Red Alert

by Xodarap

Loosely based on the Warp 11 song of the same name, the USS Redding is not a typical Starfleet vessel. The captain plays by his own rules, the crew looks out for themselves, and the newest crewmember has to decide if he's going crazy or if it's just everyone else.

Red Alert

By Paradox761

Summary: Loosely based on the Warp 11 song of the same name, the USS Redding is not a typical Starfleet vessel. The captain plays by his own rules, the crew looks out for themselves, and the newest crewmember has to decide if he's going crazy or if it's just everyone else.

Special thanks to Memory Alpha and the makers of Mountain Dew, without whom none of this would have been possible.

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USS Redding

NCC-25506

Miranda class

Starbase 171

Captain Nathan Shepard sat behind the desk of his ready room. He scratched at the two days of beard growth on his face as he looked at the screen on his computer terminal, and rubbed his eyes. He was reading the personnel file of the man sitting across from him, the newest addition to his crew, his new helmsman, Lieutenant Junior Grade Denva K'desh. The bald, green-skinned young officer sat across from Shepard, fidgeting nervously in his seat.

"You have an impressive service record, Lieutenant," Shepard said after a moment in a hoarse voice. "Your performance evaluations have always been exemplary, there are no reprimands or disciplinary actions on your record. Every indication that you are a fine officer, that you perform your duties well and that you get along well with your shipmates."

"Thank you, Sir," K'desh said with a smile.

"And yet you've been passed over for promotion four times. You've been transferred six times, and you've been denied several applications for positions of increased authority or responsibility. Why do you think that is?"

"Well Sir, the opportunities for advancement just weren't present at my previous posts. I've always tried to strive to be of the most use and advance where I can, which is why I've transferred so much. I guess, I just haven't found where I fit yet in Starfleet."

Shepard sighed with a wry half smile. "That's very diplomatic of you Lieutenant, but I think you know the real answer." Shepard stood from his seat and walked to his replicator. "Scotch rocks," he ordered. The junior officer's eyes widened as he looked over at his new captain.

The computer beeped and then responded in his feminine voice. "This station is not authorized to dispense alcohol."

Shepard sighed again, sounding more like a growl, and his face twisted into a grimace. "Damn it. I hate inspections, it always takes weeks for my chief engineer to put everything back the way it's supposed to be."

K'desh looked confused for a moment. The Redding had already been docked at Starbase 171 for nearly a week before his transfer had been approved. "Hasn't the inspection already taken place, Sir?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, they didn't waste any time holding my feet to the fire. They never do," Shepard answered.

"Then shouldn't everything already be ship-shape? The ship did pass the inspection, did it not?"

Shepard smiled that ironic smile again. The lines on his face made K'desh think that he wore that expression a lot. "Our chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Wymer, is a rather…unique genius. He has a gift for thinking outside of the box. Unfortunately for his career, most of the time that box contains a laundry list of Starfleet regulations and engineering specs, and well, let's just say there's a reason that he's on this ship, just like the rest of us." Shepard turned his attention back to the replicator and tapped his combadge. "Shepard to Wymer."

"Wymer here Sir, what can I do for you Captain," a voice came back through the comms. The voice sounded tired and energetic at the same time, like someone who was extremely busy but throwing himself into it with full force.

"Worm, the replicator in my ready room still hasn't been fixed yet. The captain needs his morning eye opener."

"Apologies Sir, it's on today's agenda. I can give you a quick temporary fix for the moment if you'd like, until one of my teams can get to it."

"That would be great, Worm. Shoot."

"Remove the panel at the top of the replicator, you should see ten slots holding isolinear chips. Remove the chips from the third slot and eighth slot, put number eight in the slot for three, then turn number three around and put it in backwards in slot number eight."

"Okay, got it," Shepard said, completing the task.

"Now take your hand and touch one finger to that backwards chip and another finger to the chip in slot six."

"OW!"

"You may feel a slight shock, Sir. That should temporarily disable any restriction subroutines. I'll be up later today to rewire it back to your requirements."

"Thank you, Worm. You astound me as always."

"Thank you, Sir. Always nice to be appreciated. Wymer out."

Shepard replaced the panel cover on the replicator and placed his order again. "Scotch rocks," he said. This time the replicator hummed and a tumbler with ice and amber liquid appeared. Shepard picked up the glass and took a greedy sip. His expression softened as he retook his seat behind the desk, turning his attention back to K'desh. "Would you like anything, Lieutenant? And I do mean anything."

K'desh blinked, not sure what to make of his new commanding officer. "No, Sir. Thank you, Sir," he answered diplomatically.

Shepard took another sip. "My chief engineer, this ship would fall apart without him. We're the only Miranda class ship still on active duty, which is a bit of a minor miracle when you realize that they stopped manufacturing them over 90 years ago."

"Worm, Sir?"

"An affectionate nickname, I assure you. It's a bad habit of mine I suppose, it helps me remember names. You'll probably get one yourself soon enough." Another sip. "Anyway, we were talking about your service record, and the reason why a fine officer such as yourself hasn't been given the opportunities that you deserve."

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way, Sir."

"I would. You're Orion, correct?"

"Yes Sir."

"And your mother was a slave, correct?"

K'desh swallowed nervously. "My mother…worked for the Orion Syndicate, it's true. She died when I was young. I was onboard an Orion pirate ship when it was raided by Starfleet. Most of the crew were arrested and the ship and it's cargo were confiscated. I was a minor, so I was taken to live at a Federation orphanage on Alpha Centauri."

"How old were you?"

"I was five. When I turned eighteen I was given Federation citizenship and…encouraged to join Starfleet."

There was that ironic half smile again. "'Encouraged', that's a rather diplomatic word for it. You were taken from your people as a child, forced to live among aliens in an orphanage, and then when you were of age you were pressed into service. Let me guess, they told you that it was the safest option for you. That, even though the Federation claims to be open minded and all inclusive, that its citizens were still likely to harbor prejudices against you because of your species, so making a life for yourself would be hard. And of course, returning to your people would be practically impossible, considering that you've been so far removed from them for so long, removed from their customs and social morays. And they would probably think you were a Federation spy, and kill you on the spot if you even tried. They had you between a rock and a hard place, didn't they?"

"It wasn't…like that," K'desh said weakly.

"And then surprise surprise, turns out the prejudices they warned you about were just as alive and well right here in Starfleet. Oh sure, no one was hurling slurs at you or beating you, but I doubt you were accepted into their social circles, and you discovered rather quickly that as far as your career, there was a glass ceiling that you weren't likely to be able to break through."

"I…I'm not sure what to say…"

"It's okay Lieutenant, you don't have to say anything. I'm not saying all of this to be cruel, or to trick you into saying or doing anything seditious against the Federation. You're free to your own opinion about your own life of course, I'm just making some observations based on my own experiences. I'm trying to tell you that you're in a safe place. As I'm sure you can tell, this isn't a typical Starfleet vessel. We do things a little differently here, and I've kind of taken it upon myself to make this a ship full of misfits and outliers. It's a place for people like me and you, who don't fit into polite society because we don't look or think like everyone else. I've made it my personal goal to make this ship a haven for people like us, a place where we can not only be welcome, but thrive.

"Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I'm what used to be referred to as a 'functioning alcoholic'. But of course since the invention of synthahol, its no longer socially acceptable to be any kind of alcoholic, regardless of whether or not it interferes with your duties. But because it never interfered with my duties, there was never any direct disciplinary action anyone could take against me, at least not officially. But I found myself in a similar position as yourself, denied promotion and advancement. I realized that if I wanted to do anything with my career, I had to leave them no choice. I had to make it so that not promoting me wasn't possible anymore. So that's what I did, I took every dangerous volunteer assignment I could find, duty in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy. I saw some combat and I received the Federation Medal of Valor, and eventually they had to promote me. And when it reached the point where they had to give me my own ship, they thought they found a way to get rid of me. They gave me the Redding, the biggest hunk of junk in the fleet, and they gave me the worst assignment they could think of. Maybe they were hoping I would quit, but I guess I'm just too stubborn. I just couldn't give them the satisfaction." He took another sip and motioned with his thumb to the wall behind him. Two pictures hung on the wall, one was a star chart and the other was a portrait of an old man in an old style Admiral's uniform.

"That's Admiral Charles Edward Redding, he's the man this ship was named for. Don't worry if you've never heard of him, I had never heard of him either until I got this assignment. He was a war hero during the Klingon conflict, a real balls to the wall, no nonsense type. He was promoted because of combat heroism too, and in a way he was as much of a pain in the ass to the brass and I am. He wasn't one to mince words or to let tact or diplomacy stop him from saying what he felt. Ironically, he ended up making his career in the diplomatic corps. The people he sat across from the negotiating table with knew that when he said something, it was the truth. And he used that blunt honesty and determination to negotiate some of the most important treaties in Federation history. The very first non-aggression pact with the Klingons, the first treaty with the Romulans after the war that established the Neutral Zone, and when Praxis exploded, he was there at the first set of talks that lead to the Khitomer Accords. He's been dead almost 100 years now, and this ship was built and named shortly after his death.

"After I was given the assignment to be her commanding officer, I almost refused. I was so tired of fighting upstream against politics and bureaucrats, but the more I read about Redding the more I decided that I was going to make this ship into a legacy for him. I was going to buck the system and do what I knew was right, regardless of what the brass said. And that's exactly what I've done here. I've built this crew of men and women who have fought and bled for Starfleet and who have one way or another been screwed by the system. I wanted to give those people a place where they could get ahead, and that's exactly what this ship is. It's not pretty, it's down and dirty, but we get the job done and when the day is over, we have something to show for it."

"What does that mean exactly?" the Orion asked.

"You'll find out in due time. As you serve on her you'll see how this ship operates, and we'll end up having another conversation down the line where you'll have to decide whether or not you want to stay. Some people don't approve of the way I run this ship, and I don't want anyone here who doesn't want to be here. How much do you know about this ship's mission?"

"The Redding is assigned to patrol the shipping lanes, correct?" K'desh said.

Shepard motioned over his shoulder again to the other picture on the wall behind him, the starchart. "Sounds boring, I know. Most citizens of the Federation don't know anything about the shipping lanes I would bet, but without them, everything would grind to a halt. Areas of space specifically designated for commercial traffic. The main corridor as we call it, cuts directly through the center of Federation space and connects one end to the other. There are other minor corridors as well that we call branches, which connect the main corridor to other sectors within the Federation. The idea is to keep commercial traffic in one place, so that it doesn't interfere with local traffic, and so that we can keep an eye on it. Contraband, that's the name of the game. Anyone transporting anything illegal in Federation space is considered to be smuggling. Depending on the cargo, smuggling can be dangerous, but it can also be very lucrative. The shipping lanes are the only areas of Federation space where we let non-Federation vessels basically come and go as they please, in the interests of free trade. That not only attracts smugglers, but spies from foreign powers who think they can use the space lanes as a way to enter the Federation undetected and conduct their espionage. And then of course, there's the thousands upon thousands of ships daily, hauling freight from one place to another, trying to make a buck. And to support those ships, there are hundreds of civilian space stations, all through the main corridor. They provide a place to conduct repairs, and a place for people to do business. There's competition for jobs, for routes, for cargo. That causes conflict, we're expected to police those incidents as well. Still sound boring?"

