STTC Mission Log 7 JOURNEY THROUGH THE BAZAAR Favor and Johnson

JOURNEY THROUGH THE BAZAAR
Favor and Johnson
by Edward H. Bart IV

        “Dropping out of warp sir, going ahead to one third impulse,” Ruiz declared as she guided the Courageous’s reentry into normal space. As the ship slowed down from warp to one-third impulse, Captain Johnson and his crew looked up on the main view screen to see an odd sight.
        A cluster of objects glinted in the faint starlight of the binary stars in the system. The largest object looked like a giant wheel with irregular spokes within the rim of the wheel. From this distance, Johnson thought of an asteroid cloud.
        However, as they neared the location of the subspace beacon, Johnson saw that it was the site of a large space station. The smaller debris resolved into dozens upon dozens of spacecraft of all kinds. Johnson could make out a few of these ships: cruisers, warships, freighters and some small shuttles flitting to and fro between the station and ships.
        The captain didn’t think he had ever seen this much space traffic in one location. In the middle of it all was the circular space station.
        “Chief?” Johnson called out from his seat in the center of the bridge. “I hope you’ve been checking them out.”
        The chief of security, Senior Chief Bogarde, had been. “Yes, sir. I’ve just finished prelim scans.”
        “I’m all ears.”
        Bogarde looked down at his tactical console and began reading highlights. “The station appears to be a Stanford Torus class, orbiting in a stable Lagrange point.”
        “That’s really old-fashioned,” Ruiz said. “How old is that thing?”
        “It’s several centuries old, give or take a few decades,” Bogarde replied. “However, I’m reading varying levels of technology incorporated into the station. They have a serviceable defense system, some gravitational plating, and others.”
        Johnson nodded, watching the station growing larger on the viewscreen. “And the ships?”
        “I’m reading over 70 signatures of all kinds of classes. A few of the larger ships aren’t active. Sensors indicate they’ve been gutted and converted into makeshift stations. Most of them aren’t in our database, although I’ve gotten a few hits off the Voyager database.”
        “Keep gathering data,” Johnson said. “Is the station the source of the beacon we picked up?” asked Johnson.
        “Yes, sir, and we’re being hailed now.”
        “Very well, on screen.” Johnson ordered.
        “Aye sir,” Bogarde replied.
        The view screen changed from the view of the station to that of a humanoid, who looked rather different than what Johnson was used to. The the being had downy orange hair. It had two large black eyes, one set on each side of his skull. Its skin was deeply ridged, and had a reddish yellow cast to it. The alien’s most striking feature were two large fang-like tusks jutting out from his lower jaw. It reminded Johnson of the ancient saber-toothed tiger that lived on Earth millennia ago. The only oddity Johnson noticed was the lack of a nose or nostrils. The alien opened its mouth, and Johnson saw small sharp teeth between the tusks, along with a thin rough pinkish tongue. It started to speak in an incomprehensible language.
        “Ohjmak omjah li Loha,” the alien said. “Oris hejean li Keemot turi nah-hana.” The alien continued for a bit then stopped, obviously expecting a reply.
        Johnson sighed. He was slowly starting to get used to the fact that the Universal Translator didn’t immediately start working, due to the fact that virtually every alien being they met was brand new to them. Sometimes Johnson had to remind himself of the fact that they were thousands of light-years away from known Federation space.
        Bogarde replied to Johnson’s unspoken question. “The Universal Translator is working just fine. It’s still processing the new language--just needs a few more words for a basic template.”
        “Alright,” Johnson stood up from his command chair, and looked directly at the viewscreen. He said one of the few universal phrases that all translators used to build a language database.
        “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Johnson punctuated his statement with a shake of his head and spreading his arms open. He continued with the standard greeting. “My name is Captain Thomas Johnson, Junior,” he said, placing a hand on his chest, “of the Federation starship U.S.S. Courageous.”
        The alien blinked his large opaque eyes, then started speaking again. “Iejos mapar understand what you are saying. Our translator does not recognize your language.”
        “We understand you now,” Johnson replied.
        “Ahhh,” the alien said, although the sound it made didn’t sound pleasant. “Welcome to Loha, home of the perpetual Bazaar. I am Keemot, the station manager. And you are?”
        “I am Captain Johnson of the starship U.S.S. Courageous. We represent the United Federation of Planets.”
        “Ahh Captain Johnson, welcome. Welcome. It is always wonderful to greet new visitors to the station. Ahh wait. It seems you are not entirely unknown to us... my aide has just informed me that we have some information about the United Federation of Planets in our database. A ship named The Voyager, is it?”
        Johnson blinked and pursed his lips in surprise. “That’s correct. The Voyager has been to your station before?” He didn’t remember any references in the Voyager database.
        “No, they did not. However, we have heard of them here and there. We are always listening, always searching for information,” Keemot said. “The information we have is minimal, but we can rectify that. Welcome to the station. Do you seek to conduct business here?”
        Johnson shook his head slightly. “We were drawn here by a subspace beacon. I assume that was an advertisement?”
        “Yes, you are correct, sir,” Keemot answered. “Curious travelers are always welcome to visit our commerce station. We offer a wide array of recreational facilities. We have some docking space available that can accommodate your ship.”
        “Sounds good to me,” Johnson said.
        Keemot interlaced his six fingers together. “First, I shall need information from you, about your ship, government, and your language or cultural database. This is both payment for the docking fee, as well as information that will help us serve you better. We shall provide you with an informational packet which will familiarize your peoples to the Bazaar. This information exchange is nonnegotiable.”
        Johnson sighed. He expected the usual exchange of cultural information, but he disliked the idea of sharing information about the Courageous to an unknown alien.
        “I accept your terms,” he said. “We’ll prepare the information you request and transmit it in ten minutes. While we are at it, I’d like to arrange for shore leave for my crew. We’ve been on a long journey.”
