The Mouse Trap!
Posted on Tue Apr 21st, 2026 @ 9:27pm by Commander Jennifer Baldric & Lieutenant JG T'Lar & Lieutenant Commander Bonnie "Bon-Bon" Durnell & Remal Kajun
2,837 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
Beholder
Location: J-Type Star System - Asteroid Cluster
“A trap only works if you fear it. We walk into it because something on the other side matters more than the fall.”
Mirror Universe Ship
Remal’s gaze lingered on the Nausicaan for a breath longer than necessary, then shifted, slow and deliberate, toward Bonnie. “Does the doctor have what we need from the body?” he asked, his tone even, the question carrying weight without effort.
Bonnie did not turn, her attention fixed on the scrolling data as her fingers moved with quiet precision. “Extraction is complete,” she replied, voice steady, controlled. A slight adjustment to her console, then, “Neural lattice patterns preserved. Residual genetic imprint intact.” A brief pause, measured. “The body is still... useful.”
Silence settled again, thinner now, more edged. Remal’s hand remained resting against the agonizer, his posture unchanged as his eyes moved across the room, taking each of them in with a growing, quiet impatience. “And still,” he said, softer now, the restraint in his voice tightening rather than easing, “they track us.”
His expression sharpened into something colder. “Perhaps,” he continued, each word articulated with deliberate care, “they are using some Jedi voodoo mind-power bullshit to track the body.” The phrasing sat strangely against his otherwise precise tone, which made it land harder, not lighter. His gaze fixed on T’Lar, then Bonnie, then the Ferengi in turn. “Has that crossed anyone’s mind?”
The room held its breath.
T'Lar considered this for a moment.
"What you are suggesting is consistent with my observations. When you eliminate the impossible, that which remains, however improbable must be true. Therefore it is highly likely that one or more individuals on board the Prime Sunfire is quantumly entangled with Batel in some way and by that means is able to discern her whereabouts regardless of time or distance via some 'Jedi voodoo mind-power bullshit'."
MU Baldric sauntered out of the turbolift and flopped onto one of the vacant chairs. "What if they reversed the tracking beacon the dumb ass Naussicans planted on their ship... and now they're tracking us?" She took a long sip of whiskey from a hip flask.
"Impossible," T'Lar said with a sneer. "That was a short range beacon, extremely limited in power and capabilities. Even if they could have somehow reverse engineered it to try to track us it never would have found us on the other side of the Sol system to begin with; anymore than we could have tracked them from Vadia had we not already been close. The only benefit the tracker gave us was locating their ship in Earth's orbit. "I am telling you, the answer lies with Batel's body...""
MU Dean popped his neck coming in on the last few parts of that conversation. Narrowing his eyes a little bit. Definitely wanting some pay back on these goodie-two shoe nay-sayers. He didn't even bother speaking to anyone as he went to a console and looked something up. What? Who knows. Turning back around now to look at those on the Bridge. "We underestimated them last time. Obviously we have a number of idiots who are doing it again."
"So what, you're suggesting we ditch the one thing that could help us take over this quadrant? Just so we lose them?" Baldric sneered, taking another swig from her flask and swinging her legs over the side of her chair. " What could a dead body have for them to keep tracking us with?"
The noise on the bridge swelled just enough to fracture focus, voices overlapping, movement loosening into something careless, until the shift came without warning.
Remal moved. His hand closed around the agonizer with quiet certainty, the device lifting with no wasted motion as his gaze settled on Baldric, not with anger, but with his decision already made. “Enough,” he said, his voice low, controlled, the word landing before the pain did. The discharge followed.
It struck clean and precise, a measured burst that folded her posture inward, the flask slipping from her hand as her body seized against the current, breath catching in a sharp, involuntary gasp. He held it there for a moment longer than necessary, long enough for the lesson to take root, then released.
Silence returned to the space.
Remal lowered the agonizer, his attention already moving on as if the interruption had been corrected rather than punished. “You will speak with purpose,” he said evenly, each word articulated with quiet finality, his gaze passing over Dean next, then the rest of the room. “Or you will not speak.” A brief pause settled, deliberate, allowing the shape of that to hold.
Bonnie exhaled softly, her posture unchanged as her eyes remained on the data, though something in her tone shifted, clearer now, aligned. “We remove the variable,” she said, fingers tracing a sequence as she brought the asteroid field into sharper focus. “We ditch the body in the belt.” A slight tilt of her head, consideration without hesitation. “It is the only way to know for certain.”
The Ferengi recoiled at that, hands lifting instinctively as his composure cracked into open alarm. “Ditch it?” he blurted, voice tightening as he leaned forward, eyes wide with sudden calculation unraveling. “That body is the investment. The leverage. You do not discard profit to test a theory.” He shook his head quickly, the movement sharp, insistent. “There are surely other ways. There must be other ways.”
