“Report!”

Striding into the Osiris bridge from the starboard turbo lift, Giarvar was practically at the command chair by the time Noli rose to her feet and stepped aside for him. Usually calm and collected, the Trill was looking weary and on edge.

The command center was bathed in a warm, red glow with many of her traditional blue LCARS displays having converted to a bright crimson colour as a result of their heightened state of alert.

“We’ve received a distress call, captain,” Noli declared, moving with purpose as she rounded the curved console surrounding the captain’s far more comfortable chair, and stood behind her own station.

“The distress call is emanating from a region some fifteen lightyears from our position,” the Vulcan at tactical informed, glancing across his station in the direction of the Bajoran master and commander of the Reliant-class frigate.

“Play it,” Giarvar instructed, directing his gaze at the Vulcan tactical officer.

When the audio began to play across the bridge, all actions ceased. The words were disjointed, sentences fragmented. It was a struggle to make anything out at first, but then two words pierced the ear drums of every crew member on the bridge, causing a great inhaling of deep breaths and sighs of resignation. Words that sent chills down their spines:

A Borg vessel.

That was it, that was all they needed to hear.

“Further analysis shows the source to be the NCC-86578,” Akaria piped up from science once the recording stopped, causing the Captain’s head to contort in yet another direction during this very pleasing show of teamwork from his new bridge crew. “It’s the Guardian, sir,” the Risian revealed, finally looking up from her station and into the heart of the bridge,” Inquiry-class and under the command of Captain Thalek… th’Zorati…”

At the mention of the Guardian’s commanding officer, several heads around the room dropped. Voran couldn’t fail to spot the change in energy around his crewmates and addressed the matter. “Given the sudden drain of energy reserves around the room, am I to assume that this…” he looked at his console again, “…Captain th’Zorati… is known to you all?”

“Not personally,” Giarvar addressed the Vulcan’s concern, for lack of a better word. “He is the father to one of our colleagues aboard Lakota, someone highly respected by us all,” the Trill placed his hands on his hips and let out a sigh. “Okay, listen up!”

In the next few minutes, Giarvar was like a man possessed. Orders flew around the bridge and fingers danced across displays at warp speed. He wanted all of the information his people could obtain and wanted it yesterday. When he finally sat down in his seat, the Trill caught a glimpse of his XO out of the corner of his eye and turned his chair slightly.

“If we’ve detected the call, Lakota will have too,” Noli advised him, “perhaps we should show willingness and get in there before she assigns us…”

Giarvar listened to the words of his XO, words that were well-considered. She’d worked with both Nazir and himself on several occasions and knew each of them well enough to be able to offer solid advice. It was why he had been so happy to accept her appointment as executive officer in the reshuffle.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” the Trill mused, rubbing his chin, “it would show we are ready for whatever comes our way,” he glanced back at the Bajoran and received a nod of agreement for his troubles.

Agreeing with his first officer, he planted his right foot on the deck plating and turned his seat forward facing again.

“Get me Fleet Captain Nazir…” he beckoned.

Almost an hour later and Osiris had left the Lakota far behind, heading for Guardian’s last known location at high warp. Crimson lights continued to flicker across the ship, but the wailing sirens and alert klaxons had long since stopped. Departments across the ship were at a high state of alert, with personnel preparing for every eventuality. The cargo bays were being prepped for possible use as additional triage facilities, extra security personnel were on standby for patrols or boarding actions, hand phasers had been distributed among the crew and shields were most definitely raised. If there was any chance they were entering a scenario where a confrontation with the Borg was remotely possible, they were going to be prepared; Giarvar was going to be prepared.

There was no way his first mission with his new ship was going to end in anything but success. After months of turmoil for many aboard, it was clear from the sudden shift in mood that they needed a positive outcome in this mission. What that positive outcome would be was anyone’s guess, but he was pretty sure anything that didn’t entail Dominion invasion forces, personnel being turned into mindless automatons or death would be widely regarded as a positive outcome.

Ensconced in his command chair, the crew going about their business diligently all around him, the Captain’s eyes settled on the main viewscreen and the stars streaking by. His thoughts wandered, but his gaze remained steadfast. Whatever the situation, wherever they would end up, these were his people now.

He had to do the best for them.

Anything else was futile.