The new Type 11 shuttlecraft skirted the orbits of the outer planets of the Trefilem system, hiding its approach to the fourth planet as long as possible. Becca Cuddihy sat at the controls just as Devlin had predicted. If someone was going to ask for the best pilot on the ship, she was going to be honest and recommend herself. She really liked this new shuttle class. It wasn’t as sleek and maneuverable as her Viper, but for a people-carrying tube it was actually kind of fun. 

Six engineers sat in the seats of the main compartment behind her, checking their gear, quietly discussing the intricacies of Klingon engines and what they might find. Behind them sat the eight-member strike team. They all carried hand phasers on their belts and most had type 5 phaser rifles. The professionals they were, none of them were fidgeting about in their seats or chattering. Instead they just sat checking their equipment or analyzing the plans and schematics they had been issued during the mission briefing.

No one fidgeted, that is, except for Devlin. He kept shifting in his seat next to Becca until she finally said, “Commander, do you have to go to the bathroom?”

He looked at her in surprise and then smiled sheepishly as he understood. “Sorry. I’ve always been antsy just before going into action. One time, when I was just an ensign assigned to security, my team was ordered to hide in cargo containers that we suspected would be stolen by smugglers. We were in there for four hours and I thought the lieutenant was going to kill me if I didn’t settle down.”

“Well you won’t have to wait that long now. We’re coming up on the orbital station.”

The huge structure floating in orbit above the dirty and polluted planet below was haphazardly built with pieces seemingly stuck on at random in all directions. The recon scans had indicated that the Silk Dragon was housed in the main part of the station directly ahead, essentially a large box with several hangar bays. As Becca expertly guided the ship up against the facility’s airlock, the team rose and stood by the hatch. With a rush of pressurized air escaping, the door opened and Breel’tzin jumped out, along with another officer. Devlin, standing right behind them, was about to jump through next when Breel’tzin aimed his phaser at an unseen target and fired. Leaping through, Devlin saw a rough-looking character, a species he didn’t recognize right away, lying stunned on the ground, a Klingon disruptor by his side.

Without stopping to look, Devlin led the team out of the airlock and down a nearby corridor. The plans had said to go down to the right for 25 meters and then take the first left. Running as they went, the team went left and right and then left again. They came to a ladder and, as the others covered him, D.J. climbed up to the next level. He stopped to peek his head over the edge of the deck, and seeing it was clear, came up the rest of the way. Waiting as the rest of the team followed, they began moving down the corridors again. They met only one more person on the way.

They came on him so quickly that they didn’t have to stun him. He was unarmed anyway, probably a maintenance technician, so they tied him up and put him in a storage closet. The delay chafed on Devlin who knew their only hope of success lay in speed and surprise. Finally they came to the doors of the hangar where the ship was docked. Looking through the observation windows, D.J. was astounded at how huge the Klingon warp nacelles looked on the small ship. Intended for an overpowered battlecruiser, the nacelles nearly dwarfed the Silk Dragon. At the moment, a lone gangway extended from the hangar door to a hatch on the ship.

“The bay is pressurized,” Breel’tzin said, consulting a tricorder, “but there’s no gravity, except on the gangway.” The atmosphere and lack of gravity facilitated repairs on the ship. A gravity field would only put stress on the nacelle’s attachment points and an atmosphere allowed the technicians to work without bulky pressure suits.

“Open it,” Devlin ordered. Breel’tzin triggered the controls and the team rushed through, the first officer in the lead. As he crossed the gangway, D.J. saw the hatch to the ship slide open and a human male step out looking at something in his hand. Suddenly he looked up in surprise, seeing the group of heavily armed Starfleeters running at him. He turned to run back into the ship. D.J. knew that if the door closed behind the gang member, they wouldn’t have time to get it open before the crew of the ship fired up the engines, vented the bay, and blasted out of there, probably taking him and his strike team with them.

D.J. dove forward, falling just short of the hatch, but he stuck his rifle forward and the barrel jammed the door open. By now the rest of the team had reached him and began forcing the door back. One particularly limber security officer reached his thin arm inside and touched the control, causing the door to open.

