Star Trek: The Shadowdancer [IC]

[Tiltjuice]

At the mouth of the cave system, the crew could see that it looked smaller and shallower than the rest. April seemed slightly abashed, and Pancras stood woodenly, still just sulking over the hits ‘Dancer had landed on his ego. The space was dim, dotted with candles and more akin to a Vulcan or Bajoran monastery than anything else. A somewhat dusty one.

A figure emerged from the back, brushing aside a tan-colored pelt and letting it fall back into place behind him. In robes just as the other two were, one of the figure’s wide sleeves lifted to reveal a large, hairy hand.

“Daddy, these are the people you hired,” April called out, and the figure seized Nathan’s hand as the first person in line, giving it a firm series of shakes.

“Welcome to Ajilon, Captain, and to Fells Point in particular. I’m Patrick Hodges. I hope you won’t mind the disrepair; we don’t quite have the supplies or power needed to keep everything going at its best. Not like the Resourceniks at the other end of the canyon. It’s a strict geographical separation between them and us, but at least they’ve started to take in the poor, and they’re working on restoring order in the black light districts.”

April brushed some newly collected dust off the shoulder of his robe, and he added, “The lawless areas and the slums, I mean. You get all sorts there. A few Klingons who stayed behind after the rest of them left. Cardassians. Maquis. Starfleet Security rotating detail, who watches the Resourceniks’ backs and nothing else because they’re so short-handed.” He gave a frustrated huff before continuing. “Starfleet Intelligence, who keeps tabs on everyone else. Even the odd Ferengi Eliminator who’s decided to come here for a break by playing bounty hunter. I’d stay out of there unless you roll in openly armed or connected. Anyway… anyway, I should probably - ” He looked distracted for a moment, before turning suddenly.

“Pancras, bring drinks for our guests. Tea, the usual. - My apologies, Captain. The Maquis aren’t nearly so cordial. They come in the instant Starfleet’s latest convoy is out of system and take anything that looks useful. Medical supplies, construction tools. Everything except the consumer goods. Thank goodness the Ferengi is an Eliminator and not a regular one, or he’d be sinking his teeth into those too! So what I’d like from you is to go and secure a shipment or two from Tananda Bay, bring it back here, and help us guard it until it’s safely passed out to everyone.”

[Fvaarniimar]

Ready room, prior to arrival

"Babe, don't'cha know anything goes as long as 90% of it goes on anything that's not me? Tch. Get cracking ladies, time's a-wasting."

"Everything helps in its own little way." Arelle's expression was strained, but she focused in on Galena, helped along by 'Dancer's usual sense of humor. "Tell you what - go find William and ask him about what kinds of things he can supply us. I'll fire up the simulator and start on some designs once you have what you need. Only other thing I'd be doing is helping Suval and Allie out with evasion patterns, or whatnot. Really not my area, like I said...anyway, I'll meet you down there in a bit."

"Acetic acid, sodium bicarbonate, starch sheet, wax. Hello, Arelle! Thanks." The items were removed and set down as Galena entered the ready room and mentioned them. William had proved obliging. (A bowl of fine flour remained.  She didn't know what to do with it yet - sticking a fuse in there seemed likely to result in Dancer's crew quite literally getting burned.)  "Are balloons or other small, airtight pouches on board?"  Briefly, she regretted eschewing an administrative role.  I knew every inch of that place... "Opened medical packaging or empty ration packs could work..."

They might as well multitask - address tactical details even as they dealt with technical issues.  "I think we should put them by all entrances, on stairs, and by the Bridge."  Caught up in the idea, Galena had almost forgotten the room's capabilities...but not quite.

"Dancer, simulate a normal balloon, previously inflated and deflated, with a thin wax sheet, glued close to the top, cutting balloon into airtight upper and lower compartments. 25 mililiters vinegar, 20 percent acidity, in the lower compartment, five grams sodium bicarbonate powder in the upper - adjust wax position if needed. 'Tie' it closed. Save as Expansion One. Simulate a light footstep on it." Smiling, she turned to Arelle. "Suggestions are welcome. This is one basic concept..."

While a little slow to start, the simulated balloon soon exploded with a -pop!- Unfortunately, said pop was somewhat too quiet.

[Tiltjuice]

Arelle's face was blank, and she shrugged helplessly as the holoprojector went through its paces, with the last of the pop dying off. "I'm sorry, Galena. I really couldn't say how these could be improved except by adding more of the vinegar or the bicarbonate. Unless we put sodium and water together? Basic chemistry was a long time ago, but I remember that much. We won't be able to control that as well, either - possibly?"

She lifted her hands and furrowed her brows. "If you're looking for feedback on the composition, or anything to do with tactics, I think you might ask Suval. I'm only here to fine-tune the sims, for you and for any other things anyone can think of. Ship-to-ship combat, evasion, and the whole set. We have only two more full days to Ajilon, anyway, so I think I'll be kept on my toes. I hope. But anyway...Jefferies tubes sound good, too. I can lock down the turbolift entrances, programmatically, if we need to. And for balloon-ish things? We can always replicate those."

[Swith Witherward]

Patrick Hodges needn't have apologized for the state of his surrounds nor his mental state. Banrel's experiences had shown him worse. In fact, he felt Hodges' setup rather cozy. At least he wasn't deprived of shelter or family. The Betazoid settled in beside Nathan, his brow hitching slightly as their host trailed off and suddenly regrouped his thoughts. Banrel had not caught the weight behind the change. He mentally kicked himself as Pancras set off to fetch refreshments. Bad go, chap. Stay sharp now.

The proposed mission wasn't too exhaustive. Fetch goods, ward off interlopers. Of course there was a major difference between fetching a box of toys and securing it from playground bullies... and hauling in vital components while fighting off the entire ass-end of the universe. The monetary gain would blossom the further they got from the playground.

Banrel glanced at his captain. It wasn't the doctor's place to butt in regarding mission details. Not in front of potential clients.

[Mincaldenteans]

Collab with Tilt ^_^

Nathan took a glance at Arelle and the doctor, both of whom stayed quiet and he figured they didn't feel the need to interject or question anything so far. He was used to the old crew, he supposed. Bella always did have an outspoken streak whose mouth ran off faster than her brain could catch up with. He let that thought fly away and paid attention to Patrick's note on the current state, none of which surprised the captain, but it did bother him. The Maquis were known to pick at Cardassian targets and leave the Federation side alone; he knew quite a few of them were former 'Fleeters and that bothered him more knowing they were putting their expertise and tactics against their own. It was a betrayal in a personal way and Nathan could only feel a slight outrage knowing the Maquis were now acting like thugs against the very people they claimed to have no quarrel with.

"So much for the Cardassians," he huffed out, clearly not pleased to hear Patrick's assessment. He considered the offer for only a moment and agreed to it without hesitation, "We'll see what we can do, Patrick... but you have to know, this run had its payment for delivery and while I sympathize, you're asking for me to risk my crew as well. This will be an additional... cost."

Nathan was visibly uncomfortable spitting that last part out as it came out rough with a tinge of embarrassment for charging their services, but he had a crew to look out for. "If you accept, then we'll need all information you or anyone else have on the last few raids. How many of the Maquis are we expecting?"

That question alone was a loaded one and, frustratingly, a toss up. Maquis never had a fix number and whatever deficiencies they had they compensated with no small amount of cunning and shrewd tactics.

Patrick grunted and shifted in his chair, finally showing signs of displeasure or discomfort. “There aren’t a lot of reports. People out here usually don’t talk much since they try to stay out of Tananda’s business. Partly it’s being too busy working through things to care about what happens there, and partly it’s just waiting and watching to see when the Fleet gets up off its arse and finally runs larger supply missions with better security out here. I’ve sent April and Pancras out every now and then into town to pick up the pulse of what’s going on, and I go to Tananda myself once a month to see how things are.”

He gulped some of his tea. “This person says the Maquis have a groundside base and they slap on transport enhancers to divert the goods for themselves once they’ve been beamed down. That person says the Maquis do deep-space raids. Bang bang, knock down the shields and engines and it’s feeding time. Someone else says no, the Maquis sneak their own people into the shipping lines and once the ‘Fleeters are out the system they pick what they want. And then of course all of the above could be true.” Another grunt followed by an apologetic shrug, and a glance at the entire assembled crew as if to include all of them in the gesture.

That wasn’t much to go by, he knew. Hell, that wasn’t anything to go by! The unpredictable nature of the Maquis made them dangerous and this new job may very be over their heads. Still, pay was pay and if it meant it kept ‘Dancer flying, Nathan really couldn’t refuse. A whole other set of issues about ‘Dancer sprang in his head, but Nathan left that for later. He took a gulp of his tea before settling it down and looked at Patrick, “We’ll do what we can, but that doesn't mean they won’t just return and start up again. We’re a mix crew so we’ll have to see what all will be effective against them… and that’s about as much of a promise as I can give you.”

Nathan let that sink in for a moment as he thought about payment. They’d already taken their cut before landing (at least, he hoped they did… right Banrel?), but this extra leg work was going to cost. The captain wasn’t about to shake them down for the most and quickly decided on a somewhat fair compensation deal. “Tell you what, we divert the Maquis, you pay us in what you can afford. We don’t, then no payment other than the shelter you can provide us while we work.”

Arelle was already fidgeting at this and only the past few months made her reaction be so restrained. Otherwise she’d have been off like a shot back to ‘Dancer already, with a faint echo of “I don’t like this plan” barely registering over the sonic boom she would have left.

Patrick looked at her curiously, pinching the tip of the longish pointed beard that was visible from under his hood, and then returned to Nathan.

“A percentage deal? That will be tough to settle on given the conditions here. I could settle with giving up my personal share of the consumer goods. But that would all depend on what, and how much, gets back here. So’s the best way I figure is just to square things afterwards.”

He held out his hand for Nathan to grasp. “Any route, thanks for coming.”

“Right,” Nathan replied, getting up from his seat to shake the man’s hand as did his crewmates. They were escorted out, but Nathan stopped short, “A moment. Past Resource or the Feds, you guys ever managed to get anyone else out here to try and tackle this?”

“No, not really,” Patrick said, but Pancras stepped forward. “Dad, actually we did. Remember? You had me do it that one time you weren’t feeling well and sent April and me to the city instead. No response, although when we were hanging around for a few days there were some people looking through the message boards on the public terminals there.”

