Bridge of the USS Los Angeles, 0655 Zulu

Commander Abramov stepped onto the bridge, their hand grasping a mug of Antigua roast coffee they had replicated. Ensign Lopez, the newly assigned head of Delta Shift turned to look at who just walked in; he immediately stood at attention when he saw them enter. Around him, the enlisted crewmembers assigned to the shift monitored their consoles, until Crewman T’karav broke the silence.

“Commander on Deck!”

Instantly, everyone stood up at attention, facing Commander Abramov.

“At ease, carry on. Don’t mind me.”  They smiled, then sat down next to Ensign Lopez, who was seated in the center chair.

“It’s currently 0652, I’m a bit early for my shift. What’s the news?”

“Currently Commander, all systems operating nominally. There are some strange reports from Starfleet vessels operating in the alpha quadrant, all marked ‘Captain’s Eyes Only.’ There’s a batch of messages marked Code 47. Other than that,…smooth sailing, ma’am. I mean…Commander.”

Brooke smiled to themselves, shrugging. They weren’t anal about their pronouns; but they appreciated the Ensign’s efforts in correcting himself.

“Well, the Captain can sort through things when he gets on duty around 0800. In the meantime, Ensign, you are relieved. I have the conn.”

“The XO has the conn!” Ensign Lopez called out. Slowly, the replies came from the rest of the members on the bridge; standardized callouts that were routine during shift change.

“The XO has the conn, Ensign; aye.”

“The XO has the conn; aye sir!”

“The XO has the conn; aye!”

“Helm, report heading and speed.”

“Currently on a heading of 210 mark 56, on course to the Federation-Klingon border. Currently at warp 5.6, steady cruise. Commander, we should be getting a message from Morska any moment now. We’re in range; they should be able to see us.”

Commander Abramov knew that though the Federation and Klingons were allies, they still were very…protective about their border. It was routine for the Klingons to send a message to any Starfleet vessel within three light-years of the monitoring post on Morska.

“Right. Crewman, make sure to advise when the Klingons make contact. We don’t to spark a diplomatic incident.”

“Aye, Commander.”

At 0700, the bridge lights brighten as the ship switches from simulating nighttime to daytime, helping maintain a 24-hour rhythm for the crew.  A half-hour or so later, Alpha shift officers and crewmembers begin appearing from the turbolifts, preparing for shift changeover at 0800. Commander Abramov turns to their monitor and begins reading the daily operations reports filed through the night. One report, filed by the senior security officer (a Chief Petty Officer) with a copy being sent to Lt. Commander Pearse and Lt. Spencer, catches their attention.

Evidently, during the evening, two crewmembers (CN) had a disagreement in the mess hall over a (supposedly) friendly game of poker; the disagreement went from disagreement to yelling to shoving and then punches started flying. It became a brawl, and ship security officers were called in to break up the fight. All involved were taken to the brig for a few hours, then confined to quarters until Lt. Commander Pearse prepared charges and for Captain Oteng or Commander Abramov to conduct a hearing to adjudicate.

As Brooke read the report, they chuckled to themselves. It had been  a while since fisticuffs had developed onboard. As they read, the ship suddenly shuddered.

The helm officer spoke up, “Commander, we’ve dropped out of warp.”

“Helm, what happened?”

“Unknown, Commander. Engines were nominal…there’s no reason for us to have dropped out of warp.”

“We were hit with an unknown shockwave. Determining position now.” The officer at Ops began tapping at their console to see where and what hit.

Suddenly, the ship’s displays all showed a light blue Ω. No one could access anything. Commander Abramov looked around, and tried typing in their command codes, to no effect.

“My command codes aren’t working. What the blazes is going on?” Brooke asked, her voice puzzled.

Captain’s Quarters, 0710 Zulu
Time to Duty Shift: 00:50

Captain Oteng entered his quarters from his early morning workout, sweat dripping down his forehead. The CrossFit program had been especially intense that morning, and though Fabien felt accomplished, he knew that he would be sore for tomorrow. Noticing the time, he quickly entered the shower and began to get ready for the day. Approaching the replicator, he thought for a moment and pushed the activation button.

