Breadcrumbs

Posted on Sun Feb 22nd, 2026 @ 6:36pm by Captain Mac Sullivan & Lieutenant JG Jalen Young & Ensign Tyler Faulkner & Lieutenant Commander Jethro "Jet" Romanowski & Lieutenant Commander Kirak & Lieutenant Eve West & Lieutenant Hlath & Lieutenant Alijas Dyrgen & Lieutenant Alexander Beckett & Lieutenant Lioren Daeval & Doctor Kim Standish & Ensign Eugene Fredricks & Ensign Kaaven Saenar

2,370 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Regula Gambit
Location: Main Bridge, USS Proxima
Summary:
Timeline: Mission Day 2 at 1600

The Proxima had moved to what Kirak had calculated as a "minimum safe distance" from Regula One's increasingly unstable orbit. Far enough that the subspace shockwaves were merely uncomfortable rather than dangerous, close enough that their sensors could still monitor the station's inevitable descent toward the planetoid below.

The bridge was more crowded than usual. Mac had called all senior staff to the bridge, along with their seconds and relief officers. Lieutenant West stood at the helm with Ensign Faulkner at navigation. Kirak had positioned himself at the science station with Hlath, the two of them working through the sensor data together. Lieutenant Beckett had taken position at the security console with his senior tactical officer beside him. Jet had come up from Engineering, and even some of the junior officers who normally worked gamma shift had been called in. The result was a bridge that felt alive with energy and purpose, exactly what Mac wanted for this kind of problem-solving session.

Mac stood in front of the command chair, hands clasped behind his back as he studied the data displayed on the main viewscreen. The impulse signature Hlath had pulled from Dyrgen's tricorder before its power died was maddeningly incomplete, degraded by time and those damn Genesis shockwaves, but it was something. The readout showed fragmented drive harmonics, partial emission spectra, and what might have been a registry fragment if you squinted hard enough and had faith in statistical reconstruction algorithms.

"Alright, listen up," Mac said, his voice carrying across the bridge. "Admiral Rutherford has confirmed this is Starfleet's top priority. Whatever we're chasing, Command wants it found and wants it found now. The Ahwahnee and the Copernicus will rendezvous with us once we have a heading, but until then, we're on our own."

He gestured to the main viewscreen. "We've got fragmentary data from Lieutenant Dyrgen's tricorder. An impulse signature from the ship that hit Regula One approximately twenty hours before we arrived. Four mercenaries: one human male, one Orion female, one Andorian, and one Nausicaan. Mixed crew means serious backing, and they knew exactly what they wanted. The Genesis databanks."

Mac turned to face the science station where his First Officer and science officer were working. "Mr. Hlath, Commander Kirak, you've had a few hours with this data. What can you tell us about our mystery ship? Any way to narrow down the signature or get us a lead on where they went?"

"I will leave the statements of scientific fact to the Lieutenant. However. An analysis of weapons fire aboard and toward the station suggest that the trespassers were likely mercenaries. We detected several remnants of energy signatures and DNA fragments. Among them are Markalian, Orion, Tyrus, Yridian, Acamarian and Coridanite. The weapons used are likely a forced plasma ion style of weapon." Kirak raised a brow, "Almost certainly a disruptor. The particle degradation rate suggests they may be Corvallen, or possibly older-style Romulan equipment. Perhaps bought second-hand."

Kirak bent and tapped a few more keys, "Analysis of the hull damage suggests the same types of forced plasma ionic charges are again synonymous with older Romulan weaponry. But it cannot be discounted that the technology was likely pirated or purchased. We know for example that some Orion ships use knock-off technology in a similar design. As do the Acamarian Gatherers. I shall leave Doctor Standish to infer further, but I believe the bulk of this is her data."

"What little evidence available to us suggests it is likely an Orion-made vessel, or at least one using an Orion warp core. While diffuse, the ambient exotic radiation we've detected all but confirms it, there are few other known manufacturers so willing to sacrifice quality and safety in reactors for speeds comparable to, or in some cases greater than our own." Hlath explained in a single breath, his tone suggesting distaste as he discussed the Orion engineering standards.

Jet nodded in agreement. The running joke amongst the engineering corps was that if you worked next to an Orion warp core for longer than two minutes you'd be able to glow in the dark.

