“The new Government on Janoor III has been seated in the makeshift houses of the legislature. The process to nominate judges across the remaining cities begins today. We’ll have an exclusive interview with the new governor this evening, live on FNN.  More to come from Janoor III, including the latest on the Justice for Janoor group that remained at about five hundred in the mountain township.  This is FNN, and I’m Craig Syracuse.”  His producer waved that the camera unit was offline.  Syracuse grumbled, “All they want is human interest stories and how we’re helping.  Starfleet forgot about these people.  Someone should remind them of that.”

 Mark Henry rolled his eyes.  As Craig’s producer, he’d had to put up with plenty since the start of their relationship.  The wheels were starting to wobble, “And you’re the someone I take it?”  Craig shrugged, and Mark groaned, “There’s not a conspiracy here, Craig.  The Mackenzie and the Olympic are here to do the necessary work.”

“Do we know that for sure?  The Borg and Changelings snuck right under their noses and look at the havoc they caused.  You can’t ignore that.  Someone was asleep at the wheel…and this could be more of their plan.”

The long-time producer groaned again, “You know as well I know that they’ve managed to root out most of them, Craig.  Whoever is left is on the run or won’t run for long.  You haven’t filed a story about how The Fourth Fleet was one of the few to recognize something was up.  You haven’t even said their name.”

“Screw ‘em.”  Craig simmered.  He’d run up against The Fourth Fleet a few times in his career.  He’d needed an off-the-record comment for a story or an off-the-record confirmation of something…and he’d always hit a wall with that group.  They didn’t fear him, he surmised.  They’d managed to get to his editors before he broke a few stories a few years back.  At least, that’s what he believed.  Nobody had been able to convince him otherwise.  “They’re going to find out what happens when you mess with the best.”

Mark watched as his reporter stomped off to find his version of the story.  He rubbed his head.  The kid gave him a headache these days.  He wasn’t sure how long he could keep doing this.  There were better gigs out there and closer to home.

“Mark Henry.”  

He stood straight up at the sound of The Voice and turned slowly, a steely look filling his eyes, “Dr. Persefoni Hargraves.  You been there long?”

She shrugged, “Long enough to see your protege act like a toddler with his feet.”  She walked up and extended her hand, which he accepted.  “Been a bit, Mark.  Seeing your name on the roster gave me hope.  Then, I started watching his latest reports and reading his field updates.  He’s losing it.”

Mark Henry grimaced.  He wasn’t surprised that she’d figured it out.  He wasn’t happy that it wasn’t that hard to see what was going on.  “He’s trying his…”

She cut him off, “Cut the bullshit, Mark.  You never tried that with me back in LA.  Don’t try it now.”

It was his turn to shrug, “I’ve been shoveling for the last few months, Doc.  It just starts to feel normal.”  He watched as the figure of his charge was working the tired crowd down the hill, “He’s seeing shadows where there’s nothing but the brightest star.”  He drew from his dented water bottle, “I’m getting too old for this, Persefoni. Writing the stories of the stars is a game for the young.”

She scoffed hard.  “Pardon me, Mr. Henry.  If you’re too old for this game, I imagine I’ve got one foot in the grave.”

He cracked, “One and a half, I’d say.”  His broad smile reflexively pushed her lips to do the same.

“You’re one of the few that can say those kinds of words to me, Mark.”  She watched Craig move from person to person, the refusal to engage with his story manipulation clear as the atmosphere above.  “You could always come work with me.  We’re brainstorming a video production of the Journal.  Longer form conversations about the nature of science and the investigation of the unknown and known.”

His eyebrows raised, “You hated me.”

“The past is the past.  I hated you.  I kind of like you now.”

“Emphasis on the ‘kind of’?”  She gave a nod.  “I’ll think about it.  He wants to talk to you, you know.  Do an interview.”

Persefoni smiled thinly, “Set it up through my office.  You should warn him what’s coming.”

Mark Henry chuckled, “He wouldn’t listen if I tried.”  She shook his hand again and left.  He stood there, giving serious thought to her offer.