The past few days had been bliss. Four full days of being off his little ship and docked back home in the city. Four days of spacious surroundings and relaxing downtime. If he was sober enough, Morgan would feel uncontrollably happy.

When he returned home those few short days ago he watched through the windows of the Nosferatu as his ship approached it’s home base. Morgan sat back in his chair and relaxed as his pilot began to circle the city’s outer pylons slowly plotting a course towards their landing bay.

The image of Sha Ka Ree was always breath taking for Morgan. The central core of the starbase was lit up with blinking lights with thousands of windows looking upon the stars and down to the planet below. Towers raised from the points of the structure, looking up into space and in the centre blocks of offices overlooked the station they controlled. Each element made it look less like a starbase and more like a city on the ground of a modern civilization. It made it feel more like home than just another assignment. As much as he’d tried to fight it, he was settled there.

The core was always a hub of activity with the centre holding families, arcades, every conceivable entertainment facility as well as specialised research centres, hospitals and Morgan’s favourite bar among other things. As a sharp contrast the industrial bundle pointing towards the planet below was often quiet and highly secured machinery that kept the city running like a heart pumping blood throughout the body, and just as there was a heart the command towers at the top of the city made sure everything functioned perfectly, overseeing operations for the complex, and overseeing the regions mission ops.

The structures of the dockyard pylons always seemed to change whenever Morgan looked at them. He first saw them as a constantly evolving construction dock, with bits and pieces being added all the time, but when he first stepped foot inside one of the cargo bays he realised even in those all business areas markets were evolving with suppliers coming to Sha Ka Ree regularly to trade their goods from all over the region.

The Nosferatu passed between two of the pylons where between them was another structure poking out of the core, like a massive luxury apartment block almost as big as the central section of the core itself where more than half the population lived with their friends and families.

As they approached the command towers, Morgan could see the dome where the primary command centre was, placed between his landing bay and the Christopher Pike Academy block designed to match Starfleet Headquarters on Earth, sitting at the base of the tower holding all the Federation diplomats and officials. When his request to land was approved by the command centre, his pilot handed control over to the landing bay dock master and felt the craft land gently. The crew sat back and relaxed as they realised they were finally home to rest.

For Morgan that meant one thing. Since docking he’d spent those few precious days back in civilisation in his favourite place.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Morgan turned to hear the voice of the woman approaching him. He could see a blurry outline of a short, curvy figure stepping slowly towards him until he could make out the raven haired Commander Kirkpatrick. “You didn’t report in when you got home.”

Turning back to his drink Morgan could only sigh when Amy parked herself beside him. As soon as his ship had been safely tucked away his crew departed to debrief while their commanding officer set out to be a shining example to the team. He skipped it and went straight to La Cala, his hiding place.

His team had been home for six months. Six months. Six whole months of call outs, flying around in Kolar space ready to assist on any mission Riesman wanted him to conduct, while still trying to maintain his Rapid Response duties. Situations that might call for emergency from a broken down ship to pirate attack and even one situation months ago involving a freighter captain accidentally locking out the computer systems on his ship by forgetting his password. If someone sent a distress call he was the first man on the scene. It was seen as a brave and valued job by the Sakarians. But for Morgan, like most things these days, it was an annoyance.

From dusk till dawn he was on constant alert, sleeping on the claustrophobic Nosferatu, dealing with some of the rudest and most obtuse captains in the area and putting himself in danger on a regular basis all whilst getting no sleep or any down time. Trapped together with his team in a ship that wasn’t big enough to swing a Targ. It felt like years had gone by and the one thing worse than not having time to sleep, was not having time to kick back and enjoy one of the true wonders of the universe. A cold glass of beer.

Morgan finished his beer and signalled the bar tender. “Two beers, please.” He glanced over at the Commander. “You want a beer?” He asked. She nodded. “Make that three beers.”

Kirkpatrick sighed as the bar tender poured their drinks. “Have you heard from your wife yet?” She asked, assuming he was still drowning his sorrows.

When Morgan was given the chance to come to Sha Ka Ree over a year ago he thought his wife would be happy with the promotion and they could move their family into Kolar space to live together. A life in the City of Peace. What could be better than that?

Unfortunately for him, she had other ideas. The separation hit him hard. It opened up a can of worms that was never closed and when he came to wok on Sha Ka Ree, he came alone. His wife and daughter stayed put as he was assigned as far away from them as possible.

As the beer was placed in front of them, Morgan took a mouthful and fired the discomfort back at her. “No Amy, she hates me. Speaking of hating your spouses, how’s the divorce coming along?”

Kirkpatrick shot back with a cold stare. She and her husband had similar issues, though Matt decided to hand in his uniform and come with her. Having been a security officer in Starfleet he put his experience to work as a member the local police force, but soon his happiness for her promotion to the Admirals staff turned to resentment and before they knew it he had moved out of their quarters and found himself living in the ‘Lock up’, a cargo bay turned bachelor pad in one of the pylons. As the Lock up was Morgans home he’d spent the early part of the divorce playing messenger between the two before threatening to cut off Matts legs and sell them on the black market.

The two officers stared at each other for a few moments. Staring each other out, waiting to see which would make the first move. Morgan reached for his pint while keeping his eyes locked on Kirkpatrick, managing to swallow a mouthful before his foe cracked under the pressure and her cold gaze was replaced by a warm smile. “Well played, Lieutenant.” She said with a laugh as she reached for her own drink. “It’ll be good to have you back for a few days. Are you still doing intel duty on the side?” She asked.

“Are you kidding?” He took another mouthful of his beer. “Riesman’s taken me off that job permanently, he’s moved all intelligence operations to his office. He’ grounded the team, handing me pointless reports to keep me busy and now that I’ve done my time on his projects I don’t think he has anything for me to do.”

