I have been writing this opening story in what will hopefully be an ongoing series of stories over the past week. It was inspired by Kes7's 'Star Trek: Tesseract' and presents a future version of the Star Trek universe. The stories are much shorter - like webisodes (or issues of comic books) - and will build up into a full adventure over the course of the season.
Without further rambling, I'll let the story begin ...
STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE
GENERATION 2
THE RAPTURE
USS Hercules, Docked at Deep Space Nine
Bajoran System, Alpha Quadrant
USS Hercules hung above the antiquated Bajoran station that was kept in place more out of historical and cultural interest than actual requirement. Given that the Federation, and thus Starfleet, had established a colony in the Gamma Quadrant almost a decade ago and that, at this moment, construction was underway on a starbase that dwarfed Deep Space Nine, the station was largely irrelevant in the great scheme of things.
Lieutenant Aamin Preloc stood in the Observation Lounge of the USS Hercules, regarding the wormhole as it irised open, another ship went through and it irised closed. Preloc had just been made the commander of Deep Space Nine, a post that would once had been held by Commanders or Captains and even, once, an Admiral, was now the province of an eager Lieutenant.
In direct contrast to the others who had been considered for the role, Preloc had actively pursued the appointment and, ultimately, that is what had won him the post. Of course, he assumed that nobody else had been offered the post and refused it.
Captain James Leisner, the grey haired commander of the USS Hercules, stood next to the newly appointed 'caretaker' of Deep Space Nine. He had pushed for the young man to get the assignment he had persued, not to get him out of his hair, but because Leisner knew that Preloc was worthy of the position.
And now that Preloc had been made the commander of Deep Space Nine and was about to disembark the Mawson Class vessel for, and Leisner had no way to know this, the last time, the grey haired Captain had one thought in his mind. And that thought was how would the Bajorans handle the fact that Starfleet had deigned to assign a Cardassian as the 'caretaker' of Deep Space Nine.
Deep Space Nine
Bajoran System, Alpha Quadrant
Lieutenant Simm Tau wandered along what now comprised the Promenade, empty of business in comparison to the early days of Starfleet jurisdiction, fewer people wandering idly past the closed or depressingly few open stores. Even the Binary Bar, previously known as Quarks, had been the centre of the stations social calendar in the previous decade, was barely making a profit and its original owner had long since moved on, through the wormhole into the Gamma Quadrant, having been bequethed the commercial rights to the quadrant by his brother, the Grand Nagus.
The space station was an empire that was falling to bits and fraying at the edges, but it was her empire. At least, it was hers until Starfleet assigned a new commander and she'd just recieved message that the USS Hercules, which had docked the previous hour, was delivering their new commander.
Her empire was hers no longer and, more to the point, it was going to be taken over by a Cardassian. Not that this bothered her, exactly, having been born after the end of the Occupation, but the extra workload (and, despite DS9 having devolved into a relatively obscure station) fielding the questions from the press would annoy her.
A short turbolift ride took her to the docking pylon where the USS Hercules was docked. The USS Hercules was one of Starfleets newer Mawson Class starships, her lines reminiscent of the Miranda, Centaur and Nebula Class vessels and, much like the ships she was descended from, intended to be the workhorse of the fleet.
"Hercules, this is Lieutenant Simm, Acting Commander of DS9 requesting to come onboard," she said, tapping the arrowhead communicator on her chest.
"Lieutenant Simm, this is Lieutenant Sabatino, Duty Commander of Hercules, you have permission to come onboard," came the Italian accented voice of the female crewman. "Captain Leisner and Lieutenant Preloc are waiting for you in the Observation Lounge."
"Thankyou very much, Lieutenant,"said Simm as the airlock door hissed open and she stepped into the comparatively luxurious corridors of the USS Hercules. In comparison to Deep Space Nine where she could hear her feet hit the deck, the carpet on the Hercules muffled her footfall.
A quick consultation with the computer and another turbolift ride took Lieutenant Simm to the Observation Lounge where, as she had been reliably informed by Lieutenant Sabatino, Captain Leisner and Lieutenant Preloc were waiting for her.