"No, Sir."

"Just wait, it gets better. So from what I just told you, how many ships do you think Starfleet has assigned to patrol the shipping lanes?"

K'desh thought for a moment. "I don't know, a hundred maybe."

"Ten."

"Ten? Only ten?"

"And the other nine spots are on rotation. Typically a ship makes a pass from one end of the main corridor to the other, takes about two years, and then they're reassigned and another ship starts the patrol on the way back. We're about to start our fourth tour. I've been captain of the Redding for about seven years now, and we haven't gotten any new orders since I started. We get an inspection every two years at the end of a tour, and then we go right back to it."

"Why only ten ships?"

"Starfleet prefers not to call attention to the hotbed that is the shipping lanes. It doesn't want the public to know about what's going on in their own backyards, and it doesn't want to advertise to the criminal element that we don't have things under control. The fact is, if they assigned the number of ships that were needed to really police the shipping lanes, there wouldn't be enough room for the freighters. It's just one of those problems that doesn't have any easy solution, so the politicians prefer to pretend that it doesn't exist. It's part of the reason why this ship operates the way it does. We have a reputation in the corridor, and if we did things strictly by the book, we wouldn't be nearly as effective.

"So, what do you think so far? Have I scared you away from this assignment yet?"

"No Sir, I'm not scared. I'm a Starfleet officer and I'll do my duty, whatever it is."

Shepard shook his head kind of sadly. "Let me give you a free piece of advice. Don't put your loyalty to Starfleet above your own principles, or even your own interests. Starfleet and the Federation are just like any other organization, it has a core philosophy that it was founded on, but just because it's a good philosophy doesn't make everyone in Starfleet a noble crusader. People are imperfect. If you want to be in Starfleet because you want to serve and protect, or hold up those ideals, that's fine. It's admirable even. But you need to figure out what you need to do in order to accomplish that, don't trust Starfleet or anything or anyone else for that matter to do that thinking for you." K'desh just stared for a moment. "Probably not the advice you were expecting from your new commanding officer on your first day, but there it is. Okay, let's get you started." Shepard tapped his combadge. "Helen, can you come in here please."

A moment later the doors to the ready room slid open and an attractive Andorian woman in a red Starfleet uniform with commander's pips walked in. "Nathan," she said in greeting to the captain.

"Helen, this is Denver K'desh, he's our new helmsman. Denver, this is Commander Kristhelen sh'Bree, ship's first officer."

The Andorian extended a hand and shook. "Pleasure to have you on board, Denver."

"Thank you, Commander. My name is actually Denva, though."

"An affectionate nickname," Shepard said with a smile. "Bad habit of mine, like I said. Commander sh'Bree here will show you to your new quarters and get you a copy of your duty schedule, your first shift will start tomorrow morning. Take the rest of today to take a look around the ship, get a feel for how things work around here. You also may want to drop by engineering and talk to Worm about the helm console. This is an old ship, and Worm has made a lot of modifications to get her to run properly, so you may need some help getting up to speed."

"Aye, Sir," K'desh replied, rising to his feet.

"Welcome aboard the USS Red Alert," sh'Bree said with a smile.

K'desh turned back to the captain. "Another affectionate nickname, Sir?"

Shepard shrugged. "Depends who you ask, I guess."

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"Deck six," sh'Bree said. The computer beeped in acquiescence before the turbolift started to move down. "So, first day, a lot to absorb," she said. "The captain can be…a lot to handle all at once. What do you think so far?"

"I'm not sure what to think," K'desh answered. "I've never had a CO drink while on duty, or tell me not to trust Starfleet."

The Andorian first officer chuckled. "No, I bet you haven't. Nathan can be a bit…eccentric at times, but he's too set in his ways to change now. But deep down, he's a good man. He cares about this ship and about its mission."

"So why does he do it?"

"Do what?"

"Drink. I mean, chemical dependence on alcohol can be cured with a hypospray, why torpedo his career? Just out of sheer stubbornness?"

"He has his reasons. The chemical dependency can be cured, but the reasons behind it can be a lot more complicated and difficult to change."

"I'm sorry Commander, maybe it's inappropriate for me to ask."

"No, its okay. We don't stand on regulations here, and we're all pretty open with each other. All of us have a reason for being here after all, there's no point in keeping secrets. Nobody judges on this ship. The captain had a wife and a son, a long time ago. They travelled with him on assignment, back when he was a security officer aboard the USS Montgomery. The ship was attacked during a border skirmish with the Cardassians, this was before the treaty. There was a hull breach and the ship lost pressure on three decks. The captain's family was killed, along with a lot of other people. He blamed himself for a long time, then he blamed Starfleet, then he blamed the universe. After a while the anger and despair just…swallowed him. He drinks to numb himself now, and he focuses that righteous anger on the job."

"Have you known him for a long time?"

She nodded. "I've known Nathan since the Academy. When they first gave him the Redding I was the first person he called with this crazy idea. Staff the entire ship with officers and crewmen who never got a fair shake, the ones Starfleet looked over or stepped on. I told him I thought he was crazy, but at the time I had nowhere else to go."

"If I may ask, what's your reason for being here?"

"The Andorians, as you know, are facing a population crisis. Every year fewer and fewer children are born on my planet. It takes four Andorians to form a bond group and conceive a child, and for whatever reason it's becoming more and more difficult for compatible bond groups to form. Some of the best scientists in the Federation are working on the problem, devising gene therapies, different fertilization techniques. But my people can be stubborn too, and old fashion. Many believe that the cause of the problem is too much off world influence. Many in the younger generation of Andorians, myself included, haven chosen to leave Andor. And many have chosen to enter into two-person relationships instead of joining a bond group. The local government on Andor is trying to force young people to come back, to meet their obligation to our people and join a bond group, for the good of our species. But of course, Andor is still a member of the Federation, and as such they can't pass any laws to force us to live where we don't want to, or to mate with someone we don't want to. And so they exert political influence instead. Nothing that can be proven of course. But thousands of young Andorians in Starfleet suddenly found their career advancement abruptly halted, with the strong suggestion that they should return home to Andor. Please don't get the wrong idea, I love my people and I love my family. But I also hate bullies, and I believe in personal freedom. And no one is going to force me to go anywhere, or tell me who I can or can't share my bed with. I guess I'm stubborn too. There seems to be a lot of that going around."

The turbolift stopped and sh'Bree stepped off. K'desh followed her down the corridor. "Well, here it is Mr. Denver, home sweet home," she said, stopping in front of a particular door. "If you decide to stay that is. You can find your duty schedule on your computer station. Feel free to explore the ship, like the captain suggested. If you have any other questions just let me know."

"One more question, if you don't mind Commander. Why do you call this ship the Red Alert?"

The Andorian chuckled a bit. "It started on our first tour, before Worm did all of his magic and got her running ship shape again. She really was a pile of junk back then, hardly even space worthy. The captain used to joke that you couldn't even bump into anything on the ship without the red alert klaxons going off with some internal emergency or another. But nowadays, thanks to Worm, she's not just space worthy, she's formidable. And now, our enemies call us the Red Alert. Because when we show up, they're the ones with the emergency on their hands. Good luck Denver, I hope you stick around. You seem like you could be a good asset to this crew. Plus, you're kind of cute."

She gave him a wink before she walked away, sauntering down the corridor. K'desh still wasn't sure what to think about this ship or its crew, but he did find his eyes following sh'Bree's hips and admiring her form as she walked away from him. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and stepped into his new quarters.

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The captain was still in his ready room, looking at starcharts and planning the first leg of their new tour through the Main Corridor, when his door chimed. "Come." The door slid open and a large, barrel chested Bolian in a gold Starfleet uniform with lieutenant's pips stepped inside holding a PADD. "Mr. Duff," Shepard said with a smile.

"Cap," the Bolian returned, smiling and taking a seat across from Shepard.

"Does this mean that you'll be joining us for another tour and I won't need to find a new Chief Tactical Officer?"

"You know me Cap, wouldn't miss it for the world. This ship is just too much fun."

"It is at that, but I know that you have the little woman to think of, along with that baby of yours. I wouldn't fault you for requesting a transfer."

"I appreciate that Cap, I do. But as much as I love and miss Pelka and little Kezzy, I need to, ah, what's that human expression, bring home the bacon, or else she won't stay married to me for much longer," he said with a chuckle. "And Kezzy's not a baby anymore, he's walking and talking and driving his mama crazy. Here, let me show you a picture," he said, scrolling through the display on the PADD he was holding. "I just snapped this one off of subspace last night."

Shepard took the PADD. The picture showed a smiling Ferengi woman in a smart business suit holding a rambunctious looking toddler with blue skin and big ears. Shepard smiled. "You've got a fine looking family Duff," he said, handing the PADD back.

"Thanks, Cap. I figure one or two more tours, and I'll have enough to retire. With Pelka's investments, we'll be able to build that house that we've always wanted."

"On Ferenginar?"

"No, Pelka has her heart set on this moon on the outskirts of the Ferengi sector, her family used to vacation there when she was a girl. We've been there a few times, really beautiful. She says it rains too much on Ferenginar, and I'm inclined to agree."

"Well, that's great. In the meantime I'm happy to keep one of my best officers, for a few more years anyway. So, what can I do for you?"

"Just wanted to give you the status reports on the weapons systems and the crew evaluations for the security staff," the big Bolian said, handing the PADD back to the captain.

"Worm's got all the weapons modifications back up and running again already? That has to be a new record."

"Well, we've done it so many times at this point that half of my security team has enough experience to assist, so the work went faster this time. The extra phaser banks and torpedo launchers are operational, as well as the spatial charge emitters and the retractable disrupter cannons."

"Good to know, Duff. Great job, as always."

"Well, Worm and his staff deserves most of the credit as usual. Are we keeping with tradition? You know, the post refit surprise party."

"Of course. And as usual Worm will pretend that he's surprised and then get roaring drunk on Bajoran spring wine, hit on all the women from stellar cartography, sing karaoke and give us something to play and embarrass him with at the Christmas party."

Duff laughed as he stood. "Can't wait, Cap. Hey, if I haven't said it in a while, thanks again for giving me this assignment on the Red Alert. There aren't a lot of ways a man can make money in the Federation, and when I fell in love with Pelka, well, I thought I'd either have to give her up, or give up Starfleet. You gave me a way to still serve and to provide for my family too. I can't thank you enough, Cap."

"Don't mention it, Duff."

The Bolian smiled again before leaving and Shepard went back to his starcharts. After a moment, he picked up the PADD again and pulled up the picture of Duff's wife and child. He stared at it for a long time, at the smiling faces and the look of love on both of their faces. He smiled a sad smile, then he put the PADD down and reached for his drink.

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Main Engineering was a beehive of activity. Work crews carrying equipment, open panels everywhere, crewmen seated at panels, entering commands and monitoring the ship's systems. To K'desh, at first it seemed disorganized, but the longer he watched he realized that every single crewperson knew exactly what they were doing and they all seemed to be working in perfect harmony with each other. In the center of the room, juggling a handful of PADDs and giving orders to various other crew members, was Lt. Commander Wymer. Or Worm, as everyone seemed to call him. He was a small man, shorter than most, but here he commanded a great deal of respect. He had dark hair, and a series of spots ran down either side of his face, identifying his species as Trill. K'desh approached and waited until there was a lull in activity and no one was immediately demanding the Chief Engineer's attention.

