Standing on the observation deck of Starbase 38, Captain Keziah Nazir’s gaze fixed upon the sprawling repair yards that surrounded the USS Hathaway several kilometres away. Once a pristine symbol of exploration and scientific discovery, the Sagan-class starship Hathaway now bore the visible scars of her battle with the Dominion. Its sleek and elegant exterior had been marred by the ruthless onslaught of enemy fire. The battle damage told a tale of resilience and sacrifice, a testament to the crew’s unwavering determination to protect their vessel and fulfill their mission. The Trill’s heart sank as she assessed the situation, but her determination remained steadfast. She was responsible for her crew and their vessel, and she would see them through this ordeal. It was the least she could do for them after the realisation that their previous commanding officer had not exactly been whom he said he was. They had saved her life on the deck plating of the bridge, and now she would repay them until the bitter end. That meant getting the ship functional again.

Turning to the wall-mounted display beside her, the Captain took in the full view of her ship. The starboard side of the Sagan-class starship displayed the most apparent signs of damage; deep gouges and pockmarked sections stretched across the hull, revealing the underlying duranium plating beneath. The scars varied in size and severity, some shallow and superficial, while others penetrated deep into the ship’s structure, exposing the inner framework. One particularly noticeable gash ran along the length of the primary saucer section, a jagged reminder of a direct hit that had narrowly missed a critical system. The surrounding metal was warped and twisted, evidence of the immense forces that had been unleashed upon it in an assault by three Dominion attack ships. Scorch marks and melted alloys adorned the damaged areas, attestation to the intense power generated by the polar on-based weapons of their enemy.

The lower starboard nacelle, which housed a quarter of the ship’s warp coils and propulsion systems, bore its fair share of battle damage too. Several plasma conduits had been severed, their jagged ends protruding into the empty void of space. The once-smooth and gleaming surface of the nacelle was now marred by charred and blackened patches, where the heat of plasma leaks had left their mark.

Further aft, near the engineering section, the damage was much more severe. A sizable breach had torn through the outer hull, exposing the inner compartments to the unforgiving vacuum of space. Emergency force fields hummed with energy, struggling to contain the breach and preserve the ship’s internal atmosphere. Repair teams worked diligently to reinforce the compromised structure, their efforts were evident in the scaffolding and temporary bulkheads that now lined the damaged area.

As the Captain rotated the image her gaze shifted to the port side of the Sagan-class starship; signs of battle damage were still evident, although not as extensive as on the starboard side. Shallow craters and scorched sections marked the impact of enemy projectiles, serving as a reminder of the constant barrage the ship had endured. Despite the visible damage, there was an undeniable beauty in the scars that embellished the Sagan-class starship. Each wound told a story of bravery, resilience, and sacrifice. They spoke of a crew who had faced adversity head-on, braving the horrors of combat to protect their vessel and their comrades.

While the external damage was a testament to the destructive power of war, it also bore witness to the crew’s determination to rise above it. With every repaired panel and restored system, the starship stood as a symbol of their unwavering spirit and their commitment to carry on, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

As repairs continued and the wounds of battle slowly healed, the Sagan-class starship would once again embark on its mission of exploration, its battle-scarred exterior a reminder of the trials and triumphs that had shaped its journey through the cosmos.

Appearing beside her Captain, Commander Noli, the Hathaway’s first officer, made her presence known with a stifled cough. Noli was a seasoned officer, known for her level-headedness and strategic thinking, and now she was settling into her new role, she was quickly gaining a reputation for high expectations. “Captain, we have preliminary damage reports from all departments,” Noli said, her voice filled with concern. “It’s going to be a long road to recovery.”

Nazir nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. “I want a full assessment of the damage, Commander. We need to know the extent of the repairs required before we can plan our next move. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

Noli nodded in acknowledgement and swiftly departed to gather the department heads and compile a comprehensive report for their new commander. Meanwhile, Captain Nazir turned her attention to the turbolift, her destination clear. She needed to meet with Lieutenant Prida, the Chief Operations Officer and former engineer, and get an update on the repairs from the miracle worker’s perspective.

Entering Engineering almost ten minutes later, Nazir found Lieutenant Prida huddled with a group of engineers around the diagnostic ‘pool table’, poring over schematics and diagnostic reports. Prida was a highly skilled engineer with a reputation for efficiency and resourcefulness, but she was only there temporarily until a new chief arrived to take the place of their fallen comrade, Udal. She looked up as Nazir approached, a mixture of exhaustion and determination etched on her face.

“Captain,” Prida greeted her, her voice tinged with weariness. “We’ve been working around the clock to assess the damage and prioritize repairs. The warp drive took a direct hit, and our plasma injectors are in dire need of repair. It’s going to be a complex and time-consuming process, but we’re making progress.”

Nazir admired Prida’s tenacity, knowing that she was placing the safety and well-being of the crew above all else. “Lieutenant, I want an estimate on when we can get the warp drive back online. Starfleet Command wants us back in the fray as soon as possible.”

Prida nodded, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. “I understand, Captain. I assure you, we’re working as quickly as we can. But we can’t afford to cut corners. Safety is paramount, and we need to ensure the repairs are done to the highest standards.”

Nazir respected Prida’s commitment to safety, knowing that the lives of her crew depended on it. “Of course, Lieutenant. I trust your judgment. Keep me updated on your progress, and let me know if there’s anything I can do to assist.”

“Actually…”

“Yes?” Nazir asked.

“Can you keep the yard engineers away from my engines?” Prida smirked, eliciting a chuckle from her gold-shirted comrades in arms.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the Captain nodded.

With that, the Trill left Engineering, her mind racing with thoughts of the Herculean task ahead. She knew that repairing the Hathaway would require not just technical expertise but also the support and resilience of her people, her crew. She decided to address the crew and provide an update on the repairs, aiming to boost their spirits and foster a sense of unity. Unusual, but not exactly unprecedented either.

Across the ship, in facilities ranging from the bridge to engineering, stellar cartography to the Starlight Lounge, the crew were gathered, huddled, working away on never-ending to-do lists, their faces weary but determined. Over the comm, Captain Nazir spoke to them, projecting an aura of strength and resolve through the tone of her voice. She began her address, her voice echoing through the corridors and rooms of their home.

“Crew of the mighty starship Hathaway,” she began. “In the last few weeks, we have faced adversity head-on, and we have emerged stronger than ever. Much like her people, Hathaway may bear the scars of battle, but her spirit remains unbroken. The repairs may be arduous, but I have unwavering faith in each and every one of you. Together, we will overcome this setback, rise above the difficulties we face and we will return Hathaway to the stars,” Nazir declared, her voice filled with conviction.

It didn’t matter where they were, the crew responded with resounding applause, their fatigue momentarily forgotten. The sense of unity and purpose across the ship was palpable. They were in this together, and they would see their beloved starship restored to its former glory.

Captain’s Log, Stardate 240104.1, Captain Keziah Nazir commanding.

 

The USS Hathaway finds itself in an unexpected state of tedium as we remain docked at Starbase 38 for much-needed repairs. While I understand the necessity of these repairs for the safety and efficiency of our ship, the prolonged period of inactivity has begun to test the patience of our crew. The once bustling halls of the Hathaway now echo with a sense of restlessness. Our crew, accustomed to the constant motion and excitement of spacefaring, find themselves confined within the limits of the starbase. While the amenities and resources provided by Starbase 38 are ample, they cannot replace the freedom and exploration that comes with being on a starship.

 

Commander Noli, our diligent First Officer, continues to oversee the repair efforts alongside Lieutenant Prida. Their dedication and attention to detail ensures that our ship will be restored to its optimal condition… Eventually. However, I can sense the frustration within the crew, yearning to set sail once more and resume our mission.

 

To mitigate the effects of this prolonged stay, I have encouraged the crew to engage in additional training exercises and simulations. This not only helps to maintain their skills and readiness but also provides a temporary respite from the monotony of our current situation. I, too, share in the restlessness that permeates the ship. As a Captain, I find myself longing for the open expanse of space and the uncharted territories that lie beyond. However, I must maintain a sense of composure and patience, understanding that these repairs are essential for the continued success of our mission and the safety of our crew.

 

While the repairs progress at a steady pace, I eagerly await the day when Hathaway can once again venture into the vastness of space. Until then, we must persevere through this temporary period of monotony, focusing on maintaining our skills, fostering camaraderie between personnel new and old, and preparing for the adventures that await us upon our eventual return to Deep Space 17.

Days soon turned into weeks, and the repairs on the Hathaway continued much to everyone’s chagrin. The starbase’s repair facilities buzzed with activity, as engineers and technicians worked tirelessly to bring the ship back to full operational capacity. She was, at least, free of many of the support mechanisms put in place by the yard engineers and was again operating under her own power. Lieutenant Prida, overseeing every aspect of the repairs alongside Commander Noli, ensured that progress was steady and efficient, but still, her work was being hampered by the fact she was pulling regular double shifts between engineering and her role as chief of operations. How Starfleet had yet to assign a new chief engineer was beyond everyone, even the captain, who had requested permission to appoint one, but had been told someone was on the way. It was frustrating, to say the least.

Hathaway’s corridors once again smelt and looked like new, for the most part, but they echoed with weariness as the crew navigated their way to their stations and about their business. Weeks of unrelenting conflict had taken a toll on their health and morale, and now they were stuck at a starbase, little seemed to be improving. Captain Keziah Nazir, as composed and empathetic as she was, knew that it was time to address the crew’s well-being with a new colleague, but someone keenly aware of many aboard the ship. She sought out the sharp-witted and highly knowledgeable Lieutenant Commander Zinn, the ship’s acerbic Deltan Chief Medical Officer. Zinn was known for his sarcastic sense of humour, which sometimes masked his deep compassion for his patients, or so she had been told by Commander Noli, who had previously served with Zinn aboard Santa Fe and Ulysses.

Entering Sickbay, Captain Nazir found Zinn reviewing medical reports with a raised eyebrow and a quirk of his lips.

“Commander Zinn,” the Trill nodded to her new colleague, “we need to discuss the crew’s health and morale. This shift from a constant state of war to being cooped up at a starbase with no end in sight has taken its toll on everyone. What can we do to address the situation?”

Lieutenant Commander Zinn, peering over his PADD with a sardonic grin, replied, “Ah, Captain Nazir, the hero of the hour. You finally realised that bruises and broken spirits don’t make for a happy crew?”

Captain Nazir, undeterred by Zinn’s sarcasm, responded calmly, “I’ve always prioritized the well-being of our crew, Doctor. Now more than ever, we need to address their physical and emotional needs.”

Zinn, feigning surprise, retorted, “Oh, really? I had no idea you cared so deeply. But fret not, Captain, for I have already devised a plan to tend to our ailing crew.”

Curiosity piqued, Nazir leaned in, awaiting Zinn’s proposal.

Doctor Zinn, with a twinkle in his eye, continued, “Firstly, we shall conduct regular physical assessments to ensure no one’s insides are falling apart. Can’t have our crew members spontaneously combusting, now can we?”

Captain Nazir suppressed a smile, appreciating Zinn’s unique approach. “And what about their mental well-being? We must address the emotional toll this war has taken more than we should the physical symptoms.”

Zinn, leaning back in his chair, crossed his arms and replied, “Ah, the mind, a mysterious abyss. Fear not, Captain, for we shall offer counselling sessions where crew members can unload their tales of woe and despair. I’ll even share my collection of inspirational posters with Vittoria to lighten the mood.”

The Trill chuckled, impressed by Zinn’s ability to infuse levity into a serious discussion. “I’m glad to see you taking this seriously, Lieutenant Commander. Our crew needs both the medical expertise and the wit you bring to the table.”

Zinn, feigning mock offence, replied, “Oh, Captain, I assure you, I am all seriousness wrapped in a package of sarcastic charm.”

Captain Nazir nodded, appreciating Zinn’s unique way of handling delicate matters. He was exactly as Noli, Prida and the Counsellor had described him. “Thank you, Commander. Your wit and knowledge are invaluable to our crew’s well-being. Let’s work together to ensure their health and morale are restored and they don’t go crazy stuck out here.”

The Deltan, grinning mischievously, stood up and saluted. “Fear not, Captain, for I shall wield my sarcasm like a mighty sword, battling the woes of war with every quip and jest I can summon.”

