Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of the characters created therein.

First Impression, Chapter 9: A Shuttlecraft Made For Two

Sovak was learning more about his new crew than any training simulation could have told him.

Vesta was angry but controlled, ready to spring into action. Mirista Yale was empathic to the situation but unsure how to help. Japel, as always, was all business. Bohemir's mind was generating plans at warp speeds. Taurik was…well, to the others it might have appeared that Taurik was perfectly fine, but Sovak picked up on subtle cues and could see that the young Vulcan felt responsible for what had happened. Vesta, though she knew better than to say so out loud, apparently agreed.

"We need to get back in there as soon as possible. There has to be a way around this dampening field." Vesta was pacing the bridge, still dressed in her Maquis costume.

"I'm working on it, but I can't narrow down the frequency range. The distortion from the nebula is too much," Japel told her. Arima confirmed his findings a few seconds later from engineering: they couldn't beam into the station.

"How about re-modifying the shuttlecraft. Could we get in that way again?" Vesta asked.

"Unlikely," Bohemir told her. "If they figured it out I don't think they would hesitate to shoot us out of the sky."

"We could announce our true identity," Mirista offered.

Sovak fielded this one. "If they have Lt. Magis, and it is likely that they do, they would see her as a bargaining chip. I believe her life would be in far greater danger."

Bohemir stopped fidgeting. Sovak knew this meant his first officer had come to a decision.

"We have to buy her. We've got to get back in there to that auction and buy her out."

"A sound plan, but how do we infiltrate the station a second time?" asked Taurik.

"That's the point of this discussion," Vesta almost sneered. Taurik actually took a step back from her.

Sovak stepped between them to diffuse their conversation. "Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way. In a sense, we already do know a way in." He looked pointedly at Taurik and Vesta. Still wary of one another, they exchanged confused glances.

Una was beginning to think that escape had been a very bad idea. Ships from the station were swarming after them, and it seemed that no evasive maneuver could outwit them. She'd never been the best shuttle pilot, so it wasn't long before her knowledge of pilot tactics was exhausted. Her companion was better, but it didn't make a difference. He was currently working on prying off the cover of one of the control panels, for what reason she knew not.

"Everything we do, they're on step ahead! They're going to destroy this ship!"

"Well, this is to be expected," Jack told her calmly, pulling a set of wires and chips out of the detached panel. "The probes in our necks are more than disciplinary measures, they're tracking devices. They're attached to our optical and auditory nerves, so everything we see and hear—they see and hear." He produced a small chip and replaced one of the navigational nodes with it, reattaching the panel when he was finished.

For a moment there was silence in the shuttle. He looked over at his companion to find her staring at him open-mouthed.

"You tell me this now!" she asked angrily. "Now that we're in a shuttle, being shot at, you happen to mention this somewhat important point! That they can see and hear everything we do?" The thought of something foreign attached not only to her neck but her eye made her sick. It also radically changed her views on the success of their escape.

Focus! she told herself. When she spoke she was calm. "How do you plan to overcome this particular obstacle?"

"I already have," he told her smugly. The shuttle had changed direction while they were talking and their attackers seemed to thin. After a few minutes there was silence in the shuttle.

"Where did they go?" Una desperately wanted to wipe the smile from his face but a sharp jolt of the shuttle did it for her.

"We're losing power," she informed him. "The engines are failing."

"Have we been shot at?"

"No…it's a combination of the structural damage from before and something…else. Something outside the ship. The nebula is making the readings difficult…"

"We're here," Jack declared, getting up and moving to the back of the shuttle.

"We're where?" Una knew it was futile—he wouldn't answer her.

The lights flickered and the craft pitched violently and began to descend. It had unmistakably come into contact with a large gravitational mass.

"Wherever we are, we're about to go down," she informed her companion as she braced for the inevitable impact.

"I brought him to you—I want the seller's commission!" Vesta snarled at the burly Orion stretched out leisurely before her. She rattled Taurik's restraints and pushed him forward to emphasize her point.

Pevet was, for lack of a better word, the manager of the Par'at Nor markets. This allowed him certain…luxuries not available to common person. His room practically oozed with illegally traded goods: it was filled with smoke from several pipe-like apparatus and there was an unpleasantly sweet odor in the air. In a corner an Orion woman waited with a tray brimming with drinks and exotic foodstuffs.

"I don't trust you. He was your shipmate, why are you turning him in?"

Vesta's antennae bristled. Taurik supposed it was a good thing that she didn't have to act her disdain for him, but he still wished she were not so adamant in her position. "He lost us a good crewmember. I'm glad to be rid of him. All I ask is that you give me the commission so that I can recoup some of our losses to this godforsaken market."

Pevet considered. He motioned to the slave girl in the corner and lifted a drink from her tray, eyeing her lasciviously as he did so. Vesta had to forcibly stymie her gag reflex—was this guy trying to be a cliché?

The Orion sat back once more and contemplated his guests.

"What is a Vulcan doing traveling with traders such as yourselves anyway?"

"He's only half-Vulcan," Vesta said quickly, "and he's good with engines. He should fetch you a fair price."

"So you acknowledge that your crewmates caused some trouble here on the station?"

"Yes."

"And you want to make up for that?"

She didn't like where this was heading, but she had no choice but to answer in the affirmative. "Yes."

"Good! We are of an accord."

Two guards appeared and began to haul Taurik away—and Vesta.

"Hey! Get your hands off—what about our deal!" Vesta struggled.

"We just made one. Your crewmate somehow escaped. Thank you for offering to take her place—that does help ease the financial burden your ship is responsible for. I'm not sure about your Vulcan, but I'm quite certain you will auction well." Pevet cackled as they were dragged from the room, Vesta shouting bloody murder and Taurik composed.