21 Guns

Posted on Thu Feb 26th, 2026 @ 12:25am by Commodore Wilkan Targaryen & Vice Admiral Loatha Targaryen & Gamma Quadrant NPC & Enterprise Officer NPC & Civilian Federation NPC & Commander Zhora zh'Roothi & Lieutenant Commander Sora Bernadotte & Lieutenant Commander Aidan Datari & Lieutenant Herbert Barr & Ensign Mirakylin Yumerieva & Admiral Freya Mannerheim

10,097 words; about a 50 minute read

Mission: 7. Guile
Location: Deep Space Nine
Timeline: 2439-08-13, 10:15

The air inside the cargo bay was thick with the scent of recycled oxygen and the sharp, metallic tang of Klingon bloodwine. Through the nearby transparent aluminum windows the head of the IKC Qel’Poh loomed like a predator preparing to envelop Deep Space 9.

Lezku Opra adjusted the strap of her scavenger’s vest, her flint-gray eyes darting toward the security sensors she knew were currently looped. She felt the familiar, rhythmic throb of the obsidian shard against her neck - a bruised violet pulse that had been screaming ever since she stepped onto the station and cried out even more now. Too many ghosts here, she thought, her mind flickering back to her recent encounter with Aidan and the unsettling presence of Mira. She could still feel the "weight" of them, orphans of time, much like herself, displaced and drifting. She had tried to offer Aidan a bit of grounded reality, but in this day and age, reality was a shifting sand dune.

"You are late, Scavenger."

The voice was a low-frequency rumble that seemed to vibrate in Opra’s very bones. General Krennek, Son of Kol stepped out from the boarding ramp of the Bird-of-Prey. He looked every bit the relic he was: scarred, imposing, and draped in the tattered hide of a le'matya. He didn't move with the frantic energy of the Federation officers Opra usually dodged; he moved with the predatory stillness of a man who had already won the battle before it started.

"The Promenade is crawling with Loatha’s 'Order,'" Opra rasped, her voice like grinding stone. "I had to take the long way through the conduits. Whatever you're up to is a lot noisier than your advertisements suggested, General."

Krennek halted a few paces from her. His icy grey eyes didn't look at her face; they fixed on the lead-lined case she clutched to her chest. "The Commodore builds a cage of protocols and calls it peace. I simply find the gaps between the bars."

Opra set the case on a gravity-sled between them. She thought of her interaction with the "Prophet-touched" earlier that week and the way the timeline felt like a tightening drum. Dealing with Krennek felt like pulling on one of those stray threads and threatened the entire tapestry. The Bajoran knew there was still time to back out, but it was like the galaxy was willing her forward.

"The Borethian crystals," she said, flipping the manual latches on the container. "Masked behind a signature of radium-painted relics. To any Starfleet scan, this is just a box of radioactive junk left over from the Occupation. A fitting shroud, don't you think?"

As the lid creaked open, the cargo bay was bathed in a sickly, shifting light. The crystals hummed a sound that wasn't heard so much as felt in the teeth.

Krennek reached out, his thick, scarred fingers hovering just inches from the glow. For a moment, the warrior’s mask slipped, revealing a glint of the fanatic. "With these, the House of Korath will no longer have to guess at the future. We will dictate it. The Federation plays at diplomacy while the very fabric of their 'Utopia' frays. We shall be the ones to tear it."

Opra watched him, her cynical heart heavy. She remembered the look in Mira’s eyes, the confusion of someone who didn't belong in her own skin. She saw the same displacement here, but weaponized. "Leverage is a double-edged blade, Krennek," Opra warned, her earring pulsing a warning heat. "I’ve seen what happens to people who get too close to the leaks. They don't just lose their way; they lose their 'now.'"

"I have no 'now' in a galaxy that has grown soft, Opra," Krennek retorted, snapping the lid shut and severing the glow. He signaled to two guards who emerged to claim the crate. "You have performed your task. Your payment has been routed to your shop on the Promenade. Go claim your prize, while you can."

Krennek’s hand remained heavy on the lid of the case, his fingers tracing the jagged crest of the House of Korath etched into the lead foil. He did not retreat to the boarding ramp of the Qel’Poh. Instead, he straightened, his icy gaze fixing on the far corner of the cargo bay where the shadows were deepest. The Klingon's voice dropped to a gravelly whisper that carried further than a shout. "Even now, I can smell the ozone of a Federation sensor sweep. They are hunting, even when they claim to be shaking hands."

Opra shifted her weight, her wiry frame tensed for a sprint she knew she probably wouldn't win. Her obsidian earring wasn't just pulsing now; it was burning, a sharp, white-hot needle of sensation against her skin. "If you stay here, General, you’re just making it easier for them to find the scent. Loatha doesn't believe in coincidences. She believes in design and you’re a giant, Klingon-shaped smudge on her blueprint."

Krennek stepped away from the gravity-sled, moving toward the bay’s primary atmospheric console. With a sharp, practiced motion, he punched a sequence into the keypad. The dull orange emergency lights of the bay flickered and died, replaced by the deep, oppressive red of a combat-alert status. "I am not leaving because the hunt has already begun," Krennek growled. "Your 'friends' from the Promenade - the ones you looked at with such pity - they are not the only ones displaced by the tide. I have felt the shift in the quadrant’s gravity since I arrived at this station."

Opra leaned back against a stack of salvage, her flint-gray eyes narrowing. She thought of the "Bridge of Breath" prophecy she’d been tracking, the idea that 2439 wasn't just a year, but a breaking point. "You think Loatha knows?"

"Loatha knows only what her logic allows," Krennek replied, turning back to face her. The red light caught the vertical scar on his face, making it look like a fresh wound. "But the one who follows her - the skeptic, Wilkan - he has the eyes of a tracker. He does not look for ghosts; he looks for the displacement they leave behind."

Opra’s mind flashed to her recent encounter with Aidan and Mira. She saw the same hollow look in Krennek’s eyes, though he masked it with the iron will of a General. They were all pieces of a broken mirror. "You’re staying to bait them," Opra realized, her voice hushed. "You’re not just taking the crystals. You’re waiting to see if they have the stomach to stop you."

"I am waiting to see if the Federation is still worth hating," Krennek corrected as he reached into the folds of his le'matya cloak and pulled out a small, handheld jamming device. "If I leave now, they track the Qel'Poh and we have a battle in the stars. If I stay, I force the Commodore to make a choice: uphold her 'peace' or start a war in a cargo bay."

