Year One: The Point of No Return

Post Count: 36

The USS Moore is ordered to escort Commodore Anjar Tevon from SB-514 to SB-12 for court-martial after she diverted relief from Romulan refugees to starving Federation colonies. En route, newly issued, co-signed Enforcement Directives classify ships outside humanitarian corridors as hostile by default. Moments after the hand-off, the Moore answers a distress call: Starfleet’s USS Gallant is moving to stop the aid freighter Redhaven under those directives.

The Moore must choose between obeying orders or protecting civilians—while keeping a clean evidentiary record and crew cohesion.

Between The Orders

Post Count: 9

Between The Orders is the ongoing parallel life of the world the main story is built on.

The Moore exists inside a universe that didn't begin or end when the Glintara stars went nova. Governments fractured. Factions emerged. People survived, adapted, and kept living. Between the Orders is where those lives keep running alongside, and frequently intersect, the main story.

This is the space for everything the main mission can't contain. The histories and defining moments that shaped the crew before they ever stood on this ship. The people who orbit their lives — connected to the Moore, but living stories of their own that don't wait for the ship to arrive.

Not every life connected to the Moore's story serves aboard her. Between The Orders follows those threads — sometimes crossing back into the main story, sometimes simply running beside it, always tied to someone the Moore knows.

Just the people who matter to this story, living the parts the main mission never gets to see.

The Moore is one ship. This is everyone still living around it.

Year Two: The Last Honest Port

Post Count: 2

Red Thread Station was built to be Cardassian — hard angles, hierarchical design, every corridor engineered to remind you where you stood in somebody else's order. After the withdrawal it passed between operators, too useful to decommission and too inconvenient to claim, until the URC acquired it. Cardassian bones under humanitarian paint. From the right approach vector, it almost looks like a relief station.

Relief shipments pass through Red Thread. Civilian evacuations are coordinated there. Medical cargo gets sorted, logged, delayed, rerouted, and occasionally lost there. The Federation uses it quietly. The Bajoran government depends on it openly. The URC runs it and maintains a very careful face about what that means.

Then a relief shipment disappears. Then another. Then a body turns up in a docking bay, and the story Red Thread Station has been telling about itself — managed neutral ground, humanitarian purpose, nobody's problem — stops holding.

The Moore arrives uninvited into the middle of it. A mere week after it's skirmish with the Gallant. Every faction has a theory. Every theory implicates someone else. Nobody wants a Starfleet uniform asking questions — and nobody agrees on what a Starfleet uniform means anymore. The fractures opening inside the Federation have reached Red Thread too: officers who still believe in the institutions, and those who have stopped. Bajoran government officials want answers that don't come through Federation channels. The URC station administration is managing three separate crises while keeping the aid pipeline from collapsing entirely. And somewhere in the station's crowded, exhausted civilian population — among the loaders and vendors and the people who came for temporary shelter and stayed because there was nowhere left to go — someone knows exactly what happened to the missing cargo.

They know that talking is more dangerous than silence.

Red Thread Station is too important to let fail. That doesn't mean everyone trying to hold it together wants the same outcome. And it doesn't mean the version of the Federation currently pointing weapons at itself has any business deciding what happens next.

The Unknown Frontier

Post Count: 1

The Unknown Frontier is everything happening outside the Moore's own course — the factions, colonies, and lives running their own stories inside the same broken Alpha Quadrant, on the same timeline, whether or not the Moore ever crosses their path.

Some of these threads brush against familiar names. Most won't. A courier running from her past. A shipping magnate whose reconstruction contracts fund something far less official beneath them. A humanitarian relief effort in a quiet rivalry with the for-profit operation trying to replace it. Whatever else the war touches, out past the edge of what the Moore will ever log.

None of it needs the ship. None of it waits for the ship's permission.

This isn't a different universe. It's the same one, seen from somewhere the Moore isn't.

No missions found

Prologue: Centre Predominate

Post Count: 31

In the aftermath of the Glintara stars exploding, countless numbers of Romulan refugees have flooded Federation space for safe harbor. With growing hostility towards the Romulans, the USS Moore is tasked with escorting civilian transports and supply freighters to potential new homes. But not everyone is willing to forget the past.

Year One: Whispers in the Wind

Post Count: 67

The crew have arrived at Solomon IV and are helping with the relocation of Romulan refugees in the established Federation colony. With looting and rising anti-Romulan sentiments across the Federation, tensions build old enemies try to learn to accept each other.

Year One: Strange Bedfellows

Post Count: 56

A month following the terrorist attack by the Whisperers, tensions have only run higher throughout the Federation as supplies run lower.

In a desperate move to sure up resources, the Federation Council, under the direction of the Federation president, makes the unpopular decision to cut a deal with the Syndicate to allow open trade with the unscrupulous organization in exchange for replenishing supply lines the Federation desperately needed. Like many Starfleet ships, the Moore has been reassigned to escort a frigate of these gangsters to their intended destination of Betazed.

With tensions running high, it's all the crew can do to keep tempers exploding at these smug gangsters who would the Federation's future in their hands.