Shades of Obsidian

On the edge of the Cardassian border, the USS Vallejo is tasked with deploying a crucial communications buoy in the Kavaria System. This seems routine, but is anything but. With tensions simmering in the region, the stakes are higher than anyone anticipates.

Learning Curve: Part 1

USS Vallejo
79028.7

Cadet Jeremy Ryan stood at the auxiliary tactical console on the USS Vallejo, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the glowing interface. All around him, the holographic bridge was alive with tension. The flashing lights indicating the ship’s red alert status coincided with the loud blaring audio alert. The simulation hummed and vibrated just as the systems of the real Vallejo would under siege, a surprisingly realistic aspect in the replication of the emergency facing them.

On the viewscreen the image of an identified vessel drew closer, its weapons systems visibly charging in a display of increasing light. Simultaneously two smaller vessels of similar unfamiliar design appeared and flanked the Vallejo, their movements swift and coordinated. There was no way the California-Class Utility Cruiser would be able to evade ships that nimble. Ryan’s console was flooded with data, so much so that it was overwhelming to see the full picture of their situation. Targeting solutions, ship coordinates, shield integrity, and the ominous countdown of a firing sequence on the lead alien vessel.

“Cadet?” Commander Arjun Mehta’s voice snapped Ryan back to attention, cutting through the background noise like a phaser beam. He stood behind Ryan, PADD in hand, his posture rigid and commanding. The simulated Bridge officers were all absent, save Ensign Renn Tanara, his best friend, at the helm. For the purposes of this simulation, Ryan was in command.

Ryan hesitated, his mind racing as he analyzed the tactical readouts. He had three choices: focus fire on the lead ship, disable the flanking ships before they could break through the shields, or attempt to spread firepower across all three targets to buy time. Each option carried risks. Concentrating on the lead ship might allow the smaller ships to cripple their shields, while dividing his focus could result in none of the targets being neutralized in time.

Sweat dripped down the back of Ryan’s uniform as his fingers trembled over the targeting panel.

“Cadet…” Mehta’s voice interjected, tinged with impatience.

Ryan inhaled sharply, “Targeting the lead ship’s weapons array,” he said, locking in the firing sequence. His hands moved quickly as he calculated the spread. “Firing phasers, photon torpedoes, full spread.”

On the viewscreen, beams of light struck from the Vallejo, colliding with the alien vessel’s shields in bursts of orange and purple. Several glowing torpedoes streaked toward the ship, whose shields were just weakened with phaser fire. They made impact, sending eruptions of energy venting from the alien vessel’s hull. The holographic bridge rocked as a retaliatory volley of weapons fire struck the Vallejo’s shields. Sparks flew from a nearby console as simulated damage reports scrolled across the displays.

“Direct hit, no damage to the lead ship.,” he reported, his voice tight, tinged with disbelief.

“Shields down to 40%!” Tanara called out from the conn, her voice tinged with panic.

Ryan’s fingers flew over the console, scrambling to adapt. “Diverting all available power to shields,” he said quickly, trying to regain control. “Retargeting the flanking ships to…”

Before he could even finish, the two smaller vessels launched their strikes. Their plasma fire tore through the Vallejo’s weakened shields, sending simulated explosions rippling through the holographic bridge. Consoles erupted in fire, filling the holodeck with acrid smoke and a deafening explosion rocked the room. The simulation froze as the computer announced flatly: “Program failed. Simulation terminated.”

Ryan stood at his console, watching the words “Program failed” flash mockingly on the tactical console. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, pounding in his temples, refusing to stop even though he stood in the silence of the holodeck.

Commander Mehta stepped forward and placed his hand on the cadet’s shoulder. Ryan turned to face him, afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t speak immediately, letting the weight of the failure settle over the room.

Ryan was the first to speak, “I miscalculated,” he said, his voice low. “The lead ship’s weapons array”

“Was the wrong choice,” Mehta interrupted, his tone cutting but not unkind. “You fell into a trap, Cadet. They baited you, and you reacted. Aggressively… Predictably.”

Ryan straightened slightly, defensive instinct kicking in. “Sir, their weapons were charging. There wasn’t time for…”

“Time for what?” Mehta’s voice rose, sharp enough to slice through Ryan’s protest, cocking his eyebrow. “To open a channel? To try and determine their intentions? Or are you telling me you had time to fire phasers and launch a full spread of torpedoes but not to say, ‘This is the USS Vallejo. State your purpose?”

Cadet Ryan inhaled deeply, taking Mehta’s words to heart. He had reacted to the immediate threat, calculating damage potential and shield integrity, but he never once considered diplomacy.

“You automatically assumed to meet force with force,” Mehta continued, pacing slowly now. “And in doing so, you escalated the situation. What were the parameters of this simulation?”

“To neutralize the threat to the ship and crew,” he said cautiously.

Mehta shook his head. “To neutralize the threat… You didn’t need to fire a single shot to succeed, Cadet. Those ships were not hostile. Their charging weapons were a ruse to test your decision-making under pressure.”

“In a real engagement,” Mehta pressed on, “your actions could have triggered an interstellar incident, or worse, gotten everyone on this ship killed. Starfleet’s mission is to explore, seek understanding, and resolve conflict peacefully whenever possible. We don’t shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Yes, sir,” Ryan said quietly, the sting of failure in his voice.

Mehta stood tall and firm; his hands clasped behind his back. “Cadet, you have the tactical instincts of a warrior. That’s not a bad thing, but you need to temper it with the wisdom of a diplomat. There will be times when firing first is the only option, but that should never be your default.”

Ryan met his gaze, determination flickering to life despite the weight of Mehta’s critique. “Understood, sir. I’ll do better.”

Mehta nodded, his expression softening slightly. “I have no doubt Cadet, and for the record… I failed this test my first time around, as did Commander Rax. I’ll see you later on the bridge.” A brief smile spread across Mehta’s face as he turned to leave.

Ryan remained standing for a moment as Mehta left the holodeck. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, letting the tension ease from his shoulders. Straightening his posture, Ryan stepped toward the exit. He paused briefly, glancing back at the now-blank console.

The doors hissed open as Ryan stepped into the corridor. The hum of the ship enveloped him, a reminder of the larger mission he was a part of. He walked away from the holodeck with a new resolve; next time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. Next time, he’d remember that Starfleet wasn’t about winning every fight, it was about preventing them whenever possible.

Learning Curve: Part 2

Conference Room - USS Vallejo
79040.2

The conference room aboard the USS Vallejo was alive with quiet conversation among the assembled senior staff as they waited for Captain Day Renora to join them with their new orders. Their murmurs ended as the door swished open and she entered from the rear starboard of the ship’s bridge, PADD in hand. Lieutenant Loran, the ship’s Orion OPS officer remained on the Bridge assuming command for the duration of the briefing.

“Thank you all for being prompt,” she began, setting her PADD down on the glossy black plaz conference table and taking her seat at its head. “Orders from Command have just come through from DS47. Our mission is to deploy a communications buoy in the Kavaria System, enhancing our long-range operations near the Cardassian border. Communication channels have been choppy in the area for a long time, and Starfleet wants to ensure our pathfinding operations and monitoring of the area can continue without incident. The last communications buoy was destroyed sometime during the Dominion War, so after almost thirty years it’s time we get it replaced.”

Commander Arjun Mehta placed his tea back on the conference table and leaned forward, his brow furrowed slightly. “The Kavaria System isn’t just remote, it’s strategically significant. Border tensions have eased, but there’s still plenty of gray area out there. This deployment is about more than clear channels. It’s about maintaining Starfleet’s presence in the region.”

Captain Day gave him a knowing look. “Exactly. We’re not expecting trouble, but this region has a history. Let’s not take anything for granted.”

Lieutenant Ilias Amir chimed in with his usual easy confidence. Even after a horrific injury that cost him an arm, Amir still acted a bit impulsively. He had recovered well and his new biosynthetic limb was just as effective as the one he was born with.

“Captain, while the buoy itself isn’t exactly a thrill ride, we could use this mission for some hands-on training. Cadet Ryan still needs practical hours for his Academy requirements. We could take a shuttle and hang back for a day or two while the Vallejo proceeds to Kavaria. We’d catch up once his drills are complete.”

Mehta nodded in agreement. “It’s a controlled setting but still far enough from home to feel real. He can work on his piloting, navigation, and some operational protocols we haven’t gotten to yet. If we don’t take these opportunities now, we’ll be cramming them into his schedule later.”

Day considered the suggestion, her gaze sharp and thoughtful. “Ryan’s grades are solid, but I agree fieldwork is where it really counts.”

Amir’s grin widened. “Let’s just say it’s better he makes his mistakes under my watch than in an active mission. Besides, he’s come a long way. It’ll give us a chance to polish the edges.”

Lieutenant Commander Bolik Rax leaned forward, his blue-skinned Bolian features stoic. “Cadet Ryan has been an exemplary trainee. His work ethic is admirable, and he’s shown adaptability under pressure. I have no doubt he’ll be a strong addition to the Vallejo as an ensign.”