Opra spat on the deck plating, a habit from her days in the Denorios Belt. "You’re a madman, Krennek. You’re going to turn this station into a funeral pyre just to prove a point."

"Honor is a fire, Scavenger," Krennek said, his hand moving to the hilt of his d'k tagh. "It either warms the house or burns it down. Now, stand back. I believe I hear the rhythmic boots of 'Order' approaching."

The heavy blast doors of the cargo bay groaned, the hydraulic hiss signaling that someone with high-level clearance was overriding the loop Opra had placed on the sensors.

The air in the transport lock of Deep Space Nine felt too thin, too clean. For Ensign Talyn, the sterile scent of the synthetic oxygen always felt like an insult to her senses, which were more accustomed to the sharp, ozone-heavy musk of Carraya IV. She adjusted the hem of her gold tunic, the fabric feeling restrictive over her ridged, Romulan-Klingon musculature.

She stood at a rigid attention, her gaze fixed on a point just past the bulkhead. To her left stood Commander Zhora zh'Roothi, the Andorian’s antennae twitching with a restlessness that Talyn had come to recognize as a precursor to action. Further down the line was Lieutenant Commander Kuzos; the Vorta’s calm, almost serene posture was a familiar anchor. Talyn had been alongside them both during the nightmare Tchema and Deep Space 47. She could still smell the copper of the dead crew in that station’s corridors, a memory that sat in her gut like cold lead. However, the man directly in front of her was a cipher. Lieutenant Herbert Barr, the Human Chief of Security, was an unknown variable in an equation that was rapidly becoming unstable. Talyn watched him out of the corner of her eye, searching for the tactical weakness she had been bred to exploit, yet finding only the standard, disciplined efficiency of a Starfleet lifer.

They were preparing to engage her father's people. The very blood that gave her such formidable strength and a mind for subterfuge was now the target. She felt the phantom weight of her heritage pressing down on her; she was a hybrid of two cultures that prized loyalty above all else, yet here she was, the tip of the Federation’s spear aimed at her own heart.

Talyn felt a low vibration in the deck plates of Deep Space Nine, the thrum of the station's Fusion Reactors ramping up as they prepared for potential combat. Her Klingon half wanted to roar at the coming challenge, to prove her worth in the fires of combat. Her Romulan half, however, was already calculating the trajectories of betrayal.

She tightened her grip on her Phaser as the door opened, her knuckles turning a pale shade of violet-grey. She had been a first responder to a massacre once; she had seen what happened when the "Grand Design" of the quadrant failed. As she glanced at zh'Roothi and Kuzos, she realized she wasn't just fighting for the Federation. She was fighting to ensure she didn't become the very thing she had been sent to stop.

Barr stood ready, the butt of his phaser rifle in his right shoulder. He was ready for what could happen next, but his gaze kept creeping towards the Vorta. He hadn't noticed any unusual behaviour from them since his arrival but was it them just playing the game. It was hard to tell, more time would be needed. He focused again at the mission at hand and waited.

The cavernous door rolled aside like a thunderclap in the night announcing the arrival of the Enterprise away party. Stepping forward with her jaw set firm and rife poised Commander zh'Roothi gave silent instructions to move forward, sweeping the shadows as they went.

Kuzos stepped across the threshold of the cargo bay with a silence that seemed to defy the heavy thud of Starfleet boots around him. As a Vorta, he did not possess the warrior’s instinct for the "glory" of the kill, but his genetic programming granted him a heightened sensitivity to the environmental shift. The air in the bay didn't just smell of industrial lubricants and Klingon musk; it tasted of static and ancient dust. He was acutely aware of the eyes on him. He felt the cold, tactical appraisal from Ensign Talyn - a woman whose internal war of heritage mirrored the external conflict they were currently walking into. More significantly, he felt the heavy, suspicious weight of Lieutenant Barr’s gaze. Kuzos didn't need telepathy to understand the Human’s distrust; the history between their peoples was a scar that had yet to fade.

Kuzos did not turn to acknowledge Barr’s suspicion. Instead, he kept his lilac eyes fixed on the shimmering distortion at the far end of the bay, near the Qel'Poh’s docking umbilical. "Lieutenant Barr," Kuzos said, his voice a silken thread that barely rose above the hum of the station’s processors. "Focus your rifle on the upper catwalks, if you please. General Krennek is a traditionalist; he prefers the high ground for his snipers, and his pride will not allow him to hide behind crates like a common smuggler."

Barr nodded silently as he moved his rifle and gaze upwards. He used the rifle's scope to visually scan the upper level. It was dark and many shadows of varying shapes and sizes. Movement would be his only method to notice any one.

He adjusted the Tricorder on his left wrist, the device chirping a rhythmic, discordant warning. "Commander zh'Roothi," he continued, inclining his head toward the Andorian. "The chronometric 'haze' is thickening. It’s no longer just a signature; it’s an atmosphere. Every breath we take in this bay is technically occurring a fraction of a second outside of local time. If we engage in a firefight, the trajectories may... deviate."

Observing Barr modify his stance Zhora nodded with acknowledgement. "Hopefully it won't come to that," she replied wishfully. The Klingons would have a heavy advantage should they be forced to switch to close quarters.

While the first wave of security fanned out into the oppressive red gloom of the bay, the hum of the station’s processors was suddenly drowned out by the distinctive, melodic chime of a high-energy transporter cycle. Columns of shimmering blue light materialized near the primary cargo lift, twenty meters behind the initial line. As the light faded, Commodore Loatha Targaryen had her phaser already drawn and held in a low-ready position. She didn't look at the towering shadows or the looming hull of the Qel'Poh; her gaze was locked onto the jagged, violet pulse of light bleeding from the gaps in Krennek’s lead-lined crate.

Mira was near the back of the second force. She needed to try and get to Opra to let her know they were there to help her from the trap being sprung on her. She had a palm stun phaser as her weapon, but she also had a tightly folded net on each of her hips, ready to throw and then spread using her TK.

Sora materialised next to Loatha, phaser pistol in her left hand, while her right rested on the hilt of her trusty rapier Myrtenaster. When she spotted the light from the crate, she cursed quietly. "Crystals are active," she whispered to Loatha. "This has the potential to get very messy, very quickly. Commodore, under the authority of the Temporal Integrity Protocol, as an active Temporal Agent, I am assuming command of this operation." She turned to the team, and tapped her combadge to also contact the security team advancing. "Check your fire. Do not, under any circumstances, hit the crate with the crystals, and stay as far away from them as you are reasonably able."

