The Ferengi delegation flanked each side of the conference table in the upper levels of Starbase 86. The hours had dragged on, and still they were no closer to a resolution. Captain Erill’Yun Mek struggled to keep his grimace from erupting into an outright yawn as DaiMon Brux launched into yet another shrill appeal for compensation, “But you can clearly  see, Captain, Merek’s Amethyst was following a course along shipping lane 3-22-Gamma. This is well within the scope  of the Federation security guarantee stipulated in the Federation-Ferengi Joint Declaration on shipping rights. I refer you to section five, subsection six-two of the-’

“Ops to Captain Mek.”

“Go ahead ops.”

“Commodore Tharc would like to see you in her ready room right away.”

An immediate sense of relief was quickly replaced by confusion, “What, now?”

“Confirmed, sir. I’ve been informed Commander Sorik will continue to handle the negotiations on your behalf.” Sure enough, at that moment a stern faced Vulcan entered the conference room.

“Standby, ops.” Mek closed the channel and rose from his seat, much to Brux’s dismay.

He thrust a PADD towards Sorik containing Starfleet’s official negotiating positions on the matter, “Have a scintillating afternoon, Commander.”

Sorik merely raised an eyebrow in response to Mek’s sarcasm, before seating himself.

“Hey! Do you have any idea how hard it is to source hupyrian beetle snuff on this side of the quadrant? We have contracts to fulfil! This is the stability of galactic commercial trade at stake here, Captain! Captain?!” The remonstrations of Brux and his obsequious retinue faded away as Mek shot out of the room and straight towards the nearest turbolift. He hadn’t had much of a chance to get a read on Commodore Tharc, but from what he had seen, he knew she was not one to call such a meeting for any trivial circumstance. Something wasn’t right. Something big.

***

It had been a while since Mek had made the journey up to the station’s command level. Most of his responsibilities were contained within the Task Force 86 Command Centre, and his involvement with the day to day operation of the base was limited. The corridors of this section of the base were bustling with report-bearing staff dashing between department offices. A few acknowledged Mek with a cursory nod as he exited the turbolift, but their gaze quickly zeroed in dead ahead once more, focusing on their destination and the next task at hand. He drifted across the deck towards , feeling like a visitor, or a forgotten relative that no one now quite had the time for.

He stepped into station ops. Starbase 86’s nerve centre was lit up. Tactical maps glowed blue against vertical transparent monitors. Ship movements, anomalies, space lanes and listening posts were all marked out as personnel of every department colour manned stations. No one smiled, joked, or even lazed about with coffee of any kind. Pallid, grim faces peered into readouts and yet more reports. Every so often, on the central command table, a new symbol would appear in a seemingly random location on the holo-projection of the entire Beta Quadrant that hovered above it. It shone a ghostly white light, accentuating the sunken shadows of concern cast across the senior staff’s faces as they looked on. The focus of their attention; the appearance at seemingly random intervals and random spacing of a single letter throughout the map. Mek squinted, his eyes not being what they used to be, and when the golden points of light came into focus his stomach hit the floor. Like the pox of a slowly spreading disease, the Quadrant was peppered with a symbol he was hoping never to have to see in his lifetime. The end of all things: Ω.

A nearby voice cut through his thoughts. “Captain Mek,” a staff adjutant Lieutenant approached him, weaving a path around the outside of the roughly circular room. She was followed by another Captain, a human much younger than Mek. The woman bore a stern expression, and as command level staff she had undoubtedly been briefed on the horror that now faced them both. The adjutant now stood between them, stating in a matter of fact way, “Sir, this is Captain Francesca Shilo, transferring in to assume the role of Task Force 86 Executive Officer.”

“Captain Shilo, yes…” Mek sounded distant for a moment, distracted by the gravity of the situation. Without further words, he reached out for a handshake. He had worked with humans for his entire career, and despite all that was happening, knew they placed a great deal of importance on an initial greeting.

***

Francesca hadn’t stepped on a Starbase in over four years due to her mission in the Delta Quadrant. She had received an urgent message requesting her transfer as an Executive Officer over Task Force 86. Some might see it as a step down, but actually it was a good promotion.

Her mind snapped back to the station which she was weaving through. She had been breaded on the newest development which sent chills up her spine. Omega was a problem and the fact that it couldn’t be discussed with anyone under command level added extra tension to an already volatile situation. The station was buzzing with activity like there was not problem in the world. “Poor souls if only they knew.” She thought.

Mero was stopped by a staff adjutant “Captain Shilo I presume?”

Francesca nodded “That’s correct I am here to report to the Task Force 86 Commanding Officer.

The adjutant nodded and gestured for Francesca to follow. As they made their way through the station they arrived in the Ops center. Francesca couldn’t help but notice the symbol that dotted the holographic map. It was way worse than what she was initially told.

