Late-2375

Horatio McCallister was tasked with infiltrating a heavily guarded Breen world to steal classified information about a top-secret shipyard they were building. In his mid-twenties, Horatio spent weeks on the planet, gathering valuable intel and devising a strategic plan to acquire the information he needed. Unfortunately, Horatio McCallister had spent too much time in his stolen Breen adaptation suit. The sleek fawn-coloured design hugged his body, giving him an intimidating and dangerous appearance, almost like every other Breen soldier he had encountered. His face was concealed by the helmet, adding to the air of mystery around him. It was crucial that he looked like a true Breen soldier, as his mission was to infiltrate their ranks undetected. Horatio knew that if he were caught, the consequences would be dire. But he was willing to take the risk to achieve his ultimate goal of uncovering their secrets and stopping their nefarious plans. Every step Horatio took in the suit was calculated, every move deliberate. He had to ensure the Breen would never suspect a thing.

One night, as he stealthily navigated the complex, he was suddenly confronted by a group of vigilant Breen guards. Horatio knew that he had to act quickly if he was going to make it out alive. So, without hesitation, he retrieved the explosives he had stashed away and detonated the station where he had obtained the plans for the shipyard.

The resulting explosion was massive, and the Breen guards were thrown into disarray. Horatio took advantage of the confusion and made a daring escape attempt. Despite being pursued by the Breen guards, he managed to evade their disruptor fire and explosions while sprinting through the winding corridors.

As he reached the docking bay, he spotted an incoming Breen scout ship and knew he could use it to escape. He quickly jumped into the cockpit, started the engines, and prepared to take off. However, the Breen guards had caught up with him and began relentlessly firing at the ship.

Horatio expertly piloted the scout ship, skillfully dodging incoming fire while narrowly evading the explosions that were erupting all around him. He finally managed to break through the Breen’s defences and escape back to Federation space. 

Stardate: 78186.812

USS Bellerophon (NCC-74705), Black Cluster, Alpha Quadrant

Horatio McCallister woke from his nightmare about his time as a Starfleet spy, feeling startled and disoriented. His face was slick with sweat, and his body was drenched with perspiration. He was confused and shaken by the intensity of the dream, struggling to regain his bearings. Despite the lingering fear and unease, he took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself down. Slowly but surely, his heart rate returned to normal, and his breathing became more steady. He was left with a sense of relief that the nightmare wasn’t real but also a lingering feeling of vulnerability and uncertainty. It took a few moments for him to come to his senses fully, but once he did, he realised that he was safe and sound in his own bed and that the worst was over. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that had settled deep in his chest.

Determined to shake off the lingering memories of his dream, Horatio got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water, hoping the shock would jolt him awake. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes trailed down to the scars that marked his bare chest. They were mementoes of his time as a Starfleet spy, souvenirs of the danger he had faced while on his undercover missions. But they also served as a reminder of his strength and resilience. Despite everything he had been through, he had come out the other side with a well-toned and muscular body that spoke to his commitment to fitness.

Exhausted and still shaken from his nightmare, Horatio decided to use the sonic shower to really wake himself up. As the sonic waves pounded against his body, he tried to clear his mind of the memories that had plagued him in his dreams. But they were like tendrils of smoke that refused to be dispelled, creeping back into his consciousness as soon as he let his guard down.

His mind drifted back to his time in Breen space during the end of the Dominion War. The memory of it was still fresh, still raw. It had been a harrowing experience that he was lucky to have survived. Nevertheless, the missions he had been sent on had been dangerous and often brutal, and the memories of what he had seen and done still haunted him.

As he stepped out of the shower, Horatio knew that he couldn’t keep dwelling on the past. He had a new life now, one that he had fought hard to build. He was no longer a spy, no longer a pawn in someone else’s game. Instead, he was free to choose his own path, to make his own way in the galaxy.

With a deep breath, Horatio dried himself off and dressed in his uniform. He was determined to face the day ahead with a clear head and a strong will. He had survived his nightmares, and he knew that he could survive anything else that came his way.

“Computer, what is the time?” Horatio asked as he pulled his right boot on.

“The time is oh-five hundred hours,” answered the computer. 

Realising he was awake too early and his shift wouldn’t start for another three hours, the captain sighed. Annoyed with himself for not checking the time when he woke up, he knew he couldn’t try and go back to sleep. So instead, he decided he would make use of his free time. Changing out of his uniform, he put on more casual clothes and headed to the one area he knew would be empty at such an early time. To forget about his nightmare, he decided to hit the gym. He knew that a good workout would help him vent his frustration and get his mind off of his troubles.

Horatio started his workout by lifting weights. He pushed himself to lift heavier weights than usual, trying to exert himself as much as possible. As he lifted, he focused on his breathing, trying to find a rhythm that would help him relax. With each repetition, he felt a sense of release, as if he was pushing away his negative thoughts.

Next, he moved on to the treadmill. He set the machine to a steep incline and began running. The sweat dripped from his brow as he pounded the machine with his feet. He felt his heart rate increase, and he welcomed the feeling. It was as if he was expelling all of his anxiety through his pores.

After the treadmill, Horatio went to the rowing machine. He sat down and began rowing with all his might. The repetitive motion of the machine soothed him, and he found himself able to think more clearly. He focused on the movement of his arms and legs, feeling the burn in his muscles as he rowed.

Finally, Horatio returned to the weights. He lifted with more intensity than before, feeling his muscles strain with each repetition. He was determined to push himself to his limits and beyond, to rid himself of the negative feelings that had been weighing him down.

As the captain finished his workout, he felt a sense of accomplishment. He had expended his energy in a positive way, and he felt as if he had left his troubles behind him. Of course, he knew that he would be sore later on in the morning, but it was a small price to pay for the sense of mental well-being he had achieved. Horatio walked out of the gym feeling physically and mentally stronger than he had when he walked in. Realising just how hard he had worked, he knew he had to return to his quarters for another shower.

As he emerged from the corridor where the gym was, his hair was damp with sweat, and his sleeveless top was clinging to his skin. The exertion of his intense workout had left his complexion flushed and his body slightly fatigued. He turned down the corridor and encountered his chief helm officer and close friend, Lieutenant Rubon Jarata.