        “But of course,” Keemot said. “Once we have reviewed your data, we will arrange terms for shore leave. Since your ship is so large, I’ve assigned you to an external docking berth. I’ve activated the docking buoy. It is transmitting in your Federation subspace frequency. Is that satisfactory?”
        Johnson looked at Ruiz. She ran her fingers over the helm. “I’ve got it, sir. Bearing 23 mark 1, not far from the station.”
        Johnson walked over to the helm station and glanced at her readout. He looked up to Keemot. “That’s fine. We’ll contact you shortly.”
        “I look forward to hearing from you.” Keemot’s transmission ended.
        Johnson turned to Bogarde. He had a neutral expression on his face although Johnson was picking up disapproval from his body language.
        “Problem?”
        “I don’t like parking in the middle of all these unknowns,” Bogarde said. “Too close for comfort.”
        “It’s a busy place,” Johnson said, “but I see your point. I don’t like it too much either. Prep the standard cultural database information for the data exchange.”
        “And the information on the ship?” Bogarde tilted his head to the side.
        “Send them the usual publicity fluff, but go through it first to make sure there isn’t anything too revealing in there. If there is, strip it. And let me know if any deep scans are made of us.”
        “Yes, sir,” Bogarde said.
        “Lieutenant Ruiz,” Johnson turned to the helm. “Let’s park it.”

        Ambassador Nathan Favor strolled down the corridor, tapping rhythmically on the back of his PADD. He turned a corner and smiled at a pair of Engineering crewmembers. “Good afternoon, Ensigns.”
        He continued on to the turbolift just ahead of him. He paused for a moment, waiting for the turbolift doors to open. He didn’t have to wait long because the doors opened half a minute later.
        Favor smiled broadly when he saw Captain Johnson already occupying the turbolift car. The ambassador stepped in as Johnson moved aside. “Deck Two,” Favor spoke aloud to the ship’s computer. He turned to Johnson.
        “Afternoon, Captain.”
        “Ambassador,” Johnson nodded in acknowledgement.
        “It’s fortuitous running into you here,” Favor said. “I’ve just finished reading through the informational packet Manager Keemot sent us. It’s a good thing the Tsugua told us to look for this station. It’s a fascinating place, and quite useful to us in the early stages of our journey into the Borderlands.”
        “How so?”
        “Well, for one thing, we can stock up on supplies here. We used up a lot of raw replicator stock when we were housing the Danosm refugees. We used up spare parts to make repairs to the damage that the Tal’Shiar inflicted on us a few months ago.”
        Johnson nodded. “That’s a good consideration.”
        “And I particularly liked your idea of shore leave. The crew really could use it.”
        “I know, that’s why I made arrangements with Manager Keemot,” Johnson replied dryly.
        “True,” Favor smiled. “We have a meeting with him tomorrow morning. I’d like to draw up a list of things we may need while we’re making a pit-stop here so to speak.”
        “Talk to Lieutenant Kyle about that,” Johnson said. “I’ve delegated that responsibility to her for the time being.”
        “Not Raven? I thought he’d be the first officer now after Ironsides made a break for it. You did mention that Kyle wasn’t ready for the post just yet.”
        Johnson shrugged. “Well, yes, I’ve pretty much made up my mind about that. But Kyle shows promise, so it’s my responsibility to groom her for a command. So I’m giving her some of the usual responsibilities so Raven isn’t too overburdened between being my first officer and the commandant of the Bajoran contingent and Marines aboard the ship.”
        “Complicated situation,” Favor mused.
        “Yes, it’s a little awkward, but that’s the way it is. We’ve got to figure out a way to make it all work,” Johnson sighed. “That’s the problem with being the first to do something. There’s no precedent to go by.”
        The comm system chimed through Johnson’s combadge. “Bridge to Captain Johnson.”
        Johnson tapped his combadge. “Johnson here. Go.”
        Bogarde’s voice sounded out. “The comm officer’s finished his preliminary sort of the comm dump we received from Starfleet Headquarters. He found a priority message tagged for you.”
        “From who?”
        “Captain Jennifer Johnson.”
        Johnson frowned. “Route it to my quarters. Johnson out.”
        Favor looked at Johnson. “Expecting something from your sister?”
        “Yes,” Johnson replied. “but I don’t know why it’s tagged as Priority.”
        “Hope it’s good news,” the ambassador said.
        Johnson shrugged, then called out, “Deck Eight.”
        The turbolift changed direction then came to a stop. Johnson stepped out.
        “I’ll talk to you later about tomorrow’s meeting!” Favor said as Johnson walked down the corridor. The doors closed and Favor continued on up.

        Johnson walked into his quarters and headed immediately for his desk. He slid into his seat as he turned on his monitor. He was puzzled at the news that his sister had sent him a priority message. He kept in contact with her regularly, and he couldn’t think of a reason why she would be contacting him so soon after their last e-message exchange.
        The message was tagged and waiting to be opened as soon as the desktop display was running. “Computer, display message from Captain Jennifer Johnson, U.S.S. Britannica.”
        The message opened, revealing itself to be a text only message with an additional file attachment. He quickly scanned it. As the thrust of the message sank in, he read through it slowly.

                Thomas,
                I didn’t know if I should address you by rank or just by your name. I figured since it was a personal message and had nothing to do with Starfleet, I’d use your first name. I have some sad news... our father passed away. I just found out from Uncle Patrick. I know you can’t come home because you must be somewhere about 40,000 light years away from Earth. I wish you were here now though.
        I’ve already ordered the Britannia to make for port in Ireland. I arranged for the funeral to take place aboard my ship, and he’ll be buried at sea with full honors. It’s fitting since he had a hand in building the Britannia. Later on I’ll send you a holovid of the funeral.
        Attached to this message is a letter from Dad to you. I got one too. Oh Tom, I feel really bad about the way we left off our relationship with him these past few years.
