Star Trek: New Frontier

Chapter 7

USS Juneau. (NCC-47851)

In transit. 36 hours plus ten.

Lieutenant Kali Summers was manning Communications Station Three when she picked up an odd message of sorts.

"Commander Underwood? I'm receiving an official Starfleet Communications channel. On frequency Niner-Niner-Seven-Gamma. Code Alpha-Two. Ship in need of immediate assistance."

"Not a distress call?"

"No, ma'am. Computer hasn't logged it in as such."

"Is the channel live?"

"It was...three standard minutes ago. Then the broadcast was jammed at its source."

"On screen then, Kali."

"Yes, ma'am. Transferring to main screen."

Ashley stepped off to the side to see the recorded transmission picked up by the Juneau and it was a real mess. Most of it was distorted because of the extreme distance in mind and the time lag during slipstream, but some of it came in loud and clear for all to see.

Then the message started breaking up again—exactly two seconds later.

"...this Paris from Voyager-Alpha. Coordinates 76-97-07-1...ship...attacked...Alliance...surrounded...help. Starfleet?"

The ship's First Officer frowned and looked back down at the delta-shift Communications' Officer in turn.

But she was already in action from her station—making the necessary adjustments on the fly. Then her hands stopped moving and so did she; slumping back in the process.

"Sorry, Commander. But the signal strength is badly degraded from this distance. We'll have to wait almost ten more hours in slipstream before we can get a better connection."

"...but not enough to send back a reply?"

Kali smirked. "You know the rules, ma'am—as much as I. No communications are possible during slipstream. It's in the books."

The other woman pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment. "Is it possible to piggyback a connection through one of the stasis core generators on Deck 24—say for about fifteen seconds—in order to send a subspace burst?"

"Pardon my French, ma'am, but the feedback loop in doing so is going to be a real bitch to unravel—if we did. But the captain would have to be the one to sign off on such a risky venture."

Ashley smiled. "But the captain isn't here, now is she?"

"No ma'am. She isn't."

"But I am—right?"

'Yes, but you're security clearance isn't high enough."

The woman's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"And how would you know that?"

"...um...word gets around...?"

The First Officer pouted lightly in response. "I'm going to have a long talk with whomever has been filling the rumor mill with that nonsense."

"We're a small, underhanded, crew Commander. It goes with the territory." Kali said in small defense of herself.

"As such, this mission is only supposed to last a few standard days of search and rescue of Voyager-Alpha. Then it's back home we go."

"We hope."

"Hope?"

"Any mission into the Delta Quadrant is just a whole bowl full of variables and unknowns. Things could get really messy—real quick—if we are not careful, Lieutenant." Ashley patiently reminded her. "And like you said, we are woefully underhanded at this point. We're not even properly crewed or staffed at this time. And most of the skeleton crew has never set one foot out of Starbase Epsilon in six years—since the last scheduled rotation."

"So what do we do?"

"We press on."