[FLASHBACK] Just a Little Intel Gathering

Posted on Fri Apr 25th, 2025 @ 5:47am by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Lieutenant Jackson Smith & Lieutenant Zub Enel & Lieutenant Soto Gantt

3,776 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Mission 1: A Long Hard Road Ahead
Location: DS 18: Underbelly
Timeline: Just after the Jem'Hadar attacks on the crew

[ON]
Jackson scanned the deserted corridor, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The dim lighting and eerie silence amplified his unease, the hair on the back of his neck prickling with a sense of foreboding. He adjusted the cargo pants, the weight of the concealed weapons a familiar comfort against the fear that threatened to consume him. The tight-fitting shirt clung to his torso, a reminder of the barely-healed wounds beneath.

He was a coiled spring, every muscle tense, every nerve on high alert. The fire of vengeance burned within him, fueled by the knowledge that his family, his crew, had been attacked, violated. But he couldn't allow his emotions to cloud his judgment. They had a mission to complete, intel to gather. He needed to maintain control, to channel his anger into a cold, focused determination.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the impatience growing with each passing second. He was eager to confront the Red Hand, to dismantle their operation, and bring them to justice. But first, he needed Zub and Gantt to arrive. He hoped they had received his briefing, understood the gravity of the situation, and were prepared for the dangers that lay ahead.

His faint, deliberate footsteps signaled Gantt’s arrival, peeling away from the dimly lit corridor. He grinned at Jackson and brushed his hands down a black fitted shirt tucked into matching pants. His utility belt and phaser matched, their usual metallic shine replaced by matte-black coatings. Gantt lowered a small, tightly packed duffel to the ground.

"Packed for versatility and controlled chaos," he said, patting the bag like he would a faithful pet. He gave Jackson a quick scan, taking note of the man's tightly coiled stance. Gantt instinctively turned his back to the wall and checked their perimeter. "You look like you're ready to burn down a moon. Makes sense, considering the mood we're both in. What's going on, Jackson?"

Zub Enel dropped to the deck from a ladder. The coordinates of this meeting were truly on the rear end of the base. The only place lower than the deck was the hard vacuum of space.

He checked his three-fingered hands. Little scratches from the ladder rungs made rough from long neglect. He checked his clothes. All was well. He decided that since this was some kind of undercover operation, he’d dress like an off-duty cargo loader: Baggy pants, low boots, and a white shirt with various colorful images of Starfleet tugs. The pockets hid nothing, but he had tucked a small phaser between his belt line and the small of his back.

Hearing low voices, one that seemed to have asked a question, Zub hurried toward two figures standing in shadows: a Bajoran and a Human. He assumed this was Gantt and Jackson, respectively. At 7 feet tall, they craned a little to look up at him. Still, somehow, the closeness they stood close together. The hint of prior association, he felt, they were looking down on him. He joked, “What? No dabo girls?”

Jackson's grin widened. "Sorry, man, gotta wait till after the mission for those." He eyed Zub speculatively. The Voth's presence was both reassuring and concerning. While Jackson appreciated his straightforward demeanor, he knew Zub's strict adherence to the law might clash with his own morally gray methods. Still, Zub's interrogation skills were invaluable, and Jackson needed him for this operation.

"Alright, gentlemen," Jackson said, his voice taking on a business-like tone. "Let's get down to business." He outlined the plan, his movements crisp and efficient. "I have intel that the Red Hand aided in the recent Jem'Hadar attacks and that they have information about what's coming next. I've got some friends causing a distraction as we speak, and we're going to use that to infiltrate their headquarters."

He pulled up a holographic display of the station, a 3D map of their target area. "We'll move along this route," he explained, tracing a red line through the corridors. "We'll blast our way through this wall, which should get us close to their mainframe. We'll capture anyone we can and..." he glanced at Zub, "...with your help, interrogate them to find out what the Jem'Hadar have planned."

"If that fails," he continued, "we'll try to extract the information from their mainframe. Once we have what we need, we get out as quickly as possible. There will be Lorcans, and possibly other races, but I don't expect we'll encounter any Jem'Hadar directly. Any questions?"

As he spoke, Jackson's demeanor shifted. The playful nonchalance faded, replaced by a focused determination. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders, the safety of his crew, his family, resting in his hands.

Gantt studied the infiltration route Jackson had laid out, absorbing the details. He was already working through contingencies. "Why not do the interrogation and data extraction at the same time? If their security is worth anything, they’ll lock down the system the second we trigger an alert," said Gantt. He reached into his duffel and pulled out a slim, modified spike with several buttons along the length.

"With this spike, I’ll need about seven minutes for a full data sweep. Less if you don’t mind me taking shortcuts. Worst case, I pull the data chips. But if I don't break anything, I can cover our digital trail." Gantt tucked the spike back into his bag. "Of course, if the Red Hand gets generous and tells us everything, that’d be great too."