She thought of some possible plans when she heard ““Sir, this is Captain Francesca Shilo, transferring in to assume the role of Task Force 86 Executive Officer.” She looked at Mek and shook his hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Captain Mek. You seem preoccupied, is everything ok?”

“Your arrival’s the only thing I’ve got to be happy about right now, Captain Shilo.” Mek’s mouth barely moved as he formed the words, “That being said, I believe we’ll have to save the pleasantries for another time. No doubt you’re aware of… The situation.” He cast his eyes over to the holo-display.

The grave words ringed truer than anything that could’ve been mentioned in the current state of events. She nodded “I understand, Sir. There are way more important things to deal with at this time. I am well aware of the current…situation.” She knew that talking about the matter was confined to certain people and currently the room was full of unauthorized personnel.

She was immediately whisked away with Mek to an unknown location. She was just along for the ride currently.

***

The lights in the room were dimmed. Glasses of water sat at various levels of emptiness around the long oval table. The expansive window that ran along the length of the room offered a view of scattered stars, smeared on one side by the violet gaseous unfurlings of the Azure Nebula’s coreward tip.

Every notable command level flag and line officer this side of Raeya was present. Commodore Tharc sat, chairing the meeting from the far end of the oval. He brought up a hand, fingers spread, in a sweeping motion and gestured for Mek and Shilo to sit.

“Captain Mek and Captain Shilo, Task Force 86 command.” The Commodore announced to the group. The captains quickly found their name plates and seated themselves. Two PADDs had been left out for them, an omega symbol glowed blue across the front of each one. Beneath the ominous character read the words, “Omega Directive: Starbase 86 Containment Plan”. Mek glanced at it briefly before the Captain seated next to him leaned over.

After sitting down the ominous view of the Omega symbol Francesca was snapped back to reality by the voice of another Captain speaking to Mek.

“I hope Task Force 86 is up for some fun and games,” the human had well coiffed black hair which stood in stark contrast to his gleaming teeth as he smiled.

“Task Force 86 is up for getting this damned molecule cleaned up,” Mek scowled, “Captain…?”

“Eoin Haughey, Raeyan Sector command.”

Shilo smirked at the Captain’s reply before she heard a voice in her ear.

“Task Force 86 has been here awhile, but I don’t know you.” Yet another Captain to her right stated.

Shilo was not in the mood for small talk “Nor would you I just transferred here. I am Captain Francesca Shilo, the new TF 86 Executive Officer. And you?”

“Shannon Mclaughlin, Commodore’s Adjutant.”

“Hmmmmm, Task Force 86!” The unmistakably triumphant call of a Klingon warrior resonated from the walls of the meeting room, “Of the Fourth Fleet, no less. While you all might have given the House of D’Ghor a little more than they bargained for, it looks like this… Conundrum has you all quite confounded.”

Haughey looked like someone had stamped on his toe, “Oh we’re confounded? Tell me General Metraq, where exactly was the Klingon Twelfth Fleet when D’Ghor was storming across its ally’s border? And now it sounds like you’ve found a solution to containing the Omega molecule? Please, share your expertise General!”

The Klingon’s laugh was deep, hearty and from the belly, “Were it not for your government’s quite cowardly insistence on secrecy about this matter, perhaps we could have preempted this mess. Yes, Captain. But alas, here we are now scrambling to contain another Federation crisis. An avoidable one at that. If only you had thought of the practicalities instead of gallivanting around the galaxy researching anomaly after anomaly, provoking god-like beings or whatever it is you waste your time with.” He rolled his eyes, “Perhaps sharing this information before the situation became critical would have been prudent, Captain Haughey?”

“I fail to see how you can call this a ‘Federation crisis’ when it’s clearly affecting our whole damn side of the galaxy. Or maybe that’s just what you call it when you realise the problem’s not gonna get solved by blasting it with disruptors or waving a d’k tahg at it.”

Commodore Tharc was blithely amused by this back and forth, but in the interests of moving things along she grunted at them in a signal to shut up. She activated a holo display that rose from the centre of the table, similar to the one Mek had seen in ops. The golden specks of omega symbols were every bit as extensive as those on the previous map. In fact, it appeared to Mek as though yet more had popped up in the mere minutes since they had left the Starbase’s control room.

“Captains, General,” Tharc announced, “This is the worst case scenario. As I’m sure you’re aware, with this much Omega cropping up throughout the galaxy, our response teams are stretched to the breaking point.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, tapping a series of commands into the controls on the table in front of her. The map zoomed in to the TF86 area of operations. Federation space was highlighted blue, meeting the red Klingon border at a sharp angle to create the lawless vacuum of the Triangle. The map zoomed further, centering on a single omega symbol, surrounded by a purplish blue haze.

