"It was almost twenty years ago," Meps said, "I was an ensign, the young operations officer on the USS Ketanji. We were assigned second contact with Kolob, a human colony that settled almost 200 years ago, but hadn't been in contact with Earth since before the founding of the Federation. What we didn't know was that they had some rather backward views."


Operations Officers Log: Stardate 30203.5

I've been asked to accompany Commander Abrams to the surface for second contact with the government for Kolob. Apparently, as one of the few non-human officers aboard this ship, I've been asked to show the people of Kolob that the Federation is a coalition of races, not just the current human government.

Meps stood in the transporter room with Crewman Elias, the human non-com assigned to this station. He was middle aged, but in remarkably good shape. Though completely bald, his square jaw was covered in a thin layer of ginger stubble.

"First away mission?" he asked.

The fresh faced ensign nodded enthusiastically, "Yes. I'm hoping to learn a lot from this experience."

The old crewman nodded, "Can I give you some advice, Kid?"

Meps nodded, "Of course! As Boothby always said, non-coms are the greatest untapped source of practical knowledge."

The crewman barked a laugh, "If you're listening to Boothby, you're already a step ahead. Anyway, follow your commander's lead. He has a lot of experience, and just absorbing the knowledge and experience on a mission like this will do you a world of good."

At that moment, the door slid open to reveal a tall black man with a full head of hair and completely clean shaven. The look gave him a youthful appearance. He looked at Meps. Meps immediately adopted a parade rest stance.

"You ready, Kid?" he asked.

Meps nodded eagerly, "As I'll ever be, Commander."

Abrams smiled, "Relax kid, before you strain something."

Meps let out a breath, "Sorry Sir, first away mission jitters."

The Commander laughed, "At least you're honest. Don't worry, this is mainly a formality. You'll do fine. You got the briefing?"

Meps nodded, "Yes Sir. The leader of this society is called the Prophet, the governing body is the Quorum of the Twelve, the society is a theocracy-

Abrams held up a hand, "Okay Ensign, you clearly know your stuff. Let's head down there."


"After a few days of meetings," Meps continued, "We were scheduled to sign a non-aggression pact that would hopefully lead to the colony rejoining Earth and the Federation."

"I take it that didn't happen?" Zatara asked.

"Nope," Meps answered, "And it was my fault."


Meps walked into the restroom of the main office to see the receptionist, a nice young man named Dale, in full lip lock with another man he had seen around the building. The two parted guiltily as he entered. He watched them exit in haste, laughing to himself about the follies of young love.


"I take it these are the two men whose deaths you mentioned?" Zatara asked, starting to get a picture of the situation that was making her stomach turn.

"Exactly," Meps answered, "And I'm the one who sentenced them to death."


Meps had been asked to transport to the surface of Kolob to speak with the Prophet about something. No one could give him a straight answer as to what it was about. He walked into the meeting room where the Quorum of the Twelve met to see them, the Prophet, and the two young men he had seen making out a few days earlier.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Tell us," one of the Quorum of the Twelve asked, "Did you see these two fornicating?"

"Fornicating?" Meps replied, confused, "No, they were making out in the bathroom."

"You see," another member said, "He admits it!"

"Admits what?" Meps asked, "That two young people are in love?"

Yet another member sneered, "That two men are 'in love'. It's disgusting, deviant behavior."

Meps laughed in disbelief, "You're serious? You're mad about homosexuality? That's insane."

The Prophet stood up, coming nose to nose with Meps.

"What is insane is that your so-called advanced Federation would condone such deviancy. Theirs is a crime punishable by death"

Meps' stomach dropped as he grasped the reality of the situation. By admitting that he had seen these two men kissing, he had unknowingly signed their death warrants.

"Not a chance," Meps declared, "You're not killing these men."

"And what are you going to do?" The Prophet asked.

"This," Meps said, then unloaded a right hook that launched the Prophet across the room.


"You actually hit him?" Zatara asked.

Meps sat up a little straighter, "Damn right I did. Beat the crap out of most of the room. They were all approaching a century in age, so that's not exactly a flex, but it did feel good."

"Did you get them out?" she asked.

"No," Meps answered, "They had other security."


Meps sat in a holding cell beneath the Temple. He touched the bruise he could feel forming around his eye, then dabbed at the cut on his lip. Eventually, Abrams came to see him.

"That was reckless, Ensign."

Maps shrugged, "They were about to execute two young men for the crime of existing. I don't regret my actions."

The commander shook his head, "You should. Those two young men died this morning, and the Quorum of the Twelve wants to lodge a formal complaint against you. The only thing you've done is delay integration of this colony into the Federation."

Meps stood, "Are you serious? Not only do you allow two innocent men to die, but you try to appease their murderers? What happened to Starfleet?"

"This is NOT the hill you want to die on, Ensign!" Abrams practically shouted.

Meps came right up to the forcefield keeping him in the cell. "Oh but it is, Commander," he sneered the title.

"If this is the kind of thing Starfleet condones, then it's not the organization I thought I joined."

Abrams sighed and averted his gaze, "Starfleet isn't condoning anything."

"Then why couldn't you look me in the eye when you said that?" the Trill asked. When Abrams didn't answer, he continued, "You know, on Trill, we have a saying. 'If there's a bigot at the table and ten other people sitting there breaking bread with him, you've got a table with eleven bigots'."

Abrams looked him directly in the eyes, "You're not seeing the big picture. The galaxy is filled with cultures that don't necessarily align with ours. Sometimes, you just have to look the other way."

Meps stared incredulously, "You know that's worse, right? You see how that makes it worse. We're not talking about matriarchal versus patriarchal or religious versus secular. We are talking about a government that murders its own people for the crime of existing. And the Federation is asking me to break bread with these people."

