First, thanks to all reviewers, and I apologize to any of the likely-many whom I haven't replied to. My inbox is a scary, scary place, especially when I'm busy for weeks at a time and come back with a few hundred new updates, but I know that's no excuse. I do truly appreciate the feedback! (When I get around to reading it, anyway).

I apologize for the long wait… I really did not imagine it would be so long. I've had the first real break in a long time, and came back to look at my stories and set to writing; hopefully I'll be updating more in the coming weeks, and during summer. But don't quote me on that…

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor any of the characters, ideas, places, etc. contained therein; I make no money off this work.

Chapter 2

Those who work in any form of media broadcasting are now wary of him. Security has been tightened on all planets, and while his method of infiltration - hacking - could go undetected, given his skills, it seemed too great a risk to use that method again.

Especially since his last attempt had not quite gone as planned.

"They think someone on the Enterprise was involved?" Kirk demanded.

"No, Sir. However, Starfleet Intelligence has found that the transmission which hacked into the Rigellian station was at least bounced from the Enterprise. This does not necessarily mean it came from the Enterprise, given the apparent hacking skill of the individual. However, it would be extremely difficult to bypass the usual channels in such a way, which would strongly indicate that the person in question may be somehow affiliated with Starfleet."

"…I see." Kirk frowned heavily. "So what precisely is being asked of you?"

"Mr. Scott and I are to investigate the records at the time of the disturbance, attempt to discover how the infiltration occurred, and, if possible, develop future defenses for whatever program he is using."

Kirk nodded sharply. As long as his ship wasn't suspect in any way, the details didn't matter, and Spock could almost see the interest fade from him. "Very well." He rose, and Spock followed suit. "Get this over with quickly, Commander - I'm getting tired of this nuisance."

"As you say, Sir." He saluted. Kirk mimicked the gesture, then turned on heel and left.

Alone, he contemplated the one difficulty that lay in this situation.

What shall I do about you, Mr. Scott?

At the end of things, Mr. Scott was really the least objectionable presence on the ship. Oh, Spock had a more than tolerable relationship with the captain, but even after their years together, and the rare trust they had forged, Spock knew that the paranoid man may never fully trust him. It was, Spock thought, regrettable. Circumstances had warped his personality. Recalling the earliest days of Kirk's captaincy, he saw similarities with the alternate-Kirk. He wondered if his captain still possessed those traits of honor and compassion, or if they had been entirely consumed by the darkness in their lives.

He rather suspected the latter.

But Mr. Scott was not interested in command, and his life did not hold the same dangers. True, the position of chief engineer of an imperial flagship was by no means a minor position. However, Scotty was widely acknowledged as the best engineer in the fleet - and it was also known that anyone to take that asset from the fleet would quickly find a knife in their back. In any case, engineers were much more likely than those in Command to simply wait for promotion through less messy means.

It was also vital for command structure that both the captain and first officer could trust Mr. Scott, as he was the second officer. As of yet, he had always proven dependable, with few interests in politics outside the engine room. He had warned the captain more than once of impending assassination attempts, and while the engineer was somewhat more leery of Spock, they had no issues working together.

It would be rather regrettable, then, if Mr. Scott needed to be killed.

Despite Spock's earlier words from the captain, he had hacked the Rigellian systems from the Enteprise's computers. While he had mostly removed traces of his sabotage from the computer's systems, it was extraordinarily difficult to tamper with the computer's systems permanently. A computer expert - such as Mr. Scott - could eventually find the tampering, and learn that someone on board was responsible. From there it would be a small matter to trace the incident to Spock.

But it was possible, possible, that Mr. Scott would not discover his treachery.

The question, then - should he risk it, or just kill the engineer now?

It would not be questioned. Subordinates would be harshly punished for it, but Spock was no sycophant. If he killed, everybody assumed it was for a good reason - as it always was. Even Kirk would assume that Scott had started something, and though he might be displeased he would not truly cause a fuss.

But could he kill so preemptively?

