The moment it entered the subspace corridor, Olympia Station had set the record for the fastest speed ever recorded by a Federation space station. Considering its design speed was to be, well, stationary, the problem the station’s crew and the crew of the Arondight now faced was how to make it stop without something catastrophic happening. As Tristan Hawthorne studied the data coming in, he was relatively sure that they wouldn’t be able to do much about that, anyway.

“Sir, if I’m reading this correctly, we’re following a warp plasma trail left by Buran when it entered the subspace corridor. This system has several branches, but the station’s course hasn’t taken us down any of them,” Hawthorne reported from his station behind Captain Bennett. “With just our own deflector dish, I don’t see any way of stopping the station or breaking back into realspace until we exit at a natural aperture.”

Bennett turned around and leaned over the railing separating them to view Hawthorne’s data over his shoulder. He didn’t react immediately, and Hawthorne definitely understood that—it was hard to know what to say to the strange predicament they found themselves in.

“Can you measure our relative velocity within the tunnel?” Bennett finally asked. “All things being equal, the station will be propelled out of the tunnel at the same speed as it entered, right?” 

Hawthorne nodded. “Based on the specifications of the station’s thrusters, we’ll be exiting at the top end of what the station will be able to mitigate on its own, assuming there are no other gravitational forces to contend with. Arondightshould have no trouble pulling away.”

“Can you estimate how far we’ve gone already?”

“Negative, Captain. Not with any certainty. If I assume objects transit through the corridors at a fixed rate, we could be up to 400 light-years away from our last position, but without a frame of reference, we’re in the dark,” Hawthorne said. 

In the dark was exactly how Hawthorne felt about their situation in general. Starfleet had so little experience with subspace corridors that he likely wouldn’t’ve been able to tell the captain more even with the full sensor suite of a Vesta-class explorer at his disposal, let alone the more limited sensors on the Arondight, which were being limited even further by the bulk of Olympia Station sitting right in front of them. He wanted to be more valuable—to put what Lancaster had called his “over-qualification” into action, but all they could really do was wait.

“Sirs, Olympia reports that they have an aperture coming up fast. Twenty seconds until we’re out. They advise we brace and prepare for separation, depending on what we run into out there,” Counselor Wilders reported next to Hawthorne.

“All hands, this is the captain. We’re preparing to exit the subspace tunnel. Brace for impact,” Bennett ordered over the intercom. 

The hairs on Hawthorne’s neck stood on end as he shivered slightly from that order. This extended crisis was the longest amount of time he’d spent on the bridge of a starship under red alert, and it was both thrilling and terrifying. He glanced behind himself in Costa’s direction and couldn’t help but blush when he found the first officers’ warm, brown eyes already on him. He managed a small smile and turned back toward the science station. A downside to ending the crisis would be facing Costa for an honest conversation about their two-fold revelations.

Suddenly, the ship shuddered violently. Even with the inertial dampeners, the ship was designed to react to gravitational forces you might encounter in realspace, not in the unusual conditions in a subspace corridor. From all of Hawthorne’s readings, he could see that they were at least still held firmly to the side of the station with the tractor beam as they left the anomaly behind.

“The station is using thrusters to slow down,” Costa reported.

“Any idea where we are?” Bennett asked.

“Unclear at this time, sir,” Lieutenant Lassus said from the helm. 

“It’ll take us a moment to find landmarks,” Hawthorne said. “We appear to be in interstellar space, judging based on the quantities of particulate matter around us.”

“Olympia reports that they’re ready to release the tractor beam. We’re to take up a standard orbit around them,” Wilders reported.

“Understood,” Bennett said. “Helm, put us 8 kilometers out from the station’s centerline,” he added once Arondightshuddered again and the tractor beam was disabled. “I want to know where we are ASAP. Check all systems for damage.”

