Under the light from a pair of alien suns, a stream of tiny twelve-legged arthropods cut paths in the dirt among blades of red grass, their color an adaptation to take in just enough sunshine from the blue giant the planet orbited. The tiny beings reminded Science Officer Rhodes of ants, but they were morphologically closer to spiders or scorpions. Thankfully, they lacked the stingers or predatory instincts of their Terran cousins. He had set a special collection platter near to their path loaded with agar, both to see if they’d be interested at all and to hopefully capture a few specimens for analysis back on the Apollo.

“Come on, little buddies,” Rhodes muttered when after four minutes they still hadn’t taken the bait.

The young man ran his hand through his slightly too-long-for-regulations hair, as he realized that his presence was likely dissuading the creatures from investigating what he’d left for them. He made a note of the device’s position on his tricorder and then stood up. The bulk of his science team was a few hundred meters away, investigating the amazing biodiversity present in a nearby stream.  He found the ship’s communications officer sitting on a boulder in the opposite direction, fixated on his PADD.

“Anything to report, Mr. Knight?” Rhodes asked as he approached.

Knight sprung up, clutching the device as if he were guilty of something by using it. Willowy and often reminding Rhodes of a newborn foal, the even younger man was fresh out of the academy and still as green as they came. His height made most of his features seem a little stretched, and he always gave off an aura of awkwardness. Rhodes was making a point to take him under his wing, as he didn’t seem to be fully fitting into the crew, yet. For a linguist, he had a strange inability to make connections.

“N-No, Commander,” Knight replied. “I was just monitoring the team’s combadges so that no one wanders off too far,” he added, still clutching the PADD in one hand as he gripped his elbow with the other, looking at the ground.

“You don’t like the outdoors much, do you?” Rhodes asked as his skin pricked up from the breeze blowing across the rolling red hills of the still-unnamed planet.

Knight shook his head, shuddering, but Rhodes doubted it was from the wind. “No, Sir.”

“Relax. There’s nothing here that can hurt you,” Rhodes reminded him.

“It’s not that. Not really. Just so many… variables to keep track of. I prefer more controlled environments,” Knight replied, the pads of his fingers now going white from the sheer pressure with which he was holding his PADD.

“A scout ship might not get you that, you know.”

Knight nodded. “No, sir,” the young man agreed, looking down at his boots which were digging into the soil. “But what good’s any decent linguist stuck at home?” he asked, seeming to find his courage for a moment.

The commander grinned. “True enough, Knight,” he said. “And can you honestly say you’d ever expected to be on a planet where the grass grew blood red?” he asked, gesturing around them.

“It’s pretty incredible,” Knight said, chancing a smile. “It’s also a little eerie, though. Like it’s going to swallow us up, or something,” he added, looking down again; Rhodes could tell he’d lost the momentary confidence that he’d mustered.

“I doubt it, but let me check on my ‘ants’ and we’ll get back to the rest of the landing party,” Rhodes said, pulling out his tricorder to trace his steps back to the collection vessel. When he found it, he could see about a dozen of the alien ‘ants’ in the trap. A few seconds after picking it up, though, the ground began to rumble, and the commander heard the low thrum of an impulse engine in the distance.

“Is that…?” Knight asked.

“Yup,” Rhodes replied, tucking the container into the belt of his uniform. He tapped his badge. “Rhodes to Gaudain.”

“Standby,” came the captain’s response.

A few moments later, the source of the rumble was clear: the Apollo was rising up from its landing place in one of the shallow valleys just a few klicks away. Atmospheric conditions had prevented transporter activity from standard orbit, and the ship was small enough to land comfortably on most terrestrial bodies. The light of the blue suns caught its angular hull, causing it to glint with energy as it approached Rhodes and Knight. While small in terms of starship standards, the Rhode Island-class scout was still eight stories tall and almost as long as two football pitches—colossal in relative terms to the two Humans. The power of its engines caused the atmosphere to reverberate with power that Rhodes could only feel, and not hear, and he could see the warp nacelles glow to life. Rhodes and Knight only had a few moments to take in the view of the Apollo above them before they were caught in the tell-tale tingle of a transporter beam.

