A click, then a hum filtered through the blackness that surrounded RJ. Then bright light burned through his eyelids as if trying to fry his retina’s

“Dafu…?”

He grunted, reaching out to grab his pillow to cover his eyes but his hand smacked against a hard floor instead of the soft bedding he expected. His eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly, memory snapping back.

His eyes widened as he looked around. The nightclub was completely and utterly totaled. There was twisted metal, scorch marks on the walls and floors, and shattered furniture everywhere.

“Stay alert. Section the room and clear,” Mason ordered as RJ rolled to his feet, grabbing the weapon he’d dropped when he’d hit the booth wall, but Sinistra’s goons were nowhere to be seen. They’d all vanished as if they’d never been there. Even the ones the fleet team had dropped were gone. All that was left were a few scraps of torn material, and some expended powercells from their energy weapons.

RJ stepped to the side as the two Ferengi, so aggressive during the bidding, made a break for the door, bumping into each other as they raced to be the first through it. He shook his head as one tripped the other, keeping his attention on sweeping his side of the room to make sure Sinistra’s people weren’t hiding anywhere waiting to spring a trap.

“Clear,” he called out, his voice echoed by Rennox. “Does anyone have eyes on that chip? I was heading for it when… that happened.”

“This chip?” Rennox grinned like the cat that got the cream, holding up the tech they were looking for in a hand with bloodied knuckles. Approval washed through RJ, seemed the kid wasn’t entirely useless when it came to getting in the thick of it.

“Good work, kid,” he nodded, stalking to join him in the center of the room. Rennox handed him the chip. It was battered but intact, hopefully enough for them to be able to confirm what it was and that the encryption on it hadn’t been broken. “I’d say that’s mission accomplished.”

“Clear at the back,” Mason joined them. “Vayne cleared out early, I see. Not entirely unexpected.” He frowned as he looked at the pair of them. “Where’s Murphy?”

The blood froze in RJ’s veins.

“He’d taken cover by that lighting rig when I saw him last,” he said, heading that way quickly, broken glass breaking under his boots.

“Murphy?” He called out, heart in his throat as he expected to round the corner and find the guy slumped, lifeless. There was no way they could cover up the death of an admiral’s son on an away mission he shouldn’t even have been on. “Stop pratting about, boss, and get your backside out here.”

But the floor behind the lights was empty, apart from a smear of blood in the shape of a handprint. Mason appeared at his elbow, joined by Rennox.

“Bollocks.”