The thrilling adventure based on the acclaimed Star Trek: Picard TV series! Starfleet was everything for Cristóbal Rios…until one horrible, inexplicable day when it all went wrong. Aimless and adrift, he grasps at a chance for a future as an independent freighter captain in an area betrayed by the Federation, the border region with the former Romulan Empire. His greatest desire: to be left alone. But solitude isn’t in the cards for the captain of La Sirena , who falls into debt to a roving gang of hoodlums from a planet whose society is based on Prohibition-era Earth. Teamed against his will with Ledger, his conniving overseer, Rios begins an odyssey that brings him into conflict with outlaws and fortune seekers, with power brokers and relic hunters across the stars. Exotic loves and locales await—as well as dangers galore—and Rios learns the hard way that good crewmembers are hard to find, even when you can create your own. And while his meeting with Jean-Luc Picard is years away, Rios finds himself drawing on the Starfleet legend’s experiences when he discovers a mystery that began on one of the galaxy’s most important days. John Jackson Miller is the New York Times bestselling author of Star Trek: Picard: Rogue Elements , Star Trek: Discovery: Die Standing , Star Trek: Discovery: The Enterprise War , the acclaimed Star Trek: Prey trilogy ( Hell’s Heart , The Jackal’s Trick , The Hall of Heroes ), and the novels Star Trek: The Next Generation: Takedown , Star Wars: A New Dawn , Star Wars: Kenobi , Star Wars: Knight Errant , Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith—The Collected Stories ; and fifteen Star Wars graphic novels, as well as the original work Overdraft: The Orion Offensive . He has also written the enovella Star Trek: Titan: Absent Enemies . A comics industry historian and analyst, he has written for franchises including Halo, Conan, Iron Man, Indiana Jones, Battlestar Galactica, Mass Effect, and The Simpsons. He lives in Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and far too many comic books. Chapter 1 1 KRELLEN’S KEEP VEREX III “Look, I don’t want to be a killjoy, but are you gonna sit in that chair or marry it?” The black-haired customer ignored the starship dealer’s yammering. His focus was fully on the seat before him. It didn’t look comfortable. Ebon and gray like the rest of the freighter, it appeared to have been built to serve its purpose and nothing more. But Cristóbal Rios regarded the furnishing with reverence, his hands noting every contour. A captain’s chair was a captain’s chair. He heard the nasal voice behind him, again: “Pal, are you all right? You’ve been standing there a long time.” “It’s been a long time,” Rios mumbled. Too long. Without looking back, he asked, “What’s the cargo capacity?” “Plenty. Ninety thousand cubic meters.” “It’s a freighter, not a concert hall.” Rios turned to face the speaker, the shorter of the pair of starship dealers who had been showing him around the vessel. “Listen—what’s your name again?” “I told you. Twice!” “Listen, Mister Twice, if you don’t know an answer, don’t bullshit me. It won’t help you make the sale.” “Smart guy’s got a mouth,” the short one called out to his partner. “Don’t be rude,” the reed-thin man said, stepping forward to intercede. “This is Burze—and I am Wolyx, at your service.” Wolyx doffed his hat. Both he and his huskier colleague wore brown slacks and white shirts, but while Burze’s sleeves were rolled up sensibly, Wolyx’s were buttoned, as was his collar. He wore a tie, to boot. It seemed to Rios an odd choice for Verex III, a barren bit of nastiness where even midwinter was oppressively hot. “Don’t you sweat, Wolyx?” “Oh, no. Not in here.” Wolyx lifted his arms in a flourish. “Why would I? This ship is paradise itself. Risa every day.” “If you think this is Risa, you stayed on the wrong planet.” “Quite amusing, sir.” The balding trader attempted a smile that Rios found wholly unconvincing. Then he gave up and fanned himself with his hat. Burze rolled his eyes. “We don’t have all day. Have you seen enough?” “I’ve smelled enough,” Rios said. He winced as he took another whiff. “Did something die in here?” Burze giggled; Wolyx hedged. “It’s just this planet, Mister Rios. You’ve been outside. But in here, all you need do is cycle the air for a minute and—” “Paradise. I got it.” Rios glanced out the forward port at the parking area. Verex III’s volcanic seams vented enough that ground fog was ubiquitous, but he could still make out a number of ships by their silhouettes. One, he noted, was absent: the shuttle that brought him had barely stayed long enough for him to get his duffel out of the hold. It wasn’t wise to linger long at the spaceport, even in daylight, the pilot had said. “ Especially not then. They can see you coming.” The Federation might be a post-scarcity society, but Verex III was not in the Federation, and possession was doubly implied in t