05-02-2026, 03:35 AM
==Commander Michael Denton Chief of Security( Retired), Temp NRC ==
Mike didn’t need a reply from the Aquila to know how this would end. He knew the Aquila was only following policy.
The Federation was staying out of it, In the current galactic political climate, that was practically policy. Starfleet played it safe, and right now “safe” meant distance. Whatever had happened in the Lozara system—whatever lines had been crossed—wasn’t enough to justify intervention.
Which meant he was on his own.
At least Jez was safe.
That thought held for a moment before the rest came crashing back.
Telling her would be the hardest part. Not over subspace. Not through a report. Not from someone else. Face to face—anything less would be wrong.
Mike exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. His mind drifted—again—to the campsite. The silence. The aftermath.
He shouldn’t have left.
If he had stayed…
He shut the thought down hard. Regret didn’t win battles.
Still, it lingered.
He had been Starfleet Security—trained, experienced. A warrior in his own right. Or at least that was how he still saw himself. Not some aging, softening relic, no matter what the mirror—or certain impertinent lieutenants—might suggest.
The Malas hadn’t stood a chance. Scientists. Linguists. Good people.
Not fighters.
Mike straightened, squaring his shoulders like a man stepping into armor that wasn’t there anymore.
Find Jez.
Tell her.
He turned—
—and stopped.
==Lieutenant Jez Mala, Betazoid/ Vulcan, Security Officer, Acting Security Chief.==
Jez hadn’t planned on coming back, but the recent messages to her parents had been sent. Despite her previous messages having gone unanswered—unusual enough to trouble her—but she told herself it was nothing. Delays happened.
Still, the unease followed her.
The moment she stepped into the gathering, it sharpened.
A presence, familiar and warm.
Her eyes moved across the room—and then settled, Broad shoulders. Solid stance and yes, that very familiar, very unmistakable backside.
Her face lit up.
“Teddy Bear!”
She practically launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle.
Mike stiffened on instinct, then let out a slow breath. “I’ve asked you—repeatedly—not to call me that.”
Jez pulled back just enough to grin up at him. “And yet, here we are.” Her eyes sparkled as she gave him a quick once-over. “Still built like a warrior, I see.”
“Viking,” he corrected automatically, lifting his chin a fraction.
“Ah yes,” she said with mock reverence. “The feared raider of buffet tables.”
For just a flicker of a second, something in Mike bristled. He gave her a look—sharp enough to be convincing, familiar enough to be safe. It was the old look, the one that had straightened junior officers and silenced arguments on a security deck. He slipped into it without thinking, letting the tone come with it, because it was easier than admitting the jab had landed a little too close to truth.
“Careful, Lieutenant.”
The title wasn’t a reprimand. It was a habit like an. armor. A reflex from a life where rank created distance, and distance made things manageable.
Jez held his gaze for half a heartbeat—then laughed, the tension dissolving as quickly as it had formed.
“Yes, sir,” she said lightly, though the warmth in her voice never left.
For a brief, fragile moment, everything felt normal.
Then she saw his face.
The smile faded.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice softening. “Where are Mother and Father?”
Mike’s expression shifted—just slightly, but enough.
Jez felt it immediately.
Something was wrong.
“Come on,” Mike said quietly, taking her hand.
He led her away from the crowd, toward a secluded table. The laughter and music dulled into the background, distant and unreal.
“Jez, sit.” asked Mike, his tone was firm. Controlled.
She obeyed.
Up close, the signs were unmistakable. The pallor in his face. The tension in his jaw. The faint sheen in his eyes.
A cold weight settled in her chest.
“Mike…?”
He hesitated.
For a man who always seemed to have answers, the silence stretched too long.
“Jez… your parents… my wife… our friends…”
He swallowed.
“They’re dead.” He announced, the words landed softly—and shattered everything.
“Murdered.” He added.
Jez blinked, once… twice. Her mind refused to accept it. Her paracortex surged, emotion spilling outward in a raw, invisible wave—shock, grief, confusion, anger—like a psychic storm breaking loose.
“What…?” Her voice trembled. “How? Who? When?”
