Captain and XO alike had looked over numerous sensor readouts, recommendations from their team and had discussed several options during their strategy meeting, but everything came back to the same conclusion; the Orion Syndicate had Borg technology, and Proteus couldn’t let them keep it. Whilst their ship was perhaps one of the strongest ‘light cruisers’ in the galaxy, and probably more than a match for the three Syndicate vessels they’d detected, even a state-of-the-art ship like Proteus wouldn’t be able to withstand the armaments of the starbase too. They needed help, but with communications to the outside world impossible whilst in the nebula, they were in a catch 22.

“Do we leave the nebula and return with the rest of the squadron, or do we send a transmission probe and hope someone friendly receives it?” Noli asked, reading the latest sensor input on the wall mounted display in the observation lounge, arms folded across her chest as she pondered the possible answers.

“If we leave the nebula, who knows what we’ll miss and what the Syndicate might do here,” Onsas started to offer his own input on the situation. “Alternatively, if we send a probe, there is no guarantee that it’ll get through the nebula or find its way to someone friendly. We need someone to relay the message for us,” the Xelliat turned and looked at the Captain, hands on his hips. “We need to send an away team,” he concluded.

“It’s too risky,” Noli shook her head and moved closer to the board, tracing her fingers across the readouts. “The gravimetric sheer and the radiation levels make it too dangerous, even for a Runabout. There’s no guarantee they’d get out, let alone back again,” the Captain knew what had to happen. Onsas was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, but the risk was great.

“How can I ask someone to put themselves at risk in such a way?” she pondered, shaking her head slowly whilst staring at the screen.

“Are you telling me your past Captains have never asked you, or someone you knew, to put your lives at risk in the line of duty?” Onsas glared down at the considerably smaller woman and put his hands on his hips. “On any given day the decisions you make could impact the entire Federation, or beyond. If we do nothing here, if you do nothing, who knows what devastation that technology could cause in the wrong hands. There isn’t a person on this ship that doesn’t understand that, and who wouldn’t put it all on the line if you asked them.”

With a softening of her position, Noli turned to her giant colleague and offered a sincere smile. A gentle hand on his arm strengthened their growing bond and the respect between them. He was right, as he had been with every piece of advice offered to her during their time together. Their tender moment was shattered mere seconds later with a fresh sounding of red alert dragging them from meeting to bridge.

“Report?!” Onsas barked upon return to his seat, copying the Captain’s positioning as they stood in front of their chairs, padded seat cushions resting against the backs of their legs.

“It’s the signal,” Serath told them from science, “it’s moving.”

“Sensors show the signal has moved and is no longer coming from the station,” Lauren elaborated from tactical. “It’s now showing as being aboard the Syndicate cruiser.”

Noli glared up at Onsas, a shared fear between them. “If we reveal ourselves, they’ll know we’re here and potentially utilise or hide whatever this technology is,” the Xelliat advised her.

“And if we don’t, we risk losing it altogether when it gets out of the nebula,” Noli countered, nodding along with his train of thought.

Reaching down to the arm of her chair, Noli tapped one of the LCARS panels and waited for a customary beep from the computer. “Commander Ch’tosrik report to the main shuttlebay immediately,” she instructed, without waiting for a response. Her words caused looks of confusion to spread across the command centre until she spoke again.

“Number One, you have the bridge until I return,” she told him clearly, ensuring there was no debate. “Lieutenant T’Mia, you’re with me.”

Orys Ch’tosrik stood in the main shuttlebay, tapping his feet with arms folded across his chest, waiting for some indication as to why he’d been summoned. Massive clunks from behind him proceeded the raising of the shuttlebay blast doors and the activation of the shield that protected the internal from external. Something was definitely afoot.

Once the bay doors to the hangar deck opened, the Captain and her Vulcan subordinate approached with speed and purpose. He noted the Bajoran’s expression and weakened his defensive posture.

“Whatever you need, I’m there Captain,” he assured her, much to her relief.

“I need you and T’Mia to take a Runabout out of the nebula and make contact with the squadron,” Noli directed them both, nodding in the direction of the Runabout Gothland behind them. “We’ve transferred the message and data you need to transmit, then we need you to hold position and wait for us, or meet one of the squadron ships.”

Orys nodded and looked across at T’Mia. “We’ve got this, right LT?” The Andorian grinned at the Vulcan.

“We will try our best,” T’Mia agreed.

“No heroics!” Noli threw a finger in the air. “Do what you need to do and get to safety.”

With that final warning very much heeded, the Andorian and his colleague left their commander behind and prepared the Gothland for departure. Within a matter of seconds, the Runabout’s warp core powered up and her engines began to glow. With a simple control adjustment, Gothland began to hover a few feet in the air.

Watching with a pained expression, Noli silently said her goodbyes as the Volga-class vessel sped out of the hangar.

A silent prayer later and the Bajoran headed back to the bridge.

Emerging from the turbo lift a few minutes later, she expected to find that the bridge was quiet, with everyone focused on their duties and LCARS stations. In reality, it seemed like chaos had engulfed the command centre in her absence. People furiously at work, clearly upskittled by something.