“I present to you our most pressing concern. On stardate 76597.6, the USS Kaybin detected traces of Omega coming from within the Azure Nebula.” The room’s occupants remained silent as they began to process the ramifications, “As of now, we have been unable to pinpoint the exact location of the molecule. Starfleet Command has impressed upon us the importance of finding it and neutralising the molecule before any other actor in the region. We have reason to believe several extra-governmental actors from within the Triangle may have interest, not to mention the Tal’Shiar and the Romulan Free State.”

Captain Mclaughlin continued the briefing seamlessly from across the table, “The vast area of space occupied by the nebula, along with extremely volatile gases and subspace interference means that, even with several starships deployed, it would take months for us to pinpoint the molecule.” It was Mclaughlin’s turn to punch up new information on the display. The hologram swept through to within the nebula itself, with nine wire mesh starships appearing in a 3×3 grid formation. “We’ve therefore developed a method by which nine starships can work together to comb the nebula. Calibrating their sensor harmonics on resonance frequency nine-nine-one-eight-six theta, we can position these ships as far as ten lightyears apart and still receive accurate data feedback.”

“Like running a giant magnet over the haystack to find the needle.” Haughey piped up.

“Exactly, Captain.” Tharc smiled, only patronising him a little, “The ships that will make up the sensor network are already en route. This still leaves the problem of someone else stumbling upon the molecule before we do. Captain Mek, Captain Shilo, Task Force 86 will mobilise every available ship to form a blockade around areas of Azure Nebula bordering Federation space, and along its border with the Triangle as far as Phesertia III. The Klingon Defence Force has agreed to police the other half of the border and areas that fall within the Klingon Empire’s territory.” She nodded towards General Metreq in thanks. “Captain Haughey, Raeyan Sector forces will form a rapid response force. Prepare to deploy and render assistance to any vessels in need as soon as possible. Again, the KDF will have one one of their own task forces stationed at Khitomer ready to go.”

Tharc rose from her seat, “We’re lucky to have this many resources sent our way for just one molecule. Starfleet and the Klingon High Command have designated this mission as priority one. We simply cannot risk the Omega molecule falling into any unscrupulous hands, and there are plenty of those in this neck of the woods. Any questions about the nature of the mission?” There a brief moment of silence, “No? Then you’re all dismissed.”

The tactical display in Starbase 86 Ops now showed a holographic rendering of the Azure Nebula in all its swirling, aeriform beauty. An even sprinkling of arrowhead insignia formed a rough hemisphere, hugging the edge of the nebula that fell closest to Federation space. The opposite side was similarly covered in Klingon trefoil emblems. The net of starships had fully enclosed the gaseous birthplace of not only stars, but something far smaller, and far deadlier.

A Lieutenant in red announced to the room, “USS Majestic reports confirmation from Colonel K’lovos. All ships in position.”

Captain Mek and Captain Shilo looked on, watching the display intently alongside Captains Haughey and Mclaughlin. Commodore Tharc gripped the rail running around the edge of the raised holo-table with both of her hairy, Tellarite hands. 

“Instruct the task group to begin the sweep,” Tharc said. Before long, the grid of ships forming a cross section of the nebula began to inch its way through the cloud.

From behind Mek came the voice of another Lieutenant who had entered from Briefing Room A, “Commodore Tharc, Captain Mek,” he called out, “incoming communique from Fourth Fleet Command.”

“Let’s go,” Tharc looked towards Mek in a flash before making for the briefing room door.

Mek stopped only for a few parting words to his Executive Officer, “Captain Shilo, you have operational control.”    

All Francesca could do was nod. It was the first time in a while she was stressed from the whole situation, but it didn’t matter because she would step up to the plate as she always had. She stepped closer to the screens, analyzing the data that was coming through it and showed the ships converging on the nebula. The worst part was the ominous Omega symbol that clouded the screen. This whole situation was not something she had ever expected to come to pass, but here it was. 

She looked closely at the Lieutenant near her “Status Report!” She said in a bold and authoritative voice. 

The Lieutenant blinked and looked at the screen “The ships just entered the Nebula and began the sweep.” 

Francesca nodded and began pacing the room looking at the different panels with multiple different reports streaming through them. She couldn’t do much until the scan was completed. 

***

“The Tkon…” Mek massaged his forehead with thumb and forefinger as he grappled with the implications of what the Admiral had just said. 

“They treated the galaxy like their plaything,” Tharc sat back as she spoke, staring at her reflection in the blank viewer, “guess we shouldn’t be surprised they’ve got something to do with all this omega.”

“After all this, I don’t think anything’s surprising me ever again.” 

Tharc exhaled, a muted grunt funneled through her upturned nose, “We need to scour the archives. Everything we’ve got access to. Get the Klingons involved too, they must have plenty of relics lying around in their space.”

“I’m sure the Klingons will have dug up plenty if there was even a sniff of weaponising them,” Mek added.

“Ugh,” groaned Tharc, “the thought of them running around with that kind of power. It’s enough to make your stomach churn.” 

