No Rest for the Weary

Posted on Sat Dec 6th, 2025 @ 6:46am by Commodore Tyler Malbrooke & Petty Officer 2nd Class Sofia Cipriani & Lieutenant Colonel Cornelius Tremble & Major Edmund Merrick & Sergeant Audie Fitch & Lieutenant Mira Jayna & Staff Warrant Officer Rommie & Warrant Officer Mercy Ryan & Sergeant Major Lachlan Barr & Sergeant Adélaïde Moreau & Sergeant Andrew Shy
Edited on on Sat Dec 6th, 2025 @ 7:11am

4,198 words; about a 21 minute read

Mission: The Cure: Operation Kakori
Location: The Snake Pit Briefing Room - Deck 9 - USS Pioneer
Timeline: MD001 0900

Walking without the arm-crutch was still a novelty and Neil had the limping down to more of a rolling gate as the limb learned with him. He’d reviewed a bit of trideo on his walking and it watching all of the various bones of what was basically a skeleton leg and foot adjust and learn how he walked to help him learn how to walk again.

Even the leg was smarter than he was, apparently.

As was checking in at Sick Bay to see how his leg was coming along as the new one grew in a tank of rather nasty looking, viscous liquid that pulled disturbingly as electrical stimuli was applied to promote cell growth and break in the various veins and capillaries. It was roughly at the four or five year old stage of growth was kinda funny and he’d had images of a tiny little leg being grafted on prematurely and the looks that might draw was probably in the gallows humor category, but it still made Neil snicker.

Slipping into the meeting room, Neil took up his usual seat, wondering at why Tyler was calling this meeting. He had a hunch something new was afoot.

He snickered again at yet another foot joke, even if it was in his head.

The door slid open with its usual hiss, and in strode Lachlan—looking none the worse for wear despite the recent madness on Wren IX. His uniform was crisp, though the faint scuff marks on his boots and the small scar still healing at his temple gave away the truth of a man who’d seen too much action in too few days.

“Morning, Colonel,” he said with a nod toward Neil as he crossed to the table. “Good to see you vertical—and mostly symmetrical again.” His mouth twitched into a brief grin as he took the seat across from him, setting a data padd down. “Word is the new leg’s already smarter than half the Marines. Best keep an eye on it, or it’ll be runnin’ drills without you.”

He leaned back slightly, giving a small exhale that was half amusement, half fatigue. “Reckon the Commodore’s about to make sure our rest days stay mythical. ‘No rest for the weary,’ eh?”

He settled in, tone easing toward something warmer. “Still—good to have you back, sir. Whole crew’s lighter for it.”

"Hear, hear." Mercy said catching the TOP's final statement. The Warrant Officer had showered, and now wore a crisp new uniform.

Chuckling, Neil said, "I have given the thought to finding the clot who coined the term, "May you live in interesting times" and punch them in the throat. But, it's all part of the fabulous life of a Marine." Then he tapped on his mechanical leg. "And it's definitely smarter than I am. I'm half afraid Rommie's going to take it over and scare the crew by having it hop around the ship on it's own when I'm now wearing it."

Rommie materialized at the mention of her name, nodding to the seated personnel before taking up a position behind the Colonel's chair. "Not just hopping sir. I was thinking also the metal toes could pull the leg along the deck as well."

Shore leave had been short, but enough for Audie to blow off some steam and recover from the dreams and bugs. Her leg was nearly healed, although she still walked with a slight limp, something that had become more of a habit that necessity, and something the was trying to lose.

As she entered the briefing room, she grinned widely and waved. "I'm here!" she declared, "we can start now!"

Adelaide chuckled to herself, Audie's entrance tickling her funny bone.

Jayna walked silently into the room, taking note of everyone present and where they were seated. She wanted to sit next to Neil, but this was an official meeting and his place was next to the commodore, so she chose a seat where she could watch him and the door. She smiled at Neil and Rommie as she sat down and took out her PADD.

Edmund strode in, his eyes taking measure of those there, his eyes stopped on Neil gave him a nod, and took a seat. His posture was more relaxed, he didn't seem to be wound up so tightly. A slight smile became evident before it disappeared. He was alert and curious as to what this meeting was about.

Shy had caught sight of the Captain ahead of him and slowed his pace to arrive slightly after, slipping in to take up a seat near Audie, trying his best to be seen and not heard.

Tyler stood outside the briefing room and sighed. He had a pretty bad week or two. Between Wren IX, the chat with Harrington, and now a briefing that he did not want to give. The Cure deserved the leave, and yet the brass thought otherwise. With a head nod he gave Sofia the signal to get this show on the road.

The doors to the briefing room hissed open, and Sofia stepped smartly inside, crisp in her uniform. Without hesitation, she lifted the polished bosun’s whistle from where it hung at her collar and gave two sharp, clear notes that cut cleanly through the low murmur of conversation.

