The Leif Erikson dropped out of warp in a shimmer of blue light, coming to a smooth halt amidst a field of debris. On the viewscreen, a battered freighter tumbled gently through the black, its hull covered with carbon scoring from weapons fire and micrometeorite strikes. The port nacelle was missing entirely, and the pylons that would have held it in place were sparking hopelessly. 

Commander Bema Saberwyn leaned forward in his chair. “Well, that’s not sketchy at all.”

Captain Scott Bowman stood behind his chair. “Are there any power readings?” He asked. 

Lieutenant Junior Grade Tanna Irovin, who was sitting at the science console, shook her head. “Minimal, Captain.” she replied. “No active propulsion, no shields. Life support is only functional in one section – a sealed compartment mid-ship. Looks like the galley, Sir. It’s pressurized, but barely. I’m only reading one life form aboard.”

Scott turned to Ensign Pym, who was seated at the communications console. “Ensign, can you patch me through to them?”

“Yes, Captain, it looks like there is a communication terminal there, audio only.” Ensign Pym replied. 

“Go ahead, Ensign.” Scott said. The computer chirped, and Pym turned to Scott and nodded. “This is Captain Bowman of the Federation Starship USS Leif Erikson. We received your distress call.”

There was a crackle and a hiss of distorted static, then, a voice spoke. 

–hello? Is someone out there? – oh thank god – My name is Tessara Vren, of the freighter Eclipse Wind. We were attacked – I’m the only one left. – please, I don’t want to die out here. 

“It’s alright Tessara, we are here to help.” Scott said, softening his voice. “We’ve got a lock on your signal, and we are preparing to transport you directly to our sick bay.”

Thank the stars…

The audio feed cut out. Scott tapped his combadge. “Bridge to Sickbay. Doctor, I need you to prep for an emergency transport, full quarantine protocols.”

Understood, Captain. Ready and waiting. Doctor Sriarr M’Ress replied.

Tanna spun in her chair to face the Captain. “Sir, That transponder signal is a fake,” she said, a hint of concern in her voice, “And I can’t find this ship registered to any major port.” 

“It’s probably a smuggler’s ship, honestly.” Scott answered, “But we will help her out regardless. He turned to Bema. “Number One,I want you to run a full scan of the ship, find out if there are any secrets buried on board.”

“Aye, Captain.” Bema replied. 

A soft whine of energy and light rippled through the sickbay as the patient materialized in the isolation cell in front of Doctor Sriarr M’Ress. He stood at the console and raised the containment shield as the body finished forming. Slumped, shivering, and wrapped in the stained remnants of what was once an Orion flight jacket. Her lower lip was split, and an angry bruise darkened her cheekbone. Her hair, watch was matted and covered with dirt and soot, hung in tangled curtains around her face. She stumbled slightly, and caught herself on the padded edge of the biobed. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. 

Doctor Sriarr, already gowned and gloved, moved in to begin scanning her. “Woah, woah, easy now.” he said, his voice soft and caring, “You’re safely aboard the Leif Erikson now.” 

Tessasa flinched slightly beneath his touch, and then nodded. “I… I thought I was done for.” she said, her voice cracking, “I couldn’t boost the signal anymore. I didn’t think anyone was going to hear me.”

“You were lucky.” Sriarr said with a gentle smile, his tail flicking back and forth as he worked. His scanner beeped softly, and he sighed with relief. “No sign of infection or radiation exposure so far. You’ve got a few cracked ribs, early-stage dehydration and a mild concussion, but that’s nothing I can’t fix.” he added with a wink. 

Tessara gave a weak smile and a soft chuckle. “You sound very confident.” 

Sriarr smiled at her. “Trust me, I’ve fixed up patients in far worse condition than this.” He reached for the dermal regenerator. “First, let’s get that head wound taken care of.”

The sickbay doors hissed softly as Dathasa walked in, carrying a stack of PADDs for the Doctor to sign off on. Routine checkups, accident reports and so on. She crossed the room quickly, her eyes fixed on Sriarr’s office. 

Doctor M’Ress looked up from his desk as Dathasa came into his office, the soft green glow of the containment field reflected in his shiny black fur. “Lieutenant.” He greeted, as she set the stack down on the corner of his desk. “Please tell me these aren’t more accident reports from Lieutenant Beckett’s latest coolant manifold calibration.”

Dathasa smiled faintly. “Nope, just the usual. Boil here, lesion there. Looks like Ensign Pym might be allergic to cats.” she added, smiling slyly at him. 

“Funny,” he replied.

Dathasa turned to leave, and her eyes landed on the isolation bay, where Tessara lay sleeping. She was hooked up to an IV drip, and there were fresh bandages on her brow. Her face, though battered and bruised, struck Dathasa as almost familiar. She took a step closer, and then another. From here, she could see the angle of the woman’s jaw, and the shape of her cheekbone beneath the swelling. 

A cold shiver ran down her spine. Dathasa remembered where she had seen the face before. Her memory flashed back to Stardust City. To a gang hideout, and a captured Vaadwaur Lieutenant. To an Orion woman who ran away, and disappeared in a haze of smoke and neon lights. “Doctor…” Dathasa said slowly, “Did she say anything about who attacked her?”