Even though she expected it, she had to do a double-take when Preloc turned his attention away from the panorma of space, revealing his Cardassian heritage to her, in person, for the first time.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant," said Preloc, offering her his hand to shake, a gesture she graciously accepted. "You've been keeping the station in working order since Commander DeCandido's retirement, I assume?"
Simm nodded.
"We've done the best we can with what we have, Sir."
----
"Frak it!"
Lt Commander Ioan Dax pulled his right hand away from the relay as it sparked, sucking on the fingers that had been burnt to sooth the pain. Sitting, cross-legged on the floor, Dax leaned against the wall of one of the many disused corridors on the station. His memories stretched back for almost three centuries, he had the memories of lawyers, engineers, diplomats, scientists and psychologists as well as his own memories and experiences.
And it was those memories that had drawn him back to Deep Space Nine, even in the lives since he had served on the station as Science Officer and, then, Counselor, he had always maintained a fondness for the former Cardassian mining station and when he'd heard the station was becoming a low priority for Starfleet, he pulled some strings and got himself assigned as Chief Engineer, a position he had held for several years.
The environmental systems had been fluctuating for the past few weeks, with some areas of the station being plunged into freezing cold Andor temperatures and others reeling in the extreme heat of Vulcan conditions.
And he'd just burnt his hand whilst trying to fix it. That put his hopes of fixing the problem by the time that the new commander officially took command of the station. Given that the environmental fluctuations were affecting the area in which the commanders quarters were located, the failure to fix the issue might not be looked on too leniently.
Dax rose to his feet, still sucking on his burnt fingers.
"Computer, transport me to the Infirmary."
The computer complied and, a few seconds later, he materialised in the compact Infirmary where Doctor Fatima Hussain was sat at her desk filling out reports and keeping her already spectacularly expansive knowledge of inter-species medicine up to date by reading the latest medical journals to come out of Starfleet Medical.
As Dax materialised, Hussain looked up from the latest issue of the Vulcan Medical Institute Journal that she had been reading from a PADD, and frowned as she picked up her med-scanner and moved towards him.
"What is it this time, Commander?"
He held out his hand, she ran her med-scanner over it.
"Burnt my hand on an environmental relay," Dax told the young Human female, "I'm going to need to put extra people onto this environmental issue ..."
Hussain picked up a dermal regenerator and started running it over the engineers burnt fingers.
"Well, try not to burn yourself again," said Hussain, her white hijab framing her face. She pocketed the dermal regenerator and gave his hand a quick review with the med-scanner. "Your hand should be fine now."
Dax flexed his hand, wiggling his fingers. This made Hussain smile.
"Now, don't you have work to do?"
----
"Deep Space Nine Control, this is USS Hercules requesting permission to depart," the measured voice of the Hercules' German First Officer filtered into the Ops Centre of Deep Space Nine.
Ensign Damian Stevens stood by the operations table in the centre of the room, recalling from the history holo-texts that the departure of ships from the station had usually been handled by lower ranking crewmembers when Deep Space Nine had been an important starbase. Now, though, the same procedure had been handed to him - the stations Science Officer (and, unofficial Second Officer) - to conduct.
There just wasn't much else to occupy the duty commander's time in these days.
"USS Hercules, you are green for departure. Thirty seconds for docking clamps to clear," he announced, waited for a nod from a green skinned Orion crewman, then, "Hercules, docking clamps are clear. Good luck and godspeed ..."
"Auf wiedersehen, Deep Space Nine," the voice of the First Officer responded. The comm-line was cut and, on the viewscreen, Ensign Stevens watched the Mawson Class vessel pull away from the station before vanishing into warp on a course back towards the heart-systems.
A few hours later ...
Lieutenant Simm had made arrangements with the proprietors of the Binary Bar for a table to be reserved for the senior crew of Deep Space Nine. When Quark, the bars previous owner, had realised that the station was beginning to fall out of popularity and that exploration of the Gamma Quadrant was becoming more and more popular, he had convinced his brother to bequeth him the commercial rights to the Gamma Quadrant, and sold the bar to a pair of Bynars who had swiftly renamed the establishment.