"Lieutenant Commander Wymer, may I speak with you for a moment?" K'desh asked. Several heads cocked and looked up, including Wymer's. K'desh guessed that their surprise was at the proper use of the engineer's name.

"Ah, you must be Lieutenant K'desh, our new helmsman," Wymer said, stepping forward and extending his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you as well, Sir. I'm very sorry to bother you, I know that you're very busy, but the captain suggested that I stop by before my first duty shift tomorrow. He said that the helm system has been modified and that I should see you for more information on that."

"Yes, yes, of course. It's nothing too crazy, I assure you. Almost all of my modifications are very user friendly, but they can take a little getting used to. Why don't we step into my office and I can go over the helm system with you."

K'desh nodded and followed the slight Trill as he made his way through Engineering to his office. They both stepped inside and the door closed behind them. Wymer took the seat behind his desk and K'desh took the other chair. "When we first came aboard the Redding seven years ago, almost all of the systems were still original. The ship was in desperate need of a complete refit if you ask me, but of course Starfleet had no intention of doing that. They wanted us to begin our mission as soon as possible. So, I had no choice other than to refit all of the systems on the fly, one by one. But to go by the book, fully updated components would require new OSDN lines and warp plasma conduits for the necessary power, and that wasn't possible without a drydock facility, so I had to improvise. At first, my suggested modifications didn't meet Starfleet specs, and Starfleet had to approve the plans in order for us to get the equipment we needed, and they wouldn't. Captain Shepard was convinced that Starfleet was setting us up to fail. At the time, I didn't believe him, but the longer it continued the more it seemed like the only possible explanation. Captain Shepard encouraged me to replicate my own materials and attempt the modifications anyway, keeping the original equipment connected so that we could still pass inspection when the time came. It was…challenging, to say the least. But eventually we had a system that worked. Here, let me show you the specs on the helm control and a mockup on the console layout."

For the next twenty minutes, Wymer walked K'desh though the inner workings of the modified helm control and navigation system and how it differed from the standard system.

"This is amazing," K'desh said after a while. "I'm not an engineer, but even I can see that what you've done here is…incredible. I'd say it's even an improvement on the standard system, the controls are more intuitive. And you had to do this for every system on the ship?"

Wymer nodded. "Everything short of the spaceframe has been replaced or modified in some way. It was the only way to keep her space worthy."

"If you don't mind me asking Sir, what are you doing here?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, why aren't you at Utopia Planitia, designing the next generation of starships. You're…an engineering genius."

"You're very kind, Lieutenant. Unfortunately, Starfleet doesn't share your point of view. My ideas were always considered too radical, too impractical. No one believed they would work, they couldn't see what I saw in my head. No one ever gave me a chance."

"How did you end up on the Redding?"

"I was an engineer's mate aboard the USS Lexington, during the Dominion War. We were part of the force watching the Cardassian border after Cardassia joined the Dominion. One day we were ambushed by two Jem'Hadar cruisers. We took heavy damage. Main power was out, warp power was offline and the shields failing. We were about two minutes from being blown to bits. The Chief Engineer was dead, and no one else in Engineering was willing to take charge, so I did. I had them beam a shuttlecraft from the shuttlebay, directly into Main Engineering. I connected the warp core from the shuttle to the Lexington's engine core. It wasn't enough for sustained warp, but it could give us a short burst. Not enough to get away, but enough to perform the Picard Maneuver."

"That's brilliant. What happened?"

"It worked. For a moment, the Lexington appeared in two places at once, and the Jem'Hadar fired on the wrong one. We opened up with a full barrage of torpedoes, close range, and destroyed both ships. Everyone congratulated me on my ingenuity and thanked me for saving their lives. But when the commendations and citations came down, I was forgotten again. The Captain received a medal, the first officer and the tactical officer. The Chief Engineer even received a posthumous citation for bravery, and I received nothing. And when it came time to promote a new Chief Engineer, another officer was chosen. I demanded an explanation. Apparently it didn't matter that I was right and that I saved the ship, my methods were still considered too radical to be trusted. I almost resigned right then and there. But being an engineer on a starship was all I ever wanted to do, so I stayed.

"Some time later, Captain Shepard reached out to me and offered me the Chief Engineer position here on the Redding. He told me the ship needed a lot of work, and that our mission would be long and thankless. I jumped at the chance, and I've never been happier," he said with a smile. "As I'm sure you've seen in your short time here, this is a unique ship. It's a special place where no one cares about politics or blindly climbing the ranks, no one cares what species you are or what personal baggage you're carrying. We're all here to do our jobs and we're all fairly rewarded for it."

K'desh found himself thinking about his own experiences in Starfleet. It was true, even though he had spent almost his entire life in the Federation, he could feel the stares and the sideways glances. Nobody ever fully trusted him. He would always be an outsider, trapped between his species and his adopted home, never really belonging to either. Could it be true? Could this really be a place where he could fit in? A place that he could call…home.

"Thank you, Commander. You've…given me a lot to think about."

888888888888888

The next morning, K'desh was on duty at his station when Captain Shepard stepped onto the bridge from his ready room. "Have we been clearance to disembark yet?" he asked.

Commander sh'Bree stood from the captain's chair and answered. "Nope. Captain Jacks wants the request to come directly from you."

Shepard shook his head in annoyance. "That pompous, self-important windbag. Open a channel."

A moment later the main viewer changed to show the face of Starbase 171's commander. His hair was an unnatural shade of black for a man his age, and he wore a smarmy smile on his face. "Captain Shepard, so nice of you to take time out of your busy morning to contact me personally."

Shepard just smiled in return. "Oh, it's my pleasure Captain. For a man of such high importance as yourself, clearly nothing else would do." Shepard held his arm out as he spoke in a very theatrical way, and bowed at the waist a little, as though he were addressing a King sitting before his court. Someone on the bridge barely stifled a laugh under their breath and tried to play it off as a cough. "I humbly beg your permission to disembark, Sir. So that we may carry forth with our mission, and bring honor to the Federation, and of course to your great leadership."

The smile fell, and Jacks' face screwed into a grimace of anger and disdain. "Can the sarcasm, Shepard. I know you think that you can write your own rules out there, but on this Starbase I'm in charge. And while you're here I expect you to follow regulations."

"Oh, no sarcasm intended Captain Jackass," Shepard said, now almost bending ninety degrees at the waist. "I ask your forgiveness if my words have been misconstrued."

"What did you say?"

"Please Sir, may we disembark? Oh please, oh please!" This time, audible snickering could be heard from all around the bridge.

Jacks' face was turning red and there was a vein bulging on his forehead that looked like it was about to explode. "Permission granted. You better watch yourself Shepard. You may not think a worse assignment could be possible then the one you have now, but the brass can always come up with something."

Shepard rose to his full height and dropped the sarcastic voice. "I am well and truly decades past giving a shit, Jacks. My love to the wife and kids."

"You're going to get yours Shepard, I promise you that. Jackass out…I mean, Jacks out!"

The screen blinked off, replaced by the starfield of the forward view, and the entire bridge burst out into laughter. Followed by a short round of applause. With a nod of acknowledgment all around, Shepard took his seat and the applause died down. "Helm, make your heading 121 mark 75. Warp five, engage at your leisure."

"Aye Sir, course laid in. Engaging now," K'desh replied. The engines hummed to life as the warp field was created and the ship lunged forward at many thousands of times the speed of light.

Shepard tapped his combadge. "All hands, this is your captain speaking. As I'm sure you've all just noticed, we are now underway and heading back to the shipping lanes to start our next tour. I want to say thank you to you all again for staying on. This ship is only as good as its crew, and despite what Starfleet may or may not think, I believe that we have the best crew in the fleet. Over the last seven years, we've had good times and bad. We've said goodbye to people we cared about, and we've said hello to new friends. But mostly, we've stayed together. I like to think that the reason for that is that you all see this ship the same way I do, as one big, happy, dysfunctional family. This tour will likely be as exciting as previous tours, but hopefully it will be just as…rewarding as well. So good luck to you all, and I hope to see all of your smiling faces at the post-refit party tonight in Holodeck One. Shepard out."

Shepard sat back into his seat and leaned closer to his first officer. "So, any suggestions as to our first port of call, Helen?" he asked.

The Andorian tapped a few commands into her own console and brought up a star chart. "Well, Macross Station is the closest. About sixteen hours at current speed. We haven't been there in a while. We should be able to take on supplies and get some intel on what's shaking in the area. Plus we have some of our support craft stored there that we can pick up."

Shepard nodded. "Sounds good to me," he said rising to his feet. "You have the bridge, Helen. Dealing with that asshole Jacks has made me rather thirsty. I'll be in my ready room."

888888888888888

From what K'desh had been told, the USS Redding only had one holodeck. So calling it Holodeck One was a bit of an inside joke. Of course, Miranda class vessels weren't typically equipped with holodecks at all. The room was built using the ship's gymnasium, and holo-emitters purchased from the black market. It was the ship's central place for social gatherings and recreation. But because it was the ship's only holodeck, it remained a public area, meaning that crewmembers couldn't book private time with it. Which also meant that with so many people using it at once and giving commands, the room tended to look like a broken holodeck trying to run ten programs at once. When K'desh walked in that night for the party, it was part rock club, part swimming pool and part amusement part. The music was loud, the people there were inebriated and most were not in uniform. Some were dancing, some were in the pool, many were at the bar, and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives. It was like no other party K'desh had ever been on aboard a starship, and it made him smile. It was barely controlled chaos, which seemed to fit this ship to a T.

"Quick, drink this!" K'desh heard a voice from behind him say. He turned and saw a tall Bolian, pushing a glass into his hand.

K'desh took the glass with a nod. "I'm Devna K'desh, I'm the new helmsman," he said.

"I know. Name's Duff, tactical officer," he said, taking a drink from his own glass.

"Nice to meet you, Sir."

"You can cut that 'Sir' stuff, nobody cares about any of that mess here. We're all just people. So, how was your first day?"

"Uh, fine…I guess. Uneventful really."

Duff laughed. "Well, enjoy it while you can because that won't last. What do you think of our ship so far?"

"It's…different, I'll say that much." K'desh scanned the crowd, watching the action, when a particular figure caught his eye. Stepping out of the pool, wearing a red bikini, was the statuesque figure of an Andorian shen. "Oh my…is that…"

Duff followed his gaze and laughed. "Oh yeah, that's her all right. Commander sh'Bree is a bit of a heartbreaker. I tell you, if I wasn't a married man…well, best not to complete that thought."

K'desh tried not to stare but it was difficult, she was stunning. The body that her tightly fitted uniform had only hinted at was now practically on full display. He took a sip from his drink to distract himself, and nearly spit it down the front of his shirt. It tasted like fermented vegetables and it burned like gasoline. "Oh my god, what the hell is this stuff?"

"Careful with that, it's Romulan ale," Duff answered. "The real thing, not easy to come by. If anyone sees you wasting it, they might get offended. We only have one case left."