Nathan gave a curt nod. He wasn’t expecting additional help, but it didn’t hurt to ask, “I see. Well, here’s hoping the post is still out there. Could stand we use a few more hands in this, the more the better, especially if they’re capable and can hold their own. Keep a look out for it, if you don’t mind.”

The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out a spare communicator, handing it over to Patrick, “Just in case. We’ll be back and go over the plan as soon as I talk to my crew about this.”

With that he gestured for the doc and Arelle to follow, heading out from where they came. He glanced at the two of them, having noticed they were rather too quiet throughout the whole meeting, although the hacker’s fidgeting didn’t go unnoticed and perhaps she was biding her time to speak her mind.

Well, he didn’t feel like hearing a ‘no’, but neither was he looking for an argument. Nathan went for the middle ground instead, albeit a little thinly disguised order, “Don’t say it, Arelle. I know you don’t care for fights, but if we can help these people and keep ‘Dancer out of it, so much the better. Let’s see what the crew has to say.”

[Holy Lykos]

"Okay... Almost... Got... It..." A light voice spoke out, barely disturbing the tranquil valley's quiet. A redheaded girl wearing almost ancient clothing was speaking to no one but herself, and attempting to haul herself up and over a small ledge. It was only a bit taller than herself(which admittedly was rather short), but climbing anything in a dress was a hassle. She grumbled to herself, before hiking up the clothes and tying them off around her thighs to keep them out of the way. At least for now.

With a small grin she took her handholds again, glancing up and over the ledge. "Better! Now.... One, two, three...." She grunted as she finally managed to pull herself up and over by swinging her leg up to catch the ledge. Using said leverage she pulled herself up handily and rolled away from the ledge. The Amish girl found herself laying on her back with clothes scuffed from the rocky ground, and staring up at the afternoon sky. Always worth sneaking out after dinner to watch the sunset. She knew the path well enough by now that she could find her way back in the dark, usually. Anyway, her town's lights usually were easy enough to spot heading back down the valley.

And so, Hadassah sat herself up to take in the sky and the environment around her. The only world, indeed the only valley, she'd ever really known. Her community, Armagh preferred to keep to itself even on the largely Amish planet. It even shunned the use of replicators and other modern conveniences larger communities were adopting from the Federation, like more efficient power sources. It had enough power from the water mill and turbines they had purchased of course, but they couldn't say that the new power sources humanity had discovered would be longer lasting.

But they liked things taking effort and skill to maintain. They liked having to work for food and clothing. They liked things traditional. It had always grated Hadassah that her home refused even the simplest of things that made things more convenient. It had been a stretch for the more wordly minded among the community to convince the elder few that a communication system to tell traders where to land would be needed. even then it was an old model that might not even be able to be used soon enough.

Hadassah was happy that they at least were a fairly egalitarian community. At least for their culture. Must be that no one else had wanted to be the doctor's apprentice but her.

She did have to admit the town was in a beautiful location though. Nestled in a mountain valley with a river running through the middle of both valley and town, with forest surrounding the bit of the valley that was set aside for farming and residences. They made a good amount trading for the lumber they produced, mostly with the odd offworlder looking for raw materials. Other Amish communities preferred being self sufficient so trade between them was rather rare.

But it was still boring. It was her home of course, but Hadassah wanted to see more than even just this world. She was absolutely stunned the rest of her people were content, no, happy to stay here and live out their whole lives on one world. To her it was almost inconceivable to stay put, have a family, and do nothing her whole life.

Which was why she wasn't planning on returning once she got off-world. Aside from her mother there wasn't much to come back to annyway. Hadassah never really had many friends, given her preoccupation with outer space. Most of the others simply found her strange, and strange really wasn't something anyone in a traditionalist community really wanted. It tended to stir things up.

They were pretty lucky Hadassah preferred going off into the wilderness to watch the sky and stars rather than stir up trouble.

[Mincaldenteans]

A wing of bronze starships swept through the Soltok system at full impulse, a routine border patrol that had yielded nothing of interest save a passing class-3 comet two days prior. Of the many systems that were re-organized in the unpopular Federation-Cardassian treaty, the Soltok system was, possibly, the only pleasant outcome of the ill-contrived "peace". It had seen minimal raids from the Maquis and the Klingons did not seem to care much about the system during their invasion, and frankly neither did the Cardassians. It had one inhabited colony and its location wasn't strategic nor were its meticulously cataloged resources worth anything to the Cardassians. Many Federation citizens fled Cardassian rule and it was one of few colonies that the Cardassians had taken over with no resistance from those that had stayed behind.

In these missions, it was indeed a moment of peace rarely afforded to Guls in the Cardassian Union, but for Gul Remek, captain of the CDS Desark, it was a period of unmitigated boredom. As he stared at the viewscreen, the middle-aged Cardassian commander could only sigh while the bleeps from consoles around the bridge filled the void of silence. His officers went about their duty with precision and the aged captain shifted in his seat uncomfortably, the nerves in his rump had more to protest sitting about waiting for absolutely nothing until Central Command issued new orders.

Not that the Desark was much of a warship. The old Tonga-class cruiser was 50 years out of date and put back into service with a modicum of updates that the military felt adequate enough to augment its crippled fleet. Sturdy shields, updated targeting systems, an uprated engine and a forward class-3 spiral wave disruptor meant that it could hold its own for a short time. But the ship was bulky even with its cheaper building costs and its uprated engines were still slower than its smaller and larger cousins, which meant support was necessary in any confrontation. A pair of Hideki-class light destroyers accompanied the Desark, their nimble frames complimented the Tonga and what they lacked in firepower the Desark was more than capable to sweep aside provided the enemy was sufficiently pinned down.

Gul Remec yearned for a chance to square off against the Klingons or a ratag group of Maquis; thus far they had seen minimal action and the middle-aged Gul's engagement history was sorely lacking compared to some of his peers and enemies within Central Command. With his unimpressive performance in the last five years, Remec knew Central Command would likely demote him or force retirement well before his time, and he knew several figures within the military would jump at the chance to make that a reality. If only Command saw him fit to command the wings to the frontlines, perhaps then they would see...!

A cough interrupted his darkening thoughts and the Glinn standing to his right withered under his steely gaze, but held his ground nonetheless.

"What is it?" Remec barked impatiently, straightening up in his command chair.

"Gul," the Glinn responded with a short and respectful bow of his head, "Sensors have picked up and analyzed a faint signal coming from the sixth planet of the system."

"Impossible," Remec dismissed with a grimace, "Soltok IV is the only colony in this system; are you sure your eyes haven't betrayed your dulled mind? I understand you people in the Science Ministry have more than an overactive imagination for every blip that trigger our sensors."

The Glinn gritted his jaw, lowering his head and gaze upon the floor for a moment. He raised a Cardassian PADD in his hand for the captain, "My results, Gul. See for yourself, its transmission is an old Federation signal."

With a deep huff, Remec snatched the PADD from the Glinn and examined the results. With the Obsidian Order no longer able to muscle its way into the military's affairs, and the complete disintegration of the organization less than a year ago, much of their database and information were transferred to Central Command for 'safe keeping'. The Soltok system was no different for the late Order; and its information was as accurate right down to the system's trade routes, demographics and over all economic contribution to the Union. The fact the Order missed it could only mean it was never there before or they were simply not as meticulous as they prided themselves to be. Soltok VI was known to be habitable system, but Command had yet to make efforts into colonizing the system than it already was, deeming it a drain on their (already) diminished resources. Remec could only hazard a guess as to the origin of the faint signal; perhaps a stranded vessel, or a backward colony like those pathetic humans of Dorvan V, or perhaps a Maquis cell hiding in plain sight. The last prospect was a definitely possibility, given the Maquis ingenuity to evade the military. And the prospect of taking out an entire cell...!

Remec sat straight up and handed the PADD back to the Glinn, "Keep a sensor lock on the signal, Glinn. Inform me of any change. Dismissed! Pilot, set course to Soltok VI, maximum impulse and alert our friends to form up and match course."

"As you command!" The glinn at the conn station snapped to attention.

The Gul smiled, his reptilian features almost sharpening at the notion of scoring a victory for the Union. Little did he know the backward community in which he was about to step on, or the Maquis wing hiding behind Soltok IV's first moon.

[Tiltjuice]

The trill of the outgoing communications' alert on the Desark's bridge was echoed, almost to a second, by the more staccato triple double beat used by Starfleet computers.

Formerly Starfleet, in this case.

As the Cardie cruiser and its consorts headed further in-system, the three ships which had been taking cover behind Soltok IV's moon emerged from hiding. The response aboard the Desark was the next best thing to immediate; for all that its technology lagged behind compared to the rest of the Union's navy, the crew knew their business, and the destroyers had swept ahead, matching their purpose as screening vessels. Gul Remec swiveled his command chair toward the glinn who'd addressed him earlier.

"Report!"

"Gul, sensors have identified three vessels emerging from the mass shadow of Soltok IV's first moon. Subspace transponders identify them as a trio of Andorian freighters, but Tactical Analysis' mass estimates put them as a pair of Federation Norkova-class freighters being escorted by an Oberth-class."

The gul snorted outright at this egregious incompetence on the part of the Maquis. Who did they think they were fooling? The Andorians had no special quarrel with Central Command apart from being a Federation member state, and no reason to hide. And springing an ambush this early, with an older, smaller ship than his as the centerpiece?

"Instruct the destroyers ahead to continue investigating the signal. Helm, turn about and prepare to engage. All hands to battle stations."

---

The Maquis cell leader, one Tovteq, himself smiled in the smug satisfaction Gul Remec had been too exhilarated to feel, as his own crew reported the Hidekis picking up speed and moving further away from the cruiser. So it was that both commanders thought the other had made a mistake, and that they themselves had all the information. On the Oberth's bridge, the Vulcan on Tovteq's left spoke up. On a Starfleet ship, he would have been called "helmsman/flight controller"; on this ship, he was simply "flight coordinator".

"The destroyers have reached the point of no return for this engagement."

Tovteq's reply was simple. "Signal the freighters."

---

Gul Remec's reaction was anything but, as the viewscreen's tactical filter showed the two dots representing the freighters suddenly multiplying into dozens - which equally suddenly formed up into what were clearly attack groups.

