The private balcony overlooking the beating heart of the nightclub Redoubt wasn’t just Torrad-Var’s office, but his domain. At a glance, it looked like it opened directly into the space above the cavernous dance floor, but Rosewood caught the shimmer of forcefields, and could feel how they muffled the sound when they stepped inside. Display screens across the wall showed every inch of the club, interspersed with sports games, news feeds, stock reports. A private bar filled the far end, and all around were comfortable seats, as if this were a VIP suite for the club and not the centre of operations for an Orion Syndicate kingpin.

‘You should buy a guy dinner first,’ Rosewood couldn’t help but quip as the meanest-looking Bolian he’d ever seen shook him down for weapons. Cassidy cast him a sharp look, and he clamped his mouth shut, but then security had cleared them and they approached.

Aside from guards, the balcony was almost empty. One exception was the figure with his back to them, facing the open front towards the dance floor. Broad-shouldered but getting soft in the middle, Torrad-Var wore a sleeveless vest showing off intricate tattoos coiling down muscular arms, black weaving patterns stark against emerald skin. But despite the dress down appearance, when the big Orion turned, Rosewood felt the energy in the room shift towards him.

Torrad-Var’s expression was impassive, but Cassidy gave a devilish grin and sauntered up like he didn’t have a care in the world. ‘Still running the best show in town, I see. Looks like half the city wants to be here to pay homage.’ He had never, Rosewood thought wryly, looked so pleased to see any fellow officer.

To his surprise, Torrad-Var reached out, and the two men clasped hands in a comradely fashion. ‘It’s good to be the king, Cassidy. But you know better than most what it takes: keeping your head on your shoulders.’

Cassidy sucked his teeth and shook his head. ‘Especially with the waters you’re swimming in right now. Black market tech? Messy, even for someone with your reach.’

‘You know I’m not touching that. That’s why you’re here. But when some in the Syndicate are pushing harder and harder in the tech trade… you’ve got to pick your battles.’ Torrad-Var extended a hand to the seating, but his eyes fell on the other two Rooks. ‘These your boys? I thought you liked more colourful company, Cassidy.’

Rosewood gave his usual toothy grin. ‘I was under strict orders to blend in. This is Aryn; I’m Rosewood. I handle the team’s more… delicate matters.’

Torrad-Var scoffed. ‘You’re gonna need more than delicate if you’re picking the sort of dance partners Cassidy asked after.’

They advanced on the seats, which was when Rosewood took a beat to size up the last person in the room: the beautiful Orion woman seated on the wide sofa. Torrad-Var sat next to her and she at once leaned in to drape across his shoulder. He’d wondered if she was an expert or adviser, but the look of empty adoration in her eyes suggested nothing more than status symbol.

‘That’s why we’re here,’ Cassidy was saying, sitting down and nodding for the other two Rooks to sit, too.

‘I know,’ Torrad-Var said with a hint of aggravation. He opened his mouth, then shook his head and reached for a controller on the table. With the press of a thumb, the thud of music from the club faded to more of a background fizz, and he looked at the Orion woman. ‘Q’ira, darling, get us all some drinks. I’m forgetting my manners.’

She looked faintly put out at having to move, but the Orion woman called Q’ira slid to her feet and said, in a voice like impossible promises, ‘A round of Starlight Shatters coming up.’

Aryn looked up. ‘What’s -’

‘Sounds good,’ Cassidy cut in roughly, and leaned towards Torrad-Var as the woman went to the bar. ‘The auction on Ilior’s not an outlier. The tech that’s changing hands… you and I know it’s a bad deal for everyone involved. Especially the Syndicate. It’s dangerous and volatile, and it’s the kind of stuff you sell to terrorists and empires, not other crime bosses. That just brings heat. And that’s before we get to the fact half of it’s Starfleet’s stolen toys, and they just finished cleaning house. Now it’s time to get what was theirs.’

‘You trying to sell me on something I already agreed to, Cassidy?’ Torrad-Var leaned back, arms stretching across the back of the sofa. ‘Try to not talk yourself out of a deal, acting like I don’t know we’re playing with fire. You’re still asking me to go against my own.’

‘It’s taking temptation off the table. Painting fewer targets on your organisation. You’ve always been willing to be the lesser evil – Starfleet’s view, not mine.’

Torrad-Var scoffed. ‘It is yours, Cassidy. You might like a walk on the wild side and enjoy getting your hands grubby, but at the end of the day, you’re a white hat. This is tourism for you. Necessity. This is my life. My people. And lots of them would call me a traitor for helping you.’

‘You know as well as I do that their recklessness is more dangerous for the organisation.’

