Born to be Wild

Posted on Sat Mar 14th, 2026 @ 6:26pm by Lieutenant Harris Zim & Lieutenant Audrey Willa

2,161 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Tellar Prime
Timeline: 3190-10-31

The transition from the 3180s into 3190 had been a blur of impossible physics and shifting borders. For Lieutenant Audrey Willa, the "now" was always more important than the "then," but as her shuttle banked toward the icy rings of the Tellarite system, she couldn’t help but track the scars the last two years had left on the galaxy.

The Burn had been the constant, suffocating weight of her entire life, a static reality where the stars were distant, unreachable islands. For a century, the Federation had been a ghost story, a fortress-monastery Admiral Vance had been forced to maintain with dwindling resources and a defensive crouch within the cloaked safety of the USS Federation. Then came Discovery. A "fossil" ship, she’d called it, manned by people who spoke of the Federation as a grand, living thing rather than a dying ember.

Willa shifted in her seat, her hand instinctively checking the Phaser at her hip. She had watched Michael Burnham turn a theory into a rescue mission, finding the source of the Burn in the Verubin Nebula. It hadn't been an enemy; it had been a lonely, grieving child. The irony wasn't lost on her: a century of galactic collapse, of trade routes dying and worlds starving, all caused by a single, subconscious scream.

Then came Osyraa. Willa still remembered the cold, emerald precision of the Orion Syndicate’s takeover of Federation Headquarters. Osyraa’s death had ended the Emerald Chain, but it had left a vacuum that the galaxy was still struggling to fill. And just as they had begun to breathe, the Dark Matter Anomaly had arrived. The DMA had been a cosmic eraser, and while the 10-C had eventually been reasoned with, the fear it left behind was a physical thing.

Now, Earth was finally coming back. But while the diplomats back on the Federation celebrated, Willa knew the truth: the "New Federation" was a target. They were stepping out of the shadows, and they needed more than just scientists and explorers to lead the way. They needed a vanguard.

That’s why I’m here, she thought, her eyes narrowing as the brutalist architecture of Starbase 12 loomed through the Tellarite mists.

The station lacked the sleek elegance of the flagship, but it possessed a hard-edged utility that Willa found comforting. It was a place for people who did the work that kept the lights on. She stepped through the airlock, the smell of ozone and the heavy thrum of Tellarite machinery greeting her. She didn't head for the commander's office; she followed the sensor pings down to the lower engineering decks, toward the secondary weapon-calibration bays.

She spotted him near a massive power conduit, his back to her. He was larger than his file suggested, his movements rhythmic and efficient as he wrenched a stubborn coupling into place.

"First Lieutenant Zim," she projected, her voice cutting through the whine of a sonic welder with the practiced authority she used when clearing a deck. She didn't wait for him to turn before continuing. "I’m Lieutenant Willa, Federation Security. I’ve come a long way to talk to you."

She watched his posture, looking for the tell-tale signs of a veteran’s reaction - the slight tension in the shoulders, the calculated pause. She waited for him to acknowledge her presence, her hands clasped firmly behind her back.

Harris knew she arrived before the words left her lips. His training had him using all of his senses. Her footfalls were soft, deliberate and with purpose. However, to him she sounded like a herd of elephants. He turned and adjusted the metallic sash that he wore. It bore his rank in the Capellan Guard and his insignia of his Tribe. The adjustment was more a reminder of who he was to her than anything else. Posturing was a fact of life for Capellans.

Harris Zim had been asked to go to the Starbase as a representative of Capella. New trade was to be discussed and his service and love of his homeworld had merited him with the ability to represent them. However, he was not expecting a meeting with Starfleet Security. A curt dip of his head acknowledged the woman's presence. "Yes, Lieutenant. I was informed you wanted to see me. I do hope this meeting is brief. I have negotiations on behalf of my people waiting."

Willa didn't blink at the frost in his tone. She liked it. Polite diplomats were usually hiding a knife; people who were annoyed with her were at least being honest. She took a step into his space, not enough to trigger a fight, but enough to let him know she wasn't impressed by the height difference or the tribal posturing.

"I’m sure they are," Willa said, her voice cutting through the mechanical whine with the jagged edge of someone who had spent too much time on the front lines and not enough in a boardroom. "And if you want to spend the next six hours arguing over grain shipments and dilithium tax codes, that’s your call. But I’m not here to talk about trade. I’m here because I need someone who knows how to hit back."

She didn't reach for a PADD or a formal briefing. She pulled a small holoprojector from her belt and tossed it upward, catching it with a casual flick of her wrist as it activated. The blue wireframe of the Sulaco flared to life between them, its twin hulls looking more like a double-edged blade than a starship.

"The Emerald Chain is gone, which just means the sharks are currently fighting over the carcass," she said, nodding toward the hologram. "We’re launching a vanguard. No backup, no cavalry, and a drive system that ignores every border on your map. It’s the Sulaco. It’s fast, it’s experimental, and it’s going to be a magnet for every pirate and privateer who thinks the Federation is still hiding in a hole."

Zim raised an eyebrow in a sign of indignation. "Lieutenant, I appreciate that you have told me about this. It is something that I will take back to my government. However, it is not something that is so pressing that I should be taken away from the negotiations." Fact was he was interested in this new ship, and he knew his government would be interested. However, he could not allow the Lieutenant to know of his interest.

