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They're not near Cardassian Union space.

But then, they're not near Federation space either. This ship has as much right to be in this system as they do.

It makes Isabella nervous, anyway, and she's just about to suggest leaving and coming back another time, when the Prometheus is hailed.

They're armed. She can't warp inside a solar system.

She answers the hail.

"Hello, Federation vessel," says one of the three visible Cardassians in bad but intelligible English. "What're you doing out here alone?"

Isabella swallows. "This is the deep space survey vessel Prometheus," she begins.

The computer lets her know that they're charging weapons.

"We have no hostile intention," she says.
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...Lalita does not like the look on these kids' faces.

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"That's nice," says the Cardassian who speaks English.

"Our - our location is regularly transmitted to Federation authorities -"

"No it's not," says the English speaker, grinning widely.

Isabella checks her communications.

Yep. They've been jammed.
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Lalita sighs.

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"Do you have any clever ideas?" she asks him under her breath in Vulcan.

"Drop your shields," suggests the Cardassian. "We want to have you over for a little visit."
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"Lots," he murmurs back. "Good ones, on the other hand... not so much."

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Meanwhile the two Cardassians who don't speak or aren't speaking English are muttering and grinning to each other.

"That one's a Vulcan, those are fun."

"You just like beating your head against a wall."

"Well, she's not a very good Vulcan, look at her."

"I'm afraid," Isabella says, completely unable to understand this conversation, "that I must decline your kind invitation -"

"Oh, I really don't advise that," says the English-speaker pleasantly, showing all his teeth.
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"I don't like how they're talking about us," Lalita murmurs. "I really, really don't."

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"I don't think we can take a hit and still limp out. Can we outrun them if we go now?" she whispers.

"Now, now," says the English-speaker. "None of this muttering. Just drop the shields and we can have a nice chat in person."
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"Probably not. But we might like what happens if we run better than what they'll do to us if we don't."

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"What do you think they'll -" Isabella says.

"I don't have all day," says the English speaker testily. He pokes a few buttons on his computer; weapons lock onto the Prometheus.

"The human one's pretty," comments the non-English-speaker who did not think Vulcans were fun.

"If you like that sort of thing," snorts the other.

"Well, at least you won't have to share."
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"Torture," says Lalita.

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"They'll blow us to smithereens if we bolt," says Isabella, tightening her hand on her armrest.

"Ten," says the English speaker. "Nine. Eight..."
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"Surrender, then," says Lalita.

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"Seven. Six."

Isabella hesitates.

"Five."

...She drops the shields.

"Thank you," says the English-speaker with a wide smile. He motions to the other two; the one who thinks Lalita is pretty fiddles with the computer and fires up the transporter.
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Lalita sighs again.

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Isabella reaches out for his hand and squeezes it as they're pulled to the Cardassian ship.

"Aww, look," says the one who thinks Lalita's pretty to the one who thinks Vulcans are interesting. "I bet I can get him to cooperate if you'll leave her be."

"Then what'm I going to do?" snaps the other.

"Wait till we find someone else. Or till he misbehaves."

The second one snorts but doesn't disagree aloud.

"Welcome to the Ligari," the English speaker says to the... guests. "My friends here will be happy to show you to your rooms."

The one who thinks Lalita is pretty beckons thereto. The one with a fondness for Vulcans takes Isabella's elbow, and she shuffles along after him, face set.
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Lalita gives his admirer a look carefully calculated to suggest just the right amount of trouble.

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"Hey, Janor," says Lalita's admirer to the English speaker. "Translate for me?"

"You mean your cute little idea of getting Brol to give up his toy so yours will smile at you? You're sick, Kelvok, you know that?"

"Whatever, you said you'd translate."

"You said you'd study English."

Janor sighs. "So, human," he says to Lalita.

"Find out his name," suggests Kelvok.

"What's your name?" inquires Janor tiredly.
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"Lalita," says Lalita, his eyes darting between the two speakers as though trying to derive the content of their conversation from body language.

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"My friend here likes you," drawls Janor. "And our other friend likes your squeeze. But it doesn't look to us like she returns that interest, so he," he aims a thumb at Kelvok, "thinks it'd be much friendlier all around if you agreed to go play with him and our other friend waited for someone else to come along and left your girl alone. What do you think?"

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Lalita looks at them suspiciously.

"How do I know you're really going to leave her alone?"
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They start talking in Cardassian again. "He wants to know how he can be sure. Do you think Brol will actually -"

"He owes me a favor."

"If you have to take a picture of her for him once an hour to satisfy your plaything are you going to do that?"

"No, just - look, what does he even want as proof?"

Janor turns back to Lalita, switches back to English. "What would be satisfactory?" he asks.
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Might as well aim high.

"If I could see her," he says, affecting nervousness.
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Janor translates this for Kelvok.

"That is so not hot," scowls Kelvok.

"I don't need any more details than I have, thanks," snaps Janor. "What about earshot? If we shuffle some rooms."

"Fine," grumbles Kelvok.

"That won't happen," Janor tells Lalita. "But we can put her near enough that you'd be able to hear if anything were going on."
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"I guess," says Lalita.

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