The transparent panel in the centre of the engineering bay shuddered for the fourth time in ten minutes, causing the flat diagram of Skofnung to twitch nervously in a worrying reflection of the surrounding ship. The deck hummed with an unnerving vibration of a particularly tense string, pulled across the bridge of an interstellar cello.

“Should I be concerned?” Ryol asked aloud to the small bay, eyeing the panel warily as it began to rattle constantly within its frame.

“We’re at warp 9.2, it’s bound to have some… detrimental symptoms,” Tor replied from a nearby console where a diagram of the warp core glowed brightly on the slender screen. “Just don’t think too hard about it.”

“But we’re rated for 9.2.” Ryol put a large hand on the side of the central panel, clutching the edge of the upright panel and stilling the noise which was already irritating and disquieting in equal measure.

“Rated, yes. But you know as well as I do that ratings aren’t always accurate.” The Coridanite officer caught the elbow of a passing engineer and muttered a few words, sending the young ensign dashing off with a decidedly quicker step. “I doubt the yard engineers foresaw us racing through a region that until recently was filled with subspace quicksand.”

Tor lifted a battered silver mug to his lips and drained the trickle of remaining liquid. With a contented sigh he set it down on the thin strip of dark metal that sat around the central console.

“She’ll hold in getting us to Velantri,” he offered in his most reassuring tone.

“And she’ll still be combat-ready when we arrive?” Ryol whispered.

“I thought we were just surveilling?” A dark look fell over Tor’s face.

Ryol slid a padd across the dark console surface, where Tor stopped it with a calloused finger.

“Latest update from Nuld via emergency subspace burst.”

“I’m already nervous,” Tor didn’t look down at the padd, his attention narrowing onto Ryol’s face at the word emergency.

“The Conclave have manoeuvred patrol ships alongside the shuttle team.” Ryol cast a furtive glance for any accidental eavesdroppers. “I’m getting the impression they don’t want them to find the away team.”

“Do you think they’ll engage them?” Tor mused as he ran his finger around the rim of the battered mug, which sang with a tinny whistle that harmonised over the low humming of the deck plates.

“If they think they’ve got the advantage and the allies, it’s a possibility. T’Sunik mentioned they’ve been very cosy with the Klingons.” The Kretassan man twitched minutely at the growing cacophony but managed to resist the urge to reach out and stay the man’s hand.

“Then we’ll have her ready, and we’ll clear the decks for emergency shuttle landings.”

“I’m still hoping we can be diplomatic about this.” Ryol’s ears twitched again at the riding discordance. “Get us to Velantri in one piece, I’ll get us out.”

“I’ll do my best.” Tor barely held back a shudder of nervousness at the thought of Ryol’s singular brand of diplomacy, but couldn’t help admit that phasers at dawn was looking more and more likely.

“I’m detecting three Federation shuttles under the escort of four Concord frigates,” Akki announced from the back wall of Skofnung’s compact bridge. “The lead vessel is hailing, as is the lead shuttle.”

“Shuttles first,” Ryol instructed as he slipped himself into the sole command chair.

The viewscreen hung in limbo for a moment before the looming blue face of Nuld filled the wall, her face tilted at an awkward angle to look into the shuttle’s console.

“Glad to see a friendly face, Skofnung.”

“Everyone still in one piece, Lieutenant?”

“We are, if a little claustrophobic with our new friends looming over our shoulders.”

“Any luck on finding the away team?” Ryol could see Akki’s antenna twitching in the corner of his eye as a large glowing symbol on her console continued to flash impatiently, indicating the Concord’s continued hails.

“We think we have their location. We managed a few good passes with some probes before the Concord moved in. I suspect they were waiting for Hart to be out of reach.” Nuld stroked her facial ganglea nervously with a thick thumb. “But we’ll need to get close to the surface to capture them with the shuttle transporters through all the rock.”

“Captain, the Concord are starting to use the words trespasser,” Akki announced, a nervous tone creeping into the digitised vocoder that hung around her neck.

“Give me a minute, Lieutenant. Standby for my signal to make the pickup pass.”

“We’ll be here, with bated breath.” Nuld offered a tight nod before her face disappeared from the screen.

With a deep breath, Ryol took a long step forward to the centre of the bridge and pushed a rogue dreadlock from the side of his face. For a second, he considered calling Tor back up from engineering. Over the last year, the pair had forged an excellent working relationship, founded primarily on the young man’s ability to play nice cop to Ryol’s brusque bad cop.

“Captain, shall I open a channel?” Akki’s modulated vocoder was drowned out by the clicking of her mandibles, and Ryol suspected that the device might’ve reached the limits in translating her insistence.

Ryol allowed himself a sigh and waved his hand in confirmation towards the Xindi officer. Bad cop would have to do for now.

Seconds later, the viewscreen was filled with the golden glowing face of a Concord officer, his glowing eyes narrowed in anger towards the burly Kretassan.

“Starfleet vessel, you are trespassing in the territory of the Concord. Depart immediately or-”

Ryol held up a meaty hand, stopping the officious man mid-sentence.

“Concord vessel, you are unlawfully detaining Federation craft engaged in humanitarian search and rescue operations.” Ryol lowered his hand slowly. “Withdraw immediately and allow the shuttles to complete their work.”

“Or?” The golden-skinned man narrowed his radiant eyes, turning his glowing orbs into thin slits of disdain.

“Or we will be forced to assist them ourselves in extracting themselves from an unlawful containment,” Ryol replied coolly.

“You would fire on us?” The Concord officer’s golden skin seemed to bubble with energy, flashes of light dancing over it as it reflected the tiny suns that sat in his orbital sockets.

“You are detaining Federation citizens on both the shuttles and the surface of the moon. This we cannot abide.”

“There are no citizens on the surface of the moon.” The Concord officer’s aurelian skin dimmed minutely as flash of nerves raced across the man’s face at the obvious lie, and Ryol felt a bubbling of vindication in his stomach. That was evidence enough for him.

“There will be no further warnings. Withdraw. You have thirty seconds.”

Ryol waved a stocky arm towards Akki, who cut the transmission abruptly, returning the viewscreen to the forward sensor feed where the trio of boxy-looking shuttles hovered in the centre of four slender silver daggers.

“Well, let’s hope there is something inside those golden skulls. Helm, plot a course to-” Ryol began before the deck rocked beneath his feet, and a ring of red lights erupted across the waistline of the walls.

“Disruptor fire!” Akki cried, her vocoder buzzing with urgency. “Incoming vessels!”

“Evasive manoeuvres! Signal Nuld and call Hart, get them back here,” Ryol ordered as he took one long stride back to his chair.

“Maybe I should’ve waited for the good cop,” he sighed as the deck shook again and Skofnung leapt into a sprint.