Maquis raiders on carrier vessels. His hands balled into fists at his overconfidence and over-eagerness, before he shoved them down the sides of his command chair so that the armrests blocked the crew's view. Very clever - but that also means...the freighters should be unarmed. Not enough space to carry both weapons and that number of fighters.

His command, he knew, could take a pounding with the shielding it carried. The same couldn't be said for the Maquis. Was that it? Did they hope to panic him with that sudden display? It was entirely possible they didn't have specifications for the Tonga-class.

"Full speed, direct starboard, level!" he snapped, intending to draw the Oberth closer to Soltok VI and the rest of his own wing. It had to be the control center for the attack craft. Cut off the head and the arms and legs would stop...

---

Anyone watching from the planet would have seen two series of small, pinprick flashes leading into a larger one, like a starter pistol followed by a firecracker and an artillery shell from before the Eugenics Wars. The image from there was deceptively pretty.

Aboard Desark, Gul Remec forced his eyes to stay open against the smoke clouding the bridge and the blood seeping down his forehead. The aide at his right was dead, but his first officer was already tapping away at his console issuing orders to damage control. He wiped the sticky fluid away irritatedly and glared at the viewscreen, remarkably still functional, with a bloodshot gaze. The damnable raiders had disabled his ship and one of the destroyers, and his teeth ground audibly.

There was no situation aboard the Oberth-class starship. One of Desark's last disruptor blasts had broken the antiquated starship in two, sending saucer flying toward the planet and nacelles spinning away toward Soltok V. Before the containment fields lost power and that half of the ship took its trapped crewmen into history.

Only the freighters remained, and they scrambled to pick up their raider squadrons before the Cardassians came back in force, or the cruiser made repairs and came after them. Tovteq, had he been still able to command, would have told them that anyway; the resistance was small, and losing many for the sake of a few (however skilled) made no sense. And unlike the spoonheads, they could blend in with the colonists.

[Holy Lykos]

As battle ensued far above in the dark of space, the planet below remained placid and green. It barely even probably noticed the skirmish between the Maquis and Cardassians. A few people of the spread out Amish settlements might notice of course, but many would simply dismiss such a light show.

But Hadassah was not everyone. Plus she was one of those very few on the planet who happened to be looking up at the right time to notice something off. Flashes and streaks of lonely light that were much too far to make out clearly but easily distinguishable from the background of the stars and the planets large moon could be just about anything.

Hadassah blinked, mentally confirming what she had just witnessed. She had definitely seen that. A few brief and strange flashes in the slowly darkening sky. Near the moon no less! The streaks and flashes were much to bright for meteor showers.... At least in the girl's experience. Osterdaag got a few meteor showers per year, and it never had gotten one around this time. The middle of the growing season had no real stellar phenomenon, only the beginning and the end.

Maybe it was a new stellar event? It was feasible, that was for certain. The community records that she'd read indicated some of their regular showers actually only started in recent memory. So it could be that that a new set of meteor showers could be starting... Or maybe it was a bit of stellar debris of some kind that just happened to get trapped above their world. Who could know.

While Hadassah assumed that she likely would never know what exactly had just happened, she felt the others might be a bit more deterministic about what such a random event might be. If they saw it of course. What she felt she was certain about was that the others might say she was given a sign from God.

If it was a sign than what could it possibly mean? Was it Him telling her to go to the stars? That something dangerous was coming from space? That they weren't doing something right here on Osterdaag? Who knew. Hadassah certainly didn't. Nor would she pretend to know God's plan, if there even was one.


It was her time to head back home anyway. If she was out when it got dark she and her family might get in heavy trouble for the community. curfew and all that nonsense. Such an annoying thing, to have to return on someone else's whims. Almost ike she was a servant!

She remained seated, but the redhead began to shuffle her way over to the ledge once more. It would make sense to go back the way she came. "One, Two, Three, Hup!" and she dropped down firmly. The sound of her shoes impacting the stone gave a slight echo through the valley as she dusted off and set to hiking back home.

The long walk in the woods was mostly spent making herself presentable among her people once more. Undoing her tied up light blue dress so it fell down normally again, almost to her ankles. Pulling her prayer cap out of her dress and donning it. Dusting off her dress to the best of her ability. Even changing her gait to a more composed walk rather than the long strides she preferred. So much done just in the name of the conformity it could almost make her sick. Hopefully the next traders could come soon, otherwise she felt she could bloody well lose her individuality and her mind.

Speaking of her mind, Hadassah couldn't get the flashes off her mind. It took her until she had reached home once more that she realized something. No meteor showers could make such a thing, an obvious flash from an explosion. What in creation could have done that?

With that in her mind, She looked back up towards the heavens, mouth slightly agape as a gentle breeze rustled her clothes together, and tugged at the cap on her head. Was it offworlders? Had something happened? Or was she only wishing for some excitement in her boring life?

[Fvaarniimar]

Meanwhile, on board Shadowdancer

Galena was spending more time than she really could spare marveling at the explosions - and admittedly trying not to nitpick the few little giveaways that they were, in fact, simulated. "Thanks, 'Dancer," she said, leaning forward to investigate a particular flash more closely. Obligingly, the screen zoomed in on pixelated bits of ships. She frowned, then pursed her lips. "You're simulating a Maquis attack..." Even simulated, she'd have preferred to watch Cardassians receive that kind of punishment. "Of course, that's necessary." The fact that she sympathized with the Maquis didn't change the possibility that Dancer and her crew would need to fight them. Provided that it wasn't to help the oppressors of the Bajorans, that wouldn't upset her greatly. She thought. (Of course, upon learning that they were diverting needed supplies from non-Cardassians, she'd be rather less than sympathetic towards this particular group of Maquis.)

"Thanks for letting me watch!" Patting a wall as she stole a few more moments, Galena frowned.

Would they be boarded?  The booby traps had been placed all over 'Dancer, although hiding them well hadn't been doable with limited time and limited skill.  She'd settled for painting them to match the floor on which they were placed, which did the trick if people weren't paying that much attention.  Stepping carefully over a matte patch of "floor," she lifted the small containerful of latinum.

The odd couple of guests had been properly billed - they'd even received itemized lists of charges, that for the replicator for example, and receipts.  (Seeing as their presence didn't need to be concealed, these were electronic.)

As she dropped the payment off in the correct secure location, her stomach grumbled.  "I'm heading to the kitchen."  Worrying that their clients would get somewhat fidgety, she had an idea.  "Dancer, would you replicate candy or similar small treats for both of our guests?  No charge."

Pulling those out, Galena grinned.  "I have an idea," she singsonged.  "Please replicate an assortment of non-spoiling breakfast foods including some suited to Klingon and Ferengi ...And maybe add a few suited to everyone else's... taste.  William spoils us, but I think you're the only one here who isn't hungry..."

Having learnt the corridors rather well between errands and trapping the floor, Galena ignored the guiding lights when 'Dancer wasn't reminding her of said traps.  Stepping over those same traps was fast conditioning the woman to lengthen her stride, which also helped her to arrive speedily.

"Hello again, Alishka and Alac.  I hope you'll have a lovely trip!"  A silly sentiment considering the area, but it was the sort of thing Galena knew she'd have wanted to hear.  Besides, her earnest grin (left over from the explosions) sold it.

"I have breakfast if you'd like any, and a treat to thank you for your business.  No charge."  Quickly laying out the spread, the woman commenced munching on her second pastry as she handed both passengers a small bag.

[Esternial]

During his entire time so far on the 'Dancer, William had spent the vast majority of it in the kitchen. It wasn't that he deliberately avoided interacting with the other crewmember. More appropriate would be to say he forgot. Having lived for so long, it was easy for William to lose track of time. For hours he could just meditate behind the stove, so to speak, and the rest of the crew accepted that. Whenever they needed him, he'd be there. The 'Dancer's chef made sure to keep the crew well-fed, and their praise was all the motivation he needed to go the extra mile.

The ship's arrival, however, allowed a change of pace. The crew got a lot livelier, but William maintain his calm serenity. With little much else to do, he volunteered to assist Galena with her zany plan to boobytrap the ship. William wasn't too concerned about a boarding scenario, but even he agreed it was always better to be prepared.

With all traps set and Galena satisified, William set off back to the kitchen and got back to his work.

Though, as he was preparing a batch of potatoes, a lingering thought resurfaced. It might be pertinent to adress it.

"Say, Dancer," William spoke calmly as he gingerly stripped a potato of its skin with a knife, "I suppose you've noticed something peculiar about me by now, haven't you?"

Gently he let the potato slip into a pot filled with water and started on another from the pile.

"You've undubitably informed the captain of this...though I haven't yet been adressed on the matter." He continued. William wasn't worried. He rarely was. Stress was a sensation he was foreign to.

"I wonder why..." He added before dropping his musings, continuing the monotone process of peeling potatoes. Cooking isn't always fancy or glamourous, and frankly William wasn't feeling all that inspired. A simple but hearty Earth meal would have to do.

[Cerillium]

Osterdaag

It was only after dusk gave way to a cloudy night that the cloaked Toron Shuttle opened to reveal a darkened interior. Sniffing the wind as he emerged, and with more than a few cautious glances upward, the shuttle's sole occupant stepped onto the ledge to survey the sleepy village in the valley below. Humanity wasn't foreign to the former Starfleet Marine. Never had he observed humans live in so primitive a fashion however. Intrigued, he settled onto Hadassah's former perch.

These people seemed to shun nocturnal pursuits in favor of retiring early. There weren't any streetlights, nor any outdoor activities, nor so much as a hint of a bar. His initial scan didn't detect any modern technology. This was to their advantage tonight. The Marine didn't know who had won the violent scrap near the moon, but neither the Maquis or the Cardassians would give these people a second glance. Hell, it was unlikely the colony would have a first glance. The Marine was unaware of them right up until the shuttle dove through the clouds to escape the skirmish.

"They said, Hey, Antig, take a vacation," the Marine groused as the first raindrops pattered upon his cranial plates, "Why waste a perfectly useful ship?, they said. You'll see the universe in a whole new way!" He rolled to his feet and rose, and cast a final look at the village. "No more wars, Antig. Just peaceful retirement. You'll love it."

Fingers of lightening illuminated his grey, pebbly skin as they branched across the sky. His pupils - nothing but pinholes arranged in a vertical line atop a vibrant blue star field - contracted to maintain his night vision. "I'm not loving it. No bars. No ports. No civilization."