Zub Enel’s golden-eyed gaze lingered on the hologram while he memorized the route. He sized up the Bajoran, not surprised that an engineer would have some sort of exotic data extraction tool. He scowled, puzzled at the shorter, but athletically built Human, “This plan can work, and I am willing to go along with it, but blowing a hole through a wall will alert the Ops Center, and they are liable to send a Security detachment to check it out. We may not have 7 minutes for data collection before having to explain ourselves. They will ask why we didn’t beam the perps and mainframe to the brig and sort it out from there.”

"I don't think we'll have that much time either," said Gantt, nodding at the voth. For a moment, his sight wavered as if a memory had crashed into the back of his eyes. The figure of a Cardassian warrioris juxtaposed over Zub, sneering at him. The shadow passed as quickly; he had no fear of it. Gantt quickly nodded. "Give me 60 seconds to brute force it. Harder to clean up but lots faster."

Jackson's smile widened, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I knew I could count on you, Gantt," he said, his voice laced with a playful warmth. He glanced at Zub, a reassuring glint in his eyes. "Don't worry," he said, "security will be occupied elsewhere. Remember, there's a distraction going on." A mischievous grin spread across his face.

"If there are no other questions," he announced, his voice taking on a commanding tone, "let's get moving." Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode purposefully down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silent passageway.

Jackson, Gantt, and Zub moved through a labyrinth of narrow, dimly lit corridors, the air thick with the musty scent of neglect. Jackson led the way, his senses heightened, his every movement betraying a focused intensity. He paused at an intersection, his hand raised to halt the others. He peered cautiously around the corner, then beckoned them closer. With a pointed finger and a finger to his lips, he indicated the source of his attention.

Zub towered over the two, so he was able to lean over them to look with one eye. A few meters down, a hatch was open. There was music playing and laughter, mostly male. Glasses clinked. There were beeps, whirs, and clinks signaling Pachinko, dabo, and other gambling machines. Zub guessed it was a secret casino. It made sense. Traitors to the Federation had to unwind, too.

Jackson tugged on Zub's shirt, pulling him back into the perpendicular corridor. "Any minute now, there's going to be a rumble," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the din. "I've got a Ferengi who owes me a favor. He's going to start a fight in there. We're going the opposite way. There's a corridor that leads to the back office. Gantt has some... specialized skills we can use there." His eyes gleamed with a predatory excitement. "We'll wait for the distraction, and then..." he mimed an explosion, his grin widening.

With a final glance towards the casino entrance, Jackson waved the others forward. He led them down the intersecting corridor, then turned sharply at another junction. They came to a halt before a nondescript section of duralloy wall. Jackson consulted his holographic display, his fingers tracing the outlines of the hidden space. "Okay," he murmured, "the back office is right here. And the mainframe should be inside." He turned to Gantt, his voice taking on an authoritative edge. "Set up."

Nodding to Jackson and Zub, Gantt laid a hand on the wall. The clamor from the casino faded to a murmur. Inside the duffel were six blocks of black, tricorder-sized metal with a sensor ridge along one side; each glowed faintly. Hadn't been long since the last time--the only time--he had used these on a similar mission with Jackson and Lun. To relieve the nerves buzzing inside him, Gantt whispered to no one in particular. "Inside each is a metreon-compound shaped charge with a quantum pulse kicker. Muffled breaching, minimal shockwave, even cuts thin layers of duranium. Six seconds." He entered the arming sequence on one; a moment later, the other five gave an answering pulse. His hand hovered there, waiting for Jackson to give him a signal.

Jackson watched as Gantt prepped the charges, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. His friend was a master of his craft. He could see the tension in Gantt's shoulders, the slight tremor in his hands, but the engineer's focus never wavered.

As Gantt turned towards him, Jackson held up a hand, signaling for patience. He tilted his head, listening intently for any change in the muffled sounds emanating from the casino. It wasn't long before the commotion began. Shouts and crashes, punctuated by the sharp crackle of phaser fire, filtered through the walls. Jackson's lips curled into a grim smile, but he reinforced his hold gesture.

He counted silently, visualizing the scene unfolding in the back room. He imagined the Red Hand scrambling to respond, their surprise and confusion buying them precious time. He added a few extra seconds to his count, just to be sure, then nodded to Gantt, lowering his hand with a decisive motion.

There it was.

Zub Enel set his scaly face with determination. He stepped quickly away from Gantt, not sure how powerful the planned explosion would be.

Gantt pressed in the detonation pattern. The devices brightened in sync, giving Gantt precious seconds to spring up the corridor before they activated. A quantum pulse rippled across the surface of the wall in shrinking concentric rings, causing the metal to wrinkle. A bass thump growled through the floor. The wall shuddered and blew inward with a shower of jagged, metal teeth, revealing the room beyond.

