Sovek patiently monitored the sensor feed on their descent towards the ocean, scanning for any trace of the Essex or the slightest whimper of a signal that would have indicated a successful landing. Seconds turned into minutes, and there was still nothing. Though his Vulcan mind regarded the situation with a degree of emotional detachment, he could not help but grow concerned for the safety and well-being of his colleagues.

Jacklyn froze for a second because the truth was she wanted to turn the shuttle around and try to assist the Essex, but the truth was she knew that in the current situation, if she tried to assist, it could cause issues for their shuttle. The truth was, dilemmas like this made her head hurt, and rightly so because the weight of human life was always a big deal. Altering the course was a bad move, but it was what her human emotions had pointed to. “I could alter course and see if I could get us to a place to assist them, but with the distance, I think that’s a bad idea.”

Sovek analysed the situation with straightforward logic and deductive reasoning. On one hand, they had lost contact with Essex during the crash and had yet to re-establish contact; this could indicate the crew had either perished or were incapacitated. On the other hand, the data showed their descent rate slowed in the moments before impact, suggesting a partial recovery. Either way, their mission was not to rescue their colleagues; it was to investigate the target area. Both the Fairfax and the Neptune were more than capable of mounting a rescue; it would be foolish to endanger themselves to effect such a rescue attempt.

“If I am not mistaken, lieutenant,” he said. “It would be unwise to attempt to alter course during our descent. If you intend to render assistance to the Essex, then you will be required to abort-to-orbit.” Sovek tapped away a few keys on his console, pulling up the data the Triton’s sensors collected during their descent, “ I calculate merely a fifteen per cent probability of a successful re-entry”

Xiao was listening to the two officers offer up ideas of what could work, but he spoke up, “If I may proffer a word here. It doesn’t matter what we try to do in this case because we are on a mission, and so is the Essex. We knew the dangers before descent, and unfortunately, it seems that those dangers have come to fruition. While I wish we could render assistance at this point, there is nothing more we could do. The best course of action is to proceed to our objective and believe that the Essex and her crew survived the descent to the planet.”

Sovek presented a subtle nod, “Your logic is sound, Commander.” he paused for a moment to consider an additional variable. “Statistically, there is a high probability of survival during a shuttle crash, however. Due to the ionic interference in the upper atmosphere, I do not believe Fairfax or the Neptune will be able to detect the shuttle crash before their standard supply of survival equipment is depleted…I believe I can be of assistance to change that fact.”

Xiao raised an eyebrow, as he had no idea what their compatriot was talking about. “Would you care to explain, Commander?”

“A photon torpedo could be modified to carry a subspace transmitter. If directed into the Ionosphere, it may be used to transmit a brief message through the interference.” Sovek suggested, already familiarising himself with the necessary schematics.

Xiao nodded now that he understood better “Proceed, Commander. I think this could be the best we can do for the Essex right now. At least we can do something, though.

Sovek got to work immediately, programming his modifications into the shuttle’s computer. Real estate inside a micro torpedo casing was at a premium, but it didn’t need to carry a warhead, just the transmitter. He began programming the message, but the memory capacity was limited only to the onboard drives; he would have only the equivalent of a few lines of text to play with. Immediately, he knew the most effective chain of data; the Essex’s last known co-ordinates, and with 6 final characters worth of memory remaining, he signed off the message to ensure the Neptune and Fairfax would get the idea. “Torpedo is ready, Commander,” He reported

Xiao took a moment and nodded, “Launch the torpedo, Commander!”

The pad of Sovek’s index finger pressed up against the smooth display of the console and triggered the firing sequence. Within moments, a low thud rumbled through the cabin as the casing left the tube. There was no flash accompanied by the usual crimson glow; the warhead was absent. Instead, the charcoal casing cast a shadow across the deck as it entered a left-hand bank and began its ascent into the upper atmosphere.

“Torpedo away and on course!” Sovek reported, returning to his seat. “Commander, we are approaching the oceanic interface,” he reported, reviewing the sensors. His coldness in returning to his duties was not a reflection of his thoughts. Though he repressed his emotions in favour of logic, he was deeply concerned for his colleagues and held out hope that his plan had worked. But there was no way to know, so logic dictated he apply himself to being useful.

