HOME | DD

Description
Star Trek: Antares
1.3: “The Call of the Expanse”

Written By Alex Matthews

The silver-grey form of the Starship Antares cruises through the still darkness of space at a steady, unimpressive speed of half-impulse.
It is in no particular hurry to get wherether it was going, as it passes through a relatively thin layer of the interstellar dust that made up the boundary of the so-called "Typhon Expanse"

Daniela Reese was most definitely a child of the 24th century. She'd grown up eating food that came from replicators, and for years she'd never believed it when her grandparents and older relatives would complain about how 'it didn't taste the same!' or something like that.
That had all changed when she'd started teaching at Starfleet Academy. It had been impossible to resist the smell of freshly bakes pastries and other delicious foods that had wafted through her San Francisco apartment window in the mornings. Her building, within easy travel distance to the main Academy campus, had been near the Presidio, and most days they had various market stalls out in force, vendors at the ready with their wares.
She had developed quite a taste for many of the exotic items, be they originally from Earth of variious other planets of the Federation and beyond. She'd even samples some Klingon food, and not been too quesy afterwards.
So, now that she had to get used to replicated food again, she found that her grandparents hadn't been far wrong. There was something that made it taste that little bit different.
Still, given how'd busy she'd been in the week since the Antares had left Deep Space Four, she'd not always had time to take her meals. Right now, as she sat down at her table with a freshly materialized croissant and a large cup of coffee, she was famished, so right now she didn't care how 'off' it tasted compared to the real thing.
As she took a long, appreciative sip of the strong coffee (a little cream and sugar too), she noticed the sly smiles she was getting from both of her breakfast companions, Xerxises Cinaran, and an older, handsome woman of Indian descent. The Antares's chief medical officer, Dr. Maggie Campbell had been a regular at their breakfast get-togethers since Cinaran had introduced her to Reese the day of the launch.
"What?" she asked pointedly, although she already knew why they were looking at her that way, "Can't I enjoy a nice cup of coffee?" She allowed a cocky grin of her own, "Even if it is replicated."
"Enjoying might be an understatement," Campbell commented with her customary snark, her grin softening it just enough to be taken in harmless fun. "Maybe we should leave you in peace?"
Cinaran shook his head quickly, "If only we had time." He gestured at the small pile of PADDs each of them had brought with them to the Mess Hall, reminding them this was a working breakfast.
Reese grimaced. He has a point. While the three of them may not have as much on their plate in regards to their ship-based duties as would their counterparts on an explorer or cruiser, they still had plenty to do with organizing the schedules and activities of their students.
Maggie scoffed before taking a sip of her Vulcan spiced tea, "Well, compared to my last assignment, being here is a cake-walk, and I'll take boring meetings and tormenting interns over unknown alien diseases any day of the week!"
Reese laughed. Maggie was a bit of a character, she'd learned in the last seven days, with a dark sense of humour, who had a fondness for putting the trainees under her tutelage through the ringer. She'd already roped Reese herself into a couple of surprise drills, complete with mock injuries, simulated via reprogrammed tricorders and medical sensors.
As she took a bite of her pastry, she noticed that Cinaran was still staring ahead, eyes not on the PADD he held in his hand. She knew exactly what he was really thinking about, "Quit worrying, will you?"
He looked up at her, and she saw the parental concern in his dark eyes, "I don't think that's in the parental manual, Danni. How not to worry."
"Worry about what?" Maggie asked, clueless.
Reese quickly outlined it for her, "Today is Charlie's first day for his rotation in Main Engineering." She'd only briefly interacted with the Antares's Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Mitchell Hanover at the senior staff meetings that Captain Tel had made a daily occurance, but that was about the limit of their interactions so far. Even a ship as small as a Miranda-class, they'd just not run into each other yet, especially since their duties didn't really overlap all that much.
Maggie grimaced, "Oooh," she muttered, "Good luck to him, then."
Reese frowned. Surely it wouldn't be that bad. From what Charlie had told her in excited detail the other day, Hanover was a bit of a workaholic as well as an engineering genius who'd won a Zee Magnees Prize a few years ago. "Why would he need luck?"
Cinaran winced, "You don't know Mitch," he replied, "She's a great engineer, but she's not a teacher. She'd much rather dealing with mechical problems instead of people."
"He's going to be fine," she made a point of saying to the Betazoid, "He takes after his mother, especially when it comes to dealing with people."
Cinaran's face softened greatly, as Reese knew it would, at the reminder of how much of Leelana Cinaran, his beloved imzadi and Charlie's mother who'd been taken far too soon by illness, lived on in their son.
Campbell tapped at the tabletop, as she finished off her tea, "Come on, we better get moving." A glance at the chronometer on her PADD made Reese realize they only had a few minutes before they were due to be at today's staff meeting. She quickly wolfed down the last bites of her croissant but decided to finish her coffee on the go, to savour what might be the first of many cups of the day, depending on how much her workload grew.
She loved her work. Really, she did. But, good lord, the paperwork was endless...

* * *

Please don't let me screw this up..!
As he made his way down the corridor that lead to Engineering, Charlie Cinaran repeated his mantra several times over. He could feel a slight trickle of sweat running down his back, so he quickly adjusted his silver-grey uniform a little. Hoping he still looked as spit-and-polish now as he had when he left his crew quarters a few minutes ago.
The lighting in the corridor was subdued - it was the last few minutes of Gamma Shift, the so-called 'graveyard shift'. Since this going to be his first time working alongside the Antares engineering staff, Charlie had decided to get an early start.
All the better to make a good impression on Chief Hanover.
Truth be told, Charlie had been dreading this duty rotation after he'd heard from some of the other interns who'd been assigned to shadow the engineers for their first week. From what they had said, Mitchell Hanover was taking great pains to keep out of the way of the students under her supervision. The tasks she assigned them were 'scutwork' - jobs essential to the running of any ship in space, but loathed by all. Scrubbing plasma injectors, monitoring waste extraction, degaussing the transporter pads, etcetera, etcetera...
Charlie recognized and understood that as interns, they were the lowest rung in the career ladder of Starfleet, and had a lot to learn. But part of the excitement of being assigned to an actual science vessel in active service was the idea that they'd be involved in making discoveries, fulfilling the Starfleet pledge to 'go where no one has gone before...'
Guess everyone had to start somewhere, though.
Taking one final steadying breath, Charlie entered the engine room. With the lowered lights, the glow of LCARS displays shone even brighter then normal. The slow pulsing of the warp core was a reminder that the Antares was currently cruising at impulse speeds, allowing the science team to utilize the sensor pods enhanced scanners to continue their detailed mapping surveys of the outer edge of the Typhon Expanse.
Due to the early hour and the imminent start of the day shift, there was not a lot of personnel on duty in the small but functional room. A couple of technicians stood at one of the port-side consoles near the warp core. That was about it. They looked over at him briefly, offering a nod of welcome, before they headed out the way he came, conferring over a large PADD they were both reading from.
Charlie stepped down to the master systems table, that was on a recessed lower level in front of the core itself. For a brief moment, he let himself enjoy the gentle thrum of the ship's engines that vibrated through the deck, and the apparent solitude--
--until he heard a muffled curse that was muttered with vehemence from behind him, "Good damn shipyard workers! They wouldn't know a properly aligned ODN relay if it grew arms and slapped them upside their heads!"
Charlie span around, and that was when he noticed a pair of legs sticking out from uder one of the consoles on the upper deck. They twisted and kicked, as whoever was buried up to their hips inside the console squirmed around. A feeling of intense frustration tickled on his developing Betazoid empathic senses from whoever it was underneath, "Someone hand me that ODN decoupler, will they?"
With an abrupt start, Charlie realized that he was the only one around to oblige. He spotted the requested tool on the deck besides the person's - a woman, by the way the voice sounded (and the shapeliness of her figure) - legs. He darted forward, picking it up, and passing it through the open access hatch.
It was snatched away in seconds, without so much as a 'thank you'. He heard the familiar buzz of the device for a moment, before the mystery woman spoke again, "How's that looking now?"
Looking at the console, which Charlie quickly recognized as the main warp propulsion systems panel, he studied the readings, which flucuated for a moment, before stablizing into what he would expect it to read at their current velocity. "All readouts nominal."
"Who the hell is that?!" Charlie backed away as the figure shuffled their way out from under the console. He felt his face burn hot as he saw just who it was - Chief Engineer Mitchell Hanover. She glared up at him intensely with green eyes, indignant anger radiating off her in waves, "What are you doing in my engine room?"
He snapped straight to attention, but didn't break eye contact. "Field Intern Charlie Cinaran, reporting for duty, Lieutenant," he replied as crisply as he could with a suddenly-dry mouth.
Hanover pulled herself up, and input a quick series of commands on the console, watching the readouts for a moment. "Huh," she muttered with clear surprise, "All checks out, just like you said."
She looked down at him, a wry grin forming, and Charlie could feel her annoyance subside somewhat, "Wouldn't figure an intern would know how to read a systems display." Her grin grew, "But then, I guess you've been around this kind of thing before. You're the science officer's kid, right?"
He nodded curtly. Feeling the heat in his face increase. It was a comment he'd gotten at least once a day since reporting to the Field Supervisor for the intern group.
She studied him for a moment, before casually tossing him the ODN decoupler. He almost fumbled it in surprise, but managed not to drop it, "You're early, too. But not too early. I like that."
She gestured vaguely at the open tool kit on the deck, "Toss that in there and bring it, will you?" she said as she walked off, "We've got a few more repairs to get to."
Charlie did as he was told, scrambling after the lieutenant as she moved over to another console. As she peeled off the access hatch under it, her words finally registered with him.
Hang on, did she say 'We've got repairs'..?