“He seems to be moving a lot of departments to his direct control recently. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave all of our jobs away by the end of the year.” She sighed. “I’ll have a word with him, put your talents to use overseeing mission operations.”

“I see what you’re doing.” Morgan smiled at the Commander playfully. “You just want me in the Epicentre to have some eye candy. My marriage might be in pieces but I’m still a taken man, Commander.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep my hands to myself.” She said, smiling back.

“Or…” Morgan mumbled, the thoughts in his mind swimming around in a sea of drunken logic. “You could just send me home to Earth and I could escape this surrealistic hell, this perfect, paradise of unleashed….” He never thought through his own rambling. Struggling to find another word he repeated “…hell.”

Amy watched as Morgan downed his first glass and moved onto his second. She was well aware he didn’t want to be on Sha Ka Ree. His life was ruined by coming here, but she knew they wouldn’t let him send him back. The Admirals Kolar Operations had become far too strict of late. “You really want to go home, James?” She asked, her thoughts focusing on her friend completely. “You could easily start over.”

Morgan stared at his beer, frozen as he held it in his hands, his thoughts far, far away. “I don’t want to start over, Amy.” As the words came out his mouth, he could feel the anger in his blood rising. Before he could tell himself to shut up, his mind was pushing out the thoughts and feelings in his head and for the first time, he opened up entirely to his friend. Though a part of him couldn‘t help but think she didn‘t care. What made his problems so special? But he couldn‘t hold back. He just exploded. The more he spoke, the more his voice raised. His anger overcoming his calm. “I had a life before I came here, I want it back. I want my family back. But Sarah just doesn’t want me, one day she just switched off and my assignment here gave her the excuse to leave me. Now she’s cut me out completely from my little girl and even if I left here and went home it wouldn’t make a difference. She doesn’t want me in her life and I don’t even know why.”

Watching Morgan break down in font of her, Amy didn’t know what to say. She was lucky enough to still be on good terms with he husband and they still raised their son together despite all the problems in their relationship. But for Morgan it seemed different, his wife never responded to his letters. All his questions were unanswered and the frustration had built in him ever since he came to Sha Ka Ree. She remembered when he arrived. He was a good officer, a promising member of Starfleet who she could see as a proud captain one day. Sometimes she wondered where that man went, what point did he become so upset that she could only ever find him drowning his sorrows. The part she hated the most was that she never did anything, she watched him fall apart, she listened when it all became too much for him to handle, but not once did she give good advice or successfully raise his spirits. She didn’t know how or what to say or do that would make him feel better.

Sure, she could run a city, take care of anything that was thrown at her in the Epicentre, but once she was off duty she felt useless to her friends. To anyone.

“Look at this…” Morgan said to her, ripping off his commbadge. She followed his gaze to the chink of metal, the silver outline on top of two vertical gold bars. The symbol of all the worked for. “Do you remember when you signed up?” He asked, his gaze still fixed on the communicator. “I remember signing up with the promise of seeking out strange new worlds, boldly going where no one had gone before.” He sighed, throwing it on the bar as he raised the glass to his mouth. “It made me feel as if I was going to become something special. And what have I become? A man in his thirties facing divorce, alienation from his daughter and trapped on the wrong end of the galaxy in a glorified Runabout doing all the jobs not good enough for a starship captain to do.”

Amy watched him finish his drink. “You sound like you’ve lost hope.”

He smiled, waving for the bar tender to return. “I think I have.” He sighed. “I’d be better off storming into Riesman’s office and throwing in the towel.”

“Would it be worth it?” She asked.

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know.” He said, before ordering another round. “All I know is that I want my life back. I’ve just run out of ways to fix it.”

Amy watched a fresh drink being poured for him. “You think that’ll fix it?”

“Nope.” He replied honestly. “But not being stuck here might make it easier.”

That was the last clear memory Morgan had of that night. The next morning he would piece together the events of the night. He would remember Amy leaving after a few rounds, trying to convince him to go home only to hear his incoherent ramblings in reply. He would remember eventually agreeing on the condition he walk her home and made a few suggestions that crossed the border of friendship. A memory that would make him cringe.

At some point the host of the bar would ask him to leave after his on the spot decision that karaoke should be a new regular event, singing an improvised song that would make his grandmother blush before a few police officers were sent to remove him. He remembered telling them he didn’t like the cut of their jib, even if he had no idea what a jib was or why he wouldn’t like the cut of theirs.

He would bury his head in his pillow when the memory of him threatening a library for refusing to serve him alcohol, despite no such facility existing there and stumbling home to discover one of his roommates new supply of rare and valuable wines in the hallway. He’d recall drinking three bottles of 2309 Blood Wine before said roommate got home and pulled him away from the rest of the selection.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur.

Late in the afternoon Morgan found himself on the living room couch in the lock up, still in his uniform from the night before but with his commbadge missing. Trying to clear his head, he sat up but with every moment his stomach turned. Thinking quickly, he searched the couch for his communicator but it was no where to be found.

“You’re alive!” Tenagra said as he emerged from the kitchen, his voice too loud for Morgan to assimilate.

Morgan buried his head in his hands. “How did I get here? Last I remember I was in bed… reading a message from Riesman.”

Carrying two cups of coffee, Tenagra sat on the couch with him, planting one of the cups in front of his roommate. “You crawled through about an hour ago demanding coffee. You said you were dying, to tell Commander Kirkpatrick you were sorry, and then decided the couch would be your deathbed.” The Helian picked up his coffee. “You then stated signing something about eating little fish…”

“Oh…” Morgan reached out for his drink as Tenagra kept his eyes on the news channel before them. “Do you know where I left my commbadge?” He asked, clutching onto his cup for warmth.