Just then the music faded out and a voice came onto the speakers.

"Thank you, thank you. And thank you for coming out to our third post-refit party. It's a great way to start off the new tour and to get to know some of the new faces that we've got on board. Our new helmsman is walking around here somewhere, so if you see him, buy him a drink or push him in the pool, however you prefer to say hello." Everyone laughed and K'desh hoped that it was just a joke. It took him a moment to find who was talking in the crowd. Finally he followed everyone else's gaze up to the stage, and saw standing behind a microphone with a guitar hanging from his neck, Captain Shepard. "As usual, I have to thank the man that we're having this party for. The man, without whom none of this would have been possible. Our own personal miracle worker, the one, the only, Worm!" The crow burst into a huge round of applause as the clearly drunk Trill made his way up to the stage. The captain put his arm around him. "I want to propose a toast. To the man who keeps this ship running, the man who could build a holodeck out of spare parts, the man who is on his third bottle of spring wine and who is about to tear up the karaoke stage…" Another big laugh. "The man of the hour, Worm. Here here!" Everyone took a drink and then applauded again. Worm just nodded his head in thanks and tried not to fall off the stage.

"Go easy on that stuff," Duff said when K'desh took another drink. "We arrive at Macross Station tomorrow, and you don't want to be nursing a hangover. That place is rough enough when you're stone sober. But hey, have some fun, go say hi to Commander sh'Bree," he said with a wink. "I'm sure she'd love to talk to you. Just be careful around the pool, because this crowd is a lot more likely to push you in then they are to buy you a drink, I'll tell you that much. Maybe you should replicate some water wings," the big Bolian said with a laugh before wandering off and disappearing into the crowd.

K'desh took another sip, only his third but he was starting to understand the appeal of the drink. He felt loose and warm inside. He started making his way through the crowd, a few people stopped and said hello and shook his hand. He made some small talk, but nothing memorable. He made his way to the stage, he wanted to watch the Chief Engineer try to sing, he had a feeling that it would be memorable. He stayed for a few songs, then when his glass was empty he made his way to the bar. He ordered another ale and was waiting for it when he felt someone sit beside him. He turned and found himself face to face with the ship's first officer.

"Hi there," she said with a smile that lit up the room. She was wearing a sarong around her waist now along with the bikini top. Her hair was down now, the snow white locks falling just past her shoulders and tucked behind her ear she wore a red and yellow flower that matched the pattern on the sarong. Her antennae were bent forward just slightly, focused on whatever or whoever was in front of her. Her skin was powder blue, the same color as the Romulan ale and twice as intoxicating.

"Commander," he said in greeting.

"None of that, call me Helen, we're not on duty. In fact, you can call me Helen even when we are on duty, everyone else does."

"Okay, Helen."

"Having fun?"

K'desh nodded. "The most I've had in a long time," he answered honestly. "Do you guys have parties like this often?"

"Oh, once in a while. There's always something worth celebrating. The captain always says, out here, we have to make our own fun."

"It seems to be something that this crew excels at."

Helen smiled and K'desh felt his heart skip a beat. "Brother, you don't know the half of it." The song changed to something a little slower. "Want to dance?" she asked.

Maybe it was the Romulan ale talking, but in that moment, Denva K'desh didn't want anything more in the world. He stood and took her hand just as the bartender came back with his drink.

"Hey, your drink!" the bartender called out as they walked away.

"You drink it," K'desh called back without looking. The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur to Denva, but one thing that he remembered vividly was the sensation that he was drowning, and he never went near the pool.

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"Approaching Macross Station," K'desh reported from the helm. From his console he could see the specs on the station. It wasn't very large, twelve ports for docking. Most of the interior of the station seemed dedicated to ship repairs or cargo, with very little space to crew or guest accommodations. That indicated to K'desh that this wasn't a vacation destination, strictly business.

"Drop to one quarter impulse," Shepard commanded. "Duff, any other ships in the area?"

"I'm reading eight other vessels, six docked and two in orbit. Two class J freighters, three personal shuttles and three Ferengi cargo haulers. Six of the ships are now moving off and going to warp."

"Well that's not very friendly, we didn't even get a chance to say hello. Hail the station."

A moment later the screen switched to an image on an angry looking human with reddish brown hair and a beard. "Damn it, Shepard! You could have at least told me that you were coming. You're scaring away my business."

"Well now, why would your clients be scared of us Martin? Unless, they're doing something…illegal. But that couldn't be it, could it? You run a clean place here, don't you?"

"What do you want Shepard?"

"Oh, nothing unreasonable. Just a nice place to dock and put up our feet for a while, take on some supplies, have some friendly conversation."

The station commander just sighed. "Port 8," he said before abruptly ending the transmission.

"You heard the man, Denver. Port 8," Shepard said, retaking his seat.

The new helm control design contained information on stations that the ship had been to before, so it was a simple matter to plot a course to the correct docking port and guide the ship in. A few minutes later, there was an audible thud and a slight reverberation through the ship's spaceframe. "We have hard dock," K'desh announced.

"Nice work," Shepard said. "Helen, you're with me," he said, rising from his chair and heading for the turbolift. "Duff, you have the bridge." Then the captain stopped right before the turbolift and turned around again. "Mr. Denver, care to join us? You might find this to be a positive learning experience. And there's something of ours in the cargo hold on Macross station that I think you'll find…especially fascinating."

"Aye, Sir," K'desh said, standing from his station and joining the captain and first officer in the turbolift.

"Deck twelve," Shepard said, and the turbolift started moving.

"I don't understand, Sir," K'desh spoke up. "We just left starbase, what supplies do we need to take on?"

Shepard smiled a wolfish grin. "Oh, just some odds and ends. Places like Macross Station benefit from our protection, so in exchange they sometimes pass on certain…amenities that aren't usually available through official channels. As well as information, which out here is probably more valuable than anything."

"Martin talks a good game, but he knows where his bread is buttered," Helen added. "Those ships that took off, they did it for a reason. Rather than try to chase them all down and search them for contraband, he can tell us what they're carrying and where they're going. Makes our job a lot easier."

"I see," K'desh said.

Shepard watched this exchange with interest, the subtle smiles between them, the coy glances. He looked to his first officer. "Already? We haven't even broken him in yet."

K'desh felt his cheeks darken, while sh'Bree just glared at the captain. "Shut-up, Nathan." Shepard just laughed.

888888888888888

The plaque outside of the office door where the trio were led read 'Gabriel Martin, Station Administrator'. Much like the station itself, the office was small and utilitarian. Shepard and Martin shook hands and the three of them sat down across from the small desk where Martin sat.

"It's good to see you again, Martin," Shepard said.

"I wish I could say the feeling was mutual," Martin said. "This relationship doesn't benefit me Shepard if I'm not able to do business."

"Well then, the less time we have to spend here the better it is for all of us. Try to keep in mind that I can easily shut you down permanently if you decide that you don't want to cooperate with us anymore."

Martin sighed. "Understood. What do you need?"

"What do you have?" Helen asked.

Martin picked up a PADD from his desk and started scrolling through it. "I can part with…six cases of Romulan ale. I also have some Kanar, and a few cases of Saurian brandy. Good vintage."

"Anything else?" Shepard asked.

"Well, I do have an entire cargo block filled with Kemocite ore that I can't move. No one around here uses it, but you may be able to find a buyer further up the corridor."

Shepard smiled. "Sounds good, we'll take it."

"I'll have my quartermaster coordinate with your ship to transport it over. Will there be anything else?"

"Yes, the cargo manifests and the destinations of the six ships that left when we arrived," Helen said.

"Shepard, come on! If they all get picked up they're going to know that it was me, and then my reputation is will be crap, no one will come here! If I'm not in business, I'm not very much use to you."

Shepard and Helen looked at each other, somehow communicating silently through their gaze. "Four ships," Shepard countered.

"Three," Martin tried.

"Four. They ran when we showed, it's not unreasonable to assume that we could catch up to them, they won't know that you're involved," Shepard said.

"Fine," Martin said with a sigh. "I'll have the data for you as soon as I can."

"And if I find out that any of the other ships, or any ships that come through here for that matter are carrying anything dangerous…"

"Nothing on the red list, I know," Martin said. "I've abided by our agreement."

"Great," Shepard said with a smile. "Always nice to do business with you Martin, such a reasonable man. I trust that the cargo that we left behind last time is still safe and sound in the bay?"

"Of course."

"I'd like to inspect it before we leave, and then we'll be taking it with us as well."

"I'll arrange it."

"Good." Shepard stood and the two men shook hands again. "We'll be seeing you again soon, Martin. But hopefully not too soon."

"Amen to that," Martin responded.

888888888888888

Shepard, sh'Bree and K'desh were back in the station turbolift headed down to the cargo decks. "I think he's holding out on us," sh'Bree said. "There's no way that's all the booze he has."

"I'm sure he is, but it's better for him to think that he's getting one over on us. Keeps him happy, which keeps him obedient," Shepard said.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" K'desh suddenly spoke up, his voice a mix of uncertainty and agitation. Shepard and sh'Bree both turned to him.

"Always," Shepard said. "We always speak freely on my ship, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Am I to understand Sir, that we are accepting a bribe of contraband material in exchange for looking the other way in illegal activity that's happening on this station?"

Shepard smiled in that way he had that seemed to say that he found the young lieutenant's naiveté to be charming. "I know that it may offend your sensibilities Denver, but try to think of it this way. We are virtually alone out here. To really police this area would require way more manpower than we have, so in order to make sure that the really dangerous things stay out of Federation space, things like bio-weapons or dangerous materials, we have to let some things slide, and we have to make allies out here. Stations like this are a necessity for smugglers, they can't avoid them, which makes men like Martin very important to us. If we can't get intel, then we can't do our jobs. I know, it muddies the waters, but that's just how things are out here. None of us will get too dirty, I promise you that."

K'desh stayed silent for a moment. Again, he found himself unsure what to think. It made sense, what the captain said. But he had always been raised to believe that rules were rules for a reason, and should never be broken. At the orphanage and then in Starfleet, without rules there was chaos. Could he really participate in this, be a part of this ship if this is what they did? He wasn't sure yet. "So, what is this cargo that we are going to inspect?" he asked after a moment.

Helen smiled this time. "Oh, you're going to like this."

888888888888888

"Oh my God," K'desh exclaimed. "They're…beautiful."

Shepard smiled and clapped K'desh on the shoulder. "I thought a pilot like you would be able to appreciate them."

"What are they?"

"Well, I guess the technical name would be heavily armed, warp capable, long range shuttlecraft. We call them Sparrows," Shepard answered.

The three ships that sat in the bay were something to look at. They were larger than the standard type six shuttle that most Starfleet vessels carried but smaller than a runabout. They definitely weren't Federation design, though they were painted white. They each had wing structures on the top of the primary hull, toward the aft of the ship. They contained the warp nacelles as well as what looked like weapons ports along the front. The front of the primary hull was rounded, giving the entire craft and sleek appearance.

"They were originally Romulan in design," Shepard said. "Hence the wings and the whole bird motif. We picked them up on the black market, made a lot of modifications, enhanced their armaments and speed, outfitted the interior with Starfleet standard interfaces and controls. They can be entirely controlled by a single pilot, or they can support a crew of up to four for more long range missions."

