Part One
"Help me!"
She woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed and sucking in a lungful of stale recycled air. As she tried to calm her breathing down, she ran a shaking hand across her clammy forehead.
Natasha Kinsen, former junior medical officer for gamma shift onboard the late USS Navajo, lay back down in bed and sighed deeply.
It was only a dream.
When she was a little girl back on Earth, that sort of revelation after a nightmare would have reassured her, reminded her that there was nothing to be scared of. Even if she had to run to her parents in order to hear it. But right now, that same fact did nothing to calm her. Because it was the same dream that she had been having every night.
The same burning section of corridor on her old ship, the same despairing cry for help from the same mortally injured young ensign. The young ensign that she had left behind to die on the Navajo when she had fled.
The bloodied face that she had run away from. The one that she was still running away from. And the one that, no matter how hard she ran, she couldn't escape.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts, then swung her legs out of bed, reaching for the flask of water that sat on the floor next to her and taking a long thirsty gulp. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, feeling her heart rate slow back to normal. It was a morning ritual that she was becoming increasingly used to.
Even with her eyes closed, sitting in a windowless cabin, she was a seasoned enough space traveller to detect the sensation of the vessel she was on slowing to sublight speeds.
She also knew that meant that the Bounty, the small merchant ship that had rescued her from her unplanned exile on a remote planet in the Kesmet Sector after she had escaped the destruction of the Navajo, was arriving at Starbase 216.
She was back with Starfleet. She was home.
And she felt numb.
'*'*'
'*'*'
A few minutes later, after she had showered and dressed, Natasha walked up the steps into the cockpit of the Bounty to find the rest of the ship's ragtag crew all present and correct.
At the front of the cockpit, idly rocking back and forth in the pilot's seat, was the ship's resident laughing Vulcan, Sunek, who had turned his back on the cold logic of the rest of his species. To the left of the room as she looked was the imposing Klingon tactical officer, Klath, while at the rear of the room, manning her own console, was Denella, the Bounty's Orion engineer.
And in the middle of it all, in his self-appointed captain's chair, was Jirel Vincent, the unjoined Trill she was still struggling to figure out. Despite the fact that they had spent a night together after the Bounty had rescued her, and before she had managed to cajole the crew into an ultimately fruitless search for the Jewel of Soraxx.
She'd never admit it to the wannabe space adventurer in front of her, but that night they had spent together had been the only night since the Navajo's destruction when she hadn't been plagued by nightmares. But she was sure that was just an unhappy coincidence.
"Morning, doc," Jirel said as she entered the cockpit, gesturing through the cockpit window, "Just in time for our grand arrival."
Starbase 216 was one of several such facilities that had been constructed as a planetary facility on a Federation-aligned world, rather than an orbital platform or a standalone station in deep space. Through the cockpit window, Natasha saw the eerily Earth-like qualities of the planet below. For just a second, it looked like she really had come home.
And yet, she still felt numb.
"Good," she managed to reply, the simple comment sounding even more weak and hollow than she had been fearing it might.
Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Jirel grinned back at her as he jammed a finger down on the comms panel of his chair, putting on his best captain's voice to make a good impression to both the starbase below and their guest. "Starbase 216, this is the Bounty, requesting clearance to land."
There was a pause. Quite a long pause. Jirel's grin started to hurt slightly.
"This is Starbase 216," the response eventually came, a female officer's voice drifting over the speakers, "We have no record of your ship's registry, Bounty. Break off descent or we will consider your approach a hostile action."
Jirel's grin dropped off his features like a stone. To his side, Klath's console sounded out an alert.
"They are locking…" the Klingon paused as further identical alerts chimed out, "Multiple weapons on us."
From the front of the cockpit, Sunek let out a hearty chuckle.
"Well, our reputation clearly doesn't precede us," Denella added with a deeply amused shake of her head.
With his grin now located somewhere near his ankles, Jirel quickly jammed his finger back down onto the comms panel. "Um, Starbase 216, this is the Bounty again," he said, appreciably faster than his earlier hail, "There's no need to-Um, just-If you could check with Admiral Jenner? I'm sure he'll-I mean, I'm sure you'll find our landing clearance. Um, over?"
There was another pause. An even longer one. Revelling in the discomfort in the room, Sunek swivelled around with as serious a look as he could manage to maintain.
"Should I prepare for evasive maneuvers, sir?" he deadpanned, eliciting a further smirk from Denella and a roll of eyes from Jirel.
"Sunek," the Trill muttered, "Shut up."
For once, the Vulcan actually obeyed that request. He didn't say a word. He did, however, deliver the most elaborate mock salute Natasha had ever seen in Jirel's direction. Eventually, just as Natasha was starting to wonder whether the starbase below really was about to open fire, the same female officer's voice came back over the comms link.
"Clearance for landing confirmed, Bounty. Landing pad J-12."
"Smooth, Jirel," Sunek grinned as he tapped his controls and started to guild the Bounty through the planet's atmosphere, "Real smooth."
Jirel looked back over at Natasha and mustered as laid back a shrug as he could manage. "Probably just her first day."
Natasha smiled despite herself and watched as Sunek guided the Ju'day-type raider down through the atmosphere.
