“So, what’s the plan, sir?”

Raan looked up as Burton joined him in the small observation room off the bridge. The Resolute had sucessfully returned to the alpha quadrant a few days ago and after a short layover and leave at DS47, had set off again.

He sipped at his coffee as he slid a padd over the table to Burton. “Second contact. The powers that be want us to get out there and make nice, remind everyone in the expanse that we’re the good guys.”

Burton arched his eyebrow. “I presume we’re keeping Bennett under wraps then? If we want them to think we’re the good guys. Maybe Kovash too. And we definitely don’t need to let anyone meet Allen. That glowy-eyed shit was freaky.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right, and it was,” Raan admitted, rubbing at the slight stubble on his jaw. It was barely an hour into shift as well. Perhaps he should just grow a beard, it would be easier and he wouldn’t annihilate razors on a regular basis.

“Doc and Armstrong say Allen’s alone in his head now, so we shouldn’t have any issues on that front. And, just to be sure, the species we’re checking in on, Volar, are non-telepaths. So we shouldn’t hit any triggers.”

“So what do we know about the Volar?” Burton said, already reading. Raan didn’t need the padd back to recite the details.

“Last contact was a couple of decades ago but the Volar are a long lived species, so they should remember us. They’re humanoid, similar in appearance to humans but with brightly coloured facial markings. A warp-capable civilisation, they hadn’t ventured much beyond their local systems but I suspect that was more to do with being stuck between the Breen and the Cardassians.”

Burton nodded, his dark blue eyes assessing as he scanned down the information. It was a small file, not much to go on, and had this region been more volatile or had they not been in something like the Resolute, Raan would have been a lot more uncomfortable.

“So we’re dropping in, making nice and giving them a signed invite to DS47?’

“Pretty much,” Raan nodded. “And offering whatever assistance we can if they have problems. Prove that they can rely on the Federation if they need us.”

“Perfect,” Burton smiled as he slid the tablet back over the table. “We should go over away team protocols at some point soon, sir. Especially if we’re keeping certain key members of our crew aboard, like Allen. Callahan is certainly ready for the challenge.”

Raan nodded. Even though the doc and counsellor had cleared Allen, the sight of the Chief science officer being carried back aboard, his eyes glowing green was enough to make him very wary. “Let’s do that then, and ensure we have trained backup personnel in case our primaries are out of action for any reason. Anything else we need to discuss?”

Burton shook his head so Raan levered himself out of his seat. “In that case, I’m going to do a walkabout. Call me when we’re an hour or so out.” 

One of Raan’s favourite parts of the day was walking about the ship. It was an hour where he got to connect with the crew. Everyone knew he was around at least once a day, so it was easy for them to catch him if they wanted to chat. Plus, it allowed him to get a feel for how the crew were coping. And the ship. He’d learned a lot about the Resolute in the couple of years he’d been captain. She had a personality of her own, and sometimes it was nice to catch up with her.

Which was what found him in one of the port corridors. A mug of coffee in his hands as he leaned a shoulder against a bulkhead, watching the stars stream by through the window. The Resolute was running smoothly, what he could only describe as happy noises running through the spaceframe and transmitted to the bulkhead under his shoulder.

“How’s it going boss?”

He turned to find Dayne behind him. Damned if the guy didn’t move like a cat. Even for a Llanarian, he was quiet, which shouldn’t be possible with how big he was.

“Just taking a moment, talking to the old girl,” he said with a smile, unfolding his arm to pat the bulkhead.

“She’s purring like a kitten at the moment.” Dayne took up a position on the opposite side of the window, rubbing at the clipped scruff over his jaw. “Managed to get some upgrades sorted when we dropped into DS47.”

Raan nodded. “And the replicator you blew up?”

Dayne chuckled, eyes twinkling as he took a swallow from the mug he carried. “Back in place and operational. Well, mostly.”

Raan arched his eyebrow. “Mostly? Not like you to screw up an installation.”

“If you were any other guy, I’d insist on pistols at dawn for that remark. But I know how well you shoot, so… nah, it must just be a glitchy model. I’ll check it again later.”

| Later that day…

“What the fricken hell is wrong with you, you damn thing?!” Dayne hissed after the seventh diagnostic had come back clear, but the machine in front of him still gave him a moca-chocolatte with whipped cream and sprinkles. Rainbow sprinkles.

He’d ordered a black coffee. Plain black coffee. No sprinkles.

