The Fairest One of them All
Posted on Mon Jun 1st, 2026 @ 10:06pm by Captain Rhenora Kaylen & Lieutenant JG T'Lar & Remal Kajun
2,731 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
Pirates!
Location: ISS Sunfire
“In our universe, the fairest face is rarely the kindest. It is the one standing atop the most bodies.”
I.S.S. Sunfire – Bridge
The storms fell away suddenly as if the ship had crossed through an invisible veil in space. One moment the viewscreen was filled with raging plasma currents, burning clouds, and jagged asteroids tumbling through electric fire. The next, the I.S.S. Sunfire slipped into a pocket of impossible calm hidden deep within the Badlands, as though the storm itself had opened a single eye and invited them into its pupil.
Coordinate Nine.
Ahead, suspended in the darkness, a massive concentration of dark matter rotated upon itself with slow, mesmerizing certainty. Black and violet spirals twisted around its core, drinking in the crimson and gold glow bleeding from the surrounding Badlands and transforming it into something colder. Something older. The colors seemed wrong together, beautiful in the same way a venomous creature could be beautiful.
At the center of it all hung the vortex. Large enough for a ship. Large enough for a fleet.
The aperture rotated lazily, its edges folding reality inward and outward in slow ripples that refused to obey any law of physics the bridge crew understood. Several officers found themselves staring despite years of discipline. Even Remal lingered on the sight for a moment longer than he normally would have. Ahead of them hung the road home, concealed within impossible physics and wrapped in darkness.
"Hold position."
The order moved through the bridge immediately. Thrusters whispered beneath the deck as the Sunfire settled into a controlled drift near the edge of the anomaly. Around the bridge, sensor stations struggled to make sense of what they were seeing. Range estimates fluctuated wildly, gravitational readings contradicted one another, and distance itself seemed to change every time it was measured. The portal ignored their confusion entirely.
"Open a secure channel."
The communications officer complied at once.
"Channel open, sir."
Remal clasped his hands behind his back and directed his attention toward the swirling darkness.
"This is Captain Remal Kajun aboard the I.S.S. Sunfire. We have arrived at the rendezvous point with the prize intact. Two Starfleet vessels are following our trail through the Badlands. Requesting transit authorization and further instructions."
The transmission vanished into the vortex and was swallowed whole. A quiet anticipation settled across the bridge as they waited. It was the kind of silence that existed before consequences arrived.
Bonnie understood that immediately.
She had arrived several minutes earlier and had spent most of that time studying the anomaly rather than the crew around her. Remal's summons had told her everything she needed to know. He had not called her to witness events. He had called her because eventually something unpleasant would need doing, and history suggested she was often the preferred solution to unpleasant problems. The thought amused her.
She stood near the rear of the command deck with her hands folded comfortably behind her back, her eyes moving between the portal and the bridge crew with patient attentiveness. The faint smile lingering on her face suggested she was enjoying herself considerably more than anyone else present.
A proximity alert chirped softly from tactical. The pursuing Starfleet vessels remained on course. Still following. Still alive. Bonnie's smile widened slightly as she imagined their crews wrestling with the Badlands behind them. Persistence was an admirable quality in prey, right up until it became fatal.
At the helm, the navigator remained focused upon his station, one of only two individuals aboard the vessel who possessed the complete route Kaylen had transmitted. Every hidden correction, every turn through the storms, every carefully concealed step leading toward the portal existed now in only two minds.
When Remal's gaze settled upon him, the officer understood immediately. Years of Imperial service had taught him how to recognize necessity when it arrived.
Slowly and without hesitation, he removed his hands from the controls and rose from his station. The bridge grew noticeably quieter as nearby officers watched from the corners of their eyes. There was no surprise on the navigator's face and no trace of fear. Only understanding.
He turned toward Remal and came to attention. "For the Empire," he said simply.
Remal regarded him for a moment before answering. "For the Empire."
The navigator inclined his head once. Acceptance came easily. Duty had brought him to this moment, and completion was merely the final service the Empire required of him.
Bonnie was already moving before Remal spoke her name. Of course it would be her. Who else would it be?
Her boots carried her across the deck with calm confidence, neither theatrical nor cruel. She looked almost gentle as she approached the waiting officer. The navigator met her eyes and neither looked away. There was no struggle between them, no attempt to delay the inevitable. Only mutual recognition of what the moment demanded.
Bonnie reached up and rested one hand against the side of his neck while the other settled behind his head.
A brief expression of gratitude crossed the navigator's features. The Empire had trusted him with a secret. Now it trusted him to keep it forever.
The motion itself was swift and precise. A sharp twist. A muted crack. His body folded instantly, but Bonnie caught him before he could strike the deck and lowered him carefully to the floor. The consideration with which she handled the corpse contrasted strangely with the efficiency of the act itself.
