The sweet scent of jumja tea filled Taro Niyaâs nostrils as she lifted the cup and the plate of buttered toast from the replicator. They never got the Bajoran tea quite right, but it was a close enough approximation that Niya still enjoyed multiple cups throughout the day. She carried her breakfast to a nearby table where fellow Bajoran, Nybor Laan, was already seated.
âWhatâre you reading?â Niya asked, nodding at the PADD in Nyborâs hand as she slid into the seat opposite and placed her cup and plate in front of her. Nybor held out the PADD so she could see the title. âRichard II?â
Nybor nodded. âCaptain Rix recommended it.â
âIâve never understood the human fascination with Shakespeare,â Niya said.
âNeither have I,â Nybor agreed. âI can think of half a dozen writers who are better.â He set the PADD down. âI donât dislike his plays, but I just donât rate them as highly as others.â He shrugged his shoulders and added, âMaybe because they speak to something in the human condition, you and I will never understand.â
Niya considered that as he chewed slowly on a piece of toast. âSo, how do you explain Rixâs fascination?â
âPoor taste?â Nybor shot back with a wry grin. He took a sip from his almost empty mug of coffee and looked around the small mess hall. âWhereâs Henry?â
âHe decided to skip breakfast,â Niya replied darkly. âI canât say I blame him.â
Nybor let out a sigh. âToday must be really difficult for him.â
âTodayâs difficult for who?â Lieutenant Marchand asked as he joined them.
âHenry,â Niya replied before clarifying.âDoctor Young.â
Marchand rolled his eyes. âIs he still crying about his husband dying?â
Niya was astonished but not surprised at Marchandâs callousness and how casually it flowed from him. In the short time sheâd known him, Elias Marchand had proven himself incredibly insensitive; Taro would even describe him as heartless. She had yet to figure out whether it was intentional or not.
âHave some compassion,â Niya shot back. âThe man lost his husband less than a year ago. Today wouldâve been their wedding anniversary.â
The missionâs Chief Tactical and Security Officer greedily shovelled scrambled eggs into his mouth. âAnd donât we know it? Itâs all heâs talked about for the past three weeks. The guy died months ago. Young needs to get over it.â
âHow, exactly, is he supposed to âget overâ losing the love of his life?â Nybor asked.
Marchand shrugged nonchalantly. âSimple. The best way to get over someone is to get-â
âIâm begging you not to finish that sentence,â Niya held up a hand to stop him.
âYouâre a pig,â Nybor added, his voice dripping with scorn.
Marchand looked genuinely confused at Nyborâs remark and innocently asked, âWhat?â
Niyaâs reply died on her lips when the familiar chirp of the comm system echoed through the mess hall. âSenior officers report to duty stations.â
The three officers jumped from their seats, their breakfasts forgotten and their conversation. Niya was never so happy to be summoned to the bridge.
Antonia Carerra was a morning person and had been for as long as she could remember. While others could languish in bed for hours, Carerra needed to be up and doing something once she was awake. It wasnât unusual to see her wander onto the bridge forty minutes before the beginning of her shift.
âGood morning, Captain,â The Officer of the Watch, Lieutenant Saju, quickly vacated the command chair.
Commanding the Cernan for the past few weeks had been a nice change of pace, but Antonia was looking forward to returning to her regular duties upon their return to the Challenger, which was due to happen in a little more than ten hours.
âAnything to report, Lieutenant?â
âWe detected a group of previously unencountered cozmozoans about five hours ago,â the young woman replied with a tired smile. âI took us as close as possible without spooking them.â
Carerra would have done the same thing, and she was already itching to take a look at the data Saju collected on these cozmozoans, but she managed to play it cool for now.
âGood work,â Carerra smiled. âI look forward to reading the reports.â
âOtherwise, it was a quiet-â
An alarm coming from the tactical console interrupted them, drawing their attention. âCaptain, weâre receiving an automated distress signal.â
âCan you locate the source of the signal?â Antonia asked, immediately assuming command.