‘I can work with you. But some day, you’ll be ordered to hunt me down, and on that day, you’ll do it. Don’t pretend we’re on the same side, pragmatic men with the same view of the galaxy. Don’t pretend we’re friends, Cassidy.’ Torrad-Var looked up as Q’ira returned with a tray of shimmering glasses of an ebony liquid speckled with hints of gold. He took one and raised it to the Rooks. ‘Cheers.’

At Cassidy’s curt looks, the Rooks drank, too. The drink was richer than Rosewood expected, but with a hint of sweetness that stopped it sitting too heavily.

‘Then if we’re not friends,’ Rosewood said, smacking his lips, ‘we’re doing business. That can be all we talk about today.’

Torrad-Var grunted. ‘A commitment is a commitment.’ He opened an arm and the Orion woman slid back in beside him on the chair. ‘Q’ira here will get you into Nank’s place, and the auction. People know her and her face. Walk in as her retinue and they’ll believe you’re all part of my outfit.’

A playful smile tugged at Q’ira’s lips. ‘I know all the right people – and the wrong ones, too. We’ll get in just fine.’

Cassidy gave her a dismissive glance, then looked back at Torrad-Var. ‘Alright. What about Aestri? Will it cause trouble for you if she’s there and you’re competing with her?’

‘If you lose, she’s got nothing to complain about,’ he said. ‘If you win, then she’ll do better to not draw attention to being outdone by a rival. You shouldn’t worry about the fallout. That’s my problem.’

Q’ira examined her nails. ‘Unless Aestri decides to be a sore loser. She usually is.’

‘More important,’ Torrad-Var continued, ‘is if you know how you’re walking off Ilior with what you want. You’re there under my reputation – this deal is contingent on you not fucking that.’

Cassidy shook his head. ‘I’d like to keep working with you, Torrad-Var. Besides, the most obvious way to screw it up would be trying to brute-force the issue, walk out with the goods at gunpoint. I’m not fool enough to think I can get away with that somewhere like Ilior. Either we sneak it away, or we win it fair and square.’

‘Or with the appearance of fair and square,’ Rosewood mused.

‘Either way,’ said Cassidy. ‘We’ll walk out of that auction with your reputation intact. ‘Cos I’d like to use it again sometime.’

‘In which case,’ said Torrad-Var, ‘you gotta be ready to spend some cash, and not be squeamish about where it goes.’

‘There are some rainy day funds we’ll be putting towards this. A lot was seized from the people who spent a few years fucking us from the inside. Helps that Nank and his operation are considered a lesser evil, too.’

Rosewood opened his mouth with a pithy comment on the tip of his tongue, but then Aryn leaned forward. The scientist had been silent throughout the meeting, but now he spoke, his eyes not on Torrad-Var, but Q’ira.

‘You mentioned Aestri being a sore loser,’ he said, like the thought had been percolating and now was bursting out almost against his will. ‘You know her?’

Q’ira wasn’t the only one to look surprised at being addressed directly – Torrad-Var did, too. But with a quick glance at her boss, she tossed light green hair over her shoulder with a dismissive air. ‘Oh, I’ve been around, darling,’ she said in an airy tone. ‘I know all sorts. You’ll see.’

Torrad-Var frowned, and when he stood, it was with a gesture that was almost an impatient shaking off of his employee. ‘If you’re going with Q’ira, you should take her ship, instead of something with Starfleet scribbled all over it. She’ll get you in, and from there, it’s your game to win.’ His eyes hardened. ‘Don’t lose.’

They were out of the Redoubt, and a round of Starlight Shatter cocktails down, before Rosewood gave his opinion. Even then he waited until they were a street over, thick in the ebbs and flows of Kalviris Prime, his words muted by the roaring market streets and punters from a thousand worlds looking for escapism.

‘Arm candy and a ship, that’s the deal?’ he complained. ‘Feels like your old friend’s holding out.’

Cassidy ground his teeth, clearly not that happy, either. ‘Like he said – we’re not friends. He’s not trusting us more than he has to. He’s sending us with his sidepiece so that if we screw it up, he can cut us off – and her – without losing face.’

‘I don’t…’ Aryn hesitated. ‘You think he’d risk sending us with a nobody against someone like Aestri?’

‘I think sending us with a nobody means he can’t really lose,’ grumbled Cassidy. ‘Either way, this is the deal. I figured we’d have to ditch the Blackbird, so we get back, pack, and grab Tiran and the Chief.’ He glanced over his shoulder as if to check, though Rosewood knew the zig-zagging route he’d taken them towards the transporter station was to shake off any tails.

‘We shouldn’t worry too much about Torrad-Var’s agenda,’ he said after a beat. ‘We play this smart, or we won’t make it back from Ilior anyway.’