Sriarr shook his head. “No, only that they were pirates, and they attacked fast. She couldn’t identify a species.” He motioned to her sleeping form, “She fell asleep shortly after she arrived.” Dathasa didn’t say anything, she just nodded once. She stared at the woman for a moment longer, then she turned on her heel and left without a backwards glance. 

She paced back and forth outside the door several times, trying to decide whether or not she should ring the bell. She was trying hard not to jump to conclusions, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this just wasn’t right. Finally, she took a deep breath, and tapped the button outside the door. She could hear the trill from outside. 

“Come in.” Commander Saberwyn said. 

Bema looked up from his desk as Dathasa came into the room. “What’s up?” he asked, waving his hand as an offer to sit.

Dathasa stayed on her feet. “It’s that Orion survivor, sir. Have you been down to see her?” 

“No,” he replied, shaking his head, “I’ve been tied up with the scans of that crumpled beer can of a ship that’s floating off the bow.” 

“I think we’ve seen her before.” Dathasa said. 

Bema raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“I can’t be sure,” Dathasa admitted, “her face is bruised and swollen, but I think she is the leader of the Emerald Razor.” The words bounced off Bema without recognition. “You know, the gang hideout we basically destroyed back in Stardust City, during the invasion?” She looked at him incredulously. 

Bema sighed, and leaned back in his chair slightly. “You’re serious,” he said flatly.

“I know what it sounds like…” Dathasa started. 

“It sounds like,” Bema said, cutting her off, “You think the half-dead Orion woman we found floating in the void just so happens to be the same Orion woman that ran from us on Freecloud.” 

“You think I’m reaching.” Dathasa said coolly. 

“I think,” Bema said, his tone edging towards brittle as he stood from his chair, “You still have a tendency to connect dots that aren’t in the same picture. This woman is running on fumes and trauma. Don’t turn her into a monster because you think she looks familiar.”

“I know what my gut tells me Sir, and it’s telling me something is off about this whole thing. I think we need to be careful.” Dathasa said. 

“And I think you need to stop pulling threads that don’t exist.” Bema replied, with a tone that suggested the conversation was at an end. There was a long silence that followed, and Bema dropped back down into his chair.

Finally, Dathasa spoke. “Understood, Commander.” she said stiffly, then she turned and left the office. The door slid closed behind her, and Bema was left alone in his office once more. For a while he didn’t move, he just stared at the door. He wanted to believe she was just reaching. Just grasping at straws. 

And yet. 

It wasn’t the first time he had disregarded a warning from her, and the last one had nearly gotten her killed. Project Epsilon.

The memory returned uninvited: Dathasa lying on the table in that lab, pale and unconscious, blood soaking the side of her uniform, Vail’s hands covered in that same green blood. She had told him there was something hiding down there, and he had dismissed her then as paranoid. He sighed, tapped the screen on his desktop to wake it, and then typed up the Doctor’s initial report. 

Victim Report:

Name: Tessara Vren

Nature of Injuries: Multiple contusions to head and face. Laceration on lower lip. Four cracked ribs on the left side. Mild concussion. Early stage dehydration and starvation. 

Recommendations: Sedation for sleep, IV for fluids. Monitor and adjust as needed. 

Notes: She does have a neural implant around her right ear. 

He read the report again, then he read the scans of the freighter. Nothing of value was left either inside or floating among the debris. At first glance, it just looked like another poor vessel that had an unfortunate run-in with pirates in one of the most dangerous areas in the quadrant, but the report mentioned a small space in the core of the ship that was shielded, and which scans could not penetrate. He sighed again, and then he stood. If Dathasa’s hunch was right last time, maybe there is something to this. He decided to go to sickbay and see for himself. 

Sriarr was standing nearby, reviewing scans on a console, his tail curling idly with concentration. He looked up as Bema entered the sickbay. “Commander,” he greeted, his tone neutral, “She’s still resting. Her hydration levels are stabilizing, and the cranial swelling has gone down by forty percent.” 

Bema nodded, but didn’t respond at once. He approached the alcove, hands clasped behind his back. Tessara lay on the biobed, eyes closed, her brow furrowed slightly in uneasy sleep. He studied her silently, watching the minute movements; the twitch of a finger, flicker of an eyelid, possible micro-adjustments of someone who may not be as unconscious as they appeared. 

He turned back to the doctor. “Anything unusual in her neurological scans?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Beyond the concussion and the signs of prolonged stress? No. There is something in her implant, but it’s mostly dormant. Not standard for civilian use, could be a signal blocker.”

“Like a smuggler would use?” Bema asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Possibly,” Sriarr answered, cocking his head to the side slightly. “Why?” 

“We found a room on her freighter that scans can’t see into.” Bema replied. “It seems our victim may not be as innocent as she claims.”

Sriarr didn’t respond, but his ears twitched in a way that Bema recognized as him thinking deeply. Without another word, Bema clapped him once on the shoulder, and turned to leave. He was headed to ask the Captain to okay an away team to beam over to the wreck and discover what was in that mysterious room.