As Captain Charles MacIntyre was led into the Grand Hall of the Hysperian Starcastle Hohenzollern, he had to admit that the Hysperians had an element of style. Grandiose, over-the-top, potentially ill-informed and totally ridiculous style, but they had it in spades.

The flaming sconces along the walls to illuminate corridors and rooms were an interesting choice. He had even half expected to see smoke rising from them, but someone had opted away from that choice with the otherwise rather realistic holograms of the flame.

At his side, Mac had the one person on the entire ship he never thought he would personally take on an away mission until today. That was primarily because he was legitimately afraid of what would happen should something happen to them. They stopped just inside the door, Mac indicating to the porter to hold off announcing them for a moment.

“Last chance to back out, Crewman,” he said to the young Romulan woman beside him.

“Your plan hinges on the Viscount thinking he holds all the cards, sir,” Revin answered with a slight smile. “Alas, I am just another pawn in other people’s games.” The sentence itself was grim, but the way she said it, the smile afterwards, made it all feel so lighthearted, so everyday reality.

“I never risk my pawns in chess,” Mac said, locking eyes with Revin. “If things go badly, find one of our people and stick with them. Understood?”

“Of course, Captain MacIntyre.” And she smiled so innocently at him.

He couldn’t help the furrowing of his brow. He genuinely liked Revin, but she always gave him the impression she was playing a game and everyone else were the pieces in it. Save for Sidda. He’d seen how both women looked at each other. Any games they played between themselves he’d either never picked up on, or was thankful they kept private.

She just kept smiling at him, so he shook his head, then turned to the porter, a head nod to the man was all he needed to start shouting introductions down the length of the well-populated Grand Hall. Silence fell thick and heavy across all present as the porter finished, then remained as Mac and Revin both proceeded up one side of the room to Viscount Crashanburn, Selu Levne and Knight-Captain Filippo Calvacanti.

“Ah, Captain MacIntyre, how good to see you again,” the Viscount said loudly, arms out in greeting but not bothering to stand. “You accepted my invitation to visit. How wonderful.”

“I was surprised to find the Hohenzollern while we were looking for your brother,” Mac said levelly. “Just as surprised as I am to find you cavorting with the Orion Syndicate.” He looked specifically to Selu, who merely smiled and nodded, all an act for Crashanburn’s sake.

“Ah, yes, about that.” Crashanburn snapped his fingers and two guards stepped up behind Mac and Revin. “I would apologise about the deception, Captain, but I don’t want to.” Now Crashanburn stood, taking a moment to dust his sleeves before working his way around the table to stand before Mac. “You Starfleet fellows are far, far too trusting.”

“And who told you that?” Mac asked.

“Years of experience,” Crashanburn answered. “I’ve heard all about your tales of dashing heroism and daring-do. How your Federation venerates truth and justice. Forthrightness and the rule of law. How you then delude yourself into thinking everyone has an equal right in society.” He flipped the idea away with a wave of his hand in the air. “But now I have you here, on my ship. As my,” Crashanburn took an extended pause, letting the moment sink in, “hostages.”

“Hostages?” Mac asked, turning to look over the two sword-wielding guards behind him and Revin. “You’re taking Starfleet officers hostage?” he asked Crashanburn a moment later. “You must realise the folly of this?” he then asked Calvacanti.

“It is not my place to countermand my liege,” Calvacanti answered. “I have sworn an oath to the House of Crashanburn and I shall abide by it.”

“That’s a good man.” Crashanburn’s smile was dripping with malice as he stepped past Mac to look over Revin. “Ah, now, this is a pleasant surprise.” He attempted to reach for Revin’s chin, only to have her pull away. “I see the Kingslayer’s pet is equally temperamental, though you were so lovely on my visit to that ridiculously named starship of yours.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Mac said.

“Ah, but Captain, I think I will. Taking you as a hostage was going to get me your ship. Your crew wouldn’t let Commander Sadovu do anything rash, holding out hope to rescue you if they could just bide their time. But now,” Crashanburn spun around, relishing the moment, “even that dangerous woman you have on your bridge, that Kingslayer, will do as I demand because I have her woman.”