        Uncle Pat says “Hello” and that he misses ya and sends his love. Lisa won’t be able to make the funeral because she’s already been transferred to Starbase 74, but she told me to pass along her condolences, and her love.
        Good luck with your mission, and get home safely.

                Love,
                Jennifer

        Johnson rubbed his eyes. He stared at the text on the monitor, letting his focus wander until the text was a blur of colors. He was surprised at how hard the news of his father’s death had hit him. He thought back to the last time he had spoken to his father.
        It was for a few moments after the Courageous’s commissioning ceremony. Johnson invited his father to tour the bridge, and was surprised when the elder Thomas Johnson took him up on the offer.
        Thomas Johnson, Sr. looked older than he really was. He seemed so fragile and weak, but from the tone of his voice, he still had all of his mule-headness intact. Johnson remembering offering to help his father walk around the bridge, since his father relied on a cane due to an injury at the shipyards. His father refused, determined to show that though age and infirmity were taking hold of him, he was still his own man and needed no one else’s help.
        It was shocking that his father died at a young age. He hadn’t even neared the century mark. Nowadays, more people than not reached passed their 100th year. All of a sudden, Johnson knew what his father died from. A broken heart that he refused to mend. Did he ever get over Mom’s death at the end? Johnson wondered.
        The captain glanced at the file attachment, noticing that it was a holographic message instead of a text message. Perhaps the answers I want will be in there, Johnson thought. He reached to the monitor, about to tap the message open. No, he thought as he pulled his hand back. Not yet. I’m not ready. Not here either. I want to see him in person. “Computer, transfer holographic file to Johnson Holodeck File Database, authorization Alpha 201.”
        “File transferred,” the computer announced in reply.
        Johnson closed the message and glanced at the chrono display. It was almost time for his dinner with Fonda. For a moment, Johnson pondered canceling it. On the other hand, she was somebody he could talk to about this. He made up his mind and thumbed the monitor off. He walked into the bathroom, calling for the sonic shower to activate.
        At least the next few days should be uneventful, Johnson thought to himself as he started shedding his uniform.

        Aidaca sighed, bored with the business negotiation she was dealing with. Her clients continued to pore over the tedious details of their transaction agreement.
        She looked back at the insectoid who was purchasing a large sized lot of prefabricated shuttlecraft modules. He chittered at her. She tilted her oblong cranium so her auditory canal could pick up the nuances of his language.
        She nodded then turned to the seller, a bipedal amphibian. She swallowed a few times to stretch her throat muscles, then started speaking in the croaking language the amphibian used, relaying the insectoid’s complaint regarding one of the clauses in the agreement. Apparently he didn’t believe in the sanity clause.
        The amphibian replied back. Aidaca translated. The back and forth continued on. Finally they stopped for another refreshment break. Aidaca ordered another nectar juice and gazed around the business pavilion. She blinked when she saw three unfamiliar aliens walking out of the visitor’s concourse.
        They had coarse shiny hair on top of their round small craniums, and were dressed in nearly identical uniforms. The uniforms sparked a faint memory in Aidaca. The aliens wore nearly all black outfits, which were broken up by gray shoulders. The black uniforms were the top layer, because she could see colored undershirts. Two of the aliens wore a mustard yellow, and the other wore a blue-green undershirt. They sported metallic insignias on their chests. The insignias also seemed familiar to Aidaca.
        Another group of similarly uniformed aliens came out of the concourse. They weren’t of the same species as the first group, but obviously part of the same organization.
        Aidaca recalled the station gossip that a new large starship had arrived at the station. The general buzz was that nearly no one had ever seen that particular group of aliens before, which was unusual. Almost everybody knew everybody else here. For true strangers to arrive, they would have had to come from a very long distance away.
        She suddenly wondered, Could it be? The nagging sensation of knowing she knew something sudden clicked in her mind. The insignia cemented her thoughts.
        The insectoid returned to the table, so Aidaca had to stop following the aliens with her gaze. She looked back at her clients, but continued thinking about them in another part of her brain.
        Hours later, the negotiations concluded, and Aidaca received her payment from the clients. She made her way around the curve of the commerce station, returning to the permanent guest quarters section. Once in her small, cramped apartment, she sat down and activated her communications terminal, checking her messages.
        The usual array of messages scrolled from side to side on her screen: advertisements, station news, and inquiries for her translation services. Only one piqued her interest. The return address was for a false business front, an alias she knew that belonged to a information broker. Aidaca had done business with the businesswoman once, and she paid handsomely. The message was a request for her to contact the broker.
        Aidaca looked around her apartment and sighed. She could use another good cash influx. She tapped on the screen, establishing a secure link.
        A moment later, she was staring at a black screen. The broker disliked visual contact.
        “This is Aidaca, calling for Mistress Ril’a.”
        “A moment please,” a masculine voice replied. Another voice sounded out through the screen’s speakers.
        “Aidaca, I am pleased to hear from you so soon.”
        “The pleasure is mine, Mistress.”
        “I find myself in need for your data analysis services again,” Ril’a said. “I trust you found our previous transaction as pleasing to you as it was to me.”
        “I did,” Aidaca replied. “What’s the job?”
        “Have you heard about the new arrival this morning?”
        “A little bit,” she replied.
        “A source of mine has gotten their hands on an original recording of the data transmission from the ship to the station management office. The data contains information on their ship, information I have clients who might be interested in getting. Early analysis reveals the information to be superficial, but I was hoping you might be able to analyze the data to find hidden or deleted information.”
        Aidaca frowned. “This sounds too much like theft. I don’t want to be stripped of station privileges and evicted. I have no place else to go.”
        “Don’t worry. The aliens’ information will be made public, so we’re not stealing anything. We’re simply working with the material that will be in the station’s database. There’s nothing in there that we couldn’t buy for a few hundred currency credits. So it cannot be theft in any sense of the word. We’re just massaging the raw data to learn more, minus the extra layer of the station’s database code. That’s to be expected, after all. Information is currency here.”