No… no, not any longer. That would entirely contradict his entire message, and something in him rebelled against the thought. It was a foolish risk; logic said that one life was not worth endangering so much…

But was murder logical?

…No, he would give Scott a chance. The engineer would live, for now - and, if he was lucky, he would not find the tampering.

Naturally, luck was not on Spock's side.

It occurred near the end of their investigation. While 'working' on the computers, Spock had kept carefully alert to every action of the apparently oblivious engineer. They had been close, so close, to simply declaring the matter a lost cause and reporting, and then -

"Mr. Spock! Ah think Ah've got something 'ere!"

"Oh?" Spock asked, softly. His fingers twitched toward the agonizer.

"Aye - found the signal, right enough, though the bugger hid it 'right expert - it looks like… " Scott frowned. "Well, tha' can' be right…"

Spock turned his hand from the agonizer, slowly pulling out his dagger.

"I' looks like… like it came from the Enteprise."

Scott's fingers were flying rapidly across the instruments, and in low, distracted mumbles he gave the computer orders. His brow furrowed.

"No one on the Enterprise Ah know of could do this," he mused, baffled. "Not 'cept me and yerself, Sir. Mus' be part of the program, but - "

He stopped, dead still, staring at the flickering display.

"What is it, Mr. Scott?" He asked, softly.

And Mr. Scott looked at him.

There was something strange in his gaze, though his face was carefully blank. He looked at Spock as though seeing him for the first time.

"…Nothing, Sir. In fact, Ah think ah was wrong - there's no way to trace the signal at all."

And before Spock could even think to stop him, Scotty was tapping away, wiping the computer's memory of this investigation.

"Ah think we're done here, Commander."

He looked at the dagger in Spock's hand… and frowned. Just a small frown. Not really afraid, just - a little wistful. "Ach, or not." And he sighed, low and heavy, and ruffled his hair. Scott's eyes clenched shut, and his neck bowed, resigned. "Do make it quick, lad."

Spock's mind spun with a hundred different realizations. Scott understood what he had done. Scott had hid it. Scott thought it fully possible that Spock would now kill him for the information he had, and was not arguing, not even trying to call in the just-owed favor. He had hidden the finding, and now expected to die.

Why?

Morals. A belief in something more. He realized, suddenly, that he was looking at something shocking - he was seeing a glimpse into that other-universe, where people sacrificed themselves for ideals greater than any of them, where selfless individuals had died for freedom, had fought for others.

Scott believed in precisely the same thing he did, and, with almost Vulcan-like calm, he was expecting to die for it.

Spock lowered his knife.

Scott's expression remained carefully empty as Spock sheathed the blade.

"We are done here, Mr. Scott."

"Are we?"

Spock eyed him carefully. "For the time being."

There was a heavy pause. Very slowly, Scott smiled.

It was 0239, ship's time. The blue glare of light on Spock's face highlighted the slight lines of weariness there. It was uncommon for a Vulcan in his prime to feel such weariness, but Spock often went without sleep for extended periods when caught in some experiment, and knew that no one should question his fatigue in the coming week - though of course he expected the customary assassination attempt or two.

This night, however, he was not attending to the typical research or experiments. He was composing a message.

Why, it might be asked, was this message being composed in the middle of the night? Spock was aware the Gamma-Shift Comm. Officer was ill; a rather more negligent officer was on shift, one whom was quite poor at sifting through messages for hidden meanings. Doubtlessly that individual would, in any case, be to leery of calling the wrath of Commander Spock by bringing attention to the oddity of Spock sending messages to a planet slated for attack.

The planet was not being attacked by the Enterprise, of course; if Spock alerted only those planets involved with the Enterprise, he would be found out and disposed of quickly. However, the USS Bonaparte was scheduled to attack Enlesa VII in two weeks. Enlesa VII was a planet with fair technological capabilities, but one who had little interest in space travel; therefore, they had not even known of the expansive Terran Empire until Starfleet made contact. Enlesa VII had cheerfully enough consented to trade talks and agreed to send out diplomats, though they warned that they would likely not be willing to exchange more than medical information and the like, as they preferred seclusion overall. In general, though, they seemed perfectly amicable, if reserved.