She contemplated the available options for a moment. Damaging the crystals in any way when they were charged could rip a hole into the space-time continuum. Furthermore, due to the temporal distortions surrounding them, locking onto them with a transporter beam would not be easily achievable - and even if they did manage to transport them, they would have to safely contain them. She scanned the room, and sighed. "Right. We need to deal with those crystals. But in order to do that, we need to contain both the Klingons and the Bajoran, quickly, without damaging the crate. Suggestions, anyone?"

Loatha’s eyes swept the stacks of industrial salvage and heavy shipping containers. Her expression remained unusually soft, her voice hushed to a whisper that barely traveled beyond their immediate circle. She wasn't just being "nice"; she was being the calm center of a storm that was rapidly gaining mass.

"Commander, your authority is acknowledged," Loatha said, her voice like velvet. She placed a steadying hand briefly on the Temporal Agent's shoulder, "But we are dealing with a scavenger who is terrified of the past and a General who is obsessed with the future. If we go in with the 'hammer' of the Protocol, we might just shatter the very thing we’re trying to save. Let’s try to be the steadying hand first. We find them, we talk, and we..."

"Commodore," Kuzos’s voice was a sudden, sharp needle of ice. He was staring at the telemetry on his tricorder, his brow furrowed as he frantically recalibrated his sensor sweeps. He wasn't looking at the shadows ahead; he was looking at the external telemetry of the station. "The Enterprise has gone dark."

Loatha stopped mid-step, her hand dropping from Sora’s shoulder. "Explain."

Kuzos replied, his lilac eyes darkening with a profound analytical dread. "This is an external tactical blackout. A high-intensity, multiphasic dampening field has just been projected across the entire Docking Ring. It’s a Federation signature, Commodore." He looked up, his expression grim. "It’s the Shenzhou. Admiral Deix has entered the system, and he’s just placed a comms-shroud over this entire sector. We are officially cut off."

"He isn't here to help us, Kuzos," Loatha said, her voice dropping to a low, resonant hum that vibrated with a sharp, protective edge. "And he isn't here to stop the Klingons. He’s here to stop us. Deix doesn't want the crystals recovered; he wants the 'discretion' of a failure he can pin on Wilkan and me. If we succeed, we prove him wrong."

Her eyes having adjusted to the lighting, and in hearing their time was growing very short, Mira lost any timidness and she now thought of trying to find ways to carry out the missions. She said in a low voice, "Commodore, I can see a pathway along right side to just behind Opra. The General is to cunning to be near a cargo opening... but as he is near Opra.. he is in range for a distraction, maybe with my deer net?"

Aidan had retrieved his ushaan, and one of his swords, always preferring close combat to ranged weapons. He did carry a phaser but he considered it less honourable to use it. As the team materialised, Sherlock appeared at his shoulder, the movement of his strong winds causing a rhythmic displacement of air. "He can zip in unseen and unheard," he explained in a low voice, "as soon as he's seen her, he'll return and let me know." As soon as he spoke, the blue scaled creature disappeared and Aidan was left to just wait and listen. He looked sideways at Sora. "We won't fail," he said, "I don't understand what Opra was or is trying to do, but we won't fail."

The Trill stood ready to move, waiting for his companion to return. When he did, Aidan related in clear terms what the creature had seen, and where.

"Thank you, Sherlock, Commander," Sora acknowledged the report, and turned to Loatha. "Commodore, thank you for acknowledging my authority in this situation. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not open to suggestions. I agree that a frontal assault is not going to lead to success here. In fact, it will probably make things worse, especially now that we can't communicate. I don't believe that the dampening field would cover the entire sector, that would be too obvious. I'm pretty sure it's localized to our area only. As for the Admiral, I am more and more convinced that he has no clue what's actually going on. He thinks we're here to start a war, not to save the galaxy from temporal chaos."

Her Terran eyes being more comfortable in the low light of the cargo bay, she had also spotted the small corridor leading toward the Bajoran's location, so she turned to Mira. "Please elaborate on your distraction idea, Mira. How do you want to use the net?"

Mira nodded, "I can throw it accurately and trigger the spread mechanism with my TK. Imagine me throwing it at the General and wrapping him in it. It won't stop him for long, it can be cut, but it would be a big surprise, entanglement, and keep him busy for a bit as we rescue the crystals and Opra, and of course, if needed, I have a second net."

Loatha’s eyes flickered from the violet pulse of the crate to Mira, her mind already calculating the physics of the proposal. She didn't just see a net; she saw a low-tech solution to a high-tech nightmare.

"Mira," Loatha whispered, her voice carrying a sharp, decisive resonance. "If you can entangle him, do not just aim for his torso. Aim for the crate. If we can snag the lid and the General simultaneously, we create a physical tether that defies his transport lock. We don't just rescue the crystals, Mira—we take them back before he even realizes the 'Order' has arrived."

Her countenance brightening, she replied, "I can do that. These nets are for mule deer sized critters and I can elongate it with my TK." She closed her eyes, then opened them. Gone was 'Ensign Mira', there was forest huntress Mira wanting to get fresh meat for her family. She said as well as signed, "Ready."

Kuzos adjusted the settings on his Tricorder with a Vorta’s eerie, mechanical precision. He ignored the weight of Lieutenant Barr’s suspicion and focused entirely on the shimmering heat haze radiating from the far end of the bay. "The General has integrated his jamming device with the crate’s internal stabilizers," Kuzos reported, his voice a silken thread of absolute calm. "He has turned the Borethian crystals into a localized gravity anchor. If we fire a standard phaser beam at him, the energy will likely be absorbed by the temporal field and reflected back at us as a kinetic shockwave. We would be shooting ourselves in the past, quite literally."

He glanced toward Ensign Talyn and Lieutenant Barr, his lilac eyes narrowing. "Krennek is a 'Tactical Traditionalist.' He expects us to rely on our tech, to hesitate while the Shenzhou blacks out our sensors. He does not expect a raw, physical breach. Talyn, your hybrid physiology is the variable he hasn't accounted for. You can move through the chroniton drag with less resistance than a phaser bolt."