“Oatmeal with strawberries and blueberries, warm, with glass of orange juice.”

The replicator trilled and soon, a bowl of oatmeal topped with strawberries and blueberries appeared next to a glass of orange juice.

He grabbed them and set them at his desk. “Computer, what time is it?” he asked aloud as he sat down.

“The current time is 0736 Zulu. The local time is currently 1844.”

Fabien nodded to himself, then began to eat. Suddenly, the ship shuddered, rattling the plates on his table.

Just as he was about to tap his combadge to ask the bridge what was happening, an incessant chime came from his console on his desk. He moved his chair over to the console, and turned the display on. His blood ran cold as he saw the symbol that popped up on the screen: a light blue Ω.

Suddenly, an automated page. “Captain, report to the bridge. Captain, report to the bridge.”

Captain Oteng stood suddenly and reached for the desk interface. “Acknowledged.”

He reached for his combadge on his desk, and put it on. Quickly finishing his orange juice, he moved the plates to the disposal, then headed out to the turbolift for the bridge.

Bridge, +00:08 since Ω Alert

On the Bridge, all the displays, except the MSD, displayed the light blue Ω. The officers buzzed with speculation, concern, and worry.

Commander Abramov was still trying to override, when the turbolift doors opened and Captain Oteng stepped onto the Bridge.

“Captain…” Brooke started to say, interrupted by the clearing of the bridge lockout.

Fabien tapped a few commands into the nearest console as he stepped onto the bridge.

“Captain, what’s going on?” Commander Abramov asked standing up slowly as she noticed the Captain urgently tap commands then head down the short ramp.

“Bridge lockout released, Commander.  Take no further action. Forward all data to my ready room. Helm, disengage the engines and hold position here; all stop.”

“Captain…” Commander Abramov began.

“Follow your orders. I will issue new instructions shortly. That’s all I can say. Excuse me.”

“Aye, sir. Helm, all stop, disengage engines.” Commander Abramov issues the order, a look of puzzlement as they see Captain Oteng turn on his heel and walk briskly to his ready room.

“Aye, Commander. All stop,” the helm officer replies, a tone of cool professionalism underscored by confusion. He turns to look at Commander Abramov as the doors swish closed.

As soon as he enters, Captain Oteng heads for his desk.

“Computer, seal doors to this room, no entry without authorization.”

“Doors are sealed.”
Once seated, he taps a few commands into his desk; the light blue Ω popping up on his console.

“Computer, access secure data message Omega-one.”

“Voice print confirmed. State clearance code.”

“Oteng-7988-Blue, clearance level 10.”

“Authorization confirmed. Sensors have detected the Omega phenomenon approximately 2.3 lightyears from this vessel. Implement the Omega Directive. All other priorities have been rescinded.”

Captain Oteng rubbed his temples together, going back to the day he first learned this thing was a thing; on the day after his promotion was made official, he and a few others (also recently promoted captains) were ushered into a secure room at Starfleet Command headquarters in San Francisco, and they were given a highly classified briefing  about (among other things) the Omega particle and the response required of them.

“Computer, display sensor data – include schematics of direction.”

“Unable to comply. Sensor data unavailable.”

“Computer, where did the shockwave originate?”

“Unable to determine. Sensors unavailable.”

Captain Oteng tilted his head in puzzlement. No long-range sensors, no warp capability…he knew Omega had the ability to destroy subspace, but  sensors were supposed to be intact…he typed out a few more commands into his console, to see if he could determine the cause.

“Computer, show sensor data regarding Omega shockwave.”

“Unable to comply. Sensor data unavailable.”

Captain Oteng sighed. He tapped on his combadge.

“Captain to Bridge.”

“Bridge here, Captain.” Commander Abramov answered.

“Commander, open a Code 47 transmission to Admiral Prol on Starbase 1. Route it to my ready room.”

“Aye, sir.”

Lt. Spencer spoke up, just having arrived at his post about five minutes after Fabien sequestered himself in his ready room. “Umm…Captain, I can’t get through to Starbase 1. Communications seem to be down.”