“Do we reveal what we know about the Tkon? The Horizon System?”

She paused, “You heard our orders, Mek. All information on the Tkon. Klingon or otherwise. Now’s not the time for keeping secrets from our allies.”

“Agreed,” Mek said, still turning it over in his head, “although I’m not so sure my stomach would say the same.”

Tharc punched the intercom controls, “Tharc to Ambassador Grecht and General Metraq. We request the pleasure of your company in Ops Briefing Room A.”

***

Despite moving at multiple times the speed of light, the task group that now combed the Azure Nebula had made barely perceptible progress. All eyes in Starbase 86 Ops were glued to the holo display. A sense of grim realisation began to make itself felt throughout the room, and it became increasingly clear that there would be no quick respite from the mounting pressure.

Captain Haughey paced up and down a space of deck not far from the central island. A screen mounted on a bulkhead to his left indicated the bulk of Raeyan Sector forces now standing by, ready to be deployed on his command. 

“So this is it?” Haughey grumbled, “We just hang around here while more of that stuff keeps appearing all over the quadrant?”  

Francesca shrugged “Unfortunately Captain our hands are tied here, but it is our job to do what we do. I know not being in the action is frustrating, but someone has to stay back and help protect those on the front.” 

She saw the Captain sigh and nod “You are correct I will continue to do my duty, but I still hate that we can’t do anything.”

Haughey rapped his fingers on the railing in front of him. “That’s just it,” he expression remained stony, “so much waiting. Keeping everyone in the dark. All this cloak and dagger stuff drives me nuts. Look at those guys, they’d never bother with all the secrecy. Makes me kinda jealous.” He glanced over towards the two large Klingons who now made their way across the deck towards Briefing Room A.

***

Their heavy booted footsteps thudded as they moved to the end of the table. Seating themselves opposite Mek and Tharc, they leaned back in their chairs.

“Captain, Commodore,” Ambassador Grecht began, “We felt it was only a matter of time before we were summoned in this time of crisis. The Klingon Empire stands by to assist in any way it can.”

General Metraq continued, “The Sixth Imperial Fleet stands ready.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Tharc lowered her gaze, “the Federation’s omega containment procedures are stretched but functional. We appreciate your offer of assistance, nonetheless.”

Grecht flashed his teeth for a second, “With respect, Commodore, you’re wasting time.” He spoke with warning in his voice, “We have reports that your ships are tiptoeing around inhabited areas where these molecules have appeared. Every second you delay, the more likely it is that a molecule destabilises in your space. As your allies we can help you with this. Now is not the time to worry about your Prime Directive, or any…” He paused, “Ethics of the situation at hand.”

Metraq sensed Grecht was weighing up the ramifications of his last sentence. Not wanting to lose momentum, he took over, “A simple torpedo strike with gravimetric modifications. It’s all that’s needed to obliterate these things. Collateral damage will happen, yes, but how can we as great powers seek glory if we allow a simple molecule to rob us of our ability to travel the stars? The Vulcans have it right here, Commodore, ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few’. You will find the Klingon Empire’s omega containment policy is robust. Just say the word and we can dispatch the fleet and clean up all the omega from here to Acamar.”

Mek sat bolt upright, “That’s barely a containment policy, that’s-”

“Unacceptable.” Tharc finished with a wave of her hand, “We’ll have to differ there, General Metraq. Your ships will not be involved in omega containment within Federation space.”

The two Klingons no longer presented themselves in such an amicable manner, merely grunting in acceptance of Commodore Tharc’s dismissal of the matter. “Now,” Tharc continued, “we turn to the actual reason for this meeting. What does the Klingon Empire know of the Tkon?”

Metraq and Grecht exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Grecht was the first to offer a reluctant response, “The Empire is aware of their artefacts within our borders.”

“Is that it, Ambassador?” Mek waited for Grecht to elaborate before chiming in, “Starfleet has reason to believe the ancient Tkon Empire is somehow related to this outbreak of omega, and we need to know as much as we can.” 

Grecht’s tone was flat, “That information is not something the High Council is willing to divulge. This is an extremely sensitive matter, not to mention irrelevant here. The Klingon Empire has the omega crisis under control within its borders. Now if you’d simply allow us to do the same-”

“We’ve said no.” Mek snapped, his patience wearing thin. “You seem extremely eager to jump in and offer assistance outside of your borders. Clearly something’s caught your attention there. I’d like to remind you that those are Starfleet ships in that nebula, the most we’ve ever sent. Meanwhile the KDF are sitting back there on guard duty. The Azure’s already volatile, we don’t even know how a destabilised omega molecule would react with it. I think Starfleet has a right to know if there’s something you’re not telling us.”

The grey lining of General Metraq’s Klingon Defence Force uniform creased as he shifted in his seat. “There are some things the military does have the authority to share,” he said as if still weighing it up in his mind. “We are aware of several Tkon sites outside of Klingon space. One of these is in the Azure Nebula, yes.” 