Starbase 216 was an irregular collection of functional hemispherical modules of differing sizes rising out of the ground of the planet. They were dotted around a wide expanse of one of the northern continents of the planet, surrounded on all sides by lush blue-green forests. Each of the modules were surrounded by a series of circular landing pads, connected to the main modules by covered walkways.
As they approached their designated landing point, Natasha also spotted various settlements off in the distance, towns and cities on the Federation-aligned planet existing in harmony alongside the starbase itself.
The Bounty, still scarred and wounded from the many recent firefights it had been involved in, gently glided down onto landing pad J-12, dwarfing the two small runabouts and collection of one-person worker bees that were lined up on the edge of the pad.
"Another perfect landing," Sunek chirped, shutting down his controls, "Now, how about we find the nearest bar down here, hmm? Drinks are on me."
"Same thing he always says when we get to a Federation planet," Denella said to Natasha with a shake of her head.
"No bar tab," Klath nodded.
"Psh," the Vulcan replied, slightly affronted, "I'm offering to walk to the replicators and back all night, aren't I?"
He jumped out of his seat and made for the exit of the cockpit, but the slow uptake from the rest of the crew caused him to slow down.
"Count me out," Denella sighed, standing from her own console and arching her back in a lazy stretch, "I've got a repair checklist the length of my arm to start working through. Need to give the poor old girl a serious makeover."
Jirel stood and gestured at Natasha, giving Sunek an apologetic shrug. "And we've got a hot date with Admiral Jenner. Gonna drop our guest off and...explain why we're five days late."
"Explain by saying…?" Denella asked, intrigued.
Jirel considered this, recalling their misadventures on their return from the Kesmet Sector. Their futile trip to try and locate the mysterious Jewel of Soraxx. "I'll think of something," he offered eventually.
Sunek shook his head at the chorus of negative responses and turned to Klath. "Well, buddy. Looks like it's just you and me."
Klath glanced around the cockpit, looking around for anything to use as an appropriate excuse of his own. At a loss, he reluctantly nodded. "I...suppose so."
He stood and joined the rest of the crew as they prepared to disembark. Jirel gestured to the bat'leth which was slung over his back, as usual. "And hey, Klath, leave that behind, yeah? Ever hear the one about the heavily armed Klingon warrior who walked into a starbase and started a war?"
The Klingon went to protest, then sighed in silent defeat and removed the weapon from his back.
"Cheer up, Klath," Sunek grinned as he led them down the steps at the rear of the cockpit, "How much danger can there be on a starbase?"
'*'*'
'*'*'
Denella stood a short distance away from the Bounty and unhappily surveyed the damage. Jirel stepped down off the ship's rear ramp and walked over to her, turning and following her line of sight. It didn't take long to see why she was looking so glum.
The Bounty was a mess.
All around the ship, the hull was pock-marked with dozens of ugly scrapes and charred scars from weapons fire. The starboard wing was especially badly hit after a glancing torpedo strike, while the other wing had an ugly hole blasted right through it, a shimmering forcefield the only thing helping to maintain the structural integrity of the appendage.
"Crap," he offered simply.
"That's your engineer's official report as well," the green-skinned woman offered without a trace of a smile, wiping her face and leaving a smear of grease behind before walking off to check the rest of the ship.
As Jirel surveyed the sorry sight of his long-suffering vessel, a trio of Starfleet officers exited the main module of the starbase they had landed next to and marched over to where they stood. All three wore yellow undershirts below their matching grey and black uniforms. And the two on either side of the trio had their phasers drawn.
"Boy oh boy," the officer in the middle of the trio, carrying a much less threatening engineering toolkit, said as he looked up at the damage.
He was a tall man, with light brown skin and a typically serious Starfleet haircut, contrasting jarringly with the scruffy mop on top of Jirel's head. Still, if he was put off by the sight of the Trill, his Starfleet levels of politeness didn't let it show. He smiled warmly and offered a firm handshake.
"Lieutenant Ravi Kapadia," he said, "Welcome to Starbase 216. Admiral Jenner ordered me to oversee a repair schedule down here, but...I'm not sure where to start."
He gestured to the Bounty and chuckled. Jirel smiled back as he broke off the handshake and pointed over to Denella, who was walking back towards them. "Pretty sure our engineer is way ahead of you with all that, chief."
As Kapadia turned around and saw Denella, Jirel didn't need to be telepathic to see that this was the first time the Starfleet officer had met an Orion woman in the flesh. Even though she was clad in a set of dirty grey overalls that didn't really fit, her green hair was messily tied back behind her head and her face was somehow even more streaked with dirt than it had been just moments ago, Kapadia's jaw still hit the ground.
Denella, for her part, barely glanced at the young lieutenant as she proffered him the weathered padd in her hand. Kapadia didn't take it. He was still staring.
"Ok, Lieutenant," she began, "I've drawn up a rough list of where I'll need to start. I'm assuming that you can replicate most of…"
She trailed off as she realised Kapadia still hadn't taken the padd. Or indeed moved at all. She looked up to see him smiling slightly dumbly at her, his jaw still hanging somewhere past his knees. With a sigh, she looked over at Jirel.
The Trill coughed slightly and tapped the officer on the shoulder, enough to jolt Kapadia back into the moment. Still flustered, he nodded dumbly and took the padd.