Antig couldn't completely dislike the setting however. The alpine meadows, with their sweet grasses and flowers, were comforting. Even the village seemed invited to him. Yet it didn't convey a sense of 'home'. Perhaps no place ever would?

He turned his back on the village. The rain would, in time, peter off. He had no option but to retreat into the shuttle until then, and wait out the storm with a solid meal.

[Brusia]

Suval
The Shadowdancer

As 'Dancer began her descent down through Ajilon Prime's atmosphere, Suval stood in engineering and helped monitor the ship's systems. 'Dancer and Allie did most of the work, but Suval still helped by diverting auxiliary power to the structural integrity field when necessary, and keeping an eye on any damage the vessel sustained. Fortunately, the ship made it to the surface with only a few micro-fractures in the hull which could be easily repaired. When the Captain gave the order that the rest of the crew was free to do what they wanted, Suval decided to get started on the repairs just in case the 'Dancer would end up needing to make a rapid departure.

After he grabbed the necessary tools, 'Dancer guided Suval to the areas of the hull which needed fixing. It took some time, but the Vulcan managed to get everything patched up well enough to keep the ship from falling apart at the seams, at least for the time being, then headed for the mess hall to get something to eat. When he approached the kitchen he noticed that the chef was peeling potatoes, and hoping to get something a little less human, asked the chef:

"Pardon me, William isn't it? Do you, by any chance, know how to make Plomeek soup?"

[Bentus]

Taji Klobak
Ajilon Prime

---

The bars and watering holes of Tananda Prime had quickly recovered their place as the great meeting points of society. With the destruction wrought by the Klingon invasion, most infrastructure lay in ruins as the central government sought desperately to rebuild and enforce some semblance of pre-War law and order. Seemingly overnight, the population had seen their standard of living plummet, their livelihoods dashed and their futures darkened by powers far beyond their control. At the end of it all, the Federation had largely ignored their plights, turning its attention to matters deemed of far greater import while the people of Ajilon were left to gather the pieces of their lives. Was it truly any wonder that they turned to liquor – however watered down – when brought to such lows?

And yet, reconstruction was occurring. Slowly and surely, Ajilon was hurling itself back onto its feet as power and other necessities were gradually restored to the masses. However, the blow to the collective psyche of its population would take far longer to heal than the blown out buildings of the city outskirts. A forward looking, pioneering people had been transformed into one forced to adopt a policy of suspicion and mistrust, pursuing individual survival above all else as nefarious and subversive forces swarmed their homes like vultures searching for easy pickings. Thus it was inevitable that the solitary figure looking through the public message boards at the rear of the establishment suffered the piercing glances of her fellow patrons.

Grimacing in distaste at the piss-water that she had been served, Taji nonetheless appreciated the sparse comfort that it offered. Shifting uncomfortably on her stool, the Klingon ruffled the strange, foreign clothes that adorned her figure – supposedly meant to allow her to better blend in rather than draw unwanted attention. She had bristled at the thought of abandoning her uniform in order to don the unwieldy jacket and trousers that was apparently so common in Federation space – Taji couldn’t understand why the foreigners would refuse to adopt the clearly superior Klingon garb! Regardless, she had heeded the wisdom of the captain that had dropped her off at the barely-functional spaceport, even if she failed spectacularly to hide her shifting discomfort. Perhaps it had been something of a futile gesture, there wasn’t much that could be done to disguise a born-and-bred Klingon warrior.

Which was why she now sat alone in the bar, granted a wide berth by the distrustful residents and met with glares of suspicion and barely contained anger.

Ignoring the daggers that her sent her way, besides baring her teeth towards a particular human who had drawn her ire, Taji had kept her focus on the job listings before her. Klingon space was dangerous for her, and with the Maquis wielding so much influence this close to the border, the alien world of Ajilon was not much better. Despite the wounding to her pride, Taji had to focus on finding some way off-world as quickly as possible. That was when one listing caught her eye.

Pausing as her eyes scanned the job offer, Taji felt a smile pull at the corners of her features – a sense of achievement at having isolated the means to solving her own problems. The advert stipulated that they were looking for a security detail to protect an incoming supply convoy – a noble calling, especially compared to the filth that she had already read. Not to mention her silent excitement at an opportunity to exact her anger on her situation by shooting at something.

Clicking on the offer in order to announce her interest, Taji noted the location of the job, starting to mentally determine her travel plans.

[Tiltjuice]

Surface of Ajilon Prime
Shadowdancer's messhall

Things remained relatively quiet once the afternoon tea had wrapped up. Arelle had glanced away for a moment as they were leaving the cave, grateful for any distraction (and possibly a bit of checking out the scenery), and caught sight of Pancras and April heading out as well, probably for another trip to the capital to see what was there. Once they'd reached the outer hatch, though, she furrowed her brows.

"I don't mind helping. I just rather think there's a better way to do it than trying to drop into that nest of sewer rats." Classic mixed metaphor, when the hacker got flustered. "But anyway, like you said, 'Dancer should be kept out of it."

She glanced sidelong at Banrel, but the doctor stayed politely reserved as he usually did. Well, there wasn't really anything that could be helped; it wasn't that kind of situation. One hand rubbed an already-reddened forearm while the other waved Galena, William, and Suval over. And Allie probably should be in on things, too. A quick intercom message later, the pilot too was invited to join the gathering, and as soon as she joined, Nathan began.

"Here's our latest job, people. We've been hired by a family of locals, the Hodges, to bring out a shipment of relief goods from Tananda Bay before it gets ...re-purposed by the Maquis. It sounds fairly simple, but we don't know how many of them are, and the city is apparently full of competing interests. Feds, Klingons, and Cardassians as well; you all know how things have gone lately. I floated the idea of distracting the Maquis elsewhere and we might be able to lift the Hodges' share, and they didn't seem to mind that. Think that's a fair approach to avoid reaching too far in and getting stuck. Still, this all won't fly if someone has any other idea or suggestion, so let's hear any and all of the above."

---

Tananda Bay
Roughly the same time as the crew meeting

The public message boards were as busy as ever. Most of the people crowded around the ones that listed planetary news, drifting in and out as they finished reading. The job advert listing, on the other hand, was rather more sparsely attended - though that might have been simply those who were viewing it remotely. A pair of Starfleet security guards passed by, watching the whole scene; the boards did have some valuable raw materials in them.

April tried not to make her curiosity obvious as she scanned the job seekers. Three humans, one Bajoran, the Ferengi Eliminator doing his daily check for easy-looking bounties...a pair of Klingons and the largest group of seven Acamarian Gatherers. The two Fleeters directed a harder stare at this last group before moving on down the lane, skirting around one establishment in particular.

"Right," she said to herself as much as to Pancras, trying to keep her impulsive little brother out of any possible trouble. "That one is either the Cardassians' latest pick, or it's full of Maquis sympathizers. Let's stay out of that one, either way, and check the others."

"But - !"

"Let's leave that one to the new people," she cut Pancras off again. "Get moving." But she had forgotten one thing, in all her focus on him. Sight wasn't everything.

The first three bars had been relatively empty of anyone coherent, and both Hodges were rather confused and/or put off by this. The fourth one was quiet, if full, and they wandered up to the bar, hoping to have a few words with the bartender about any newcomers. He'd scarcely finished saying "Bathrooms are in the back" when there was a sudden uproar from a table not too far away and pandemonium erupted. The bartender gave a shrug - Everyone for themselves - and ducked down behind his counter, which equally suddenly sprouted a force field.

"Duck!" Pancras shouted, dragging April forward and down, and a table slammed into the force field where she'd been. The Klingon mercenary who'd thrown it turned toward them, leering intently, and said something to his fellows that couldn't be heard over the roaring in their ears and the strife in the bar and the repeated fizzy hissing of a neural whip. The bunch of Klingons collapsed on each other in large, ungainly clumps, revealing the Ferengi.

"You can't make a deal if you're dead," he said, waving urgently. "And you hew-mons are starting early, are you not? You look younger. Good lobes as well - all people love bartenders." He smiled toothily as he hustled them outside. "Now what is it you might be looking for? There's a bar not five minutes away that is truly quiet, where we can talk. Businessman to businessmen."

[Holy Lykos]

Osterdaag

The quiet Amish town had gone dark for the night, with their curfew meaning very few were out and about past dark. The night was one of a full moon, bathing things in the muted light of the moon. The intermittent rain however put damper on this light, with the river running high as it ran through the town. Hopefully no one had left anything important on the riverbanks tonight.

While the planet lacked any overly dangerous wildlife, their town was in a rather precarious area. The town itself was on a cliff, with one end going to the deepest part of the valley. The river turned into a waterfall there, and while it wasn't massive the fall had proven fatal before. The forest made the place dark at night, and the lack of human light sources (all lanterns were turned off as people went to sleep) made going around in the dark risk tripping off the edge. But they had recently put up a proper fence after the last one was knocked over by a small stampede.

The worst sort of animal danger in the area was a large bovine-esque creature that had been domesticated since the Amish had been on the planet. Its meat had proved rather sweet. The things horns were wicked and it had a propensity for stampeding if spooked though. Most of their livestock was at the base of the cliff, as was most of the farmland. A few farmhouses dotted the area down below, the last curls of smoke from the chimneys drifting away for the night.

The cliff was a fairly recent development however. Originally the whole area had been a hill, even if a steep one, but after some particularly bad storms and rains, one side of the cliff gave way and sheered into a stark cliff face. Luckily at that time the town had been huddling up in the sturdiest of buildings, the church and town hall, so only livestock and crops had been lost.


Well, at least Hadassah had tried to sleep for all of 15 minutes. The astronomical event had set her mind abuzz with wonder and wanderlust. She just wanted to see more of what had happened. IF it was a ship of some kind, maybe she could signal it. If not, it was something she might have discovered, some new phenomenon!

So, the girl made up her mind. She furrowed her brow and threw off the covers, dashing around her room to get redressed to head out. Along with her normal attire, she decided to leave the cap behind. It would get wet anyway. The patter of rain on her roof told her that at least. Once her shoes were slipped on she gently left her room, closing it behind her and tiptoeing her way down the stairs and out. Damned things were rickety though, so she went slowly to prevent squeaking and creaking. Luckily only her mother would hear her, and she was a heavy sleeper.

