Just another Tuesday became just another Wednesday as the USS Pacific Palisades continued its meandering circuit through the Meronia Cluster. The California class utility cruiser emerged from warp over an uninhabited rock that would have been completely uninteresting if not for the fact that it hosted a malfunctioning node in the sector’s subspace communications network, and a few moments later, the Type 17 cargo shuttle Huntington peeled away from its rear starboard bay.

It was a short trip over to the asteroid for Captain Reed Westmoreland and his team, and it took the Deputy Chief of Communications and Information Systems within the Archanis Sector Corps of Engineers only shortly longer to reach a conclusion about what had happened to the relay.

“This thing didn’t go inoperable on its own. There’s heavy disruptor scarring all over the superstructure, and between kinetic and energy damage, the internals are toast. Gonna need to fab basically a whole new transceiver to get this relay operational again.”

On the bridge of the Pacific Palisades, Captain Kenji Saito had been lazily perusing the gossip section of  The Cosmic Courier when the call came in, but as soon as he heard the words ‘disruptor fire’, his posture straightened and he set the PADD down.

“Huntington, please confirm. You said disruptor fire?” With the sector relatively neglected by the Federation for the better part of the 24th century, duplicitous parties had moved into the region in their absence. “Does it match any known signature?” The commanding officer of the Pacific Palisades could think of no less than a half dozen groups that might have been responsible.

“Affirm Pali. The residue is Klingon in origin.”

“Sir, I recommend that we go to yellow alert,” Captain Saito advised as he turned to Commodore Amit Agarwal, the Detachment Commander of the Archanis Sector Corps of Engineers. “And that you recall your team.”

The California class ship’s bridge crew all looked over at the Commodore. They were a mix of young officers who’d taken this assignment as a stepping stone, and older officers who’d landed themselves here on account of their sheer mediocrity, but none of them were seasoned on the frontier, and they all sort of expected him to order the shuttle back to the ship and to turn tail. That was, after all, the safe thing to do, right?

Commodore Agarwal gave no such order though. He’d spent his entire career on frontier construction projects, and a little Klingon disruptor fire didn’t particularly worry him. Between skirmish-inclined border houses and the proliferation of Klingon weaponry into the hands of other local factions, Klingon disruptor fire was just a part of the region’s messy fabric. “Captain Westmoreland,” Commodore Agarwal asked calmly over the link. “About how long has this node been inoperable?”

“About three months, sir.”

“Then I think we can defer with panic then,” Commodore Agarwal assured the captain. “And instead focus on completing some long overdue repairs.” He knew the older man meant well, but it was not lost on him that Kenji Saito was a forever-captain who, over his decade tenure in grade, had never graduated beyond a California class utility cruiser. This was not a man who took risks or ever went out over his skis. “Let’s get the rest of the team over there, and I’m sure Reed will have that transceiver up and running in no time.”

“Aye sir,” Captain Saito nodded warily before turning to his team. “Flight deck operations, clear the Castellammare, Marquez and Riviera for launch.” Hopefully this would be quick, he thought to himself. The Commodore didn’t seem worried, but the idea of Klingon disruptor fire made the Captain’s hair stand on end.

As Captain Saito watched the cargo shuttles begin their slow procession over the bow, a loud chime sounded from behind him.

“Sir, I’ve got an incoming communication,” the ensign at communications announced. “Priority one distress call, broadcasting synchronously across Starfleet and civilian frequencies.”

“Alright,” sighed Captain Saito, wishing that, for just once, it would be a simple day. But it never was. Not since coming to the Archanis Sector, at least. “Put it on screen.”

A moment later, a Fleet Admiral appeared on the main viewscreen. It wasn’t every day you saw one of those, Captain Saito thought to himself. And even rarer that it was one you’d actually met in person. But he recognized her. He’d met her during a reception on Archanis Station early in the month. Her name was Fleet Admiral Allison Reyes. She was the director of some frontier sciences unit, and the commander of a squadron that was now based out of the Archanis Sector.

“This is Fleet Admiral Allison Reyes of the Starfleet vessel USS Polaris requesting immediate assistance from any and all ships, Starfleet or otherwise, that hear this call.”