* * *

Helena Tel surveyed the small group of officers sitting with her in the Spartan but spacious conference room on Deck 2, just below and aft of the bridge. Even though she'd only served with most of them for the past week, she felt an odd sense of pride.
At her right sat Solan, her executive officer. The picture of Vulcan calm and serenity. To her left was Cinaran, with Reese at his side. Maggie Campbell, the only one of the four that knew her beyond just being their commanding officer, sat at the end of the table. The CMO, in her more relaxed duty uniform with open collar and no rank insignia, was doing her best, yet failing miserably, to not look bored.
Tel smirked inwardly. Maggie hated meetings like this. But they were a necessary part of the five Antares senior officers roles in regards to the academic aspects of the ship's operations. Thankfully, the meeting was already coming to a close. They were all just giving their PADDs a final readover to make sure there was no other business to deal with, which it seemed, there wasn't.
"On a final note," she continued, once it was clear no one else had anything to add, "I want to remind everyone that we're due to enter the outermost edge of the Expanse later today." Their course over the last few days had skirted the Expanse but never entered into it. Given it's shape, though, they would pass through small sections of it periodically as they continued their mission. Today, in a few hours time, would be the first of such.
Cinaran took over, "The science teams will be ready to begin the astrometric scans under my supervision in the stellar cartography lab."
Tel grinned, "At least we're putting that sensor pod on our hull to good use."
The Betazoid science officer beamed with eager anticipation, "With all the bells and whistles we installed, we'll generate some of the clearest and most detailed maps of this entire region."
"Which will be most valuable for any dedicated science vessels that follow up on our surveys," added Solan. The vaguest hint of a smile on his handsome face as he spoke.
[Bridge to Conference Room.] Dayan's voice came through crystal clear from the room's intercom. Tel tapped her communicator briskly, "What's up, Mr. Dayan?"
Her good mood evaporated as she heard his response, [Captain, we've picked up a distress call. On a Federation frequency.]
Reese leaned forward. Her expression mirrored Tel's own feelings of confusion, "There shouldn't be any Federation ships out here. Not this far from the normal space lanes."
Tel pushed herself back from the table, on her feet as she spoke, "Find out everything you can about it's point of origin, Lieutentant," she ordered.
"I'll prep Sickbay for incoming casualties," Campbell offered. Tel gave her a succinct nod, dismissing the CMO to make her way belowdecks.
As she lead the remainder of her people up to the Antares's command center, one thought was at the forefront of her mind: We're a training vessel. We're not equipped for rescue and recovery!
But she also knew that no matter what ship she was on, this was still a Starfleet vessel, and they had a duty to perform. That was the most important lesson she knew she would have to teach these kids under her command.
She just hadn't figured it would be today she'd be teaching it...

* * *

As they stepped out onto the raised aft deck of the bridge, Daniela Reese hung back by the systems status displays on the rear wall. She didn't have a dedicated station to check on, so she was superfluous at the moment.
Everyone else went to their appropriate station, with Tel slipping into her command chair once Lt. Dayan, acting as duty officer during their meeting, vacated it. Cinaran took over at the free-standing Science One console, relieving Lt. Clarke to head back to the secondary console behind it. Solan and Dayan each took their own post at the Helm and Navigation stations.
"What have you got?" Tel asked, in a clipped tone.
It was Ensign Ye at Communications that answered, "It was a signal is on a repeating loop, Captain." The Korean woman's concentration was palpable, as she listened intently to her transciever, while working her console. Finally she shook her head, "Badly garbled and awash with static, even with all my filters, before it was terminated." She looked over at the expectant Tel, "Aside from the emergency disaster alert, all I got was a name; Winds of Andoria."
"Checking now," Cinaran offered, working his own console, as Tel pushed for more, "Any response to your reply?"
Ye shook her head again, "No signal return at all, Captain."
Reese shivered. No signal return meant that whatever communication system sent the signal was either no longer operational...
...or the ship that sent it was no longer intact.
"The Winds of Andoria is an independant freighter registered with the Federation Merchant Service," Cinaran reported, checking the displays above Lt. Clarke's head on the Mission Ops station. "Under the ownership of th'Dane Shipping."
Tel nodded in acknowledgement, "Do we have a location?"
"Six point nine light-years away, Captain," replied Solan stoically, "Well inside the Expanse."
"Talk about off the beaten path," Reese muttered quietly to herself.
At least she thought she said it quietly - apparently Tel had excellent hearing, as she turned her command chair around to look at her with a wry smile, "I was thinking the same thing."
Cinaran tapped at his controls, bringing up another screen of data, "We don't know anything about that deep in the Expanse, Captain." He looked over to Tel, "All we have is a designationof a solar system near that location; System Q-241."
"At warp six, we can be there in two hours, Captain," Dayan supplied a little too eagerly. Typical hot-shot pilot wanting to let out the reins whenever possible.
Reese was taken aback by the sudden flicker of emotion that passed over Helena Tel's pale features. Was that uncertainity she was seeing? It was not something one wanted to see in their commanding officer. "Are there any other ships in range to offer assistance, Mr. Solan?"
Solan gently shook his head, "We are the closest, Captain." His voice remained eerily calm, "Any other vessels would be coming from either Deep Space Four or Five, which would take several days to arrive."
Tel slowly turned back to face the forward viewscreen. She sat up that little bit straighter in her center chair, "Very well. All hands to duty stations. Sound general quarters."
Solan nodded, as Ye touched a control and reissued the orders throughout the Miranda-class starship, "All hands, general quarters. Repeat, general quarters. All hands to duty stations. This is not a drill."
Despite everything, Reese felt a thrill surge through her body, something she hadn't felt in years. The call to action. Nothing in her work at the Academy came close, no matter how much she'd grown to love her work there.
This was why she had wanted to be back in space.

* * *

Under the gentle touch of it's helmsman, the Antares came about, pointing it's nose on a new heading. A totally unexplored direction of deep space, answering a cry for help.
In a flash of warp propulsion, the Antares vanished into a burst of superluminal light.

* * *

She wasn't really one for stargazing, but as the Antares streaked through the void at warp 8 to lend whatever assistance they could to the stricken Winds of Andoria, Helena Tel found her attention wandering to the view outside her ready room's viewport.
It was only when the chime to her private sanctum sounded that she snapped out of her mindless viewing. "Come in," she called automatically, as a quick glance at the chrono on her computer monitor made her realize she'd been zoned out for almost twenty minutes.
The doors parted to allow Daniela Reese to step in. She took position just in front of Tel's desk, "Reporting as ordered, Captain."
"Take a seat, Lieutenant," Tel gestured at one of the guest chairs in front of the desk, as she took her own seat, "How are the cadets and interns handling things?"
Once the Antares had jumped to warp, Reese had left the bridge and called an emergency session with the academic contingent. She had issued orders that had confined all the interns and to their bunkrooms, while the cadets were assigned to various roles throughout the ship. "The interns are scared but keeping it together," Reese replied readily, "This isn't what they were expecting, obviously."
"All par for the course," Tel commented, "Even if I happen to agree." She studied the younger woman for a moment before continuing, "I want you on the bridge for the forseeable future."
"Captain?" Reese queried, genuinely surprised.
"We're on a scientific training cruise, Lieutenant," Tel gently reminded her, "I have faith in the ability of my crew, but to be blunt, we are potentially taking a ship full of children into a combat scenario." She afixed her eyes on Reese, "Right now, I need you as my Chief of Security, not my T.A.C. Officer."
"Of course, Captain" Reese replied. Tel was suitably impressed with the quiet strength Reese exuded as she unblinkingly took her new orders. "Reconfigure the Science 1 station for tactical duties, that will be your post. Then Commander Solan and Lieutenant Dayan will be able to focus on keeping the Antares moving, if we do find ourselves in a fight."
Reese nodded, "Understood, Captain." She stood, hands lacing behind her back, "Will that be all?"
Tel shook her head, "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."
Reese nodded one final time, then turned on her heel and exited the ready room with alacrity. Almost with an eagerness. A fire lit in her by this new turn of events.
Tel almost envied her that. A year ago, maybe, she would have felt the same.
Now, after all that had happened at Browder Prime, all she felt was a cold dread...

* * *

Xerxises Cinaran had originally envisioned his life in Starfleet as being one of pure research. He hadn't been interested in practical applications when he'd graduated from the Academy. It wasn't until he'd been assigned to a science vessel as his first posting that he'd realized the excitement and drama of putting all he learned in books to use in the field.
Still, when he'd married Leelana, and they'd welcomed Charlie into their lives, he'd pretty much accepted that any excitement he'd have now would be from preparing the next generation for their own adventures in the galaxy around them. It was a status quo he'd been happy with and had taken comfort in after loosing his dear imzadi.
He hadn't been fond of the idea of reassignment to Deep Space Four at first. But then he'd laid eyes on the plans for the Antares, saw the potential the old ship had, and his attitude changed as his interest in "Project Antares" grew.
So far, the new sensor pod that had been his 'baby', his main contribution to the Project, was working like a charm. Hell, even better then he'd hoped.
He just wished it was still tasked with stellar mapping, instead of sorting through the blasted debris of the freighter formerly known as the Winds of Andoria.
Part of him had been hoping, like the rest of the bridge crew, that as they approached their destination, they'd find the Winds drifting in space, but intact. Her communications array off-line.
Unfortunately, it seemed that wasn't to be. The sensor readings didn't lie.
"Definitely wreckage," he reported finally to the waiting Tel, her command chair rotated around to face him as he interpreted the readouts on his screens.
"Source?" Her tone was clipped. She wanted answers, that was obvious, but Cinaran couldn't help but pick up some underlying emotional battle underneath her seemingly-calm facade. He reinforced his mental barriers, not wanting to intrude, however accidentally, on the woman's mental privacy.
"I'm picking up tritanium and duranium alloys," he replied, "which could be from a Monarch-class freighter." Another look at one of his screens confirmed it, "Also picking up a warp engine signature. Heavily tweaked, I'd say, but definitely of Federation origin."
Tel sighed heavily, "So she's been destroyed."
Cinaran ran another analysis confirmation. Something about what he was seeing didn't sit right. It was Reese that confirmed his belief, "Captain, there's not enough here to be the wreckage of an entire freighter."
The Betazoid nodded in agreement, "Lieutenant Reese is right, Captain," he added, "What we have here looks like part of the ship's fuselage, but not all."
Solan's voice was an oasis of calm within the tense atmosphere of the Antares bridge, "Could that not be the result of her destruction?"
"No, sir," Cinaran shook his head, as another screen of data backed up his developing theory, "There's no sign of antimatter residue from the warp core explosion necessary to vaporize the rest of the ship to that degree."
"I'm picking up something else," Reese abruptly commented, "Xerx, can you confirm?"
Cinaran winces a little at the use of that nick-name, one only Danni and Leelana ever used, while on the bridge, but linked his station with hers to double-check her scans. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat.
"Talk to me, please." Tel's words was more a demand then a question.
Cinaran turned around to meet Reese's eyes. He saw the shadow of fear in them, before facing his C.O., "Sir, we're picking up weapons signatures as well. Consistent with type-3 disruptors."
The junior-most officers on the bridge didn't bat an eyelid at his report, but the other bridge crew did. Even Solan raised an eyebrow in the Vulcan manner indicating surprise. A type-3 disruptor indicated the weapons fire originated from either Klingons, the Breen...
...or Romulans.
Given that the Klingons had no interest in this sector and their alliance with the Federation, the likelihood of them being responsible was slim. Same with the elusive Breen, especially given their closest holdings where dozens of light-years away.
The Romulans, though, were another matter. The Neutral Zone, the buffer between their Star Empire and the Federation, first created nearly 200 years ago, was only a short hop away, galactically speaking. But since the Tomed Incident of 2311, they had pretty much disappeared from the galactic stage.
There was a chiming on the helm station, which Dayan quickly silenced, "Picking up an impulse wake," the young man replied, as he worked his intruments, "from a Federation engine."
A new alert sounded on Cinaran's own console, as the main computer routed more of the same sensor feed to his station, "Also picking up several unidentified engine wakes." He frowned at the display, "Totally unknown configuration, not in our database."
"Captain?" The uncertainty in Ensign Ye's voice was clear, as she listened closely to her ear transceiver, "Registering something on the extremely low subspace bandwiths. No discernable transmission, just a signal."
"The distress buoy!" Reese blurted out, surprising everyone, including Cinaran with how loudly and abruptly she nearly shouted the statement. She looked immediately chagrined, "Sorry, I just mean, it might be the distress buoy."
Cinaran realized where she was going, "I get what you mean." All Federation ships carried a distress or a log buoy - a last ditch 'time-capsule' if the ship faced imminent destruction that would carry a record of what had lead up to that event. "If it was damaged during launch, it could have managed the brief message we got, before failing. But it could still be emitting a kind of subspace backwash into the comm frequencies."
"Captain," Solan spoke as he checked his own readings, "The signal is coming from the same direction that the engine wakes head in. Directly into System Q-241."
Tel took a long moment to turn her seat towards the forward viewscreen. Even with his strengthened blocks, Cinaran still felt a sudden peak of strong emotion from his commanding officer before she finally spoke, "Resume course. Continue Yellow Alert."