The Enlesian delegates had arrived at the nearest Starbase for treaty talks, and had been brutally tortured for information before being fed to several captive Gorn.

As far as Spock could tell, the Enlesian's were blissfully unaware of this little fact, and presumed their ambassadors and traders to be off haggling over how this good would be exchanged for that one. In roughly a month, the information Starfleet had acquired would be utilized to stage as assault on the planet, bringing it under the heel of the Terran Empire.

With warning, could this fate be prevented? Unlikely. But Spock would see that they had a fighting chance.

"Dabo!"

Nerk the Ferengi grimaced at the word that signified lost latinum; but, that was business. He sighed.

His casino was losing, losing, losing. They made barely enough to keep functioning. Nerk knew, by heart, rule zero of the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition; "Disregard every other rule if the Terran Empire is involved, because a corpse doesn't have any latinum!"

It was the bitter, prevailing motto of the Ferengi Alliance, or what remained of it, anyway. The 'Alliance' now referred to a very loose support system wherein Ferengi sought to relate the honorable history of the Ferengi traders (and, of course, pass on their most, ah, necessary rules to the next generation).

Ah, but what did the Rules matter anymore? Nerk seriously wondered what merit the Rules had in this day and age.

Rule 62: The riskier the road, the greater the profit! Well, not from where Nerk was standing. He risked his neck every day just by being an extraterrestrial trying to take money from Terrans, and he had little to show for it.

Rule 1: Once you have their money, never give it back! Unless, of course, those individuals were angry Terrans with phasers. Or tax collectors for the Terran Empire. Or, really, anyone with higher standing than a mere Ferengi casino-owner.

Rule 189: Let others keep their reputation, you keep their profit! Well, Nerk was pretty sure he had neither. He would have been content with just reputation, at this point… At least that could give him a chance of making a profit!

Rule 18: A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all.

Nerk sighed. Yeah, that one sounded about right.

"Commander?"

"You wished to speak with me, Mr. Scott?"

"Aye, Sir - privately, if'n ya dinnae' mind."

"Certainly."

Spock followed the engineer down the hall. Despite his relative trust in the engineer, he extended his telepathy, wary for any signs of hostility, and kept himself alert. Soon enough, he found himself ensconced in Mr. Scott's quarters.

The engineer wasn't looking at him, but was half-turned away, staring hard at the wall. "Sir - you cannae deny it any more. You need a good engineer with ya for this."

Spock blinked once. These words were not among any of the possibilities Spock had imagined, and he did not understand them. "Excuse me?"

"I know what your doing, Sir. Not why, maybe - " And Mr. Scott still wasn't looking him in the eye "but, I know. And you're sloppy."

Spock's eyes narrowed.

"You're risking too much, Sir. Oh, you hid your message under layers of code, and compressed it, and sent it with a bumbling fool at communications - but it was risky still, and you know it."

"How are you aware of this?"

And Scott looked at them. "Because Ensign Marn asked me to help him decompress the message, once he realized what it was. He's dead."

Spock processed this. "I see."

"Do ya? You're taking bad risks. An' I ken why."

"Indeed?" Softly.

Dark eyes bored into his. "Ya don't really expect any of it tae mean anything, do ya?"

Spock said nothing.

Scott didn't seem to be awaiting an answer. "Ah' thought not. Well, lemme tell ya, Sir - I think the same. That is, I don't think you're going to change the Empire like this. One man cannae topple centuries of oppression with a snap of 'is fingers. One man cannae face the armies of a thousand worlds with a lecture of peace."

Scott leaned forward, and his eyes glittered with something like madness. "But two men might give it a damn fine try, Sir."

