The Bajorans Arrive

Posted on Mon Nov 17th, 2025 @ 11:21pm by Captain Erik Norsgaard & Lieutenant Tyler Malbrooke & Lieutenant Daegan Baas & Lieutenant Patrick Ryan M.D. & Lieutenant Stormy Knight & Lieutenant Commander Harrison Knox

2,816 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Wolf in the Fold: Hide and Seek
Location: Bridge / Transporter Room

When the Odett came into view, Norsgaard raised his gaze from the report he'd been reading and straightened. She waited, silent and stationary, and it flashed through this mind the times he had faced off with the Cardassians in his years of service. They were a proud people albeit somewhat xenophobic. If you weren't Cardassian, you were somehow less than. Norsgaard, who hailed from the ancient Vikings on Earth, had taken delight in disabusing a Gul or two of that notion in his career. Hadn't encountered the Ocett before though he'd read up on the Thunderbird's previous interactions. "Hail the ship," he ordered as he turned toward Ops and Lieutenant Malbrooke. "Notify Medical and Counseling that our guests will be coming aboard shortly."

Tyler nodded as an acknowledgement to the Captain's order. "Aye sir." He tapped a few commands into the console and off the message went. Just another day at the office he thought. "Channel open sir."

Patrick acknowledged the update through the comm link with crisp efficiency, his tone calm but already shifting into medical-response mode.
“Medical copies. Triage and intake teams are on standby.” He closed the channel and turned to his staff in Sickbay, voice low but decisive as he set the final pieces in motion. “Prep isolation bays three through five, and bring trauma monitors online. I want emergency field kits staged at the transporter and in the corridor outside—just in case their definition of ‘ambulatory’ turns out to be optimistic.”

A nurse nodded and hurried off. Patrick grabbed a medical tricorder and slung a portable scanner kit over his shoulder as he headed for the doors. “And someone remind Counseling we need them at intake. Physical and psychological evals start the moment they’re stable.” He tapped his commbadge again. “Bridge, Ryan. We’re in position. The moment they beam over, they’re ours.”

Working alone in her office, Lieutenant Trynn was writing up her notes from the latest crew psych evaluation when notification arrived. She was curious to find out exactly what condition the prisoners were in - given the Cardassian’s were not known for their caring and compassionate approach to those who they considered criminals. Acknowledging the message she left her report unfinished for now, leaving her office to meet Dr Ryan. Priority would be any immediate physical injuries, which would be easier to diagnose and quicker to treat than any potential psychiatric care they required. And of course they had to work within the confines of the mission - Bajor wanted minimal contact so they could debrief the prisoners themselves. Maybe - albeit unlikely - the prisoners would be the picture of health? Although as she entered sickbay and saw the thorough preparations Dr Ryan and his team had done, it was clear the physician was prepared for just about any and every scenario.

Patrick caught sight of Trynn as she stepped into Sickbay—calm, composed, already reading the room the way only a counselor could. He finished checking the calibration on a triage scanner and set it aside before crossing toward her. “Perfect timing,” he said quietly, tone all business but not unkind. “We’ll handle primary stabilization as they arrive—vitals, trauma assessment, any obvious injuries. Once they’re medically cleared, you step in for psychological triage and readiness to transfer.” His gaze flicked briefly to the isolation bays, then back to her. “Cardassians claim they’re ‘ambulatory.’ I’m preparing for the other ninety-five percent of possibilities.”

Patrick handed her a pared-down medical padd—vitals capture interface already open for shared input. “If any of them show signs of acute stress response, dissociation, or conditioned compliance, flag me immediately. I don’t care what Bajor wants—we don’t hand anyone over until they’re medically and mentally safe to do so.” A beat. His voice softened. “And… thanks for dropping everything. I know priority alerts aren’t exactly considerate of your scheduling.”
He gestured toward the transporter team staging outside Sickbay. “Ready to meet whatever walks off that pad?”

“Right behind you,” Ayryn assured him, following in his wake.

[Bridge]

Gul Zelar came onto the screen; his expression turned from thinly disguised irritation to interest as he noticed the 6'5" Viking facing him. His gaze took in the mane of blonde hair that hung to his shoulders and the sharp interest in the man's gray-blue eyes. "Well," he said, his voice almost dropping to a rough purr, "this is interesting. I was expecting Captain Gray. You are ...?"

"Captain Erik Norsgaard," the Thunderbird's commanding officer answered. "And you ..."

"Zelar, Gul Zelar," the Cardassian answered. "In command of the CDS Ocett. You're much different than your predecessor, Captain."

"Very," Norsgaard answered. "You, however, are about what I expected." His gaze met that of the Cardassians in unspoken acknowledgement. Both had been prepared ahead of time, neither were surprised, and verbal fencing, well, that was just part of the game. "We're here to escort the Bajorans back to Bajor."

