This is the beginning of an idea that I've had recently, though granted probably not an overly original idea, but one I could be able to have a little fun with if/when the mood takes me. The project title is yet to be decided, as is the actual name for this little story.
Bridge, U.S.S. Mandela NCC-64331
Traversing Sector 99790
Stardate: 54179.6 (March 7th, 2377)
Daniel Takashima stifled a yawn. He was five hours into an eight hour shift, spent doing little more than paperwork. The U.S.S. Mandela was at warp five, travelling across a wide expanse of empty space, leaving behind one system they had spent days studying and cataloguing and heading for the next; as part of their scouting mission for sites of future colony or terraforming planets. After years spent living on adrenaline, field rations and little sleep during all their recent conflicts and reconstruction work, Takashima had to admit the relaxed pace was a lot to get used to once again.
“Commander,” came a soft voice from behind him.
Glancing over his right shoulder he looked upon Ensign Igen at the science console and, not for the first time, couldn't help but notice just how young the Bajoran was. She was a junior science officer and was covering the duty station for Lieutenant Commander Coleman, who was recovering from injuries she’d sustained during a rockslide on their last planetary survey.
“Yes Ensign?” he asked.
“Um, I’ve got something on long-range sensors, sir.”
His brow furrowed. “‘Something’? Care to elaborate?”
She looked back at the vast bank of monitors and controls for a moment then back at him. “Um, I’m—I’m not sure, sir. Sensors register a metallic signature along our present course, but I can’t tell much more than that.”
His curiosity peaked; he turned to Suulok at ops. “Can you confirm, Lieutenant?”
The Vulcan took a few moments to run his own scan, retrieve the data and extrapolate the relevant data—as good as he was, Takashima had learnt not to rush him.
“Confirmed Commander. Sensors register a metallic object approximately point-zero-two light-years ahead, one-point-six degrees off of our present course.”
“Can you identify them?”
“Not at this range, sir.”
Takashima rose from his seat and cast a glance at Lieutenant JG Nhataq at tactical, a question on his face. She shook her horned head, unable to provide any more information to the object. Striding over to science, he looked at the sensor readouts himself, but as all the bridge officers had attested to the object wasn’t giving away any secrets.
He tapped the intercom panel. “Captain Jinaas to the Bridge.” To Igen he instructed, “Start compiling all the data you can on that object. Nhataq, scan for other ships.”
As Jinaas emerged onto the Bridge, Takashima has descended from the aft consoles to stand beside ops. The Tiburonian took in the command centre for a moment and then approached his XO. “Problem?” he asked simply.
“We’ve got an unidentified metallic object just off of our present course, point-oh-two light-years away.”
“No ships in range, sir,” Nhataq announced.
“All long-range probes sent out here showed no space-faring species,” Jinaas mused.
“Perhaps they are on a scouting mission too,” suggested Takashima.
Stroking one of his large ears—something Jinaas always did when thinking—he nodded slowly. “Perhaps Commander.” He looked over at Igen. “Ensign, have you got any specifics?”
Takashima noticed her take a calming breath, before turning to face the Captain. “I can’t detected any signals or energy emissions at present, sir. I have been able to determine approximate dimensions however. The object measures seven hundred fifty meters in length, five hundred meters in width, and fifty meters in height.”
“Longer than a Sovereign-Class, wider than a Galaxy, and about the same height as a Sabre,” Takashima commented. “A ship that size, I can only imagine their armament.”
“As can I, Commander, and I don’t like it,” Jinaas said in a low voice.
Though armed with two torpedo launchers and six type-eight phaser arrays, Freedom-Class ships could hold their own against many opponents, but a ship of that size was well beyond their capabilities, and with the closest help being a couple weeks away at best they weren’t in the best position to get into a fight on their own.
“How long until we reach them?”
“We will be alongside in forty-eight minutes, sir,” Lieutenant JG Yadix stated from the conn.
“Orders Captain?”
Jinaas stood between the conn and ops posts, watching the viewscreen and stroking his left ear. After a few moments, he squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back. Takashima had only served under the Tiburonian for under a year, but he’d come to know his CO’s body language very well in that time, so he knew Jinaas had reached a decision.
“Conn, maintain course and speed, but standby to engage evasive manoeuvres in they so much as look our way. Lieutenant Suulok, run full diagnostics of all systems and lock down all critical systems.”
“Aye sir,” the two men replied as Jinaas turned towards the aft stations.
“Nhataq, sound yellow alert, place all weapons and shields on standby. Ensign, monitor that object very closely and report any activity.”
“Aye Captain,” both women confirmed.
As yellow alert sounded throughout the ship, Jinaas took his seat. Takashima moved over to stand beside Igen and help to gather and collate data they amassed on whatever it was. Jinaas was always a cautious Captain, they would monitor the object to see what it did: if it made a move towards them he would attempt communications and if that failed he would pull the Mandela back; however, if it did nothing they would be close enough to determine just what it was and could either continue on their course or stop to investigate further. It wasn’t quite how Takashima would have called it but over the last five years, whilst he had been fighting Klingons and Jem’Hadar and Cardassians, Jinaas had been out in the unknown scouting out systems and worlds he had never heard of before—spending less than six months within Federation space—so he knew how to handle remote missions.