"The Shenzhou’s shroud is peaking," Kuzos continued, his head tilting as he analyzed the telemetry. "We have exactly forty-five seconds of relative clarity before the multiphasic interference renders our internal targeting useless. Commander zh'Roothi, if we are to take the General, we must move now. Mira anchors the crate; Talyn and Barr, you are the kinetic strike. Aim for the hand holding the talisman."

"I’m ready, Commander," Talyn said, her voice low and steady. She shifted her stance, preparing to lunge through the red gloom. She wasn't just fighting for the Federation anymore. She was fighting to ensure that Krennek didn't turn her father's people into the architects of a temporal nightmare. She caught Barr’s eye, a silent challenge for the Human to keep up, before her gaze snapped back to the General.

Pausing long enough to ensure the team were ready zh'Roothi stole a glance to Lortha before committing forward: "Let's move."

Mira moved swiftly, silently, her races structure optimized for running fast and jumping high, and being on the lighter side, exhaustion was slow to happen.

Barr was right behind the Ensign, he was bulkier and slower but not by much. He push his stamina to its limit and beyond to make sure they wouldn't fail!

"The interference is dropping!" Kuzos’s voice cut through the thrum of the fusion reactors, sharp with a sudden, clinical intensity. He wasn't looking at the muzzle flashes of the disruptors; his eyes were glued to the frantic data-scroll on his tricorder. "The Shenzhou is pulling its shroud. Admiral Deix is either repositioning or he’s lost his nerve. We have a clear window, but our signatures are now glowing like stars on every sensor in the sector!"

This just spurred Mira faster. She had to get the General and those crystals' snared together and she would do her damnedest to get that done.

The heavy red gloom of the cargo bay seemed to pulse in time with the violet light escaping the crate. Krennek’s hand remained flat against the lid, his fingers splayed as if he could feel the heartbeat of the House of Korath through the lead lining. Beside him, Lezku Opra was a coil of frayed wire, her obsidian earring thrumming so hard it felt like it would shatter her jaw.

"The air is too still, Scavenger," Krennek whispered, his icy gaze fixed on a stack of industrial pallets forty meters away. He didn't need a tricorder to know the environment had shifted. He felt the minute displacement of air, the 'weight' of uninvited observers. "We are no longer alone."

Opra’s flint-gray eyes went wide as she scanned the darkness. "The sensors... the loop should have held. Unless..."

"Unless they aren't using sensors," Krennek finished, his hand moving toward the hilt of his d'k tagh. "They are using ghosts."

The entire station lurched and the sounds of groaning metal erupted throughout the room. Suddenly, a sharp, chirping tone erupted from the Klingon's wrist gauntlet, a priority comm-burst from the Qel'Poh. Krennek’s ridges tightened as he read the scrolling Klingon glyphs.

"General," the voice of his bridge commander crackled through the local jamming, "the Enterprise has detached from the station. She is moving to an intercept vector. And the Shenzhou... the Federation Admiral has dropped his shroud. We are being targeted."

Krennek let out a low, guttural growl that was half-frustration, half-relish. "So, the Architect of Order decides to reveal her hand." He looked at Opra, his vertical scar jagged in the flickering red light. "The time for subtlety has passed. The Federation flagship does not move unless the blade is already in flight."

He slammed his fist against the atmospheric console, sending a final command to his ship. "Bridge! Disengage docking clamps and prepare for immediate departure! Cycle the transport buffers; if they attempt a lock, flood the bay with interference!"

He turned toward the bay’s primary blast doors, his le'matya cloak swirling around him like a storm. He grabbed the handle of the gravity sled, beginning to move the crate toward the boarding ramp of the Bird-of-Prey.

"Opra! Get to the ship if you wish to see the new dawn," Krennek bellowed, his voice rising over the sudden hydraulic hiss of the bay doors being overridden from the outside. "The 'Bridge of Breath' is breaking, and I will not be standing on the station when it falls!"

He didn't look back to see if she followed. He was a warrior of the long game, but even he knew when the "long game" had become a sprint to the finish. As he pushed the crate toward the looming shadow of the Qel'Poh, he felt the unmistakable shift in the air - the "rhythmic boots of Order" were no longer approaching. They were here.

The station shuddered again, a more violent, grinding shriek of protesting titanium that nearly threw Opra from her feet. The Qel’Poh wasn’t moving away; it was straining against an invisible leash. Krennek’s wrist gauntlet flared with a frantic crimson light. "General!" the commander’s voice returned, distorted by the local interference. "We cannot break away! The Enterprise is physically pinning us to the Docking Ring! If we engage full impulse, we will tear the station's pylon and our own hull apart!"

"They are bold," Krennek hissed, his grip tightening on the gravity sled until the metal groaned. "They risk the lives of everyone on this station just to keep me from the stars." He didn't make it to the boarding ramp. The primary blast doors of the Cargo Bay didn't just open they buckled as the override command from the away team hit the station's localized grid.

"Opra, get behind the primary coolant tanks!" Krennek commanded, abandoning the sled for a moment to draw his d'k tahg. The blade caught the oppressive red light of the bay, shimmering with a lethal hunger. "She has arrived. If she wants to hold me here, she will have to do it in person."

"So much for the plan. They know we're here, all teams, go get the General!", Sora exclaimed as she drew her rapier and got into position. The moment of surprise had been lost, but they still had a chance. She rushed down the side corridor behind the Bajoran's position and, once she got there, grabbed her from behind, holding her rapier against Opra's throat.

"General Krennek," she shouted, trying to get the Klingon's attention while the rest of the boarding party got into position. "You are under arrest for an attempted temporal incursion and smuggling illegal goods within Federation space. Stand down now."

"Sora, dammit," zh'Roothi hissed lowly as the woman raced away and put herself in a precarious position adding additional complexity into the mix. "You heard her, Mira, Talyn, go!" she called.

Mira had gotten there earlier and was waiting for the rest to join. However, with Sora and zh'Roothi now entering the frey, Mira had to act. She surged with net in hand, jumped upwards while performing an up and over with her body, tossing the small packet down between General Krennek and the sled box containing the crystals, and activated it. As her arc proceeded down the other side towards the cooling tanks, the net sprung open through a quick charge, causing it to spread. However, Mira applied her TK along the sides of the net causing it to elongate outwards between the General and Sled, but that was deliberate. As it finished coming down, its twisting motion brought those elongated sections right into the General and the sled, and then shifting and wrapping around each from its motion and rotation, the 'snaring' of the prey by the net.

