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Star Trek: Bounty - 12 - "The Woman Who Cried, Among Other Things, Wolf"

Yeah... There's going to be consequences this time...

Really enjoying the complexity of the Jirel/Maya relationship. Makes Jirel something more than just the doofus who somehow has a ship. Definitely has some fire in him.

Thanks!! rbs
 
I'm pretty sure Maya is only faking her passion towards Jirel, but I will keep an opened mind that maybe she does have feelings, either towards Jirel or her husband. She doesn't seem to mind pushing extra-marital relationships. But, it is the 24th century. Who knows, open marriage, polygamy on either or both sides, more points along the gender continuum; can't judge by 21st century values. Still, deceit and manipulation are probably not any more acceptable three hundred years from now then they were three hundred years ago.

Liking Klath more and more. Love the way you imply the fight rather than show it. That elevates his battle skills to a mythical level. We know he's good, but we have to imagine his limits, or lack there of.

-Will
 
Part Three

Kressari Starbase 34, Sector 34092
Stardate 48432.9


“Huh.”

Jirel watched with no small amount of curiosity as the pompous figure in front of him stepped around the confines of the Bounty’s cockpit, running an oddly superior eye over the consoles and systems of the ship.

The figure paused in front of the pilot’s console at the front of the room, and theatrically ran a wiry finger across the smooth surface of the panel, before lifting the finger up and inspecting it for dust in the light.

“Huh,” he said again, with a non-committal voice.

As the unconvincing piece of theatre in front of him continued, Jirel leaned over to his side where Maya and Klath were standing at the rear of the cockpit.

“This guy is the worst one yet,” he muttered to them under his breath.

Klath grunted an unhappy acknowledgement of that fact, but Maya offered him more of a knowing look.

“Trust me,” she whispered back.

Jirel shook his head patiently and turned back to the curious figure on the other side of the room as they continued to assess the quality of his ship.

“Huh,” the tousle-haired figure offered once more as he cast his eye over the tattered fabric of the command chair in the middle of the room.

The worn-down chair had usually been unoccupied since Jirel had found the Bounty. He usually kept himself busy at the helm. But now, with this latest recruitment push for a dedicated pilot in full flow, he was starting to eye it up as his new position.

His own captain’s chair.

Although, he had to remind himself, that was all very much dependent on them finding someone to fill the pilot’s role. A quest that had so far taken them the best part of six months, in between delivery jobs and the occasional dubious scheme of Maya’s.

The search wasn’t helped by the narrow window of requirements that they had. They were in the market for someone who was both qualified enough to fly the Bounty through the endless amount of peril it tended to find itself in, but also desperate enough to accept the meagre and inconsistent level of remuneration that they could guarantee.

Nevertheless, Maya had been certain that she’d found the right candidate during the Bounty’s extended stopover in Kressari space. So much so that she’d invited him onboard to discuss the position further before Jirel and Klath had realised what was going on. And now they had both had a chance to meet this particular candidate, neither of them could exactly bring themselves to share her level of optimism.

“Well,” the stranger said as he turned back to the trio of observers, “Firstly, you need to understand that I’m used to working with significantly more…advanced ships than this. I mean, this is gonna be a major step down for me.”

Jirel shot a glance at Maya, rolling his eyes for good measure, before he turned back to the newcomer.

“Really? How much of a step down, exactly?”

The somewhat pompous individual didn’t seem to pick up on the trace of sarcasm in his question. Or at least, if he did, he didn’t allow it to impact his performance.

“If you must know, I’ve just finished some freelance work for Starfleet Intelligence. Testing out this new fighter shuttle of theirs.”

He was entirely unflustered by the blank stares this particular claim garnered from his audience. If anything, it spurred him on to double down on the lie.

“Yeah, see, they recruited me unofficially, from the Maquis. After one of their agents saw me outrun a whole fleet of Cardassian raptors in an old Bajoran transport ship in the Free Haven system. I’m sure they wanted to offer me something permanent. But there were too many rules for a guy like me, you know? Not a fan of that. I like to live by my own rules.”

“So,” Jirel cut in, sarcasm still very much heightened, “Do you…like rules, or not? That’s not actually clear.”

If the candidate was thrown by this, he still didn’t let it show. Instead, he set off on another lap of the cockpit.

“Either way…I guess I could lower myself to this sort of job. For now. But I’d be doing you a favour, you understand.”

“Clearly,” the Trill sighed, folding his arms across his chest and giving Maya another glare.

“So, given the sacrifice I’d be making, I guess I could settle for…first officer—?”

“Ok,” Jirel sighed, ending his participation in the theatre and turning to Maya, “This is your guy? All the people we’ve interviewed, and this is your guy?”

“What?” she replied defensively, “He’s perfect. Plus, he’s desperate. Which makes him cheap.”

“Hey!” the newcomer snapped, “I’m not desperate! I just told you, I’m a—!”

“You’re a liar, dear. But that’s fine. It takes one to know one.”

This seemed to shut the newcomer up for the moment. His carefully hewn resume of untruths seemingly not holding up to scrutiny quite as much as he thought it would.

Jirel sighed and turned back to the scruffy man in front of them.

“Ok, I’m sorry. Mr…?”

“Sunek.”

“Mr Sunek—”

“No, just Sunek.”

“I appreciate you putting in so much…effort. But we’re looking for, y’know, an actual pilot.”

At this, Sunek’s face twisted back into a grin. A sight that Jirel found a tad disconcerting to see on the face of a Vulcan, to go along with all the other disconcerting things about the man he had noted since he had arrived for the interview.

“Hey,” the laughing Vulcan replied, “I might have embellished some aspects of what I’ve been saying to you. But I am totally, one hundred gajillion percent, one hell of a pilot.”

Jirel let out an audible scoff. Klath folded his arms and shook his head. Maya just smiled.

“Ok,” she shrugged, “Prove it.”

****************************

In the Bivari system, on the fringes of Sector 34092, something very special was happening.

A new planet was being born.

Currently, the entirely uninhabited star system contained five planets, two small rocky inner planets and three outer gas giants. But those five, and the g-type star they orbited, were preparing to welcome a new addition to their family. Granted, the new arrival was still roughly fifty thousand years away from fully forming. But in planetary terms, that was practically the blink of an eye.

The sixth planet of the Bivari system had already made one attempt to come into existence, during the formation of the system itself. But the tidal forces imparted by the star and the rapidly-forming outer gas planets meant that the planetary material had merely formed into a stable asteroid belt, set between the second and third planets.

And there it had remained, for several millions of years. Until half a million years ago, when a large comet had passed through the system on a tangential course to the main orbital plane, causing a subtle gravitational effect that was enough to disturb the previous delicate stability of the belt.

The transit of the comet and the subsequent stages of coalescing material in its wake had been another slow process. But the cosmic ballet involved in this rare galactic event had been so captivating that a passing member of the Q Continuum had spent a full 15,000 years perched on top of an asteroid watching the early stages play out. Though even he and his god-like command of the universe had been at a loss to fully describe the majesty of the sight when he had returned to the continuum and his wife had asked him where the hell he’d been all this time.

