Traversing uncharted territory in a heavy Cruiser was both blessing and curse for an officer in the sciences division.  The blessing, of course, was that Fearless was often on the forefront of discovery; the first on scene as it were.  The curse was that the time and depth required to unravel the mysteries of the universe were often delegated to specialist ships in the Task Force.  Unfortunately one Starfleet Officer could not have all the fun.  It was an unforeseen trade off that had to be made in every fleet scientist's career.

Dirral was not one to complain.  As a Trill joined with the Dirral Symbiont, he had and abundance of memories, accomplishments, and adventures to recall.  It was a legacy of lifetimes; few of which belonged to Radess.  Relativity defined the life of a joined trill as it was difficult to separate the host from the symbiont, and the word ‘few’ no longer implied unaccomplished.  Few simply meant ‘a little more’ to add to the biological databank the Dirral Symbiont carried from host to host.  

“Scanned and Flagged, Sir."

The voice of Ensign Desai came from his station.  She was a competent ‘cub’ and displayed significant promise as a scientist.  He nodded in affirmation and leaned back in the captain's chair, a seat he found he occupied more often than he had expected when agreeing to Langston's invitation to join the ‘Pride’ of the fleet.  The surprise, however, was was that he enjoyed it more than they both had expected.  They assured each other that it was purely experimental, like testing a new hypothesis which could very well be unfounded with time and evidence.  

“Lieutenant Zemke,” he ordered, “return to previous speed, course, and heading.”  

Part of testing any hypothesis was to identify the variables both direct and indirect.  These included, for justification sake, tone of voice, posture, and non-verbal communication while on the bridge.  Command was a new species of leadership, similar to project management, primary authorship, and lead researcher; however, farther removed from the details so familiar was the opportunity to expand involvement in broader conclusions through interdisciplinary synthesis.  This was an exhilarating concept for the dynamic duo seeking to broaden and expand their intellectual and disciplinary skillset.

Dirral listened as Zemke echoed his orders aloud to the bridge.  He exhaled deeply, a forlorn sigh of anguish as the viewscreen veered away from the stellar nebula.  The bridge dimmed to an artificial twilight hue of soft blue as the spectrum of colors dissipated and faded from view.    The void of space lit only by distant starts, darkened to bridge for a brief moment as Zemke returned to artificial daylight.  

“Expand sensor range to Maximum,” Dirral added, one final command before a long stretch of waiting, “let's not miss our next discovery”.

Sitting and waiting had become the most uncomfortable experience with being officer of the deck.  Certainly, he could use the time to catch up on the most resent peer-reviewed journal articles, but he was used to some other side project or personal research that could provide intellectual stimulation, especially in the lab.  Yet, the passage of time afforded an opportunity to see what other departments were doing while he otherwise would have been occupied.  

Dirral pulled himself from the Captain's chair, his hands the last to leave the arms of authority.  He scanned the bridge and stretched his hands, pressed them them together, and rubbed them with anticipation of learning something new.  His eyes settled on his own station.  It was after all, the one that would provide him information of interest.  He surveyed the room once more, shamed by his biased favoritism, and took a large stride towards the science console; secured that eyes were professionally focused on their tasks at hand.  He hovered over the familiar console, peering at the highlights from their most recent scans.

“Pretty unremarkable, Sir.” Ensign Desai informed.

“Yet, a glimpse at the very dust that may one day spawn a system with sentient life," Dirral countered, feeling rather wise in such quick response.  "Maybe future members of the Federation.”  Even he was shocked at how epic his response truly was, something film worthy in a future documentary reviewing the knowledge and advancement made to science by the many faces of Dirral.  

“This may now be the most exciting nebula I have ever observed,” Ensign Desai replied.  

Her smile helped genuine enthusiastic response provided some meaning and purpose to the uneventful travel they would have to endure until the next unexpected variable mandated their attention.  Dirral patted the young scientist on the shoulder and set path for the next console in sight.  Maybe operations has some stimulating, he thought as he stepped towards the division opposite his own.  

“Sir, we are receiving a signal containing no language or code previously encountered. Running it through through analysis, now.” A brief pause was taken by the ensign manning the communications center.  

