The Ukiah’s bridge is tense but focused, the crew running passive scans on the anomaly. Readings flicker and shift, but just as Jhaerys begins isolating a pattern, a sharp alarm blares. A sensor surge cuts through the interference, like a tripwire being set off, and something out there responds.

Tapping his console to quiet the alert, Sarin narrows his eyes, double-checking the data stream flashing across his screen. “Captain, I’ve detected a sudden power fluctuation. Something in the anomaly is spiking in response to our scans.” His fingers hesitate as he tries to interpret the shifting readings.

“You are correct,” Jhaerys confirms, scanning their own console. “Confirmed energy discharge, whatever is out there has noticed us.”

Before anyone can respond, Koro’s voice cuts in, sharp and urgent. “Enemy vessel decloaking!”

Likika narrows her eyes, staring at the screen as the realization settles in. This was a trap, and they had walked right into it.

“Shit,” she mutters under her breath. “Yellow alert.” Before them the Klingon Bird-of-Prey slowly decloaks before the Ukiah.

The bridge hums with energy as tactical systems shift to on. The Klingon Bird-of-Prey looms large on the viewscreen, its green hull illuminated by the flickering of the Grim Wall. The ship shakes slightly as the enemy locks disruptors onto the Ukiah’s hull. The crew freezes at their stations, awaiting Likika’s command.

Koro’s hand hovers over the weapons controls, but everyone knows the truth, combat is not an option.

“Incoming transmission from the Klingons,” Sarin reports, voice tense. “They’re ordering us to stand down.”

Fear flickers across his expression, his grip tightening on the edge of his console.

Likika shakes her head. “No…” Her voice is calm, eyes locked on the screen. “We need to outmaneuver them, diplomatically.”

She shoots a glare at Koro, who reluctantly moves his hand away from the weapons console. He’s already itching for a fight.

“Suggestions?” Likika asks, looking around the bridge.

“I suggest a bluff.” Amar leans back in his chair, exuding an air of calm despite the tension gripping the crew. His Betazoid senses pick up on the swirl of emotions, fear, doubt, anticipation, but his focus is on Likika. He smiles slightly. “If we can’t outgun them, we use our diplomatic protocols to stall.”

Koro scoffs, shaking his head. “I advise shields up and countermeasures now. Don’t let them think we’re prey.”

T’Zel raises a single Vulcan brow. “If they wanted to attack, they already would have. They have the advantage. Perhaps they want something.”

Likika nods slightly. “Good point. Let’s focus on that.”

She leans back in her chair, exhaling slowly. “Open a channel. Let’s buy time and figure this out.” She glances at Koro. “Without guns blazing. But if we need them, stand by.”

A tense silence stretches across the bridge as the Klingon commander’s voice crackles over the comms. Likika studies the warrior’s posture and expression. Beneath the bravado, she senses unease.

This isn’t just an ambush. It’s a lure. But for what?

The Klingon captain grins, lounging back in his chair. “A Romulan in a Starfleet chair. I thought Starfleet captains had backbone.”

He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with mockery. “Instead, you skulk in the shadows like vermin. How is your shattered empire these days?”

Likika doesn’t flinch. “And yet, here we are, having a conversation instead of a battle. Either you’re sentimental, or you fear what I might know.”

The Klingon chuckles darkly. “A bold assumption.” He leans forward, voice like a growl. “But tell me, Captain, why does a mere supply ship creep along the edges of the Grim Wall like a rat scavenging scraps? Surely, this is not your fight.”

Koro crosses his arms, muttering, “Why do the Klingons care so much about a supply ship?”

Likika ignores him, keeping her focus on the Klingon. “I suppose introductions are due. I am Commander Likika of the USS Ukiah, Task Force 17, Hecate Squadron.” She studies his reaction. “I follow Starfleet’s directive, as you follow yours. But it seems to me that you are the one with something to hide.”

The Klingon’s expression darkens at the mention of Hecate Squadron. But then, he laughs coldly.

“Hah! A Romulan speaking of secrecy, how fitting.”

He leans back, voice dripping with arrogance. “Remember this name well, Romulan. I am Captain Krelok, Son of Marok, of the House of Konjah. I could destroy your ship this very moment, and it would mean nothing. But…” He smirks. “I am in a generous mood.”

Likika tilts her head slightly. “Generous… or stalling?”

Her console pings, a private message from Amar: Energy signature detected. Possible second ship decloaking nearby.

Likika keeps her expression neutral, but inside, her suspicions solidify.

“We both know if you wanted me dead, we wouldn’t be talking. You’re waiting for something.”

Krelok’s smirk falters, just slightly.

Jhaerys whispers urgently, “Captain, I have another signature forming in the distortion field. They’re not alone.”

Likika leans back in her chair, feigning indifference. “I appreciate the chat, Captain Krelok. But we both have places to be. Since you’re so kind, why don’t you let us pass, and we’ll forget we ever saw you?”

Krelok leans forward, voice low and threatening. “You see too much, Captain… and yet, you know nothing.”

The bridge lights flicker as a power surge spikes. Jhaerys’ console blares an alert. Second Bird-of-Prey decloaking.

“They were waiting for backup.” Amar whispers. “This was a trap from the start.”

Koro grits his teeth, hands hovering over tactical. “I told you, we should’ve been aggressive!”

Likika calculates fast. “You have a choice, Commander. Engage us, and risk losing your cargo to the Grim Wall’s interference. Or let us go, and keep your little operation secret.”

Krelok studies her for a long moment, then scoffs.

“You Starfleet types… you talk too much.”

The second Bird-of-Prey’s weapons power up.

“Helm,” Likika orders, voice firm, “evasive pattern Beta-4. Engineering, divert power to impulse. Now.”

The viewscreen flickers to static as the Ukiah surges into motion.

The Ukiah begins evasive maneuvers, twisting through Grim Wall distortions while the Klingons attempt to lock onto them. Electrical surges flicker, creating momentary blind spots on enemy sensors.

Zoe’s fingers dance across the console like a pianist in the middle of her performance. She pulls the Ukiah into evasive maneuvers, skimming through unstable gravimetric distortions. The ship’s hull groans under the pressure.

The bridge crew works seamlessly. T’Zel diverts power to impulse engines, giving them a much-needed speed boost. Sarin deploys sensor countermeasures, using the Grim Wall to their advantage.

Koro finally holds fire, realizing that stealth, not aggression, is their best defense.

A disruptor blast misfires, striking a Grim Wall distortion. The resulting chain reaction blinds enemy sensors, allowing Ukiah to vanish into the nebula.