Streaks slowed back to dots as Melbourne decelerated from warp, the battered old ship shuddering and jerking as she snapped back to the sunlight world. A few screens on bridge consoles buzzed with static for a moment, overhead lights flickering before steadying- eyes glancing upwards to frown in concern.

And as those eyes turned back to the view screen, the frowns only sharpened. A freighter lay drifting, her engines dark and only her windows pulsing with red emergency lights… and what could only be barely recognized as an old T’liss-class warbird, with scrap metal armor bolted onto the ship’s aged hull to give the appearance more of a spiky hunk of rusty junk than a former warship of the Star Empire.

“… well, she’s not much of a looker,” Espinoza mused to herself- almost immediately before the warbird staggered hard to starboard and swung about to charge down Melbourne.

“The unknown vessel is coming our way, weapons charging!” Lieutenant Erces-Lebasque called, pre-emptively grabbing onto her seat as mismatched beams- green plasma and what looked like an old phase cannon- lashed out from her prow, rocking the heavy cruiser as the shields caught the blasts.

“Tactical, dorsal main phaser! Fire to disable! Rakko, prow down 45 degrees ‘n come hard about fer another pass, minimize how long she’s in our blind spot!” Charlie barked, grateful that even at reduced power the shields were holding fast. Melbourne‘s one functional main phaser lashed out into the warbird’s underbelly as she nosed down and gunned the engines, hauling into a sharp downward spiral. The warbird roared overhead, her underside bared- large holes and gouges that were far too numerous and too old to be Melbourne‘s work- as she passed on by.

The two battered ships came about to face each other again… but no return fire came from the warbird this time. A confused silence fell on the bridge, the red-alert klaxons fading into white noise as all eyes fell on the ship.

“… we could’nae have hit ‘er that hard,” Charlie mused, a confused scowl etched into her face. “Science, a scan if ye will. What’s she lookin’ like?”

“T’liss-class warbird, sir, heavily modified,” Erces-Lebasque replied. “Or… maybe scavenged is more accurate. None of her equipment is standard issue. Shield output reads more along the lines of a freighter than a combat ship, and I’m picking up a mixture of plasma, disruptor, and old phase cannons aboard. No torpedoes… no FTL drive, either. I’m not picking up a running singularity core or warp drive. Her shields are still charged, but… if I didn’t know better, I’d say her weapons have been powered down.”

“Not powered down- power lost,” Shymel proffered, gesturing to the scarred hunk of metal that vaguely called itself a starship. “Look at that thing. It’s cobbled together from a single basic hull and a bunch of sheet metal that’s had technology from four different species shoved into it, and she looks like she’s been through the ringer. I bet her weapons overloaded.”

“Just from one run?”

Shymel shrugged. “With that much stuff packed into an old hull? I’m surprised she still has running engines.”

Charlie’s fingers steepled, lips pursed as she quietly mused to herself. Technically, whatever this ship was, she’d opened fire on a Starfleet ship in Federation space, and even with her existing damage and limitations, Melbourne could easily overpower the little ship. She was entirely within her right to blast this likely pirate out of existence. But on the other hand… the ship clearly wasn’t a threat anymore, and they weren’t charging down the Nebula-class like an old and creaky impression of a Jem’Hadar attack ship.

“… Tactical, hold fire. Stand down from red alert.” The Scot hissed a tentative sigh, her fingers idly rubbing her chin as she hoped, prayed, that this was the right time- and people- for mercy. “Rakko, easy o’er ta starboard. Put us ‘tween our new friend ‘n the freighter, ‘n keep ‘er in arc ‘a the dorsal phaser. Do not let ‘er at our underside, but don’t… provoke ‘er, either.”

With a nod of affirmative, the Caitian hauled the old ship off to her new position, the viewscreen twisting as Melbourne rolled in her turn but kept locked on the warbird. The other ship didn’t move… almost like it was watching, observing, waiting for the Starfleet vessel to try something.

It might be disappointed. Charlie leaned back in her chair, craned her neck over to glance at the Bajoran at the science console. “LT, the freighter- what’re we lookin’ at?”

“One moment…” Erces-Lebasque’s fingers tapped across the old console. “Got her. She’s the SS Okachov Night, Captain- Groumall-class, Federation registry NAR-77382. Minor damage to her engines and shield generators, but life-support is still running. I’m picking up all her crew’s lifesigns, plus what seems like an eight-man boarding team from our new friends. Doesn’t look like there’s been any fatalities.”

“Any ID on who they are?”

Erces-Lebasque went silent for a moment, her lips tightening into a frown. “… I think they’re Kzinti, sir.”

“Kzinti? All the way out here?” Shymel stood from her own chair and craned over Erces-Lebasque’s shoulder, eyebrows knitting together. “And on impulse power only? Something’s not right- they barely even touched the freighter before boarding her, and no casualties? Kzinti aren’t usually that surgical.”

“They usually donnae lose weapon power after one pass on a Federation ship,” Charlie mused, one leg crossing over the other with a quiet clack of metal on metal. “She’s pretty beaten-up at that. I’m startin’ tae wonder…”

“… if this is a typical raiding mission,” Shymel finished, clicking onto Charlie’s implications with eyes suddenly wide. “They’re trying to fix their ship!”

“Aye. We got our security officer aboard? Tell ’em ta gather a team ‘n head for the transporter. Only engage if fired upon ‘n set weapons ta stun.” Charlie’s attention snapped to the Romulan woman at the comms- she’d have to get a name from her eventually. “Open a channel ta our new friend.”

“Aye sir.” After a beat, she announced, “Channel’s open, but I can’t guarantee they’ll hear us. You might be talking to a wall, sir.”

“Worth a shot.” Charlie straightened her collar, cleared her throat. Here goes nothing. “Attention, Kzinti ship. This is Federation starship Melbourne. We’ve nae intention of destroyin’ your vessel, though ye fired first- the damage tae your ship and how ye’ve spared the Okachov Night‘s crew has been noted. I come tae ye with a proposition tae strike an accord- nae blood needs sheddin’ this day. But do not mistake our mercy fer complacency- we’re givin’ ye a fair chance, but Melbourne is by far the superior vessel, and if ye intend to engage us again, we will be forced tae defend ourselves. We await your response. Melbourne out.”

Silence fell, and Charlie slumped into her chair with a nervous breath. Her eyes and Shymel’d met, briefly, before the Andorian turned her attention back to the viewscreen. “Now what?”

“Now… we wait.”