Captain’s log, stardate 78437.0. Something struck me last night as I regenerated amongst the orbosh vines. I saw it in the way they moved. It was slow. Tentative. When the fibrotendrils latched onto my skin, my thoughts clouded until they were longer my own. Shapeless, twisting thunderclouds smoked and rolled across the horizon of my mind.  

Twenty-six terran years. Since the end of the war, I had received nothing from the orbosh aside from its regenerative aid. Now it seeks to enter my thoughts again, to exercise this part of our symbiosis. 

Rising plumes appeared to me like the smoking craters of Leonis Prime. Electric bolts sent pangs of fear chanelling through the core of my being. The Ahwahnee is far from the front. The sensor net is all but fully deployed. We must complete our orders. Yet, I know they’re coming. 

The USS Ahwahnee’s thick plated hangar doors yawned open for the final time that mission. A sensor buoy tumbled out into the nothing. Jammed full of amplifiers, only a thin band of red light around its circumference prevented the work bee-sized dodecahedron from complete consumption by the black.   

“Last buoy’s away,” Lupulo announced, “We can get out of here now.” 

“Not just yet,” Tursk countermanded from the First Officer’s seat, “We need to calibrate the sensor net, make sure nothing slips through. Those Dominion attack ships were- are hard to get a read on.” 

“Aye, sir,” Steldon called from Science, “I’ve located a red dwarf twelve lightyears coreward. I can ping a few sensor imprints off it with the deflector and see what the net picks up.” 

Felrak leant back in the centre chair, listening in as he presided over the bridge with a regal demeanour. He nodded, barely perceptible to anyone but Tursk. 

“Get it done,” the Tellarite amplified the Captain then glanced sideways, attempting to read the Argosian’s thoughts. It never had worked, although Tursk swore he was getting closer. Felrak had been silent for at least the last hour, absent mindedly scratching on the moss that poked out from under his uniform sleeves and across the gnarled backs of his hands. Something was wrong. It wasn’t the silence that gave it away, the Captain being no stranger to bouts of pensiveness. It was the chin propped up on a curled hand that covered his mouth, and the deep cracks that furrowed deeper still from frowning eyes staring unfocused at the ground three feet in front of him.  

“Captain,” Tursk ventured, leaning across, “Everything alright?” 

“Hmm?” Felrak looked round, lackadaisically zeroing in on the noise, “Oh,” the concern on his face was wiped away, “Yes, Commander. Except, well. I, uhh- I didn’t sleep well.” 

“I think we’ll all sleep a lot better once we’re far away from here,” Tursk smiled, checking the readout on his display, “And it looks like the time is upon us.” 

“The net’s registering the signal,” Steldon announced on cue. 

“Very good,” Tursk acknowledged, “Let’s get underway. Lieutenant Delfino, set course for-”  

The Chief Science Officer’s voice departed from its usual calm register to cut across the bridge, “Sir wait, there’s another reading. Similar vector. It’s too slow to be the original data burst.” 

“Sensor echo?” Tursk looked across to Steldon.  

As he peered at the readings, Steldon’s blonde hair reflected from the glossy lcars display in a fuzzy halo, “It’s… Possible. It’s still too far out. No wait- Sir, it’s altering course.” 

Steldon’s words shot an icy spear through Felrak’s chest, “Red alert!” 

Tursk leapt from his chair, “Do we have a read?” 

“Affirmative,” a pause followed as Steldon double checked what the sensors were telling him. He was too young to truly comprehend the gravity of what he was about to say. Indeed, the last time Tursk had heard the words, he had been a junior engineering officer back on the Nautilus. A strange dissonance therefore overcame him as Steldon’s voice rose again, wavering with uncertainty, “Warp signature identical to that of a Jem’Hadar attack ship, circa 2372. Bearing zero one four, mark six. ETA three minutes.” 

“Right on top of us,” Lupulo muttered audibly from Tactical, then added with more volume, “Phasers powered up and torpedoes ready.” 