"R-Right," he stammered, his voice croaking slightly through his dry mouth, "Well, I'm sure we can work it-Work through it-Um, this, together."
Denella grabbed Jirel by the arm and walked a few paces away from the still-babbling Kapadia, muttering surreptitiously to him. "Jirel, can you talk to the admiral? I really don't need...that," she gestured at the Starfleet officer, "Not again. I mean, my checklist covers everything. If they just get us the supplies, I can do all the rest myself-"
"Denella, look at the state of her," he replied, gesturing to the Bounty, "We're gonna need his help on this one. But I promise, as soon as I'm done with the admiral, I'll come back down and help, ok? It's not just gonna be you and Lieutenant Libido."
They both looked back at Kapadia, who quickly returned his attention to the padd when he realised he'd been caught staring at her. Denella sighed even deeper. "Fine. But if he doesn't stop drooling soon, I'm gonna have to whack him with the thick end of a coil spanner."
She reluctantly walked back over to the Starfleet engineer, as Natasha walked down the Bounty's ramp and over to Jirel. The two armed security officers that had accompanied Kapadia out to the landing pad moved over to them.
"Lieutenant Kinsen, welcome back," the taller of the two offered, "We've been asked to escort you directly to Admiral Jenner."
The shorter officer glanced distrustingly at Jirel. "Both of you."
Natasha nodded, finding herself struggling to focus on anything beyond the familiar uniforms the two officers wore. The one she had worn for the last decade. The one that now made her feel numb. The frail smile she managed to give them felt bitter as it crossed her face.
To her side, the more relaxed Trill gestured to the phasers in their hands. "Don't think you need those, guys," he grinned, "She's one of you, remember."
Neither officer smiled at him, nor did they lower their weapons. The taller of the two offered him an especially curt reply. "They're for you."
Not for the first time since they had arrived at Starbase 216, Natasha noted Jirel's cocky grin disappearing from his face as fast as the local gravity would allow.
'*'*'
'*'*'
The journey to Admiral Jenner's office had not taken long.
That was mostly thanks to a speedy turbolift ride all the way up to the top of the starbase module they had landed by, but also thanks to the two security officers literally marching them along through any walking phases of the trip. Since they had arrived at their destination, the reason for the haste in their journey had become less apparent, given that the admiral was clearly happy to keep them waiting. For half an hour and counting.
They had been deposited in a plush waiting area, filled with a selection of comfortable furniture and staffed by a single Bajoran ensign working diligently behind a warm mahogany reception desk. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows curved around the outer edge of the room, affording spectacular views across the planet's surface.
Not that Natasha was paying a great deal of attention to the view. She had uncomfortably perched herself on the edge of one of the plush sofas, feeling deeply out of place. The scuffed overalls she wore, a pair she had borrowed from Denella, were a million miles away from the Starfleet-spec surroundings. Although, as she again considered the uniforms she had seen everywhere on their trip up here, she couldn't help but think that she'd feel equally out of place wearing one of those right now. Even back amongst the familiar surroundings of a Federation facility.
As she contemplated her situation, and tried to avoid thinking about the face of the ensign in the corridor, she couldn't help but wonder what Jirel thought he was doing.
"Yeah, like I said, he's definitely expecting me."
The Trill casually leaned on the reception desk, trying to look as charming as possible despite the stern look he was getting from the ensign on the other side.
"Again, if you would take a seat, sir," the young Bajoran replied with disdain, failing to remove every layer of sarcasm from the word 'sir' as she addressed the scruffy Trill, "I'll let you know as soon as Admiral Jenner is available."
Apparently unperturbed by her tone, Jirel kept the charm dialled up. "Listen, Ensign…?" he let the word hang with a hopeful smile.
"Lenaris," she sighed eventually, "Ensign Lenaris Kendra."
"Listen, Kendra," Jirel continued, deliberately dropping the formalities and going straight for the Bajoran's first name, "Me and Admiral Jenner go way back, and he has this thing he likes to do to mess me around, y'know? He likes to keep me-keep us, in this case, waiting out here."
He gestured back to Natasha, who didn't look especially unhappy to be kept waiting. "And it's hilarious, obviously. A really great bit. But today, I'm kinda busy. So, we can just skip all this messing around and-"
"Admiral Jenner is currently on a diplomatic call with the Tholian ambassador," Ensign Lenaris explained patiently, "Once he has concluded their discussions, he will see both of you. I assure you that there's no...messing around."
Jirel nodded knowingly, glancing down at the desk in front of her and spying the brushed metal comms panel. "Yeah, right. That's the sort of thing he says when he knows I'm here."
"Or...when he's on a diplomatic call with the Tholian ambassador," Lenaris replied, in a tone of voice that she usually reserved for subspace calls to her bratty five year old nephew back on Bajor.
"Right, right. I like it, you're really going with this, aren't you?" he said, wagging his finger at her before looking over her shoulder and pointing at something, "Hey, so, is that replicator for general use, or...?"
Despite it being one of the oldest tricks in the book, Ensign Lenaris naively turned to look at the replicator in question, allowing Jirel a free moment to jab his finger down onto the comms panel. By the time she swivelled back round and realised what he had done, he was already speaking.