Sitting back on his heels, he looked at the offending drink. “Okay. This isn’t over. I’ll be back. We will get this sorted.”

He shoved his kit away and slung the strap of his toolbox over his shoulder. At the last moment, he grabbed the drink.

“Waste not, want not,” he muttered as he walked away.

It wasn’t alone in the darkness anymore. There were no screams here, just the constant pressure of happy minds. All apart from the one that had just left, muttering about sprinkles.

It chuckled to itself, and settled down more comfortably in its new home. The concept of ‘drinks’ was new, but it had noticed there was a difference between what was ordered and what was really… needed.

Like sprinkles.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I didn’t realise you were back on duty” Callahan exclaimed as she looked up and saw Quinn in the doorway of the Resolute’s small science lab. She was sat at his station, and had obviously made herself at home given the couple of coffee mugs and a snack wrapper set on the desk.

“Just cleared by the doc and the counselor,” he said, shrugging off her concern as he stalked into the lab. Callahan logged out quickly and grabbed her stuff to head to one of the secondary stations. He murmured his thanks, even though he hadn’t asked her to move.

Out of curiosity, he logged in and checked what she’d been working on.

“Long range readings on the Volar system?” He looked up to ask.

She nodded, a slight flush mounting on her cheeks. “Yeah. It might be daft, but I remembered something I read on one of the fleet’s science forums a few years back. Something about odd readings that had been picked up in the Thomar expanse that had been mistaken for federation warp signatures.”

“Uh-huh. I thought they’d been put down to sensor echoes, glitches in the systems because they’d been forced to cover larger areas than they were designed for?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but that doesn’t explain one of them. Here, look…”

Hurrying over, she half leaned over the desk as she typed quickly, bringing up another set of readings. Quinn scanned them, then frowned.

“You see it, don’t you?” Callahan asked excitedly. “These here, they look like echoes of ships that we know passed within reach of the beacons in the expanse, but this one… this is not an echo.”

“What warp signature is that?” he asked, already bringing up another screen to search. “Do we have any ships out this way?”

She shook her head, typing again. A second later a map with all the taskforce ships in the expanse was super-imposed over the star map in front of them. There were no blue dots, no taskforce ships, anywhere near their location, nor their intended target system.

“Can we cross reference it to a federation ship?”

She looked at him, her expression solemn. “Yes, sir. That’s the problem. It’s the USS Pendragon. It disappeared with all hands over fourteen years ago.”

“So what have you got for us?” Raan swept into the small briefing room like a galleon in full sail and only just remembered at the last minute to duck his head to avoid the crossbeam to the left of his chair at the end of the table. That was the problem with small ships like the Resolute. They were not designed for large people in any way, shape or form.

“Some unusual readings, sir,” Allen said from the opposite side of the table. “Callahan here spotted them and investigated.”

Raan frowned, exchanging a quick glance with Burton seated next to him. “Are you sure you should be back on duty yet, Allen?”

The science officer speared him with a look. Raan did his best not to shiver, remembering the way Allen’s eyes had glowed when they pulled him off the surface of that Devore prison planet.

“Cleared by both the doc and the counselor sir. Whatever was in my head… it’s not there anymore. Scout’s honour,” Allen quipped, giving a little mock salute.

Raan chuckled.

“Good. No matter that it actually helped us in that situation, the idea of an all-powerful entity like that controlling one of our own? Not a place I want to go. Now,” he looked between the two of them. “Unusual readings? What kind of unusual readings?”

Allen looked over at Callahan, who flushed to the roots of her red hair. Given she had pale skin, it meant she went beet-red. “Well, it might sound a little silly, sir…” she began.

“Ensign, we’re flying around in what amounts to a tin can powered by rockets,” he reminded her. “On my planet even three hundred years ago that would have been the stuff of fantasy or the raving of madmen. So lay it on me.”

She nodded. Took a breath.

“Okay, I think we have a ghost ship.”

Raan blinked. “Come again?”

“A ghost ship, sir. There are reports throughout history,” Callahan said, her features alive with animation as she slid a tablet across the table toward him. There was a crease between his brows that deepened as he read.

“Most of these can be explained away as relay ghosts,” he said when he looked up. “What about this particular one has you so concerned?”

Allen sat back, letting his subordinate take the lead, but Raan wasn’t fooled. There was a sharpness there behind the tall science officer’s eyes. It had been there before, but had been more… muted. Now it was as sharp as a tack. Which meant Allen would bear watching. Carefully.