"What are they for? Why are they here?" K'desh asked.

"Like I said, we're pretty much alone out here. No fleet to back us up. So, we had to create our own. With the Sparrows, we can scout ahead, we can split up if we need to, and we can hold our own in a combat situation against multiple ships. As for why they're here, well, they're kind of hard to hide from an inspection, and they're not exactly Starfleet issue. We have other support craft stashed at stations like this all along the corridor. Like I said, our very own fleet."

"Incredible," K'desh said, taking a closer look at the front of the nearest Sparrow. He caressed her hull almost lovingly as he looked into the cockpit window. "Am I going to get to fly one of these?" he asked with an almost childlike excitement.

Shepard smiled, this time without a hint of condescension. "Mr. Denver, that is precisely why you are here."

888888888888888

Back on the Redding, the senior staff was meeting in the conference room off of the bridge. Captain Shepard walked in to start the meeting. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Sparrows are in the nest," he announced as he took his seat. There were smiles and excited murmurs all around the table. "So, we've got four leads and with the Sparrows aboard again, we've got four ships. So our next move is pretty clear. We split up, each take one of the ships, do our usual inspection, then we'll rendezvous back here at Macross Station. Duff, you take Ensign Baker and Sparrow-Bravo, track down this class-J freighter," he said, handing the large Bolian a PADD. "From the scans that Martin took, looks like she's just carrying some trade embargo stuff, nothing dangerous.

"Lt. Hall, you and Ensign Lock will take Sparrow-Charlie and follow one of the Ferengi vessels. Looks like they're hauling foodstuffs from Ferenginar, probably just trying to avoid inspection because some of the stuff is spoiled," Shepard said, handing another PADD to the operations officer.

"Commander sh'Bree will be in command of the Redding and follow the second Ferengi vessel, which appears to be carrying Tholian silk. Just make sure there aren't any actual Tholians on board this time, Helen," he said, handing her another PADD. "Sneaky little bugs."

"I'm sorry Nathan, did you say that I'll be in command of the Redding?" sh'Bree asked.

"Yes. Myself and Lt. K'desh will take Sparrow-Alpha and track down the fourth ship," Shepard said. "It being his first mission, I'd like to break him in personally," he said with a smile.

"Are you sure about this, Nathan?" sh'Bree asked.

"I'll be fine Helen, and I'll take good care of our new helmsman, I promise." The Andorian frowned, clearly not happy about having her concerns dismissed so casually. "Shouldn't take more than a day for any of us, their final destinations aren't far. We'll rendezvous back here at Macross in twenty-four hours. If any of you are going to be longer, contact the Redding. And of course, if any of you run into trouble, do the same. Any questions?" None were forthcoming. "Then dismissed, you have permission to disembark whenever you're ready. See you all tomorrow."

The room slowly emptied, but Commander sh'Bree remained in her seat. Shepard was consulting his own PADD and pretending to ignore her. When the room was finally empty, he looked up. "Something on your mind, Helen?"

"Why are you taking one of the Sparrows? This isn't like you, you hate leaving the ship? What's going on here Nathan?"

"Nothing to worry about, I promise. It's just like I said, I want to break this one in personally. I feel like…he's right on the edge, and we need him. I just want to make sure that his first mission goes smooth."

"And you don't trust me all of a sudden?" sh'Bree asked.

"Of course I trust you, you're my first officer, not to mention my best friend. I trust you with my life. I trust you with my ship, and the lives of everyone aboard."

"Is this about what happened at the party? About me and Denver?"

"No, of course not. Your personal life is none of my business, I don't care about who you fraternize with, I know it doesn't affect your job. It's nothing personal Helen, I promise. I've just…taken a special interest in this one I guess. And maybe it's time I get off my ass and take a more active role here, get my feet wet again. I'll be fine, I promise. Look," he said, holding up the PADD in his hand. "It's just a personal shuttle, probably just came back from Risa and doesn't want to declare all the new toys they bought because they're embarrassed. I'll take a bribe and we'll be on our way."

"Twenty-four hours," sh'Bree said. "If you're not back, I'm taking the Redding to find you, guns blazing."

Shepard smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

888888888888888

The interior of Sparrow-Alpha had four stations, laid out in a diamond pattern. The pilot's station in the front, then behind that and raised a bit the tactical and operations stations, then all the way aft there was an engineering station. K'desh sat in the pilot's seat, looking like a kid in a candy store. Shepard sat at the tactical station, still consulting the PADD with the info from Macross Station about the ships they were running down. "How does she feel?" Shepard asked.

"Like a dream," K'desh answered. "Even at warp, it's so responsive to course corrections. And the console is so ergonomic and well designed, I have everything I need at my fingertips."

"Well, be sure to pass your compliments onto Worm when we get back," Shepard said. Consulting the PADD again, he shook his head. "This doesn't make any sense."

"What?" K'desh asked.

"The shuttle we're after. It didn't submit a cargo manifest at Macross Station and it listed its purpose for travel as 'personal'."

"What's strange about that?"

"Its destination is listed as Delphi Station, which is another station in the corridor. What personal reason would anyone have to travel between two commerce stations in the shipping lanes? Are you seeing anything on long range sensors yet?"

"Let me boost the gain," K'desh offered. His hands flew over the console, tapping commands. "Hang on, I've got something. Contact at 120,000 kilometers, fifteen degrees off the starboard bow."

"Increase speed and close the distance, let me know when we're in communications range."

A moment later. "We're in range now."

Shepard brought the comms up on his own console and opened a channel. "Shuttle registration 42178-Victor-Tango-November, this is Captain Nathan Shepard of the Federation Starship Redding, hailing you from one of our support craft. Please drop out of warp and respond."

A moment later the shuttle dropped out of warp and the Sparrow followed suit and circled back. Shepard's console beeped as the hail was answered and the screen changed to an image of a middle aged human woman with blonde hair pulled up in a bun.

"My name is Denise Bridges. What seems to be the problem?"

"No problem Ma'am, just a routine patrol. We're checking on ships that just recently departed from Macross Station, and I'm afraid that we don't have a cargo manifest listed for your vessel."

"Oh. Well, I filed all the reports that were requested, but I'm not carrying any cargo. Just my personal affects."

"I see," Shepard answered. "Well, maybe that's where the confusion is. I have here that your destination is set as Delphi Station. If you're not carrying cargo, may I ask what the nature of your travel is?"

The woman sighed, looking perturbed. "Well, I was reluctant to go into detail on the form because I didn't want anyone on Macross Station to know what I was doing. No offense to you Captain, but this area of space isn't exactly safe. My employer sent me here to scout the local commerce stations. I work for a company that manufactures various engine components for starships and we're looking to spread our business into the shipping lanes, maybe even build a new station. My employer asked me to be discrete, he doesn't want any trouble from any possible competition."

"I see. Well, I'm afraid that we'll need to board your vessel to conduct an inspection, just to be sure."

The woman looked annoyed now. "Is that really necessary?"

"I'm afraid so Ma'am."

She sighed again. "Very well, I'll drop my shields and prepare to be boarded."

The transmission ended and Shepard shook his head. "This doesn't feel right," he said.

"I don't know, seems plausible to me," D'kesh said. "They scanned her ship at the station too and they didn't find anything, maybe she's telling the truth."

"Then why run when we showed up at Marcross?"

"Maybe she saw the other ships leaving and figured something bad was coming. She said she was nervous about this area of space."

"I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this one. Make sure you bring your sidearm, set to stun of course."

D'kesh retrieved a phaser from a compartment below his console and hooked it to his belt. "Aye, Sir."

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When the pair materialized aboard the small shuttle, they found Ms. Bridges still sitting at the forward console. She turned to face them. "Gentlemen, welcome aboard. I trust we can make this brief."

"A ship this size, this shouldn't take long," Shepard replied, pulling a tricorder off of his belt. He opened it and started scanning.

"So, Captain, do you routinely see to matters such as these personally? Seems like you would have people for that," she said playfully, rising from her seat.

"What can I say, I like stretching my legs once in a while," Shepard said, not taking his eyes from his tricorder as he circled the room.

"This must be a tremendously boring job, patrolling the shipping lanes, searching ships. You would think that Starfleet would have better use for a man like you."

"A man like me? So, you've heard of me before?"

"Well…no."

"Then how do you know what kind of man I am? Maybe I'm an incompetent drunkard, sentenced to never-ending tours of duty chasing smugglers through the Main Corridor because I pissed off one too many admirals."

"I was just trying to…"

"Distract me?"

"Make conversation," she said with a fake smile. Her eyes in the meantime were glaring like a pair of phasers set to kill. K'desh wasn't sure what was going on, but he was starting to agree with the captain that this woman was definitely more than she seemed.

"What's behind this panel?" Shepard asked, indicating a particular wall display at the back of the main cabin.

"Environmental control," Bridges answered.

"No, I mean the secret compartment behind the environmental control console, what's in that?" Shepard said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"This is a Terralian built shuttle, Type 3. I have the schematics right here," Shepard said holding up his tricorder. "This panel should be set back another ten centimeters. I'll ask again, what's in the hidden compartment."

Bridges just stared for a moment. "I don't know what you're…"

Shepard drew his phaser, causing Bridges to stop mid-sentence and take a step back. He turned and aimed the phaser at the panel and fired. After a few seconds he cut the panel completely free and it fell to the deck. For a moment, all three of them just stared at what was before them.

"Oh my god!" D'kesh exclaimed. The hidden compartment was filled with stacked bars of gold pressed latinum. "There must be at least one hundred bars."

"Well Ms. Bridges, I can see why you left this out of your cargo manifest," Shepard said. "Do you want to start explaining or should we just take you into custody now?"

"My employer supplied me with the funds to purchase a space on one of the commerce stations, should I find something suitable. You can understand why I would want to keep that secret I'm sure."

"You do realize that large amounts of currency of any kind are required to be declared within the shipping lanes. You've broken the law."

"Oh have I? I wasn't aware that Starfleet so closely followed the letter of the law in this area of space," she replied sarcastically.

Shepard smiled. "So you have heard of me then?" Bridges just scowled. "Okay, I'll cut to the chase then. Twenty percent."

"Twenty?! You can't be serious! Twenty! That's extortion, it's…robbery!"

"You can call it whatever you want Ms. Bridges, it's the price of doing business in the shipping lanes," Shepard said. D'kesh looked on in shock, seemingly unable to speak.

"And if I refuse?"

"We'll arrest you and impound your ship along with the latinum. There'll be a hearing, eventually. I wouldn't expect your property back for at least…a year. I'm afraid the Starfleet JAG office in this sector has a terrible backlog."

"And if I report you?"

"Same thing, you'll get a hearing in about a year. But I should warn you, they don't typically take the word of smugglers over that of Starfleet officers. So, what's it going to be?"

"It doesn't appear that I have much of a choice," she replied. "Let me find a container for you to carry your latinum." She turned and walked into the rear of the cabin.

D'kesh grabbed Shepard by the shoulders and spun him around. "We're robbing her?! Are you serious?! You've involved me in a robbery now?!"