Renn’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, if he doesn’t get himself locked in another holodeck malfunction. Last week, he triggered the wrong subroutine during a tactical scenario, and we spent fifteen minutes dodging holographic Klingon disruptor fire. He’s lucky I’ve got quick reflexes.”

The room chuckled, with even Captain Day allowing herself a small smile.

“Ensign Renn,” Mehta said suppressing a grin, “I hope you’re not exaggerating for effect.”

“Not at all, sir,” Renn replied with mock seriousness. “If anything, I’m underselling it. But don’t worry, he’s my best friend. I’m just here to make sure he stays humble. Somebody has to.”

Asha Kellan, sitting across from Amir, crossed her arms and looked pointedly at him.

“I’d be careful, Commander,” Asha said, her voice calm but carrying a hint of steel. “We don’t need Cadet Ryan learning hands-on the hard way, especially when Lieutenant Amir’s idea of training tends to be… reckless.”

There was a brief pause, the air thick with unspoken tension. Amir shot a sidelong glance at her, but the look was tempered with his usual confidence.

“Reckless?” Amir raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like I’m putting him in danger. He’s got to experience the risks of this job before he’s put in charge of tactical decisions. You know that, Asha.”

Asha’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she kept her voice steady. “Please address me as Lieutenant… And I know that, but pushing a cadet beyond his current limits isn’t the same as pushing him to learn. Sometimes experience doesn’t come with a lesson, just consequences.”

Mehta, noticing the tension, cleared his throat. “Let’s focus on the matter at hand. We all agree that Ryan needs experience. It’s just a matter of how we get him there without any unnecessary bumps along the way.”

Valis, the stoic Vulcan Chief Engineer, spoke up, her voice neutral but firm. “I do not believe putting Cadet Ryan in a high-risk environment is wise, Lieutenant Amir. While I understand the value of experience, safety is paramount. Ensuring the proper protocols are followed is the only way to avoid catastrophic failure, whether in a tactical scenario or on a shuttlecraft.”

Dr. Pell, sitting across from Valis, shook her head, her voice a bit gruff. “I’ll second that, Lieutenant Valis. I’ve patched up enough people from Amir’s training sessions. I don’t want the Cadet in my sickbay more than necessary.”

Amir’s grin faltered, but only for a second. “Look, I’m not talking about reckless missions, but we’re dealing with a cadet here. If Ryan can’t handle the challenge, then maybe he’s not ready to be an ensign yet.”

Asha’s gaze softened, but there was still a cool edge to her tone. “That’s the difference between you and me, Lieutenant. You’re more than willing to risk it all for the lesson, but there’s a point where it’s just about damage control. We want Cadet Ryan to be ready, not just survive.”

Day’s voice cut through the growing tension. “All right, enough. Let’s put our trust in Commander Mehta and Lieutenant Amir to structure the drills appropriately, with a focus on both realistic scenarios and safety. Cadet Ryan needs to feel prepared, but he doesn’t need to be broken down to learn.”

The rest of the room nodded, some exchanging wary glances, others clearly still harboring reservations.

“Let’s finalize the shuttle training plan and ensure we’re fully prepared for the buoy deployment,” Day continued. “Commander, coordinate with engineering to make sure the Sequoia is in top shape and equipped as needed. We’ll review Ryan’s progress when you catch up with us at the Kavaria System.”

Lost and Found: Part 1

Shuttlecraft Sequoia & USS Vallejo
79045.5

The small Class II shuttlecraft Sequoia rose in a hum of thrusters from the floor of the Vallejo’s shuttle bay, its sleek gray tritanium alloy hull vibrating slightly from the power of its engines. Cadet Jeremy Ryan, seated at the conn, wore a concentrated frown. His brow in deep focus as he guided the small shuttle through the bay’s vast opening. The shuttle’s thrusters whined gently as he adjusted the heading, the view outside the cockpit darkening as they passed through the glowing blue forcefield and into open space, the bay doors slid shut behind them. The space ahead was speckled with distant stars. Ryan’s fingers moved over the console, his mind sharp with the mission ahead.

“Shuttle Sequoia to Vallejo.” Ryan’s voice was calm, his tone betraying none of the tension boiling in his gut. The comm panel flashed in response, and with a tap, he continued, “We are clear from Shuttle Bay 1 and are proceeding to training mission objective Alpha.”

There was a brief static hum before Commander Rax’s voice came through, his deep Bolian voice steady and authoritative. He was acting as First Officer while Commander Mehta was not on board. “Copy Sequoia. We will proceed to the Kavaria system. We will rendezvous with you in a few days, enjoy the training. Vallejo out.”

Ryan leaned back slightly in his chair, resituating himself to ease his tension, glancing at his instruments as he began plotting their course. Behind him, Commander Mehta stood with his arms crossed, his eyes sharp and unblinking, scanning Ryan’s every move with a laser focus. The only sound in the small cockpit was the quiet beeping and tapping of Ryan’s fingers against the console. Lieutenant Amir, seated to Ryan’s left, kept his attention on a PADD in his hands, occasionally raising his eyes to evaluate the cadet’s performance. While the two had developed a strong friendship, both knew when to keep it professional.

In a flash of light, the USS Vallejo was gone, warping out of the area en route to its mission point.

“Course plotted and ready,” Ryan announced, his voice clear and measured. He tapped a softly glowing purple button on the console, sending the coordinates through the shuttle’s navigation systems.

Mehta gave a single nod, but his expression remained unreadable. “Good. Now cross-check the system logs for any anomalies. We’re looking for thoroughness as well as efficiency.”

Ryan’s fingers continued to dance over the console with practiced precision. The shuttle’s interface flared to life, streams of raw data flashing across the screen. The hum of the ship’s systems grew with the beeping of pressed controls as he meticulously cross-referenced the logs, eyes flicking from one set of readings to the next. After a brief moment, he turned back to Mehta, his voice firm. “Diagnostics are clear, Sir. All systems operational.”

Mehta didn’t offer a smile, but the slight relaxation in his posture was enough. “Then by all means, engage course,” he said, the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in his tone.

“Course engaged, Sir. ETA in 1.3 hours.” Ryan responded quickly, his fingers dancing over the controls as the shuttle surged forward at full impulse.

The cockpit became eerily quiet as the Sequoia traveled through the void of space, the blackness outside offering no visual reference except the occasional flicker of distant stars. As Ryan maneuvered the shuttle, the faint hiss of the life support systems in the background seemed almost too loud. He scanned his instruments, checking for any deviations. The silence was heavy, but Ryan kept his mind focused.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Sequoia arrived at the designated coordinates. The engines slowed, and Ryan spoke, breaking the silence. “Objective location reached in 3… 2… 1… Full stop.” His voice barely rose above the hum of the craft as the shuttle decelerated smoothly. The view through the front viewscreen shifted from the dark void to a mesmerizing display of swirling, colorful ionized gases ahead, an eruption of radiant blues, pinks, and purples, distorted by the subspace activity around them.

Lieutenant Amir looked up from his PADD, offering a friendly smile, though it was tinged with mischief. “Not bad, Cadet. But don’t get comfortable. Your first objective is to launch a micro-probe to analyze subspace interference in this sector. Let’s see how you handle precision deployment.”

Ryan nodded, feeling the familiar rush of pressure mixed with the confidence he had been building. He turned back to the console, his fingers gently tapping as he adjusted the shuttle’s sensor array. The musky and metallic scent of the cockpit seemed more pronounced now, and the slight hum of the shuttle’s equipment rang in his ears. He prepped the probe, calibrating it with careful precision. The ship’s exterior lights flickered for a moment, casting a soft glow over the darkened space ahead.

With a swift tap, the probe shot into the void, disappearing into the swirling colorful anomaly. Its telemetry began feeding directly back to the shuttle’s systems, flickering green as the data streamed in.

“Probe deployed successfully,” Ryan said, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of relief. He watched the screen intently as the probe’s data began to fill the console. “Receiving telemetry now.”

Mehta moved forward, eyes narrowing as he scanned the incoming data. “Analyze the interference patterns, Cadet. What do you see?”

Ryan paused for a moment, analyzing the data carefully, his fingers moved quickly over the console as he pieced the readings together, the challenge of the task sharpening his focus. “Localized distortions. It looks like a natural subspace eddy caused by gravitational interactions in this sector. The consistent frequency spike might be from resonance with nearby stellar bodies.”

Mehta didn’t offer praise, but his stern expression softened with a nod. “Good observation. Document it. We’ll compare with Starfleet records once we’re back on the Vallejo.”

Amir clapped Ryan on the shoulder, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “See? You’re getting the hang of this. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

Ryan allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as he began inputting the data. The shuttle continued to drift in the quiet, turbulent beauty of space.

“Alright Cadet,” began Commander Mehta, “Plot a course for objective beta.”