"Prepare to receive," Zelar said. He turned, gave orders to someone on the Bridge, and turned back, his gaze sharpening. "I'll expect you back here in seven days with our officer."

"Ten," Norsgaard answered. "We'll meet you at these coordinates in ten days, barring any unforeseen difficulties."

"Ten," Zelar answered. "And no difficulties." There was a sharpness to his tone, the warrior within peeking out from behind the veil of diplomacy he wore like a mask. "Ocett out."

Norsgaard leaned back in his seat, staring at the star field showing on the main view screen, his expression thoughtful. "Interesting," he said. "This officer is important to him. No question. And they're fairly well informed. My taking over the Thunderbird was certainly no surprise." He turned toward his First Officer. "Go ahead down and meet our Bajorans. Get them started with Dr. Ryan and Trynn if needed. Malbrooke, make sure they have quarters that are near each other. Baas, if you could go too." He turned toward his Chief of Security. "Be subtle but make sure they're not bringing weapons with them, would you?"

Daegan had been keeping a close eye on the Cardassian ship incase they were up to anything. Even with the channel closed the Thunderbird had their shields down for the transport so he stood ready...just in case. When the order came in he looked down. "Roger that." Tapping his console he called for his relief to cover his station and waited for the XO.

Stormy watched quietly from the science station. She wasn't involved in the prisoner exchange, which allowed her to be a casual observer--and to pay attention to the sensors. It also gave her a chance to observe the two captains and their unspoken game of chess. She found it fascinating.

Lieutenant Commander Harrison Knox began to stir, getting ready to do as instructed and meet the Bajorans in the transporter room. Norsgaard's orders were straightforward, his instructions simple and they made sense. Keeping the Bajorans together or as close together as they could was a good decision as well having security to come alone and ensure there were no weapons that the transporters screening may have missed. Cardassians may be militant, but Bajorans are foxy thought Knox. They were clever and their guerilla tactics had caused many thorns in the sides of Cardassians.

[Transporter Room]

Patrick tapped his commbadge the moment the captain finished issuing orders, his voice carrying that clipped readiness that appeared whenever the unknown was about to cross the threshold. “Ryan here. Understood. Sickbay and intake team are prepped and standing by at the transporter.” A brief pause—just long enough to acknowledge the subtext of what Zelar had implied. “Captain… when prisoners are important to Cardassians, it usually means they were inconvenient to Cardassians. We’ll be ready for anything they step off that pad with—visible or otherwise.”

Patrick closed the channel and turned to his team, voice low and steady. “Eyes sharp. No assumptions.” Then to Trynn, beside him, “Counselor, looks like we’re up.” He grabbed his tricorder and moved toward the transporter bay—calm, composed, already bracing for the moment reality replaced speculation.

Knox continued to proceed to the lift with the others in tow. This whole situation was an interesting one, far different than his past interactions with Cardassians, and as for diplomatic missions? Prisoner exchanges were such a abnormal path to diplomacy, but a necessary one to find peace after war. The Occupation to the Cardassians went down in their historical texts much differently than the view point of the Bajorans who often revered it similar to war.

As the lift doors closed Daegan speculated, he wondered what had gone on behind the scenes that led to this...exchange. Both sides were suppodes to have already given up any 'prisoners' they had. Had something happened that had embarrassed the Cardassian and Provisional Government to where they had to admit their 'error' or was it something else. He would see what he could get out of Jules.

Looking over to Tyler, "So far so good."

"I would say so sir. Although I am pretty sure we have nothing to worry about. The Cardassians do not want a confrontation, not now, and I think not ever at least not with Starfleet or the Federation." Tyler replied and decided he would take a moment to share some of his opinions.

Lieutenant Commander Knox then walked through the parting doors of the transporter room, giving his uniform a tug, and a brief subtle nod of acknowledgement at the ensign.

The Ensign on duty glanced to his right as the transporter controls chirped, signaling a confirmed lock on the Bajorans. At the same time, Commander Knox and Lieutenant Bass entered, making the small room seem almost claustrophobic. “Commander, ready to complete transport on your signal Commander,” he called out.

Knox looked at Baas, at the others, then back at the ensign. "Energize ensign," Knox gave the order. "Bring our 'guests' over" he added.

Daegan had slipped in behind the operator to the other side of the console to scan for an illicit materials. "All clear Commander, but according to these bio signs they're in bad shape."

They were crowded together, the transition from prisoner to free Bajoran slowly penetrating, seeping through the layers of thoughts and fears to their subconscious mind. One in the back, stepped slightly to the side for the barest of moments, surveying the room. Not Cardassian, he thought, but still military. Federation then. The ones who thought of themselves as good. He shuttered his expression, leaning into the exhaustion they all felt, and stepped back into the group. Pain, well, that was just a way of life. All he wanted was a room with a door that closed by his choice. And something hot to drink because that spoke of civilization.