Nerk shut and locked the casino-door with considerable relief. The casino hadn't made any money that day - had, in fact, lost considerable latinum. As if that were not enough humiliation, one of the humans had killed his barkeep, who was a fellow Ferengi and someone who commiserated with Nerk. He'd had an unfortunately lax mind and was strangely careless of the Rules, but he'd understood. And where could Nerk find another Ferengi, whom he could trust not to steal or cheat him? Nowhere. So now he would be alone, with these humans.

He went to his office and retrieved a phaser. He could be fined heavily for just owning the weapon, being an alien, but he didn't dare let the authorities know of the death or have professionals remove the body; the human responsible for the brawl would go unpunished, but if the officials were particularly xenophobic, they might pretend outrage at the murder and blame it on Nerk for the sole pleasure of having the alien casino-owner executed.

The body was still, silent. The right-arm was held at a strange angle, soaked with Altair Water, Saurian Ale, and other miscellaneous beverages that he had been taking to a table when he'd bumped into the drunk, easily offended human. The Ferengi struck Nerk as young and handsome, in a youthful way, and even his death could not alter that. He had proud, prominent lobes and finely chiseled teeth that peeked out from a half-agape mouth. His sightless eyes, though, were absolutely chilling.

His name was Lark.

Nerk hadn't even known Lark long. What did it matter if this stranger died? But, they weren't strangers. Nerk might not know the slightest thing about Lark's personal life… but he did know that Lark was Ferengi. Lark knew the Rules, respected them - even if he was weird and didn't particularly care for profit.

It seemed like less and less Ferengi wanted profit these days, didn't they? Now it was generally considered enough just to be alive…

That was beside the point. Nerk shook away the thoughts. Aim, point, pull the trigger, and -

He pulled.

The sick scent of ozone filled the air. Nerk's eyes snapped shut, and he took in a deep, shuddering breath. For a long moment, he stood there, in that too-silent room that smelt of beer and ale and Terran, and then he opened his eyes.

And stared.

Lark. Right there, on the floor, where he had lain right before Nerk had shot him.

Nerk looked down at the phaser.

It was set to stun.

Brutally, he whipped it at the wall. Even as it hit the wall with a clang of metal, he was running forward to inspect the damage to the weapon. But it was of good quality, and seemed undamaged. He kneeled, cradling the phaser, and found himself trembling.

Right. The body.

Nerk turned back. It was just a body, that was all, nothing anymore, just a body…

But that was just it, wasn't it? A Ferengi body. How could he just destroy it? Rightfully, his body should be sold, cut up, preserved and packaged for sale, so that all who possessed his remains would recall the life of Lark and give honour to one whose death had, in the grand scheme of things, undoubtedly had some butterfly-effect on the economy*.

That was the Ferengi tradition. But, by Rule zero…

Well, there was only one decision, wasn't there?

With strangely fumbling fingers, Nerk switched the phaser to kill. He aimed.

Rule zero. Rule zero. A corpse doesn't have any latinum, and he could very well become a corpse if he waited to remove the body.

Rule zero, Rule zero, he told himself - and couldn't pull the trigger.

Sweat trailed down his forehead. Rule zero, Rule zero - why couldn't he do it, why…?

Unbidden words flashed before his mind;

Rule 21: Never place friendship above profit!

And before he knew it, the tension was released, and in a flash and burn the body had vanished, gone without a trace.

He decided it might be better for his health if he didn't think about the implications of any of this too much…

*No, that is not some morbid ritual I made up… I was looking up Ferengi culture, and for those who weren't aware it's apparently legitimate Ferengi tradition. In the normal universe…

They also make holy pilgrimages to Wall Street, according to Wikipedia, so idk…

I sort of got really into the Nerk piece. I've only just been able to start watching Star Trek Deep Space Nine for the first time ever (yay Netflix!) and I decided by the sixth or seventh episode that Ferengi are way more awesome than portrayed in Next Gen. Seeing Quark makes me grin with manic glee. My family may become concerned if this continues. XD

(pssst...May be seeing Nerk more in the future... hint, hint...)