The frigate separated from the station’s exterior, moving off on its own power between unknown stars. Hawthorne switched every possible sensor suite to process navigational data. The further you were away from the subspace network and known landmarks, the more difficult it was to ascertain your position. A ship like Arondight was meant to fulfill its patrol and scientific duties within short distances from a starbase, so it had only a basic navigational suite. Given that Olympia Station wasn’t intended to navigate anywhere ever, its facilities were even more limited, though it had telescopes and other long-range arrays that could be adapted to serve that role. It took Hawthorne a moment to determine their direction until he found the galaxy’s center. Other data began to pour in as the ship’s computer began comparing various star clusters, nebulae, and other items it could see visually. Thankfully, they had access to the massive computers aboard Olympia Station to help with the calculations.

“The station reports moderate damage across all monitored systems, sir. No fatalities so far, but there are hundreds of moderate to severe injuries. Repair crews are working on tamping down several plasma fires created by EPS ruptures,” the counselor added. “The station’s weapons grid is fluctuating, and the commodore wants us to maintain a defensive station.”

“We’re going to need to,” Hawthorne muttered. He exhaled slowly as he confirmed the computer’s conclusions on their position. Luckily, they hadn’t ended up in the heart of a star or smashed into a Borg Unicomplex, but their actual destination could have been better. “Captain, based on these readings, we’ve traveled nearly 750 light years from our previous position. We’re in uncharted space beyond the far side of the Breen Confederacy, at least 300 light years from Federation space,” he said.

“I guess that confirms the rate of travel isn’t fixed,” Robinson offered.

Hawthorne slumped slightly in his chair, thinking about being over a month away from help at Arondight‘s maximum speed. Even a subspace radio message would take two weeks to reach the nearest known relay and it would have to pass through Breen space first. They were well and truly stranded if they couldn’t figure out how to get the station back through the subspace corridor.

“Great,” the captain quipped. “We don’t have any data on this region, and we don’t have a good picture of how far Breen territory actually extends. We have to be ready for anything,” he said. “Where’s my damage report?”

“Just completed, Captain. Engineering reports that all systems are functioning within normal parameters, but Lieutenant Shadi would like to take the warp engines temporarily offline while running a full diagnostic. She also wants to test the structural systems. It’s not clear what the impact traveling the way we did may have had,” Lieutenant Robinson piped up.

“That seems sensible, but I don’t like the idea of being without warp drive out here,” Bennet replied, the indecision creeping into his voice. “Stand down to yellow alert. Have engineering start the structural diagnostics. I’m going to confer with the station. Mr. Costa, you have the bridge,” he said before leaving the first officer in command.

Shortly after that, the senior officers gathered in Arondight’s small briefing room behind the bridge. The double doors at the end of the room were open to the captain’s ready room. There was just enough space for Captain Bennett to sit at the head of the table with his eight staff members on either side, unlike the massive conference suites Hawthorne was used to on Arcturus. He was also still unused to sitting on the captain’s left side. 

“Olympia Station is shaken up, but they’re moving quickly to restore full functionality. Commodore Logan is deploying the station’s fighter defenses, which will free us up to focus on locating the Buran and our probes,” the captain explained. He tapped a button on the table to display a map of the system in 3D. “We’re relatively sure that this system is Gamma Aquarii. It’s a tenth of a light-year away from our position. There’s one large Class-O ocean world, a handful of gas giants, and around a hundred moons. Buran’s plasma trail leads into the system. Given the characteristics of our probes, gravitational modeling suggests they would have ended up there as well.”

“Sir, Olympia Station’s sensors are many orders of magnitude more powerful than ours. If they haven’t located—” Lieutenant Robinson interjected before Bennett cut him off.

“Olympia won’t be using their active sensors because we don’t know what’s in this system, lieutenant. Until we’re sure it’s free from danger, the station will operate as close to silent running as possible,” Bennett explained. “I realize this is an unusual situation, but Arondight was never meant to be the first starship to get the chance to explore an unknown star system. We can’t waste this opportunity.”

“The captain’s right. Who knows when another Starfleet vessel will ever get out this far,” Costa agreed before turning to Hawthorne across the table. “While we’re looking for our assets, the science department needs to soak up as much data as we can. We have no idea what might be important yet.”

