The Vulcan male gazed impassively out of the window, barely registering the sparse traffic of shuttles and the occasional freighter making and leaving dock. His mind was fixed on his singular situation - the impending meeting with the anonymous contact, who had used a heavily encrypted subspace frequency to reach him. The message, in text format, had simply read: Starbase 234 Stardate: 90582.27 1800 hours. We have a proposition for you. A mixture of logic, intrigue and lack of better things to do had led him here. He had arrived an hour ahead of time, as was his custom. His expansiv