They heard the running man hollering at the top of his voice as he headed deeper into the ship. “Lieutenant, take three men and follow that guy,” Devlin ordered, breathing hard. “The rest of you follow me to the bridge.” Moving through the surprisingly well-furnished vessel, Devlin had to shake his head. Apparently, the pirate’s life paid pretty well. The walls were sheathed in wood and fabric, incredible luxuries on a starship. However, the one thing it seemed to lack was a crew. In their travels toward the bridge, Devlin’s team didn’t encounter one person. They couldn’t have left just one person on the ship, he thought. Then he realized that maybe the others had gone out and there really was no one on the ship. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind as he rounded the last corner before the bridge when a massive arm reached out and flung him back into the team behind him, knocking them down into a heap of arms and legs.

A huge Klingon warrior stood before them, roaring at the top of his lungs, flexing his muscles, and eyeing them dangerously. As D.J. fumbled for his hand phaser, he realized the only member of his team that hadn’t been knocked down was tiny Barbara Beyle. The petite brunette was barely big enough to hold a phaser rifle without looking ridiculous in Devlin’s mind. He’d even had reservations about having her on the team, but Breel’tzin had assured him that dangerous things often came in small packages. She stepped in front of the Klingon, looking like a child confronting a grizzly bear. He roared in contempt at her, but she didn’t even flinch. Instead, she swung her leg back and, moving quickly forward, drove her knee right up between his legs, like a sledgehammer on a railroad spike.

The Klingon’s eyes bulged out and his face turned red. Even Devlin and the other two security men had to wince in sympathy. They might have been different species and the Klingon might have been thinking about killing them a second ago, but the male of every species that carried his most precious cargo outside the body could feel empathy with that pain. By now the huge warrior had sunk to his knees, gripping his crotch in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain. He tried to speak, but instead of an intimidating roar, he only squeaked.

“Crewman, it would have been more merciful just to kill him with his own batleth,” D.J. said, gathering his scattered equipment off the deck.

“Sir, for centuries before the invention of the phaser that was how women stunned men. It’s a very effective way of incapacitating a man,” she said. Looking at the Klingon speculatively, she added, “Although you have to know exactly how to hit a Klingon for maximum effect. They’re armored even there, you know.”

“I didn’t,” Devlin replied. “I take it you did.”

“Oh yes sir. I’ve studied how to apply the tactic to many different species. Very interesting,” she said cheerfully.

Devlin resolved right then and there to stay away from the woman as much as possible in the future. “Just secure the prisoner, crewman.” She replied in the affirmative and walked over to put binders on the writhing Klingon.

Devlin tapped his communicator. “Breel’tzin, status.”

“We have secured our objective, sir,” came the security chief’s voice over the communicator. “We caught the one suspect, but there appears to be no one else on board.”

“Yes, we caught a Klingon up here on the bridge. Prepare for departure.”

“What if there are more members of the crew on the planet or in the maintenance facility?”

“We don’t have the time to wait. Our window of opportunity is closing. Devlin out.” He waited a moment and tapped the communicator again. “Devlin to Shuttlecraft Erie. The target is secure. Beam the engineering team over.” Seconds later, the vessel was secure and Devlin was sitting at the helm, Breel’tzin standing behind him. “Sir, there appears to be no way to remotely activate the hangar bay controls or the doors.”

“What?” Devlin asked, alarmed. “Where are the controls?”

“According to these scans, they must be operated from the control deck six levels above here. I will go and activate them and you can beam me out afterward.”

“No, too dangerous. They’re going to know something’s wrong anytime now,” he replied. D.J. re-checked the scans of the hangar doors. They weren’t duranium or any other reinforced material. If he hit them just right …. “Lieutenant, activate the weapons system,” he said.

Breel’tzin looked up in surprise for a moment, but then searched his console for the appropriate controls. He realized that Devlin was an unorthodox officer and prone to make some strange requests. Finally, he found the commands to activate the hidden weapons system consisting of several phaser cannons on the front and back of the ship. He transferred command to Devlin’s station. “All yours, Commander.”