Grecht studied Metraq intently as he spoke; the most conspicuously silent of the room’s occupants. Metraq rumbled on, “In 2392 the IKS Nah’vesh was caught in the gravity well of planetoid 683-lambda located within the Azure Nebula. The ship crash landed on the surface with no survivors. Our recovery teams discovered structures on the surface similar to others we know are of Tkon origin.”

It was Tharc’s turn to lean in closer, jabbing down on the table with her forefinger as she spoke, “So was the KDF aware of the link between the Tkon and omega or not?”

Metraq inhaled, “Yes. You know as well as I do, Commodore, that the Tkon were beings of immense power. It would be a strategic error to make our knowledge of their artefacts any more public than necessary.”    

“Nonetheless, you were quite happy to send Task Force 86 into harm’s way. Where’s the honour in that, General?”  

“This is a precarious time, Commodore. Where would the honour be in revealing this information to an ally concerned more with the rights of minor pre-warp species,” contempt rose in his voice, “than containing and putting an end to an existential threat?”  

Ambassador Grecht’s hands rose above the table, “Peace between our houses,” he stated in what was, for a Klingon, a soothing tone. “We have revealed to each other what we know. That much is true.”

Tharc used the moment to calm the anger that had flared up in her belly, “With the General’s permission. Starfleet would like access to all data collected by the Klingon Defence Force regarding the Tkon Empire.” 

“We cannot-” 

Tharc immediately cut through Metraq’s protestations, “If this is unacceptable to our honourable allies, then perhaps a more limited sharing arrangement could be agreed over information coming from the Klingon archaeological site in the Azure Nebula.”

Metraq scratched idly at his temple in consideration, then slowly began to rise from his chair, “I will contact the High Command at once. I am confident there will be no objections to sharing information from the Azure site.”

The room stood, “You have our thanks, General Metraq,” Tharc said through somewhat gritted teeth.

Metraq’s long, black hair flicked out behind him as he turned to leave the room. Ambassador Grecht’s taller frame stopped before following the General out, “The Empire stands by our alliance with honour.” 

“As does Starfleet, Ambassador,” Mek smiled, appreciating the attempt at damage control.

As the doors closed behind the Klingons, Tharc and Mek visibly relaxed. Tharc walked over to the bulkhead behind the head of the table, replicating herself a mug of jestral tea. 

“A little evasive for them, don’t you think?” Mek said, sitting back down and swivelling his chair to face Tharc. 

“Like pulling teeth…” Tharc rolled her eyes, soothed by the steaming tea. She inhaled the warm, fragrant vapour that rose from its surface. A spiced tinge unfolded and coiled within her sinuses, “Better get ready to transfer that data to Starfleet Command as soon as it reaches us.”

Mek took a minute to unpack the meeting in his mind. He rested an elbow on the table next to him, propping up his head. His other hand fiddled with his red collar, “You think Grecht knew about it?”

“The crash site?” She allowed herself a small chuckle, “Not my problem.” She shrugged, looking down into the cup.

“Klingon High Command works in mysterious ways.”

“At least their hand knows what the head is doing.” Tharc offered, “Better than trying to work something out with the Romulans.”

“Don’t.” Mek glared.

The alarm bleeped a trill tone, waking Mek from a broken sleep. He sat bolt upright, throwing back the bedsheets. His groggy, sleep-deprived head spun as he heaved himself up to stand in his quarters.

“Lights,” he groaned, not fully awake. The room was immediately bathed in a soft glow, and he lurched towards the intercom controls. 

“Mek.”

“Captain,” The voice of Francesca Shilo came over the com, “the Azure task group has detected the omega within the nebula. Your presence is required in Ops.”

“On my way.” A chime signaled a closed channel and he began to throw on his uniform. How many more days would start like this? An urgent situation that required his attention. An imminent threat. A diplomatic incident that couldn’t wait. He was tired. Bone tired. 

The omega crisis had Starfleet’s resources stretched to Dominion War levels of precarity. Back then he’d been piloting shuttles on Jenthet VI. So long as his cargo and passengers reached their destination, he had remained largely unaffected by galactic developments. There were some days he’d barely felt impacted, the only intrusions into his idyllic bubble coming in the form of Federation News Service reports. He almost yearned for those days. Almost, but not quite. 

Mek straightened his combadge. Its arrow pointed straight towards the dark circles under his sunken eyes. It frightened him sometimes. Time ravaged skin, shrivelled and bruised from relentless pushing below the lower bounds of his evolutionary need for sleep. But where had that time gone? In a blurry flash, he had reached the sharp end of the astropolitical spear and was now exhausted in ways the Erill’Yun Mek of Jenthet VI could not have begun to imagine. 

