Deep within the confines of a heavily guarded Krenim research facility, Doctor Irlina and her team of temporal scientists gathered breathlessly around their latest creation: the Paradox Machine. The sleek and metallic frame of the machine glinted ominously in the sterile white light of the laboratory, humming with a barely contained energy that seemed to pulse through the very air itself. Shadows danced eerily on the walls as if the machine were already tearing through the very fabric of time. Every eye was fixed intently on the machine, waiting with bated breath for the moment of truth, when the machine would either deliver the answers they had been seeking or unleash chaos upon the world. The air was thick with a sense of both excitement and apprehension as the scientists felt the weight of their responsibility to ensure that their creation would not be the end of everything they knew.

Decades of work had gone into this, almost her entire lifetime, but Irlina knew this was the next step in her people’s understanding of time. She had left her home on Kyana Prime nearly forty years ago, and under heavy escort by the forces of the Krenim Imperium, she had set up this base deep underground. Now that the day had arrived, after countless calculations, testing and theorising, Irlina was both excited and anxious. What would they discover? What would they learn? 

Pushing down on her uniform, which was standard for all officers within the Krenim’s military, she felt like she had to say something. This was a momentous occasion. Clearing her voice, she grabbed the attention of everyone in the room. The only thing that could be heard was the Paradox Machine slowly powering up. 

“One of our most famed temporal scientists once said that when time offers you an opportunity, you don’t ignore it. Today, we cannot ignore what our creation will show us. So let’s take one moment at a time.” After speaking, Irlina smirked at everyone as they clapped in agreement with her sentiments. 

She turned her focus back to the station before her—the primary controls. At that moment, Irlina realised what everything meant to her. For months, they had toiled tirelessly, pouring heart and soul into the construction of this enigmatic device. Yet, beneath the surface of scientific triumph lingered a sense of unease, a whisper of doubt that danced at the fringes of her consciousness.

“The calculations are stable, Irlina,” one of her colleagues remarked, his voice tinged with cautious optimism. “We’re ready to proceed with the final activation sequence.”

Either it worked, or it didn’t. Throwing caution to the wind, Irlina turned to him and gave him an approving nod. “Initiate the activation process, but proceed with caution. We cannot afford any mistakes.”

Her team, a cadre of brilliant minds united in purpose, sprang into action with practised efficiency. Fingers flew across control panels, frantically attempting to keep an eye on the machine as the first set of readings started to come through. Irlina began to feel herself smile as the temporal sensors started to process the first set of readings. 

Everything was going fine. 

Yet, despite their best efforts, the machine’s core flickered ominously, its once-stable foundations crumbling beneath the weight of unforeseen consequences.

And then, in a blinding flash of light, it happened.

The Paradox Machine erupted in a cataclysmic cascade of energy; its once-proud facade shattered into a million fractured shards. Time itself seemed to warp and bend, folding in upon itself as the very fabric of reality unravelled before their eyes.

Cursing herself, Irlina felt the anger rise through her veins as she attempted to find out what was going wrong. Nothing from their preliminary tests had predicted any issues in the first few moments. Explosions erupted around her from overloads.  

“Contain the breach! Seal the temporal fractures before it’s too late!” Irlina shouted above the deafening roar of chaos; her voice tinged with urgency. “We must reinforce the primary containment field around the temporal core.”

Her team scrambled to comply, their faces etched with determination as they fought against the relentless tide of the unknown. None of them could have predicted whatever was happening to the Paradox Machine. Something external to them, beyond their research facility, was causing it to respond like this. It was almost like an upset baby that couldn’t be rested. Nothing they could do would reset the machine. With each passing moment, the fractures spread like wildfire, ruthlessly threatening to consume everything in their path. 

Looking at the machine’s temporal sensors, Irlina could see the fractures were no longer contained within their lab; they had spread across the planet and beyond. The entire Jameeta system was consumed. Every Krenim, almost five million of them, who lived in the system was now affected by their project: men, women, children – all of them. The Paradox Machine was reaching out, trying to make room with what it was trying to figure out, and it needed the entire system to become its playground. No one was safe. 

Realising that any attempt to stabilise the machine was futile, Irlina knew she had to give up and repair the damage. Her fingers were already dancing across the panel before her, trying to close the rifts that were now getting bigger, not just in size but in power. Who knew what was going to happen if they were left?