* * *

As the Antares settled into a standard orbit over the fourth planet of System Q-241, Helena Tel tried to relax her grip on the armrests of her command chair.
She couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that had settled over her since the ship had changed course. Apprehension that had only become more intense with the idea that her ship may soon be in an encounter with Romulans.
She had hesitated earlier. There was no question of it. It had only been for a moment, but it had been enough. She had noticed the look both Reese and Cinaran had in their eyes as she'd turned her chair back fore.
The idea of taking this ship, this crew, into combat, did not sit well with her in the slightest. But it was a very real possibility.
Cinaran had found the distress buoy only a few minutes ago, banged up from launching from a faulty ejection tube. With no further significant debris in orbit, they'd turned the ship's sensors planetward, after detecting an thruster exhaust trail that went into the atmosphere.
"What about the other exhaust trails you detected?" Tel asked, inwardly grimacing at how clipped and tense she sounded. Take it down a notch, Helena, she remonstrated mentally.
Cinaran kept his eyes on his sensor screens, "They didn't hang around here for long, Captain," he replied, "Looks like they left hours ago. No indications they doubled back, either."
"Picking up the wreck of a ship on the northern continent." The voice of Lieutenant Dayan pulled Tel's attention forward. Both he and Solan worked their helm and navigation boards with diligence, keeping the ship stable as it performed intensive scans.
"Confirmed," Reese agreed, her own attention on her tactical displays, "From the size and hull composition, it looks like the forward hull of a Monarch-class freighter."
Dayan whistled in awe, "No way that survived a crash on it's own." He turned to look at Tel, "Someone must have been at the controls and performed a controlled crash manuever."
Solan gave voice to the same thought Tel had, "Monarch-class freighters are not capable of atmospheric flight, Lieutenant."
Dayan shrugged, "Not according to the specs, sir," he replied, "But if your pilot is good enough, and you reinforce structural integrity and forward shields, it can be done."
Tel looked back at Reese and Cinaran, "Any life signs?"
Reese checked her readings, shaking her head, "The upper atmosphere is heavily ionized, most likely from weapons fire or impulse exhaust."
"Give me a second," Cinaran worked his console, his nimble fingers dancing over it's touch-screen surface, before he slapped a hand against it, "Got it!" He whirled around with a big grin, "One life-sign! Very faint, and I can't give you a clear bio-sign analysis, but they're alive."
His words lit a fire in Tel's heart. It squashed the edginess and uncertainty that had been plaguing her for the last few hours, now she had an actionable goal to focus on. Someone needs our help. Tel opened her mouth, ready to order her people to the transporter room, but Solan cut her off, "The ionization will make transporter usage difficult, Captain. I recommend we take a shuttle instead."
She nodded in acknowledgement, "Very well, Commander. Prepare your away team."
Solan nodded, standing from his position, as Ensign Taylor moved down from the environmental displays to relieve him. The Vulcan tapped his communicator, "Solan to Sickbay. Dr. Campbell, report to Shuttlebay 2 for away mission duty. An unknown injured party on the planet's surface may require your attention."
[Understood, Commander,] came back Maggie's strong voice. Despite everything Tel couldn't help but smile a little at hearing Campbell's evident excitement at getting off-ship for whatever reason.
With succient orders, Solan drafted Reese and Cinaran into the away team as well. As the three of them headed into the port-side turbolift, Tel turned her attention back to the viewscreen and it's image of the ice-cold blue planet that it displayed.
Whoever you are down there, she thought, hold on a little longer.
Help is on the way.

* * *

From the now-open doors to the port-side shuttlebay at the aft of the Starship Antares exited a Type-7 shuttlecraft. An overall rectangular form but with a rounded curvature to the edges that blunted the overal boxiness of the auxiliary vehicle.
Hull markings caught in the glare of it's homeship's running lights identified it as the Eisenberg, NCC-9844/01.
It deftly made it's way to the blue orb that dominated space in front of it. Shields began to glow bright from the friction of entering the planet's atmosphere, as the small craft made it's way inexorably forward.
* * *

Reese was glad she didn't suffer motion sickness. Even with the Eisenberg's inertial dampeners on maximum, the four occupants of the shuttle were being buffeted by both the atmospheric turbulence of re-entry, but also the high winds as they passed through the stratosphere.
She sat in the rear passenger compartment, holding onto the seat restraints, opposite Maggie Campbell. The British-Indian woman was looking a little 'green around the gills', to use the old parlance, clearly feeling the effects of their descent.
In the cockpit, Cinaran and Solan manned the piloting controls with as much deftness as they could collectively manage with everything going on outside their small shuttle. The Betazoid tossed a wry grin over his shoulder at them, "How you two holding up back there?"
"We're managing," Reese replied, bracing herself as they passed another layer of turbulence.
Maggie growned loudly, "Speak for yourself!"
Reese smothered a grin at the poor woman's expense. Whatever thrill of anticipation the doctor had harboured before they'd launched was well and truly extinguished by their bumpy ride.
"I'm diverting sensor readings to your console, Maggie," Cinaran said, "Maybe that will take your mind of things."
Maggie shifted herself to face the LCARS console at her side, mounted on the bulkhead, "Here's hoping," she griped, as she pulled up sensor data. Reese could make it out from her seat, but it was all gibberish to her. "Huh," Maggie finally said, "Looks like an Andorian bio-sign to me."
Solan remained unfazed by the shaking as he spoke, "The life-sign is coming from the wreckage of the crashed freighter. It would be logical to assume they are too badly injured to extricate themselves from within."
"Could be," Cinaran didn't seem convinced, "or maybe they saw what the weather was like outside and decided to stay in relative safety." He double checked his console again, "The wreck is still largely in one piece, aside from a few small fragments along the crash path."
Solan nodded graciously, "Indeed, that is a possibility." He pressed a control, and the exterior search-lights of the Eisenberg became active. Reese pushed herself up from her seat, leaning into the cockpit to look out the forward exterior viewport. "Whoa... some crash."
Ahead of them, the lights lit up the deep trench the the freighter's impact had caused. Even from their current altitude, now they'd descended out of the low-hanging clouds, they could make it out. Debris from the freighter could be spotted, but not as much as you'd expect from a vessel of it's size crashing from orbit.
A glimpse of burnished metal came off the reflected lights, and Reese instintively pointed, out of the viewport, "There! I see it."
"Freighter dead ahead," Solan confirmed. "Please return to your seat, Lieutenant, while I find us a stable location to set down."
Reese did as she ordered, noting that Maggie had turned back from her console, and now had her eyes closed, murmuring quietly to herself, "Don't be sick, don't be sick, don't be sick..."

* * *

Even with the field jacket Solan had insisted all away team members wear, Reese was already longing for the warmth of the Eisenberg. Bitingly cold wind that slammed into her as they trudged through snow towards their destination.
The shuttle had been forced to land half a kilometer away from the crash-site, which in itself wasn't too much of an obstacle. But the thick snow and heavy winds was causing them to take their time.
The only plus point was that it meant Reese had time to take a good look at their surroundings. Cinaran and Maggie each had their tricorders out, but the security chief and Solan used their eyes and ears. Although there had been no signs of any other ships in the system before they left the safety of the Antares, Reese's training and old habits kept her at the ready in case trouble should start in way, shape or form.
Now, as they approached the broken form of the Winds of Andoria, Reese could see the massive damage she'd sustained. Not just from her crash, but from disruptor scorchings and torpedo impacts. It was a miracle she'd made it down in one piece - a testament to her pilot, that was for sure, just as Dayan had opined.
It didn't take long to gain entry into the freighter either - a hull breach big enough for them to enter was soon found without them having to worry about finding an airlock or phasering their way in. As they entered, the wind-chill factor dropped off considerably, giving them some relief from the fierce winds they'd battled thus far.
"Commander?" Cinaran called back from down the corridor they'd determined would lead them into the main section, "You better take a look at this."
Reese followed Solan down, where Cinaran and Maggie were hovering of a body. Human, by the look of him. But Reese felt her stomach shift with nausea as she saw what remained of the man's face. Where it should have bee, only blackened flesh remained, the hint of skull under it.
"Doctor?" Solan casually inquired.
Maggie shook her head, "Plasma burns. Nasty way to go." She looked up, "But he was long dead before the ship crashed." She pointed to a burned-out old-fashioned style LCARS screen on the wall, "Probably caught it full in the face when the panel exploded."
Cinaran consulted his tricorder, "I'm picking up over a dozen biological specimens throughout the remains of the ship."
Reese felt quesy, "Specimens... as in bodies?"
Cinaran simply nodded gravely in reply.

