Arrival at Lambda-2

Posted on Mon Jun 30th, 2025 @ 8:23pm by Rear-Admiral Rutherford Collins & Captain Mac Sullivan
Edited on on Mon Jun 30th, 2025 @ 8:26pm

Mission: Prelude: The Gathering
Location: Deep Space Station Lambda-2
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1100

[USS Saratoga]
[Captain's Guest Quarters]

Captain Mac Sullivan had felt the subtle shift in the deck plating beneath his feet even before the intercom crackled to life. After twenty years around starships, his body had developed an almost supernatural awareness for the transition from warp to impulse - that moment when the steady thrum of warp coils gave way to the gentler pulse of impulse engines.

He moved to the viewport in his temporary quarters aboard the USS Saratoga, watching the stars snap back into their familiar pinpoints of light. The sensation always reminded him of those early flight lessons with his father back on Cestus III - the moment when you pulled back the throttle and felt the shuttle settle into normal space.

"Attention, passengers," came Captain Alexander's voice over the ship's intercom, crisp and professional. "We are now approaching Deep Space Station Lambda-2. All personnel scheduled for disembarkation should prepare for transport. Captain Sullivan, please report to Transporter Room 2 in thirty minutes."

Mac ran his fingers through his wavy hair, glancing through the viewport as Lambda-2 gradually came into view - a compact station with a central hub and four docking arms extending outward. The structure was practical rather than impressive, clearly built for function over form. He could see what looked like cargo freighters and smaller vessels attached to the docking ports.

His breath caught slightly as he spotted a familiar silhouette floating in space near the station. The graceful lines of a Constitution-class starship were unmistakable, and even at this distance, he could make out the registry number: NCC-1737. The USS Proxima hung in a maintenance cradle, looking pristine and ready for patrol duty, her hull gleaming under the station's external lighting arrays.

[Transporter Room 2]
[25 Minutes Later]

"Energizing," announced the transporter chief as Mac stepped onto the platform, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The familiar tingle of the transporter beam enveloped him, and the walls of the Saratoga dissolved into sparkling light.

[Deep Space Station Lambda-2]
[Transporter Bay 6]

"Welcome to Lambda-2, Captain Sullivan," greeted the duty officer as Mac materialized on the station's transporter platform. The space was bustling with activity - cargo containers being moved, personnel transferring between assignments, the constant hum of a major hub of Federation activity.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Mac replied, adjusting his uniform tunic. "I'm expected in Admiral Rutherford's office."

"Yes, sir. Deck 15, Section Alpha. Turbolift bank three will take you directly there."

As Mac made his way through the station's corridors, he noted the efficient, no-frills design of Lambda-2. This was clearly a working station - functional and well-maintained but without the grandeur of a major starbase. Through the viewports lining the main corridor, he could see the docking arms with their current occupants - a couple of cargo freighters, what looked like a R'ongovian vessel, and a transport ship. Beyond them, the Proxima floated in her maintenance framework, external work lights illuminating her hull as the final preparations were completed.

[Admiral's Office]
[Deck 15, Section Alpha]

"Come," came the distinctive voice from behind the office doors. Mac pressed the entry chime and stepped inside to find Rear Admiral Thomas Rutherford reviewing several PADDs at his desk. The office was functional but comfortable, with charts of the local sector displayed on wall monitors and model starships arranged on shelves.

Rutherford looked up, his sharp eyes taking in Mac's appearance with the practiced assessment of a career military officer. "Captain Sullivan. Right on time, as expected." The admiral's Cockney accent gave his words a clipped, no-nonsense quality. "Please, have a seat."

Mac settled into the chair opposite the desk, maintaining the respectful but confident bearing that had served him well in previous briefings. "Admiral. Thank you for the courtesy of a face-to-face briefing."

"Won't mince words with you, Captain," Rutherford said, setting aside his PADDs and focusing entirely on Mac. "The situation along the Gorn border has become... delicate. With the Genesis Planet business stirring up half the Alpha Quadrant, everyone's looking for advantages. The Klingons are making noise, as usual, but they're not our immediate concern."

The admiral activated a wall display showing a sector map with the Federation-Gorn border highlighted in amber. "The Gorn Hegemony has been unusually active in recent weeks. Long-range sensors have detected increased shipping along their side of the border, and our intelligence suggests they're positioning themselves to take advantage if things go sideways with the Genesis situation."

Mac studied the display, noting the patrol routes marked in blue. "They're looking to expand their hunting grounds."

"Precisely," Rutherford nodded approvingly. "The Gorn see opportunity in chaos. If the Federation gets tied up in a full-scale conflict with the Klingons over Genesis, they might decide it's the perfect time to settle some old territorial disputes."

The admiral handed Mac a PADD. "Your orders, Captain. The Proxima will patrol the border region, with particular attention to these three systems." He highlighted several star systems on the display. "We need eyes and ears out there.

Mac accepted the PADD. "How much latitude do I have in dealing with Gorn incursions?"

"Use your judgment, Captain," Rutherford said, his expression serious. "We don't want to provoke a two-front conflict, but we also can't appear weak. The Gorn respect strength, as you well know from your previous encounters with them."

"Right then," Rutherford continued, standing to signal the end of the briefing. "I won't keep you from your ship any longer than necessary."

Mac rose as well, tucking the PADD into his uniform jacket. "Thank you, Admiral. Any word on how long this patrol assignment is expected to last?"

Rutherford's expression grew slightly grim. "Until the Genesis situation resolves itself, one way or another. Could be weeks, could be months. The galaxy's holding its breath, Captain, and we need to make sure no one gets any ideas while everyone's distracted."

"Understood, sir. The Proxima won't let you down."

A Mission Post By

Captain Mac Sullivan
Commanding Officer