“We need to shut down the machine!” one of her colleagues exclaimed, his voice strained with desperation.

Irlina’s jaw tightened with resolve as she surveyed the devastation brought by their creation. “Not yet. First, we must contain the fractures. Only then can we hope to halt the machine’s rampage.”

And then, amidst the chaos, came the unexpected.

“Long-range sensors are picking up something, Irlina,” another scientist called out, her voice tinged with disbelief. She was sitting on one of the stations the farthest from Irlina. It had been her job to monitor the local space-time continuum. “It’s…” Her pause to take a breath was mixed with shock from what was happening around them in their lab and what she could see out in the star system. “We’ve got Krenim warships, but their quantum readings show they are from almost thirty years ago.”

Irlina’s eyes widened in shock as she processed the implications of this newfound revelation. Checking her own readings, Irlina couldn’t believe it. One of the temporal fractures had deposited the ships on their doorstep like an unwelcome guest. Reviewing the sensors with more detail, Irlina noticed that their temporal phase signature was also out. These Krenim warships were not from their timeline but an alternative one. 

“It seems we’ve attracted some unexpected visitors,” she shared, her mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of their situation. She knew she had to focus on the here and now, but the past and possible future were also shouting at her.

There was no way she and her team could endure having to close these rifts and deal with their fellow brothers and sisters from a different timeline; instead, Irlina activated the only remaining system that appeared to be working. Entering her command codes and authorising its use, she activated the base’s general distress beacon before an explosion erupted in the lab, pushing her across the room and smacking her down on the floor, out cold.

Captain Cambil Bexa sat crossed-leg on the carpet in the centre of her ready room aboard the USS Themis, the ambient hum of the ship’s systems creating a serene atmosphere punctuated only by the soft glow of the console panels and the holographic candles. Her eyes were closed in quiet contemplation, her thoughts reaching out to the Bajoran Prophets in silent prayer. 

The weight of their mission hung heavy upon her, the elusive USS Constitution and its crew lost in the vast expanse of the Delta Quadrant. For some time now, the Themis had been assigned the mission of finding the missing member of their squadron, but alas, they had not been fortunate. Besides the probe the Constitution sent through folded space, there was no clue where they were. Using the experimental hyper-subspace communication systems installed on their ships, the Themis had tempted to raise the missing ship several days ago, but something was blocking the call. So far, they didn’t know why.

Too many mysteries. 

Instead, Cambil had felt she might find some answers by reaching out to the Prophets. At least, she hoped, her signal would get through to them. As she sought solace in her faith, the tranquillity of the moment was abruptly shattered by the chime of her ready room door. With a composed exhale, Captain Cambil straightened her jacket as she stood up, steeling herself for the challenges that lay ahead.

“Enter,” she called, her voice carrying a sense of quiet authority laced with determination. She pressed a button on her desk, and the holographic candles vanished, followed by the ready room’s illumination increasing to its standard level. Some normality, she thought. 

The door slid open, admitting Commander Tremt Hunsen, her first officer. In his hand, he held a PADD containing the latest sensor readings, his expression marked by a blend of concern and unwavering resolve.

“Tremt, please tell me you’ve got some good news,” Cambil remarked, motioning for him to take a seat across from her desk as she took her own seat. 

Hunsen approached slowly before sitting, the weight of their shared burden evident in the furrow of his brow. “Sorry, captain, we’ve completed another sweep of the surrounding space. Regrettably, we’ve yet to determine the source of the signal interference interfering with our attempts to reach the Constitution.”

Cambil’s features tightened with frustration, her worry for the missing vessel gnawing at her resolve. “How far are we from the origin point of the interference?”

“T’Rani estimates approximately two weeks at maximum warp, barring any unforeseen complications,” Hunsen replied, his voice steady despite the underlying tension.

“Two weeks,” Captain Bexa echoed, her mind already calculating the myriad possibilities that lay ahead. “Very well, have our new chief flight control officer lay in a course and engage at maximum warp. In the meantime, continue monitoring the situation closely. I want regular updates on our progress.”

Hunsen nodded in acknowledgement, his commitment unwavering in the face of uncertainty. “Aye, Captain.”

“Anything else, Tremt?” Cambil asked. 

Hunsen shook his head. “Nothing to worry you with, ma’am.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Cambil said as she looked at him. They had gotten to know one another a lot since she took command of the Themis earlier in the year. After almost eight months of serving together in their new roles, they had developed a strong routine with one another. “What is it?”

