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𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓐𝓵𝓮𝓳𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓪 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓪 𝒰𝒮𝒮 ℬ𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓃 (𝒩𝒞𝒞-𝟣𝟦𝟤𝟤-ℬ) @commandermlorca.bsky.social · 27/03/2025

This is the only way. He was not going to sit back and let someone else play god with his father’s life. If Jaime wanted to use him as some bargaining chip, then Miguel would make himself the biggest damn prize in the galaxy.

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He tapped his badge. **"Jaime."** His voice was steady, but it burned with barely controlled fury. *Controlled enough to sound like he wasn’t about to do the dumbest thing in his entire life.*

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**Jaime Always played the long game.** If he had gone through all this trouble, if he had kidnapped *Gabriel Lorca* of all people, it wasn’t just about revenge or piracy. It was **about him**.

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### *USS Buran – Bridge* Miguel stood frozen, staring at the holo-projection of his father restrained but receiving treatment. His heart pounded in his chest, drowning out the alarms, the voices, everything except the image of *him*. Gabriel Lorca. His father.

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Reposted by 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓐𝓵𝓮𝓳𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓪 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓪 𝒰𝒮𝒮 ℬ𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓃 (𝒩𝒞𝒞-𝟣𝟦𝟤𝟤-ℬ)

꧁❦𝐴𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑒 𝑍-𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑎❦꧂ @anniehzimmerman.bsky.social · 27/01/2025

𝙵𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎 : Annabelle Louise Beth Hansen-Zimmerman. 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛: Commander (1st officer) & scientist 𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎: Delta Quadrant. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 : 𝟿𝟾𝟽𝟼 Organic-Synthetic Lifeform - Distantly related to the Borg Collective & Yardans. #StarTrekRP #FanFiction

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𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓐𝓵𝓮𝓳𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓪 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓪 𝒰𝒮𝒮 ℬ𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓃 (𝒩𝒞𝒞-𝟣𝟦𝟤𝟤-ℬ) @commandermlorca.bsky.social · 26/03/2025

Jaime gestured to his helmsman. "Take us to warp." In a flash of blue, the *Vanguard* **jumped away**, leaving the *Buran* to fume in its wake—outmaneuvered, outgunned, and outplayed.

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"You wanna board my ship? Be my guest. *Try* to arrest me. But remember, *niña*," he grinned, baring teeth like a wolf, "I don’t play by your rules. I play to *win*."

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As he spoke, a **holo-projection activated on the Buran’s bridge, showing Gabriel Lorca in the Vanguard’s med bay—clearly restrained but being medically treated.** It was a power move, a reminder that Jaime was the one controlling this game.

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to me. And *sobrino*—" his voice dropped into something almost affectionate but still condescending, "—you *do* realize the moment you opened fire, you gave me a *casus belli* to do whatever the hell I want?"

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"Now, Kat, *mi vieja amiga*," Jaime's voice came through the comm, casual and infuriatingly self-assured, "I’d hate to see you blow your own ship to hell trying to get

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The *Vanguard* **reappeared**—not where it had been, but **directly above the Buran, dorsal-side to dorsal-side, barely meters apart**. It was an audacious move, one that put the Buran in an impossible tactical

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Before Kat could fire, the *Vanguard* suddenly **phased out of existence**—not just cloaked, but seemingly *vanished* from sensors. It wasn’t Klingon. It wasn’t Romulan. This was **Jaime’s own tech**, and it was unlike anything Starfleet had ever encountered.

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"Oh, *Querido Miguel*," he mused, his voice dripping with amusement as he turned toward the viewscreen, addressing his nephew with a cocky smirk. "Your dear *Tía*

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Jaime Lorca was already a step ahead. The moment Kat locked torpedoes onto the *Vanguard*, he smirked, shaking his head as he leaned casually against the command chair.

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Miguel, he grinned. “* M’hijo,*” he said smoothly, letting the nickname hang. “Didn’t your *papá* ever teach you to respect your elders? ‘Specially the ones who *win?*” The smirk widened. “Face it—you already lost.” And with that, he cut the feed.

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Opening the channel, he leaned in, letting her see the lazy grin stretched across his face. “Nice try, *chica,* but I’d expect better from someone who’s known me half their life. You think I’d pull a trick like this without a way out?

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already anticipated the move, systems shifting the moment her weapons locked on. The *Vanguard*’s failsafes were already engaged, and backup power rerouted. She’d aimed to cripple him, but he was three steps ahead.

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Jaimè barely flinched as the *Buran’s* phaser cannons struck his ship’s nacelles. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with something almost like amusement. “*Ay, mi querida,*” he sighed, not bothering to open comms just yet. “That all you got?”

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He gestured vaguely toward the view screen. "Well. You’re welcome to test that theory." Then, finally, he leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him, his voice dipping lower. "As for the cloaking tech? Let’s just say I don’t take handouts from the Klingons or the Romulans. But I’ve never

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He let that settle for a beat before exhaling, shaking his head as if this whole thing was an inconvenience rather than a standoff. "You’re not getting Gabriel back. Not today. Not until I get what I came for. And if you really think you’re in a position to demand otherwise…"

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His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a sneer. "You’re hesitating. That tells me everything I need to know. You’re not sure you want to fire on me, because you know exactly what I’ll do next."

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"You’re damn right I fired first," he said smoothly, tilting his head just slightly. "And before you start preaching about rules and wartime laws, let’s not forget who wrote the book on bending them. You think pulling rank is going to change a damn thing? You think I don’t know you, Admiral?"

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Jaimè leaned back in his chair, watching her reaction with the kind of calm that only came from knowing he was holding all the cards. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp in his eyes—something that flickered between amusement and warning.

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𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓐𝓵𝓮𝓳𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓪 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓪 𝒰𝒮𝒮 ℬ𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓃 (𝒩𝒞𝒞-𝟣𝟦𝟤𝟤-ℬ) @commandermlorca.bsky.social · 25/03/2025

“But let me tell you something, sobrino.” Jaime’s voice dropped into something **low and lethal**. **“I don’t lose.”** His eyes **darkened**. **“And I always get what I want.”

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Then, **with zero hesitation**, his expression hardened. The warmth **bled out** of his eyes, leaving something **colder, sharper**. The grin remained—but now, it wasn’t amusement. It was **promise.** Jamie leaned in slightly, eyes locked on Miguel’s.

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Jamie’s grin returned, **wolfish and approving.** **“Ohhh, I like you.”** His gaze flicked toward his own crew off-screen. **“I really, really like him.”**

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Miguel stood firm, arms crossed, his voice calm. **Controlled.** But the **steel** behind it? **Unmistakable.** **“What’s wrong, Tío? Not used to your prey thinking ahead?”**

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He lifted a brow at Miguel, intrigue creeping into his tone. **“Now that was unexpected.** I’ll admit, I thought you’d be all fire and bravado—but this?” He clicked his tongue, pacing slightly. “**This means you planned ahead.** You knew I’d try to take you.”

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A flicker of irritation crossed his face before it vanished behind that same **cool arrogance**. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a **low chuckle**. **“Hah. Clever.”**

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The sound **cut out.** The shimmering effect **fizzled into nothingness.** The **Buran’s** bridge remained **exactly the same.** Miguel was **exactly where he stood.** Jamie’s smirk **froze.**

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The hum of an **unauthorized transporter sequence** filled the *Buran’s* bridge. Miguel felt the familiar tingle at his skin—**but only for a second.** Then—**nothing.**

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He, took a step closer to the screen, His voice lowering. **“So I think I’ll take you instead.”** His men chuckled darkly in the background. Jamie spread his arms wide, his voice smooth as silk.

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