Disclaimer: Schlock Mercenary and all related material is the property of Howard Taylor. Star Trek and all related material is the property of Paramount Pictures Inc. The plot, however, is mine.

"Why radio?" Picard murmured softly. "They should have discovered subspace communications, given what we've just seen. There wouldn't be any point to building a ship that powerful without faster-than-light capability." Then, more loudly, "We shouldn't keep them waiting, Mr. Worf. Onscreen."

"Sir, there's too much radio interference from the battle. It's an audio only message. Patching it through now."

A stream of gibberish erupted from the bridge speakers, and although everyone found it incomprehensible, there did seem to be a few words that seemed familiar, and the whole thing sounded as if the human vocal apparatus could have produced it without difficulty.

Responding before the question was asked, Data said, "The Universal translator is functional, Captain, however, there are no languages even remotely resembling this in its memory. Compiling a working vocabulary and proper translation algorithms will likely take some time and a much larger vocabulary sample."

Picard nodded and turned to face the screen, more out of habit than need, since the bridge audio pickups could transmit his voice no matter how he was facing. Raising his voice slightly, he addressed the unknown ship "Our translator does not have your language in its memory. Please send further data on your language so we may converse properly."

He doubted that the other ship would understand him, but he guessed that if they couldn't, that would also give them the idea. However, in the meantime…

""Mr. Worf, please send Starfleet a report detailing these unusual occurrences. Make sure they know that we are dealing with a very advanced race, and please request a First Contact Specialist to come at once."

"Aye, Sir."

Worf had already received the analysis of the anomaly, and he didn't bother editing or condensing the sensor logs of anything regarding the newcomer. Let them see everything, it might stir a sense of urgency. Speaking of urgency…

"Captain, I assume you want this to be Priority One?"

"You assume correctly, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir. Message sent."

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Touch-and-Go, the atmosphere was a little different.

"Hello, whoever you are. If I'm not mistaken, we just saved your lives. However, being mercenaries, we don't commit violence for free, and you owe us." Tagon stopped the transmission. He figured that they could negotiate for payment later, but making sure the opposition knew they were heavily outgunned was good tactics.

"Interesting word choice, sir. May I suggest a little more tact in the future?"

"Shut up, Ennesby. We outgun them, you said it yourself."

"I was just thinking they might have friends who we don't outgun, but…incoming signal. Should I play it, or is that included in 'shut up?'"

Tagon sighed. "No, Ennesby, go ahead."

A string of what sounded like incoherent babble emanated from the communication interface, and confusion lined Tagon's face. Ennesby's, on the other hand, lit up in understanding.

"What was Ithat/I, Ennesby?

"That wasn't any variant of Galstandard, but I did recognize it. In fact, that particular language originated on Earth, and a few words have even filtered into Galstandard West. It's called English."

"But you can understand it?"

"Yep! They're saying that they don't understand our language and need us to transmit linguistic data. I'll just send them a translation program, though it'll take a few minutes to complete, given the bandwidth restrictions we're dealing with. I'll do that now. Also, could you let me handle the talking? Diplomacy requires an advanced vocabulary, and yours isn't quite complete."

The insult made a slight whistling noise as it went over Tagon's head, but Kevyn chuckled. He quickly straightened and interjected, "I agree with Ennesby. He's the most qualified person on the ship. I also suggest we get Thurl up here to help."

Tagon grunted, resigned to the knowledge that he had no idea what was going on.

"Sir, incoming radio transmission. It appears to be a set of translation algorithms, preceded by the text 'so I don't have to do it all myself.'"

Data spoke up. "I have just analyzed the incoming code. I concur with the Lieutenant at the moment, though I will continue to analyze it as it comes in, so that we are not the victims of a viral assault."

"As it comes in, Mr. Data?"

"Aye, sir. Since the data transfer rate is restricted significantly, it will take much longer to receive the complete program. I estimate it will take at least approximately 5 minutes."

