General Thalor, commander of the Raeyan Security Forces, paced in the command center of the Raeyan Security Forces Headquarters as the interrogation of their star prisoner drew near. The diplomatic district power station saboteur Starfleet had turned over the day before was locked in the deepest section of the detention wing—a secure, fortified area buried far beneath the surface of the complex. If his confession directly linked the People’s Independence Front to sabotaging the capital’s power grid, it would turn the tide in Raeya’s favor. But this was a delicate operation, made even more complicated by the presence of Starfleet and the Federation.

Raeyan Security Forces Headquarters stood strategically near the heart of the capital, less than a kilometer from the Capitol building itself and only a few blocks away from the presidential palace. Positioned between these two centers of political power, the Raeyan Security Forces Headquarters was designed as both a nerve center and a line of defense. The imposing structure, reinforced duranium, and polished stone symbolized Raeyan strength and prestige. Its grand columns and traditional Raeyan architecture blended seamlessly with modern Federation engineering—disguising the advanced security measures embedded within its walls.

Thalor could see the Capitol building and the palace in the distance from the command center, their outlines visible through the large, reinforced window that overlooked the capital. The Capitol, a massive domed structure where Raeya’s legislative body met, sat to the north, its marble surface gleaming in the morning sun. Just beyond it, the sleek spires of the presidential palace rose, casting long shadows across the administrative district.

The security headquarters’ proximity to the seat of government wasn’t coincidental. It had been placed here deliberately, both as a deterrent to those seeking to disrupt the government’s stability and as a command center capable of mobilizing forces quickly should the need arise. Its underground detention wings and secure interrogation chambers were designed to withstand any siege from threat forces.

Tactical displays flickered with real-time data inside the command center from feeds across the capital city. The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of the monitors, and filled with the hum of machinery and the quiet murmurs of officers at their stations. Surveillance footage streamed in from checkpoints scattered throughout the city, with additional focus placed on the key sectors affected by the previous day’s sabotage.

Thalor’s gaze returned to the chronometer on the wall. Time was slipping away. The interrogation was set for 1200, and the arrival of Captain MacLeod and his team added another layer of complexity to an already precarious situation. As much as Thalor resented their involvement, he knew they needed Starfleet’s resources to navigate this crisis.

“All systems running at full capacity, General. The detention wing’s protocols are locked in.” Lieutenant Veq’s voice cut through the command center.

“Good,” Thalor muttered, his eyes narrowing at the clock ticking closer to 1200. “But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

Colonel Cael, his Chief of Staff, stood off to the side, watching everything with that calm, hawk-like gaze. “Then what are you worried about, General?” Cael asked, his tone measured but direct.

“The quiet,” Thalor replied, his voice low, almost to himself. “It’s too quiet.”

Cael uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to Thalor. “The insurgents have gone dark. No chatter, no movement. They’re either waiting for us to make a mistake, or they’ve already set something in motion.”

“That’s exactly what concerns me,” Thalor snapped. “Korrin’s not stupid. They’ll move if his people know their man is about to talk. We’ve locked down the detention wing tighter than ever, but it feels like we’re playing into their hands.”

Cael glanced at the display, the faint lines of the city’s sectors illuminating the map. “The threat isn’t going to come from the industrial district if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Thalor stopped pacing, locking eyes with his Chief of Staff. “I know that. It’s here—inside. They’re already too close.”

“Do you want to delay Starfleet’s clearance?” Cael asked, his voice sharp, continually cutting through the haze with precision.

Thalor’s jaw tightened. “No. They’ve been cleared, and we don’t want them questioning our readiness. But we keep everything on a hair trigger.”

Veq looked up from her station, her eyes flicking between the officers. “Sir, MacLeod’s team is requesting final confirmation to beam down. Do we proceed?”

Thalor exchanged a brief glance with Cael. “We proceed,” he said, his voice steady but laced with tension. “Direct them to the grand reception hall. The moment they’re planetside, I want real-time reports on every checkpoint. Nothing moves without us knowing.”

Veq nodded and relayed the message, her fingers moving swiftly over the console.

The room fell into a tense quiet that precedes something inevitable. Thalor turned his attention to the massive, reinforced window looking over the capital. The distant spires of the Capitol building and the presidential palace seemed almost serene in the morning light, but the weight in his chest told him it wouldn’t last.

 “It’s all leading to this, General. If that saboteur talks, Korrin’s network could be compromised. If not…” Cael said quietly.

“I know,” Thalor interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the city. “What concerns me is that Korrin hasn’t struck yet. That’s not like him.”

 “He’s waiting for something.” Cael nodded with an unreadable expression

“Or someone,” Thalor muttered darkly. He turned to face Cael, his voice sharp now. “Keep everyone on alert. Don’t let the silence fool you. We’re about to hit a breaking point, and it won’t be where we expect.”

