Twelve hours had passed.  Captain Peter Crawford held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand while he sat in the center chair, reading the overnight reports on a PADD in the other.  The request for the alleged shuttle information had been received and was ‘in process.’  The reports ended without any communication from any of the three civilian ships.  Peter set the PADD aside and took a long drink from his coffee.  He’d worked to get some homemade coffee beans and plants onboard the USS Franklin D. Roosevelt.  It had resulted in some better than usual coffee.

Ensign Merlin Markell at communications reported, “Captain, the main ship is hailing us.  The person on the other end is identifying themselves as Leanna Dorl.”

Peter blinked a few times, “Fancy that.  He handed his coffee to his Yeoman and turned his attention to the viewscreen, “Let’s see what she has to say.”  The screen shifted to a crowded bridge full of frowns and furious looks.  He thought the one in the middle was older and held herself differently, as if sitting on a throne.  “I’m Captain Peter Crawford of the Federation Starship USS Franklin D. Roosevelt.  I understand you wish to speak with me?”

“You have three of my people.  You will return them.”

Crawford resisted the urge to scoff.  He wasn’t sure what game or who she was playing.  “The three people you speak of have been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Federation citizen Nathan Rutherford.  We requested the data on the warp-capable shuttle that your people allegedly provided to Mr. Rutherford.  That information has not been forthcoming.”  He returned her thousand-yard stare, “Do you wish to address the issue of Nathan Rutherford?”

He watched the gathered group, many of whom shifted nervously on the screen. Leanna Dorl was impassive and unmoved by his accusation. She replied, “He was with us until six months ago. He was asked to leave.”  The first traces of nervousness crossed her face for a split second, and Crawford had his answer even as he asked the question.

“Did he leave willingly?”

“No.  He was escorted to a shuttle, and it was programmed on a route back to populated Federation Space.”

Peter straightened in his chair, a chill sliding down his back, kicking each vertebrae as it careened down his legs.  “Was he conscious?”

Her eyes narrowed.  “No.”

“Was he alive?”  He watched her eyes widen, and she was midsentence in shouting something before the channel closed.  He turned to the bridge crew, “Options?”

Vlokar was at science and deep in thought.  He answered, “We still do not know her true intention or the intention of the incoming six vessels.  Her ship lacks a warp core.  Chief Jammer approximates that the ship will lose power within two to three hours.  The emergency batteries cannot last forever.  The Dragonfly will be here within the hour to assist.”

Peter offered, “We’ll have maybe six hours or less once Captain Pantuso arrives.  Whatever her plan was before, it’s ruined now.  Any progress from Lieutenant Mika on the two other ships?”

Ensign Penna was intently working at her operations station and had to be asked again before her focus returned, “Curiously, there is something – there is a small group – three of the passengers on the second ship who have asked to meet with someone on the command team…they refused to disclose what it is.”  She pulled their files and put them on the viewscreen, “Karl, Jared, and Patrick.  They joined the group late after the main players.  Comparatively, they are younger than most of the others by at least ten to fifteen years – they’re in their early -thirties.”

Crawford stared at the faces of the three young men as he read the details: “They all came from the same colony and managed to stick together most of their lives. They could be wondering about it all—young enough to follow and young enough to wonder if it’s all worth it.”  He stood and said, “Have them transported over and escorted to the diplomatic suite.  Lieutenant Albright, you have the CONN.”

“She can’t hear us, can she?”  Karl sat nervously across the table from Crawford, his eyes searching the expansive room.  “We think she’s got the ships bugged.”  Jared and Patrick sat on either side of him, eyes wide in abject terror. Peter assured them that was not possible.  Karl paused, glancing at his friends as they nodded, still nervous.  “They killed that man.  All of them.”

Peter’s jaw dropped, and he recovered, asking, “Who is…all of them?”

Karl continued haltingly. “Everyone on the main ship.  They put him in the middle of the large fellowship room…and held him in judgment.”  He explained the ‘judgment’ process was the harshest in the community – you would be accused, and evidence would be presented while bound tightly to a thick metal chair that was slowly heated.  If you confessed, each detail would lower the temperature of the chair until you were ‘cleansed’ of your sins.

Crawford hesitated as he asked, “And if no confession was forthcoming?”

Jared spoke, his voice quiet yet firm.  “They would heat the chair, and your skin would burn.”  He flinched at the mention but continued as the two others encouraged him.  “You could scream that you had confessed it all, and they’d keep it going until they claimed you’d confessed it all.  Nathan refused to confess.  Refused to say anything they wanted him to say.”  Jared’s lips quivered.

Patrick picked up, his voice strong and firm, and his eyes were different from the other two. Behind his calm eyes was a deep-seeded anger, a vengeance that startled Crawford.  “They tore him apart after they burned him—all of them.”  His eyes stayed on the CO, “It was a horror show.  He was alive through it all.  The rest of them…they just watched.  They cheered.  They…chanted the words she taught us.”  He scoffed, “We stood in the back, wondering what to do…escape wasn’t possible. After discovering Nathan, they locked each ship up – and sent true believers to supervise and watch us.  The rest of them just…followed along.  Not us.  We kept trying to figure out a way out.  Then they picked up your ship.”  He chuckled, “You scared the living shit out of them.  Sir.  Respectfully.”

Peter struggled to balance their story with the images forming in his head.  His stomach threatened to lurch at the thought of what they had done to the man.  What pain they had forced upon him.  What torture they had crafted and then executed.  He asked, “Had anyone else been put to the punishment level that Nathan reached?”

Patrick replied, “No.  The chair was enough to keep people in line.  What they did to Nathan…it broke us, captain.  There are a few others who think as we do, but they were suddenly reassigned to the other ship last month, and we haven’t heard from them.”  He asked for a PADD and jotted down the names.  “The longer you keep us here, more are starting to wonder.  She hasn’t communicated with either ship since you arrived.  We try to call…but nobody answers.”  He asked, “We’d like to request asylum onboard your ship, Captain Crawford.”

Peter’s smile was quiet as the man’s intent became clear.  “We’ll start the paperwork.  What did you tell the overseers about your trip here?”

“That we were coming to demand answers for the treatment of Leanna Dorl and what you had done with her.  Given what happened to the other three, we figured the chances of it giving us some cover would help.”

Peter chuckled, “You’re smart, Patrick.  I’ll give you that.”  He sat back in the chair, contemplating.  Arresting them might tip the scales either way, given the delicate nature of the situation.  As imposing as the Ambassador class starship was, he didn’t want to have to rely on being the biggest ship with the biggest weapons.  “If we take her down, we’ll need evidence.”

Karl appeared lost in thought and spoke after Crawford’s stare shook him loose, “They don’t clean the fellowship hall.  Or the chair.  Whatever remains is left as a reminder of the sins of the past and the darkness that she says is stuck to us.”

Crawford shuddered.  The horror of their experience sickened him.  He felt for them – the injustice of it all.  To be forced to watch the wanton massacre of a man…it was beyond the pale.  He tapped the console on the desk, “Crawford to Chief Jammer…when you went aboard the main ship…did your teams find a fellowship hall or a large room?”

There was a shuffle of PADDs in the background, and her voice came through, “There was one door marked ‘Gathering Hall’ – but it was locked.  We didn’t attempt entry.  Sensors couldn’t penetrate it – we’ve been working on the problem down here without much success.”

The CO turned to the three men as he answered, “I think we’ve solved it.  Assembled a full security team to escort a crack team of engineers.  Meet me in transporter room three.”