Slowly but surely, the pieces of rock, ice and dust had coalesced together. And several millions of years behind schedule, the Bivari system was finally getting a sixth planet.

From a distance, the concentrated field of coalescing rocks in orbit between the second and third planets, that had been tentatively christened Bivari II-a by Federation scientists in order not to upset the current naming convention, seemed tranquil. But up close, the formation process was significantly more violent. An unpredictable cavalcade of shifting gravity eddies and tumbling rocks.

Jirel gripped onto the tattered armrest of the Bounty’s command chair for dear life as the latest dirty grey rock loomed large through the cockpit window.

Just as it looked like they were about to collide with it, Sunek jerked the pilot’s controls with expert precision and banked the ship left, threading the needle between the rock in their path and a second slab of material that was hurtling towards the first.

As he continued his death-defying demonstration, the Vulcan continued to ramble on and on about, from what Jirel could discern despite his attention being focused on the terror of their flight, was a critique of a cocktail he’d been drinking the night before.

“…I think the bartender called it a Kressari Heatwave? Dumb name if you ask me, but man, those things pack a punch…”

The Bounty pirouetted around to avoid another chunk of rock, before the nose shot upwards and to the right, missing a frozen ball of methane by inches.

“…Cos it’s not just the booze. Oh no. These things are loaded with Kressari chilli pods. And, y’know, I can handle a bit of spice as well as the next Vulcan, but even I was starting to sweat after four of these things. If I could sweat, I mean…”

He threw the engines into reverse to avoid a particularly jagged rock that came tumbling across in front of them, then threw the throttle back up to one quarter impulse to pass through another vanishing gap he pointed the ship towards.

Jirel fought against the urge to close his eyes. Going through this blind seemed worse somehow.

“…Anyway, point being, I was super hungover this morning, and I’m still not totally recovered. So this might be a bit of a rough ride from time to time—Ooh, this is gonna be a close one!…”

The Bounty skimmed close enough to the surface of another asteroid fragment to kick up a cloud of dust with its thruster exhaust. Jirel’s fingers glowed white where they were squeezing the chair’s armrest.

“..,Ok, let’s go for a big finish here, folks!”

Sunek pushed the ship into a right hand turn around avast ball of solid ice, passing through the wispy trail of vapour being expelled from its surface, before slamming the ship up to full impulse and completing a quickfire slingshot that carried them up and away from the chaotic minefield of rock and debris entirely and back into the relative safety of empty space.

Satisfied that his demonstration was complete, Sunek turned back to his audience to bask in their expected adulation.

Jirel was still gripping onto his chair for dear life. Behind the engineering console, Maya looked a little queasy. Even Klath looked paler than usual at his weapons station.

“So,” the Vulcan grinned, “How about I shoot us back to the starbase, and we celebrate with a round of Kressari Heatwaves?”

Jirel slowly extracted his fingernails from the fabric of the armrests and licked his lips, realising how dry his mouth was all of a sudden. Behind him, Maya recovered a little faster.

“Do I know how to pick ‘em, or what?” she offered with a hint of satisfaction.

It was all that Jirel could do to slowly nod back, in response to both Maya and Sunek’s questions.

She could certainly pick them, And he could definitely do with a drink.
 
Ha ha ha, that crazy Vulcan.
1yd7qm.jpg


-Will
 
Really love the bit about a planet being formed. It actually sounded plausible. A lot of the astrophysics I read in ST fanfic (and a fair amount of the astrophysics presented in the franchise) lands somewhere between disreputable and downright hogwash, so it's nice to see some that scans well.

Thanks! rbs
 
Really love the bit about a planet being formed. It actually sounded plausible. A lot of the astrophysics I read in ST fanfic (and a fair amount of the astrophysics presented in the franchise) lands somewhere between disreputable and downright hogwash, so it's nice to see some that scans well.

I’m not actually sure how plausible it is to be fair. :) But I do know one of the more egregious bugbears proper science nerds have with sci-fi is in the misuse of ‘asteroid belts’, which in reality are mostly boring empty space as opposed to the perilous mass of rocks we usually see on TV (I think I might have even committed this sin in a previous Bounty tale!). So this was a hopefully at least pseudo-scientific way to get all the rocks nicely bunched up together.

But mostly, I liked the idea that this incredible astrophysical phenomenon, that the Federation would probably deploy a couple of science vessels to study, was just being used by the idiots on the Bounty as somewhere cool to have a joyride. :lol:
 
Part Three (Cont'd)

“Why the hell do we keep doing this?”

Jirel asked the question to himself as much as the other occupant of his cabin as he lay in bed and stared up at the dull metal of the ceiling.

In the small bathroom area to one side, the water stopped running in the sink and Maya strode back out, somehow back to her elegant best after a quick sonic shower, despite the fact that she was wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday.

“Same reason we do anything,” she shrugged at the Trill as she sat down on the corner of the bed and reached for her shoes, “Because it’s fun.”

Jirel sighed and sat up, shaking his head and gesturing to the two of them.

“But, I mean, this absolutely doesn’t work. Right?”

“As a relationship? God god, no. As a bit of fun? It works more than well enough. And that’s why we keep doing it.”

She finished pulling on her shoes and stood back up, as Jirel shook his head at her.

“Is that how this husband of yours'll see it? You know, the guy we’re supposed to be on a mission to rescue?”

She glided over to a small mirror on the wall and checked her hair, not seeming to care too much about his comment.

“Toren will have about as much of a problem with this as I have about him and that dabo girl on Tavis XII. It’s the 24th century, Jirel. Live a little.”

Jirel sighed again as he stared at her from the bed. He couldn’t help but ruefully think how he’d planned everything to be straightforward this time. Just to meet her on Golos III, pay off the rest of his debt and leave it at that. And somehow, here he was again. On a risky venture into the unknown at the behest of Maya Ortega, and now falling back into bed with her.

“So, what,” he replied, crossing his arms in front of him, “I’m your bit on the side?”

“Don’t go thinking too highly of yourself,” she offered back, as she adjusted her hair, “You’re one of my bits on the side.”

Jirel’s ego sustained another minor blow with that, as she finished attending to her hair and turned back to him, walking over to where he lay on the bed with a twinkle in her eye.

“Alright,” she continued, a little more agreeably, “You really want to know why we keep doing this?”

She sat down next to him on the bed and ran a slender finger down the spots on the right side of his chest. He suppressed a reaction to the tingle that simple gesture sent through his body and mustered a nod back at her.

“Because we both need the excitement,” she whispered.

“Hey,” Jirel managed to reply, “Things are still plenty exciting around here. Ask the others. Just last week we were in a nebula, fighting a bunch of Pakleds who were—”

“But it’s not quite the same, is it?” she cut in with a more insistent whisper, “There’s something missing. The excitement that we had together, living in the grey areas of the galaxy. The sort of excitement you wanted ever since you decided you were going to make a life for yourself out here.”

“Is that right?”