* * *

It wasn't until she caught Lieutenant Dayan not so slyly looking back over his shoulder at her that Tel realized she was doing it again. She clenched the fingers of her right hand into a fist, stopping herself from unconsciously drumming her fingers on the soft fabric of her armest.
She knew it was simply a nervous habit borne out of the fact that this was the first time in over two years since she had sent an away team under her command into possible danger. It couldn't be helped, though. There had been a distress call, and someone needed rescue. The Antares crew weren't just obliged by interstellar law to render aid, but by the calling of their consciences.
The bridge atmosphere was quietly tense. All of the crew tended to their stations, keeping themselves busy with various tasks. Only Tel sat without anything to do. Not even fuel consumption logs to check. She was silently debating whether to retreat to the sanctuary of her ready room when an alert sounded on Dayan's console.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" she queried, leaning forward with anticipation.
"Proximity alarm, ma'am," Dayan responded, "A ship has just dropped out of warp 7 thousand kilometers to starboard."
"Confirmed, Captain," added Lieutenant Clarke from the secondary science console, "But it's of an unknown configuration."
"Visual," Tel commanded, sitting up straight, her eyes on the forward viewscreen as the angle changed. Replacing the view of the planet was a vessel that Tel could not help but feel a little unsettled by.
The general shape lacked the sleekness and fluidity of Federation design; instead it was made up of all harsh edges. The dorsal hull was littered with bulbous projections, which to Tel's tactical eye looked like possible missle launch tubes of old. The hull itself was pure black - only running lights and the faint glow from exposed conduits made it visible against the inky backdrop of space.
What really caught the attention of the Antares's captain were thin protusions that she could see on several areas pointing out from the forward section of the ship . Are those sensor arrays or weapons emplacements? "Analysis?"
She could hear the uncertainty in Clarke's reply, "I-- I'm having trouble getting clear readings." Tel turned to see the junior officer struggling to make sense of her suddenly-uncooperating display screens. She finally shook her head in defeat, "The hull composition is unlike anything in our database."
"They're not in an attack posture," Dayan offered from his own station, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "Maybe they heard the distress buoy signal?"
Good Samaritans? Tel had her doubts, but the young helmsman could be right. "Hail them, Ensign Ye. All known language forms and frequencies."
The Korean woman nodded, tapping at her console. Several silent, yet heavy, seconds passed as Ye listened to her transceiver. "No response, Captain." She looked up with concern, "They are picking up our signal. They're just refusing to acknowledge it."
"Captain!" Dayan's surpised shout made Tel spin back around. On the screen, from the ventral section of the unknown ship, out of viewer range, dropped two smaller ships. Blade-like, but with a bird-like grace to their design that the larger mothership lacked.
She braced herself to give the order to raise shields and arm the weapons, but instead of taking attack positions, the two ships ducked away from their larger compatriots, before diving down.
Towards the planet, Tel suddenly realised with crystal-clear clarity.
"Open a channel to the away team," she barked, "Tell them they're going to have company."

* * *

Given the damage to the interior of the crashed ship, the trek through it had taken longer then it would normally do. But as she ducked another surge of sparks from an exposed and broken EPS conduit, Reese hoped they would find their lone survivor soon.
There had been little reason for the team members to talk since they'd left behind the body in the corridor more then fifteen minutes ago. Maggie Campbell especially had been somber and withdrawn. As a doctor, it was her primary purpose to heal people, but the poor souls they occasionally stumbled across were beyond her help.
"Holy Rings..." Cinaran broke the silence with an awed whisper as he consulted his tricorder screen, "From what my scans are telling me, this ship's a museum piece! Whoever their engineer was, they deserve a medal for keeping it in service so long!"
"Not much we can do for this hunk of junk now, is there," Maggie harrumped loudly, as she too concentrated on her tricorder, "So how about we focus on finding the one poor guy still alive who's trapped inside?"
Cinaran cleared his throat, somewhat embarrassed, "Right, sorry."
The chirp of their communicators came up short, as the static-ridden voice of Ensign Min-Cho Ye called to them from orbit, [Antares to away team, please be advised, unknown alien ship has entered orbit. Landing craft on approach to crash site.]
Ye's words pulled the away team up short as Solan signalled for them to come to a halt. He tapped his communicator, "Antares, this is Solan. Should we be expecting hostiles?"
The only answer was a wash of static and garbled, unitelligable sounds before the channel went completely dead. Reese instinctively tapped at her own, but was rewarded with the dull non-function chirp. "We've lost contact."
Solan nodded in agreement, "Indeed. Could it be due to a natural increase in atmospheric ionization?"
Cinaran scoffed. "Not from what I'm reading, Commander," he replied. He pointed to the screen of his tricorder, "The atmosphere just got flooded with charged particles."
"Deliberately scrambling our comm signals," Reese realized with growing concern. She tightened the grip she had on her drawn phaser, "They've cut us off from the Antares."

* * *

The tense air of the bridge had only continued to increase as Ye's continued attempts to contact the away team were for naught.
"I'm sorry, Captain," she bemoaned, "but I can't pierce the interference their charges created, not unless we get closer or launch a relay probe."
Tel shook her head, "Discontinue, Ensign." She sighed heavily, "But you're sure our people got our original broadcast?"
This time Ye was more confident with her reply, "Affirmative, ma'am. All four commbadges showed positive signal receipt."
That's something. Tel hated the idea of her people being caught unawares by the arrival of a group of unknowns. Though they still didn't know if these new arrivals had any hostile intent, it paid to be prepared.
She turned to look at Clarke, the young science officer feverishly trying to get some kind of response that made sense from her console, "Anything more on that ship?"
Clarke didn't turn away, simply shaking her head in frustration, "The hull is made of an incredibly dense alloy, Captain. I've had to push sensor resolution to maximum to get even that reading."
"Keep at it," Tel offered, the words feeling somewhat lame even as she said them. She knew the lieutenant was doing her best. It was unsettling, though. The Antares had some of the sharpest and most refined sensors in the Fleet, and yet this alien vessel was a total mystery to them.
She turned her attention back to the main viewscreen, where the ship now hung only several hundred kilometers away. Its menacing shape and pitch-black colour did nothing to make Tel feel any more at ease with it so close to her ship.
"Captain!" Clarke suddenly blurted out, "We're being scanned! A massive amount of power being focused on us!"
Dayan followed urgently after her, "They're taking up a new position, Captain, angling their forward hull directly at our bow!"
In that instant, Tel knew what was coming, "Shields!"
She barely had time to grab her armrests in a death-grip as the viewscreen was filled with a blast of white light as the first bolt of energy slammed straight into the barely-raised forward shields...

* * *

It was only thanks to prodigious Vulcan strength that the away team finally managed to open the jammed doors that had been preventing them from finally locating the sole survivor of the Winds of Andoria.
They had traversed the death-trap the ship had become upon it's crash, arriving outside the bridge compartment, the doors jammed and uncooperative. Fortunately, Solan had been able to 'convince' them to open up enough for Maggie and Reese to scoot in.
All the consoles of the bridge were burned out or broken. Bodies of the crew thrown around by the ships impact now lay in a tangled heap against or inside the guts of the smashed viewer.
Reese swallowed hard, feeling the rising bile in her throat again. It wasn't pretty. The too-young-looking Andorian male had lost one of his antennae. Sheared off by shrapnel, she'd guess. He was covered in cerulean-coloured blood, his clothes soaked with it.
"It's not as bad as it seems, surprisingly," Maggie abruptly commented. Reese looked at her, saw the wry smile she wore, "Antennae damage is like most superficial head-wounds; nasty to look at, easy enough to fix."
She looked back down at her tricorder, "He's in bad shape, don't get me wrong," Maggie continued, "but he'll live if we get him out of here and back to the shuttle as quickly as possible." That said, Maggie applied a hypospray to the neck of her patient, who sat slumped on the deck against the remains of a helm/navigation console.
Solan and Cinaran were examining what was left of the engineering readouts, "It appears our survivor was able to reinforce structural integrity and the forward shields just as Mr. Dayan believed."
Cinaran wrinkled his nose, "At the expense of everything else, though." He looked around at the various rents in the hull, "If it weren't for the outside atmosphere getting in, this could have ended up being his tomb."
The sudden urgent beeping his tricorder made caused him to frown in a way Reese didn't like in the slightest, "What is it?"
Cinaran bit his lip, "Some kind of blip on the proximity sensor." He looked up, dark eyes filled with worry, "I don't think we're alone in here anymore."
Her training kicking in, Reese turned to Solan, "Sir, stay in here, I'll check it out."
Solan opened his mouth for a second, but then must have thought better of it, as he closed again without uttering a sound. Instead, he replaced his tricorder in its holster, removing his phaser instead.
Taking a breath to steady her nerves, Reese carefully peered out of the open hatch, looking back up the corridor--
--and pulled her head back just in time to avoid being scorched by a bolt of energy that slammed into the other side of the hatch frame, "Holy shit!"
She recognized the smell of super-heated ionized gas discharge from her basic training in older examples of firearms. Plasma weapons? Who the hell uses plasma weapons anymore?!
But that was a question for another time. She managed to fire off a quick couple of shots back down the corridor, aiming in the direction the blast had come from. It would buy them a couple of seconds, she hoped, "Commander, Xerx, I need your help!"
They were at her side in an instant, struggling with the effort, but made easier with the three of them, to close the door they'd only just opened minutes earlier. It shut with a satisfying clunk, Reese offering a silent 'thank you' to whatever gods watched over them that the hatch hadn't been totally out of alignment.
"Stand back," she ordered, as she reset her phaser power level, before taking aim and pressing the firing stud. The beam shoot out and quickly melted the hatch frame and hatch proper together. "That should buy us some time."
"Time for what?" Maggie barked with irritation, that didn't completely mask the tinge of fear in her voice, "You've just sealed us in!"
"It was the logical action, Doctor," Solan came to her defence, offering her a nod of gratitude, "since whoever they are, they attacked us without warning."
"Be that as it may," Cinaran said, "What do we do now?"
When all eyes fell on her, even those of the calm, unfazed Solan, Daniela Reese suddenly realized they were looking to her for the answer.
Trouble was, right at the moment...
...she didn't have a clue.