Mira felt the thud of a disrupter bolt against a hip before she reached the cover of the cooling tanks. She landed safely, then felt her hips. Her phaser was gone, some uniform burned, with just some burned fur and flesh along her right hip. She would live. However, more importantly, she still had her other net for just in case, so she waited, watching intently, only that her nose was wrinkled up from the smell of her own flesh smoking was the only telltale there might be something wrong.

As Mira’s net snared the General and the crate in a tangle of high-tension mesh, Ensign Talyn didn't hesitate. With the interference from the Shenzhou dissipating, her movements were no longer sluggish. She became a golden blur of Romulan speed and Klingon fury.

"Now, Barr!" she shouted, her voice a low growl.

Talyn hit the temporal distortion surrounding the crate like a wall of solid water. The chroniton drag tried to pull her molecules a fraction of a second into the past, but she fought the displacement with raw, hybrid muscle. She didn't go for her phaser; she went for Krennek’s wrist. As the General struggled with the netting, his d'k tahg raised to slash through the fibers, Talyn’s fingers—strong enough to crush duranium—clamped onto his gauntlet.

Near the coolant tanks, the atmosphere was a pressurized keg of adrenaline. Sora’s rapier gleamed at Opra’s throat, a sharp silver line against the red emergency lighting.

Krennek, despite being entangled in the net and locked in a struggle with Talyn, didn't look at the Commodore. He looked at Sora. A dark, appreciative chuckle vibrated in his chest. "An arrest? In a bay being held together by a tractor beam and the sheer ego of your flagship? You talk of protocols while the station screams in agony!"

Loatha moved into the light, her phaser held in a low-ready position. She saw Mira huddled behind the tanks, smelled the ozone and burnt fur, and her expression hardened. The "mother" was gone; the strategist was in full control. "Commander," Loatha said, her voice cutting through the din of disruptor fire, "Keep the scavenger secure. She is our only witness to the exchange." She then turned her gaze to Krennek. "General, by order of the United Federation of Planets I am placing you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a cour..."

Krennek roared, the sound echoing through the bay as he tried to throw Talyn off. The violet light from the crate flared, bathing the entire group in a strobe of impossible colors. "You think you can hold time with a net and a tractor beam?" Krennek spat, his face inches from Talyn’s. "Time is a flood, girl! And your Federation is already underwater!"

The sudden flare of bright colours caused zh'Roothi to avert her gaze having taken up a position between the frenzied General and Lortha Targaryen. The flashing colours sparkled upon on small glittering surface that wasn't visible previously advancing toward Sora and the smuggler. The glint of blade, moving stealthily towards the pair hoping to be missed in the General's plight. Recalling the warning of firing a phaser this close to the crystals the Andorian didn't have a lot of options. She squared her narrow shoulders momentarily before throwing herself into a full sprint - directly into the path of the advancing assassin.

"General Krennek," Wilkan's calm, steady, and terrifyingly cold voice came through the speakers of the Cargo Bay. "This is Commodore Wilkan Targaryen. You're currently standing in a room where the wall is being pushed by my hand. Every centimeter I drop this ship is a testament to your failure to protect your crew, your cargo, and your honor. You can boast, but while you stand there, my wife is looking you in the eye, and my ship is crushing yours. If you fire those disruptors, you won't kill the Enterprise. You will merely spark the atmosphere in that bay and ensure you die in a flash of heat before you ever see the 'songs' you crave. Is that how a General of the Empire ends? Suffocated by his own pride in a Federation storage locker?"

"I will not yield," the Klingon announced through gritted teeth as he struggled with the net, starting to break free while the Away Team surrounded him.

Mira saw this, threw a knife towards the catwalks to gain a momentary respite, then surged forward while throwing her second net towards the interwoven General, Talyn, and Sled. The net expanded, shifted, and then ensnared the General in even more winding twining of a capture net with Talyn as an afterthought as the sled was more entangled than ever.

However, there was more to Mira's intent. She leapt over the General to land on the sled. Talyn was grappling with the General so his signature was with him. Sora was with Opra and so Sora's signature was with Opra. Now Mira was on the sled and her signature with with the sled. She keyed her comm badge, "Mira with Sled, Talyn with Krennel, Sora with Opra... energize." Meanwhile, several Klingon Snipers were bearing their weapons onto a now exposed Mira hugging the top of the sled. She closed her eyes, waiting for the impact. She had her TK shield up now and over her, but it could only stay up for a couple minutes. She whispered to herself, her hip throbbing, "Please hurry Enterprise."

On the opposite side Commander zh'Roothi had connected firmly with her intended target who'd twisted to meet her flying frame. The blade whistled harmlessly through the space between them and skittered across the deck having been knocked away by the woman's phaser rifle.

Aidan had stood to the side, sword drawn in his right hand, phaser held in his left. He was watching everyone, searching and mapping their body language while everyone seemed to have forgotten about his presence. Much like he was used to, the quiet Trill was often overlooked as he was trained to operate in the shadows. At his shoulder, the blue scaled mini dragon hovered, his eyes swirling in the orange and red mix of anger and danger. The Trill's focus shifted as he spotted two of the snipers. "Scare the furthest," he told his companion. "Don't kill him please."

As the blue zipped away almost instantly, Aidan sprang into motion, aiming at the nearest sniper to disable him before the transport took effect to whisk the vulpine officer away

Only, it didn't and the Ensign remained in place as the Enterprise struggled to maintain a hold on the targets.

Loatha stood her ground as the very air around them began to scream. Wilkan’s voice, broadcast through the bay’s emergency speakers, wasn't just a threat, it was a physical force. Above them, the massive hull of the Enterprise was grinding into the station's spine, and the vibration was turning Loatha’s teeth into tuning forks. She saw Mira leap onto the sled, a move of suicidal bravery, and Loatha’s heart hammered against her ribs. "Aidan, cover her!" she commanded, though the Trill was already a blur of motion, his phaser fire lashing out to intercept the snipers.

Krennek, now double-netted and grappling with a snarling Talyn, threw his head back and laughed a sound of pure, jagged madness. Even as the Enterprise bore down on the Qel'Poh, he looked up at the groaning ceiling, his eyes wild with the fire of a man who welcomed the apocalypse.