“Of course. It was always so obvious. When you first started out, you couldn’t get into Starfleet, you couldn’t impress your father, but you were damn sure you were going to have the sorts of adventures that he’d told you about.”

He felt a sudden rush of irritation inside. Partly from the presumptuous way she was judging his motivations, and partly because he worried she was judging them correctly.

“And when the two of us were together, life was just one big adventure, wasn’t it? And that’s why we keep doing this.”

Jirel went to counter what the woman who he had stupidly and completely fallen for all over again was saying, just as his cabin’s door buzzer rang out. Before he realised what was happening, Maya had stood up from his bed, idly smoothed down a crease in her clothes, and called out a response.

“Come in!”

“Hey,” Jirel began, “Wait a—!”

The door opened and Natasha stepped in, to be confronted by the entirely unexpected sight of a smiling Maya standing over a significantly more sheepish Jirel, who frantically pulled the bed sheet up to his neck in a curious and futile attempt to rescue some dignity.

“Oh,” she said, after an awkward pause.

“Um,” the Trill managed, “I can explain—”

“Don’t think you need to draw her a picture, Jirel,” Maya scoffed, “Based on the vibes I’ve been getting from you two, it’s pretty obvious that she’s seen it all before.”

Now it was Natasha’s turn to join Jirel in a moment of awkward squirming, as Maya once again seemed to revel in the uncomfortable situation she was cultivating.

“Well,” Natasha managed after a moment, “I’m starting to see why it’s so hard to find someone who speaks highly of you around here.”

Maya’s lips pursed slightly, but she maintained her smile, appreciating the opportunity for a bit of sparring that was presenting itself.

“Huh. Feisty, I see. Just a shame that Jirel seems to be getting more desperate for his live-in lovers these days—”

“Ok,” Natasha fired back, heckles now very much raised, “That’s not what’s happening here, for a start. And, besides—”

“Um, ladies?” Jirel managed to cut in from the bed, “Is there any chance we could save this entire conversation until I’m profoundly less naked?”

“Oh, get over yourself, darling,” Maya sighed dryly, keeping her eyes on Natasha.

Natasha, for her part, forced herself to keep her own focus on her actual reason for turning up at Jirel’s cabin in the middle of such an uncomfortable scene in the first place.

“Jirel,” she began, as the Trill continued to squirm, “We’ve left the Badlands. Denella’s arm has recovered. And everyone wants to know what the hell we’re doing next.”

Jirel was forced to concede to himself that he didn’t really have a definitive answer for that question right now. His head was still swimming with too many conflicting thoughts. But fortunately for him, Maya jumped in with a response.

“Yes, that’s a good point,” she nodded, “I should fix myself something to eat, and then we should talk. All of us.”

With that, she turned towards the door, but momentarily stopped to glance at Natasha with a twinkle in her eye as she passed.

“He’s all yours, dear.”

Natasha mustered her best withering eye roll in response to this, as the unperturbed Maya slinked out of the cabin entirely. As the door closed behind her, Natasha turned her withering gaze to the sheepish Trill under the bed sheet.

“Ok, look,” he managed, “I’m sorry. This was all kinda tacky—”

“Jirel, I really don’t care who you’re screwing in here, ok?”

It wasn’t the complete truth, and she was a little surprised to find how much it had affected her to walk in on such a scene. But she also knew that she had been very clear that their latest night together meant as little as the first one had back when she had first been rescued by the Bounty’s crew. Which meant that she couldn’t possibly have any issues of that nature with whatever that might be happening between Jirel and Maya. She must simply be concerned for the safety of their mission and the crew.

She was sure that was it.

“Just…please, be careful?” she concluded, with a particularly knowing look.

Jirel nodded back, catching the wider implication of her words.

“I could turn us around,” he pointed out, to himself as much as to her, “Drop her off at the nearest port and tell her she and her husband are on their own from here.”

“Yes, you could. But you won’t.”

Jirel offered a silent moment of agreement to this. Natasha considered what the others had said earlier about why the Trill wouldn’t just leave Maya to affect a rescue by herself. Because he was too good of a person. And too much of an idiot.

“Well,” she sighed, “We’ll be waiting for your orders whenever they’re ready. Captain.”

She mustered a half smile at the man in front of her, who currently couldn’t have looked less like a captain if he had tried as he sat awkwardly in bed, then turned and exited.

Jirel finally found a moment to exhale, as he slumped back down onto the mattress and stared back up at the ceiling.

Why the hell did he keep doing this?
 
Part Three (Cont'd)

“Not to labour the point, but this feels considerably more suicidal than our usual plans.”

Sunek offered his opinion as Maya continued her impromptu briefing to the assembled Bounty crew in the dining area. Jirel, now mercifully dressed and feeling a little more comfortable, sat with Natasha, Sunek, Denella and Klath as their often unreliable guest outlined what they had.

“I mean,” the Vulcan continued, “Flying into the Badlands is one thing, but this?”

“This,” Maya replied calmly, “Is what the latinum I paid you was for. And what the rest of the latinum will be for. Once we get the final piece of the jigsaw.”

Maya was patiently outlining the details of the information she and Denella had been able to extract from the data link to the Synergy Mining Enterprises mainframe, just before the bandits had arrived back at the asteroid. And while she was still in the early stages of detailing what they had to work with, the general feeling around the table could be summed up by Sunek’s initial comment.

“So we didn’t get the exact location of the new operation,” Jirel sighed, “But what exactly do we know?”

“Enough to give me some confidence that we can pull this off,” Maya responded, “The information we got indicates that the new mining site is somewhere in Sector 374, which is not too far from here. And we’ve also got details of their security arrangements.”

She slid a large old-school padd into the centre of the table and tapped the screen, using it as an impromptu display screen to add some detail to her words.

The screen itself showed a nondescript planetoid, surrounded by various arrows and indicators.

“It’s a particularly mineral-rich planet, mainly duridium ore. Mining rights for which were…dubiously acquired by Synergy Mining Enterprises in the last quarter.”

“How dubious?” Denella asked.

“Dubious enough that the previous owner of the mining rights hasn’t been seen since the last quarter.”

Jirel didn’t look around, but he definitely felt at least a couple of stern glares being fired off in his direction from around the table.

“It’s a…cutthroat business,” Maya continued with a slight smile, “And it’s very much in keeping with the boss’s mantra at Synergy. High value, high risk. Given how much duridium is supposed to be down there, the whole thing will be as secretive as possible.”

“And very well-guarded,” Klath grunted, pointing to the annotations and indicators on the screen of the padd.

“Yep,” Sunek added, “Looks like this place is done up like a Romulan penal colony on red alert.”

“Yes,” Maya nodded, “Well, Synergy likes to protect their assets. And it looks like a similar setup to their usual operations. Automated sentries in orbit armed with phaser strips and micro-torpedoes, and three security protocols on the surface. An interference grid to mask sensors and tricorder scans, a dampening field around the entire mining site and a transport inhibition network around the main buildings. To stop anyone from getting in. Or getting out.”

“Ok, cool,” Sunek chimed in sarcastically, “So I guess we just break out those sentry-destroying, shield-collapsing, dampening field-penetrating missiles we’ve got packed away in storage. Knew they’d come in handy one day.”

