The storm did not simply flash across the viewscreen: it coiled.  It twisted through space like something alive, green lightning flashing through the ionized radiation across the warbird’s hull plating. The T’Seran’s dampeners barely compensated as the deck vibrated. It was almost as if the ship herself was uneasy.

Commander Tavik paced the bridge, his hands folded behind his back. He was the picture of Romulan composure. Only the small tightening around his eyes betrayed irritation.

“Commander,” Serala said. “Incoming coded transmission. Level-seven encryption. Ambassador Rempeck’s channel.”

The room went quiet as Tavik inclined his head just once. “Route it to my office. You have the conn.”

Serala stepped into the command station as Tavik left the bridge.

Tavik’s Private Office

The door sealed behind him, as Tavik activated the terminal. On the screen, Rempeck’s image flickered online; calm, patronizing, and thoroughly displeased.

“Tavik,” Rempeck began with no warm-up, “your course places you dangerously close to Federation lines.”

“Not by intention,” Tavik replied. “An anomalous distress signal required investigation.”

Rempeck waved that away. “Everything in the Shackleton Expanse is anomalous. That is precisely why you were assigned alone, without escort.” His eyes narrowed. “You will observe. Nothing more. No transmissions. And absolutely no diplomatic entanglement.”

Tavik’s jaw flexed. “Understood.”

“And the human?” Rempeck asked sharply. “Your… liaison.”

“The Lieutenant is a liability,” Tavik responded.

Rempeck snapped. “Keep her busy, and preferably silent.”

The transmission cut abruptly, leaving Tavik alone with the weight of orders that felt more like a leash.

Bridge

When Tavik returned, Serala ceded the command seat immediately. “Commander,” she reported, “Rekan isolated the signal’s direction. It’s drawing us deeper into the ion belt.”

Rekan looked up, eyes strained. “Pattern settled briefly before dispersing. Whatever produced it is either near collapse or changing frequencies deliberately.”

Tavik stepped forward. “Plot an approach; cautiously.”

Rekan hesitated. “While you were in your meeting… we detected another vessel on the same heading.”

“Identify,” Tavik said.

“Federation warp signature. Steamrunner class. They can’t detect us yet, the storm is seeing to that.”

Lightning cracked outside, shaking the deck. Rekan flinched as his console sounded warning alarms.

“Cloak integrity at thirty-one percent. Twenty-nine. Dropping.”

Serala’s voice sharpened. “If we maintain cloak, the power matrix may implode.”

Tavik closed his eyes briefly. “Drop the cloak.”

The warbird shimmered into partial visibility; however, the storm masked the hull’s edges, as if refusing to reveal the ship fully.

At the liaison station, Mel leaned forward involuntarily. “The Galileo.”

The bridge froze. Tavik turned slowly. “Explain.”

She straightened. “Deep Space Twelve assignment. If they’re here, they’re following the same message.”

Serala’s lip curled. “Let Starfleet charge into whatever trap this is.”

Mel shot her a sideways look. “They’re responding to a distress call, not a battlefield.”

“This is a battlefield,” Serala countered coldly. “You simply mistake the quiet.”

Tavik cut a look across both. “Shadow them. Maintain a minimum safe distance. Mask our signature within the storm.”

Rekan executed the order immediately.

The T’Seran slipped behind the wall of ion clouds, trailing the Federation ship like a ghost. Half-seen, half-lost, but always present.

Containment Bay Three

An hour later, the mood in the containment bay was tense. The alien fragment, twisted alloy and trembling organic tissue, floated in the field like a half-formed memory.

T’Leth scanned it with careful precision. “Neural resonance weakening. Psionic emissions increasing.”

Mel had just come from the nearby lift, after leaving the bridge; or being kicked off.  She approached cautiously, arms folded. “That’s backwards. If it’s failing, why would its psi output climb?”

T’Leth didn’t look up. “Desperation, perhaps.”

The fragment pulsed. The deck vibrated.

“Bridge to Containment,” Rekan’s voice crackled across the comm. “Massive psionic spike across all decks.”

Tavik followed, “Report.”

T’Leth steadied herself. “The subject is calling.”

Mel swallowed. “Calling to whom?

“To someone nearby,” T’Leth whispered. “Or to someone who was lost.”

Rekan cut in. “Commander, the Galileo altered course. They found something.”

Mel exhaled, “They found them.

Silence.

Tavik nodded, “We wait.”