Devlin punched in a command to the phasers while he activated the impulse engines and thrusters. “Lieutenant, go to the navigator’s station and enter a course for our rendezvous with the Timberwolf.” When all was ready, he punched the firing button and two streams of red punched out from the ship’s nose, hitting the hangar doors, vaporizing them. Engaging the thrusters, Devlin piloted the supercharged ship out of the bay. Punching up the impulse engines, she shot forward, trailing Becca in the shuttlecraft.

“This ship is a real handful,” he said quietly to himself. “I wonder how it will handle at full speed?” The Silk Dragon was a real beauty, sleek, fast, overpowered, and carrying hidden dangers, Devlin mused. Just like her mistress, he realized.

Chapter Ten

The doors to the ship’s brig slid open and Maxwell marched through, nodding at the security officer stationed inside. Coming to a stop in front of the first holding cell, he waited for the Klingon inside to acknowledge his presence. Lying on the bunk with his arm across his face, the Klingon said, “Leave me, human. I will not speak with you and compound my dishonor.”

“If you won’t talk to me, so be it,” Maxwell said. “But I’m just here to satisfy my curiosity. What’s a Klingon warrior doing with a bunch of common thieves?”

That comment got a reaction from the Klingon. He spun his legs off the bunk, jumped to his feet, and lunged at the forcefield. “Do not speak of them so! They are not common thieves.”

“If you say so,” the captain replied, nonchalantly. He stepped back from the barrier and leaned against the security console. He changed tack quickly, hoping to catch the Klingon off guard. “What’s your name? How did you end up here?”

The Klingon quieted down, deflated, and turned away again, looking as depressed as Maxwell had seen any Klingon. “I am Pajekith, without house or honor. I was a member of an authorized privateer crew during the war.” The captain knew that the Klingon Empire occasionally gave out letters of authorization to privateers who owned their own warships, allowing them to prey on vessels of any power, Federation, Romulan, Cardassian, or even Klingon. The letters were usually specific as to what targets were permissible.

The captain remained quiet, allowing him to go on at his own pace. “Our captain decided to ignore our orders to attack Dominion shipping and instead headed for Romulan space. Despite the objections of the crew he continued and we were honor-bound to follow. He ordered us to attack a Romulan colony, but of course, we were out-gunned. We lost.”

“Was this when the Romulans were our allies?” Maxwell interjected.

“Yes, although we had not received that information yet. We were running without contact with the homeworld. We did not know about the alliance and so our actions against the ptagh Romulans was illegal and disavowed by our government. I escaped alone to the planet when the ship was destroyed. I stole a shuttle, and because I could not return home, I made my way into Federation space.” He stopped talking then, as if he were about to say too much.

“And then?”

“And then nothing! I ended up in your prison.” He stalked back to the bench and sat down heavily. Nothing Maxwell said could get the surly Klingon to speak again, so he left him there sulking in the cell. He would let Lt. Breel’tzin conduct any further interrogations, but he wasn’t sure that would elicit anything useful from the close-mouthed Klingon.

The captain figured that part of his disgust was the way the tiny security officer had disposed of him. When Devlin had relayed the story, Maxwell couldn’t help laughing out loud until there were tears in his eyes. It wasn’t just the story, but the way the first officer told it, facial expressions and voice impressions and all.

As he walked down the corridor, Lt. Manigat came up next to him. “There you are, sir. I just finished my scans of the vessel.”

“What did you find?” he asked as they waited outside the turbolift entrance.

“Not much of relevance, although quite a bit about the personality of this Amoroso woman.”

“Oh really? Such as?”

“She’s vain. There is a very extensive wardrobe on board. She also has a very expensive taste in everything from food to drink to furnishings. But I didn’t find any obvious information about the rendezvous … except for one thing.” The turbolift arrived just then and the two officers entered, Maxwell ordering it to go to the bridge.

Manigat continued. “In the communications log I found an entry for a docking slip reservation at a yard in orbit of Megara for two days from now.”