Takashima glanced back at the viewscreen as the stars continued to slip by. They would find out soon enough just what they would be facing.
* * * * *
Bridge, U.S.S. Mandela NCC-64331
Traversing Sector 99790
Stardate: 54179.6 (March 7th, 2377)
Daniel Takashima stifled a yawn. He was five hours into an eight hour shift, spent doing little more than paperwork. The U.S.S. Mandela was at warp five, travelling across a wide expanse of empty space, leaving behind one system they had spent days studying and cataloguing and heading for the next; as part of their scouting mission for sites of future colony or terraforming planets. After years spent living on adrenaline, field rations and little sleep during all their recent conflicts and reconstruction work, Takashima had to admit the relaxed pace was a lot to get used to once again.
“Commander,” came a soft voice from behind him.
Glancing over his right shoulder he looked upon Ensign Igen at the science console and, not for the first time, couldn't help but notice just how young the Bajoran was. She was a junior science officer and was covering the duty station for Lieutenant Commander Coleman, who was recovering from injuries she’d sustained during a rockslide on their last planetary survey.
“Yes Ensign?” he asked.
“Um, I’ve got something on long-range sensors, sir.”
His brow furrowed. “‘Something’? Care to elaborate?”
She looked back at the vast bank of monitors and controls for a moment then back at him. “Um, I’m—I’m not sure, sir. Sensors register a metallic signature along our present course, but I can’t tell much more than that.”
His curiosity peaked; he turned to Suulok at ops. “Can you confirm, Lieutenant?”
The Vulcan took a few moments to run his own scan, retrieve the data and extrapolate the relevant data—as good as he was, Takashima had learnt not to rush him.
“Confirmed Commander. Sensors register a metallic object approximately point-zero-two light-years ahead, one-point-six degrees off of our present course.”
“Can you identify them?”
“Not at this range, sir.”
Takashima rose from his seat and cast a glance at Lieutenant JG Nhataq at tactical, a question on his face. She shook her horned head, unable to provide any more information to the object. Striding over to science, he looked at the sensor readouts himself, but as all the bridge officers had attested to the object wasn’t giving away any secrets.
He tapped the intercom panel. “Captain Jinaas to the Bridge.” To Igen he instructed, “Start compiling all the data you can on that object. Nhataq, scan for other ships.”
As Jinaas emerged onto the Bridge, Takashima has descended from the aft consoles to stand beside ops. The Tiburonian took in the command centre for a moment and then approached his XO. “Problem?” he asked simply.
“We’ve got an unidentified metallic object just off of our present course, point-oh-two light-years away.”
“No ships in range, sir,” Nhataq announced.
“All long-range probes sent out here showed no space-faring species,” Jinaas mused.
“Perhaps they are on a scouting mission too,” suggested Takashima.
Stroking one of his large ears—something Jinaas always did when thinking—he nodded slowly. “Perhaps Commander.” He looked over at Igen. “Ensign, have you got any specifics?”
Takashima noticed her take a calming breath, before turning to face the Captain. “I can’t detected any signals or energy emissions at present, sir. I have been able to determine approximate dimensions however. The object measures seven hundred fifty meters in length, five hundred meters in width, and fifty meters in height.”
“Longer than a Sovereign-Class, wider than a Galaxy, and about the same height as a Sabre,” Takashima commented. “A ship that size, I can only imagine their armament.”
“As can I, Commander, and I don’t like it,” Jinaas said in a low voice.
Though armed with two torpedo launchers and six type-eight phaser arrays, Freedom-Class ships could hold their own against many opponents, but a ship of that size was well beyond their capabilities, and with the closest help being a couple weeks away at best they weren’t in the best position to get into a fight on their own.
“How long until we reach them?”
“We will be alongside in forty-eight minutes, sir,” Lieutenant JG Yadix stated from the conn.
“Orders Captain?”
Jinaas stood between the conn and ops posts, watching the viewscreen and stroking his left ear. After a few moments, he squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back. Takashima had only served under the Tiburonian for under a year, but he’d come to know his CO’s body language very well in that time, so he knew Jinaas had reached a decision.
“Conn, maintain course and speed, but standby to engage evasive manoeuvres in they so much as look our way. Lieutenant Suulok, run full diagnostics of all systems and lock down all critical systems.”
“Aye sir,” the two men replied as Jinaas turned towards the aft stations.
“Nhataq, sound yellow alert, place all weapons and shields on standby. Ensign, monitor that object very closely and report any activity.”
“Aye Captain,” both women confirmed.
As yellow alert sounded throughout the ship, Jinaas took his seat. Takashima moved over to stand beside Igen and help to gather and collate data they amassed on whatever it was. Jinaas was always a cautious Captain, they would monitor the object to see what it did: if it made a move towards them he would attempt communications and if that failed he would pull the Mandela back; however, if it did nothing they would be close enough to determine just what it was and could either continue on their course or stop to investigate further. It wasn’t quite how Takashima would have called it but over the last five years, whilst he had been fighting Klingons and Jem’Hadar and Cardassians, Jinaas had been out in the unknown scouting out systems and worlds he had never heard of before—spending less than six months within Federation space—so he knew how to handle remote missions.
Takashima glanced back at the viewscreen as the stars continued to slip by. They would find out soon enough just what they would be facing.
* * * * *