The guards were tense and barked orders at Thasaz and Seraphina Pearce with little care.  The security chief could see the anger in their eyes.  There was something else in the mix as they endured an extended search.  There was fear in the mix.  They pushed and pulled the replacement equipment on carts through the secured headquarters area.  Pearce watched more and more of The Syndicate crew moving faster and faster.  She spoke to Thasaz using her Syndicate name, “Pathas…this may not go as had hoped.”

The Romulan operative gave a terse nod, “We may need to loosen the plan.  Let's get to the two ships at least.”  They continued down the path and turned the corner, heading for the nearest Syndicate ship.  Thasaz asked one of those running, “What's going on?”

The panicked young man sputtered, “Rigilia's talking with some Task Force Commando or something.  He's ordering us to be ready to leave at a moment's notice.”  He took off running before she could ask a second question.

Thasaz asked, “Is your Captain Geronimo really that scary?” Pearce's blank look was her answer. “Then what's with all the sound and fury?”  She grabbed another runner, “What's with all the running?”

This one stopped, did his best to catch his breath, and seemed thankful for the break.  He gulped air until he could speak, "Rigilia's boss has ordered us off and out.  You can stash the new upgrades," he nodded to the carts, “…we're leaving the place intact.”  He put his hands, “Look, if I could make sense of this Syndicate Shit, I'd be a lot richer and on a lot better planet than this one.”  With that, he scampered away.

Pearce blinked.  Three times.  "That means…we don't need to blow up the shuttles.  Or anything."  She looked around, “What the hell changed when the K'Ehleyr arrived?  It certainly wasn't Fontana…and what I know of Karrik, he's not a mad Vulcan ready to throw down.”  She glanced up at the sky and into space beyond, “What in the hell is going on?”

Thasaz slipped out her communicator and sent a message to the other team to gather at the transport ships instead and be ready to run away.  “I'm not sure.”

One of the higher-ranked Syndicate officers bounded up to them, “Pathas, they need to see you and your new friend at the hall.  Now.”  His right hand rested on his blaster while his left hung close to a short sword in its sheath.

Thasaz gave Peace a warning look and led her forward as the man took up the rear.

“You've been found out, Starfleet.”  Captain Hensa Rigilia stood on the elevated platform where a makeshift throne had been constructed.  She stood in front of it, hands on hips.  “Or should I say traitor Thasaz.”  She spat at the ground and shouted a few Romulan insults from the dais.

Pearce's eyes went wide at the revelation and wider still as the Romulan to her left cackled.  “And where is your father, Hensa?  For all his talk and bluster…he's probably left you to clean up the last of the trash.”  She spat on the ground, “You're nothing more than a trash collector.”

Seraphina whispered, “Why are you insulting her?”

Thasaz scoffed as she kept her eyes glued to Hensa, “I haven't insulted her, Lieutenant.  I've started with irritating.  I'll work my way up to insulting.  Eventually, we'll get to tell each other our mothers were born backward in a Vulcan graveyard with a Klingon nursemaid.  Then we'll get to threats…and maybe we might throw a punch of two.  Do I have that right, Hensa?  You never were one for striking while the phaser fire was hot.”

Hensa's fists were balled into fists of fury, and her once placid face rippled with rage, “I would wipe this unworthy floor with your boiled blood. You're nothing more than a Hevam-yikh.”

Pearce's translator kicked in, and her eyes widened even more, “She just called you…”

Thasaz chuckled, entertained, “She put the derogatory term for humans together with the same for aliens and non-Romulans.  She gets points for creativity.  You haven't tried to shoot me, Hensa.  What's the message you've been told to deliver?”

Her face bloomed a new shade of anger as her hands twitched near the dual holsters at her side.  Pearce's hands drifted to her blasters, wondering if this crazy Syndicate operative would actually try and shoot either of them…or both.

“I was ordered to give you this," and she tossed a device across the room, and it clattered across the floor, coming to a rest at Thasaz's feet.  “You won this round by default, Starfleet.  That's two rounds you've taken.  There won't be a third.”  She tapped a button on her uniform and vanished into a blaze of yellow transporter.  The rest of the Syndicate crew did the same.  The rumbling of ships departing began to shake the building.

Pearce turned to find Thasaz reading, a deep scowl growing across her face.  She muttered a few Romulan curses before moving on to the human ones.  Finished reading, she shoved the device into the hands of the security chief, who started to read as she ran to catch up with her partner, “What does this mean?  I've heard the name of Patra in the reports…and Crawford is an officer on the Mack.  Thasaz…wait!”

The older Romulan stopped at the door, letting out a long sigh. “The first is someone I am well acquainted with.  I came to work with Commander Harris on his first assignment because of Patras.  As for the Carolyn Crawford in that message…it is not ours.  As for what it means…nothing good, Lieutenant.  Nothing good at all.  Tell the team to stand down from the transports.  Let's get to helping this colony restore some sense of order.” Pearce moved to ask another question, but Thasaz shook her head, “There will be a time to answer your questions, Pearce.  These people deserve our time and effort.  Come, let's get some good out of an awful day."