Maxwell started. Could it be? Would it be so easy as that? “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “We’ve got her! That’s where the rendezvous will be. I’m certain of it. And that’s her biggest mistake—Megara is a Federation world.”

“How can you be so sure, captain? It could even be a decoy.”

“How could she know we’d capture her ship? Plus Megara isn’t too far from Bondi or Trefilem. No, that’s where the exchange of the stolen yacht will take place, right in plain sight. And that’s where we’ll get her.” The turbolift doors opened and the captain stepped out purposefully. “Helm, set course for Megara, warp 6. Inform Commander Devlin on the Silk Dragon of our destination.”

“Progress, Captain?” Markides asked from ops. “Did the prisoners talk?

“No, Commander. But her ship did. And it gave me all I needed to know to get one step ahead of her finally.”

Chapter Eleven

Anna walked down the streets of the Megaran capital city. It was a lovely place full of canals and beaches set right among the buildings. In fact, some of the buildings were underwater to accommodate the semi-aquatic Megarans. She was in a good mood today, having just handed off the boosted yacht to the broker and with a fat load of credits filling her bank account.

Now all she wanted was to go back to her hotel, get changed into something more comfortable, and find a nice restaurant in which she could have a sumptuous dinner. It seemed things were going her way once again. The recent close call with the Starfleet captain had gotten her thinking. Perhaps it was time to switch targets. Starship boosting was losing the thrill it once held for her. Maybe she’d even take some time out for herself and just travel around without trying any scams or boosts. She certainly had enough credits for it now.

She entered her hotel and made her way through the lobby and into the elevator, sending it to her floor. Maybe it was even time to settle down and go legitimate. She opened the door to her room and went in. As she undressed and put on her new clothes, Anna continued to mull her decision. If she went legitimate, maybe she’d have time for a normal social life. It might be fun to flirt and date honestly—as much as the complex ritual could be called honest—with no ulterior motive other than the social reasons. She’d met plenty of interesting men in her travels that she’d had to ignore because she was in the middle of a boost or scam. And Derik was wallowing away in prison with no hope in that direction.

Now dressed in a very fashionable dress with a daring slit up one side and a drooping line of fabric down the back, Anna returned to the hallway and entered the elevator again. Maybe if she found the right guy, she would settle down for real. Would she tell him about her past? Or just make an entire new life for herself?

She entered the restaurant where men at various tables stared at her, trying not to look like they were staring. She was used to it and paid them no attention. As she was led to her table by the maitre’d, she thought of what that life would entail. Children, a home, responsibility—the thought appealed to her on one level. Part of her wanted to immediately run from the restaurant, go straight to the spaceport, and grab the first transport for Earth or Centauri or even Rigel to go seek out that life, leaving this one behind.

But then that other part seized control again. It was the part that hadmade her rebel in school, rejecting the authority of the teachers who expected her to be a refined young woman and not a thrill-seeking, back-talking, class-skipping ruffian. It was also the part of her that had recognized that Derik had been trying to scam her out of money, but instead of calling the police on him, confronted him and demanded to be let in on the business. It was the part of her that found it exhilarating to thumb her nose at planetary security around the quadrant and evade ships sent to pursue her.

Anna knew that she would never be the good wife and mother. She could never settle down in the conventional role, to abide by societal norms. She would never be able to deny the urgings inside her that called her to reap the wild wind. Her mind was made up as she sat at her table. After the rendezvous with the Silk Dragon, she would see what new thrills could be found on the far edge of the law.

As the waiter approached, she didn’t bother looking up from her menu. “I’ll have a bottle of your ’65 Kreninger Reserve Chardonnay, please.” She was startled, however, when the man sat down across from her. Anna was about to berate him for his over-familiarity when she realized he wasn’t a waiter.

“Hello, Miss Amoroso. Do you remember me?”

She turned on the charm full blast, giving him that winning smile and a slight shake of her hair, tilting her head to the side just a bit to catch the afternoon sun. “Of course I remember you, Captain Maxwell. May I call you Cesar?”

“As you wish, Anna,” he said with a nod. “I must say you’re a very slippery person. Very difficult to track down.”