Tenagra paused, his eyes turning towards Morgan. “You don’t remember?” He asked, slowly.

“Remember what?” The lieutenant suddenly felt scared to know the answer.

“…are you serious?” Tenagra suddenly felt scared to tell him.

“Johak… what did I do?”

“Ok…” Tenagra put his drink down, sliding back to the other end of the couch. He knew he’d have to break the news, but knowing how volatile Morgan could be, he didn’t want to end up with a broken nose. “Well, do you remember drinking my wine?”

“Vaguely. Sorry.”

“Which you owe me a lot of latinum for, you know that was really expensi…”

“Johak!” Morgan snapped, cutting him off from a tangent.

“Well…” Tenagra began again. “When the police dropped you off…”

Morgan raised his hand to stop Tenagra. “Police?” He needed a moment to process this. Somehow his missing commbadge resulted from drinking three bottles of blood wine, a minor debt and police officers. “This isn’t sounding good to me so far.”

“I haven’t got to the best part.” Tenagra’s lust for gossip kicked in, but as soon as he saw Morgan’s reaction, he pulled back his smile. “Sorry.” He said before resuming. “From what they told me you waltzed into Riesman’s office, threw your commbadge at him and announced you were resigning from Starfleet.”

Morgan thought about it for a moment. That wasn’t too bad. He didn’t want to be in Starfleet, a bit of liquid courage might just have helped his cause. “So they hauled me back home because I was drunk?” He asked, slightly pleased with himself. Like a kid who’d just came home from school, smirking proudly about being failing their astrometry exam.

Tenagra pushed himself back a little bit more. Time for the very bad news. “I think it was more to do with taking off your uniform and telling the Admiral he could shove it in a very uncomfortable orifice.”

There was a moment of silence as the memories came flooding back. Morgan buried his face in his hands as he remembered the details. Strutting around in Riesman’s office in his standard issue underwear and far from standard issue vintage shoes being hauled down from the Admirals desk and shoved into the nearest transporter, Riesmans voice bellowing down the hall telling him there would be severe consequences for his actions. Though that was the polite way of putting it.

Playing it over in his mind ‘severe consequences’ didn’t sound as if he’d accepted his resignation. “Do you think he’d notice if I got a transport to Vulcan and went into hiding until the whole thing blows over?” Morgan asked his Helian friend.

“Something tells me he won’t let you get away easily.” Tenagra replied as he got to his feet. “I need to get to work.” He said before gulping down his coffee. “Oh… and you’ve got a message.”

With that Tenagra left Morgan to sit in his own bubble of self loathing. There were better ways to hand in his resignation. He could only assume he wasn’t in a cell right now as the Admiral was cooking up a cunning and suitably harsh punishment, put him through some twisted endurance trial before officially accepting the resignation and letting him go home.

He decided then and there to avoid the Admiral for the rest of the day and deal with it tomorrow. Even if it would give Riesman more time to think about the best way to make him suffer. The truth was Morgan was beyond caring, he was fed up. He was bored. Worse, he was seriously starting to hate the uniform and everything it was starting to stand for, being on the front line of a collapsing society.

Brilliant. The Federation was collapsing and he was trapped in the City of Denial, where peace and tranquillity and fluffy bunnied happy thoughts rule. Tremendous.

Taking another sip of his delightfully bitter coffee he stared at the blinking light below the news display and sighed, contemplating the importance of reading the message or taking a shower first. If it was from Riesman, he didn’t want to hear it. If it was from Amy he wanted to ignore she existed until he could pretend he never made any advances towards her. “Computer.” He asked, hearing a chirpy beep indicating it was ready and waiting for his command. “Who left me a message.”

“You have one message from Admiral Michael Rogan received at…”

“Just.. play the message” he interrupted. He had a massive headache in his eye, he wasn’t in the mood to listen to the monotone voice telling him numbers he was too hung-over to remember.

“Voice authorisation required.”

Numbers again. Another sigh passed through his lips. “Morgan, James. Pi Omega three seven two nine four.”

The computer chirped away to process as Morgan leaned back to snuggle into the couch again, though as soon as he saw the Admiral’s face appear on his screen with a sombre, thoughtful expression, he felt a lot less comfortable.

“Lieutenant Morgan, the information you’re about to receive is considered classified.” Morgan squinted at the screen as he listened to Rogan, slightly confused. “If you’re watching this recording I am dead or incapacitated, so please listen carefully…”

They got him.

Morgan got to his feet and dashed over to the display. Tapping away at the panel he replayed the opening of his message again to make sure he wasn’t imagining what he had just read. But no matter how many times he replayed those words, he couldn’t let the fact sink in that Mike Rogan was dead.

As the damage control team began to clean up as the fires died down, Amy watched from the sidelines as she saw Riesman’s staff dismiss the local police officers while Detective Chief Inspector Siaka argued her case to be on the scene.

Rogan’s quarters were in an intriguing area of Sha Ka Ree. The outer lining of the district was home not just to standard corridors, but streets. Small streets, barely streets. But still in the spirit of building a city like anyone you’d find on the surface of Sakaria. The idea was to make the city less like a sterile and claustrophobic starbase and more like a home to the masses who’d live there.

This street had three tiered housing looking out upon a garden area that then looked out towards the outer solar system. Rogans house was on the corner, separating the rest of the housing from an entry hub which was currently filled with the city’s emergency crew and police shuffling the locals away.

The home Rogan lived in was now rubble. The first two floors nothing but a charred hole. An explosion had torn through the main living area, killing Rogan instantly. Amy was concerned about the source. It seemed too large an incident to be an accident. But she knew that anything more could cause panic within the city as the first act of terrorism they had seen since it opened it’s doors to the public years ago.