Oh! One thought before leaving had Hadassah grab her family's oil lantern. Setting it alight, Hadassah stepped out into the rain. Luck was on her side as she dashed off, towards her worn path towards the cliff face she loved to stargaze from. The rain was lulling, and no one seemed to notice her flight through town. Soon enough wet leaves crunched and squelched under her feet, and the occasional twig snap let animals and anyone listening onto the fact someone was running through the woods.

And much like earlier once she reached the part of the cliff she had to climb, the girl set her lantern on the ledge and tied her dress off high to lend her the range of motion she would need.

But unlike last time, something was waiting for her in the clearing. Once she lifted the lantern off the ground and let its light out into the rain drenched night Hadassah almost stumbled back off the cliff in shock. A ship! When had this gotten here? It certainly hadn't been there earlier... The angular thing seemed a greenish color in the dark, at least the best she could discern. Hadassah hadn't seen many shuttles touch down in her life, and this certainly was the most... alien... Was it even Federation? Were the occupants hostile?

The girl stood frozen on the ledge as she stared at the shuttle with mouth agape, the storm intensifying and increasingly drenching her clothes with only the flickering lantern really giving away that anyone had stumbled upon the shuttle.

If anyone bothered to look outside of the thing of course.

[Stormwrath]

Shadowdancer

Allie had eventually joined the group, letting the not-very-trusty 'Dancer take the controls for now. Looks like another job has been offered for them, one that'll entail a lot more action this time. However, she had certain doubts as to how the crew was going to distract the Maquis long enough for the shipment to be loaded. She may have had an idea, though.

Earlier she had come across a Klingon shuttle in the bay. The pilot wondered where did the Captain get this kind of craft, or how did he fit something this large in here, but 'Dancer didn't seem to give her any helpful answer. Maybe this thing could be useful, but she had no idea if that could fly. Guess she should find out.

"What about the shuttle?" she raised the idea to the others. "Saw one in the bay. We could use that to distract the Maquis while 'Dancer loads the cargo."

[Swith Witherward]

Shadowdancer's mess hall
It was the nest of sewer rats that most worried the doctor. Plenty of the crew could distract, but not many had the skills necessary to slug their way out if the rats packed a potent bite. A thumb wicked away a droplet of coffee clinging to the edge of his cup, though only Arelle knew him well enough to recognize the fretful gesture.

"A distraction would boost our chances of success," he tossed a shrug towards Suval; Never doubt a Vulcan's risk assessment. "But that shuttle would be a dead giveaway to anyone familiar with it. We can perhaps rig it to be more effective, to disguise it a bit, but you'll need some unconventional tactics to pull it off."

He lifted his mug to toast Allie. "We also need a pilot. You're one of the best, however, our priority is the cargo and 'Dancer. An AI can do marvelous things. A human's instinct wins out every time, my dear. I trust yours."

That said, there was still a glaring omission to the crew: muscle. Banrel had hoped the Klingon would stay on. With him gone, they were lacking. He would bring it up with Nathan, of course. Yet there were ways of locating just the right person at just the right time. Or, in Banrel's case, finding a certain retired bartender that fit the bill. "Ugly as sin but indomitable in the face of adversity," the good doctor mumbled as he tapped out a short message on his old slate.

[Mincaldenteans]

Orbit of Soltok VI

All across, Gul Remec’s bridge was a smoldering ruin. Worse still were the reports flowing in from across the Desark, his reinvigorated ship was becoming a shell of itself. Klaxons rang in varying degrees of distress, the smell of burnt metal and charred flesh invaded his senses while the pounding headache from the metal shard that struck him threatened to overwhelm his already strained resolve.

His first officer had done what he could to dispatch repair teams, but as Remec overheard, much was considered destroyed and would be left to disrepair. Remec knew the Desark was lost, and hopes for a military engagement to bolster his family name was dashed. He had taken a gamble and lost in the most horrendous way possible.

Or had he?

Soltok VI was an unknown planet to both powers in this region. Either the Federation didn’t bother with this backward planet, or they simply couldn’t spare the resources to patrol the area. Such a planet had resources the Union could exploit and they hardly required the denizens to comply, merely abdicate control and recognize the Union’s authority to further expand its territorial claim. Although, if Remec acted with a modicum of tact and resolve, the colonists would likely be amiable to Cardassian authority and a modest workforce could be utilized with minimal security risks. Remec could even be tasked to oversee the operation, perhaps even promoted to a level-3 Gul.

His first officer cut this thoughts, but it wasn’t unwelcome now that opportunities were revealing itself and Remec found it difficult to share the distressed attitude of his subordinate, “The engines are lost, Gul. Weapons, structural integrity, and life support are failing across multiple sections of the ship. Our first engineer reports sustainability to be lost within a matter of hours.”

“Alert the Broval,” the only undamaged Hideki destroyer still in the wing, “Have Glinn Hadar and have him transport all available security personnel in exchange for our wounded. Order him back to Cardassian space and alert Central Command of our situation. Send all visual and sensor logs and transmit to Borval for Command to analyze.”

If Remec played this correctly, his own actions would alleviate the prestige of his family, allowing some reprieve from the other old families that guided the Union by name alone. But to do that meant annexing a planet in his own right and not by some mouthpiece that Hadar had exhibited time and again. Hadar, too, hailed from an old family; the opportunity to take credit didn’t go amiss.

“Remind Hadar that I’m still in command and will be expecting his timely arrival of reinforcement to ensure the secure Soltok VI on behalf of the Cardassian Union by Gul Remec. Transmit orders with my signature.”

“Yes, Gul!” His first officer responded and went to work immediately. Remec, having to lend his efforts as half his bridge staff lay dead, went to work on the communications panel. Tapping a slanted green trapezoid button, the ship’s systems bleeped to life and redirected its damaged circuitry to enable a crisp announcement across the battered tonga-class for all to hear.

“This is Gul Remec, prepare for ship wide transport to the surface. Prepare all equipment for extended duration planetside. All personnel are to be on the surface in half a unit. This is the only announcement,” Remec announced curtly, cutting the communications short.

“Have you transmitted the message to Hadar?” Remec demanded impatiently, cutting through the klaxons.

“Yes, Gul! Message received with your signature and request encoded for Command specifically. I took the liberty to ensure Hadar would not be able to forge the orders himself.”

Remec smiled then, momentarily ignoring the inevitable loss of his ship in a matter of minutes. This was but the first step.

“Excellent. Prepare the teams, I will join with you soon,” Remec ordered to which his first officer inclined his head in acknowledgement and exited the room. The Gul continued, “Computer, initiate self-destruct sequence: authorization Remec, Gul, One- Setal- Nine- Romol; two units silent countdown. Initiate.”

A disembodied Cardassian male voice responded immediately, “Voice authorization confirmed. Two unit silent countdown initiated, there will be no further warning.”

Remec stepped away from the console and took a last look at his ruin ship. Opportunity and triumph were in his grasp. Every fiber in his body told him this was the best chance for the Remec family and bring it back into a position of power and influence. The only challenge would be to convince the backward settlers of Union custody and to paint the Maquis as the aggressors and vultures they truly were. And despite his aversion to humans, there was something to be said about the advantage of showing solidarity, something the Maquis couldn’t achieve even by their own outfits.

If the Maquis thought they could win this, they were wrong.

---

Ajilon Prime

“We’ve got a problem,” Zeke announced, wide strides closing the distance to display his agitation. But then, he was always agitated.

“Add it to the list,” Dan said lightly, barely sparing a glance at the man.

“This is different,” the alpha centaurian emphasized enough to gain a second glance from Dan. Zeke was a worrier by nature, but he managed to rein his reluctance in favor of bold tactics that had worked against the colonists thus far. It was a repulsive tactic to use against their own people, but as Dan saw it, there were other colonists worst off then the farmers of Ajilon Prime. For starters, these farmers had options.

But Zeke looked determined and he knew the man wouldn’t budge until he said his piece. With a light sigh, Dan gave a brief nod, “Alright, let’s hear it.”

Zeke rested his Klingon rifle on the containment canisters-made-planning table and nerve cluster of this cell, “A ship has landed on the surface near the farmers. Sensors couldn’t pick up much past their transponder signal.”

Dan couldn’t help but shrug, “We’ve had dozens of the same thing. What’s your point?”

He hesitated, the worried look betrayed his facade, laying his insecurities only Dan could see. A pregnant pause spanned across an indeterminable handful of seconds before he spoke up, “Transponder signal confirmed and checked twice… it’s… it’s the Shadowdancer.”

Dan paused from looking at the schematic and topographic readouts to look at Zeke. “Are you sure?” He asked, more so demanded, “Could sensors have been wrong?”

A flash of… what? Annoyance? Anger? Jealousy? Passed through Zeke’s face. He gritted his teeth, “I checked it myself. It’s him.”

“Damn it.”

---

Shadowdancer, Earlier

“Oh no, hunty. One thing you gotta learn from the Ferengi is Rule of Acquisition number 13: ‘Anything worth doing is worth doing for money’. This ain’t free, just so you know Alishka,” ‘Dancer emphasized the Ferengi guest’s name.

“Also, go get a lesson in supply and demand, Galena. I ain’t your teacher and this ain’t a free for all. Fucking free, can you believe that…” ‘Dancer mumbled off to leave their guests and resident to deal with her outburst.

“It has a fair point. We did say we’d pay for the transport and I believe Mr. Farris was quite clear about this being our last stop. Your efforts are appreciated, but we’ll be leaving momentarily so not to overextend our stay.”

“That’s extra if you do,” ‘Dancer chimed in, her voice directed back to Galena, “Take notes. Rule of Acquisition number 21: Never Place Friendship Above Profit.” And dutifully clicked off again.

The Ferengi woman smiled then, her jagged teeth were small compared to other Ferengi females, and rose from her seat with her Klingon bodyguard following suit. She looked at Galena and made a customary Ferengi bow with her wrists touching with palms outstretched below her chin followed by a short curtsy, “We’ll take our leave. The funds have been transferred.”

“Yes yes, follow the lights already. I got more important things to do then oversee the newbie. Seeyalatuhbye!”

---

...Later on...

"Say, Dancer," William spoke calmly as he gingerly stripped a potato of its skin with a knife, "I suppose you've noticed something peculiar about me by now, haven't you?"

Gently he let the potato slip into a pot filled with water and started on another from the pile.