If you let him, long time Lurian patron Morn, would explain to you at length about how the station and the bar just weren't the same anymore. But Simm avoided getting into conversations with him as, once the conversation started, you could never get a word in edgeways.
At present, the command staff of the station had assembled at the reserved table to welcome the stations new commander. She'd made the arrangements for the table at the bar in contrast with the usual formal reception, she had thought that Lieutenant Preloc might appreciate that and, judging by the smile on his face as he discussed a Human sport known as rugby with Commander Dax and Ensign Stevens, she had been right.
Doctor Hussain fingered her glass of Bajoran ice-water and leaned across to the Bajoran First Officer with a curious look on her face.
"So, Tau, what do you think?"
"What do I think?" retorted Simm. "I think they probably picked the right person for the job. Why do you ask, Fatima?"
"Just curious."
Hussain sipped from her glass of Bajoran ice-water as the two women turned their attention to the men, still deep in their conversation about rugby with Ensign Stevens extolling the virtues of the Pike City Springboks who had, she overheard, won the Cestus Rugby Cup. Boys and their toys, thought Hussain, returning her attention to the buffet that had been placed on the table in front of them.
She reached for a canape but was distracted by the voice of Chief Petty Officer Chandra Neelakantha coming over Lieutenant Preloc's communicator and halting the mens conversation.
"Ops to Lieutenant Preloc."
Preloc tapped his communicator.
"Preloc here."
Neelakantha, whose family had been in Starfleet for generations, paused before responding.
"Sir, there's something you need to see, right now ..." said Neelakantha. His voice sounded nervous, panicked and Hussain began wondering what exactly Preloc was being called to see.
"I'll be right up, Chief," said Preloc. The line closed. "Lieutenant Simm, you're with me. Everyone else can stay here, enjoy the food that the Bynars have put on for us."
Simm dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before following Lieutenant Preloc out of the Binary Bar. A moment later, after a short ride in the turbolift during which neither person spoke, the two senior officers stepped out into the Operations Centre of the station.
Ops, as it was usually called, had been vastly updated over the past two decades, with the Cardassians joining the Federation they had worked with the Starfleet Corps of Engineers to allow Starfleet technology upgrades to be fully integrated with the Cardassian hardware of the station. The current status of Ops was that of a curious hodgepodge with elements of both cultures clearly evident.
Neelakantha stood at the operations table, his brow furrowed into a frown. When he heard the turbolift arrive, he looked up at the two senior officers.
"What is it, Chief?" asked Preloc.
"We just recieved a message from Starfleet," said the chief petty officer, licking his lips as he debated exactly how to phrase the information that had just been revealed to him. "Hundreds of planets, ships and people have just vanished. The items were there one moment - and then they weren't there the next. In all, Starfleet HQ is estimating close to one billion events ..."
"And those will be just the ones they know about," said Simm, understanding the nervousness that was flowing from Neelakantha. "What are our orders?"
"Obviously the estimates have only catalogued events in both the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Our orders are to take a runabout into the Gamma Quadrant and look at possible events there ..."
Preloc took in the orders.
"What about the Hercules? Surely a Mawson Class vessel is better equipped to conduct that investigation than any of our runabouts?" questioned the Cardassian commander.
Neelakantha nodded.
"It would be. But the Hercules was one of the ships that vanished."
USS Ben Nevis, Docked at Deep Space Nine
Bajoran System, Alpha Quadrant
Although the Everest Class USS Ben Nevis was classified as a Heavy Runabout, it was twice the size of the decades older Danube Class that Starfleet had just begun putting into retirement and it wasn't unheard of for the vessels to operate with a small crew independantly of a home-port. Deep Space Nine operated a single Everest Class in conjunction with her three slightly older Syracuse Class runabouts.
Preloc had considered using one of the other runabouts, in fact had asked Simm to request one be prepped for launch, but had settled for the newer vessel when advised to by Lt Commander Dax. It was more heavily armed and it had a much better sensor package whilst the Syracuse Class, although considered runabouts, were not much more than large shuttles.
One hour after the message and orders from Starfleet had been recieved, Preloc and his team were assembled on the Control Deck of the USS Ben Nevis. Simm and Stevens had taken seats at the curved forward Ops and Conn stations whilst Dax took up position at the Tactical board, which left the centralised command chair - something of a luxury on a runabout but a standard installation on the Everest Class - for Preloc himself to occupy.