"Very well. Counselor, any unusual emotions coming from the alien vessel?"

"I sense confusion, curiosity, hostility, and…fear. The last two were not aimed specifically at us, and seemed much more subdued than the first two. Also, while about one third of them feel humanoid, there are a lot of nonhumanoids present, and some I couldn't read, only sense their presence. There may be more that I cannot sense at all."

Picard's reply was slow in coming, carefully thought out. "Interesting. It does appear that these beings, whoever they may be, can understand us, so perhaps we should talk to them, even if they cannot immediately respond."

Data spoke up, "I would advise against that, sir. While the translation program is incomplete, their initial greeting can be translated. Approximated, it means 'We are mercenaries, and we just saved your lives. You owe us.'"

Picard was amazed by their blatant admission. While everyone knew what mercenaries were intellectually, they were effectively nonexistent, since anyone wealthy enough to afford a ship that had any hope of defeating a Starfleet vessel and the crew to run that ship was so wealthy they wouldn't need to do so. The fact that it was illegal and punishable by life in prison also served as a deterrent. Picard quickly realized, however, that mentioning that particular fact to these people was likely an excellent way to commit suicide.

"I still wish to speak with them. As they pointed out, they did save us. Perhaps we can come to some sort of -"

Worf interrupted. "Federation warp signatures detected on long-range scans. Two War-Defiants, an Akira, and a Nebula-class. All are at maximum warp, headed in our direction on the same vector. They are too far away to hail, or to get more detailed readings. At their present speed and course, we will be able to do so in half an hour. Starfleet could not have assembled a fleet to meet this vessel so quickly."

Riker commented "Well, this gets livelier by the minute."

Data spoke up. "Translation program download complete. No viral assaults detected. I suggest caution with diplomatic proceedings."

"I know, Data. Worf, open a radio channel."

Picard was still getting used to the idea of using radio to communicate with an advanced species, but his disbelief was slowly being replaced by astonishment.

"Aye, sir. Channel open, audio only."

Picard reflexively straightened and adopted his "diplomatic" voice, honed by years of practice negotiating with recalcitrant, reluctant, and downright hostile aliens.

"I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the starship IEnterprise/I, a vessel of the United Federation of Planets. Please identify yourselves and your intentions."

The response came back in perfectly enunciated English.

"This is the warship ITouch-and-Go/I, legal property of the licensed mercenary company Tagon's Toughs."

"To whom am I speaking?" queried Picard, "Your voice sounds different from the one that said the first message."

"That was the Captain. He's not a very good negotiator, as you could probably tell. I'm the one doing the negotiations now. My name is Ennesby, and I'm the current shipboard AI. Perhaps we should talk face to face. Radio is far too slow."

Picard was astonished at this being's bluntness, never mind the fact that these people considered Artificial Intelligences on board their ships normal. Data was unique within the Federation, and there were still many people who would protest against working alongside him, and knowing that there were cultures that thought nothing of it was amazing. Despite his astonishment, however, he remained unfailingly polite.

"Very well, um, En-es-bee" his tongue took the unfamiliar name slowly, to avoid insulting the being he was talking to by getting the name wrong "How do you wish to come aboard?"

Picard didn't really enjoy having potentially hostile strangers aboard his ship, but when said strangers had enough firepower to destroy the Enterprise at will, he figured it was best to put that feeling aside. Besides, he doubted that they would fire on the IEnterprise/I if some of their crew was aboard.

"We'll teraport on. We've managed to target your bridge. I hope you don't mind an honor guard."

Picard was about to ask what a teraport was when the link clicked off.

Seconds later, spots of light appeared on the bridge, and several figures appeared as the light quickly faded.

Picard had just enough time to wonder how they had transported when the shields were still up before Worf cried "Captain, get down!" and drew his phaser. The Klingon quickly aimed at the nearest being - only to find himself nose-to-barrel with what was unmistakably a very large, very dangerous gun, making an ominous humming noise that practically yelled 'do not mess with this.'