"You've undoubtedly informed the captain of this...though I haven't yet been addressed on the matter. I wonder why...".

“Hmph, you say ‘peculiar’, I say ‘unique’,” ‘Dancer replied with a nonchalant attitude, one could almost hear a shrug in the AI’s voice as she continued, “You want peculiar, ask Nathan about his habit of bringing strangers aboard like that Ferengi and her pet Klingon. Nothing screams trouble like that. You, however, are a welcomed abnormality, so of course I told the captain - he told me to keep it under wraps. You gotta know I see all, know all.”

The somewhat false hyperbole was sure to earn her an eyeroll or two as she continued unfazed, “But we don’t really take things into account until it truly matters. You may wanna come clean about your origins sometime but reassured the Capt’s good about keeping secrets. He was married after all. Oh shit, forget I said that…”

Fortunately, Suval had come in at the right time, “Oh good! Hey elf boy, get to know the resident… um… cook. I’m sure you know that by now, but don’t let me stop ya!” ‘Dancer clicked off and went about her business, cursing the fact she let out a fact not meant for public consumption.

---

...And still later on, now at the meeting...
"What about the shuttle?" Saw one in the bay. We could use that to distract the Maquis while 'Dancer loads the cargo."

Nathan scratched his chin. It wasn’t a bad idea, but the shuttle had limited defenses and, while nimble, her frame wasn’t suited to atmospheric maneuvers for an extended period. Of course, ‘Dancer wasn’t suited for another landing but Allie clearly proved him wrong on that account with a surprise landing and soundly affirmed her abilities as a pilot.

“There’s no cloaking on that ship, so I’m not sure what you’ve got in mind to distract the Maquis. With limited weapons, she’s not much of a threat given what I’ve heard, they’ve hit targets better equipped, however marginally. Still,” Nathan considered for a moment with a nod, squinting at the topographic display made in 3D to allow an unfiltered view of 20 mile radius from where they situated, “It’s not a bad idea either.”

“Galena, perhaps you can re-purpose those anti-personnel mines you’ve got strewn across my ship. Much as I appreciate the effort, ‘Dancer has been observing and I have to agree that I’m not keen on having our ship implode. It’s not an affront to your efforts, I just see other uses. Suval, gather anything you can from sensors, and I mean anything. From jamming equipment to heat signatures, whatever you think could fool a Starfleet vessels’ sensor package, I want to know about and account for. We’ll use ‘Dancer’s transporters if it’s within range to relocate those explosives,” Nathan gestured at the topographic map, “I’m open to suggestions where you might think would be best. Assertive measures might deter them from attempting another raid.”

"We also need a pilot. You're one of the best, however, our priority is the cargo and 'Dancer. An AI can do marvelous things. A human's instinct wins out every time, my dear. I trust yours."

“I agree, I want to keep ‘Dancer out of this as much as possible and the shuttle is a good idea. Let’s work from that angle,” Nathan replied with an approving smile. He turned toward Arelle, “Any leads on the posted ad? We could use some backup.”

Nathan heard the doc mumble, but didn’t strain to hear what the Betazoid was grumbling about.

---

.... Maquis compound (again), Ajilon Prime

“You’re going to meet him, aren’t you?”

The conversation had turned into a runabout of the same questions the last half hour. Dan was tired of it, but his reactions didn’t betray him nor stop his resolute course of action. If he could distract Nathan, the Maquis could swoop in, transport half the cargo and limit any injuries to zero, maybe minimal if resistance was met. Up until ‘Dancer’s landing, Dan had managed to pilfer the colonists’ cargo with no casualties on either side, but it certainly was a bitter pill to swallow knowing they were taking from other Federation citizens to feed their own.

But what choice did he have? Given one of the most desperate worlds to work under the radar, Dan had little provisions to supply those under his command. Cardassian rations, even with acceptable dietary supplements, were 50% effective at best simply because of differentiating physiologies.. His men would starve to death before Maquis Leadership saw fit to send supplies here when their focus was directly in Cardassian territory. Likewise, relief efforts from Starfleet to Ajilon Prime meant supplying his cell with food, power, and weapons they could stock up and (hopefully) join the rest in the frontline while some other greenback took on this assignment.

As for the relief supplies, Starfleet rations were Vulcan in design and a matter of pride by the member race for its nutritional value and efficient time to consume it. Rations included 3 slabs of vegetables pulp compressed into a waxy substance that could be eaten in less than five minutes. A red goo, presumably a sauce, accompanied it, packed in protein and amino acids while two large pills assisted between nutrient requirements between Andorian, Human, and Vulcan. Given the rebellion was -demographically - mostly a human affair, the rations were in high demand to augment any food shortages.

But all that meant little to him right now as he felt a little nervous. He was going out there to con his own ex-husband, after all.

“I am,” Dan said at last. It had been years since he saw Nathan. Since he left with Bella in tow, holding out longer than most of the other crew that became disillusioned or simply wary of the life they were leading. He swore he’d never be one of them, but reality was a slap in the face for them all, especially after the Cardassian-Federation peace treaty.

“That’s not a good idea,” Zeke growled out in frustration. So far, he had been talking to the back of Dan’s head rather than eye-to-eye. It was becoming infuriating and if he were able to openly admit it, stinging. Instead of resorting to a shouting match, Zeke tried another route, grounded in reason that was as true as it was selfish, “We can’t afford to lose you. This cell would wither and you know Maquis Leadership would have us scatter and leave us to our own devices before getting another ship out here.”

“Nathan’s not going to do anything,” Dan reassured, barely glancing at Zeke. He, likewise, didn’t want an argument and intentionally avoided Zeke’s hostile glare.

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I can count on it.”

“That makes no fucking sense!”

Dan smiled, reaching over to peck at Zeke’s lips and leaving a chill there. “Sure it does, you’re doing it yourself. I need Nathan unhinged, my being around will distract him. Hopefully enough for you to get the supplies - and me, don’t forget me - and get the hell out of dodge. Get our ships ready and get a message to Laren, tell her-”

“Dan!” A cherry blossomed haired woman came running into the room. Dan sighed, nothing was ever private for long here - another missed commodity. She continued after several deep breaths, “We lost Tovteq! We got a garbled message from the New Fire and from what we gathered, that idiot lost us 7 fighters and more than a dozen dead to a Cardassian squadron patrolling Soltok VI. They’re limping back and taking refuge behind the moon of Soltok IV to begin repairs. A second message was intercepted from the cruiser Desark to the destroyer, the Mostar that reinforcement be sent.”

“Soltok VI? But that’s a backward colony. Why the hell…” Dan stopped in mid question. Maybe something was valuable in the area. “Any survivors?”

She shook her head, “The New Fire didn’t say, only that Tovteq ship was seen burning in the atmosphere. How the hell could he be so stupid?!”

“Rant later, Penny,” Zeke said with emphasis, shooting a mild glare her way.

The red head quieted, only giving a curt nod and glanced toward Dan in anticipation for new orders.

“Shit,” Dan cursed under his breath, frustration clouding his usual calm demeanor. First ‘Dancer, now Cardassians, the idiot Tovteq. He needed to prioritize and Dan closed his eyes for a moment. He sighed, turning back to Penny and Zeke, “Hold off on the next raid. I’ll talk to Nathan and then get a ship prepared. Penny, tell the New Star to hold their position and be ready for us. Let’s hope we beat the Cardassians to Soltok VI.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Penny said with a firm nod and left the two immediately.

“What are you planning?” Zeke asked.

“Nothing a bunch of misfits can’t handle. Hand me that commlink.”

---

Meanwhile on Soltok VI, 6 kilometers from Osterdaag

Morning came with an agonizing chill that ran down the spine of every Cardassian that had transported down to the surface. A makeshift camp was made roughly six kilometers away from Osterdaag, while the Desark’s ran auto destruct sequence ran its course, its hull searing the early morning sky in a plume of green and purple flames. The sight of the wrecked hull did little to warm Remec and stood closer to his own thermal unit. Other units peppered with the makeshift campground, and several of his men huddled around them, reminding everyone just how much they hated the cold.

Still, there were more pressing matters to attend to if he wished better tidings, and that meant subjugating the colonists here and installing a temporary government under Cardarassian oversight. To that end, Remec had compiled a number of padds that detailed the Federation-Cardassian treaty and prepared a series of response in order to anticipate and address concerns of the Union’s claim to Soltok VI. Remec secretly hoped the colonists would resist, stamping out resistance, no matter how minimal, was a justifiable act according to Cardassian Law.

“Glinn Pjarr,” Remec called out to his First Officer. Pjarr quickly came to his side, “Get ready, we’ll ‘introduce ourselves’ to the colonists and see how events unfold. Make sure the teams are ready as well.”

“Right away, Gul! Everyone…!”

[Cerillium]

IKS qeylIS batlh Shuttle jo aka The Wager
Osterdaag

The craft was as ugly as its present owner. Cloaking devices were only useful provided nothing came in contact with the hull. The pattering rain betrayed its outline though it would still remain safe from detection by passing ships. If there was any positive feature to the shuttle's interior, it was the acoustics. Antig, bored with the wait, reclined in his seat, fingertips tapping out a somber rhythm on the console. The thrum of droplets outside mixed with the allasomorph's beat and rumbling bass - selected passages from Shevok'tah gish badly rendered by an alien. The meaning of the words eluded him. A sharp chime interrupted him as he drew breath to slaughter another chorus. Frowning, Antig sat up to read the display.

Few people knew how to reach him. Fewer still had familiarity with his personal encryption technique. The frown increased as he skimmed the message. A promise of work and adventure was always welcomed but he drew caution when such polite overtures came from Star Fleet's butcher.

"So this is where you're hiding, Doctor?" Antig's lips pursed. He counted Banrel Keibal as a friend, in a fashion, but the Betazoid's motives remained forever cloudy. However, he had never led Antig astray. "Alright, I'm in." Time was of the essence now. He'd have to punch his way through any obstacles above in order to meet up with Banrel.

No sooner had the message dispatched when a second chime alerted him to potential trouble outside. The screen warmed to reveal a flickering lantern held aloft by a humanoid hand. Its owner stood gaping under the torrential downpour. Antig's practiced eye studied the human female's wholesome face and simplistic attire. She was sodden and probably cold, but certainly not part of any ship's crew.