This left Doctor Hussain and Lieutenant Mars, who had been unavaliable to attend the welcoming meal as he had been en-route back to the station from Bajor itself, to take over command of Deep Space Nine. Preloc had not met Mars yet though he was familiar with the Security Chief from his personnel files - a native of the Gamma Quadrant, the first of his species to join Starfleet, the gold-skinned male had a good reputation as a peacekeeper on the station.
The Ben Nevis' departure from Deep Space Nine was swift and, under Lieutenant Simm's expert touch, the Everest Class vessel sped towards the Denorios Belt where it entered the wormhole. Inside, tendrils of light blasted past the ships windows. Preloc was amazed, though he had seen footage of the passage through the wormhole, this was the first time he'd experienced it in person.
Too soon, the Ben Nevis was ejected back into normal space near the Idran System in the Gamma Quadrant.
"Stevens, begin trying to raise the colony and the starbase on a continual cycle. Lieutenant, take us to the colony at maximum warp and Mister Dax, keep an eye out for any hostiles," Preloc gave the orders in rapid succession and the three crewmembers who he had not met until five hours earlier, responded to his commands with practiced ease.
The stars elongated as the vessel entered warp and the ride to the Vanhook System, the location of the original Federation colony on Vanhook IV and the under-construction starbase orbiting Vanhook IV, took under an hour and ended with the Ben Nevis coming out of warp.
Stevens hadn't been able to raise either the colony or the starbase and now the four Starfleet officers could see the reason why.
"What's happened?" questioned Simm.
Preloc edged forward, sitting on the edge of the commanders chair and trying to get a better look out of the forward window at the vast empty expanse of space before the Ben Nevis.
"Stevens, report!"
Stevens, his brow furrowing with concentration, worked his board before coming back with the response that they all knew he'd give and nobody wanted to be true.
"Sir, it's not just the planet - or the starbase - that's gone," he announced, reading the results from his Ops panel. "It's whole frakking system."
Preloc was stunned.
What had happened? Where had all of the planets and starships gone? And who was responsible?
TO BE CONTINUED
Without further rambling, I'll let the story begin ...
STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE
GENERATION 2
THE RAPTURE
USS Hercules, Docked at Deep Space Nine
Bajoran System, Alpha Quadrant
USS Hercules hung above the antiquated Bajoran station that was kept in place more out of historical and cultural interest than actual requirement. Given that the Federation, and thus Starfleet, had established a colony in the Gamma Quadrant almost a decade ago and that, at this moment, construction was underway on a starbase that dwarfed Deep Space Nine, the station was largely irrelevant in the great scheme of things.
Lieutenant Aamin Preloc stood in the Observation Lounge of the USS Hercules, regarding the wormhole as it irised open, another ship went through and it irised closed. Preloc had just been made the commander of Deep Space Nine, a post that would once had been held by Commanders or Captains and even, once, an Admiral, was now the province of an eager Lieutenant.
In direct contrast to the others who had been considered for the role, Preloc had actively pursued the appointment and, ultimately, that is what had won him the post. Of course, he assumed that nobody else had been offered the post and refused it.
Captain James Leisner, the grey haired commander of the USS Hercules, stood next to the newly appointed 'caretaker' of Deep Space Nine. He had pushed for the young man to get the assignment he had persued, not to get him out of his hair, but because Leisner knew that Preloc was worthy of the position.
And now that Preloc had been made the commander of Deep Space Nine and was about to disembark the Mawson Class vessel for, and Leisner had no way to know this, the last time, the grey haired Captain had one thought in his mind. And that thought was how would the Bajorans handle the fact that Starfleet had deigned to assign a Cardassian as the 'caretaker' of Deep Space Nine.
Deep Space Nine
Bajoran System, Alpha Quadrant
Lieutenant Simm Tau wandered along what now comprised the Promenade, empty of business in comparison to the early days of Starfleet jurisdiction, fewer people wandering idly past the closed or depressingly few open stores. Even the Binary Bar, previously known as Quarks, had been the centre of the stations social calendar in the previous decade, was barely making a profit and its original owner had long since moved on, through the wormhole into the Gamma Quadrant, having been bequethed the commercial rights to the quadrant by his brother, the Grand Nagus.
