[USS Fox, Deck 2, Mess Hall]

“Commander, arriving at Relay Station CR-718 in 5 minutes.” Yeager’s voice echoed on the intercom. Michael tapped his own comm badge in response, “That’s clear, we’re standing by. Trixie, when you’re ready, please meet us in the Transporter room.”

“Aye, sir, grabbing the Mobile Emitter!” Trixie’s voice responded on the comms.

“Really appreciate the lift, Commander.” Chief Petty Officer Brian O’Miles complimented as the two sipped on coffee in the Mess Hall. “Oh, no problem at all, glad for the opportunity. This station is our literal lifeline, so getting to see it up close and personal, I feel, is paramount.” Michael admitted. “How long is your stint usually out here?”

“Oh, about 4 months or so between rotations,” Brian stated calmly. Michael could feel the wave of acceptance within the human, the weight of isolation looming over him. “Could be worse, used to be 6.”

“How do you manage it?” Michael asked, trying to focus on the positives. “Routine, honestly. I mean, I don’t have a team of Holo’s to keep me company!” Brian jests, motioning his coffee cup towards the door. “But I got the best comms link in the system, and all the holonet at my disposal, so it’s easy to stay occupied. Last time I did a stint like this, I did remote academy courses, which got me my promotion to Chief.”

“Well, that’s good. With any luck, you’ll make Master Chief in no time!” Michael laughed, finishing his drink. Seeing movement across the hall, Michael rose to his feet, “Looks like it’s time to get going. You ready?”

Chief O’Miles quickly finished his drink as well and joined Commander Angelus on the quick trip across the hall into the Transporter Room. There, both Trixie and an armed Romen were standing by waiting. Michael looked puzzled at the Type-III phaser in Romen’s hands. “Expecting company?”

“Never know, plus I got my hands on that report about this station a little over a year ago. I’d feel safer doing a proper sweep, just in case there are sleepers.” Romen replied, securing the sling to the bandolier across his chest. “A little over a year ago?” Michael asked dismissively. Romen, with just as much conviction as the commander, has skepticism: “How long did they sit and wait for Frontier Day?”

Michael paused for a moment, then threw his hands up in defeat. His security officer’s judgment was sound enough, and it never hurt to do additional security sweeps. Archie walked in, and though he shared the same confused look on his face at Romen’s armaments, he did not question it and continued onto the control panel. “Sir, unfortunately, the station reports he is not presently able to attend guests for a few minutes, and asks we postpone transport until he can get the environmental controls…more suitable for you and present company.”

“Something’s wrong with the environmental controls?” Michael asked. But before Archie could answer, O’Miles slapped his palm to his forehead, “I forgot, sir, the officer I am reliving is a Zaranite; he probably configured environmental controls for a fluorine-rich atmosphere.”

“Well, that makes sense. The only biological onboard for months, why risk sitting living in-hospitable conditions?” Archie added in.

“Sir, I—” Romen started, but Michael held up his hand to stop him. “Let the station chief know we will be transporting over two Holographic Officers. Romen can begin his security sweep while the Florine is purged for oxygen, and Trixie can start prepping the installation of the new Transceiver Interface.” Everyone satisfied with his orders, Romen and Trixie took their place on the Transporter Pad.

Michael tapped his comm badge, “Angelus to Doc.”

“This is Doc. How can I be of service, Commander?” The Doctor responded

“Our next passenger is a Zaranite. Please modify the guest quarters to reflect their biological needs, and set up a contamination field so that the two atmospheres don’t accidentally leak into one another.” Michael directed.

“I’ll get right on that, sir, Doc out.”

Archie began to transport the two crewmen and a stack of supplies over to the Relay station, as Michael turned to O’Miles. “And now we wait. Another cup of coffee?” he asked. The human officer returned the commander’s offer with a huge grin, “The day I turn down a cup of joe is the day I die.”

[CR-718 Relay Station]
(30-Minute Later)

The environmental purge of the Relay Station was complete, but airing on the side of Caution, Michael and Brian were transported over with oxygen masks affixed. As the two materialized in a small cargo bay area, O’Miles pulled out his tricorder. In a muffled tone, he confirmed, “21% Oxygen, 78% Nitrogen. We’re good.”

The two removed their masks and took in the smell of the station, which was cool and crisp as the air was ‘fresh’. The doors to the cargo bay opened, and a uniformed humanoid with a bulbous head and a full-face mask walked in. “Commander, Chief Wiggum. I apologize greatly for this delay. I had everything cleaned up, packed, and ready for your arrival, but I had completely forgotten to reverse the environmental controls.” Even through the mechanized voice synthesizer of the Chief’s mask, there was a tone of panic which Michael quickly picked up on empathically.

“Chief, relax. It’s ok. Before biometrics were invented, humans used to carry around critical information cards for identification and key fobs to activate their transport units, and no matter how critical they were to their everyday lives, they would ALWAYS forget them from time to time.” Michael reassured him.

