The first light of dawn spilled across the rugged landscape of Raeya III. Captain Wellborn stood at the edge of a Raeyan military outpost, his eyes narrowed as he took in the horizon. A Ramon Allones cigar smoldered between his fingers, its rich, earthy aroma blending with the faint smell of ozone from a passing storm. The wind, still cool in the early morning, stirred the dust in lazy spirals. Wellborn puffed the cigar slowly, savoring the calm before the inevitable chaos. He had returned to the surface just before dawn, restless after the previous evening’s frustrating diplomatic conference at the Federation Embassy. The political maneuvering of Ambassador Talos and the Raeyans had driven him back to the outpost—where matters were more straightforward.

The outpost, perched on a plateau overlooking the barren plains, felt isolated yet critical. Its position provided a commanding view of the surrounding terrain, a natural advantage in a region where hostile forces could strike from any direction. To the casual observer, it seemed remote, almost forgotten amidst the desolation, but to Captain Wellborn, it was the key to the entire region.

The outpost controlled access to the capital city beyond the horizon from this elevated vantage point. It was a chokepoint, the last line of defense between the insurgents and the heart of the Raeyan government. If the outpost fell, nothing would stop the enemy from advancing unchecked, cutting the capital off from reinforcements and supplies. The harsh landscape stretched endlessly before him—jagged rocks and sparse vegetation clinging to life in the arid ground. The mountains in the distance were bathed in the soft light of dawn, their craggy peaks glowing amber as the sun rose higher. The dry riverbed that snaked through the plains was a reminder of water long gone, leaving behind only dust and fractured earth.

Behind him, the crunch of boots on gravel broke the stillness. Lieutenant Commander Daniel Michaels, Chimera’s Tactical Systems Officer and Chief of Security, approached Wellborn with two steaming cups of coffee. The man moved with the easy confidence of someone who had seen too many battlefields but had never let them define him. His angular jaw, sharp features, and broad-shouldered frame gave him a commanding presence, though his demeanor was calm and measured. His closely cropped dark hair, flecked with the first hints of silver, caught the early light, and his piercing blue eyes were always alert, constantly assessing the situation with a tactical mind. Despite the cool air, his tanned skin bore the mark of countless days spent in unforgiving environments like this one. He offered the first cup to Wellborn without a word, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains.

Wellborn glanced at the cup and grunted in appreciation. “You know me too well.” he said, taking the cup and inhaling the strong, bitter aroma. The coffee was as black as night and strong enough to make his eyes water—a no-nonsense brew as unyielding as the landscape they stood in.

“Figured you could use it,” Michaels replied, his tone as steady as ever. He looked over at Wellborn, noting the tension in his Captain’s posture. “Not a bad morning, all things considered.”

Wellborn sipped the coffee, the bitter liquid jolting him awake more than the cool air ever could. “Not bad. Too damn quiet, though,” he muttered as he scanned the horizon again.

Michaels folded his arms and joined in surveying the landscape. “Yeah. Quiet’s never good in places like this. Feels like we’re sitting on the edge of something.”

Wellborn took another slow drag from his cigar, the smoke mingling with the steam rising from the cup. “We are. This outpost is the only thing keeping the capital safe from whatever hell is brewing out there. Lose this, and the city’s wide open.”

Michaels nodded, his tactical mind already calculating. “It’s a good position, but they’ll test it eventually as matters escalate. Too much space between here and the capital. Too many places to hide.” He paused, looking at the mountains in the distance. “That range… perfect cover for an ambush.”

Wellborn took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking the same thing. This place might feel like a fortress, but they can make life hell for us if they get the high ground.”

Michaels glanced at him with a serious expression. “Our teams have done a good job reinforcing the perimeter, but the Raeyan forces… they’re not exactly thrilled with our presence.”

“Yeah, they don’t trust us. They think we’re here to prop up their government, and some of them aren’t shy about showing it.” Wellborn chuckled darkly.

Michaels handed Wellborn the second cup of coffee he had brought along. “Well, can’t say I blame them,” he said. “The political situation is a mess. Corruption, insurgents, and half of them think we’re just here to clean up their mess.”

Wellborn took a long drag from his cigar, watching the smoke swirl in the cool air. “They’re not entirely wrong. But we’re not leaving until we’ve stabilized this place. And that means holding this outpost, no matter what.”

Michaels nodded, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a distant movement on the horizon—just a dust trail, nothing more- but enough to catch his attention. “We’ll be ready, Captain. They will try something eventually, and when they do, we’ll make sure they regret it.”

Wellborn took a final sip of his coffee, the bitter edge lingering on his tongue. “Damn right we will.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment, the dawn continuing to rise around them. The outpost hummed with quiet activity behind them as the crew began preparing for the day ahead, but on the plateau’s edge, it was just the two of them and the untamed land that lay beyond.