“I dug a little deeper into the ghost ship reports and yes,” Callahan nibbled her lip. “Most of them are just sensor or relay ghosts. Some of the mysticism comes from the few occasions where the ghost have been from ships that have been destroyed in battle or long since decommissioned. Kind of like one last voyage, if that makes sense?”

He nodded. There were such stories around sailing ships on his home planet as well. It made sense similar myths would have made their way into space as well.

“But this one… We… I,” she corrected at Allen’s sharp look. “I isolated it and cleaned it up. The signature isn’t from a destroyed ship. It’s from a missing ship. One that disappeared over fourteen years ago.”

Rann grunted, scrolling further down the report. Sure enough, there it was. “The USS Pendragon? The captain was a…” He couldn’t find any more information, the report ended there.

“Kassian Shade, sir,” Burton said suddenly. “The CO was called Shade.”

The Pendragon

It was a name that Hale hadn’t heard for years, and surprise rolled through him even as he named the CO. 

Mason turned to him, surprise written across his features for a split second. “Someone you know?” 

Hale inclined his head. “Of a sort. My father was the chief engineer on the Pendragon so I spent some time aboard when I was a kid. Dad retired a few months before she went missing when on routine patrol out beyond the Komar reaches. Sensors picked up a class five ionic storm out that way, so everyone assumed she’d run into it and been destroyed.”

“Everyone? But not you?” Mason asked, tilting an eyebrow as he reached for his mug of coffee. Absently, Hale noticed it had cream and sprinkles. 

Hale shook his head. “I didn’t know much back then but it was obvious Shade was an experienced captain. My father trusted him, and he didn’t trust many people. No way would the Shade I knew have put the ship or crew in danger by getting too close to something like that.” 

Mason grunted as he leaned back. “Interesting. Okay, Callahan, Allen… keep investigating on the ghost ship. Keep us updated.”

Hale offered a tight smile as the two science officers left the briefing room, then transferred his attention back to the captain. Who was watching him in that direct way of his. Now Hale thought of it, it was very similar to the look he remembered the Pendragon CO having. 

But rather than ask him anything else about the Pendragon, Mason sipped his coffee. 

“You wanted to discuss away team protocols before we arrived in-system for our second contact meeting with the Volar?” 

Hale nodded as he flicked his padd on and pinged a file over to Mason. “I’ve reviewed all our personnel and put together some away team combinations that I think will work well for our mission.”

Mason snorted. “You mean that won’t put us at risk of a diplomatic incident?”

Hale allowed a small smile to quirk his lips. “That too.”

Then Mason’s gaze sharpened as he read. “Is there a reason I’m not on any of the away teams listed here?”

Hale didn’t allow himself to freeze, even though it was an automatic reaction. He’d been expecting the question as soon as Mason had opened the file.

“The Volar are a peaceful species,” he said, keeping his voice level and calm. “Given your history and your… uhm natural bearing, I thought it would be best to minimize your contact with them.”

He held his breath as Mason nodded slowly, trying to read his implacable expression. Then the captain looked up and speared him with a look. 

“You mean I’m a soldier and I move like one.” 

Hale winced slightly. “Well… yes, sir.”

“If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck… it’s a duck, let’s call it one.” Mason broke into a grin. “And yes, you’re quite right. Good call. If I’m going to cause issues, then I definitely shouldn’t be on the away team. I’ll leave this one in your capable hands.”

He inclined his head, relief that Mason hadn’t taken offence washing through him. He’d dreaded Mason’s reaction to not being point on this one, but there was no way he could recommend that knowing the Volar’s likely reaction. They were reported to be almost aggressively pacifist, if that wasn’t a contradiction in terms. Putting someone like Mason in there would be like putting a fox in the hen house. 

The trouble was, some captains were so gung-ho and convinced they were the center of the entire universe that it was hard to convince them that not everything was about them. Hale hadn’t been absolutely sure that Mason wasn’t one of them. He didn’t think so, but there had been the outside chance… he was pleased to see that wasn’t the case. 

“Thank you sir. I will, of course, keep you updated at every stage of the mission.”

Mason nodded as the two men stood. “I wouldn’t expect it any other way. Let’s get at it then, we should be arriving in system shortly.”

Second contact was always a difficult thing to navigate. It didn’t have the grandeur or excitement of a first contact situation, or the danger, but it was just as, and in some ways more, important. 

First contact was all about the unknown. That instant moment of friend or foe, and no one knew which way it would go until there were boots on the ground. It was about nerves of steel and a diplomatic smile as you navigated a situation that could quickly become quicksand with the potential to spark an intergalactic war. 