Xiao nodded as the ocean came into view. He looked at Jacklyn “Prepare for ocean touchdown.”

Jacklyn nodded and hit some buttons on her interface, essentially changing the shuttle’s entire system interface and sealing the shuttle to make it watertight. As the ship impacted, a small jolt was felt as the shuttle hit the water. The shuttle had officially made a landing.

Xiao smiled, “Well, let’s head for the coordinates and then submerge once we reach the exact location. I’d prefer to stay above the water for now.

On the bridge, Alex sat patiently waiting for the interference to clear. They had lost contact with both shuttles temporarily as they began their re-entry, but were expecting to receive some limited communication in a few minutes’ time. The minutes dragged out longer and longer, and the low chorus of everyone completing their standard tasks seemed to emulate the ticking of the clock as Alex anxiously began tapping his chair arm.

“Sir, we’re receiving a transmission!” the OPS officer spoke, his voice carrying louder than the repetitive beeps of consoles and hushed chatter that Alex had become entranced listening to. “From which shuttle crewman?” he asked politely.

“Neither, sir. It’s on the emergency subspace frequency, but it has a Starfleet signature.” The ensign paused, reviewing the data on his screen, “Sir, it’s just a text message, no audio, no visual, seems to be transmitting from a subspace transmitter, currently in a parabolic trajectory above the southern ocean!”

Alex leapt from his chair, the expression of hope melting away into his trademark stoic look of seriousness. “What does it say?” he asked, tone lowered.

“I think… It’s a set of co-ordinates, 94811.4, 883642.9, and then, characters M,K,1, E, Y, E.” the crewman reported, somewhat confused.

Alex focused on the significance of the trailing characters, pondering their significance when paired with the set of coordinates. After a moment of reflection, it dawned on him, ‘Mk 1 Eyeball’.
“Ensign!” he exclaimed with purpose to the science officer. “Enter those co-ordinates into the visual sensors, and put it up on the viewscreen!”

The ensign nodded and, with a few taps of his console, began aligning the visual telescopes. The viewer flashed into life with a view of the continent, the lucuious green forests filled the screen with a luminous glow and wisps of vapour and clouds cast shade and shadow under the power of the Verekton star. At the centre of the image, an anomaly captured Alex’s attention, a speck of umber in the sea of green foliage, “Can you zoom in?” he asked. A second later, the screen flickered to a tighter angle, and now the anomaly was better resolved; an unnatural break in the trees. Banks of earth scattered the edges, and plumes of black smoke rose from isolated fires amongst scattered debris.

“Closer!” Alex shouted, hoping he was wrong about what he was seeing. “Aye, sir, Maximum magnification” the ensign uttered solemnly. By this point, all eyes on the bridge were fixated on the scene unfolding before them, and the bridge fell silent. At full magnification, the outline of the Essex was clear. Her nacelles, torn from the hull and snapped like toothpicks. Her nose, buried under a pile of detritus and stone, with foliage and severed tree trunks littering the trail of her crater.

Alex looked at the science officer and slashed his hand across his own throat, demanding that the screen be switched off. He hung his head in grief, contemplating the welfare of his away team.

Mary looked at the scene and was speechless. That could have been her. She shook it out of her mind, “Commander, though it looks bad, there is a chance the crew survived the crash.” Mary said, trying to keep a positive spin on the unexpected event.

Alex took a deep breath, composing himself. “We’re not giving up,” he said to himself. “Crewman,” he addressed his OPS officer, “You said the transmission came from a device on a parabolic trajectory?”

“Yessir! It seems to be a modified torpedo,” the crewman replied.

“How long before it falls out of range?” Alex asked.

“One hundred and forty-seven seconds,” said the crewman

Alex nodded, “Ensign, can we use the transmitter to relay a comm signal to the Essex?”

“In theory, but a transmitter that size… the bandwidth will be limited… and its power supply is failing!” replied the science officer.

“Then we only get one shot, do it!