        “Fine,” Aidaca replied. “I’ll do it, but for 30% more than last time.”
        “Done,” Ril’a said. “One of my couriers will make a discreet drop of the data recording for your analysis. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything else.”
        “I will, although I think I’ll be fine. I’ll contact you when I make any progress.”
        “Wonderful. It’s a pleasure working with you again. Have a good evening.” Ril’a’s transmission ended.
        Aidaca switched off her communication terminal and stroked the ridges of her left ear canal. She disliked doing this sort of shady business. It paid more than her regular translation business though. She didn’t even like her translation work. On her homeworld, she would have been a director of an think-tank.
        However, she had no homeworld. No family either. Only this small grubby existence that she could eke out halfway across the galaxy from home. As far away from them as she could be.

        “And here we are, returned to the Main Pavilion,” Keemot said to Favor and Johnson. The three of them eased through the middling crowd. Keemot ushered them towards an unoccupied table in one of the refreshment areas. Favor and Johnson sat down next to each other, while Keemot took a seat facing the two of them. He pressed a panel on the table, then looked at the humans.
        “Would you care for some beverages?” the station manager asked.
        Favor said, “Sure, we’d like some.”
        “What would you like?”
        Favor looked at Johnson. The captain just shrugged slightly. Favor looked back at Keemot. “Just order something suitable,” he said with a smile.
        Keemot nodded and turned to the waiter that had just been summoned.
        Favor leaned over to Johnson. “What’s going on, Tom? You haven’t said much all morning.”
        Johnson replied, “I didn’t have to say much. You pretty much have everything in hand. After all, this is your bailiwick.”
        Keemot finished his ordering and turned back to the ambassador and the captain. “Our drinks will be along shortly. By the by, how did you enjoy your meal last night, Captain?”
        “It was very good,” Johnson replied. “Lieutenant Commander Fonda and I enjoyed the restaurant.”
        “Good, good,” Keemot smiled, his tusks jutting out from his dark lips. He shrugged and looked at them both. “Unfortunately, I am not able to show you the entire station because that would take up the entire duration of your stay. However, I hope I have provided you both ample idea of the benefits of doing business in the Bazaar.”
        “We’re definitely interested,” Favor smiled. “It’s a spectacular marketplace. The Federation would be very interested in establishing economic relations with the station and the Bazaar.”
        “When do you think you shall be able to do this?” asked Keemot.
        Favor pursed his lips, thinking. “It depends on how soon we can establish regular travel between Federation space and this station. Right now we, and by we, I mean the Courageous, are the sole representatives of the Federation in the Borderlands.”
        “You could set up an office here on the station for a nominal fee,” Keemot suggested.
        “I know, I’ve read the information you sent us. We weren’t planning on setting up any physical embassies just yet. As the Federation ambassador to these territories, my mandate is to establish informal- and when the situation requires it- formal relationships. For now, my office on the Courageous doubles as the Federation Embassy while here. We don’t have the personnel to establish an embassy here yet.”
        “I understand,” Keemot said. “I would be happy to arrange reservations for you until such time that you are prepared to open a trading outpost or embassy here. Space is always at a premium here. I would advise that you make arrangements sooner than later.”
        “I’ll have to consult my government on that, and of course I’ll pass your recommendation along to them, as well,” Favor said.
        “Good,” Keemot said. “I am always at your service. You may contact me at any time during your journeys through this region.”
        “I intend to,” Favor smiled.
        Somebody walked up to the table. Favor turned to look at her, expecting their drinks. When he saw the alien had no drinks, he frowned. Keemot paused in slight confusion when he saw her, but quickly regained his composure, smiling.
        “Welcome, how may I help you?” he asked her.
        The alien, feminine in form, was a stranger to Favor. He hadn’t seen her species before, although he felt like he should know her from someplace. She was humanoid, with a elongated, hairless skull. Her skin was slightly ruddy, but otherwise typical of human skin.
        She handed the station manager a PADD. “I wished to inform you that you would be making an error in associating yourself with these people. They are untrustworthy-- they are thieves and murderers.”
        “What?” Johnson said.
        “I beg your pardon, madam,” Favor said, raising up out of his seat. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong impression of us. I’m Ambassador Nathan Favor of the U.S.S. Courageous. I’d be willing to listen to any of your grievances.”
        The alien looked at them. “I have nothing to say to you.” She turned to Keemot. “Everything is outlined in my petition, Station Manager. I suggest you take the matter seriously.” She turned and walked away from the table.
        Keemot read the PADD in his orange hand. After being still for a few moments, he looked up at Favor and Johnson. “I’m afraid I have to end this meeting so soon, but I must return to my office. If I were you, I would return to to your ship and prepare for the Judiciary Mediator.”
        “This is preposterous,” Favor said. “We’ve never been to this station before. How can she level such charges at us? Murder?”
        Keemot stood up. “Actually, she was using a little hyperbole. The actual charges are for theft only. Intellectual property theft, to be exact. Furthermore, you are not the people named on the petition. The United Federation of Planets is the accused. I’m sorry. It is not good for me to continue talking with you. I must remain impartial.”
        “Theft? Of what?”
        “The Judiciary Mediator’s Office will forward you all the relevant documentation,” Keemot said.
        “Just a minute,” Johnson said. “What happens if we’re found guilty of this ludicrous charge?”
        “You will be blacklisted,” Keemot replied. “None of the reputable dealers on this station will enter into any agreements with you, because that would violate the terms of the Bazaar Trade Code. Theft is a very serious crime here. The only way we can keep order in this massive market is if every vendor remains trustworthy. You steal from one of us, you steal from all of us.”
        “Will you be available to answer any questions we may have?” Favor asked.
        “For the time being, please direct any inquiries you have to the Judiciary Mediator’s Office,” Keemot said. “Farewell.” He walked away, looking again at the petition.