Captain Nazir laughed, a warmth spreading through her. The bond between the captain and her witty Chief Medical Officer would be forged in moments like these, when they acknowledged the struggles their crew faced and resolved to uplift them, together. If he was as genuine as he seemed, anyway.

As they ventured back to their respective duties, Captain Nazir knew that with Zinn’s knowledge, sarcasm, and compassion, they would lead their crew through the darkest of times, not only healing their bodies but also rekindling their spirits. Together, they would navigate the treacherous waters of war, with banter and empathy lighting their way.

If only they had known just how treacherous those waters were yet to become.

Engrossed in reviewing damage reports from across the Deneb Sector, Captain Keziah Nazir sat in her ready room aboard the Hathaway, sipping tea with her feet up on her desk. The atmosphere across the ship was calm and focused, the crew carrying out their duties as diligently as ever. However, her peace was soon disrupted by a chirping sound from her communication panel.

“Captain,” Ensign Ashrin Th’killen, her dedicated communications officer and deputy chief of operations, spoke through the intercom, “I have an incoming transmission from Starfleet Command. It’s an urgent message regarding a personnel assignment.”

Nazir’s eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. “Put it through, Lieutenant,” she instructed, dropping her feet to the floor and adjusting her posture.

The screen in front of her flickered to life, revealing the face of Captain Romaes, a stern and no-nonsense officer known for his sharp intellect and unwavering dedication to Starfleet, the new Task Force commander for Task Force 17, and Nazir’s immediate superior.

“Captain Nazir, I hope I find you well,” Romaes greeted, his expression serious despite the smile he forced across his face.

“Indeed, Captain,” Nazir replied, straightening in her chair. “How may I be of service?”

Captain Romaes’ gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained businesslike. “Captain, I have solved a personnel problem for you. Commander Felix Bachmann will be joining your crew as the new Strategic Operations officer.”

Nazir’s heart skipped a beat, her face betraying a flicker of dismay before she regained her composure. Bachmann, her old foil from their time together on the USS Prometheus, was not a person she held in high regard. They had clashed on numerous occasions, and their disagreements had ensured their time on Prometheus had not ended amicably.

“Commander Bachmann,” Nazir repeated, trying to mask her unease. “May I ask why he is being assigned to my ship?”

Captain Romaes sighed, his eyes searching Nazir’s face. “Keziah, we need his expertise on the Hathaway. His strategic acumen and experience will be invaluable in your upcoming mission. He’ll brief you when he arrives.”

Nazir’s grip tightened on the armrest of her chair, her voice remaining steady despite the turmoil inside. “Understood, Captain. I will ensure a smooth transition for Commander Bachmann.”

“I expected nothing less,” Romaes smiled, appreciative of her acceptance of her orders. Reuniting them had never been on the cards, until recent events anyway.

After sharing some pleasantries and a word of congratulations on the Bajoran’s recent promotion, the screen went blank, leaving Keziah alone with her thoughts. She couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in her stomach, and she was unable to tell whether that was just her, or a mixture of feelings from the Nazir symbiont too. The prospect of working closely with Bachmann again stirred up a mixture of anger and frustration. She had hoped to never cross paths with him again, but now it seemed fate had other plans.

As she pondered her predicament, the door to her ready room chimed, signalling an incoming visitor. “Come in,” she called, her voice resolute.

The doors slid open, and Commander Noli, her trusted first officer, stepped inside. Noli’s blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she took in Nazir’s composed but distant expression.

“Captain,” Noli greeted, her tone cautious. “I just heard about Commander Bachmann’s assignment. How do you feel about it?”

Nazir sighed, her frustration slipping through her façade for a brief moment. “To be honest, Noli, I’m not thrilled about his arrival. Our history together is less than pleasant.”

Noli nodded sympathetically, having seen the clash between the Captain and her former XO first-hand during a brief stint aboard Prometheus herself. Leaning forward slightly, her hand resting gently on Nazir’s desk to support her stance. “I understand, Captain. But we will deal with it together. We won’t let his presence jeopardise our mission or the harmony of the crew.”

Nazir’s features softened, a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Noli. Your support means a lot. Hopefully, we can deal with whatever he brings us, and then we can part ways.”

Noli smiled warmly. “Of course, Captain. We’ve faced challenges before, and we’ve always come out stronger. This will be no different.”

Nazir nodded, a renewed determination settling within her. She couldn’t change the circumstances, but she could control how she reacted to them. She would face Bachmann head-on, maintaining a professional front while ensuring the welfare of her crew. For a moment, her thoughts settled on poor Or’uil. The young Ungeat had been through so much in the last few weeks, and now he would come face to face with a man who had made his life a living torment.

“We’ll make it work, Noli,” Nazir affirmed, her voice steady.

With a shared understanding, the two officers left the ready room, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead of them, whatever they would be. The news of the arrival of Commander Bachmann may have brought discomfort and unease, but the Trill mistress of the Hathaway was resolved to navigate this new chapter with integrity and strength. She just hoped that Bachmann might have learned a lesson or two since his… departure… from Prometheus.

Several hours later, Captain Keziah Nazir stood in the bustling shuttlebay of the USS Hathaway, her eyes fixed on the incoming shuttlecraft. She clenched her fists, trying to hide her growing unease. Today marked a significant change for her crew, as Commander Felix Bachmann, a man she knew all too well, was about to join them as the new Strategic Operations officer. Nazir couldn’t help but feel a sense of apprehension and dissatisfaction every time she thought about his impending arrival. She had served with Bachmann before, during their time on the USS Prometheus, and his presence had not been a pleasant one.

As the shuttlecraft touched down and the doors hissed open, Commander Bachmann emerged; a tall, ageing figure with a commanding presence. His white hair and matching moustache, coupled with his imposing stature, made him appear even more formidable. Nazir suppressed a sigh and straightened her uniform, determined to maintain a professional demeanour despite her reservations.

“Commander Bachmann, welcome aboard the USS Hathaway,” she greeted, mustering a polite smile.

Bachmann’s cold, calculating eyes studied her for a moment before he nodded curtly. “Captain Nazir. It seems fate has reunited us once again.”

Nazir’s smile faltered slightly, but she quickly composed herself. “Indeed, Commander. Starfleet has seen fit to assign you to our ship, and I trust you will bring valuable expertise to our operations.”

Bachmann’s lips curled into a smug smile. “Rest assured, Captain. My experience and knowledge will undoubtedly prove useful to this crew. You will definitely want to hear what I have to say.”

Nazir couldn’t help but recall their time on the Prometheus, where Bachmann had displayed a ruthlessness that made her question his moral compass. She knew she had to remain cautious and keep a close eye on him; their past encounters had left scars, and she wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.

“Shall we proceed to the observation lounge?” Nazir suggested, gesturing toward the exit. “We can discuss your role and responsibilities there.”

Bachmann nodded, following her lead as they made their way through the bustling corridors of the ship. The tension between them was palpable, the weight of their shared history looming over their every interaction.

Upon reaching the observation lounge, they found Commander Noli, the ship’s first officer, waiting for them. Noli, a striking blonde beauty, had an air of authority about her that commanded respect. As she caught sight of Bachmann, her expression darkened, mirroring Nazir’s sentiments.

“Captain, Commander Bachmann,” Noli greeted, her voice tinged with barely concealed animosity. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Bachmann’s smile widened, unaffected by Noli’s icy reception. “Commander Noli, always a pleasure,” he replied, his tone dripping with insincerity. “I bring news regarding your missing colleague, Captain Tharia sh’Elas.”

Noli’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Captain sh’Elas. She was more than simply presumed dead, her body had been seen by several of the crew having sacrificed herself to save the crew during the Blood Dilithium crisis. The loss had weighed heavily on the Ulysses crew, causing many to seek a fresh start and arrive aboard Hathaway. Despite this, the wounds were still fresh for many of them.

Nazir’s eyes narrowed, her voice laced with scepticism. “Captain sh’Elas is dead, Bachmann. Several of the crew saw her die with their own eyes. You read the mission reports when they boarded Prometheus,” she reminded him.

Bachmann’s smile faded, replaced by a grim determination. “I understand your doubts, Captain. But Starfleet Intelligence has gathered intel that confirms that the individual we believed to be Captain sh’Elas was, in fact, a Changeling imposter.”

Noli shook her head. “Not possible. Tharia died months before the Lost Fleet emerged from the wormhole,” she reminded him sternly, “there is no way that there could have been a Changeling aboard Ulysses then.”

“No one thought that a Changeling infiltration and a second war with the Dominion was possible now,” Bachmann told her, “but here we are. The truth is, we have no way of knowing how long the Changelings have been operating in Starfleet, preparing for the invasion of Deneb.”

“Why has Starfleet not acted on this intelligence sooner?” Noli queried, looking between the Captain and her former XO.

“I’m not here by order of Starfleet. I’m here because Fourth Fleet intelligence learned the truth during the Deneb conflict, and shared that information with Captain Romaes. He sent me here,” Felix told them all, eliciting a wry smile from both. Of course Starfleet hadn’t acted, they hadn’t lifted a finger to prevent the Dominion incursion. It was only thanks to the Fourth’s efforts that they had been turned back at all. Some in Starfleet, and even those in the wider Federation thanks to the FNN still maintained that the fighting had been a minor skirmish with the Breen.

Nazir’s mind raced, her thoughts intertwining with a mix of hope and apprehension. If there was a chance that Captain sh’Elas was alive, it meant they had an opportunity to bring her back, to bring comfort and solace to her friends and family. Surely that was worth it?

“Okay, let me play Devil’s Advocate here. Let’s say she is alive – we need to find her,” Nazir stated firmly, her eyes locking with Bachmann’s. “Where do we begin?”

Bachmann retrieved a small data pad from his pocket and activated it, projecting a holographic map of the Andoria system. “Captain sh’Elas hails from Andoria, her homeworld. It’s also where Captain Gor supposedly took her remains, but given the fact that he recently turned out to be a Changeling, who knows what’s there? Our mission should start there, and then follow any leads that may bring us closer to her,” the older man suggested, folding his arms across his chest.

Noli’s scepticism lingered, but the glimmer of hope in her eyes was unmistakable. “Andoria it is then,” she affirmed, her voice firm. “If she is alive, we owe it to Captain sh’Elas to bring her home.”

Nazir nodded, determination etched into her features. “Prepare the crew for departure, Commander Noli. We have a mission to undertake, and Captain sh’Elas’s life may depend on our success.”

As the three officers left the observation lounge, a renewed sense of purpose settled upon them. The shadows of their past grievances with Bachmann lingered, but for now, they were united by a common goal—to find and rescue Captain Tharia sh’Elas, and to bring her back to the Hathaway, no matter the challenges they would face along the way.

At the end of a long shift working on the shield grid with the engineering team, Lieutenant Or’uil now sat in his quarters, his eyes fixated on a small holophoto of his family from his homeworld, Uviri. It had been a few weeks since the Hathaway had played a pivotal role in the liberation of his planet from the clutches of the Dominion. The scars of the conflict were still fresh, both physically and emotionally, but Or’uil found solace in the fact that he had chosen to remain with the crew, his adopted family, to aid in their rebuilding efforts.

As he contemplated the recent events, the door chime interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” Or’uil called, his voice tinged with weariness.

Commander Noli, the blonde beauty herself, entered the room with a quiet determination in her eyes. She had become a trusted confidant and friend to Or’uil during their time together on the Hathaway, and even more so since she had become his mentor and guide once he assumed her old role as Chief Tactical Operations Officer. Her presence brought a sense of comfort and understanding, something he desperately needed after the trials he had endured of late. Even now, he struggled with his decision to remain with Starfleet, rather than return home to his people.

“Or’uil,” Noli greeted warmly, her voice filled with genuine concern. “May I come in?”

Or’uil nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Of course, Noli. Please, sit.”

Noli settled into a nearby chair, her gaze fixed on Or’uil. “I wanted to talk to you about something important,” she began, her voice gentle yet resolute. “Commander Felix Bachmann will be joining our crew.”

If it was even possible, Or’uil’s bulbous green eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of emotions coursing through his veins. The name Bachmann stirred deep-seated memories of torment and humiliation, bordering on outright xenophobia. He had endured the cruel games and mockery inflicted upon him during their time together aboard the starship Prometheus. The mere thought of Bachmann’s presence on Hathaway made Or’uil’s heart race with a mix of fear and anger.

“No,” Or’uil whispered, his synthesised voice barely audible. “Not him. I cannot… I will not go through that again.”