Second contact was first contact’s more sensible, often be-suited cousin who’d eyed accountancy as a career before joining the fleet. It was about smoothing cultural differences and finding ways to work going forward. It was as much about compromise as diplomacy as both sides worked out how they could use the other for their own benefit. But, as a rule, the big guns didn’t need to get involved and the possibility of people shooting at them was relatively minor. 

It didn’t mean that Hale had completely discounted it though. Which was why all of the away team would be carrying hand phasers, as per protocol when operating in an area like the Thomar Expanse. Especially when first contact had been so long ago. 

“Everyone good?” he asked as the away team assembled in the hallway outside the transporter room. He’d picked them with care. 

The counselor, Armstrong, was an obvious choice. She had both diplomatic training and as a telepath, she would be able to gauge the mood of the Volar when they were down there. Plus, she had really shown her mettle against the Devore back on the prison planet and he was eager to give her more opportunities to bloom and show what she could do. 

He’d also wanted a science officer along, to observe the level of technology the Volar had, but since the captain didn’t want Allen off the ship—and Hale totally agreed with him on that point—he’d picked Ensign Callahan. She looked nervous, biting at her lip, but her nod was firm when he looked at her. She didn’t appear to be that skittish, but he guessed anyone who had to deal with Allen on a regular basis had to be virtually bomb-proof. 

Along with the two women, he’d picked Gunnar, the Resolute’s new security chief. Nearly seven feet of blond viking, Hale remembered just staring at the guy when he’d first arrived aboard at DS47, and wondering how the hell they’d found a uniform to fit him. Then immediately on the heels of that thought he’d wondered if the captain was on a mission to find as many huge men as possible for the crew. Given the small size of the crew, they’d better make sure they never all ended up on the same side of the ship at the same time. Not unless they wanted to spin around their own axis forevermore. 

“All good!” Leif grinned, one thumb tucked in his belt, the other wrapped around a travel mug of coffee. Hale noted the presence of sprinkles in the remnants of sprinkles around the edge of the mug. 

“Replicator on deck four?” he asked, nodding toward it. 

“Ya!” Gunnar smiled and drained the mug. “Best on the ship.”

“Do we have any more information than this on the Volar?” Armstrong asked, falling into step with him as they made their way into the transporter room. 

He shook his head. “That’s all we have and it’s old. Every request for more information was deflected with the comment that they prefer to meet face to face. Well… they’ve also said that they don’t need anything from the Federation, but the notes say they are an intensely proud people so that could be bluster.”

“What’s our aim here?” 

He slid her a sideways glance. He liked that about Armstrong, she cut to the chase. Not as brutally as Micheals did half the time but she got there anyway. 

“We need to offer any assistance we can, in the purposes of fostering a good relationship with the Volar. And also see about furthering our own aims in this area. Increased friendly relations with powers in the area and scientific exchange put us in a much better position should any of the big boys either side of the expanse decide to kick up again.”

She nodded, pursing her lips as she tucked her padd away and stood next to him, waiting for the signal to step onto the transporter pad. 

Time to go. “Bridge, this is Burton. We’re ready and waiting to beam down to the surface.”

Mason’s deep voice replied, relayed by the ships internal comms. “We have confirmation from the surface. You’re good to go when ready, Commander.” 

“Understood, thank you sir.” Burton waved the team forward, standing on one of the front pads next to Armstrong while Callahan and Gunnar stood behind them. 

“Beam us down,” he ordered the transporter tech. 

“Co-ordinates locked. Beaming down now,” came the calm reply. 

Within a heartbeat they were surrounded by blue light and he wondered how the next hour or so would go. Would the Volar be welcoming, or resistant to overtures of friendship? 

Hale took a deep breath and reminded himself of his training. He’d been through multiple simulations of situations like this. Tested and trained and nothing that was waiting on the planet below would phase him…

Leif didn’t like transporting. It was the utter bane of his existence and the one fly in the ointment of Starfleet service.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t get away from it. Particularly after every single CO he’d had had refused his requests to a) shuttle down to the surface or b) space/halo jump down to the surface. Not even citing cultural issues had gotten that one through. Although to be fair, he hadn’t even tried on the Resolute. He hadn’t been aboard long, and he couldn’t figure out if the captain was one of the boys, or perhaps the scariest SOB he’d ever met (currently, and with ship gossip about their last mission, he was leaning toward the latter, especially about the two llanarians aboard).

