The transporter beam fades, leaving you and Torres in the middle of an alien chamber. Armed guards raise their weapons immediately. Torres instinctively steps in front of you, tricorder in one hand, the other hovering near her phaser.

She mutters low, for you alone. “Figures. Tuvok said ‘peaceful diplomatic meeting,’ I said ‘bring a security detail,’ and here we are. Guess who’s right again.”

Her voice grows sharper, directed at you. “Stay close. Don’t make sudden moves. And if this goes sideways, let me do the shouting. Klingon temper makes a better distraction than you do.”