He thought back to General Metraq’s futile persuasive efforts in the briefing room three days ago. The Klingon had been so confident, so sure that galactic safety could only be achieved through obliterating defenceless species unlucky enough to be in the vicinity of an omega particle. There had been conviction in the General’s eyes as he spoke. His words had come not from a place of logic, reason or even any kind of honour. No, it had been pure survival instinct that had motivated Metraq that day. A human might have described the Klingon’s thoughts as Darwinistic, and they made Mek sick. It was disgusting; simply consigning pre-warp species to evolutionary fate, sacrificing them for the good of interstellar civilisations fortunate enough to possess faster than light travel at the right moment. Earth had thankfully abandoned this brutalistic philosophy of life long ago, proving to Mek that Humans weren’t all that bad. 

He straightened his cuffs and, still zipping up the front of his uniform, marched from his quarters towards the nearest turbolift. On a shelf near the door, a model sailing boat wobbled as he hurriedly brushed past. It tilted back and forth on its wooden base before, untoppled, it came to a standstill.

***

The night had been long and Francesca had consumed more raktajino than she would care to admit. She had been up a straight 48 hours with no sleep. Due to the nature of what was going on, she had remained in Ops the entire time making sure to monitor the situation. The screens had begun to become just a blur to her as it was all she had looked at for so long. 

She could hear the others in the room talking and it just became like background noise to her. She was standing at the holo table watching the movement of the Azure task group who continued to comb the nebula for the Omega particle. She was tired and wanted to sleep. She was about to take another sip of her drink when she heard Comms break the constant repeating noise she had been hearing. 

“Azure Leader to Station we have located Omega in the Nebula. Standing by for further instructions.” 

Francesca looked around to see the people in the room turn their eyes to her. She took a deep breath. “Good work Azure Leader! Please standby for further orders.” 

She looked at the time and grimaced that she had to awake Mek, which she didn’t want to do, but knew he needed to be informed of the new development. 

After informing him she took a sigh of relief though the battle was not over she knew that finding the particles would help in the overall fight. She felt like she had a second wind as she looked at the screen for any indication of how far into the nebula the team was. It looked like they had traveled a decent distance, but the sensors were fooled by the interference that the nebula generated. She knew it was time for her and Mek to have a meeting and decide what needed to be done. 

She thought back to when she had first learned of this protocol. It was not something that she thought would ever be an issue. How wrong she was. Put into a position as the Task Force Executive Officer and already went 48 hours without sleep, she knew her appearance was not the best. She also knew that someone senior needed to be present and it was not right to make the CO do something she could do. She would need some rest soon or she would be of no use to Mek or anyone else for that matter.

***

The first thing Mek saw upon stepping out into station Ops was the gentle wave of Captain Francesca Shilo’s auburn hair. It was almost as if a halo of light shone, shimmering across each glossy copper strand. Her back facing him, the holographic display outlined her body in a blueish white penumbra. Although Commodore Tharc was nowhere to be seen, Mek recognised the familiar faces positioned at various stations throughout the room. Captain Haughey and Captain Mclaughlin stood on the other side of the central display. Their faces were stretched pale and gaunt from the same lack of sleep afflicting Mek. For each day this crisis continued, it felt to all of them as if they had been taking two steps backwards for every one step forward. As soon as one omega particle was neutralized, more spring up in different locations. Haughey had been forced to redeploy most of the Raeyan Sector Response Group to locations across three sectors in an attempt to put out these relentless brush fires. Yet more had come with each passing hour, then each minute. Now every second that ticked by marked the growing futility of their efforts. Still, the regional commanders looked on, thoughts of impending doom moving closer and closer to the forefronts of their minds. 

“Report,” Mek announced as he approached. 

Shilo stood straight as she heard the voice of her CO. It did not matter that he was the same rank the position gave him authority and for that she made sure to show respect. 

“Sir, we have located the Omega particles in the Azure Nebula. The fleet is holding position waiting for orders.” She replied. 

She wasn’t sure about the approach of what they would do, but she did know it wasn’t for her to try and make the decision by herself. 

The last remnants of Mek’s morning grogginess fell away and he snapped alert,  “Alright, get me a direct line to Azure Leader.” 

“Channel open, sir.” A voice from communications control called.

“Captain Chorvik, we understand you’ve sighted the omega molecule.” Mek could just about remember the name of the USS Wethesa’s captain who headed up the task group. The Catullan’s humanoid form sprung up in a new holographic projection from the central island in Ops. The shimmering, blue-tinged collection of photons faithfully recreated Chorvik’s purplish hair and bushy eyebrows. Mek could even make out the lavender-green family crest daubed in the centre of his forehead.

“Affirmative, Captain. We have it on sensors three lightyears from here.” Chorvik’s voice was calm, but his eyes looked out with an unblinking intensity that unsettled Mek slightly.

“We’re receiving the coordinates now. Looks like an empty enough area of space, I’m sure the gravimetric torpedoes should work fine.” 

