A dilapidated old transport named Truckee lumbered along slowly, its crew admiring the nebula nearby. Its systems hadn’t been updated in years, and key systems were being held together by duct tape and chewing gum. The Truckee‘s only defense was looking too cheap to put up a fight, as the 10 year old shield emitters and single, prow-mounted phase cannon couldn’t stand up to anything stronger than a Bajoran sail ship.

At least, that’s what Marcus Beardsly was hoping the pirates would see.

The trap had been set, and the crew of the Truckee was left to wait. They’d modified their ship’s transponder – not exactly Starfleet procedure, Beardsly noted with a grimace – to look like a cargo ship, while the Advance lay in wait just inside the nebula. With a little luck, the pirates would swoop in. With a little more luck, The Truckee‘s weapons systems would function as intended, and they could take out the Keldon-class cruiser without much trouble. Marcus checked his chair’s arm display again, in case anything had changed in the past 60 seconds.

Peldun Aldiib leaned over from the XO chair, whispering while keeping an eye on the main view screen. “This will work, sir. I oversaw the transponder modification myself. The pirates won’t know the difference.” Peldun had apparently been reading Marcus’ mind. At least, half of it. There were still the ship’s systems to worry about.

Marcus raised his voice a little for the bridge crew to hear. Projecting confidence was key. “As long as the pirate’s take the bait, the trap will work. We have two good crews and two good ships. They’ll be expecting panicked civilians, not trained Starfleet officers.” Marcus noted the still forms of Lieutenant Commander Bishop and a pilot he didn’t recognize as they listened, pretending to mind their own business. “This may be our first mission together, but this isn’t a batch of fresh-faced cadets. I have every confidence in the crew.”

Peldun frowned, but said nothing. While he did not share his captain’s confidence in a crew that hadn’t had a chance to bond, he knew any contrarian commentary from their XO would sow distrust. The crew hadn’t earned his trust yet, but Peldun would be damned before he shot himself in the foot by damaging their spirits his first time on the bridge.

The quiet hum of the ship’s system was interrupted then by lieutenant commander Bishop’s voice. “Sir, vessel decloaking directly aft. It’s Cardassian… a Keldon-class. Their weapons are charged and locked on.” Bishop’s age and experience kept any notes of concern out of his voice. His report was calm and to-the-point. “Transponder readings match those the Advance gave us. It’s the pirates.”

Marcus leaned forward in his chair. Ops had already shifted the viewscreen to display the incoming pirate ship. They had decloaked outside of weapons range… Odd choice for a military engagement, but if they wanted to simply scare some civilian traders, it would probably work. “Good thing we aren’t civilians,” Marcus thought to himself.

“Helm, bring us about. By the time I finish this sentence, they will have realized we aren’t a freighter.” Marcus straightened in his chair. “Red alert. Tactical, I want you to target their cloaking device. We can’t afford to let them slink away, they’ll never fall for this again. After that, fire at will. Coordinate with the Advance once they come out swinging. Together we can knock out key subsystems instead of each pursuing our own agenda.”

The Truckee‘s impulse engines flared to life as power surged through them. The little support cruiser swung around and immediately opened fire with a series of phaser bursts. At least, that was the plan. The tactical officer had input his target and attempted to fire. The computer showed the command had left the console, but the bridge watched the viewscreen as nothing happened. The pirate’s had no such trouble, however, and the Keldon-class vessel raked phaser fire across the Truckee‘s shields.

Captain Beardsly turned in his chair. “Tactical, you fired?” The look of confusion and fear on the young lieutenant’s face gave the captain his answer. Marcus stood and called out to activate comms. “Engineering, Bridge. Phasers aren’t responding. I need them online or this may be the shortest shakedown cruise since the Enterprise B.

“Working on it captain!” Lieutenant Rakes’ voice replied over comms.

“Helm, evasive maneuvers. Do what you can to avoid their shots, but do NOT let them get behind us. This ship has reduced aft-facing armaments.” Marcus gave the order and the pilot responded, throwing the ship into a corkscrew spiral.

“Bridge, Engineering. We found the problem: there is a literal disconnect between the phaser arrays and the ship’s computer. The command to fire didn’t reach them. Someone in shipyard must’ve blazed their logs and forgotten to check. Good news is you’ll have them back in 20 seconds.” Lt Rakes’ voice sounded confident, so Marcus took her estimate at face value and turned forwards again.

At that moment, the Advance burst out of the nebula, letting loose with a volley of photon torpedos and phaser beams. The Keldon-class vessel’s shields absorbed them all, causing Peldun Aldiib to frown. His disappointment was short-lived, however, as suddenly angry red streaks of phaser fire left the Truckee and slammed into the enemy shields. They were back in the game.

Despite initial setbacks, the concentrated fire of the Truckee and the Advance was too much for the poor pirates. Within another minute, the Keldon had turned to run, and a minute later, they had cut engines to surrender.

Marcus was about to give the order to prepare a boarding party, when his tactical officer called out. “Captain three more ships are jumping in! Cardassian!” Marcus glared up at the viewscreen as a Galor-class cruiser and two Hideki-class scouts dropped out of warp in formation around the pirate ship. “They’re hailing us, sir.”

Marcus nodded, then sat calmly in his captain’s chair. The viewscreen changed to display a typical, monotone Cardassian bridge. The gul staring him down was young, with an arrogant, smug look on his face.

“Federation vessel. Thank you for your assistance in this matter. However, that is clearly a Cardassian vessel, so we will be claiming our property.” The gul took a moment to look at Marcus’ XO, sneered at the Romulan, and resumed his diatribe. “I know the Federation would never stoop so low as to claim salvage rights to a sovereign empire’s warship, so I bid you good day.” The channel was closed before Marcus had even opened his mouth to reply.

Commander Aldiib turned towards Marcus Beardsly. “Captain. Legally, we can detain the pirate crew for attacking Federation vessels. However,” Peldun paused, considering his options. “I would suggest we not bother. The Cardassians are our allies now, and regardless of the feelings of some of their military officers, they will share information with us. We can get what we need from a simple diplomatic request, and now we can simply carry on with our mission, instead of towing a cruiser the rest of the way to Cardassia.”

Marcus considered his XO’s recommendation. “I agree, commander. Signal the Advance, let them know we’re passing the buck and thank them for their assistance. We have a diplomat to deliver, after all, so let’s get back on track.” Marcus looked around the bridge. There was some slight damage from minor systems overloads. A glance to his chair console showed no significant hull damage. His XO would manage the repair process.

“Helm, resume our original course. Our riders have been patient long enough, let’s get them to their destination.” Marcus waited a moment, just in case any of his bridge crew had a report that might necessitate a delay in his next order. When none came, Marcus looked to the helm officer, who had been waiting patiently for the final order.

“Here we go.”