Jarell Korrin strode out of the Federation Embassy with grim satisfaction. The conference had gone more or less as expected, with the Federation’s representatives making their usual platitudes about peace and cooperation. But Korrin knew better. He had seen the Federation’s true face before and knew that beneath the veneer of diplomacy lay the iron fist of control.

The cool night air brushed against his skin, carrying the faint, earthy scent of the city settling into the evening. Korrin paused for a moment, letting the night envelop him. He loved how the night softened the world’s edges, turning sharp realities into shadows and possibilities. The night was his ally as the day’s harsh truths tended to fade into the background, allowing space for reflection and the careful planning of moves yet to be made.

As he descended the steps of the Embassy, the city lights flickered on, casting a dim glow across the streets. In the distance, the towering buildings of the capital shimmered under the sky, their outlines softened by the encroaching darkness. Korrin’s thoughts returned to the conference, to the faces of the Federation diplomats as they tried to mask their true intentions with polished words. But words only went so far. With its silence and shadows, the night revealed much that the daylight sought to hide.

It was in the night that Korrin found solace—knowing that one day, the night would be even better when the Federation and Starfleet were driven from Raeya III. Then, the city and the rest of the planet would genuinely belong to its people. The night would be pure, untainted by foreign influence, and the stars above would shine down on a world that had reclaimed its destiny.

The thought brought a small, satisfied smile to Korrin’s lips. The night was his, and soon, so would be the day. For now, he would move in the shadows, but when the time was right, he would bring his people out of the darkness and into the light of freedom. And when that night arrived, the air would be calmer, the city’s scent richer, and the carefully cultivated silence would finally be one of peace.

As he exited the Embassy grounds, Korrin’s personal transport awaited him. The sleek and unmarked vehicle was a far cry from the grandeur of the official transports favored by the Raeyan government or Starfleet. It was discreet and practical—much like Korrin himself.

The door slid open silently, and Korrin climbed in, immediately greeted by his chief strategist, Liana Vos. “How did it go?” she asked, her tone betraying only a hint of curiosity.

“As expected,” Korrin replied, settling into the seat across from her. The transport hummed to life, gliding through the darkened streets of the capital toward their hidden stronghold. “They think they can win us over with promises of protection and cooperation. They don’t realize how deeply they’ve already lost the trust of our people.”

“And President Trelor?” Vos nodded as her sharp eyes fixed on Korrin. 

“She’s caught between a rock and a hard place,” Korrin said, a slight smirk on his lips. “She knows she needs the Federation’s help to maintain order, but she also knows that siding with them too openly could lead to a revolt.”

“What about MacLeod and Wellborn?” Vos said in a lowered tone.

Korrin’s expression darkened at the mention of the two Starfleet captains. “They’re formidable, no doubt. MacLeod is sharp, and Wellborn is dangerous. They won’t back down easily. But they’re also bound by the Federation’s rules, making them predictable. We can use that to our advantage.”

The transport slipped into a hidden entrance beneath an unassuming building on the outskirts of the city. The building’s exterior gave no hint of its true purpose, blending seamlessly with the surrounding structures. Inside the building was a labyrinth of secure rooms, communication hubs, and tactical planning centers dedicated to the People’s Independence Front and their cause of Raeya III standing alone as its own sovereign world.

Korrin stepped out of the transport with Vos following closely behind him. As they made their way through the dimly lit corridors, they passed several members of Korrin’s inner circle—trusted allies who had been with him since the early days of the resistance. Each one greeted Korrin with a respectful nod, their expressions reflecting the same steely resolve that drove their leader.

They reached the heart of the stronghold: a war room dominated by a large, holographic display of Raeya III. The planet’s surface was marked with various points of interest—Federation installations, critical infrastructure, and areas of growing unrest. Several of Korrin’s top advisors gathered around the display for a conference with their leader.

Korrin approached the table, and the conversation ceased. All eyes turned to him as he took his place at the head of the room.

“The Federation is pushing harder than I anticipated, but they are also making mistakes. They have overextended themselves, and the people are beginning to see them for what they truly are—an occupying force. We need to capitalize on that.” Korrin said.

“The saboteur they captured… if they manage to break him, it could compromise our operations.” One of his advisors, a grizzled veteran named Varek, spoke up.

Korrin nodded. “I’m aware. But I have a contingency plan in place. We’ve planted enough misinformation that even if he talks, it will take them time to sort through what’s real and what isn’t. Time we can use to strike elsewhere.”

Another advisor, a younger woman named Nyra, who handled intelligence operations, leaned forward. “What’s our next move, then? We’ve got several cells ready to act, but we must coordinate carefully to avoid tipping our hand.”

“We will keep the pressure on, but selectively. Hit them where they’re weak—supply lines, communication hubs, smaller outposts. We need to stretch them thin and make them overreact. The more they clamp down, the more the people will resist.” Korrin’s gaze swept the room, his mind already several steps ahead.

He paused, his eyes narrowing as he considered the broader picture. “And we need to undermine their leadership. MacLeod and Wellborn are their linchpins. If we can discredit them, make them appear incompetent or untrustworthy, it will shake the Federation’s hold on Raeya III.”

“And if we can turn any of their allies against them, all the better. We’ve already planted seeds of doubt in Trelor’s mind. We need to nurture that.” Vos, ever the strategist, added.

Korrin nodded, a cold smile forming on his lips. “Exactly. We’ll make sure that every move they make works against them. It will be too late by the time they realize what’s happening.”

The room fell silent as Korrin’s advisors absorbed the plan. Each of them knew their role and part in the larger strategy that Korrin had meticulously crafted. The stakes were high, but so was their resolve.

As the meeting broke up and his advisors left to carry out their orders, Korrin lingered, staring at the holographic display of Raeya III. The planet turned slowly in the display’s light, its future uncertain.

For Korrin, this was more than a political struggle or a fight for independence. It was personal. The Federation had failed Raeya III when it mattered most, and Korrin had vowed never to let his people be abandoned again. He would do whatever it took to ensure that Raeya III’s destiny was in the hands of its people, not those of outsiders like the Federation.

With a final glance at the map, Korrin turned and left the war room, his mind racing with the next steps in his gambit. The Federation thought they could win this with diplomacy and a show of force. Korrin knew better. He knew that sometimes, the best way to win was to make your enemy believe they were in control until they realized they weren’t.