“I know this is important, and I had a feeling you would order us to find out, but it’s another two weeks of the crew not doing much,” Hunsen remarked. 

Sighing, Cambil couldn’t disagree with him. “Perhaps, however, it does give you another two more weeks to spend quality time with your gorgeous new son!”

Hunsen smirked at the mention of his newborn. It had only been a couple of months since he had become a father, and it had certainly changed him. Cambil knew it would and was pleased to see the transformation that Hunsen had undergone these past few weeks. The Betazoid man was more relaxed while on duty while at the same time being extra cautious and protective of the ship and its crew. He certainly didn’t want anything wrong to happen to it. Thankfully, what had made him more settled was down to Captain Louwanna Horin, Hunsen’s Imzadi, who had temporarily transferred from the Odyssey to the Themis after the birth of Eddim (their son) so she and he could be with Hunsen. Horin and Hunsen wanted to make something of their new family life, and spending it together seemed right while she was on maternity leave. Fleet Captain McCallister hadn’t stopped the request; a father himself, he knew how important it was for a family to be together. Nevertheless, Cambil knew that her former captain and squadron leader would soon want his chief counsellor back. When that would be, even she didn’t know. 

“Yeah, I suppose there’s that,” Hunsen nodded. “I think Louwanna would appreciate me being around a bit more.”

“I don’t need to be a Betazoid to read your minds. Lack of sleep?” Cambil asked with a chuckle. She had been there herself when her two sons were young. “Plus, over the next two weeks, T’Rani may eventually pop too!”

“Let’s hope that happens figuratively and not literally,” Hunsen said, still smiling. 

“I don’t know, Tremt. Have you seen how big she’s got?” Cambil asked as she got out of her chair and went to the window. “I remember being that big with Leeyum; my ankles were so swollen. Who knows, baby T’Rani-Samris may finally appear.”

“I think Samris would appreciate a bit more time,” Hunsen said. “I think I’ve scared him with a few horror stories!”

Turning back around to face her first officer, Cambil smiled at him. If she was any other captain, this type of talk about babies and young families may not have occurred. That said, having both her first officer and second officer taking paternity and maternity leave, respectively, at this point did cause some logistical nightmare for her. She was thankful that Fleet Captain McCallister had reassigned Lieutenant Andar to the Themis to take over from T’Rani as its chief flight control officer. The Phylosian officer was impressive and was certainly not being challenged in being the Deputy Starfighter Squadron leader. T’Rani, on the other hand, had to be persuaded to take on a more command-level role. It was natural for her to progress and take over as Senior Officer of the Watch. Cambil felt it gave her a bit more flexibility once she became a new mum. However, T’Rani, in typical fashion, did not see it that way. Nevertheless, she had relented and realised the logic and understanding that it was time in her career to move on beyond the helm. 

“How’s the betting pool going in guessing when the newest addition to the crew will arrive,” Cambil inquired.

“Still waiting on you to give us your guess!” 

Cambil rubbed her chin before placing her hands on her hips. “Put me down for two weeks’ time once we arrive wherever this interference is coming from.”

“Done!” Hunsen said as he typed it into his PADD. “Anything else, ma’am?”

She shook her head and dismissed him. Looking over her shoulder, she stared at the starfield and wondered if they would ever find out where the Constitution was. However, she knew they needed to discover what was stopping them from reaching out. 

One of the many mysteries the Delta Quadrant loved to throw their way!

Stardate: 78580 – Four Weeks Later

USS Themis (NCC-76554), Swallow Nebula region, Delta Quadrant

Captain Cambil stepped out of her ready room with a PADD in her left hand and a mug of Deka tea in the other. She surveyed the bridge, and a sense of anticipation hung in the air like a charged particle awaiting release. She sipped her Deka tea, the warmth soothing against the backdrop of uncertainty. Looking up at the command pit, she noticed T’Rani sat in her chair. T’Rani’s composed demeanour belied the gravity of their situation, her presence a testament to Vulcan stoicism amidst the possible upcoming chaos.

“Report, commander,” Cambil inquired, her voice steady yet brimming with curiosity as she approached the command centre.

T’Rani gracefully rose from the chair despite her heavy pregnancy and relayed the ship’s progress. “We should be at our destination in approximately twenty-seven and a half minutes.”

“I’ll take over from here; you go take a break,” Cambil offered, genuine concern etched in her smile. 

