A/N: Sorry for the delay! The first part of this turned out to be harder to work through than I expected, so I had to rewrite it from scratch four times. Luckily, I have a lot of content pre-written, so future installments shouldn't take so long.

The more Lorca learned about Peter Bhandary, the less he liked the man. Bhandary was, in Lorca's estimation, a veritable parasite whose chief aim seemed to be assisting the galaxy's wealthy and powerful with the acquisition of more wealth and power so that he himself could reap the fringe benefits of their lifestyle. When he wasn't brokering convoluted, lucrative deals to line his own pockets, that was.

Bhandary had first attracted Starfleet's attention when he was contracted by a manufacturer to advise on a labor dispute and his solution contributed to the death of sixteen workers who had been attempting to unionize. Yet rather than this being any sort of professional setback, it instead boosted Bhandary's profile in certain circles because the union had been quelled.

On another occasion, Bhandary had chained together a deal between five disparate parties, but when one of the five reneged, he had found himself in a sticky situation with the other four and leveraged his Federation citizenship to get out of it, tying up Starfleet resources in the process.

The only positive to be found Starfleet's files was the fact that, owing to Bhandary's rather conspicuous activities, there was enough visual and voiceprint data to fabricate a transmission with. (As much as Lorca hated to repeat himself so soon after having just tricked the Dartarans with a faked transmission, it was the quickest, easiest, and most reliable way to get at their real targets.)

But as Lalana provided details of Bhandary's history with the Dartarans to Lorca and Benford in the conference room, the most infuriating thing was that Lorca rather got the impression she liked Bhandary.

Benford sat across the table from Lalana, watching her carefully, while Lorca stood near the window and listened as Lalana enthusiastically recounted how Bhandary had secured mineral converters for the Dartarans by trading a biofuel refinement process to some Rigelians. "He convinced the Rigelians to part with not one but two converters!" she said excitedly, as if this were an amazing accomplishment. "One for each of Margeh and T'rond'ns processing centers."

It wasn't jealousy, Lorca decided, it was disappointment. Over the past two days, Lalana had expressed such an abundance of joy and excitement about being onboard the Triton, it was annoyingly humbling to learn this was simply the level of enthusiasm with which she approached everything in life and not indicative of a particular affection for her rescuers.

"Right, well, I think we have what we need. What do you think, commander?"

Benford was having a blast with their guest. "I dunno, I'd like to hear some more." He had picked up on Lorca's growing annoyance and, as usual, was happily taking the opportunity to enjoy himself at his captain's expense.

"Commander Benford, we just need to craft one plausible communication with the Dartarans, we don't need his entire life story."

"At least let's make sure we know everything that happened during his visit. You never know what Margeh and T'rond'n might ask us!" Benford had also picked up on the relentless one-and-two pattern with which Lalana referred to her former captors.

"Certainly I don't mind telling you everything," said Lalana. "I do want to make sure you have what you need, captain. You never know what you need until it's too late."

As usual, hearing something that might have come out of a fortune cookie placated Lorca on some unconscious level. "Continue," he said, watching the stars. Lalana launched into a brief anecdote T'rond'n had told Bhandary about a Hyrellian mouse infestation in one of the processing plants.

Lorca half-listened while going over the next few planned steps in his head. Sneak onto the Dartaran estate, install the data siphon, intercept their communications, get out of Dartaran space...

Lalana said something that pulled Lorca's attention back into sharp focus and his whipped around. "What?"

"He came to me after Margeh and T'rond'n went to bed. It was very interesting, seeing a human unclothed..."

"Stop."

Lalana obligingly shut up. She looked at Lorca and Benford, seemingly oblivious as to what had made them both so uncomfortable.

Lorca swallowed. "They weren't there, were they? Margeh and T'rond'n."

"No, they had gone to bed. It was just Peter and myself."

"And did you tell Margeh and T'rond'n? Afterwards?"

"Of course not! I was not speaking, if you recall. And I do not think Peter would have wanted them to know. It would have been-"

"If Margeh and T'rond'n didn't know about it, then we don't need to hear about it, either. It won't come up in conversation."

Lalana's hands were rotating contentedly. "Oh, that is an excellent point! Of course they wouldn't know. Very well, in the morning..."

Benford rolled his eyes and shot Lorca a look of relief. Thank goodness that was a bridge they hadn't had to cross. Lorca sent an "I know, right?" look at Benford in reply and turned back to the window, rubbing his temples in exasperation.

