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.

"You wanted me?" Miguel said, jaw tight. "Fine. You win. Let my father go, and I’ll come with you. No tricks. No backup. Just me."

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.*

**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**.

All he saw was his father—*taken*.

And Jaime wanted *him*.

Miguel took a slow, shaky breath, forcing himself to think through the rage, through the desperation.

### *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.

\\ Go ahead and look through my opens//

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

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.

"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*."

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.

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?"

"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

position. Jaime had lined up **his weapons right over their shield emitters, ready to punch straight through them.**

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

An instant later, alarms blared across the *Buran’s* bridge as proximity alerts went wild.

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.

thinks she’s got me cornered. But you and I both know—" he tapped the sleek control panel on his armrest, "—I'm always three moves ahead."

"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*

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.

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.

out and unconscious but clearly being stabilized, medics working around him. Jam Then, as if finally acknowledging

The screen widened just enough for her and Miguel to get a clear view—Gabriel, laid

C’mon now.” He tilted his head, feigning disappointment. “I thought you knew me better.”

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?

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.

Kat had always been predictable when backed into a corner—fire first, demand later. And he knew her too well to let a stunt like this actually stop him. He’d

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?”

@kat-cornwell-rp.bsky.social