_________________________________________________________________________

 

The shuttle exited Shuttle Bay 1 with ease, its sleek hull gleaming under the dim glow of the hangar lights. Ensign Renn Tanara sat at the Conn, her fingers gently hovering over the controls as her gaze flicked between the console and the viewscreen. Her posture was relaxed, but her sharp Bajoran eyes remained locked on the image of the small shuttle as it slowly drifted away. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride for her friend, embarking on his training mission. She had seen him grow through his time on the Vallejo, and now, this was his time to prove his skills.

“Shuttle Sequoia to Vallejo,” came the calm voice of Cadet Ryan, though the slight tremor in his words didn’t escape her attention. “We are clear from Shuttle Bay 1 and are progressing to training mission objective Alpha.”

Commander Bolik Rax sat at the First Officer’s station on the bridge and tapped his comm badge to respond, “Copy Sequoia. We will proceed to the Kavaria system. We will rendezvous with you in a few days, enjoy the training. Vallejo out.”

Renn could hear the faintest trace of approval in his tone.

“Ensign Renn,” Rax’s voice broke her thoughts. “Plot a course for the Kavaria System, warp 8.”

She was already moving before he finished the order, fingers expertly tapping the console as her mind slipped into autopilot. “Plot laid in,” she replied confidently.

Rax nodded approvingly, before turning to the comm once more. “Rax to Captain Day.”

Down in Engineering, Captain Day Renora’s voice came back almost immediately, laced with the hum of machinery in the background. “Go ahead.”

“Shuttle is away, and the course is laid in for the Kavaria System,” Rax reported, his gaze briefly shifting back to Tanara’s station before turning his attention back to the comm.

“Engage at will, Commander. I’ll be working with Engineering on the upgrades to Transporter Room 1. Day out.” The comm chirped off, and the quiet hum of the ship returned to its natural rhythm.

“Ensign Renn,” Rax’s calm voice came through the air once more, drawing her focus. “Engage course.”

Her fingers moved instinctively, and she made a few quick adjustments to the navigation systems. “Aye, engaging now.”

The ship’s engines thrummed louder for a moment as the warp field enveloped the Vallejo, the stars outside stretching into the familiar blur of faster-than-light travel. In a flash of light, the USS Vallejo was on her way.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

Down in the heart of Vallejo’s Engineering department, Captain Day Renora stood in front of a large, glowing display table. The area buzzed with activity, a maze of consoles and terminals flashing with data. The walls were lined with various technical schematics, and the air vibrated with the steady pulse of machinery at work.

Standing beside her was Lieutenant Valis, Vallejo’s Vulcan chief engineer, scanning over a detailed report on proposed upgrades to the transporter system. The pair had been reviewing the plans for some time, each discussing the nuances of how to incorporate Chief Anari’s suggestions into the somewhat antiquated systems aboard the ship.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Valis began in her usual monotone, tapping the display to bring up a new schematic of Transporter Room 1. “We will need to recalibrate the phase coherence matrix to account for subspace distortion across multiple layers of the Heisenberg compensators. The original 2368 configuration relied on a single quantum manifold, but modern transporter arrays require the integration of multi-band scalar resonance. This will help us account for the increasing unpredictability of subspace conditions in this sector.”

Day nodded, tapping a few controls to bring up an analysis of the system’s current configuration. “Agreed. The old system wasn’t designed to handle this level of complexity, especially with the heavier use of multi-layered compensators. Updating the temporal flux regulators will be critical. They’re overdue for a more sophisticated algorithm.” She paused, giving the display a scrutinizing look. “Once we have the new regulators in place, we’ll also need to address the phase-modulated emitters.”

Valis glanced up at her, her expression resolute. “The pattern lattice stabilizers we are currently using have been fine for routine operations, but with the added stress on the system, we need to swap them out for the more efficient chroniton phase-modulated emitters. This will reduce temporal degradation during pattern reconstruction.”

Day nodded again, clearly impressed with the adjustments. “Agreed. The added stability in pattern retention will allow us to refine long-range and high-radiation transport operations.”

Valis noticed something with a raising of her eyebrow, “But we will also need to reroute the subspace field emitters to improve the resonance harmonics. This should alleviate the chronic dephasing issues we have been experiencing when transporting over long distances or through high-radiation zones.”

Captain Day grinned. “Exactly. The harmonic resonance should significantly improve the molecular integrity of transported patterns in these conditions.”

“Indeed,” Valis added, her brow furrowing as she ran another analysis. “But there is one more thing we will need to handle. The existing quantum tunneling algorithm cannot handle the higher rate of data throughput needed for these new parameters. We will need to upgrade it to a multi-vector entangled array. That will give us the necessary speed to handle the increased load without compromising the molecular pattern integrity.”

Day leaned forward, tapping on the display to highlight the necessary components. “Right. You can begin the phase adjustments here in Engineering and let Lieutenant Vex, Chief Anari and I handle the hardware installation in Transporter Room 1. The physical components will need to be updated first, and once they’re done, we can initiate the software and systems recalibrations.”

Valis nodded. “Understood, Captain. I will get the team started on the system recalibrations. We will also need to run a full diagnostic afterward to ensure everything is functioning smoothly.”

Captain Day gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Once the upgrades are complete, we’ll be able to handle those high-risk transport operations with far greater efficiency. I’ll inform Lieutenant Vex and Chief Anari of our decision to split the workload.” She turned towards the door. “I’ll be in the transporter room. We’ll keep this moving as quickly as possible.”

Lost and Found: Part 2

Shuttlecraft Sequoia & The USS Vallejo
79054.0

Cadet Jeremy Ryan focused intently as he manually piloted the shuttle Sequoia through the simulated asteroid field. The projection shimmered on the viewscreen, the debris field ahead growing more chaotic with each passing moment. Behind him, Commander Mehta watched Ryan intently, hand resting on the back of the co-pilot’s chair.

“Increase maneuvering thrusters to eighty percent,” Mehta ordered, his tone serious, knowing the added difficulty the increased speed could cause the inexperienced pilot.

Ryan adjusted the RCS controls, the shuttle’s engines emitting a low whine as it pivoted to avoid an incoming asteroid. “Thrusters adjusted, course corrected,” he replied, his voice steady despite the sweat forming on his brow.

“Very good Cadet,” Mehta said, leaning forward slightly. “Now initiate a lateral sensor sweep and prioritize mineral deposits. Consider power management, you’re running low on reserves.”

Lieutenant Amir, seated at the tactical console, leaned back with a grin. “Careful, Cadet. You’ve got one of the toughest taskmasters in Starfleet watching your every move. Mehta loves precision scans. Anything less than perfection, and you’ll be scrubbing shuttle decks for a week.”

Ryan smirked but didn’t let his focus waver. “Activating sensor array,” he said, sweeping the area. Data scrolled across his console, and after a moment, he reported, “Detecting traces of dilithium and thorium isotopes. Marking coordinates.”

“Efficient,” Mehta remarked, nodding slightly. “Now, prepare for a mock distress call scenario. Amir, feed it into the system.”

Amir’s grin widened. “With pleasure, Commander.” He tapped his PADD, and an alarm blared through the shuttle. A simulated voice crackled over the comm system.

— -ny ships withi—range. This is the transport ve—- Atlant– -e are caught in the grav—— -f a pulsar. Need immediate assist—–.”

Ryan’s hands flew over the controls, plotting a course to the source of the distress signal. “Adjusting heading. ETA to the target is four minutes,” he said. The urgency in his tone mirrored the simulated stakes.

“First breathe Cadet. Don’t just race toward the signal. Assess the environment,” Mehta said sharply. “What potential danger does the pulsar present?”

Ryan frowned and initiated a scan of the pulsar. “Extreme gamma radiation levels and massive irregular gravitational fluctuations detected,” he reported. “I’ll need to modulate the shields to compensate.”

“And the transport?” Mehta pressed.

Ryan quickly brought up a scan of the vessel. “The hull integrity is compromised. Life support is operational but failing. Six lifeforms detected, weak but alive, recommend immediate transport of survivors.”

Mehta nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Good analysis. Now, implement it.”

Ryan’s hands moved quickly over the controls, initiating a shield modulation protocol. The shuttle’s emitters hummed to life, a faint blue glow enveloping the hull. He plotted a careful approach vector, avoiding the pulsar’s gravity wells while bringing the damaged transport within transporter range.

“Transporter locks established,” Amir reported. “But the pulsar’s radiation is causing phase variance in the signal.”

“Can we use a narrow-band signal to minimize interference?” Ryan suggested, his voice calm but determined.

Amir raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Not bad, Cadet. Let’s see if it works.” He adjusted the controls, and moments later, a simulated transporter beam engaged, symbolically delivering the survivors safely to the shuttle.

Mehta stood straight and placed his hand on the Cadet’s shoulder with a grin, his gaze fixed on Ryan. “Well done, Cadet. You’re learning to think critically under pressure. But don’t get complacent. The real test is maintaining this level of performance consistently.”