“All hands, attention!” she called, her voice carrying the steady authority of long practice despite her youth. The tone was firm, respectful — the kind born of someone who knew how to balance precision with poise.

Once the room had quieted and the eyes of The Cure turned toward the doorway, Sofia lowered the whistle, clipped it neatly back into place, and gave a small, efficient nod toward the hall.

The moment the sharp whistle notes cut through the room, Lachlan was already halfway out of his chair. The instinct was older than thought — muscle memory honed through years of parade grounds, drop zones, and too many briefings to count.

He came to his feet in one smooth motion, spine straight as a rifle barrel, voice carrying that gravelly edge that could fill a parade deck or a starship bay with equal weight.

“Commodore on deck!”

The words snapped through the room like a shockwave. Chairs scraped back, boots thudded into line, and whatever easy air had hung over the group moments before was replaced with the crisp discipline of the Corps.

Lachlan held the position until Tyler cleared the threshold fully, his gaze forward, every inch the immovable senior NCO.

Jayna rose with the rest and snapped to attention.

Adelaide followed the Sergeant Major's example and rose to her feet and snapped to attention as Commodore Malbrooke entered the room.

Neil was moving almost before Lachlan, his contact updating him that Tyler and Sophia had been skulking up the corridor. He tottered just slightly as he still wasn't used to the leg, but he didn't fall over. Then he was at attention, eyes roaming over his marines.

Rommie came to attention as the rest reacted, her uniform piping rippling from command red to marine green, then braiding in gold to barber-pole the two colors, indicating her status as an aide-de-camp to the Colonel. In deference to the commodore's preferences, she also was in the utility uniform of the day.

Shy had just been leaning back but caught the Sergeant Major's inhale of breath and got his feet under himself as the first syllables rolled, aligning himself with practice, eyes straight ahead.

Along with the others, Audie was on her feet and at attention, wondering what this was all about and glad that they'd find out soon. She just hoped it wasn't anything dire -- a little break would be welcome -- but then, it was their job to step up when called.

Mercy rose and came to attention. She'd been hoping for a little liberty, but as always the Corps came first.

Edmund was on his feet at the sounding of the whistle, Tremble, Lachlan definitely beating him. His stance was tall, and very attentive to the arrival of Tyler. Something big was coming about, being indicated by the bosun's whistle. He felt his skin prickle up, his heart pounding.

Tyler strode into the briefing room and made his way to the head of the table. He did notice everyone stood at rigid attention. The Corps knew formality, and he began this one with the formality. "In for a penny, in for a pound." he thought.

With a slight wave of his hand, he motioned for all to be seated. "At ease and take your seats. There is a lot to cover here. As of this moment this briefing is classified, and all information and data herein is under that statute." Tyler took a beat to allow that information to sink in. Once he was satisfied that all understood the severity of the situation he moved on. "Arguably the most unhospitable area of known space is the Badlands. About a month ago the USS Artemis discovered a station constructed and in operation in the Badlands. Something of this nature was previously thought to be impossible. This station is Nor Class or at least on the surface it appears to be Nor Class. The crew of the Artemis further discovered that what is left of the Obsidian Order is running this station. In their custody is one Lieutenant Commander Calvin Quaid, former Strategic Operations Officer of Empok Nor. The Commander's command codes were linked to allowing enemy forces aboard Empok Nor. Your mission it go into the Badlands and board this station. Find the Commander and bring him back for questioning and trial." As he spoke Tyler keyed some orders into the computer console in front of him holo images of the station and Badlands were shown as he spoke.

Ah, well, 'Badlands', how bad could it be? Silently, Audie chuckled, thinking that a place called the Badlands was just the sort of place that the Marines would feel at home! And if they could bring to justice the man who had caused such havoc on the station, all the better!

Calvin Quaid was on a station in the Badlands run by the Obsidian Order? It should have been impossible. Jayna was eager to get get what information she could on that station and its crew--in addition to helping bring Quaid back.

We have to rescue a traitor? Mercy thought to herself. Best shoot him between the eyes, and save everyone a lot of trouble. A traitor had cost her mother her life, and her father his freedom. Traitors deserved death.

Lachlan sat forward as the holo shifted to the image of the station, his expression hardening into something sharp and deliberate. The Obsidian Order… in the Badlands… running a full Nor-class station? That was the sort of sentence that made a career Marine’s blood run cold and hot at the same time.

He gave a slow exhale through his nose, leaning an elbow on the table. “Well… that’s a cheery mornin’ briefing,” he murmured, tone dry as Vulcan sand. “Obsidian Order playin’ house in the Badlands. If ye’d told me that last month I’d’ve asked what you’d been drinkin’.”

