Ferellan Tornellis waited with well-veiled nerves for the fleet captain to consider the proposal he’d just made. It was admittedly a gamble: if they concentrated their forces on one known smuggler, they stood the chance of gaining an important asset in their crusade against the Orion Syndicate, but there was also a chance that weakening their strategic coverage, even temporarily, would cost them vital intelligence in the region.

“This seems… excessive…,” Lancaster noted, finally, after studying the holographic display over the table in the ready room. “Arcturus, two cruisers, and a destroyer?” he asked, flicking the diagram of the Theseus for emphasis so that it spun around. “Do you want to capture this twink or reduce him to his constituent atoms?” he asked, gesturing towards the holo of Nathan Blake.

“Preferably the former. As a human, I believe he will be the easiest of the known assets in this sector to turn to our cause,” Tornellis reiterated, struggling to contain a smirk at the senior officer’s choice of vocabulary. “All accounts of his personal history and psychological profile indicate that he is in this business for thrills and an extended teenage rebellion. If we barely catch him, it just won’t have the impact of a display of overwhelming force.”

Commander Kathryn Lynch, Lancaster’s new strategic operations officer, cleared her throat. The blond human woman had just left her thirties and was much, much funnier than any of the other strategic operations officers Tornellis had worked with in the past.

“I tend to agree with Kermit here, Commodore,” Lynch said, pointing her thumb at the Orion. Tornellis failed to understand the reference, as the commander seemed to have a different nickname for all of her colleagues on a constant basis. Lancaster seemed to tolerate her because she was a literal genius, though. “If we make this kid think he’s the most important fugitive in Federation space, he’s either gonna get the biggest head you can imagine, or he’s going to be scared out of his mind. Either way, we can leverage that for his cooperation.”

Lancaster spun the model of the Theseus again.

“We do have a unique opportunity now that he’s boarded another vessel without permission. That is technically piracy, even if he didn’t disable the freighter himself,” the fleet captain mused. “What did he steal, again?”

About a week prior, Starfleet Logistics had lost contact with a Kaplan-type freighter moving surplus goods from the new Mytikias colony back toward Federation space. When the Apollo found the ship, the ship’s logs revealed that the crew had been killed by Orions, but the majority of the cargo wasn’t retrieved until a few days later when the Oscar Wilde showed up. It was a rare, lucky lapse in typical Orion protocols to destroy the evidence. An obvious set-up.

“Forty-four crates of isolinear sub-processors,” Tornellis replied. “And three crates of archaeo-technology destined for the University of Orion, listed as grade-one low risk.”

“Right, from the site of the Orion-Tholian battle,” Lancaster noted. “If he’s as unimportant as you’re saying, and if it’s clearly a trap, are you sure it’s worth flipping him?”

“Sir, we won’t be able to find their base with signals intelligence alone. We need a clue to their motivations. They’re a long way from home,” Tornellis said. “They clearly want us to capture him, and doing so might lead us to understand what he’s a distraction from.”

“We know he’s on course for the Omicron Olympiae system now. He’s either heading for a drop point or a rendezvous. Best case scenario: we snap up whomever he’s meeting, too,” Lynch suggested.

“Who knows, this might also just be good luck,” Lancaster mused. “Fine. We’ll go in hot. Get Achilles, Apollo, and Theseus in position. Fill in the gaps in their patrol routes where you can with runabouts,” he ordered.

A few hours later, Tornellis was watching the squadron’s position from the secondary tactical console on the main bridge. Achilles was cruising at low warp outside the system, ready to pounce, while Apollo, Theseus, and Arcturus were each occluded from the scans of the Oscar Wilde by the system’s sun, a moon, and a gas giant, respectively. Meanwhile, the unsuspecting smuggler was still right on course.

“The target is in position,” Lynch announced.

“Send in Achilles,” Lancaster ordered.

The blue dot representing Achilles jumped from warp four to past warp nine, appearing on top of the Oscar Wilde almost instantly. As was expected, the hail demanding surrender went unanswered, and Achilles opened fire, saturating the smaller vessel’s shields with the radiation that would let the other ships track it for at least the next twenty minutes. Going to ground, Blake took the Oscar Wilde into the asteroid field.

“Call in the Apollo for suppressive fire,” Lancaster ordered.

With a burst from her warp drive, Apollo lept from the system’s sun to the asteroid field and began pummeling the asteroids with a barrage of torpedoes. They kept clear of the freighter intentionally but created a zone of difficult debris and sensor interference that the squadron would use to herd the freighter into the right position.

“Blake is going around the planetoid,” Tornellis noted. “He’s going to be out of room in seconds.”

“Have Theseus prepare to engage and calculate a precise intercept,” Lancaster ordered. “Mr. Marshall, please don’t scratch the paint.”

“Theseus has intercepted. Target is on course out of the asteroid field,” Lynch said.

“Go, Marshall,” Lancaster ordered.

There was a jarring acceleration as Arcturus went from full stop to maximum warp, leaving the shadow of the gas giant it was hiding behind to a position directly in front of the fleeing Oscar Wilde. As Lancaster ordered the smaller vessel to stand down, Tornellis activated the ship’s two forward tractor beams, holding the freighter in place.

Alarms began to sound when the Oscar Wilde didn’t power its engines down. Tornellis hadn’t expected her young captain to demonstrate such resolve in the face of force.

“They’re beginning to break up, sir. We should cut the tractor beam,” Tornellis exclaimed.

“It’s too late,” Lynch noted.

Lancaster once again ordered Blake to lower his shields and this time he complied. “Beam him aboard and grab any of his cargo that you can,” the fleet captain ordered.

“I’ve got him and his cargo,” Bowens reported from the operations station. “Recommend we back off.”

“Helm, full astern,” Lancaster agreed. The ship rocked gently as the Oscar Wilde met her maker. “Mr. Tornellis, this is your operation: join the security team in the transporter room and see to our new guest.”

“Gladly, captain,” Tornellis said, grinning at his own success before leaving the bridge.

Tornellis had been serving aboard Arcturus for three years, and he’d always felt well-respected by his colleagues, but this was the first mission they’d run that involved Orions on the opposing side. The last time they’d dealt with his people, they’d been refugees. Now, he felt imagined glances up and down the hallways from those who might question his loyalty. But, at least for now, Lancaster had trusted him and his plan. It was gratifying. Now, he just had to make that trust worth it.

When Tornellis entered the transporter room, two security guards—Chief Zhou and Crewman Seagraves—in their black armor were already waiting, phasers drawn. The suspect was being held in the pattern buffer until the senior officer arrived.

“He has a hand phaser, which is now deactivated,” the transporter chief reported.

“Energize,” Tornellis ordered.

Moments later, the form of Nathan Blake materialized on the transporter pad. Tall, athletic, and handsome, he was wearing a black civilian business suit that was entirely incongruous with the obsolete freighter he’d just been pulled from. Tornellis was intrigued—it was known that Blake’s motivations to enter the criminal underworld were largely due to boredom with his immensely privileged life in the Federation, but was it really that even post-scarcity wasn’t enough luxury for him? He would be an intriguing one to mold, Tornellis decided, as the young man’s bright green eyes locked onto him defiantly.