Mac's gaze swept across the bridge. "Now, we need to consider two scenarios. First, they're looking for a buyer. Where's the closest neutral port where you could fence something this valuable? Think black markets, gray zones, places where Starfleet doesn't have jurisdiction but organized crime does."

He paused, his expression hardening slightly. "Second scenario, and this worries me more, they already have a buyer lined up. If that's the case, they're making a beeline for a rendezvous point. So where are the major organized crime operations out here? What worlds or stations would have the resources and infrastructure to handle a transaction this big?"

Mac let the question hang in the air. "We're limited to Federation and neutral territory. I'm not starting a war with the Klingons or the Romulans over this. But within those boundaries, I want every possibility on the table. Nobody's going to get in trouble for wild theories right now. We need options, and we need them fast."

Beckett glanced once at the tactical readouts, then up toward the viewscreen. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t rush to fill the silence — just waited a beat until the bridge naturally leaned his way.

“If they’re mercenaries with mixed species, they’re not freelancers,” he said evenly. “That kind of crew points to an intermediary. Someone who assembles talent, pays well, and doesn’t ask questions. Which narrows the field.”

He keyed a few controls, bringing up a rough map of nearby space overlaid with shipping routes and known criminal traffic patterns. “If they’re looking to fence the data, they’ll want a place with three things: secure facilities, discreet brokers, and enough traffic that one ship doesn’t stand out. That rules out most small outposts.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward Kirak and Hlath, then back to Mac. “My first thought is a neutral station with a reputation for information brokerage rather than hardware smuggling. Genesis data isn’t something you offload in a back room — it needs specialists, buyers with deep pockets, and time to verify authenticity.”

"I would concur that examining nonaligned stations. The genetic makeup of their boarding party suggests something likely localized near the Klingon-Federation border. Acamarians, Yridians and Orions are known to dwell there. The location of the Markalian homeworld remains unknown but Starfleet has encountered their raiders in Alpha Quadrant trailing Risa and Betazed. "The Tyrus are known to have Corvallen and Romulan connections and they trade extensively across Romulan, Klingon and Federation space."

He paused, letting that settle. “If they already have a buyer, then we’re probably looking at a pre-arranged rendezvous in low-governance space. Somewhere close enough to Federation lanes to be convenient, but just far enough out that Starfleet patrols don’t linger.”

Beckett folded his hands behind his back. “Either way, they won’t go straight to ground. Not yet. They’ll take a leg to confirm they weren’t followed, adjust course, then commit. That gives us a window — but it’s a narrow one.”

He met Mac’s gaze. “If we can identify likely broker hubs or rendezvous-capable systems within impulse range of Regula One, we can start cutting down the board.”

Lioren stood with his arms folded across his chest, leaning lightly against the handrail that curved behind the command seat. The posture was casual at a glance, but it did little to mask the tension coiled beneath the surface. His dark eyes remained fixed on the main viewscreen, unblinking, as if sheer focus might impose order on the chaos unfolding before them.

The bridge felt tight, compressed by unspoken worries and half-formed contingencies. Even the ambient hum of the ship seemed louder somehow, pressing in around the crew. Lioren could feel it in the air, the brittle edge of stress that threatened to snap if left unchecked. This was the moment when tempers flared, when words sharpened into weapons.

He was here to prevent that. Not to command, not to override, but to steady the room, to absorb some of the pressure before it spilled outward. His presence was deliberate, a quiet counterweight to the rising strain. He breathed evenly, grounding himself, ready to step in if voices rose or fear took the lead. For now, he watched, attentive and composed, prepared to help hold the line where composure mattered just as much as orders.

Before more could be said on the matter the swish of a door opening announced the arrival of two more. Kim stepped out of the lift trailed by an upright, but still quite pale Drygen. "Sorry we're late," she said, acknowledging her interruption before finding a place next to the Betazoid counselor. She gave him a nod of greeting as well before her eyes darted back to her charge, checking him crown to toe with a visual once over that only a trained doctor could pull of without appearing lewd. She understood the need for the man to be present, but she wasn't in love with releasing him fully from her care yet and wasn't convinced introduction into such a high stakes conversation was helpful.