When she rose again, there was no pride in her expression and no apology in her voice, only simple fact. "Done."
Remal answered with a single nod, the gesture serving as acknowledgement rather than praise. Around them, the bridge resumed its quiet rhythm while the vortex continued its endless rotation beyond the viewscreen and the fires of the Badlands burned in the distance like scattered embers around a wound in reality.
Somewhere beyond those storms, two Starfleet vessels, the USS Woolloomoloo, and the USS Bristol. And somewhere ahead, hidden beyond the portal, Marshal Kaylen waited.
I.S.S. Sunfire – Brig
Jennifer felt the vibration change in the deck plating, opening her eyes for a few moments and orienting herself. Something had changed; she had felt the energy output of the engines constantly swaying between the two over the last few hours as the ship twisted and turned through space. It was a complex course from what she could feel, and now, all stop - or at least no forward thrust. Were they drifting, or waiting?
Jennifer swung her legs over the side of the bunk, wishing for her boots if nothing other than to keep her feet warm. It was truly freezing; whilst her uniform had wicked the sweat from the agony booth from her body, it still remained damp and clung to her skin, not aiding the retention of body heat. Still - she had to be ready - if the situation changed - she would take any and all opportunities available.
T'Lar casually walked over to the weapons locker and withdrew a phaser then picked up Baldric's boots. Walking over to the cell, she leveled the phaser at Baldric and deactivated the forcefield, tossing the boots to her.
"You may have those back, provided you attempt no more subterfuge," she said; then promptly and without warning shot both guards dead.
"What the..." Baldric started, catching one of the boots and missing the other entirely. She wasn't game to reach for it, not believing what she was seeing.
"Put those on quickly and follow me. We are getting out of here, and you are going to help me get asylum in the Federation." T'Lar whispered urgently
"Right...ah..sure" Jennifer retrieved her second boot and yanked them on her freezing feet. She was still unarmed, but at least she wasn't in a cell anymore.
As they made their way past the bodies of the fallen guards, T'Lar leveled her phaser at Baldric.
"No phasers for you. I don't trust you enough for that. If you attempt to betray me in any way, I'll kill you myself and leave you behind." T'Lar warned
Jennifer merely nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was acutely aware of the weapon trained on her, giving no option but to do as the Vulcan wished. She was trading one captor for another.
Together they made their way to the turbolift quickly, taking it to the shuttle bay operations deck. T'Lar motioned for Baldric to stay behind her as she opened the door and immediately shot dead the technician sitting at the flight control console. Working quickly, she opened the hangar bay doors and exited back towards the turbolift.
"We're stealing a shuttle?" Jennifer whispered, not liking that fact she seemed to be the only one without a weapon.
Taking the turbolift to the flight deck, they entered the hangar bay and crossed quickly to the Danube-class runabout ISS Cabrillo, T'Lar waving Baldric on board with the muzzle of the phaser. Securing the hatch behind them, T'Lar took the main pilot seat and started up the runabout and, without a word, launched into the badlands maelstrom at maximum impulse, immediately engaging the onboard cloaking device.
Baldric slipped into the co-pilot seat, still unsure but remembering the saying about gift horses and mouths. She was out of the cell, of that floating agoniser tin can, and now out into the nebula otherwise known as the badlands.
"Reading one Federation ship nearby, your ship is targeting us, what do you want me to do?" It was a simple enough question, but the ramifications were huge.
"The cloaking device is engaging. That will take care of their sensors. Hang on, I'm engaging in evasive maneuvers," T'Lar said tensely, rocking the ship from side to side, breaking to port and starboard in unpredictable patterns as well as diving and climbing at random.
"You hail the Federation ship and let them know we have a Starfleet officer aboard and one Imperial Starfleet Officer seeking asylum. Tell them that we are cloaked, but we will uncloak when we are ready to come aboard. Also tell them that the ISS Sunfire is out here and is aware of their presence, and they need to be ready to fight and disengage as soon as we are aboard or they will be destroyed."
Jennifer nodded and worked the panel before her, opening the comm channel to the Federation ship. A quick check identified it as the USS Bristol
"USS Bristol, this is Commander Jennifer Baldric of the Sunfire. I have a commandeered shuttle from the Mirror Sunfire and one of their crew requesting asylum. Requesting urgent permission to approach before we get blown out of the sky."
The view screen came to life as their hail was answered.
"This is Captain Mark Bozeman of the USS Bristol. We are unable to see your vessel, and according to our database, Commander Jennifer Baldric is currently on shore leave with the rest of the Sunfire crew, so you'll excuse me if I'm skeptical of your claim to say the least."
T'Lar addressed the screen.
