Part of USS Blackbird: Daybreak and Bravo Fleet: The Devil to Pay

Daybreak – 31

Gateway Station, Midgard Sector
December 2401
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The Liberty had left the Lliew Rift at the same time as the Blackbird, but its powerful engines had brought it to Gateway Station first. That meant that by the time the Blackbird arrived, the mighty explorer had nearly finished taking on supplies and getting debriefed. The resupply consumed all operations on one of the station’s shuttlebay, crew from both Gateway and Liberty bustling to double-check pallets of equipment to load them onto smallcraft, their voices overlapping with the soft whir of antigrav units.

Cassidy found Captain Galcyon near one of the shuttles, her crew working diligently around her as she studied the manifest on a PADD. Even on a duty such as this, her uniform was crisp and tidy, her demeanour professional, while he had thrown on the field jacket and left it open as the easiest way to avoid being challenged entering these areas.

‘Double-check Pallet Three-Oh-Beta,’ Galcyon was saying to an aide, and handed off the PADD. ‘Be sure they’re the type-five conduit parts. Fitzgerald, I want you to – oh.’ She’d turned at the approaching footsteps, and stopped when she found Cassidy before her, not one of the crewmembers.

‘Don’t worry,’ he drawled. ‘I’m not here to impersonate your crew again.’

‘What a happy reminder,’ she said distantly, but her guarded look faded quickly. ‘I hope your trip back was safe. How’s your team?’

‘Carrying on.’ He jerked his head towards the forcefield protecting them from hard vacuum. ‘Liberty’s still carrying some marks.’

‘We were on top of the explosion of a Romulan station’s singularity core and space-time trying to fold in on top of us.’ But her lips quirked. ‘It’s nothing we can’t handle.’

‘You did handle it.’ Cassidy shifted his feet. ‘We couldn’t have finished the job without you.’

‘Because it’s not just your job, Commander. I hope you understand that.’

‘I understand there’s things my team do that your ship can’t, and vice versa.’

Galcyon hesitated, and her voice was soft when she said, ‘Is that true?’ He cocked his head and she sighed. ‘I’m under no illusions. Liberty was the ship closest and able to answer the call. But you sent me the report, and I understand a lot of the decisions you made on this mission were by necessity.’

‘They were,’ Cassidy grunted.

‘Did they have to be undertaken by a half-dozen officers with nothing but the resources of a small scout behind them?’

His brow furrowed. ‘I’m open to suggestions on how I bring an entire starship to infiltrate a Ferengi auction, if that’s what you’re saying.’

‘That’s not the premise, though, is it? The premise was “how do we retrieve this sensitive technology?”’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not trying to insult you, or question your team’s purpose. My point is actually that your team don’t have to be as isolated in these missions. That this wasn’t “your” job. It was Starfleet’s job. Our job.’

‘Decisions like that are made above my head. Or yours.’ Still, Cassidy rolled a shoulder, uncomfortably self-conscious. ‘Liberty wasn’t the ship closest and able.’ She frowned in confusion, and he drew a slow breath. ‘There were two other starships within range. I didn’t reach out to you by necessity. I chose to.’

Her frown now turned troubled. ‘Commander, you don’t have to build up a – a network of contacts, of captains you know you can specifically trust -’

‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, but my second-in-command had just been outed as a Changeling,’ Cassidy rumbled, clasping his hands behind his back. ‘I absolutely did have to make a determination on who I could and couldn’t trust.’

She pursed her lips. ‘There is absolutely no way you could have been sure of my identity, under that premise.’

‘Yeah. That’s what trust is, isn’t it.’

‘Or, arguably, you had more chance of figuring out if I were a Changeling than a complete stranger you never met,’ Galcyon observed, a hint of wryness entering her voice. Her gaze softened. ‘Then forget I said anything. You’re right; you were in exceptional circumstances. Thank you for trusting me.’

He tried to not frown, wrong-footed now by how she’d ceded ground. It didn’t feel like any sort of victory. There was something disarming about her willingness to see his perspective. ‘I expect you’re back out to strange new worlds next.’

‘That’s the hope. But you can call me again, Commander, if you need help. I rather enjoyed getting to be the cavalry.’

‘And if you run into trouble you can’t handle out there, the offer goes both ways.’ Cassidy gave a curt nod. ‘Goodbye, Captain Galcyon.’

‘Goodbye, Commander Cassidy.’