Wellborn puffed his cigar, his eyes flicking again to the horizon. “Did you do your rounds this morning, Michaels?”

Michaels shook his head, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. “Not yet, Captain. I was just about to head out.

Wellborn exhaled a plume of smoke, then dropped the cigar and crushed it beneath his right boot. “I’ll join you. I could use the walk.”

“Of course, Captain.” Michaels arched an eyebrow, slightly surprised, but nodded.

The two men turned from the plateau’s edge, making their way toward the heart of the outpost. As they moved, the camp’s early morning activity stirred around them. Officers were already at work, coordinating security sweeps, checking equipment, and preparing for the long day ahead. It was quiet, but Wellborn could feel the underlying tension, like a coiled spring waiting for a trigger.

They walked silently for a moment, the only sound of the crunch of gravel beneath their boots and the distant hum of the base waking up. Wellborn’s mind was still occupied with the previous day’s events at the Federation Embassy, replaying Ambassador Talos’s diplomatic juggling act, trying to reconcile an untenable situation with pretty words and empty promises as he handed off his empty coffee cups to a junior crewman from his ship’s company.

Wellborn turned his head toward Michaels, breaking the silence. “How’s morale down here? I know the men are getting restless.”

Michaels let out a soft sigh, glancing around the outpost. “Morale’s holding, but barely. The teams are frustrated. They know something’s coming, but we’re stuck playing defense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I figured. It’s hard to keep people on edge for too long without something snapping. But we’re doing the right thing, holding this outpost. If we lose it, the insurgents will sweep through the capital before Talos even knows what hit him.” Wellborn said.

Michaels smirked grimly. “I think we’d know before Talos. The man’s got his head buried too deep in negotiations.”

Wellborn’s face darkened at the mention of the ambassador. “He thinks diplomacy is the answer, but you and I both know better. The insurgents aren’t waiting for a peace deal. They’re waiting for a chance to take power.”

Michaels glanced at Wellborn, the unspoken understanding between them clear. “So, what’s the plan if things go sideways, Captain?”

Wellborn’s eyes narrowed as they reached the outpost’s perimeter, the walls reinforced with Federation technology. “We hold this line, no matter what. And if Talos doesn’t get his act together, we’ll pull the capital back from the brink. Diplomats don’t win wars—soldiers do.”

As Wellborn and Michaels made their rounds through the outpost, the morning sun steadily rose, casting long shadows over the camp. The tension between the Starfleet and Raeyan personnel was palpable, though the protests in the nearby cities had not yet escalated beyond sporadic outbursts. The outpost remained calm, though Wellborn knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

As they neared the southern sector of the compound, near the power relay station nestled between two squat utility buildings, the usual low hum of the power grid was drowned out by raised voices. Wellborn’s eyes narrowed as he exchanged a quick look with Michaels. “Sounds like there’s a problem,” he said, his tone edged with frustration.

Rounding the corner, they saw a group of engineers—Starfleet and Raeyan—gathered around a console near the relay station. In the middle of the group, Lieutenant Commander Harrell, the Starfleet engineering team leader from Hawkeye Island, and Tevik, the Raeyan lead engineer, were locked in a heated argument. Harrell’s face was red with frustration, while Tevik stood with arms crossed, his expression stony.

Wellborn wasted no time, stepping forward. “What’s going on here?”

Harrell turned to him, his voice tight and annoyant. “Captain, we’ve been trying to secure the power grid here at the outpost as a precaution. After what happened with the power station sabotage in the capital, we’re clearly vulnerable. But Tevik here is blocking every suggestion I make to upgrade the system.”

Tevik’s voice was calm but firm. “Captain, with all due respect, the sabotage happened in the capital—not here. Our grid has functioned perfectly for years. We’ve never had a failure, and we don’t need Starfleet stepping in to overhaul everything because of an incident miles away.”

Wellborn’s gaze shifted between the two men, sensing the clash of pride and practicality. He turned to Tevik, keeping his voice measured. “Tevik, I understand the sabotage wasn’t here, but it sent a message. Whoever did it wasn’t just targeting a random power station—they were sending a warning. If they can cripple the capital, they can target anywhere.”

Tevik’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you think we’re next? The protests are still small, Captain. They’re nowhere near this outpost, and the sabotage was an isolated incident.”

Wellborn didn’t back down. “They’re testing us. The outpost may not have been hit yet, but if they decide to strike, this place could become a prime target. The moment they see a weakness, they’ll exploit it. We must ensure our power grid can handle whatever comes our way.”

Harrell nodded, seizing the moment to back up his argument. “I’m not suggesting we tear down their system, Captain. Just reinforce it. We’ve already seen how one well-placed attack can throw everything into chaos. If they come here, and the grid fails, we’ll be sitting ducks.”