Cael nodded, his posture straightening. “Understood, General. I’ll double-check the perimeter myself.”

Thalor allowed a brief pause, then exhaled slowly. “We play our part, but when the storm hits… we’re going to be in the middle of it.”

The command center hummed with quiet activity as Thalor stood rooted in place, his mind racing behind the hard-set expression on his face. He watched as Colonel Cael moved calmly, ordering officers to recheck security feeds and ensure every city sector was covered.

“General,” Veq called out again, breaking the brief silence. “MacLeod’s team has confirmed beam-in coordinates. They’ll be in the grand reception hall in less than a minute.”

Thalor nodded, his eyes never leaving the tactical map before him. “Understood. Patch me through to the reception hall’s security detail. I want every corner of that room monitored. No one gets close to them without authorization.”

“Yes, sir.” Veq’s fingers flew across her console, issuing the commands without hesitation.

As the seconds ticked closer to 1200, the air in the command center thickened. Thalor could feel it—everyone was waiting for something. The calm was oppressive, like the stillness before a storm everyone knew was coming, but no one could predict when or how it would hit.

“Colonel.” Thalor said quietly, keeping his eyes on the displays.

Cael stepped closer. “Yes, General?”

“Do you think we’re too late?”

Cael’s eyes flicked briefly to the chronometer before responding, his voice low and measured. “It’s hard to say. We’ve done everything we can, but this feels too controlled. Korrin’s silence… it’s deliberate.”

Thalor frowned, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the console. “Deliberate, yes. He’s waiting. But for what? He knows we’re close, so why hasn’t he moved?”

Cael glanced over at the rows of officers working silently at their stations. “Maybe he doesn’t need to. Maybe the move’s already in play.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Thalor’s expression darkened.

The familiar shimmer of the transporter beam faded, leaving Captain MacLeod, Captain Wellborn, and Lieutenant Kibali standing on the polished floor of the grand reception hall. The space felt vast and hollow, its towering columns looming overhead like silent sentinels. The walls blended Raeyan tradition and Federation efficiency, but none of that mattered. Beneath the facade of order and control, tension was thick, choking, almost tangible.

MacLeod took a few slow steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the hall. Raeyan security officers stood rigidly at attention around the perimeter, but their eyes were cold and watchful. This wasn’t a welcoming committee but a reminder that they were in Raeyan territory, and Starfleet’s presence here was only tolerated because of necessity.

“Well, they certainly know how to make someone feel right at home,” Wellborn muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “It’s like walking into a fancy tomb.”

MacLeod didn’t respond. His instincts were screaming at him. Every breath in this hall felt wrong. Something was in the air—an undercurrent of danger that hadn’t yet revealed itself.

“No anomalies in the immediate area, Captain. All systems are stable.” Lieutenant Kibali, already scanning the area with her tricorder, looked up and shook her head.

“For now,” MacLeod muttered. “But stay alert, Lieutenant. This place feels like it’s one wrong move away from unraveling.”

Before anyone could respond, the massive doors at the far end of the hall slid open with a soft hiss. Colonel Cael appeared, flanked by several Raeyan officers. His movements were deliberate, his eyes smoldering as they locked onto the Starfleet team. He strode forward, his expression a mask of cold professionalism.

“Captains,” Cael greeted, his voice clipped and precise. “We’re on a tight schedule. General Thalor is overseeing the operation from the command center. I am here to personally escort you to the detention block’s interrogation chamber.”

MacLeod stepped forward, extending a hand. “Colonel Cael, thank you for your cooperation. We’re here to assist.”

Cael took his hand briefly, his grip firm but devoid of warmth. “Follow me. We don’t have time to waste.”

As they followed Cael through the hall, Wellborn leaned closer to MacLeod. “There’s something off here, Jim,” he said quietly, his voice tense. “It’s too quiet.”

“I know.” MacLeod gave a curt nod, his gaze sweeping the room as they walked.

They moved through the hall silently, the oppressive weight of the situation bearing down on them. Kibali, walking a step behind, glanced down at her tricorder as it emitted a series of faint beeps.

“Captain,” Kibali murmured, her voice loud enough for MacLeod to hear. “I’m picking up minor fluctuations in the power grid. Subtle, but they’re increasing.”

Before MacLeod could respond, the lights overhead flickered—just for a moment, but enough to send a ripple of unease through the group.

Wellborn’s steps slowed, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around the hall.

“That’s not a grid fluctuation,” Wellborn muttered. “That’s something else.”

Cael came to an abrupt stop, his posture tense. “Power surges are common. The power grid has been unstable since the attack. We’ve got it under control.”

“No,” MacLeod said firmly, his voice carrying an edge of warning. “This isn’t residual damage. This is deliberate.”