Noli reached out, her hand gently resting on Or’uil’s shoulder. “Or’uil, listen to me. I know the pain and suffering he caused you. But things are different now. You have people who care about you, people who would never see you harmed. I won’t let Bachmann get away with his old tricks, not while I’m the first officer.”

Or’uil’s eyes met Noli’s, searching for the truth behind her words. He saw the sincerity in her gaze, the unwavering determination etched on her face. The bond they had formed during their time together had grown into something akin to family, and Noli cared for him like a brother. He would reciprocate that feeling at every opportunity he could.

“You mean that, Noli?” Or’uil asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Noli nodded, her voice filled with conviction. “I promise you, Or’uil. We’ve all been through too much together to let one person tear us apart. You’re not alone in this. Prida’s ready to wallop him with a hypospanner; Vittoria’s prepared to detain him on grounds of mental capacity. Hell, Zinn’s even offered to sedate him and lock him in a cry stasis at the first opportunity. We all care about you. We’ll face Bachmann together.”

A surge of gratitude washed over Or’uil, his tense shoulders relaxing under Noli’s touch. She had been a pillar of strength for him, a constant source of support and understanding in recent times. With her by his side, he felt a renewed sense of courage and determination.

“Thank you,” Or’uil whispered, his synthetic voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I don’t know what I would do without you and the others. Your continued friendship means the world to me.”

Noli smiled warmly, a flicker of pride in her eyes as she wrinkled her Bajoran nose. “And your friendship means just as much to all of us, to me, Or’uil. We’ve fought side by side, and we’ll continue to do so. We won’t let the ghosts of the past haunt us.”

With Noli’s assurance and the unbreakable bond they shared, the adolescent Ungeat felt like he could take on the world, let alone one pathetic bully. The presence of Bachmann would undoubtedly stir strong emotions, and not just in him, but he was no longer alone. Noli’s unwavering support would guide him through the challenges ahead, ensuring that they wouldn’t repeat the painful history they had endured.

As they sat together in the quiet of Or’uil’s quarters, a sense of determination settled over them. The journey towards healing and overcoming the scars of their past had just begun, but with Noli’s unwavering support and their shared strength, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, side by side, as true comrades in arms.

The Hathaway senior staff had been gathered in the observation lounge by their Captain, tension filling the room as Commander Felix Bachmann, the newly appointed Strategic Operations officer, prepared to brief them on the mission to locate Captain Tharia sh’Elas. Lieutenant Or’uil, Commander Noli, Captain Keziah Nazir, Lieutenant Prida, Doctor Zinn, and Lieutenant Vittoria Chiera, the ship’s counsellor, took their seats, their expressions a mix of curiosity and scepticism. Rumours had already spread among the senior staff about the topic of their mission, but some could scarcely believe it was even being discussed as a possibility given everything they knew or had witnessed for themselves.

Bachmann stood at the front of the room, his stern gaze scanning the lounge before he began. “Thank you all for being here. As most of you know, we have received intelligence suggesting that Captain sh’Elas may still be alive, despite the reports of her death during the Blood Dilithium crisis in the Delta Quadrant.”

Lieutenant Or’uil, the young Ungeat, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had never met the captain, but many of his friends here had, and if it mattered to them, it mattered to him.

Counsellor Chiera, the badass Betazoid, raised an eyebrow, her scepticism evident. The news of Captain sh’Elas’ possible survival filled her with conflicting emotions. Memories of their encounters and the friendship they had developed came rushing back, but so did the pain of her loss. “Commander Bachmann, we saw Captain sh’Elas die. I was there; I felt it. Are you suggesting that the things we saw, the eyewitness reports that were filed, were all incorrect?”

Bachmann’s expression hardened as he locked eyes with Vittoria. “Counsellor, I understand your scepticism and believe me, Starfleet had a hard time accepting the truth too,” the Strategic Ops chief placed his hands on his hips, “but the Fourth Fleet’s intelligence indicates that Captain sh’Elas may have been replaced by a Changeling imposter, so it is imperative that we investigate and confirm her status.”

Doctor Zinn, the Chief Medical Officer, leaned forward, his voice laced with disbelief. “Commander Bachmann, I examined Captain sh’Elas’ body myself. The wounds were consistent with the manner of her death. Moreover, none of her remains reverted to the gelatinous state we know Changelings exist in when not in solid form. Are you suggesting that a Changeling could replicate her injuries, her form, so convincingly?”

Bachmann’s voice remained steady. “Changelings have always possessed the ability to alter their physical form. We now have intelligence that suggests that it is possible, to some degree, that their ability to change form has evolved. It is entirely possible that they can replicate with far greater accuracy. Ultimately, we cannot dismiss the intelligence we’ve received without further investigation.”

A murmur of disbelief spread around the room at the suggestion that the Changelings may have improved their ability to replicate other lifeforms. Captain Nazir, known for her composed demeanour, spoke up, her voice measured as she nipped the disturbance in the bud. “Commander Bachmann, what is the mission objective? How do we proceed?” She knew, of course, but she prompted him to reveal the plan to the staff.

Bachmann’s eyes darted between the senior staff members before he continued. “Our mission is to ascertain the truth of the matter and, if possible, locate and identify the true Captain sh’Elas. We will be heading to her homeworld of Andoria, where we believe she might have sought refuge. However, this is a classified mission. Once we reach Andoria, we will be under a communications blackout to maintain the element of surprise.”

Lieutenant Prida, the Chief Engineer, crossed her arms defiantly. “And what about the new chief science officer and chief engineer? We still have no news on their replacements. How are we expected to carry out this dangerous mission without a complete senior staff?”

Bachmann’s jaw tightened as he glanced at Captain Nazir before responding. “Starfleet is working on securing replacements for those positions. For now, we will have to rely on the existing crew members’ expertise to prepare this ship for departure. Our priority is to locate Captain sh’Elas and determine the truth of her situation.”

Lieutenant Vittoria Chiera, the ship’s counsellor, spoke up, her voice calm and soothing. “I understand that this is a challenging and emotionally charged mission. As the ship’s counsellor, I want to assure everyone that I will be available to provide support and assistance as needed. We must remain united and focused on the task at hand.”

Captain Nazir leaned forward, her eyes locking with each member of the senior staff. “This mission carries significant risks. It is possible that we may encounter resistance from Allied Starfleet forces who may wish to prevent our investigations, the same people denying the entire Deneb invasion. We must be prepared for any eventuality and work together to bring the truth to light.”

“That does beg the question of Captain Gor,” the Blonde Bombshell asked, looking at the Captain. “Where is he? How do we find him?”

“One step at a time Number One,” the Captain frowned. “Let’s find out what happened to Tharia first.”

As the briefing concluded, the senior staff members exchanged glances, a mixture of determination and uncertainty evident on their faces. They understood the gravity of the mission ahead and the challenges they would face, both internally and externally. With their resolve strengthened, they dispersed, each preparing themselves for the dangerous journey to Andoria, ready to uncover the truth and potentially face yet another hidden enemy within their ranks.

Lieutenant Or’uil left the senior staff briefing feeling a mix of apprehension and unease. The news of Commander Felix Bachmann’s arrival and the mission to locate Captain sh’Elas had stirred up memories of the torment he had endured aboard the starship Prometheus under Bachmann’s command. As he walked down the corridor on Deck 5, lost in his thoughts, he suddenly found himself face to face with the tormentor himself.

Commander Bachmann stood tall and imposing, his icy gaze fixed on the young Ungeat. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he noticed the fear etched on the young man’s features. It was as if Bachmann took perverse joy in witnessing the terror he had once inflicted upon the youngster.

Or’uil’s heart raced, and his mind flooded with traumatic memories. He recalled the long hours of verbal abuse, the constant belittlement, and the relentless psychological games Bachmann had played. The scars were still fresh, buried deep within his psyche but never forgotten.

As Bachmann stepped closer, his voice dripped with disdain. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the pitiful little hobgoblin,” the Strategic Operations officer sneered.

Or’uil’s throat tightened, his body frozen in place. He mustered every ounce of courage he had left and managed a synthesised stammer. “Commander Bachmann, I have no quarrel with you. Please, just let me pass,” he requested as politely as possible.

But Bachmann’s sadistic laughter filled the abandoned corridor, echoing off the walls. “Let you pass? Oh, dear Or’uil, you haven’t changed a bit. Always so weak, always so afraid. What fun would it be to let you off the hook so easily?”

The memories surged within Or’uil, threatening to overwhelm him. He knew he had to escape this torment once more. Summoning his inner strength, he gathered his courage and swiftly turned to flee, his legs carrying him as fast as they could. But Bachmann, enjoying the chase, followed closely behind, relishing the power he held over his prey.

Or’uil’s heart pounded in his chest as he raced through the corridors, desperately searching for a place to hide. Fear consumed him, but he refused to succumb to the helplessness he had felt in the past. He refused to be a victim again.

Finally, the youngster found a momentary respite, slipping into a nearby abandoned quarters and pressing himself against the wall, trying to regulate his breathing. He listened intently, his large ears strained for any sign of Bachmann’s pursuit. Silence filled the air, and slowly, he allowed himself to relax, though the memories still lingered.

Meanwhile, Bachmann stood outside the VIP quarters, a sinister smile playing on his lips. He knew Or’uil had found temporary refuge, but he had no intention of letting him escape permanently. The thought of the young Ungeat’s fear and suffering fueled his sadistic pleasure.

Bachmann’s laughter rang through the corridor once more as he walked away, leaving Or’uil to gather his strength and find solace in the knowledge that he had survived and would continue to fight against the torment of his past.

As Or’uil cautiously emerged from the abandoned suite, his trembling hands wiped away tears of frustration and anger from his bulbous green eyes. He vowed to himself that he would not let Commander Bachmann’s presence on the Hathaway break him. He would find the courage to confront his fears and stand up against the tormentor who had haunted his nightmares for far too long.

Though scared and scarred, Or’uil remained determined to find his own redemption and forge a new path, one where he could reclaim his dignity and prove that he was more than just a victim. With newfound strength, he took a deep breath and walked away, leaving behind the echoes of Bachmann’s laughter, determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead and rise above the darkness that had threatened to consume him.

Drenched in a nervous sweat, Or’uil, the young Ungeat with his distinctive features—brown skin, bulbous green eyes, and large, pointed ears—awoke with a start. His heart raced in his chest, the remnants of the vivid nightmare still fresh in his mind. It was another nightmarish encounter with Bachmann, the looming figure from his past, the tormentor in chief.

Gasping for breath, the young Ungeat sat up in his bed, his hands trembling. The images from the dream lingered, haunting his thoughts. In his nightmare, Bachmann’s towering presence dominated the corridors of power aboard Hathaway, his sharp gaze filled with disdain. Or’uil relived the torment and humiliation he had endured during their time aboard the Prometheus, the memories reopening old wounds that he had hoped were healed.

Trying to steady his breathing, he glanced around his quarters, seeking solace in familiar surroundings. His eyes fell upon a small collection of trinkets—a carved figurine from his homeworld, a handwritten note from Commander Noli, and a holophoto of his family. They were reminders of the love and support he had found since joining the crew of the Hathaway. They were the things he had to try and focus on.

Closing his eyes, the adolescent Ungeat attempted to calm his racing heart, he reminded himself that Bachmann was just a figure from his past, a memory he had overcome once before. He had endured and survived the torment, and he would do so again. He had to.

Taking a deep breath, Or’uil swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He moved with purpose, splashing his face with cold water from the nearby basin, the coolness against his skin helping to ground him, bringing a sense of clarity to his racing thoughts. Determined not to let his nightmares dictate his emotions, he began a series of grounding exercises that Vittoria had been teaching him during their sessions, focusing on the sensations of his body—each breath, the feel of his feet against the floor, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Gradually, his nervous sweats subsided, replaced by a growing sense of calm and inner strength.

Feeling more composed, he finally felt able to take the shower he so desperately needed in order to freshen up for the day ahead… and the far more real encounter with Bachmann that was to be expected.

In the vast expanse of space, a small Runabout hurtled through the starlit abyss. Its sleek exterior gleamed under the distant glow of celestial bodies, as it ventured forth on its purposeful journey.

Within the compact cockpit, two crew members operated with utmost precision. Skilled hands manoeuvred the controls, deftly plotting a course through the infinite reaches of space. The low hum of the engines provided a steady rhythm, harmonising with the pulsing starscape outside.