Before long, Lalana was done recounting the sum total of her knowledge regarding Bhandary, Margeh, and T'rond'n, and Lorca and Benford began bandying about ideas on what to tell the Dartarans to get them to lower their guard and play along. At some point during this process, Lalana draped herself sideways across her chair so only her back and tail were visible. It was not the most conducive position to engaging in conversation, and Lorca and Benford soon got lost in their own conversational tangent and forgot about her.

"... All right, sounds like we have ourselves a plan."

"I'll have Russo set up the filter and prerender as much audio as he can."

"Make sure he references real kelbonite interference. We want it to look authentic. Have everyone ready to go at 1500 hours."

Benford offered a jaunty salute and exited the conference room.

Lorca looked down at Lalana. Her face was turned towards the floor and her legs dangled off the side of the chair, while her tail curled around her and stuck up at an angle, swaying ever so gently as if touched by some illusory breeze. "Sorry we kept you."

She did not answer.

"Lalana?"

Again, nothing. Lorca leaned over the chair. He tried again, louder. "Lalana." Finally he crouched down for a closer look.

It might be some sort of medical emergency, but it seemed like she was sleeping. Her eyes were open because she had no eyelids, but the black dots of her pupils had disappeared, turning her eyes solid green. The effect was unnerving. He wondered if he should try her rouse her physically.

While he pondered this, her tail drifted towards his nose. He closed his eyes instinctively as it brushed up past his forehead and landed on his head on a downstroke. He felt thousands of tiny little tendrils gently weave through his hair to his scalp. It wasn't completely unpleasant, sort of like a squirmy massage, but a very strange sensation all the same.

He cracked one eye open. She was looking at him, pupils back in her eyes.

Lorca roughly brushed her tail away and stood up. "Stop that," he said angrily. "I'm not Peter Bhandary." He spat the name with every ounce of ire he had been biting back.

"I did not think you were," she said, sounding contrite enough to make Lorca feel slightly guilty for snapping at her. "I am sorry. I just miss living hair so much. I know human hair is not alive, but it is attached to something living, so it is much preferable to the hides in Margeh and T'rond'n's house. They were... no comfort. And I know it does nothing for humans, so, I apologize. It was selfish of me."

"Right, well..." Lorca went back to the window and checked his hair in the reflection. It was a little mussed and unkempt. He ran his fingers through the spot to fix it.

Lalana joined him a moment later. "I can fix that for you. I am sorry for the trouble."

"I'll manage." He patted the spot back down and decided it looked decent enough. "What do you mean it 'does nothing for us?'"

"When Peter was talking to me, he was so upset, I tried to lallen him to make him feel better, but... it did not work. He cried."

Lorca's confusion could not be adequately put into words. She had done what? And it made Bhandary cry? He looked at her dubiously. "Are you sure you did it right?"

"Well, of course! But humans only have hair on their head and it isn't alive..."

Humans did not, strictly speaking, only have hair on their heads. Not that Lorca wanted to presume anything about someone else's personal grooming habits. "What exactly did you do with Peter Bhandary?"

"Lallen. Lallen is... you touch someone and your hairs go together. And then, you feel their feeling and they feel yours, because of the way the hair moves. And if someone is feeling bad, you liliann to make them feel better. What do humans do for other humans when they feel bad?"

"Any number of things," said Lorca. "Flowers or chocolate, say something nice, give them a hug."

Lalana quirked her head to the side. "What is a 'hug?'"

It was odd watching something as familiar as a curious turn of the head coupled with a question as basic as defining one of the most innate expressions of human kindness and familiarity. "You sort of put your arms around the other person."

Lalana looked at her hands. "Lului have very short arms so that would not work for us."

"I suppose not. So you... lallened him?"

"But it did not work and he went back to bed. I wish lului could cry. Then at least I could have shared that with him. Such a sad man..."

That was the last adjective Lorca had ever expected to hear in a description of Bhandary, but everyone had their foibles. He still didn't see the same redemptive qualities in the man Lalana seemed to, but at least he knew Bhandary had some sort of weakness besides his obvious moral shortcomings.

It was also a relief to know he and Benford had been wrong in their earlier assumption. For a lot of reasons.

Lorca gave a small snort of laughter at the mental picture of Peter Bhandary wandering around the Dartaran's house naked in the middle of the night crying. "Right, well, we should probably get you sat down with a tactical officer to go over the Dartarans' compound."

