Arteries of crimson light pulsed down the corridors as crewmen raced to their stations, their sharp-edged silhouettes dancing across pale bulkheads, stretched abstractions that belied the rehearsed professionalism. Between the rainfall of boots, panicked whispers betrayed the confidence of officers and enlisted crew alike. ‘Right on top of us’ they muttered, as they passed by engineering. ‘Never saw them coming’ they fretted in the corners of sickbay. Throughout the small ship a tense crew went about their responsibilities with practiced calm, whilst their minds waded through swamps of dread. Along the main corridor of Deck 7, a Lieutenant in gold distributed phaser rifles to security officers who loaded and charged them with expert ease. Nestling them in the crook of their arms as they filtered out to take positions in doorways and at junctions. Along the vessels short spine ensigns in blue pushed aside barrels and crates as they opened cot beds and prepared hypo sprays, reciting triage procedures and hoping the wide cargo bay doors remained closed. Whilst of the bridge of Daedalus, the peak of the nimble vessel’s arrowhead, tow men in red swallowed their fears, remembered their oath and began to lead. 

“Back us away Kaya, but don’t spook them.” Tanek instructed, his usually paternal voice cut razor sharp by the tension.  Taking a step forward down the short step to the Conn his gaze never slipped from the floating orb on the screen. “Let’s not startle the bull.”

“How did we miss them?” Dil had almost vaulted the small bridge rail like a champion horse in his race to the science station where Rana sat. Whilst her long fingers danced nimbly across the panels, initiating scans and clarifying data, he hovered at the edge of polite distance, tense as a spring to jump in and divine the answers himself. 

“I do not know currently.” Dil felt his stomach churn as a wave of frustration washed against him alongside the Betazoid’s words. He took a small step back at the telepathic flex for space, watching from a distance as layers of numerical values began to scroll across the screen. 

From his perch next to the young pilot Tanek called across the dim bridge. “Bahir, status?”

“Borg countermeasures are active… Now.” the coral skinned Saurian announced, his hue transitioning to a pale pink, had anyone been looking, they would have noticed the lump in this throat. Though outwardly little changed aboard the lithe ship, a series of algorithms and command sequences came to life, rushing about their work alongside their panicked crewmates. Secondary shield generators squeezed between the bulkheads churned into life as they began rotating shield frequencies, plucking random values from the ether in an attempt to confuse the vicious talons of Borg weapons. Deep within the chest of Daedalus sections of the vessels brain housed in the squat twin computer cores began locking themselves behind digital barricades, burying their secrets beneath the rubble of meaningless data as physical locks began clicking into place around the room. At the rear of engineering, in a secluded corner hidden beneath a warp plasma conduit, a small box, painted red and engraved with a large delta is loaded into an armoured container, designed to withstand the pressures of the sun and still return home. An inanimate crewmember assigned a most important duty, a black box even the Borg could not break. 

“We are still missing the port sensor array, the team were not able to reactivate it prior to their recall. Whilst it is inactive the clarity of my scans is severely diminished.” Rana announced, her frustration bending the surface of her console beneath her hands. 

Tanek tapped his combadge lightly “Engineering, anyway we can get that sensor cluster back? We’re a little blind right now.” Turning his head slightly to the side he continued his instruction to Kaya, “Nice and easy, take us to 2500m then hold station. Start preparing a course out of here.”

“Bib here sir. I’ve got a team en route to try and jump the inactive sections. But there’s a reason we had to go out in the first place.” 

“Bib?” Dil exclaimed, his attention rising from the conversation with Rana. 

“Yes, Sir. Sima is… unavailable… at the moment.”  In engineering, the Andorian looked over at the woman hiding in the shadow of a console. The surprise appearance of the Borg had simply been too much for the engineer to handle and she had retreated to safety. 

“Anything you can do Commander.” As a drowning silence spread across the bridge Tanek fingered the cuff of his uniform nervously. It seemed foolish to wait whilst the possibility of death, or worse assimilation, hung within arm’s reach but Daedalus and the Fourth Fleet had instructions. 

“We should fall back whilst it seems inactive.” Dil had returned to the central rotunda of the bridge and approached in hushed tones. “We won’t last long against that.” 

“You forget, we’re here to gather intelligence Dil, and the eyes in the back of our head aren’t that good.” Attempting a thin grin, the Denobulan Captain looked to diffuse the tension. “When was the last time you saw a sphere that looked like that?” He nodded to the screen at the fore of the bridge, with a press of his seat’s console the sickly floating orb increased in size. Along its northern hemisphere portions of the dark obsidian hull had collapsed in on themselves, jagged scars patched with shining silver metal fragments and stitched with an unfamiliar blue sealant within. Beneath, the muted green glow spluttered and coughed, no less unsettling for its dim luminosity.

“Commander Bib reports the sensor palette should be coming on line.” Oyvo’s voice shattered the silence like a dropped teapot. “We have limited functionality but it should be sufficient. We are working on other options.”

“Rana…” Dil began, already beginning to step towards the woman at the science station. 

“The vessel is severely damaged, I am reading several large scale hull fractures, repaired with various levels of success. Integrity is stable but delicate. Power is fluctuating throughout the vessel and it appears there is an unusual electromagnetic radiation emanating from deep within the sphere. Likely the transwarp coil that was damaged in combat with the Turei.” She froze as her words reached her own ears, they sounded foreign and had not intentionally fallen from her lips. 

“How can you know that?” Dil asked, no close enough to lower his voice in suspicion. 

“I am… not sure.” She shook her head, dismissing the unexpected knowledge momentarily. “These emissions are consistent with damage to a transwarp engine, in what few records exist.” 

“Why is it just floating there?” the petite Bolian at the conn asked, her hand hovering over the engine controls whilst her head titled quizzically. 

“I believe… it is… regenerating.” Rana offered. 

“I think I prefer it like this.” Kaya’s hand quivered over the warp activation button, unsure in her own willingness to wait for instruction to fall-back. 

“I believe the transwarp field damage is the reason we did not notice it approaching.” Bahir announced, biting his lip in frustration. “Combined with the low power output and no discernible active engines, it appears to have been lost in the background noise of the stellar cluster. It will not happen again.” Dil looked to the embarrassed Saurian, his focus locked on his wide, wall spanning, console; the young man felt perceived failures acutely and would no doubt be taking this hard. Dil remembered a note in his jacket, briefly reviewed once his predecessor had recommended him; a long family history in Starfleet, including those who served at Wolf 359. 

“I don’t doubt it Bahir. For now are we looking at a threat?” Dil made a mental note to keep an eye on the Saurian. 

“The Borg are always a threat but I do not believe we are in immediate danger.” 

“Captain, I noticed something odd.” Oyvo span on her chair as she entered a quick input on the console. 

On the screen, the sleeping sphere lolled aimlessly, drifting on the solar currents echoing out from the stellar cluster, as the giant orange suns battled for dominance. As it rocked into another undertow the sphere tilted backwards, shifting its trajectory and illuminating the lower pole of the dark, foreboding hull. Ringing it’s south pole was a patchwork of metal hull plates, haphazardly fixed across the damaged hull with the thick blue tinted material, a silver ring circumnavigating the ship. Burned black into the metal, stark against the silver tinted hull were the letters S.O.S.