Jirel kept his focus on Maya, but he nodded his head in the Vulcan’s direction.

“He’s got a point.”

“First time for everything,” Maya retorted laconically, “And besides, he doesn’t. We’re several steps ahead of them with their defences, thanks to your engineer’s fast fingers. We’ve got the exact frequency of the dampening field and enough information about the interference pattern to cut through it. Should be able to beam down close to the inhibited area.”

“And the sentries?” Natasha asked.

Maya smiled in satisfaction and tapped a few more commands into the padd. The screen changed to show a list of transit times.

“We’ve got a list of protocols and handshakes for all the regular transports they’re using to move the duridium away for processing. We can use those to disguise the Bounty from the sentries. They’ll just register us as one of their transports.”

“Still a hell of a risky plan,” Jirel muttered, stroking his chin, “You can get us through most of those defences, but we’ll still be cut off from the ship for as long as we’re inside the transport inhibitors. No way of beaming through that.”

“That is an inconvenience,” Maya conceded, “But it can’t be helped. And, if it makes you feel any better, I’m willing to go down and find Toren myself.”

“By yourself?”

“If I have to,” she shrugged, “The one good thing about this little scheme is that Synergy’s mines tend not to be overstaffed when it comes to guards down on the ground. The boss prefers to rely on all of those supposedly flawless automated systems instead.”

“Why?” Denella asked.

“Because he doesn’t have to pay them.”

Jirel sighed and looked around the table at the others, all of whom still weren’t entirely won over by their strategy.

“Seems like a plan?” he managed.

“There is still one issue,” Maya continued, “We…still don’t know exactly where the planet is inside Sector 374. We weren’t able to get that far before the bandits found us. And it would take months to comb the entire sector for the right planet with the Bounty’s sensors.”

“I suppose,” Klath grunted, “You have a plan to secure this information?”

Her mouth curled into yet another smug smile, as she nodded back across the table at the unhappy Klingon.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she replied with her usual knowing tone, “But to get it, we’re going to have to…go rogue.”

****************************

Adjacent to the area of space designated Sector 374, the area of space designated Sector 373 was something of a disappointment.

While Sector 374 was a relatively bustling sector of the galaxy, boasting dozens of star systems, indigenous species, colony worlds and interstellar phenomenon, its neighbour was a poor relation in comparison.

The only native intelligent life that had ever existed inside the arbitrary confines of Sector 373 had existed several hundred years ago, and had limited themselves to the system designated 373-Beta by Federation scientists. Humanoid life had thrived on the second planet of the system, and had established themselves on the habitable third planet in great numbers as well.

But the relationship between the two worlds had turned sour and descended into war. And although both worlds had developed warp drive as part of an interplanetary arms race, they had merely used their first rudimentary warp-capable vessels to launch surprise bombing raids on each other, wiping out both civilisations in mutual armageddon.

Perhaps if there had been other intelligent warp-capable life in the area, they may have made contact before both sides had met their tragic end. But unfortunately for the residents of 373-Beta II and 373-Beta III, they had evolved in Sector 373.

Right now, the most interesting aspect of Sector 373 was the presence of rogue planet P373-Kappa, as designated by a Federation science vessel in 2358 during an otherwise deeply unremarkable mapping survey of the sector. According to sensor scans, this frozen drifting ice world, roughly twice the size of Earth, contained the most incredible paleontological phenomenon in the galaxy.

Millions of years ago, P373-Kappa had been a lush ocean planet, teeming with underwater life. Until its star had gone nova and expelled its orbiting bodies out into space. Without the warmth of the star, P373-Kappa had frozen solid, killing and trapping every life form in a permanent state of suspension under several kilometres of ice.

A second survey of P373-Kappa in 2361 had concluded that there was no viable way to penetrate the ice right now without disturbing the specimens inside. But, in a few hundred years, it was scheduled to transit a new star system and likely be captured in the gravity well. Scientists believed that the new star would thaw the entire planet, freeing the preserved creatures for examination.

Alas, for Sector 373, the cruel addendum was that the new star system P373-Kappa would end up a part of was actually inside the boundaries of Sector 374, meaning that the most interesting thing it had to offer was only going to get truly fascinating once it left Sector 373 altogether.

Still, a sector as boring as this one did have one thing going for it. It served as a perfect rendezvous point for any ship that wanted to stay off-grid.

The Bounty hung in temporary orbit of rogue planet P373-Kappa, its motley crew not paying any attention at all to the goldmine of paleontological treasures beneath them. Their focus was entirely elsewhere.

“I am detecting no other vessels,” Klath grunted from his tactical station, “Not even on long-range scans.”

“Me neither,” Natasha chimed in from the other side of the cockpit, checking her own readings.

Nominally, she was aware that her improvised sensor station was duplicating one of the tasks of Klath’s own console. But given the circumstances, everyone was eager to have as many eyes as possible on the situation.

They had travelled to P373-Kappa on Maya’s latest mysterious instructions, in order to meet a contact of hers. One that she claimed would have the missing information about the mining site in Sector 374 that they were missing.

In theory, there was nothing overtly dangerous about what they were doing. And yet, with Maya Ortega still onboard, neither Klath nor Natasha objected to the other overlapping their work with the sensors.

Jirel spun around in his chair to glare at Maya, where she leaned against Denella’s large wraparound engineering station.

“Your friend seems to be a little unreliable,” he pointed out, “So I guess you have that in common, at least.”

“Cute,” she sighed patiently, “But he’ll be on time. In fact, he’s probably already here.”

“Sure. He’s probably ducked down behind that meteoroid over there.”

“Don’t get sarcastic, Jirel. It doesn’t suit you.”

As Maya spoke, she idled over to Jirel’s command chair, and then jabbed a slender finger down onto the comms panel on his armrest, opening up the Bounty’s comms channel.

“It’s me,” she called out, seemingly to empty space, “So there’s no need to hide.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” a deep voice boomed back, seemingly from empty space.

“What the hell—?” Jirel began to whisper.

An instant later, directly in front of the Bounty where it hung in steady orbit of P373-Kappa, a section of the starscape shimmered, and a small Romulan scout ship decloaked.

“A Romulan,” Klath growled unhappily from behind his console.

“A Romulan ship,” Maya offered by way of correction, before turning and heading for the steps at the rear of the cockpit, “Now, how about we go and say hello, hmm?”

She walked on down the steps without waiting for a reply. Jirel cast one further look out at the sleek green lines of the small Romulan vessel, roughly one third the size of the Bounty, then stood and followed her. He couldn’t help but feel the eyes of everyone else in the cockpit on him as he walked.

As he passed Klath, he noticed a particularly deep and unhappy glare on the Klingon’s face as he stood from his own console.

“I will come with you,” he grunted.

“I’m sure it’s—”

“Yes,” the Klingon continued, cutting Jirel off, “I am sure it is.”

The Trill went to counter further, but ultimately mustered a slight nod and a shrug of acquiescence in his colleague’s intentions.

