“Captains Log, Stardate 90611.63. After almost three months, our exploration mission into the Khazan Cluster is coming to an end. Having not yet received any orders to expedite our return via transwarp, I’ve placed us on course for Starbase 39 at Warp 9.5. The flight path our helmsman has plotted should pass over several trade routes, giving us the chance to perform some anti-piracy sweeps as we go.”
***
“I’m almost sorry it’s over,” Lieutenant Smith commented, gloved hands moving over the helm controls as he adjusted the warp field slightly. “I mean, I’ve never had an exploration mission before. It’s my first look at what it used to be like, back in the days of Sulu and Kirk.”
“The old five-year exploration missions?” Aunlez Moral asked, not looking away from her own station.
The Tocraxian chuckled in confirmation. “Oh yeah. I grew up on those stories. One ship, all alone, out beyond the edge of explored space. No idea what they’d find in the next system. Mysterious aliens, stellar anomalies, ancient artifacts, and all they could rely on was their ship and crew...”
Leaning back in the captains chair as she studied the duty roster, Commander Thryiss Aniri smirked. “Why Mister Smith, I never realized you’re something of a romantic,” the ships XO joked.
Shrugging, the man turned his chair towards Aniri, face hidden, as always, behind his environmental suits visor. “Yeah, I’ll admit to that Commander. It’s why I joined Starfleet. I wanted to be one of those captains, setting off into the unknown. Or at the very least, the helmsman on one of those exploration ships. I’d be like the next Hikaru Sulu. Or Tom Paris at least,” he added in a thoughtful tone. “Ancestors, now that’d be something. The adventure of a lifetime.”
Aunlez didn’t bother to hide her smile, but before she could say anything, her console beeped for attention and she turned back to it. The smile faded, and she pressed several buttons, even as her left hand reached up to cover her earpiece. After a few moments, she turned towards the XO. “Commander, we’re picking up a signal on the Federation Merchant Marine frequencies. It’s pretty badly distorted, but I think it’s a distress signal.”
Friendly conversation on the bridge stopped instantly, as Commander Aniri spun her chair towards the comm officer. “Do you have a location?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“Not yet,” the Trill woman replied, studying her consoles readouts, “but I’ve got a general direction. Approximately forty-eight by thirty-five off our current heading.” While Aniri turned to have Smith make a course chance, she listened to the signal again, starting to run an analysis on it. “It’s not distortion. The signal’s degraded from what looks like some sort of jamming. Merchant vessel... something Summer... attackers in pursuit...” She scowled and shook her head, trying to clean up the signal.
Considering that for a moment, the XO frowned, then tapped her commbadge. “Aniri to Hanagawa.”
***
Stepping out of the turbolift, Captain Priscilla Hanagawa made her way across the bridge to the ops officers station, where Commander Aniri had been in the middle of a discussion with Lieutenant Siysye. “Anything new?” she asked.
“I think so ma’am,” the Rigellian replied, entering a command into his console. The display shifted to show a map of the surrounding star systems. “I’ve sent test signals to a number of relay satellites and stations in the region. Most are coming back cleanly, but this area here-” he pointed to an area ahead and to the side of their current course, highlighted in red “-is showing a lot of poor signal strength or complete loss.” He frowned slightly. “I still can’t determine just what kind of jamming technology we’re looking at, but it appears to cover a radius of perhaps several light years.”
Commander Aniri took up the explanation, reaching up to trace a finger across the screen, her path passing through the highlighted area. “This path is the main route between Starbase 39 and the P’Rel system. There’s a lot of freighters that travel that route from the dilithium mines there. It’s a good spot for pirates that are brave enough to try picking a fight so close to a starbase.”
Priss rubbed the tip of her nose, considering that. “But it can’t be the ships chasing our freighter,” she said after a moment. “Unless this jamming technology is weaker than I’d expect a field that size to be. Which means they have another ship, or maybe something more fixed, and the Summer is on the edge of the field.” She frowned. “Those ships could be less than five light years away, and we can’t see them?”
Siysye nodded. “Which suggests that it’s not just communications being jammed. Matter-antimatter reactions, warp fields, everything you’d expect to see at this range, nowhere to be seen. Based off what seems to have happened to the distress signal and our own test signals, I think we’re looking at some kind of dampening field. We’ve redirected our main sensor arrays to focus on the area, and Chief Rossum is calibrating them for increased sensitivity. We should have more detail on how the field works soon, and whatever’s in there, they can’t hide completely. We’ll find them.”