Baldric scowled from the floor, picking up her flask. Glaring at Remal she skalked to the rear of the bridge and bit her tongue, her body language screaming barely contained aggression.
T'Lar watched with quiet satisfaction as Baldric skulked to the rear of the bridge. She only wished she had been the one to push the button on the agonizer. She addressed the Ferengi,
"The body is our insurance, yes. But if our people have done all they are said to have done, then we have what we sought from it already. That makes it at best a relic, and while relics can be profited from, the risk of our current situation outweighs such considerations. If we have the material we need to accomplish our task, it is only logical that we at least consider eliminating the body as the variable by which they track us. If they stop following us and move to intercept the body then we will know for certain. If they do not then we are no worse off than before. But if they do, then we have the opportunity to make clean our escape and be rid of them."
Remal’s jaw tightened as T’Lar continued, the cadence of her explanation stretching just long enough to grate against his patience, his fingers flexing once at his side before stilling again. His gaze remained on her, unblinking, as if weighing the excess of words rather than their content.
The interruption came sharp and welcome. “Contact,” the Nausicaan at the forward station barked, posture snapping into focus as his hands moved across the controls. “Sunfire has entered the belt. They are reducing emissions... preparing for silent running.”
A shift passed through the room. Remal’s expression changed, only a slight easing at the corner of his eyes, a subtle recognition settling in as he turned his attention toward the display. “They commit,” he said quietly, the words carrying something close to approval, his head inclining a fraction as he watched the data resolve. A breath followed, slower now, deliberate. “They believe this matters.”
The faintest trace of a smile touched his voice, not his face. “Good.” He let the moment stretch, just long enough, then looked back to T’Lar.
“Taskmaster,” he said, the title placed with quiet authority, his tone steady, controlled. A brief pause, then, precise and final, “Prepare the body for ejection.” His gaze held hers. “Make certain to include a little gift,” he added, softer now, the edge returning beneath the calm. “From me personally.”
"You're certain they're gonna take the bait?" Baldric snorted from the rear, out of Remal's arm reach. Her boldness grew. "Do you not understand who we are dealing with? Prime Sunfire is Captained by your wife, you know she's as stubborn and determined as all hell. You make her mad she'll hunt you down and cut your balls off, particularly if she knows it's you." She paused, an idea forming in the depths of her brain. " Unless we use the opportunity to do a little swap of our own. Beam her out and plant ours in..."
Remal did not turn at first, his attention lingering on the display as if Baldric’s words had yet to earn it, his posture unchanged while the silence stretched just long enough to make her boldness feel misplaced. Then he shifted. Slowly. His gaze found her across the room, steady, unblinking, the weight of it settling without any rise in volume.
“His wife,” he said, the correction clean, deliberate, each word placed with care. A brief pause followed, his jaw tightening just enough to be seen. “Not mine.” He took a single step forward, not closing the distance, only reminding her it existed.
“If you are so keen on testing this… swap,” he continued, tone even, controlled, the faintest edge threading beneath it, “then you may be first to go.” His head inclined slightly, as if offering something reasonable. “When they lose power, in the chaos, you will replace your counterpart.” Another pause. Measured. Final. “Consider it a trial by fire.”
Bonnie let out a quiet breath through her nose, eyes still on her console as her fingers resumed their precise movement, though the corner of her mouth lifted just enough to suggest amusement. “I am certain they will appreciate the effort,” she said lightly, voice smooth, almost sharp but pleasant. A slight tilt of her head, then, softer, edged. “I am less certain they will miss the alcohol.”
Baldric baulked, her mind racing. "Kaylen was to be replaced, not me. We dont even know what the other 'me' does in this universe" she stammered, trying to weedle her way out of it. This was not how she had planned it, get rid of the Kaylen from her own mirror universe, then craft her way into Remal's bedchamber as the replacement. Getting turfed onto the prime Sunfire hadn't figured into her scheming.
Mene mene tekel upharsin... you have been weighed in the balance and found lacking, bitch thought T'Lar using a phrase taught to her by her late lover Jacob Rosen. She looked over at the Ops station he had occupied before the accident and felt the familiar dull ache of his loss. His love had been the sole bright spot in her life, the sole spark of warmth in her soul. He was as good a man as a Terran could be, often to his detriment amongst other Terran males for his soft-heartedness towards her kind and other alien minorities. She missed him terribly. But there was no time for her to wallow in self pity for her loss...
"I shall get started preparing a surprise for our counterparts..." she said before saluting and making her way off the bridge. She did not want to booby trap the body because there was a chance there was another Jacob Rosen on that other ship. But she had no choice. Failure to follow a direct order from Remal could get you far worse than the agonizer. It could get you killed.
