Author's Note: From this chapter onward, I have changed Loxius' name to Loxus, which I think sounds better. I'm too lazy to go back and retcon past stories though.

Chapter 3

An outpost as important as Starbase 1 handled a lot of comm traffic on a daily basis, from both within and without. To monitor this, there were two comm stations in Ops, one for internal traffic and one for external.

However, they only managed the handful of communiqués that could be considered of top-level importance. The rest were handled by a team in the Communications Hub on Level 99. Anything classed as high-priority, they routed up to Ops, but the rest of the relatively mundane messages were managed as appropriate by the Hub, like an old-fashioned switchboard.

Loxus, with his expertise in linguistics and comm technology, often took additional shifts in the Hub when not working in the exobiology department. He was often more needed in the former than the latter, as few Humans had much experience with deciphering alien languages on the spot, and the base was starting to become a prime location for visitors.

It also afforded him the chance to directly access Starfleet communications, which would be of great value when he eventually returned to the Romulan Star Empire and reported on his prolonged undercover mission. He just had to gather sufficient data first.

At the moment, he was occupied with an incoming message on his console. It was a live transmission on a UESPA frequency with a high-level clearance code. Loxus followed standard procedure and routed such an important call to Ops. He noted that this was the second high-level civilian transmission received today, albeit with a different origin point, and was tempted to surreptitiously listen in, but was interrupted.

Lt. Ed Garrison loomed over Loxus in his seat along the wall of the circular Hub.

"Mister Sylor, how are you getting along with linking the internal comm network to the orbital drydock?" he asked, using Loxus' cover name.

The way Garrison constantly flaunted his authority and the superior tone with which he addressed his subordinates was refreshing to Loxus - the man was almost Romulanesque - however, it only served to cover his incompetence. In the Imperial Fleet, he'd have been taken out and shot long before now.

"The frequency modulators have been synchronised," Loxus reported in his practiced Vulcan calm, "but the transceiver arrays will still require manual calibration at each end."

Garrison sighed. "I told you to let them try automatically calibrating first, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir, and I carried out your orders. As I advised you at the time though, automatic calibration would desynchronise the frequency modulators." Loxus, with great effort, kept the smugness out of his voice. "This did occur, and the modulators have since been resynchronised, but manual calibration is still required."

Garrison's face churned in anger at being spoken to in such a manner, but he quickly took on an exaggerated look of deep though, stroking his chin.

"Hm, yes, manual calibration," he said. "Well, now that the frequency modulators are synchronised, you can get to it, Lieutenant. Report to Llamrei Station to begin."

With that he marched off, and Loxus thought that, while his arrogance was worthy of a Romulan, his ability to verbally manipulate himself out of trouble needed work.

Another high-priority transmission had been received on a civilian channel. North was hoping it would not become habit. This new transmission, however, originated much closer to Starbase 1 and used a UESPA frequency. It was rare to find their vessels so far out, as Starfleet usually handled deep-space activities, and North took the call in his office in case it was sensitive in nature.

He was greeted by the image of a grizzled, heavyset man in a light grey flight suit.

"Starbase One, this is Captain Mike Volland of the UESPA sleeper ship Velikan DY-1202," he said. "Are you receiving me?"

North recognised the class of ship from his passion for history. The entire DY series were equipped with fusion-powered ion drives and stasis units, intended for deep-space exploration in the days before faster-than-light travel. The crew would literally sleep for the entire decades-long journey, their aging process slowed down. The invention of warp drive had, of course, made them redundant, but UESPA still utilised newer models - such as the DY-1200-class - for extreme-range missions, retrofitted with antimatter reactors and warp nacelles.

"Affirmative, Velikan," North answered. "This is Commodore Zachary North. How can we help?"

"We're on a mission to sector one-eight-four to study stellar phenomena there," Volland said gruffly. "Not due to arrive for another five years, but I was rudely awakened by the ship after we took damage from a micrometeor storm."

"Sorry to hear that, Captain. One of the perils of interstellar travel. What's your status?"

"Just some minor system failures along with several small hull breaches. Emergency bulkheads are holding us together, but obviously I'd like to get the holes patched up before they get much worse."

"Indeed. Don't want to be rudely awoken by explosive decompression next time." North smiled thinly, but Volland's face remained in a hard frown. "Well, you're in luck. We happen to have an orbital repair station up and running… almost. You'll be our first customer."

Volland snorted. "Hmph. Make sure your people know to take care of my ship. She's a classic; needs a delicate touch, not you Starfleet types ripping things out just 'cause they're old."

"I assure you, Captain, we shall be both efficient and sensitive."

"See that you are. We'll arrive tomorrow afternoon. Velikan out."

He closed the channel and North sighed. Having worked for UESPA in his youth, he lamented that there was still a touch of animosity between the civilian group and Starfleet. Hopefully, by the time Captain Volland left, he'd think of Starfleet more favourably.

They'd have to do a good job with his ship though, and North hit the intercom to deliver the news to Patel that Llamrei Station would be getting tested ahead of schedule.

"North to Patel."

"Patel here," she answered.

He explained the situation and braced himself for the inevitable complaints.

"Great news, sir!" said Patel, surprising him. "Don't worry; we're up to the challenge."

He pondered what had got her in such a good mood. Perhaps it was because Supervisor Grum was off on another mining survey.

"Glad to hear it, Commander. I must say though, that's not quite the reaction I was expecting."

Patel chuckled. "Well, I found out earlier that there's a freighter en route with some spare stem-bolts they're willing to part with. Should be here by the end of the week."

"Really? How fortuitous."

"I know! The captain contacted me out of the blue. Said he'd had a customer cancel an order and wondered if we needed them. Apparently they were paid for in advance too, so there's no charge."

For some reason, this itched at North's mind. It was just too convenient, too coincidental. "That's awfully kind of him. What's the name of the freighter?"

"Uh, the Mithrandir," said Patel.

North thanked her and signed off. It didn't take him long to find the Mithrandir in the Earth Cargo Authority's database. Its regular route took it to the Alpha Centauri system.

North sighed and clenched his fists. Was this the work of Cristofur Thorpe?