The Admiral had only arrived back the night before. Amy had greeted him upon his arrival and engaged him in a quick situation update. After a brief chat the Admiral excused her and asked if they could continue in the morning. She was looking forward to handing control back to her commander and discussing the current situation in depth.

She couldn’t help but wonder. If she insisted on staying would he still be alive, or would she be joining him in a body bag.

Taking her eyes away from the battle between security forces, Amy focused on Tenagra as he emerged from beyond the small crowd of the emergency services and damage control teams. She had sent the engineer in to give her an initial impression before the crime lab got involved. She wanted to find out as much as she could as soon as she could. It had only been an hour since the incident occurred and already the press had arrived with a crowd of civilians joining to stare in shock and awe. She had been trying to ignore the crowd that was gathering behind her. In particular one of the news presenters who several weeks ago had begged her to be on his show only for him to try and put all the focus on her divorce. Which was the last thing she wanted to be broadcast to the entire city.

Muttering under her breath she watched Tenagra stop to get coffee on his way back, Amy began to get irritated and impatient. She was tying to hold back any pain and upset from the incident and keep a calm professional front. Although she had only been Rogan’s executive officer for a few months, as Riesman’s right hand officer before her transfer she had spent a lot of time over the past three years forming a strong working relationship with Rogan. He was thrilled to have her come aboard when Riesman dismissed her from his team and she was happy to work beside a man who was seen as a political white knight within the ranks of regional command.

As Riesman and his staff became alienated from the city’s command structure, the by-the-book Amy Kirkpatrick had found himself secretly finding humour in the rebellious actions of Rogan and his team. From everything from the sly jokes to the refusal to wear formal uniform in his presence to outright finding ways to contradict or go against his orders.

She was well aware of the divide between the city‘s staff and Riesman. Unaware of Rogan’s investigation, a part of her assumed it was down to their sometimes childish behaviour. The job on Sha Ka Ree was more politics than any other outpost and the bickering within the higher powers on Sha Ka Ree could sometimes get ridiculous. She found it ironic that a city promoted throughout the galaxy as a beacon of peace survived through wars of words between the various political factions within the city and beyond to the rest of the Kolar.

It was inevitable with the fuzzy chain of command on Sha Ka Ree. There were civilian counsels, police forces, district attorney’s, legal offices and various divisions working alongside, or often co aligned with Starfleet services. Almost all of those reported to a command team chosen by the commanding officer of the station who’s job it was to run the city and chair all the various counsels whilst overseeing the individual divisions.

In addition to that the commanding officer would have to coordinate with regional command, reporting to the regional command director, but as Sha Ka Ree was a recognised city of Sakaria he also had a hand in Kolar politics and as a leader in such a position he had to be appointed and approved by the Kolar First Minister and as Sha Ka Ree was a joint project the regional director also had a say in who got the job and being a high political power the Pryor’s recommendation was always highly regarded by the First Minister.

Of course being in control of a city with largely civilian population, it was decided that the regional director who the city commander had to report to would be one elected by the people to help protect their interests. But the people could vote for a civilian team to take over the city at any time they wished. Something which was unlikely as the Sakarian’s were happy to serve their leaders with several countries and states on the planet below being controlled by the military and one by a monarchy.

The Sakarian’s firmly believed that if something wasn’t broken if shouldn’t be fixed. Despite that whoever took the role of Commanding officer of Sha Ka Ree was in trouble. Starfleet command officers were assigned to ships or stations where they wee king of their castle and their job was relatively straight forward. On Sha Ka Ree anyone given the job would be entered into a political minefield.

Amy was glad she was only a commander. She couldn’t imagine them giving her the role, which was good for her sanity.

“It’s not good.” Tenagra said as he finally joined Amy, handing her a coffee. “It’s too early to be sure, but the source is definitely the replicator in the main living space on the first floor.” He explain, taking a sip. “The crime lab are moving in now, they should have a full report in a few days.”

Amy nodded towards Siaka as she was still fighting against Admiral V’Sal who was trying to install Navarro and Starfleet forces into the crime scene. “But who will they be reporting to?”

Looking over at the battle, Tenagra shrugged. “It could go either way at this point. V’Sal believes this is an internal Starfleet matter while Siaka see’s this as a public matter.” He took another sip of his coffee to try and wake himself up. “I’m not sure which of them is right, but I know they’re both too stubborn to yield.”

Amy asked a question she knew would get an unhappy answer. But she had to ask. “If it was the replicator, could it be down to those power fluctuations I had you look into?”

“I thought about that…” Tenagra’s calm reply startled Amy. She hadn’t gotten used to how laid back he could be yet. She was unusual to him, someone who was always positive and cheery and willing to find the good in any bad situation. Even now he was calm as a Hindu cow as he stood within spitting distance of a potential murder scene that could tear a hole in the alliance. “The problems were related to something going wrong in the generators, I haven’t figured out what yet but I have contained the problem. Besides the power issues made lights flicker for a few seconds at worse, it’s not likely the same problem could take out a few floors of a house.”

It was the most coherent and technical thing she’d heard Tenagra say. He tended to talk in his own code but today he seemed to be on her level. “Make it a priority to find out the problem with the generators and make a report for Siaka.”

“Siaka?” Tenagra smiled. “So you think she’s winning?”

“Oh yes…” Amy watched Siaka dig her heels into the argument. “She’s not letting V’Sal win this fight easily. And make sure it’s a good report, not your usual half a paragraph.”

Tenagra nodded. “Two paragraphs?”

Amy glared at him. “Remind me why the Kolar wanted to make you a Colonel?”

“Politics, Commander.” He replied. “I do all I can to avoid it, which is why I won’t be there tomorrow.”

