Ashley Janith-Lau stood at the front of the office, looking around at her fellow activists. Their number had been growing since the Warborn controversy began, and the group assembled here included both veterans and newcomers, among them the Starfleet cadets Vekal and Targeemos.

“I want to thank you all for coming in today,” she told them. “It wasn’t easy to arrange with the comms interference, and it’s understandable that a number of us chose to stay with our loved ones at this uncertain time.”

“You are a loved one to us, Doctor,” Rogo proclaimed exaggeratedly, provoking chuckling from the group. “Which is why we must demand Starfleet make amends for falsely accusing you. Now that the Warborn have proven that their bloodlust cannot be tamed, it’s time to insist on expelling them from the Academy!”

Janith-Lau held up her hands to settle down Rogo and the others who seemed inclined to follow his lead. “This isn’t the right time to address that, my friends. All of Earth—make that the whole Solar system—is facing a crisis, and all of us, Starfleet included, need to work together to protect the public. Remember, it’s not Starfleet itself we object to, just its trend toward militarization. When it comes to disaster response and rescue, we’re on the same side.

“So what we’re here to do is discuss the ways we can assist in the crisis. Figure out what resources we can bring to bear, what community and personal connections we can draw on, how best to coordinate our actions in the absence of reliable communication. I’ve already reached out to the city’s disaster response teams and—”

The door burst open, startling her into silence and a number of her listeners into outcries. A group of Arcturians rushed in, brandishing phasers. Janith-Lau recognized the big one who’d kicked the door in as Bertram. The others, four in all, were harder to tell apart, but she was fairly sure she recognized the one who stepped past Bertram to lead the group as they spread out and covered the room’s occupants with their weapons. “Nobody move!” the leader cried, her voice confirming that she was Portia.

T’Sena was the first to recover her wits. “What is the meaning of this?”

Portia answered the diminutive Vulcan, but her head turned to take in the whole group. “Call it intelligence gathering. We’re here to confirm who really killed Commander Rakatheema.”

T’Sena looked down her nose on the cadet. “Your actions would appear to verify your own guilt.”

“I’m not the one who had a motive to get rid of him, and the rest of us with him.”

“This is absurd!” Rogo cried. “Ashley was the one who was framed.”

“A convenient way to allay suspicion, isn’t it?”