Orion swung his arms high as he conducted the crescendo of his swelling Adagio, declaring the martyrdom of this young nameless crewman and simultaneously decrying Starfleet. For a moment, Maine was willing to believe that the young man might have really been as sainted as the man suggested. 

“Theres a lot of ambient electromagnetic interference in here, not really sure from what.” Reaching his arm deeper into the satchel masking his equipment Log furrowed his already wrinkled brow. “Give me a minute.”

“We might not have too much longer, it looks like he's wrapping up.” Hermira nodded towards the Orion on the stage as he brought his fist down on the small podium, punctuating his latest declaration. 

“Familiar?” Maine asked.

“What because all Orion's know each other?” Hermira hissed in mock offense. Tossing her loose braid over a shoulder she smiled at Maine, “His names Ayjet, not much in the Starfleet database and worryingly, even less in the Syndicate gossip-mill.” 

Maine returned her honey smile with an inquisitive raising of his eyebrows. 

“A Captain of little note, took on some small time jobs and got some Latinum. No-one seems to hate him.”

“That's bad?” Maine muttered, casting a glance back to the stage where the young man led a series of rebellious cheers against the Federation. 

“In the Syndicate? It means that either no-one knows you enough to hate you or everyone is too scared to hate you.”  She discretely held up a small padd, a rolling list of stardates and summary reports scrolling down its screen. “The docked ship, however? That's got a long list of comments, it’s been logged in relation to several incidents in the last few years. None of them mention him.”

“Sneaky Bugger!” Log shouted.

“Subtle, Log. Subtle.” Maine retorted from behind clenched teeth. 

“Sorry.” The young Tellerite shrivelled in embarrassment, clandestine operations were not the engineer's forté, compared to Maine and Hermira he had the stealthy demeanour of a tambourine. “I still don't get why we're in hiding.”

“It's a civilian base, Log. If we just turned up waving around tricorders and flying the Starfleet flag it would only exacerbate the situation.” The words slipped quietly from the side of Maines mouth as he scanned the area. Only a woman on a nearby bench, had started at Log's exclamation, but she quickly returned to her engrossing padd. 

“But Starfleet helps people.” the Tellarite whispered unconvincingly. As the older man returned his attention to the diminutive Ensign he met with Log's wide, innocent, saucer eyes; deep behind them he could see a new officer coming to terms with a complicated galaxy. He reached an arm out to comfort the young man, suddenly reminded that it was only by blind luck that Log hadn't shared the fate of many his friends and classmates during Frontier Day. 

“This base is a major exporter of Deuterium to the coreward portion of the Federation. I think they've done a lot more for Starfleet then it has for them.” Hermira sighed, her attention locked upon the Orion still rallying the crowd. 

Releasing his grasp on the young man's shoulder Maine steered the conversation back to business. “What did you find Log?” 

“It looks like a scattering field, some kind of wide band, low energy dispersal field.” Log tilted the tricorder slightly to allow Maine to see the small screen. “It's focused towards the stage but it's quite wide, I can't find a source point.”

“Enough to hide something?” There was usually only one reason for a scattering field in Maine's experience. 

“It wouldn't fool Daedalus but its enough to distract the old internal sensor palettes aboard the station. Teltec Class VII's have some difficulty seeing along certain wavelengths, an issue with the receiver units wiring formation-” 

“Fascinating Log, could it be hiding something?” 

The Tellarite grinned apologetically  “It's basically just a noise maker, a relatively quiet on.” He rubbed his brow. “It could mask inert matter, maybe a few life signs at most.” 

“Not incriminating but certainly suspicious.” Maine whispered, leaning in to view the screen better. “Any idea what it could be?”

A gentle tapping on his shoulder drew Maine's attention from the ensign's secretive satchel. 

“I think it's them.”  Hermira mumbled, her long fingers dropping from her hair and reaching out towards the stage. 

At the far side of the arboretum, another gasp rippled across the crowd as a cold stillness settled on the milling bystanders. On the stage the young Orion man had bowed ever so slightly as he swept aside a curtain along the back wall, his previously bluster full frame now folding in deference to his new companions. As the silence gave way to mutterings amongst the crowd, Maine felt his heart plummet, crashing into the deck plate with enough force to splinter the metal. Two tall figures emerged onto the stage, their tan uniforms soaking in the faux sunlight, cyclopic green eye staring unblinkingly from their snouted masks. The Orion stood tall and stepped forward to the podium once more. 

“Starfleet has failed you. The Breen Confederacy wishes to offer you an alternative.”