The space station was an empire that was falling to bits and fraying at the edges, but it was her empire. At least, it was hers until Starfleet assigned a new commander and she'd just recieved message that the USS Hercules, which had docked the previous hour, was delivering their new commander.
Her empire was hers no longer and, more to the point, it was going to be taken over by a Cardassian. Not that this bothered her, exactly, having been born after the end of the Occupation, but the extra workload (and, despite DS9 having devolved into a relatively obscure station) fielding the questions from the press would annoy her.
A short turbolift ride took her to the docking pylon where the USS Hercules was docked. The USS Hercules was one of Starfleets newer Mawson Class starships, her lines reminiscent of the Miranda, Centaur and Nebula Class vessels and, much like the ships she was descended from, intended to be the workhorse of the fleet.
"Hercules, this is Lieutenant Simm, Acting Commander of DS9 requesting to come onboard," she said, tapping the arrowhead communicator on her chest.
"Lieutenant Simm, this is Lieutenant Sabatino, Duty Commander of Hercules, you have permission to come onboard," came the Italian accented voice of the female crewman. "Captain Leisner and Lieutenant Preloc are waiting for you in the Observation Lounge."
"Thankyou very much, Lieutenant,"said Simm as the airlock door hissed open and she stepped into the comparatively luxurious corridors of the USS Hercules. In comparison to Deep Space Nine where she could hear her feet hit the deck, the carpet on the Hercules muffled her footfall.
A quick consultation with the computer and another turbolift ride took Lieutenant Simm to the Observation Lounge where, as she had been reliably informed by Lieutenant Sabatino, Captain Leisner and Lieutenant Preloc were waiting for her.
Even though she expected it, she had to do a double-take when Preloc turned his attention away from the panorma of space, revealing his Cardassian heritage to her, in person, for the first time.
"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant," said Preloc, offering her his hand to shake, a gesture she graciously accepted. "You've been keeping the station in working order since Commander DeCandido's retirement, I assume?"
Simm nodded.
"We've done the best we can with what we have, Sir."
----
"Frak it!"
Lt Commander Ioan Dax pulled his right hand away from the relay as it sparked, sucking on the fingers that had been burnt to sooth the pain. Sitting, cross-legged on the floor, Dax leaned against the wall of one of the many disused corridors on the station. His memories stretched back for almost three centuries, he had the memories of lawyers, engineers, diplomats, scientists and psychologists as well as his own memories and experiences.
And it was those memories that had drawn him back to Deep Space Nine, even in the lives since he had served on the station as Science Officer and, then, Counselor, he had always maintained a fondness for the former Cardassian mining station and when he'd heard the station was becoming a low priority for Starfleet, he pulled some strings and got himself assigned as Chief Engineer, a position he had held for several years.
The environmental systems had been fluctuating for the past few weeks, with some areas of the station being plunged into freezing cold Andor temperatures and others reeling in the extreme heat of Vulcan conditions.
And he'd just burnt his hand whilst trying to fix it. That put his hopes of fixing the problem by the time that the new commander officially took command of the station. Given that the environmental fluctuations were affecting the area in which the commanders quarters were located, the failure to fix the issue might not be looked on too leniently.
Dax rose to his feet, still sucking on his burnt fingers.
"Computer, transport me to the Infirmary."
The computer complied and, a few seconds later, he materialised in the compact Infirmary where Doctor Fatima Hussain was sat at her desk filling out reports and keeping her already spectacularly expansive knowledge of inter-species medicine up to date by reading the latest medical journals to come out of Starfleet Medical.
As Dax materialised, Hussain looked up from the latest issue of the Vulcan Medical Institute Journal that she had been reading from a PADD, and frowned as she picked up her med-scanner and moved towards him.
"What is it this time, Commander?"
He held out his hand, she ran her med-scanner over it.
"Burnt my hand on an environmental relay," Dax told the young Human female, "I'm going to need to put extra people onto this environmental issue ..."
