Ensign Carolyn Crawford walked around the engine room on board the USS Cushing, her eyes searching every corner for details to commit to memory. In one hand, a PADD. In the other, coffee. Her reassignment from the Zephyr became official a few days before the distress call prompted them to scramble across the rimward. Crawford wasn’t sure how to feel about the change, but there was a sense of relief hovering above her heart. The Cushing was an Olympic-class starship. Since engineering wasn’t a large department, she had oversight of it and operations. It was a larger responsibility and meant a few more officers to schedule.
The doors to main engineering rolled open, and she turned, finding an old friend walking her way with a wide smile. She shouted and ran into his arms, embracing Captain Leopold Halsey. He pulled back after a moment. “Ensign Carolyn Crawford, how in the universe are you?”
She grinned, her happiness overwhelming her. Halsey had been her CO for two months two years ago, and she had enjoyed working as an engineering officer under his command. When the orders came through days ago, she couldn’t resist the chance to serve with him, especially as a member of the senior staff. “I am well, Captain Halsey. It’s weird but wonderful being back on an Olympic-class. The engine room is mostly the same. I’ve missed it, and I’ve missed you.”
He gestured to her PADD. “Starting your list?”
“You know me well, sir. I’m working through the shift reports and starting the diagnostic review with the crew. Cushing’s had a good chief and crew. Just happy to continue the legacy, sir.”
Halsey gave her a quiet nod of respect. “I expect nothing less. Oh, one more thing.” He slipped a wooden box out of his pocket and placed it in her open hand. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Junior Grade Crawford.”
Her wide smile stretched, her eyes shining.
The reading was there, and then it wasn’t. Ensign Marisol Tran sat at the half-circle helm console, adjusting the intercept course every so often to ensure the best course to time ratio. As the chief flight control officer, she was also responsible for the limited tactical presence of the ship. That included the tactical threat board, which she stared at trying to decide if she was losing her mind. They were still a day away from reaching the colonial ships. And yet, there was a blip. An inconsistent blip, but it was blipping when it shouldn’t be.
She’d set the computer on it while she worked the problem manually. There were thousands of ways to classify an errant signal. Tran knew that starting at the top and analyzing the signal through the depth charts would take too long and be a waste. She started with the signal type, or what the computer was telling her was the signal type. It had initially come back as a cosmic disturbance or spatial anomaly. Marisol’s eyes searched the frequency bands as her hands dug into the signal strength and direction on the console. It presented as one thing, but her suspicions imagined four other things it could be. “What are you?”, she whispered as the computer continued to work.
Ten minutes had passed, and she was inching closer to understanding. There was a mechanical aspect to the signal, an unusual reading that felt familiar but only just. She teased out the signal, taking the wildly vacillating readings and comparing them to others that looked similar. Another ten minutes passed while she poured through old notes from her academy days that she kept under her console. Always be prepared was her motto. She had seen something like this before, but where?
She turned a page in one of her notebooks and gasped. That was it. She turned in her chair. “Lieutenant Commander Reid? I’ve been tracking a signal on long-range sensors. I think I’ve identified it.”
Reid stood from the center chair and walked the short distance to the helm station. “I was wondering what you were digging into over here.”
Tran tapped on the console, and her work streamed across the main viewer. “I think we’ve got a cloaked ship of some kind on a similar intercept course to the colony ships.”
Reid didn’t question the young ensign. The first read-through of her file had impressed her. Marisol Train was an exceptional pilot with a tuned intellect practiced in the art of data analysis. “That’s a good reason to bring me in. How long until they intercept?”
Marisol tapped the console to calculate. “At current speeds, they’ll get to them before we do. If we accelerate to warp 9.6, we’ll get there two hours before them.”
Reid didn’t have to think. “Adjust course and speed. Have Zephyr match. Transmit your data to them so they can track it. I’ll advise Captain Halsey.” She turned, but stopped. “That’s some good work, Ensign Tran. You may have just saved the colonists.” She returned to the center chair, and Marisol felt a small amount of pride boost in her soul.