"Let's grab some data." Gannt grabbed the data spike and crouched. "Gone in 60 seconds."

Jackson reacted instantly, his hand shooting out to grab Gantt's shoulder. "Not before me, my friend," he said, a grin splitting his face. With a burst of adrenaline, he leaped through the gaping hole in the wall, his eyes scanning the room for threats.

A phaser blast whizzed past his ear, narrowly missing him. He twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the deadly beam. As he'd feared, a lone Lorcan guard remained, its hand already reaching for a communicator.

"We've got company!" Jackson yelled, diving behind a desk for cover. He drew his phaser and returned fire, the sharp reports echoing through the room.

Zub Enel spied the feline Lorcan raising a communicator while trying to lay down covering fire at Jackson and Gantt. The 7-foot-tall, long-armed lizard man launched himself through the hole in the wall. Time for him slowed to a crawl. The Lorcan’s yellow-green eyes caught the new movement in the room. Slitted pupils already wide began to expand more. The phaser’s aim crept toward Zub. Enel’s flying left cross thudded against the Lorcan’s furry jaw and chin. The Lorcan’s face distorted from the force of the blow. His eyes began a roll upward. His grip on his phaser and communicator loosened. He buckled at the knees.

Gantt darted through the chaos; Jackson and Zub would protect his back, or not. That wasn't his main worry, though his heart struggled to accept it. Smoke and dust curled through the air, the sharp scent of burnt circuitry filling his lungs. He slid behind a console.

The mainframe access was across the room and exposed. Phaser fire seared the air inches from his head. Gantt spotted a secondary input terminal half-hidden behind a stack of supply crates. Focus. Move. Duck. He crawled toward it, the data spike primed in his grip.

Zub had caught the falling Lorcan one-handed by his shirt collar to keep the cat from cracking his skull open on the corner of a desk. Dead was no good for interrogation. Zub noted that the fabric of the shirt was expensive. He also doubted that some fashionista cat working as a heavy would know anything as useful as the Jem’Hadar battle plan.

A blue-hot phaser beam sizzled by the Security officer’s cheek. Squatting, he lowered the unconscious guard to the floor and collected his fallen phaser and communicator.

From under a desk, Zub could see someone’s fancy boots in the doorway. Zub guessed this was who was doing all the shooting. Zub blasted the boots with the Lorcan phaser. There was a loud howl of pain, and the shooter toppled over. From under the desk, it looked like it had been a tall, willowy Ambzan. Zub was grateful the Lorcan phaser had been set on stun. He wasn’t sure, though, if the fallen Ambzan had been part of the distraction team or one of the casino crowd. He guessed it’d all get sorted out later.

Enel turned his crested head sideways and raised one eye above the desk to check on Jackson and Gantt.

Jackson watched from behind the desk as Zub incapacitated the Ambzan with a well-aimed phaser blast. He sprang into action, leaping over the desk and delivering a swift kick to the Ambzan's head, rendering them unconscious before they could recover.

His eyes scanned the room, quickly locating the side door he'd been looking for. He strode towards it with purpose, his phaser raised. As he'd anticipated, the occupant of the office, startled by the commotion, flung open the door to investigate. Jackson reacted instantly, firing a stun shot that sent the man crumpling to the floor.

He turned to Zub, his voice brisk and efficient. "That's the second-in-command," he said, gesturing towards the unconscious figure. "And the official liaison with the Jem'Hadar. If anyone has the information we need, it's him. Tie him up, we'll beam back to the ship for interrogation."

He then addressed Gantt, his tone laced with urgency. "Five minutes, Gantt," he said. "Then we're dragging this guy outside the anti-transport field and beaming out with whatever data you can get." His eyes hardened as he turned towards the corridor. "I'll be back," he said, a grim determination in his voice. "I have some business to attend to."

With that, he slipped out of the room, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

Gantt jammed the data spike into the terminal’s input slot and clicked the sleek device into place. A whisper of power tickled his hand as the spike connected. Quantum routines began slicing through layers of encryption. Lines of code blurred across the dim screen. Not fast enough, Gantt thought.

He keyed in his preloaded bypass scripts, forcing the system into a diagnostic mode to weaken security protocols. More tracks that would need digital erasing. A red warning flashed on the. Counter-intrusion detected.


Zub stayed low as he crab-walked to the fallen second-in-command. A male, large, bony brow, balding, down-slanted eyes. A Pakled. Zub wasn’t surprised such a being was the ‘number two’ of a criminal enterprise selling out the Federation. Pakleds were a deceptive bunch. Often seemingly slow-witted and lazy, they were also extremely intelligent. Their cultural grasp of fairness and abiding by the law was tenuous at best. This treachery with the Jem’Hadar was probably based on profit or the acquisition of new technology. But he’d know more after a proper interrogation. The Pakled began to stir and groan.