Before T’Rani could voice her protest, Abbej interjected, urgently diverting attention. “Captain, I’ve got something!” 

Intrigued, Cambil and T’Rani joined Abbej at the science console, where the Boslic officer unveiled her findings. Abbej pointed to her readings. “Long-range sensors detected a high amount of radiation at our destination, and now that we’re closer, I’ve been able to get a clearer picture.”

T’Rani’s raised eyebrow betrayed her concern. “Any insights into the nature of this radiation?”

Abbej nodded, her focus unwavering. “It’s Adler-Lasky temporal radiation. It’s indicative of a temporal anomaly, Captain.”

Cambil’s gaze darted towards the helm as she issued orders. “Andar, reduce our speed to warp six.”

The Phylosian nodded their fuzzy artichoke-shaped head. “Aye, ma’am, but it will increase our estimated arrival time by another hour if not two.”

“I know; I want more time to see what we’ve got ahead of us,” Cambil remarked.

“Time is certainly an apt choice of word,” Abbej stated. 

Tapping her combadge, Cambil wanted all her senior staff to discuss this new revelation. After making the call, the captain turned back to her science officer. “Anything else of interest?”

Abbej nodded as she kept her focus on the sensor readings. “The anomaly is planet-side; it looks like the fourth or fifth planet. I can’t be sure. There’s a lot of chronokinetic interference at this range, but I am picking up life signs.”

“How many?” T’Rani asked as the turbolift doors to the aft of the bridge opened to reveal the arrival of Forbes, Hunsen and Jines. The three men made their way over to them.

“I’m detecting around five million humanoids,” Abbej stated. She compared their biology to the Starfleet database, and a match appeared. “They’re Krenim.”

 “Krenim?” Forbes echoed, curiosity gleaming in his eyes

“The temporal buffs, right?” Hunsen asked as he leant against the bulkhead with his left shoulder and crossed his arms. 

Cambil nodded, her expression grave yet resolute. “Temporal aficionados, in a sense. Voyager encountered them, albeit briefly, during its journey. The Krenim Imperium’s reputation precedes them, especially in temporal sciences.”

“Then perhaps we are approaching their territory?” Jines offered. 

Pulling up the star charts that Voyager had made over twenty-seven years ago, Abbej showed them what was meant to be territory held by the Krenim back then. “I appreciate this data is old, but we’re far from the Imperium’s borders, suggesting this could be a distant colony.”

Cambil turned to Decter, her tone decisive. “Send a preemptive message to the colony. Diplomacy first.”

Jines nodded and went straight over to the operations station. At that point, the rest of the senior staff arrived. Lenjir and Samris made their way to their stations while Commander Ramona Perez wandered over. Themis’ new chief engineer was a welcome figure as part of the ship’s senior staff. 

“Did I just hear someone is finally letting go of the pressure on my engines?” Perez’s voice carried a playful edge as she directed her inquiry towards Cambil, her longtime acquaintance from their days at the Academy as instructors.

Cambil, now standing in front of the command chair, shared a knowing smile with Perez, their camaraderie evident even in the midst of their duties aboard the Themis. “We’re taking it easy momentarily, just to see what’s ahead of us,” she replied, her tone a blend of familiarity and the weight of their responsibilities.

“Ma’am, I’m detecting a distress call coming from the Krenim colony,” Jines reported.

Concerned to hear that, Cambil looked at him. “What do they say?”

“It’s a bit garbled, sir,” Jines replied. “Something about an overload, that’s about what we can make out. The temporal anomaly is affecting its content.” 

“This temporal anomaly must be stopping us from contacting the Constitution,” Hunsen suggested.

“You may be right, Number One,” Cambil agreed. “Are there any other ships in the area that can lend a hand? I can’t see us being able to support over five million people.”

Lenjir from the tactical station behind Cambil spoke up. “Captain, I’m detecting the U-S-S Constellation. They’re on the edge of the sector.”

“The Constellation?” Cambil echoed. “I didn’t realise they were this far out in the Delta Quadrant.”

T’Rani, who had now stationed herself at the mission ops station, spoke up. “The Constellation is on a deep space assignment working with scientists from the Romulan Free State.”

“Captain Taes is still in command, right?” Cambil checked, looking at T’Rani.

“I believe so, ma’am.” 

“You know, Captain Taes?” Hunsen asked from his chair.