Through the wide viewport, a breathtaking cosmic tableau unfolded. Nebulous clouds of vibrant hues drifted by, casting ethereal shadows on the ship’s hull. Distant galaxies dotted the expanse, their twinkling lights like celestial beacons guiding the way. Inside the Runabout, the atmosphere was one of focus and determination. Crew members, adorned in their Starfleet uniforms, worked in tandem, their expertise honed through years of training. The ship’s instruments hummed with data, displaying a wealth of information about the surrounding cosmos.

As the Runabout sailed through the depths of space, it carried with it the hopes and aspirations of its crew. With each passing moment, the Runabout ventured further into the unknown, its engines propelling it forward with a sense of purpose. In the vast expanse of the cosmos, it was a mere speck, yet within its compact confines, it housed the potential for extraordinary discoveries and untold adventures.

Lieutenant Commander Denen Nes, a Tellarite with short brown hair and a short beard, sat restlessly in the small cockpit of the Runabout. He was a seasoned engineer, having served as the Chief Engineer of the Galaxy-class USS Solaria for several years. Denen’s reputation for his engineering prowess was well-known, but so was his argumentative and brash demeanour, often bordering on rudeness.

Beside him, Lieutenant Commander Teyahna, an Orion/Romulan hybrid with light green skin, pointed ears, and beautifully styled hair, exuded an air of calm and confidence. As the former Chief Science Officer aboard the USS Asgard, an Excelsior-II Class heavy cruiser, Teyahna had also earned recognition for her intelligence and quick wit. While Denen’s company grated on her nerves, she matched his temperament with sarcasm and cockiness.

Two days had passed since they had departed Deneb, and the cramped Runabout had become their temporary prison. The close quarters had exacerbated their contrasting personalities, and the tension between them was palpable. His eating habits, consisting of messy, noisy slurps and an insatiable appetite, grated on Teyahna’s nerves. Meanwhile, her constant preening and meticulous grooming irritated Denen to no end. ‘Beauty before Duty’ seemed to be her mantra, well, according to the Tellarite anyway.

Completing yet another sensor sweep, Denen let out a loud and exaggerated sigh, making sure to capture Teyahna’s attention. “Is there no end to this journey, this turmoil?! I’d rather be back on the Solaria, where I had a proper workspace and a crew who knew how to appreciate my talents.”

Teyahna raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. “Oh, I’m sure the Solaria is weeping at the loss of your delightful company, Denen. But hey, look on the bright side,” she paused and turned to look him dead in the eye, “at least you’re stuck with me instead.”

Denen shot her a withering glare, his Tellarite, pig-like features contorted with annoyance. “Lucky me.”

The Runabout hummed with the dull sound of the engines, and the silence settled between them. Teyahna couldn’t help but feel a flicker of amusement amidst the tension. As much as Denen’s brashness irked her, she couldn’t deny the intelligence and reputation that preceded him.

Breaking the silence, she leaned back in her seat, a smirk causing wrinkles in her delicate cheeks. “You know, Denen, despite your unbearable eating habits and insufferable grumpiness, I do have to admit that you’re one of the finest engineers I’ve had the pleasure of being cooped up with.”

Denen snorted, his gruff exterior softening ever so slightly. “Well, I suppose you’re not entirely intolerable yourself. Your scientific acumen is commendable, even if your incessant preening drives me insane.”

Teyahna laughed, the tension between them easing just a fraction. “Ah, Denen, the grumpy genius. I can’t wait to see the crew’s reaction when we finally arrive on the Hathaway and they are presented with… you. It’ll be an adventure, won’t it?” She asked him playfully.

Denen grumbled, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose it will be. Brace yourself, though. Our reputations precede us, and I doubt this journey will be smooth sailing.”

With yet another day of travel under their proverbial belts, the monotony of their journey was wearing on their last, frayed nerves, and the close quarters only exacerbated their growing frustration. Teyahna, seeking respite from the tedium, had dozed off at the helm, allowing the autopilot to guide the ship for the rest of its journey to Starbase 38.

As Teyahna drifted into a restless sleep, Denen seized the opportunity to break the silence. He accessed the ship’s audio system and cranked up the volume, filling the small cockpit with his preferred style of music—a cacophony of warbling and clashing tones. Tellarite opera. The sudden burst of sound jolted Teyahna awake, her eyes snapping open with annoyance.

“What in the name of all the galaxies is that noise?!” Teyahna exclaimed, rubbing her temples. “Denen, I swear, if you don’t turn that off this instant, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Denen smirked, enjoying the reaction he had elicited. “Come on, Teyahna, it’s good for the soul. You need some excitement in your life.”

“Excitement? This is not excitement, Denen, this is pure torture,” Teyahna shot back, her voice laced with irritation. “We’re stuck in this tin can together, and you insist on subjecting me to your questionable taste in music.”

“It is the very best Tellarite opera!” The engineer countered, his voice almost at a crescendo.

The argument escalated as tempers flared, their words lashing out at each other in the confines of the cockpit. The tension reached its peak when a loud alarm blared through the small craft, interrupting their heated exchange. They both fell silent, their annoyance momentarily forgotten.

“What’s happening?” Teyahna asked, her voice now filled with concern.

Denen quickly checked the console and his eyes widened with alarm. “We’re approaching Starbase 38 too fast! We need to take control and bring us out of warp.”

Working in unison, the bickering officers snapped back into their professional roles. Denen took hold of the controls and skillfully manoeuvred the Runabout, disengaging the warp drive and slowing their approach. The enormous expanse of Starbase 38 came into view, its massive structure stretching out into space.

As they entered the hangar doors, their anxious expressions eased, and a spark of excitement flickered in their eyes. The sight of the USS Hathaway, their new home, evoked a sense of relief and anticipation. It was a magnificent starship, sleek and formidable, with four lengthy nacelles protruding aft. She sat, motionless and silent, waiting to welcome them.

In a matter of minutes, the Hathaway signalled their permission to dock, and the Runabout occupants soon found themselves under the care of the starship’s tractor emitter, guiding them safely to port. Once the clatter of the Runabout hitting the deck plating of the shuttle bay reverberated through the small auxiliary craft, the two officers grabbed their belongings and swiftly disembarked, stepping onto the unfamiliar deck of their new vessel. The hustle and bustle of Starfleet personnel surrounded them, the energy and purpose in the air refreshing after their prolonged confinement.

Denen turned to Teyahna, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, Teyahna, it seems we’ve finally arrived. Our new home.”

Teyahna mirrored his smile, her eyes shining with newfound enthusiasm. “Indeed. Despite our differences and the bumpy journey, I think we’re going to make quite the team here.”

As they walked together towards the exit, the two felt a surge of optimism wash over them. The shared experience of the arduous journey had forged a connection, and their bickering had given way to a newfound camaraderie. While one supposedly hated the idea of a new home, the other treated the opportunity as an adventure. Both, however, would soon realise that this crew needed them almost as much as they would need their new crewmates.

Emerging from the port side turbo lift, Denen and Teyahna felt a surge of excitement as they stepped onto the bridge. The sleek and sophisticated command centre was a testament to the technological marvels of Starfleet in the 25th century. Their eyes widened as they took in the panoramic views of the vast expanse of space displayed on the main viewscreen that dominated the entire forward bulkhead (and then some).

Seated in the command chair, Captain Keziah Nazir greeted the officers with a warm smile. Her presence exuded confidence and authority, and they were immediately struck by her commanding presence. As well as the relief etched into the fine lines on her otherwise blemish-free face. They approached her, offering their respectful greetings and confirming their orders to join her crew. After a few minutes of conversation, regaling tales of their previous postings and what brought them to Hathaway, the Captain could sense that these two officers, these seasoned pros and experts in their respective fields, were the right fit for their mission.

Pleased to have the final missing pieces to her puzzle, the formalities concluded, and the Captain’s gaze shifted to the bustling operations on the bridge.

Entering the bridge from the observation lounge, Commander Noli immediately noted the newcomers and approached them, extending a warm welcome whilst letting them know (in no uncertain terms) that when it came to crew performance, her expectations were massive. Denen approved, Teyahna not so much. But despite this, the scientist noted that Noli’s demeanour was friendly yet authoritative, and she exuded a sense of camaraderie that put everyone (mostly everyone) at ease.

While the introductions and pleasantries unfolded behind the forward stations, Lieutenant Prida, Denen’s immediate predecessor, busily coordinated with Station Operations to obtain clearance for the Hathaway’s departure. The ship’s systems hummed with anticipation, awaiting the green light for their journey.

Finally, the awaited permission arrived. Captain Nazir, her voice steady and confident, gave the order to Lieutenant Mitchell to initiate their departure. With a touch of his console, Flyboy expertly guided Hathaway as it gracefully manoeuvred away from the mooring arms. The massive hangar doors slowly parted, revealing the breathtaking expanse of space beyond, and as the ship inched forward, its thrusters propelling it with precision and grace, she cleared the threshold and pulled away into the vastness of the cosmos.

Denen and Teyahna found themselves gripping the edges of their stations, their excitement mounting as they felt the exhilaration of the ship’s propulsion. The stars streaked by in mesmerizing trails of light as the Hathaway surged forward, its destination set, and its mission awaiting them. Denen shot his new friend a look as if to acknowledge the seamless transition of the ship from impulse to the maximum velocities available to her.

A chiming from the operations station drew the Captain’s attention, pulling the Trill out of her seat to take a look at Prida’s disturbance, After sharing a confused glance and a shrug of the shoulders with her young colleague, the Captain turned on her feet and nodded at Noli.

“You have the bridge, Number One. I’ll be in the ready room,” Nazir informed her executive, then vanished into the private office.

Watching the Captain vacate the bridge, Noli took a few steps from the command area and rested her hand on the headrest behind Prida. “Lieutenant?” She queried, looking down at the Bajassian with a raised eyebrow.

“Fleet Captain Romaes…” she shrugged, smirking at the emphasis she put on the new TFCO’s rank, knowing full well the reaction it would draw from her colleague.

“For prophet’s sake! Will that man’s ego ever rest? First TFXO, then Discovery, after that it’s TFCO, and now bloody Fleet Captain…” The blonde’s moaning about their brethren caused the younger woman to chuckle. “Go on, what does he want this time?” She asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” the Ops chief shrugged again, “it’s Captain’s priority.”

As the nightmare words left the youngster’s mouth, Noli’s arms dropped to her side and she could feel the frown lines forming on her forehead. Captain’s priority meant only one thing: trouble.

Pacing back and forth in the confines of her ready room, Nazir’s frustration mounted with each passing second. Summoning all of her composure, the Trill pressed the intercom button on her desk and opened a channel across the ship. “Commander Bachmann, report to my ready room immediately,” she commanded, her voice firm and resolute.

Moments later, the doors to the ready room slid open, and Commander Felix Bachmann entered, his expression a mix of arrogance and annoyance. As the new Strategic Operations officer, he had brought with him the already established reputation he had regarding his abrasive personality and disdain for authority.

“What’s the matter, Captain?” Bachmann sneered, not bothering to conceal his insolence. “Another detail you need to nitpick from my briefing?”

Captain Nazir glared at him, her eyes narrowing. She knew Bachmann well, better than anyone else aboard, having served with him as her first officer on the USS Prometheus. Their history was fraught with tension and conflict, and now, with him aboard her ship once again, it seemed that history was destined to repeat itself despite her best efforts.

“Sit down, Commander,” she said through gritted teeth, gesturing towards the chair in front of her desk. “We have a problem, and we need to address it immediately.”

Bachmann reluctantly took a seat, his posture defiant and his gaze filled with contempt. “Shall we get to the point, Captain?” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

Keziah took a deep breath, steeling herself against his hostility. She knew she had to remain calm and composed, despite the tempest brewing within her. She leaned forward, arms folded across her chest defensively, her eyes locked with Bachmann’s.

“I’ve just received a rather illuminating, but quite distressing report from Fleet Captain Romaes,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with concern. “The report reveals the startling information that Captain Gor, a friend and colleague of many here, is also believed to be on Andoria, the same planet we’ve been tasked to investigate in search of Captain sh’Elas,” she told sternly. It was a double blow, two missing captain’s that she now had to track down, and the weight of the responsibility was pressing heavily on her shoulders.

Bachmann’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he quickly composed himself. He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin spreading across his lips.

