The sweet scent of jumja tea filled Taro Niya’s nostrils as she lifted the cup and the plate of buttered toast from the replicator. They never got the Bajoran tea quite right, but it was a close enough approximation that Niya still enjoyed multiple cups throughout the day. She carried her breakfast to a nearby table where fellow Bajoran, Nybor Laan, was already seated.

“What’re you reading?” Niya asked, nodding at the PADD in Nybor’s hand as she slid into the seat opposite and placed her cup and plate in front of her. Nybor held out the PADD so she could see the title. “Richard II?”

Nybor nodded. “Captain Rix recommended it.”

“I’ve never understood the human fascination with Shakespeare,” Niya said.

“Neither have I,” Nybor agreed. “I can think of half a dozen writers who are better.” He set the PADD down. “I don’t dislike his plays, but I just don’t rate them as highly as others.” He shrugged his shoulders and added, “Maybe because they speak to something in the human condition, you and I will never understand.”

Niya considered that as he chewed slowly on a piece of toast. “So, how do you explain Rix’s fascination?”

“Poor taste?” Nybor shot back with a wry grin. He took a sip from his almost empty mug of coffee and looked around the small mess hall. “Where’s Henry?”

“He decided to skip breakfast,” Niya replied darkly. “I can’t say I blame him.”

Nybor let out a sigh. “Today must be really difficult for him.”

“Today’s difficult for who?” Lieutenant Marchand asked as he joined them.

“Henry,” Niya replied before clarifying.”Doctor Young.”

Marchand rolled his eyes. “Is he still crying about his husband dying?”

Niya was astonished but not surprised at Marchand’s callousness and how casually it flowed from him. In the short time she’d known him, Elias Marchand had proven himself incredibly insensitive; Taro would even describe him as heartless. She had yet to figure out whether it was intentional or not.

“Have some compassion,” Niya shot back. “The man lost his husband less than a year ago. Today would’ve been their wedding anniversary.”

The mission’s Chief Tactical and Security Officer greedily shovelled scrambled eggs into his mouth. “And don’t we know it? It’s all he’s talked about for the past three weeks. The guy died months ago. Young needs to get over it.”

“How, exactly, is he supposed to ‘get over’ losing the love of his life?” Nybor asked.

Marchand shrugged nonchalantly. “Simple. The best way to get over someone is to get-”

“I’m begging you not to finish that sentence,” Niya held up a hand to stop him.

“You’re a pig,” Nybor added, his voice dripping with scorn.

Marchand looked genuinely confused at Nybor’s remark and innocently asked, “What?”

Niya’s reply died on her lips when the familiar chirp of the comm system echoed through the mess hall. “Senior officers report to duty stations.”

The three officers jumped from their seats, their breakfasts forgotten and their conversation. Niya was never so happy to be summoned to the bridge.

Antonia Carerra was a morning person and had been for as long as she could remember. While others could languish in bed for hours, Carerra needed to be up and doing something once she was awake. It wasn’t unusual to see her wander onto the bridge forty minutes before the beginning of her shift.

“Good morning, Captain,” The Officer of the Watch, Lieutenant Saju, quickly vacated the command chair.

Commanding the Cernan for the past few weeks had been a nice change of pace, but Antonia was looking forward to returning to her regular duties upon their return to the Challenger, which was due to happen in a little more than ten hours. 

“Anything to report, Lieutenant?”

“We detected a group of previously unencountered cozmozoans about five hours ago,” the young woman replied with a tired smile. “I took us as close as possible without spooking them.”

Carerra would have done the same thing, and she was already itching to take a look at the data Saju collected on these cozmozoans, but she managed to play it cool for now.

“Good work,” Carerra smiled. “I look forward to reading the reports.”

“Otherwise, it was a quiet-”

An alarm coming from the tactical console interrupted them, drawing their attention. “Captain, we’re receiving an automated distress signal.”

“Can you locate the source of the signal?” Antonia asked, immediately assuming command.

The duty tactical officer studied his console. “It’s coming from the third planet in the Morar system, bearing zero-three-three mark zero-six-zero.”