With a frown Amy closed her eyes and cursed herself for forgetting. “The Independence memorial, I completely forgot.”

“I don’t think anyone would old it against you.” The engineer said, tying to comfort her. “With this happening the whole day will seem a little… overshadowed?” He said the word cautiously, unsure about it. It seemed wrong to use with the tone of one tragedy happening a day before another was to me mourned. It seemed wrong, as if all the attention of the day would be on Rogan and the souls lost on the Independence would be secondary.

To his surprise, Amy nodded. “Do you have a busy day tomorrow?”

“Mostly paperwork, that report…”

“Could you do me a favour and work in the Epicentre? We’ll be short staffed during the service and Chel’si has been asked to attend on behalf of her family.”

“I could do that…” The engineer agreed. “I assume Lara will be at the service?” He asked softly.

“She’s still on leave, I don’t want to push her back to work too early.”

Tenagra finished his coffee. “I’ll drop by her place on my way to the Epicentre, give her my condolences.” He didn’t really know the young ensign. All of their contact was in passing, but he knew the love she lost when the Independence was destroyed.

“That would be nice, she’d appreciate it.” Amy replied, smiling. “She’s heart broken, she’d appreciate hearing from one of her fiancee’s friends.”

A part of Tenagra felt guilty when he thought of Lara’s wedding. It wasn’t long away and because he had chosen her wife to be to test drive the Independence’s new systems, Lara and Fiona would never be together. Though he also knew it was futile blaming himself. Like most Helian’s he believed the universe had a plan. A belief in cosmic fate guided his life. But despite his belief that it was all part of the bigger picture, he still felt that nagging guilt.

Most of all, he missed his friend. “Commander…” He said softly as he began to speak his mind. “I’m no empath, but something doesn’t feel right about all this.”

“How so?” Kirkpatrick asked.

“You’ve only been here what? Three and a half years?” He said, staring at the rubble ahead of them. “Ships going missing. All this death and destruction. Suspicion and rumours… it doesn’t feel right.”

Looking at the destruction around her, having been trapped within the political infighting and even seeing the ongoing fight before them with Siaka and V’Sal it just seemed wrong. She never would have seen such fight when she first arrived. Especially in public when the press was filming everything. “The calm before the storm…” She whispered.

Tenagra was impressed with her symbolism. But before he could say anything they both fell silent. The crowd behind the safety barriers calmed down. Even Siaka and V’Sal stopped shouting as the all the commotion of the investigation and damage control slowed to a halt and all eyes fell upon the convoy of medics and police officers who carried the remains of Admiral Rogan out of the rubble to safe, open surroundings.

Time seemed to stand still for those moments where they got their last glimpse of their commander. As soon as he was beamed away the respectful silence returned quickly to chaos.

As Amy stood in the centre of it all tying to process her feelings of seeing the Admiral carted away, she couldn’t stop thinking about Tenagra’s words and as they circled in her head she began to fear for an oncoming storm.

On Sha Ka Ree news travelled fast. By the time Siaka had arrived to argue with Starfleet security, Dr. Daniel Paik had already been informed of the incident and was swiftly moved from his home in one of the city’s housing towers to the region command conference lounge.

With the news being delivered in his sleep and the rush to meet the Admiralty, it was hard to process the information. He was simply thankful that there was coffee being served upon his arrival.

Initially Paik came to Sha Ka Ree to aid in the final negotiations with the Kolar joining the Federation and to coordinate the integration of the Kolar forces into Starfleet. He had since been appointed as the Regional Director for the combined efforts in the area. It wasn’t an easy job. Ever since he hosted the entry ceremony he had to deal with demands on both sides, the Federation fighting for political supremacy and the Kolar ensuring they’re truly seen as equals to the key states, not just another small member for them to brush aside.

Then there was the resistance from a few high ranking Kolar MOD officers who felt angry at their forces being absorbed into Starfleet and all the political nonsense that came with it. It was a living nightmare.

Paik’s official position was Federation Representative, a ‘project manager’ for Sha Ka Ree. His initial job was to act as the head of the diplomatic team and head up the development of city. With his work almost at an end he would be taking the role of Regional Director and be directly in charge of Federation interests within the area. With the change in title would also come new responsibility. He’d have to supervise Starfleet operations. At present the role was currently filled by Admiral Harold Riesman of Starfleet and General Masi Dar of the Kolar Ministry of Defence. They were forced to step aside however, as it was agreed on both sides that if the Kolar joined the Federation, the politicians take charge.

It was something Riesman had objected to rather publicly. He firmly believed that the Federation should allow Starfleet to run as it’s own entity and that he continue to run things when the Kolar officially join the Federation. With the Federation in it’s weakened state he believed the strength gained by the alliance would only spark hostility from the other the other Federation groups who may be threatened by the shift in power. He had made it clear that he believed giving the current situation would alienate them from the rest of the Federation and they needed to have military leaders.

Dar on the other hand, didn’t have an issue with the decision. His position as Chief of Staff in the MOD required him to liaise and report to the Defence Minister as well as the prime minister of the Kolar. For him it was business as usual, his power remained regardless, and the news service had no restraint in showing their difference of opinions.

Despite their opposing views, Dar and Riesman came together to explain the situation to Paik. Though the strong coffee didn’t help him process the information any easier. V’Sal joining the fun to complain about Siaka only made things worse and soon enough all the tension in the room erupted.

With Navarro in tow, V’Sal started to complain about the Kolar police force and their DCI in the city only for Dar to defend her, Rogan claimed his security force was far superior and it escalated. Under all the pleasantries of the negotiations and the alliance were hundreds of minor complaints. Paik sat back and watched as the Starfleet Admirals, the Kolar General and the handful of politicians invited began bickering. “A man is dead.” He finally shouted. “This isn’t the time or the place for this…”

Getting out of his seat, Paik walked towards the window as the room fell silent. “V’Sal, what caused the explosion.”