“Whoa there, H! You appear somewhat damp and odorous,” Jarata jestfully commented, playfully nudging McCallister. When in private, the two knew when they could drop their ranks and just be the two of them. 

McCallister chuckled, grateful for the joviality. “Yes, I do feel a bit sticky. Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist an invigorating workout this morning. Additionally, our destination is not exactly a high-end location.”

Jarata raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. However, I’m surprised to see you up and about so early. What’s the reason?”

McCallister sighed, his face suddenly darkening. “This recurring nightmare has been plaguing me since we returned to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“What kind of nightmare?” Jarata inquired, his apprehension palpable.

McCallister shook his head, unwilling to divulge any details. “Just the regular stuff. With the Bellerophon patrolling the Black Cluster in such close proximity to Breen space… it’s enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.”

Jarata nodded understandingly. “I understand, boss. But you know what always lifts my spirits?”

“What’s that?” McCallister asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Food,” Jarata replied with a boyish grin. “Let’s proceed to the crew’s mess hall and have an early breakfast. My treat.”

McCallister’s eyes lit up. “You don’t need to do that, Rubon.”

Jarata waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You’re my friend and my captain. It’s the least I can do.”

McCallister experienced a warm sensation in his chest upon hearing Jarata’s words. Over the last year or so, they had developed a close bond, sharing similar passions and interests. Both were exceptional pilots and deeply respected each other’s abilities.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” McCallister stated, grinning. “Lead the way, Lieutenant.”

As they proceeded to the mess hall, McCallister couldn’t help but feel grateful for Jarata’s friendship. It was instances like these when they could set aside the pressures of their jobs and simply enjoy each other’s company, that made all the difference.

McCallister and Jarata entered the spacious mess hall of the Bellerophon; the lack of any activity was a nice change. However, they were surprised to find one individual alone in the corner. Their eyes fell on Ensign Jonarom, who was hunched over a pile of reports, his crystal blue eyes were bloodshot, and a fatigued expression was etched on his face. Wearing his pyjamas still, a simple blue vest and black shorts, the young Ardanan looked like he had burned the midnight oil too much. His hair was utterly dishevelled (more than usual).  

Concerned for their colleague, the two officers approached him, and McCallister spoke up, “Ensign, what are you still doing up? You should be getting some rest.”

Startled by their presence, Jonarom looked up, his eyes registering surprise. “I know, sir,” he replied wearily, “but there’s so much to catch up on. I don’t want to fall behind.”

Jarata interjected, his tone firm yet empathetic, “You must take care of yourself, Jonny. You won’t be able to perform your duties if you’re too exhausted to think clearly.”

Jonarom nodded, acknowledging the validity of their words and appreciating the care that they carried. Ever since their return to the Alpha Quadrant, he had been toiling relentlessly, trying to make up for lost time. However, the nagging feeling that there was always more work to be done as department head had left him feeling drained and overwhelmed.

McCallister and Jarata exchanged concerned looks. As experienced officers, they understood the importance of maintaining a healthy and rested crew, especially after spending an extended period in the Delta Quadrant. They did not want anyone to burn out before they had the opportunity to embark on new explorations and make groundbreaking discoveries. If Starfleet would ever send them on any such things. 

“Ensign,” McCallister suggested, “why don’t you take a break and join us for breakfast? We could all use a momentary respite from work, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jonarom appeared hesitant, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t continue working in such a state indefinitely. “I suppose I could use a break,” he conceded, rising from his seat. “However, I don’t have anything else to wear.”

McCallister shrugged dismissively. “No one will judge you for wearing your sleepwear, Ensign. We’re all comrades here.”

“Yeah, the captain is going for the sweaty, manly look this morning,” Jarata joked.

Jonarom chuckled at their appearance and appreciated the invite they had given him. 

The trio proceeded to the food replicator, and each selected a plate of delectable scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. 

As they settled at a nearby table, Jarata inquired, “So, Ensign, what do you miss most about the Delta Quadrant?”

Jonarom pondered the query for a moment before responding. “I miss studying the different anomalies,” he admitted. “There was such an abundance of enigmatic phenomena out there, so much remains unknown.”

Jarata’s face lit up with nostalgia. “I miss flying through those anomalies. It was an experience unlike any other.”

Looking to his captain as he picked up a fork-load of egg, the young ensign asked his captain the same question he had just been posed with. 

McCallister considered his response while chewing on some bacon. “I miss being out there in deep space, away from all the political red tape and bureaucracy that comes with being in Federation space. It’s a different kind of freedom.”

As they conversed and laughed over their meal, savouring the rare moment of camaraderie and relaxation, Jonarom felt a sense of relief wash over him. For a brief instant, he forgot about the numerous reports awaiting him back in his quarters.

As they concluded their breakfast, McCallister remarked thoughtfully, “You know, Ensign, I have a feeling we’ll be back in the Delta Quadrant sooner than we think. There’s still so much out there to explore.”

A glimmer of hope sparked within Jonarom. He may not have to work himself to the point of exhaustion after all. Perhaps there was more to uncover, more to comprehend.

The ship then rocked hard, and all three men quickly grabbed the side of their chairs or the table they shared. Turning around, they immediately saw that the ship was under attack by a smaller vessel. It darted in front of the Bellerophon before hitting the front part of the shields. 

Instantly McCallister recognised the configuration of the attacker as he stood up. “The Breen,” He grumbled.

“Red alert! All hands to battle stations! Captain McCallister to the bridge.” The intercom went off with the voice of Doctor Corben. She had been taking the night watch and wasn’t meant to be coming off duty until McCallister relieved her. The three men quickly got up, rushed out of the mess hall, and grabbed the nearest turbolift to get to the bridge.

Making his way quickly, Horatio felt a mixed range of emotions. Though he was eager to give the Breen a bloody nose for attacking his vessel, on the other he was hoping this had nothing to do with his past. Could his nightmare become true? Did it mean something? He pushed those questions away from his mind to focus on the task at hand. He realised he would be entering the bridge in his gym attire, still stinking of sweat and not looking his best. Thankfully he had Jonarom with him, not looking that presentable.

Bloody Breen, he thought as he stepped off the turbolift and into action on his bridge. 