“Helm, alter course for the Morar system and increase speed to warp eight.”  Antonia settled in the command chair and opened a shipwide comm channel, “Senior officers report to duty stations.”

It didn’t take long for the senior bridge officers to arrive, one of the benefits of the smaller Aquarius-class escort compared to her much larger Odyssey-class mothership. They quickly relieved their Delta shift counterparts while Antonia brought them up to speed and set them to work.

“We’re approaching Morar III, Captain.” Lieutenant da Costa reported. Almost ninety minutes had passed since they’d received the distress call. 

Antonia pushed herself from her chair and came to stand behind da Costa. While command had never been a goal for Antonia, she liked to constantly challenge herself, and when this particular challenge was presented to her, it had proven impossible to resist. 

“Slow to impulse, Lieutenant,” Carerra ordered. She looked over at Thera zh’Vosia, who was her chief science officer on this mission. “Any sign of the ship that sent the distress call?”

The bridge fell silent as they waited for zh’Vosia to respond. “Negative.” The science officer replied. “But I’ve found the beacon transmitting the distress signal.” The viewscreen changed to show a metallic object resembling a probe in orbit of the planet.

“We should bring it aboard,” Taro suggested, “and deactivate the distress signal.”

Antonia nodded in agreement. “Lieutenant da Costa, take us into tractor beam range,” she ordered. “Mister Marchand, lock on a tractor beam and bring the beacon aboard.”

With the crew around her working seamlessly together, the distress beacon was safely secured inside the Cernan’s cargo bay, and Lieutenant Commander Nybor left the bridge to study the device and deactivate it.

“Captain, I’m detecting a large quantity of debris on the surface of Morar III,” zh’Vosia reported.

Antonia’s heart sank. “Is it the ship we’re looking for?”

“I believe it is,” zh’Vosia replied. “The materials in the debris match those used in the construction of the beacon. The wreckage is scattered over a wide area. It suggests the ship broke apart during atmospheric entry.”

Antonia already knew the answer but asked the question anyway; she needed zh’Vosia to confirm it. “Survivors?”

“I’m not detecting any life signs on the planet.” zh’Vosia announced sadly.

They were too late. They may have been too late before they’d even received the distress signal. The thought had occurred to Antonia, but she’d pushed it out of her mind, holding on to hope that they would arrive in time to save lives, but that wasn’t to be.

“Captain,” da Costa began, interrupting Antonia’s thoughts, “I’m picking up a faint ion trail leading away from the planet. It looks like someone tried to mask their trail but hasn’t done a very good job.”

Did this ion trail belong to survivors? Or did it indicate something more sinister? There was only one way to find out. “Yellow alert,” Antonia ordered. “Mister da Costa, plot a course to follow that ion trail and take us to full impulse.”

“Full impulse, aye,” da Costa replied instinctively.

The Cernan set off in search of the ion trail’s source. The Morar system had ten planets, each with at least one moon. Plenty of places to hide. Searching for them would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack if they figured out how to properly mask their ion trail.

Five minutes became ten, which became twenty. Thirty minutes later, the Cernan had followed the ion trail to the fifth moon of the Morar VII where they found a small courier ship adrift.

“I’m not detecting any power signatures,” zh’Vosia reported. “Life support is offline, and CO2 levels are reaching critical levels.”

Antonia leaned forward. “Lifesigns?”

“One, but it’s very weak.”

There was no time to waste. “Bridge to transporter room. Lock onto the life sign onboard the nearby ship and beam them directly to sickbay.”

“Aye, Captain,” The transporter chief replied. Antonia could hear Commander Taro telling sickbay to prepare for an incoming casualty. Seconds passed before the transporter chief reported, “Transport complete. We have him.”

Antonia hoped they had arrived in time to save at least one life, but that was out of her hands. Doctor Young and his team would work as hard as they could to save the stranger’s life.

“Lieutenant Marchand, lock a tractor beam onto that ship and take it under tow,” Antonia ordered. “Commander Taro, you have the bridge.” She started towards the door. “I’ll be in sickbay.”