Mike drew in a slow breath, forcing himself into control.
“It was about a month ago. I was off-site, conducting a security sweep of an ancient temple in the Lozara system—near the Klingon-Gorn border.”
His voice flattened, almost clinical. “When I returned… there were signs of a fight. Disruptor fire. Gorn crystal spikes.” A pause. “Tracks. And Nausicaan tegolar swords.”
Jez stared at him.
A month, a month of silence. Her mother always answered., Always.
The truth pressed in, sharp and suffocating—but she forced it down.
Not here, not now.
She was Acting Security Chief, she would not break in front of her crew.
Her thoughts reached for something solid—context, logic, anything to contain the chaos.
The region was unstable. Klingon raids along the border. Gorn retaliation. Rumors of proxy conflicts, deniable operations. Everyone blaming everyone else. No one stepped in.
Mike watched her carefully, recognizing the way she locked it all away behind discipline.
“I tried to get Federation support,” he said quietly. “Given the political tensions… they won’t act.”
Jez nodded slowly, as if absorbing a physical blow.
Of course they wouldn’t and Jez knew that..
“You’ll find them,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
Mike met her gaze. Something hard settled behind his eyes. “Of course I will.”, It was a promise. Maybe an impossible one—but he meant it.
Jez studied him for a moment, then gave a small, steady nod.
“Good.”
Mike managed a faint smile and pulled her into an embrace.
“You won’t hear from me for a while,” he said. “Will you be alright?”
Jez closed her eyes briefly.
No, she thought, but when she stepped back, her expression was composed—professional.
“I’ll manage.” That was the job.
He lingered for a moment, then turned and walked away. Jez watched him go.
“I love you Teddy Bear.” Called Jez.
Around her, the celebration carried on—laughter, music, life continuing as if nothing had changed. For them, nothing had. For her, everything had.
Grief churned beneath the surface. Anger burned hot and sharp. Questions pressed in, relentless. She locked it all down.
Acting Security Chief., Chiefs didn’t fall apart. They stood the line.
Even when it felt like they were breaking.
== Tag All. ==
Mike didn’t need a reply from the Aquila to know how this would end. He knew the Aquila was only following policy.
The Federation was staying out of it, In the current galactic political climate, that was practically policy. Starfleet played it safe, and right now “safe” meant distance. Whatever had happened in the Lozara system—whatever lines had been crossed—wasn’t enough to justify intervention.
Which meant he was on his own.
At least Jez was safe.
That thought held for a moment before the rest came crashing back.
Telling her would be the hardest part. Not over subspace. Not through a report. Not from someone else. Face to face—anything less would be wrong.
Mike exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. His mind drifted—again—to the campsite. The silence. The aftermath.
He shouldn’t have left.
If he had stayed…
He shut the thought down hard. Regret didn’t win battles.
Still, it lingered.
He had been Starfleet Security—trained, experienced. A warrior in his own right. Or at least that was how he still saw himself. Not some aging, softening relic, no matter what the mirror—or certain impertinent lieutenants—might suggest.
The Malas hadn’t stood a chance. Scientists. Linguists. Good people.
Not fighters.
Mike straightened, squaring his shoulders like a man stepping into armor that wasn’t there anymore.
Find Jez.
Tell her.
He turned—
—and stopped.
==Lieutenant Jez Mala, Betazoid/ Vulcan, Security Officer, Acting Security Chief.==
Jez hadn’t planned on coming back, but the recent messages to her parents had been sent. Despite her previous messages having gone unanswered—unusual enough to trouble her—but she told herself it was nothing. Delays happened.
Still, the unease followed her.
The moment she stepped into the gathering, it sharpened.
A presence, familiar and warm.
Her eyes moved across the room—and then settled, Broad shoulders. Solid stance and yes, that very familiar, very unmistakable backside.
Her face lit up.
“Teddy Bear!”
She practically launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle.
Mike stiffened on instinct, then let out a slow breath. “I’ve asked you—repeatedly—not to call me that.”
