Desperate Times

Posted on Fri May 9th, 2025 @ 3:22pm by Mauricio Arnaldo

Mission: Outside the Box
Location: Krakau III - Ludheiser Cove

ON:

On the shore-lined docks of lower Ludheiser Cove, there stood an infamously desolate building with a rusted, worn-down appearance. The Scrap sat at the very bottom of the universe’s scale for decrepit, lawless watering holes. It was the kind of establishment where even scavengers avoided the food, and the air carried the acrid sting of rot. Its continued operation was not due to any legal allowances or profitability, but more to the grim tradition of executing any bureaucrat foolish enough to attempt to shut it down. Their heads were proudly displayed in large jars across the back wall of the bar. It was a place for the hopeless, for those who had nowhere left to turn; the utterly desperate.

Mauricio Arnaldo was precisely that desperate.

Three years ago, being unwillingly returned to Carnwennan Station on the Pandora had thrown the former Marine back into Starfleet’s grasp. As part of the wayward crew, Mauricio had been forced through endless, secret interrogations by the Starfleet court martial tribunal. They repeatedly pressed him on how he went AWOL on Paradise, and why he chose to take up arms for the Inconnu Resistance. He had justified his absence with tales of aiding their allies, assisting Commander Nash in locating Admiral Francis (which did, thankfully, earn him begrudging leniency) and ultimately, helping the Pandora escape from the Alrakis Pact's attack. At the end of the sessions, his story never changing, he got the feeling that Starfleet didn't really believe half of his testimony anyway.

He was then allowed to quietly discharge from Starfleet.

As soon as the inquests were over and the Pandora was swiftly mothballed, Mauricio immediately fled again. He had no desire to walk the pristine fields of Earth or wear the uniform of Starfleet when he knew the people of the Expanse continued to come under attack from the Pact. His heart belonged to the freedom of the Expanse, to the goals of the Resistance, and most importantly to his friend, Katya. His loyalty lay with the fighters who refused to bow.

A year had passed since he had found himself in Ludheiser Cove of Krakau III, a haven for similar outcasts, where currency was earned through blood and muscle. He had adapted. Selling his strength, intimidating those who needed persuading, protecting those who could pay. He would do almost anything to gather enough credits for passage back to Paradise. Killing was a line he refused to cross, though he danced dangerously close at times. Every job had brought him closer to his goal.

Tonight, he finally believed he would be able to make a deal that could take him into the Expanse.

Mauricio sat stiffly in the darkest corner of The Scrap, facing an enforcer built like a boulder. Domra was a Xindi-Reptilian warrior, with a ship that few dared to mess with. He was often employed by the upper echelons of Ludheiser Cove, his reputation for being a dominant fighter was well-regarded. Now Domra sat before Mauricio, his arms folded over his broad chest, a permanent scowl etched into his thick, scaly features.

For his part, Mauricio was covered in a black cloak with hood, and a mask covering up to his eyes. Here on Ludheiser Cove, the sight of an unguarded human was an invitation for trouble, so he kept himself disguised at all times. The Spaniard tossed a pouch onto the stained tabletop, the dull clink of latinum barely audible over the discordant hum of the bar.

“That’s everything I have,” he declared.

The Xindi barely spared a glance before shaking his head. “No.”

Mauricio scoffed, leaning forward. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few Breen. They wouldn’t dare raid your ship.”

“It isn’t the Breen,” Domra muttered. “The Ravagers control the corridor now. They hunt for sport. For enjoyment.”

Mauricio smirked. “You really think they’d take on your fortress of a ship? The Ravagers may be killers, but they aren’t suicidal.”

The Xindi exhaled sharply through his nose. “The cost outweighs the risk. More soldiers, more support craft, anti-piracy modifications. Your credits won’t buy that.”

Frustration burned in Mauricio’s chest as he fell back into his seat. “Unbelievable.”

“And why go back at all?” his counterpart grunted. “The Expanse is a graveyard.”

Mauricio tensed. “The Resistance is still fighting.”

Domra shrugged. “Not possible when they are dead.”

Mauricio shot to his feet, an abrupt movement that sent ripples through the Scrap bar. Conversations faltered, hands drifted to concealed weapons.

“I don’t believe you,” he hissed, reaching for the latinum, but the Xindi's thick fingers clamped onto his arm.

“I tell no lies,” Domra growled. “The Expanse is dead. And you will be too if you attempt to go back there.”

Mauricio wrenched his arm free, glaring at the Xindi for a heartbeat longer, before stuffing the credits back into his cloak. He began storming toward the exit.

“You’re wasting your time!” Domra called after him, but Mauricio just kept walking

======

Outside, the air was thick with moisture and salt, carrying the scent of rust and dirty water across the boardwalk. Mauricio pulled his cloak further over his head to ensure his appearance was properly concealed. His hand brushed instinctively against the weapon at his hip before he turned the corner into an alley.

A figure awaited him, draped in the deep mauve of the Anh’Iran. Vexal, a woman forged by hardship. Mauricio had helped her flee the servitude imposed on her after she was sold to a Ferengi war lord on Krakau III. Now they shared a singular goal: to find passage back to the Expanse. She too was covered, her Anh'Iran bright tattoos would be a clear give-away.

She wasted no time in approaching once Mauricio arrived. “Outcome?” She whispered.

Mauricio shook his head, his voice distorted through his mask's modulator. “He won’t take us.”

Vexal exhaled sharply, her irritation barely restrained. “Does he demand more credits?”

“No. He… he thinks we can’t get through.” Mauricio hesitated, unwilling to crush the hope in her eyes. She had learnt of the Sisters of Anh, and Katya's rebellion. She had endured great pain and sorrow while in service to Ferengi, the only thing that had kept her going was the thought of returning to a free Expanse. Mauricio couldn't let that hope die.

“Weak Xindi.” Vexal spat. “Another contact, then? More credits will persuade them.”

“We don’t have more.” Mauricio rested a hand against the pouch beneath his cloak, as if it might suddenly grow heavier. "Domra was our best chance. The Broot Wartorg could probably get through but his fee with be astronomical."

Vexal leaned in, lowering her voice. “Ah. But have you heard? There have been rumors while you were inside that a ship has gone down out at sea. Possibly a Federation vessel.”

Mauricio raised a brow. “Federation? Out here? Highly unlikely!"

“Others believe it,” she countered. “Search parties are already forming. Whoever gets to it first will claim the biggest prize. Any intact Federation technology fetches a fortune.”

Mauricio crossed his arms. “We’d have to dip into our funds to rent a craft. It’s too risky.”

“The reward is worth the risk,” Vexal pressed. “Enough to buy our way back.”

He knew she was right. No one in Ludheiser Cove would accept the amount of currency he had now. They had no choice but to chase more.

Mauricio sighed. “Fine. We’ll need a hauler with a magnetic lift. It'll slower than the other chasers, but it will be better suited for retrieval.”

Vexal nodded. “Already arranged. Come.” She grasped his arm firmly. “We must move fast.”

Mauricio allowed himself to be pulled along, dread pooling in his stomach. If there were survivors aboard that wreck, if the vessel was more than just salvage, that would change everything. He could be dragged back to the Federation again. But none of that mattered compared to the pull of the Expanse.

OFF