Ensign Jonarom gazed out into the vast, empty expanse of space before the USS Bellerophon. He was on high alert, scanning for any sign of Dominion ships lurking in the deep dark reaches of space between them, their squadron and their destination. The weight of responsibility hung heavily on his shoulders as he knew that the fate of the ongoing conflict rested on his keen observation skills. It wasn’t the only weight that he carried. Being known as the ‘child-genuis’ did some favours for his career, while the rest of the time, it was a barrier for him – more so recently. The chief science officer was struggling to be his usual self. On countless times, Jonarom had been described by his superiors as an exceptionally talented officer. His ingenuity was of a high level, and he always did his best to remain level-headed to promote a sense of humility when he understood the problem before him. However, the likes of Lieutenant Jarata had told him that with his brains and good looks, he would end up crushing the heart of those who fell in love with him. Jonarom had never considered his love life as something he wanted to be serious about right now. When he had told Jarata that, the Risian pilot had chuckled and had pulled him close when they were walking towards the mess hall together. Jarata had told Jonarom that he possessed a strong stature when he was in a room where he was sharing his latest findings that commanded the attention of everyone in it. He had gone on to say that he had a strikingly handsome face that left many of the crew spellbound. That super cute boyish look had raised a few eyebrows the day he had joined the crew. Jonarom had never seen it himself until he had stared at his reflection one morning. His hair was a rich, chestnut brown colour that perfectly complemented his piercing, azure-blue eyes, which were captivating and alluring by Jarata’s words. His physique was athletic and toned, but this was only due to him being so involved in keeping fit during his days at the academy. Jarata had mentioned this only added to his overall charm and appeal. However, the pilot and third officer had said to him that his smile truly captured the hearts of those around him. It was infectious and radiant, lighting up every room he entered with warmth and positivity. Despite his good looks, Jonarom remained grounded and dedicated to his craft, always striving to improve what he knew. His infectious charisma and genuine kindness made him a true role model for what Starfleet wanted from its latest generation of officers and for all who had the pleasure of knowing him.

However, for the last few days, he hadn’t kept his focus on his appearance or maintaining the charm or sweet smile he possessed. Instead, he was struggling with it. Jonarom knew it, and he was confident that Jarata’s attempts the other morning with the captain over an early breakfast were to restore his former self. It worked for a while, but he knew he wasn’t entirely back to his usual self. Yet.  

Then, out of the blue, Counselor Krizon Hilgan’s entrance into the astrometrics lab disrupted his train of thought, causing him to lose focus on what he was studying from the incoming sensor feeds.

“Ensign, any sign of Dominion ships yet?” Hilgan asked, his face etched with concern.

“Not yet, sir. But I’m keeping a watchful eye out,” Jonarom replied, his voice calm and steady, masking the anxiety he felt deep down. He was surprised to see the counsellor arrive and ask such a question. However, Hilgan had five years on the younger officer, so he didn’t question it. 

Krizon Hilgan was an un-joined Trill, who, with some experience of starship life, was the quieter one on the Bellerophon’s senior staff. Everyone knew he had an on/off relationship with Lieutenant Jarata; the two never appeared to work out whether they would settle down with each other. However, Hilgan was highly professional in all of his mannerisms. His short, curly brown hair was well-groomed, and his striking, chiselled face exuded confidence and charisma. Hilgan was liked by everyone and had a great sense of humour while off duty. That aside, he cared deeply for those on the ship and was good at his job. Jonarom had noticed on many occasions that the captain depended on his thoughts and ideas during various missions. Being the only counsellor on board, Hilgan knew how to juggle the mental well-being of all one hundred and fifty-two souls. So, it was no surprise to Jonarom that Hilgan was here for another reason.  

Hilgan had noticed the ensign’s long hours and appeared genuinely worried about his well-being. The dark circles under Jonarom’s eyes showed the lack of sleep, and the more messy hairstyle was another tell-tell sign. “Are you alright? I hear you’ve been working late a lot lately,” he inquired with empathy.

Jonarom hesitated briefly before confessing, “I’m just feeling a bit uncertain lately.” Then, finally, he paused and looked at the counsellor. “Am I that obvious?”

Hilgan chuckled somewhat. “A bit, but let’s just say your guardian angel was worried about you and shared his concerns with me last night over dinner.”

Jonarom smirked at hearing that. “I’m sorry, counsellor if your evening was spoilt by Lieutenant Jarata sharing his worries like that.” 

Waving it off as not a big issue, the counsellor replied. “Don’t worry, Jonarom. It’s adorable that Rubon cares for you and others like that. It’s one of his many attractive qualities.”

Jonarom blushed. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why?” Hilgan asked. “It’s important we have each other’s back, especially with what we may face ahead of us.”

“It’s not just what we’re about to face that’s the problem,” Jonarom shared as he fiddled with his hands before sighing.

Nodding at the ensign’s reaction, Hilgan showed he understood. “I get it, Jonarom, I do. The change in our routine, the change in mission and now this,” He pointed to the massive screen before them. “It’s enough to unnerve anyone.”

The ensign nodded. “I was almost in a better place, but this looming conflict makes me feel more anxious. Everything I read and heard about the Dominion War. It’s not what I joined Starfleet to do.”

Hilgan placed a reassuring hand on Jonarom’s shoulder and said, “None of us did, ensign. Both of us were born after the Dominion War. All we know is the gossip and rumours from those who were there. I understand completely. We’re all feeling the pressure. But we’re a team, and we’ll get through this together.”

A slight sense of relief washed over Jonarom as he felt the warmth and compassion of his superior. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot,” he responded, feeling a bit more confident and reassured. “It’s just, I’ve never had to shoot someone, and I suppose the idea of having to use this,” Jonarom pointed to the phaser strapped to his side, “for the first time in my career against another being because we are on a war-footing, it isn’t easy to digest.”

Hilgan had read and heard this point of view many times during his training and his time since becoming a Starfleet counsellor. “Again, that’s understandable,” He replied as he leaned against one of the consoles. He made himself appear more relaxed. “When was the last time you practised with a phaser?”

“I participated in the drill earlier today and had to fire at a few holographic targets,” Jonarom answered. “But it isn’t the real thing.”

“No, I suppose it’s not, but we can only prepare for the real thing. We’ll only know once we meet it head-on. So just keep calm, remember your training and do what it takes to keep yourself alive, ensign.” Hilgan advised.