"We'll talk more when we negotiate your release. Obviously the Captain wants to have a word."

"Is Star Fleet still planning to negotiate with this government?" Meps asked.

Abrams gave a firm nod.

Meps walked back to the bench and sat heavily, "Then don't bother. I hereby resign my commission."

Abrams shook his head, "Don't do that, Meps. This is bad, but you can eventually come back from this."

Meps leaned back against the wall, "I also formally refuse the help of Starfleet or the Federation."

"Don't throw your life away over this," Abrams pleaded.

"Why not?" he asked, "You were so willing to throw away two lives."

"If you do this," Abrams said, "We won't be able to get you out of here. These people will be able to do whatever they want with you."

Meps raised an eyebrow, "Even if I were about to fall from a cliff, I would never reach for a hand with so much blood on it."

Abrams shook his head. Seeming not to have anything else to say, he turned and walked down the hall. Meps contemplated his decision. Yes, it was life altering. No, it probably wouldn't make a difference in the long run. But he felt it was the right decision.


"They seriously left you in that cell?" Zatara asked, "That seems very unlike the Federation."

Meps shrugged, "By formally refusing their help, I tied their hands. It wasn't so bad. They fed me and didn't torture me or anything like that. I think they thought that if they treated me well, that might help them in negotiations with the Federation."

Zatara leaned forward, finding herself unexpectedly riveted by the story, "That seems like such a massive decision to make right there in the moment."

Meps nodded, "It took me a long time to realize that the reason I reacted to the situation so dramatically is because I also had blood on my hands. Both by being a member of an organization that would condone that, but also, through ignorance, condemning those two young men. The difference is that I wanted to wash my hands clean. Starfleet wanted to put on gloves."

"How did you get out?" she asked

Meps smiled, "Section 31."


Meps woke up, stretched, and sat up. He jumped when he saw a Romulan woman in an all black uniform standing over him.

"Um … hi?" he said.

The Romulan nodded, "Axon Meps. You had a distinguished Starfleet career ahead of you, yet you gave it all up over the deaths of two men you don't know on a human colony. Curious. Why?"

Meps sat up fully, "Who are you?"

"Answer my question," the intruder said, "And I will answer yours."

Meps raised an eyebrow, "My question is a bit more pressing."

The Romulan scoffed, "Actually, it's not, but fine. My name is Sollesa and I represent an organization that is very interested in the answer to my question."

"Well," Meps said slowly, "I thought that Starfleet stood for something. It turns my stomach that they willingly participated in the execution of two people for simply being themselves."

"They didn't participate," she said, "They merely didn't interfere."

"A distinction without a difference," Meps answered, "But more importantly, they aren't cutting off contact after that."

"What would you say if I told you that you could help plant seeds of doubt that would blossom into a revolution that would throw off the yolk of this theocracy from these people?" she asked.

Meps scoffed, "I'd asked what the catch is."

"The catch is that you become invisible," she answered, "You would, in a very real way, no longer exist. But, in this way, you could effect real change. Change that matters across the Federation and beyond."

Meps considered for a moment, "What would I have to do?"


"And?" Zatara asked, "What did you do?"

"It's kind of a boring end," Meps said apologetically, "But I used my talents in going unseen to use their planet wide network to distribute a centuries old document that shredded their theology to pieces. Over time, more and more of the planet's population stopped believing in the religion of the government. Three years ago, there was a violent revolution that toppled the theocracy. Last week, they formally declared their desire to join the federation."

"Wait, last week?" Zatara asked, "You said this happened twenty years ago."

"Exactly," Meps declared, "Section 31 very often goes for the long game. Very often, we'll be doing things that won't see results for years, sometimes decades. But those little pushes and nudges are how real change happens. Big, sweeping changes that eradicate huge problems almost never happen, and when they do, they're tenuous. Whatever mechanism created them so quickly is likely to destroy them just as quickly when the bad guys gain power. But a shovel can permanently move a mountain, you've just got to be committed to the dig."

Punctuating his words, both of their communicators beeped. Meps actually looked surprised.

"I guess they must have left the transport to investigate my little present for them," he said. "Prepare for transport."

They both stood and another transporter beam surrounded Zatara as the scene changed around her. She now found herself on the bridge of a Federation runabout. Being familiar, she immediately sat in the helm chair. Meps took ops.

"You said that we wait for them to get bored and leave?" Zatara asked.

"Not in those words, but yes," Meps said.

"Well," she continued, "How do we know when they're gone if they're cloaked?" She pointed at her sensor readings which were very absent a Romulan Warbird.

"Just a moment," Meps responded as he touched a few controls, "Okay, take a look at these magnetic fluctuations."

Zatara checked her sensors again. There were indeed focused magnetic fluctuations that were moving.

"I misaligned one of their nullifier cores," Meps said, "When those distortions disappear, we'll know we're in the clear."

"Or they fixed what you broke," Zatara said.

Meps shook his head, "They do that kind of maintenance once a week, and I interrupted it. They won't notice it until the next round of secondary maintenance."

"What's our next destination?" she asked.

Meps pointed to a display, "We'll be headed to a Federation space station where the next member of our team is."

Zatara looked at him, "And who is that?"

Meps handed her a PADD, "Meet Dr. Re Razib. He's an Edosian who served as a field medic, shuttle medevac, and gunner in the Dominion War. He's smart, competent, and plays fast and loose with the rules. He also doesn't have any serious connections. He mostly thrives on pushing the medical frontier. Honestly, a perfect Section 31 candidate."

Zatara checked her sensors and saw no more fluctuations, "Looks like our friends got bored pretty quickly," she said, "Shall we?"

Meps smiled, "By all means."