Lieutenant Commander Rhodes materialized on the bridge of the Apollo with Knight between the helm console and the main viewscreen. The ship’s chief pilot, Ensign Lassus, had a smirk on her face and Rhodes barely resisted telling her to stow it as he walked around her station towards where Captain Gaudain was sitting with one leg up on the armrest of his chair. The scarlet red wrap-around tunic he was wearing was something straight out of the 23rd century.

“Stations, please, gentlemen. Chop-chop,” Gaudain said, beaming as he sat up in his seat. “And save me that vedek in a titty bar look, please, Mr. Rhodes,” he added.

“Yessir, just smiles and nods from me,” the science officer replied, settling into his seat directly behind the captain and next to Knight’s communication console. “But begging the captain’s merciful beneficence, I wonder if he might favor us with some explanation on why we’re making such a dramatic exit of this planet ahead of schedule?”

Gaudain chuckled and swiveled all the way around in his chair, feet now firmly on the metal decking. “Me? Dramatic? Never,” he drawled, before snapping once at Knight and pointing to the communication station.

“We’ve received a distress call. It’s Federation… and it’s coming from this sector,” Knight reported.

Rhodes felt another chill run down his spine, not from any wind on the protected interior of the Apollo, but because he knew that they were the first Starfleet ship in the region, or at least they were supposed to have been the first ship out that far. A distress call proved that thought to be false, though.

“Exactly. Now, I think that calls for exactly as dramatic a departure as I feel like, don’t you agree?” Gaudain asked.

“By all means, sir,” Rhodes agreed.

“Helm, as soon as we’re past the atmosphere, floor it,” Gaudain ordered.

The nimble scout ship rose up from the planet’s atmosphere, and Rhodes saw clouds give way to stars from his position at the back of the bridge. Once all that was around them was the blackness of space, and the second they were clear of the gravity well, Lassus engaged the warp drive and they jumped past the speed of light with a silent flash of energy.

Like her namesake, the Apollo was as swift as an arrow, moving through space at fifty-five hundred times the speed of light. The atmosphere on the bridge was a mix of tension and excitement as they raced toward the source of the distress call. As far as anyone knew, the Apollo was supposed to be the first Federation starship out that far, but this transmission proved that wrong. How did another ship end up in the Delta Quadrant? More importantly, which ship was it?

The signal was coming through strong, but it had no message other than general distress. There was also no apparent information about the ship sending it, so the communications and science departments were digging through the signal and running it against the recognition database to find a match. The fact that the computer wasn’t able to provide an immediate read on the point of origin was likely due to either damage to the transmitter or a signal so old that it wasn’t listed in standard databases.

“Report, Mr. Knight,” Gaudain asked, turning in the center seat to look over the shoulders of Commander Rhodes and Ensign Knight. “Do we know who we’re rushing off to rescue yet?”

“The database search just came back with a positive match. It’s the USS Fleming,” Knight said. “Well, it’s a USS Fleming, anyway. NCC-20316. Lost in 2370 in the Hekaras Corridor.”

“And there’s… no doubt about that?” Gaudain asked, looking between Rhodes at the science station and Knight at the communications station. “It’s not that I doubt your work, but that ship is supposed to be immobilized in a subspace dead zone.”

“It checks out, sir. Since that ship was listed as lost, its code was taken out of the standard recognition protocols about thirty years ago,” Rhodes replied. “I agree that it’s… odd, though.”

“Well, if it’s a ghost ship, that would explain why they haven’t responded to our hail,” Gaudain said, rapping his fingers on the edge of his chair. “Thoughts, Number One?”

“Ongoing studies of the Hekaras Corridor have suggested that subspace may be… regenerating or continuing to flux in unique ways, so it’s possible a wormhole could have moved the ship to its current position? That may have triggered an automated distress call,” Rhodes said, his mind going through the possibilities. “Or it’s been discovered by an alien race.”

Gaudain nodded. “Let’s not take any chances. Yellow Alert,” he ordered.