The intercom then went off; it was the captain’s voice. “Senior staff report to the bridge; we are ten minutes from our destination.”

Jonarom quickly transferred his readings to the science station on the bridge, and together with Hilgan, they made their way to deck one to see what awaited them and the squadron. 

“This is how I prefer the Dominion,” stated Lieutenant Commander Jirani Edeena as she inspected the debris field with a tricorder in one hand.

“In pieces, commander?” Chief Bronden asked her.

“Precisely,” The Bajoran woman answered with a smirk. 

Cargo Bay Three was currently littered with the remains of one of the Jem’Hadar fighters the squadron had discovered in a low orbit of Devenium Four. A combined science, engineering and tactical team were now assigned to investigate what had destroyed it and to learn anything new that would provide further answers to what happened when the Dominion attacked the system. 

Jirani was enjoying herself. The tall and athletic-built chief security and tactical officer enjoyed a good puzzle, which was undoubtedly one for her to sink her teeth into. She had tied her hair up in a bun instead of her long blonde locks flowing effortlessly down her back. Not wanting them to get in her way as she scavenged her way through the different pieces that remained of the enemy vessel. 

She had brought Bronden, their chief of operations, as she knew he had worked on one of the teams during the post-Dominion War rebuilding efforts that would collect, analyse and catalogue the remains of Dominion technology from various battlefields. The wide-shouldered Zaldan was a strong presence in any room he was in, even compared to some of the large bulky elements of the debris before them. 

“Hmm, curious,” Bronden said as he knelt down beside a hull piece and ran his tricorder further over it. His webbed fingers had a tight grip on the device. “I thought the initial scans of this debris field indicated that the colony’s defence network destroyed these ships?”

Jirani nodded. “That’s right, a mixture of pulse phaser fire, quantum torpedoes and phased ion blasts.” The Bajoran woman walked over to where the Zaldan man was. “Why?”

“I’m detecting extraordinary amounts of theta-band radiation,” Bronden held up his scanner for her to see. “See how the molecules’ bonds have broken down. That’s not normal if a ship has been destroyed by standard Federation weapons or exploding from an antimatter explosion.”

Intrigued by what they had discovered, Jirani stood straight just as Bronden got up. “This ship was in the centre of the field, besides the Breen ship, when it was discovered,” She said. “Maybe the other ships in their group were protecting this one?”

“Perhaps,” Bronden. “But why?” 

Jirani considered the puzzle before her. She twitched her nose for a second, her Bajoran wrinkles moving as she placed her hands on her hips as looked at the mess around her. She tapped her combadge. “Jirani to Jonarom.”

“Go ahead, ma’am,” replied Ensign Jonarom.

“Jonny,” She said, using the pet nickname she had given him a few months while they were on an away mission together in the Delta Quadrant. “Are you still in astrometrics?”

“Yes, ma’am, we’re in the process of trying to establish a link with the system’s detection grid.” The chief science officer replied. “Do you require something?” 

“Do me a favour, and can you please scan the system for theta-band emissions.” Jirani requested in a cordial pleading manner.

Jonarom confirmed he would start the scan but asked if there was anything specific he was looking for or where. Jirani couldn’t be more specific with details but asked him to tell her when he found something. After Jirani closed the channel, Lieutenant (JG) T’Penni wandered over to them with a PADD in her hand. The Vulcan chief engineer remained emotionless and expressionless as she handed the tablet to her superior.

“An update on the inventory of the debris field, commander,” T’Penni explained. “Unfortunately, we cannot find any device that would give us access to the ship’s records.” 

“Nothing at all?” Bronden checked, surprised to hear such a thing. “Not even a flight recorder? A sub-processor? A data node?”

T’Penni raised her right eyebrow. “As I said, chief, there is nothing.”

Jirani looked at Bronden. Intrigued by their dilemma. “Another layer to our enigma?” She asked aloud.

“Indeed,” Bronden admitted. “During the war, anytime we salvaged one of their ships, we could find something to help us access some computer records. Even if they were damaged or not useful. There was always something we could get our hands on.”

“It would appear that whatever caused the destruction of this ship, the Dominion were thorough in not leaving a trace for us to use,” T’Penni stated, grasping her hands behind her back. “They were presumably hiding something.”

“You think they activated the self-destruct to keep our claws off of whatever they were hiding?” Jirani posed to the engineer.

“The evidence points to that being unlikely, but there is a possibility that they purposefully destroyed the evidence as to what this ship was up to during the attack,” T’Penni answered. “From what I learnt from the academy, Dominion tactics normally involved using their damaged starship to inflict heavy damage on an opponent. So, for instance, we know when they were outnumbered or heavily damaged, Jem’Hadar fighters would ram an enemy target to prevent capture.”

“Well, whatever happened, they certainly didn’t want us finding out,” Bronden said, sounding slightly disheartened at uncovering another possible riddle that would be unresolved. 

Jirani’s combadge came to life through the excited tones of their chief science officer. “Jonarom to Commander Jirani.”

The Bajoran woman tapped her badge and answered the call. “Go ahead, ensign.”

“Ma’am, I’ve discovered the remnants of an artificial theta-band carrier,” Jonarom shared. “It will eventually disperse among the usual background noise of space; it is almost indistinguishable. We wouldn’t have seen if I hadn’t adjusted our sensor filters to detect it.”

“Can you determine where it came from?” Jirani asked.

“I’m tracking it now,” answered Jonarom.

Chimera (NCC-74705-07)

When the opportunity to join one of the away teams presented itself, Doctor Sarella Corben may have appeared a bit too enthusiastic; however, she had her reasons. Spending too much time in the confines of sickbay would surely make her go crazier than she usually felt. The Betazoid physician enjoyed being out of the ship when she could. Joining the team assigned to sift through the debris field created by the Breen cruiser, she was pleased that Commander Jaz approved to her offer. The fact that the Breen used organic-based technology in their ships made her an excellent pair of eyes too.

However, rather than running through sensor scans within the comfortable confines of the cockpit of the Chimera (the Delta-class runabout assigned to the Bellerophon), Corben found herself wearing an EVA suit while conducting what should have been an autopsy on a Breen soldier they found floating in space. But, there was no Breen soldier. To be more precise, there was the Breen refrigerator suit, but no one was in it. 