"Hear that, Targaryen?" Krennek bellowed, his voice straining against the metallic screech of the pylon. "That is the sound of your world breaking! You think you can crush the spirit of Korath with duranium and gravity? You are merely building us a pyre!" He lunged against the netting, his face inches from Talyn’s as he spat his defiance. "You Federation whelps play at war with your matched shields and your legal codes, but you have no soul for the ending! Go ahead, Commodore! Flatten the room! You'll find that even in the vacuum, a Klingon’s curse carries further than your Starfleet prayers!"

The bay chose that moment to begin its final surrender. The screech of metal became a series of thunderous cracks. High above the catwalks, the primary structural supports sheered under the weight of the Enterprise and Qel'Poh. A jagged fissure ripped across the ceiling, and for a terrifying heartbeat, the stars of the Bajoran sector were visible through a veil of venting frozen oxygen.

"HULL BREACH IMMINENT," the station's computer wailed, its voice distorted and slowing as the power grid buckled.

Immediately, the emergency atmospheric containment fields snapped into existence. They didn't glow with the standard soft blue of a Federation ship; these were Cardassian-engineered backups, shimmering with a harsh, flickering gold energy. They hissed as they fought to hold the atmosphere inside against the crushing vacuum. The gold light strobed violently, casting long, distorted shadows of the combatants against the cooling tanks. The fields were struggling. The gold light wavered, turning a sickly amber as the structural frame of the bay warped further. Great showers of sparks cascaded from the ceiling as the Enterprise continued its "Dog Pile," the vibration making the golden forcefields ripple like water in a storm.

"The pylon is failing!" Loatha shouted over the roar of escaping gas. She saw Sora struggling to keep her footing while pinning Opra, the scavenger’s eyes wide with the realization that her 'new dawn' was about to be a cold death in space.

Loatha tapped her comm-badge, the signal barely piercing the chronometric noise from the crate. "Wilkan! The bay is venting! The fields are the only thing keeping us from the void, and they're red-lining! Pull them out! PULL THEM OUT NOW!"

The Klingon snipers, seeing their world collapsing, fired one last desperate volley toward the sled, the disruptor bolts splashing against the flickering gold containment field just feet above Mira’s head.

Mira heard the bolts hitting... but not her TK shield, something else. Still, her time was up and her shield went down. They were still there, so maybe the ghosts were making sure she wouldn't find her family's name.

"Hold on!" Loatha screamed, reaching out toward her team as the world dissolved into a blinding kaleidoscope of failing technology and falling stars. She reached for the case holding the crystals, her hand pressing against the top of the case as the room collapsed into open space, the green glow of Romulan transporters enveloped the boarding party, as well as the Klingons and Opra.

Aidan staggered as he was transported mid-sprint. "What..." He managed as he looked around to get his bearings. "Sherlock?" It took several seconds for his companion to appear and settle on his shoulder. "Where are we?"

There was a thud onto the transporter area floor from Mira finding it. She winced to herself, then opened an eye, noticing they were no longer heading into space but on board a ship. She shifted herself to sitting on the floor to take stock of herself and the rescuers.

Sora nearly fell over as she materialised and was suddenly free of the Bajoran, but managed to catch herself at the last second. She glanced around and narrowed her eyes. "This looks like the transporter room of a Romulan warbird to me."

"You are correct," a voice sounded from across the room, where a Romulan officer stood by the transporter controls. He smiled. "Welcome on board RRW Ourainavassa. Subadmiral t'Sani had you transported here just in time, it seems. My name is Lieutenant Nivam. Don't worry, we will beam you over to Enterprise as soon as the threat is over."

Romulans? Aidan held his breath for a moment though his eyes seemed to sparkle with sudden delight. "And how soon is that?" The Trill asked in near fluent Rihannsu, "why not transport us all over right away?"

Nivam cocked his head in surprise at hearing the Trill speak his native tongue. "Excellent command of the language," he remarked. "Your accent needs work, though. The reason why are not beaming you over right away is because we just took on board a Klingon General, whose ship is within easy firing range. We have our shields up until that is dealt with."

Commander zh'Roothi clambered to her feet having been finally untangled from the Klingon she'd been battling with a moment ago. Feeling a touch dazed she staggered in her haste towards the Romulan: "Have all personnel been accounted for?" she asked.

The Romulan nodded. "Yes, Commander. Look around you, you should find all members of your away teams in the transporter room. General Krennek, the Bajoran, and the General's crew have all been placed in the brig pending further instructions as to their custody."

Sora let out a deep breath she didn't even realize she had been holding in. She turned and briefly did a headcount, before nodding. "Yep. Everyone's here." Suddenly, she chuckled. "So, t'Sani is what she calls herself in Romulan, then. Makes sense, I suppose, with how Romulan clan names work. And 't'Svanir' would be rather difficult to pronounce, I guess?"

As the crew talked to the transporter guy, a Romulan... Mira had heard of them, but never met one, she had been slowly moving her right side and hip. And, well, it hurt like hell. She now saw the tip of her pelvis bone showing, a crack in it, besides the muscle layers from her skin to that bone the hitting bolt had managed to burn through. Or, it could have been her stun phaser releasing its energy after having been destroyed by the bolt. Either way, it really hadn't started hurting with a dull ache punctuated by sharp twinges of pain until after she calmed down from the imperative of the mission. And now... well, she brought her left leg up towards her chest, right leg remaining out at an angle to minimize the pain, grasped around her left leg, and just existed until medical came to check them over.

Loatha was the last to fully solidify on the transporter pad, her weapon still gripped tightly, her eyes darting across the room with the lethal instinct of a cornered wolf. The transition from the screaming, gold-lit chaos of the collapsing pylon to the cool, emerald-hued precision of the Ourainavassa was a sensory whiplash.

She stepped off the pad, her boots clicking sharply on the Romulan deck plating. She ignored the Romulan Lieutenant for a heartbeat, her gaze sweeping over her team. She saw Mira huddled nearby, the smell of singed fur still clinging to her; Sora, caught between a fighting stance and a chuckle; and Aidan, looking far too comfortable for someone who had just been hijacked by a cloaked predator.

"Lieutenant Nivam," she said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, measured register. "Extend my thanks to Subadmiral t'Sani for the 'timely' extraction. However, the custody of General Krennek is not 'pending.' He is a Federation prisoner, arrested on a Federation station, currently being held on a Romulan vessel that, officially, isn't even here." She stepped closer to the console, her presence filling the room. "The Enterprise is sitting on top of the General’s ship. If you keep us behind your shields while the Admiral on the Shenzhou is looking for someone to court-martial, you are turning a rescue into an international incident. I need a secure line to Commodore Targaryen. Now."

