“The Franklin arrived late last night and has completed the transfer of the medical cases.  The Dragonfly is due at noon today with her share of the bounty.  Commander Davidson filed a complete list of charges this morning and is liaising with Commander Thasaz about prisoner transfers.”

Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana glanced up from his desk at Yeoman Deborah Porter and asked, “How has she been with old Archie?”

Porter’s focus remained, but her lips couldn’t resist a gentle smile in her reply, “She’s less severe with him, but the measurement may not be visible to the naked eye.”  A sigh, “She really did not take the December Event well.”

He scoffed, “You think I took it well?”  The spectacle had begun innocently enough but had spiraled into a situation with Starfleet spooks cantering around in the station’s depths.  The breaking point had been several open phaser fights below and closer to the promenade than he had been comfortable.  The Midgard Reapers had been disrupted, and those still alive had been arrested.  The offending Gul and other miscreants had either been killed, disappeared, or secured by an enraged Commander Thasaz.

Porter grimaced.  He had not taken it well.  “We are closer to identifying the Starfleet officers in question.”

He tossed her a thick journal, “Captain Ki did her homework.  I don’t want to know how she did it.”

The Yeoman read over the pages he had bookmarked. She gasped, “They were from Polaris Squadron?”

“You, KI, and I are the only ones who know.  I’m keeping it that way.  Her two months of spook work tells me we’re nowhere near as secure as we should be.  They knew they could get away with it.  I’m not putting anything into official reports or computers or anything.  Gods help us if we trip an alarm or alert.”

She waited a moment, standing in his office.  He wasn’t angry.  He was frustrated.  “Polaris is…”

“Fleet Admiral Reyes.”  He said it with heavy respect as if he’d just named the Federation President.  “And no, I don’t know her.  She swims in her own special end of the deep end.  I don’t want to know her.  I just want to steer clear of her.  She has a reputation, along with the rest of her squadrons.”

Porter nodded, nervous, “I’ve heard my share of stories.”  The Yeoman let the silence hold for a little longer before she returned the journal to his desk, “She scares you, sir.”

“I’ve earned my Fleet Captain Rank, Yeoman Porter.  I’d like to keep it and my life as long as possible.  Not showing up on the daily sensor logs of Fleet Admiral Reyes or her less-than-friendly friends is now a lifelong practice.”

“We’ve recouped our losses from December.”  Hagasi sat at his desk, the shelves filled with journals with varying labels affixed.  “By pure luck, we’ve kept our cover, which means the deals and operations have continued to bear fruit…and latinum.”

Hasara sat across from his financial manager and operator. The Ferengi had threatened to retire after the events of December, and it had taken a lot of coaxing from him, Sinai, and even Krov. The usually cantankerous Klingon managed to pull a feeling or two out of his heart in his conversations with Hagasi.  “I’m glad you stayed.”

The moneyed Ferengi scowled. “You gave me a raise, and it beats managing my ship and contacts.  For now, I’ll stay.” 

Hasara gave him a nod and left the office, heading towards his place of rest and reflection.  He’d nearly made it there when he heard his name.  Turning, he found his confused and concerned Deputy Operator Tareya Khorlett, walking quickly down the hall.  “Your office.  Now.”

Once the door was closed, he walked leisurely to his chair.  She usually followed suit by lounging languidly in the chair opposite him.  Not this time.  She remained standing. Almost at attention, he noticed.  “This will not be good news, I expect?”

The Cardassian shook her head tightly, lips pursed.  “I was working in the deep, and Sinai pulled me aside.  She’s heard some scattered whispers that one of the more extreme elements of the Cardassian government has been made aware of me.  And you.”

Hasara sat forward, suddenly rigid with attention, “Specifics?”

“She only knows that my name and yours were mentioned in a loosely worded bounty—conditions and payment to be decided.  One part of it was explicit.  There’s no allowance for bringing us back alive.  They want us dead, Hasara.”