        Johnson stood up and put a hand on Favor’s shoulder. “Come on, Nathan. We should get back to the ship and get to the bottom of this.”

        “Ambassador’s log, append to last entry,” Favor said as he leaned back in the seat he brought into the Astrometrics room. He looked at the large monitor that dominated the small chamber. The screen was divided into different smaller screens, each displaying different records, text and audio-visual. His everpresent Vulcan-style robe was draped over an unused terminal. Favor sat with his legs crossed.
        “At first, I thought the petition that this person, Aidaca, brought against the UFP was spurious but upon closer examination, I can see why the Judiciary Mediator’s Office hasn’t dismissed it.”
        Favor stroked his chin and cocked his head at the monitor. “It’s funny. I was traveling in and out of Federation space at the time the Voyager made her return to Earth. I didn’t really keep up with the news at the time. I vaguely remember the celebrations, the documentaries and the interviews. I also remember the talk of a court martial. I remember being somewhat puzzled at why some people were talking about court martialing Janeway, but it didn’t interest me enough to follow the news. The whole point turned out to be moot since Janeway resigned her commission a few months after Voyager’s return.
        “Some people attributed her resignation as a means to avoid unwanted celebrity or an inevitable promotion to an admiralty. Other people- her detractors, naturally- said it was a self-serving maneuver to avoid the publicity and potential dishonorable discharge that would result from such a trial. After she resigned, she dropped out of the public eye. No criminal charges were ever brought.”
        Favor knitted his brows and stared at the screen that showed Aidaca’s petition. “Scratch that, no criminal charges were ever brought until now.” He stood up, stretching his legs out. He twisted his body to the left then to the right. He moved his hands through several different katas, then ended with a deep exhale. “To tell you the truth, I had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. When I took this posting, I immediately dived into research on the Voyager’s journey. Admiral Stone granted me full access to the Voyager Database, and I took advantage of that. The first thing I did was find out how many toes Captain Janeway and her crew stepped on as they made their way back to the Federation. As it turns out, they stepped on quite a lot of toes.”
        The ambassador walked around the oval perimeter of Astrometrics, clasping his hands behind his back. “Since the Courageous would be traveling through some of the same areas that Voyager did, we were bound to run into some of these injured parties. The other shoe, so to speak. I just didn’t think it’d drop this early on in our travels.” Favor walked back to his chair and sat down.
        “This one’s a little bit unexpected though,” Favor said, crossing his legs again. “I might have expected the Malon Cooperative, the Hierarchy, or even the Hirogen, but not her. Aidaca’s claiming that the Federation, through its agents in Starfleet, to wit, Captain Janeway and the crew of the U.S.S. Voyager, stole the design and parts of the technology that comprised Aidaca’s people’s propulsion system, known as the Quantum Slipstream Drive. I usually have a good memory for species, but Aidaca’s species eluded me. It kept nagging at me until I read the petition in full. It finally clicked.
        “She’s from the same race that Arturis is from. The reason why I couldn’t remember her species was because we never learned the name or homeworld. Seven of Nine referred to his race as Species 116, but that was the Borg’s arbitrary naming system. I’ve put in a request for her records through the Mediator’s Office. At least they have a disclosure of information provision. In any case, now I’m starting to get a better picture of what’s going on.”
        “I’m trying to familiarize myself with the Bazaar’s Criminal Code, so I can fully understand the nature of the charges against us. That way, I can better defend ourselves and repudiate these charges... if I can. The files on Arturis don’t exactly paint the best of pictures. It’s easy to blame Arturis for his own demise, but I need to look at this from Aidaca’s perspective. If I can do that, I can better prepare for what might be coming in the mediations.
        “What I can’t figure out is how she found out about the Quantum Slipstream Drive we have. It’s not exactly public information. That’s something I’ll have to check into. End log entry. Another thing we’ll need to do is contact Starfleet Command and consult with them.” Favor tapped on the console in front of him, keying several commands. “Computer, append most recent log entry to today’s Embassy report and send to Captain Johnson.”

        “And Arturis was maliciously abandoned in his ship by the Starfleet crew. Our low yield satellite relays clearly show the Thaurgea being held in tractor by a Borg vessel, then dissected for assimilation.”
        Aidaca turned from the monitor showing the sensor log in the Mediator’s Chambers. She looked at the Mediator, Cumbesloh then over to the human ambassador and captain seated across from her. She turned to look at the galley which was sparsely populated by curious bystanders.
        “My clanmate died, assimilated by the Borg. At last count, there are only 390 remaining of a planet with nearly 4 billion,” she said. “The crux of the matter is not the depraved indifference to his life, however. The fact of the matter is, they, the United Federation of Planets, profited from his death. The ship currently residing in the external docking bays is proof of this.
        “Consider this- the ship was launched nearly 40,000 light-years away from here. Captain Johnson did not deny that their propulsion technology is based on quantum slipstream technology. Technology acquired against Arturis’s will. His negotiations with them took a desperate turn when he tried to take them to his homeworld, to show how ravaged it was by the Borg. It backfired on him, but the Federation crew stole the quantum slipstream technology and brought it back to their government. And then they created their own version of my people’s quantum slipstream engines. One such engine resides in the U.S.S. Courageous. According to Ambassador Favor, their stated purpose is to explore for new resources and trading partners to supplement their commerce in their native territory. So any profit gained from this mission is blood money, a direct result of the illegal acquisition of technological information from my people.”
        Aidaca walked back to her table and looked at the mediator. “Consequently, I would demand that the United Federation of Planets cease and desist in their production and usage of quantum slipstream engines based on the original engine from Arturis’s Thaurgea. In light of the fact that this is an impractical resolution. The Courageous would need to travel for decades to return to their home space without the use of their ill-gained slipstream drive. They would be exiled far from home, not unlike I and 38 other refugees. I propose an equitable alternative. Instead, I would allow the Courageous to retain their slipstream engine and they would continue on their mission. However, I expect no less than 85% of the profits they earn to be put in a trust for my people. This would then aid us in ensuring the survival of our species.”
