A Darkness Rises

Posted on Tue Sep 17th, 2024 @ 3:11pm by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Lieutenant Jackson Smith

1,056 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Interlude 1 Gamma Quadrant
Location: Gorlab's Office
Timeline: Sometime after part 3

[ON]
Jackson winced, the sting of his hastily treated wounds a constant reminder of the Lorcan ambush. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the memory crystal containing the stolen intel, the anger fueling him like a furnace. His encounter with the Lorcan had revealed Gorlab's treachery, a betrayal that cut deeper than any blade.

He approached the back office door, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. The Ferengi guards posted outside gave him a cursory glance, their suspicion momentarily assuaged by the steaming mugs of ale he offered, a peace offering masking his deadly intent.

"Gentlemen," Jackson greeted them with a charming smile, "I bring a gift for your esteemed employer. Urgent intel from Starfleet, a matter of utmost importance." He winked conspiratorially, "Best discussed in private, wouldn't you agree?"

The guards exchanged a hesitant look, their greed ultimately outweighing their caution. "Very well," one grunted, gesturing towards the door. "But be quick. Gorlab doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Jackson stepped through the threshold, the door hissing shut behind him. The air inside was thick with the metallic scent of latinum, the glow of data screens reflecting off the piles of gold-pressed bars stacked neatly on Gorlab's desk.

"Well, well, well," Gorlab sneered, his beady eyes hiding the betrayal. "Do you have the intel, Jackson?"

Jackson's grip on his knives tightened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Next time you betray a trained killer," he growled, the words laced with icy venom, "you might want to warn your guards. That way, they don't just let him walk in."

The Ferengi's hand froze mid-reach, his gaze fixed on the glinting blades. Jackson's wounds, raw and exposed, served as a silent testament to the violence he had endured, a stark reminder of the price of betrayal.

Gorlab's eyes darted nervously towards the alarm panel beneath his desk, but a flicker of movement stopped him short. A knife whistled through the air, embedding itself mere millimeters from his trembling hand. A thin line of blood welled up from the shallow cut.

"I'm not going to kill you," Jackson's voice echoed, each word a shard of ice piercing the stifling air. His eyes, narrowed to slits, burned with a cold fury that belied the calmness of his words. A muscle in his jaw twitched, his teeth grinding together as he fought to contain the primal rage simmering beneath the surface.

"But anyone you call in here..." he continued, his voice dropping to a menacing growl, "...will die." His hands, scarred and calloused from years of combat, tightened around the hilts of his knives. His knuckles whitened, the veins in his forearms bulging as he suppressed the urge to unleash the violence that threatened to consume him.

"...and that would definitely be a waste of resources." A sardonic smile twisted his lips, revealing a flash of teeth. "We wouldn't want that, would we?"

The air crackled with unspoken threats, the tension in the room so thick it was almost palpable. Jackson's every movement was deliberate, controlled, a predator toying with its prey. His eyes, cold and calculating, never left Gorlab's face, as if daring the Ferengi to challenge his authority.

Jackson didn't wait for the greedy Ferengi to respond. "You see, the only thing keeping you alive right now is that you are Zulg's cousin, and Zulg hasn't given me permission to remove you."

The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the rhythmic clinking of the latinum bars as Gorlab's fingers danced nervously over the precious metal. Jackson moved closer, looming over the Ferengi and the scattered wealth on his desk.

"I thought you were smart enough to understand the benefits of our long-term relationship," Jackson continued, his voice low and menacing. "It seems that you may not care as much about profit as I thought..."

Gorlab sputtered, his words caught in his throat, but Jackson held up a knife, silencing him with a gesture as sharp as the blade itself.

"You continue to make poor business decisions like this, and even Zulg would understand the need for your, " Jackson paused increasing the tension, "removal."

With a finality that echoed through the tense room, Jackson slammed the memory crystal containing the stolen intel onto the desk. Its polished surface gleamed ominously in the dim light, reflecting the cold fury in Jackson's eyes.

Gorlab flinched violently, a strangled squeak escaping his throat. His beady eyes darted back and forth between the crystal and Jackson's menacing figure, beads of sweat erupting on his brow and splattered onto the precious latinum bars.

"Just nod if you understand me," Jackson commanded, his cold, piercing eyes boring into Gorlab's. "And I am sure we will have a great partnership going forward."

Gorlab nodded but couldn't help but squeak out a few words. "I'm useful! Don't kill me. I know more people in the Gamma Quadrant that Zulg does!"

The air crackled with unspoken threats as Jackson's glare intensified, his eyes burning into Gorlab's very soul. The Ferengi could feel the chill radiating off Jackson, the palpable darkness emanating from his very being. The dagger in Jackson's hand seemed to hum with an ominous energy, its edge glinting menacingly in the dim light.

Jackson's grip tightened on the dagger, his knuckles turning white. The urge to strike, to silence the treacherous Ferengi forever, surged through him. The darkness within him whispered promises of vengeance, of release from the anger that consumed him. But Jackson's resolve held firm. He took a deep breath, the steel in his eyes hardening as he forced the darkness back into its cage.

With a supreme effort of will, Jackson composed himself. A chilling smile spread across his face, a mask that hid the turmoil raging within. "You will be very useful," he hissed, his voice a chilling whisper. "I am sure we will have a great working relationship from now on."

He let the words hang in the air, the unspoken threat clear as day. Then, with a final, lingering glance at the terrified Ferengi, Jackson turned and strode towards the door. The swish of the door opening echoed through the room, a final punctuation to the unspoken agreement that had just been forged.

[OFF]


Lieutenant Jackson Smith
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

 

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