"Oh," said Lalana, sounding disappointed. "You do not want me to show it to you directly in person?"

Lorca thought about that. Lalana knew the place top the bottom and would be an invaluable resource on the ground in a pinch, but she also remained a somewhat unknown quality. He had to trust that her interest in stopping the hunting of her people was sincere. Besides, they'd gone over so many details every which way with Lalana, and she'd been vivid, thorough, and consistent, all classic signs of honesty. Either she was the galaxy's greatest secret agent or exactly what she appeared to be. He had to think a spy sent to embarrass Starfleet would have had more prep on human mannerisms. Lalana had obvious deficits in that area. "You want to go with us? I didn't think you would."

"Are you going?"

Lorca took a deep breath. It was a conversation he was yet to have with Commander Benford, but no matter what Benford said, his mind was already made up. "Yes."

"Then I will go, too. I owe you my life. If there is a way, I will repay that. And until I do, I will at least endeavor to be helpful."

Benford disagreed, of course, but that was his job. "There's no reason for you to be the one personally going on this mission." They were in the ready room, but there was no tossing of the ball this time. The conversation was too serious.

"There's every reason for it, starting with the fact it's unsanctioned."

"Wait, you said Admiral Hatchet signed off..."

"Not officially. Officially, we're on leave, and they don't know what we're doing. Unofficially, they are aware and they do not agree with it."

Benford frowned. "Well, that does sound more like you. And Starfleet Command. But, captain, if you get discovered down there?"

"Then so be it. I'm the one dragged us out here. Look at it in reverse. Say I let you go, and you get caught. Now that's both our careers down the drain. Better we contain the damage, so if it goes sideways, at least one of us gets to keep a Starfleet career. You can even say you tried to stop me. No one will blame you for failing to do that."

Benford exhaled noisily through his lips. "Hard to argue with that."

"And yet, you did."

"What can I say. I'm just honored you're looking out for my career, captain."

Lorca grinned. "I wouldn't get too cozy in the captain's chair, Jack. I fully intend on coming back for it. You're just keeping it warm."

Benford grinned right back. "Seeing as you never sit in it, what do you care how warm it is?"

Lorca quirked an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes mock judgment. "If I don't come back and find that chair the perfect temperature for my ass- better yet, burning. I want that chair so hot, you can cook an egg on it."

Benford picked up his padd and pretended to add an item to his to-do list. "Have Billingsley install thermonuclear cookers on captain's seat. She's still mad at you. I can't promise she won't do it."

The joking dropped away. "Still?" said Lorca, somewhat concerned. "I thought you gave her my peace offering."

"Give the woman more than a day, captain," replied Benford. "Better yet, take her with you. She'll feel important. Say it's recognition for how good she is at her job, that you wanted the best possible engineer with you."

"Hm. That's not a bad idea."

"I am full of 'not bad' ideas," boasted Benford.

"All right, where are we on the transmission prep..."

Lorca and his chosen few assembled in the shuttle bay. The team consisted of himself, Security Chief Morita, Lt. Russo, Billingsley, Carver, and Lalana. They were dressed in civilian clothes of varying style, except for Lalana, who was wearing nothing at all.

Lorca had chosen a sharp dark grey jacket for himself, unadorned but well-cut, over a linen-white shirt and lighter grey slacks. Morita looked no less imposing than usual in a dark green kaftan and black leggings, while Billingsley had opted for a brown leather jacket, scarf, and jeans, and Carver was wearing some sort of dingy old maintenance or flight suit that might have been grey, blue, black, brown, or even purple when it was new. Impossible to say. Russo, the only other man present, had opted for a black t-shirt and slacks. Lorca wondered if he was being intentionally unobtrusive. If so, good.

"All right, everyone, you know the mission, you know the stakes, and if anyone wants off, now's the time, because the minute we're out of visual range, ship communications are terminated. Any questions?"

Not a one, even from Lalana, which was a welcome surprise. Lorca signaled and they marched onto the shuttle.

Carver had them smoothly underway a minute later and the Triton disappeared from view without fanfare. They were on their own.

Lorca opened his pack. "Fortune cookies," he announced, tossing one to Russo and then Morita. "For luck."

"Thank you," said Lalana.

He brought the last two up to Carver and Billingsley in front. "Thank you, sir," said Carver, flashing him a genuine smile, but Billingsley just glowered slightly as she took hers and put it on the console.

"Open it," said Lorca, cracking his. "That's an order."

Carver had already opened hers. "Have old memories and young hopes," she read aloud.