“I don’t know for sure yet, Doctor.” He replied calmly before turning his gaze towards Riesman. “I think it’s time we tell them, Harry.”

Both Dar and Paik’s attention turned straight to Riesman. “Tell us what?” Dar grunted.

Riesman and V’Sal stared at each other as everyone else in the room waited for an answer. With a groan and a sigh Riesman got to his feet and walked over to a large display panel at the rear wall. V’Sal had wanted to tell the group their secret for a while, but decided against it for the moment. He knew it would jeopardise the alliance and throw the region into chaos, he knew why the truth had to be hidden. But more importantly he knew the truth had to be known.

Tapping in his security clearance and accessing his private database, Riesman let the display open one of his most secured files. “This information was retrieved from the wreckage of the Independence.” He said as tactical read outs began to scroll over a blurred and distorted recording of the ships final moments. “Officially the Independence fell victim to a core breach, the truth of the matter is she was attacked.”

“By who?” Paik asked instantly.

Riesman sighed, waiting for the right moment of the playback. When that moment came he paused the footage and magnified the image. “We weren’t able to identify the ship, but as you can see…” He pointed to the image of the all too familiar design. “This is a Kolar ship.”

All eyes turned to General Dar but no one was more shocked than him. It took him a few moments to figure out what to say. Or whether to believe it. But as the moments passed he knew he had to say something. Anything. “From the image…” He started, hesitantly. “It looks like a V-55 design, one of the most common in service in the Ministry of Defence…”

“Did you know anything about this, General?” Paik hated asking, but he knew he had to.

Dar stared at the man. He couldn’t believe what he was just asked and again found himself lost for words. Shaking his head he turned and headed straight for the door. “I won’t stand here and be accused of anything…” He said trying to control his anger. “I’ll inform the Prime Minister of the situation.”

As soon as the General left, Riesman’s mood turned. “We tried to hold off telling you because of the upcoming ceremony, we wanted to be sure there was some mistake. But one of our ships destroyed by the Kolar and this cities leader, a Starfleet leader, killed.” Riesman sat beside V’Sal, looking at his Bolian friend for support. “You know Federation policy, Doctor, we can’t ally ourselves with the other side showing instabilities.”

“Instabilities?” Paik could almost have laughed at the Admiral. “We have two incidents, with no solid evidence to implicate the Kolar, after a long history of nothing but peace between our two sides.”

“You need to hold off…”

“Do not tell me what I need, Admiral.” Paik snapped. “Investigate these incidents, but do it quietly. The Kolar are offering the Federation the stability and moral booster we need right now, I do not want that harmed in any way unless there is a solid reason to. Do you understand?”

Riesman hated being ordered around. Especially when he believed he should be the man calling the shorts. “Fine.” He grunted out. “But if anything else happens, it’s on your head.”

Rolling his eyes at the empty threat, Paik sighed. “I’ll meet with the prime minister and make sure he knows we’re not accusing the Kolar of anything, and talk with him about Rogan’s replacement.”

“I may have some suggestions.” Riesman replied.

“I’ll be sure to take them into consideration.” Paik replied, leaning over the conference table. “Your dismissed, Admiral..” Keeping his eyes on the desk, Paik cleared the room. He didn‘t need any more bickering. “Everyone… I just need a few minutes alone.”

Riesman logged out of the display panel before leaving with V’Sal and Navarro behind the administration, leaving the Doctor alone. Almost alone.

Lurking in the background the one of the Kolar’s most valued members, and the man who’d become Paik’s closest confidant, the Pryor got out of the chair he had wedged into the corner and approached his friend. The Pryor’s title of ’Scientific Advisor’ was meaningless in the current administration. The Pryor wasn’t a scientist, he was a leader amongst one of the sub-species on Sakarian, the Pridorn. He was one of the oldest and most knowledgeable men to live on Sakaria and a trusted advisor to the prime minister. These days he acted as a liaison between the Kolar and the Federation, guiding them both towards the alliance from behind the scenes. A silence force in their convergence.

Standing behind Paik, in his trademark heavy red military jacket from centuries past and mix of ancient styles, the Pryor asked an honest question. “Do you trust him?”

“Riesman?” He asked, not needing an answer. “Not in the slightest.”

“You used to.” The Pryor sat down in one of the chairs while Paik stared at his reflection on the table, trying to figure it all out. “What changed?”

Paik took a moment to think about the question before giving his answer. “He changed. We had a wonderful and cooperative working relationship. Over the past few months he’s became irritable, argumentative…”

“He’s threatened, soon his job will become obsolete.” The Pryor speculated. “But we both know whoever runs the city holds a lot of power politically. They stand as an icon for the people, which gains a lot of control, which the Admiral might gain back if one of his men takes the job.”

Paik nodded. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of taking any of his suggestions seriously.” He replied. “I still want a Starfleet officer to take charge, I just don’t know anyone who could bridge the gap between the two cultures as well as Rogan did.”

“I do.” The Pryor smiled.

Paik frowned as he stared at the Pryor, confused. “Who?”

“Kristan Lakotda.”

“The captain from Bajor Sector?” Paik thought about the name for a moment. Paik was well aware of the captain. He knew of his war record in which he earned a command, his recent diplomatic work… more importantly he as one of the few who had access to the Kolar’s military database. He knew of Lakotda’s career pre-Starfleet. His work with the Orr’sal and more importantly, as an operative in the Blue Order. The MOD’s intelligence division.