Ryan nodded, his expression one of relief. “Understood, Commander.”

Mehta took the seat next to Ryan. “Alright, let’s set course for the rendezvous point. En route, we can finalize the final two training objectives.”

____________________________________________________________

The beeping, clanging, and calibrating of precision tools echoed through the expansive Transporter Room 1. Captain Day Renora crouched beside Chief Anari, her sharp hazel eyes scanning the exposed console with practiced precision. The transporter pad behind them cast a faint glow across the room, while many other systems were currently powered down during their upgrades, giving the scene an almost ethereal quality. Lieutenant Vex leaned over the opposite side, her athletic frame poised with energy, emerald green fingers tapping the display with rapid confidence.

“If we adjust the molecular imaging scanners to compensate for increased subspace variance,” Vex began, her Orion voice smooth but with a faint rasp, “we can reduce signal degradation by another three percent. It’s not perfect, but it’ll buy us critical seconds in high-interference zones.”

Chief Anari, petite, young, and practically vibrating with enthusiasm, flashed a bright grin. “That’s assuming the pattern buffers don’t fry from the data load. I’ve seen them pushed past their limits before. Turns out, Starfleet safety margins aren’t as generous as they claim.” The Denobulan Transporter Chief had proposed these upgrades, worried about the age and limitations of the Vallejo’s systems.

Day chuckled softly at the exchange, adjusting a power relay on the console. Day turned to the open comm channel to Engineering, “Valis, are you reading this?” she asked.

The Vulcan Chief Engineer’s reply came promptly, steady as a metronome. “I am, Captain. Chief Anari’s concerns are valid, but if we reroute the secondary power relays to the isolation manifold, the pattern buffers will remain within operational limits. I am making those adjustments now.”

Anari laughed lightly, her enthusiasm undampened. “Leave it to Valis to come up with the most logical solution!”

Day replied with a smirk. “Teamwork makes the transporters work. Let’s finalize these adjustments. We should be arriving in the Kavaria System soon.”

Vex secured the final calibration and glanced at the readout. “Diagnostics complete. Transporter system reporting optimal efficiency,” she confirmed, her voice edged with pride. “Good as new.”

“Better,” Anari corrected, brushing her hands off on her uniform with a satisfied nod. “Let’s hope it stays that way. Nothing tests upgrades like an actual mission.”

Before Day could respond, her comm badge chirped. “Rax to Captain Day. We’ve picked up a distress signal.”

Day tapped her badge with a sense of urgency. “Acknowledged. On my way.” She stood, her hazel eyes briefly meeting each of her team’s. “Great work, everyone. Valis, start a level five diagnostic of all transporter systems. I’ll be on the bridge.”

____________________________________________________________

The turbolift doors swished open, and Captain Day strode onto the Bridge of the USS Vallejo. Commander Bolik Rax rose from the First Officer’s chair, his Bolian features neutral but his posture alert. In the distance, Ensign Renn Tanara worked the Conn with her usual precision, while Lieutenant Loran, the Orion Operations Officer, monitored the consoles at the OPS station next to her.

“Captain on the Bridge,” Rax announced, stepping aside to give her his seat.

Day nodded briskly. “Report, Commander.”

“We’ve received an automated distress signal,” Rax began. “Lieutenant Loran picked it up a few minutes ago. He’s been analyzing the transmission.”

The Bajoran captain turned her attention to Loran. “Lieutenant, what do we know?”

The Orion focused on his console as he brought up the relevant data. “It’s an automated message, repeating on a Starfleet emergency frequency. The signal’s degraded, but intact enough to identify the source, the USS Tecumseh, NCC-14934.”

Day looked at Rax with a shrug turning back towards Loran. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. What can you tell me?”

“It’s an Excelsior-class starship that saw action in multiple conflicts. The Federation-Cardassian War, the Federation-Klingon War, and later, the Dominion War. During the latter, it was reported missing in action during the final days of the conflict and was presumed lost with all hands.” Replied Loran.

Day raised an eyebrow. “And yet here it is, sending out a distress call. What’s its last known location?”

Loran tapped a few more controls. “The signal’s originating from a dense nebula approximately 2.7 light-years from our current position. The nebula’s subspace conditions are causing severe interference, which might explain why we’re only now picking it up.”

Day turned to Rax. “Options?”

The Bolian First Officer folded his arms thoughtfully. “We’re only an hour or so out from the Kavaria system, but this could take precedence. If the Tecumseh’s distress signal is legitimate, there may still be lives at stake, we should investigate.”

Day nodded. “Agreed. Loran, can you pinpoint how long that signal’s been broadcasting?”

“Based on signal degradation and interference patterns, it’s nearly impossible. I’d say at least four days, but it could have been running for decades Captain, there’s no real way for me to tell from here,” Loran replied.

Day’s gaze hardened. “What about our ability to send a message back to the shuttle Sequoia? Can we warn them about the potential delay?”

Loran shook his head slightly. “Unlikely, Captain. The subspace interference in this region is affecting outbound communications. The automated distress signal uses a pre-recorded, highly repetitive burst transmission, it’s designed to cut through interference by sheer redundancy. Live communications, especially over the distances to reach the Sequoia, would be much harder to maintain.”

Rax added, “We could launch a probe and program it to transmit from the rendezvous point to update them, set it for a repetitive burst transmission as well.”

Day’s jaw tightened as she considered the options. “Lieutenant, program a class-6 probe with our status and instructions to remain in place in the Kavaria system if we’re not there when they arrive.”

“Understood, Captain,” Loran said, already programming the probe with instructions. After a few more commands into the OPS console he reported, “Probe launched.”

Day turned Ensign Renn at the Conn. “Ensign, set a course for the source of the signal. Loran, keep analyzing the message for any additional details. Renn, engage at warp eight.”

“Aye, Captain,” Renn replied, her hands gliding over the Conn controls.

The stars on the viewscreen stretched into the familiar streaks of warp travel. Day settled into the captain’s chair, her mind already anticipating the challenges ahead. She glanced at Rax.

“There’s no way there could be survivors after all this time,” Day said, her voice low.

“If there are,” Rax replied, his voice calm but skeptical, “we need to be ready for whatever kept them alive, or for whoever might have disabled the ship in the first place.”

Lost and Found: Part 3

USS Vallejo, Shuttlecraft Sequoia
79070.1

The Vallejo dropped out of warp near a dense nebula, its shimmering glow casting eerie hues across space. On the bridge, Captain Day Renora sat forward in her chair, her hazel eyes locked on the image of the USS Tecumseh drifting lifelessly on the viewscreen.

The Excelsior-class starship drifted ominously in the blackness of space. Its once-proud hull, now battered and scarred from battle. Deep gashes ran across its saucer section, and the warp nacelles, though still attached, were twisted and sparking in crackles of amber energy intermittently. Patches of melted metal glistened along the starboard side where explosions had breached the hull. The ship’s primary deflector dish was dark, its once-blazing blue energy field now a cold, unresponsive void. The nebula’s light reflected off the Tecumseh’s beaten hull in ghostly blues and purples, casting an eerie glow across its damaged frame. The absence of power was palpable, just the slow drifting wreckage of a once-mighty vessel.

“Status report,” Day ordered.

“The Tecumseh’s power systems are fried,” Lieutenant Loran said from OPS. “Life support is non-functional; scans aren’t detecting any life signs. The ship seems stuck in gravitational eddies within the nebula’s edge.”

Day frowned. “No life signs? Could the nebula mask them?”

“Unlikely, Captain,” Loran replied. “The interference is significant, but not enough to hide an entire crew.”

“Can we use the tractor beam to pull her out of the eddies?” Day asked, her tone accepting that this would not be a rescue mission but a recovery one.

Loran shook his head, tapping at his console. “Negative. The nebula’s gravitational eddies are interacting with localized subspace distortions. Attempting a tractor lock would destabilize both ships and could tear the Tecumseh apart. Any effort to tow her out would require recalibrating the tractor emitters mid-lock, and we simply don’t have the bandwidth to compensate.”

Day exhaled sharply, her mind racing. “Then we’re going in. Commander Rax, Lieutenant Kellan, prepare an away team and get suited up. I want a full report from the Tecumseh’s bridge and main systems as soon as possible.”

Rax nodded. “Understood, Captain. We’ll be ready in ten minutes.” With a tap of his comm badge, he stated, “Lieutenant Valis, please meet us in the Armory. Bring engineering field kits. If we can stabilize their systems from the inside, it might give us a better picture of what happened here.”

“Yes, Commander,” Valis replied over the comm, her stoic Vulcan tone steady.

“Lieutenant Loran, keep monitoring the gravimetric flux. If you detect any changes that might compromise transporter integrity, I want to know immediately.”

“Aye, Captain,” Loran replied.

Day leaned back in her command chair, her expression grim. “Something isn’t right here.”