CAST

Vicky McClure as Lieutenant Daniela Reese
with
Marcia Cross as Captain Helena Tel
Steven R. McQueen as Commander Solan
Indira Varma as Commander (Dr.) Maggie Campbell
Hannah John-Kamen as Lieutenant Mitchell Hanover
Kit Harrington as Lieutenant Eitan Dayan
Freddie Fox as Olishnavar ‘Oli’ th'Dane
and
Michael Fassbender as Commander Xerxises Cinaran

GUEST CAST

Joshua Shea as Charlie Cinaran
Nicole Kang as Ensign Min-Cho Ye
Gabrielle Hurd as Lt., j.g, Tabitha Clarke

Description
Star Trek: Antares
1.3: “The Call of the Expanse”

Written By Alex Matthews

The silver-grey form of the Starship Antares cruises through the still darkness of space at a steady, unimpressive speed of half-impulse.
It is in no particular hurry to get wherether it was going, as it passes through a relatively thin layer of the interstellar dust that made up the boundary of the so-called "Typhon Expanse"

Daniela Reese was most definitely a child of the 24th century. She'd grown up eating food that came from replicators, and for years she'd never believed it when her grandparents and older relatives would complain about how 'it didn't taste the same!' or something like that.
That had all changed when she'd started teaching at Starfleet Academy. It had been impossible to resist the smell of freshly bakes pastries and other delicious foods that had wafted through her San Francisco apartment window in the mornings. Her building, within easy travel distance to the main Academy campus, had been near the Presidio, and most days they had various market stalls out in force, vendors at the ready with their wares.
She had developed quite a taste for many of the exotic items, be they originally from Earth of variious other planets of the Federation and beyond. She'd even samples some Klingon food, and not been too quesy afterwards.
So, now that she had to get used to replicated food again, she found that her grandparents hadn't been far wrong. There was something that made it taste that little bit different.
Still, given how'd busy she'd been in the week since the Antares had left Deep Space Four, she'd not always had time to take her meals. Right now, as she sat down at her table with a freshly materialized croissant and a large cup of coffee, she was famished, so right now she didn't care how 'off' it tasted compared to the real thing.
As she took a long, appreciative sip of the strong coffee (a little cream and sugar too), she noticed the sly smiles she was getting from both of her breakfast companions, Xerxises Cinaran, and an older, handsome woman of Indian descent. The Antares's chief medical officer, Dr. Maggie Campbell had been a regular at their breakfast get-togethers since Cinaran had introduced her to Reese the day of the launch.
"What?" she asked pointedly, although she already knew why they were looking at her that way, "Can't I enjoy a nice cup of coffee?" She allowed a cocky grin of her own, "Even if it is replicated."
"Enjoying might be an understatement," Campbell commented with her customary snark, her grin softening it just enough to be taken in harmless fun. "Maybe we should leave you in peace?"
Cinaran shook his head quickly, "If only we had time." He gestured at the small pile of PADDs each of them had brought with them to the Mess Hall, reminding them this was a working breakfast.
Reese grimaced. He has a point. While the three of them may not have as much on their plate in regards to their ship-based duties as would their counterparts on an explorer or cruiser, they still had plenty to do with organizing the schedules and activities of their students.
Maggie scoffed before taking a sip of her Vulcan spiced tea, "Well, compared to my last assignment, being here is a cake-walk, and I'll take boring meetings and tormenting interns over unknown alien diseases any day of the week!"
Reese laughed. Maggie was a bit of a character, she'd learned in the last seven days, with a dark sense of humour, who had a fondness for putting the trainees under her tutelage through the ringer. She'd already roped Reese herself into a couple of surprise drills, complete with mock injuries, simulated via reprogrammed tricorders and medical sensors.
As she took a bite of her pastry, she noticed that Cinaran was still staring ahead, eyes not on the PADD he held in his hand. She knew exactly what he was really thinking about, "Quit worrying, will you?"
He looked up at her, and she saw the parental concern in his dark eyes, "I don't think that's in the parental manual, Danni. How not to worry."
"Worry about what?" Maggie asked, clueless.
Reese quickly outlined it for her, "Today is Charlie's first day for his rotation in Main Engineering." She'd only briefly interacted with the Antares's Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Mitchell Hanover at the senior staff meetings that Captain Tel had made a daily occurance, but that was about the limit of their interactions so far. Even a ship as small as a Miranda-class, they'd just not run into each other yet, especially since their duties didn't really overlap all that much.
Maggie grimaced, "Oooh," she muttered, "Good luck to him, then."
Reese frowned. Surely it wouldn't be that bad. From what Charlie had told her in excited detail the other day, Hanover was a bit of a workaholic as well as an engineering genius who'd won a Zee Magnees Prize a few years ago. "Why would he need luck?"
Cinaran winced, "You don't know Mitch," he replied, "She's a great engineer, but she's not a teacher. She'd much rather dealing with mechical problems instead of people."
"He's going to be fine," she made a point of saying to the Betazoid, "He takes after his mother, especially when it comes to dealing with people."
Cinaran's face softened greatly, as Reese knew it would, at the reminder of how much of Leelana Cinaran, his beloved imzadi and Charlie's mother who'd been taken far too soon by illness, lived on in their son.
Campbell tapped at the tabletop, as she finished off her tea, "Come on, we better get moving." A glance at the chronometer on her PADD made Reese realize they only had a few minutes before they were due to be at today's staff meeting. She quickly wolfed down the last bites of her croissant but decided to finish her coffee on the go, to savour what might be the first of many cups of the day, depending on how much her workload grew.
She loved her work. Really, she did. But, good lord, the paperwork was endless...

* * *

Please don't let me screw this up..!
As he made his way down the corridor that lead to Engineering, Charlie Cinaran repeated his mantra several times over. He could feel a slight trickle of sweat running down his back, so he quickly adjusted his silver-grey uniform a little. Hoping he still looked as spit-and-polish now as he had when he left his crew quarters a few minutes ago.
The lighting in the corridor was subdued - it was the last few minutes of Gamma Shift, the so-called 'graveyard shift'. Since this going to be his first time working alongside the Antares engineering staff, Charlie had decided to get an early start.
All the better to make a good impression on Chief Hanover.
Truth be told, Charlie had been dreading this duty rotation after he'd heard from some of the other interns who'd been assigned to shadow the engineers for their first week. From what they had said, Mitchell Hanover was taking great pains to keep out of the way of the students under her supervision. The tasks she assigned them were 'scutwork' - jobs essential to the running of any ship in space, but loathed by all. Scrubbing plasma injectors, monitoring waste extraction, degaussing the transporter pads, etcetera, etcetera...
Charlie recognized and understood that as interns, they were the lowest rung in the career ladder of Starfleet, and had a lot to learn. But part of the excitement of being assigned to an actual science vessel in active service was the idea that they'd be involved in making discoveries, fulfilling the Starfleet pledge to 'go where no one has gone before...'
Guess everyone had to start somewhere, though.
Taking one final steadying breath, Charlie entered the engine room. With the lowered lights, the glow of LCARS displays shone even brighter then normal. The slow pulsing of the warp core was a reminder that the Antares was currently cruising at impulse speeds, allowing the science team to utilize the sensor pods enhanced scanners to continue their detailed mapping surveys of the outer edge of the Typhon Expanse.
Due to the early hour and the imminent start of the day shift, there was not a lot of personnel on duty in the small but functional room. A couple of technicians stood at one of the port-side consoles near the warp core. That was about it. They looked over at him briefly, offering a nod of welcome, before they headed out the way he came, conferring over a large PADD they were both reading from.
Charlie stepped down to the master systems table, that was on a recessed lower level in front of the core itself. For a brief moment, he let himself enjoy the gentle thrum of the ship's engines that vibrated through the deck, and the apparent solitude--
--until he heard a muffled curse that was muttered with vehemence from behind him, "Good damn shipyard workers! They wouldn't know a properly aligned ODN relay if it grew arms and slapped them upside their heads!"
Charlie span around, and that was when he noticed a pair of legs sticking out from uder one of the consoles on the upper deck. They twisted and kicked, as whoever was buried up to their hips inside the console squirmed around. A feeling of intense frustration tickled on his developing Betazoid empathic senses from whoever it was underneath, "Someone hand me that ODN decoupler, will they?"
With an abrupt start, Charlie realized that he was the only one around to oblige. He spotted the requested tool on the deck besides the person's - a woman, by the way the voice sounded (and the shapeliness of her figure) - legs. He darted forward, picking it up, and passing it through the open access hatch.
It was snatched away in seconds, without so much as a 'thank you'. He heard the familiar buzz of the device for a moment, before the mystery woman spoke again, "How's that looking now?"
Looking at the console, which Charlie quickly recognized as the main warp propulsion systems panel, he studied the readings, which flucuated for a moment, before stablizing into what he would expect it to read at their current velocity. "All readouts nominal."
"Who the hell is that?!" Charlie backed away as the figure shuffled their way out from under the console. He felt his face burn hot as he saw just who it was - Chief Engineer Mitchell Hanover. She glared up at him intensely with green eyes, indignant anger radiating off her in waves, "What are you doing in my engine room?"
He snapped straight to attention, but didn't break eye contact. "Field Intern Charlie Cinaran, reporting for duty, Lieutenant," he replied as crisply as he could with a suddenly-dry mouth.
Hanover pulled herself up, and input a quick series of commands on the console, watching the readouts for a moment. "Huh," she muttered with clear surprise, "All checks out, just like you said."
She looked down at him, a wry grin forming, and Charlie could feel her annoyance subside somewhat, "Wouldn't figure an intern would know how to read a systems display." Her grin grew, "But then, I guess you've been around this kind of thing before. You're the science officer's kid, right?"
He nodded curtly. Feeling the heat in his face increase. It was a comment he'd gotten at least once a day since reporting to the Field Supervisor for the intern group.
She studied him for a moment, before casually tossing him the ODN decoupler. He almost fumbled it in surprise, but managed not to drop it, "You're early, too. But not too early. I like that."
She gestured vaguely at the open tool kit on the deck, "Toss that in there and bring it, will you?" she said as she walked off, "We've got a few more repairs to get to."
Charlie did as he was told, scrambling after the lieutenant as she moved over to another console. As she peeled off the access hatch under it, her words finally registered with him.
Hang on, did she say 'We've got repairs'..?