"Hey, Bryce, nice try with that Tholian thing, but next time you might wanna-"
"Jirel, get off this damn channel!"
The admiral's voice came back with a level of anger that suggested either he was committing to the bit about the Tholians with far more relish than a Stafleet admiral necessarily should be doing while on duty, or that Jirel had miscalculated the situation somewhat.
The ashen-faced look on Ensign Lenaris's face rather gave away the answer to that one.
'*'*'
'*'*'
A few moments later, Lenaris was being comforted by Admiral Jenner himself in the entrance to his office.
"Again, sir, I am so sorry," the Bajoran babbled through reddened eyes, "I had no idea he would-It won't happen again, sir, and I fully accept the consequences of-"
"Don't worry, Ensign," Jenner replied as calmly as he could manage, "You're not the first secretary of mine to fall foul of Jirel's...persistence. Just communicate my apologies to Ambassador Losaran and his people, and make sure we send them a little something as well."
"Yes sir," Lenaris nodded, considering this for a moment, then adding, "Anything in particular, sir?"
"Whatever you normally get an eight foot tall crystalline being to say sorry. Improvise."
Lenaris nodded and exited the office, still at an understandable loss as to exactly what she was supposed to send. Admiral Jenner whirled around to stare across at the two other figures in the room.
In front of the expansive wraparound desk that dominated the lavish office that befit the commander of a starbase, Natasha had been standing to attention for so long that she was worried she was about to sprain something. She also couldn't help but feel vaguely ridiculous being so formal in her current attire. But still, even if she was still sure her future didn't belong in Starfleet, she was determined to uphold protocol for the time being. Even if it meant standing to attention in baggy overalls.
To her right, Jirel was clearly free from any such hangups. If she had been shocked by his behaviour in the reception area, she was doubly shocked when the Trill turned to one of the quadrant's most decorated officers and held his arms out for a hug.
If it was meant to be a disarming tactic, the admiral definitely didn't take it that way.
"Two months, Jirel," he fired out, as he stalked across his rich burgundy carpet to his desk, "Two months I've been working on the Tholians. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get one of their delegations around a negotiating table?"
"Cos of all the legs, right?" Jirel offered.
As a disarming tactic, that worked even less well than the offer of a hug. Jenner continued to rant at him as he took a seat behind his desk.
Bryce Jenner himself was a stout man, with short greying hair and brilliant blue eyes. Although he had aged, Natasha knew that his reputation was surpassed by few in the fleet. His time in command of the USS Firebrand was the stuff of legend. As, it had to be said, was his temper.
"You show up five days late," he barked at the Trill, "You hand my engineers a repair list the length of a Sovereign-class refit, and then you go and pull a stunt like that? Seriously, Jirel, next time I get a message from my exec that we've got every phaser bank on this base trained on your little ship, I'm not gonna tell them to hold their fire."
Jirel's arms flopped down to his sides, conceding defeat on the chance of a hug. "Ok, honestly, I thought the Tholian ambassador thing was a-"
"Well, it wasn't."
The admiral wrung his hands together, trying to calm himself down. "Look, this little arrangement is getting complicated enough as it is. You met the security detail, I assume? There's a lot of protocol to follow when a Starfleet admiral invites someone like you to his office these days. Everything gets logged, questions have to be answered, it's a pain in the ass. So when I give your crew these little errands to run, the least I expect is that you take it seriously."
"Ah, ok," Jirel said, gesturing to Natasha, "We did take it seriously this time. And here she is."
Jenner looked over at Natasha, almost for the first time since she had walked into the office. Seeing her standing to attention, his mood immediately softened. "Lieutenant Kinsen," he said apologetically, gesturing for her to stand at ease, an offer which she readily accepted, "I am so sorry for all this distraction. Welcome home."
"Thank you sir," she replied, her voice sounding oddly small in the expanse of his office.
"I can't tell you how happy we all were to hear that someone survived out there," he said, his tone offering her nothing but kindness that she felt she didn't deserve, "Must've been hell."
She stifled her reaction to the emotions that bubbled to the surface at the admiral's words. Guilt, pain, anger, sadness, all mixed together. "It's...not something I'll ever forget," she managed eventually.
Behind the desk, the grey haired admiral studied her face in silence, and for a moment she was worried that he had already seen through her facade. Eventually, he nodded and smiled.
"Well, if you're up to it, you'll be debriefed tomorrow. For now, you've been assigned quarters here on the base. Please, get some rest."
She knew there was precious little chance of that, given the nightmares that had haunted her over the last few months. But she nodded graciously. "Thank you, sir."
"Any chance I can get in on that?" Jirel chimed in from her side, "You've gotta have more than one spare set of quarters around here."
Jenner sighed and turned back to the Trill, all of his kindness evaporating. "You're getting your repairs," he grunted, "As many of them as I can sign off, anyway. This is an active Federation starbase, you know. Not your own personal shipyard."
"Yeah, but-"
"You want your own quarters? You know where the damn Academy is."
Natasha was more than a little surprised to see that this shut Jirel up immediately. Partly because she had been starting to think that such a thing wasn't possible, and partly because he genuinely looked hurt by it. Before she could consider this any further, the door chime to the office rang. Jenner turned back to her and smiled.