No remains at all. 

Just nothing. 

Jaz had tasked Corben to discover why not. To air on the said of caution, she had donned the EVA suit before the Breen suit had been beamed into the aft compartment. 

Her tricorder scans were not revealing anything new. There was literally nothing in the suit. It lay there on the bio-bed. Completely lifeless. She wondered if this was some sort of sick Breen joke (did the Breen have humour?). She had postulated if the Breen had all thought it would be funny if they littered Federation space with their clothing. It didn’t seem funny to her, but then Betazoids were not able to read Breen’s emotions, so if they did find something ‘a laugh’, she could never tell (unless her universal translator was reconfigured to understand their squark-ish tones). Corben was certain that Breen jokes would be lousy, so she had concluded that there must have been a Breen in this suit. Nevertheless, the evidence pointed to the opposite. There were no biological traces whatsoever. Not even the odd hair follicle (did the Breen have hair, she wondered). 

“This is annoying,” Corben grumbled to herself as she shut her tricorder down and almost slammed onto the side. Shaking her head, she was convinced that this was just a spare Breen suit that had somehow survived the destruction of its mothership and was ejected out into space. Maybe the Breen did become a race of anti-environmentalist and were planning to drop their rubbish and waste all over the quadrant. 

Maybe? 

Or was that just too farfetched? 

Probably.

Corben groaned inwards. She wanted to scream but knew that wasn’t very professional for the chief medical officer of one of Starfleet’s longest-serving Intrepid-class ships to do so. She had to be more graceful. More elegant.

“Jaz to Corben,” interrupted the Trill first officer.

Corben, pleased to not be thinking about the naked Breen suit, tapped the button on her suit that linked to the intercom. “Go ahead, commander.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your moment with our guest, but we’ve found several more,” Jaz announced, sounding just as baffled as Corben.

“More Breen?” Corben checked. She was certain someone was playing tricks on them today. Maybe she was becoming the butt of this Breen joke. 

“Yeah, Sarella, and from the looks of it, they are all empty as well,” Jaz said, sounding intrigued. 

“This is bizarre, commander. I’m coming up to the cockpit. None of this is making sense.” Corben closed the channel with another swipe and activated the forcefield around the Breen suit before closing the biobed into the wall. “Computer, run a full decontamination sweep of the aft compartment, and use all possible biological and non-biological filters to determine if there is anything out of the ordinary present.”

Moments later, after going through the airlock to ensure she was okay and not spreading anything, Corben entered the cockpit of the Delta-class runabout Chimera. “You said you found more suits?” 

Jaz, who was sat at the forward controls while a few young junior officers occupied the other positions, turned around to greet the doctor. “Yeah, look ahead of us.” She pointed to what she meant. 

Corben was confused by what she saw moving so she could be behind the commander. Breen refrigeration suits, all floating in space. “And you say none of them has any biological readings?”

Shaking her head, Jaz gestured to the sensor readings on the lefthand console. “I know the Breen are different to most humanoids, no blood or other liquid circulatory system, but I’m certain they wouldn’t leave a bunch of empty suits in outer space for no reason. If we trace the drift direction, these suits were blown from multiple points on that ship.”

“Commander, my analysis of the Breen hull segments is complete,” one of the junior officers said. 

“What do you have?” Jaz said, spinning her chair around and with Corben turning herself around.

“Though there are definite weapon signatures within the hull consistent with Federation weapons signatures, there are parts of the Breen ship which are missing, based on our records of their ships.” 

“What do you mean, ensign?” Jaz said as she stood up.

“Well, the biological elements, ma’am.” Came the reply from the ensign wearing a yellow-shouldered uniform.

Corben and Jaz looked at each other before Corben went over to see what the ensign was sharing. Surprised, she saw exactly the same thing. “He’s right; the entire organic matter that is consistent with a Breen cruiser has been wiped clean.”

“By what?” Jaz asked.

Corben shrugged. “Unknown.”

They all turned to look back at the debris field before them, perplexed by what they had uncovered. 

“Let’s head back to the Bellerophon; perhaps we can find more answers based on what the other teams have uncovered,” Jaz suggested as she made her way back to the helm.

Corben scratched her chin. 

This was certainly no joke. 

USS Bellerophon (NCC-74705) 

“Enjoying the big chair, Rubon?” Counsellor Hilgan teased as he walked onto the bridge and saw Lieutenant Jarata sitting in the captain’s chair.

The pilot smirked at the counsellor and watched him walk around the handrail, down the two steps towards the central command area. “It does fit me well, don’t you think?” Jarata flirted back.

Hilgan rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re here and not on one of the recovery teams?” 

Jarata then gave a small sigh, loud enough only for Hilgan to hear and see. “The captain wanted me here so I could easily take over the helm if enemy vessels suddenly appeared.”

Chuckling at Jarata being ‘benched’, Hilgan showed his sympathy by grabbing his chest and mocking the lieutenant slightly by dropping his bottom lip. “Ah, Rubon, all left behind and with no one to play with.”

“Are you offering to be my playdate, counsellor?” Jarata countered with his tongue-in-cheek remark.

Walking over to take the executive officer’s chair, the counsellor sat down, leant over the raised command console and quietly replied. “Keep it in your pants, Rubon.”

“It’s hard to do so when I’m itching in this seat,” Rubon playfully said as he tilted his head toward the counsellor. The two of them had this on/off relationship that was never serious. 

“Doctor Corben may have something for you for that!” Hilgan suggested.

“What I want, I can’t get from Doctor Corben,” Jarata replied, close to a whisper, while raising his eyebrows at Hilgan in a suggestive manner. “Can my counsellor put some time aside to provide treatment?”

“Maybe,” Hilgan said before reacting at hearing the sound of the captain’s ready room doors parting open. He shot up and out of Commander Jaz’s chair before the captain walked out.

Horatio McCallister climbed up the small stairs onto his bridge (he never knew why the designers of the Intrepid-class decided to place levels across the bridge). Walking across the room, he looked over at Jarata. “Rubon, any news from any of our teams?” 

As he rose from the captain’s chair, the pilot and third officer answered. “Commander Jaz just reported she’s returning, but no one has shared anything of importance yet, sir.”

