The Mining Guild Offices are a crowded headquarters on the lower decks, where miners handle supply requests and organize work schedules. The air is thick with dust and industrial fumes, and the hum of machinery fills the space. The walls are covered in resource charts and maintenance logs, many marked with delays and shortages. A tense crowd of miners and merchants has gathered, shouting accusations at one another.

Torr Krara, a broad-shouldered Bolian, slammed a calloused blue fist onto the table, sending datapads scattering. His bald scalp glistened with sweat, and his deep-set ridges furrowed as he glared at the merchant representatives across from him.

“You think we’re just going to roll over while you hoard our shipments and mark up the prices?” Torr growled, his voice carrying the rough edge of someone who had spent too many years breathing in mining dust. “We’ve got ships sitting empty, workers losing hours, and now you’re telling me it’s just ‘bad luck’ that all our materials vanish the second you get your hands on them?”

A Bajoran merchant crossed his arms, annoyed at Torr. “We’ve lost a large amount of supplies, Torr. Evidence points to this deck. So cooperate and prove us wrong by opening your lockers, unless you’ve got something to hide.” He held up a PADD. “We have signed manifests showing your haulers picked them up from the docks.”

Another merchant chimed in, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious, Torr! Trying to blame us? My suppliers are running dry because your people are misplacing shipments!”

Torr’s jaw clenched, and his blue skin darkened in frustration. “Oh, so now it’s on us? Maybe your precious Syndicate buddies skimmed it off the top and just forgot to mention it!”

The tension thickened, voices rising as miners and merchants yelled at each other. Accusations flew, with merchants blaming the miners for missing supplies and miners demanding answers for the shortages crippling their work.

Then, chaos erupted.

A fight broke out, people shoving, grabbing, and swinging at each other. It wasn’t long before Security arrived, phasers holstered but ready to intervene.

Lower Decks – Mining Guild Offices

In a damaged administrative office, hastily repurposed as a negotiation space, the overhead lights flickered due to power fluctuations, and the air smelled of burned-out circuitry.

K’Nala stood before the frustrated miners and merchants, her tail flicking irritably as she surveyed the room.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. “I understand yourrr frustration, but this is not the way to rrrresolve it.” Her voice was firm, her presence calm.

A merchant scoffed, arms crossed. “Step back? That’s all Starfleet does, taking a step back and letting things fall apart! Who says you’re not just playing favorites? You never showed your faces before, why now?” He spat on the floor, his tone dripping with resentment.

Palema’s eyes narrowed as she addressed him. “What Lieutenant K’Nala is saying is that we need to find out the truth. Does anyone here have actual evidence to back these accusations?”

The merchants exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, one of them stepped forward, holding up a PADD. “It’s all right here. It proves the miners have been rerouting supplies, blocking our access, and demanding more than we can provide!”

The miners erupted in protest, shouting over each other.

K’Nala’s ears flattened slightly as she read the PADD, her expression hardening. “We need to verrrify this.”

A miner sneered, crossing his arms. “Typical. Starfleet’s gonna side with the merchants.”

Torr grumbled, shaking his head. “Step away from this, Starfleet. You never cared before, and you don’t care now.”

Operations Center

The Operations Center, where a holographic map of trade routes and supply shipments flickered in mid-air. Starfleet officers pored over documents, their voices hushed and urgent.

Asipa, leaning on her console, frowned. “Got a message from Lieutenant K’Nala, she sent the merchant logs for verification.”

Pacing with a PADD in hand, Tamaz sighed. “The whole situation’s a mess. We’re putting out small fires everywhere. And look at this…” he handed Asipa the PADD. “See these names? They’re not in our system.”

Asipa blinked. “Wait a minute…” Her eyes widened, fingers flying over the console. “Korvo? That same name is on one of K’Nala’s reports.” She ran a security check.

A loud beep sounded.

“Well,” Asipa muttered, “that’s not good.”

Lower Decks – Mining Guild Office

Back at the Mining Guild, Palema and K’Nala stood before the feuding parties.

Palema raised her hand. “Enough!”

The room fell silent, both sides startled by her sharp tone.

She held up her PADD. “We’ve confirmed the merchant reports were manipulated. And…” she took a breath before dropping the real bombshell, “one of the names on the logs flagged a security alert.”

Torr snorted. “Let me guess, now we’re suddenly innocent?”

Palema’s gaze darkened. “We’re saying this goes deeper than just missing cargo. The Syndicate has been fueling this conflict, feeding both sides false information.”

K’Nala tapped her badge. “K’Nala to Captain Kobahl. We requirrre an intervention with the Syndicate black market.”

A voice crackled over the comms.

“Talk to me, Lieutenant.”

Promenade

The Promenade, where miners and merchants cautiously returned to business. Starfleet Security maintained a visible but non-intrusive presence.

At a table, Torr sat across from K’Nala and Palema. He lowered his PADD, his face unreadable.

“Seems legit,” he muttered. He set the PADD down. “Doesn’t mean I trust you, but I won’t be a pain for you either.”

He stood up, casting them a final look.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mister Krara,” Palema said, offering a respectful nod.

Torr returned the nod and walked off.

Palema sighed, turning to K’Nala. “This is running deeper than we thought. The Syndicate’s grip is tighter than we realized.”

K’Nala’s ears twitched in frustration. “And we lack the power to break their hold. The mistrrrust in Starfleet rrruns deeper than we assumed… and this conflict needs to end soon.”