The already-muted lighting on the bridge went one step further down, supplemented by splashes of gold all around from the alert lighting. A low alert tone sounded, informing the crew to proceed to enhanced readiness protocols. The ship’s shields energized, and weapons were put on standby mode, while additional sensor suites were brought online to scan for the faintest hint of any threats.

“How far out are we, Lassus?”

“Eta is forty-one minutes, Captain.”

“Number One, I want a briefing on that ship in twenty minutes for the senior staff,” the captain ordered.

There wasn’t much to glean from the files on the Fleming contained within the Apollo’s database. As a ship that was supposed to be dead in space halfway across the galaxy, there had been no need to include the entire historical record for their trip to the Delta Quadrant, and they were out of range of the relay stations to double-check.

“The Fleming is an ex-Soyuz-class picket cruiser reconfigured as a Mercy-class medical transport. Launched in 2387, she was originally named the Kondakova until she was reconfigured in the 2330s,” Rhodes reported once the senior staff had gathered in the briefing room.

Other than Gaudain, Counselor Altmann, and their Vulcan chief engineer, the staff of the Apollo was incredibly young. Rhodes was always keenly aware of just how young they were when they were in briefings like that; everyone looked torn between excitement and nerves from the unknown variables at work. Well, almost everyone; Knight just looked plain nervous.

The screens at both ends of the room, as well as the holographic projector in the center of the table, were displaying specifications and schematics of the Fleming, which resembled a Miranda-class vessel, but with an extended superstructure containing large shuttle and cargo bays. While she had expanded sickbay capabilities, her main job was to move large amounts of medical supplies from place to place in support of medical stations or surface-bound hospitals.

“She had a standard crew of 30, with space for a hospital team of two-hundred and up to five-hundred ambulatory patients. While carrying a cargo of bio-mimetic gel, she was lost in the Hekaras Corridor in 2370. At the time of her loss, she only had twenty people aboard, and all were rescued by the Enterprise. The last report was from 2377, confirming that she was still in the corridor,” the science officer concluded.

“Bio-mimetic gel, Doctor?” Gaudain asked.

Dr. Bradley cleared his throat. “It’s an extremely versatile compound. You can use it for genetic research, bioweapons, cloning, and all sorts of highly illegal things. It’s surprising to hear that the cargo was left in situ,” the young man replied.

“Are there any risks we should be aware of? What’s the shelf-life of the stuff?” the captain asked.

Rhodes bit his tongue to avoid interjecting ahead of the doctor, but he’d read up on the compound himself. He shuddered to think what could happen to it if left to sit for three decades, especially if it had been exposed to any exotic radiation or organic particles in the meantime. It was illegal for civilians to keep because of its great potential for misuse. The Federation knew so little about the medical acumen of races like the Vidiians and Voth, but he did know that a substance like that in the hands of the Kazon or the Devore could be extremely dangerous.

“Indefinite, under proper storage conditions. I couldn’t speculate on the risks if containment has been breached in an oxygen-rich environment or if the cargo has been exposed to any contaminants,” Bradley responded. “If the hold has been damaged, and if the containers have been exposed to vacuum, it’s likely been reduced to inert material.”

“But it could really survive 30 years in deep space?” the ship’s security chief, Lieutenant Schaeffer, asked.

“I don’t see why not,” the doctor noted. “For all involved, it would probably be better if it didn’t, though.”

The captain nodded. “All the more reason to get to her as soon as possible. Do we have any theories on how it got out this far?”

“Even discounting the effects of the Hekaras Corridor, the Fleming would have taken at least 374 years to reach this position at warp five,” Lieutenant Commander T’Rann noted, from her seat opposite Rhodes.

“Nothing on our scans suggests the presence of a wormhole or other such phenomenon, either,” Rhodes noted.

“Is it possible that a Starfleet team boarded her and moved her?” Gaudain asked.

Rhodes shook his head. “Not as far as we can tell. One of the reasons she was never removed from her resting place was that she was out of range of tractor beams due to subspace interference. That interference should have only increased in the intervening years,” he reported.

“What about the system we’re headed to? Anything note-worthy?”