        Aidaca frowned primly and sat down, folding her hands together. “I have nothing further to say on this matter.”
        Cumbesloh nodded almost regally, then turned to look at the humans from the Federation. “The representatives from the United Federation of Planets are given leave to answer the petition.”
        Aidaca watched the long dark-haired one rise up from his seat. The other day, he wore robes that were brighter in color. Today he had muted tones on. The robe was well tailored. The hem did not fall underneath his black bootheels as he walked out from around the table. Remarkably, the fabric did not rustle in the quiet of the Chambers.
        Several runes in an onyx color ran down a stripe on the front of the ambassador’s robe. Though it was not a language Aidaca had seen before, she could guess at its meaning. It said something akin to “Reconciliation through serenity.” It seemed to be a meditative mantra. She would have thought it a transparent ploy to appear supplicative, but for the fact that nobody else but the ambassador would have known what it meant.
        He was tall, half a meter taller than her. He placed a hand on his chest and began speaking.
        “Ohjmak dumar hejean li United Federation of Planets. Diang li turi poyn li Favor Nathan,” then the ambassador gestured towards the other human, “oris chissen Courageous li Johnson Thomas. Xie tamrun.”
        The surprise was palatable in the Chambers. Nobody had expected the alien to begin in the lingua franca of the Bazaar. His accent was nearly flawless; it was as if he was a frequent visitor to the commerce station. The ambassador seemed to show the same facility with language that her people did. She wondered how such a small cranium could process all that linguistic information.
        Aidaca could tell that he already had made a good impression on the mediator, Cumbesloh. She looked at the older woman seated behind her onyx desk. Wrinkles lined her humanoid face, and her dark blue hair draped down around her head, framing her short face. She held her hands clasped, her three long fingers intertwining between each other. Her milky grey eyes remained on Ambassador Favor as he continued on speaking.
        The ambassador’s next words were in said in his alien language. “I apologize for my lack of mastery over this station’s tongue. I shall have to continue these matters using the Federation’s standard language. However, I believe the point that I will attempt to make will be understood.
        “Arturis’s encounter with the Federation was regrettable. We do not deny that. Many races have this maxim, ‘There are always two sides to a story.’ Aidaca has told hers. Allow me to tell our side. Then shall you, the mediator of this matter, be able to weigh the matters properly.
        “As promised in my opening remarks at the start of this matter, I will introduce evidence which will show that Aidaca’s version of events are lacking in some areas. I have personnel logs, security log recordings, and sensor logs, all of which will present a more complete picture of the events involving Arturis and the Dauntless, or rather, the Thaurgea.”
        Ambassador Favor walked to a terminal set up for his use. He tapped in his personal code and resumed speaking. “I am loath to impugn Aidaca’s kinsman, but my government and my people’s reputations are on the line here.” He began a log recording. The audio-visual feed played on several different monitors throughout the Chambers.
        After the ambassador concluded playing his recordings, he sighed. “Arturis attempted to kill the crew of the U.S.S. Voyager. He set out on a sadly misguided suicide mission. We cannot be held responsible for causing his death because he was prepared for that outcome. The heart of this petition- that of technological theft, is simply unsupportable.
        “In the first place, we never had Arturis’s slipstream drive to work with, since it was lost to the Borg. All we had was the data we gleaned from sensor recordings and tricorder recordings... this is data that Arturis freely allowed the crew of Voyager to collect and work with.”
        Aidaca stood up. “I object to that statement.”
        Cumbesloh turned to Aidaca, fixing her milky grey eyes onto her. “Elaborate.”
        “Arturis did not intend to let the crew survive to put their information to use, therefore the data was not acquired with license for future use,” Aidaca said.
        Favor turned and smiled at her. “Ah yes, I knew you would raise this matter. Begging your pardon, Mediator Cumbesloh, but I have researched this matter. The Code of the Bazaar, quite sensibly, does not put much weight on something as nebulous as intention. What the Code does put weight on, are actions. Arturis gave permission to the crew of Voyager to work with his engines. They were given permission to operate within the engine room of the Thaurgea. I have log recordings which show these actions.”
        “Your logs would also show the actions of Arturis trying to eliminate the crew,” Aidaca retorted. “We then know his intent from that.”
        “True,” Favor said. “Then we enter the realm of intended result and desired result. I cite the Matter of Mryak versus the Illyanir Corporation, a precedent setting case. If Cumbesloh will consent to listen to a matter she most likely is aware of, I will explain my understanding.” He looked at the Mediator.
        She nodded, almost regally.
        “Thank you.” Favor turned to look at Aidaca and the galley of curious spectators. “Now, Mryak was a speculator who purchased several large tracts of mining land on several planets from Illyanir Corporation. The solar system in which the planets were in had an unstable star. Myrak knew that the star had a limited lifespan- anywhere from two decades to five centuries. Unfortunately, if he had access to our modern science, he would have known the star’s lifespan was considerably shorter than that. In fact, less than a week after the transaction was concluded and currency exchanged hands, the star went nova, destroying the planets and any hopes of Myrak’s mining future.
        “Myrak, naturally seeking to recoup his losses, petitioned Illyanir Corporation for the return of his funds. The corporation responded by stating there was no legal reason compelling them to return the funds. Myrak countered with the fact that he intended to make money from his mining prospects and there was no reason to think he would not have, had the star not gone nova. The transaction they made was based on this intention.”
        Favor stopped at the side of his table. “The mediator in that case concluded that although Myrak’s intended result was almost a foregone conclusion, there were several other results which he was fully aware of. More importantly, he knew of the star’s instability. He assumed the risk of a nova causing him not to achieve his intended result. The mediator upheld Illyanir’s position that there were no legal grounds for the transaction to be voided if the actual result differed from the desired result.