“Oh, good. When your security chief came aboard, I was worried he was going to throw me into the brig at first.” Wiggum admitted. Speaking of the devil himself, Romen also entered the cargo bay, his firearm stowed at his side. “Stations clean, sir. Starfleet did its due diligence the last time they were here, no trace of nanites or Borg code to be found.” Michael nodded. “Very good, Romen, now let’s help get this gear unloaded, so we can get Chief Wiggum out of here.”

Brian and Wiggum shook hands as the latter helped grab some boxes off the Cargo Transport Pad. Between the three of them, they were able to shuffle crates of equipment, provisions, and personal effects to their respective rooms, while Chief Wiggum had already lined his own personal effects in the hallway outside of the Cargo Bay.

“Trixie to Chief Wiggum and O’Miles. Please meet me in the control room.” Trixie’s voice echoed down the corridor. While Romen stayed behind to load the Zaranite’s belongings onto the transporter room, the two Chiefs and Commander headed to meet the Engineer.

Ops was small, at least it felt that way with 4 bodies inside of it. But Michael did his best to stay out of the yellow shirt’s way. “Integration of the new Redundant Transceiver was a success. I ran a level 2 Diagnostic. I just wanted you both to verify before we depart,” Trixie explained to the two chiefs. On the main viewer, Michael could see the whole of the Badlands, CR-718 in bold green on one side, DS47 in bold green on the other, with a staggering of smaller nodes throughout the Badlands all highlighted yellow…well, almost all. There was one on the galactic north side that was blinking red that the three engineers didn’t seem to pay any attention to.

“Uhh…is that supposed to be doing that?” Michael pointed out. The three stopped their huddle over a PADD in Trixie’s hands to turn to the screen. Trixie looked perplexed, as he would have expected, but Wiggum just waved his hand. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, sir; that happens all the time.” But O’Miles could see on the commander’s face, he was not accepting that cavalier of an answer.

“Sir, if I may. Badlands is peppered with these communication nodes you see in yellow. Yellow indicates a pending-unmanned status. When we receive information from Starfleet, we send out a data burst to every node all at once. That data shoots through them like lightning, connecting all points trying to make it to Deep Space 47 in the shortest path. Once that path is made, the full data burst is transferred. There are so many various nodes because of the natural ionic interference from the Badlands itself, and some of them go offline. The red blinking you see indicates that the node is currently not accepting data, due to its power being rerouted to its shields to protect from, most likely, an Ion storm.” O’Miles expounded.

“How long has that one been down?” Michael inquired. “About three days,” Wiggum answered. There was still uncertainty in Michael’s mind. His thoughts raced back to his talk with fellow Task Force Captains about occasional Breen and Tzenkethi incursions, and that specific node was right along the border of Tzenkethi space. “When we’re done here, I’d still like to check it out,” Michael confirmed.

The confirmation and command transfer of the station took less time than it took to unload the equipment. After bidding Chief O’Miles farewell and good luck, the away team beamed back aboard the USS Fox.

“Angelus to the Bridge,” Michael called over his comm badge. “Go ahead sir.” Came the proper tone of Archie. “Trixie is sending coordinates to one of the comms nodes, its in the middle of the badlands on the Tzenkethi side. Set a course at the safest maximum speed we can, and set long-range sensors in that area.”

“Aye sir.” Archie confirmed.

Turning to Chief Wiggum, Michael smiled, “Well, let’s get you settled into your quarters. Our Doc will want to give you a look over once you get settled in, standard procedure.”

“Yeah, make sure he’s not a sleeper borg drone,” Romen whispered as he and Trixie headed out of the Transporter room. Trixie punched the bulky security officer in the arm, trying to hide her chuckle while Michael rolled his eyes.

[USS Fox, Bridge]
(2 Hours Later)

Michael sat in the captain’s chair as his eyes were affixed to the screen before him. There was a ‘Hisss’ sound as the Turbolift doors opened, and Chief Wiggum appeared on the bridge. “You called for me sir?” The chief asked meekly.

“Yeah, relax, nothing’s wrong, just wanted to let you know you were right,” Micahel confirmed, still not taking his eyes off the screen. The Fox itself sat in a protected pocket of space, looking out roughly half a lightyear away. The dark red and bright orange swirls of the badlands clashed ahead of them, as ionic flashes of ionic lightning and chaotic whirlwinds of cosmic gases spun in large vortex formations. A graphical overlay indicated the location of the comms node they were searching for was dead center of that hellscape. “Oh yeah, the power systems should be strong enough to help maneuver the node around, and shield it from the worst of it.” Wiggum spoke up, realizing that his ‘everyday’ was being observed in awe for the first time by the ship’s commander. “Sometimes storms settle in one spot for months, and other times they dissipate within minutes.

“The waves of the ocean are always scenic when they’re not capsizing your ship, aye, sir?” Archie announced, looking at the look of wonder on Michael’s face at the scene before them. “To see what’s never been seen, to go where no one has gone before. That’s the mission.” Michael admitted with a deep sigh. “Welp, curiosity has been satisfied. Let’s get this man home. Yeager, floor it back to Deep Space 47, please. Mind the speed bumps.”

Yeager gave a grin at the captain’s words, at the Fox’s Impulse Engines flashed to life, setting sail through the hellscape nebula.

[To be continued]