Remal’s gaze did not leave Baldric as she stumbled through her explanation, each word she offered only deepening the stillness that settled over him, his expression flattening into something harder, thinner, like patience worn past its edge.
“Did I stutter,” he asked, his voice dropping, not rising, the quiet carrying far more weight than volume ever could, his head tilting just enough to suggest the question had already been answered.
The effect was immediate. Chairs turned. Weapons came free. The Nausicaans moved as one, disciplined in a way that spoke to fear rather than loyalty, blades and disruptors angled toward Baldric as the air on the bridge tightened into something sharp enough to cut. Remal let it hold.
He stepped forward then, slow, deliberate, his presence filling the space they had carved open, his eyes never leaving her. “You mistake suggestion for discussion,” he continued, each word precise, controlled, the edge beneath them no longer hidden. “You were given purpose.” A brief measured pause followed. Final. “Fulfill it.”
His gaze shifted at last, sweeping the room, settling the crew with nothing more than attention alone before he spoke again, calmer now, as if the moment had already passed. “The Regent has already made her will known,” he said, the title carried with quiet authority, no room for interpretation. “We do not meet them head on. We do not waste ourselves proving strength.”
He let that settle. Then, softer, colder, “We take them from within.” His eyes returned to Baldric, not with anger now, but with expectation. “Or you will prove useful in some other way.”
"Bite me!" Baldric swore as she stalked off the bridge, her hopes dashed of sleeping her way to the top. Damned Kaylen must be something special to keep Remal's interest. Maybe she should take out the other Bajoran entirely...
She headed for her cramped quarters and replicated a Starfleet uniform and boots, taking a recent profile picture of the prime Baldric and styling to match. The uniform was snug, emphasising her curves. The woman apparently wore her hair up, minimal makeup and regulation boots. Entirely unappealing. She stalked back to the bridge to present herself for Remal's inspection.
Remal didn’t react when she returned, though the shift in the room made it clear he had taken notice long before his eyes settled on her. He let the silence stretch just enough to make the moment uncomfortable, his gaze moving over the uniform with a measured, clinical precision. There was no approval in it, only assessment.
“It will suffice,” he said at last, his voice low and even, stripped of anything resembling encouragement. A deliberate pause followed, “Your conduct, however, remains under review.” His eyes held hers for a fraction longer, the unspoken weight far sharper than any rebuke, before he turned away, dismissing her without granting the satisfaction of further engagement.
Bonnie stepped in without hesitation, closing the distance with a sharp efficiency that contrasted his restraint. She fixed the fabricated badge to Baldric’s chest with a firm, almost irritated motion, adjusting it twice as though correcting something distasteful. “Try not to look like you’re wearing a costume,” she muttered, her expression thin with disdain. “You’re supposed to blend, not advertise.”
Her fingers tapped lightly against the badge once it was in place. “I’ve embedded a bio-dampener into the circuitry. You’ve got ten minutes before their intruder alarms start asking questions.” She leaned in just enough for the words to carry weight. “Make the switch before that window closes. We’ll be in range to get a lock.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Understood?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice to remain civil and another round with the pain stick would ruin her appearance. She stalked off the bridge to the transporter room without turning back.
T'Lar worked quickly but carefully installing an ionic interference device on Batel's torpedo casing that should prevent the Sunfire from getting a transporter lock on the makeshift coffin, forcing them to bring it into the shuttlebay via tractor beam. As far as booby traps went, Remal's determination to place a spy on board meant he was not expecting her to destroy the ship outright. She jury rigged a phaser set on maximum that would be triggered upon anyone opening the case to examine the body, disintegrating Batel's mortal remains in the process. It was a cruel trick, but far less cruel the the tri cobalt explosive she had originally planned on using. Her work done, she tapped her combadge...
=/\=T'Lar to Remal. The body is prepped and ready to go. It will have to be placed via tractor beam as I have prepped it with an anti-transporter locking device to prevent them from disabling your little surprise for them.=/\=
Remal listened without interruption, =\/=“Noted,” he replied, his tone even, measured. “That will ensure they commit to retrieval.”=\/= A brief pause followed as he considered the timing, the alignment of every moving piece. “We are ready to proceed.”
He stepped forward and lowered himself into the center chair, posture composed, hands resting lightly against the armrests as his gaze fixed on the forward display. There was no urgency in him, only certainty, the kind that came from a plan already set in motion.
“Release the container,” he ordered calmly. “Maintain distance and hold position just beyond their reach.” His eyes remained steady, watching the field ahead as if the outcome had already been decided. “Let them take the bait.”
TBC
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