“Only by reputation,” Cambil said as she crossed her arms and gave Perez a look. If Hunsen had read her mind at that point, he would have heard her remember the things they had heard about Taes via their old Academy contacts. Taes’ time at the Delta IV annexe had come back to them. The Deltan had gathered a reputation back when she was a cadet herself. She was known for hating the dorms and the sensory overload of so many cadets.  Shaking her head, the Bajoran woman looked at her operations officer. “Decter, send Captain Taes a request to see if they can join us.”

Jines nodded before he checked something and spoke up. “Ma’am, the Constellation is a week away at their best speed.”

“Surely more hands to help out is better than nothing?” Samris asked.

Cambil agreed with that point. “Send the message.” She took her seat as she gathered her thoughts on what she was committing her ship and possibly the Constellation to. 

Moments later, Jines confirmed Captain Taes’s agreement. 

“Here we go then,” Cambil stated as she told everyone to prepare for whatever lay ahead.

The USS Themis was ensnared in a chaotic web of subspace anomalies, each one a potential threat to the ship’s integrity. These anomalies, like a relentless tempest, sent shockwaves through the vessel, causing it to shudder and groan under the strain. The blaring red alert, a piercing testament to the severity of the situation, echoed urgently throughout the ship.

On the bridge, crew members darted from station to station, their movements swift and purposeful, their faces etched with a mix of perseverance and strain. Sparks erupted in the air as engineering teams scrambled to reinforce critical systems. 

“Report!” Captain Cambil’s voice cut through the racket, commanding attention amidst the chaos of the bridge. Her grip tightened on the arms of her chair, a lone strand of hair escaping the confines of its tie, a testament to the ship’s tumultuous journey.

“Structure integrity is holding, but I’m diverting power to the inertial dampeners,” Perez’s voice rang out from the engineering station, determination evident despite the strain in her tone. “Warp core stability remains unaffected.”

“Shields holding steady, Captain,” Lenjir’s assurance came from behind at the tactical console, a stalwart presence amidst the storm.

“Seems like we’re navigating our way through it, Captain,” Andar’s voice carried a note of relief from the helm, signalling a glimmer of hope amidst the turbulence.

The Themis shuddered several more times, each jolt was a reminder of the unpredictable nature of their predicament before it was finally spat out from the grip of the subspace anomalies.

“We’re through,” reported Abbej. “I think it was a bubble of temporal energy.”

“A bubble?” Hunsen questioned. 

“A subspace anomaly compromising of suppressed temporal energy,” Abbej summarised. “But from what I can tell, it’s,” she paused as she looked at the sensors. “Ma’am, I’m detecting the Constellation off the starboard bow.”

Cambil’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she turned her gaze towards Hunsen upon receiving the unexpected news. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that the Constitution III-class ship had arrived ahead of schedule, and the realisation brought a glimmer of hope to their mission. “Andar, get us free and far from that bubble and then Decter open a channel to Captain Taes.”

Both men in front of her complied with their orders, and a few seconds later, the image of Captain Taes on her bridge appeared.

“Captain Taes, welcome to the Jameeta system,” Cambil greeted her counterpart.

Captain Taes’ holographic transmission didn’t respond immediately.  Rubbing the back of her neck, Taes took a breath that started from deep down.  She shook her bald head, and then she became still.  At the same time, a pleasant smile had snapped into place over her visage.

“It is most gratifying to meet you, Captain Cambil,” Taes said.  “Our rendezvous has proven gruelling in equal parts.  Although Constellation reached the Jameeta system some hours ago, we passed through a time rift into Onitha’s distant past and have only just escaped.  We have not been able to make contact with the colony.”

Intrigued by Taes’ remarks, Cambil was confused by what was happening here. “It would appear, Captain, that we have been the victims of some temporal shenanigans. We, too, have struggled to raise the Krenim. Maybe we should attempt to coordinate our efforts so we can find out what has happened here?”

Taes nodded once at Cambil’s suggestion, maintaining eye contact until she tilted her head to nod at someone outside the visual sensor range of the viewscreens.

“Our science officer will make our sensor logs available,” Taes amicably said.  “Between our two crews, I trust we can handle temporal shenanigans.”

Abbej then shared a report from the science station. It was delivered with an air of urgency, the tone laced with concern as the readings scrolled across the monitors. The pulsating lights indicated an unsettling combination: chroniton radiation, tachyons, and polaric ion energy suffused the surrounding space, hinting at a profound disruption in the delicate balance of the space-time continuum. “Temporal rifts are forming around us,” she warned, her eyes darting between the myriad of displays.