"Take the chance while you still have the choice," recited Russo. It certainly applied.

Billingsley opened hers and stared at it.

"Well, don't leave us in suspense," chided Lorca. Billingsley winced. Lorca reached over her and took the fortune from her hands. "'The future belongs to those who follow their dreams.' What, too sentimental?" He handed it back. Billingsley sort of stared at it and the two halves of her cookie, wondering if she was obligated to keep the paper and eat the cookie, or if opening the thing had been enough.

Morita had gotten "Your sweetheart may be too sweet for words, but not for arguments."

"Captain, what does mine say?" asked Lalana.

Lorca took the paper from her. "The good thing about repeating past mistakes is knowing when to cringe."

"Cringe?"

Lorca wondered how to explain it.

"Be embarrassed," supplied Russo.

"And yours?" Lalana asked.

Lorca didn't have to reread it. "Patience is the key to joy."

"That one is true!" said Lalana excitedly. "If you do not have patience, how can you endure the times which are unhappy to reach the happy ones?"

Lorca sat back down next to Lalana, closed his eyes, and let her yammer at the others for a while. Carver and Morita even reciprocated with questions, Carver's about lului, and Morita on the subject of minor tactical details regarding the Dartaran compound and the Dartarans themselves. It was a decent way to pass the time. They ran into a single Dartaran patrol, who accepted their authentication codes as a private delivery service (codes that had been in the Triton's databanks from an incident with the service two weeks earlier) and let them pass.

"Captain, we're in visual range."

Lorca joined Carver and Billingsley at the front of the shuttle, leaning over their seats.

Tederek VI was small for a gas giant, but its vibrant mix of red and orange was very striking. It looked sort of like a smaller but more visually intense Jupiter. A few small craft were moving about its seventeen moons, six of which were inhabited, and there were also two small space stations.

Carver pointed at a small yellow rock. "That's the one. Moon number eight."

The eighth moon was not as large as some of the others, but at almost a million kilometers of surface area, it was still impressive.

Lalana brushed past Lorca and stood almost directly beneath him, stretching up and gripping her arms against the console so she could see as well.

"We're being scanned," announced Billingsley.

"Type?"

"Radiation, cursory bio, low-level cargo sweep."

They waited a moment. Nothing further happened, except Lalana's tail brushed against Lorca's leg as she balanced herself.

"Nice thing about Dartarans," said Carver amiably, "they really don't like to stick their nose in other people's business."

"Meaning?" said Lorca.

"They're not asking us for any ident or course information. Looks like as long as we're not carrying anything dangerous or heading to one of the stations, they really don't care." She sounded very pleased.

They neared the moon enough to make out various features. Though light yellow at a distance, shades of brown and green emerged on approach, as well as various geographic features: craters filled in with trees, forests across most of the surface, an old river of dust that had been preserved post-terraforming for some reason.

"Scanning for structures," said Billingsley.

"Keep it narrow, we don't want to trip any alarms," warned Lorca.

Billingsley wanted to retort but bit her tongue. "I've detected an energy signal consistent with the barrier." The barrier in this case was a large, reinforced fence surrounding Margeh and T'rond'n's estate that kept their game from bleeding out onto other estates.

"Anyplace we can set down, Carver?"

"Um," said Carver, throwing variables into the computer, which rendered the suggestions into a visual overlay.

Lorca scanned the options. "There." He leaned forward and pointed at a spot between two hills. "Low and easy. Don't let them know we're coming." Carver plotted a respectably meandering course.

"Captain, I'm reading life signs," said Billingsley.

Lorca began to wonder if Billingsley was being intentionally obtuse. "It is an inhabited planet," he pointed out. "I'd be more surprised if you weren't."

If he weren't the captain, Billingsley would have smacked him, and even though he was, she was sorely tempted. "Sir," she hissed, and forced her console's display over the navigational one.

When she said she was reading life signs, she had not been lying. While there were scattered signals across the moon's surface, within the barrier of Margeh and T'rond'n's estate, there were more life signs than anywhere else. The display was lit up with them. The estate was crawling with life in such density it wasn't possible to ascertain what most of the life signs were.

Lorca looked down at Lalana. "When you said Margeh and T'rond'n liked to bring back live game from their hunts, how often do they do that?"

"Every time. Breeding pairs when they can."

"And how long have they been doing that?"

"Mm, for many years since before I joined them."

Well, thought Lorca. This just got more and more interesting.