"Captain, I am Imperial Starfleet Lieutenant T'Lar of the ISS Sunfire. Sir, we not only placed our Jennifer Baldric on your ship, but we abducted yours for the purposes of interrogation to determine how the Sunfire was able to track my ship while we were cloaked. A quantum molecular scan will verify that she is who she says she is. But time is of the essence. The ISS Sunfire is aware of our escape and, more importantly, has been monitoring your presence for some time now. Please allow us aboard and turn around. You are heading into a trap."
I.S.S. Sunfire – Bridge
The bridge remained quiet after the transmission from the runabout ended. Across the forward viewscreen, the vortex continued its slow rotation, dark matter and violet energy spiraling around one another like a wound turning upon itself. Beyond it waited home.
Bonnie stood near tactical, her attention fixed upon the sensor display. The moment the shuttle had launched, she had understood why Remal summoned her to the bridge. The realization brought a small measure of satisfaction. She had expected betrayal. Apparently so had he.
A communications officer turned slightly from his station. "Sir, shall we dispatch a vessel to intercept the Taskmaster?"
Remal regarded him for a moment. The question appeared to require consideration. "What purpose would that serve?" he asked.
The officer hesitated.
The answer arrived before he could find one. "T'Lar made a choice." Nothing more. Nothing less.
The officer turned back to his console. Across the bridge, Bonnie's smile widened by a fraction. She appreciated efficiency.
Remal's attention returned to the tactical display. The runabout continued racing toward the Federation vessels, weaving through the storms while the larger ships struggled to maintain pursuit vectors through the chaos of the Badlands.
"Open a channel to the Bristol."
The communications officer blinked once before complying. "Channel open, sir."
Remal folded his hands behind his back. "Captain. Our Taskmaster, one Lieutenant T'Lar, has served as senior intelligence personnel aboard this vessel. She possesses extensive knowledge regarding Imperial operations, command personnel, and strategic objectives. Given the timing of her departure, I trust Starfleet will conduct the appropriate evaluations regarding her motivations and..." Remal allowed the silence to linger. "...continued loyalties."
Silence followed. The statement carried neither accusation nor warning. It carried information. Nothing more.
Remal inclined his head once. "I would consider it irresponsible not," he paused only briefly, "to inform you." The channel closed.
Bonnie stared at him for several seconds. Then she laughed. A quiet sound filled with sadistic amusement. "That," she observed, "was vicious."
Remal never looked away from the vortex. "That," he replied evenly, "was courteous."
That only made her laugh harder. Several bridge officers suddenly found their consoles fascinating. Elsewhere upon the bridge, another realization had begun to settle.
Aboard the Bristol, Lieutenant T'Lar would arrive believing she had escaped. She would arrive carrying proof of her defection. She would arrive expecting sanctuary.
Instead she would discover questions. Interviews. Investigations. Background reviews.
Every statement would be measured. Every action scrutinized. Every motive examined. Trust, once fractured, rebuilt itself slowly. Sometimes it never rebuilt at all.
Bonnie found herself genuinely impressed. T'Lar had sacrificed her career, her position, and her universe. Remal had transformed the act into a permanent question mark. A faint alert chimed from tactical.
The portal was changing.
The dark matter vortex expanded slowly across the viewscreen. Purple lightning crawled along its edges while the center deepened into a darkness that seemed to consume the surrounding light itself. Sensor readings spiked sharply across multiple stations.
Something was coming through. The bridge fell silent. Even Bonnie's amusement faded. Then Remal spoke again, almost conversationally. "Curious."
Nobody answered. His gaze drifted toward the aft stations where the Ferengi broker stood watching events unfold. "A runabout equipped with a cloaking device?"
The Ferengi froze. "A rather unusual modification." Remal's eyes returned to the viewscreen. "One wonders where Lieutenant T'Lar acquired such a vessel."
The Ferengi swallowed hard. Nobody spoke. Nobody needed to. The implication settled over the bridge like a blade laid gently against a throat. Partnerships aboard Imperial vessels existed only so long as they remained useful. Questions regarding loyalty had a habit of becoming fatal.
He suddenly realized he was no longer a business associate. He was a loose end.
Before anyone could respond, the vortex surged. The bridge lighting dimmed. Purple energy erupted outward from the portal in violent arcs. Something enormous emerged from the darkness beyond.
First came the bow. Then the armored spine. Then row upon row of weapon emplacements running the length of a hull designed for conquest rather than exploration. The vessel slid forward with deliberate majesty, dark metal reflecting flashes of plasma fire from the surrounding storms. It resembled a Reman predator vessel only in the way a mountain resembles a knife.
This ship carried broader shoulders, heavier armor, larger weapon batteries, and enough firepower to challenge entire squadrons alone. The dreadnought emerged completely from the portal and settled before it like a predator taking position beside its den.
Silence gripped the bridge. At last, Remal allowed himself the smallest hint of satisfaction.
Marshal Kaylen had arrived.
TBC
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