"One more thing, Lieutenant. News that you survived travelled fast through the fleet, and there's someone who's been desperate to see you. Enter!"
As he barked out the command, Natasha turned to see the doors part and a face from her past walk in. The dark-skinned man wore a Starfleet science uniform, with three pips affixed to the collar.
Jirel immediately noticed that Natasha's mouth had dropped open in shock. He also noticed how the newcomer's face instantly creased into a delighted smile as he made a beeline for her, gripping her in a tight hug, which she reciprocated.
It was a hug that went on for long enough to make Jirel feel distinctly uncomfortable. For reasons that he didn't entirely want to admit to himself. It was also a hug that only stopped after the Trill's second awkward cough was loud enough to register with both parties.
"Hey," the Trill offered weakly, "It's just-Y'know, other people in the room, here."
The newcomer looked slightly contrite as he acknowledged the others. Natasha, for her part, still looked to be in a mild state of shock.
"Sorry," he offered with a shrug, "But it's not every day your wife comes back from the dead."
If Natasha's face had been a picture of shock, it had nothing on Jirel's.
'*'*'
'*'*'
"So there we were, no weapons, no shields, with five Jem'Hadar fighters bearing down on us…"
Klath scowled and quietly wondered how he'd allowed himself to get into this position.
On the other side of the table, Sunek was midway through telling the story of the Bounty's misadventures prior to their arrival at the starbase to a small audience. Except, as Klath had silently noted, this particular telling carried several embellishments of the author's own creation.
Instead of Jirel and Klath fighting off a pair of Miradorn in a bar brawl on Hestina, it had been Sunek and Sunek alone. Instead of Denella and Klath who had defeated a pair of Jem'Hadar soldiers in hand to hand combat while searching for the Jewel of Soraxx, it had again been Sunek and Sunek alone. And now, instead of them battling one Jem'Hadar fighter, there were five.
And there had also been an unnecessary number of tangential segues seemingly designed for no other narrative purpose than to underline the supposed sexual prowess of the Bounty's pilot.
If that nauseating part of the whole spectacle hadn't been enough, it was clear even to Klath that while Sunek's choice of audience were listening to his story, they didn't believe a word of it. Even the odd word that was actually the truth.
"...I steered us right between them, like, threaded the needle to perfection, and those first two fighters flew right into each other and just…!"
The Vulcan excitedly underlined this part of his work of fiction by miming a huge explosion with an accompanying sound effect. Klath's scowl deepened.
Sunek had suggested they head to the local township, rather than the starbase itself, to find somewhere for a drink. All the better to avoid the stuffy confines of a Starfleet rec area. So, they had followed the Vulcan's instincts and ended up here. The bar itself wasn't to Klath's tastes, decorated in bright gaudy colours, but the drinks menu was long, and the walk from the Bounty had been even longer, so they had elected to stay.
Most of the other patrons were local residents of the planet itself. A curious insectoid species with vaguely orange exoskeletons, prominent mandibles and huge black compound eyes that they had managed to discern were called Kraterites. The locals didn't seem to mind the arrival of a Klingon and a Vulcan, though it was somewhat hard to tell given that their native language consisted of a succession of chirps and clicks that neither of their universal translators seemed willing to even attempt to translate.
Still, it had meant that it had been easier for Sunek to spot the two female Starfleet ensigns when they had walked in to enjoy a spot of downtime of their own. And despite Klath's protestations, the Vulcan had insisted on approaching them, and moreover had somehow managed to convince them to join them for the evening.
Right now, as Sunek's tale continued, Klath couldn't tell if that was a decision they were regretting or not.
"Really?" one of the two women, a human who had introduced herself as Lara D'Amato, said to the excitable Vulcan, "They both just…"
She echoed Sunek's earlier explosion mime, down to the unnecessarily loud sound effect.
"Oh yeah," Sunek nodded, still convinced that this was all going well, "Lit up the place like a fireworks display. But, there were still three more of 'em, so I swung the ship around, and-"
"Let me guess," the other woman, a blue-skinned Andorian named Taris, said. This time, she and D'Amato mimed the explosion together, before collapsing in fits of giggles that revealed how much they believed about the Vulcan's tale.
"Fine, laugh it up," Sunek shrugged, still unabashed, "But that all happened, right, Klath?"
He looked over at the burly Klingon for support, flicking his head and gesturing with his eyes in such a way that even Klath could tell was a plea for backup. Not that Klath was ever going to read it that way. Klingons weren't good at small talk.
"His story is...exaggerated," he said eventually, eliciting further smirks from the ensigns.
"Ah, come on!" Sunek pouted, "Would it have hurt to play along for a bit?"
"Only a foolish warrior lies about his victories," the Klingon countered.
Taris and D'Amato both nodded in somber agreement, as they looked back at Sunek, who shrugged in defeat. "Well, maybe I miscounted."
"So," Taris said to Klath, "We've suffered through all your friend's best lines, you got any you wanna try out while we're here?"
Klath sighed. Klingons weren't good at lines either. "Klingons believe that actions speak louder than words," he offered simply, in a tone entirely bereft of any sort of flirtatious subtext.
"Wow," D'Amato admitted, "That's a good one."
Taris nodded, as the two ensigns eyed up the confused Klingon in a new light. Sunek, not appreciating the sudden lack of attention on him, jumped back into story mode.