Cambil furrowed her brow, absorbing the gravity of the situation. “We must proceed with extreme caution,” she advised her voice firm yet tinged with apprehension.

But before any course of action could be decided upon, a colossal temporal rift materialised before them, the very fabric of reality warping and distorting in its wake. Within moments, the ominous void gave birth to two looming silhouettes, their angular forms casting eerie shadows across the bridge.

“Krenim vessels?” Hunsen queried, his fingers hovering over the control panel in anticipation. The tension on the bridge was palpable as the crew held their breath, waiting for Lenjir’s confirmation.

“Confirmed,”’ Lenjir replied, his gaze fixed on the approaching ships on the tactical station’s sensor readings. “Their shields are at maximum, and their weapons are charging up.”

Abbej interjected, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Captain, these ships bear an unusual quantum signature.”

Cambil’s expression hardened as she processed the information. “In what way, commander?” she inquired, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Quantum scans indicate that they appear to be from two and a half decades ago,” Abbej explained, her fingers dancing across the interface as she analysed the data. “Yet their quantum signature deviates only slightly from the norm.”

“An alternate timeline,” Perez proposed from the aft engineering station, her voice tinged with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

Cambil’s jaw tightened with resolve. She had been here before with temporal mechanics on the Odyssey and wasn’t keen on another round. 

“Precisely my thoughts,” Abbej replied, her gaze locking with the captain’s as they braced themselves for whatever temporal anomaly awaited them.

The holographic feed of Captain Taes on Constellation’s bridge compressed to one-quarter of the viewscreen.  The audio was momentarily silenced as Taes gave orders to her own bridge crew.

The audio returned when Taes said, “As much as it will put as at a disadvantage, I must recommend holding our respective positions.  The topology of the temporal rifts appears to be in a continuous flux.  We must circumvent those rifts as much as the Krenim vessels.  Shall we send a joint message of friendship, sharing the frequency of Onitha’s distress call?”

Cambil agreed to Taes’ suggestion, and both crews simultaneously sent the message.

Jines then spoke up from ops. “Ma’am, we’re getting a response.”

“Put it up so both ships can see it,” Cambil ordered as she nestled into her chair.

The viewscreen was altered to show the incoming hail. A Krenim man sat in a chair, almost swirling on its axis, and looked at both captains with nearly utmost distaste. 

“Who are you?” 

Cambil took a breath as she answered on their behalf. “Captains Cambil and Taes of the Federation starships Themis and Constellation.”

“And you’re reasons for being here?” He asked. The Krenim commander was more bothered about ensuring his uniform was neat and tidy as he brushed one of its shoulders. His focus was no longer on either Cambil or Taes.

“We were responding to the distress call coming from the Krenim colony,” Cambil replied. “However, we’ve had a few difficulties since arriving with these temporal bubbles. I believe you’ve just exited one yourself. Perhaps if we work togeth-”

“No!” The Krenim captain responded angrily. His focus was now back on Cambil and Taes. We will not work with you. Who do you think you are? One of your ships has already violated our space, and we will not submit to your hostile invasion of our realm. Surrender now or be destroyed.”

 Cambil raised her eyebrow at the Krenim leader. She was sure he had no idea he was from an alternative timeline. Though she was intrigued by who this other Starfleet ship was. “We don’t respond well to threats,” Cambil replied.

“And still,” Taes added emphatically, “we maintain our offer of aid to your colony.  Have you contacted the source of the–”

“Either you surrender, or you will not survive our assault.” The Krenim said, almost spitting out every word he spoke. 

As the Krenim crammed more bile and vexation into every word, the more still Taes became in response.  On her own bridge, she was sat in her captain’s chair with her palms laid on her thighs.  She did not flinch at the word surrender.  She did not flinch at the word assault.

“We come in peace and friendship,” Taes said.  There was a genuine warmth to her intonation, even if sounded brittle around the edges.  “If your colony’s distress call was an elaborate ruse to lure us here, I do not regret answering the call.  Our offer of aid is genuine.  However, our crews are under our care too.  We will never surrender.”

Determined not to be beaten by a bully, Cambil agreed with Taes’ comments before ordering the ship to red alert. “All hands, battle stations!”