“Although, Captain, you seem to have caught on very quickly. In four years at this, I have never been apprehended. But after just a few weeks, you were successful. May I ask how?” As she spoke, Anna looked quickly around the room and realized that the men she assumed were looking at her for her beauty were now standing at the ready by their tables. They were all undercover members of Starfleet Security.

Maxwell leaned back in his seat. He could afford to be confident now—just not too confident. This woman was too wily to take for granted. “I won’t say it was easy, but the trick was to start thinking like you. And you made two mistakes.”

She waited for him to reveal those errors, and when he wasn’t forthcoming, she leaned forward on the table on her elbows and said, “And those were?”

“You tangled with Starfleet and you tangled with me,” he said with a little more menace than he’d intended. In fact, now that the words were out of his mouth, he realized they sounded a little ridiculous. “I don’t take kindly with people blowing up their ships next to mine or endangering my crew with crazy stunts.” He sat back and resumed his placid expression, noticing that Anna hadn’t been the least bit intimidated by his outburst. “In any case, once we found your ship and saw where its next stop would be, we came to Megara. It didn’t take much detective work to ask around at the better hotels, asking if anyone had seen you. You are a very noticeable woman, Anna, and you don’t make much effort to be inconspicuous.”

Anna was intrigued by this Starfleet captain. He had a fiery streak inside him, something exciting, perhaps a desire to press the boundaries a bit; yet he was controlled, self-controlled, abiding by the rules and regulations that he had pledged to keep. He was a man of power—not just because of his rank or starship, but in his charisma and bearing. It was too bad that there was no way she was ever going to get to know him any better except in an adversarial sense.

“I truly am sorry, Cesar. I tried to calculate that explosion precisely to avoid any lasting damage to your ship or your crew. In fact, I held back some, putting our—my life in greater danger to safeguard yours.”

“If you were about to say ‘our lives,’ you should know that we’ve already picked up the rest of your gang.” Anna swore to herself. It was bad enough she was caught and going to be sent to a penal colony, but poor Nils and Gordon and Marilla and the rest.

“I just have one question, Anna,” Maxwell continued. She folded both arms together on the table in front of her and leaned forward. “Why do it? You had everything you could want materially, you’re a very beautiful, smart, and capable woman. Why this life of crime?”

“Let me ask you something, Cesar. Why Starfleet? Why explore the galaxy when you could stay home, get married, work in a nice, safe job, raise a bunch of kids?” She saw that hit home. Perhaps Cesar was of the age to begin to wonder about the things in life he was missing, whether what he had sacrificed for this life was too much. “I do it because I would wither and die otherwise.” Anna suddenly had the answer to her own earlier, internal struggle. “Because I crave and need that excitement, riding the ragged edge, escaping by a hair’s breadth. Perhaps if I had not been born into my privileged family, I would have joined Starfleet and found my excitement there. But this is the path that opened before me, and even with my apparent arrest and coming imprisonment, I do not regret a moment of it.” Her eyes flashed and she raised her chin as she spoke, defiant to her core.

Maxwell was surprised at the depths of her passion, the unspoken pain he heard in her voice for the regret of something, regret she denied but was there—perhaps the freedom in her upbringing to pursue something like a Starfleet career. He began to regret having to send Anna to prison. It would be like placing a magnificent eagle in a cage; something that should be free to soar, now bound to the earth. And he felt something else stir within him. He couldn’t help but find an attraction to this woman that went beyond her looks to her heart and soul and passion.

An illogical feeling, he chided himself. She is a master manipulator, he thought. She twists men around her finger for a living. But he also knew that in this case, her feelings were real and she wasn’t trying to manipulate him. She was reaching out to him, now that she was, in a strange way, free of the need for insincerity and the lies.

“In any case, I suppose we must be going,” she said with a resigned air. They rose from the table and the security officers approached.

“I wish we could have gotten to know each other under different circumstances, Anna.”

“I do as well, Cesar, but these are the circumstances life has given us.” She smiled then and the old twinkle was back, “But then life is a tricky thing. Perhaps the future is not as clear-cut as we think it is.” She laughed brightly as she was led away. Not malevolently or insanely, but as if she found the vicissitudes of life amusing. Maxwell thought to himself that her laugh is what he would remember longest.