“Keep at it,” Priss said, then stepped back towards the command chairs, her exec following. “What do you think?” the Captain asked. “Romulans?”
“Maybe. The Star Empire has always had an interest in stealth technology,” Aniri replied. “But using it for what, piracy? Seems like a bit of a waste. It might be the Klingons, or more likely one of their client nations. The Nausicaans or the Syndicate would love something like this. Depending on what the field generator is built into, they could park on a trade route, ambush ships as they come into the dead zone, then move on once enough disappearances are noticed. And once we start to clue in, we’d need to find even more ships for anti-piracy patrols. Again.” Scowling, the Andorian woman sat down and considered the main viewscreen, watching the stars.
“It does seem to be the way of things,” Priss agreed, taking a seat herself. “Once Siysyes team is done with their analysis, I want you to contact Starbase 39. Even if they can’t give us additional information, best they know about it before we get too close and our own communications start to suffer.”
Even as her first officer nodded, the green-skinned woman leaned back in her chair, letting her bridge crew continue to work. It was a familiar routine by now, and she felt no need to meddle. For now, she focused her attention on the mystery they were looking at. There was something lurking at the edge of her memory, something about communications technology, but the more she tried to focus on it, the more the thought slipped away. After almost a minute, she shook her head slightly and put the issue aside for now, even as she watched Aunlez straighten up in her chair. “Siy, I’m sending you some possible coordinates,” she told the Rigellian, transferring it to the other officers station.
Leaning in closer to his own screen, the sensor officer made a thoughtful noise, adjusting the sensor arrays slightly and considering what it reported back to him. “Okay then...” he murmured, then raised his voice. “Captain, I have multiple contacts moving at Warp speed. First target is five point seven light years away, moving towards us at warp eight point one. Warp field and power emissions are consistent with a Caravan class freighter. Second target is six point two light years away, in a pursuit course of target one, speed warp eight point one five.” He frowned slightly. “Second target appears to be multiple ships, with overlapping warp fields. Between that and the dampening field inhibiting sensors, I can’t determine type or exact numbers yet.”
“That distress signal is definately coming from the freighter ma’am,” Aunlez added. “It’s still being affected by the dampening field, but I should be able to establish audio communications, at the very least.”
Crossing her legs, Priss nodded. “Hail them.” Twenty seconds later, the viewscreens image shifted, showing the cramped bridge of the freighter, with three Andorians visible. The man at the central station, middle-aged and with a thick white beard, looked back at them as the other two kept working. “This is Captain Priscilla Hanagawa of the USS Jeff Wayne,” she announced. “We’ve detected your distress signal and have altered our course to intercept.”
On the viewscreen, the freighter captain looked skeptical for a brief moment, likely in response to the fact he was looking at an Orion woman claiming she was a Starfleet captain. Priss ignored that with only the usual brief flare of irritation, because the man seemed to get over it quickly, relief evident in his voice as he spoke. “Captain Gerral Shral of the Andorian Merchant Vessel Frozen Summer. It’s good to see you Captain Hanagawa,” he continued, voice distorted slightly by the signal strength flickering. “We were starting to wonder if anyone was hearing us.”
“They’ve got some impressive jamming technology,” Priss admitted. “It’s still affecting our sensors somewhat. We can see something following you, but we can’t identify ship type or even their exact numbers.”
Gerral nodded in understanding. “There’s three ships, although no one here recognizes the designs. They came out of nowhere, about five hours ago now. Right as we passed them they fired up their warp drives and gave us a broadside out of nowhere, then started chasing us.” He scowled, shaking his head. “There’s something odd about it. We’re pushing our warp drive to a hundred and twenty percent of recommended output, and I thought they were doing the same to try and keep up with us. They’re only getting close enough for a few shots with their energy weapons every twenty minutes or so, then cutting their speed and dropping back slightly.” He glanced at his console for a moment, checking something, then looked back up at the viewscreen. “The thing is, one of them got close enough about half an hour ago for us to get a better look at their warp fields, and they’re hardly pushing it. They should be able to manage warp nine at least,” he explained, almost growling. “It’s like they’re... playing with us for some insane reason.”
Eyes narrowing, Priss considered that. “Not at all like pirates in Federation space,” she mused, then glanced at the console in her arm rest. “At current velocities, we’ll reach each other in... just over three hours. We’ll try to cut some time off that at this end,” she assured the man.