Hussain picked up a dermal regenerator and started running it over the engineers burnt fingers.
"Well, try not to burn yourself again," said Hussain, her white hijab framing her face. She pocketed the dermal regenerator and gave his hand a quick review with the med-scanner. "Your hand should be fine now."
Dax flexed his hand, wiggling his fingers. This made Hussain smile.
"Now, don't you have work to do?"
----
"Deep Space Nine Control, this is USS Hercules requesting permission to depart," the measured voice of the Hercules' German First Officer filtered into the Ops Centre of Deep Space Nine.
Ensign Damian Stevens stood by the operations table in the centre of the room, recalling from the history holo-texts that the departure of ships from the station had usually been handled by lower ranking crewmembers when Deep Space Nine had been an important starbase. Now, though, the same procedure had been handed to him - the stations Science Officer (and, unofficial Second Officer) - to conduct.
There just wasn't much else to occupy the duty commander's time in these days.
"USS Hercules, you are green for departure. Thirty seconds for docking clamps to clear," he announced, waited for a nod from a green skinned Orion crewman, then, "Hercules, docking clamps are clear. Good luck and godspeed ..."
"Auf wiedersehen, Deep Space Nine," the voice of the First Officer responded. The comm-line was cut and, on the viewscreen, Ensign Stevens watched the Mawson Class vessel pull away from the station before vanishing into warp on a course back towards the heart-systems.
A few hours later ...
Lieutenant Simm had made arrangements with the proprietors of the Binary Bar for a table to be reserved for the senior crew of Deep Space Nine. When Quark, the bars previous owner, had realised that the station was beginning to fall out of popularity and that exploration of the Gamma Quadrant was becoming more and more popular, he had convinced his brother to bequeth him the commercial rights to the Gamma Quadrant, and sold the bar to a pair of Bynars who had swiftly renamed the establishment.
If you let him, long time Lurian patron Morn, would explain to you at length about how the station and the bar just weren't the same anymore. But Simm avoided getting into conversations with him as, once the conversation started, you could never get a word in edgeways.
At present, the command staff of the station had assembled at the reserved table to welcome the stations new commander. She'd made the arrangements for the table at the bar in contrast with the usual formal reception, she had thought that Lieutenant Preloc might appreciate that and, judging by the smile on his face as he discussed a Human sport known as rugby with Commander Dax and Ensign Stevens, she had been right.
Doctor Hussain fingered her glass of Bajoran ice-water and leaned across to the Bajoran First Officer with a curious look on her face.
"So, Tau, what do you think?"
"What do I think?" retorted Simm. "I think they probably picked the right person for the job. Why do you ask, Fatima?"
"Just curious."
Hussain sipped from her glass of Bajoran ice-water as the two women turned their attention to the men, still deep in their conversation about rugby with Ensign Stevens extolling the virtues of the Pike City Springboks who had, she overheard, won the Cestus Rugby Cup. Boys and their toys, thought Hussain, returning her attention to the buffet that had been placed on the table in front of them.
She reached for a canape but was distracted by the voice of Chief Petty Officer Chandra Neelakantha coming over Lieutenant Preloc's communicator and halting the mens conversation.
"Ops to Lieutenant Preloc."
Preloc tapped his communicator.
"Preloc here."
Neelakantha, whose family had been in Starfleet for generations, paused before responding.
"Sir, there's something you need to see, right now ..." said Neelakantha. His voice sounded nervous, panicked and Hussain began wondering what exactly Preloc was being called to see.
"I'll be right up, Chief," said Preloc. The line closed. "Lieutenant Simm, you're with me. Everyone else can stay here, enjoy the food that the Bynars have put on for us."
Simm dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before following Lieutenant Preloc out of the Binary Bar. A moment later, after a short ride in the turbolift during which neither person spoke, the two senior officers stepped out into the Operations Centre of the station.
Ops, as it was usually called, had been vastly updated over the past two decades, with the Cardassians joining the Federation they had worked with the Starfleet Corps of Engineers to allow Starfleet technology upgrades to be fully integrated with the Cardassian hardware of the station. The current status of Ops was that of a curious hodgepodge with elements of both cultures clearly evident.