Enel pulled out a set of restraints and bound the waking male’s wrists. He rigged up several restraints so he could bind the Pakled’s ankles in a way the male could walk but not run.

The Pakled’s eyes focused on Zub’s. “You will regret this.”

Zub smiled as he bodily lifted the alien to his feet, “You first.”

"¡Ándale, mugroso!" Gantt slapped his palm on the data bank. Cutting through the computer's security was too slow. He triggered a loopback in the core cycles, tricking it into thinking this breach had already been authorized. Several circuits crackled, showering his arms with sparks, then went dark. This would definitely be noticed beyond the room. The data began to pour in.

Jackson had a separate task to attend to, a more... permanent solution to the Red Hand problem. He moved with a predatory grace through the maze of corridors.

He located the leader's office, the door reinforced and heavily guarded. A brief but brutal confrontation ensued. Jackson, fueled by a controlled fury, moved with a speed and precision that left the guards disoriented and defeated. He entered the office, finding the Red Hand leader, a hulking figure with a cruel glint in his eyes. A fierce battle erupted, a clash of wills and weapons.

Jackson, though swift and skilled, was not unscathed. A searing phaser blast grazed his side, leaving a painful burn. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain and focusing on his opponent. After a desperate struggle, he managed to disarm the Red Hand leader, his knife finding its mark. The leader fell, lifeless, to the floor.

With the leader neutralized, Jackson turned his attention to the device preventing their escape. It was a small, intricate device, pulsing with a faint energy signature. He recognized the design, a compact version of the anti-transport field generator Gantt had mentioned. Reaching into a hidden pocket, he pulled out a small, palm-sized device, a gift from Gantt.

"This should do the trick," he muttered, activating the device. It emitted a high-pitched whine, and a wave of energy washed over the anti-transport field generator. The generator sparked and sputtered, its energy field collapsing with a final surge.

He moved back towards the office door, his movements fluid and efficient. He paused in the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the room. Satisfied that the threat was contained, he stepped out into the corridor. Just before he stepped into the room with Gantt and Zub, he spotted Gorlab and his men fighting the rest of the Hand. He nodded curtly to the Ferengi, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "My part of the deal is done," he said. "The rest is for you."

Without waiting for a response, Jackson continued into the room to see his friends. "How are we doing in here? We are good to transport out whenever you are ready." His clothes were ripped and torn, covered in dirt and blood, a testament to the brutal fights he had just in.

The big Voth cast an appraising glance over the Human named Jackson. This person, disheveled as he was, was clearly a force to be reckoned with. Zub Enel wondered if Jackson was similar to the captive Pakled traitor, morally adrift. Enel decided Security would eventually arrive, and all of the fight details would be mapped, annotated, reported, and forgotten.

Enel pulled up on the wrist restraints of the bound Pakled male, so willing to sell them out to the Jem’Hadar. The restraints cut into flesh a little. Zub used his other hand to lift the Pakled bodily off the floor by his very expensive belt.

The Pakled groused, “Hey! Easy! Easy!”

Zub said to Jackson and Gantt, “Number 2 here is trussed up and ready for major interrogation.”

The last lines of code scrolled past like a waterfall. “Download complete,” he muttered, slotting the data chip into a hidden pocket. He triggered a layered purge. Logs rewritten, access rerouted, dummy subroutines. A fake Klingon comms trace laced through it for good measure. The system blinked once, then returned to idle. He stopped abruptly, seeing Zub holding the Pakled easily above the ground. He gave the captive a look.

“No offense, friend. You picked the wrong day to look menacing and suspicious.” Gantt steered a wide path around them to Jackson. "Our trail’s cold. I swear if they trace this back to us, the Pakled will eat my toolkit.”

Jackson flashed Gantt a grin, the adrenaline still coursing through him. "Good job, my friend," he said, clapping the engineer on the shoulder. He then nodded to Zub, his expression firm. "Let's grab the data and our new friend here and head out. Time to see what our enemies have planned for us."

He paused, the weight of responsibility settling heavily upon him. The memory of the intel leak that had paved the way for the Jem'Hadar attacks still gnawed at him. He was determined to atone for his perceived failure, to prevent any further losses.

"Time to leave, my friends," he announced, his voice resolute. With the anti-transport field deactivated, Jackson tapped his comm badge. In a shimmer of light, the three comrades and their bound prisoner vanished from the room, transported back to the Firebird.

[OFF]

Lieutenant JG Zub Enel
Security Investigations Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298


Lieutenant Jackson Smith
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298


Lieutenant Soto Gantt (NPC by Leed)
Assistant Chief Engineering Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

 

RSS Feed