Inside, his discomfort in their situation was growing by the minute.
 
Part Three (Cont'd)

Jirel’s discomfort gave way to outright confusion a few moments later.

He and Klath stood in the Bounty’s transporter room as Maya worked the controls, and watched as the form of her contact took shape on the transporter pad.

But instead of a Romulan looking back at them at the end of the process, the face of a Nuvian stared back at them. A thick-set cranial ridge ran across his forehead, with long blond hair billowing out behind him. He wore a simple blue tunic top that was stretched taut across his muscular upper body in a way that Jirel was sure must be deeply uncomfortable, a belief that was enough to temper the distinct jealous feeling he got when confronted with someone that well-built.

His nascent jealousy only got worse a moment later, when the strapping Nuvian silently stepped down off the transporter pad, smiled at Maya and kissed her deeply. She gladly reciprocated.

Jirel resisted the need to squirm and look away from this new display of dubious fidelity from Maya during the search for her husband, reminding himself that no matter how tall the Nuvian was and how big his arms were, he was probably really uncomfortable in that top.

As the kiss continued, Jirel even found time to practise ensuring that his face was displaying an appropriately casual expression for when they eventually came back up for air and acknowledged the other people in the room. A look that affirmed he was totally fine with what was happening right now between this adonis of a Nuvian and the woman he definitely hadn’t fallen in love with yet again, and moreover showed that he was completely comfortable with his own choice of top.

As the kiss threatened to enter its second minute, Jirel noted that even Klath was starting to look a little uncomfortable. So, in an entirely altruistic act, completely unconnected with the feelings of jealousy he may or may not have been having towards the brawny Nuvian, he mustered up a brief but vocal cough.

The sound echoed around the confines of the transporter room with enough volume to break up the extended public display of affection. Maya reluctantly uncoiled herself from the Nuvian and took a step back, keeping a lustful smile on her face as she did so.

“I’ve missed that,” she purred.

“And I’ve missed you,” the Nuvian responded with an equally broad smile, “I can still remember that night in the healing pools of Klavon V, when we slipped away from the other bathers, slipped out of our costumes, and—”

“Hey there,” Jirel jumped in, stepping forwards as confidently as he could and extending a hand out towards the strapping stranger, “I’m Jirel. We haven’t met.”

The Nuvian gave him a brief, dismissive glance, not bothering to accept the handshake.

“No. We haven’t.”

Jirel slowly retracted his hand, feeling a familiar desire to have the Bounty’s deck plates swallow him up all of a sudden.

“You are not a Romulan,” Klath grunted, taking the heat off his friend for a moment.

“Very perceptive, Klingon,” the Nuvian scoffed, “But just because I don’t have the ears doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate their ships. That cloak, in particular, has got me out of plenty of scrapes.”

“And into even more, I seem to recall,” Maya added.

The Nuvian shrugged his broad shoulders and produced a small data chip from the pocket of his equally tight trousers.

“Perhaps. But it also helped me get this.”

“The location of the new operation?” Maya asked, reaching out to take the chip.

At the last second, the Nuvian pulled his hand away with a flourish, shaking his head at her with a knowing look.

“Nuh huh. Payment first. Then you get your information. I had to take a hell of a detour to get here, you know? Very inconvenient.”

“It’s all here,” she replied casually, holding out a padd in her other hand, “Just check the amount and confirm the transfer—”

“Heh. The last time I did that, you cancelled the transfer five minutes after I left.”

Jirel glanced at Maya, who maintained a superficially superior look. But the Trill could see the tiniest of flinches in her eyes.

“Oh,” she replied, “Did I? Butterfingers.”

“Well,” the Nuvian continued, “Just to make sure there are no more…unfortunate mistakes, I’d prefer cash this time. And I know you’ll have it with you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” the brawny stranger replied, holding up the data chip to emphasise his point, “You really need this information.”

“Maya,” Jirel sighed, “Just give him the damn latinum.”

Maya rolled her eyes and reluctantly reached for a small purse on her belt, handing it and the jangling contents inside to the Nuvian. He took a second to check inside, indicating that even now he was keenly aware that Maya Ortega was capable of an extra layer of deception when she had to, then eventually handed the data chip over to her.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the Nuvian grinned, “As always.”

Jirel tried not to allow his entirely comfortable expression shift from his face as the Nuvian cast a final eye over Maya, and she gladly returned the favour.

Just as both parties began a second pass of each other, Sunek’s voice filled the air over the comms link. Jirel didn’t think he’d ever been happier to hear the voice of the often-irritating Vulcan.

“Um, guys. I don’t wanna alarm anyone, but we’ve got a blip on sensors the size of a Borg Sphere, heading right for us.”

“A trap!” Klath snapped, his entire body tensing up.

To the Klingon’s side, Jirel shot a particularly stern look at Maya. She merely raised an eyebrow at the Nuvian.

“Not exactly. They’ll be after me,” he replied.

With that, he took a step towards Maya and kissed her again before hopping back up onto the transporter pad. She smiled and stepped over to the controls.

“I’ll call you,” she smiled.

“I’m sure you will,” he replied, “And good luck getting away. You’ll need it.”

“I thought you said they were after you?” Jirel jumped in urgently.

“They are,” the Nuvian offered, “But I’m the one with the cloak.”

Before Jirel could offer a further response, the transporter effect kicked in and the Nuvian disappeared. As soon as he was gone, Klath snapped into business mode.

“We should prepare for battle.”

“Feels like that’s happening a lot all of a sudden,” Jirel sighed, as he nodded back.

As the three of them made for the door, Jirel’s ego couldn’t help but glance across at Maya in a way that she clearly picked up on.

“Don’t be like that, Jirel,” she tutted, “Jealousy is such a bad look on you.”

His previously entirely comfortable demeanour that he had been carefully preserving ever since the woman he had accidentally fallen in love with yet again had started to passionately embrace a muscular Nuvian in a clearly uncomfortable top began to sag slightly. Despite his better judgement from years of experience, he couldn’t help but retort.

“Ok, firstly, let’s focus on not dying out here, maybe? Second, I’m not jealous. And thirdly, why should I be? What did that guy have that I haven’t got?”

As they walked through the door and into the Bounty’s main corridor, she cast an amused glance back at him.

“Twelve fingers. On each hand.”

Jirel found that he didn’t really have a response to that.

To his side, Klath looked over and offered a sympathetic shrug.
 
Part Three (Cont'd)

By the time they reached the cockpit, there was no trace of the Nuvian, or the Romulan ship he had acquired. But there was definitely a trace on whoever had been after him.

Klath wasted no time in taking his position at the weapons controls, while Jirel felt Maya shadowing him all the way over to the centre seat.

“Who are they?” Jirel asked as he slipped into his chair.

“Not sure yet,” Natasha admitted from behind her console, “But—”

Before she got any further, a booming voice sounded out over the Bounty’s comms link.

“This is the Nuvian Security Barge Ressik-Vol. You are to be detained for your recent contact with the vessel of a known Nuvian criminal, wanted for a number of separate offences. Maintain your position and prepare to be boarded.”