Jez pulled back just enough to grin up at him. “And yet, here we are.” Her eyes sparkled as she gave him a quick once-over. “Still built like a warrior, I see.”
“Viking,” he corrected automatically, lifting his chin a fraction.
“Ah yes,” she said with mock reverence. “The feared raider of buffet tables.”
For just a flicker of a second, something in Mike bristled. He gave her a look—sharp enough to be convincing, familiar enough to be safe. It was the old look, the one that had straightened junior officers and silenced arguments on a security deck. He slipped into it without thinking, letting the tone come with it, because it was easier than admitting the jab had landed a little too close to truth.
“Careful, Lieutenant.”
The title wasn’t a reprimand. It was a habit like an. armor. A reflex from a life where rank created distance, and distance made things manageable.
Jez held his gaze for half a heartbeat—then laughed, the tension dissolving as quickly as it had formed.
“Yes, sir,” she said lightly, though the warmth in her voice never left.
For a brief, fragile moment, everything felt normal.
Then she saw his face.
The smile faded.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice softening. “Where are Mother and Father?”
Mike’s expression shifted—just slightly, but enough.
Jez felt it immediately.
Something was wrong.
“Come on,” Mike said quietly, taking her hand.
He led her away from the crowd, toward a secluded table. The laughter and music dulled into the background, distant and unreal.
“Jez, sit.” asked Mike, his tone was firm. Controlled.
She obeyed.
Up close, the signs were unmistakable. The pallor in his face. The tension in his jaw. The faint sheen in his eyes.
A cold weight settled in her chest.
“Mike…?”
He hesitated.
For a man who always seemed to have answers, the silence stretched too long.
“Jez… your parents… my wife… our friends…”
He swallowed.
“They’re dead.” He announced, the words landed softly—and shattered everything.
“Murdered.” He added.
Jez blinked, once… twice. Her mind refused to accept it. Her paracortex surged, emotion spilling outward in a raw, invisible wave—shock, grief, confusion, anger—like a psychic storm breaking loose.
“What…?” Her voice trembled. “How? Who? When?”
Mike drew in a slow breath, forcing himself into control.
“It was about a month ago. I was off-site, conducting a security sweep of an ancient temple in the Lozara system—near the Klingon-Gorn border.”
His voice flattened, almost clinical. “When I returned… there were signs of a fight. Disruptor fire. Gorn crystal spikes.” A pause. “Tracks. And Nausicaan tegolar swords.”
Jez stared at him.
A month, a month of silence. Her mother always answered., Always.
The truth pressed in, sharp and suffocating—but she forced it down.
Not here, not now.
She was Acting Security Chief, she would not break in front of her crew.
Her thoughts reached for something solid—context, logic, anything to contain the chaos.
The region was unstable. Klingon raids along the border. Gorn retaliation. Rumors of proxy conflicts, deniable operations. Everyone blaming everyone else. No one stepped in.
Mike watched her carefully, recognizing the way she locked it all away behind discipline.
“I tried to get Federation support,” he said quietly. “Given the political tensions… they won’t act.”
Jez nodded slowly, as if absorbing a physical blow.
Of course they wouldn’t and Jez knew that..
“You’ll find them,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
Mike met her gaze. Something hard settled behind his eyes. “Of course I will.”, It was a promise. Maybe an impossible one—but he meant it.
Jez studied him for a moment, then gave a small, steady nod.
“Good.”
Mike managed a faint smile and pulled her into an embrace.
“You won’t hear from me for a while,” he said. “Will you be alright?”
Jez closed her eyes briefly.
No, she thought, but when she stepped back, her expression was composed—professional.
“I’ll manage.” That was the job.
He lingered for a moment, then turned and walked away. Jez watched him go.
“I love you Teddy Bear.” Called Jez.
Around her, the celebration carried on—laughter, music, life continuing as if nothing had changed. For them, nothing had. For her, everything had.
Grief churned beneath the surface. Anger burned hot and sharp. Questions pressed in, relentless. She locked it all down.
Acting Security Chief., Chiefs didn’t fall apart. They stood the line.
Even when it felt like they were breaking.
== Tag All. ==