He was stunned to learn Lakotda’s fist encounter with the Federation occurred over a century before his enrolment at Starfleet Academy. As part of an ongoing investigation into the Federation, he was one of several operatives sent to mingle with the culture, study them quietly. Discretely. The Federation couldn’t complain about the situation, they had developed the same policy for first contact scenarios. They’d learn as much as they could before deciding the best ay to make contact with a civilisation.

From what’d he’d read, matching the Blue Order reports with the old Starfleet logs, Lakotda made quite the impression and adapted to Federation life quite easily. He’d even convinced them that he was a Starfleet officer and gained two promotions before being listed as MIA once his assignment was over. Combined with his Starfleet record he was perfect. On paper at least. The problem was his alignment to Bajor sector. They weren’t the most trusted group on Sha Ka Ree. Especially with the news Commander Kirkpatrick updated him on.

“Do you trust me, Daniel?” The Pryor asked, already knowing the answer.

“Of course.”

The Pryor smiled as he left his chair, starting to head towards the door. “Things aren’t as black and white as they seem. He can help your people find the answers you seek.”

Paik smiled. The Pryor always seemed to be a few steps ahead of him, but never explained anything he said. But it was worth asking, “I don’t suppose you could give me a hint of those answers?”

“I’m afraid not, Daniel.” The Pryor replied, passing through the doorway.

As he watched his trusted companion leave, Paik could only sigh as he found his head resting on the desk. “Of course not…”

The night before Kristan Lakotda left his home world, he sat in a wooden cabin deep within the mountain region of Dejorra, a small fire and thick blanket shielding him from the cold. He remembered the snow falling softly outside, the cabin creaking in the wind. The smell of the fire…

That week he had changed. He woke up one day and found that he wasn’t the man he used to be. A week before he was a bold and brave commander throwing himself into the battlefield to lead loyal troops into battle, a skirmish over a world protected by the Kolar. He had been on the battlefield many times before, right on the front line leading ground assaults.

Though this time was different. He had gained injuries that had healed. Limbs that had grown back. What he lost on that day was his very soul.

After taking a shot to the chest he fell unconscious. The battle was won by his team, but he had fallen.

He woke up the next morning in a hospital bed. That morning he stared at himself in the mirror and realised everything had changed.

A week later he found himself staring into the eyes of the spiritual leader of Sakaria’s Pridorn sub-species. He was the man all members of Lakotda’s tribe tuned to when there were questions they could not answer. The Pryor was a man with heightened sense, a spiritual connection with the universe. It was said that he cold see all the fabrics of time and the universe in all it’s infinite complexities. A lot of Sakarians didn’t believe in him. But the Pridorn did. They had to.

That night Lakotda didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The Pryor already knew what he had to tell him. That night he told Kristan he had to follow a chain of events the universe had already set for him. He told Kristan that he would have to leave Sakaria, go where his heart told him to go. Follow his instincts and start a fresh new life for himself.

He told Kristan that he would not return home for a hundred years. Then he left him to contemplate his last revelation. “Your return to this place will bring an end to this life.”

Since then Kristan felt like there had been a timer on his life. He’d tried to do the best he could, he’d fought in war and conflict, he’s negotiated peace between worlds, he’d upheld the moral messages the Federation shared with his home government. He’d spent what he knew would be the last remaining years he had trying to make a difference.

When he approached Sha Ka Ree, circling in orbit of Sakaria, he felt that count down tick over to zero.

When he was greeted by Commander Kirkpatrick at the airlock, he found himself wondering if the Pryor was wrong, if his predictions may have been a little off that day. His mental projections may have misfired or whatever magic crystal ball he used might have had a smudge that made him misread his information. As he stepped onto Sha Ka Ree he could still feel his hearts beating, air flowing through his lungs. The station was Sha Ka Ree ground and he was still alive.
It seemed the cold hand of death had tapped someone else on the shoulder.

Standing now in the home of Admiral Rogan, Lakotda looked around at the charred remains of the main room. The replicator on the wall was destroyed, exposed ODN relays and power conduits where it used to stand in the dining area. The furniture had been removed and was in possession of police lockers with the rest of the contents of the room.

The trip to Sha Ka Ree seemed quicker than he thought. Dragged behind the his friends ship, Lakotda and the Dauntless crew had lived in fear of the ship tearing itself apart for two weeks, forcing the old ship to rest in the docks, undergoing some severe repair. Despite Rogan’s warning he’d fully expected to be greeted by his old friend when he arrived, that the Admiral would be with him to follow through the investigation and fight the conspiracy if it were true. It was hard to accept even now as he stood in what left of his home. Seeing the place where he died.

He tried to take it all in. “An explosion?” He tried not to look Kirkpatrick in the eyes as she showed him the scene of Rogan’s death. Hoping for a relaxing night after the trip home, Rogan planned quiet meal before a refreshing few hours of sleep, only for his replicator to blow up in his face the moment he ordered it. As Kristan thought about hid friend, how they met, the times they’d explored the universe together. He was a bold and honourable man. Lakotda couldn’t help but think he should have died in a more honourable way.

He tried to keep his thoughts on track. This was not the time to grieve. Thoughts wandered back to Rogan’s investigation. He knew his friend was facing danger, but he hoped they could fight it together. It was no coincidence this happened during his investigation. Kristan decided then and there that whoever was behind the infiltration was responsible for this mans death.

“The Kolar have asked the civilian police to investigate.” Kirkpatrick commented. “Detective Chief Inspector Siaka has taken the case personally. She’s never lost a case.” Amy hoped her words would assure Lakotda. She hoped they would put some assurance in herself but the whole situation was unsettling.

From a political point of view one of the key members in the union between the Kolar and the Federation had died under circumstances the DCI labelled as suspicious on a city designed to be a ‘City of Peace’. The centre of harmony, a new start for both powers as they merged into one. The Kolar could still pull out of the Federation and kick Starfleet out whenever they wanted and if this death put doubt into the Kolar’s minds, it might just happen.

