A staticky image flicked onto the viewscreen. It wasn’t a recognizable bridge. Likely an auxiliary control area or lab. The only person in view was a severe-looking Acamarian man in a plain tunic. His hair was disheveled and it looked like he hadn’t slept in a long time. “Good, you noticed the pulse! I was getting worried. I wish I had time to explain, but I really don’t. You must destroy this ship immediately!”

Grigor blinked twice and his brow furrowed in surprise. Not the usual request a ship in obvious distress made when hailed. “Tactical, prepare a firing solution and stand by. Transporter room one, prepare ” The order is given crisply. Beyr simply nods and begins inputting commands into her console while other officers on the bridge exchange looks.

It also catches the Acamarian on the screen off-guard as well and he holds up his hands. “Wait! The transporter won’t work! This ship is set to focus subspace disruptions like the ones I signaled you with. I’ve managed to rig the shields to act as a gravitic sink for the moment to contain and disrupt it, but it’s very unstable I let you beam me out, the disruptions will be let loose. I-I’ve got a shuttle I can get to, give me a minute to get there.” He starts to move off-screen but is arrested by Grigor’s voice.

“Sounds like you have control of the ship’s systems, then. Is there any way you can disable the subspace generators? We can send a team to you as well.  At the very least, can you transmit the specifications of the ship to us?” Rising, Grigor moves halfway between the center chair and the dual chairs of flight control and ops.

“There’s not enough time. Minutes, maybe, before the shields are overloaded. I’m transmitting the shield frequencies to you right now. If you hit the antennas first, that will cause enough interference for the destruction of the ship to end the disruptions.” The frantic man on the screen taps at controls and a beep sounds from the science station.

T’press takes a moment to read over the information before sending it on to Beyr who inputs the relevant codes and locations to supplement her own work. “Firing solution ready, Captain, on your order.”

Grigor half-turns to nod at tactical before turning back to the screen. “We’re locked in. Get to your shuttle and get clear. We’ll have the shuttle bay standing by for you.”

On-screen, the Acamarian man nod and hurries away. The transmission terminates and Grigor turns to face the back of the bridge. “Science, analysis?”

T’press’ placid, civil voice relays information from her readouts. “I can confirm the shields are functioning as a gravitic subspace shunt, dispersing subspace energy into the region. However, between the shields and the nebula’s interference, sensors are unable to determine what is being done to subspace itself and I cannot confirm whether this is helping or hindering, nor if anything that’s been told to us is accurate.”

“Of course,” Grigor says darkly, his expression stern as he mulls the possibilities over in his mind. All they have to go on is one person’s word that the ship poses some undefined threat. Someone who hadn’t even given their name yet. Long seconds ticked by as he contemplated the situation, staring at the image of the ship on the screen. His eyes scan the flickering image of the ship, doing his best to make it yield its secrets to him via the images.

No such luck. A tingling in his palms tells him that he’s coming close to the deadline of having to act. With a heavy sigh, he turns once more to Beyr. “Any chance you could simply disable the ship and whatever’s on it without having to destroy the whole thing?”

“Prophets know there’s always a chance. But one I’d risk the ship on? No, sir.”

“Any chance we can replicate the shield modification if needed? If this is a trap, I want to mitigate as much as possible.”

“Yes, Captain. I am already coordinating with Engineering to prepare them.”

“Good work. Anything goes wrong, we move in.” Turning back to the screen, Grigor notes a tiny speck detach from the bulk of the ship and the brief flare of it slipping through the shields and angling towards the Wells. Time seems to slow down as he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. These situations are why he preferred ground operations, or even better, analysis. Fewer opportunities to blow a hole in space itself when you’re reviewing reports or clearing a Tal Shiar bunker.

“Destroy it.”

Precise lances of phaser fire briefly connected the two ships across the vast gulf of space. Faint orange light glittered off the dust cloud the Acamarian ship was drifting around. The faint orange glitter turned to blue and white shining light as first the antennas and dishes were cut clean and then the vital heart of the ship itself pierced, turning the triangle into an expanding cloud of dust and debris.

Half of which was swallowed immediately by a flickering darkness revealed by the explosion. Grigor’s lips parted to give orders as all around the bridge fingers reached to start implementing emergency commands. All of which was interrupted when the flickering darkness pulsed twice and evaporated, releasing a wave of ethereal force that sent a shiver through the Wells and stirred the nearby dust clouds, reducing one to spinning whorls of sparkles.

Thus revealing a trio of battered old Klingon birds-of-prey that had been using it as cover on their approach. Unable to hide anymore, they sped up, angling towards the shuttle racing towards the Wells.

“Gott im Himmel…” Grigor uttered softly in the resigned tone of one who knew that something had to go wrong here. Then in a louder voice, “Get us between them!”