Chapter 7

Sal drummed her fingers on the counter. She had been unsettled since hearing about the Orion visitors, but she had discovered through the grapevine that these were refugee slaves fleeing the Syndicate. That had put her at ease, although not by much.

Still, it was unlikely any of the Orions would recognise her from her old life.

To be safe, she had kept herself hidden away for most of yesterday evening, leaving the customers in the care of her small staff. The breakfast rush, however, could not be tackled with anything less than all hands on deck, so she was front of house again, with one eye anxiously on the door. So far, no Orions had shown up at all, but it was still early.

Azhri's antennae poked out of the kitchen door, her white-haired, blue-skinned head soon following. It took a moment for Sal to register that the young Andorian was speaking to her.

"Hm? Sorry, Azhri, I was light-years away."

"Everything alright?" Azhri asked with concern. "You've been a bit distant lately."

Sal put on a smile. "Just some personal stuff. I'll be fine. What were you saying?"

Azhri was clearly not convinced by Sal's reassurance, but did not push further. "Oh, we're a little low on bacon. Is it okay if I pop to the storeroom for more while it's quiet?"

Sal winced. "Sorry, I meant to do that last night. Would you mind?"

Azhri smiled at her. "It's okay. I won't be long."

As Azhri departed, Sal rubbed her temple. She needed to get her head back on straight. This Orion business had her shook up. From what she'd heard, they'd only be here a few days at most, and even if someone were to recognise her, it was a big base; she may never run into them.

"Well, look who it is." A familiar voice shattered that hope and sent her stomach downward.

Sal slowly turned to see a face she had not encountered in years - the hulking, bare-chested Damoth leaned on the counter, grinning at her.

"Saleste Tiviér," he said. "Just what in the name of the Mother Goddess are you doing in such a civilised establishment?"

Sal folded her arms and maintained a strong expression. She had not been looking forward to running into someone from her past, but she would get through it as quickly, and as dignified, as possible.

"I could ask you the same thing, Damoth," she said.

Damoth smirked cruelly. "I got tired of living under the Syndicate's lash. Like you, I imagine. Although, you've just traded masters. I don't intend on letting the Humans control me."

"No one controls me but me," she said firmly.

Damoth snorted, his eyes lecherously flitting down to her chest for just too long. "Oh, I can believe that. Maybe things would change though if these people knew what I know about you." He smirked. "At least I'm not here under a lie. Everyone knows who I am. What I am…"

Sal swallowed, trying to hold back the fear and anger crashing together like waves within her. Remaining stern-faced, she stepped close to Damoth, and spoke softer in volume but not in tone.

"My past is behind me, Damoth, and it's going to stay there. I've made a new life for myself, and, from what I've heard, you're trying to do the same. So, how about we leave each other in peace to do so? You can start by getting out of my diner right now."

Damoth chuckled loudly. "Like I said; I'm not going to let anyone tell me what to do any more. That includes you, 'Sal.'" He reached up to touch her face. She didn't give him the satisfaction of flinching, but slowly pulled back.

A hand came down on Damoth's shoulder. "Is everything alright here?" It was Captain Thorpe, looking cautiously curious.

Ordinarily, Sal would not have sought assistance with unwanted customers - especially not from the boyish though well-meaning captain - but right now she needed rid of Damoth by whatever means possible.

"The gentleman here was just leaving," she said, staring at Damoth.

Damoth, who had been glaring at Thorpe, turned back to her. "I'm not finished."

Thorpe, his hand still on Damoth, smirked overconfidently. "I'm afraid management reserves the right to refuse service, sir. You'll have to take your business elsewhere."

Damoth stood to his full height. Thorpe, although big himself, was dwarfed next to the much larger Orion looking down at him. "My business is none of yours, Human!"

The few diner patrons, mainly civilians, were now taking interest in the scene, and Sal cringed. She just wanted this over without any drama. To his credit though, Thorpe was not rising to Damoth's challenge.

Thorpe held his hands out passively. "Sir, there's no need to get hostile. Let's just step outside and…"

"You are not our masters!" Damoth shouted. Before Sal could shout a warning, the large Orion swung his fist into Thorpe's face, staggering the unsuspecting Human.

Thorpe recovered quickly, driving his elbow into Damoth's chiselled stomach. Despite their difference in size, the blow landed hard, doubling Damoth over, and Thorpe took advantage, throwing the heel of his hand into the other man's face. Damoth, unprepared for an opponent who actually fights back, crashed into a table behind him.

The customers were gathered around now, some even cheering the two combatants on, and Sal noticed one of the Starfleet officers darting out, probably to get help. She ran her hands over her long golden hair in exasperation. This was attention she didn't need.

Damoth got back to his feet and rushed Thorpe, tackling him into another table, sending cutlery and chairs clattering to the floor. The two of them grappled with each other a while before Thorpe kicked Damoth off him. They exchanged another round of punches, both taking it to the face this time, drawing red and green blood from each other.

Sal ran around the counter, trying to put herself in the middle of the testosterone-fuelled feud. "Stop! Both of you! Get out of here or I'm going to step in, and then there'll really be trouble!"

"Stay out of this!" Damoth snapped at her, his gaze still locked on Thorpe.

"It's okay, Sal, I can handle him," said Thorpe, similarly staring down Damoth.

She saw from their eyes and stances that another mutual strike was imminent, so she sighed. "That's enough!" Mustering up all her weight and momentum, she swung wide with her right hand, knocking Damoth out cold, then, almost instantly, turned and swung her left hand into Thorpe's face, also rendering him unconscious on the floor. Both men had thankfully weakened each other first, but the move had still left Sal with aching hands.

She turned to find a shocked Azhri standing in the entrance holding a box of frozen bacon. Several security officers ran in behind her with almost theatrically bad timing, then also took on stunned expressions.

Sal slowly raised her arms in surrender and looked to Azhri. "Guess it wasn't so quiet after all."