So he suffered transporting in silence. It. Was. Awful. It always felt like his skin was covered in spiders. Every. Single. Time. Hundreds of little spiders crawling all over his skin, wriggling and squirming and… yeah, it was uncomfortable to say the least.

He kept his expression level and neutral, not allowing a hint of his personal discomfort to show on his face. It wasn’t like he could tell anyone. Who would believe a six-foot-six blond behemoth like him was scared of spiders? It was embarrassing. Utterly embarrassing. No way was he admitting to that.

So he kept his face level as the away team materialized on the surface. Instantly he was on alert, scanning their surroundings to ensure the team’s safety. He wasn’t really expecting any trouble, given the nature of this mission, but he would never discount it. No one from the federation had contact with the Volar for years. Who knew what could have happened in the intervening years?

Commander Burton half turned to catch his eye and he nodded, unspoken communication passing between the two men. So far, so good. Now that his initial scan for threats was done, he allowed himself to take a moment to take in their surroundings. The surface of the Volar’s planet was like nothing he’d ever seen before and he was forced to catch back his sigh of appreciation.

Trees surrounded them in a circle, their silver leaves reflecting the pale lilac of the sky above. An archway of plaited branches marked a gap in the trees, the planet’s capital city just visible through it. There was the hint of white arches and platforms with colorful banners built into the canopy of the trees, playing peekaboo as the wind caught the branches between the away team and them, but then his attention was diverted as a group of Volar approached them along the path.

The group that approached were just as beautiful as the glimpse he’d gotten of their city. Tall and lean, they moved with the same inherent grace as dancers, and he found himself both fascinated and feeling a little like a brutish tank compared.

Their faces were marked with intricate patterns, no two the same, which gave them an otherworldly look.They all wore white, the garments simple, and made of a soft, white material that flowed in the breeze.

As they got closer, and aura of peace and tranquility emanated from them to surround the team. Out of the corner of his eye, Leif noticed the rest of the team relax as though they’d taken a deep breath and let all their worries go. It looked like an automatic reaction. One he didn’t have… but he did the same, forcing the tension from his shoulders, even though he felt less than relaxed. What the hell was that? Instantly he was on alert for anything that could have affected the rest of the team. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but Burton didn’t strike him as the sitting in a circle, holding hands and singing type, which was exactly the expression on his face right now.

The Volar stopped only a few feet again, smiling benignly. Leif smiled back, giving his best dumb blonde look. Something about the look in their eyes made him uneasy.

Burton took a step forward and offered his hand to a male Leif recognized from the briefing notes as Councilor Tarva, the current leader of the Volar. He was an older man, tall and lean, with broad shoulders and zig-zag markings down his cheeks. A younger woman behind him had similar markings. Given her features were also similar to Tarva’s, he suspected they were related. Perhaps father and daughter…

“Good morning. Councilor Tarva, I assume?” Burton smiled as he shook Tarva’s hand. “I’m Hale Burton, from the Resolute. Thank you for the invite to your lovely city.”

Tarva’s expression didn’t change from calm and composed. It was somewhat haughty if Leif was honest. Like he was looking down at the Resolute team (even if he had to look up to meet Leif’s eyes).

“I am indeed, Hale Burton. And you are most welcome. Welcome to Issilia, our primary city. Please… come. We have much to show you.”

Leif followed at the back of the group from the Resolute, smiling amiably as the Volar surrounded them. Fortunately for him, sometimes people assumed big meant dumb, especially when he gave them his best, blank poker smile and they looked away quickly as though bored with him already.

That’s right, don’t look at the big, dumb security officer. All brawn and no brains over here. Nothing to see.

The away team followed Tarva and his group through the forest, the path beneath their feet illuminated by bioluminescent flora.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Callahan breathed, looking up at the buildings on platforms above them as they headed to a huge grand staircase that wound between two massive trees. He kept his body language relaxed, with a look of wonder on his face as he looked around.

As they neared the staircase, which appeared to have been grown out of the trees themselves, he realized that guards in the crowds were watching them. They were good, appearing to be just members of the Volar population, and there were no uniforms or weapons that he could see, but he knew police when he saw them. A sense of unease coiled and knotted in his stomach.