Mac couldn’t help the brief smile that formed on his face. His plan was going precisely as he wanted. Crashanburn had them exactly where he wanted to be. He was going to try whatever blackmail he could on Sidda. The security team hiding on the shuttle would by now be working their way to the Hohenzollern’s Forge to seize control and idly recover the Daystrom cloaking device. With the right cue, they’d try to arrest Crashanburn, failing that the two shuttles in the boat bay would try and recover everyone via transporter before blasting their way out of the Hysperian ship.

All was going according to plan.

And while Crashanburn started monologuing, started detailing his grand plan for seizing Hysperia, for galactic reform and establishing himself as the great leader of all right-thinking people, Mac’s attention was immediately seized by a small voice beside him asking a single question.

“Captain MacIntyre, do you trust me?”

Revin’s question had come out of nowhere, never been one he expected to hear from the young woman, especially in circumstances like this. And the way it was asked as well hit him. Sidda’s was always asked in that cocky self-assured manner that preceded some go-lucky plan. And usually was just ‘Trust me?’ seeking approval for actions already well on the path to fruition. But Revin carefully asked her question, enunciating each word, making sure she was heard and understood.

She was asking for permission.

Permission to ruin his plan.

He breathed in, weighing everything before him. “What’s the plan, Crewman?” he asked a heartbeat later.

“Close your eyes,” Revin said, not looking at him, but directly at Selu Levne.

He quickly looked to his security chief, who couldn’t have heard Revin, but who had closed her eyes nonetheless.

“Okay,” he answered, just catching the small device Revin dropped into her hand from her uniform sleeve. Cylindrical in shape, he recognised the stun flash grenade immediately, though noted a different colour band than he was used to.

Before he could ask, Revin tapped the activation button on one end and gently lobbed the device onto the table before everyone. It clinked and clattered, drawing everyone’s attention. And that was when Mac slammed his eyes shut.

Screams of shock, winces of pain, and then a great clattering ensued immediately. The flash of light shone through Mac’s eyelids, shielding him from the worst effects. There was no loud bang to accompany the flashbang, just the bright, no doubt sheering light. He had to blink a few times himself, but the Hysperians, with no idea of what to expect, were much worse off.

Selu had drawn her weapon, rising to feet and was holding Calvacanti in place with the barrel of her phaser as he recovered. He couldn’t see Crashanburn, or Revin. But the sounds behind him reminded him of the guards at his back. Spinning on his feet he quickly decked one, sending the man crashing to the ground, while the other got an unceremonious push, unbalancing him in his confusion and sending him sprawling, wiping out another Hysperia who was responding to the band of supposed Orion pirates quickly recovering and drawing phasers on them.

“Ahhhh!” came a cry from the other side of the table. “Get her off of me! Get her off of me!” The cries were piercing and panicky, then stopped equally quickly as sniveling followed.

Bounding over the table, Mac came face to face with the scene. Crashanburn was lying on the ground, his cloak sprawled out under him. And straddling him was Revin, a knife in both hands she’d taken from the table in the confusion. She had one at Crashanburn’s throat now, the other held in reserve. And from the way she was turning her head side to side in quick motions told him she’d turned her artificial eyes off, relying on a years-honed sense of hearing.

“Levne?” Mac asked, not looking up from the scene.

“It would appear we have taken the Grand Hall,” his security chief answered. “Knight-Captain Calvacanti, your sword, please.” Selu even managed to make the demand sound reasonably friendly.

“I am at your mercy, Mistress Alemi,” Filippo Calvacanti answered, using the only name he knew.

Mac shook his head. He’d let Selu handle the rest of that affair. His attention was turned once more to the rogue Hysperian noble, held at knifepoint by the seemingly unimposing chef amongst his crew. “Viscount Otto Birmingham Elroy Biscotti Crashanburn, I hereby place you under arrest for attempted smuggling with the Orion Syndicate, procurement of classified technologies, and planning the overthrow of a Federation ally in the form of the Kingdom of Hysperia.”

Mac watched as Crashanburn slowly turned from looking at Revin to himself, a careful gulp as the knife at his neck was held firm with delicate pressure against his skin. “Just…just get her off of me.”

“Before I do, I think it only fair you apologise to Crewman Sadovu-th’Ven for your rather disrespectful tone from earlier, hmm?”

“I…I’m sorry,” Crashanburn whimpered.

“Now say it to her,” Mac ordered. “And then I think we’ll wait until one of my security personnel are ready to put in you cuffs. Shouldn’t be too long.”