“It won’t be that simple, Captain.” Those burning eyes again. Something was wrong, and here it came, “The molecule appears to be moving. We’ve dispatched a Class V probe towards it. Results coming in… Now.”

Mek looked on expectantly as Chorvik paused to read the data, “The molecule’s moving. Looks like at a speed roughly equivalent to one-half impulse, although it’s erratic. It also appears to be encased in something that’s reading as organic-” Chorvik stopped, confusion swept his face for a second as he re-read what was in front of him, “Captain, it’s alive. The omega particle is within a life form, and from this report, it looks like it’s a gormagander.”

“A space whale, Captain Chorvik? A space whale has swallowed an omega particle?” Mek sighed.

“AND THIS IS OF WHAT CONSEQUENCE?” Resonated a deep boom from behind them. General Metraq stepped forward from the turbolift. 

“Good morning, General.” Mek made a half-hearted attempt to smile. He quickly leaned over to Francesca with a hushed whisper, “I’ll deal with this. You handle the whale.”

***

Francesca’s eyes widened as she heard the remark from Mek. “How am I supposed to deal with a space whale?” she thought to herself. It was not everyday that she had to try and beam Omega particles out of a space whale in fact she couldn’t recall ever having a situation like this in her entire career. She began to pace the floor thinking of what could be done. Each situation was different but this one would take a delicate touch as to not harm the gormagander. 

Mek stood between Metraq and Francesca in an attempt to preserve his colleague’s concentration, “The consequence, General, is that there’s now a molecule of the most powerful substance known to exist floating around the Azure Nebula in the belly of a space whale. Now, unless you or anyone else in the KDF have any better ideas on how to deal with this, I suggest you stand back and let us get on with it.”

Metraq glowered in Mek’s direction, “Wasting time, as usual, Captain! For a gormagander, of all things. A pathetic beast, best hunted for sport.”

Mek had no time for the Klingon’s tiresome crowing, “Your target for bloodsport is a sentient being. We have the ships, the technology required to extract the omega from it without needless loss of life. There’s no need for butchery here, General.”

“You know how unstable those molecules are,” Metraq scowled, “every second you waste is a roll of the dice. So typical of Starfleet to stand in judgment, so convinced of the moral superiority of your actions. But what of the countless unknowns inside that nebula, Captain? The Klingon Empire does not care for your incessant whining about scientific discoveries, anomalies, ‘the wonders of the universe. We go along with it. But now, even by your own… Logic,” he spat the word, “you jeopardize it all for the sake of this… Whale!” 

An anger began to creep up Mek’s throat, “Omega or not, we have no right to take the life of an intelligent life form. Our Omega Directive supersedes all other Starfleet regulations, yes, but what you’re suggesting is straight-up murder.”

“What I’m suggesting,” The Klingon stepped closer, lowering his voice, “is that you’re weak. You don’t have the honour to do what it takes and end this now.”  

“Listen to me, you bloodthirsty oaf.” Mek’s face grew red, “Have you forgotten that you’re standing in a Starfleet operations centre? Feel free to call the shots with the KDF, but our ships are in that nebula and we’ll handle this so that no one has to die. If that’s a problem for you, then maybe you should have sent in some ships of your own.”

Metraq flashed his teeth, instinctively lowering his hand towards his d’k tahg. Mek knew he had gone too far, but he didn’t care. 

“Can I help you two gentlemen?” The double doors of Commodore Ciffao Tharc’s office whooshed open and she stepped down towards the scene unfolding before her. Francesca had sensibly edged away to the other side of Ops, engrossed in formulating her plan. Now the Klingon and the Pelian looked as if they were only seconds from swinging at each other. Tharc called again, “Captain Mek, General Metraq! Some decorum in Station Ops, please!” 

The pair’s eyes snapped away from their interlocked glare. They both looked down towards the Tellarite who, while short in stature, now asserted herself throughout the room. There was a breath of silence before her barked orders cut through the air, “Mek, back off. Metraq, if you have nothing constructive to add, then get out of Ops and back to the Klingon Liaison Office.” Her eyes glinted sharper than the cool light reflecting from Metraq’s partially unsheathed d’k tahg. 

The Klingon’s posture relaxed, and he drew himself up to his full height. Mek rolled his eyes, prompting a withering look from Tharc.

“BAHAHAHA,” as if a switch had flipped, Metraq’s eyes lit up with mirth, “for a moment there I thought the Captain would actually try and challenge me.”

Tharc was unimpressed, “You’re interfering with a sensitive operation, Metraq. Leave now, or I’ll have security drag you out of here.”

“No need, Commodore. I will take my leave. Captain Mek should also know that the Empire has sent ships of its own. As soon as we learned of the molecule’s location, unlike yourselves, we were prepared to act decisively. Our ships are cloaked, of course, to avoid startling you Ha’DIbaH. I would imagine they would be arriving, oh, in around one hour.” Another hearty laugh rose from Metraq’s chest as he entered the turbolift.