Kibali’s tricorder beeped again, louder this time, and its readings became more erratic. Her eyes widened. “Captain, I’m detecting multiple localized energy spikes—directly beneath us.”

The ground convulsed violently, a deep, resonating tremor that seemed to erupt from the very bones of the building. The sound was deafening—a loud explosion appeared to tear the air apart. A blast of hot, pressurized wind ripped through the hall, knocking MacLeod and his team to the ground as the floor buckled and cracked beneath them.

The ceiling above them groaned, then splintered as massive chunks of marble and stone crashed down. Shards of glass exploded from the ornate windows, cascading down like jagged rain. The force of the explosion was like a physical blow, a shockwave that sent debris, dust, and fire tearing through the hall.

“Get down!” MacLeod shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the explosion.

The floor beneath them bucked violently again, throwing MacLeod and Wellborn against a column as a section of the ceiling collapsed in front of them. Thick, choking, and blinding dust filled the air, turning the once pristine hall into a hellscape of shattered stone, twisted metal, and suffocating smoke.

Wellborn hit the ground hard, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. Gasping for air, he rolled instinctively, narrowly avoiding a massive chunk of debris that crashed down where he had just been standing. His ears rang from the explosion, his vision swimming from the dust, but he forced himself to stay focused. “Hell of a welcome party!”

Kibali, still clutching her tricorder, had been thrown into a wall by the force of the blast. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead as he scrambled to his feet, coughing through the thick dust. Her tricorder screeched warnings, its display flashing red with a cascade of readings. “Captain, the building’s structural integrity is compromised! I’m reading secondary explosions!”

“Damn it!” MacLeod hissed, pulling himself up, his muscles aching from the impact. His eyes scanned the destruction around him. The entire grand hall was collapsing. The towering columns that had once stood like unbreakable sentinels were cracked and crumbling. The fire spread quickly, licking hungrily at the debris.

Raeyan security officers lay scattered across the room, some groaning in pain, others motionless beneath the rubble. Colonel Cael, his uniform covered in dust, had pulled himself to his feet, his face pale but resolute. He barked orders to his officers, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Secure the building! Lock down all sectors! Get the wounded out of here!”

“How bad is it?” MacLeod moved toward Kibali, who was still scanning the area.

“Multiple structural breaches throughout the facility. Secondary charges are going off—this wasn’t just one explosion, it’s a full-scale attack!” Kibali shook her head while wiping blood from her face.

“Well, that’s obvious,” Wellborn said grimly while brushing dust from his uniform as he surveyed the destruction. “They’re trying to bring this place down around our ears.”

MacLeod’s mind raced. This wasn’t just an insurgent attack. It was coordinated and calculated to strike at the heart of Raeyan security, and they had walked right into it.

Cael staggered over, his face grim, his voice tight with urgency. “They’ve breached our defenses. We need to reach General Thalor—now.”

“We can’t stay here,” MacLeod agreed, his voice hard with determination. “They’re not just trying to blow this place up—they’re inside. Korrin’s people are already in the building.”

Kibali’s tricorder beeped again, and she looked up with a pale face. “Captain, the structural integrity of the east wing is failing. If we don’t move, this whole section is coming down.”

MacLeod grabbed Cael by the arm, pulling him toward the nearest intact corridor. “We need to get to the command center. Now.”

Cael nodded, rallying his remaining officers. “Follow me. The secondary corridors are more secure.”

The group moved quickly, navigating through the wreckage of the collapsing hall. Every step felt like it could be their last as the walls shook while more explosions echoed through the building. The air was thick with smoke, and the sharp tang of burning metal filled their lungs.

MacLeod’s mind was already calculating the next move as they pushed forward. This wasn’t just about the saboteur anymore—this was a full-scale attempt to dismantle Raeya’s security forces from the inside. Korrin had played them perfectly.

“We’re in the thick of it now,” MacLeod muttered, his voice grim as they pushed through the chaos. “And it’s only going to get worse.”

The air was thick with smoke, dust, and the acrid stench of burning debris as MacLeod, Wellborn, Kibali, Colonel Cael, and his remaining officers pushed deeper into the bowels of the crumbling headquarters. The echoes of distant explosions reverberated through the hallways, growing fainter as they moved away from the worst of the damage. The walls shook periodically as if the entire structure struggled to hold itself together.

Kibali raised her tricorder-eyes glued to the readings as they moved. “Structural integrity is deteriorating. We must reach the reinforced sections quickly, or this place might come down atop us.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Wellborn muttered dryly, glancing upward as more dust and debris rained from the fractured ceiling. “Wouldn’t want to be buried alive in a diplomatic crisis.”

“Keep focused,” MacLeod snapped, though his voice was more tense than reprimanding. He could feel the pressure mounting with each step they took. Every instinct told him they were running out of time. “We’re almost there.”