As the Bajoran’s began to materialize, Trynn had kept to the side. Not wishing to get in the way of either Dr Ryan or his team, or Commander Knox and Lieutenant Bass. Which was why, with a somewhat unique vantage point, she saw the man seem to stray to the edge of the group - just for a moment - before he seemed to retreat back into the heart of the small crowd now filling the room.

There was unease in the expressions she saw, a weariness as if expecting this to be a trick - a cruel game which offered freedom only for it to be snatched away. It was quite impossible to estimate age with great accuracy - everything about these people told of prolonged captivity in poor conditions and visible signs of malnutrition.

Knox immediately stepped forward. He tried to shed the sternness from his tone and relax the muscles that had tensed in his body. "Welcome aboard the USS Thunderbird. You're on Federation territory now, folks. We are going to see to it that you are examined by our medical personnel. We just want to ensure that you are in good shape for your return home."

He then turned to Trynn. "This is Lieutenant Ayryn Trynn, our Ship's Chief Counselor" he said introducing the woman.

Near the back, Trynn caught the slightest flurry of moment and a second too late realized someone seemed to fallen or stumbled, which in the confined space had something of a domino effect. The man nearest Trynn, barely matching her height and all skin and bone beneath tattered clothes was caught off guard as he received an unexpected shove from behind. Off balance he fell forward, off the edge of the transporter pad and directly on top of her, giving her little chance to get out of the way.

For a moment she was caught under him with the air knocked out of her lungs and her head aching from contact with the floor but almost instantly the weight on top of her was gone. In his place, an outstretched hand which she gratefully accepted.

Knox and the others had reacted swiftly. The First Officer reaching down and offering his hand to pull her up. "Are you alright?" he asked with genuine concern.

“Yes, thank you,” she assured him as she took the offered hand. As he pulled her to her feet she realized that was perhaps not entirely true but it was certainly nothing serious and not something to worry about now. They had bigger priorities. Twenty of them. “Accidents happen. Thank you.”

The man who had fallen was watching them, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting some kind of swift punishment. “It’s alright,” Ayryn told him, keeping her voice soft and friendly so there could be no misunderstanding. “Everyone here just wants to make sure you are well and to take you home. We have no intention of harming anyone. Quite the opposite."

He watched from the back of the group. This was new. The one who had been shoved was known to all of them. Oh yes. And, from the whispering that traveled from pallet to pallet in the night, judgement was coming for him. That he understood. But this? Waving it off? Offering care? This was new and it needed studying. Oh yes it did.

"Commander, perhaps now is a good time to let Dr Ryan work his magic?” Ayryn added as she glanced at Knox. She knew Dr Ryan would be able to keep the new arrivals at ease, and Sickbay would allow them more space than the confined space of the transporter room.

"Yes," Knox agreed. "Cardassians aren't known for their exquisite nourishment of prisoners" Knox said in a lowered tone of voice looking at Ayryn with concern for the Bajorans. "I am sure Doctor Ryan and a good meal will do these folks well."

Daegan had come from behind the console when the Bajoran had fallen but those closer had reached him first, but was helping the Bajorians off the platform and stood ready to aid anyone that needed assistance.

Patrick stepped forward, voice steady and pitched just loud enough to carry without sounding commanding.

“Alright—let’s get them to Sickbay. Slowly. No crowding.” He moved toward the nearest Bajoran, tricorder already open and scanning, but his posture stayed nonthreatening—shoulders relaxed, hands visible. “You’re safe,” he said quietly to the group, not singling out any one individual. “No restraints. No confinement. Just medical care and a hot meal once we’re sure you’re stable.”

Ryan's eyes flicked to the man who had fallen onto Trynn. Not judgment—assessment. The tremor in his hands, the guarded posture, the instinctive wince when attention landed on him. Patrick spoke to him directly, voice low and even, as if offering a choice. “You can walk with me, or I can bring a stretcher. Either way, you stay in control of the pace.”

That was when the man’s gaze met his—wary, disbelieving—and Patrick held it without pressure, just steady presence. He turned to Knox briefly.
“I’m detecting dehydration, borderline hypotension, and severe caloric deficit across the group. No surprise there.” A beat. “Let’s get them out of this cramped box before someone else collapses.”

To Trynn, Ryan offered a small nod—seen it, noted she was functioning, would check on her later. Then, directing gently to the group again. “Follow me. Sickbay is warm, quiet, and no one touches you without permission.” And he led the way, leaving space beside him for whoever needed it.

---

Captain Erik Norsgaard
Commanding Officer
USS Thunderbird

One of the Bajorans
(in Italics/also written by Norsgaard)

Lieutenant Commander Harrison Knox
Acting First Officer
USS Thunderbird

Lt. Ayryn Trynn M.D.
Chief Counsellor
USS Thunderbird

Lt. Daegan Baas
Chief of Security

Lieutenant Stormy Knight
Chief Science Officer
USS Thunderbird

Lieutenant Tyler Malbrooke
Chief Operations Officer
USS Thunderbird

 

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