"Poor thing." No Marine worth his honor would leave a child to suffer in the elements. He swiped a spare blanket as he swept towards the door.


The door, flush with the hull and nearly indiscernible in the murk, hissed open. Reddish light capered through the rain to gobble up the darkness between Antig and Hadassah. With it came the comforting smell of brewed coffee.

"Didn't your mother ever warn you about standing in the rain? You'll catch pneumonia." The speaker was more surreal than his vessel. Lower eyelids lifted to wick rainwater from Antig's piercing blue eyes. The rain and conflicting light sources painted him in grim hues, enhancing his odd musculature and sharp facial lines. Yet his tone was gentle, almost fatherly, as he called to her through the storm. "Please don't run off. Come inside and warm up."

-TO BE CONTINUED-

[Tiltjuice]

Tananda Bay

The bar was largely empty, and the Ferengi prodded them into the corner opposite the closest patron, a Klingon female.

"They seem to be everywhere, don't they?" the assassin said rhetorically, and blinked casually as he arranged things so his back was to the wall and the teens' backs faced the Klingon. "Now, why don't you tell me how I might help...."

He rubbed his hands together briskly, and then laid one of them flat on the tabletop in the booth. April and Pancras looked at each other blankly, neither of them knowing really what to say.

"Don't be shy," the Eliminator coaxed somewhat greasily. "It's quite the least you could do for my helping you out of that mess."

"We're not really after anything," April stammered. The Ferengi cocked his head at this, and then turned up both his hands.

"If you say so, then," the little alien said, clearly disbelieving, but deciding not to push it for whatever reason. Without a further word, he stood and left, slipping past the gaggle of Acamarians, who had decided to catch their lunch there.

---

Arelle's pocket gave off a short, sharp ringing noise and she twisted in surprise, retrieving one of her many minicomps.

"Skipper, have you ever wished for a million credits?" Content with Nathan's suggestions, she let things stand as they were, squinting at the display instead. "Just one reply...center of Tananda's red light district, if I'm reading the map and the signal strength right. Could be the bars area, though." She frowned down at it. "Here. Just a standard boilerplate reply, public message board."

She held out the PADD for everyone to see.

[Swith Witherward]

Surface of Ajilon Prime
Shadowdancer's messhall

Banrel nodded at the data offered by Arelle. Things were going in their favor; Suval might give them better odds. A glance at his own PADD revealed another boon. The reply was brief even for Antig: In. The doctor smiled.

"We may have a solution for the shuttle as well, Captain." He traded his PADD for the coffee cup. "Antig, no surname. Former Starfleet Marine. He's dependable and, more importantly at the moment, he's in possession of a Klingon Toron class shuttle. I've worked with him before-" that was putting it mildly "-and can vouch for his skills and demeanor." Of course, the initial sight of him was off-putting. Antig's species seemed blessed by the business end of the Ugly Stick. "He has natural talents that might come in handy as well."

[Bentus]

Taji Klobak
Ajilon Prime

---

Taji bristled as she overheard the Ferengi’s off-handed comment, shooting the dishevelled creature a glare. Honour would’ve demanded that she confront him for the insult, to defeat him in combat for the slight against her kind. Clenching a fist, Taji turned her attention back to the barely-touched drink in front of her. She scowled at her own weakness, reduced to being unable even to defend her pride. The Ferengi were a foul race, greedy and dishonest with little thought for anything but profiting off backhanded deals. Even their warriors chose to engage in subterfuge and manipulation rather than the glory of combat – an apt representation of their whole species, Taji thought. Not that she’d ever interacted with a Ferengi beyond passing encounters at a Spaceport, not many chose to venture deep into Klingon space. Of course, why would she ever have wanted to meet with one to begin with?

Going to have to get used to it, you’re not in the Empire anymore.

The thought only darkened Taji’s mood, at least to a point where she was willing to stomach another gulp of the faux-liquor that had been delivered to her table. Not that it did her any good.

The Klingon shot another glance at the Ferengi, this time ignoring the Eliminator and focusing on his two companions: a pair of humans. Taji couldn’t help but feel a sense of curiosity towards their kind. She’d never managed to understand them, how they could be capable both of feats of honour and deceit seemingly at the toss of a hat. While the Ferengi may have been vulgar, they were simple beings driven by a desire for wealth and currency. Humans were another thing entirely.

When the Eliminator got up and left the table, Taji waited a few seconds before making her way over towards the pair. She tried to recall the information the bartender had given her after accepting the offer, the man having arranged a meeting seemingly in no time at all. One of the pair was a young woman, while the male seemed to share some of her facial features; clearly they both heralded from the same House.

“Hodge?” Taji stated bluntly, the humans still having their backs turned to her. She was a fairly imposing sight, standing over them looking noticeably out of place in her weathered, human-styled clothing. Assuming that the pair were her contacts for the job, the Klingon moved to take a seat in front of them, taking the Ferengi’s place. “I was told that you would were looking for assistance in acquiring supplies?”

[Cerillium]

Shuttle jo aka The Wager
Osterdaag, Soltok VI
collab w/Holy Lykos

"Didn't your mother ever warn you about standing in the rain? You'll catch pneumonia." The speaker was more surreal than his vessel. Lower eyelids lifted to wick rainwater from Antig's piercing blue eyes. The rain and conflicting light sources painted him in grim hues, enhancing his odd musculature and sharp facial lines. Yet his tone was gentle, almost fatherly, as he called to her through the storm. "Please don't run off. Come inside and warm up."

The alien stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

The interior was a far departure from a standard Klingon craft. It obviously catered to its owner’s whims. A fold-down bed served as a temporary table for Antig’s leftover dinner tray. The paper lantern dangling in the corner nearest the bed cast violet-toned light into the cramped space. Cargo boxes, painted in soothing hues, lined on wall, securely anchored to prevent sliding during rough maneuvers . The homey feel was meant to relax the alien and his potential passengers.

“Hungry? I have soup,” he spoke kindly once more and offered the warm blanket to her.

Hadassah couldn’t help but stare at the alien, as surreal as both it and this whole situation was. An actual alien was on her planet, not even a few miles from her home. She never could have imagined such an occurrence even a few minutes ago! She logically knew aliens existed. None had ever visited her planet before though. It was only humans who ever landed on Osterdaag, ever since it was settled. That seems to have changed now though.

No point staying in the rain. The girl followed Antig into the shuttle, snuffing out her lantern and setting it next to a wall as she entered. She was used to wood and stone houses, old habits died hard. “S-soup isn’t necessary. It is much too late to eat anyway.” But she accepted the blanket. Drying off her hair, she couldn’t help but glanced around the room in rather obvious fascination. Violet light cast everything into a much more magical and surreal hue to Hadassah. It made the already alien ship look even stranger and more amazing.

“Are you a trader? Normally the traders who visit Osterdaag are human, but none have come for a few months.”

“Temporary refugee,” Antig shrugged. “The Maquis and the spoonheads were having a spat as I passed by. Was better to land than get involved.” Steam escaped a cup as he pulled the foil lid free and handed it to the girl. “Chicken noodle.”

“Maquis? Spoonheads?” Hadassah accepted the cup, holding it and looking down at the soup inside. “Was that what the lightshow was as night was falling?”

“Two groups fighting over this rock. Neither have claim to it.” Antig passed a spoon to her.

She accepted the spoon, gently stirring the soup. “Of course. It’s our planet. The Federation ceded it to the first settlers, if I remember my history lessons. We’ve never really been part of them, just in their territory. Why would two other groups be fighting above us? What happened with the Federation?”

He settled into a chair, then leaned forward to rub what passed as the bridge of his nose. “The Federation forgets about things. Soltok VI is in the middle of nowhere. They don’t patrol, as far as I know. But it’s a rock, and rocks have resources. Were I to guess? I’d say your colony would be the perfect place to set up operations. Your people the ideal workers. For the Cardassians, at any rate. The Maquis - thugs, criminals.”

Antig glanced at the image of rain still visible on the view screen. “How many in your colony, girl? Their numbers are not enough should either foe have dusted down.”

Hadassah was getting rather antsy. Her stirring stopped and she swallowed nervously. “We… There’s a few hundred in town. We aren’t the only settlement, nor the largest. But we practice pacifism here. My people are rather stuck on keeping the old ways, but younger ones not so much. Few would be willing to fight back should anyone try to take over, especially if they leave us alone.”

The news did nothing to alleviate his frustrations. How many times had he witnessed this exact scenario play out? How many innocent lives lost? Eyes pinched tightly shut, he ruminated over his choices. There was only one, really, that would do any of them any good.

“My name is Antig,” he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I’m a former Starfleet soldier. But I’m only one person, and this ship won’t win the day. If we have any chance to help your people, it will be to get a message to Starfleet and hope they arrive swiftly. It is not like either group to leave native populations alone. Not when they have anything to gain from it.”

“I am Hadassah. I work as an apprentice for the town’s doctor. That does seem the best option, yes.” She replied, rather terrified but trying to meet his gaze the best she could. She wasn’t a stupid girl, she could guess how bad things might get before any help came. “How could we go about doing that? The communications we have on planet are old, it might not even reach any other solar system fast enough to be of help.”

Solar system? It was the mark of a primitive people to think so small a scale to be something vast. Antig swallowed. Hadassah’s people were up against things far beyond their working knowledge.

“If we can find a way to warn them? To take shelter. Caves, or someplace difficult to reach-”

A chime interrupted him. Swearing softly under his breath, he tapped out commands to direct the sensors skyward. What he saw didn’t please him.

A plume of green and purple flames seared across the dawn sky. Readings indicated the remains of a ship tumbling from orbit. “Someone lost. Let’s hope they didn’t beam out beforehand. They’d have nowhere to go but here.”

He muttered more curses and worked the console. The results were more distressing than the last.

“Away team, or the survivors,” he advised Hadassah. “Readings indicate Cardassians. Six kilometers from our position.”

Hadassah wasn’t exactly sure how far a kilometer was, but assumed that it wasn’t very far. “The equipment we have can record messages. If you try to… talk to it?” She wasn’t sure of the terms at all, but was trying her best. “The Mayor should be able to get it. He wakes up early, too.” She’d placed the cup of soup on the small table, as she nervously paced in the cabin.

“There must be someone near who can help. Off planet of course, but warning the rest of the settlements would help too.”