_____________________________________________________

 

In the armory adjacent to transporter room two, Commander Bolik Rax, Lieutenant Asha Kellan, Security Officer Ra Kyong, and Lieutenant Valis methodically donned their standard Starfleet environmental suits. The soft hiss of pressurizing seals and the faint hum of equipment filled the air as the quartet prepared for their mission to the Tecumseh.

Valis adjusted the environmental calibration on her suit, her expression calm as always. “Given the Tecumseh’s prolonged exposure to subspace eddies, I would recommend prioritizing structural scans once we’re aboard.”

Asha nodded as she double-checked her engineering kit. “Good point. The gravimetric forces could have destabilized key sections of the ship.”

Ra Kyong, the stocky human security officer, tightened the strap on his phaser rifle. “Let’s hope we only need these for debris and not hostiles.”

“Optimistic, Lieutenant,” Valis replied, a faintly raised brow betraying the barest hint of dry humor.

Asha adjusted her helmet’s communication array, her expression calm but focused. “It’s been decades since the Tecumseh was declared missing. Has it been sitting here all this time?”

Rax glanced at her, his Bolian features unreadable. “There is no way to know until we are over there. Hopefully, their computer systems will shed some light on what happened to her and her crew.”

Rax stepped forward, his voice steady. “We go in, assess the situation, and get out. We don’t take unnecessary risks.”

The trio exchanged a glance, their resolve clear. With their gear secured, they headed toward the transporter room.

Ensign Th’shrehlik, the Andorian officer manning transporter room two looked up as they entered, offering a brief nod. “Transporter’s as ready as it’s going to be. Subspace interference is spiking, but I’ve adjusted for pattern stability.”

“Good work, Ensign,” Rax said as he stepped onto the transporter pad. “Lock onto our signals and monitor closely. If anything goes wrong, you pull us back immediately.”

“Understood, Commander,” Th’shrehlik replied, his fingers poised over the controls. “Energizing.”

The familiar hum of the transporter filled the room, and the away team dissolved into shimmering light.

_____________________________________________________

 

“Transport complete,” came the voice of Ensign Th’shrehlik over the comm. Captain Day leaned forward in her command chair, looking at the crippled ship, hoping her team would be safe.

Suddenly an alarm blared.

“Multiple ships decloaking!” Loran shouted. “Hideki-class, but reading Dominion and Breen energy signatures as well. They’re locking weapons!”

“Red alert! Shields up!” Day commanded, rising to her feet. “Evasive maneuvers!”

The Vallejo rocked as disruptor fire struck its shields. Day gripped the armrest of her chair. “What the phekk! Return fire! Target their weapons systems!”

“Firing,” Loran confirmed pulling double duty as Ops and Tactical with Rax off ship. The Vallejo’s phasers lashed out, striking one of the Hideki ships and sending it veering off course.

“Shields at thirty percent!” Loran called. “Their weapons are overwhelming our defenses.”

Before Day could respond, the ship shuddered violently, and the lights dimmed. “Engines offline,” Loran reported grimly. “Shields are down.”

Again the California-class vessel was rocked by another salvo from the trio of Cardassian ships. They were smaller, and so faster and more maneuverable. The Vallejo was never built for combat.

“Weapons are offline,” Loran reported in a defeated tone. “Starboard nacelle is destroyed, multiple hull breaches… Captain, incoming transmission.”

The viewscreen flickered to reveal a Cardassian bridge. At its center stood a figure in a military uniform, her face shrouded in darkness.

“This is Kaela Orin of the Obsidian Order,” she announced, her voice cool and commanding. “Surrender your vessel immediately. Resistance will be met with your destruction.”

Day stood and stepped forward, her expression hard. “Your actions are in violation of the Federation-Cardassian Treaty. Withdraw immediately.”

Kaela’s voice was stern, and cruel… “The treaty is irrelevant. for boarding.”

_____________________________________________________

 

Cadet Jeremy Ryan sat at the conn of the Shuttle Sequoia, watching the streaking stars outside the shuttle’s viewport. Behind him, Commander Mehta was leaning over the tactical console, while Lieutenant Amir lounged in the co-pilot’s chair with a faint smirk on his lips.

“We’re approaching the rendezvous point,” Ryan announced, “Dropping to impulse in three… two… one.”

The Sequoia slowed, and the stars snapped back into stationary points. The team peered out at the empty void where the USS Vallejo was supposed to be.

“No sign of the Vallejo,” Mehta noted grimly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he scanned the console. “Amir, run a long-range scan. Let’s see if we can pick up their warp trail.”

Amir’s fingers danced over the controls. “Nothing. Just residual subspace interference from the anomaly we mapped earlier. It’s possible their engines were affected.”

A soft beep drew their attention. Ryan leaned forward to read the message displayed on his console. “It’s a probe, Sir… Vallejo’s. They’ve left us a burst transmission.”

Mehta crossed his arms. “Play it.”

The recording crackled to life with Captain Day’s measured tones: “Shuttlecraft Sequoia, we’ve received a distress signal from the USS Tecumseh and are diverting to investigate. Hold position at the rendezvous point and await further instructions. If we do not return within forty-eight hours, proceed to Deep Space 47 and report our absence. Day out.”

Ryan frowned. “The Tecumseh? Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Same,” Amir said, his brows knitting. “Let’s pull it up.”

Ryan tapped at his console, the familiar Starfleet database interface flashing across the screen. “Here it is. The USS Tecumseh, NCC-14934. Excelsior-class, commissioned in 2295. Saw action in the Federation-Cardassian War, the Federation-Klingon War, and the Dominion War. Reported missing in action during the final days of the Dominion War. Presumed lost with all hands.”

Mehta’s expression darkened as he scanned the information. “If it’s been missing this long, why would it suddenly reappear? And what kind of distress signal is it sending?”

Amir’s usual lighthearted demeanor was replaced by a rare seriousness. “Subspace interference patterns we’ve been mapping match those near the Tecumseh’s coordinates. It could be connected.”

Mehta nodded. “But our orders are clear. Hold our position and wait for the Vallejo.”

Ryan hesitated, his hands gripping his knees, clearly anxious. “If the Vallejo doesn’t return…”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Mehta said firmly. “For now, we follow orders. Amir, keep running scans. Let’s see if we can learn more without leaving this position.”

Lost and Found: Part 4

USS Vallejo, Shuttlecraft Sequoia, and USS Tecumseh
79079.3

The gravity plating beneath Captain Day Renora’s feet vibrated as the Vallejo’s failing systems sputtered, the flickering red emergency lighting casting jagged shadows across the bridge. The klaxon of the red alert was gone now, silenced by the devastating efficiency of Kaela Orin’s assault. Sparks crackled from damaged consoles, the acrid stench of burnt circuitry filling the air. The air on the bridge was thick and cloying with smoke and haze.

Day clenched her fists as she watched the bridge displays flicker uselessly. The Vallejo had been crippled almost instantly. The enhanced Cardassian technology wielded against them had overwhelmed the ship’s defenses with brutal precision. They knew just where to hit them… Their tactics were surgical, practiced.

Lieutenant Loran’s voice was tight as he reported from Ops, blood seeping from a cut above his temple. Tapping controls on his half-functioning console. “Multiple hull breaches. Most of our systems are failing. Casualties reported on decks six, seven, and eight. They’re flooding the lower decks with dampening fields. Transporters are compromised.”

Day turned back to her Ops Officer, her jaw tightening. “How many troops are we looking at?”

“Hideki-class ships can carry up to seventy troops,” Loran replied grimly. “That’s over two hundred trained Obsidian Order operatives against our three hundred crew.”

The numbers sank in. The Vallejo was outgunned, outmatched, and about to be overrun.

“Arm all security teams,” Day ordered opening a ship-wide channel, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning in her gut. “Set phasers to maximum stun. If they want this ship, they’re going to have to fight for it.”

__________________________________

Crew members scrambled to fortify their positions below decks. Security teams sealed critical access points, engineering staff barricaded the warp core chamber, and medical personnel hurried to set up emergency triage stations.

In Sickbay on Deck 8, Dr. Pell moved swiftly between biobeds, her stocky Tellarite frame a blur of motion as she barked orders to her team, her gruff voice cutting through the chaos. Her bristly features were set in determination as she stabilized the latest influx of wounded. The room was filled with the hum of medical instruments and the occasional sharp cry of pain.

Beside her, Torel Sh’kivis, a young Andorian nurse, adjusted the cortical stimulator on a fallen officer, his antennae twitching as he monitored the erratic readings on the biobed display. “He’s stabilizing, Doctor, but we need to reroute more power to the Sickbay. These biofunctions are fluctuating from the dampening fields.”

Pell barely nodded as she pressed a hypospray to another patient’s neck. “Tell Engineering to prioritize us or we’ll be treating bodies instead of injuries.”