* * *

Helena Tel surveyed the small group of officers sitting with her in the Spartan but spacious conference room on Deck 2, just below and aft of the bridge. Even though she'd only served with most of them for the past week, she felt an odd sense of pride.
At her right sat Solan, her executive officer. The picture of Vulcan calm and serenity. To her left was Cinaran, with Reese at his side. Maggie Campbell, the only one of the four that knew her beyond just being their commanding officer, sat at the end of the table. The CMO, in her more relaxed duty uniform with open collar and no rank insignia, was doing her best, yet failing miserably, to not look bored.
Tel smirked inwardly. Maggie hated meetings like this. But they were a necessary part of the five Antares senior officers roles in regards to the academic aspects of the ship's operations. Thankfully, the meeting was already coming to a close. They were all just giving their PADDs a final readover to make sure there was no other business to deal with, which it seemed, there wasn't.
"On a final note," she continued, once it was clear no one else had anything to add, "I want to remind everyone that we're due to enter the outermost edge of the Expanse later today." Their course over the last few days had skirted the Expanse but never entered into it. Given it's shape, though, they would pass through small sections of it periodically as they continued their mission. Today, in a few hours time, would be the first of such.
Cinaran took over, "The science teams will be ready to begin the astrometric scans under my supervision in the stellar cartography lab."
Tel grinned, "At least we're putting that sensor pod on our hull to good use."
The Betazoid science officer beamed with eager anticipation, "With all the bells and whistles we installed, we'll generate some of the clearest and most detailed maps of this entire region."
"Which will be most valuable for any dedicated science vessels that follow up on our surveys," added Solan. The vaguest hint of a smile on his handsome face as he spoke.
[Bridge to Conference Room.] Dayan's voice came through crystal clear from the room's intercom. Tel tapped her communicator briskly, "What's up, Mr. Dayan?"
Her good mood evaporated as she heard his response, [Captain, we've picked up a distress call. On a Federation frequency.]
Reese leaned forward. Her expression mirrored Tel's own feelings of confusion, "There shouldn't be any Federation ships out here. Not this far from the normal space lanes."
Tel pushed herself back from the table, on her feet as she spoke, "Find out everything you can about it's point of origin, Lieutentant," she ordered.
"I'll prep Sickbay for incoming casualties," Campbell offered. Tel gave her a succinct nod, dismissing the CMO to make her way belowdecks.
As she lead the remainder of her people up to the Antares's command center, one thought was at the forefront of her mind: We're a training vessel. We're not equipped for rescue and recovery!
But she also knew that no matter what ship she was on, this was still a Starfleet vessel, and they had a duty to perform. That was the most important lesson she knew she would have to teach these kids under her command.
She just hadn't figured it would be today she'd be teaching it...

* * *

As they stepped out onto the raised aft deck of the bridge, Daniela Reese hung back by the systems status displays on the rear wall. She didn't have a dedicated station to check on, so she was superfluous at the moment.
Everyone else went to their appropriate station, with Tel slipping into her command chair once Lt. Dayan, acting as duty officer during their meeting, vacated it. Cinaran took over at the free-standing Science One console, relieving Lt. Clarke to head back to the secondary console behind it. Solan and Dayan each took their own post at the Helm and Navigation stations.
"What have you got?" Tel asked, in a clipped tone.
It was Ensign Ye at Communications that answered, "It was a signal is on a repeating loop, Captain." The Korean woman's concentration was palpable, as she listened intently to her transciever, while working her console. Finally she shook her head, "Badly garbled and awash with static, even with all my filters, before it was terminated." She looked over at the expectant Tel, "Aside from the emergency disaster alert, all I got was a name; Winds of Andoria."
"Checking now," Cinaran offered, working his own console, as Tel pushed for more, "Any response to your reply?"
Ye shook her head again, "No signal return at all, Captain."
Reese shivered. No signal return meant that whatever communication system sent the signal was either no longer operational...
...or the ship that sent it was no longer intact.
"The Winds of Andoria is an independant freighter registered with the Federation Merchant Service," Cinaran reported, checking the displays above Lt. Clarke's head on the Mission Ops station. "Under the ownership of th'Dane Shipping."
Tel nodded in acknowledgement, "Do we have a location?"
"Six point nine light-years away, Captain," replied Solan stoically, "Well inside the Expanse."
"Talk about off the beaten path," Reese muttered quietly to herself.
At least she thought she said it quietly - apparently Tel had excellent hearing, as she turned her command chair around to look at her with a wry smile, "I was thinking the same thing."
Cinaran tapped at his controls, bringing up another screen of data, "We don't know anything about that deep in the Expanse, Captain." He looked over to Tel, "All we have is a designationof a solar system near that location; System Q-241."
"At warp six, we can be there in two hours, Captain," Dayan supplied a little too eagerly. Typical hot-shot pilot wanting to let out the reins whenever possible.
Reese was taken aback by the sudden flicker of emotion that passed over Helena Tel's pale features. Was that uncertainity she was seeing? It was not something one wanted to see in their commanding officer. "Are there any other ships in range to offer assistance, Mr. Solan?"
Solan gently shook his head, "We are the closest, Captain." His voice remained eerily calm, "Any other vessels would be coming from either Deep Space Four or Five, which would take several days to arrive."
Tel slowly turned back to face the forward viewscreen. She sat up that little bit straighter in her center chair, "Very well. All hands to duty stations. Sound general quarters."
Solan nodded, as Ye touched a control and reissued the orders throughout the Miranda-class starship, "All hands, general quarters. Repeat, general quarters. All hands to duty stations. This is not a drill."
Despite everything, Reese felt a thrill surge through her body, something she hadn't felt in years. The call to action. Nothing in her work at the Academy came close, no matter how much she'd grown to love her work there.
This was why she had wanted to be back in space.

* * *

Under the gentle touch of it's helmsman, the Antares came about, pointing it's nose on a new heading. A totally unexplored direction of deep space, answering a cry for help.
In a flash of warp propulsion, the Antares vanished into a burst of superluminal light.

* * *

She wasn't really one for stargazing, but as the Antares streaked through the void at warp 8 to lend whatever assistance they could to the stricken Winds of Andoria, Helena Tel found her attention wandering to the view outside her ready room's viewport.
It was only when the chime to her private sanctum sounded that she snapped out of her mindless viewing. "Come in," she called automatically, as a quick glance at the chrono on her computer monitor made her realize she'd been zoned out for almost twenty minutes.
The doors parted to allow Daniela Reese to step in. She took position just in front of Tel's desk, "Reporting as ordered, Captain."
"Take a seat, Lieutenant," Tel gestured at one of the guest chairs in front of the desk, as she took her own seat, "How are the cadets and interns handling things?"
Once the Antares had jumped to warp, Reese had left the bridge and called an emergency session with the academic contingent. She had issued orders that had confined all the interns and to their bunkrooms, while the cadets were assigned to various roles throughout the ship. "The interns are scared but keeping it together," Reese replied readily, "This isn't what they were expecting, obviously."
"All par for the course," Tel commented, "Even if I happen to agree." She studied the younger woman for a moment before continuing, "I want you on the bridge for the forseeable future."
"Captain?" Reese queried, genuinely surprised.
"We're on a scientific training cruise, Lieutenant," Tel gently reminded her, "I have faith in the ability of my crew, but to be blunt, we are potentially taking a ship full of children into a combat scenario." She afixed her eyes on Reese, "Right now, I need you as my Chief of Security, not my T.A.C. Officer."
"Of course, Captain" Reese replied. Tel was suitably impressed with the quiet strength Reese exuded as she unblinkingly took her new orders. "Reconfigure the Science 1 station for tactical duties, that will be your post. Then Commander Solan and Lieutenant Dayan will be able to focus on keeping the Antares moving, if we do find ourselves in a fight."
Reese nodded, "Understood, Captain." She stood, hands lacing behind her back, "Will that be all?"
Tel shook her head, "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."
Reese nodded one final time, then turned on her heel and exited the ready room with alacrity. Almost with an eagerness. A fire lit in her by this new turn of events.
Tel almost envied her that. A year ago, maybe, she would have felt the same.
Now, after all that had happened at Browder Prime, all she felt was a cold dread...

* * *

Xerxises Cinaran had originally envisioned his life in Starfleet as being one of pure research. He hadn't been interested in practical applications when he'd graduated from the Academy. It wasn't until he'd been assigned to a science vessel as his first posting that he'd realized the excitement and drama of putting all he learned in books to use in the field.
Still, when he'd married Leelana, and they'd welcomed Charlie into their lives, he'd pretty much accepted that any excitement he'd have now would be from preparing the next generation for their own adventures in the galaxy around them. It was a status quo he'd been happy with and had taken comfort in after loosing his dear imzadi.
He hadn't been fond of the idea of reassignment to Deep Space Four at first. But then he'd laid eyes on the plans for the Antares, saw the potential the old ship had, and his attitude changed as his interest in "Project Antares" grew.
So far, the new sensor pod that had been his 'baby', his main contribution to the Project, was working like a charm. Hell, even better then he'd hoped.
He just wished it was still tasked with stellar mapping, instead of sorting through the blasted debris of the freighter formerly known as the Winds of Andoria.
Part of him had been hoping, like the rest of the bridge crew, that as they approached their destination, they'd find the Winds drifting in space, but intact. Her communications array off-line.
Unfortunately, it seemed that wasn't to be. The sensor readings didn't lie.
"Definitely wreckage," he reported finally to the waiting Tel, her command chair rotated around to face him as he interpreted the readouts on his screens.
"Source?" Her tone was clipped. She wanted answers, that was obvious, but Cinaran couldn't help but pick up some underlying emotional battle underneath her seemingly-calm facade. He reinforced his mental barriers, not wanting to intrude, however accidentally, on the woman's mental privacy.
"I'm picking up tritanium and duranium alloys," he replied, "which could be from a Monarch-class freighter." Another look at one of his screens confirmed it, "Also picking up a warp engine signature. Heavily tweaked, I'd say, but definitely of Federation origin."
Tel sighed heavily, "So she's been destroyed."
Cinaran ran another analysis confirmation. Something about what he was seeing didn't sit right. It was Reese that confirmed his belief, "Captain, there's not enough here to be the wreckage of an entire freighter."
The Betazoid nodded in agreement, "Lieutenant Reese is right, Captain," he added, "What we have here looks like part of the ship's fuselage, but not all."
Solan's voice was an oasis of calm within the tense atmosphere of the Antares bridge, "Could that not be the result of her destruction?"
"No, sir," Cinaran shook his head, as another screen of data backed up his developing theory, "There's no sign of antimatter residue from the warp core explosion necessary to vaporize the rest of the ship to that degree."
"I'm picking up something else," Reese abruptly commented, "Xerx, can you confirm?"
Cinaran winces a little at the use of that nick-name, one only Danni and Leelana ever used, while on the bridge, but linked his station with hers to double-check her scans. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat.
"Talk to me, please." Tel's words was more a demand then a question.
Cinaran turned around to meet Reese's eyes. He saw the shadow of fear in them, before facing his C.O., "Sir, we're picking up weapons signatures as well. Consistent with type-3 disruptors."
The junior-most officers on the bridge didn't bat an eyelid at his report, but the other bridge crew did. Even Solan raised an eyebrow in the Vulcan manner indicating surprise. A type-3 disruptor indicated the weapons fire originated from either Klingons, the Breen...
...or Romulans.
Given that the Klingons had no interest in this sector and their alliance with the Federation, the likelihood of them being responsible was slim. Same with the elusive Breen, especially given their closest holdings where dozens of light-years away.
The Romulans, though, were another matter. The Neutral Zone, the buffer between their Star Empire and the Federation, first created nearly 200 years ago, was only a short hop away, galactically speaking. But since the Tomed Incident of 2311, they had pretty much disappeared from the galactic stage.
There was a chiming on the helm station, which Dayan quickly silenced, "Picking up an impulse wake," the young man replied, as he worked his intruments, "from a Federation engine."
A new alert sounded on Cinaran's own console, as the main computer routed more of the same sensor feed to his station, "Also picking up several unidentified engine wakes." He frowned at the display, "Totally unknown configuration, not in our database."
"Captain?" The uncertainty in Ensign Ye's voice was clear, as she listened closely to her ear transceiver, "Registering something on the extremely low subspace bandwiths. No discernable transmission, just a signal."
"The distress buoy!" Reese blurted out, surprising everyone, including Cinaran with how loudly and abruptly she nearly shouted the statement. She looked immediately chagrined, "Sorry, I just mean, it might be the distress buoy."
Cinaran realized where she was going, "I get what you mean." All Federation ships carried a distress or a log buoy - a last ditch 'time-capsule' if the ship faced imminent destruction that would carry a record of what had lead up to that event. "If it was damaged during launch, it could have managed the brief message we got, before failing. But it could still be emitting a kind of subspace backwash into the comm frequencies."
"Captain," Solan spoke as he checked his own readings, "The signal is coming from the same direction that the engine wakes head in. Directly into System Q-241."
Tel took a long moment to turn her seat towards the forward viewscreen. Even with his strengthened blocks, Cinaran still felt a sudden peak of strong emotion from his commanding officer before she finally spoke, "Resume course. Continue Yellow Alert."

