Chapter 1

"Should we go to Tactical Alert?" Thorpe asked.

The Orions had been known to Human space travellers for decades. A race of pirates, slavers, and shrewd traders, they seemed to have no central authority beyond the shady Orion Syndicate - a vast organised crime network. Encounters with them often ended in attacks, raids, or kidnappings.

McQueen spoke up, consulting her monitor. "Our ship database identifies it as a pleasure barge, not equipped for combat. She's seen plenty of it though."

"Can we get a visual?" asked North.

McQueen hit a control and an image of the bulbous vessel appeared on the main viewscreen. It was indeed heavily damaged, dotted with scorch marks, and portions of the hull were missing in places.

"Maybe they're just here to offer some entertainment," Thorpe scoffed. He recalled that the crew of Enterprise had in fact been deceived by such an offer from a similar Orion ship when scouting this very planet for potential starbase locations. This then brought to mind an earlier encounter between the NX-01 and the Syndicate, in which several members of the crew had been abducted via transporter.

"Sir, recommend we at least activate the magnetic shield," he said to North. At the Commodore's nod, Thorpe crossed to the tactical console and activated said shield.

The magnetic shield was a new invention by Starfleet. Unlike the defensive shields used by some races, it offered no protection from energy or projectile weapons, instead scrambling sensors and preventing beaming through the barrier it created. This way, they would be protected should the Orions be in a recruiting mood.

North contemplated the ship on the screen. "It's possible they're just passing through. They've made no attempt at communication, although they could be too heavily damaged…"

The comm officer looked up. "Uh, sir, they're hailing us."

"Must have heard me," North said drily. "On screen."

North moved to the centre of Ops as the image of the ship on the main screen was replaced by that of a handsome woman with strong, confident features. And, as expected of Orions, a deep green complexion, with long, black hair hanging loose around her.

"This is Commodore Zachary North of Starbase One," he said, taking a polite but firm tone. "Please identify yourself and your intentions in United Earth territory."

"This is the Orion vessel Emerald Eye," said the woman on the viewscreen. "My name is Vyla. We have come to ask for you help."

North and Thorpe shared a brief glance filled with unspoken concern. Both men knew it could be a trap.

"What seems to be the problem?" North asked.

"We have one hundred and eighty-eight rescued slaves onboard, fleeing the Orion Syndicate," said Vyla. "We… We request asylum."

Now North and Thorpe shared completely different looks. This was something new. North was taken aback and needed a moment to think over the situation. He swiftly decided that refusing a genuine request for help would be worse, in the long run, than falling for a deception, so long as precautions were taken.

"I... shall have to forward your request to our government for consideration," he told Vyla. "But, in the meantime, I will allow you and your crew to come planetside for rest and recuperation. It looks as though your ship's been through a lot."

Vyla lit up at this. "Thank you, Commodore. You don't know how much this means to us. And yes, we've had it rough. It will be nice to get off this barge, at least."

North nodded. "We'll send some shuttlepods up for you once you enter orbit. We can discuss your asylum request further down here too."

Vyla bowed her head. "Thank you again. We await your hospitality. Emerald Eye out."

She closed the channel and the screen reverted back to the to the problematic vessel. North stroked his chin in thought.

"Right," he said eventually. "First thing's first…" He pointed to the comm officer. "Call Ambassador Mamao'lani and apprise him of the situation, before he finds out by other means. He can handle the asylum business. Might as well put our resident government representative to good use."

He turned to Thorpe. "Have our new guests put through decon, get Dr. T'Ling to examine them. I'm sure we've all heard stories about Orion pheromones; we may need to keep them quarantined."

"Yes, sir," said Thorpe. "Might I also suggest having a security detail monitor the… guests?"

"In case this is all an elaborate ruse?" North asked. Thorpe started to protest the accusation, but North interrupted. "Understandable, Captain. See to it."

"Uh, Commodore?" It was McQueen. "They're gonna need somewhere to stay. Doesn't seem fair to keep them on that beat-up old ship."

"Quite right, Commander," said North. "How long until they arrive?"

McQueen glanced at her console. "Just under an hour."

The wheels in North's head were turning at full-speed. "We can set them up in the SGQ. How many people are in there at the moment?"

The Short-term Guest Quarters - SGQ, or "the Motel" as some staff called it - was one of the buildings around the main tower, used to house civilians who were only visiting the base temporarily. The rooms there were basic but adequate for the essentials.

"Forty-three," Thorpe answered North's query.

"Alright," said North. He knew the SGQ could house 150 residents, so the current occupants would need moved and the new ones would have to share rooms. He addressed McQueen again. "Since you're so concerned about our Orion visitors, Ms. McQueen, I'll put you in charge of their accommodation."

McQueen nodded, a forced smile on her face. "Aye, sir."

"Pull in some MACOs to help with the relocation. No point in denying it; things could turn nasty, might as well have our best people ready." North sighed. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'll be in my office. Inform me when our guests have arrived."

With that, North turned on his heel and left through the rear exit. Everyone busied themselves with their various orders while wondering what the approaching ship would bring with it.