 

Epilogue

Captain’s Log
Stardate 55015.4

We are finally en-route to Starbase 9 for our long-delayed training regimen. The bureaucrats will finally be happy. But I don’t need a shakedown cruise to tell me that this ship and her crew are ready for whatever future awaits us.

The Timberwolf’s first mission under my command has gone extremely well. Commendations to the entire crew for their excellent execution of their duties, especially Chief Engineer Grady Compton. After the brief incapacitation by the explosion of the stolen yacht, he returned the Timberwolf to service at top efficiency very quickly.

Anna Amoroso and her gang have been remanded to the Federation Security Bureau and my understanding is that they will be immediately transferred to Starbase 150 where the various extradition requests will be sorted out. I think she will be in prison for a very long time.

The Starfleet Corps of Engineers has also made an unusual request to study the design of Anna’s Silk Dragon and how she integrated the Klingon engines into the Federation-built ship.

Our mission was successful and it was a refreshing change of pace from warfighting or refugee and aid convoys. We broke a dangerous starship boosting gang using good detective work, daring, and competence in our duties. I’m proud of this crew.

Maxwell cut off the log recorder and sat back in his command chair. D.J. sat down in his nearby chair. “What do you think, Captain?”

Shaken from his reverie by the interruption, he replied, “What’s that?”

“About Anna Amoroso and what she told you. Do you regret all the sacrifices you’ve made to be in that chair?”

Maxwell didn’t even have to struggle for a reply because he’d lain awake late last night thinking about it. “I do regret not having found time to start a family, but I don’t regret being a Starfleet officer or a starship captain. It’s not an either/or proposition as you’ve found out so well.”

D.J. thought of his wife and agreed silently. “You know, if life had been different, maybe we could have ended up in Anna’s shoes. Sure, I’m a law-abiding person and I know that thievery is immoral, but the pirate’s life does have appeal.” D.J. assumed a grimace on his face and imitated the voice of a 17^th century sea pirate. “Arrgh, me mateys. Ah’ll make yew walk thuh plank.”

Most of the bridge crew heard the ridiculous imitation and laughed, Maxwell most of all. “Even if you’re not an ancient sea pirate, I do see the attraction of the life. Freedom, excitement, the thrill of the chase. But then there’s also the fear of imprisonment, uncertainty for your future, and a little thing called your conscience. Sure it might be fun to play pirate on the holodeck, but I prefer my excitement to theirs. Besides, I don’t think anything’s more exciting than being a Starfleet officer, exploring new worlds, new civilizations….”

“New shore leave opportunities,” D.J. interrupted with a waggle of his eyebrows. Maxwell was still chuckling when Markides spoke up.

“Sir, an incoming general message from Starbase 150,” she said.

“What is it, Alexis?”

“To all starships,” she recited, “this is a general alert to be on the lookout for six escaped prisoners. The six escapees are to be considered armed and dangerous…” She stopped and scanned down the message. “Sir, it was Anna Amoroso and her gang. They took control of the ship that was transferring them to Starbase 150 and escaped. Their last known location was 25 light years behind us.”

Maxwell sat back in his chair, stunned. All that work in capturing her, all the sweat and lost sleep and the dangerous away mission have gone for naught. She escaped, he thought angrily. Those FSB dolts.

But as he thought about it, Cesar’s mood changed. He thought again of the eagle and the cage and in a new, amused voice, he said out loud, “They escaped. She escaped.”

He looked over at D.J. who had a stupid grin on his face and they both began to laugh at the absurdity of it, the romance and excitement of the jailbreak by the beautiful pirate who cheated her fate.

Perhaps the future is not as clear-cut as we think it is, she had said. Cesar Maxwell realized that she was right and perhaps just maybe he would have that wish fulfilled, to get to know Anna Amoroso under different circumstances. That might be fun and interesting, he thought. Maxwell raised his right hand in a symbolic toast for good luck as his starship sped on to its destination and its future.