She glanced at zh'Roothi, giving her a sharp, approving nod. "Commander, keep the team tight. We aren't guests here; we're an administrative headache." She turned back to Nivam, her eyes narrowing. "And the crystals? I assume your Subadmiral didn't leave those in the vacuum?"

Relived that everyone had been successfully plucked to safety from the collapsing cargo hold Commander zh'Roothi was glad for Lortha's strength she felt her wits had been momentarily left behind. None the less Zhora straightened her bruised frame sensing they were about to walk another political tightrope with frayed patches.

"I'm afraid the custody of the General very much is pending, Commodore." While Loatha was speaking, Subadmiral Felaen t'Sani - more commonly known as Freya Mannerheim - had entered the room. She was a middle-aged human woman, grey streaks in her short, black hair and piercing grey eyes behind simple, square eyeglasses. Her uniform was cut like an older model Starfleet uniform, held in the Romulan Republic's colour scheme of olive green and black, with the rank insignia of a Subadmiral pinned to the collar. On her chest, she wore an oval combadge engraved with the emblem of a phoenix, the insignia of Ourainavassa. She stood almost a head shorter than Sora, yet the familial similarities were hard to miss.

"The question was never whether the prisoners would be transferred to the Federation, but to which vessel," she explained. She noticed Mira's injury, and turned to Lieutenant Nivam. "Why have you not alerted a medic yet, one of our guests is injured. Go to sickbay and get someone, now."

"My apologies, Subadmiral," Nivam said with a bow of his head as he left the transporter room.

With a smile and a nod towards Sora, the Subadmiral continued. "I trust I can speak freely in front of these officers, Commodore. Your husband has made the situation rather more complicated. Before we could establish transporter lock on the crystals, Enterprise opened fire and destroyed them. There was no temporal rupture, but that was pure luck. Vice-Admiral Deix did not take kindly to that, and has remotely taken control of Enterprise. He intends to court-martial Wilkan for mutiny. Perhaps even treason. He has his weapons primed and ready to take Enterprise's propulsion systems out at any moment. The Klingon ship, meanwhile, is pinned to what's left of the pylon by Enterprise's hull."

Sora shook her head. "The Admiral can't be serious. Frey, you and I both know how dangerous these crystals would have been in the Klingons' hands. Surely the Admiral knows that, too?"

Freya laughed. "He did not believe me when I explained it to him, sis. Not to put too fine a point on it, but he's a few strings short of an orchestra, in my opinion. No, he has a grudge against the Targaryen's, and it looks to me like he fully intends to use this opportunity to get rid of them." She turned to Loatha. "That, I fear, includes you as well."

Aidan had listened quietly to the conversation, but with growing amazement. "Then the Commodore is likely to be safer here, than anywhere else where this Admiral can get at her," he suggested, glancing from one to the other. "The question is, should we let them believe the Commodore was killed for the time being? As a ruse perhaps, a trump card to be played at the right time? In how much danger is the Enterprise crew at the moment? Would the Admiral destroy the ship?"

"Aidan, your flair for the dramatic is noted, but you're forgetting who we're dealing with," Loatha said, her voice a calm, low resonance that cut through the tension. "Astran Deix is a bureaucrat who treats the law like a garrote. If he thinks I'm dead, he won't grieve; he'll simply add 'negligent homicide' to the list of charges against Wilkan. He’ll use my corpse to hammer the final nail into my husband's career."

She turned her full attention back to Freya. The resemblance between the Subadmiral and Sora was striking, a genetic echo that made the surreal nature of the politics involved feel even more pointed, "Subadmiral, if Wilkan destroyed those crystals, he did it because the alternative was a timeline where none of us are standing here to argue about it. He’s an El-Aurian; he felt that interference like a physical poison. He wouldn't have fired unless the 'luck' you mentioned was the only thing left."

She stepped toward Mira, finally allowing herself a moment of visible concern. She knelt beside the Fuscipesgreyine officer, her hand resting gently on Mira’s shoulder as she looked at the jagged, scorched bone. "Steady, Mira. The medics are coming. You did your job."

Mira had been sitting there, arms wrapped around her left leg, just breathing and holding herself together. She wasn't making a sound, even though tears streaming down on her face on either side of her muzzle left no doubt she was hurting. She managed to whisper, "Thank you, Commodore Targaryen."

Looking back up at Freya, Loatha’s eyes were hard. "Deix is obsessed with the Khitomer Accords. He sees the crystals as a failed asset and Wilkan as a loose cannon. But the Enterprise is a Century Class vessel with a crew that would walk through a sun for their Captain. Deix can't hold her forever. However, he is the type to fire on his own people if he thinks he can wrap it in enough red tape to call it 'protocol.'" She stood up, her posture regaining its iron-clad rigidity. "I am not staying here as a 'trump card.' If Wilkan is in the crosshairs, my place is on that ship. But if the Enterprise is locked down, I need another way to move the pieces."

She glanced at the Subadmiral. "Freya, you’ve spent years in the shadows. You know Deix. He’s holding the Enterprise by the throat, but he’s forgotten one thing: He’s currently ignoring a Romulan Warbird and a Klingon General while he bullies a Commodore. I want to talk to the General. If Krennek realizes that the Starfleet Admiral is about to let him rot in a Federation prison just to win a grudge match, he might be inclined to provide the one thing Deix can't ignore: a testimony of what actually happened in that bay and in the Ward Room." She paused, a sharp, cold smile touching her lips, "And I suspect the C-in-C, Wilkan's own father, would be very interested to hear how a Vice-Admiral nearly started a war over artifacts he was too 'pragmatic' to understand."

Loatha looked at Sora and zh'Roothi. "Commander, get the team ready for a move back to Enterprise. We have thirty seconds of 'luck' left, and I intend to spend it making the Admiral regret he ever learned the Targaryen name."

Lieutenant Nivam returned, followed by a medic - a young Orion woman - who immediately went to Mira and began applying a hypospray to her wound. "I'm afraid we don't know much about your species," the medic explained with an apologetic face, "but this should close the wound and provide some pain relief until you can see your own medical officer on your ship."

