Chapter 4

Patel was still angry. Her warnings had fallen on deaf ears, dismissed as prejudice, her expertise once again ignored.

Despite Commodore North's advice to "cool off," Patel had intended on returning to work, to take her mind off current events. She found herself too furious to concentrate though, so she had made her way to Sal's Diner.

Patel rarely socialised with the rest of the staff, usually eating either alone in one of the mess halls or in her quarters, but she felt she needed some distractions right now. Plus, Sal was good for hearing people out. She never dismissed someone just because she disagreed.

When Patel sat herself at the counter, the golden Draylaxian immediately approached, no doubt alerted to Patel's visible outrage. "Coffee, hun?" Sal asked her, all smiles.

Patel nodded. "Black as dark matter, Sal. I need it."

Placing a mug onto the countertop, Sal poured the hot beverage into it from a glass jug. "Rough day?"

Patel shook her head. "I've been marginalised again. They don't know what I've been through. I know better."

Sal slid her the mug, a slightly confused look on her face. "Oh? What have you been through, sweetie?"

Patel sighed, nursing the mug between her hands. "When I was living on the Cleopatra, pirate attacks were a constant looming threat. It's just a sad part of life hauling freight. Nausicaans, Kzinti, Elasi… But the worst of them was the Orions…"

Sal seemed to stiffen at this. "Yeah, they can be pretty bad."

Patel scoffed. "At least the others know they're criminals. The Orions see nothing wrong with what they do."

She looked down into her dark, steaming coffee and spoke more quietly. "When I was eleven, they hit us. One of their interceptors came out of nowhere when we were crossing Sector Four. Took out our engines. Used us as target practice.

"Walls were exploding, fires burst out everywhere, the crew were running around screaming. We - the kids - were all huddled together in one of the cargo bays, like we always did in emergencies.

"Then…" Patel paused a moment. "Then they started cutting into the hull, to get our cargo. We had to evacuate. Most of us got out safe… but two adults and one child were sucked out into space…"

Patel's tone was bitter, not mournful, but Sal still reached out to touch her hand. "I'm so, so sorry you had to go through that."

"The Orions just left after taking our cargo; they didn't even care. The girl who died was one of my friends. We were all like family on that ship. Her parents retired from the service soon after. They never recovered."

After a respectful silence, Sal asked, "What's brought this up now?"

Patel looked up into Sal's yellow eyes. "Haven't you heard? A ship full of Orion refugees showed up, and the Commodore's letting them onto the base."

Sal's touch turned cold, a grave expression suddenly on her face. "Orions? Here?"

Patel nodded. "Yeah. You alright?"

Sal withdrew into the kitchen without answering.

Colonel Kostopoulos marched through the corridors of the Short-term Guest Quarters building, overseeing the organised chaos of housing the refugees.

Her MACOs, as well as Starfleet security officers, were helping to corral the Orions into their hastily designated rooms. Most of the them were gratefully compliant, even somewhat fearful, but a few were making it difficult.

One such example was ahead of her now. A massive, bald Orion man was shouting at one of the security officers. The Orion was a good head taller than anyone else present, and his lack of a shirt displayed his muscular physique proudly.

"I saw you staring at our women, Human!" the Orion yelled angrily. "Maybe you think you can claim one of them for yourself, huh? As payment for taking us in?" He was closing in on the young security ensign, prodding the smaller man with his finger.

"Sir, I promise you, that's not the case," the ensign protested.

As Kostopoulos tried to make her way through the crowded corridor, she took stock of the situation. The other Orions were watching the display with interest, though thankfully none of them looked willing to join in, but the tension between the Orion man and the security officer was escalating.

Kostopoulos herself had no desire to get caught up in the political turmoil surrounding the refugees' arrival. She was here to keep everyone safe, and that's all she was going to do, regardless of how she may be perceived.

"Keep your eyes to your own kind!" the burly Orion shouted, grabbing the front of the ensign's blue jumpsuit. The ensign put a hand on his holstered phase pistol, and Kostopoulos feared the worst.

She was still too distant to interfere, making her way through the throng, but thankfully she was not needed. Another Orion male, younger and smaller but still athletically built with close-cropped dark green hair, stepped between the two would-be combatants, pushing them apart.

"That's enough, Damoth," said the younger man. "These people are kind enough to take us in, you're the only troublemaker here."

The larger Orion, Damoth, snorted. His face remained screwed up in anger, but he backed off. "That's what they want, right? The caged animals to go wild, so they have an excuse to get rid of us."

The other Orion did not rise to this, maintaining a calm demeanour. "Well, if that's true, then don't give them the excuse."

Damoth leered at the ensign, but moved off into his assigned quarters. The ensign thanked the younger Orion just as Kostopoulos managed to reach them both. She briefly checked in with the security officer before dismissing him, then turned to the Orion.

"Thank you for that," she said.

The young man smiled at her. A tight, sleeveless tunic showed off his torso and arms admirably. "No problem," he said. "Please don't let Damoth and some of the others give you the wrong impression. Most of us really appreciate your help."

Kostopoulos found herself returning his smile, then internally chastised herself. The boy was half her age, mid-20s at most. "There's always a few bad apples. I'm sure it's difficult adjusting to the changes."

"We've been through a lot in such a short time," he said, nodding solemnly. "I know that I, at least, will be happy just to stop running, even for a little while." He smiled at her again. "I'm Tiro, by the way."

"Ana," she said, uncharacteristically informal. "Uh, Colonel Kostopoulos. You can contact me, if you need to, via the intercom. If you have any more security issues, I mean." She tried to resume her rigid posture and stoic expression.

It wasn't like her to be so easily flustered. She surmised that it may be related to the close concentration of the Orions - their low-level pheromones were most likely magnified in such cramped conditions - a theory confirmed by her distracting physical reactions. The heat both inside and outside her uniform seemed to be increasing.

"I will," Tiro replied to her offer. "And thank you again."

"My pleasure," she blurted out, before tearing herself away, back into the crowd.

Although unsettled by how easily swayed she had been, Kostopoulos couldn't help but grin at the equal attention she had received from Tiro.

She shook such crude thoughts from her head. The boy was a former slave; who knows what trauma he'd endured. He had most likely been indoctrinated to treat everyone with such kindness. Although, the way he had dealt with Damoth had show both free-thinking and maturity. Perhaps…

No, it was just the pheromones playing havoc with her, she decided. Anyway, it would be inappropriate for her, charged with the refugees' protection as well as being old enough to be Tiro's mother, to even consider anything more. She recalled an old Earth film she had seen during a movie night at a previous posting.

That's enough out of you, Mrs. Robinson, she told herself.