The Dosi Gambit
Posted on Sun Oct 20th, 2024 @ 4:04pm by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Lieutenant Jackson Smith
1,081 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Interlude 1 Gamma Quadrant
Location: Somewhere in the Gamma Quadrant
Timeline: A week or so into the interlude
[ON]
A week after the meeting about the starfighter specs, Jackson finally obtained the intel he was after. It had been a pricey acquisition, requiring him to bolster Gorlab's fledgling information network. Over the past week, he'd helped the Ferengi double his business, ensuring a steady flow of illicit information passed through his hands.
While Starfleet would undoubtedly frown upon some of the activities he'd facilitated, Jackson always kept the bigger picture in mind. Maintaining a finger on the pulse of the underworld was paramount, even if it meant turning a blind eye to certain criminal enterprises. As long as the Firebird, its crew, and the long-term plans for Deep Space 18 remained unharmed, he was content to play his part in Gorlab's operation.
It was all worth it, Jackson thought, his gaze fixed on the schematics of the prototype starfighter displayed on his PADD. The Dosi, the Ferengi of the Gamma Quadrant, had somehow acquired the advanced vessel, a blend of ancient alien technology and Jem'Hadar ingenuity. It must have been a costly investment, but the Dosi were known for their acquisitive nature, their greed often leading to vulnerabilities. Leaks, bribes, and easily swayed workers were an inevitable byproduct of their relentless pursuit of profit.
Jackson swiped to the next screen, revealing the location of the Dosi's hidden base: a remote moon where the prototype was being stored before its imminent transport back to their homeworld. Time was of the essence. He studied the detailed plans of the bunker, his mind already strategizing a daring heist. It would require skill, cunning, and a healthy dose of luck, but Jackson had never shied away from a challenge.
With a plan beginning to form, a spark of excitement ignited in his eyes. He set off, the thrill of the heist eclipsing the lingering shadows of his internal struggles.
So many things had gone wrong with his plan, yet here he was, piloting an alien starfighter with a rudimentary understanding of its controls, five Dosi fighters hot on his tail. They'd fanned out, attempting to ensnare him in a web of tractor beams. It had taken some frantic maneuvering, but Jackson was finally getting a feel for the ship's responsiveness.
He watched the blips on the scanner, the enemy fighters closing in. There! The lead fighter had drifted out of formation, its eagerness betraying its position. With a flick of his wrist, Jackson whipped the starfighter around, marveling at its agility. He punched the thrusters, the sudden acceleration pinning him to his seat. He recovered quickly, hurtling towards the exposed fighter. The others scrambled to engage their tractor beams, but they were too far out to be effective.
Jackson spun the ship, a daring maneuver that brought him directly beneath the enemy fighter. He unleashed a blast of energy – a laser, a torpedo, he didn't know – and breathed a sigh of relief as it found its mark, crippling the Dosi vessel.
He continued his dance of evasion and attack, weaving through the enemy formation, exploiting their hesitation to harm the valuable prototype. One by one, he disabled the fighters, leaving them adrift in space.
After what felt like an eternity, Jackson spotted his rendezvous point: a nondescript freighter lurking behind a small moon. The stolen starfighter lacked warp capabilities, and he needed to disappear quickly before reinforcements arrived. He expertly docked the fighter within the freighter's cargo bay and jumped out to greet his accomplice.
A sturdy Bolian, Tavin, approached with a brisk efficiency. He held up a hand, silencing Jackson's greeting, and quickly scanned the starfighter with a handheld device. With practiced movements, he extracted three small tracking devices. Without a word, he attached them to a waiting drone and sent it through a shimmering portal in the force field at the back of the cargo hold. The drone vanished into the depths of space.
"Now is not the time for chatter," Tavin said, his blue eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Now is the time to get out of here."
Jackson chuckled, a wave of relief washing over him. "Couldn't agree more, Tavin." He clambered up a ladder to the cockpit, slid into the pilot's seat, and initiated the freighter's departure.
Tavin settled into the co-pilot's seat as the ship began its escape. "Time for warp speed," he declared.
Moments later, the freighter was safely at warp, a comfortable pace that wouldn't attract undue attention. Tavin turned to Jackson, his brow furrowed with concern. "You're injured."
Jackson, the adrenaline fading, felt a sharp pain in his side. "Ah, yeah," he admitted, gingerly touching the phaser burn. "Definitely zigged when I should have zagged." He couldn't help but grin, imagining the EMH's exasperated reaction. "I'll be fine for now."
"Good," Tavin replied. "The drone should lead those tracking devices on a merry chase. We should be clear to head to the junkyard."
"Great," Jackson said, his eyes fixed on Tavin. "We still have a deal?" He'd been forced to rely on this relative stranger, a calculated risk based on his assessment of the Bolian's motivations. He'd wagered that Tavin's desire for profit and influence would outweigh any temptation to betray him.
"Definitely," Tavin assured him. "I was watching you maneuver that fighter. That ship is going to have some very interesting and expensive parts. I'm more than willing to dismantle it and sell it off. Are you sure you don't want a cut?"
Jackson smiled, pleased that his assessment of Tavin had been accurate. He was offering the Bolian a prize far more valuable than anything he'd asked for. "I'm good. Just what we agreed on. But nothing sells until my friend has a chance to look it over."
Tavin nodded. "Works for me. It's going to be hot for a while anyway. If this goes well, I will owe you."
Jackson smiled and leaned back in his chair, exhaustion finally catching up with him. The mission had been a success. He was eager to see what Gantt could learn from the Dosi starfighter. Duplicating it was out of the question, but its technology could provide valuable insights. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of rest. Years of undercover work had taught him to sleep with one eye open, to recover while remaining alert. He would rest properly once he was back on the Firebird, safe and sound.
[OFF]
Lieutenant Jackson Smith
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298
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