“Alert the XO,” Dirral ordered instinctually, turning to take center chair once again.  He refrained from seating, knowing it would not belong before the XO would be along to take charge of whatever response this strange new phenomena would require.  “Ensign Desai, anything on sensors?” 

“Negative Sir."

Seconds began to feel like minutes as scenarios began to pass through his mind.  Images of new and undiscovered species migrating through space or the more grandiose first contact encounter were pleasantly entertaining.  His heart fluttered with anticipation and concern as little more information had been provided.

“Do we have anything more Ensign?”

There was another brief pause, as the ensign shook his head negatively, “Still analyzing,”  If there was an old fashioned analogue clock on the bridge, it's clicks would have echoed through the bridge.  The relativity of time truly changed by circumstances of each and every present moment.  

"Analysis indicates a high probability that the signal is a request for assistance.”

The familiar sound vintage hydraulics indicated the presence of a new crewmember on the bridge, confirmed by the  announcement, “XO on deck.”  Dirral turned to meet her commanding presence head on.  In the little time he had to observe and critique observed behavior, it was clear that she had high expectations for order and efficiency; neither of which were negative qualities, simply less nuanced than the way things were  with the ship's previous XO and current 2nd Officer.  

“Status report,” she demanded with brisk even steps.

“Possible distress signal, Sir.”  He tried to be brief, especially since the information they had at this time was minimal.  

“Possible,” the XO questioned.  Her wincing affect and furrowed brow expressing what could only be interpreted as irritated curiosity.

Dirral nodded in affirmative response, “the message contains no verbal or coded communication for interpretation.  Computer analysis suggests a high probability this is an SOS like distress.”

“Thank you Lieutenant.  I have the conn."  

There was little observable change in the Commander's affect.  Clear instruction given, Dirral made haste to his console relieving Ensign Desai, who simply took the empty chair available behind the science station.  He caught himself up to speed while listening intently for any further questions from the XO.  

“Zemke, adjust course to signal origin, maximum warp.”  

As Zemke echoed back orders, Fearless veered towards the new coordinates and slipped into warp.  At maximum it wouldn't take long before they were within sector and at a safe distance away to better observe this curious and distressing signal.  

“We've lost the signal, Sir," the communications officer called out, “it simply ceased transmission; nothing else on coms.”

Dirral could feel the commander's eyes locked on him for further answers prior to their entrance in sector.  He was too old to be intimidated, but he did feel rather embarrassed to have so little information to provide especially when entering to such an unknown situation.  “Nothing out of the ordinary at this range, Sir.” 

“Yellow Alert.” The authoritative tone with which she commanded exacerbated the silence.  Even the computer seemed to drop the regular 'beeps' and ‘boops’ to a reduced threshold as the lights dropped to a softer grey to contrast the yellow lights which lined the hull decking.  Tension thickened as the consoles tracked the ETA.

The viewscreen displayed the transition from warp to sub-light travel and the turbo lift doors swooshed open once more.  “Captain on the bridge!” Langston strolled onto the deck and an invisible sigh of relief swept the growing tension and uncertainty to a tolerable anticipation.  

“Maintain the conn Commander,” Langston spoke taking position behind the tactical station.  

Dirral quickly gathered the information streaming across his station and summarized it for report, “No contact at point of origin, no debris or traces of weapons fire.”

The Caitian tactical officer interjected, “could it be a cloaked vessel of some kind?"

Dirral nodded, “it could be, but intentionally breaking silence would seem inconsistent with rational for use of cloaking technology.”

“It could be a predatory tactic,” the Caitian officer offered in justification, “recommend we keep shields active while in the sector."

“Ghost transmissions, Commander?” Langston's insouciant tone lightened the tactical officer's grave propositions as faces smiled and exchanged glances soft chuckles.  Another variable to note in Dirral's personal experiment and observation of command role and responsibility.  

“I don't like Ghosts, Sir,” the XO retorted, “Tactical, maintain shields and defensive readiness.  Helm, coordinate with Lieutenant Dirral for an optimal sensor sweep of the area.  Let's see if we can find who is behind the white sheet.”

“Ghost hunting it is" Langston affirmed in his typical droll humor, "I leave the ship in your capable hands.”

"In all my years of ghost hunting I have never been afraid, after all, a ghost is only a fellow human being in trouble. ~ Hans Holzer