        “Arturis’s desired result was that the entire crew of Voyager be assimilated by the Borg. The actual result was different. Arturis knew that if the crew discovered his deception, they would try to escape. He assumed the risk of that result being the conclusion to his dealings with Voyager. Therefore, the Federation has no legal obligation under the Code of the Bazaar to provide compensation to Arturis or his kin. Quite simply, no intellectual property theft occurred, which is the crux of Aidaca’s petition.”
        Favor walked back to behind his desk. “With this simple fact stated, we humbly request that this petition be dismissed based on strong evidence that the petitioner is operating on a personal grudge,” the human ambassador said. Aidaca shifted in her seat slightly, trying not to react to the ambassador’s accusation.
        “I have more evidence to present, which is included in my documentation presented to the mediator. I could show how dissimilar our Quantum Slipstream Drive is to Arturis’s engine. I could present an entire timeline showing the development of our slipstream drive, which does owe its beginnings with to the Thaurgea, but owes so much more to the ingenuity of Federation engineers. However, I think I don’t need to say anything further.”
        The human ambassador looked at Cumbesloh. “Thank you for taking your time to consider this matter before you. The United Federation of Planets is grateful for your eventual and carefully measured judgement.” He then sat down next to the human captain who then leaned over to speak quietly into Favor’s ear.
        Cumbesloh pulled her hands apart and glanced at both parties. “I shall take a brief period to review the documentation presented in these Chambers. I shall return with a conclusion.”

        Johnson tapped his fingers on the side of the tall scalloped glass set on the table. The frothy purple juice inside jiggled from the vibrations. The captain looked up at Favor. “So, how much longer do you think we need to wait.”
        Favor finished sipping from his mug and set it back down on the white triangular table. “I don’t know. It’s only been what, a hour or two?”
        “One hour and forty-seven minutes,” Johnson said.
        “But then who’s keeping track?” Favor smiled.
        “You still think concluding your defense early was the right thing to do?”
        “As Polonius said, ‘Brevity is the soul of wit.’ Take a look around you,” Favor said, sweeping his hand around the refreshment pavilion and the entire floor of the station. “See all these people? They’re in a hurry. Look at how many people are sitting here just having a drink, doing nothing.”
        Johnson looked around. Most of the aliens sitting in the pavilion were either talking to other aliens, or working on personal computer terminals.
        Favor sat back in his seat. “This is a commerce station, a place of business. Everybody’s here to do some sort of business or other. They have appointments to get to, deals to close, and money to make. Did you notice how Aidaca questioned us and her other witnesses? She didn’t waste time with us at all. She asked us one or two questions to establish the reason why we were witnesses, then she asked one, maybe two questions to reveal the information she wanted to come out into evidence. Once she was done, she was done. She didn’t hammer home the point she wanted to make. That would have been a waste of the mediator’s time.”
        “So when in Rome...”
        Favor nodded. “Exactly. It may be a cliche, but it’s a sound principle. Sarek considered it one of his guiding principles.”
        “I can believe that,” Johnson said. “After all, he married a human.”
        “Twice,” Favor smiled. “Anyway, I wasn’t planning on citing the precedent until later in my defense, but Aidaca gave me the opening just as I knew she eventually would. I took the opportunity and went with it.”
        “I see. Sounds good to me,” Johnson nodded. “I defer to your expertise.” He fell silent again, wiping at the condensation on the side of his glass.
        Favor looked across the pavilion dining area and watched the people walking in and out of the corridors that intersected on this floor’s hub.
        More time slipped by before Favor broke the silence between the two of them. “I’m sorry to hear about your father’s death.”
        Johnson blinked and looked up. “Oh. Thanks.”
        “I came across it in the newsfeed late last night when I was making my preparations.” The ambassador frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
        “Oh... well... I guess I needed some time to let it sink in. Could you do me a favor and don’t mention it to anyone else? I’m not really in the mood for people to come up to me and offering their condolences.”
        “Sure,” Favor said. “I’ll do that. If you want to talk about it, you can bend my ear anytime.”
        “Thanks, I appreciate that,” Johnson gave him a faint smile.
        “Does Ed know yet?”
        Johnson shook his head. “Only you know, plus one other person.”
        “Who’s the other person?”
        “Fonda.”
        “Oh. How’d she learn about it?”
        “Nathan, you know, I’d rather not talk about it.”
        “Fair enough,” the ambassador shrugged. “You know you have friends to go to if you need them.”
        “I know.” Johnson took a gulp of his juice and settled back in his seat. He saw Favor sit up and he sat up too, turning to look over his shoulder.
        Keemot, the station manager, was making his way towards their table.
        “Hello, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Favor said, smiling.
        Keemot stopped before their table. “Good afternoon. I wanted to personally inform you that a decision has been made. All of the parties need to be assembled in Chambers shortly.”
        “It must be a favorable decision,” Johnson said, “otherwise you wouldn’t be speaking to us.”
        “Very perceptive, Captain,” Keemot said. “After the ambassador’s masterful oratory, the decision was easy to make. Ambassador Favor, may I congratulate you. I enjoyed watching you work.”
        “You weren’t there,” Favor said. “Were you?”
        “No,” Keemot said. “I had an aide there who relayed events back to me. I have the privilege of listening in to the transcriptionist’s recordings.”
        “I see,” Favor said.
        “Shall I take you back to Chambers?” Keemot asked.
        “Thank you,” Johnson said.
        They walked out of the pavilion. As they crossed the hub, Keemot turned to them. “Your behavior in this matter has proven that the Federation are people to be reckoned with. You did not back down from addressing a dark spot on your history. You represented yourselves very well. I am happy to resume formal relations with your people.”
        “I appreciate hearing that,” Favor said.
