‘The loss of Vannis was… massive. And Varada’s gone dark since.’

Even with the lights so dim in the Pirate Queen’s command chamber dim, the gleam from her Nausicaan lieutenant’s PADD shone bright against the burnished metals. It was brighter than she wanted; brighter than news this devastating deserved.

But there was, perhaps, an intimacy to the moody lighting. It rendered this cavalcade of failures all the more personal.

‘On top of Briasyraa. And Aestri.’ A long, perfectly manicured finger ran across the bridge of her nose. It would not do to look completely desolate, slumped in her magnificent chair – throne. To look unperturbed, however, would suggest she was trying too hard to put on a brave face. Or was, perhaps, an idiot.

‘The situation at the Jade Exchange is still unstable,’ the lieutenant continued. ‘And that’s not to mention Starfleet’s successes. There’s a slew of arrests. Multiple operations forced to go dark to either evade capture, or because they’re too weak to continue.’

‘Those are the open successes from Starfleet,’ the Pirate Queen huffed. ‘Make no mistake – the rest is them. They pretend to be so open, so bright, so… shiny.’ Her lip curled at that. Normally she quite liked shiny things. ‘They’ve brought daggers in the dark here. It’s the only possible explanation for so many senior gang leaders to go missing at once.’

Even her closest lieutenants didn’t need to know she’d not only heard the other rumours and reports, but was entertaining them. The only thing worse than the Orion Syndicate being infiltrated by Changelings was the whole Syndicate knowing that. The witch-hunts and in-fighting could be fatal.

No, this was something she had to deal with quietly.

‘Some of the Kolar families have reached out,’ the Nausicaan lieutenant continued, his low, rumbling voice echoing around the ship’s command chamber. It was just the two of them, by now. Everyone else had either been dispatched to deal with a crisis, or was not trusted enough to still be here. ‘They wanted to express their… apprehensions.’

‘You mean they’re furious,’ she drawled, hand dropping. ‘And want to make it clear they think they can replace me in an instant.’

Even a Nausicaan could be diplomatic sometimes. ‘They did not use those words.’

For one moment, she thought about rolling over. Letting those noble Orion families have their say, swoop in to seize control of the Syndicate they presumed they ruled anyway. They could preside over a network in crisis, losing ranking members across the galaxy, with operations closing down and revenue streams collapsing.

But her lieutenant spoke on before she could consider entertaining the notion further. ‘There has been a request for help from Entiran, on Farga II. He reports that a Starfleet investigation is closing on him and his operation.’

The Pirate Queen arched an eyebrow. ‘And what does he expect me to do about it?’

‘He suggests the right bribes directed the right way…’

‘That was possible when those border outposts were overseen by ageing and incompetent officers the Federation had forgotten about. If a real starship has shown up, that’s incomparably expensive or out of the question.’

‘…or that he is assisted in relocating. Entiran emphasises his continued relations with the narcotics trade networks…’

She drummed her fingers on the armrest, jaw tight as she thought. Then she stood, letting her robes sweep behind her for emphasis, to make her seem decisive. Even if her only audience was an idiotic Nausicaan, it made the Pirate Queen feel better about herself. ‘Entiran can take care of himself,’ she surmised. ‘Cut him off. Cut off any of them dealing with those stolen technologies. Starfleet will hunt them down – has hunted them down. Cut off funding, stop other teams or gangs going to help them, certainly cut off communications. When Starfleet runs them down, I want them to find a dead end.’

Her lieutenant stared, even his dull eyes shining with understanding. But not enough. He didn’t know how deep this went. How bad it was. ‘That’s dozens of operations -’

‘And the survivors will be rewarded for their resourcefulness,’ she sneered. ‘Those unaffected will rally and diversify our operations onto less dangerous affairs. Those who cannot adapt, will go. I am doing this to preserve the heart of the Syndicate. I will not be the last Pirate Queen.’

It would cripple the network. They would lose a generation of infrastructure and talent. Survivors would blame her, and the noble houses of Kolar would call for her head. To keep it, she would have to play them off against each other, perhaps try to convince them that the way to best her would be to save those she’d abandoned. Let Starfleet pluck them up like weeds, destroy them for her, while she closed the gates to her fortress and waited.

Waited for Starfleet to be done, to move on, as they always did. And waited until the parasitic Changelings oozed onto fresher pastures, were destroyed by Starfleet… or showed their hand so she could melt it off.

She would not be the last Pirate Queen. But the galaxy would go on without her for a little while, at least.