USS Healdsburg | 1630 Hours | Briefing Room

The briefing room hummed with the low whir of the ship’s systems, an ever-present reminder that the USS Healdsburg was still a target in a sector brimming with danger. The red alert lights bathed the room in an eerie crimson glow, casting shadows that seemed to stretch and flicker across the faces of the assembled crew. Captain Reacher sat at the head of the table, his posture unwavering, but his gaze sharp—focused on the four unfamiliar faces seated across from him.

Commander Kate Townsend, ever composed, sat to his right, reviewing data on the console with quiet concentration. Her mind raced as she processed everything they’d been told so far and everything that was left unsaid.

Lieutenant Aubrie Fox, the ship’s chief Security and Tactical officer, stood near the back of the room, her arms crossed and eyes never leaving the Tempest Unit. She didn’t trust them—nor should she. Mercenaries, no matter their pedigree, always had an agenda of their own. Her fingers itched to check her phaser but she kept herself in check. For now.

Lieutenant Katie Harlow, the newest member of the team, sat at the far end of the table. Her military training, though solid, was still growing under the pressure of real command. Her young face was a mixture of determination and doubt, the responsibility of the moment weighing heavily on her shoulders. She’d been assigned to Security/Tactical, but in her heart, she had always known that she was meant for something greater. Something bigger. Today was her first real test.

Lieutenant La’an Hanes, cool-headed and always vigilant, remained standing near the door, her posture alert, her eyes darting to the walls and the figures around the table. If the Tempest Unit was here as backup, it didn’t matter. She was here to protect this ship. And her instincts were telling her that something wasn’t right.

As the doors to the briefing room hissed shut, the four mercenaries filed in, each with a presence that exuded years of hard-earned experience. They weren’t here to be friendly. They were here to ensure survival. But whether they could be trusted was a question yet to be answered.

Leading them was Lieutenant Colonel Brad Hayes, the seasoned veteran who had once led the MACO teams during the Dominion War. His posture was relaxed but not careless, like a lion that knew it could take down any threat in the room if necessary. His eyes scanned the crew of the Healdsburg before he finally sat down, his movements deliberate.

At his side was Chief Warrant Officer Kane—calm, silent, and exuding the kind of quiet authority that made it clear he had seen it all. The scarred veteran didn’t need to speak much. His presence said everything.

First Lieutenant Jake Arlen, younger and more exuberant than the others, had a grin that could disarm most people. But Reacher could see the edge behind his smile—the inherited confidence of his grandfather, Brad Hayes, tempered with the ruthlessness of someone who’d grown up in the shadow of war. Despite his youth, Arlen’s eyes were sharp and never idle.

Second Lieutenant Jim Street, lounging back in his seat, looked every bit the cocky mercenary. His smile was lopsided, as if he knew something no one else did. Still, there was a rawness to his demeanor that hinted at the battlefield horrors he had witnessed. The Healdsburg crew could feel it: Street was dangerous, but not recklessly so. He was the kind of person who would wait until you were at your weakest before striking.

Reacher didn’t waste any time. He leaned forward, his voice a low command. “Why are you here? Harlen didn’t send you to ‘offer backup.’ There’s more going on here, and I need to know what.”

Lieutenant Colonel Hayes met Reacher’s gaze with a calm that could almost be mistaken for indifference. “We’re not here to steal your mission, Captain,” he said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of experience. “We’re here because you’re walking into a situation far worse than anything Starfleet has officially acknowledged.”

“Explain,” Townsend interjected, her arms crossed over her chest, her skepticism evident.

Hayes’ expression hardened. “The Vaadwaur aren’t just a threat. They’re part of a larger plan, one that involves more than just your regular recon missions or diplomatic outreach. What’s out there”—he gestured toward the tactical map displayed on the table, a jagged, unmarked structure in deep Vaadwaur space—“isn’t just a base of operations. It’s a launching point for something that has Starfleet’s name written all over it.”

Kane, who had remained mostly silent until now, leaned forward. “The Vaadwaur aren’t the only thing you need to worry about. You’re walking into a battlefield that’s been brewing for months. And you’re not the only ones out there looking for answers.”

Katie Harlow frowned. “What do you mean, ‘not the only ones’? Are you telling us there’s more of them?”

“Not exactly,” Arlen said, the grin slipping from his face as he activated another screen, revealing a distorted tactical map. “What we’ve been tracking is a… reorganization. A group—someone—has been piecing together fragments of what was left after Frontier Day. There’s a remnant of the Borg Collective out there. Not the real Borg, but a patchwork of corrupted drones.”

“Patchwork drones?” La’an asked, a new edge to her voice. “How bad is it?”

Street’s casual demeanor flickered, and for a split second, his eyes darkened. “Bad enough that what’s left of the Collective is reforming. And that’s not even the worst part. The bad part is, they’re not just assimilating tech. They’re trying to build something—something even worse than the Borg.”

Fox stepped forward, her hand tightening on her phaser as she scrutinized the mercenaries. “How do we know you’re telling the truth? You’re mercenaries. You’re paid to lie.”

Brad Hayes met her gaze without flinching. “If we wanted your ship, we would’ve taken it already. But we’re not here to start a war with Starfleet. We’re here to stop it.”

Reacher leaned back in his chair, considering everything that had been said. His fingers drummed the surface of the table, his mind working through the options. “Alright. If you’re here to help, you’re going to have to follow orders. This is still my ship, and I’m in command. You’ll follow our protocols. No exceptions.”

Kane gave a nod of agreement. “Understood, Captain. We’re here to make sure you survive. Not to play the hero.”

Reacher stood up, his expression set. “Then let’s get to work. Fox, you and Harlow will work with Arlen and Street. I want mixed tactical teams ready for anything. Townsend, get Engineering working with these mercs to find out what kind of equipment we’re dealing with. La’an—if they step out of line, make sure they know what happens next.”

Katie Harlow shifted in her seat, feeling the weight of the responsibility fall on her shoulders, but also something else—a sense of purpose. This wasn’t just another mission. This was a fight for survival.

“I’ll have the teams ready, Captain,” Fox said, her voice unwavering.

Hayes stood, offering a respectful nod. “We’ll make sure you don’t get caught off guard.”

Reacher’s gaze swept across the room, his crew and the mercenaries now united—by necessity, if not trust. “Let’s make sure we come out of this alive.”

The briefing room doors slid open, and the team broke, heading toward their respective stations. Reacher stood for a moment longer, the weight of the decisions yet to come pressing down on him, before following them out.