The duty tactical officer studied his console. âItâs coming from the third planet in the Morar system, bearing zero-three-three mark zero-six-zero.â
âHelm, alter course for the Morar system and increase speed to warp eight.â Antonia settled in the command chair and opened a shipwide comm channel, âSenior officers report to duty stations.â
It didnât take long for the senior bridge officers to arrive, one of the benefits of the smaller Aquarius-class escort compared to her much larger Odyssey-class mothership. They quickly relieved their Delta shift counterparts while Antonia brought them up to speed and set them to work.
âWeâre approaching Morar III, Captain.â Lieutenant da Costa reported. Almost ninety minutes had passed since theyâd received the distress call.
Antonia pushed herself from her chair and came to stand behind da Costa. While command had never been a goal for Antonia, she liked to constantly challenge herself, and when this particular challenge was presented to her, it had proven impossible to resist.
âSlow to impulse, Lieutenant,â Carerra ordered. She looked over at Thera zhâVosia, who was her chief science officer on this mission. âAny sign of the ship that sent the distress call?â
The bridge fell silent as they waited for zhâVosia to respond. âNegative.â The science officer replied. âBut Iâve found the beacon transmitting the distress signal.â The viewscreen changed to show a metallic object resembling a probe in orbit of the planet.
âWe should bring it aboard,â Taro suggested, âand deactivate the distress signal.â
Antonia nodded in agreement. âLieutenant da Costa, take us into tractor beam range,â she ordered. âMister Marchand, lock on a tractor beam and bring the beacon aboard.â
With the crew around her working seamlessly together, the distress beacon was safely secured inside the Cernanâs cargo bay, and Lieutenant Commander Nybor left the bridge to study the device and deactivate it.
âCaptain, Iâm detecting a large quantity of debris on the surface of Morar III,â zhâVosia reported.
Antoniaâs heart sank. âIs it the ship weâre looking for?â
âI believe it is,â zhâVosia replied. âThe materials in the debris match those used in the construction of the beacon. The wreckage is scattered over a wide area. It suggests the ship broke apart during atmospheric entry.â
Antonia already knew the answer but asked the question anyway; she needed zhâVosia to confirm it. âSurvivors?â
âIâm not detecting any life signs on the planet.â zhâVosia announced sadly.
They were too late. They may have been too late before theyâd even received the distress signal. The thought had occurred to Antonia, but sheâd pushed it out of her mind, holding on to hope that they would arrive in time to save lives, but that wasnât to be.
âCaptain,â da Costa began, interrupting Antoniaâs thoughts, âIâm picking up a faint ion trail leading away from the planet. It looks like someone tried to mask their trail but hasnât done a very good job.â
Did this ion trail belong to survivors? Or did it indicate something more sinister? There was only one way to find out. âYellow alert,â Antonia ordered. âMister da Costa, plot a course to follow that ion trail and take us to full impulse.â
âFull impulse, aye,â da Costa replied instinctively.
The Cernan set off in search of the ion trailâs source. The Morar system had ten planets, each with at least one moon. Plenty of places to hide. Searching for them would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack if they figured out how to properly mask their ion trail.
Five minutes became ten, which became twenty. Thirty minutes later, the Cernan had followed the ion trail to the fifth moon of the Morar VII where they found a small courier ship adrift.
âIâm not detecting any power signatures,â zhâVosia reported. âLife support is offline, and CO2 levels are reaching critical levels.â
Antonia leaned forward. âLifesigns?â
âOne, but itâs very weak.â
There was no time to waste. âBridge to transporter room. Lock onto the life sign onboard the nearby ship and beam them directly to sickbay.â
âAye, Captain,â The transporter chief replied. Antonia could hear Commander Taro telling sickbay to prepare for an incoming casualty. Seconds passed before the transporter chief reported, âTransport complete. We have him.â
Antonia hoped they had arrived in time to save at least one life, but that was out of her hands. Doctor Young and his team would work as hard as they could to save the strangerâs life.
âLieutenant Marchand, lock a tractor beam onto that ship and take it under tow,â Antonia ordered. âCommander Taro, you have the bridge.â She started towards the door. âIâll be in sickbay.â