“Well, Captain, it seems we have quite the mission ahead of us,” he taunted, his words laced with arrogance. “Two missing colleagues to find. Quite the burden on your shoulders, isn’t it?”

Nazir’s anger surged, and it took everything she could muster to keep it in check, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her unravel. She knew Bachmann’s true nature, his desire to exert control and manipulate those around him. She’d never seen it, but she’d heard about it, and it had been reported through official channels. And it was now rearing its ugly head once again.

“Let’s be clear, Commander,” she replied, her voice icy and determined. “This mission is not about power plays or personal vendettas. It’s about finding our missing comrades and bringing them back safely.”

Leaning forward, Bachmann’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Oh, I’m well aware of that, Captain,” he sneered. “But it seems you forget that I know your dirty little secret. The one you’ve kept hidden for some time.”

Nazir’s heart skipped a beat, a wave of fear and nausea reverberating somewhere between her stomach and her symbiont. She had hoped to keep her past buried, to protect herself and her career. But now, faced with Bachmann’s threat, she realized her secret was hanging by a thread.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of defiance and trepidation.

Bachmann chuckled darkly, relishing in her vulnerability. “Oh, Captain, you underestimate me,” he replied, a sinister glint in his eyes. “If you don’t work with me, if you dare to challenge me or interfere with my plans, I’ll make sure Fleet Captain Romaes and the rest of the Fourth Fleet command learn the truth. And we both know the consequences that would have for you.”

Keziah’s mind raced, weighing her options. She’d spent decades forming a reputation as someone to be respected and admired. But she also knew Bachmann was capable of carrying out his threat, exposing her past and jeopardizing everything she had worked for. She also knew that her duty as a Starfleet officer demanded she put the lives of her crew and the search for their missing colleagues above her personal fears.

Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with Bachmann, determination shining through her fear. “Fine, Commander,” she said, her voice steady and resolute. “We’ll work together. But make no mistake, I won’t let you undermine this mission or risk the safety of this crew. We find our colleagues, and we do it together.”

Bachmann’s smug grin faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he realized he had not fully broken her spirit. “Very well, Captain,” he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and begrudging acceptance. “But don’t think for a second that this changes anything between us.”

Nazir nodded, her gaze unwavering as she glared at his retreating head so hard she thought she might blow it up with hitherto undiscovered mental abilities. At least, she hoped she would. She knew the challenges that lay ahead, in finding their missing colleagues, but now she had to also navigate the treacherous waters of her own secret. Something that she was resolved to face head-on, especially if it meant her crew and upholding the values of Starfleet.

No matter the personal cost.

Stepping onto the bridge, her mind focused and determined, Keziah took in the sight that awaited her. A gathering of the senior staff had occurred over the last forty minutes or so, awaiting her return with bated breath. She took her place centre stage, her eyes sweeping across the faces of her crew.

“Attention, everyone,” she began, her voice commanding the room’s attention. “I have just received new information from Fleet Captain Romaes pertaining to our mission. It would appear that the latest intelligence indicates Vasoch Gor to be on Andoria.”

A murmur of surprise and anticipation spread through the bridge. The possibility of finding not one but two missing comrades sent a surge of hope through their hearts.

Captain Nazir continued, her voice steady and resolute. “Captain Gor was last spotted following a climbing expedition with a member of the Sojourner crew who was on shore leave. We must proceed with caution and diligence to locate both officers.”

She turned her attention to Vittoria Chiera, the ship’s counsellor. “Counselor, I need you to reach out to Lieutenant th’Zorati aboard the USS Venture. Inform her of the situation and ascertain what you can about the return of Captain sh’Elas’ body to her family. We must find the truth and, if needed, provide closure for the family in this difficult time.”

Lieutenant Chiera nodded, a look of empathy in her black Betazoid eyes. “I’ll take care of it, Captain,” she said softly, her voice filled with the customary compassion expected of her.

Nazir then turned her gaze to the Blonde Bombshell, the ship’s first officer. “Commander Noli, gather all available information regarding Captain Gor’s last known whereabouts. I want a thorough analysis of whatever you can find, and any leads we can pursue down there. We need to find him and bring him home.”

Commander Noli nodded, her expression determined. “Consider it done, Captain,” she affirmed, her voice brimming with confidence, pointing a finger at Or’uil before crossing the bridge to her friend at tactical.

As the orders were being carried out, Nazir finally relented and took her seat in the command chair, contemplating the gravity of their mission. Finding two missing colleagues, facing unknown challenges, and the weight of the responsibilities she carried as the captain of the Hathaway. She knew the journey ahead would test their skills, their resolve, and their unity as a crew.

Gazing out at the stars that streaked past, a blur of light and potential, the Captain’s concerns melted away for just a minute. Long enough to find herself thankful for being out of the confinement of the Starbase.

Unbeknownst to them, at extreme sensor range, someone was monitoring their every move, observing the Hathaway’s trajectory towards Andoria with a mixture of curiosity and intent. Shadows shifted, plans were set in motion, and the crew of the Hathaway raced towards their destination, unaware of the lurking dangers that awaited them.

Cruising through the vast expanse of space at high warp, Hathaway’s engines propelled her closer and closer to the Andoria system. The crew could feel the anticipation mounting as they neared their destination, eager to uncover the truth surrounding the whereabouts of their missing colleagues. Could they both be alive after all this time? And if so, where? And how could they have been captured in the first place?

However, their journey took an unexpected diversion when a sudden transmission crackled through the ship’s communication system. The voice on the other end identified himself as Captain Fykis Qadd, the commanding officer of the starship Asgard. The Asgard, a formidable Excelsior-class heavy cruiser, was well-known for its reputation and influence in the sector. As was the ageing Bolian who commanded her.

“Attention USS Hathaway,” Captain Qadd’s voice boomed over the speakers. “I order you to reverse course immediately and return to Deep Space 17. This is not a request.”

Captain Nazir sat forward in her seat, perching on the edge and gripping the armrests on either side as she exchanged a wary glance with her XO. It was highly unusual for another starship to interfere with their mission, especially with such an authoritative tone. The tension in the air was palpable as she weighed her options.

Nazir took a deep breath, her voice steady as she responded, “Captain Qadd, I appreciate your concern, but our orders are to proceed to the Andoria system. We have vital information to uncover regarding the whereabouts of our missing colleagues. I cannot, and will not, deviate from our mission.”

A hushed silence engulfed the bridge, a momentary pause on the transmission line before Captain Qadd’s voice crackled back, filled with a mixture of sternness and warning. “Captain Nazir, this is not a negotiation. You will comply with my orders, or we will open fire.”

“Well that escalated quicker than I expected,” Noli frowned, glancing towards Or’uil and giving him a silent confirmation to be ready for any possible attack from Asgard, or orders from the Captain. Nodding, the adolescent Ungeat silently went about his preparations.

The threat hung in the air, the tension mounting between the two starships. Nazir could feel it in the same way Vittoria could feel the rising emotions between the crew, and the Captain knew she had to make a stand, to protect her crew and their mission. She turned to Commander Bachmann, her former first officer, who sat on her left side, his face etched with a mix of concern and determination.

Bachmann leaned in and whispered to Nazir, “This is just the beginning, Captain. Asgard and her crew cannot be trusted. They are part of a larger resistance, attempting to hinder our progress. We must stand firm,” he argued strongly.

Nazir nodded, her resolve strengthening. As much as she hated to agree with him, Bachmann had been right about everything so far. She tapped the communication panel on the arm of her chair and addressed Captain Qadd once more. “Captain Qadd, I understand your concerns, but I cannot comply with your orders. Any show of force against Hathaway will be met in kind. I implore you to see reason and allow us to complete our mission.”

The tension in the air was thick, the outcome hanging on a delicate balance. The crew of the Hathaway held their breath, awaiting Captain Qadd’s response. Moments passed, each one feeling like an eternity. The tension in the air was suffocating, only growing worse when Hathaway and Asgard locked onto each other, hurtling through space to intercept one another. The Trill mistress of the Hathaway rose from her seat slowly, her eyes fixed on the viewscreen displaying the approaching Excelsior-class vessel. This was not how she envisioned their mission to find their missing colleagues unfolding.

“Captain Qadd, I implore you to reconsider,” she called out once more, her voice ringing out over the communication channel, her tone laced with urgency. “We are not your enemies. We seek only to find the truth and locate our missing comrades. There is no need for further bloodshed.”

The response from Captain Qadd was swift and uncompromising. “Captain Nazir, you have made your choice, and so have I. The Asgard will not allow the Hathaway to jeopardise our mission. Prepare to face the consequences.”

Nazir’s heart sank as she realised that diplomacy had failed. The fate of her crew and their mission now rested in the outcome of this imminent battle. She turned to her crew, their faces reflecting a mix of determination and apprehension. They had trained for this moment, but the reality of combat still loomed before them.

“Lieutenant Mitchell, evasive manoeuvres,” Nazir commanded, her voice steady but filled with determination. “Or’uil, red alert and shields up. Return fire only if necessary. We’ll do what we must to protect our ship and crew.”

Flyboy deftly manoeuvred Hathaway, his hands dancing across the control panel. The ship swerved, evading the initial barrage of fire from the Asgard, its phasers firing in response with precision and accuracy. The space around them lit up with explosions as the two starships engaged in a deadly dance.

Across the ship, the crew worked with focused intensity, their training once again kicking in as they operated their stations under fire. Sparks flew from console panels, and alarms blared throughout the ship. The constant jolts and vibrations served as a reminder of the imminent danger they faced under a barrage from their colleagues. As unusual as the situation was, to be faced with friendly fire, something had to give.

Commander Bachmann, his face etched with determination, coordinated the tactical response at tactical. He provided updates and strategic suggestions to the Ungeat at the station, his voice projecting authority and experience. Despite their personal animosity, they had no choice but to work together in this battle for survival.

The minutes felt like an eternity as Hathaway evaded Asgard’s volleys of phaser fire and torpedoes, or tried to anyway. The space around them became a chaotic battleground, with energy beams crisscrossing, explosions erupting, and debris scattering into the void.

Nazir’s mind raced, searching for any possible advantage to turn the tide in their favour. She knew that their only chance was to outmanoeuvre and outwit the Asgard, but she couldn’t bring herself to open fire with anything but defensive intentions. While each passing moment caused the situation to grow more desperate, she couldn’t help but hesitate. How could she fire on fellow Starfleet officers in an aggressive way? That changed, however, when a sudden and blinding flash of light filled the bridge as Hathaway’s shields absorbed a direct hit from the Asgard. The impact sent crew members sprawling, consoles exploding in showers of sparks and the ship’s systems flickered momentarily before stabilising.

The Trill’s heart pounded in her chest as she glanced at her crew. Their determination remained unyielding, their resilience shining through the chaos. She knew that they couldn’t give up, not now, not when their colleagues’ lives hung in the balance. She had no choice now.

“Alright Lieutenant Or’uil,” Nazir’s voice boomed across the bridge, infused with unwavering determination. “I want Asgard disabled, and only disabled. Target their engines and prepare to fire.”

With renewed vigour, the crew rallied, their focus sharpened. They continued to trade blows with the Asgard, refusing to back down. Each shot fired and every evasive manoeuvre made brought them closer to victory or defeat. The battle raged on, both starships locked in a deadly dance of skill and strategy, one more offensive than the other for the moment. It seemed like an eternity, but finally, an opportunity presented itself. A momentary lapse in the Asgard’s defence, a split-second opening.

“Fire!” Nazir’s command echoed through the bridge, the tactical officer responding as Hathaway seized the opportunity, unleashing a barrage of phaser fire and torpedoes at the vulnerable section of the Asgard’s shields. The impact was devastating, causing a cascade of explosions that rendered the Excelsior-II class heavy cruiser disabled.

A tense silence settled over the bridge, the entire staff watching Asgard falter, its systems failing under duress. It listed in space, providing the Sagan-class Hathaway the perfect opportunity to escape.

Captain Nazir exhaled, her relief mingled with exhaustion as she collapsed back into the comfort of her command chair. “Okay Henry,” she called out to the CONN, “resume your course for Andoria. Best possible speed.”

Almost an hour had passed since the showdown with Asgard and Keziah had found herself sitting in the quiet solitude of the observation lounge to take in recent events, her mind still reeling from the encounter, and how Captain Qadd had been so ready to fire on one of their own. As she sipped her steaming cup of tea, Lieutenant Vittoria Chiera, the Betazoid Counsellor, entered the room. Her empathic presence brought a sense of calm to the Captain, and Nazir motioned for her colleague to take a seat.