“I doubt we can get much more speed here,” the freighter captain admitted. “But if these bastards keep fooling around like they have been, we should be able to reach you. So far they haven’t even knocked down our shields. I’m sending a copy of our sensor logs to you now. Maybe they’ll help you work out who they are.”
“I appreciate that Captain,” Priss replied. “With any luck, we’ll see you in person soon enough. Jeff Wayne out.” The viewscreen reverted to open space, and Priss glanced at Aunlez, who nodded, confirming she’d received the data from Frozen Summer. Giving it a moments thought, she tapped her commbadge. “Hanagawa to Rossum.”
“Go ahead.”
“Chief, how much more speed can we get out of the engines?” she asked.
“By the book, or with a little creativity?” the chief engineer enquired.
Priss chuckled slightly. “I’m willing to put up with BuShips growling at me over a bit of ‘unjustified’ wear and tear on the nacelles,” she said with a faint smile, and the other woman chuckled.
“Well then, have the helm dial it up. I’ll yell at him when he pushes too hard.”
“You heard the woman Mister Smith,” Priss said. “Punch it.”
“Aye aye Captain,” the encounter-suited man replied, entering commands into his console, the ship beginning to vibrate slightly as it accelerated. It started with a faint buzzing sensation in the deckplates, increasing into a shaking so intense it seemed to rattle the bones, before Smith made several careful adjustments to the warp field, and the engineering team several hundred meters below and behind them worked to control the warp core even as they pulled more power from it. Eventually Smith made a slight twitch that Priss guessed was caused by Megan Rossum yelling at him via his suits internal comm system, the vibrations reduced to a faint buzz, and the Tocraxian made a noise of satisfaction, making one last adjustment before turning back to his captain. “Nine point nine eight,” he reported cheerfully. “Estimated time to the Frozen Summer is now about two hours, eleven minutes.”
Megan Rossum’s voice came through the Captains comm-badge, backed by the intense roar of the ships warp core. “We can hold this speed for that long no problem Skipper,” she said with a cheerfulness at odds with the chaos Priss suspected was filling the engine room right now. “I’m guessing we’ll be looking at some excitement when we’re done with our morning run?”
“You guess correctly, I suspect,” Priss replied, as amused as ever at the engineers attitude.
“I’ll make sure our girl’s ready for it,” the other woman said, before ending the communication.
***
***
“I’m almost sorry it’s over,” Lieutenant Smith commented, gloved hands moving over the helm controls as he adjusted the warp field slightly. “I mean, I’ve never had an exploration mission before. It’s my first look at what it used to be like, back in the days of Sulu and Kirk.”
“The old five-year exploration missions?” Aunlez Moral asked, not looking away from her own station.
The Tocraxian chuckled in confirmation. “Oh yeah. I grew up on those stories. One ship, all alone, out beyond the edge of explored space. No idea what they’d find in the next system. Mysterious aliens, stellar anomalies, ancient artifacts, and all they could rely on was their ship and crew...”
Leaning back in the captains chair as she studied the duty roster, Commander Thryiss Aniri smirked. “Why Mister Smith, I never realized you’re something of a romantic,” the ships XO joked.
Shrugging, the man turned his chair towards Aniri, face hidden, as always, behind his environmental suits visor. “Yeah, I’ll admit to that Commander. It’s why I joined Starfleet. I wanted to be one of those captains, setting off into the unknown. Or at the very least, the helmsman on one of those exploration ships. I’d be like the next Hikaru Sulu. Or Tom Paris at least,” he added in a thoughtful tone. “Ancestors, now that’d be something. The adventure of a lifetime.”
Aunlez didn’t bother to hide her smile, but before she could say anything, her console beeped for attention and she turned back to it. The smile faded, and she pressed several buttons, even as her left hand reached up to cover her earpiece. After a few moments, she turned towards the XO. “Commander, we’re picking up a signal on the Federation Merchant Marine frequencies. It’s pretty badly distorted, but I think it’s a distress signal.”
Friendly conversation on the bridge stopped instantly, as Commander Aniri spun her chair towards the comm officer. “Do you have a location?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“Not yet,” the Trill woman replied, studying her consoles readouts, “but I’ve got a general direction. Approximately forty-eight by thirty-five off our current heading.” While Aniri turned to have Smith make a course chance, she listened to the signal again, starting to run an analysis on it. “It’s not distortion. The signal’s degraded from what looks like some sort of jamming. Merchant vessel... something Summer... attackers in pursuit...” She scowled and shook her head, trying to clean up the signal.
