“Captain, Stellar Cartography is asking how much longer it’ll take to prep the runabouts? It seems they’re anxious to get started on cataloging this nebula,” Commander Branson dryly asked.

If she was annoyed with the persistence of the Yorktown’s science teams, she wasn’t giving it away in her facial expression. At least not as much as far as Jerok could tell. Finally, the captain broke his silence: “Let them know that it will take as long as it takes for Commander Groll to refit the runabouts for this survey. And every time they ask it’ll take an hour longer.”

The deadpan delivery seemed to stun the first officer who shot a glance at the captain. Jerok laughed, “Maybe not that last part. The runabouts should be ready within the hour, anyways.” The captain relaxed back into his command chair, reading over the PADD report of the latest telemetry from several probes the Yorktown had sent out over the past few weeks. The bridge around him was a madhouse; concentrating was hard with the sounds of progress throughout the bridge. All hands were preparing for this nebula survey in some fashion whether it was refitting runabouts or reconfiguring science labs to suit. The captain preferred to let the crew complete their tasks as given, trusting them to complete their work. After a year in deep space with this crew, he had come to trust them implicitly. 

Jerok tilted his PADD down slightly and looked at the sensor status monitor on the command chair consoles between him and Commander Branson. Looking over with full concentration he finally asked, “Commander Sul, are your sensors picking up anything strange coming from the other side of the nebula?”

Jerok watched as the Betazoid swiveled in his chair to his main station and ran his hands swiftly across the console. After a few moments he looked back at the Romulan captain with acknowledgment, “It looks like a mass of warp signatures coming from a system about two light years beyond the nebula. Based on available information, I believe that is the Brea colony. Its a Romulan survivor colony based within the new Star Empire’s borders.”

The captain, a Romulan refugee in his own right, had his interest piqued. “Can you tell what type of ships they are from the signatures?”

Jerok watched the Chief Operations Officer of the Yorktown study his display intently for a moment before confirming, “Romulan, but that’s it. We’d have to get closer.”

“Curious that many Romulan ships would be at a survivor colony,” the first officer interjected her own thoughts out loud.

Jerok nodded to the beat of those words as he collected his own thoughts. “Curious, indeed,” he agreed. “Helm, set a course for the Brea system, warp eight. Engage.” 

The Romulan turned to his first officer, “Stellar Cartography will have to wait.” He could tell she was apprehensive; they all were. To Jerok, the mood on the bridge had shifted noticeably from one of excitement to one of sudden unease. After what seemed like an eternity within a moment, the Yorktown dropped out of warp at its destination. “Report?” the captain calmly asked.

“Sensors aren’t picking up any ships, but there are definite indications of recent heavy warp activity,” Commander Sul responded to the captain’s query. 

“We are, however, picking up a distress call from the surface of the colony,” Lieutenant Zemess added. Jerok looked over at the tactical console trying to read the Saurian’s face. But it didn’t take long for him to continue anyway, “They’re requesting assistance against Romulan Star Empire forces who they claim are attempting to annex them by force for their ship construction facilities.”

The captain, clearly puzzled, and from his read of the bridge he wasn’t the only one, asked the obvious question, “… aren’t they a part of the Star Empire? What is going on? Commander Branson, please establish a hyper-subspace link with the nearest Starfleet relay and send a message to Starfleet Command asking for a status update. I feel like we’ve definitely missed something being this far out.”

“Aye, Captain,” the first officer responded as she lept from her command chair, past the captain, and towards the back of the bridge.

“Sir, that’s not all,” Lieutenant Zemess added in a worried tone. “I’m reading a huge subspace distortion off our port bow. I believe it’s a ship decloaking.”

“Helm,” the captain began his order, “Bring us about.”

“Shall I raise shields?” Zemess asked, his hands blatantly hovering over the button on his console.

“No, we wait and see what they do. We’re the guests in their space, right now.” No sooner did Jerok finish his sentence, a massive ship, clearly of Romulan design, but one he had never seen before during his tenure in the Romulan military or since, decloaked. Dwarfing even the sizable Yorktown, the ship appeared to just stare down the Federation starship as if judging its reason for being where it was.