McCallister looked uneasy as he looked at the main screen before turning back to the lieutenant. “What about the Cardassians?”

Confused by that inquiry, Jarata checked the command console between the captain’s and first officer’s chairs. “Looks like they are still meeting with the Themis.”

McCallister rubbed his hands together in an almost nervous twitch.

“Problem with the Cardassians, sir?” Counsellor Hilgan asked in a quiet tone.

“Bad memories,” McCallister nodded. “Specifically with who is in command of them.”

Hilgan and Jarata looked at one another, confused by their captain’s response.

“You know Gul Jacet?” Jarata asked, intrigued to work out how and why.

McCallister nodded. “You can say that,” The captain replied, sounding a bit sheepish as he took a deep breath. “As does James.”

“Back when you worked for Starfleet Intelligence?” Hilgan checked.

“I can’t confirm or deny that, counsellor,” McCallister said with a smirk and a wink. “But let’s say you can probably guess why I prefer being in the Delta Quadrant instead of the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Bad memories, indeed,” Hilgan agreed, not wanting to know any more than he was probably allowed to know.

The intercom went off before Jarata could say anything else, and the bridge speakers came to life with Ensign Jonarom’s voice. “Astrometrics to the bridge.”

McCallister answered. “Go ahead, ensign.”

“Captain, I think it would be wise if we assemble the senior staff. I think I’ve found something of interest.” The chief science officer announced.

Intrigued by Jonarom’s vagueness (something he wasn’t known for), McCallister said he would be down to see what he had while Jarata pulled the troops together. 

The Bellerophon’s astrometrics lab was laid out exactly how it had been installed in 2385 when the ship underwent its first major overhaul and refit. Over the years, the LCARS displays had changed, and the latest holographic displays were now in use. Otherwise, the design was practically identical.

Since the Fleet Captain McCallister had transferred his flag as squadron commander to the Bellerophon, he and his team had been using the ship’s astrometrics lab as a base to coordinate their hunt for the Dominion Death Task Force. Every screen and every console was focused on that task. It had been almost twelve hours since the squadron had moved on to their mission of hunting down the enemy vessels that possessed the mutagenic weapons. To aid in that, McCallister had told the squadron (along with their Cardassian allies) to distance themselves from one another, far enough they could cover a larger area of the sector but not too far away from each other that they couldn’t quickly get to one another the moment they discovered a clue or the whereabouts of these particular ships. They had linked each vessel to each other, almost forming a net of active sensor beams to help with their efforts. 

Sitting at one of the side consoles, Lieutenant Commander Tomaz reviewed the latest information from other ships in the fourth fleet and those in their detection grid. Any insight, any clue, would help them work out where the enemy was or where they would hit next. So far, he had nothing. 

Commander Banfield was at one of the primary consoles on the other side of the room. She had a mug of raktajino in one hand while flicking through the holographic display. Like Tomaz, she was looking at the surrounding space to find a hint of where the Dominion and Breen ships went. She had wondered if they had established a base of operations that could safely contain the metagenic weapons. If this was the case, they would have to use somewhere that would be suitable, so her leading theory was a barren planet, moon or asteroid. Unfortunately for her, too many of these fit that criteria. To help her, she used the long-range sensors to look at each one in depth to see if anything about them had recently changed. They had also launched several probes to help with her investigation. So far, she had nothing. 

“We’ve been at this for over ten hours, and we’re no further than when we were at the start of this hunt,” Banfield said out of frustration.

Tomaz agreed with her. “I thought we would find something by sending out continuous sensor sweeps. Maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong angle.” 

Banfield turned around to look at him. “What do you mean, Tomaz?”  

Spinning himself around on his stool, the Barzan lept from his position and walked over to the middle of the room. “We know from the wreckage we found in orbit of Devenium that the Dominion and Breen had to reinforce the hulls of their ships to carry the weapons.”

“Yeah, anyone carrying such a weapon would be wise to do that to avoid their crew from being contaminated by the metagenic release,” Banfield agreed. “However, they weren’t ready for the pounding they got from the Devenium planetary defence system, even with all that added extra hull plating and shielding.” 

“Yeah, even the organic parts of the Breen ships weren’t prepared for dealing with the release; that’s why we found those empty refrigeration suits floating in space, but what I mean is that if this was their first test of the weapon and the Dominion saw the same results as we found, then surely they would want to perfect their plan,” Tomaz suggested. 

“Are you saying they’ve not attacked again because they’re trying to consider another approach to delivering the weapon?” Banfield checked.

“Possibly, or they’re looking at improving their ships to withstand the metagenic properties when they release it from their theta-band devices,” Tomaz said. “They’ve got Vorta and Breen engineers working around on perfecting it; why waste any more ships on suicide attacks when they can sit back, watch Federation worlds succumb to the weapon long enough for its population to be killed off and hold off just sufficiently before they release the antidote so the planet’s eco-system isn’t completely destroyed.”

“That’s an incredible assumption, Tomaz,” Banfield said as she considered what he suggested. “However, the Dominion can easily breed Jem’Hadar troops who would do anything for the greater good of the Founders, that includes a suicide run.”

“Ah, but from what we know, they wouldn’t have time to establish a cloning facility yet!” Tomaz countered. “And that’s where I think they’re not killing off each planet’s ecosystem.”

“They need those worlds to sustain them,” Banfield said, showing she understood Tomaz’s thinking. “So, if your theory is correct, perhaps we should think long-term like the Dominion do when it comes to their strategies.”

“Exactly!” Tomaz exclaimed. “Dominion strategies require them to consider the bigger picture; they want to consider what will happen in a few months or years. So, that’s another reason they stripped the station of every system and left it as an empty shell. First, they used the metagenic weapon to remove the crew; then, two, they removed systems to use their own. Stopping us from ever using prefix codes to take it back.”

“Maybe then the Devenium was part of the bigger picture; maybe they were planning to use it as their central base,” Banfield said as she wandered around the lab. “They weren’t expecting the system to be so well armed.”

“They thought it would be an easy target,” Tomaz agreed. “Okay, so if that’s the case, we need to work backwards to see where they might be basing themselves from. It has to be somewhere that would work, short-term, as they wanted Devenium for the long-term.”