Considering that for a moment, the XO frowned, then tapped her commbadge. “Aniri to Hanagawa.”
***
Stepping out of the turbolift, Captain Priscilla Hanagawa made her way across the bridge to the ops officers station, where Commander Aniri had been in the middle of a discussion with Lieutenant Siysye. “Anything new?” she asked.
“I think so ma’am,” the Rigellian replied, entering a command into his console. The display shifted to show a map of the surrounding star systems. “I’ve sent test signals to a number of relay satellites and stations in the region. Most are coming back cleanly, but this area here-” he pointed to an area ahead and to the side of their current course, highlighted in red “-is showing a lot of poor signal strength or complete loss.” He frowned slightly. “I still can’t determine just what kind of jamming technology we’re looking at, but it appears to cover a radius of perhaps several light years.”
Commander Aniri took up the explanation, reaching up to trace a finger across the screen, her path passing through the highlighted area. “This path is the main route between Starbase 39 and the P’Rel system. There’s a lot of freighters that travel that route from the dilithium mines there. It’s a good spot for pirates that are brave enough to try picking a fight so close to a starbase.”
Priss rubbed the tip of her nose, considering that. “But it can’t be the ships chasing our freighter,” she said after a moment. “Unless this jamming technology is weaker than I’d expect a field that size to be. Which means they have another ship, or maybe something more fixed, and the Summer is on the edge of the field.” She frowned. “Those ships could be less than five light years away, and we can’t see them?”
Siysye nodded. “Which suggests that it’s not just communications being jammed. Matter-antimatter reactions, warp fields, everything you’d expect to see at this range, nowhere to be seen. Based off what seems to have happened to the distress signal and our own test signals, I think we’re looking at some kind of dampening field. We’ve redirected our main sensor arrays to focus on the area, and Chief Rossum is calibrating them for increased sensitivity. We should have more detail on how the field works soon, and whatever’s in there, they can’t hide completely. We’ll find them.”
“Keep at it,” Priss said, then stepped back towards the command chairs, her exec following. “What do you think?” the Captain asked. “Romulans?”
“Maybe. The Star Empire has always had an interest in stealth technology,” Aniri replied. “But using it for what, piracy? Seems like a bit of a waste. It might be the Klingons, or more likely one of their client nations. The Nausicaans or the Syndicate would love something like this. Depending on what the field generator is built into, they could park on a trade route, ambush ships as they come into the dead zone, then move on once enough disappearances are noticed. And once we start to clue in, we’d need to find even more ships for anti-piracy patrols. Again.” Scowling, the Andorian woman sat down and considered the main viewscreen, watching the stars.
“It does seem to be the way of things,” Priss agreed, taking a seat herself. “Once Siysyes team is done with their analysis, I want you to contact Starbase 39. Even if they can’t give us additional information, best they know about it before we get too close and our own communications start to suffer.”
Even as her first officer nodded, the green-skinned woman leaned back in her chair, letting her bridge crew continue to work. It was a familiar routine by now, and she felt no need to meddle. For now, she focused her attention on the mystery they were looking at. There was something lurking at the edge of her memory, something about communications technology, but the more she tried to focus on it, the more the thought slipped away. After almost a minute, she shook her head slightly and put the issue aside for now, even as she watched Aunlez straighten up in her chair. “Siy, I’m sending you some possible coordinates,” she told the Rigellian, transferring it to the other officers station.
Leaning in closer to his own screen, the sensor officer made a thoughtful noise, adjusting the sensor arrays slightly and considering what it reported back to him. “Okay then...” he murmured, then raised his voice. “Captain, I have multiple contacts moving at Warp speed. First target is five point seven light years away, moving towards us at warp eight point one. Warp field and power emissions are consistent with a Caravan class freighter. Second target is six point two light years away, in a pursuit course of target one, speed warp eight point one five.” He frowned slightly. “Second target appears to be multiple ships, with overlapping warp fields. Between that and the dampening field inhibiting sensors, I can’t determine type or exact numbers yet.”
“That distress signal is definately coming from the freighter ma’am,” Aunlez added. “It’s still being affected by the dampening field, but I should be able to establish audio communications, at the very least.”
