Cargo Bay, Dearth of Dreams
        Time had passed, and Jared waited by the cargo hatch as the ship maneuvered into position against the cache. He watched with bated breath as the portable display showed the hull of the Raider getting closer to the unyielding rock of the asteroid that orbited the small world. Well, more like it orbited a bigger hunk of rock, he thought to himself, but that was not his concern. Behind him stood about two dozen crewmen, some with heavy lifters, and others with open hands ready to grab smaller components, and run them to their needed areas. The petty officers had assigned lists of parts to find; the ratings would follow their leaders.
        "All right!" Jared yelled out as a small thump ran through the ship. A harder dock than normal, but still within limits. "You all have your assignments. Remember to stay out of the way of the people hauling parts back to the ship." Behind him, an automated light turned from red to orange to green. A small hiss escaped the seals as the inner cargo door opened, and Jared was the first in to open the outer airlock.
The door hissed open on undamaged hydraulics. Swinging a hand light through the dark void beyond, Jared coughed on stale air. "Great." His sarcasm was loud and clear. "Just how old is this place?"
        The brownscale Gorn that had disturbed Jared earlier advanced on him. "It makesss little differenss. There ssshould be a light sssomewhere." A station like this wasted no time circulating the air, but did release a little more from storage to make up for the inevitable seepage. Solar panels collected power for a storage battery; the cache had no power generation.
        "Makes sense." Jared moved into the cache, and panned his light around, looking along the walls for anything that might resemble a light switch or power panel. With a clunk of inactive power resuming life, a series of lights turned on, starting above the port, and illuminating deeper and deeper into the cavern. The space was about six meters wide, but well over fifty meters deep. The walls were lined with shelves, bins, and lockers. The central corridor had a double row of pallets running its length, stacked with supplies and equipment. Every pallet and box had a label in five languages: Gorn, Romulan, Orion, Federation Standard, and (of all things) Klingon. The gravity was maybe one-fifth of a G, enough to hold things in place and allow a reasonably cautious person to move around.
        Jared gave an appreciative whistle as he turned to find one of the crewmen standing beside the depot door, in front of the switch. Chagrined, Jared nodded his approval, and switched off his light. "All right, you have my lists, move out!"

Bridge, Romulan K5B Rapier
        Ramelius sat in his chair, and watched as a single dot resolved itself from the parent star. From this distance, it was a bright jewel, and he compared it to the one that adorned the neck of his wife, back home on Remus. But now was not the time for such thoughts. His science officer's deductions had borne fruit. With the trail of the damaged Orion leading directly to this tiny world and the cloud of rocks and dust around it, he had told the second-in-command to make sure all weapons were armed. The sub-commander had also sent a report to the nearest Romulan base, and had sent a shorter report to the Federation Border station a thousand parsecs away on the far side of the Neutral Zone. The message was a courtesy, part of the old ceasefire treaty, intended to avoid making the Federation nervous enough to send a ship. It included a pro forma request to investigate any Orion or private ships known to frequent this area.
        That done, he had turned his thoughts to just why the Orion had come here. There were three options that he mused over. First, and he admitted this was the most likely, was that the Orion had simply fled here, and was hiding among the rocks while waiting for pursuit to give up, and would limp back to a safe harbor for repairs. The ion trail led into the cloud of rocks around the tiny planet, but the dust made further tracking impossible. If the Orion came here to hide, he would not give them the chance to flee.
        Second, it had come here, having sent a message that Rapier had not intercepted, and was waiting for rescue. He knew that this was also possible, as a crippled frigate of the Romulan Imperial Navy which called for help was bound to be rescued. If so, he only had a certain amount of time before another pirate ship - perhaps a heavier one - arrived to meet the Orion. He mulled over the possibility of seeing an Orion cruiser. More likely, and more welcome, would be a Trader or a Transport, pretending to be a legitimate cargo ship. No doubt, some of the ships that belonged to one great house or another, dealt with the pirates, with or without the knowledge of the house leaders.
        The last possibility, and one he did not look forward to, was that there was a fully-operational Orion base nearby, and his ship was blundering into a trap. He gritted his teeth, and ordered that the Rapier's counter-jamming levels be raised to their maximum levels. If there was a base, his first duty was to report the fact, and his second was to escape.
        "When we get close to the world, circle at warp 2.5 within 10kkm. Reinforce the forward and flank shields facing the rock, and power up the scanners. Let's see if he's here."
        A series of confirmations echoed across the Bridge as his orders were followed in prompt succession. Their recent success flush in their minds, his crew was eager to add another pirate kill to their record. Every Romulan commander hated pirates, the lawless invaders who had, not that long ago for the long-lived Romulans, tried to carve their own kingdoms out of the Romulan Empire.