To Jirel’s side, Natasha sheepishly completed her report with a little more certainty.

“...It’s the Nuvian Security Barge Ressik-Vol.”

Jirel didn’t take any amusement from her comment, and gritted his teeth with frustration at the latest complication in their mission.

“We really don’t have time for this,” he sighed, turning to Klath, “What are we looking at?”

The Klingon’s scowl deepened as he looked over the readings in front of him.

“It is a significantly larger vessel. I am reading multiple disruptor-type weapons, fore and aft. It will be a…challenging battle.”

Klath’s words were tinged with his usual level of anticipation for an upcoming battle, regardless of how challenging it might be. But Jirel wasn’t in the mood to let him indulge himself.

“Too challenging for us right now,” the Trill sighed, suddenly realising how tired he felt, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Always happy to do that,” Sunek piped up.

The Vulcan moved the Bounty out of orbit of P373-Kappa with a swift tap of his controls, even as Denella began to state the obvious from the rear of the cockpit.

“I’m going to assume that the Ressik-Vol also has us at a disadvantage, speed-wise,” the Orion engineer pointed out.

“I’m sure they do,” Jirel sighed, “Sunek, any chance we can lose them?”

The Bounty’s pilot assessed the situation. They were in the middle of an entirely unremarkable sector of space, nowhere near any planetary system or stellar phenomenon, with only a lumbering ice-covered rogue planet for company.

It took him 4.23 seconds to come up with his plan.

“Hey,” he grinned as he tapped his controls again, “I can do anything.”

“The Nuvian vessel is coming within weapons range,” Klath reported with some urgency.

“Shields up,” Jirel ordered, “Sunek, whenever you’re ready.”

“Ok then,” the Vulcan replied, cracking his knuckles for effect as he prepared himself, “Best hold onto all your favourite bits. This is gonna get a bit bumpy…”

Before anyone could ask him to clarify what he meant by that, the Bounty suddenly lurched forwards and made a sharp banked turn to the right, just as the Ressik-Vol’s first warning shot sailed past their bow.

“Unidentified vessel,” the booming voice returned over the comms link, “Your attempt to evade us has been noted. In such matters, Nuvian Security is authorised to use deadly force.”

“Well,” Natasha managed to fire off as she gripped onto her console for dear life, “That definitely feels like a step backwards.”

“Meh. They’ve gotta catch us first,” Sunek smiled, as the Bounty turned into a sharp climb, looping over the top of their larger pursuers. The Ressik-Vol fired off another burst of disruptor fire from its aft cannons, but Sunek evaded them with ease.

He brought the Bounty level, with the view ahead now dominated by P373-Kappa itself.

“They are turning and following,” Klath reported urgently, “I am preparing to return fire.”

“Won’t need to do that,” Sunek shot back, “Like I said, just hang on.”

With that and nothing more, he instantly dipped the nose of the ship downwards, directly towards the planet’s surface.

Jirel gripped tightly to the armrests of his chair as he watched the barren surface of P373-Kappa looming large in front of them. Behind him, he sensed Maya gripping onto the back of his chair as well, and he tried to focus more on his faith in Sunek’s piloting ability than he was on the view through the cockpit window.

As the rest of the Bounty’s crew went through similar feelings, Sunek kept his focus on the task at hand, the contradictory Vulcan his usual haphazard mixture of logical calculation and precision and entirely illogical excitement and emotion. Both figuring out the complex details of the manoeuvres he was attempting at breakneck speed, while enjoying the surge of adrenaline that came with the anticipation of quite how much he was about to show off.

The ship got closer and closer to the planet, with Sunek taking a split second to glance across his panel of readings to confirm that their pursuers were gamely following. He then maintained his focus on his original target. A plot of P373-Kappa’s thin residual atmosphere, made mostly of water vapour rising from the frozen surface.

Just as the Bounty approached the edge of the troposphere, with the Ressik-Vol still in hot pursuit, he pulled the Ju’Day-type raider’s nose up, to a sufficient angle to allow the whole ship to bounce off the edge of the atmosphere and away from the Nuvian ship.

Behind them, the pilot of the Ressik-Vol wasn’t taken by surprise by the Bounty’s sudden course change, and they went to match their manoeuvre. But the larger vessel didn’t quite have the reaction time of the more nimble Bounty, and its pilot apparently didn’t have Sunek’s speed of calculation.

The Ressik-Vol made significantly more heavy contact with the atmospheric layer, at an awkward angle, causing their shields to glow white-hot and collapse in an instant. With that protection gone, the underside of the ship glowed red as the pilot struggled to get it back into orbit, with several small explosions dotting across the surface of the hull from the stress.

Sunek couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction as he swung the Bounty up and away from P373-Kappa’s frozen wastes, and confirmed that the Ressik-Vol was no longer in pursuit.

“And that,” the Vulcan beamed, as he swung around in his seat to the rest of the Bounty’s crew, “Is how you do that.”

There were a few slightly worried faces looking back at him from around the rest of the cockpit, none of whom seemed as delighted with his atmospheric manoeuvre as he had been. On the right side of the room, Klath merely folded his burly arms in front of him behind his console.

“Acceptable,” he grunted.

“Sunek,” Jirel added, unclenching himself from within his chair, “Continue to get us the hell out of here.”

Sunek rolled his eyes at the predictable lack of adulation for his talents as he turned back to his controls and took the Bounty to warp.

As the cockpit was briefly illuminated by the burst of light that accompanied their progression to warp speed, Maya casually walked up to the Vulcan and set the data chip that her Nuvian contact had supplied her with onto the top of his console.

“For your next trick, you should find the coordinates we need on there,” she said, “And please, don’t spare the horses. I've got a husband to save.”

Sunek reluctantly picked up the tiny chip and slipped it into the relevant slot on the side of his console, not even bothering to look over and check with Jirel as to whether he should be following her requests at this point. He knew that they were well beyond the Trill reconsidering his choices.

“Yes, your majesty,” he fired off, in lieu of any more practical retort.

Maya merely nodded, then spun around on her heels and walked off towards the rear steps of the cockpit, ignoring the other stares she was getting from around the room. She paused as she reached Jirel and glanced back at the Vulcan in the pilot’s seat with a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

“I told you I knew how to pick ‘em.”

Jirel didn’t respond, even as she continued on down the steps.

It was only when he was sure that she was gone that he allowed himself the luxury of letting out a long, tired sigh.

****************************

Maya walked smartly back into the Bounty’s guest cabin and allowed the doors to gently close behind her.

She let out a sigh of relief of her own, allowing her otherwise impervious exterior to weaken slightly now she was alone.

It was a trick that she had honed to perfection very early in her life, back on Turkana IV. Back there it quickly became second nature not to allow any weaknesses to show. The weak didn’t tend to last long on Turkana IV.

But now she was alone, she allowed a few weaknesses to creep out.

She walked over to the small desk in the corner of the room and slumped down into the tattered chair in front of it, allowing her shoulders to slump slightly. She reached up and did her best to massage the tightness out of her muscles.

