“Mr. Zolath, give me some good news,” Nitus said as she approached the central console in the security suite’s main compartment. She had tasked the tactical officer with finding a way to enter the cargo hold without entering their Orion friends.

Zolath handed her a PADD as he brought up a display of Viridian’s Grace with a red outline highlighting the ship’s cargo hold. “I do, Commander,” he said, adjusting the parameters to show multiple small lines across the vessel leading from tip to stern and bottom to top.

“What are these lines?” Nitus asked, intrigued.

“They are the Klingon equivalent of jefferies tubes,” Arva said. The section of the ship blinked twice, then zeroed in on the section revealing the engine room: “There’s a hatch in the engine room somewhere to the side where two or three people can fit; they will then need to climb through said tubes until they find their way to the cargo hold.” The Bajoran officer gestured to the PADD he handed Nitus and said, “I recommend Lieutenant Nirk’oc Gov, Chief Samuel Writhers, and Ensign Tyrrell undertake this mission.”

“Mission being?” Nitus asked. Even though she knew well what the objective was, she needed him to remember it for what she would ask of him next.

“To use the Jeffries tubes to get inside the cargo hold without the Orions discovering us. Once inside, they must find anything that seems like it doesn’t belong to them. They are to log it until they can return to the Paramount to report their findings,” Arva said, answering her question. He slowly walked towards her as he looked at her, waiting for her to respond.

“Excellent work, Mr. Zolath. Just one thing,” Nitus said.

“What is it?” Arva asked. He had planned this mission to the letter, accounting for every possible situation. Making sure there were failsafes at every chance of error. He would coordinate everything from here while Nirk’oc led the mission on the ground. 

“I want you to lead the mission on the ground,” she said to him.

The soft hum of the ship’s transporter slowly descended from its climax as Arva, Nirk’oc, and Tyrrell appeared in the old Imperial transporter room.

“Let’s move. Keep close,” Arva said to the others as he moved off of the pad and into the hall, the junior officer following close behind. As they walked, the supplies they had been carrying rattled softly. Zahir had convinced them to bring supplies they needed, not only to blend in but also because they needed them. They all stepped into the lift, taking the short ride down the shaft until they reached the engine room.

As the trio stepped into the engine room, they were greeted by chaos, or rather, what they perceived as chaos. Shouting could be heard across the two-story room, and engineers could be seen racing back and forth as they viewed what the three of them knew was something common across all engine rooms.

An Andorain male clad in a gold Starfleet lieutenant uniform. Arva immediately recognized the deputy chief engineer. “Thanks for bringing this over. We needed this,” Kevil said as he stared over to the corner of the room. Turing his head, Arva spotted the grate that could be assumed led to the jefferies tubes. 

“No problem, lieutenant,” Arva said as she began to lead the others elsewhere to not make it suspicious with the Orion engineers walking around.

“Ensign,” Kevil called out. The trio turned to see Kevil looking at Tyrrell. “I need your help with something. The internal sensors are messing up. I might need your help to recalibrate the system.”

I looked to Tyrrell, asking for permission without ever having to open his mouth. Arva simply nodded as he and Nirk’oc walked off doing random things as they blended in, slowly making their way to the jefferies tubes. Arva looked around, trying to find the ensign that came with him. Finding him, he simply nodded as Tyrrell disabled the internal sensors. Arva pried open the grate with little effort, revealing the cramped space within.

“I’ll go first,” Arva says, climbing into the tube. Nirk’oc followed behind him. The tube is barely wide enough for them to maneuver, and the air is thick with the smell of overheated metal. They crawled for what felt like hours, but in reality, it had only been a few minutes. “According to the schematics,” Arva says, his voice slightly muffled by the close quarters, “the junction should be just ahead. It should allow us direct access to the cargo hold’.”

They reach the junction, where a small grate is identical to the one from the engine room. Arva forced the grate open, catching it before it fell.

Stepping into the cargo hold, the air inside was thick with the smell of spilled chemicals and something else—something metallic and sharp. Slowly rising from the floor, the pair walked into the hold. Arva led the way with his phaser drawn and Nirk’oc in tow, holding a tricorder. The dim emergency lighting casts eerie shadows across the scattered crates and damaged cargo containers.

“Stay sharp,” he murmurs. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

As they moved deeper into the hold, they were surrounded by a large spread of equipment. Arva slowly approached the first thing near him as he examined it and shined a flashlight on it. There was a Starfleet delta on it. 

“My gods,” Arva says quietly.

A sound could be heard from the cargo hold main doors. Arva and Nirk’oc’s faces were washed with panic as they realized someone was about to enter. They raced over to where they came from as they were about to retreat to the engine room. Arva signaled Nirk’oc to stop. He walked to hide behind a crate as he looked to see who was entering.

Faint voices could be heard slowly as two figures entered the room. Their voices grew louder as they entered. “They will discover what we have,” one of the voices said. 

“I know. Hopefully, they will be willing to listen. The true owner of this ship has been restless; he has threatened to kill us all if we can’t deliver in the next thirty minutes,” a familiar voice said. The voice shook slightly at the mention of them being killed. Arva’s curiosity got the better of him as he leaned around the vow to see who was speaking there. He spotted Vozuk standing next to someone unknown.

Quickly refocusing on the mission at hand, Arva turned his head to see the equipment on the floor. He was shocked by the sheer number of things he saw. Rows and rows of neatly stacked Federation technology—phasers, communicators, and data cores—all emblazoned with the Starfleet delta and stamped with Starfleet serial numbers.

Moving back to where Nirk’oc was waiting, he slowly approached him. “We need to leave. Now!” 

“They have what?!” Nitus shouted as she stood from her chair, nearly causing it to fall with the force she used.

Arva jumped at the sudden action, as did Nirk’oc. “Yes, ma’am, it was enough there to outfit at least two Paramounts and maybe a Kison,” Arva said to her, showcasing the urgency of the situation. He was becoming increasingly worried about the Orions before they even found the stolen technology in the cargo hold.

Nitus stared at Arva as he spoke, looking between him and Nirk’oc. She moved from around the desk and started pacing in the space behind them. She was shocked, to say the least. Vozuk is a criminal. They would need to provide substantial evidence before they could make an arrest. Unexpectedly, the familiar red glow and the alert kalaxon go off.

Sighing, Nitus walks out of the door, mumbling to herself, “What now?”

With Arva and Nirk’oc following behind, they made their way to their designated stations as they prepared for what was next. Nitus walked to the command center, facing Arva, as the Bajoran settled into his chair. “Report,” Nitus said aloud.

“There are three Vor’cha-class attack cruisers assembled on the other side of the border,” Enzo said from the helm console. Turning to look out of the viewscreen, she could subtly make out three ships in the distance.

“Magnify,” she says. The holographic display changed, showing the three Klingon attack cruisers in full view. The half-Romulan commander looked at the ships across the border, watching as they maneuvered themselves around each other. As they looked at the ship, you could spot the damage the hull had sustained from its previous engagements, probably some dating back to the Dominion War. But the question on everyone’s mind was: What were the ships doing way out here?