“Tea, Counsellor?” The Captain offered while gesturing to the empty chair across from her. “What do you have to report?”

Lieutenant Chiera settled into the chair, her expression thoughtful. Taking a pass on the offered tea, she began her brief. “I was able to reach out to Tempestava aboard the Venture,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with concern. “She confirmed that she and Captain Gor were able to return the remains of Captain sh’Elas to her family homestead on Andoria as Gor had directed.”

Captain Nazir nodded, grateful for the closure that their fallen comrade’s family would receive. However, Lieutenant Chiera’s next words caught her attention.

“But there’s something else, Captain,” the Counsellor continued, her voice dropping slightly. “Lieutenant th’Zorati mentioned that something felt off to her. As an Aenar, her heightened senses compensate for her visual impairment, and she detected something peculiar.”

Nazir leaned forward, her brow furrowing in curiosity. “What do you mean, Lieutenant?”

Lieutenant Chiera paused for a moment, carefully choosing her words. “There was no ceremony, no tribute, no shrine to honour Captain sh’Elas. This is highly unusual for her people, Captain. It’s an integral part of their mourning process and the way they honour their fallen But it was the lack of emotion that caught Tempa off guard.”

Nazir’s mind raced, considering the implications of this revelation. “And we all know how emotional the Andorian people can be,” the Captain frowned. “So did she think anything else was amiss? Perhaps, the family knew something, or they themselves were not who they claimed to be?” Nazir suggested, hopeful of some sort of lead.

The Counsellor nodded, her expression grave. “It’s a possibility, Captain. I believe we need to investigate further, to uncover the truth behind what happened to Captain sh’Elas.”

“Did she say anything about Captain Gor?” Nazir quizzed, sipping her beverage.

Chiera nodded. “She said the captain had left almost immediately after returning the remains, without so much as a word. She’s not seen or heard anything from him since,” Vittoria frowned. She knew what that likely meant, of course. That there had been ample opportunity for him to be replaced, even then.

Before Nazir could respond, the communications grid came to life with Commander Noli’s voice, urgent and insistent. “Captain Nazir to the bridge,” the XO’s voice filled the room.

Nazir stood up, her eyes meeting Chiera’s. “We’ll continue this discussion later, Lieutenant.”

As they made their way to the bridge, a sense of anticipation filled the air. The crew moved with purpose, their eyes fixed on the viewscreen, almost neglecting their Captain’s arrival. Commander Noli stood at the tactical station alongside Or’uil, her expression a mix of concern and determination. Upon hearing the Captain’s footsteps, she turned and approached their leader.

“Captain, we’ve arrived in the Andoria system and have begun transmitting standard communications,” Noli explained, her voice steady but urgent. “We’ve yet to receive any response of any kind.”

Nazir’s brow furrowed, her instincts warning her that something was amiss. She turned to the XO, her voice projecting a combination of authority and caution.

“Yellow alert. Maintain speed and begin constant sensor sweeps,” she ordered. “We’ll approach cautiously and assess the situation.”

Noli nodded, understanding the need for caution given their recent dalliance with the Asgard, but it was of concern to her that no one, not even the Federation Embassy, had responded to their calls.

“Entering standard orbit of Andoria Captain,” Lieutenant Mitchell called from the CONN, his hands gracefully guiding the starship into orbit around Andoria, the majestic home world of the Andorian people. One of the main improvements the bridge module on the newer vessels offered was the fact that when the viewscreen was offline, the forward bulkhead offered a panoramic view of the galaxy beyond the ship’s hull, thus allowing the Captain to peer out at the ice-covered planet below, her brow furrowed with concern.

The silence from the surface was deafening, with no response to their repeated attempts to establish communication more than a concern.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Prida called out, her voice carrying a mix of determination and urgency as she turned from Ops to look at the Trill. “I’ve managed to access the Andorian planetary archive and computer mainframe. I took it upon myself to start a search for any reference to Captain sh’Elas and any recent events that may explain the situation we are in.”

The Bajassian swiftly tapped commands into the console, her fingers dancing across the buttons with precision. The ship’s sensors reached out to the surface, strengthening the connection with the planetary database.

Suddenly, the bridge was bathed in an ethereal glow as the lights dimmed and a holographic projection materialised before them. The crew members’ eyes widened in astonishment as the hologram took the form of Captain sh’Elas herself. For most on the bridge, it was the first time they had seen so much as an image of the Captain since before the Devore had captured the Ulysses during the Blood Dilithium crisis.

The holographic representation of Captain sh’Elas looked hauntingly real, her features etched with a mixture of determination and concern. The projection began to speak, her voice resonating throughout the bridge.

“Listen closely, my friends,” the hologram of Captain sh’Elas urged. “All is not as it seems; not on Andoria, not with me, and not in Starfleet as a whole. There are forces at play, shadows that manipulate and deceive. Beware.”

The crew watched in rapt attention, their hearts pounding as the hologram continued its warning. Captain sh’Elas spoke of a hidden truth, a web of deception that threatened everything they held dear.

“I urge you to visit Sathea IV,” the hologram revealed, her voice filled with urgency. “There you will find the answers you seek, and the path to uncover the truth. But be cautious, for danger lurks in the shadows.”

As the hologram’s message reached its climax, it shimmered and dissipated, leaving the bridge in stunned silence. The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air, their thoughts racing to comprehend the implications of Captain sh’Elas’ warning.

Captain Nazir broke the silence, her voice filled with curiosity. “Sathea IV? I’ve never heard of it…” she said, her eyes meeting the gaze of her officers.

“It was at the time of the Century Storm,” Noli looked at Prida, then to the Captain. “We were on the Santa Fe at the time, and sh’Elas was XO to Captain Farrell. We went there to rescue some stubborn ass scientists and got embroiled in a Klingon plot to steal the MARS tech,” the XO spoke with tension in her voice.

“We lost a colleague there, and the Captain blamed herself. We vowed that we were done with that place because whenever we go back there, physically or metaphorically, it never ends well,” the Bajassian reported in support of the XO.

“If sh’Elas has gone back there in any way, there has to be a good reason,” Noli told the Captain.

“Then that’s our next destination. Prepare for departure. Helm, set a course for Sathea IV. Maximum warp,” Nazir’s voice was filled with determination as she sat forward in her chair. “Commander Teyahna, get me everything you can on Sathea IV, before during and after the storm. Noli, take Prida and go over any logs you can access. Find out what could have drawn the Captain back there.”

The crew sprang into action, their focus sharpened as they prepared the ship for the next phase of their mission. As the ship leapt into warp, leaving Andoria behind them, Commander Noli grew tense. The journey to Sathea IV supposedly held the answers they sought, the key to understanding the truth and exposing the forces that sought to manipulate and deceive, but something felt… wrong.

And that worried her. A lot.

Lieutenant Commander Teyahna, the Orion/Romulan hybrid with her light green skin and pointed ears, was deeply engrossed in her research within the science lab. The dimly lit room echoed with the soft hum of computers and the gentle whir of machinery as she sifted through the data regarding Sathea IV. As she delved into the archives, meticulously studying the records of the planet’s past, Teyahna’s sharp mind began to uncover intriguing details about the Century Storm of 2400 and the Klingon hijacking incident. The more she dug, the more her curiosity intensified.

The Century Storm, an awe-inspiring natural phenomenon that wreaked havoc on not only Sathea IV but the entire Paulson Nebula region, was a cataclysmic event of epic proportions. As its name suggested, this tempestuous storm struck only once every century, leaving a lasting impact on both the environment and the consciousness of those who witnessed its fury. When the Century Storm battered Sathea, its manifestation of nature’s raw power was characterised by intense atmospheric disturbances and unprecedented weather patterns. It possessed an uncanny ability to amplify the planet’s climatic conditions to extremes previously unimaginable. When the storm descended upon the Sathea IV laboratory, its wrathful winds roared across the landscape, whipping up storms of unparalleled ferocity. Such ferocity in fact that, shortly after the incident with the Klingons, the Santa Fe had evacuated the entire planet and no one had been back since, the abandoned Federation technology lab on the planet a casualty of this devastating event. The facility, once a beacon of scientific progress and discovery, fell victim to the storm’s unyielding power, or so they had been led to believe. For some reason, and if events were to be believed, this Captain sh’Elas everyone was so keen on finding had decided to go back there.

From her research into the former commanding officer of the Ulysses, Tharia sh’Elas was a seasoned and intrepid explorer, but the scientist was struggling to work out what could have possibly caused the Andorian to return to the abandoned facility. Then the idea hit her. “Computer,” she called out, “using all accessible data about Captain sh’Elas and the Sathea system, theorize as to why she would return there after so long,” she requested. If there was something she was missing, the computer would surely find it.

“Working…” the male voice of the science lab computer system spoke, before beginning to reel off its suggested reasons. The first had been the obvious suggestion of some sort of unfinished business. The Century Storm had abruptly cut short the research on the planet, leaving many unanswered questions regarding their projects. But from what Teyahna had read, the Captain, a commander at the time, had not been involved in anything there, so she ruled out that suggestion.

Could a sense of curiosity and scientific inquiry have drawn her back there? According to her logs which had been made available, the Century Storm and its unique effects presented an extraordinary opportunity for research and discovery, one that sh’Elas had reportedly been keen to revisit. Or was it something to do with lost technology? The Federation technology lab had been highly secretive until the incident with the Klingons when it suddenly become renowned for its advanced research and groundbreaking technological advances. Perhaps Captain Sh’Elas, cognisant of the potential technological treasures left behind, saw an opportunity to salvage valuable equipment, research data, or prototypes that could benefit her in her hour of need. Yes, that was an idea Teyahna would put a pin in for later.

Maybe it was some moral imperative that had drawn her back there. The abandoned science facility and the plight of Sathea IV had resonated deeply with sh’Elas. She felt a moral imperative to protect and preserve the planet’s delicate ecosystem, which had been ravaged by the Century Storm. Maybe in returning to the facility she could assess the extent of environmental damage and explore avenues for ecological restoration, driven by a sense of responsibility and a commitment to environmental stewardship. Not likely given the apparent threat to her life. It wasn’t an urgent enough reason to return.

Sathea was many things, but a place of strategic importance was not one of them, so she quickly ruled out that suggestion from the computer. The next, however, was the most convincing yet. The abandoned lab held memories of a valued colleague and friend who had lost his life saving hers. Perhaps sh’Elas felt a personal duty to honour the legacy of her colleague and ensure that his sacrifice had not been in vain.

Slouching back in her chair with a sigh, the new Chief Science Officer was beginning to go crosseyed from reading. These ideas provided a starting point for the Captain’s motivations, each offering a unique angle that could drive her return to the abandoned science facility on Sathea IV. The ultimate reason for her return would allude them until…

out of nowhere, her research was abruptly interrupted when the main computer’s voice echoed through the lab, its tone urgent and filled with alarm.

“Unauthorised activity detected. Data regarding Sathea IV is being systematically erased from the LCARS database,” the computer’s voice declared.

Teyahna’s eyes widened in disbelief as she quickly moved to confirm the computer’s statement. She accessed the relevant files, only to find them disappearing before her eyes as if vanishing into thin air. Panic began to well up within her as she realised the gravity of the situation.

“Computer, identify the source of the data erasure,” Teyahna demanded, her voice tinged with urgency.

After a brief pause, the computer responded, its tone tinged with concern. “The erasure is originating from the Sathea IV laboratory.”

Fear gripped Teyahna as the implications of the data erasure became clear. There was a deliberate effort to hide the truth about Sathea IV, and the link to sh’Elas. With a sense of urgency, Teyahna hastily left the science lab and made her way to the bridge, her mind racing as she considered the implications of the erasure. She knew she had to inform Captain Nazir immediately.

When the port turbo lift eventually spat her out upon the bridge decking, Teyahna scanned the room for the Captain, her eyes locking onto the commanding officer as she stood at her post, issuing commands to her crew. Taking a deep breath, Teyahna approached Nazir, her voice laced with urgency.

“Captain Nazir,” Teyahna began, her voice carrying a sense of urgency. “We have a critical situation,” she declared, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “Data regarding Sathea IV is being systematically erased, and the erasure is originating from a lab on the planet itself.”