"Hey, ok, how about I tell you how we - I mean, it was mostly me - escaped from this crazed Ferengi marauder…?"
As the ensigns rolled their eyes in amusement and Sunek launched into his blockbuster take on the Bounty's run-in with a Ferengi trader called Grenk and his modestly armed shuttle, Klath was distracted by a familiar uneasy feeling. He felt an unnerving tingling sensation somewhere in the back of his mind. A feeling that he was being watched.
Suppressing the instinctive urge to reach for the bat'leth that he knew wasn't there anyway, he scanned around the bar as casually as he could manage, not wanting to let anyone out there know he was aware of them.
It was still as bustling as when they had arrived, and all Klath could see was Kraterites, chittering away to each other in their unintelligible tongue. And while their large, unblinking eyes made it hard to tell who exactly was watching who, Klath couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.
But the uncertain feeling remained. So much so that when Taris gently tapped him on the arm to get his attention, his hand instinctively shot out and grabbed her wrist tightly, accompanied by a deep growl as he snapped his head around to the ensign.
"Ow! What the hell?" the Andorian cried out, as D'Amato and Sunek both reacted with equal amounts of shock to the Klingon's sudden movement.
Klath released his grip as soon as he realised his mistake, a feeling of foolishness washing over him as Taris rubbed her wrist and winced in pain.
"I was just asking if you wanted another," she said, nodding her head at the empty glass in front of him.
"I apologise," he managed to reply, "Are you hurt?"
Taris allowed D'Amato to take a look at her wrist, still glaring at the Klingon. "Nothing broken," D'Amato replied eventually, flashing Klath a similarly unhappy look, "But you need to chill out, ok?"
Klath looked around at the two distinctly unhappy ensigns, and the equally unhappy Sunek, under the oblivious belief that the Klingon might be jeopardising his chances of getting anywhere with either of the Starfleet officers.
"Perhaps I...should get the drinks?" he offered eventually. Nobody disagreed.
He stood and made his way to the bar itself. A Kraterite bartender quickly moved over to meet him and began to chitter excitedly, handing him a drinks menu for good measure. Still feeling an unsettling sense that he was being watched, and having no idea what any of the options on the menu were, he gruffly pointed at a drink at random and indicated the need for four of them with his fingers. The bartender chirped a few times, before getting to work.
Presently, four very tall glasses, filled with four very lurid green cocktails and topped off with four very luminous straws, were placed on a tray in front of him. The disgruntled Klingon briefly considered trying to change his order, before sighing and picking up the tray.
If the High Council could see me now, he thought to himself.
"Interesting choice."
The voice came out of nowhere. Still on edge, he spun around so quickly that he nearly dropped the tray. The source of the voice just smiled at him, the reddish ridge of bone across her forehead almost blending in to the harsh red lighting running around the walls of the bar.
He had no idea what species she was, but felt it was rude to ask. It was also, presumably, rude of him to take quite so much time to check her and the revealing deep blue dress that she wore over. But it took Klath a few seconds longer to realise that.
She didn't seem to mind, looking him up and down at the same time and smiling, before looking back at the tray of gaudy cocktails with amusement. Klath felt himself squirm involuntarily.
"Wrong order," he found himself saying, though he wasn't sure why.
She kept her eyes fixed on him as she picked the glass in front of him on the tray up and took a small sip through the straw, before setting it back down. "Quite nice," she conceded, her voice measured and overly sultry, "I think the locals call it a Kraterite Love Sling."
Klath suppressed a fresh grimace. Any hope he had of at least selling it as a warrior's drink based on the name disappeared in an instant.
"I've been watching you," she added, maintaining eye contact and running a slender finger down the same glass, "You don't seem to be enjoying the company you're with."
This got his attention back on her, but it was more from suspicion than anything else. Could she have been the one that he had sensed? "That is none of your concern," he stated flatly, but firmly.
"I could make it my concern," she replied with a flirtatious smile, "I can promise you that I'd be much more...agreeable company."
Klath felt something inside him stir as she licked her lips, but he was still on edge, and something about her unsettled him. "Another time, perhaps."
At this, she shrugged and turned around, walking off incongruously into the crowds of chattering Kraterites with an exaggerated shimmy of her hips. Klath watched her leave.
"Hey! Klath! Where the hell are those drinks?"
Sunek's bellowed call from across the bustling bar snapped him back to normality. With a mildly annoyed growl, he returned to the table and set the tray down.
"Wow," D'Amato laughed when she saw the glasses, "What is that supposed to be?"
"It is…" Klath paused, recalling the specific name the mysterious woman had used and deciding to play dumb for the sake of his flagging reputation, "Green."
Taris shrugged and picked up one of the glasses. Sunek and D'Amato followed suit. Klath remained troubled, his senses still on edge. He no longer felt like he was being watched, but something was definitely wrong.
"You ok, buddy?" Sunek asked, as he swirled his drink around with the straw.
Klath ignored him, still piecing everything together in his head. He was definitely missing something. Something about the woman he just met. The one who said she had been watching him.
The drinks. She'd touched one of the drinks. One of the glasses. But which one? He looked down at the tray. The glass that had been closest to him was now missing. One of the other three must have picked it up. He visualised them all taking the glasses from the tray, rewinding the scene in his head.