Crossing her legs, Priss nodded. “Hail them.” Twenty seconds later, the viewscreens image shifted, showing the cramped bridge of the freighter, with three Andorians visible. The man at the central station, middle-aged and with a thick white beard, looked back at them as the other two kept working. “This is Captain Priscilla Hanagawa of the USS Jeff Wayne,” she announced. “We’ve detected your distress signal and have altered our course to intercept.”
On the viewscreen, the freighter captain looked skeptical for a brief moment, likely in response to the fact he was looking at an Orion woman claiming she was a Starfleet captain. Priss ignored that with only the usual brief flare of irritation, because the man seemed to get over it quickly, relief evident in his voice as he spoke. “Captain Gerral Shral of the Andorian Merchant Vessel Frozen Summer. It’s good to see you Captain Hanagawa,” he continued, voice distorted slightly by the signal strength flickering. “We were starting to wonder if anyone was hearing us.”
“They’ve got some impressive jamming technology,” Priss admitted. “It’s still affecting our sensors somewhat. We can see something following you, but we can’t identify ship type or even their exact numbers.”
Gerral nodded in understanding. “There’s three ships, although no one here recognizes the designs. They came out of nowhere, about five hours ago now. Right as we passed them they fired up their warp drives and gave us a broadside out of nowhere, then started chasing us.” He scowled, shaking his head. “There’s something odd about it. We’re pushing our warp drive to a hundred and twenty percent of recommended output, and I thought they were doing the same to try and keep up with us. They’re only getting close enough for a few shots with their energy weapons every twenty minutes or so, then cutting their speed and dropping back slightly.” He glanced at his console for a moment, checking something, then looked back up at the viewscreen. “The thing is, one of them got close enough about half an hour ago for us to get a better look at their warp fields, and they’re hardly pushing it. They should be able to manage warp nine at least,” he explained, almost growling. “It’s like they’re... playing with us for some insane reason.”
Eyes narrowing, Priss considered that. “Not at all like pirates in Federation space,” she mused, then glanced at the console in her arm rest. “At current velocities, we’ll reach each other in... just over three hours. We’ll try to cut some time off that at this end,” she assured the man.
“I doubt we can get much more speed here,” the freighter captain admitted. “But if these bastards keep fooling around like they have been, we should be able to reach you. So far they haven’t even knocked down our shields. I’m sending a copy of our sensor logs to you now. Maybe they’ll help you work out who they are.”
“I appreciate that Captain,” Priss replied. “With any luck, we’ll see you in person soon enough. Jeff Wayne out.” The viewscreen reverted to open space, and Priss glanced at Aunlez, who nodded, confirming she’d received the data from Frozen Summer. Giving it a moments thought, she tapped her commbadge. “Hanagawa to Rossum.”
“Go ahead.”
“Chief, how much more speed can we get out of the engines?” she asked.
“By the book, or with a little creativity?” the chief engineer enquired.
Priss chuckled slightly. “I’m willing to put up with BuShips growling at me over a bit of ‘unjustified’ wear and tear on the nacelles,” she said with a faint smile, and the other woman chuckled.
“Well then, have the helm dial it up. I’ll yell at him when he pushes too hard.”
“You heard the woman Mister Smith,” Priss said. “Punch it.”
“Aye aye Captain,” the encounter-suited man replied, entering commands into his console, the ship beginning to vibrate slightly as it accelerated. It started with a faint buzzing sensation in the deckplates, increasing into a shaking so intense it seemed to rattle the bones, before Smith made several careful adjustments to the warp field, and the engineering team several hundred meters below and behind them worked to control the warp core even as they pulled more power from it. Eventually Smith made a slight twitch that Priss guessed was caused by Megan Rossum yelling at him via his suits internal comm system, the vibrations reduced to a faint buzz, and the Tocraxian made a noise of satisfaction, making one last adjustment before turning back to his captain. “Nine point nine eight,” he reported cheerfully. “Estimated time to the Frozen Summer is now about two hours, eleven minutes.”
Megan Rossum’s voice came through the Captains comm-badge, backed by the intense roar of the ships warp core. “We can hold this speed for that long no problem Skipper,” she said with a cheerfulness at odds with the chaos Priss suspected was filling the engine room right now. “I’m guessing we’ll be looking at some excitement when we’re done with our morning run?”
“You guess correctly, I suspect,” Priss replied, as amused as ever at the engineers attitude.
“I’ll make sure our girl’s ready for it,” the other woman said, before ending the communication.
***