She knew what she needed to do now, if she was to get what she needed. But that didn’t mean that she was overly eager to do it.

Still, hiding your weaknesses wasn’t the only thing that she had learned to do on Turkana IV. She had also learned all about the concept of survival of the fittest. Or at least, of doing whatever needed to be done in order to survive.

So, while she didn’t want to do what she had to do, she was also entirely unflinching in the knowledge that she had to do it.

If she was going to survive.

After a moment, she stood up from the desk, adjusted her hair in the mirror, then opened the drawer of the desk and retrieved a small communication device. One that she had brought on with her when she had beamed aboard the Bounty from Golos III.

She took a moment to steady herself, then silently tapped out a coded transmission.

Exactly as she had been told to.

End of Part Three
 
Maya is showing another couple of layers, but it still doesn't sound like her character is any more elevated then what we first came to know. The words, "get your priorities straight," come to mind, but I hate that phrase. It just means, "make what's important to me, important to you."

Getting to love Sunek more and more. Glad he's not my pilot, though.

BountyTrek, I have to applaud your ability to make your more intimate interactions between characters very human and believable. I found myself thinking that two real people might very well act the way Maya and Jirel acted, say the things they said. The psychology worked for me.

-Will
 
BountyTrek, I have to applaud your ability to make your more intimate interactions between characters very human and believable. I found myself thinking that two real people might very well act the way Maya and Jirel acted, say the things they said. The psychology worked for me.

Thank you for the kind words. :) I think a lot of my prose-based stories tend to be a little 'flabby' for want of a better word, but I'm more used to writing (unsuccessfully) for stage and screen, so I like to picture the scenes visually and keep the dialogue as tight and realistic as possible (most of the time!).
 
Part Four

Hexis Spaceport
Stardate 50398.3


Denella hadn’t been onboard the Bounty for long, and she was still getting used to plenty of aspects of life onboard this particular ship. More than that, she was still getting used to the entire concept of her new-found freedom, having been rescued from Rilen Dar and the Syndicate by Jirel, Klath and Sunek some months ago.

One thing she was struggling to shake was an innate distrust for people. During her time with the Syndicate, she had developed that side of herself as a vital defence mechanism. But during her time on the Bounty so far, it had proved to be more of a hindrance, holding her back from developing a level of trust with her new crewmates.

But right now, she was actually glad that she still had such a keen sense of distrust. It definitely seemed fitting when dealing with the woman standing next to her at the Bounty’s transporter controls.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

Maya Ortega glanced over at the meek green-skinned woman next to her as she passed her idle comment. Denella’s silence rather answered her question for her.

It was the first time that Denella had met her since she had joined up with the Bounty, and the other woman hadn’t exactly made a brilliant first impression.

Not that Denella had mentioned anything to her about that. After all, she didn’t talk much.

Maya had arrived out of the blue while the Bounty had been dealing with some running repairs with the promise of an easy payday for the crew. And since then, Denella’s carefully honed sense of distrust had grown and grown.

She had repeatedly insisted to them that the job itself had rightly been hers anyway, and she had been working with a team of Idanian freelancers to move some cargo to a Benzite colony from Hexis spaceport. Except they had cut her out of the deal, for reasons she remained a little unclear on, and left her behind.

But she explained that she had all the necessary details of the pickup, and she was the face of the operation as far as the Benzites were concerned. So, provided the Bounty could get there before the Idanians showed up, the job was theirs.

None of it seemed strictly above board as far as Denella was concerned. But Jirel had quickly signed up to the plan. It had been a lean few months for the Bounty, after all. And with Denella’s own list of repairs growing by the day as she explored more of the ship’s overworked and under-maintained systems, they needed to find some extra funds from somewhere.

Still, Denella hadn’t trusted the plan from the start. And she again cursed the fact that she hadn’t been more vocal about her concerns before things had progressed this far. But her time in the Syndicate had worn down her confidence as much as it had honed her levels of distrust.

So, instead, she stood next to Maya at the transporter controls, waiting for a signal from Jirel and Klath down on the spaceport. A signal that they had finalised the details with the Benzites and were ready to beam back up. And a signal that, had everything been going according to plan, they should have received at least ten minutes ago.

Denella’s worries were rising. And even though the woman next to her was projecting a calm enough exterior, the Orion could tell that, behind her facade, she was getting concerned as well.

“Huh,” Maya tutted, breaking the silence again as she drummed her fingers impatiently on top of the console, “Just like Jirel to be wasting time. I bet he found a bar.”

Her tone was casual enough, but the silent Denella could detect a tell-tale edge in her words. They had to move fast at this part of the transaction, securing the cargo from the Benzites before the Idanians showed up in orbit. Even Jirel knew that there was no time to waste.

Just as Denella was getting close to plucking up the courage to say as much to Maya, the comms link on the console flared into life.

“Hey!” Jirel called out, the line flecked with static, “We’ve got problems down here! You wanna use that transporter any time soon?”

Denella still didn’t respond, not verbally at least. But her hands began to dance across the controls, far faster than Maya could react. But as soon as she started to work, it became clear to both women that something was wrong.

“We’re working on it,” Maya reported back to the Trill, eyeing up the readings as she did so, “Looks like there’s a lot of interference down there.”

“Yeah, I know!” the sharp reply came back, sounding out of breath, “They took us down to one of their reactor cores to show us what we were supposed to be transporting!”

Denella continued to work on breaking through the interference, but she sensed Maya tense up a little more next to her.

“Oh,” she managed, after a telling pause, “I thought you were just going to agree on the payment before we—”

“Trilithium resin? That was your precious cargo?!”

Denella didn’t stop working, but she did manage a curt glance at the other woman, for long enough to see that the details about the Benzite cargo wasn’t news to her.

“Jirel,” Maya began in a placating tone, “You have to understand that—”

“Save it, Maya! We’ll talk about this later. Just get us back onboard now, cos these guys did not react well when we told them we weren’t interested!”

There was the sound of a commotion in the background, and a noise that Denella recognised as being the one made when Klath’s bat’leth struck something solid.

“They did not react well at all!”

Denella was still working on cutting through the persistent interference wherever Jirel and Klath were when a second comms line flared up, this one delivering Sunek’s voice into the small transporter room from up in the cockpit.

“Um, guys, an Idanian Interceptor just entered the system, and they’re heading right here. And I’m no body language expert, but they’re still thirty seconds from entering weapons range, and their disruptors are already fully charged.”

Maya’s frustrations boiled over, for the first time since Denella had met her. She slammed her hand down on the console with anger, making the Orion woman jump slightly.

“Goddamn it,” she growled, “We don’t have time.”

“For what?” Sunek’s voice returned.

“Sunek, my dear, listen to me very clearly. Those Idanians aren’t messing around, trust me. So get us out of here, now!”

The immediacy of the order shocked Denella even further. As did the way that Maya began to reach across where she was working at the controls, her hand reaching out to cut off the comms link down to the spaceport below.

“Survival of the fittest, darling,” Maya offered in her direction by way of explanation, “I’m sure they’d understand.”