The alien snorted. Politicians always wanted answers, and tended to stall evacuations. Wouldn’t want to be unpopular with the people, of course. Fingers went to work once more, this time to open up the same encrypted channel he’d used before.

“Doctor,” he spoke as he brought the ship’s capabilities back online. “I’m still on Soltok VI. Federation territory. There’s a situation. Cardassians have landed. The populace is human and primitive. It would be in everyone’s best interest if you contacted your Friend and lit a fire under Starfleet’s ass, yes? You owe me.” He sent the message off and focused on the task at hand.

The ship lurched as it left the earth. Still cloaked, the Jo turned and sped towards the settlement.

“Sit down and hold on, girl. We’re about to go knock on your mayor’s door. You just tell me where to land.”

The sudden lurch almost knocked her over, she just wasn’t used to the movements of a ship. But Hadassah managed to stabilize herself by putting a hand against the wall. “The fairgrounds should be empty. It's right in the middle of town, a big open area next to the church and mayor’s office.” She tried gesturing to the green area just off center in town, but being behind Antig that probably didn’t really help at all.

Though he didn’t know what a church was, the field was easy to spot. They set. A wash of wholesome air welcomed them the moment he opened the door. This was a paradise for these people. Convincing them to abandon it would be difficult.

“Let’s go. We only have a few minutes.”

Hadassah nodded urgently, heading out the door of the shuttle and towards the Mayor’s office. “This way, Antig. He should be in, before church services especially.” The town was still largely empty, the few wandering around in the early morning light hadn’t really noticed much, except for those able to see the door opened from nothing. A rather odd sight in such a backwards town.


Moments later, they were at the mayor’s door. Antig knocked on their behalf, then stepped aside so Hadassah could announce their reason for coming.

It didn’t take long for the mayor to reach the door. A rather elderly man, in similar clothes to much of those walking around town at this hour. It took him a moment to notice Antig, the shock from seeing an alien making him take a step back into the building, almost closing the door if Hadassah hadn’t made sure to block it.

“Sir! The town is in danger, aliens are coming to take over Osterdaag! Not this one, he’s rather nice, but the rest are terrible from what little I’ve heard. You need to evacuate the town to some of the caves in the mountain, at least until the Federation can send help!”

The shock from seeing such an alien being wasn’t exactly lessened from Hadassah’s warnings. He had to collect himself and process the sudden shocks, before he responded. “...Is there any proof for this? I cannot abandon the town at a child’s” He glanced up to Antig, “.. and an outsider’s provocation, at least not without something backing their words.”

His response was expected and logical. Antig nodded. “Last night, some of you may have noticed odd streaks in the sky. This was the battle between Cardassians and Maquis. The Maquis appear human. Many are, in fact, and blend in with human populations. But they are renegades. Their presence here will draw their enemies. The Cardassians are an empire. Very strong. They’ll try to establish themselves here, and your people will bear the brunt of their temperament. The only proof I can offer are the readings from my ship’s scanners. I was passing through and landed to avoid their battle.”

He paused and let his words sink in before offering some condolence. “I’ve dispatched a message to a former Starfleet officer. He has connections. It is my hope that he sets the ball in motion.”

Antig’s voice softened. “I’m a former Starfleet Marine. I’ve seen my share of hell delivered by the Cardassians. You are a peaceful people, according to this bright girl. Even were you not peaceful, they are armed and have the technology necessary to bring you all into submission. If I am wrong, your people will spend a day or so in caves. If I am right, you will have saved them all from certain pain. Please, warn the other settlements. Take action, Mayor. Your enemy is only a few kilometers from your door.”

The mayor seemed relieved to hear such a friendly, even if urgent at the moment, voice from the alien. So little experience with other intelligent forms of life left him, like many others, with many misconceptions about them. “That...That is very worrying. If it's true our very way of life is threatened, not just the town…. I suppose it couldn’t hurt very much to go along for a night or so. You do seem trustworthy, and Hadassah has never been a troublemaker. I’ll get necessary things prepared, and get my aides to go around town getting everyone together.”

He swallowed, wringing hands together. “It might take awhile to get the people moving, of course. We only have evacuation procedure for floods, which happen rarely. But they’ll go along with it to protect their families. I can send a message to other settlements too.”

Hadassah seemed at least slightly relieved by this turn of events. The mayor had always been a kind person so she didn’t really expect any different anyway. But she wasn’t sure if she really wished to go with her family to hide out in a cave. Antig was probably her best chance to actually get off the planet for good.

“I could try to go help get Starfleet’s attention, somehow! Antig and his friend might need help!”

The prospect of bringing a colonist along hadn’t really dawned on Antig. Taken aback by the suggestion, he blinked at her and tried to formulate a dozen reasons why it would be a bad idea. However, the Federation’s bleeding hearts tended to take notice of innocent girls far quicker than they did retired doctors or soldiers. She might well be her people’s only hope.

“I- uh. You have ten minutes to collect any belongings and offer goodbyes to your family. The Cardassians have likely seen this village. They’re capable of moving quickly. I won’t risk engaging them in a fight in a populated area.” Resigned, he gestured towards the town. “Go, and be quick, please.”

Of course the Mayor was worried too, but any objections he might have had of one of their own going off during a crisis was silenced by Hadassah. If it wasn’t so serious a situation she might have jumped for joy. Instead she shouted a quick, “I’ll be as fast as I can!” Before running off as fast as she could. Which, well, wasn’t as fast as one would hope given the fact she was wearing a dress. But she was off to go get her things, and say goodbye to her family.

“I suppose that will be fine. It will be nice knowing people off world are trying to help us at least. Keep her safe… Antig, was it?” The mayor mumbled before he himself left to go send messages and get the evacuation moving.

They were a simple and trusting people. He could only nod at the politician, a silent agreement to keep the girl safe, and then he returned to his ship. They’d need to punch a hole through anything lurking above.


Hadassah’s mother wasn’t quite so pleased by her daughter going off into space as Hadassah was. She didn’t want Hadassah going anywhere during the crisis the girl told her about, but at the same time if they got offworld Antig and Hadassah would be so much safer than they from that threat. Her mother had no real concept of the dangers of outer space of course, so in the end Hadassah managed to get her to agree. So she went to pack while her mother did the same. No point leaving the Cardassians anything to steal.

The girl didn’t have so much to pack. A few changes of clothes and assorted belongings, including a doll from her youth. She was in a scramble, trying to find anything else she would want to take. But there really wasn’t much. Chess? The girl knew how to play but it wouldn’t be useful. Pillows and other personal things were about the same reasoning to her. So the little she had was thrown into a sack rather haphazardly, and slung over her shoulder.

A tearful goodbye from her mother outside their house was accompanied by other families just learning about the crisis from civil servants running all over town, a quiet way to sneak a whole town to safety. The mayor was keeping his word, something that helped Hadassah feel better about her running away like this.

Soon she was back at the alien’s ship…. Well at least the doorway she could see of it. “Antig, I’m back!” She shouted, heading inside with much more purpose than the last time she entered the shuttle. But it wasn’t without looking back, getting a last good look of her hometown before fully stepping inside.



Space...a boring frontier. The dull voyages of the Shuttle Jo were chronicled in Antig's logs, which he offered to the girl to take a bit of the romance out of her new experience. They had met with no resistance upon leaving, and their route would take them directly to the coordinates provided by Banrel.

Of course, he had yet to mention that he had someone in tow. It might not go over well.

"We'll meet with the Doctor," Antig explained. "He's asked me to lend some assistance. He, too, is facing the Maquis. But he's the one you most need to speak to." The alien scratched his cheek in thought before adding, "I don't know a thing about his companions."

[Mincaldenteans]

The march was set to a brisk and steady pace. With Gul Remec and his first officer in the hovercraft, it was left to a Glinn to lead the way of Remec's troops trailing a few feet behind him. Remec was assured the path they were taking to Osterdaag was the fastest and wouldn't tire his men from the short jaunt. He had readily accepted, leaving little to worry except for the Maquis, which had yet been verified if any survived. The off chance they took refuge with the backward primitives in the colony would be easily dealt with, Remec surmised and the over confidence of his annexation easily bolstered him.

"Gul," came a female voice, breaking from his musings. Another Glinn whose name he had forgotten, and if Remec had bothered with the Science Ministry's meddling in the duty roster, a partner to the same bridge officer a few hours ago.

He refrained from glowering at her, "What is it?"

"The campsite reported a strange sensor reading, but couldn't confirm origin or what it might be - and we have no visual sensor equipment to speak of. I've instructed them to run a second -more thorough- scan of the area, to be sure it's not a naturally occurring phenomena or a Maquis ruse to fool our perimeter sweeps."

Remec grunted in acknowledgement, "The Broval's crew are not the best of trained men, Glinn, and aren't nearly as imaginative as you Sience people; anticipate and inform them of what could be Maquis trickery and what isn't."

"Understood," the Glinn female said with a compliant bow of her head and rejoined the marching troops.

"This may complicate your plans, Gul," his first officer spoke up after a moment.

"At ease, Gisan, the advantage is ours."

"As you say," Gisan barely nodded, "We are closing to the colony."

"All stop, let us go by foot here," Remec ordered. The hovercraft came to a stop and from afar, the first buildings of the village could be seen. It would be a very short trip and Remec envision a simple formality to which he could begin setting a compound. He got out of his craft and addressed his men.

"Our fortunes will be changed, men. The Klingons weakened us and the Maquis circle us like a flock of Mekarian honge," a type of vulture, "but this planet... this may change our fortunes. It's practically uninhabited and its resources will help the Union, maybe even revitalize it! We will take this planet and we will hold it until reinforcements arrive. We do this for Union! For Cardassia!"

"For Cardassia!"

Invigorated by his own speech, Remec signaled for four of his men - two from each respective ships - to accompany him and Gisan. The science officer, grudgingly, was left in charge and assured her communicator channel was open to monitor the development.

Remec nodded, taking the lead in the short walk into the main street of the village. Already the settlement was buzzing with activity and more than a few dozen eyes looked upon them with trepidation. His men were visibly armed with disruptor rifles, but Remec and Gisan had their standard sidearms holstered. The group stopped, presumably at the middle of the main drag, and Gisan handed a Cardassian datapad over to Remec.

"I am Gul Remec of the Ninth Order of the Cardassian Union," he announced in a booming voice, "Who here speaks for the community?"