The lights shifted to yellow as Captain Samson Bradley sat on the edge of the center chair on the Zephyr’s bridge. They were approaching the intercept point for the colonial fleet. He’d read the reports from the Cushing team with increasing alarm. His science team had confirmed their data. With their added expertise, they had worked further to track the mysterious cloaked ship and even approximated the identity. Bradley didn’t like surprises, while he understood that in the expanse of space the unknown had a nasty habit of doing just that.
At the helm, Ensign Gabriella Castillo monitored their impending arrival. Whatever was lurking out there, she hoped they saw what was about to skid onto the scene, weapons and starfighters hot. She glanced to her left, where the poised and practiced figure of Lieutenant Kondo De La Fontaine sat, his eyes glued to the console. The starfighters came under his purview as chief tactical officer. The launch order would have to come from him, and come fast. Her console blinked. They were seconds away from arrival. “Dropping from warp, sir,” she called out as the Typhoon class flashed into the system, its long lines and massive girth overshadowing the small colonial fleet that listlessly hung in space ahead of them.
Bradley spoke his orders quietly and with firm resolve. “Mr. Kondo, launch the West Wing. Helm, move us closer to the colonial fleet. Morrison, what can you see?”
Lita worked the short-range sensors as she reported, “The lead ship is the most stable. The other four are showing unstable power sources and hull damage. There’s more. Damage to several decks on each ship, and at least one hull breach.”
Samson had heard enough. “Open hailing frequencies.” The whistled beep sounded across the bridge. “This is Captain Samson Bradley of the Federation starship USS Zephyr. We’re responding to your distress call.” He waited a beat, turning to the communications station. “Ms. Bertrand?”
Alayna searched the screen. “They’ve received our message, and their communications equipment is undamaged.” She tapped on the console. “They’re talking to each other over encrypted channels.”
Bradley mused, “Were I more suspicious, I’d ask you to break into their communications. For the moment, they could just be debating how to respond to us. We’re two big ships with big shadows. I’d be wide-eyed and worried if I were them.”
“Response coming in, sir!”
“Let’s have it.”
The screen flipped to the view of a man searching the camera as it clicked on. Behind him, debris and damage scattered across the command deck. Power fluctuations dimmed the lights every so often. He sighed with relief. “I’m Paul Meadows of Colony Group Beta Jackson. We’re desperate for some help, Captain Bradley.”
Bradley replied, “We’re here to help, Mr. Meadows. We can start sending our medical and engineering teams to dock with your ships to take stock of your situation.” He paused and pushed further. “We will need an updated list of your passenger lists. The lists you sent in your distress call were corrupted.”
Meadows blanched, stuttering an incomprehensible response before he wrestled control of his mouth. “I, uh, yes. I’ll have my team compile a new list to send over.” A nervous smile rippled across his lips. “I’ll get right on that.” The channel closed.
Bradley blinked. “I have more questions than answers.”
Bertrand confirmed she had received the updated lists a moment later. “Transmitting the updated list to your PADD, sir. I’m running a comparison to the previous version.” Several beeps immediately blared from her console. “This is a different list. This list totals 2,120 souls compared to the prior list of 2,021 souls.” She shook her head, annoyed. “We’re going to have to start all over with the tracing through local records and Montana Station’s database.”
Bradley was feeling annoyed as well. “Move as quickly as you can. What they sent us the first time may have been designed to protect themselves. Less chance of someone picking up the true roster here in the short beam transmissions.” He tapped on the arm of his chair. “Commander Vargas, report to the bridge.” It was time to find out what was truly going on over there.
It was time for away teams.
