Navaar Orci stood by one of the large windows that occupied the leading edge of the Forward Lounge, aboard the USS Stavanger.  The illumination level within the room was set low; small lights on each of the tables dotted around the room, flickered like candles caught by an imaginary breeze.  This felt close to the kind of places she’d grown up in, were she’d learnt her craft and the art of seducing men.  She’d been a nothing, a simple dancer, but one with a talent.

Commander William Armitage had been on a mission the first time they’d met; she’d suspected it, yet played naïve.  Navaar had been dancing on the stage and had just finished, when their eyes met, and that was just the start.  She pretended to have no idea of the cruelty and criminal activity, those she worked for had undertaken.  She was just a dancer, nothing more.  He’d come to kill her boss; she’d discovered that part, after spending the night together.  That this was happening surprised her; as she didn’t think the Federation sanctioned such operations.  Apparently they did a lot of things in the shadows, they didn’t want made public; including assassination.  For an expert in subterfuge, Armitage was rather easy to manipulate.  It was that night, she finally realised how talented she truly was.

At any point she could have stopped him; revealed the man’s true identity and intentions.  Twice, she’d had the opportunity to plunge a dagger into his heart, as the pair of them lay together.  But no, she wanted him to succeed in his task and to escape afterwards.  Armitage was finding it difficult to get close.  Navaar even made suggestions; some outlandish and unworkable, she didn’t want him to think she was too smart after all.  One idea though; that she casually tossed out like a second thought, was sheer perfection.  So brilliant in concept that it basically couldn’t fail and wouldn’t risk exposing him.  Which meant the Commander, who’d fallen in love with the young Orion, could continue seeing her, even after the mission was concluded.

Why though was Navaar more than happy to help the covert operative in his quest?  The simple answer was power and greed.  She had ambitions and plans well above her station; but these things took time.  The death of their leader would move her mother up in the ranks, and in so doing, also elevate her standing.  It was a long road.  She was young though, and therefore had time on her side.  She’d also have a Federation officer in her pocket, a fact she was planning on telling no one.

The death of their leader sent shockwaves through the organisation, some even blaming each other for the outrage; suspected, correctly that it was a play for power; but all pointing the finger in the wrong direction.  Who for a moment would ever think it was the dancer they’d watched perform night after night, who had helped orchestrate it.  Some had even been watching her, as the man took his last breath.  She should know, she had the privilege of watching how much he suffered in those last agonising minutes.  Her scream was loud and piercing; very theatrical, yet convincing enough to all those around the room.

Two more top members of the group were dead by the end of the year through infighting.  The whole organisation could have fractured and fallen apart.  One person though stood out as a beacon of calm in the turmoil.  Someone who’d avoided accusations; nor had levelled them against others; a person for that reason, others trusted.  After more than a year of chaos that person was elected the new leader; her name Serin Orci, Navaar’s mother.

Commander Armitage didn’t however work alone; he was part of a team.  The others would have to be dealt with, if she was to hold on to her prize catch.  Especially if it was to believe; one of them had the ability to change form and mimic the appearance of any other person they’d seen.  Someone like that could prove useful to the group, but Navaar was unwilling to take the risk, they would have to be eliminated.

The key to getting him to betray his own people had been the prospect at being at her side and enjoying vast wealth he could have only previously dreamed of.  It was so predictable and so sad at the same time, the Commander was nothing more than a tool to further her needs; a mere play thing, she would destroy if and when the time arose.

Thomas Bellbrooke had been an altogether different prospect.  A gambling alcoholic with survivors’ guilt after the Synth attack on Mars in 2385 had claimed the lives of his family and his entire workforce.  They were just a tiny fraction of the other 92,000 lives lost.  He owned her mother more than he could ever hope to repay.  But Navaar found ways for him to pay off those debts and draw him ever closer into her growing web.

She fed his hatred of the Federation, whilst helping him put his life back together; through a careful cocktail of drugs and hypnosis.  Other talents she’d acquired along the way.  Navaar had even convinced him to re-join Starfleet, where he took on a role as engineer at the Forth Fleets main base of operations, ‘Starbase Bravo’.  He’d lost none of his skills both as an engineer and as a leader, rapidly being promoted to a more senior position, despite officially only holding an Ensigns rank.

Bellbrooke had been the one instrumently  in helping her steal this ship, and had almost managed to aid her in seizing a small Raven-class corvette by the name of USS Jaxartes which he’d become Chief Engineer of.  Currently he was listed as dead; killed by her in fact, and with a witness to the crime.  Such a young handsome man that. She’d called him ‘Pretty Boy’, which indeed he was.  So sad their time together was brief; she would have loved to add him to her ranks.

Navaar turned from the window; she’d dwelled too much on the past.  As much as she enjoyed the thrill and sheer audacity of owning a Federation vessel; the ship itself had become more of a noose, a target on her back.  There’d already been one failed attempt at taking the ship; more were bound to follow.  It was time to part-company, even if as she suspected, the Broker was no longer in a position to find the buys she needed.  May be it was time to do it herself.

“Korda.” She called, and like a lap dog her right hand man, bodyguard and anything else she needed him to be; stepped out of the shadows from the far end of the room. “Signal Dagger 1.  Have them here, at the double.”

“By your command Mistress.” Korda bowed and headed away.

No relying on this mysterious Broker individual had not worked as she’d hoped.  Navaar would find a way of getting the money she’d paid him as a retainer back; he need not worry about that.