“This is a complication,” Bahir mused, knitting his brows together, the scaley crests that equated to the Saurian’s eyebrows smashing together with tectonic effort as he assessed their options.

“Master of the understatement as ever Bahir,” K’sal muttered from across the squat, dimly lit room as she peered through the dusty blinds. The apartments of Silica Heights were less than glamorous but the proprietors didn’t ask many questions and didn’t track their comings and goings. All positive attributes for a temporary safe house.

“This could be the end of the mission.” Her keen eyes stalked up and down the wide avenue outside the squat building, watching for suspicious activity. So far her list of dubious loiterers comprised of three; a shifty-looking Telleraite who had been perusing the food stall for too many minutes and a pair of Andorian urchins with suspiciously good footwear. “Or the end of us.”

“If we were in particular danger, I suspect we would already have enforcers at the gate.” Bahir glanced at the dented set of doors in the corner, its surface bearing telltale signs of more than one previous violent encounter.

The room held its breath, waiting to see if the security chief had tempted fate.

“We’re safe for now,” Bib reassured the room from the small kitchenette where he trawled through a field kit, searching for the equipment he needed. The assembled officers let out a communal, shallow breath despite his unconvincing confidence.

Satisfied they were not likely to be facing a disruptor imminently the group’s attention returned to the figure of Aspis who lay unconscious on the small apartment’s bed. A thin hum of the portable forcefield generators suffused the stuffy air as motes of ever-present dust drifted through the dim shadows, causing the field to spark and stutter with familiar blue light that danced across their assembled faces.

“What are we going to do with her?” Mitchell asked, his shaggy form barely visible against the dark cotton of the worn couch. “She knew I was Starfleet.”

“There’s a good chance she could know about us all,” K’Sal added from the window. “It’s a small rock.” Her eyes lifted from the grimy streets visible through the cell-like bars of the blinds to the sky, its inky black filled with a sea of pinprick lights; their interstellar rays uninterrupted by Pamack’s barely-cohesive atmosphere. In the distance, a flicker of dense green light pulsed erratically as the base’s forcefield shell struggled to maintain cohesion, an ominous reminder of how precarious their situation was. “Why anyone would want to live here is beyond me. Syndicate on one side, waiting void on the other.”

“It’s free,” Eyma answered. The first words she had said in the half-hour that had passed following the incident at the bar. “It’s theirs.”

“She speaks!” K’Sal cried mockingly her stern eyes darting to the young Orion woman.

“Yes. She speaks.”

Mitchell was quickly at her side, emerging from the safety of the threadbare cocoon. “Eyma, are you okay? We thought you she might have done something, some mind game.”

“No David, I shot her myself, there was no mind control.”

“Are you sure? My scans indicate some Betazoid lineage. That is how she was able to distract Lieu…” Bahir caught himself as he slipped into old habits. Even here in relative safety, it paid to maintain pretences, “… distract Mitchell.”

“Even part Betazoids can affect weak minds,” K’Sal added, her frustration palpable. “Maybe that explains why you jeopardised the whole mission by firing on her.”

Bib shot her a warning look. ‘Enough’. With a small eye roll, the frustrated Bajoran woman returned her attention to the window and the suspicious passersby.

Seemingly unaware of the exchange Bahir continued. “A quick scan shows she likely doesn’t have full telepathic abilities, most likely a low-level aptitude that she has refined over the years. You said you felt-”

“-entranced, yes. That’s the only word for it. She had my complete attention.” David’s eyes glazed over for a second as his mind fell back to the bar; the leather beneath his fingers, the scent of spiced perfume in the air, the hypnotic hyper-focus of her eyes.

“I doubt she would have been able to convince Eyma to fire her weapon at the same time. Regardless what would that have achieved?” Bahir mused, his brows knitting further into a coral-coloured mountain range.

“It brought her into our safe house didn’t it?” K’sal spat from the window. “Could have been the plan all along. And someone gave it to her.”

A second warning look from Bib silenced her.

“She did not appear to have any form of tracking device on her person.” Bahir motioned to the nondescript grey cube on the nearby table, a small control panel glowing dimly. “And if she knew we were Starfleet she would know we have the ability to block an outgoing signal.”

“She has nothing to gain by being captured,” Bib added as he continued to focus his attention on the kit; lifting vials of liquid and inspecting them before shaking his head and putting them back.

“Then why did you fire your phaser Eyma?” Mitchell asked quietly.

“I thought she was going to hurt you,” she answered matter of factly. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she recollected the panic that had set in as the snake woman had leered over him menacingly. Before she had time to think the phaser pistol was in her hand, her slim green finger depressing the trigger.

Mitchell looked back, his own eyes feeling damp at the edges as he fell into the dark pools of her fearful eyes. Between the pair an unspoken understanding began to dawn, there was more to their friendship than either had realised. He reached out to take her hand reassuringly.

“Found it!” Bib exclaimed, holding a hypospray aloft.

Mitchell’s hand quickly withdrew.

“These kits aren’t designed for it but I think I’ve managed to assemble something that will wake her up.” He closed the lid on the small tan briefcase they had acquired on K-74, its surface bearing the angular emblem of the Ferengi Alliance. “Bahir, cover me.”

As he crossed to the forcefield barrier that marked the edge of their makeshift brig Bahir took his pistol from his holster, training it on the unconscious woman. In the corner, K’Sal also surreptitiously drew her pistol but held it to her side, white-knuckled. With a press of a small control unit, the field fizzled away. Bib took a few tentative steps towards Aspis, the hypospray in one outstretched hand as his antenna twitched suspiciously. Everyone present held their breath once again as a familiar hiss slid across the silent room, followed by a sudden intake of breath as Aspis returned to consciousness.

“What the hell?!” Aspis screeched, followed by another heaving breath as she flailed in surprise. Bib took several steps back, allowing Bahir’s weapon full line of sight as he settled into an authoritative stance, positioning himself in the low illumination of the room to lend him a suitably ominous air.

“This is very simple. I will ask questions and you will answer them.” Bib’s baritone echoed across the small room, bouncing threateningly between the grey walls, the threadbare sofa and the cracked doorway.

Aspis suddenly bolted upright, her eyes slowly scanning the assembled faces.

“Oh no, Commander. It’s just got very complicated.”

Mitchell caught Bib’s antenna twitch minutely in the corner of his vision, for a moment it was possible K’Sal might be right.

Wiping a mote of spittle from the corner of her mouth Aspis allowed a smile to spread across her lips, her smug satisfaction barely contained.

“I’m Klingon Intelligence, you idiots.”