A cold stillness had settled over the bridge. The usual background chatter was replaced by the low but steady whine of the klaxon, the clipped orders from the Captain, and the equally terse responses from her crew. The yellow glow from the alert panels bathed them in a sickly glow, and against the infinite void on the viewscreen, even the most experienced of them felt small.

Ever since picking up the distress signal from the USS Callisto and setting course for their location, the previously optimistic atmosphere had dissipated entirely.

Neritalor Zantett’s gaze never left his console. He assayed new information as soon as it was received, and informed his Captain where it was appropriate. He expected this to be a trap, and perhaps, he was hoping that it was.

The other possibility – that the Callisto had actually come across a previously unknown telepathic entity – sent shivers down his spine. The idea of something being able peek past his dispassionate facade and see what lay beneath… It frightened him. Not even Aski, his daughter, was privy to those most intimate of thoughts.

“Sensors are reading the Callisto.”, he announced suddenly, his voice relaying the information before his brain had caught up with it. “And the other two vessels that had been mentioned, but no additional ships nearby. They’re alone.”

He anticipated Captain Valdes’ order to hail them, and then, they waited. Ten seconds. The gentle hum of the engines seemed to rise in volume, turning into a low growl. Twenty seconds. K’Shara, next to Zantett, inhaled sharply. Thirty.

“Lifesigns?” Valdes wanted to know, only gradually turning her head to the woman at the science console.

“A hundred and thirty-four.”

A collective exhale only hinted at the relief they felt. Small smiles were exchanged, but the moment of reprieve didn’t last.

“Hail them again.”, Valdes insisted. She narrowed her eyes at the viewscreen as if willing a response into existence – a strategy that seemed to hold merit.

The viewscreen flickered to life, unbearably slowly, revealing the ghostly face of the Security Officer who had sent the distress call. Lieutenant Una, if Zantett remembered correctly. It hadn’t been possible to determine when the distress signal had been sent, but within what could only be a short timeframe, the woman’s appearance had changed dramatically.
She barely looked real. Her skin was too pale, her face was too hollow, her pupils too dilated, making her eyes seem impossibly large.

Zantett watched her. Her fluent movements had become jerky, hesitant, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

Captain Valdes, not known for her patience, broke the silence. Her voice was measured and calm, but commanding, aiming to retrieve information rather than offering comfort,

“Lieutenant Una.”

The woman flinched at the mention of her name, but eventually turned her impossibly wide eyes towards the screen. Her cracked lips, chewed raw from nervous biting, moved silently.

“I am Captain Asgren Valdes of the Federation starship Sirona. We received your distress call.”

Una glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure that no one was watching, then tilted her head as if struggling to comprehend the words that were spoken.

“He…”, she started slowly, then whispered something to herself.

Valdes pressed her lips into a thin line. “Are you currently the most senior officer aboard the Callisto?”

“I… yes. Well, no. There are others, but they” She gave a short, brittle laugh. “They are doing even worse.”

“I see. We will be entering Asada’s orbit shortly. We have made adjustments to your shield configuration, and will transmit them to you. I leave it to your discretion whether or not using it is wise in your situation.”

Una gave a weak nod, then hunched her shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, she glanced over her shoulder, an inaudible conversation with an unseen presence.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”, Commander Tessara Quirell, their Chief Diplomatic Officer, asked. Her soft, understanding voice was a stark contrast to Valdes’ commanding tone.

“He…”, she stopped, eyes flickering to the side. Her lips moved, words shaped for someone else. Then, softer. “He knows you’re here.”

A shadow flicked over her face. Not fear – at least not entirely. . “I… think you should go. Leave us alone. We will be happy on Asada.”

“We will do no such thing.”, Valdes stated coolly, but left it to Quirell to further assure the other woman.

“I understand. But you must understand that it is our duty to make sure of that. We would like to speak to Naeric.”

Una turned again, and then, she gave a small nod.

“Very well.”, Valdes said, offering Una a nod that almost approximated appreciation.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. We’ll take it from here.”