“No inhabited worlds. Several gas giants and at least three distinct asteroid belts. In terms of subspace, there’s nothing remarkable on our sensors,” Rhodes said, switching the display to a stellar cartography plot. “If we hadn’t picked up the signal, there’s little chance we would have bothered to scout this system.”

“Bridge to the Captain. We are approaching the system,” Ensign Accardi reported over the comm.

“Let’s get to it, people,” Gaudain said as the senior staff rose from their seats and followed him out of the briefing room.

As soon as the bridge officers were seated, Ensign Lassus pulled the Apollo out of warp, and they found themselves on the edge of an unknown star system. While Rhodes hadn’t been in Starfleet for as long as Gaudain had, he’d still been in space for over six years at that point. Even still, being on the threshold of something new remained a definite thrill.

“Where’s my ship?” Gaudain asked.

“Having trouble getting a fix on it, sir,” Knight reported from communication. “It… the signal is coming in very clearly from this system, but natural interference from the asteroid belts is making it tough to localize it,” he said.

“Keep on it. Helm, plot a standard search pattern,” the captain ordered.

Rhodes pulled up the signal on his screen next to Knight and began working in parallel with the younger man. The signal appeared to bounce around randomly through the system until Rhodes realized that one particular point in the system was being hit over and over again, and then he saw that many points were reoccurring.

“Knight, based on the frequency and power of the signal, let’s try to triangulate it based on the known reflection points,” Rhodes suggested.

“Aye, Commander,” the ensign replied.

The two science division officers worked for several minutes before they started to get a bearing on the target. It was difficult to pinpoint precisely, but they at least knew what direction it was coming from.

“Sir, the signal originates from approximately 23 degrees to starboard,” Rhodes reported.

“Helm, adjust course. Full impulse,” Gaudain ordered. “Good work.”

At that speed, it still took about four minutes before the Apollo was in visual range of her quarry, but when they put the approximate location of the other ship on the viewscreen, it was difficult to see anything other than the floating rocks of the asteroid field. At that range, Rhodes was able to further refine their detection algorithm, and he’d narrowed the Fleming’s location down to a cluster of about a dozen large-ish asteroids.

“Let’s see what you’re made of, Lassus. Take us in,” Gaudain ordered, giving the young pilot at the helm her first test aboard the Apollo.

On impulse, Rhodes stood up so that he could get a better view of the viewer past Gaudain’s seat, watching as the scout ship dove past the enormous boulders. She clearly knew her stuff, though, as they were able to pass through with few close calls. After a few minutes, he saw the tell-tale white hull of a Federation starship. It was intact, and the power systems appeared to be online, judging from the blue glow of the warp coils. They had found the Fleming. Just when he was about to sit down to perform an analysis, a glint of violet arced across the screen as a menacing alien vessel decloaked in front of them and opened fire.

“Red alert, evasive maneuvers!” Gaudain ordered.

Alarm klaxons blared as the Apollo twisted to dodge fire from an unknown assailant. Commander Rhodes slipped back into his seat at the science station and focused all of the available sensor arrays he could on the other ship. It was big—at least relative to the Apollo—but didn’t appear to be particularly sophisticated. At about 300 meters long, the alien vessel was studded with what appeared to be plasma weapons. Lifeform readings showed a crew of approximately nine hundred, but they also appeared to be smaller than most humanoids.

“Hail them!” Gaudain ordered as blasts of purple energy flew past the viewer.

The standard friendship greetings went out on all channels, but the aliens didn’t seem to notice or care as they continued to pursue the Apollo. Rhodes had to give Lassus credit for her piloting abilities, as so far, she’d managed to avoid the enemy ship and had avoided slamming the Apollo into any of the asteroids.

“No response,” Knight replied after a moment.

“Open a channel. All frequencies,” the captain replied.

“Open.”

“This is the Federation starship Apollo. We come in peace. We are responding to a distress call,” Gaudain said.

A moment later, a plasma burst collided with the shields. There was negligible damage, but it served as a definite answer to their hail. Rhodes continued his analysis, finding no matches in the ship recognition database to suggest that this species had ever been encountered before by Starfleet.

“Are they holding back?” Gaudain asked.