Tevik’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone steady. “This grid has handled storms, power surges, and repairs without issue. We’ve faced threats before and know how to handle our infrastructure. Your systems don’t mesh well with ours, and if you start installing Starfleet technology, it could disrupt what’s already working perfectly.”

Wellborn could sense the rising frustration from both men. He knew Tevik wasn’t just being difficult—there was a genuine concern about control. This was Raeyan territory, and the last thing Tevik wanted was Starfleet imposing its will. But Wellborn also knew that Harrell was right. The threat wasn’t just theoretical anymore.

“Look, I get it. You’ve run this outpost for a long time and kept it running well. But things are changing. The sabotage in the capital wasn’t just an act of vandalism but a statement. They’re willing to disrupt critical infrastructure and won’t stop there.” Wellborn softened his tone slightly, addressing Tevik directly.

Tevik exhaled sharply, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the nearby control panel, the schematics of the outpost’s power grid flickering on the display. “And what happens when your upgrades cause a conflict with our system? If something goes wrong, we’ll be the ones stuck fixing it.”

Wellborn turned to Harrell. “Can we secure the grid without compromising their systems?”

“Yes, Captain. We’re not here to overhaul the whole system—just to reinforce it with backup protocols to defend against sabotage. We’re not replacing anything, just giving it extra protection.” Harrell answered with newfound composure.

Tevik rubbed his chin thoughtfully, clearly torn. “And if there’s a failure? If your ‘reinforcements’ create a problem?”

Wellborn met his gaze. “We’ll take full responsibility. If something goes wrong, it’ll be on us to fix it. But if we don’t secure the grid, the next time they hit, we might not have the luxury of fixing anything.”

Tevik remained silent momentarily, his eyes flicking back to the control panel. “Alright. But we do this my way. My team oversees everything, and no major changes without my approval.” Tevik’s voice was still edged with reluctance.

Harrell nodded quickly. “Fair enough. We’ll work together on this.”

Wellborn gave both men a sharp nod. “Good. We don’t have time to waste. Get this done.”

Just as the engineers returned to their work, Wellborn’s communicator beeped. He tapped it, and Major Jolar’s clipped and urgent voice came through: “Captain Wellborn, this is Major Jolar. You and Commander Michaels are needed at the command center immediately.”

Wellborn glanced at Michaels. “We’re on our way, Major. Wellborn out.”

With that, he and Michaels made their way toward the command center. Michaels glanced at him as they walked. “Think they’ll manage to work together without throwing punches?”

Wellborn allowed himself a brief smirk. “They don’t have a choice. Next time something happens, it won’t be just an argument over systems.”

As they approached the command center, the tension thickened. The sabotage in the capital had rattled everyone, and while the protests were still relatively small, there was a sense that things could escalate quickly. Inside the command center, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken concern.

Major Jolar stood over a holo map, reviewing reports with Raeyan and Starfleet officers. His face was set in a deep frown. When Wellborn and Michaels approached, Jolar wasted no time.

Wellborn stepped up to the table. “What’s the situation, Major?”

Jolar looked up from the holomap, his face grim. “The protests are spreading faster than expected. Intelligence is picking up chatter from different factions coordinating their efforts. The sabotage in the capital was just the start.”

Wellborn leaned in, his eyes scanning the map. The insurgents were moving in patterns that suggested a larger, coordinated strike was coming. “How much time do we have?”

Jolar gestured toward the northern approach, a thin corridor through rough terrain leading straight to the outpost. “Could be days, but I wouldn’t count on it. They’ve been probing the area. I expect a concentrated push here first—the northern perimeter. It’s exposed, and they know it.”

Wellborn nodded, his expression hardening as he processed the situation. “If they breach that sector, they’ll have a direct line to our comms relay and power systems. We can’t let them get that far.” He turned to Michaels.

“Get the northern perimeter fortified. I want to reinforce security checkpoints every 500 meters along that approach. Deploy automated drones for constant surveillance—if they even blink out there, we’ll know.”

Michaels nodded sharply. “I’ll get it done. What about fallback positions if they push through?”

Wellborn’s gaze shifted to the inner defensive line on the holomap. “Set up fallback positions behind the first perimeter checkpoints, but we don’t retreat unless absolutely necessary. If they hit us, we dig in. Use our advantage in tech—we’re not giving them room to maneuver.”

Wellborn then looked to Jolar. “Your people need to focus on communications and the power grid. If they manage to hit either, it’ll cripple us. What’s our backup protocol if they knock out the main power lines?”

“We have secondary and tertiary power lines that can sustain operations if the main grid goes down, but they’ll target those next. My engineers are already reinforcing the relay points, but we’re vulnerable if they hit multiple locations simultaneously.” Jolar’s voice was steady, though tension hung in his words.

