Silently gliding through the black void of the Archanis Sector, the Paramount cuts through the darkness, every movement executed with precision as it maintained a steady course along the Klingon border. On the bridge, the crew is focused, each officer attending to their station with practiced efficiency.

Nitus sits in the center chair, her eyes fixed on the PADD she held as she looked over the latest status report from the departments. On the viewscreen ahead a map of the surrounding space and the border between the Federation and Klingon space visible as a faint line on the navigational display, a reminder of the delicate balance they must maintain. Their task: recalibrating the thousands of sensor arrays along the border.

“Lieutenant are we nearly done with this section,” Nitus asks, her voice calm and steady.

Lieutenant Laura Jackson, the ship’s chief science officer, seated at the science station behind the command center. Her fingers glide over the console, adjusting parameters and running diagnostics with calculated precision. “Nearly their, Commander. We have two more in this section then we can leave the Archanis Sector. We will have approximately three more minutes on this one.”

“You said that three more minutes ago,” Enzo said interrupting from the helm station at the front of the bridge. A soft chuckle could be heard from across the room.

Just as Laura was about to respond, a sharp beeping sound came from the communications console. Ensign Tiala Lovar, the ship’s communications officer, looks up from her station, her expression serious.

“Captain, we’re receiving a distress signal,” Tiala announces, her Jamaican accent thickening with concern. “It’s faint, but I’m able to trace its origin. Audio only.”

“Put it through,” Nitus orders, her focus shifting from the PADD she held.

There’s a brief pause, filled with static the signal is weak but clear enough: “This is the Orion starship Viridian’s Grace. We are under… engines failing… life support… please help…”

Nitus’ eyes narrowed as she rose from her seat. The Orions are known for their mercantile ventures, often skirting the edges of legality. But a distress call is a distress call, and Starfleet’s mandate is clear.

“Zolath, can you identify the source of their distress?” Nitus asks, her tone sharp with urgency.

Arva’s hands move swiftly over the tactical controls. “Scanning now, Commander. The Orion vessel has sustained significant damage. Their engines are offline, and life support is failing. However, I am having trouble detecting any weapons fire.”

Nitus doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing as she considers their options. “Tiala, open a channel to the Viridian’s Grace.”

“Aye, Commander.” Tiala’s fingers tap at her console. “No response.”

Nitus’ expression hardens. The last thing they needed right now is an engagement with the Klingons. “Mr. D’Antonio, set a course for the Orion vessel. Maximum warp,” she orders. “Zolath put us to yellow alert. Have security, engineering, and medical teams ready for when we arrive.”

“Aye, Commander,” the helmsman responds, his hands flying over the controls. “Yes, ma’am,” the Bajoran tactical officer responds.

“Take flight,” Nitus orders as the Paramount surges forward. The familiar hum of the warp drive resonating through the deck plating.

Dropping out of warp the deceleration caused the Paramount to hum softly. On the viewscreen, the stars settled into their familiar positions, and a massive, K’t’inga-class vessel loomed ahead. Its hull covered in scars sustained from its countless encounters. As they approached more recent damage became apparent. Massive amount of weapons fire evident across its hull plasma can be seen leaking from one of the nacelles.

“Zolath scan them. Tiala hail them,” Nitus ordered as she moved away from the MSD at the rear of the bridge. 

“Scans indicate the vessel is inoperable, no active power signatures detected,” Arva responds. “Massive amount of hull damage and their leaking plasma. It appears to be civilian-owned by a name I can’t pronounce.”

“I have them on comms, ma’am,” Tiala says as she made the connection.

Stepping behind the helm console Nitus spoke “This is Commander Nitus of the Federation starship Paramount,” she says, her voice clear and steady. “We’ve received your distress call, and are here to provide assistance.”

There’s brief pause before static filled the room and the faint sound of the Orion crew struggling to keep their ship operational. Finally, a voice responds, trembling. “Commander… thank you for coming so quick… We have a major… our core is failing… twenty minutes before it…” a female voice says before the channel cuts out.

“Tiala try to get them back,” Nitus says as she moved to press a button on her chair. “Nitus to engineering.”

“Davidson here,” the chief engineer responded.

“Zahir, you have twenty minutes before a ship’s core goes critical but I’m giving you fifteen. Can you do it?”

“Of course I can, Commander. Davidson out,” she says as the transmission ended.

Nitus smirked at Zahir’s brash statement as she moved to stand in the center of bridge as she looked at the rest of the crew. “As for the rest of you if Commander Davidson can’t get it done we need to be ready to take on their crew and leave in a moments notice. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander,” they all say in unison.

“Good, let’s get to work,” she says as she moves back to the MSD changing the screen to show their area of space.