“I don’t think so, sir. Their weapons are showing an enormous amount of thermal strain even at just that output level,” Lieutenant Schaeffer replied. “Permission to return fire?”

“Negative. Prepare a warning shot across their bow. 50% power,” Gaudain ordered.

Rhodes arched an eyebrow, pleased but slightly surprised at the captain’s restraint. His reputation as a cowboy was evidently a little exaggerated.

“Ready.”

“Fire.”

A beam of energy lashed out from the Apollo, passing within a few dozen meters of the alien ship, but not causing any damage. For a moment, the other ship stopped firing altogether as they apparently considered the ramifications of that message. A moment later, there was a pulse of light from the other ship, coupled with a high-band transmission. Before the Apollo could react, the other ship jumped to warp, re-cloaking before they could get a vector on her.

“What the hell just happened?” Gaudain asked, turning to Knight and Rhodes.

“It was a message, sir, but I have no linguistic frame of reference to even begin to translate,” Knight replied. He blanched when Gaudain’s eyes locked on his. “But… I’m sure we’ll have it figured out in no time.”

“Good,” Gaudain replied. “Did we get any information on their ship?”

“Big. Relatively primitive. Large crew, but small crewmen,” Rhodes replied.

“Ah, I guess we’ve passed the part in the day where I get full sentences out of you,” Gaudain quipped, which made Rhodes blush. “That stealth technology’s pretty impressive, though. We had no idea they were in the area.”

Rhodes frowned as he nodded. “Approximately equivalent to a Klingon cloaking device, upon analysis of background radiation scans from before their reveal, sir. I wouldn’t consider them to be a threat unless they were significantly concealing their true power.”

“Noted. Stand down to yellow alert. Helm, swing us back around to the Fleming. I want a full analysis of that ship,” Gaudain ordered, turning his chair back around.

The Apollo darted back through the asteroids to pull alongside the Fleming. Sensor readings showed that the ship had power, though Rhodes was detecting a number of alien devices onboard. There was also a significant amount of organic matter aboard, and it was, for lack of a better word, strange.

“The Fleming is intact, Captain, but it’s definitely been compromised. I’m reading an extremely elevated level of radiation aboard,” Rhodes reported.

“Is their warp core damaged?” Tasev asked from ops. “We should increase our distance if there is a theta radiation hazard.”

“Negative. Their warp core is offline, and looks like it has been for decades… This is different. Gamma radiation is off the chart, which either means this ship has been way too close to a pulsar or there’s radioactive decay in progress,” Rhodes said.

“There’s no fissile material on the ship’s cargo manifest,” Tasev replied.

“They left port without their uranium rods? Shocking,” Gaudain quipped as he turned his chair back around to look over Rhodes’ shoulder again. “Any indication of the source?”

“I’m detecting a number of devices aboard which are not part of the ship’s original design. Without additional evidence, I’m inclined to believe they are the best lead we have,” the science officer said. “There’s also a large amount of biological matter aboard… almost like the ship has a fungal infection,” he said, tapping a few buttons to show gaudain a cross-section of a corridor segment.

The bulkheads were covered with some sort of material the computer was displaying in pulsing red. It wasn’t necessarily a life form, but it was a substantial amount of carbon-based biological material. As he kept scanning, though, there was one thing that he was not finding in the right quantities: bio-mimetic gel.

“We need to know what happened here. Can we send an away team?” Gaudain asked.

“They’d need to be in EV suits. I have no idea what impact the contamination might have on a respiratory system,” Rhodes replied. “We’re not going to be able to learn much more from here, though. The remote access protocols are all offline.”

“I want one of those devices, a sample of the organic material, and the ship’s logs. Rhodes and Schaeffer with me. Lieutenant Shaw and Dr. Bradley, report to Transporter Room One,” Gaudain ordered before leading the way off the bridge. “Tasev, you have the conn.”

Rhodes considered resisting for a moment; there were a few regulations that would have supported keeping Gaudain on the bridge, but he knew that the captain would be extremely difficult to stop once he had an idea in his head. The science officer tapped a button to summon a replacement and then scrambled to follow his commanding officer towards the transporter room.