It was easy enough to fade into the background of the hustle and bustle of station operations. Cassidy found it comforting, in a way, to drift from the conversation that had turned closer than he’d expected, and instead sink into the practical, simple work going on around him.

He could dump his field jacket for his next destination, at least, swapping to more comfortable, run-down clothing as he headed for one of the sections of guest quarters on the floating city of Gateway Station. He’d requested these be allocated the moment they arrived, and its resident given a berth on any Federation transport leaving in the next week. Which meant that if he didn’t move soon, there was a chance he’d miss this window.

On the bridge of the Blackbird, Q’ira had railed at him, and rightly so. She’d then all but locked herself in her room on the way back here. If he’d expected she’d be covering herself in sackcloth and ashes, though, he’d have been surprised when she opened the door to her temporary quarters.

The holographic projectors were hard at work, stripping the sterile, standard Federation decoration for the appearance of a high-end resort. The furniture was draped in silky, burgundy blankets that were a far cry from the standard-issue utilitarian upholstery, and a faux-fur throw with a truly eye-watering pattern had been thrown on the sofa. Low, ambient lights cast a warm glow to replace the cold overhead fluorescents, and the scent of rich, exotic perfumes hung in the air.

Q’ira herself had replicated an outfit equally luxurious, and greeted him adorned in flowing black silk with gold embroidery that was somehow both opulent and comfortable. A cocktail glass with a delicate stem was already in her hand. Despite this, she tossed her head as she saw him, and turned away from the door. ‘Cassidy.’

‘Uh. Glad you’re settling in.’ He took a hesitant step inside, brow furrowed as he looked around. ‘Didn’t even know you could do this to these rooms.’

‘Federation citizens lack imagination,’ she huffed, throwing back the cocktail and plucking out the olive on a stick. ‘Drinks? They’re on me.’

They were on the station, of course. He had to admit she had a point about knowing how to make the most of her available resources. ‘Nah. You know where you’re going next?’

Q’ira huffed and sauntered to pluck up a PADD sat atop the faux-fur throw. ‘Anywhere in the galaxy, so long as one of your ships can take me there. I wonder if I can find fruitful work as a fine, upstanding pillar of Federation society.’

‘Sounds like that bores you.’

‘If I’d wanted to move to the Federation, I’d have done it.’

He set his hands on his hips. ‘Was working for Torrad-Var that much better?’

Her nose wrinkled. ‘Don’t you dare act like you’ve done me a favour. You came here for my forgiveness? You’re not getting it. Don’t pamper me with Federation treats and then think I’ll suddenly swoon at Starfleet’s salvation of my poor, wayward way of -’

‘Oh, shut up,’ he groaned. ‘That’s not why I’m here. So you don’t have a plan for what’s next. I’ll cut to the chase: come work for me instead.’

That stopped her short, suspicion clouding her gaze. ‘What, a silly little consultant you can call up whenever you need a briefing paper on some corner of the Syndicate, except my knowledge will dry up in approximately six months -’

‘I think the Syndicate changes slower than that, but no.’ He pulled a PADD out of his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa. ‘I cleared it with Fleet Captain Faust. Offer of a provisional commission. Not to piss around with analysis, or stick you on a starship. Come to the Blackbird. Come be a Rook.’

Her mouth formed for a surprised, ‘Oh,’ but no sound came out. It took a moment before she could rally and say, ‘But you lost Tiran, you need a professional -’

‘First, Tiran was my recon specialist. Good with an array of vehicles, sharpshooter – Rosewood’s got those skills. Getting places unseen for recon and infiltration? Getting into places she shouldn’t? You’ve got them skills. Showed it on Oltanis IV.’ He shrugged. ‘Otherwise, what I need is out of the box thinking. I got people who’ll do things the “Starfleet way.” Give me different ways. As well as, sure, more knowledge on the underworld than anyone I could bring in.’

She picked up the PADD at last, touch ginger, as if the offer might delete itself should she mishandle it. ‘You got this cleared already, you said?’

‘I had a whole mission of evidence behind me. And this isn’t charity – I don’t bring someone into my unit ‘cos I feel bad. But you build a good team by being loyal, and rewarding loyalty.’ He watched her for a moment, and sensed he’d pushed as far as he possibly could. Cassidy turned away. ‘I’ll let you think about it.’

He’d hoped she might answer as he headed away. Silence was the second-best thing, and Cassidy left her behind with all of opportunities of the Federation spilling out before her, trusting that something else would whole more appeal: getting her hands a little dirty with purpose.