Taris lifted her drink up, bringing the straw to her mouth.
It was that one.
Before her lips touched the straw, Klath smacked the glass out of the shocked Andorian's hand, sending it flying onto the floor where it smashed into tiny pieces.
"Seriously," Taris snapped, "What the hell is your problem?"
"I apologise," Klath said simply, pushing the remaining glass on the tray over to her and standing up to leave, "Take mine."
"Klath?" Sunek asked, looking as shocked as the two ensigns at his friend's erratic behaviour.
The Klingon ignored him. He crouched down to the broken glass and tore a strip from his tunic, soaking some of the liquid up, before standing and looking back at the bemused faces around the table.
"Excuse me," he said simply.
He turned and exited the bar, as the others watched on. After a few awkward moments, Sunek shrugged and turned back to the two Starfleet officers.
"So, as I was saying, this Ferengi ship must've had...twenty, thirty disruptors…"
'*'*'
'*'*'
She leaned on the dirty metal hull and yawned, checking the local time again with a glance inside at the shuttle's chronometer.
It wouldn't be too much longer now. She knew that Kolar often had a tendency to gloat, but given how crowded the bar had been, she suspected that this time he would just need to see proof of his success before returning.
As she waited, she allowed herself to speculate about what she might do now. The latinum that he was paying her wasn't exactly a king's ransom, but it would afford her the chance for a modicum of luxury, for a few weeks at least.
As she contemplated whether it would be too vain to invest in a medical procedure she had read about that could accentuate the curves of her skull ridge, she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see Kolar stalking back to the shuttle. It didn't take an empath to see that he wasn't in a satisfied mood.
"You failed!"
As he spat out the words, he aimed a rough slap across her face for good measure. The blow was a glancing one, but it stung enough to bring tears to her eyes. She whirled away from any follow-up attack and backed away from the fuming Klingon, gently rubbing her swollen face.
"What do you mean?" she grunted back, tasting blood in her mouth, "I gave him exactly the same dose as the others."
"Did you see him drink it?" he hissed.
She went to retort, but couldn't help but pause for a fraction of a second. Which was more than enough of a reaction for him to deduce exactly what the answer was before she had a chance to decide whether to lie or not. Growling with rage, he stormed back into the shuttle.
She felt her jaw tenderly, reasoning that it might be a good idea to keep her distance from him for a while longer given his anger.
Inwardly, she cursed herself. She had become so used to their usual plan in dealing with the names on Kolar's list that she had stopped waiting around to guarantee that their targets physically drank their spiked drinks. Because they had always done it before. Except, apparently, this time.
She could already sense this was going to impact her chances of being paid in full, any thoughts of sculpting her skull ridges now disappearing fast. Kolar clambered back out of the shuttle clutching a large holdall and closed the shuttle's door behind him.
"You made a mistake," he chided, becalmed but still clearly angry, "And now you've jeopardised everything."
"I didn't mean to," she managed in return, "I thought he would-!"
"You were wrong!"
She shrank back further, her still-aching jaw reminding her that she didn't want to risk a run-in with the Klingon's simmering wrath.
"What now?" she replied quietly as the door sealed shut.
Kolar shot her a glare, then looked out across the township below, from where they had parked on a small landing platform on top of a nearby hill. Beyond the lights of the town, shimmering in the gloaming, he could make out the spherical modules of the starbase.
"Now," he said eventually, determination clear in his voice, "I need a new plan."
"What?"
He gestured down at the township, in the vague direction of the bar they had found Klath in earlier.
"First of all, I think we should keep an eye on his Vulcan friend down there…"
'*'*'
'*'*'
Klath wasn't the only person who had spent the evening with the distinct feeling that they were being watched. Although at least Denella knew that her particular voyeur was entirely harmless. Even if he was becoming incredibly annoying.
The first day of repairs was drawing to a close, and despite Jirel's promise to return in good time, she hadn't seen the Trill since he had left for the admiral's office. Which meant that, as she had been fearing, it had just been herself and Lieutenant Kapadia, and her meticulously planned repair schedule was being ruined by her even more pressing need to try and keep herself and the gawking officer working as far away from each other as possible.
She eased herself out from underneath the Bounty's starboard landing strut, having spent the last hour reconfiguring the lateral sensor array, while Kapadia had been tasked with stripping down the heavily damaged port-side winglet on the other side of the ship.
Except, as she stood up and gently rubbed her aching back, she realised that Kapadia was actually standing right next to her, idly holding a padd and a hyperspanner.
"Port's the other side, lieutenant," she sighed.
Her comment snapped him out of whatever trance he was in, and he immediately started babbling. "Oh, no, sorry, I just-The port side's all stripped down and ready to go tomorrow. We can start fitting the replacement parts first thing in the morning."
He looked back at her with a slightly goofy amount of pride. She resisted the immediate temptation to roll her eyes to the heavens.
"Ok?" she managed, "Well, this is your starbase. You don't need my permission to clock off for the day."
"R-Right," he stammered, "But I...just wanted to let you know we might have those replacement deflector parts you need."