Hawthorne nodded. “Of course,” he agreed. “I-,” the scientist started, but he paused when he heard an audible groan of pain from Lieutenant Sadir beside him. When he cocked his head to see what was wrong, he saw the Betazoid man rubbing his temples intensely. “Are you alright, Lieutenant?” he asked as the whole table turned to look at him.

“I am fine. I appreciate the concern, Commander. The station is filled with confusion and pain, which I believe may be impacting me,” Sadir explained. 

“When we’re done here, I want Dr. Sarama to check you out, lieutenant,” Bennett ordered, with a look of concern evident on the captain’s sharp features.

The doctor nodded.

“We’ll start with the Class-O planet. All indications are that there’s a breathable atmosphere. If the Buran had any control left, that’s where she would have headed.”

“Captain, I still strongly recommend running a full diagnostic on our warp propulsion system. I’d also like time to study the phenomenon’s effects on our warp field. Otherwise, we risk whatever happened to Buran happening to us,” the Bajoran chief engineer, Lieutenant Shadi Oxel, interjected. “It will only take 12 hours.”

“12 hours is a long time for Buran to wait for us if there are wounded, Lieutenant,” Doctor Sarama interjected.

“If we explode, that’ll put a real dampener on their rescue,” Shadi countered.

“Being cautious would allow us to collect more data on this system before we enter,” Hawthorne offered. “With, of course, the added benefit of not exploding.”

“I’m inclined to agree with the doctor. Speed is of the essence,” the captain replied, tapping his fingers on the table as a sign of either agitation or thoughtfulness.

“What if there’s an alternative, sir? Commander Hawthorne and I could take a shuttle ahead while Ms. Shadi runs her diagnostics. In one of the type-twelves, we could be there in three hours,” Costa suggested.

Hawthorne blushed slightly from the memory of their last away mission in a shuttle. He cleared his throat when he saw the captain looking at him.

“If the station sends over a reconnaissance pallet, we can bolt it onto the shuttle in about 20 minutes,” the scientist noted, toying with the signet ring he wore on his pinky.

“That puts the commanders at unacceptable risk,” Lieutenant Sadir objected.

“Perhaps,” Bennett agreed. “Although, the two of them have more experience with small craft in crisis situations than any of the rest of you. Fine, Ms. Shadi, you may proceed with your diagnostics. Mr. Robinson, get the sensor pallet the second officer requested ASAP and prep the shuttle. Dismissed,” he said. “Except you two,” the captain added, looking at both Hawthorne and Costa.

The two lieutenant commanders sat back down while the rest of the senior staff filed out of the briefing room to go about their assignments. Hawthorne found his heart racing in those few seconds, as his mind was typically even more prone to spinning out possible futures—he just wasn’t as liberal about voicing those ideas as Costa was.

“In and out. No funny business,” Bennett said, looking at the two of them. “Both Admiral Hayden and Fleet Captain Lancaster speak highly about you both. I was inclined to trust their opinions when they assigned you here,” he said, with a clear ‘but’ coming. “But, I need you both focused on the mission and not each other. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” Hawthorne said, starting to turn from pink to red.

“Absolutely, sir,” Costa agreed. “Can I ask…?”

“What you do in your private lives is, of course, your business. I even believe that my officers being stable in their romantic lives is good for the ship’s operations,” Bennett noted, becoming a little icy as he looked at both officers. “I just wanted to disabuse you of the notion that I don’t know. Is that understood?”

Hawthorne was mortified but also relieved. He hated being the subject of conversation, let alone having his sex life be the topic du jour, but it was also liberating to know that they didn’t have as much of a secret as they thought they did. He didn’t love the implication that their working together would be impeded by their romantic attraction, though. If anything, their service together had shown the opposite.

“Yes, sir,” Hawthorne and Costa said in unison.

“Excellent. I want you in flight within the next half hour. Scout the system, and we’ll be there to meet you in the morning. Dismissed,” he said.

Twenty-eight minutes later, Shuttlecraft #04, Pike, lifted off of the deck of Shuttlebay 2. The dagger-shaped scout shuttle proceeded at high impulse to an assumed safe distance of ten kilometers from the station before it jumped to warp with a flash.