That opening got his attention. Commodore Agarwal, too, stopped what he was doing and turned to face the viewscreen.

“For reasons we do not completely understand, a supermassive singularity has appeared within the Vespara system, and in just seven days time, it will have pulled Vespara Prime out of the system’s habitable zone. Using all the capabilities at our disposal, we believe we can extend habitability on the surface for another four days, but come the twelfth day, Vespara Prime will become an uninhabitable wasteland spiraling uncontrollably towards the sun.”

As he listened to the message, Commodore Agarwal could not help but notice how remarkably calm the admiral looked. He could tell, just by looking at her demeanor, that this was a woman who did not shy away from crisis, but beneath her cool exterior, he could sense something else too. Fear. A frenetic fear. Like a timer ticking down. And what did she mean that a singularity had just  appeared? Singularities did not just appear.

“There are six million who call Vespara Prime home. Six million just like you. Six million men, women and children, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, just like yours. Six million who woke up this morning to an extinction-level event bearing down on them.”

It was an impassioned plea, a personal plea. Commodore Agarwal had a wife and two kids, as did many of the others across the subsector who simultaneously received her call. The numbers she shared were shocking. Six million was a lot of people, and twelve days was not a lot of time.

“They need our help, but my squadron is only four ships. We are not enough on our own. And thus I call on you. They need you. They need your help. Every cargo hold, every replicator, every little bit of space and every last supply you can spare, every bit will help.”

The USS Pacific Palisades wasn’t sleek or sexy, but as a mobile construction and maintenance platform for the Archanis Sector Corps of Engineers, its fabrication facilities and engineers were well beyond what its understated appearance suggested. Further, given its utilitarian purpose, it also had space, more than would be expected from a ship of its size, as it had foregone many of the amenities found on more prestigious frontline cruisers.

“To the captains hearing this call, just as the mariners before you have responded to maydays for generations, I beg of you to answer this call, to come to Vespara, to help us save its people from an unspeakable catastrophe.”

And that was it. A short, but deeply impassioned call for assistance. One that he could not ignore. ”Captain Saito, get a line to HQ,” Commodore Agarwal ordered as the call of duty washed over him. “Notify Archanis Station we’re going to be delayed here, that we’re responding to a distress call from Polaris.”

Captain Saito hurried off the bridge to place the call.

Commodore Agarwal then turned to the comms officer: “Get Reed on the horn. Tell him he’s got five minutes to get back up here or we’re leaving his ass on that dusty rock.” They had a new mission. Dilapidated infrastructure, infrastructure that had already been broken for months, it could wait, but the people of Vespara could not.

As he waited for the comms to go out, the Commodore’s mind was already turning over what they could do. Could they ferry residents off-world and out of the system? Or harden fixed infrastructure that was already on the planet? What about setting up temporary housing facilities elsewhere in the system? He had a lot of ideas, but there was not a lot of time, and six million people was a lot of people.

A few minutes later, Captain Saito returned to the bridge with an update: “Commodore, it took a moment, but I finally managed to reach Archanis Station. It sounds like it’s chaos over there.”

“They heard about Vespara?” Commodore Agarwal asked hopefully.

“No, we have a bigger problem,” Captain Saito said as he shook his head. “Or more accurately, we have a whole bunch of problems. There’s something going on.” He looked overwhelmed by what Archanis Station had relayed to him. “Ships missing, reports of strange stellar anomalies, rumors of Hirogen and Kazon randomly…”

Commodore Agarwal raised his hand to stop the older man. “Did they have any specific orders for us? Any specific thing they need us to look into?”

“No, they just let me know this wasn’t the only problem.”

“Well then, to Vespara we go.”

Captain Saito looked puzzled. Had the Commodore not heard what he’d just said? This could be like that Borg matter from June all over again. Why was Agarwal focused on one problem?

“There’s always a million problems in this galaxy,” Commodore Agarwal observed pensively as he walked towards the front of the bridge and stared out at the stars that lay beyond. It was funny how peaceful the galaxy always looked at a distance. “Today might be worse than other days, but you see, we can’t fix them all. But there’s one problem before us that we know we can help with, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”