What Judgments Come

“Commodore Reyes!”

Hearing his name and former rank caught him off guard, and Reyes jerked his head around to regard the first intruder, who was stepping closer to him. She looked to be in her late twenties or perhaps early thirties, with short brown hair and dark brown eyes. The woman held up her hand, open and empty, while the other pressed against her chest where Reyes had struck her.

“Commodore Reyes,” she repeated. At the same time Reyes felt the arms around his chest release him, and he dropped several centimeters to the deck. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Who the hell are you?” Reyes growled, reaching up to rub his left shoulder where it still stung from his earlier actions. “Room service?”

Shaking her head, the woman replied, “No, sir. Lieutenant Mary Jane Hetzlein.” She gestured over Reyes’s shoulder. “My valet is Chief Petty Officer Joe Gianetti. We’re part of Starbase 47’s security detail. Lieutenant Jackson sent us.”

Reyes turned to regard the other man, whose hair was black and shorter than Hetzlein’s. The man held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry for the rough treatment, Commodore,” Gianetti said.

Waving away the apology, Reyes snapped, “I’m not a damned commodore anymore. Is Jackson out of his mind, sending you over here? Are you trying to ignite an interstellar incident with the Orions?” He wondered about Ganz’s first reaction should he or any of his people get wind of the presence of Starfleet perso

“I don’t know all the details,” Hetzlein said, reaching up to wipe her brow, “but Lieutenant Jackson told us he was operating with direct authority from Starfleet Command. Our orders are to extradite you back to the station, by any means necessary.”

Reyes frowned. “Well, then you have a problem, Lieutenant, because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Jackson warned us that’d be your answer, sir,” Hetzlein replied, “which is why he added that ‘by any means necessary’ bit at the end.”

Shaking his head, Reyes said, “You realize I’m here because the Orions granted me asylum, right? Theoretically, I could walk out of here any time I want; why do you think I haven’t done that before now?”

“I’m guessing it has something to do with not wanting to go back to a Starfleet brig,” Gianetti said.

“Bingo.” Reyes knew that the only thing his extraction, peaceful or otherwise, would accomplish would be to see him returned to a Starfleet brig. That likely was his ultimate destination, assuming Ganz or one of his goons did not kill him, but if there was a chance that he could help T’Pry

Hetzlein asked, “Do you really think Ganz would just let you walk off this ship? Not so long as he thinks you’ve got some value.”

“You’re not here because you’re worried about me,” Reyes said. “Starfleet’s worried that I’ve turned traitor, and they want me out of here before I can do any more damage. Does Admiral Nogura know about this?”

“Admiral Nogura and the station’s senior staff have been insulated from this operation, sir,” Gianetti replied, “in order to shield him with plausible deniability should anything go wrong.”

Reyes opted not to mention the covert communications link he shared with T’Pry

Which could be any minute now.

“From what I know of Nogura,” Reyes said, “when he finds out about this, you’re going to wish the Orions had captured you.” Regardless of whether the operation was successful, Reyes could see no means by which its execution and details might be kept secret. This extraction, successful or not, would become evident in short order, at which point the Orion government would without doubt dispatch the first in a series of harshly worded complaints to Starfleet Headquarters and the Federation Council. Given the already precarious state of relations between the two powers, there was no telling how the Orions might react to this incident, or what sort of recompense they could demand.

Looking to his would-be kidnappers, Reyes asked, “Okay, so you’re here to extradite me. Why are you talking to me, instead of stuffing me in a duffel bag and trying to carry me out of here?”

“We considered it,” Gianetti said.

Hetzlein cast a scowl in her companion’s direction before adding, “If we could’ve beamed you out of your quarters, we would’ve done that by now.”

“Which raises another question,” Reyes said. “How the hell did you even get aboard in the first place?”

She tapped the patch above her left pocket. “We just walked in the front door. So far as anyone else knows, we’re freight-haulers, from one of the civilian ships docked at the station, just looking to drink, lose some money, and have a good time.” Their coveralls were of a type Reyes recognized as being in common use aboard civilian merchant freighters. Above each of their left pockets was a patch denoting a shipping company that Reyes knew contracted with Starfleet as well as private sector construction and colonization organizations to transport matйriel to worlds throughout the Federation. Below the patch was a tape with the name Tai’ Shan inscribed upon it in black letters. Reyes thought he recognized the name from various colony status reports and docking clearance requests during his tenure as commander of Starbase 47.

Skeptical of this idea, he asked, “And you guys have the sort of credits that can get you aboard a gaming vessel like this?”

Gianetti said, “We do if we’ve been on a long-haul run to a remote colony and back for seven months.”

“Then you should probably go and enjoy yourselves,” Reyes said, “or, better yet, get the hell off this ship before Ganz or his people find out you’re here.”

“Mister Reyes,” Hetzlein replied, “our orders are to get you off this ship, one way or another. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to stun your ass and have Gianetti throw you over his shoulder, but to be honest …” She paused, and Reyes saw the struggle in her face. “To be honest, I have too much respect for you, sir. So, I guess I’m asking you not to make me do anything I don’t want to do.”

Reyes shrugged. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Not interested.”

Behind him, Gianetti said, “Sir, it’s because we respect you that we’re also disobeying orders and telling you now that our worst-case scenario is to kill you.”

Deciding that he would rather be conscious, and not dead, for the next few minutes, Reyes offered a reluctant nod. “Well, since you’re asking so nicely, have it your way, but good luck getting me out of here. The whole damned ship’s covered with transporter inhibitors.”

Hetzlein answered, “Well, it’s not as though we’re old pals or anything, but there’s nothing that says we couldn’t have struck up a conversation, say, in the bar, in about thirty or forty minutes, after Joe and I have had a chance to venture to the bar and have a drink or two and work at blending in with the crowd. We’ll have a few drinks, maybe play a few games, and then make our way off the gaming floor to the private suites. We’ve identified a maintenance compartment in that section of the ship where the shielding is weaker than the surrounding areas. A transporter beam can get through, but only there and only one person at a time. That’ll be you. You’ll be beamed to a secure area aboard the station. Meanwhile, Joe here and I will return to the bar, and eventually make a casual exit from the ship by walking right out the front door.”