Banfield was about to start her search when the doors opened to reveal the arrival of their superiors, Fleet Captain McCallister and Captain McCallister.

“Good news,” Horatio said as he stepped through and waved a PADD in his hand. 

Tomaz and Banfield both looked up. The former responding first. “Starfleet Intelligence came through with the intel?”

“Sort of,” The younger McCallister answered as he passed the PADD. “I spoke with a trusted contact, but everything I retrieved from Jacet is on there.”

“That should help,” Banfield said as she turned to the older McCallister brother. “We’ve not had much luck, but we’re considering an alternative approach to our search.”

James was happy to hear that his officers were getting somewhere. “What are you thinking?” He asked. 

The two commanders stood there and explained their idea to the captains. Once they were done, Horatio turned to his brother. 

“Now we have an idea of what the Dominion had intended; surely, with their energy signatures, we can start to trace them,” Horatio said with a smirk.

Banfield shook her head. “That’s a lot of optimism there, captain. The probability of us being correct are slim, and it will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

“Well may the odds be ever in our favour,” Horatio stated, confident they would succeed. 

“I want to cut down the time it takes to evacuate an entire deck,” Jaz said as she pointed to the Master Situation Diagram on the bridge of the Bellerophon. On either side of her stood their chief security and tactical officer as well as chief of operations. 

The Bajoran woman, who was responsible for keeping them all safe, nodded in agreement with the Trill first officer. “Agreed. If we take on any unexpected visitors, we should try to contain them. Seal them behind a containment field.”

“I’ve already allocated enough power to the force field generator to increase their magnitude,” Bronden added. “Internal defences will activate the moment internal sensors detect non-registered crewmembers.”

“Good,” Jaz said as she looked at the schematic of the Intrepid-class ship. “If and when we engage the Dominion, we must be ahead of them. Not just on a technological front, but in tactics too.”

Jirani and Bronden looked at each other before turning back to the commander. 

“Though we are looking at a few tactics, we should be able to outsmart them, commander.” Jirani shared confidently as she passed a PADD with their plans in place. 

“The Bellerophon may be the older lady in the task force, but she still has teeth,” Bronden added.

Jaz chuckled at their enthusiasm as she looked at the PADD. “This looks good; I’ll make sure the captain sees it.”

Precisely at that point, the door to the turbolift opened, and Captain McCallister walked out, followed by his brother and Commanders Banfield and Tomaz. 

“Red Alert! All hands to battle stations!” Horatio ordered as he moved quickly around the upper level and down to the central command pit. “Rubon, we’ve found one of the Dominion ships on long-range sensors; set a course once Commander Banfield has transferred the coordinates to you.”

The young pilot looked around at his captain and watched him sit down in his chair as the rest of the ship got ready for the battle ahead, “Aye, sir. Only one ship?”

“One’s a start, lieutenant,” Fleet Captain McCallister said as he stood at the tactical station behind his brother’s chair. “The sooner we chase after it, the sooner we’ll find out where the rest of this task force is.”

Jarata nodded and turned himself back around. He saw that Banfield had taken over where Jonarom would normally be on the bridge at the science station. Behind her, Tomaz worked too. “Aye, sir, laying in a course.”

Sitting down in her chair beside her commanding officer, Jaz looked at Horatio. “Captain, Edeena and Bronden have some tricks ready up their sleeve if we need them.”

Horatio acknowledged the update from his first officer. He turned to the right to look over at T’Penni, “Lieutenant, we need to look at masking our warp signature long enough to take out this ship. Have you got some tricks up your sleeve?”

T’Penni looked at her captain, an eyebrow raised. “I have some ideas based on tactics that are not favoured by Starfleet.”

Surprised but impressed to hear his chief engineer speak in such a way, Horatio nodded. “This is no time to worry about that, do whatever it takes to get us there without them seeing us.”

The Vulcan woman nodded. “Then I’ll be in engineering,” She stated as she got out of her chair and moved towards the turbolift. 

“I’m adjusting lateral scanners to detect for theta-band emissions,” Bronden announced. “If that ship has a metagenic weapon on board, we’ll know once we’re within range.”

“One of Gul Jacet’s ships, a Galor-class destroyer, is nearby,” Jirani revealed from her station. “Shall I ask them to join us?”

Fleet Captain McCallister then spoke up. “No, but tell them we may need them at a moment’s notice.”

Jirani looked from the fleet captain to her captain and then back. The crew weren’t accustomed to having both McCallister brothers on the bridge and in command. “Aye, sir,” Jirani replied. 

“Let’s get going,” Horatio ordered his crew. “Rubon, engage at maximum at warp!”

It happened so fast. It was almost like a quick blink. It had thrown up in their face in an instant. None of it was expected. The sensors had missed that the Dominion were prepared for them. Now around them, destruction reigned.

The agony screamed across his body, but Fleet Captain McCallister ignored every muscle that didn’t like what had happened to him. He pushed himself off the deck and instantly felt his head ached. Pushing his hand up where it hurt, James saw blood in the palm of his hand. Blinking a few times, he was a bit disorientated at first before he felt a pair of helping hands pick him up. He could hear a familiar voice speaking to him. Turning his head a bit too fast, he saw Banfield helping him.

“Are you okay, sir?” She asked. Banfield was also injured; a cut down the side of her cheek was bleeding. Her Klingon side was ignoring it. 

“I am,” McCallister replied as he looked around the bridge of the Bellerophon or what was left of it. They were both by the aft stations. He had been knocked to his feet during the battle. He saw his brother lying unconscious on the floor by his command chair. “Horatio,” He mumbled as he pushed his way forward, under the handrail, and quickly to see to his brother. “Is he okay?” He asked Lieutenant Jarata.

The pilot had a medical scanner out and was checking his captain’s life signs. Jarata nodded before answering. “Just, I can bring him around, but we need to get him to sickbay. He has a cracked rib and some internal bleeding.”

James gave the pilot the nod to bring his brother around before calling out to anyone. “Are transporters online?” 

Banfield answered as she moved to help Jirani to her feet by the security and tactical console. Once the Bajoran woman was up, Banfield had looked over her controls. “We only have site-to-site. Give me a moment to bring them back online.”

“That’ll do,” James ordered just as Horatio started to wake up. He smiled at his brother. “Take it easy, H.”