        “Incidentally, my investigators are looking into this matter, to determine whether or not Aidaca acted illegally. She has been under suspicion several times for illegal data gathering. If you like, I would be glad to assist you in preparing a counter-petition.”
        Favor sighed and looked up at Keemot. “I appreciate that offer, but I think the captain would agree with me that we are not in the business of being punitive.”
        Johnson nodded. “There’s no reason to exacerbate matters further. Aidaca has suffered enough in these past years. I’ve read up on the material the ambassador has given me on her. I think she was seeking closure, and we presented the nearest target of opportunity. I would rather let the matter rest.”
        “As you wish,” Keemot said. “I will tell my investigators to conclude their business with her. She will be left alone.”
        “Thank you, Keemot,” Johnson said. He saw that they had reached the entrance to the Judiciary Mediator’s Office Chambers. They joined the other people that were filing into the Chambers.
        He caught a glimpse of Aidaca entering from another portal. She had a blank expression, and seemed wrapped up in her own thoughts. Johnson noticed that he had been the same way the entire day. He thought about what he had just told Keemot, then an idea formed.

        Aidaca sat in her apartment, staring at the blank terminal monitor across the table from her. Ril’a hadn’t paid her yet for the work she had done. She couldn’t contact the information broker because the courier told Aidaca to lay low. She brought this onto herself by taking the Federation before the Judiciary Mediator. She hoped Ril’a wouldn’t stop giving her work.
        Her petition was dismissed, and the Federation representatives were now back in the Station Manager’s good graces. She didn’t understand why the Federation’s guilt wasn’t as obvious to them as it was to her. The entrance chime sounded and Aidaca snapped out of her reverie.
        “Who is it?”
        “It’s Ambassador Favor. Captain Johnson and I are here, to speak with you.”
        “I have nothing to say to either one of you,” Aidaca said. “Leave.”
        “Actually,” another voice sounded over the speaker, “it’s not us you should speak to. We have somebody who’d appreciate some time with you.”
        Aidaca stood up and went to the door, opening it. She stared at the two of them. “This isn’t a ploy to serve me a lawsuit or put me on trial in your courts?”
        Johnson shook his head. “You have nothing to worry from us. Please... come with us.”
        Aidaca relented and accompanied them back to their starship. The humans led her from the transporter room through the ship to a large room filled with tables and chairs. A bar lined the back wall, and on the opposite wall, large windows afforded her a panoramic view of the commerce station and the ships docked near her. The only people in there were her and the two humans.
        The captain walked to a painting of a starship on the wall near the bar. He tapped on a small panel on the frame, and the painting changed to a Federation symbol.
        The ambassador pulled a chair over to Aidaca. “You can sit if you want.” She shook her head and kept her eyes on the monitor.
        The blue symbol disappeared and a human woman appeared on the screen. Aidaca immediately recognized her. Her hair was shorter and differently colored, and new lines etched her face, but it was still the same person. It was Kathryn Janeway, the Starfleet captain that abandoned her kinsman all these years ago to the Borg.
        “Hello, Aidaca,” she said.
        “Is this a recording?” Aidaca asked.
        “No,” Janeway said. “This is a live feed from Earth. Captain Johnson felt that this might be something you needed to do.”
        “I have nothing to say to you,” she told the human.
        Janeway blinked at her. “Are you sure? You’ve had many years to think about it. I know I’ve done the same thing. I’ve done a great many things during my time as the captain of Voyager that I regret... things I wished I had done differently, or not done at all. Once I was home, all of the second-guessing I refused to do during the mission came rushing over me. It overwhelmed me. It took me a long time to accept that I did what I did, and couldn’t change anything.
        “One of the things I think about often is my dealings with Arturis. He was one of the first people I met that showed me how far reaching my actions could be. I often wonder how it could have turned out differently. I wished I had more time to talk with him on that bridge. Maybe if I had ten more minutes, I could’ve talked him out of his plan of action. Maybe if...”
        Janeway shook her head sadly. “What’s past is past, though. There’s nothing I can do to bring him back. The only thing I can do now is apologize. I’m grateful for these circumstances. It’s not often that two people deeply affected by tragedy can confront each other. It’s Captain Johnson’s opinion that you weren’t really motivated out of greed. It’s doubtful that you really wish revenge because there are a lot more satisfying ways to exact revenge than a lawsuit.
        “Regardless of what your motives are, you blamed the wrong people. Captain Johnson and the crew of the Courageous didn’t do this to your people. Neither Starfleet nor the Federation did this to you. If you need a face to lay blame on, look to me. I accept responsibility for my actions. For the pain and damage I caused you and your people, I heartily apologize.”
        Janeway swallowed and blinked several times. “If there is anything you need to say to me... go ahead.”
        Aidaca stood silently for a moment, staring at Janeway’s face on the monitor. Finally she spoke.
        “I have nothing to say to you.”
        She turned to the ambassador. “I’d like to return to my apartment now.”
        “Are you sure?” Ambassador Favor said.
        “Yes.”
        The human nodded and gestured to the doors.
        Aidaca made it a point not to turn and look back at Janeway.

        “Captain’s Log, supplemental,” Johnson said. “We’re about to get underway to depart from the commerce station. Ambassador Favor has reported several successful negotiations. Doctor Hartman has installed the new xenobiological database onto the ship’s computer and tied the Emergency Medical Hologram into it. So if we come across any injured parties, we’ll be able to treat them. That should gain us some friends.
        “Raven has suggested our next course. I told him I’d take it under advisement. I’ll make my decision after our staff meeting in fifteen minutes. He’s also told me that he’s gotten started on that other matter.
        “We haven’t heard anything from Aidaca since we had her aboard the ship yesterday. I hope we were able to help her somewhat.”
        Johnson stood and walked over to the thin windows of his ready room. He looked out through the window to watch the commerce station slowly spinning in the darkness.
        “All in all, I think our visit to the Bazaar was productive.”