The chop shop Kanem ran sat among the remnants of the old Federation industrial zone. Rusted metal and crumbling concrete loomed overhead, the towering skeletons of abandoned warehouses casting long shadows across grimy streets. Makeshift barriers of old shipping containers and repurposed starship hull plating formed a crude barrier between the facility and its defences, and the rest of Oltanis IV’s main settlement.

A stench of burning plasma and coolant filled the air, mingling with that metallic scent of blood and industry. They’d parked up the Nomad a distance away and proceeded on foot, with Cassidy now leading them, his steps measured. They passed by what used to be a large cargo yard, now a scrapyard of twisted metal and dismembered starship parts. Within sat not only remains of Federation and Romulan technology, but the husks of sections of Borg wreckage, too. A lot of abandoned debris from the last year’s uptick in Borg activity had made it to this planet.

The original signage had been repurposed, lettering rearranged or scratched out or scrawled over to warn trespassers in a half-dozen languages: KEEP OUT.

‘Right through there,’ said Q’ira, nodding at the closed doors of the factory building the signage hung above. Two guards stood at the entrance, a Romulan and Andorian. They were both armed, but their disruptor rifles were heavily modified. Rosewood could see, yet again, the gleam of Borg technology built into the mechanisms.

‘I got this,’ he mumbled, and advanced as the guards stared openly at them, hands raising for a placating body language and smile. ‘We’re here to talk to Kanem. We have business.’

The Romulan guard’s face was a patchwork of scars and metallic implants. ‘What business?’

‘We’re friends of Gravik,’ Rosewood said. ‘He sent us here. Said Kanem would want to hear us out.’

The guards exchanged a glance, but Kanem’s voice seemed to carry weight. It became clear theirs weren’t the only eyes on the Rooks as the Andorian cocked his head, listening to an unseen speaker, then he nodded to the Romulan. ‘They’re clear.’

A deep rumble echoed as the heavy doors slid open, revealing the interior of the compound. Inside, the scene shifted from industrial decay for a sprawling, makeshift operation of repurposed industrial equipment and operating stations inside the old factory. Workbenches lined the walls, covered in disassembled Borg implants, cybernetic limbs, and arrays of tools – some of which were medical, not mechanical. Though there was no immediate sign of any of the implants’ original owners, dark stains on the ground spoke of the grisly work done. The workstations were all empty for now, everything carefully and professionally stored and tidied. A handful of workers inside, all in plain, matching jumpsuits, were cleaning each bench, its devices, its tools.

At the far end of the factory floor, under the dull glow of flickering lights, a raised platform led to a steel-reinforced office, its windows darkened but clearly offering a view over the entire operation.

‘This place is worse than I imagined,’ Rosewood muttered, his eyes flickering to the stains.

‘It’s fuckin’ sick is what it is,’ said Nallera, louder.

‘It’s average for this sort of facility.’ Aryn’s voice sounded like it came from a long way away. ‘Just… larger.’

Cassidy advanced on the office. ‘Kanem’s waiting for us.’

Guards at the doors and overhead gantries watched them as they crossed the floor and climbed the metal staircase to the platform. The door inside opened as they arrived, and at once they were greeted with normal lighting and a much sweeter smell. This entire facility was a den of blood and iron, so it was only natural, Rosewood mused, that its master had built an air freshener into his office. Otherwise, he might have to live in the misery over which he lorded.

Kanem was a wiry Romulan wearing a suit Rosewood could tell was expensive, and not merely by the standards of Oltanis IV. The cybernetic implant embedded in his temple looked slick and modern, and though Rosewood had to wonder if Borg technology was involved at all – someone had to dare have those things put in their bodies if the market was booming this much – there was no obvious sign of it. His wooden desk was intricately carved, though with subtle imperfections that spoke of a crafting by hand that only added to its obvious expense. While he, like Gravik, was alone in the room, even the briefest glance identified several cameras. Another attempt at brute force would only summon guards.