Horatio coughed and then winced in pain. “What happened? Are the crew okay?”

Placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, James imagined that Horatio could probably see the destruction around him. One of the main bulkheads had fallen down. Smoke filled the air, almost appearing like a thick fog was everywhere. Sparks flew across, and there was a fire near the operations station. “We’re assessing everything now; you’re injured, H. We need to get you to sickbay.”

The younger brother just nodded and showed his appreciation that his brother was with him. “Okay.”

“Transporters are back online. I’m energising now,” Banfield announced. 

James smiled at his brother before disappearing within the matter stream, and Banfield announced that he arrived safely. He got up his feet and checked to see if Jarata was okay before looking around the bridge.

“By the Prophets!” Jirani exclaimed after she had moved across the bridge towards the operations station. “Chief Bronden is injured. He’s trapped.”

Jirani, Jarata and McCallister moved across the bridge to help the chief of operations, and the fleet captain paused as he noticed Horatio’s first officer lying under the fallen bulkhead. Her eyes were wide open, her hair sprawled across the deck, and a shocked expression plastered across her face. He had taken the medical tricorder from Jarata and confirmed that the Trill commander was dead. “Commander Jaz is dead,” He announced to everyone as he leaned through the wreckage and closed her eyes before taking his jacket off and placing it over her as a mark of respect. He knew he couldn’t mourn her loss as they needed to help others and secure the ship. After freeing Bronden and beaming him down to sickbay, they organised for Jaz’s body to beamed down to the morgue. She probably wasn’t the only one who had lost her life.

Now wearing only his undershirt, McCallister assumed command. “Bridge to engineering. Is anyone down there?”

“T’Penni, here, sir.” The Chief Engineer replied. 

“Status report, lieutenant,” McCallister asked as he made his way across the operations console. Nostalgia returned to him as this was the same post he held on his first assignment after the academy. It all came back to him naturally.

The chief engineer answered him back with almost the normal calm tone that most Vulcans used. However, her words showed a slight hint of panic and concern. “We have lost the port nacelle, and I had to eject the warp core before it overloaded. I have many injured here, captain. Along with a ruptured plasma conduit. Suffice to say, the Bellerophon is in no fit condition.”

Everyone looked at McCallister at that point. They were beyond being in no fit condition. They were crippled. Dead. 

“Very well, lieutenant; deal with your injuries and then work on securing the ship’s primary systems. McCallister out,” The fleet captain tapped his combadge before turning over to where Jirani and Banfield were at the security and tactical station. “What’s our situation with the enemy vessel?”

“Sensor logs show that the battle cruiser has escaped, but our weapons did some damage to their starboard nacelle; however, the fighter that rammed our port nacelle appears to have spun out of control. It’s in pieces a few thousand kilometres off our port bow.” Banfield announced.

“We’ve got only one operating torpedo launcher, a single phaser array and shields are below ten per cent,” Jirani added. “We’re in no fighting condition.”

McCallister nodded at both women as he tried to see what power systems he could restore control to, but he wasn’t have much luck. He moved to look at the status of the rest of the ship. Bellerophon was in a dire state. “I’m reading multiple hull breaches across the entire ship. Emergency force fields are in place and holding for now. We are on emergency power only.”

Jarata looked over his shoulder after returning to the helm. “Shouldn’t we abandon ship, sir?”

Understanding why the lieutenant had asked that McCallister considered the idea momentarily and then shook his head. “No, but we need to make a call to the rest of the squadron and tell them about our status.”

“The long-range subspace transmitter is down, sir,” Jirani shared. “Without it, we can’t send a secure distress call. If we do anything else, the Dominion may return to finish us off.”

“Is the distress beacon still operational?” McCallister asked.

“It is,” Jirani said, “But sir, did you hear what I said. We can’t send a secure message to the others without being seen as a target.”

“I know, commander, but we don’t have a choice. Launch it and activate it at once,” McCallister ordered. He didn’t bother looking at her as he continued to assess what else was working on the ship. There wasn’t much. “Lieutenant Jarata, get down to engineering and give Lieutenant T’Penni a hand. See if we can get impulse engines or thrusters operational.”

The pilot nodded as he got up and left the bridge. 

McCallister moved from ops, headed towards the middle of the bridge, and made his way towards his brother’s chair. At first, he hesitated in sitting in it but dropped down in it to use the command console between his chair and the first officer’s chair. McCallister tapped a few buttons, and the computer wasn’t accepting his codes. He sighed and realised why. “Computer, this is Fleet Captain James Preston Harvey McCallister; activate Emergency Fleet Access Program Alpha-One-Alpha. Authorisation McCallister-two-one-alpha-tango.”

“Voice authorisation confirmed. This ship is temporarily under the command of Fleet Captain James Preston Harvey McCallister. Emergency Fleet Access Program Alpha-One-Alpha is in effect. You have two hours to comply with Starfleet regulations.” The computer announced. 

Now his access codes were fully recognised, and he had temporary command of the Bellerophon; James could access other command systems. Before he could run his check on what was available, the proximity alarm went off.

“Who is it?” McCallister asked, looking over his right shoulder. 

Banfield answered. “It’s the Themis with two Cardassian ships. We’re being hailed, audio only.”

McCallister signalled for her to put it through, and the bridge’s speakers crackled before the friendly voice of Captain Cambil appeared. “Bellerophon, this is the Themis; we’re here to help. Standby.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, Bexa,” McCallister replied. “However, the Dominion surprised us by concealing their warp signature. We thought we were taking on a fighter, but instead, a battle cruiser was waiting here for us. They’ve escaped and got the metagenic weapon on board.”

“Damn it, we’ll give chase shortly. Let’s give you a hand first.” Cambil announced. 

“Bexa, I can see Gul Jacet’s ship is with you; send him and his ships after them,” McCallister.

“Are you sure, James?” Cambil checked. 

James confirmed he was, and Cambil got on with telling Jacet to get underway without them. She had suggested that Triton join them, which McCallister agreed to. “We’re beaming your injured over now. Themis out.” 

“At least we won’t need to get into escape pods,” Banfield shared after the channel was closed. 

McCallister smirked at that idea. “Yeah, thankfully.” He admitted. “Right, we have a ship to sort out.”