… 4:21, 4:20, 4:19…

“Helm, time to intercept?” Mellasitox paused her circuit around the small bridge, her focus falling on the squat figure of the Tellerite helmsman.

“Two and a half minutes ma’am.” The man replied over his shoulder.

“We could make that forty-five seconds if you wanted, push everything to the engines,” Sehgali whispered from her seat at the centre of the room.

“No, if we’re too direct the Klingons will realise something’s up. We need them to stay over on the other side of the field until we’ve established what this signal is.”

“You really think they’d engage us?”

“To capture a Starfleet fugitive currently hiding aboard a mystery ship with a rogue Klingon Intelligence agent. A ship that may be full of partly functional Borg technology which entered their space illegally?” Mellasitox resumed her pacing. “I’m surprised we’re not already surrounded by them.”

“We still could be.” Sehgali raised a cautious eyebrow as she tracked the Captain around the perimeter of the bridge with one eye.

“I don’t think so, Mordic needs the prestige win that capturing a high-ticket fugitive alone would bring.”

Mellasitox froze as a shrill chirp leapt out from the tactical station.

“Ma’ams, the Ho’Nang is adjusting course to intercept us at the signal source,” Encore announced, her tall ears twitching as she began mentally playing out combat scenarios between the two mismatched ships.

A second fell into an eternity as Mellasitox held a shallow breath, several hundred kilometres away the mottled green hull of the Klingon ship was creaking in protest as its aged impulse engines launched it across the asteroid field. Whilst they did not know the full contents of the ship, the moment they realised its strategic significance, retrieving it from behind the blades of the Empire would be impossible. At the same time, the signal could be nothing more than a broken piece of hull, lost from some mining ship’s bulky form as it scoured the field for valuable minerals. The risk was too great, the decision was clear.

“Helm acc-”

“-accelerating to full speed ma’am. 44 seconds to intercept.”

… 02:43, 02:42, 02:41 …

On the viewscreen, a cube of mismatched materials floated aimlessly against the stars. Crates of various sizes strapped together by thin metal ropes jostled and scrapped against one another, desperate to be free of their barely restrictive bonds. Atop the hastily assembled cuboid, a small white light flashed mockingly with frustratingly slow pulses.

“Sensors confirm there is no Borg technology on board. All the crates appear to be mostly empty.” The vein in Maksha’s temple twitched with barely perceptible frustration as his eyes narrowed at the sensor readings. “Mostly empty crates with a flashing light, that’s all.”

“So space trash?” Bale sighed from operations.

“Or a decoy?” Sehgali offered from the operations station where she assisted Bale in assessing the perplexing object. “Shipping markings match those from Pamack Base.” On the viewscreen, several barely perceptible icons and marks, easily mistakable for scuffs at a distance, lept out into small boxes as the computer enlarged them.

“Something to keep us occupied whilst the target slipped out of the system?” Encore added, her attention focused on the Klingon cruiser that hung threateningly ahead of them, on the other side of the boxy signal source. The Klingons had arrived at the signal seconds later than Daedalus and were likely having a similar conversation in the confines of their perpetually shadowed bridge. Encore watched diligently for any sign of their next action, hostile or otherwise.

“You’re sure there’s no other signs?” Mellasitox slumped back in her seat, her bottom lip threatening to slip forward like a defeated child. “No impulse wake, no metallurgic signature that might lead to a forgotten system, no hidden messages?”

“Unless the message involves tube grubs,” Sehgali sighed loudly, as she stepped from operations and leant over the railing that separated the upper and lower parts of the small bridge. “Nothing we can see.”

“A dead end. Command will not be happy.”

… 01:09, 01:08, 01:07…

“The Klingons are preparing to beam the decoy aboard,” Encore announced from the rear of the bridge.

“Is there any reason we shouldn’t let them?” The captain rubbed her temples in frustration as she melted further back into the cushions of her chair.

“I don’t believe so, all scans show most of the crates are empty save for some unrefined ores,” Maksha confirmed.

“Is the ore even useful?” Mellasitox felt her molars grind against one another in frustration.

“Nothing we couldn’t find on pretty much any trading post.” The normally stoic science officer allowed a small shrug to dance across his shoulders as he began to list off the minerals on his screen. “Nickel, iron, cobalt, some magnetite-”

“Sounds like someone was planning to build a big magnet.” Sehgali joked from the operations console where she stood next to Bale.

…00:24, 00:23, 00:22…

“And we’re sure there’s nothing useful in there?” Mellasitox sighed once again.

“Unless someone is hiding a stack of latinum in there, no ma’am.”

“Hiding?”

“The ferromagnetic qualities of the ores are creating a bit of a blind spot at the core of the cluster.” Maksha span in his seat towards the Captain. “But it’s likely just more ore.”

…00:12, 00:11, 00:10…

“How big a void?” Sehgali felt a tug of worry at the edge of her chest, an unformed shadow that radiated waves of panic.

“Two by two metres.” Maksha’s brow furrowed minutely in confusion.

…00:08…

Sehgali was already taking several steps from the operations station and moving across the curving bridge towards tactical.

“Big enough to fit a torpedo or two,” she whispered. “We have to stop the Klingons.”

…00:04…

“Ma’am?” Maksha’s voice called out from across the bridge but Sehgali’s pace was turning into a sprint.

…00:03…

“It’s not a decoy!” Mellasitox cried in realisation.

…00:02…

“It’s a bomb.”

…00:01…

“Red A-”

…00:00…