Then his gaze lifted to Tyler, steady and professional. “Sir, if the Order’s built themselves a fortress in a plasma storm, they’re expectin’ visitors — or hopin’ none come back to talk about it. We’ll need full insertion details as soon as they’re available. Marines can board any tin can in the quadrant, but the Badlands won’t give us a second chance if we misstep.”

A brief pause, his jaw tightening just a touch. “And if Quaid’s there… we’ll bring him home. One way or another.”

After a beat, he added with a low grumble, “Bloody Badlands. Never thought I’d miss the bugs.”

Edmund crooked up an eyebrow at Lachlan's statement, that testy buggery area where one can't get proper readings and a favorite place for pirates to hide. He made a side comment to Lachlan, "Tis worse than the bugs."

Rapping his knuckles on the table before him, Neil said "This is a Red Team mission turned up to twelve. "But it's still a mission like any other. Insertion. Extraction. Then everything else in between. Right now we're going to need as much intel as we possible can so the team can start rehearsals. Planning is what gives us our edge and makes for a successful mission."

Then he caught himself and looked slightly guilty, "That is helping out Ed get this mission fine tuned and ready to run."

Edmund hid a smile, though his eyes did have a quick amused gleam before he chased it away. It was truly hitting him though as to just what was being placed upon him. His status had been changed, truly mind boggling. Unexpected.

He nodded, "Team planning when one may see what the other may not see, yet." was his only comment.

Lachlan blinked once at Merrick’s comment — not disrespectful, just the quiet, practiced translator pause of a man who’d spent half his career turning officer-speak into something Marines could actually use.

He cleared his throat lightly.

“Aye… right. What the Major’s getting at,” he said, smoothing the moment with the ease of long habit, “is that planning only works when we’re all speakin’ the same language. We take the intel, break it down, and build a plan folk can actually follow under fire.”

He tapped the table with two knuckles — a soft, grounding sound.

“Marines don’t survive on poetry. We survive on clarity. So once we’ve got the full package of intel on this station — layout, defences, weather, plasma activity — we’ll turn it into something the team can rehearse until it’s muscle memory.”

His tone stayed respectful, matter-of-fact, solid as bedrock.

“That’s how we keep this tight and get our people in and out clean. One step at a time, one detail at a time — no guessin’.”

He gave Edmund a brief, steady nod — backing him, not contradicting him — before looking back to Tyler to keep the briefing moving.

Neil watched the Nor class schematics revolve over the conference table, then touched a control letting the station shrink and the approximate location map with updated spacial mapping overlays were added. "It's likely that the station interior will be mostly the same. It's just as likely that these Order loyalists will have added extra security measures and upgrades. This mission will be compartmentalized and is need to know. Nobody NOT in this room has a need to know. The rest of the Cure will continue to Mars under Lieutenant Wooz, attending an embedded division scale war games. Records will show that the rest of us will be there as well, but spread among various command units and as referees. Once we've completed the mission, it won't matter much if anyone finds out we were gone or not."

The short run-down had left Neil slightly out of breath and he scowled at himself. He'd need to get his drahk together before this show hit the road.

While he stood at the podium Tyler was amazed at how eager The Cure seemed to get back to action, especially in the aftermath of Wren IX. He raised his hand again to quiet the speculation, and so he could continue the briefing. "It seems that the Artemis' encounter was pleasant. It ended with a successful mission for the Artemis, and not a shot fired. According to Captain Kidd's report there was little resistance. So, perhaps this is a new and improved order. Although I doubt that one can hope."

Tyler keyed some buttons and the image of the Nor Class station changed to one of what seemed to be a standard Defiant Class starship. However, as the schematics scrolled across the screen one could see that this was not a standard starship. "Ladies and Gentlemen meet the USS Valiant NCC-75416, Commander Rupert Tyree commanding. To begin the mere existence of this vessel is classified at the highest order. Outside, of the ship's crew and a small handful of officers in Starfleet Intelligence we are the only people who know the following. This ship and its crew are under the auspices of Starfleet Intelligence. As such their involvement here is twofold. First, they are your ferry. They are responsible to get you in and out. While aboard the ship Commander Tyree will be in command. However, Colonel Tremble will have overall command of the operation. Their secondary mission is to collect as much intelligence about this station as possible. To that end when we are finished here Lieutenant Jayna you and I will head to the SCIF to brief Commander McGowen and select a small Intelligence team to accompany this mission."

Tyler paused to sip the coffee that up until this moment he did not realize was there. Bless you Sof. he thought as he smiled inwardly. "Folks, I am not going to beat around the bush here. Things are tense to say the very least between us the Cardassians. They are being courted by the Romulans for an alliance. If they catch us looking up their skirts it will not go over well for anyone. So, if you are caught all of you, the Valiant, and the Valiant's crew will be deemed renegades and labeled traitors. Tell me now if you want out. Because you can be replaced."