Neelakantha stood at the operations table, his brow furrowed into a frown. When he heard the turbolift arrive, he looked up at the two senior officers.
"What is it, Chief?" asked Preloc.
"We just recieved a message from Starfleet," said the chief petty officer, licking his lips as he debated exactly how to phrase the information that had just been revealed to him. "Hundreds of planets, ships and people have just vanished. The items were there one moment - and then they weren't there the next. In all, Starfleet HQ is estimating close to one billion events ..."
"And those will be just the ones they know about," said Simm, understanding the nervousness that was flowing from Neelakantha. "What are our orders?"
"Obviously the estimates have only catalogued events in both the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Our orders are to take a runabout into the Gamma Quadrant and look at possible events there ..."
Preloc took in the orders.
"What about the Hercules? Surely a Mawson Class vessel is better equipped to conduct that investigation than any of our runabouts?" questioned the Cardassian commander.
Neelakantha nodded.
"It would be. But the Hercules was one of the ships that vanished."
USS Ben Nevis, Docked at Deep Space Nine
Bajoran System, Alpha Quadrant
Although the Everest Class USS Ben Nevis was classified as a Heavy Runabout, it was twice the size of the decades older Danube Class that Starfleet had just begun putting into retirement and it wasn't unheard of for the vessels to operate with a small crew independantly of a home-port. Deep Space Nine operated a single Everest Class in conjunction with her three slightly older Syracuse Class runabouts.
Preloc had considered using one of the other runabouts, in fact had asked Simm to request one be prepped for launch, but had settled for the newer vessel when advised to by Lt Commander Dax. It was more heavily armed and it had a much better sensor package whilst the Syracuse Class, although considered runabouts, were not much more than large shuttles.
One hour after the message and orders from Starfleet had been recieved, Preloc and his team were assembled on the Control Deck of the USS Ben Nevis. Simm and Stevens had taken seats at the curved forward Ops and Conn stations whilst Dax took up position at the Tactical board, which left the centralised command chair - something of a luxury on a runabout but a standard installation on the Everest Class - for Preloc himself to occupy.
This left Doctor Hussain and Lieutenant Mars, who had been unavaliable to attend the welcoming meal as he had been en-route back to the station from Bajor itself, to take over command of Deep Space Nine. Preloc had not met Mars yet though he was familiar with the Security Chief from his personnel files - a native of the Gamma Quadrant, the first of his species to join Starfleet, the gold-skinned male had a good reputation as a peacekeeper on the station.
The Ben Nevis' departure from Deep Space Nine was swift and, under Lieutenant Simm's expert touch, the Everest Class vessel sped towards the Denorios Belt where it entered the wormhole. Inside, tendrils of light blasted past the ships windows. Preloc was amazed, though he had seen footage of the passage through the wormhole, this was the first time he'd experienced it in person.
Too soon, the Ben Nevis was ejected back into normal space near the Idran System in the Gamma Quadrant.
"Stevens, begin trying to raise the colony and the starbase on a continual cycle. Lieutenant, take us to the colony at maximum warp and Mister Dax, keep an eye out for any hostiles," Preloc gave the orders in rapid succession and the three crewmembers who he had not met until five hours earlier, responded to his commands with practiced ease.
The stars elongated as the vessel entered warp and the ride to the Vanhook System, the location of the original Federation colony on Vanhook IV and the under-construction starbase orbiting Vanhook IV, took under an hour and ended with the Ben Nevis coming out of warp.
Stevens hadn't been able to raise either the colony or the starbase and now the four Starfleet officers could see the reason why.
"What's happened?" questioned Simm.
Preloc edged forward, sitting on the edge of the commanders chair and trying to get a better look out of the forward window at the vast empty expanse of space before the Ben Nevis.
"Stevens, report!"
Stevens, his brow furrowing with concentration, worked his board before coming back with the response that they all knew he'd give and nobody wanted to be true.
"Sir, it's not just the planet - or the starbase - that's gone," he announced, reading the results from his Ops panel. "It's whole frakking system."
Preloc was stunned.
What had happened? Where had all of the planets and starships gone? And who was responsible?
TO BE CONTINUED
This is so going to be a story for me!