It was all enough for Denella to forget where she was for a second. Before she even realised what she was doing, her hand shot out and grabbed Maya’s wrist. The strength with which she gripped onto her caused the human woman to fall silent.

At the same time, Denella called out in the direction of the Bounty’s pilot.

“No! Sunek! Jirel and Klath are still down there! I need two minutes!”

Maya glared at her, but the Orion stared right back, finding some reserves of courage from deep inside in the middle of a crisis.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” the Vulcan called back, “I’ll find two minutes. But, full disclosure, things might start getting a bit explode-y around here.”

With that, Denella released Maya’s arm and returned her attention to the interference. The other woman rubbed her sore wrist as she stared back at the previously mute engineer.

“Huh,” she said eventually, with a slightly rueful grin, “Found your voice, I see.”

Denella’s fingers continued to dance over the controls as she worked her fingers to the bone to try and rescue two of the people who had rescued her not long ago. She didn’t look up.

“We always have time,” she replied.

Two minutes later, the Bounty arced away from Hexis spaceport, evading a disruptor blast from the Idanian Interceptor as it jumped to warp.

With Jirel and Klath safely aboard.
 
Part Four (Cont'd)

Some years after the incident at Hexis spaceport, an altogether stronger and more confident Denella walked up the steps to the Bounty’s cockpit, shortly after waking up.

She could already tell that the Bounty was at warp from the hum of the deck plates. The information on the data chip that Maya’s contact had handed over to them had confirmed that the target for their rescue was a particularly mineral-rich Class L planet in Sector 374, adjacent to the considerably less interesting Sector 373.

She was surprised to see that, unlike usual, she was far from the first member of the crew to be up and working this early in the day. Both Klath and Sunek, neither known to be especially early risers, were busy at their controls.

“You’re up early,” she offered to neither of them specifically.

Klath didn’t look up from his controls, but he did offer a nod of acknowledgement.

“We are heading to a heavily fortified location on the instructions of Maya Ortega. I am making sure that our weapons systems are correctly aligned.”

“Paranoia?” the Orion asked with a slightly cocked eyebrow.

The Klingon looked up from his work and met her look.

“Thoroughness.”

“But you’ve seen all the rest of her plans for this rescue, right?” Denella persisted, “You don’t think this is gonna work?”

“If the information is correct, then the plan seems reasonable.”

Klath paused for a second, then repeated himself for emphasis.

“If the information is correct.”

Denella nodded in unhappy understanding at this, as Sunek swung around to them in his seat.

“Ugh. Ignore him. He’s been antsy ever since we crossed into this sector. Kinda wacky, if you ask me.”

Denella stepped up to the pilot’s console and glanced over the controls.

“Huh,” she mused, “Looks like you’re in the middle of recalibrating the primary and secondary attitude controls.”

She gave the somewhat sheepish Vulcan a knowing glare, backed up by a similar look from the Klingon behind her.

“Well,” Sunek shrugged eventually, “This is Maya Ortega, right?”

With that, he turned back to his console and worked on finishing up his work on the attitude controls quickly enough to give him a chance to give the thruster systems a quick once over. For a second time this morning.

Denella regarded the two furtive workers on either side of her and shook her head patiently. Then she turned back and walked to her own engineering console, slipping into the seat and tapping the controls.

She had a sudden urge to run a quick check of the Bounty’s warp and impulse drives, to make sure everything was operating as efficiently as possible. Just in case.

This was Maya Ortega, after all.

****************************

Down in the Bounty’s dining area, the rudimentary strike team was also making preparations.

If Klath had his way, he would have been part of this group, instead of being back up in the cockpit checking over his weapons calibrations. But for this phase of the rescue, Jirel wanted his best sharpshooter onboard the Bounty.

It wasn’t a decision that the Klingon had accepted without a stern argument.

With the surface team having been whittled down to three, Jirel and Natasha stared down at the detailed information on a padd on the table, as Maya finished her run down of what they would have to do once they got to their target.

“So,” she continued, “As you can see, once we use the information we have to get past the automated security systems, the rest should be easy.”

“Sure, easy,” Natasha sighed, “We just need to trick the automated sentries into thinking we’re a regular transport, beam through a dampening field, walk into a duridium mine slash illegal penal colony through a transport inhibitor, find your husband, sneak him away from the guards and get the hell out of there before anyone notices.”

Jirel’s jaw clenched slightly, but Maya still seemed entirely at ease as she glanced at the Trill and nodded in Natasha’s direction.

“Maybe I was wrong about her. She might be fun after all.”

“Sorry, why did you think I wasn’t going to be fun—?”

“Ok,” Jirel sighed, gesturing to the padd, “Can we focus? You’re sure this is all accurate, and this is where Toren is?”

“Definitely,” Maya nodded, “And based on this information, Synergy’s owner is operating their usual cost-cutting approach with this new mine. Once we’re safely past the automated security procedures, there’s minimal physical security down in the mine itself. Half a dozen guards per shift, three shift rotation.”

“Still seems a little too lackadaisical from them,” Jirel mused.

“Call it overconfidence, coupled with a lack of hope. Think of how the Klingons managed to run Rura Penthe for so long with fifty guards and no shielding. Nobody can beam out, no ship can approach without authorisation, and no humanoid is surviving on the surface of a Class L planet for long without supplementary oxygen. Who needs extra guards when there’s no point in escaping?”

Natasha considered the logic of what the other woman was saying, and couldn’t help but agree with it. Although there was still something off about the whole plan that she couldn’t quite put her finger on right now.

“So,” Maya continued, “Any more questions?”

Jirel remained silent, but Natasha did think of something, her analytical brain honed by years of Starfleet training grinding into gear.

“One thing I’ve been wondering,” she mused, “If this company really is as paranoid and secretive as it seems to be based on all of these security arrangements, how come they just left their old mining operation back in the Badlands abandoned, for any passing group of bandits to raid? With a data link still running?”

This question was enough to raise Jirel’s defences, as he looked at Maya for a response. She merely offered a casual shrug of her shoulders.

“Like I said, overconfidence. Which is good news for my husband. And for me, given how much latinum this has cost me. Not that you seem to be complaining about that aspect of our adventure, I’ve noticed.”

Jirel was reminded of the healthy payment she had made, and looked down at the details on the padd again. He had to admit that, when it was all laid out like Maya was presenting it, it almost seemed straightforward compared to some of her usual plans.

“Well,” he said eventually, offering a tentative shrug to Natasha, “Let’s go rescue a Trill, I guess.”

Natasha nodded, as Maya’s face creased into a relieved smile.

“One final thing,” she said, reaching for something on a chair behind the dining table, “I thought it might be an idea for us to get changed.”

She retrieved three sets of black tops and trousers from the chair and handed two of them over, as Jirel and Natasha regarded the clothing with a little confusion.

“Replicated them just now. They’ll make it easier to blend in,” Maya offered to Jirel, “Besides, darling. You always liked pretending to be a captain. Now you get to pretend to be special ops.”

Jirel’s scowl returned to his face as he grabbed the clothing and walked off towards his cabin.
 
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