Nazir’s brow furrowed as she absorbed Teyahna’s words, her eyes scanning the officer’s face for any signs of deception. Beside her, the XO did the same. Satisfied with Teyahna’s earnestness, the two command-level officers exchanged a glance, their expressions then shifting to ones of greater determination.

“Henry. ETA?” Returning to her command chair, the Captain’s gaze settled on the forwardmost position on the bridge.

“Three hours at warp 9,” Flyboy responded, turning in his chair, “unless you give the word and I bump it to the max? That’d shave about half the time off that estimate…”

“The word is given,” Nazir confirmed with a nod. “Number One. Put a landing party together. I want you down there at the earliest opportunity,” she instructed of her XO, Noli simply nodding in confirmation.

Like a gleaming arrow of stardust, Hathaway surged through the cosmic abyss, her powerful warp engines pushed to the limit and thrusting her towards Sathea IV with unyielding determination. Her sleek form sliced through the celestial expanse, streaking past stars in a blur of resolute velocity. Warp trails cascaded behind her, vibrant ribbons of energy trailing in her wake as she embraced the full extent of her propulsion, hurtling ever closer to the enigmatic planet…

…and hopefully the answers to many lingering questions.

Dropping out of warp some three hours later, Hathaway emerged in orbit of Sathea IV, a planet ravaged by the devastating Century Storm less than a year ago. The once-thriving world now lay in ruins, its surface scarred and desolate. Captain Nazir stood on the bridge, arms folded across her chest and her gaze fixed on the barren landscape displayed on the viewscreen.

“Prepare for a planetary survey,” she ordered, her voice steady but tinged with a sense of gravity. “We need to find any signs of life or remnants of the abandoned technology lab.”

The bridge crew sprung into action, working diligently to scan the planet’s surface for any indications of survivors or hidden secrets. Minutes felt like hours as they passed by at such a slow pace, the team meticulously combing through the data, their hopes of finding answers waning with each second.

Commander Teyahna, the newest occupant of the science hot seat, was determined to leave no stone unturned in her search. She tirelessly adjusted the ship’s sensors, compensating for the disturbances caused by the relentless battering the planet had been subjected to thanks to the Century Storm. Finally, a breakthrough came—a faint but distinct set of signals emanating from inside the abandoned technology lab several hundred kilometres below.

“We’ve got them!” Teyahna exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she craned her neck to look towards the Captain. “We’ve detected multiple signals within the lab. It appears there may be survivors or hidden activity after all.”

Captain Nazir nodded, a mixture of relief and determination etched on her face. “Commander Noli, Lieutenant Or’uil, Doctor Zinn, assemble an away team and prepare to beam to the surface to investigate.”

Commander Noli, Lieutenant Or’uil, the young Ungeat security chief, and Doctor Zinn, rallied their team within seconds. By the time they had made their way to Transporter Room One, their hearts pounding with a mix of anticipation and caution, the additional personnel were waiting for them. Armed and ready, the entire unit moved and stood in position as the transporter chief initiated the transportation sequence. In a swirl of shimmering light, they dematerialised from the Hathaway, their destination set for the surface of Sathea IV.

The away team surveyed their surroundings as they materialised on the desolate planet. The wind howled, carrying remnants of the Century Storm, and the air hung heavy with an eerie silence. The abandoned technology lab loomed before them, its entrance beckoning to them thanks to a malfunctioning light flickering freely above the door.

With cautious steps, the team entered the lab, their senses heightened and their phasers at the ready. The air inside was stale, filled with a lingering sense of abandonment. But then, they detected movement—subtle signs that there was more to this place than met the eye. Silent communications between the team indicated they split up, heading in opposite directions to maximise their search radius. In small groups, they followed the signals deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the lab, their footsteps echoing against the metallic surfaces. Each turn brought them closer to the truth, closer to uncovering the enigma that had brought them to this forsaken world.

“I never thought we would be back here,” Noli whispered to Zinn, the only other member of the away team who recalled what had happened months ago. He had been the one to hold her hand and help her back to her feet, to pronounce the death of their colleague, and helped with the rescue of then-Commander sh’Elas.

“It is perhaps fate that we should be the ones to receive this call,” the doctor responded, “for if this is the Captain, she’ll need the support of her own people. People who can guide her and assure her.”

As the away team cautiously made their way through the winding corridors of the abandoned technology lab, their eyes widened in astonishment when they stumbled upon an active control panel. The console hummed with life, its presence amid the ruins a beacon of hope. Would they finally get the answers to their lingering questions? Without hesitation, Lieutenant Or’uil looked across at the XO for approval to move forward. When the nod came, the young Ungeat stepped up, his fingers deftly tapping the control panel. As he accessed the system, a faint hum filled the air, and a dampening field surrounding the area deactivated, allowing their tricorders to confirm the presence of a single life sign in one specific location—four levels below the surface.

Commander Noli, her determination unwavering, quickly assessed their options. “We need to get to that location immediately,” she declared, her voice firm yet filled with concern. “Find the nearest turbo lift, everyone. We’re going down.”

The team followed her lead, moving swiftly through the darkened corridors, guided only by the dim emergency lighting. The sense of anticipation grew with each step, their hearts pounding in unison. It was one of the security officers who spotted it first, spotting the lift nestled in an alcove some over thirty meters away.

As the doors slid shut behind the team, all members crammed inside to ensure they travelled together, Lieutenant Or’uil accessed the control panel, selecting the destination four levels below. The turbo lift jolted into motion, descending deeper into the depths of the abandoned facility. The air inside the turbo lift was heavy with anticipation, each member of the away team bracing themselves for what awaited them below. The silence was punctuated only by the hum of the turbo lift’s mechanisms. When the doors opened, the away team stepped out onto a darkened corridor, fanning out and ensuring their safety before moving on. Emergency lighting flickered sporadically, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Their tricorders emitted soft beeps, detecting the life sign ahead, guiding their way.

As they cautiously made their way down the dimly lit corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoed, amplifying the tension in the air. The team was prepared for anything, their phasers ready for any threat that may emerge from the shadows. Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, where a set of heavy cargo bay doors loomed before them. The emergency lighting bathed the area in an eerie glow, casting long shadows across the room. Commander Noli took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay beyond, and then authorised the security team to open the doors and secure the area.

In the dimly lit cargo bay several hundred meters below the surface of Sathea IV, the away team stood in disbelief as beacons of light from their wrist torches bathed the area ahead of them. There, a lone figure sat slumped and bound to a chair. The sight of the beaten, downtrodden and malnourished form filled them all with a mix of anger and determination.

Without hesitation, Commander Noli and Doctor Zinn swiftly moved to the woman’s side, neither needing to acknowledge the obvious fact that this was, at least to all intents and purposes, their missing comrade. Somehow there, alive and well. Crouching at Tharia’s side, the pair carefully started to untie the restraints that held her captive. Their hands worked with urgency, their focus unwavering.

However, their mission to free Tharia was interrupted rather abruptly as three masked figures materialised several feet behind the away team, armed with phaser weapons. Without warning, the attackers unleashed a volley of energy bolts, forcing the Starfleet team to take cover.

Lieutenant Or’uil quickly analysed the situation, his mind calculating the best course of action. With a determined expression, he rallied the security team, directing them to provide cover fire from alcoves and doorways while he and the others worked to secure the downed Starfleet officer.

Phaser beams crisscrossed the cargo bay, creating an intense firefight, the air filled with the sharp crackle of energy and the shouts of combat. The away team skilfully manoeuvred into more advantageous positions, using the limited cover available to shield themselves from the attackers’ onslaught while the XO and the chief physician remained focused on their primary objective—to free Tharia from her restraints and ensure her safety. With steady hands, they worked swiftly, their movements precise despite the chaos around them.

As the firefight raged on, the security team under Or’uil’s command valiantly pushed back against the masked assailants. Their phaser fire was disciplined and calculated, forcing the attackers to retreat momentarily. Seizing the opportunity, Commander Noli called for immediate transport back to the Hathaway. She knew that time was of the essence, and their priority was to get Tharia to safety and provide her with the medical attention she desperately needed. The familiar hum of the transporter filled the cargo bay as the away team, including the now-secured Tharia, dematerialised one by one, leaving behind the battleground.

Materialising in the transporter room, the team’s faces were marked with both determination and relief. Tharia was immediately whisked away on a medical gurney, with Doctor Zinn and his team in pursuit to tend to her injuries with utmost care.

As the dust settled, Commander Noli gathered the security team and briefed them on the next steps. The prisoner they had managed to secure during the firefight would be a valuable source of information, potentially shedding light on the mysterious attackers and the secrets of Sathea IV.

If only they knew the true danger of who, or what, they had brought aboard.

Walking briskly through the corridors of the USS Hathaway, Captain Nazir’s mind raced with a mix of concern and scepticism. As she approached the doors to sickbay, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what would await her inside. As the doors parted, she stepped into the sterile environment of the medical bay. The sound of medical equipment hummed softly, providing a backdrop to the tense atmosphere within the room. Her eyes immediately landed on Tharia sh’Elas, lying on a biobed, her body still and unconscious. Doctor Zinn and Commander Noli stood nearby, their expressions a mix of weariness and resolve.

Nazir made her way to the biobed, her gaze shifting between the unconscious form of her colleague and the medical personnel before her. “Doctor Zinn, Commander,” she greeted, her voice a mixture of concern and authority. “What is the latest update on sh’Elas?”

Doctor Zinn glanced up from his datapad, his brow furrowed with a mixture of worry and determination. “Captain,” he began, his voice calm yet filled with urgency. “she suffered from severe malnutrition and shows signs of significant physical trauma. We’re stabilizing her condition and providing necessary treatment at the moment.”

Noli stepped forward, her voice steady as she explained the events on Sathea IV. “Captain, we discovered sh’Elas bound and beaten in the cargo bay. We were ambushed by masked assailants, but Lieutenant Or’uil and the security team managed to hold them off and secure a prisoner.”

Nazir nodded, absorbing the information. Her mind was already racing with possibilities and questions. “I understand the urgency of her treatment, but we need answers,” she stated firmly. “Is there any way to confirm if this is, truly, the Tharia sh’Elas you knew?”

Doctor Zinn sighed, his gaze focused on the unconscious form before him. “At this point, we cannot be certain,” he admitted. “Her injuries and state of malnutrition make identification challenging. Everything we can see and determine suggests this is Tharia sh’Elas, but so did the autopsy carried out on the remains aboard Ulysses. We won’t know for sure until we can get her back to Andoria and run some more tests. I want to analyse the remains myself, given what we know about Torres and his replacement,” the Doctor frowned, making reference to the shapeshifter that had posed as Doctor Torres prior to Zinn’s return.

Nazir’s jaw tightened, the weight of responsibility heavy upon her shoulders. She knew the importance of ascertaining the truth, not only for the safety of her crew but also for the integrity of Starfleet itself. “We cannot afford any missteps,” she said firmly. “Once Captain sh’Elas is stable, I’d like to speak with her. In the meantime, we’ll head back to Andoria. You need to keep security here, and the area secure.”

Noli and Zinn nodded in agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation. The truth hung in the air, a delicate thread that they all hoped would lead them to the answers they sought.

As the conversation in sickbay unfolded, Lieutenant Or’uil’s voice crackled over the communications array, breaking the tense atmosphere. “Captain, Commander Noli, this is Or’uil. The prisoner in the brig is awake.”

Captain Nazir and Commander Noli exchanged a glance, their curiosity piqued. “On our way,” the Captain confirmed. Without hesitation, they made their way to the turbolift, their steps quickening with a sense of urgency. The turbolift doors closed, and they descended to the brig, anticipation building with each passing moment.

As the doors slid open, revealing the dimly lit brig, Captain Nazir and Commander Noli stepped out, their eyes fixed on the figure standing before them, behind the high-powered forcefield. Clad in black garments, heavy boots, and a voice-distorting mask, the prisoner exuded an air of menace.

Nazir’s voice was firm yet tinged with curiosity as she asked, “Who are you?”

Chuckling, the figure’s distorted voice sent chills down their spines. “You’ll find out everything tomorrow,” came the cryptic response.

“Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?” The Captain asked.

Noli’s brows furrowed in confusion as she interjected, “Tomorrow is Frontier Day. Is there some kind of attack planned for the festivities?”

The figure’s laughter echoed through the brig, filled with a sinister undertone. Stepping closer to the forcefield that separated them, Captain Nazir’s anger flared, her voice seething. “Tell us who you are!” she demanded.