Down at the Back 9, the ship’s main lounge, Chef Dante Amodio worked feverishly to treat the wounded with the limited supplies on hand, cursing under his breath in Italian. The usual lively establishment was eerily silent, its rows of tables dimly illuminated by flickering emergency lights. With the ship’s power failing, the holographic waiters and bartenders had vanished, leaving only Dante and the handful of off-duty crew members who had been grabbing a meal between shifts. He tore a strip from his apron to bind the leg wound of a young ensign, his hands steady despite the chaos outside. Nearby, a junior officer armed with a phaser rifle stood watch at the entrance. Dante, never one to shy away from a fight, reached for the knife holstered at his belt. “If they come through that door,” he muttered, glancing at the others, “we make sure they regret it.”

Lieutenant Jorath, the ship’s Deltan Crew Relations Officer, checked the power levels of his phaser rifle, then glanced at the officers gathered around him in Junction C. His immediate superior, Counselor Marin, chose to remain in his quarters. Jorath could only respect Marin’s Halkan pacifist stance, but he wished he had another phaser at his side. Of the nine crewmembers in this junction he was of the highest rank, so technically he was in charge. “Make every shot count. They won’t be expecting resistance from a California-class crew.” ‘Let alone a counselor’ he thought to himself.

Ensign Melendez, gripping her own rifle, exhaled sharply. “The Obsidian Order is trained for subterfuge, intelligence work… not frontline combat. That gives us an edge.”

“Let’s hope you’re right Ensign,” Jorath muttered. “Stay sharp.”

__________________________________

In the transporter room, Chief Anari worked feverishly at the console. “They’re using some kind of inverse neutrino cascade to scramble our transporters,” she called to Lieutenant Vex. “We won’t be able to beam them off the ship.”

Vex narrowed her emerald eyes. “Then we’ll just have to contain them the old-fashioned way,” she said as she retrieved a hand phaser from the transporter room’s weapons locker, taking a second for Anari.

__________________________________

The first wave of boarding parties hit. The corridors shuddered as Cardassian shock troopers blasted through bulkheads with molecular disruptors—smaller than standard phasers but packing twice the power. The Obsidian Order operatives were clad in jet-black, flexible armor, designed to resist kinetic and thermal damage. Their helmets were fitted with built-in HUD interfaces, allowing them to track movement in low-light conditions.

The first firefight erupted on deck 3, Junction B, where a dozen Vallejo officers had taken defensive positions. Phaser fire crackled through the corridor as the ship’s crew held their ground, forcing the Cardassians to fall back, at least for now.

__________________________________

On the Tecumseh, Commander Rax and the away team moved cautiously through the seemingly derelict corridors. The ship’s battered hull and darkened systems told a story of prolonged decay, but something felt off.

“This damage is too… intentional,” Lieutenant Valis observed with a raised eyebrow, running a tricorder over a breached power conduit. “These ruptures are consistent with controlled detonations, not combat damage.”

Asha Kellan frowned, kneeling beside a flickering console. “This ship wasn’t disabled. It was staged to look that way.”

Ra Kyong cursed under his breath. “Ssi-Bal… It’s a trap.”

Before Rax could issue a new order, the comms crackled. “Commander Rax…” It was Captain Day’s voice, but the transmission was faint. “Vallejo… boarded… tactical withdrawal…”

The transmission cut out as a golden-hued transporter beam enveloped them.

__________________________________

Back aboard the Vallejo, Day found herself shoved to the deck as armed Cardassian officers secured the bridge. Across from her, Lieutenant Loran sat against his console, restrained by two operatives. Ensign Renn Tanara knelt beside him, her face bruised but defiant. She had put up a hell of a fight, and Day couldn’t help but be proud of her fellow Bajoran.

At the center of the chaos, a woman stepped forward… Kaela Orin.

Day’s breath hitched as she took in the sight of her captor. Orin’s dark uniform bore the sigil of the Obsidian Order, its polished insignia catching the dim light of the bridge. Orin was… human? Her jet-black hair was tied in a severe braid, her piercing gaze exuding control, a cruel grin on her face.

“You seem surprised, Captain,” Orin said smoothly.

Day forced herself to hold the woman’s gaze. “I’ve had enough run-ins with your kind to know how you operate. I don’t really care if you’re Cardassian, human, or Ferengi.”

Orin smirked; her hands clasped behind her back. “Oh, I’m Cardassian. You should know that resistance was a waste of time. We should have exterminated your species when we had the chance.”

Day’s jaw clenched. “The Obsidian Order was destroyed, Cardassia was left in ruins because of the Dominion, and yet you’re using their weapons, their technology.”

“—Their efficiency,” Orin interjected. “Unlike the Central Command or pathetic Detapa Council, I do not waste opportunities.”

Day narrowed her eyes. “You’re after more than just my ship.”

Orin’s smirk deepened but she did not answer. Instead, she gestured to her troops. “Take them to the holding area. Watch them… especially the Bajorans.”

__________________________________

The transporter room was eerily quiet, with the occasional yell or sound of phasers and disrupters heard in the corridors. Chief Anari moved quickly, her fingers flying across the control panel. Her brow furrowed with concentration. She glanced over at Lieutenant Vex, who stood silently beside her, scanning the dimly lit room for any sign of danger. The plan was in motion, but there was no guarantee they would be able to pull it off.

“We can’t beam anyone on or off the ship right now, not with the dampening field in place,” Anari muttered, her voice steady but strained. “Not unless we want to be detected. But I can store our transporter patterns in the buffer, keep us hidden until it’s safe to rematerialize.”

Vex nodded, her expression hard as she waited for the operation to begin. She didn’t need to ask how risky this was, she knew it was their only chance. That or be captured or worse like the rest of the crew.

Anari quickly worked through the system’s interface, isolating the transporter’s functions from the rest of the ship’s network. The recent upgrades to the power relay provided a temporary solution, but the transporter system was still unstable. She needed to be precise.

“I’ll reroute our patterns into the buffer,” Anari explained, her fingers moving deftly. “I’ll have to store them without transmitting. If the Cardassians scan the buffer, they’ll think we’ve been vaporized or lost in a transporter malfunction.”

Vex’s gaze shifted toward the entrance, her sharp senses on alert. “How long can we stay like this?”

Anari hesitated for a fraction of a second, considering the limits of the system. “We’ve got about five hours before the power relay starts to destabilize and the buffer starts to degrade. We’ll need to be out before then.”

Vex looked down at her own communicator and then back at Anari. “Understood.”

With a final adjustment to the console, Anari initiated the sequence. The transporter pad’s lights flickered, and the familiar Hum ramped up.

As the transporter energy cocooned them, Anari glanced at Vex one last time. “Five hours. We stay hidden. And then we make our move.”

Vex nodded, her calm demeanor indicating no anxiety. The energy fields shimmered around them, and in an instant, they were gone, leaving only their transporter patterns. Just as the door opened, three Cardassian troops entered with disruptors.

__________________________________

On the shuttle Sequoia, Cadet Jeremy Ryan tapped his fingers against the console. “Something’s wrong.”

“They left a probe. It told us to wait,” Amir reminded him.

“That was two days ago. Time was up three hours ago,” Ryan shot back. “We can’t even trace their warp trail, subspace radiation in the area scrambled the signal.”

Mehta exhaled sharply. “We can’t just sit here hoping for another message. Set a course back to Deep Space 47. We have our orders.”

Ryan and Amir shared a glance, both seeing they didn’t want to follow that particular order and abandon their ship.

Ryan’s fingers twitched against the console, his mind racing. He began to plot their new course, waiting for the final order to be given to engage. If only they could track the Vallejo

Then it hit him. “Wait, Commander. The Vallejo’s shields would have ionized the local charged particles when they passed through. If we scan for residual polarization decay in the gamma radiation field, we might be able to trace where they went.”

Mehta turned to face him fully, considering. “That’s a long shot, Cadet.”

Ryan shrugged. “So is waiting here for the Vallejo to come back. What if they are stuck in some gravitational phenomena or worse?”

Amir leaned forward, scanning the readings. “He’s onto something there Commander. The polarization decay would dissipate quickly, we’d only have a few days at most, but if we act fast…”

Mehta nodded slowly. “Alright, Cadet. Run the scan. If we find a trail, we follow it.”

Ryan’s hands flew over the controls, eyes locked on the readout as the shuttle’s sensors swept through the void. “Come on, come on…”

A faint reading blinked onto the display. Ryan grinned. “Got it.”

Mehta’s expression hardened. “Ok, set a course. We follow their trail. Full continuous sensor sweep. Eyes wide open Cadet.”

Trapped: Part 1

USS Vallejo & Shuttlecraft Sequoia
79100.4

The USS Vallejo sat silently, its systems dark and lifeless. The corridors usually alive with Starfleet officers and the conversations of the day now lay in eerie stillness, the only light coming from the emergency floor lighting that barely flickered along the edges of the bulkheads. Bulkheads hung loose; the usual pulsing hum of the ship’s engines was replaced by an unsettling quiet. The crew was gone, and the ship was a ghost of itself.