"Calm down Denver, we can talk about this…"

Shepard's words died in his through when he saw D'kesh pull his phaser. He instinctively twisted out of the way, and as he did he realized that Bridges had been standing right behind him. D'kesh fired and the beam struck her square in the chest. She fell to the deck, unconscious, and beside her clattered a wicked looking dagger.

"Good god!" Shepard exclaimed. The two of them just started down at the deck for a moment. "You saved my life," Shepard said after a moment.

"We're robbing her?!" D'kesh continued on his previous objection, as though his stunning the woman in question had never taken place. "I can't believe this! I actually believed you, when you told me that you had some noble personal mission to rescue Starleet's lost soul! That you were the last sane voice in a galaxy of corruption and political machinations, running this ship like an island of misfit toys, giving a second chance to the overlooked. But you don't care about this ship or these people, you're just a thief! A thief with a Robin Hood complex!"

"NO! We don't rob from the rich and give to the poor, we rob from criminals and we give it to ourselves. Listen to me…"

"No, I'm done listening to you…"

"Listen to me!" Shepard shouted. It was the only time D'kesh had heard him raise his voice in anger since he'd met the man, and it was enough to startle him to silence. "I never lied to you, everything I told you was the truth. I care about this ship and this crew more than I've ever cared about anything! The Federation is so busy telling everyone that will listen what a paradise they are, so busy patting itself on the back that it doesn't realize that its head is up its own ass! They can't conceive of the idea that anyone here would ever want to leave, would ever want to live a different kind of life. So they eliminate money, create an economy based on happy feelings and rainbows, and they've trapped us all. They've made it so that we can't exist outside of their sphere anymore. So I don't just give the misfits a place to fit in if they want it, I also give them a way out. So you can hate me, call me a thief or a son of a bitch, or whatever you like. But don't you dare tell me that I don't care about this people. I'm probably the only person in this galaxy who does."

D'kesh was stunned into silence again. And again, he found himself in the position of not knowing what to believe anymore. On the ground below them, Bridges began to stir.

"We're going to have to table this discussion for later, find something to tie her up," Shepard said. D'kesh holstered his phaser and headed back into the rear part of the cabin to look for something. Shepard lifted her from the floor and put her in the pilot's chair. D'kesh came back a moment later with a pair of pants and what looked like a scarf. The used the clothes to bound her hands behind her back and tie her feet to the base of the chair. Then Shepard took out his tricorder and started scanning the woman.

"What are you doing?" D'kesh asked.

"This story about an employer sending her here to buy space on a commerce station is complete bull. Nobody is willing to kill over a starship repair business, and nobody carries around this much latinum just in case. It's for a payoff, it has to be. Which means, option A, it's some sort of criminal enterprise, purchasing some large amount of contraband. Hopefully, that's all it is, because option B is a whole lot worse." A moment later, the tricorder beeped and Shepard's face paled. "Damn."

"What is it?" D'kesh asked.

"Option B," Shepard answered. He picked the dagger up off of the floor, then turned the chair around and pushed Bridges head down until they were looking at the back of her neck.

"What are you doing?" D'kesh asked. Shepard didn't answer, he just pushed the blade against her neck and started cutting. D'kesh was about to reach out and stop him, when he realized that he wasn't trying to injure her, he was looking for something under her skin. A moment later he reached in with his fingers and pulled out a small device, the size of his thumbnail. "What is that?"

"It's called a bio-masker. It's used to fool biosensors and scanners, give them false readings. To hide your species."

"To hide…why?"

Shepard dropped the device on the floor and stepped on it, crushing it under his boot. He picked up his tricorder again and scanned Bridges again. From his expression, he didn't like what he saw on the small screen. "We need to get the Redding here, now. We need to tear this ship apart and we need to get her into the brig."

"Why? What does the scan say?"

Shepard looked up and locked eyes with the young Orion. "She's Cardassian," he said. "She's a spy."

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The next few hours were a blur to D'kesh. His righteous anger all but forgotten, his focus was now entirely on the current crisis, though he still didn't fully understand it. A Cardassian disguised as a human? A spy? Here? Why? The Cardassians and the Federation weren't even enemies any more. It was an uneasy alliance, but surely there was no need for espionage. What did it all mean?

The Redding arrived at their location within the hour, transported Bridges, or whatever her name was, to the brig and transported Worm and his engineers to the small shuttle to scour it for clues. Hours later when they were finished, there was a senior staff meeting in the observation lounge. And the news wasn't good. After Worm finished his report, there was a stunned silence in the room. After a few moments the captain stood and walked to the replicator and ordered a scotch, then calmly carried it back to his chair and sat down. Not only did D'kesh not blame him, he briefly considered asking if he could have a drink too.

"So, let me see if I've got this straight," Shepard finally said after a minute. "This shuttle is a scout ship, looking for a target. And somewhere, hiding in the Main Corridor, there is a Galor-class warship with a stolen cloaking device, ready to conduct a terrorist attack on a Federation target. And our friend in the brig is supposed to rendezvous with this warship, when?"

"Six hours," Worm answered.

"What about the latinum?" sh'Bree asked.

Worm shook his head. "We couldn't find anything in the computer about it."

"It has to be for a payoff," Shepard said. "A bribe to get into the system, or maybe a payment for information. There may be a double agent somewhere in this system." He took a long sip from his drink.

"We have to contact Starfleet," K'desh spoke up. The groans and rolled eyes around the table seemed to indicate that no one agreed with him.

"If we had more time, maybe," Shepard said. "But we're at least twenty hours from any other starship, and the rendezvous is in six. If the Cardassians even smell something fishy, they're gone. Along with any chance we have to stop them."

"I don't understand this," K'desh finally admitted. "Why the Cardassians? Why the shipping lanes, what would be the point of such an attack? We're not at war with them anymore."

"It's political," Shepard answered. "An attack here, it tells other powers that it's not safe to do business with the Federation. It'll ruin us economically and it'll weaken our position in negotiations, not only with Cardassia but with everyone."

"But a terrorist attack? With god knows how many lives lost, just for a political advantage at the negotiating table? It doesn't make any sense."

"That's because you're not thinking like a Cardassian. Alien lives mean very little to them. See the Bajoran occupation for example. They don't have enough natural resources within their borders to support their population, they're dependent on trade to survive. Especially now, with the losses they've taken since the war, they're desperate. Any advantage they can get is worth whatever the price."

"So how do we stop them?" K'desh asked. "The Redding is an impressive ship, but we're no match for a Galor-class warship."

Shepard took another drink. "We have the Sparrows, and we have the element of surprise. We can take them, we just need the right plan."

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Shepard laid out his plan and the meeting adjourned, with everyone having a lot of preparations to make. Later, Shepard found K'desh in the shuttle bay, or the Sparrow's Nest as they called it. He was inspecting the small fighter craft. "So, I guess it's time to have that conversation," Shepard said.

"What conversation is that?" K'desh asked.

"The one that I told you we would have to have after our first meeting. The one where you decide if you're going to stay aboard the Redding or not." K'desh looked up from the PADD he had been making notes on and looked at Shepard. He looked angry and confused. "Look, I didn't mean to deceive you. It's just that…life on this ship can't be easily explained, it has to be experienced. You had to see it all for yourself before you could decide."

K'desh still looked upset, but not at the captain. "When I grew up in the orphanage, they told me that I was lucky, to be in the Federation. That it was a blessing that my ship was raided and my parents killed, because life in the Federation, even in an orphanage with no parents, was better than life on a pirate ship. At first I believed them, and then I grew to resent them. I fantasized about how great my life would have been, about how my parents that I couldn't remember were amazing and that they loved me, and cared for me. And then as I got older, I couldn't live in my fantasies anymore, I had to face reality. And reality was that I was a man who belonged nowhere. I didn't belong with my people anymore, and I didn't really belong in the Federation either. I thought that maybe Starfleet could be the place where I belonged, where I would be accepted, so I joined up. But soon it became clear, that it didn't matter what I did, how much I excelled at my job or how dedicated I was, they would still never see past the color of my skin. No one ever said anything of course. No one ever called me names, or attacked me, or told me to go back to where I came from. I almost wish they would have, at least then I would have known where I stood.

"And then I met you, and you were the first person to wear that uniform who was ever honest with me. You told me that this place was a haven, and that no one here cared about the baggage that I was carrying because they all had their own. And I believed you. And then in that moment on the shuttle, that haven turned into just another pirate ship, and I felt so…angry, so betrayed. It took some thinking to realize that I wasn't angry at you. You can run this ship however you want, I'm in no position to judge you. But my entire life, I've been made to feel like I was nothing but a dirty thieving pirate pretending to be civilized, and I just…I can't let those people be right about me. I just can't. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Denver. If that's your decision, then I can respect that. I just want you to make sure that you're making that decision for the right reasons. It's not your species, or your citizenship, or your job that defines you. It's what you've got inside, that's the real you. And you have to be true to yourself. You have to decide what's important to you and what's best for you, and make your decision based on that. Because if you're deciding how to live your life based on what those bigots think of you, then they've already won.

"And while I'm on a roll here, let me just clear up a few things. Yes, we take bribes and we steal from smugglers, but we're not pirates. We don't steal from law-abiding merchants and we don't use force to steal, anyone who doesn't want to pay doesn't get any harsher treatment than what the law calls for. We don't let anything dangerous get by, and we don't let any of it interfere with the job. We're here to protect the Federation, and that's exactly what we do. My first year out here, I didn't accept so much as a free glass of water. But I kept seeing the same smugglers running the same stuff, no matter how many loads we confiscated, they were still getting rich. So I figured, why shouldn't we get a taste? Why shouldn't the men and women on this ship, risking their lives in service to a government that doesn't give a rat's ass about them, why shouldn't they get a little reward.

"And secondly, yes, I do like to think of this ship as a haven for people like us, people that Starfleet has overlooked or outright forgotten or discriminated against. But that doesn't mean that I'm running a charity. I didn't get you assigned to this ship because I felt sorry for you, I wanted you because you're a great pilot. I need somebody who can run this squadron," he said, indicating the Sparrows. "Baker and Lock, they're good, but they can't think like you can. They can't see the whole picture in their head, where every ship is, how they're maneuvering, thinking three moves ahead like it's a chess game. But you can."

"Do you really think this plan of yours can work?"

"If you help me, then yes. Absolutely. It has to work, because if the Cardassians succeed it could cripple the Federation for centuries."

"The same Federation that you say is full if hypocrites with their heads up their asses, you're willing to risk your life and every life on this ship to save it."

Shepard shrugged. "I'm a bit of a paradox, what can I say. I still believe the Federation is worth saving, otherwise I wouldn't be wearing this uniform and I wouldn't be out here in the first place. So what do you say? Are you in?"

"I'll fly this mission," K'desh answered. "But after that…I'll have to think about it."

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The Arias Nebula was a large cloud of dust and gas about halfway between Macross and Delphi Stations, and it was the true destination of the spy shuttle. It was the perfect place for a discrete rendezvous because the nebula interfered with sensors, so the Cardassian warship could decloak without fear of being detected. The spy shuttle sat there now, at the prearranged coordinates, waiting for the warship to arrive. The ship was predictably punctual, decloaking at the precise time of the rendezvous as was indicated in the encrypted instructions that Worm had decoded from the shuttle's computer. It was unsettling, Shepard thought. Watching a Cardassian vessel shimmer into existence out of nothing. Although, it probably would have been just unsettling had it been a Romulan ship, just not as unexpected. The warship hailed the shuttle, and the look on the Cardassian Gul's face when he saw Shepard appear on his viewer sitting behind the shuttle's controls was priceless.