* * *

As the Antares settled into a standard orbit over the fourth planet of System Q-241, Helena Tel tried to relax her grip on the armrests of her command chair.
She couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that had settled over her since the ship had changed course. Apprehension that had only become more intense with the idea that her ship may soon be in an encounter with Romulans.
She had hesitated earlier. There was no question of it. It had only been for a moment, but it had been enough. She had noticed the look both Reese and Cinaran had in their eyes as she'd turned her chair back fore.
The idea of taking this ship, this crew, into combat, did not sit well with her in the slightest. But it was a very real possibility.
Cinaran had found the distress buoy only a few minutes ago, banged up from launching from a faulty ejection tube. With no further significant debris in orbit, they'd turned the ship's sensors planetward, after detecting an thruster exhaust trail that went into the atmosphere.
"What about the other exhaust trails you detected?" Tel asked, inwardly grimacing at how clipped and tense she sounded. Take it down a notch, Helena, she remonstrated mentally.
Cinaran kept his eyes on his sensor screens, "They didn't hang around here for long, Captain," he replied, "Looks like they left hours ago. No indications they doubled back, either."
"Picking up the wreck of a ship on the northern continent." The voice of Lieutenant Dayan pulled Tel's attention forward. Both he and Solan worked their helm and navigation boards with diligence, keeping the ship stable as it performed intensive scans.
"Confirmed," Reese agreed, her own attention on her tactical displays, "From the size and hull composition, it looks like the forward hull of a Monarch-class freighter."
Dayan whistled in awe, "No way that survived a crash on it's own." He turned to look at Tel, "Someone must have been at the controls and performed a controlled crash manuever."
Solan gave voice to the same thought Tel had, "Monarch-class freighters are not capable of atmospheric flight, Lieutenant."
Dayan shrugged, "Not according to the specs, sir," he replied, "But if your pilot is good enough, and you reinforce structural integrity and forward shields, it can be done."
Tel looked back at Reese and Cinaran, "Any life signs?"
Reese checked her readings, shaking her head, "The upper atmosphere is heavily ionized, most likely from weapons fire or impulse exhaust."
"Give me a second," Cinaran worked his console, his nimble fingers dancing over it's touch-screen surface, before he slapped a hand against it, "Got it!" He whirled around with a big grin, "One life-sign! Very faint, and I can't give you a clear bio-sign analysis, but they're alive."
His words lit a fire in Tel's heart. It squashed the edginess and uncertainty that had been plaguing her for the last few hours, now she had an actionable goal to focus on. Someone needs our help. Tel opened her mouth, ready to order her people to the transporter room, but Solan cut her off, "The ionization will make transporter usage difficult, Captain. I recommend we take a shuttle instead."
She nodded in acknowledgement, "Very well, Commander. Prepare your away team."
Solan nodded, standing from his position, as Ensign Taylor moved down from the environmental displays to relieve him. The Vulcan tapped his communicator, "Solan to Sickbay. Dr. Campbell, report to Shuttlebay 2 for away mission duty. An unknown injured party on the planet's surface may require your attention."
[Understood, Commander,] came back Maggie's strong voice. Despite everything Tel couldn't help but smile a little at hearing Campbell's evident excitement at getting off-ship for whatever reason.
With succient orders, Solan drafted Reese and Cinaran into the away team as well. As the three of them headed into the port-side turbolift, Tel turned her attention back to the viewscreen and it's image of the ice-cold blue planet that it displayed.
Whoever you are down there, she thought, hold on a little longer.
Help is on the way.

* * *

From the now-open doors to the port-side shuttlebay at the aft of the Starship Antares exited a Type-7 shuttlecraft. An overall rectangular form but with a rounded curvature to the edges that blunted the overal boxiness of the auxiliary vehicle.
Hull markings caught in the glare of it's homeship's running lights identified it as the Eisenberg, NCC-9844/01.
It deftly made it's way to the blue orb that dominated space in front of it. Shields began to glow bright from the friction of entering the planet's atmosphere, as the small craft made it's way inexorably forward.
* * *

Reese was glad she didn't suffer motion sickness. Even with the Eisenberg's inertial dampeners on maximum, the four occupants of the shuttle were being buffeted by both the atmospheric turbulence of re-entry, but also the high winds as they passed through the stratosphere.
She sat in the rear passenger compartment, holding onto the seat restraints, opposite Maggie Campbell. The British-Indian woman was looking a little 'green around the gills', to use the old parlance, clearly feeling the effects of their descent.
In the cockpit, Cinaran and Solan manned the piloting controls with as much deftness as they could collectively manage with everything going on outside their small shuttle. The Betazoid tossed a wry grin over his shoulder at them, "How you two holding up back there?"
"We're managing," Reese replied, bracing herself as they passed another layer of turbulence.
Maggie growned loudly, "Speak for yourself!"
Reese smothered a grin at the poor woman's expense. Whatever thrill of anticipation the doctor had harboured before they'd launched was well and truly extinguished by their bumpy ride.
"I'm diverting sensor readings to your console, Maggie," Cinaran said, "Maybe that will take your mind of things."
Maggie shifted herself to face the LCARS console at her side, mounted on the bulkhead, "Here's hoping," she griped, as she pulled up sensor data. Reese could make it out from her seat, but it was all gibberish to her. "Huh," Maggie finally said, "Looks like an Andorian bio-sign to me."
Solan remained unfazed by the shaking as he spoke, "The life-sign is coming from the wreckage of the crashed freighter. It would be logical to assume they are too badly injured to extricate themselves from within."
"Could be," Cinaran didn't seem convinced, "or maybe they saw what the weather was like outside and decided to stay in relative safety." He double checked his console again, "The wreck is still largely in one piece, aside from a few small fragments along the crash path."
Solan nodded graciously, "Indeed, that is a possibility." He pressed a control, and the exterior search-lights of the Eisenberg became active. Reese pushed herself up from her seat, leaning into the cockpit to look out the forward exterior viewport. "Whoa... some crash."
Ahead of them, the lights lit up the deep trench the the freighter's impact had caused. Even from their current altitude, now they'd descended out of the low-hanging clouds, they could make it out. Debris from the freighter could be spotted, but not as much as you'd expect from a vessel of it's size crashing from orbit.
A glimpse of burnished metal came off the reflected lights, and Reese instintively pointed, out of the viewport, "There! I see it."
"Freighter dead ahead," Solan confirmed. "Please return to your seat, Lieutenant, while I find us a stable location to set down."
Reese did as she ordered, noting that Maggie had turned back from her console, and now had her eyes closed, murmuring quietly to herself, "Don't be sick, don't be sick, don't be sick..."

* * *

Even with the field jacket Solan had insisted all away team members wear, Reese was already longing for the warmth of the Eisenberg. Bitingly cold wind that slammed into her as they trudged through snow towards their destination.
The shuttle had been forced to land half a kilometer away from the crash-site, which in itself wasn't too much of an obstacle. But the thick snow and heavy winds was causing them to take their time.
The only plus point was that it meant Reese had time to take a good look at their surroundings. Cinaran and Maggie each had their tricorders out, but the security chief and Solan used their eyes and ears. Although there had been no signs of any other ships in the system before they left the safety of the Antares, Reese's training and old habits kept her at the ready in case trouble should start in way, shape or form.
Now, as they approached the broken form of the Winds of Andoria, Reese could see the massive damage she'd sustained. Not just from her crash, but from disruptor scorchings and torpedo impacts. It was a miracle she'd made it down in one piece - a testament to her pilot, that was for sure, just as Dayan had opined.
It didn't take long to gain entry into the freighter either - a hull breach big enough for them to enter was soon found without them having to worry about finding an airlock or phasering their way in. As they entered, the wind-chill factor dropped off considerably, giving them some relief from the fierce winds they'd battled thus far.
"Commander?" Cinaran called back from down the corridor they'd determined would lead them into the main section, "You better take a look at this."
Reese followed Solan down, where Cinaran and Maggie were hovering of a body. Human, by the look of him. But Reese felt her stomach shift with nausea as she saw what remained of the man's face. Where it should have bee, only blackened flesh remained, the hint of skull under it.
"Doctor?" Solan casually inquired.
Maggie shook her head, "Plasma burns. Nasty way to go." She looked up, "But he was long dead before the ship crashed." She pointed to a burned-out old-fashioned style LCARS screen on the wall, "Probably caught it full in the face when the panel exploded."
Cinaran consulted his tricorder, "I'm picking up over a dozen biological specimens throughout the remains of the ship."
Reese felt quesy, "Specimens... as in bodies?"
Cinaran simply nodded gravely in reply.