"Your government?" Willa repeated, the word coming out with a dry, jagged laugh. She kept her eyes locked on Zim’s, her expression shifting from professional intensity to something closer to a dare. "Zim, if I wanted to talk to your government, I would have sent a sub-space transmission and a fruit basket. I’m not talking to the Capellan Guard. I’m talking to you."

She killed the holoprojector with a snap of her thumb, the Sulaco vanishing into a single point of light. The sudden silence of the engineering bay seemed to amplify the hum of the station's life support. "Negotiations are for people who think the galaxy has rules again," she said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp. "The Sulaco isn't going to be 'discussed' by your High Council. It’s a ghost. It’s going into the sectors where the Emerald Chain remnants are currently skinning colonies alive because they know Starfleet is too busy rebuilding to stop them. You can stay here and argue over the price of grain, or you can come with me and be the reason those colonies don't burn. I'm not offering you a seat at a table, Lieutenant. I'm offering you the Tactical station on the fastest predator the Federation has built in eight centuries."

Willa paused, letting the weight of the offer hang in the recycled air, "Kovich is already on board and he doesn't like to wait, and I don't like being told 'no' by people who are clearly bored of their current assignment. So, are we going to talk about trade, or are we going to go find some sharks?"

You did not have to be a brilliant tactician to know that passing on this offer would be detrimental to anyone and any government that they represented. Zim was a brilliant tactician and had arrived at this conclusion the minute Willa had begun to speak. Capellans stand on ceremony, and protocol, in some cases more so than Klingons. Zim reached onto his belt and drew out a small communication device. With deft fingers he sent a message to his homeworld that he would not attend the negotiations. Something more pressing had just arisen. He also informed that he would update them in due time. "Well, Lieutenant you sure do know your way into a Capellan's heart." He said as the look on his face changed from the stern look he had worn since Willa arrived to something a tad more sardonic. The left corner of his mouth rose in an almost smile. "Now, take me to this ship of yours."

"Heart is a strong word, Lieutenant," Willa replied, her voice losing none of its sharp, professional edge. She didn't return the smile, but she did incline her head in acknowledgment of his decision. "I’ll settle for your hands on the tactical array and your eyes on the long-range sensors."

She turned toward the engineering bay’s exit, her boots clicking against the metal floor with a rhythmic, impatient cadence. She didn't wait to see if he was following; she knew he was. A man like Harris Zim didn't send a 'something more pressing' message to his homeworld just to stand around a Tellarite starbase.

"My shuttle is at Docking Ring 4," Willa said over her shoulder as they moved through the corridor. The heavy thrum of the station’s life support seemed louder now, a stark contrast to the silence of the ship waiting for them in orbit. "We’re leaving in five minutes. If you have anything on this station besides that sash and a bad attitude, I suggest you leave it behind. The Sulaco doesn't have much room for luggage, and Kovich has already started the countdown." As they reached the turbolift, she finally glanced back at him, her gaze scanning his stature one last time. "And Zim? If we find those sharks, I'm not looking for a negotiation. I'm looking for a clean sweep."

Zim glanced at his sash and the dagger that was attached to it. Truth, was he did not need anything. Such was the way of a Capellan. "You are more knowledgeable than you tend to let on. When you first arrived, you spoke true. Capellans are never one for negotiations. We are created and forged for battle. So, so long as your Captain has open ears they will have my tactics at their disposal, and my hands on the trigger."

"The Captain?" Willa said, her voice dropping into a rare, dry hum of amusement. "He’s a man who’s seen the edge of the galaxy and decided he didn't like how quiet it was. I think you'll find his ears are plenty open, provided your tactics involve hitting hard and moving fast."

The lift chimed, opening to the high-traffic sprawl of Docking Ring 4. The air here was thinner, flavored by the cold vacuum just on the other side of the magnetic shields. Her sleek, black-hulled courier shuttle sat waiting, its engines already cycling with a low-frequency growl that vibrated in the soles of her boots. She walked up the ramp, the interior lights of the shuttle bathing her in a sharp, tactical blue. She didn't look back to see if he was following; the heavy, rhythmic thrum of his footsteps on the metal plating behind her was all the confirmation she needed.

"Strap in, Lieutenant," Willa said as she slid into the pilot's seat, her fingers dancing across the programmable matter console with a speed that bordered on the instinctive. "We’re jumping as soon as we clear the station’s gravity well. Kovich wants the Bridge hot and the tactical sensors live before the Captain’s boots hit the deck."

She throttled up, the shuttle banking sharply away from the brutalist spires of the starbase. Ahead, the stars weren't just distant lights anymore; they were a roadmap.

"Welcome to the vanguard, Zim," she murmured as the Sulaco appeared on her long-range scanners, a jagged sliver of black glass against the backdrop of the Tellarite rings. "Let's go see if that trigger finger of yours is as good as the files say."

Zim fastened the safety belt provided. There was a part of him that wondered what he had just gotten himself into. However, that part stayed in the back of his head. This prospect gave Harris Zim exactly what he had been looking for. A chance to bring his people to the galactic stage again.

 

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