"Who are you?"

"Captain Nathan Shepard of the Federation starship Redding," Shepard answered with a casual calmness. "And you are?"

The surprised expression was almost immediately replaced with the typical Cardassian smugness. "Very clever Captain. I suppose you think that you have me in a compromising position. I assure you, whatever evidence that you think you have against us can be easily explained away, and will in no way hold up to any official action."

"Really? So, are cloaking devices standard issue now for Galor-class? I wonder what kind of action the Romulans will take, official or otherwise."

The Gul's mask of smugness fell for a moment, but only a moment. "Do you honestly think that you'll survive long enough to tell them?"

Shepard smiled in a way that unnerved the Gul. "Do you?" he asked.

From offscreen Shepard could hear the Cardassian tactical officer announcing that a Federation starship was emerging from the nebula, along with three other unknown sensor contacts. The Gul consulted with his own screen for a moment before looking back up to Shepard with a smug smile of his own. "Is that your ship, Captain? She looks like a museum piece. Are you sure you don't want to turn around and fly home, tell your superiors that you found a cloaked Cardassian ship in Federation space and pray that they don't laugh you out of the service. I should warn you, I've faced Starfleet vessels before, of much more…modern design."

"And I should warn you Gul, you've never faced the USS Red Alert before. And we have some surplus Romulan equipment of our own," Shepard said before closing the channel.

The Gul turned to his crew and started issuing orders, preparing for battle. He felt confident that there wouldn't be a problem, until something that Shepard had said finally clicked in his head. "Did he say, USS Red Alert?"

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"Sparrow-Alpha to Sparrows Bravo and Charlie," K'desh said into his comms as he maneuvered his ship behind the Cardassian warship. "Remember the specs we got from the spy shuttle, try to stay in their sensor blind spots and target the engines and the aft cloaking matrix. We have to make sure they can't escape once they realize they're outgunned."

"Are we sure they're outgunned?" Ensign Baker asked. "These ships are small, we can't take more than a few shots."

"Then don't get shot, Baker," Lock said on the channel.

"We're way more maneuverable than they are," K'desh said. "If we do this right, they won't even know we're back here until it's too late."

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"Mr. Duff, lock on phasers and fire at will," Commander sh'Bree said from the captain's chair on the bridge or the Redding.

"Yes Ma'am, phasers locked and firing," Duff reported from the tactical station.

"Helm, evasive maneuvers," sh'Bree ordered. "Try to keep us under them and within 100 meters, their targeting sensors shouldn't be able to get a clear lock that close. When their shields are down, then we can back off and use torpedoes."

"They're firing, brace for impact," Duff announced. A moment later the ship rocked slightly. "Indirect hit, shields are holding. They're trying to move off."

"Helm, stay with them," sh'Bree said. "Duff, power up the disruptor cannons."

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"Another direct hit, Gul. Shields are at sixty percent," the Cardassian tactical officer announced it. "They're still too close for us to get a good lock. Something is wrong here."

"Obviously!" the Gul shouted.

"No, I mean when that ship came out of the nebula I read three other smaller sensor contacts. They keep disappearing and reappearing from our sensors. I think they're firing on us too but I can't be sure, our aft shields are down to fifty percent."

The Gul stood and walked to the tactical console and studied it for a moment. "You idiot, they're using our plasma exhaust to hide from our sensors."

"But how could they know where our blind spots are? And how do they know that our targeting sensors are less accurate at close range?"

"The same way they knew the rendezvous coordinates, they've somehow accessed encrypted files from the shuttle's computer. Helm, bring us about. Find those small ships and destroy them!"

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"They're turning," K'desh called out. "Stay with them, stay on their six!" He glanced at his sensor panel and watched as the other Sparrows maneuvered to stay in position.

"Their aft phaser emitter is charging," Lock said.

"Stay on target, I'll draw their fire," K'desh said. The Orion's hands flew over his console, causing his Sparrow to climb and pull further away from the warship. He knew that as long as the other Sparrows stayed hidden in the warship's plasma exhaust, his ship would be the only contact that they could get a clear lock on, and they would concentrate their fire on him. He rolled from side to side as he climbed, trying to keep his movements erratic. They fired once and missed him, and then again. The beam was close enough to cast an eerie orange glow into the Sparrow's cockpit. K'desh inverted the ship and dove back toward the warship, firing his own phasers before peeling back up again and breaking hard to starboard. The warship fired again, this time the beam glanced off of the back of the Sparrow's shields and sent him into a spin.

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"They're targeting one of the Sparrows," Duff announced. "Indirect hit, shields are holding but they've knocked it off course."

"Fire disruptor cannons," sh'Bree ordered. "Keep their attention on us."

"Firing," Duff announced. "Direct hit. Their starboard shields are down to twenty percent, port shields are at thirty. They're returning fire."

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"That was a disruptor blast," the Cardassian tactical officer announced.

"What?!" the Gul exclaimed.

"We've been lured into a trap, Sir. That ship is far more than it appears to be."

"Can we still cloak?"

"Negative, cloaking device is offline. Warp power is offline and our shields are failing."

The Gul balled up his fist and slammed it down on the arm of his chair, letting loose with some colorful swears.

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K'desh pulled out of the spin and pointed his ship back toward the warship. A quick glance revealed that his shields were down to sixty-five percent with just that one glancing shot. He needed to make sure that he didn't get hit again. The warship's shields were failing, he just had to hold out a little longer. He turned to port and put his Sparrow on a parabolic course, diving and climbing close to the plasma exhaust. Hopefully he could confuse their sensors enough that they wouldn't be sure how many ships there were or what their true locations were. Sparrows Bravo and Charlie continued their fire, weakening the warship's aft shields.

"K'desh, you okay?" Baker asked over the channel.

"Affirm," K'desh answered. "These little ships are pretty tough, didn't even scratch the paint. Just keep it up guys, we're almost through."

"Copy that."

"Starboard shields are failing," Lock said. "They're down!"

"Port shields are down too!" Baker called out.

"Arm micro-torpedoes, target that aft phaser array and fire!" K'desh ordered.

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"Their shields are down!" Duff called out.

"Helm, move us off," sh'Bree ordered. "Hold position at one kilometer. Duff, arm torpedoes and prepare for a full spread."

"Enemy contact at one kilometer and holding," the helm reported a moment later.

"Fire."

The Redding's torpedo launchers all opened up and fired, sending a dozen armed warheads directly into the defenseless hull of the Cardassian ship. "Direct hit," Duff reported. "I'm reading several hull breaches, and they're venting warp plasma. Engines and thrusters offline, main power offline, weapons offline. They're dead in the water, Ma'am."

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The bridge of the Cardassian warship was dark and smoky. Small fires were still burning on some of the disabled consoles, injured and dead crewmembers littered the floor. The emergency lights gave everything an eerie blue glow.

"The Redding is holding position and powering down weapons," the tactical officer announced. "We're being hailed, Sir. By the shuttle."

"I suppose they're expecting us to surrender. On screen."

Shepard's face appeared on the viewer. "What's it going to be, Gul? Surrender and you and your men will be taken into custody and tried for attempted terrorist attacks on Federation space. If you're lucky, and with a little political maneuvering, you'll be turned back over to your people, who I'm sure will deny any official sanction for this mission. What do you think they'll do to you? I've heard the Cardassian Union isn't particularly fond of failure. Of course, you would know better than I would. So what do you say? Give up?"

"Never!"

Shepard smiled again. "I was really hoping you would say that."

The Gul turned to his officer and motioned for him to close the channel, which he did. "Is the tractor beam still operational?"

The tactical officer looked confused, but checked his display. "Aye, Sir."

"Lock onto that shuttle and tractor it into the shuttlebay. They won't dare touch us once we have their captain hostage."

"Aye Sir, tractoring in the shuttle. They're hailing again."

"On screen."

Shepard's face appeared on the viewer again. "I warn you Gul, this isn't going to get you what you want," Shepard said.

"Humans, so predictable and so stupid," the Gull spat. "You could have destroyed us, but now your attempt at mercy will be your undoing. A Cardassian Gul would gladly sacrifice his own life for his mission, for the Union. But humans, they'll give me anything I want for your life. Your weakness will lead to your downfall. Within the year, the Cardassian Union will have taken over the entire Federation. It's a pity that you won't be alive to see it."

Shepard just shook his head sadly. He didn't look scared or worried, only…disappointed. "Cardassians, so predictable and so arrogant. You could have run the moment you hailed me and saw that I wasn't your operative, or the moment you saw the Redding appear. You could have stayed cloaked, sent out another scout, picked another target. Your mission would have been a success, and there wouldn't have been anything that we could have done about it. But no, the wound to your pride would have been too great. No mere Starfleet vessel could stand up against a Cardassian warship, no matter what their reputation. You've failed Gul, and the Cardassian Union will fail as well for the same reason. Your planet is in ruin, you don't even have enough food to feed your people. But rather than accept help and friendship from the Federation, you would rather try to destroy us. Because no matter how weak you are, you still think your better than everyone else. Your arrogance will be your downfall."

"Gul," the tactical officer said.

"What?!" the Gull shouted, whirling around.

"This doesn't make any sense, they haven't fired a single shot to try to stop us from taking the shuttle."

"Shuttlebay to bridge, the shuttle is aboard Sir. But there's no one onboard. There's just…some sort of device attached to the shuttle's power systems."

The Gul turned back to the main viewer and watched as the interior of the shuttle shimmered out of existence from behind Shepard, replaced by a hologrid. "You never once asked yourself, why would I put myself aboard that shuttle? I mean, if I was expecting a fight, why would the captain put himself on a defenseless little shuttle in the middle of it all? You never even bothered to scan it for lifesigns. You just assumed that you were smarter than me, and therefore there was no way that we could trick you. You see what I mean, arrogance."

"Shuttlebay to bridge, there's something else here Sir. I think…I think it's a bomb."

"I hope I've given you something to think about," Shepard continued. The Gul's face was ashen now as reality was finally settling into his mind. "Something to ponder, for the rest of your life. All three seconds of it." Shepard smiled and offered a small wave. "Red Alert out."

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"Shepard to sh'Bree and K'desh, warp speed, now!" He waited a few seconds for his commands to be followed, for the Redding and the Sparrows to get to a safe distance and for the Gul to contemplate his imminent death, before turning to Worm, who was standing at the entrance to Holodeck One. "Now, Mr. Worm."

The small statured Trill tapped a few commands into the remote unit that he held in his hand, and somewhere out in space, just outside of the Arias Nebula, the Cardassian ship exploded.

"Your holo-presence system worked like a charm, Worm. I could control the shuttle perfectly from here."

"I'm just glad that your plan worked, Sir."

"You doubted it?"

Worm smiled. "Of course not, Sir."

"sh'Bree to Shepard, the Cardassian ship has been destroyed. It's nothing but a debris field now, and with the nebula nearby affecting sensors, no one should be able to detect that the wreckage is Cardassian."

