The communications operations center was expansive and sleek. Staffed by a bank of young communications officers and a smattering of cadets, it was the purview of Commander Bernard Buckley.  He was tall and broad-shouldered, his eyes piercing as they searched the various stations.  He’d climbed the ladder to get here the hard way from his first days as one of a hundred communications specialists on Starbase 1.  Now, he stood near the summit of his mountain, watching the next generation.

“Commander Buckley, I’m picking up an unusual signal.”  The ensign turned in his chair as Bernard arrived, his bright eyes searching the screen as the young man explained, “It started about three minutes ago – I ran it through a few programs, but nothing came back.  I listened to it, and I’m not sure what I’m hearing.”

The communications chief frowned. ” First—about three minutes ago? What was the exact timing, Ensign Butler?”

Chris Butler’s face reddened with embarrassment.  His assignment to Mirage Station had started the day before, and he was beginning to understand his CO more each time he reported to him.  His fingers pulled the data from his console, “Two minutes and forty-five seconds ago, sir.”

The frown from his CO continued, unabated, “Second – what specific programs did you access?”  The ensign returned to his console and extracted the list, providing it to Buckley.  The man checked each one, muttering to himself as he went.  He turned to the ensign, “You need to run it through the Alpha list first, then Beta.  Then you pull in the next senior officer in your row.”  He glanced up and down, pointing out, “That would be Lieutenant Lori Nerrimon.  She’s practiced at the art of diagnosing and level one interpretation analyzing.  If you confound Lieutenant Nerrimon and she concurs, you bring it to the on-duty senior officer.”  He pointed out the officer two rows down, “Lieutenant Commander Barrister is your level two interpretation specialist and has experience in multiple lingual formats and frequencies.”  Jeremiah Barrister gave a friendly nod, and Bernard continued, “If he comes up empty, then the three of you are duty-bound to involve me or whoever is sitting at the CO desk.”

Butler nodded, “Yes, sir.  I will follow the procedure.”

“Good.”  He looked longer at the signal, “That’s an old merchant code – thirty to forty years old if I recall.  They’re still flying those old birds, trying to make some extra platinum.  Keep learning, Ensign Butler.  We all start somewhere.”  The commander walked off, allowing Butler to return to breathing normally, his heart race slowing from warp speed to impulse.