On deck four, in transporter room one, a single console blinked to life, its soft amber glow the first sign of movement aboard the ship in hours. The faint blue shimmer of a transporter sequence illuminated the silent chamber, and in an instant, Anari and Vex materialized onto the pad. Both officers landed in a crouch, their phasers drawn, ready for immediate engagement. But instead of attackers, they were met with nothing but the sound of their own breathing.

Vex adjusted her stance, scanning the room with sharp, green-hued Orion eyes. “We’re alone” she whispered.

Anari moved quickly to the active console, fingers flying over the controls. “Ship’s on emergency power. No signs of the crew anywhere on sensors, and… we’re not in open space anymore.”

Vex frowned. “Then where the hell are we?”

Anari checked the limited sensor feed. “Attempting a passive scan, we don’t need to set off any alarms… We appear to be in a cavern… High concentrations of iron and magnesium silicates.” Anari tapped a few more controls, extending the scanner range. “We’re not alone, there are dozens of ships docked here… Breen, Romulan, Dominion, even a few Starfleet. Based on the technology built into the cavern I think this looks like an old Cardassian military depot, built into an asteroid. This place is a damn relic of every major conflict in the last century.”

Vex’s expression darkened. “The rest of the crew…?”

Anari shifted back to the console display. “Extending scan… There… two hundred eighty-seven life signs. They appear to be in a cargo bay or storage area. Reinforced walls, transport inhibitors active.” She turned to Vex. “They’re being held there.”

Vex walked over to the secondary console on the opposite side of the transporter room. Her fingers tapped the controls to life, calling up the ship’s diagnostic readouts. The flickering screen reflected on her green skin as the data poured in.

“The Vallejo’s not going anywhere,” she muttered, more to herself than to Anari. The damage was extensive, far worse than she had anticipated. “Warp core is offline, power grid failures and coolant leaks everywhere, impulse is down, shield generator severely damaged, multiple hull breaches, structural integrity at 35%…” She slammed her fist onto the console. “¡gisjacheh! The starboard nacelle is gone.”

Anari glanced at her, a flicker of disbelief in her gaze. “So, we’re stuck here?”

Vex nodded grimly. “Unless we find a way to fix the core or get external help, we’re not going anywhere.

__________________________________

The Shuttle Sequoia followed the polarization trail left by the Vallejo for three hours, remaining alert for any threats. Cadet Ryan sat stiff-backed, checking and rechecking all sensor scans constantly. Lieutenant Amir had taken over the piloting so Ryan could focus on the barely detectable polarization patterns, hopefully navigating them to their ship.

On the shuttles console a red indicator started blinking, with a few taps Ryan saw the sensor data. “Commander look at this.”

Mehta put down his steaming cup of chai and peered over the Cadet’s shoulder. “We are approaching a nebula, it’s approximately 150,000 kilometers away. Reading multiple energy signatures and a small debris field.”

Ryan’s fingers flew across the console, honing in on the new readings. “The debris… It’s from the Vallejo. Parts of the nacelle… hull plating, and a torpedo launcher, completely torn apart.”

Mehta’s brow furrowed as he leaned in closer, examining the flickering data. “Anything else?”

Ryan’s face tightened. “Bodies. At least three confirmed. One human, one Bajoran… one other I can’t get a clear reading. There are signs of weapon fire, disruptor burns on some of the debris. Energy pattern looks like Dominion technology” His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “This wasn’t just an accident. The ship was hit deliberately.”

Amir’s voice cut through their focus. “Gravitational eddies are increasing. Adjusting course to avoid being pulled in.”

Mehta stepped back slightly, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the screen. “Any sign of the main hull?”

Ryan scanned the readouts again. “Negative. No sign of the main hull or anything large enough to be the ship.”

Mehta inhaled deeply, “Tactical analysis Cadet?”

Ryan clenched his jaw, scanning the area further. “It looks like they went after the ship’s key systems… nacelles, weapons, anything that could make her a threat.”

Mehta let out a sharp breath. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They didn’t want the Vallejo to escape, but they didn’t finish her off either. There’s no sign of her main hull, it’s possible she wasn’t completely destroyed.”

Amir adjusted the shuttle’s course, avoiding the edge of the nebula’s gravitational pull. “We can’t get any closer without risking being pulled into one of these eddies. We need to tread carefully.”

Ryan’s eyes flicked to the console as another sensor reading popped up. He adjusted the sensor focus, tracking the new signal. “Wait… there’s something else. I’m picking up an impulse wake… three actually, faint but definitely there. They’re heading into the nebula.”

Mehta straightened, glancing at Ryan. “Impulse wake? You think the Vallejo escaped through here?”

Ryan’s brow furrowed. “It’s possible. It could be the Vallejo trying to get away after the attack. But…” His voice trailed off as he examined the data further. “The energy levels are low, and the trajectory seems a bit… erratic. Almost like she was struggling.”

Amir leaned over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. “Could they have been disabled and towed in? The wake seems too erratic for one ship.”

Ryan hesitated, considering the possibility. “It’s possible I guess, the question is who and why.”

Mehta looked from the screen to the swirling nebula, his mind working through the options. He nodded slowly, his voice quiet but resolute. “We’re not getting any clearer answers by waiting. If there’s a chance the Vallejo escaped, or if we can track whoever did this, we need to follow that wake.”

Amir gave a sharp nod, already making the necessary adjustments to the shuttle’s heading. “We’ll proceed carefully. The nebula’s interference is thick, but if there’s a trail, we can follow it.”

Ryan’s hands tightened on the controls as the shuttle veered toward the impulse wake, his mind racing. “If this is a trap, we need to be ready.”

Mehta looked out into the swirling colors of the nebula, his eyes narrowing. “Prepare for anything, Cadet. If we’re not careful, this training cruise of yours could be our last mission.”

__________________________________

Vex and Anari moved cautiously through the darkened, deserted corridors, the ship’s emergency lighting casting long shadows on the walls. Their footsteps echoed in the eerie silence as they discussed their next steps.

Vex let out a frustrated sigh, her eyes scanning the passage ahead. “We’ve got two options: we either try to fix the ship and get it moving again, or we stay hidden and try to send a distress signal. Problem is, with just the two of us there is no way we can repair this level of damage.”

Anari nodded, tapping away at a console outside the transporter room. “I don’t think fixing the ship is an option. Not unless we can pull off a miracle. Power’s still down, the core’s offline, and we’re floating in this damn cavern with no idea who or what’s controlling this place.”

Before Vex could respond, the ship’s scanners pinged, cutting through the tension in the air. Both of them turned instinctively to face the console, their eyes narrowing as new data poured in.

“Incoming,” Anari muttered, fingers flying over the console. “Drones. At least thirty-five of them. Heading straight for us.”

Vex’s eyes widened in alarm. “They’re not just scanning—those drones are here to repair the ship. But if they’re here to fix this wreck, that means they’re expecting us to be gone for a while.”

A soft beep echoed from the console, and Anari adjusted the view, bringing up images of the drones. “They’re Cardassian design. Of course they are.”

Anari paused, considering their options. “We need to move… now. Just detected multiple transporter signals… They’ve got teams coming aboard, too. We have to be somewhere they won’t find us, somewhere they’ll never think to look.”

Vex nodded. “Deck ten. The storage lockers there. It’s isolated, and the area’s close enough to the auxiliary power systems that we might be able to tap into them if we need to.”

Anari brought up a schematic of the ship, checking the nearby access routes. “Okay, we’ll need to bypass the main routes to avoid running into patrols. The last thing we need is a Cardassian team finding us before we can get that SOS out.”

Vex raised an eyebrow. “You’re thinking we’ll be able to send a signal through all this interference?”

Anari turned to her, determination in her eyes. “It won’t be easy. But if we can get to the secondary communications relay, I can encode an SOS that’s masked enough to avoid detection. It won’t be perfect, but it’s our best shot.”

Vex grabbed her arm gently, a rare moment of seriousness in her usually playful demeanor. “And if we don’t make it?”

Anari’s gaze softened, but there was no hesitation in her voice. “We’ll make it. But if we don’t, at least the message will go out. Someone will find us.”

The sound of clanging metal and faint voices echoed from the corridor, signaling the arrival of Cardassian repair teams.

Vex and Anari shared a quick, silent look. Then, with a final nod, they disappeared into the shadows, moving quickly toward deck ten.

Trapped: Part 2

Shuttlecraft Sequoia & The USS Vallejo
79108.6

The Sequoia moved cautiously through the nebula at one-tenth impulse, its three-man crew tense as the gravitational eddies tugged at the ship’s hull. Cadet Jeremy Ryan monitored the shuttle’s systems inside the cramped cockpit, sweat beading on his forehead while Lieutenant Amri handled the conn. Every flicker of sensor distortion sent a jolt through his nerves.

“Status?” Commander Mehta asked in a low voice, his gaze never leaving the forward viewport.

