Abandoned by those considered superior, the bridge was quiet for the first time since the Nareen Expedition commenced, with only three junior officers manning the duty stations around the main stations, supervised by the dark, leathery-skinned Syrillian sat in the command chair at the heart of the ship’s command centre. The usual thrum of the engines and the low chatter of bridge officers felt muted, almost nervous, as if the planet itself had silenced the galaxy around it. Something about the whole situation had unnerved the mild-mannered pilot, to such an extent that he had chosen to remain on the bridge during the briefing whilst the rest of the staff took in the details of the science investigation. He couldn’t explain it, that urge to remain, but it almost felt like he had to stay, like something terrible was going to happen if he didn’t. It was especially unnerving considering his species had never shown any sort of extrasensory perception, but here he was anyway, lost in a trance by the time the Captain and her staff returned to their stations.

Wandering towards their command chairs, the senior most officers on the ship expected Shaal to simply move aside and resume his workstation, but both could see the struggle he was in.

“Morrek?” Prenar asked, placing a gentle hand on the mans left arm to try and gain his attention.

It worked, kind of. In a sort of daze, the Syrillian looked at the XO, his eyes dark and vacant, causing the Captain to summon Doctor Zinn from the turbo lift before he could disappear to the sanctuary of his sickbay. At first, the Doctor seemed perturbed at the idea of being involved in something minuscule, but when he saw the changes to the man’s eyes, he froze, transfixed on the hollowed out spaces where his eyes should have been. Less curious and more… terrified. Like he’d seen something he never wanted or expected to ever see again.

“Serath!” Darek called, panicked, summoning the Chief Science Officer over to their location in a hurry.

“Zinn?” The Captain inquired, grabbing the physician by both shoulders in an attempt to pull him back to reality, all while Prenar tried his best to sit the helmsman in one of the vacant command chairs and Serath Vren scanned his two colleagues with a tricorder from his station. He was at a loss for words.

Whilst the command team were preoccupied with the panic surrounding the wellbeing of his colleagues, Orax had stepped up to the plate, encouraging the rest of the bridge team to remain focused on their duties. At first, there was nothing to worry about, until the communications grid came to life, signalling a transmission from the surface.

Orax leant over the relief officer at his station and pressed a single button, opening a channel to the surface. “Hypatia here. Go ahead, away team…” he requested, eyes focused on the blank view screen ahead while he strained to hear the message over the growing tension behind him.

“…. something weird …. vibrations …. in the sand …”

Turning his head, the Denobulan looked unsettled as he made eye contact with Lieutenant Nes at the tactical bulkhead behind him, the Nausicaan trying his best to listen in.

“Say again, away team?” The Ops chief requested, upping the volume a few decibels to ensure he got the message this time.

“…. something weird …. vibrations …. in the sand …” the voice from the planet’s surface repeated, only this time, another phrase came through. “Voices …. On the wind .…”

Almost at that exact moment, Lieutenant Shaal’s body went unnaturally stiff, arms glued to his side and all colour draining from his face. Zinn snapped from his momentary daze and, like the command officers, took a step back from the pilot, staring at his seemingly lifeless body. Only, it wasn’t lifeless. Far from it indeed. When he spoke, it was as if there was a second voice, a dissonant whisper, transposed over his own.

“Hear the One, strangers from afar…”

The message from beyond, eerie and unnerving, emitting from its unwitting conduit, put the entire bridge crew on edge as they stopped and watched in horrified fascination.

“The sky will burn, for an old enemy this way comes. Ancient. Vicious. The One implores. Defend us.”

With the warning conveyed, Morrek crashed to the floor and collapsed in a heap at the foot of the command chairs almost to the second that the medical team appeared from the aft turbo lift. As his colleagues from medical rushed forward to help their fallen comrade, Noli ran a nervous hand through her hair, turning on her heels and glaring at the view screen. “What the hell was that?” She questioned, throwing her arms in the air in frustration.

Everyone knew what that meant, returning to their stations at a rush to try and get the answers the captain sought. While everyone expected the search to be complex, to take hours to pour over the data, it was a surprise when everyone started to get answers in their search. It was almost as if something, or someone, was sharing the information they needed.

“Long range telemetry picked up a signal almost fifty-lightyears away,” Lieutenant Kessler, Commander Vren’s able deputy, chimed in from science as her department head joined her at the station.

Reviewing the Lieutenant’s logs, the Romulan nodded in agreement. “It appears the signal was telepathic in origin,” the pointy-eared bastard peered over the readout some more, “transferring coordinates to the helm.”

At the helm, junior lieutenant Tempestava th’Zorati had arrived to replace her injured superior, the Aenar inputting her codes and using the tactile interface to ascertain the exact location of the signals origin. “I have it,” she spoke up, “bearing two three three mark one seven one.”

“The Draxans?” Noli surmised, hands on hips as she briefly turned to watch the medical team remove the Syrillian from the bridge.

“No,” the Aeanar shook her head, fingers dancing at speed until a star chart replaced the view of Nareen on the forward bulkhead. “The planet believed to be the Draxan homeward is a significant distance away. This world,” she told, “is about five lightyears from Draxan territory.”

“Whoever they are, they asked for help,” Prenar spoke out, smoothing out his uniform once he was upright again. “We need to find out who they are, and what they did to Morrek,” the Cardassian looked hopefully at Noli, who nodded along in support.

“Before we go off on some fool idealistic crusade,” Vren, who still wasn’t seated at his console, stepped forward to the rail surrounding his workstation, “might I remind everyone that we still have a significant away team on the planet?”

Lost in all of the commotion that had unfolded, Noli pursed her lips as she folded her arms across her chest. Vren was right, and while the presence of the away team on the surface complicated matters, surely she had to answer the call and find out what had happened to their colleague?

“Take us out of orbit and set a course for the signals origin,” she called out while taking her seat in command. “Inform Cardenas that we intend to investigate this transmission and they should remain on station to assist the away teams,” the Bajoran looked to her XO for support, receiving it in the form of a single nod from Prenar before he went about organising the transmission to Cardenas. After the madness of the last short period, the bridge came to a renewed sense of functionality. Everyone except Vren, however.

“Should we not run this by Captain Gor?” The Romulan looked concerned at the thought of leaving the scientists to their own devices and the pleasure of Cardenas.

“Always better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission,” the Captain winked, using her planted feet to turn away from the science station and focus on the main viewer, putting an end to her consideration of the Commander’s concerns. While the Romulan was probably right, she would be damned if she was going to hand over control of their investigation into the assault on one of their own.

Unsatisfied, the Romulan thought better than to challenge the Captain on the move. For now anyway. Returning to his station, he quietly gave Kessler leave and resumed his position at the lead of the investigation. Once alone with his thoughts, he began tapping away, his fingers finding their rhythmic beat. Occasional glances over his shoulder went unnoticed.

As unnoticed as the secure transmission he dispatched just seconds later.