“Report!”  Captain Helena Dread slid into the center chair of the small bridge on the Gagarin.  Ruby lights flashed as the red alert klaxon faded, replaced by the shuffling of boots and stations.  She focused on the red clock at the front of the bridge—two in the morning.  An unkempt Ensign Alanna Barker slid a cup of coffee into her hands before stepping back into the back corridor to pull her hair together.

Ensign Athena Catari was tapping at the helm console, having drawn double duty from her primary focus on tactical and security.  “We picked up an Orion Vessel on short-range sensors three minutes ago.  Range is five minutes – they were shielded from our long-range sensors behind a small moon.”  She coaxed more from the sensors, “Medium size ship…moving at half impulse…course is erratic. If they continue on this course, they’ll run straight into one of the planets in about three hours.”

Dread took a drink from the warm cup and felt some semblance of her sanity return as the coffee passed her lips.  Her yeoman knew how to make damned good coffee, among other great talents.  “Shaw – see if anyone’s on the other end.  Weapons status?”

Athena sat back, confused, “None?  They’re not powered…and not present.”  She tapped across the commands on her screen again and found the same result, “Sensors confirm – no weapons present.”  The Bajoran turned in her chair, facing her captain, “That’s impossible—every Orion Syndicate ship…even the diplomatic ones run with some weapon capabilities.”

Helena considered the conflicting reports.  It was the day after Christmas, and Fowler had put on an intimate celebration with all the fixings and features from her years at the Sisters of Mercy.  They had gone to bed feeling the warmth of connection.  Being jarred awake by an Orion mystery threatened to turn her into a Grinch.  “Standard weapons on a ship of that make and size?”  Ensign Athena ran down the list – at least two types of phaser weapons, two or more weapons bays that would be outfitted with various heavy-hitting photon torpedoes.  Dread grumbled, “Damned peculiar.  Life signs?”

Fowler had made it to the bridge and relieved the junior officer at her station.  She quickly reviewed the data, finding herself perplexed.  “Nothing – dead or alive.  Sensors are reading an empty ship.  Power systems are active and running.  I’m not detecting any weapons fire or debris fields around the ship or nearby.”

“Shaw?” Dread hoped for something, anything.

Jake adjusted his earpiece, “There’s an open channel – my hails keep bouncing back.  Someone on the bridge is transmitting.”  He worked the board, “Attempting to locate where they’re transmitting.”

Helena sat back in her chair, “It’s been a few weeks since the purge.”  She stared at the screen, the ship moving slowly through space in silent sentinel.  “Thing is…things take time to get out here into the rimward.”

Fowler continued to adjust her scans.  “You think there’s more out here?  Or that they just got started?”  

The CO felt her hair stand on end as she replied, “Both.”

Suddenly, beeps sounded from multiple stations.  Athena jumped forward in her chair, “New contacts – coming out of a nearby system – two heavy Orion cruisers – coming in fast!  Arriving in 5…4….3…”

Dread ordered, “Full reverse!” They all watched as the stars and silent ship moved farther away.  Shaw reported the lead ship was hailing them and demanded to speak to someone in charge.  Dread sat up in her chair, muttering, “If he’s a Christmas Ghost, he’s damned overdue.”  She cleared her throat, “On screen.”

A flicker and the visage of Sarge filled the screen, “How dare you attack one of our ships!  You will pay for this Starfleet!”  She could see his spittle flying.  She winced.  He grinned, exposing his uneven and sickly teeth.

She put on a small, somewhat kind smile as she addressed him, “Good morning, Captain Sarge.  I’m Captain Helena Dread of the Federation Starship Gagarin.  We had nothing to do with that thing.  Have your ships scan the thing.”  She was too tired and still needed another cup of coffee before she started using technical terms with an Orion captain.  Especially one that was threatening to kill her.

There was a pause as he sneered but retreated to the latter half of his command center.  A few moments later, he returned, the sneer still in place.  His tone was shockingly measured, “We have done our scans.  It appears this one wasn’t your fault…that we can see.”  His face looked as if he was going to implode as he said his next words, “If you have any…helpful data…the Tougun Network will thank you.”

Dread didn’t stop her eyebrows from raising.  That answered one of the questions.  She leaned forward in her chair, “I see.  Congratulations on the new…operation.  We’ll send you what we’ve gathered.  We suspect this ship may have been raided by Orion Syndicate operatives taking action against…well, it would seem…you.  If you could share any data you have…”

Sarge rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass along your concerns.”  The channel cut, and she watched as the two larger ships approached the wandering ship. Soon, it slowed and stopped.

Shaw spoke up from his station, and Helena turned to face him.  “I was able to trace the signal’s intended connection – it was being sent to the lead ship.  I managed to snag a recording of the channel before they shut it down.”  He connected the sound to the bridge speakers.

“They came for us, Sarge.  They weren’t Syndicate operators.  They were…mercs, we think.  I don’t have a lot of time…they grappled and tore our weapons off!  They’re working their way to me – everybody’s dead.  I know you have the ear of the big man. You need to warn him – whoever he pissed off on his way to the throne…they’re out for blood.”  There were sounds of blasts and a shout.  “That’s it…here they come.”  There was more shouting and a final blast.  The message recorded a bunch of movement and what sounded like bodies being dragged.  A beep, and the message began to repeat.

Helena asked, “Do they know we intercepted it?”  Shaw shook his head.  She mused, “Well, it’s not The Syndicate.  Someone else has decided to stage a revenge play in our massive backyard.  Helm, put some distance between us and him.  Shaw, I need a priority one secure channel to Montana Station.  Fontana is going to love this.”  

She stood from her chair, “Barker, we’re going to need more coffee.  Much more.”