Leading them through the labyrinthine corridors, Cael moved with purpose but without panic. His face was a mask of steely determination, though the pallor of his skin betrayed his awareness of how dire the situation had become. “The command center is just ahead,” he called over his shoulder, his voice strained from exertion. “Once inside, we can reestablish control of the building.”

“What about the saboteur?” Wellborn asked, his tone edged with urgency. “The longer we’re cut off, the more time Korrin’s people have to cover their tracks.”

“He’s still secure in the detention wing,” Cael replied, not slowing his pace. “But that won’t last if this continues. We need to reach him—if he talks, we might still salvage this.”

MacLeod’s mind raced. The saboteur was the key to unraveling Korrin’s network, but the insurgents had planned this perfectly. They weren’t just trying to stop the interrogation—they were trying to destroy everything that could expose their operations.

As they rounded the final corner, the corridor opened into a reinforced section of the building, the walls and ceiling supported by thick duranium beams designed to withstand heavy bombardment. They approached the large, blast-proof doors that led to the command center. Security panels blinked with red warning lights, and the steady thrum of emergency power systems was the only sound aside from the distant rumble of explosions.

“Open the door.” MacLeod ordered, stepping to the side of the entrance as Cael moved to the control panel.

Cael input his security clearance, and the heavy doors groaned as they slid open, revealing the dimly lit interior of the command center. Tactical displays flickered on the far wall, showing distorted images of the capital’s security feeds, many of which had been knocked offline by the explosions. Officers moved frantically from console to console, trying to regain control of their systems.

“General Thalor!” Cael called out as they entered, his voice echoing off the metallic walls.

Thalor, standing at the central console, looked up sharply. “Colonel,” he barked, striding toward them. “Report.” His eyes burned with barely restrained fury.

“We’ve sustained significant structural damage, but the reinforced sections are holding for now. Korrin’s people are inside the building, and we’ve encountered multiple secondary explosions. They’re trying to bring the entire facility down.” Cael said.

“We expected sabotage but nothing of this scale. Korrin’s forces must have been planning this for weeks.” Thalor’s jaw clenched.

“Possibly longer,” MacLeod added, stepping forward. “They were waiting for the perfect moment to strike and timed it to coincide with our presence here. This isn’t just an attempt to stop the interrogation—they want to bury everything.”

Thalor’s eyes flicked to MacLeod, then to Wellborn and Kibali. For a moment, there was a glimmer of something dangerous in his gaze—a flash of suspicion, perhaps. But he said nothing.

“The saboteur,” Wellborn pressed, moving closer. “We need to get to him now. He’s the only one who can tell us what Korrin’s next move is.”

Thalor’s expression hardened. “We will. The interrogation must proceed. But first, we stabilize the command center. We can’t risk losing control of the building entirely.”

MacLeod opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Thalor was right. They’d be fighting a losing battle if they lost the command center,

“Lieutenant Veq, I want all available teams focused on securing the detention wing. Send a contingent to sweep the lower levels for additional explosives. If Korrin’s people have planted more charges, we must find them now!” Thalor barked.

“Yes, sir.” Veq responded sharply.

MacLeod glanced at Wellborn, who nodded slightly. They both understood the stakes. If the interrogation failed, if the saboteur was lost, everything they’d fought for would unravel.

“Let’s move,” MacLeod told his team, his voice tight with urgency.

“Wellborn, Kibali—prepare for rapid extraction if necessary. We don’t know how long this place will hold.”

“A secondary access tunnel leads directly to the detention wing. It’s secure, but we’ll need to move quickly.” Cael motioned toward an exit at the far end of the command center.

As they prepared to move toward the detention wing, the distant sound of another explosion reverberated through the building, rattling the walls of the command center.

“We’re running out of time.” Thalor’s eyes darkened.

MacLeod felt the weight of the situation bear down on him. Time slipped through their fingers, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. He turned to Colonel Cael, whose expression had hardened with a mix of resolve and urgency.

“Cael, you’re with us. We’ll need your knowledge of the facility.” MacLeod said.

“Understood. I’ll get you there.” Cael nodded without hesitation, already moving toward the exit near the secondary access tunnel.

With a final glance at the dimly lit command center, MacLeod turned toward his team. The tension in the air was suffocating, the hum of strained systems and flickering lights only adding to the sense of impending disaster.

“Let’s get to the detention wing before it’s too late.” MacLeod said.

Wellborn and Kibali fell into step behind him, the weight of the mission heavy on their shoulders as they hustled to catch up with Cael. The corridor beyond loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, as the heavy doors of the command center slid shut behind them with a final, metallic hiss.

And somewhere in the darkness below, the clock was ticking faster. Each subsequent explosion was a reminder that the window for successfully resolving this crisis was closing.