Captain Oteng bit his tongue, physically stopping himself from cursing.

“What ships are in our range?” he asked, still maintaining an open link with the bridge.

“Scanning now, sir. Our long-range sensors are offline, sir. They aren’t working. Long-range communications also affected. Searching for friendly ships in the area.” Again, a pause as Lt. Spencer started scanning for any ships.

“Captain, our communications are limited…I can’t find…Captain, the USS Berwick is hailing, Code 47.”

“Send it through, Lieutenant. To my ready room.”

“Aye, sir.”

The computer trills and issues the Code 47 standard warning: “This is an emergency communiqué. It is not to be discussed with fellow officers unless deemed absolutely necessary. There will be no computer record of this transmission.”

“Noted.”

“Proceed with voice print identification.”

“Oteng, Fabien Isdore. Captain, USS Los Angeles.”

“Voice print verified. The transmitting officer has requested your authorization code.”

“Oteng-7988-Blue. Clearance Level 10.”

“Authorization confirmed.” The computer trills, and soon, Rear Admiral Raziya Ochieng appears on Captain Oteng’s screen.

“Admiral, habari za asubuhi? (How is the morning?)” Captain Oteng’s tone is serious but neutral; seeing RADM Ochieng’s grave expression.

“Mbaya (Not good/troubled), Captain. It is not a pleasant morning. The Blackout, it seems, has reached our corner of space.”

“The Blackout?”

“You should have received the classified briefing last night; to be read this morning.”

“Admiral, I just came on duty; I haven’t had a chance to read any reports. In any case, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Admiral Ochieng looks up with a puzzled look. “Captain, why have you not been able to read our reports?”

“Our computer is locked out; we received an Omega Directive. I’ve been trying to contact Starfleet Command…but our communications are down as well.”

“Mungu wangu (My God), Captain!” Raziya exclaims in shock, then takes a deep breath to calm herself. “This is worse. Your ship detected Omega? Do you know where?”

“No ma’am. Our sensors are unable to pinpoint anything.”

“Okay. Captain, I would say come rendezvous with the Berwick, but right now I think you’re our best bet to confirm if Omega is truly out there. Although…” Raziya pauses, then looks off to the side, a thoughtful expression in her face. “Maybe…hopefully… it’s not Omega?” she says softly. “Maybe…maybe it’s the Blackout?”

“The Blackout? What’s that?”

“It’s a phenomenon that produces a similar effect to Omega; it sometimes tricks our sensors into implementing the directive. But it’s something that messes up subspace, makes it impossible to warp, to communicate, to do anything. That is why I’m aboard the Berwick…we’re using her communication systems to try to reach ships like yours…establish a sort of relay network. You should have received reports and a briefing on the Blackout last night; assuming communications were functional.”

“I’ll ask my First Officer if anything is waiting for me. In the meantime, what do I do with the Omega Directive?”

“Our first priority is to figure out if it is the Blackout. If we can verify that it is Omega, then Tutakabili mambo hayo tutakapofika(we will deal with those matters when we get to them).”

“Aye, Rear Admiral. We will figure out how to figure it out.”

“Very good Captain. Please keep me in the loop; and remember, anything related to Omega is still classified. Your orders are to find out if the subspace issues are Omega or related to the Blackout.”
“Aye, Admiral.”

“Hadi baadaye, Fabien (Until later, Fabien). Godspeed.”

“Thank you Rear Admiral. We will stay in touch.”

“Berwick out.”

Raziya’s face is replaced by the Seal of the Federation. Captain Oteng drums his hand on his desk as he thinks on what to do.

“Captain to Bridge.”

“Bridge here.”

“Begin localized sensor sweep. See if we can find the shockwave that hit us.”

“Aye, sir. Starting a grid search.”

Fabien taps his combadge again, closing the connection.  He stands, looking out the window. Space had always felt like his home; it was safe, comforting even. But today…it was threatening. Captain Oteng fixed his uniform, taking a deep breath before walking out of his ready room. His crew were going to need a steady hand.