“Report!” she barked, marching towards the XO who occupied her seat and was in the middle of reviewing sensor logs.

“Orion scouts have powered up,” the Xelliat told as he moved aside and vacated the command chair. With a wave of his hand he directed the Captain to tactical.

Taking over the briefing, Lauren spun on her chair. “All three Orion vessels have powered up and are moving away from the station,” she told the Bajoran.

“We can’t let them leave this nebula with that Borg signal,” Noli stated, watching the Xelliat nod in complete agreement.

“We shouldn’t lose them,” Lauren responded after what appeared to be something of an epiphany. Seeing the Captain’s expression change with the need for more information, Mitchell continued. “Echelon weapons have been modified with recent advancements to include what’s called a traceable payload. Essentially, if we hit them, we ionise the hull of the ship, which in turn allows them to be tracked.”

“So essentially we tag the threat vessel and pursue them through warp,” Serath chimed in from science, supporting his younger colleague, “or we pass on the signature and summon help to deal with them.”

“Either way, we shouldn’t lose them. Excellent,” Noli grinned as she took her seat once again. Traceable payloads. It was something she’d read about when she came aboard, but it had slipped her mind. Thankfully her people were on hand to remind her of what could, potentially, be a difference maker here.

“Captain,” Kiras turned from the CONN, “I think we could have an opportunity here.”

“I’m all ears Lieutenant,” the Bajoran nodded to the Bolian.

“What if we simply tag them now, rather than prevent them escaping?” the bald beauty could see the confusion on her colleagues faces so elaborated. “We tag the lead ship now, secretly, and let them leave the nebula. We track them until we find out where they’re taking this…thing.”

Captain and bridge crew alike considered the Bolian’s suggestion, some in agreement almost instantly while others appeared to have questions.

“What if we lose them?” Serath asked.

“I’ll just have to fly like I’ve never flown before.” Kiras answered.

“How can we hit them without them knowing?” Xelliat XO Onsas D’orr wondered, looking to the tactical chief for inspiration.

“I have an idea…”

With engines aglow, the Cruiser Ninkaa slowly backed away from the station’s umbilical arm, turning cautiously and carefully under the control of their Nausicaan pilot. He was no Starfleet flyboy, after all. But still, he was able enough to pull the ship into position between its flanking escorts and set a course out of the nebula.

“Is our cargo secure?!” Yarev barked across at the trusted Tellerite Lieutenant who operated his ship’s tactical station and was in charge of all things security aboard Ninkaa.

He wasn’t the strongest on the crew by any stretch of the imagination, but Yarev trusted him as one of the most intelligent people he’d ever worked with. That was why he was in charge of their precious cargo and not the rest of the dumb brutes assigned to his detail.

“I secured it myself,” Toska Reev nodded slowly.

A toothy grin later and Yarev turned back to the view screen.

“Get us out of this cloud,” he instructed sternly, the Nausicaan ahead of him simply grunting in response. Vrolk was the complete opposite of Toska, save for an ability to fly. Flying was his job, and that was what Yarev needed now, despite his obvious strength.

Keeping the cruiser’s speed below full impulse, Vrolk did his best to steer the ship through the volatile gases and keep it from crashing into either escort. After a few minutes of tight flying, several small impacts on the forward shield caused the ship to veer of course and drew the ire of the Captain.

“What the grinkala was that?!” He barked, his native profanity not picked up by the translator but the meaning was clear.

At tactical, the usually quick Tellerite looked over his readings slowly, carefully. He was unsure if what he had read was true, but if it was the implications would be…

“Asteroids,” the tactical chief lied, quickly tapping at his display. What appeared as something entirely different on his display one second quickly altered to read the impact of several asteroids that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“They were hidden by the nebula gases,” the pig-faced liar told his Captain. “No way Vrolk would have spotted them,” he lied again, at least this time it was to help a fellow colleague.

Satisfied with his Lieutenant’s reply, Yarev remained silent and relaxed into his seat, blissfully unaware of the scary truth that threatened their mission.

Ecstatic grins and sighs of relief across the bridge of the Echelon-class cruiser replaced the tension of previous moments, a sign that for the time being, the successful completion of their mission was very much in their own hands once again.

“Nice work Lauren,” Noli nodded approvingly at her tactical officer, then turned her attention to the screen as the Orion vessels finally escaped from view into the final layers of the gas cloud.

“Disguising the torpedoes as asteroids…” Serath Vren stood, watching the same view as everyone else, arms folded across his chest. “It’s almost Romulan in nature.” He grinned across at his younger colleague and nodded in approval. Impressive indeed.

“Fyhya?”

Checking her sensor readings, the Bolian woman turned to the Captain, knowing exactly what she wanted to know. “Sensor readings are good Captain,” the blue-skinned flight controller told, “we’ve got them tied on the end of a string.”

“Well, keep the ball of yarn close Lieutenant,” the Captain nodded in appreciation of the flight controller’s understanding. “I want to be on top of them the second there is any sign of trouble…

…or worse.”