‘Starfleet.’ Kanem kicked back behind his desk, saying the word like he was tasting it. ‘Don’t look so surprised – Gravik told me you were coming. He seemed a little… upset?’

Cassidy opened his mouth, and Rosewood surged forward at once, slicking his hair back. ‘We got off on the wrong foot with him,’ he admitted quickly. ‘It doesn’t have to be that way with us.’

Dark eyes raked over each of the Rooks in turn, lingering most of all on Q’ira – and then, to Rosewood’s bewilderment, Aryn. Then Kanem shrugged. ‘If you were here to shut me down, you wouldn’t have needed to ask Gravik about me first, and you wouldn’t walk in the front door. That means it’s business.’ He gave a light scoff. ‘It’s been a while since I talked shop with Starfleet.’

Rosewood worked hard to keep his expression studied, but one of the others must have fumbled their poker face, because Kanem laughed.

‘Don’t look so shocked,’ the Romulan scoffed. ‘You might not like what I do, but I do it in an ordered fashion. Out here, where Starfleet can’t be bothered to send a starship? Of course there have been times we’ve made deals. It’s been very convenient for your superiors for them to sometimes help me take down – and take over – a volatile, violent, dangerous competitor, for example.’

‘Unlike your work here.’ That was Aryn, and now Rosewood had to turn, surprised and indignant, as the lanky science officer piped up. His expression was flat, voice low. ‘No signs of violence here.’

Kanem’s head cocked, eyes going cold. ‘If you came here to lecture me…’

Rosewood stepped forward, putting himself between Kanem and the rest of the Rooks. ‘We came for business,’ he said quickly. His gaze flickered to Cassidy, who had walked to the window overlooking the main factory floor and was staring out on it instead of getting involved. That seemed for the best. ‘All we want is information. It’s very simple.’

‘It’s never simple with Starfleet. But I don’t have time to hold your hand through the moral dilemma of compromising with me.’ Kanem clicked his tongue and leaned back. ‘As if you haven’t spent decades compromising with the brutality of the Klingon Empire, or the oppression of the Union. I might appear messier. But my scale is merely industrial. Theirs is imperial. And you let them do it anyway.’

‘If you don’t want a lecture on your work, then don’t give me a lecture on the reality of geopolitics,’ Rosewood drawled. ‘Can’t we both be adults and professionals?’

Kanem sat up. ‘I would like that, yes. What do I call you?’

‘John,’ Rosewood said easily, and slipped into the seat across from him. He heard Aryn, over his shoulder, step away, moving to the periphery of the office and the discussion. That seemed for the best, if the operator had decided he had boundaries today. ‘We’re looking for someone Gravik said came to do business with you.’

‘Ah,’ said Kanem. ‘The Orion. Aestri.’

‘That’s right. I know you deal in more than implants. We saw the scrapyard out there. You’ve secured the lion’s share of salvage of Borg technology.’

‘I have. But my clients rely on me for a certain level of discretion.’

‘That just means,’ said Rosewood, ‘that we have to strike the right price. I can’t imagine she paid an astonishing amount to secure a meagre amount of hardware.’

‘It’s not just hardware,’ said Aryn, turning from the window to face them, and Rosewood wanted to yell at him. ‘There’s more than implant extraction going on here, isn’t there? You have research facilities, development labs. A lot of that Borg technology is sophisticated and dangerous; people can’t just plug it into their freighter. So someone has to work out how to put all of this hardware to use. Or you can’t shift it.’

Kanem’s expression was emotionless as he looked up at Aryn. ‘We offer a range of services here, yes. I’ve already confirmed the person you’re looking for engaged some of them. I can’t possibly tell you what they were.’

‘If you -’

‘Four.’ Rosewood’s voice was clipped before he looked back at Kanem. ‘He’s one of my developers. You know how they can sometimes lose track of actual business. You should talk to me.’

Kanem eyed Aryn for a moment more, then rested his elbows on the desk and looked at Rosewood. ‘Then what do you want to say? John?’

‘Let’s cut to the chase. I want to know what Aestri got out of you, and any information you have on where she went. So just… name your price.’