The figure mirrored her movements, drawing closer, their presence radiating malevolence. In a chilling tone, they replied, “Your worst nightmare.”

A mix of apprehension and resolve filled the air, tension hanging heavy in the brig. Captain Nazir’s jaw tightened, and her eyes locked onto the enigmatic figure before her. She would not back down, not in the face of this unknown threat.

Commander Noli, ever the voice of reason, glanced at Nazir, their shared determination clear in their eyes. They knew that the answers they sought lay in unravelling the mystery of this ominous figure. And Noli had a hunch.

“We’ve had our fair share of run-ins with changelings,” the Bajoran told as she paced outside the forcefield. “We’re part of the Fourth Fleet. You know, the Fleet that thwarted your efforts in the Deneb sector?” She almost chuckled, watching as the figure mimicked her movements on the other side of the field. “I even had the distinct pleasure of killing two of your kind,” she smiled, goading the figure into a response. It worked.

The figure reached up and slowly removed its mask, revealing the familiar face of the Bajoran before it shimmered into a laughing approximation of the Trill Captain, spots and all. “You think you know, but you have no clue what awaits.”

With a steely resolve, Captain Nazir spoke, her voice filled with unwavering determination. “We will not be intimidated, by you or by anyone. Your secrets will be exposed, and your plans thwarted. We are Starfleet, and we will protect our way of life with our dying breaths if we have to.”

The figure simply chuckled, its laughter a haunting echo in the brig. Though their true identity remained shrouded as it replaced its mask, their malevolent presence served only to strengthen the resolve of Hathaway’s captain and first officer.

The stage was set for a battle of wits and determination, with the Hathaway crew ready to confront the looming threat that threatened not only their ship but also the peace and stability of the Federation itself. In the face of darkness, they had to be the light at the end of the tunnel.

Returning to the bridge with Commander Noli a short while later, Nazir knew that the situation had taken a dangerous turn. A changeling in the brig threatening something big, on Frontier Day no less. With the ship running under a communications blackout and the threat of interception from Starfleet ships looming over them, the Captain knew something had to change. Taking her position in the command chair, she addressed Lieutenant Prida, the Chief Operations Officer.

“Lieutenant, attempt to establish communication with Starfleet Command,” Nazir commanded, her voice carrying a mix of authority and concern.

However, the response from Lieutenant Prida was not what she expected. The Ops chief turned to face her, the younger woman’s expression grave. “Captain, I anticipated that you would likely want to try and contact Starfleet, so tried to reactivate the communications system, but communications have been disabled from somewhere within the ship. Someone has taken control of the systems.”

Nazir’s brows furrowed, her mind racing to assess the gravity of the situation. She knew that they were now cut off from receiving assistance or conveying critical information to Starfleet Command. Not to mention the very real possibility of further changeling sabotage aboard the ship. The realisation of their isolation struck the Trill commander of the ship, but she refused to succumb to panic.

“Were you able to ascertain if there were any reports from Starfleet regarding our situation before we lost communications?” Nazir inquired, her tone steady but filled with concern.

Lieutenant Prida nodded, her fingers dancing across the console. “Yes, Captain. The starships Kensington and Weytahn have been ordered to intercept us should we attempt to return to Earth.”

The weight of the Captain’s next decision hung in the air, the stakes higher than ever. Nazir stood from her chair, her mind racing with possibilities. She knew that returning to Earth under these circumstances would only lead to more questions and potential danger. A spark of determination lit in her eyes as she made a resolute decision.

“We will not return to Earth,” she declared firmly, her voice carrying a note of unwavering resolve. “Set a course for Andoria at maximum warp. If there are answers to be found, they lie there.”

The bridge crew exchanged glances, some displaying surprise while others nodded in agreement. They trusted in their captain’s judgment and determination. The decision to bypass Earth and head towards Andoria, the home world of Captain Tharia sh’Elas, held the promise of uncovering the truth and finding the answers they sought.

As the ship’s systems hummed to life with the new course set, Hathaway surged forward into warp, hurtling towards Andoria. While the ship hurtled through space, Nazir knew that time was of the essence. She needed to gather more information, to connect the pieces of this intricate puzzle. Turning to Commander Bachmann, she issued a new directive.

“Commander Bachmann, I want you to delve into every detail of the Frontier Day celebrations on Earth,” she instructed, her voice steady. “Find out everything you can.”

Bachmann, his expression filled with a mix of disdain and determination, nodded in acknowledgement. “Consider it done, Captain,” he replied, his voice dripping with a touch of sarcasm.

As Bachmann made his way to the strategic operations suite, Nazir turned her attention back to the bridge. The minutes ticked by as the ship hurtled through space, each passing moment filled with a mix of anticipation and unease.

An hour later, Bachmann returned to the bridge, his features etched with a blend of seriousness and urgency. The crew turned their attention to him, awaiting his report.

“The Frontier Day celebration on Earth centres around Admiral Shelby and the final cruise of the Enterprise-F before her decommissioning,” Bachmann began, his voice carrying a weight of importance. “However, there was supposed to be a speech by Admiral Picard, but the Admiral and the crew of the Titan have reportedly gone rogue and are being tracked down by Starfleet forces.”

“What if Titan has learned the truth, in the same way we have?” Noli asked, glancing at the Captain.

The revelation hung heavy in the air, filling the bridge with a sense of foreboding. The disappearance of such prominent figures within Starfleet only heightened the urgency of their mission. Just as the crew absorbed this new information, the ship dropped out of warp, revealing the vastness of the Andor system. Lieutenant Mitchell, seated at the helm, quickly reported the proximity of the Kensington and Weytahn, giving them a mere thirty minutes before the Starfleet ships arrived.

Nazir’s eyes flickered with a mix of determination and concern. “We need to act swiftly,” she declared, her voice projecting a sense of urgency. “We must obtain the answers we seek before those ships arrive. Time is of the essence…”

Having been tasked with the near impossible objective of proving the biological status of his patient in sickbay, Doctor Zinn had enlisted the help of Commander Teyahna and Lieutenant Or’uil in a somewhat unorthodox venture, something that would no doubt get them into significant trouble had he not been able to use the communications system aboard one of the shuttles to make contact with the planet below. A short conversation with the sh’Elas family gave him all of the permission he needed for the next phase of his task. With time running out, the three officers had been transported to a set of coordinates provided by the Andorian’s next of kin and were now venturing through the ancient catacombs of Andoria, their footsteps echoing in the dimly lit corridors. The air was heavy with dust as they sought to locate the sh’Elas family crypt, where the remains of the deceased sh’Elas duplicate had been laid to rest. It was a crucial step towards unravelling the truth and confirming the authenticity of the unconscious sh’Elas in sickbay.

As they ventured deeper into the crypt, they discovered a hidden chamber, concealed behind an intricately carved stone wall. With a careful touch, they activated the hidden mechanism, revealing a hidden passageway. The air grew colder as they descended further into the depths, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the stone corridors.

Finally, they arrived at a vault, where the remains of the sh’Elas duplicate had been carefully stored. Doctor Zinn, his steady hands betraying a mix of curiosity and determination, initiated the transport process to transfer the remains to the ship’s morgue.

Almost ten minutes later, back on the Hathaway, the morgue hummed with the sound of medical equipment and the dim lighting cast a solemn atmosphere. Doctor Zinn prepared himself for the challenging task ahead, his mind focused on the task of dissecting the remains of the deceased sh’Elas, knowing that this examination held the key to unravelling the truth and distinguishing the real sh’Elas from the imposter.

With precision and expertise, Zinn began his meticulous post-mortem examination. He recorded his observations diligently, noting the abnormality of the situation. As he made incisions into the epidermis of the deceased body, he was startled to witness the flow of blood, a sight that defied the conventional understanding of changeling biology. There was no return to the gelatinous state that would normally be expected of a changeling. Perhaps they were wrong? Perhaps the imposter was not on this table but in sickbay? For Zinn, a lot of his work relied upon gut feelings, and his gut told him to continue with his examination; something was not right here.

Carefully progressing further, he moved on to the organs, observing the delicate balance of structure and function. However, as he initiated dissection, a peculiar phenomenon unfolded before his eyes. The organ, the left lung of the deceased, once solid and tangible, shifted under the intense dissection and returned to its gelatinous state. It was a huge relief, but also an unprecedented occurrence, the body had so far defied all known knowledge of changeling physiology. Zinn’s mind raced, his excitement mingling with a sense of urgency. This was no ordinary changeling. It was a unique entity, unlike any knowingly encountered before. He knew that his discovery held significant implications, not only for the sh’Elas in sickbay but also for the entire understanding of changeling biology. If they could mimic humanoids so perfectly, then they would surely pass any known biological screening process.

Drawing on his expertise, Zinn meticulously continued his examination, leaving no detail unexplored. Every observation and recording became a vital piece of evidence in his quest to prove the identity of the sh’Elas in sickbay.

Meanwhile, on the bridge, Captain Nazir awaited the results with bated breath. The fate of their injured colleague and the safety of the crew rested on the outcome of Zinn’s investigation. She felt a mix of hope and trepidation, aware that the answers they sought lay within the realm of possibility but were far from certain.

The clock ticked, each minute filled with anticipation and an unyielding desire for the truth. Finally, Doctor Zinn emerged from the morgue, a mix of exhaustion and excitement etched across his face. The bridge crew watched him intently as he approached Captain Nazir.

“I have confirmed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the deceased sh’Elas was indeed a changeling,” Zinn declared, his voice filled with a mix of certainty and astonishment. “However, the sh’Elas in sickbay, while displaying some unique qualities, retains her humanoid form. The evidence strongly suggests that she is the real sh’Elas.”

A wave of relief washed over the bridge as the crew processed Zinn’s revelation. The knowledge that their missing comrade was alive, albeit in a vulnerable state, brought answers, but also many new questions.

Captain Nazir, her voice steady yet filled with emotion, addressed her crew. “Our mission doesn’t end here. There is something very wrong in Starfleet, and for some reason, they don’t want to hear the truth. sh’Elas will remain in our care, but we must now focus our efforts on exposing the truth to the rest of Starfleet, and the Federation.”

The bridge crew sat in stunned silence, their minds racing to process the shocking revelation and the profound implications it would have. They knew they had a responsibility to expose the conspiracy to the rest of Starfleet and the Federation, but how could they do that with Kensington and Weytahn breathing down their necks?

Captain Nazir, her brow furrowed with concern, broke the silence. “We cannot let this deception go unchecked. Our duty is clear – we must bring the truth to light. Suggestions?” She asked of her people, hoping that a brainstorming session would bring them out of their stunned stupor.

It worked. Sure enough, the staff were soon engaging in a passionate debate about the best course of action. Even Lieutenant Chiera and Commander Nes had joined the staff on the bridge and were offering their input. Some argued for a direct route to Earth, believing that the heart of the conspiracy lay there. Others proposed remaining on Andoria, hoping to uncover more evidence and rally support from the Andorian government and Federation Embassy.

Commander Bachmann, his voice filled with conviction, stepped forward. “Captain, I believe our best chance of success lies in taking the evidence we have directly to Starbase Bravo and Fourth Fleet Command. They are people we trust, who will listen and take action.”

“Without them, Deneb would be in total ruin…” Or’uil added, “…as would my home world.”

Commander Noli, though initially hesitant, reluctantly nodded in agreement. “As much as it pains me to say it, Bachmann is right. We need the support and resources of those who are not corrupted by this conspiracy. Starbase Bravo is our best bet.”

Captain Nazir considered their words carefully, weighing the risks and potential rewards of each course of action. After a moment of contemplation, she made her decision. “Very well. We will proceed to Starbase Bravo. Lieutenant Mitchell, get us out of here.”

“Yes ma’am,” Flyboy grinned, spinning in his chair and taking over the CONN once again. His fingers danced over the controls and prepared to jump to warp.

“Captain…” Lieutenant Prida’s words were filled with tension as she drew the Captain’s view to the main viewscreen. The starships Kensington and Weytahn had dropped out of warp, moving to intercept their vessel. The crew knew that their escape would not go unnoticed, and they had to act swiftly.

With a sense of urgency and a nod from the Trill in the command chair, Lieutenant Mitchell engaged the warp drive, propelling Hathaway into a rapid ascent. The starship surged forward, leaving the pursuing ships in their wake. They were, once again, on the run, their very survival hanging in the balance.

Just another day at the office.