Dyrgen was well-aware that, from the moment they emerged from the lift, the doctor had been observing him (and that she wasn't the only one). In other circumstances, he might have had something to say (i.e. some way of breaking the ice or addressing the awkwardness). But, with all that he'd been through and his body still recovering, he just wasn't as quick on the draw. Instead, Dyrgen followed his escort over to where she took up position next to a dark-haired officer, and did his best to hold himself in a steady pose.

“Good to see you up and about, Mister Dyrgen,” Lioren said, his tone gentle, the formality softened by genuine warmth. His dark eyes eased as they settled on the man, concern giving way to quiet relief. There was something unspoken in his expression, a subtle acknowledgment of what Dyrgen had been through, and an assurance that he was seen, not merely observed.

Lioren inclined his head just slightly, an understated gesture of respect rather than rank. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your feet today,” he added, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips, careful not to push, content simply to mark the moment.

Mac turned as the turbolift doors opened, revealing Doctor Standish escorting Lieutenant Dyrgen onto the bridge. The Zami still looked pale, moving carefully as if testing whether his legs would support him, but his dark eyes were alert and focused.

"Lieutenant Dyrgen," Mac said, gesturing him forward with genuine warmth. "Welcome to the bridge. Glad to see you on your feet." He nodded his thanks to Standish, then indicated the science station where Kirak and Hlath were working. "Your tricorder data gave us our first real lead. We're piecing together where these mercenaries might have gone."

Before Dyrgen could respond, Tyler's voice cut across the bridge from the navigation console, sharp with sudden excitement. "Captain! I think I've got something."
Mac turned, one eyebrow raised. Tyler was hunched over his console, fingers flying across the controls with the kind of focused intensity that meant he was onto something real.

"Regula One isn't a starship, sir," Tyler said, his words coming fast. "It's a science outpost. Most of its sensor array points at the planetoid for research. It only has basic proximity and docking sensors for space traffic." He looked up, brown eyes bright. "What if the mercenaries knew that? What if they didn't bother with evasive approaches at all? They could have just flown straight in from their launch point, stayed in the station's blind spot the whole way."

Mac moved closer to the navigation station, interest piqued. "Show me."

Tyler pulled up the sensor track they'd recovered from Dyrgen's tricorder, the fragmentary impulse signature Hlath had been analyzing. "I ran the track backwards, extrapolating their approach vector all the way to the edge of the Regula system." His fingers danced across the controls. "Then I cross-referenced with what Lieutenant Hlath found about the Orion technology signatures, factoring in stellar mechanics and possible launch points for a direct approach."

A star chart appeared on the main viewscreen, showing multiple highlighted systems. One by one, Tyler eliminated them based on trajectory analysis until only a single system remained, pulsing in amber.

"The Verex system," Tyler announced. "Specifically Verex III. Former Orion colony, now run by a neutral trading consortium, but still heavy Orion presence. And the tech base is still Orion." He looked back at Mac. "It's the only system that fits the approach vector and the technology profile."'

Mac studied the display, his tactical mind already running through the implications. Neutral territory, Orion infrastructure, and far enough from Federation space that a mixed mercenary crew could operate without drawing immediate attention.

"Good work, Mr. Faulkner. Very good work." Mac turned to face his bridge crew. "That's our heading. Ensign, plot a course for the Verex system, Lieutenant West best possible speed." Mac whirled around towards his Chief Engineer, "Mr. Romanowski, start your engines, on your way." Looking up to his First Officer, still near the science station, "Commander Kirak, coordinate with Admiral Rutherford. Let him know where the Ahwahnee and Copernicus should rendezvous with us."

"Understood." Kirak turned from the science console to the communications console. "Mr. Saenar, use codex 67-A-1 and send a secure subspace message to Admiral Rutherford and request two-way communications." He said with hands returning to folded behind him. He proceeded to his console.

Jet nodded in acknowledgement before turning and heading towards the nearest turbolift. He pressed the call button and waited before stepping inside and holding the door open with one hand, "Going down anyone?"

"Speed set for warp factor six sir" Eve reported as she set the dials to the usual settings. She had remained rather quiet as she had been trying to focus on adjusting the Proxima's position as a result from the shockwaves. She had been successful, and the ship would be out of the woods from the current soon.

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