"And survivors?" Shepard asked.

"Negative."

Shepard shook his head. "It's a shame."

"You've gave him every opportunity, Nathan," sh'Bree said. "We didn't have a choice."

"I know, Helen. I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Once the Sparrows are back on board, set a course for Delphi Station, warp five. Shepard out."

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In the shuttlebay, the Sparrows touched down and their pilots disembarked. The three of them met between their craft for a lot of hand shaking and claps on the back. They spoke excitedly, and it was clear that even in such a short amount of time, there was a respect and a comradery between the pilots and their squad leader.

"That was amazing, how you dodged those phaser blasts," Baker said.

"Well, I didn't dodge all of them," K'desh said.

"But then even when you were hit, you pulled out of that spin so fast they couldn't land another shot," Lock said. "That was some impressive flying."

"Very impressive, all of you." The trio turned and saw Captain Shepard approaching. "Well, what do you boys think of your new squad commander? Does he cut the mustard?"

"Definitely," Baker said.

"He did okay," Lock said, playfully.

"Will you boys excuse us?" Shepard asked. Baker and Lock nodded and started toward the door of the shuttlebay. "Well, what did you think? Piloting the Sparrow in combat."

"It handled just as well as I thought it would, Sir. It's an amazing piece of engineering."

"And your squad, how did they perform?"

"Exemplary. I was worried that they might be apprehensive about me being in command considering they both have more experience than I do with the Sparrows, but when it came to the job, they were right on. It's funny, when I first came aboard this ship, I thought everything was so lax, I remember wondering how this crew would perform in a crisis. I have to say Captain, it's a testament to your leadership that everyone carried out their duties so well. They all respect you so much, no one wants to let you down."

"Does that apply to the newest member of my crew as well? Or am I going to be in the market for a new helmsman?" Shepard asked.

"You saved the Federation from a terrorist attack that not only would have killed who knows how many, but crippled us economically and politically as well. Despite all of your misgivings, all of your differences, you still care enough to put yourself and this ship on the line when it counts. I can't think of anything that I respect more. If it pleases the captain, I'd like to stay on."

"And it doesn't bother you, that sometimes we bend the rules, and sometimes we break them?" Shepard asked.

"Somebody wise once told me that I should never put my loyalty to an organization over my own principles. I think that the good this ship does out here is far more important than the occasional illegal case of Romulan ale, or fleecing smugglers for a cut of their profits. I think that Starfleet is damn lucky to have this ship, exactly as she is, and I wouldn't change a thing about her."

Shepard extended his hand and the two men shook. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Denver. Damn glad to have you."

888888888888888

The brig aboard the Redding was twice the size of the standard brig for a Miranda class ship, eight cells in all. Considering that they were in the business of policing the shipping lanes, it was the one modification that Starfleet had approved. Worm designed all the modifications himself, and certified it as escape proof. The cells operated on their own power source, independent from the ship's power grid, so that even if the ship lost main power, no prisoners could escape. The forcefields on the cell doors were level twenty, and could withstand a direct hit from a photon torpedo. And in the event the forcefield failed, a plastisteel door would lock into place. There were even transporter scramblers in place, to insure that beam out was impossible.

But there was one more addition that Shepard had requested just before their confrontation with the Cardassian warship. It was a monitor in the cell that displayed the ship's comm channel as well as external views from the ship so that the cell's occupant could see what was happening during the battle. When Shepard walked in, the Cardassian spy known to them only as Denise Bridges was sitting on the single bunk in her cell, her head leaning back on the wall. Shepard nodded to the young officer on duty at the monitor station, who nodded in return before standing and stepping out of the room. Shepard grabbed a chair from the station and dragged it loudly over to the front of the cell. The surgically altered Cardassian finally looked up.

"So, how's your day going? Enjoy the show?" Shepard asked.

Bridges scoffed. "If you're trying to intimidate me by showing me that act of brutality, destroying a defenseless ship, then you've failed. I'm not impressed, only disgusted."

"I gave your Gul every opportunity to back down or to surrender, he chose the fate of his ship. And if you're asking me to feel sympathy for a group of terrorists getting ready to destroy a civilian target, I'm afraid that I have none."

"They weren't terrorists."

"Oh no? So, you're telling me that this was a sanctioned military operation of the Cardassian Union? Who ordered the mission then? Who is your direct superior?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Really? Not even name, rank and serial number? Doesn't sound like a military operation to me, I guess you really are a terrorist."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Oh, you don't like that word, huh?" Shepard said with a nod. "I think I know why. That's what you used to call the Bajorans during the Occupation, the ones fighting for their freedom and their homes. I suppose you're right, that's not exactly a fair comparison. I mean, the Bajorans never travelled into Cardassian space and attacked innocent civilians, did they?"

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Well, usually when we find a spy like yourself, we ransom them back to their homeland. But in your case, I think I'll make an exception and turn you over to the Federation. You'll stand trial, and then you'll probably be extradited back to Cardassia in some political deal, and then you probably have a better idea of what would happen to you after that than I do."

"What do you want?"

"I want to know who the payoff was for."

"What payoff?"

"Come on, don't play dumb. We both know that even with a cloaking device, you needed help getting that ship here. Which means you have a contact here in the shipping lanes, a double agent. That's what the payoff was for. Give me a name and a location and you can be on your way back to Cardassia within the week."

"Sorry, don't know what you're talking about."

"I see. Have it your way then," Shepard said, standing from his chair. "Get comfortable, it's going to be a long ride back to Earth."

"What?"

"Well, there's no sense in loading you off on another ship. I mean, we're headed back that way anyway. Should only take two, maybe three years."

"You can't keep me here for that long! There are rules for prisoners, the Federation and Cardassia have a treaty…"

"There are rules for prisoners or war," Shepard said. "Not for terrorists. So, if you want to give me your name and rank and admit that this was a fully sanctioned military operation, I can try to see if I can get you better accommodations, but if not…" Shepard trailed off. Bridges, or whatever her name was, didn't respond. "All right then," he said, headed for the door. Then he stopped and turned back. "Actually, I do have one more question. Why didn't you just pay the bribe? I mean, twenty bars of latinum and we would have been on our way, none the wiser. Why would you risk the whole operation for that?" Again, the spy didn't answer. She just looked down. "I guess you don't have to answer that. I think I know the reason anyway. Goes back to the whole arrogance thing. Well, it looks like you're going to get a lot more time to think about it than your Gul had, so at least there's that. In the meantime, if there's anything that I can do to make your current…quarters more comfortable, please let me know." He turned to walk away again, but stopped when Bridges spoke.

"There is one thing," she said.

"What's that?"

"You can take this damn mirror out of here, so I don't have to look at this ugly face," she said.

Shepard just laughed, then turned and walked out of the room.

888888888888888

Holodeck One was in full party mode. The music was blasting from the band on the stage, which featured the captain on guitar. The bar was predictably busy, serving the latest spoils from Macross Station. And the pool was filled with people having a good time, many of whom were still in their uniforms. D'kesh spotted sh'Bree, wearing a one-piece black bathing suit this time, but looking stunning as always. She was in the pool, dancing with Ensign Baker. Duff was wading his way through the crowd from the bar, a drink in each hand. One was a Romulan ale and the other was a purple concoction of some kind. Worm was on stage with the band, drunkenly slurring his way through some song. It was a combination welcome party for D'kesh, and victory party for their battle with the Cardassian warship.

D'kesh felt like he understood this ship a little better now. They flew on a wing and a prayer, sworn to protect the Federation that had practically abandoned them, getting by in a rough area of space using their wits, ingenuity, and their reputation. They were a group of misfits that had finally found a home, and finally getting the recognition and then reward that they deserved. And they took their fun just as seriously as they did their jobs, and D'kesh decided that there wasn't anything wrong with that.

"Ok, ok, can I have everyone's attention please," the captain said in the microphone as the song ended. The crowd eventually quieted down. "We've all survived another day in the shipping lanes, and that's cause enough to celebrate. But tonight we're also celebrating our new helmsman, Lieutenant Denva K'desh. He's the green guy with the bald head over there, nursing that Romulan ale." Everyone cheered and a few people near him patted him on the back. "Mr. Denver has decided to stay and join our motley crew, and we're damn lucky to have him, so cheers!" The captain took a drink from his glass and everyone followed suit. As toasts went, it was short but it was to the point.

After emptying his glass, the captain took off his guitar and put it down and picked up a small box from the stage. Then he stepped down and headed toward K'desh, still holding the microphone. "There's one more thing, Mr. Denver. For conduct above and beyond, and for kicking serious amounts of ass, I'm awarding you a field promotion from Lieutenant Junior Grade, to full Lieutenant." He opened the box and pulled out a single solid pip. He reached over and took the hollow pip from K'desh's collar and replaced it with the solid pip. "Congratulations, Lieutenant." The room erupted in cheers and applause.

The captain put his arm around K'desh and steered him further into the crowd. "Mr. Denver, you honor us with your service, and I hope that you can think of this ship as home now. We may not do things by the book, but we care about each other and we care about the job. We're a family, warts and all, welcome to it."

"Thank you, Sir. I'm honored," D'kesh said.

"There's one more tradition that we have one this ship when welcoming new crew. It's a tradition that goes all the way back to the old sea-faring days." The captain stopped walking and D'kesh realized that they were now standing at the edge of the pool. "It's called, the 'man overboard' drill. Man overboard!" he shouted, and then he pushed the Orion into the pool.

For a moment, all the sound in the room was muted as D'kesh went under the water. When he came up, everyone was cheering and laughing. He couldn't help it, he started laughing to as he wiped his face. Commander sh'Bree was next to him now, and she snaked her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace and kissed him. "Welcome aboard," she said. The crowd oohed and ahhed.

"That's a hell of a welcome," D'kesh said. Then he whispered something to sh'Bree, who smiled and nodded her head. "I just want to say thank you to everyone, for making me feel so welcome. I've come to realize that this crew is a close knit family, and that you've been through a lot together. So for you to be so welcoming to a new person, well, it means a lot. I know that everyone here has their own reasons for being here, everyone has faced their own hardships in Starfleet, and it's amazing and special that we can all be here together. I want to propose a toast of my own, and thank the man who has made all of this possible. The man who saw something special in all of us. To Captain Nathan Shepard, the man who took this ragtag group of misfits and rogues, and made them a crew. Here, here!"

The room erupted in ovation, and the captain smiled. D'kesh extended a hand. "Would you help me up, Sir?" he asked. Shepard took his hand and in that moment, the smile of D'kesh's face, the strong grip, he knew what was going to happen. D'kesh pulled the captain into the water. "Red alert! Captain overboard!" he shouted. The room erupted again in cheers and laughter.

The captain stood, wiping the water from his face. For a moment, D'kesh thought he might be angry. But then he smiled. "I think you're going to fit in here just fine, Mr. Denver," he said. "But if you ever do that again, you'll be scrubbing power conduits with a toothbrush for the rest of this tour."

"Aye, Sir," D'kesh said with a smile.

"Well, what are we waiting for!" Shepard shouted to the room. "Let's bring this party to red alert!"

The band started up again, and the party was back in full swing. K'desh smiled as he thought about what the captain said. He finally felt like he was home.

The End.