When the Medic arrived, Mira laid down and rolled over on her good side while supporting her head with her left arm. That brought up the wound to the Medic. It had not penetrated through the muscles so the abdominal cavity had not been breached. Still, the tip of the cracked and burnt pelvic bone could be seen, as well as the layers of muscles that made up her side. Mira whispered, "Thank you."

"Thank you, Eva," Freya said to the medic, before turning to the Commodore. "The General is in the brig, I will bring you there momentarily" She then faced the Lieutenant. "Nivam, transport them to Enterprise as soon as my sister gives you the order." She pointed out Sora. "That one."

"Of course, Subadmiral," Nivam replied, before resuming his position at the transporter controls.

With a nod towards Loatha, Freya headed for the doors. "Follow me, Commodore."

"Not without a Security Officer," Kuzos interrupted. The heavy, metallic tang of Romulan-grade disinfectant and the low, resonant thrum of the singularity core filled the silence that followed Kuzos's interjection.

Loatha turned her head just enough to catch the Vorta’s poised, unassuming silhouette in her peripheral vision. Kuzos stood with a terrifyingly still composure, his lilac-colored eyes reflecting the emerald shimmer of the Romulan transporter room. Unlike a Gorn’s blunt physicality, Kuzos represented a more surgical kind of threat—the engineered focus of a strategist who could dismantle an opponent's resolve with a single, calm observation. On a ship full of shadows and secrets, the Vorta was a sharp, unblinking clarity.

"Commander," Loatha addressed him, her voice holding that familiar, iron-clad poise. She didn't dismiss the request; in fact, she welcomed the analytical weight it added to her stride. "I wouldn't dream of walking into a Klingon's cage without the Enterprise's most discerning eyes behind me. Your presence is required. The rest of you need to be returned home. The Romulans will arrange it."

She turned back to the Romulan Commander, "Let's go."

With a nod, the Subadmiral led Loatha and Kuzos out of the transporter room.

Mira's ears moved slightly as they followed Freya, Kuzos, and Loatha out of the transporter room. The ache with shooting pains was dulling and with that some of the tension within Mira's shoulders and abdomen began to relax. She turned her head to smile to the Orion Female Medic and said, "I feel it working, thanks." After the medic was done, Mira did not move, she was afraid to. What if the pain came back worse? At least here, right now, she was feeling better. She called out, "Commander zh'Rhoothi, is it alright if I lay here a bit longer?" Mira realized she began fighting to stay awake, which meant she was suffering from shock. She then asked, "Umm, maybe not.. shock... hard to stay awake.. can someone help me stand?"

The medic offered Mira a hand and pulled her up to her feet, before handing her a cane. "Don't put too much weight on that side until you've had proper medical treatment," she cautioned, before turning to Nivam. "Actually, when you send them over to their ship, send this one straight to their medical bay."

Mira winced as she was pulled to her feet, however, the pain was now more of throbbing with interspersed jolts versus the pounding pain with lightning strikes added for good measure. She leaned onto the cane in her left hand, taking weight off of her right foot. Normally it would be the right side to be assisted with the cane, but in this instance, keeping that side relaxed was the goal. However, one good thing is that she was once more wide awake. What was the protocol? Try to keep awake for at least 30 minutes?

Sora nodded. "That's probably for the best, I agree. Everyone ready to go home?"

"Yes ma'am," Aidan replied, echoed by a soft affirmative chirp from Sherlock. "I'll go with Ensign Yumerieva if she needs further assistance." He moved to her other side and offered his arm for her to lean on if she desired.

Standing 4 inches taller than the Trill, Mira put her arm over his shoulders as she rested her foot upon the transporter floor. While she did not want to put any weight on the injury, neither did she want her leg to hang creating pulling on the injury. Keeping the body relaxed and in normal posture until she could lay down was the best bet, at least without pulling or compressing. The pain went down, and she was still awake. She lowered her muzzle to be nearer Aidan's ear as she whispered, "Thank you for the assist, Commander Datari." Forgetting herself, she took in a breath of relief, her body spasmed halfway into the inhale, then she let it out slowly, mouthing "ouchie." She went back to breathing shallowly, forcing herself to not take any deep breaths as that activated injured muscles.

"Easy does it Ensign," Aidan smiled sympathetically. "I'm stronger than I look, you don't have to take my smaller frame into consideration." As he wasn't familiar with her native language, even though he did prefer to entertain conversations in different languages, he spoke in Standard. "Just breathe as is comfortable and we'll move at your pace until we arrive where we need to be."

Mira listened to his words as she tried to figure out the why... then she managed a light grin. She replied to Aidan, albeit in short breaths with some words each time, "I am liking your shorter than I... this is letting me rest my leg... at the proper height so as... to not put any stretching or... compression on my hip and side.... The earlier ouchie was because... I took in too much air in my lungs.. pulling at my injury."

Sora looked at Mira. "Listen to your superior officer, Ensign," she said, with a gentle smile. "And to the medic who treated you. You still need to be looked at by Doc Kholin." She looked around at the away team, and turned to Lieutenant Nivam. "We're ready to go."

"Enterprise to Away Team," it was Galatea.

"Go ahead Galatea," zh'Roothi responded having remained a watchful observer as Loatha laid out her plan and acknowledged Kuzos willingness to accompany her to the General's holding cell. It was a testament to show just how far the Vorta had come since being convinced to join the crew, his actions shown today had given the Commander much to consider regarding her attitude to him.

"Commander," Enterprise's AI greeted, "it's good to hear your voice. I've received permission to bring the away teams aboard. Standby for immediate transport. The injured will be coming first, followed by everyone else. We're beginning transport."

Sora smiled. "Good to hear your voice, too, Galatea. We're in Ourainavassa's transporter room and prepped to transport from our end, so with the two transporters combined we should all get over very quickly. Mira needs urgent medical attention, beam her straight to sickbay. The rest of us will come over from here."

She turned to Nivam and nodded. "Energise."

Zhora's gaze hardened on the Operation Officer as she interrupted and superseded her authority.

As if sensing something was amiss Galatea's voice sounded once more: "Commander zh'Roothi, do you concur?"

"Start the sequence," the XO replied. "And send Ensign Yumerieva to sickbay for treatment."

Galatea acknowledged the order from the Enterprise's Executive Officer, the holographic representation of the Starship Enterprise immediately setting to work. Around them the crew began to dematerialize from the deck of the Romulan Warbird, beginning their voyage home, but what would they find waiting?

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