The volar were supposed to be peaceful… 

Raan stood on the bridge, arms folded and sipping his coffee as he watched the crew working diligently at their stations. The hum of the Resolute’s engines filled the air, providing a comforting backdrop to the bridge’s activity. It would have been tranquil, just the everyday workings of a starship and her crew going about their duty… if all the hair’s on the back of Raan’s neck weren’t raised and practically doing the polka. He narrowed his eyes, absently taking another swallow of coffee. Something was wrong somewhere, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Harrow suddenly sat up straight at his station, his brow furrowed.

“Captain, I’m detecting a distress signal,” Linis announced, his voice tinged with confusion.

“Out here?” Raan turned to ask. They’d scanned coming into the system, and, apart from the Volar’s smaller surface-to-space fleet, they were the only ship for lightyears. “Who is it?”

“That’s the problem, sir. It…” Harrow frowned at his screens. He pressed a few buttons and frowned again. “It’s coming from the USS Pendragon.”

“That can’t be right.” Raan stalked over, looking over Harrow’s shoulder. “First a sensor ghost, now this? How can they be sending us a message?”

He glanced over at Allen, who was already analyzing the signal on his console.

“He’s right, boss,” the chief science officer confirmed, his fingers flying over the console as he refined the signal’s origin. “No idea how, but that looks like a distress call from the Pendragon. It has the right encoding and background data strings for a ship from fourteen years ago. It’s heavily garbled, but I’ll try to clean it up as best I can.”

“Do it.” Raan nodded, his eyes fixed on Quinn as the science officer played the transmission. The message was fragmented, and they could only make out a few words through the static.

“…attack… need assistance… coordinates…”

The transmission cut off abruptly, leaving them looking at each other in confusion. “They were attacked?”

“We need to investigate,” Raan decided, determination clear in his voice. “Quinn, see what you can do to clean up that transmission further. Linis, plot a course to the Pendragon’s last known coordinates.”

As the crew sprang into action, Raan tapped his comm badge. “Raan to Burton. Burton, we’re stepping away for a while to investigate a distress signal. Will your away team be okay down there without us for a bit?”

Burton replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “No problem at all, sir. Our hosts are treating us very well indeed. Don’t worry about us… we’ll be fine. Good luck with the investigation.”

“Excellent. We’ll inform you when we’re back in orbit. Mason out.” 

“From second contact to border patrol,” Burton commented as he dropped into the seat next to Raan in the centre of the bridge. Around them, the bridge officers went about their business barely glancing at the two senior officers. “Can’t say this job doesn’t ring the changes.”

Raan grinned at his executive officer. “Stops us getting bored, doesn’t it?”

Burton looked amused. “That’s very true. I’d have liked to spend more time with the Volar, though. Their food… you wouldn’t have believed it.”

“It’s a good job you didn’t take Bennett then,” Raan said, naming the ship’s very large and often ravenous Chief Engineer as he reviewed the latest intelligence on the area they’d been assigned to patrol. Since they were so new in the area, he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “He’d have eaten them out of house and home.”

There was a deep chuckle from the XO. “As long as he didn’t try and blow their kitchens up like he did the replicators, then we’d be all good. Is that dodgy one fixed yet?”

Raan looked up and nodded toward Kovash on helm. A large coffee mug balanced on the edge of her console, showing sprinkles around the top edge. “Nope, still giving out whipped cream and sprinkles with everything.”

The fierce look on the pilot’s face amused him, but he knew better than to show it. She’d only take it out of his hide during their sparring session later. Besides, he was fairly certain, despite her protestations, she liked the sweet drink rather than the engine degreaser she usually drank.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then Burton spoke again.

“So the distress call was a no-go?” he asked, revealing he was reading Raan’s report of their aborted ‘rescue mission’ before their recall and assignment to the Beta Quadrant. Now they were on border defence and pirate watch, which suited Raan down to the ground.  

“Indeed,” he replied. “Seemed like we were just chasing the same sensor ghost as before. A message that had been pinged around the ether, and for some reason, we picked it up. Science is still looking into some angles, but we’ll have to pass it back to ships in the area to check out.”

Burton nodded. “Makes sense. Pity we couldn’t find them, though. Bringing a ship back from the dead would have made for a great story, wouldn’t it?”

Raan smiled as he nodded, his big frame relaxed as he scanned through the reports on his screen and the standing orders they’d been given. Standard patrol route with some check-ins on local authorities in the area to ensure any criminal activity was under control. Although as they were the new kids on the block, it was as much about introductions and making themselves known as it was about keeping the peace in the region. A ship like the Resolute was a message all by itself though, which helped for this kind of assignment.

And that was an advantage Raan intended to use if necessary.