Mel watched from the next table as Mack picked another fight. This time, he actually walked away without needing medical attention, a minor miracle. She lifted her mug, downing her beer, and slid the half-smoked cigar between her teeth. Lining up her shot, she sent the last ball rolling clean into the corner pocket. Spin.

She spun around, grinning at her guests. “Wow,” she giggled, letting the words dangle. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

The floor creaked under someone approaching. “What’s the matter, Mack? Get your butt handed to you again?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

He dropped into the too-small chair, holding his nose. “Little freakin’ pixie witch. All I wanted was a dance, and the psycho tried to mangle me.”

Mel laughed, “I’ve told you, Mack. Anything horizontal is not a dance.”

She set down the cue stick, flashing her guests a grin. “Five minutes, gentlemen.”

Then she turned to Mack, studied him for a second, and suddenly tweaked his nose until it popped. “All set,” she chirped in a mock child’s voice. “And I didn’t even have to get up, Mister Hypo.”

He made no sound until she was done. Then, quietly, he muttered, “Ouch…”

“Now, where were we?” Mel picked up the cue stick again, tapped a pocket, and called her shot. Eight ball. Banked twice. It was clean, almost too perfect.

One of the men at the next table jumped to his feet. “You lied! You’re crazy!”

He froze mid-step as Mack rose, cracking his knuckles like a threat.

“There’s your 275 credits,” the man said, slapping chips on the table. “I’ll be back.”

Mel gathered the winnings and tossed a few to Mack. “Go grab us both a beer.”

A familiar smell hit her, stale beer, grease, and trouble. “Whatever it is, Saul,” she said not taking her eyes off the pool table, “the answer is no.” She racked another game. “Not interested.”

“Awww, babe, you haven’t even heard my proposal.”

He came up behind her, arms wrapping around her, face buried in her hair.

“You still smell like whiskey,” Saul murmured. Then, glancing past her shoulder, “Hey Mack, good to see you again.” He turned his attention back to Mel. “It involves guns, fun, and the theft of a very sexy starship,” he added, smooth as silk.

Mel slid an arm around his waist, smirking. “Ah, Saul, you know the right words, guns and…” She winked. “But seriously. My Starfleet gig is barely hanging on. I can’t afford trouble. It’s a no.”

Saul kissed her cheek. “I need a doctor, babe.”

“No.” She pushed him back, spotting the angry men returning, this time with backup.

“Something tells me they didn’t like your little hustle,” Saul said, grinning. “Need a hand?”

“I got this,” Mel said. “Thanks, though.” Saul slipped away.

Mack frowned. “This ain’t gonna be pretty. You sure?”

“Trust me,” she said

Mack lay back on the bunk, one eye puffy and red. “So what now, Miss Trust-Me?”

Mel rested her head on his chest. “I’ll get us out. I’ve got connections.”

“Your Daddy,” Mack shot back. “He’s running out of favors.”

“When have I ever not come through? And Risa doesn’t count.”

“Beredda III?”

“How was I supposed to know that…”

“Qo’noS,” Mack laughed.

“Not my fault!”

“The Orions.”

“Hey,” she swatted his arm.

“Risa. The second time.”

Mel groaned, shoved him again, “I’ll work it out. Trust me.”

Movement outside caught her eye. “Well… crap.”

An older man approached, frail but commanding. The guards went silent.

“Commodore,” Mel sighed. “Mom with you?”

“No. Better without her,” Gerald said, eyes on Mack. “Mister Porter.”

“Sir, I just want to say we apprec…”

“Shut up, Mack.” Gerald didn’t look away. “Mellicent, I can’t keep doing this. You want out? Fine. But it comes with conditions. Honest job. Steady life. No more prisons. And,” he looked at Mack, “better friends. Your mother can’t take another call like this. Is that too much to ask?”

Mel swallowed. “Daddy…”

“I’ve used all my leverage,” Gerald said, sliding a padd through the forcefield. “Your next assignment.”

Mel took it without looking. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“The Romulans,” he said simply. The words hit like a punch.

“Wait… what?”

“Ambassador Rempeck extended an olive branch; a joint assignment. You’re temporarily on a Romulan Republic vessel, under his oversight. Call yourself a Federation Liaison.”

“Romulans?”

“Honest job,” Gerald snapped. “Only one left willing to take you,” he muttered

Mel skimmed the padd, pale. “RRW T’Seran? That’s… a warbird!”

“It’s that, or dishonorable discharge and prison, Mellicent,” he folded his arms. “Rempeck can save you. Don’t waste it.” Looking at the guard, he turned to leave. “Don’t let her out till I’m off the station.”

The airlock hissed open, revealing two guards standing by the entrance. Neither smiled. “Lieutenant Borden,” a voice cut through the silence. Commander Tavik Rhehl stood in the corridor, the disappointment was very clearly displayed. He didn’t like having a Federation misfit dumped on him.

Beside him, Sub-commander Serala t’Varin looked her over.

Rempeck offered a diplomatic smile. “Lieutenant Mellicent Borden, Federation Liaison and Medical Specialist. Authorized attachment to T’Seran.”

Serala repeated the word with a hiss, “Authorized.” Like it tasted rotten.

“You will remain in quarters unless called. Observe. Follow our protocols, not yours. Clear?” Tavik stated.

“Crystal, Commander,” Mel said.

He stepped back. Serala folded her arms. Rempeck’s parting smile was almost human, “She’s unpredictable, but useful. Keep her close.”

The corridor felt cold once the Ambassador left.

Serala led her through humming halls. The ship smelled sharp; every step seemed to whisper: outsider.

“You should know,” Serala said, glancing at her. “Many consider you a liability. Federation friendship rarely ends well here.”

Mel snorted. “That makes two of us.”

Serala motioned as the doors open, “welcome to your cell,” she smirked

Her quarters were metallic and unwelcoming. She had a simple cot, a desk, and what passed as a viewport. “Home sweet home,” she muttered, setting her duffel on the bunk. She pulled out her father’s padd, stared, as her reflection looked back at her.

“Honest job,” she said softly. “Sure, Dad. Real honest.”