“Patrol is going smoothly, Admiral,” Horin said, his voice carrying the calm confidence of an experienced officer. “No incidents to report. Routine sweeps and systems checks, just as expected.”

Horin sat comfortably in the ready room aboard the Formidable; his posture relaxed yet attentive as he spoke to the holographic image of Admiral Jaret. The backdrop of her office on Deep Space 19 was as orderly as ever, though the tension of her duties subtly lingered in her expression.

Jaret folded her hands under her chin, her gaze sharp. “And what about our Romulan friends? Any sign of them stepping over the line?”

Horin smirked faintly. “Tamalath and her ships are keeping to their side, and we’re keeping to ours. It’s a delicate dance, but it’s one we’re both managing well enough.”

“Good,” Jaret replied, leaning back slightly. “The last thing we need is another border skirmish. Speaking of which,” her voice dropped to a more conversational tone, “have you heard from our friend lately?”

Horin shook his head. “Nothing yet, Admiral. If he’s moving, he’s keeping it quiet. Probably wise.”

Jaret nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Keep me informed. And, Captain?”

“Admiral?”

“Take care of yourself out there. Jaret out.”

The holographic projection blinked out, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of the ship’s systems. Horin barely had a moment to reflect on the conversation when the door chime sounded.

“Come in,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

The door slid open, revealing his son. He stepped in with a casual confidence that belied his younger years.

“Off duty already?” Horin asked with a raised brow.

Tate grinned before nodding. “Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab a bite in the mess hall. Figured you might need the break.”

Horin chuckled, leaning forward. “Let me guess. Your mother put you up to this?”

Tate hesitated, then sighed. “Fine, you caught me. She ordered me to make sure you were eating and sleeping properly. You know how she gets.”

Horin laughed and stood, smoothing his uniform. “That I do. Let’s not disappoint her. I’m sure she has spies among the engineering staff that keep tabs on me when she’s not on the Formidable. Lead the way.”

The mess hall was alive with the gentle hum of conversation. A few crewmembers scattered at various tables, enjoying their meals or quietly discussing the day’s tasks. Horin and Tate claimed a corner table, their trays laden with replicated food and a mug of tea.

As they ate, Tate leaned in slightly. Instead of using his voice, he spoke through their telepathic abilities in a low tone tinged with curiosity. *Dad, are we out here prepping for something involving Tom Hawkins?*

Horin paused his fork midway to his mouth. He tilted his head, meeting Tate’s gaze. *What makes you think that?*

*C’mon,* Tate replied, his tone a mix of telepathic inquiry and verbal challenge. *I can sense when you’re keeping something close to the chest. You’ve been guarded about why we’re patrolling the edge of the Alcor Sector of all places.*

Horin sighed, setting his fork down. *Tate, there are things I can’t discuss. Not with you, not with your mother. It’s part of being a Starfleet captain. You know that.*

*I do,* Tate admitted, his telepathic voice softening. *But Tom was a good friend. He helped me a lot after the Caatati attack. If there’s something I can do to help him then I want in.*

*Just do your duty to this ship and this crew,* Jaxxon said firmly but not unkindly.

Before Tate could respond, the sound of a coffee mug clinking against the replicator drew their attention. Levy approached their table with her steaming beverage.

“Captain, Ensign,” she greeted, nodding to both. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Horin said, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. “What’s on your mind?”

Levy slid a PADD across the table. “I’ve been monitoring the Romulans, but there’s something else. We’re on a major shipping route yet haven’t encountered a single civilian trader. Isn’t that unusual?”

Horin frowned, picking up the PADD and reviewing the data. “You’re right. By now, we should have at least detected freighters or picked up comm chatter.”

“I suggest we expand our patrol into the Vayt Sector,” Levy continued. “If something’s interfering with trade, we might find answers there.”

Horin nodded. “Do it. Get Sturok to set a course for the Vayt Sector and notify me when we arrive.”

Levy stood with her coffee in hand. “We should be there by the morning. I’ll let Sturok know.” She excused herself, leaving Jaxxon and Tate alone

Tate yawned widely after Levy had left the mess hall, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as his shoulders sagged with fatigue. The action seemed to radiate weariness, and Horin couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. His son looked every bit like someone who had been running on adrenaline for hours and had finally hit the wall.

“I think that’s my cue to call it a night,” Tate said, stretching his arms lazily. He leaned back in the chair, his dark eyes meeting his father’s with a teasing glint. “You, on the other hand, look like you’re settling in for a marathon session of report reading. Please tell me you’re not planning to sit up half the night?”

Horin raised an eyebrow, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “What makes you think that?”

Tate gestured vaguely toward his father’s uniform, still pristine even after hours of duty. “Because you always do, Dad. You’ll sit in the ready room, pretending you’re just going to skim through one or two reports, and the next thing you know, it’s oh-four-hundred, and you’re still awake.”

Horin leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “And here I thought I had perfected the art of subtlety.”

“Not with a telepath for a son,” Tate quipped, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. He stood and pushed his chair back under the table. “Seriously, though, Mom will kill me if I don’t at least try to keep you in line while we’re out here. Remember, she has spies!”

Horin sighed dramatically, though his eyes were warm. “Ah, the wrath of Anizza Horin. Truly a force of nature.”

“Exactly,” Tate said, pointing a finger at his father. “So do us both a favour and get some rest yourself, alright? I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and find you face-down in a PADD. That’s not cool, dad.”

