Chapter 2

The express turbolift ran the full length of Starbase 1's main tower, and, as its name suggested, travelled a lot faster than the other available turbolifts. Accessible only by base staff and equipped with inertial micro-dampers, it allowed personnel to reach their destination speedily yet safely in a hurry.

It still wasn't fast enough for Mahira Patel.

The engineer paced angrily in the 'lift as it raced passed several levels. She had been down in Reactor Control, as usual, when she had received word about the latest visitors to Berengaria. She had immediately left to inform Commodore North what a big mistake he was making.

Upon reaching Level 101, Patel stormed out and went around Ops, bypassing the command centre entirely, lest she run afoul of one of Captain Thorpe's "clever" quips. She was already angry enough.

She reached the small vestibule before the CO's office, in which Lieutenant Vaughn sat at his desk. The cheerful aide rose to his feet when she entered.

"Good afternoon, sir, how can I help you?" Vaughn said.

Patel wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. "I need to speak with the Commodore."

"May I ask-?"

"No," Patel said bluntly. She fixed the Lieutenant with an intense stare. She would follow protocol and not simply barge into North's office, but she saw no reason to vent her frustration on anyone else.

Vaughn, his sunny disposition faltering slightly, nodded. "Okay dokey." He tapped the intercom button on his desk. "Sir, Commander Patel is here to see you."

There was a pause, and Patel could imagine the Commodore rolling his eyes. She only ever spoke to him directly when she had complaints or difficult maintenance requests.

"Send her in," North's voice replied.

Without waiting for Vaughn's prompt, Patel marched straight into North's office, shutting the door behind her again.

Wasting no further time, she planted herself in front of the CO's desk and spoke without permission. "Sir, is it true you're letting Orions onto the base?" She folded her arms defiantly. Her sleeves were still rolled up from earlier work, which would have made her look more intimidating if not for the fact that she had arms like knitting needles.

North leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers. "That's correct. Some former slaves have requested asylum…"

Patel was horrified by this. "You're not seriously going to grant it, are you?"

"Watch your tone, Commander," North said in an authoritative voice. "And it's not up to me. Ambassador Mamao'lani will liaise with the UE government on the matter."

Patel shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just… Growing up on a freighter, I learned that Orions can't be trusted."

North's eyebrows raised at this. "I'm shocked, Commander. I didn't expect that sort of attitude from a fellow Starfleet officer, especially one raised in space."

She sighed. "I know what you're thinking, sir. This isn't prejudice, it's fact. The Orions practice deception and decadence as a way of life. Their culture promotes lying, stealing, perversion… They're openly ruled by a criminal organisation, for goodness' sake."

North scowled in disgust at her. It was a typical reaction of those unaccustomed to the harsh realities of life on the frontier, like Patel and other space boomers. But North, with his Starfleet ideals, didn't know Orions like she did.

"Even if that's true," said North, "these Orions are trying to escape the Syndicate."

"It's not just the Syndicate, sir, it's in them. It's how they're raised. This might even be some sort of trick."

"That had occurred to us mere mortals as well," said North, with a strong hint that he'd been insulted. "But we can't simply turn them away. That's not the way we do things."

"At least keep them under lock and key while they're here," said Patel, leaning forward onto the desk. "And get them off the base as soon as possible, one way or the other."

North stood, so that he now looked down at Patel. "You are out of line, Engineer. Now, I've deferred to your expertise on this starbase and its operation on multiple occasions, but that does not mean that you are in charge. I am in command here, and if you are unhappy with the way I run this facility, you are free to seek a transfer. Is that understood?"

Patel straightened up to attention. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Once again, her superior knowledge was being ignored, but she knew when to accept defeat.

"I suggest you take a few minutes to cool off that attitude. Dismissed."

Patel made for the exit, but stopped just before leaving. "Respectfully, sir, if you won't listen to me, then ask the Orions themselves. Ask them about their culture, then make up your own mind."

Piras sat brooding against the wall in the communal area of the pleasure barge. She had a small frame that would have helped her to go unnoticed if it were not for her deep-red hair, an uncommon colour among Orions. At the moment, however, the attentions of her fellow "liberated" slaves, packed tightly into the large room, were all focused on Vyla, their so-called "saviour."

Vyla stood with a few Humans in Starfleet uniforms, who wore oxygen masks. Clearly they had not been informed that the pheromones of Orion slaves were not as potent as those of their masters. Either that, or they were just distrustful.

"The shuttlecraft are here to take us to the surface," Vyla was saying, creating murmurs through the crowd. "Remember, stay calm and do everything you're asked. These people are going to help us."

Piras quietly scoffed at that. The assembled mass started to shuffle forward into orderly lines, but she would hold back as long as possible. This was not salvation for her.

She was young and had only been "rescued" a week ago from a luxury cruiser, on which she was one of the Mistress's favourites. Unlike lesser slaves, she had been well cared for, receiving food, accommodation and general treatment of a quality second only to a Syndicate member.

Having been born to slave parents, Piras knew no other life. Her Mistress had always looked after her, and she had wanted for nothing. Certainly, she had to tend to her Mistress's every demand, but it was a small price to pay, considering how kindly she was treated compared to other slaves.

Then Vyla and her crew had shown up. They had attacked Piras' cruiser, crippling the vessel, and beamed out the slaves, whether they wanted to go or not. Since then, Piras had been forced to eat rations and sleep on a dirty floor, while everyone told her she was "free." If this was freedom, Piras wanted none of it.

She rose as the crowd started to thin out, joining a line for one of the airlocks. She resolved herself to making things as difficult as possible for Vyla and the Humans.