* * *

It wasn't until she caught Lieutenant Dayan not so slyly looking back over his shoulder at her that Tel realized she was doing it again. She clenched the fingers of her right hand into a fist, stopping herself from unconsciously drumming her fingers on the soft fabric of her armest.
She knew it was simply a nervous habit borne out of the fact that this was the first time in over two years since she had sent an away team under her command into possible danger. It couldn't be helped, though. There had been a distress call, and someone needed rescue. The Antares crew weren't just obliged by interstellar law to render aid, but by the calling of their consciences.
The bridge atmosphere was quietly tense. All of the crew tended to their stations, keeping themselves busy with various tasks. Only Tel sat without anything to do. Not even fuel consumption logs to check. She was silently debating whether to retreat to the sanctuary of her ready room when an alert sounded on Dayan's console.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" she queried, leaning forward with anticipation.
"Proximity alarm, ma'am," Dayan responded, "A ship has just dropped out of warp 7 thousand kilometers to starboard."
"Confirmed, Captain," added Lieutenant Clarke from the secondary science console, "But it's of an unknown configuration."
"Visual," Tel commanded, sitting up straight, her eyes on the forward viewscreen as the angle changed. Replacing the view of the planet was a vessel that Tel could not help but feel a little unsettled by.
The general shape lacked the sleekness and fluidity of Federation design; instead it was made up of all harsh edges. The dorsal hull was littered with bulbous projections, which to Tel's tactical eye looked like possible missle launch tubes of old. The hull itself was pure black - only running lights and the faint glow from exposed conduits made it visible against the inky backdrop of space.
What really caught the attention of the Antares's captain were thin protusions that she could see on several areas pointing out from the forward section of the ship . Are those sensor arrays or weapons emplacements? "Analysis?"
She could hear the uncertainty in Clarke's reply, "I-- I'm having trouble getting clear readings." Tel turned to see the junior officer struggling to make sense of her suddenly-uncooperating display screens. She finally shook her head in defeat, "The hull composition is unlike anything in our database."
"They're not in an attack posture," Dayan offered from his own station, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "Maybe they heard the distress buoy signal?"
Good Samaritans? Tel had her doubts, but the young helmsman could be right. "Hail them, Ensign Ye. All known language forms and frequencies."
The Korean woman nodded, tapping at her console. Several silent, yet heavy, seconds passed as Ye listened to her transceiver. "No response, Captain." She looked up with concern, "They are picking up our signal. They're just refusing to acknowledge it."
"Captain!" Dayan's surpised shout made Tel spin back around. On the screen, from the ventral section of the unknown ship, out of viewer range, dropped two smaller ships. Blade-like, but with a bird-like grace to their design that the larger mothership lacked.
She braced herself to give the order to raise shields and arm the weapons, but instead of taking attack positions, the two ships ducked away from their larger compatriots, before diving down.
Towards the planet, Tel suddenly realised with crystal-clear clarity.
"Open a channel to the away team," she barked, "Tell them they're going to have company."

* * *

Given the damage to the interior of the crashed ship, the trek through it had taken longer then it would normally do. But as she ducked another surge of sparks from an exposed and broken EPS conduit, Reese hoped they would find their lone survivor soon.
There had been little reason for the team members to talk since they'd left behind the body in the corridor more then fifteen minutes ago. Maggie Campbell especially had been somber and withdrawn. As a doctor, it was her primary purpose to heal people, but the poor souls they occasionally stumbled across were beyond her help.
"Holy Rings..." Cinaran broke the silence with an awed whisper as he consulted his tricorder screen, "From what my scans are telling me, this ship's a museum piece! Whoever their engineer was, they deserve a medal for keeping it in service so long!"
"Not much we can do for this hunk of junk now, is there," Maggie harrumped loudly, as she too concentrated on her tricorder, "So how about we focus on finding the one poor guy still alive who's trapped inside?"
Cinaran cleared his throat, somewhat embarrassed, "Right, sorry."
The chirp of their communicators came up short, as the static-ridden voice of Ensign Min-Cho Ye called to them from orbit, [Antares to away team, please be advised, unknown alien ship has entered orbit. Landing craft on approach to crash site.]
Ye's words pulled the away team up short as Solan signalled for them to come to a halt. He tapped his communicator, "Antares, this is Solan. Should we be expecting hostiles?"
The only answer was a wash of static and garbled, unitelligable sounds before the channel went completely dead. Reese instinctively tapped at her own, but was rewarded with the dull non-function chirp. "We've lost contact."
Solan nodded in agreement, "Indeed. Could it be due to a natural increase in atmospheric ionization?"
Cinaran scoffed. "Not from what I'm reading, Commander," he replied. He pointed to the screen of his tricorder, "The atmosphere just got flooded with charged particles."
"Deliberately scrambling our comm signals," Reese realized with growing concern. She tightened the grip she had on her drawn phaser, "They've cut us off from the Antares."

* * *

The tense air of the bridge had only continued to increase as Ye's continued attempts to contact the away team were for naught.
"I'm sorry, Captain," she bemoaned, "but I can't pierce the interference their charges created, not unless we get closer or launch a relay probe."
Tel shook her head, "Discontinue, Ensign." She sighed heavily, "But you're sure our people got our original broadcast?"
This time Ye was more confident with her reply, "Affirmative, ma'am. All four commbadges showed positive signal receipt."
That's something. Tel hated the idea of her people being caught unawares by the arrival of a group of unknowns. Though they still didn't know if these new arrivals had any hostile intent, it paid to be prepared.
She turned to look at Clarke, the young science officer feverishly trying to get some kind of response that made sense from her console, "Anything more on that ship?"
Clarke didn't turn away, simply shaking her head in frustration, "The hull is made of an incredibly dense alloy, Captain. I've had to push sensor resolution to maximum to get even that reading."
"Keep at it," Tel offered, the words feeling somewhat lame even as she said them. She knew the lieutenant was doing her best. It was unsettling, though. The Antares had some of the sharpest and most refined sensors in the Fleet, and yet this alien vessel was a total mystery to them.
She turned her attention back to the main viewscreen, where the ship now hung only several hundred kilometers away. Its menacing shape and pitch-black colour did nothing to make Tel feel any more at ease with it so close to her ship.
"Captain!" Clarke suddenly blurted out, "We're being scanned! A massive amount of power being focused on us!"
Dayan followed urgently after her, "They're taking up a new position, Captain, angling their forward hull directly at our bow!"
In that instant, Tel knew what was coming, "Shields!"
She barely had time to grab her armrests in a death-grip as the viewscreen was filled with a blast of white light as the first bolt of energy slammed straight into the barely-raised forward shields...

* * *

It was only thanks to prodigious Vulcan strength that the away team finally managed to open the jammed doors that had been preventing them from finally locating the sole survivor of the Winds of Andoria.
They had traversed the death-trap the ship had become upon it's crash, arriving outside the bridge compartment, the doors jammed and uncooperative. Fortunately, Solan had been able to 'convince' them to open up enough for Maggie and Reese to scoot in.
All the consoles of the bridge were burned out or broken. Bodies of the crew thrown around by the ships impact now lay in a tangled heap against or inside the guts of the smashed viewer.
Reese swallowed hard, feeling the rising bile in her throat again. It wasn't pretty. The too-young-looking Andorian male had lost one of his antennae. Sheared off by shrapnel, she'd guess. He was covered in cerulean-coloured blood, his clothes soaked with it.
"It's not as bad as it seems, surprisingly," Maggie abruptly commented. Reese looked at her, saw the wry smile she wore, "Antennae damage is like most superficial head-wounds; nasty to look at, easy enough to fix."
She looked back down at her tricorder, "He's in bad shape, don't get me wrong," Maggie continued, "but he'll live if we get him out of here and back to the shuttle as quickly as possible." That said, Maggie applied a hypospray to the neck of her patient, who sat slumped on the deck against the remains of a helm/navigation console.
Solan and Cinaran were examining what was left of the engineering readouts, "It appears our survivor was able to reinforce structural integrity and the forward shields just as Mr. Dayan believed."
Cinaran wrinkled his nose, "At the expense of everything else, though." He looked around at the various rents in the hull, "If it weren't for the outside atmosphere getting in, this could have ended up being his tomb."
The sudden urgent beeping his tricorder made caused him to frown in a way Reese didn't like in the slightest, "What is it?"
Cinaran bit his lip, "Some kind of blip on the proximity sensor." He looked up, dark eyes filled with worry, "I don't think we're alone in here anymore."
Her training kicking in, Reese turned to Solan, "Sir, stay in here, I'll check it out."
Solan opened his mouth for a second, but then must have thought better of it, as he closed again without uttering a sound. Instead, he replaced his tricorder in its holster, removing his phaser instead.
Taking a breath to steady her nerves, Reese carefully peered out of the open hatch, looking back up the corridor--
--and pulled her head back just in time to avoid being scorched by a bolt of energy that slammed into the other side of the hatch frame, "Holy shit!"
She recognized the smell of super-heated ionized gas discharge from her basic training in older examples of firearms. Plasma weapons? Who the hell uses plasma weapons anymore?!
But that was a question for another time. She managed to fire off a quick couple of shots back down the corridor, aiming in the direction the blast had come from. It would buy them a couple of seconds, she hoped, "Commander, Xerx, I need your help!"
They were at her side in an instant, struggling with the effort, but made easier with the three of them, to close the door they'd only just opened minutes earlier. It shut with a satisfying clunk, Reese offering a silent 'thank you' to whatever gods watched over them that the hatch hadn't been totally out of alignment.
"Stand back," she ordered, as she reset her phaser power level, before taking aim and pressing the firing stud. The beam shoot out and quickly melted the hatch frame and hatch proper together. "That should buy us some time."
"Time for what?" Maggie barked with irritation, that didn't completely mask the tinge of fear in her voice, "You've just sealed us in!"
"It was the logical action, Doctor," Solan came to her defence, offering her a nod of gratitude, "since whoever they are, they attacked us without warning."
"Be that as it may," Cinaran said, "What do we do now?"
When all eyes fell on her, even those of the calm, unfazed Solan, Daniela Reese suddenly realized they were looking to her for the answer.
Trouble was, right at the moment...
...she didn't have a clue.

CAST

Vicky McClure as Lieutenant Daniela Reese
with
Marcia Cross as Captain Helena Tel
Steven R. McQueen as Commander Solan
Indira Varma as Commander (Dr.) Maggie Campbell
Hannah John-Kamen as Lieutenant Mitchell Hanover
Kit Harrington as Lieutenant Eitan Dayan
Freddie Fox as Olishnavar ‘Oli’ th'Dane
and
Michael Fassbender as Commander Xerxises Cinaran

GUEST CAST

Joshua Shea as Charlie Cinaran
Nicole Kang as Ensign Min-Cho Ye
Gabrielle Hurd as Lt., j.g, Tabitha Clarke