He clumsily passed her the padd. She accepted it and glanced at the details. "It's not an exact match," he continued, "B-But we've got a set of parts for a Mayweather-class freighter in the stores, and it should be an easy enough job to modify them for your needs."
"Looks good to me. Thanks. We can start on this tomorrow as well."
Kapadia nodded and shifted his weight on his feet uncomfortably. She handed the padd back and looked at him with a sigh.
"Was there something else?"
"Oh, um," he started, "I just-I mean, I was working in the-inside the ship earlier, and I noticed that your replicator is…"
"Obliterated?" Denella finished for him, "Yeah, that one's kind of a long story. But I've got a replacement model on the requisition list I made up."
"I know. Yeah. Um, it wasn't that-I just thought, seeing as, y'know, the replicator doesn't work, if you wanted to get some dinner? I know a great place over in the township, and-"
"That's ok, Lieutenant," she interjected quickly, "I'm not the dating type."
Kapadia's face dropped. "No, wait," he stammered, "I was-I just meant to, y'know, discuss the repair schedule. I didn't mean-"
"Yes. You did."
It wasn't said with anger, just sadness. She may have been used to Kapadia's sort of reaction by now, and it may have been harmless, but it still acted as a painful reminder of what she had been, where she had come from. No matter how many years went by, she never really completely escaped the Syndicate.
"And, you know, it's fine," she continued, "Same as all the others, you've heard the stories, and played the holo programs, maybe even acted out a few little fantasies with an ex or two, and now you've actually met a slave girl in the flesh, and you thought you'd see how easy it is."
"Oh, no," Kapadia blurted out, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Enjoy your dinner, Lieutenant," she said, stopping him from digging any deeper into the hole he'd created for himself, "And I'll see you in the morning."
She walked off, leaving a despondent Kapadia standing alone. She suppressed another deep sigh and ran her hands across her tired face, leaving another three fresh grease marks behind on her green skin. As she neared the cargo ramp at the rear of the Bounty, she was surprised, but also glad to see Klath approaching the ship.
"Ugh, Klath, am I glad to-"
The Klingon barely acknowledged her as he walked up the ramp and on into the Bounty, leaving the Orion woman looking somewhat miffed.
"Huh," she continued, to nobody, "Why is everyone being an asshole today?"
'*'*'
'*'*'
It didn't take her long to find the Klingon. There weren't exactly a lot of hiding places on a ship the size of the Bounty. Though she was slightly surprised to find him in the medical bay, checking what appeared to be a small piece of his own tunic under a medical scanner.
"Klath?" she said cautiously, seeing how the Klingon's hackles were clearly raised, "What's going on?"
"Nothing," he replied, gruffly. It was the only acknowledgement he paid her, the rest of his focus still on the results of the scan.
Moments later, he looked up from the scanner and growled slightly. He turned and exited the medical bay, heading towards the cockpit. Denella gamely followed, finding him affixing his bat'leth to his back with a sense of urgency, then beginning to work on his tactical console.
"Klath, talk to me," she persisted, "Don't you dare go all 'moody Klingon warrior' on me. Not after the crappy day I've just had."
He didn't look up at her, continuing to work on his console. But after a moment, he did reply. "I cannot involve you in this. Please, let me work."
"Come on. What the hell were you doing in the medical bay? Why're you tooling yourself up with weapons? What are you checking?"
They were all good questions, but Klath ignored them all. Denella's frustrations reached breaking point, Knowing what it sometimes took to get the Klingon's attention, she mentally apologised to the Bounty herself, stepped forwards and slammed her hand down on top of his console with all her might.
Klath jerked his head up to look at her. Attention secured.
"Thank you!" she sighed, "Now, come on, talk. What are you doing?"
After a further moment of contemplation, the Klingon gestured down at the tactical console in front of him. "There was something in my drink, back at the bar," he explained tersely, "The medical computer suggests that it was some form of toxin."
Denella took this in her stride. "And you definitely didn't order it like that? Cos I know how weird some of those Klingon cocktails you like can get…"
Her attempt at brevity was met with a dark glare.
"Someone is trying to kill me."
The words hung in the air forebodingly. She felt a chill run down her spine. Klath returned his attention to his work. "I must move quickly," he continued, "I am attempting to gain access to a manifest of recent arrivals on the planet. Passenger craft, sensor traces for smaller vessels-"
"Wait," Denella said, trying to catch up with what he was saying, "You're trying to hack into a starbase's records?"
"You do not think I can?"
The Orion woman looked over at his console, checking the limited progress that he had made and shook her head. "Well, not like that, you can't," she scoffed, moving alongside him and taking over.
As she went to start working on the problem, Klath gently put his hand on her arm and caused her to pause. "Denella," he cautioned quietly, "I alone must take this risk. If they were to detect what we are doing here…"
She considered this for a moment. "You know, I believe your people have a saying for this sort of situation."
She paused, summoning up an appropriate quantity of phlegm into her mouth before she continued.
"nItebQobqaDjup 'e' chaw'be' SuvwI'."
Klath was taken aback.
"Been learning a bit on the side," she smiled, as she turned back to the console and set about breaking half a dozen Federation laws.
Klath's mouth curved into an appreciative smile. Her pronunciation had been terrible, but the meaning of her words more than came across.
A warrior does not let a friend face danger alone.