"Seems like we've had some recent experience with that sort of thing," Audie observed dryly, "but we're Marines, right, and we go in where we're needed, regardless of the stakes. I'm in."

"So, its an impossible mission, where our careers and our very lives are on the line?" Mercy asked.

Not waiting for a reply, the Warrant Officer said. "Sounds like fun, count me in."

"You're going to need someone who can get in and out without being seen," Jayna said quietly. "That means you'll need intel. I'm in. You may want to consider Makeba Brown and Gage Tohoyia as well."

Neil and Tyler had locked eyes for a moment as those assembled all bought in and he could feel them ramping up.

"I didn't get in on the after action briefings," he remarked as his mind began building and segmenting information they'd need into a mission profile. "But I'm proud of each and everyone of this crew for getting us through the last mission. You're all the best the Fleet and FMC has to offer and we're continuing to be the tip of the spear." Neil paused then said, "We ramp up to full speed for this now."

Fry wondered at his presence but decided he'd be told why he'd been included at some point then said, "Sir, we can configure Stiletto drones for full stealth use, maybe. Bring in a dozen or more maybe and get them to infiltrate and go dormant as booby traps."

Neil held up a hand and said, "We'll review all of those options and weigh them, but if this has to appear a non-Federation operation, we'll all need to be carrying gear that can't be traced back. Though the use of the Valiant may void that. But we will get into it."

Rommie weighed being seen and not heard as the typical stance she was taking with the Commodore and the ground she'd gained through the last mission. Then decided if she was in the room, she was supposed to be in the room. "I'll begin pulling all Red-Team, Cardassian and Order based information available and stand ready to construct holo training programs for mission walkthroughs. Given that the Valiant is a Defiant class, even modified there won't be room for a full holo-suite walk through. I'll ensure there are immersion headsets ready to go for continued mission prep."

Lachlan let out a small, thoughtful grunt — the kind that usually meant I’ve done somethin’ like this before, and nobody asked too many questions afterwards.

“Aye… if we’re meant to pretend we’re no’ Starfleet, then we stop packin’ Starfleet gear,” he said, leaning forward with his forearms on the table. “We leave the fancy toys on the rack. No compression rifles, no clean Federation signatures. They so much as scan a dropped power cell and we’re buggered.”

He gestured vaguely, as though sorting through half-remembered supply crates.

“We go old school. Ballistics. Blades. Charges we can mix on the fly from whatever the Valiant’s replicators can spit out without leavin’ a trail. Hell, half the merc outfits in the Beta Quadrant use that sort o’ thing because it doesn’t point back to anyone important.”

A crooked, wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Uniforms too. Can’t go stormin’ in lookin’ like Marines who’ve lost their combadges. We put together kit that looks… bought. Stolen. Borrowed from someone who won’t miss it. Loose plates, mismatched armour, holsters that’ve seen better decades.”

He shrugged, the motion casual but certain.

“Won’t be pretty, won’t be comfortable, but it won’t scream ‘Federation’. And if we need to fry sensors, we use crude EMP rigs, not tricorders set to some fancy override. Make it messy. Deniable.”

He sat back, tapping a finger lightly against the table.

“Point is — if it looks well-designed or works the first time you press a button, we probably can’t take it with us.”

"We'll build what we need, "Neil stated. "And maybe aquire everything else one way or another." Looking over at Tyler he said, "I think we've got them interested sir. We'll get into prep and update you by the time we get to Earth."

"I have a few contacts from my time in Starfleet Intell, that could help supply some of the gear." Mercy said. "They know me as 'Mace Rehn' smuggler." She added.

Tyler smiled and nodded in agreement with all that was said. In truth the less he knew about their plans the better it would be. "This briefing is classified and adjourned. It seems that Starfleet has an illness, and we have The Cure." Tyler signaled Jayna to fall in step with him and left to make his way to the SCIF.

Jayna nodded and fell in step beside him. She didn't need to say that she also had contacts in intel--and the Maquis. If Neil or Edmund wanted her help, they knew how to find her.

Edmund listened to what was being said, at this meeting, he was a man of even fewer words. After all was said and done, he responded with, "I am in as well." of course he would be in on this. The others knew but Edmund wanted to make certain he added his verbal assent.

His eyes flicked towards all those gathered all who had gone through hell and back upon the planet of Wren IV, his eyes pausing on each one there, in his eyes, a note of respect and assurance that he would be there as well.

Once Tyler left, his last remark as per this. "Let's get to work."

A Joint Post By

Lieutenant Colonel Cornelius Tremble
Executive Officer, USS Pioneer
Battalion Commander, The Cure