Ryan exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves. “Following the impulse wakes, but it’s leading us deeper into the nebula. The gravitational eddies are making navigation tricky.”

Amir grunted, maneuvering around a large chunk of rock floating within the nebula. “And we still don’t know what we’re heading into.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he examined the readings. “Wait… I’m detecting open space ahead. The turbulence is dropping off… something’s there.”

Mehta frowned. “All stop. Cut main power. RCS thrusters only.”

Ryan’s fingers danced over the controls, and the Sequoia powered down, drifting forward in near silence, using only short bursts of thruster control to maintain course. They floated like another piece of debris, their sensor profile vanishing into the surrounding noise of the nebula.

A few moments later, Ryan’s voice tightened. “I’m getting faint readings ahead. Structure of some kind. It’s massive.”

Mehta leaned in. “A ship?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. It’s an installation. Looks like an asteroid base, it’s massive.”

A moment of tense silence filled the cockpit before Mehta made his decision. “Alright. We’ve found our target. Keep power low and let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

Amir’s brow furrowed as he studied the forward display. “What can we determine about the installation?”

Ryan tapped at the console, “Definitely Cardassian in design, but it’s been heavily modified. I’m picking up multiple overlapping energy signatures… old fusion reactors, a residual antiproton field, and even trace amounts of Dominion polaron emissions.” He shook his head. “It’s like a patchwork of different technologies. Some of this is decades old, but other systems look recently activated.”

Mehta’s expression darkened. “Can you get a read on life signs?”

Ryan adjusted the sensor parameters, forcing the scanners to compensate for the nebula’s interference. “Picking up Cardassian biosigns… at least a few hundred spread across the base. Most are clustered around central command nodes and engineering sectors.” He fine-tuned the filters, his brow furrowing. “Wait… I’ve got a second group. Human, Bajoran, Andorian, Sir these match Vallejo’s crew. They’re confined to a reinforced lower compartment, likely a detention block. Security fields are active, and there are localized power surges… could be automated restraints or environmental controls.”

Amir frowned. “If the crew is on the station, where’s the Vallejo?”

“Cadet, are you detecting any Starfleet power signatures?” Mehta asked.

Ryan’s fingers moved across the console as he pushed the sensors to their limits. The interference from the nebula and the station’s shielding made it difficult to get a clear reading. “There’s something… I’m detecting Starfleet power signatures, but they’re faint and erratic. It looks like the Vallejo is inside the base, but I can’t get a solid fix on its condition.”

Mehta’s eyes scanned the viewscreen, calculating their next move. “We need more data, but we can’t risk detection. If we’re caught, it’s game over.”

Ryan swallowed, his fingers hovering over the console. “We could…uh, maybe adjust the sensor sweep to a subspace harmonic frequency, like a… like a ghost signal. The interference from the nebula should mask our signature. It would blend into the background noise, keeping us off their radar. That’s how Kor and the IKS Klothos snuck up on the Romulan base at Korma VI.”

Amir glanced over at Ryan, then back to the controls. “You mean we’d use the nebula’s natural interference to hide our sensor emissions?” he asked, more for clarification than approval.

Ryan nodded, although the uncertainty was clear in his voice. “Yes, Sir. If we match the frequency of the turbulence around us, we should be able to make it look like background radiation. The station’s sensors wouldn’t be able to distinguish us from the nebula.”

Mehta crossed his arms over his chest, thinking. “That could work. But it’s risky, if we drop out of alignment even for a moment, their sensors might pick us up. We need to be precise.”

Amir shifted in his seat, keeping his hands light on the controls. “We’d also need to keep the shuttle at minimal power, use thrusters only when necessary. The moment we make any significant power surge, we’ll light up like a beacon in the darkness.”

Ryan frowned, a bit unsure of himself. “I… I think I can adjust the modulations to keep the emission patterns low, but I’m not sure if it’ll be enough to stay hidden with all the interference.”

Mehta turned his sharp gaze to Ryan, then back to the viewport. “We won’t know unless we try. Amir, take us closer, slowly. Cadet, adjust the sensors and give us a burst scan, not a constant sweep. The less time we spend sending out emissions, the better.”

Ryan nodded, fingers trembling as he made the adjustments, but Mehta wasn’t done yet. He turned to Amir. “Can we get a better read on the base’s communication systems? If we know how they’re talking internally, we might be able to find a weak point.”

Amir’s brow furrowed. “A full scan might alert them. But we could try a passive comms sweep. If we tune into their frequencies using a low-power burst, we might catch some of their conversations without alerting them. It’ll be like listening in on a conversation across a crowded room.”

Mehta considered that for a moment. “Alright. Go for it. We need to know what they’re saying. Even a snippet could give us an edge.”

Ryan quickly adjusted the comms array, his voice a bit more confident now. “Passive comms scan underway, Sir. I’ll try to minimize any trace emissions. If they’re using encrypted channels, though, we might still miss some signals.”

___________________________

The air was thick with the scent of stale metal and recycled atmosphere. The dim light in the jeffries tubes flickered intermittently as Vex adjusted the small, battered comm device. Her hands trembled as she pressed the device against the wall, hoping it would transmit beyond the interference.

“We’re running out of time,” Anari whispered, her voice strained but steady. She crouched beside her, her breath shallow, eyes darting to the ceiling every few moments. Her fingers brushed against the phaser in her lap.

Vex gave her a quick glance, her expression tight with determination. “I know. But we’re not giving up yet.” She lowered her voice, knowing their time was limited. “If this doesn’t reach someone…”

“It will,” Anari cut in softly, her hand resting on Vex’s shoulder.

Vex’s emerald eyes flicked over to the nearby storage lockers, half-hidden in shadows, the place where they had taken refuge. The sound of distant footsteps echoed faintly through the bulkhead, but there was no sign of the guards. They had to stay silent, stay hidden. She keyed in the encryption code, the same one she’d used during training, the one that would allow them to mask their signal just enough to hopefully slip through.

Her fingers moved with practiced precision, but each press of the keys felt like a countdown. Sweat beaded on her brow, mixing with the grime on her face. It had been hours since their capture, and the exhaustion was beginning to settle into her bones.

“It’s active,” she muttered under her breath, looking at the small blip on the comm unit. “Now, we just have to hope it reaches them.”

Anari nodded grimly, glancing over her shoulder again. “We’ve already sent the first part. We can’t keep the transmission going too long.”

Vex’s hand hovered over the device. “Just enough… just enough to let them know we’re alive. That they’re coming.”

She hit the button to send the distress signal, watching as the encrypted message blinked through the device and vanished into the ether.

They glanced briefly, both knowing this was a long shot at best. “Now we wait,” Anari whispered.

Vex nodded, but her mind was already racing. It wasn’t over yet.

___________________________

As Ryan worked, the cockpit was filled with a moment of tense silence. The Sequoia floated out of the nebula’s perimeter.

Then, as Ryan fine-tuned the settings, the console beeped… a faint encrypted signal flashing on the screen. His eyes widened in surprise. “Sir… I’m picking up something. It’s faint, but it’s definitely coming from inside the station.”

Mehta’s eyes narrowed at the readings on the console.

Ryan got to work, already working to decrypt it. “Sir, it’s an SOS… encrypted, but I can make out part of it. It’s Vex.”

Amir’s hands tightened on the controls. “How is it possible for us to pick it up and not the base?”

Ryan’s brow furrowed as he analyzed the signal. “The station’s internal relays are using outdated encryption protocols, something from the old Federation days, I think. It’s not the tightest security. The encryption is weak, but it’s enough to avoid triggering any alarms. The transmission is bouncing off the internal relay systems inside the station and slipping past their comms sensors, but we’re catching it because of the nebula’s interference.”

Amir glanced at Mehta, a mixture of skepticism and caution in his expression. “So, they’re hiding their signal by bouncing it around inside the base, and we’re catching it because their security doesn’t recognize the old encryption.”

Mehta’s tone turned hard. “How long before they catch on?”

Ryan quickly scanned the data. “If they haven’t already noticed, the signal is barely escaping the interference from the nebula and the shielding. But it’s weak. It won’t last long unless we act fast.”

Mehta’s mind raced. “Alright, we’ve got a lead. Let’s hear it.”

Ryan adjusted the frequency and played the message through the shuttle’s speakers. The voice crackled with static, but there was no mistaking it.

“*** hurry… they’re moving… we can’t hold out much longer. Anari is ***” The transmission was interrupted by a burst of static. A few moments passed before a distorted voice returned. “Help us… please.”

Mehta’s jaw clenched. “They’re alive. We’ve got to get them out of there.”

Amir’s hands were already adjusting the shuttle’s course. “I’ll start heading toward the station’s perimeter. We’ll need to stay under their detection threshold while we look for an entry point.”

Mehta turned back to Ryan. “Cadet, keep monitoring that transmission. If anything changes, we need to know.”

Ryan nodded, focusing intently on the console. “I’m on it.”