Ensign Lita Morrison’s shift was halfway over, and the same stats scrolled across the screen. The Blackout event had continued to confuse and annoy her. As the science chief, having no culpable answers to the question was frustrating.  Outside of her role, she was unnerved. Thirty plus days and nothing concrete had been established as the cause. What if this went on for longer? How would they navigate the universe? How would it shape the future of the Federation, not to mention all the other contentious players in the blackness of space?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cavalcade of klaxons, alerts, and called our reports. Lita stared at her screen. The readings were incredible – unfathomable, even. A massive surge in readings and signals – the computer was theorizing apertures were opening back up from Underspace? She abruptly sat up in her chair, hands moving across the console, hoping this was a drill. Underspace was still largely unknown. That last time it had opened up…she didn’t want to think about that.

The voice of their tactical chief, Lieutenant Kondo De La Fontaine, reported, “Reading multiple ship signals…cancel that, make that hundreds of signals breaching several aperture points in the sector!” Gasps of shock rippled across the bridge as the klaxons continued to ring, and Kondo slapped at his console, activating the Red Alert. Dark red lights faded overhead as the LCARS display banks across the bridge flashed the ruby pattern.

Morrison went to work, her hands shaking as she gathered reports as the rest of the senior staff focused on their duties. This was real. Holy hell, this was real. She worked on her breathing. It helped a little.

The door to the bridge slid open, admitting the focused face of Captain Samson Bradley, followed by the equally concerned Commander Augusto Vargas. Bradley called for a report as the situation continued to evolve. Reports of the number of ships were given, while the specifics of who they were remained an alarming unknown.

The unsteady voice of Ensign Alyana Bertrand at communications broke through, “Captain, there’s a message coming through – broadcasting on all frequencies.” Bradley gave a nod.

“Rimward residents. You are alone. So very alone. We have done this with great intention, and you will not be finding help from your friends and allies. You are cut from them, and we will cut you if needed. You cannot hope to stop us or push us back. We will take what is ours. And we will have it – willingly or unwillingly. This is your one warning, the only mercy you will receive from the Vaadwaur Supremacy. Prepare to surrender…or prepare to die.”

The channel cut, leaving the crew to stare at the screen, which showed a growing force spreading across the system, weapons already firing. Bradley turned to Kondo, “What are our chances?”

The look on the face of the tactical chief was enough. He replied, “There’s too many. We can fight our way back to Montana Station…we’ll need to move fast. A large group from the main attack force is heading our way.”

The crew watched their CO carefully, his hands forming into fists and releasing as he considered the course of action. The Zephyr was a big ship and had plenty of punches it could throw. Sometimes, being big wasn’t good enough. He ordered, “Weapons free. Helm, intercept course for Montana Station – once we clear of the interference – floor it. How long until we can go to warp speed?” While he spoke, the helm officer pushed the Tyhpoon class ship to full impulse, the clock at the top of the viewer resetting to seven minutes.

A quick calculation and the helm officer replied, “Seven minutes at full impulse.” Morrison glanced back at the captain, sensing this was too much time. She dimly remembered the stories of the Vaduvaar as a part of the Voyager’s extensive experience in the Gamma Quadrant. It wasn’t pretty. Hadn’t they all died? How were they back and with so many of them?

Bradley’s calm was holding, giving Lita hope as she watched and listened to him speak, “We’ve got armed fighters – get them active and moving.” He tapped at the arm of his chair, “All hands to battle stations – we need seven minutes to get out of the interference. Let’s make sure we all get there.” He closed the channel, “Mr. Kondo – let’s bloody some noses.”