“Anybody could be Syndicate.”  Barzo stood amid the busy promenade with her Vulcan partner, V’Luth.  “We don’t know how far they’ve dug into the various systems.”  She didn’t feel panic at the thought.  She was determined to find the threat to the station and the Mackenzie.

V’Luth did not share Barzo’s paranoia.  She was Vulcan.  Reason, logic, and rational thinking were the order of every day, including today.  She scanned the crowd, eyes examining details that could indicate a suspect.  There were clues, tells, or patterns that would either include or preclude someone from the collection of suspects.  She replied, “There may be some Syndicate forces here, but it is impossible that the station has been invaded as you suggest.”

The Bajoran disagreed with her partner.  History told her otherwise when it came to invading forces taking over.  The nature of Rigilia’s ease with which he had taken on the role of Deputy Administrator led her to believe there were a few more hands that were Syndicate on the station.  “Let’s get to work.”

Captain Wren Walton stood in her ready room, watching the station and ships around them with a wary eye.  The situation was rotten, and she was frustrated with the position they found themselves in.  The Olympic was on the way, but they were still several hours from them.  It left her to wonder.  And she didn’t enjoy wondering what was coming next.  Her door chime sounded, and she was thankful for the break, “Enter.”  She raised her eyebrow at the face that appeared.  “Hasara…you are not who I expected.” He gave an apologetic nod, which sent her klaxons ringing even before he spoke.  She moved to the couch and offered him the other side.

“Thank you, Captain Walton, but no.  I prefer to stand.”  She suddenly noticed how nervous the Cardassian was, and the look in his eyes told her it was good that she had sat down.  She gestured for him to continue.  He spoke carefully, “You are aware that I was exiled from Cardassia in totality after my most…flagrant resignation.”  She gave a nod, a slight smile at the memory.  “Well, some of my former comrades have been…keeping in contact over the last few months.  Sharing small things that they were noticing or hearing.  Most of it would be useless to your Federation.”

She waited and sat forward in his intentional silence.  “Most?  Some of it is useful, then.”

He clasped his hands together behind his back, “Very little.  One thing came across this morning.”  He had been eyeing the couch and sighed, sitting opposite Walton.  “It was evidence that Patra’s division of the Syndicate has tentatively been connected to the True Way.”

Wren’s mouth dropped open.  “You…how reliable?”  Her mind immediately went to the implications.  Patra was known to be a kingdom builder.  She had thought he would focus on his singular revenge tour.  She now had a partial answer about what he was doing while they were stuck here.

He replied, somewhat offended, “I’m not one to trifle with unreliable narrators, Captain.”  He sat back, “What will you do with this information?”

Wren stared at the floor.  Her frustration had moved into the furious.  “I’ll have to report this to Starfleet…and we’ll have to get some bigger guns.  The Olympic is no match in any fight.”  She stood, “I won’t mention where I got this if I can avoid it, Hasara.”

He pushed off the couch, “Do not fret yourself about me, Captain.  Cardassians, especially former Guls, do not fear. They’ve been coming for me since I resigned with all those lovely words.  I look forward to them trying.”