“I don’t know how you did it.” Former Rimward Trade Station Superintendent Khora sat across from Hasara in his office above the main floor of House of Hasara. Two months had passed since she’d been forcibly rescued and absconded into Hasara’s custody.

His smile was wide, but his eyes were serious.“Montana Station is a Starfleet station. They had some early incidents that were, to put it lightly, embarrassing. Those errors have been corrected.” He snacked on a plate of flatbreads, enjoying the sweet and savory flavor. “Lower decks may look chaotic and out of control, but we’ve managed to control over 90% of it with our people.”

Khora stared at him. They had known each other briefly in their previous lives, but Hasara’s reputation had helped her stay clear.

Until now.

She asked, “What about the other 10%?”

Hasara grimaced, and she felt that old fear bubbling up. He still cut a terrifying figure. “Total control isn’t possible. Two murders have occurred in that annoying percentage. Starfleet is working on it, and we’ve been working to source what we can. You’re safe because I keep you safe, Khora. We’re all safe because the House of Hasara and its associates ensure that safety.” He pushed a tablet across the table, saying, “Your intel checked out. Hagasi’s been chasing the books.”

She picked up the device, a puzzled look gracing her face. As she read, she grumbled in realization, “They’re using mercenary companies to do the dirty work.”

Hasara replied with a quiet nod and let her finish reading before adding, “There are connections to the Cardassian government, military, and others. We’ve both made someone or a group of someones angry, but not enough to marshal a heavy response. Instead, we’ll have to chase a few ugly players and shake a few down to get what we want.”

Khora tossed the device back on the desk, “You’re asking for my help. They’ll kill me out there.”

Hasara leaned over the desk, his look needing no interpretation, “There is a hell of a lot of statistics that can bleed from 10%, Khora.”

She leaned forward, staring him down, “A threat?”

He shook his head slowly, his message clear, “A fact of life…or death, depending on how fate determines.”

Khora chuckled, “That old Hasara is still in there.”

He returned the chuckle, only his was a dry cackle, “The rimward pulls him out of me every so often. I make no apologies, Khora. Survival takes effort. I intend to live as close to forever. I hope the same for you.” He drained his cup and pushed back from his desk, standing tall. “We leave within the hour. Do I need to have you escorted back to your quarters and then to the ship?”

She replied with a weak smile, “Given your oh-so-gentle warning about bleeding statistics, I’ll accept the escort.” She stood, walking to the door. She made it halfway through before he turned to him, “Thank you, Hasara.”

He replied with a quiet nod, and she departed.