Horin laughed softly, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I promise not to overdo it. Happy?”

Tate gave a mock, serious nod, then leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a teasing tone. “Good. Because if you don’t, I’ll ensure the entire crew knows Captain Horin needs a babysitter.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Horin replied, feigning indignation.

“Try me,” Tate shot back with a smirk. He clapped his father lightly on the shoulder. “Good night, Dad. Don’t stay up too late.”

Horin squeezed his son’s hand back before letting go and watched him leave. He was very proud of Tate’s progress since the incident with Caatati. He seemed to be taking everything in his stride. The younger man’s steps were slightly heavier than usual as exhaustion pulled at him. The doors to the mess hall hissed shut behind him, leaving Horin momentarily alone at the table. 

Horin sat silently for a moment, staring down at the remnants of his meal. His son’s words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the delicate balance he tried to maintain as both a father and a commanding officer. With a sigh, he stood, gathering his tray and setting it into the replicator to recycle. 

“Sturok to Captain Horin.”

In his quarters, Horin stirred at the sound of the comm. Turning over on his bottom bunk, he sighed heavily as he reached out to tap his badge. He answered in a groggy voice. “This better be good, Commander.”

“My apologies for waking you, Captain, but our long-range sensors have detected multiple freighters adrift in the Vayt Sector. None of them are responding to hails.”

Horin sat up, instantly alert. Levy’s instincts were right. He sighed heavily before he spoke again. “I’ll be on the bridge shortly. Set a course to intercept and keep scanning the area. Take us to yellow alert.”

“Acknowledged, sir,” Sturok replied, his voice steady as ever.

Horin rose, his mind already racing, and he knew they were just about to find something they wouldn’t like. 

At least two hours later, the senior staff were awake and on duty on the bridge. Horin sat in the centre chair, tapping the arm of his chair, waiting patiently. 

“We’re approaching the convoy’s last known coordinates, sir,” Tate announced from the helm, his fingers dancing over the holographic controls.

Horin leaned forward, his voice calm but firm. “Drop us to one-quarter impulse. Sturok, keep shields and weapons on standby. I don’t want to be caught off guard.”

“Aye, Captain,” replied Sturok. He had resumed his posting at the tactical station after Horin had entered the bridge. 

Levy, at the science station, was already scanning the area. “I’m picking up debris, Captain. A lot of it. Several large pieces consistent with the hulls of freighters.”

The viewscreen shifted to display the carnage ahead. Twisted metal fragments drifted aimlessly, illuminated by the faint glow of plasma fires still burning in the vacuum. The remains of seven freighters—once bustling with life and cargo—now lay silent and cold.

“Oh my,” muttered Parin, who stood near the captain’s chair, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Any life signs?” Horin asked, his tone sharp.

Levy shook her head, her voice heavy with grief. “None, sir. Not a single survivor.”

Horin’s jaw tightened. “Zoom in on the wreckage. I want to see what we’re dealing with.”

The screen magnified, revealing hulls scorched and fractured by high-energy weapons fire. Entire sections of ships were missing as if ripped apart by precise strikes. Some smaller craft floated intact but lifeless, their engines dark.

“This level of destruction is systematic,” Sturok observed. “The attackers were efficient and left no chance for escape.”

Levy turned from her console, her expression grim. “The wreckage is fresh, Captain. I’d estimate the attack occurred within the last four hours.”

Horin rose from his seat. “Four hours and no distress calls? How is that possible? Levy, locate the convoy’s log buoys. They should provide some answers.”

“Already scanning,” she replied, her hands flying over the controls. A moment later, her console beeped. “I’ve found them. Deploying a probe to retrieve the buoys now.”

The bridge was silent as the probe manoeuvred through the debris field, its thrusters flaring as it scooped up the tiny devices.

Parin leaned into Horin without anyone else noticing and kept his voice low. “Sir, if this is a result of someone using something they shouldn’t have…”

Horin just nodded at the doctor, showing he understood what Parin was suggesting. “Let’s not jump to conclusions, doctor, but you could be right.” He looked over to Levy. “Anything, Dawn?”

“Logs are uploading,” Levy reported. She paused, her brow furrowing as she analysed the information. “This is unsettling. Every ship’s logs mention a sudden failure of subspace communications. They couldn’t even warn each other, let alone send a distress signal.” She glanced at Horin and Parin – both men shared the same expression of dread.

“Subspace communication jamming,” Horin muttered. He looked at Parin, knowing that the doctor was right and that their fear of the stolen Starfleet technology was now active was plastered across both of their faces. “Someone’s been testing some new technology.”

Levy’s expression darkened. “It gets worse, Captain. The logs also mention Orion interceptors—three of them. The freighters didn’t stand a chance.”

Sturok raised an eyebrow before he spoke. “I can confirm Orion disruptor weapon signatures. Using only three vessels to disable and destroy a convoy of this size demonstrates significant tactical efficiency. It suggests the attackers were equipped with advanced weaponry and superior coordination. Sadly, the convoy did not stand a chance against them.”

Horin turned to Levy. “Can you isolate the jamming signal from the logs? If we can understand how it works, we might be able to counter it.”

“I’ll do my best,” she replied, her fingers moving quickly over her console. “However, I may need to send this data to Deep Space Nineteen. I may need Anizza’s technical expertise with this.”

“Do it,” Horin ordered. If anyone could find a way to beat this device, it would be his wife. “In the meantime, Tate take us away from the debris field.”