‘The price. To sell out an Orion Syndicate lieutenant to Starfleet.’ Kanem clicked his tongue as he plucked a PADD off the desk.

‘An Orion Syndicate lieutenant who managed to draw Starfleet’s attention here for the first time in how long?’

‘That’s why we can have this negotiation at all. It doesn’t help the price. It just means there is one.’ Kanem tapped the PADD a few times, then slid it across the desk. ‘Here.’

Rosewood reached for it, but Cassidy was there first, grabbing it and reading. Rosewood had to resist the urge to pull it from him as the team leader stood still for a moment, staring down at the screen.

Then he tossed it back on the desk. ‘No.’

Kanem made a face. ‘This isn’t a haggling sort of occasion. You should be grateful I’m discussing selling this information at all; I’ve no time to play games with Starfleet –’

Rosewood sat up. A quick glance at the screen showed an eye-watering amount of latinum, but it still didn’t compare to what they’d spent on Ilior. ‘We -’

‘Playing games is exactly what you’re gonna do,’ grunted Cassidy. ‘Because you don’t like the alternative to playing games. So I’m saying “no,” and you’re gonna sleep on it, and then we’re gonna talk again.’

Kanem stared at him for a moment. Then tossed a hand in the air. ‘Tomorrow, it’ll be the same price, except your target’s another twenty-four hours away. Be my guest. Or, rather, stop being my guests.’ His look at the door was pointed.

At Gravik’s office, Rosewood had ground his teeth and held his tongue until they were back in the Nomad. This time, as he walked with his fists clenched through the factory floor and then out past the compound barricade, he got as far as around the corner before he rounded on Cassidy.

‘Should I just sit on the ship for these meetings?’ he snapped. ‘Seeing as you know all about doing these negotiations? He isn’t going to budge!’

Nallera made a small, upset noise. ‘We don’t know that.

‘I… think he’s right,’ said Q’ira with a wince. ‘We’re working at a very high level here. He’s taking a risk just taking the meeting; he might not let us in when we go back.’

‘We’ll get in,’ said Cassidy, but his eyes were locked on Rosewood, impassive. ‘And you need to get a grip, Five. We’re in public.’

‘I’ve got to get a grip?’ Rosewood snarled. ‘I had two perfectly good negotiations set up, and in both of them you’ve come in to wreck everything with brute force -’

‘It worked with Gravik.’

‘Well, it won’t work with Kanem! And I knew that! But you’re so caught up on this rip-roaring mission of vengeance that you can’t see a way through something without violence!’

Cassidy took a step forward, and Rosewood could almost hear the intakes of breath. He was silent a moment, looking Rosewood up and down. ‘I’m caught up on vengeance.’ His voice was low, his scoff gentle. ‘Look at yourself. How much would you have lined the pockets of the worst people in the galaxy today to get what you want?’

‘I -’

‘Like I said with Gravik: all we lost was credit we needed to spend or lose anyway. But you were willing to hand him a small fortune, because, what? Blood’s not on your hands if you can’t see it? Paying to support violence is morally superior to inflicting it?’

For a moment, Rosewood thought the shuddering in his chest was rage. Then it fluttered into something more complex, and whatever it was took the wind out of his sails, dampened his fury. He paused, if only to swallow down the bile and void rising within him. ‘What about Kanem? Do you have an answer to how we get intel out of him? Or just arbitrary superiority?’

‘I’ve got an answer. I got that answer the moment I heard what he was. And knew it was right the moment we set foot in that factory floor, stained in blood.’ Cassidy looked from Rosewood to the rest of the team, and when he straightened it was as if his gravitational field had become more powerful. ‘Aestri came a long way to see him. Whatever it was she needed, it won’t have been small. In an operation that slick, there’ll be records of it. So we take ‘em.’

Rosewood swallowed again. ‘Take them.’

‘Yeah. You know. With guns and shit-kicking boots, because they’re a bunch of murderous assholes.’ Cassidy gave a smile that was all teeth. ‘And then we burn that entire operation to the ground.’