“Marco… Marco…” Circe whispered beneath her breath, dipping the nose of her Valkyrie beneath a large portion of metallic debris. The remnant of an unknown interstellar starship spun idly on the solar winds, its once tan hull now bleached a pale yellow by the continuous bombardment of high energy UV radiation from the distant white-hot sun. With an expert flick of the wrist on the controls, Crice twisted the nimble craft into a turn, slipping round and returning away from the large hull piece that marked the nav point in her latest search block. “You’re meant to say ‘polo’ boss lady”.” 

“The comms are open Circe.” Merope chided, her frustrations barely concealed beneath her thick southern drawl. 

“Isn’t that S&R protocol?” Circe replied, sending a small cluster of debris floating away with her manoeuvring thrusters as she brought herself onto the return pattern vector. 

“Then you should probably shut up.” The half-Vulcan’s tone is thick with frustration and desperation. 

“It helps me work Merope, just because you’re in a mood.”

“Pheobe is missing…” Merope began to speak, her anger, however misplaced, pouring across the comms.

“We’ll find her.” Circe insisted, cutting the other officer off as she sent her shuttle into a wide roll to avoid colliding with the remnants of an engine block that now drifted in space, distant stars barely visible through the large holes reaching through its metallic frame. “Then we’ll all go back to Helios for a drink.”

“Don’t be such a stupid cow Circe,” venom sprayed from the comm link. “They’re not expecting to find her a-”

“-Enough. Both of you.” the elder voice of Astris interrupted. “Need I remind you everyone can hear you?” There was silence on the comm link, icy waves of nothing echoing across the debris field from the two young officers. “As I thought. Anyok any update?”

Aboard the runabout Pollux, hovering at the edge of the debris field, sheltering from the overwhelming solar radiation behind a large nacelle unit, Lieutenant Commander Anyok reached over with a clawed finger and joined the conversation. “The debris is continuing to shift, we estimate you have investigated less than 2 percent of the search area.”

“Nowhere near enough,” Merope responded, filling the airwaves with a heavy sigh. “Time is running out.” she muttered, vocalising a shared but unaddressed concern. 

“Is there any way we can narrow it down?” Merope pushed past the young woman’s doomsaying, whilst their search and rescue mission might now be turning into search and retrieve she wasn’t ready to give up hope just yet. 

“We are already operating a narrower search area based on momentum within the field and expected deployment from the aperture.” From the cockpit of the runabout, Anyok could see the mercifully closed mouth of the Underspace aperture, electricity dancing across the thin white line that hung bodyless in space. 

“This would be a lot quicker with Helios.” Circe whined. 

“Unfortunately, that is not an option Lieutenant.” A blinking red light on the runabout console interrupted the Aurelian officer. “Standby, we are being hailed. Khal will remain on the line to provide you with your next search vectors.” With a nod to the heavy-browed Romulan Intel officer across the cockpit Anyok stood from her console and crossed the rear wall, activating the external commlink.

“I’m glad to see your face Anyok.” the grease-covered visage of Helios‘ XO turned temporary captain, Commander Bib appeared on the screen. He rubbed his face with a cloth, adding it to the pile of towels on the top of the ready-room desk, their patchwork of grey and black marks forming an uncomfortable Rorschach test in the corner of the screen. 

“And I yours Captain. I trust this is a good sign?”. If full comms were back online then perhaps sensor systems weren’t far behind.

“A small one,” a crease of static dashed across the screen, cutting the Andorian’s face in half. “The solar interference is still playing havoc with systems but now we’re in the shade of the planet Nikashri and her teams are able to get on with the sensor palettes.” 

“Do we have an ETA?” 

Bib shook his head. “Even hidden in the shadow EVAs are limited to 1 hour, even in the worker bees.” He twisted the cloth in his hand around a particularly dirty antenna. “We’ve done everything we can internally. Now we just have to take our time making repairs.”

“We are lucky then that there doesn’t appear to be anyone else around.” Anyok pressed a button, sharing the runabouts collated sensor data. “Our initial scans show no other vessels in the system though we are quite blinded by the sun.”

“And the aperture?”

“Silent since our arrival.” Anyok chattered her beak, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood. “I am concerned however, by both the amount and variety of debris at the mouth of the Underspace portal.” She summoned another set of scan data, small schematics beginning to cycle in the corner of the screen. “There is a great deal of debris we cannot identify but…” her beak chattered again as she picked a particular schematic from the list, her nervousness growing “… these larger segments are consistent with archive data for Vidiian ships.” She cast an eye back to the Romulan officer in the cockpit, she had no doubt he was passively eavesdropping as any good intel officer would. 

Bib’s face fell flat, his normally cheery demeanour that endeared him to many of the crew slipping away. 

“Though not a 100% match to the metallurgy on file, its structure and design is inline with records. And then there’s this.” Her beak chittered again as she called up a visual scan of one of the largest nearby hull fragments, on its bleached surface a clear diamond design formed of once golden geometric weaves, each one finishing with a cruel-looking dagger point. Anyok shuddered slightly, she had seen more welcoming things in a Klingon armoury. 

Bib rubbed his brow, his face noticeably weary. “So Delta quadrant then.”

“Not necessarily, we know the Underspace extends a significant distance, perhaps we are not as far as we fear.” Anyok offered, barely believing her own statement. “There isn’t any sign of other known polities amongst the wreckage.”

“Any sign of Helena amongst it all?” Bib looked as though he might accidentally put a thumb through his skull as he rubbed his forehead, pushing away the tension desperately. 

Anyok shook her head, her long feathers rustling slightly. 

“Well, you’re clock is up I’m afraid. Doctor Ashra has advised we need to call you back before Heliades solar exposure levels become too high.” 

“Will we return?” Anyok suspected she knew the answer, her back twitched, a phantom feeling from her long-absent wings, another old tick of her nerves. 

“Honest answer?” Bib’s jaw was set hard as he chewed on his responsibility. 

“I have never expected anything else in all our years of friendship.”

“Not immediately, we don’t have the facilities to undertake a full search and rescue in unknown and possibly hostile territory at the moment.” The weight of his temporary command pushed down on the man’s shoulders, allowing his old friend to glimpse past his confident facade. “I have 500 other people to think about now too. We don’t even know…”

“Sorry to interrupt sirs, but Merope has found something,” Khal called from the cockpit his tone indecipherable. 

With a press of a button Bib’s face was transferred to the small screen located in the runabout’s bulkhead as Anyok crossed to join the Romulan man at the controls. “Good or bad?”  

Khal responded with silence, pointing to the central display panel between the shared consoles. On it a live feed from Merope showed a cluster of debris, its familiar grey tone sending a shiver up the spines of all present. As the nearby thin strip of hull swung around, a series of large black letters were brought into the bright searchlights of Merope’s Valkyrie. 

‘N.C.C. 63284’ A  silence hung across the cluster of small ships as they floated in the debris field, endless and empty, as each person found themselves painfully alone in their shared grief. 

“Do what you need to do, Lieutenant Commander. Bring her home. Helios out.” Bib signed off, his instructions clear, unable to bring himself to say anything more.

“I’ll clear space in the aft.” Anyok stood from her console, her beak grinding against itself as her eyes began filling with tears. “Khal, please set a course to Merope’s location.” She stopped at the doorway, turning back to the broad-shouldered man, damp marks beginning to show across his scarred face.  “And close the channel, let’s give those ladies some privacy.”

Across the comm links the barely perceptible hiss of the continually open comm channel ended and the crying began.