More importantly to Kirkpatrick, she had worked with Rogan for three years as Riesman’s representative and was his first pick for a new executive officer several months ago. When the Admiral was ready to cut her loose, Rogan made sure she was well looked after. She had formed an enjoyable working relationship with her and they were beginning to become good friends.

“I’d like a copy of all his personal files.” Lakotda demanded.

“I’ll speak to the DCI and have her send them to the Dauntless, sir.” Amy responded sharply. As she turned to the captain she could see in his eyes that he was fighting through his loss, conflicted between duty and emotion. “He spoke highly of you..” She said softly, hoping she could be of some comfort. “I know you two served together for a long time.”

Lakotda nodded. “Eight years.” He sighed. “One time we were ambushed by Lenarian pirates during a planetary survey, they really took us off guard but we reacted quickly. Both ships ended up dead in the water and we were in a race against time to get back online before they did. We’d taken a few casualties, my XO was dead and I ended up in sickbay. The crew were franticly trying to patch things together, but one man remained strong and made sure everyone kept their cool.”

“Admiral Rogan.” Amy chimed in.

“Lieutenant Commander Rogan.” Lakotda let the tiniest of smiles curve his lips. “My science officer. He took control of the operation, got the Dauntless back online and boarded the Lenarian ship to arrest the crew. I woke up on the way to Starbase 147 and made him my first officer.”

Breaking free of the nostalgia, he tuned his attention back to Commander Kirkpatrick. “Do you know why Rogan went to Earth, Commander?”

“Sir?”

Unsure of the Commanders response, Lakotda decided to take the honest approach. “He told me he believed there was an infiltration in the higher Command structure here. Starfleet gave him permission to investigate the matter further.”
Looking to the ground, Kirkpatrick nodded. “We’ve been suspicious for a while. I questioned some of the decisions made by regional command I was dismissed from Admiral Riesman’s staff.”

“What decisions?” Lakotda asked, taking a step towards her.

“There was a major shake up of the command structure. All of the key ships in the region were reassigned to officers Riesman and the others had worked with in previous commands. From there they began working with our intelligence division on classified operations.”

“Doing what?”

“I was never authorised to know.” Amy responded.

Lakotda paused for thought, beginning to circle the room. “They’ll try and place one of their people in charge of Sha Ka Ree.” He thought aloud. “If they didn’t want you around they might move you on too…” He thought aloud. His mind raced through a series of ideas, trying to find a way to get the Admiral arrested without being charged for mutiny, or confronting him, but he suspected that would lead to him having a similar accident to his former executive officer.

“Masi…” He whispered to himself before turning back to Kirkpatrick. “Is Masi Dar still leading the 43rd fleet?”
Amy frowned, confused. “He’s Secretary of Defence, operating from the Seran’Telal.”

“Where’s that ship now?”

“On Sakaria, with the Kolar forced being absorbed into Starfleet she stays grounded most of the time.” She explained. “I can contact the MOD for you…”

“No…” Lakotda cut her off. “Thank you, commander. But I think I should talk to him personally.”

They both stood in silence for a few moments as Lakotda tried to come to terms with his loss. Though through the time that passed Amy couldn’t help but wonder why over all the time that passed Michael Rogan was promoted to executive officer by Lakotda all those years ago to becoming Rear Admiral, passing the man who kicked off his command career, leaving the Sakarian captain behind. She knew it could have been his choice to turn down promotion and stay on the bridge of the Dauntless. With their extended life spans Pridorn weren’t in any rush to push through in their careers, but a part of her wondered if it was Starfleets choice to hold him back. Perhaps because he was too valuable on the bridge of a starship, or perhaps because they didn’t value him enough to make bigger decisions.

She had expected to hear some resentment for Rogan’s position, envy of the student surpassing the teacher and becoming such a valuable asset. What she didn’t know was that Lakotda couldn’t settle. Since he left Sakaria he felt as if he was on the run, always moving, never finding a new home. Worst of all with the Pryor’s warning of death had made him feel doomed. He was scared to return home to the only place that would calm him.

“You should know that there’s a service tonight.” Amy said, breaking the silence. “For the Independence crew. I know you were friends with Captain Jorell…”

“…oh.” Lakotda nodded. “I didn’t think there would be a memorial until an investigation was completed.”

“Despite media and internal speculation Riesman’s team still list the destruction of the Independence as a warp core breach, an accident.”

Raising an eyebrow, Lakotda shook his head. “You don’t trust Riesman, do you?” He asked, not mincing his words.

Eyes to the ground, Amy thought over her answer. “Not in the slightest.” She said boldly before taking a breath. She wondered if she should mention Horal’s ordeal. Unsure how he would react seeing as Bajor ships were involved. “You should know…” She decided to be straight with him, unsure how long he’d be around for the investigation. “…there are rumours about the Independence, some say that it was attacked by Federation ships, some say Kolar.”

“How much faith do you put in those rumours, Commander?” The captain asked.

“A lot.” Amy replied. “This isn’t public, but the Agamemnon was recently attacked, almost destroyed by Starfleet attackers.” She paused, still unsure of what to tell this man. “According to the logs, they were Bajor sector.”
Kristan’s eyes snapped to the Commander. “What ships?”

“Drake, Valour, Syracuse and Libra.”

Hearing the names, Kristan began to look into space distantly. Kirkpatrick and Horal both recognised that they all had Bajor sector in common. But they weren’t privy to the information Lakotda was. “And the registry numbers matched up?”

Amy nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Those ships are listed as missing in action, Commander.” Lakotda rushed into the street, a look of determination sweeping over him. “I think I know where they went…”