Mek’s eyes widened, “Mek to USS Wethesa,” the com channel was established with a chirp, “we believe you’ve got cloaked Klingon ships inbound. They’re going to kill the whale. You will not let that happen. Standby for further instructions from Captain Shilo.” His head then whipped round to face Francesca. Her head was down, frowning as she analysed sensor readouts on the other side of the room, “Shilo, work fast. You’re gonna have company!” 

Francesca had successfully phased out the commotion behind her. If they could get the creature to hold its position they could potentially beam the particles out of the gormagander and transport it to a resonance chamber where the particles could safely be destroyed and the gormagander would have no harm done to it. That way it could go and peacefully live its life, not knowing what it had carried. The plan seemed to be the best option, but getting the ships into position could prove to be the biggest task for Francesca, as corralling a gormagander was not standard Federation procedure.

These ideas and thoughts raced in her mind. As she finally came back to reality she saw the members in the room looking at her for answers. She stopped pacing and made her way back to the holo table and the shimmering blue figures that were in the nebula. 

“Captain Chorvik, I have a plan, but it will require the ships around you corralling the gormagander so that it will not move. Is that understood?” She asked 

The comms were quiet for a moment “Captain with all due respect you want me to corral a space whale that could damage us?” 

Francesca sighed “Yes Chorvik, I want you to corral the whale, but from all research, the gormagander is not hostile as long as we don’t provoke it. I want a large circle made so it has enough space to stay comfortable, but where we can get a fix on the particles inside it.” 

The response was quicker, “I think I understand Captain. It will take some time to get this all set up, but we should have it done within the hour. I will contact you when the ships are in position.” Chorvik concluded. 

“Very good Captain Chorvik! I await your reply.” Francesca said as she looked at the holo table.

***

This plan was crazy, but what could be crazier than trying to beam Omega particles out of a gormagander. This brought the term ‘Cetacean Ops’ to a whole new level. She had to control a whale in a nebula that was full of a particle that could kill everyone in the nebula. 

Starbase 86 Ops was electrified. Subspace communications zipped back and forth at unfathomable speeds between it and the ships now deep in the furthest depths of the bewildering gaseous cloud. Mek and Tharc issued seemingly endless orders, one after the other:

“Haughey, redeploy Raeyan Sector Response Group into the nebula on an intercept course. Get them in front of any ships approaching from the Klingon side.”

“Mclaughlin, get us patched through to the Majestic. We need them positioned forward and running a tachyon sweep.”

“Azure group, if the Klingons get anywhere near the gormagander, your orders are to withdraw at maximum warp. I’m not risking anyone getting caught in any omega blast.”

Francesca again began to pace the floor as she thought of the disaster that could occur if this plan went belly up. She tried to push those thoughts out of her head as she waited to hear from Chorvik. She replicated a raktajino and a small snack to try and keep her energy up. She was starting to run out of energy being up for over two days straight. This was taxing on her body, but she continued to push through even though the raktajino just seemed bland. She was finishing up her snack when Chorvik’s voice came through the Ops comms. 

“We are in position, Captain Shilo. What are your orders?” The voice boomed. 

Francesca placed her hands on the holotable and leaned in closer to see the shimmering ships. “Alright Chorvik, I want you to get a lock on the Omega particles inside of the gormagander and beam them to your ship’s resonance chamber. Once we know they’re secured in the chamber, destroy them immediately.” She ordered with a cool voice.

“As you command Ma’am! I’m patching in comms with the transporter chief now.”

The voice of another boomed through the comms. “Attempting to lock on now.” There was a pause of silence. “Locked on and energizing.” 

Francesca waited hoping that it was going to go this smoothly. 

“We have the particles but it looks like the gormagander is getting agitated.” Chorvik stated. 

“You have done well Chorvik! Order the rest of the task force to pull back and away from the gormagander. Once you know it’s safe, get rid of those particles.” Francesca ordered with a sigh of relief. 

“Raeyan Sector Response Group and USS Majestic report no sign of Klingon vessels.” Mclaughlin called out as a muted cheer spread through Ops. 

Despite the good spirits of those around him, Mek’s face soured. Arms crossed, he stood next to Tharc as the hubbub died down. “No Klingon ships. Do you think…?”

Tharc sighed, “He was bluffing?” Her wrinkled cheeks fell, accentuating a hollowness around her tired eyes, “It’s possible.”

Mek’s exhaustion gave way to indignation, “Metraq’s rattled our cage.”

“You’re too used to dealing with Romulans, Captain. They tend to calculate things a little more.” Tharc’s eyebrows raised, “You’ve just borne witness to the famous Klingon temper tantrum. Tends to happen when they don’t get their way.”

Mek mulled it over for a moment, then winced. “I’ll buy you a drink.”