A million thoughts cascaded through Tursk’s mind. Chin’toka. The orange gleam of phaser rifle bolts hurtling through the ship’s corridors. Containment fields shimmering in the face of billowing flames. The bayonets. The scream.   

“Delfino bring us about,” Felrak’s order was calm and clear, “divert power to forward shields. All hands, battle stations.” 

Tursk re-seated himself, and the bridge was filled with a grim silence. Thrusters ignited, and the Ahwahnee pivoted in space to meet the enemy. The curved bow of the aging spaceframe, the great survivor, reluctant to battle and yet no stranger to it, cut an arc through the vacuum. Waiting. 

“Weapons range in one minute,” Lupulo updated. Felrak gripped the chair. 

“45 seconds.”  

“Standby to begin evasive maneuvers on my mark. We’ll see exactly where they drop out of warp,” Tursk growled. 

“Fifteen seconds. Ten, nine, eight… Weird.” 

“What?” Tursk barked over his shoulder. 

“They’re not slowing down,” Lupulo hammered more commands into the sweeping tactical panel that framed the rear of the bridge, “there they go,” he nodded towards the main viewer. 

Tursk swung his head back round just in time to see a purple streak shoot diagonally, like an upward shooting star against a clear night. It faded as quickly as it had come. A stunned silence, tinged with relief, washed across them all. 

“No time to stop and chat, I guess,” Lupulo was first to gather his thoughts.  

Promptly ignoring him, having made far better mental use of the intervening moments, Felrak stepped over to the conn, “Delfino, what lies ahead on the Jem’Hadar’s projected course?” 

Sharp, navigator’s eyes remained fixed on the display in front of her, unblinking with concentration as the attack ship’s path was calculated. Black hair, swept back into a ponytail, flicked out as she tilted her head to address the Captain, “A few asteroid clusters, Sir, then two uninhabited star systems before intersecting with the trailing edge of the Black Cluster.” 

Tursk had risen to join them, “Nothing of strategic value.” 

“Yes,” Felrak frowned, “but the Black Cluster…” he looked down at the route on Delfino’s display, “Not much charted that way.” 

“Captain, there’s something else,” Delfino skimmed at speed through the results of a library search, “USS Astoria was the last ship sent to chart the outermost sectors of the Cluster. They noted a series of large unknown biosignatures in the region, possibly spacebourne. Reported coordinates intersect with the current course of that attack ship, Sir.” 

“That has to be it,” Tursk echoed Felrak’s thoughts.  

“Agreed,” Felrak turned once again to the science station, “Mr. Steldon, any other Starfleet vessels capable of intercepting?” 

“No, Sir. Fourth Fleet Command has everything deployed coreward to the Deneb system. Nearest patrol is a day out at maximum warp.” 

Then the decision was made. A clarity came over the Argosian, “Lieutenant Delfino, lay in a course for the Astoria’s coordinates.” 

“Sir!” Lupulo burst out, “The Black Cluster?! It’s gonna wreak havoc on our sensors! Even if we do find them in there, we’ll barely be able to target if it comes down to a fight. And biosignatures? That’s all we’re going on?” 

“No one asked for your opinion, Lup.” Tursk snarled. 

“It’s my assessment as Tactical Officer, Commander! All I’m saying is why not wait a day for the patrol? It’s Jem’Hadar we’re dealing with, at least we could go in there outnumbering them.” Lupulo found himself gesturing wide over the tactical railing as he remonstrated.  

Felrak fixed him with a stare, “Because I want to know what that ship is doing. Not in a day. Now.” He turned away, “Delfino, let’s go.” 

“Aye, Sir.” 

The Ahwahnee tilted again, spinning clockwise in the direction of the purple streak that had passed not minutes before. Impulse engines glowed crimson, propelling the ship along its course at sublight speed. A great flash pulsed from each of the thin blue streaks lining her four warp nacelles. Matter and antimatter annihilated in a cataclysmic rending of spacetime, and the grey-white hull streaked towards an event horizon of her own making as she accelerated past the very light of the stars.