Inside the sealed compartment of the USS Glasgow, the stasis pod hummed faintly, its energy field barely holding together. Dim lighting flickered, casting long shadows across the metallic walls. Dr. Adan Sar knelt beside the pod, his tricorder in hand, working rapidly to extract diagnostic data on the patient’s condition.

“Any time now, Doc. I don’t like staying here any longer than we have to,” Ebony muttered, shifting uneasily as he and the others kept scanning the area for potential threats.

Tapping on the pod’s controls, Adan gritted his teeth as the energy field flickered. The survivor inside stirred weakly, their breathing shallow and labored.

“I’m doing my best to keep the system stable,” Adan snapped, glancing down. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally saw it, the survivor’s torn and scorched uniform, barely visible beneath the frost-laced edges of the pod. It was damaged but unmistakably Starfleet.

He exhaled sharply. “Alright… I’ve got him. Opening the hatch.”

The pod disengaged with a mechanical hiss, its doors slowly retracting. Adan rose to his feet as the man inside blinked sluggishly, struggling to regain awareness. He looked pale, weak, barely coherent.

“We were… attacked…” the survivor murmured, voice raspy. “Cloaked ships… Starfleet shouldn’t have had it…” His eyes fluttered open for only a moment before he choked out another fragmented phrase. “The cargo… they wanted it…”

Adan leaned in, ready to press for more details, but before he could speak, a low warning tone echoed throughout the room.

LCARS panels flickered to life, scrolling through automated system logs, activating as if triggered by the survivor’s awakening.

Ebony tensed immediately, raising his phaser. “That’s not a coincidence.”

USS Kusanagi – Bridge

The USS Kusanagi’s bridge, bathed in the subtle yellow glow of alert status, remained eerily quiet as the crew monitored both the Glasgow and the Grim Wall.

At Ops, T’Prin’s sharp eyes flicked to an unexpected data fluctuation. She adjusted her console’s filters, refining the sensor data.

“Captain, I am detecting a background radiation fluctuation,” she reported evenly. “It may be interference from the Grim Wall.”

Her eyes narrowed as a subtle distortion appeared near the Glasgow, too faint to confirm any movement.

Commander Rina Davids stood before her chair, arms crossed, gaze locked onto the viewscreen. “Maybe we should warn the away team,” she suggested but hesitated. “If we transmit a message now, we risk exposing their position.”

Ander nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Then we won’t,” he decided calmly. But stay vigilant, Commander. We keep passively tracking that distortion. No engagements until we have more certainty.”

“Understood, Captain,” T’Prin acknowledged.

Then…her console beeped sharply.

Her expression remained unreadable, but her voice carried a note of significance. “Confirmed tachyon spike. The cloaked ship is shifting its position.”

USS Glasgow – Pod Chamber

The USS Glasgow’s sealed compartment had changed. The ship itself now felt… different.

Emergency lights brightened, and LCARS warnings scrolled across various panels as if the vessel had been suddenly reactivated.

Adan remained at the survivor’s side, scanning him again. “The pod’s stabilizers are failing. If we don’t move soon, I won’t be able to keep him alive.”

Ebony grimaced, checking his own panel. “Power fluctuations everywhere. This isn’t random.”*He turned to Adan, voice firm. “We need to get out. Now.”

A chill ran down the spine of one of the security officers. “Sir… is it just me, or did it suddenly get colder?”

Before anyone could respond, the doors to the chamber suddenly locked.

A distorted voice crackled over the ship’s intercom, heavily fragmented, but just coherent enough to be chilling.

“Data… secure… eliminate… remaining assets…”

“Damn it!” Ebony cursed, working furiously at the security console. “The ship is locking us in!”

As he fought to override the security system, a faint holographic mission report flickered across a nearby LCARS screen, only for the text to corrupt and vanish.

Ebony slammed his fist on the console. “Come on…!”

USS Kusanagi – Bridge

A sudden spike in sensor activity sent a ripple of tension through the bridge crew.

T’Prin’s fingers moved smoothly over her console, eyes locked on the data. “Unknown vessel decloaking… now.”

Rina tensed as the ship fully materialized on the viewscreen.

It was not Klingon. Not Romulan. Something else entirely.

“Incoming audio transmission,” Rina reported, glancing over at Ander.

The captain exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Let’s see what they want.”

The transmission clicked open, and for a moment, silence.

Then, a heavily distorted voice crackled through the comms.

“You have something that does not belong to you.”

USS Glasgow – Pod Chamber

The USS Glasgow’s interior was growing hostile. Alarms blared, the ship itself seeming to react aggressively.

Ebony checked his wrist communicator, eyes narrowing as he read the brief text message from Kusanagi.

“Ship decloaked. Not Klingon.”

His voice had a tinge of disappointment as he muttered, “Figures.”

Adan was already moving, carefully lifting the survivor from the failing pod and lowering him to the deck. “Lieutenant, we need to move, now!”

Ebony scratched behind his ear, exhaling. “We can use the Glasgow’s emergency transporters,” he suggested. “I’ll need a few minutes to override the system, but it’s doable.”

“And if it alerts them?” Adan asked, adjusting his grip on the unconscious survivor.

Ebony shrugged. “Then we improvise.”

Before he could begin hacking into the transporters, the Glasgow lurched violently, as though some external force had just interfered with its systems.

“They’re not making this easy,” Ebony muttered, gripping the console.

Then, from the corner of his eye, one of the security officers suddenly raised his weapon.

“Lieutenant!” he barked, keeping his aim locked on a shadowed figure stepping into view from the far side of the chamber.

The away team turned sharply, weapons at the ready.

Another survivor? A rogue agent? Or something far worse?