Five days. Five very long days. Pantuso stretched her body as she crawled out of bed, groggy. Answers had been slow to non-existent as the mystery continued to unfold. They had not regained communications with anyone outside of the system. Worryingly, no one had come into the system to investigate. The two colonies were mainly self-sustaining with one exception – medicine. The Dragonfly had been dispatched to assist with a supply drop and medical team assistance. That job had been done six days ago, and now they were finding it hard to leave. She plodded to the sonic shower, feeling the residual aches from the long hours she had spent working with science and communications with little result.

She spent a little longer in the shower, trying to find release from the growing stress. She wasn’t a young captain anymore, and as much knowledge as she had gained in her long career, she was stymied. What initially was thought to be a momentary issue had become an alarming ongoing event. The Obena class starship was loaded with some of the latest and greatest technology available in the 25th century. That they were having trouble using cutting-edge equipment to cut through whatever stood in their way had given her pause.

She slipped on her uniform, staring into the mirror. She was old, and her lines dug deep in her face. Or at least it seemed like it to her. She had been a striking face in her youth. What was she now?

“Captain to the bridge.”

She replied that she was on her way while muttering, “What now?”

“It’s subspace.” Ensign Lita Morrison had not slept aside from naps in the conference room down the hall while the overnight science teams had worked with her tired guidance. Five days and all of the science team shifts were slowing down. Morrison had ordered the night shift to bed in the conference room while she took the results to the CO. She searched for further words to answer the scowl she was earning from Captain Pantuso. “It’s the harmonics. It’s like when you listen to a bad cover song from a band who didn’t quite know what they were doing – something is off and ends up ruining the whole song.”

Pantuso’s scowl transformed into a glower, “Ensign Morrison, that’s not a reference I’m going to get. Stick to the science and try again.”

Morrison felt her face flush with an embarrassed warmth, and she struggled to keep her hands from shaking. Taking a deep breath, she tried again: “Subspace harmonics science was one of the earliest sciences we had to get a handle on—how our warp engines interact with it is the key to how we get around the universe. It also interacts with our sensors and communications, – Starfleet was built on the success of using all three of these technologies with little trouble. Subspace harmonics governs dam…darn near everything we do as a fleet. An entire course at the academy is built around understanding the concept and how it works.”

She gave a nod to the CO’s question that was clear on her face, “Now, when the harmonics are slightly different – we have ways of adapting to most of it – an in-depth scan, an investigation that charts the area of the instability and then engineering works to reverse program a solution or change the settings to meet the new harmonics that are localized.” She tapped at her console and the screen on the bridge changed to show the current readings. Morrison shook her head, “These readings shouldn’t be possible. We started pulling the threads when we noticed a slight change in the harmonics on the historical scans – tracking it back until we figured out that something had changed in the foundational harmonics of subspace.”

Pantuso listened, “That’s better, Ensign Morrison. You haven’t indicated a solution.”

Lita cringed. She hadn’t been looking forward to sharing this part: “That’s because…at the moment…we don’t have one. We’ve looked at it from every angle, every side…everything. Chief Crawford’s been digging through the old books since the original tests were done – warp dynamics were just in the infancy of development then. She’s made it through three of the five volumes… nothing yet.”

Pantuso accepted a large cup of coffee from her XO, Commander Milton Ford. He had taken on working the overnights to ensure an experienced body was in the chair while the work continued into the late hours. She sighed, giving Ford a tired look. “You should be in bed, Commander.”

He answered, “Should. Woodward’s recommending we return to the colonies and get our people some fresh air. Five straight days trying to figure out a way home is wearing pretty rough on everybody.” Pantuso gave him another look. The man had worked in many positions and departments, and counseling was one of his more recent ones.

“You wouldn’t suggest it if you didn’t think it was necessary.” He gave a quiet nod. “Get some sleep, Ford. That’s an order.” She turned to the helm, “Impulse speed back to the colonies. Get the governor on a channel in my ready room.

“Goddamn it.” Carolyn Crawford was in the depths of the warp nacelle, suited up and secured. She’d been making her way step by step to ensure every piece of the system process was clean and clear. She’d spent five hours on the port one, and was at the end of her fourth hour on the starboard one. She checked the tricorder. Nothing. “Rogers, did you run that diagnostic again?”

“Three times, Ensign Crawford. No change.” His voice was neutral in his reply but a tinge of annoyance was on the line. Not that she could blame him. They were coming up empty on every solution.

“I’m going to move down to the next node and see what I can figure out.” She shuffled down and arrived moments later. She went through the motions of scanning, inspecting, scanning, and then manually checking each piece and part. It was reading the same. She growled, frustrated, “Goddamn it. Goddamn it all.” She stowed her equipment back in the case. Suddenly klaxons were ringing in the background. “Rogers – what is it?!”

“Sensors are picking up an incoming ship signal – no way to tell who it is. You better get down here quick!”

She shook her head – there was no way. She fought the panic that had started quietly but was growing. “Chief Crawford to Transporter Room 1 – emergency transport from my signal!” A second later, she vanished into the bright lights…and reappeared on the transporter pad as the red lighting flashed, “They choose a hell of a time to show up – whoever they are.” The tech at the console shrugged his shoulders and Crawford headed out the door, making her way to the bridge. The calls for battle stations sounded from the speakers above her and she picked up her pace, still dressed in her environmental suit. A short turbolift drive later, she stepped onto a tense and focused bridge. She handed her helmet to a deck officer and gave a side glance to the engineering officer at the console. A shrug was his response.

Pantuso was in the center chair, sitting forward and back straight. “Time to arrival?”

Kondo reported from tactical, “Five seconds – course is erratic.”

Crawford remained in place at the rear of the bridge, counting down.

5

4

3

2……1.

There was a flash, and a ship came careening into view, slowing to a stop. The ship’s identity became apparent, causing a collective gasp. Kondo announced it from tactical, “Identity confirmed. USS Perseverance, NCC-97608.”