“Triple the teams on that. I don’t care if it stretches them thin. Every relay point is a priority. If we lose power or comms, we lose everything. Get your best people on redundancy protocols—ensure no single hit can knock us out.” Wellborn’s tone sharpened.

Jolar nodded and immediately began issuing orders to his teams.

“Michaels, I need a dedicated strike team on standby. We don’t give them time to regroup if they break through the first line. We hit them hard, push them back, and make them regret stepping in here,” Wellborn ordered.

Michaels, standing at attention, nodded. “Consider it done. Strike team will be ready to mobilize at a moment’s notice.”

Wellborn’s eyes flicked across the map again. “They’ll come at us in waves, testing our defenses. If they’re smart, they’ll try to overwhelm us with smaller skirmishes before committing to a full assault. I want rapid response teams rotating shifts. No one gets caught flat-footed.” Michaels jotted notes on his PADD. “We’ll stagger the shifts and keep everyone on high alert. Anything that moves, we’ll intercept.” Michaels nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s talk about our fallback lines. If we have to pull back from the outer perimeter, I want those fallback positions armed with heavy artillery—phaser turrets, mortar teams, whatever we’ve got. Make it hell for them to push deeper. They need to know every inch will cost them.” Wellborn said.

Hearing the command, Jolar chimed in, “We’ll set up field generators near the fallback lines. If they get close, we can create choke points with localized shield barriers. Force them to funnel through one or two areas where we can strike them.” 

Wellborn’s expression darkened. “Perfect. The moment they try to bottleneck us, we hammer them. We don’t wait to be defensive. The second we see a weakness, we counterattack.” He paused momentarily, eyes still locked on the map, and then glanced at the chronometer. The interrogation of the captured saboteur was fast approaching, but his mind stayed on the outpost’s defense.

“We can’t afford to get distracted. I am accompanying Captain MacLeod and Lieutenant Kibali to interrogate the capital power grid saboteur. If anything happens outside the wire, I want immediate notification. Our priority is holding this outpost.” Wellborn’s gaze tightened on Michaels’s eyes.

Michaels stepped forward. “You’ll be the first to know. I’ll keep the security team on a tight leash and deploy drones along the eastern and southern perimeters in case they try to pull a flanking maneuver while we’re focused on the north.”

Wellborn nodded. “That’s exactly the kind of thinking we need. They’ll probe our defenses to find a gap—hit us where they think we’re weak. We make sure there are no weak spots.” He took a breath. “Get every able hand working. No one’s off-duty until we’re secure. We have to anticipate every angle. By the time they come, I want them walking into a wall of fire. Dismissed!” Wellborn ordered. The tactical picture was clear—the insurgents had the numbers and were ready to push hard, but Wellborn knew his team had the advantage in preparation and technology. They couldn’t afford to give up an inch.

As Jolar and Michaels dispersed to carry out their orders, Captain Wellborn remained at the holo map, his gaze steady on the paths leading to the outpost. The defenses were solid—reinforced checkpoints along the northern perimeter, drones in the air, and patrols sweeping the area. Everything was in place, but the ticking clock in his mind reminded him that time was running short. The interrogation at the Raeyan Security Forces Headquarters would begin in just four and a half hours. That interrogation could be critical, but the insurgents wouldn’t wait for it to unfold—they might strike before.

Wellborn leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he double-checked the tactical layout. They were ready, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Michaels has command of the outpost while I return to the Chimera,” he reminded himself. “They’ll hold.”

The familiar weight of command settled onto his shoulders as he tapped his commbadge. “Wellborn to Chimera. Prepare for transport.”

“Standing by, Captain.” The transporter chief’s voice came through.

“I will contact you again in a moment. Wellborn out.” Before leaving the holo map behind, Wellborn tapped his commbadge again to reach Michaels. “Michaels, I’m heading back to the Chimera. You’re in command until I return. Keep the teams on high alert, especially on the northern approach. If there’s any sign of movement, contact me immediately.”

Michaels responded swiftly, his voice calm but firm. “Understood, Captain. The outpost is secure, and I’ll keep the teams sharp.”

Wellborn gave a final glance at the map. “Good. Wellborn out.”

Stepping away from the command center and out into the cold air of the outpost, he took a moment to let the cool breeze sharpen his focus. The insurgents were waiting for the right moment to strike. He was sure of it. The prisoner they would interrogate in just a few hours might offer insight into their next move, but Wellborn couldn’t rely on that alone. His job was to ensure that the Chimera and the outpost were in perfect sync and prepared for any contingency.

He tapped his commbadge again. “Wellborn to Chimera. Energize.”

As the transporter beam enveloped him, Wellborn’s resolve solidified—when the insurgents struck the outpost, they wouldn’t walk away unscathed, if they walked away at all.