The trail or, more accurately, the lack thereof, was frustrating to Lieutenant Hazel Wallaker.  The Runyon was a Grissom Class starship that had a proven track record. She’d read over the dossiers of the senior staff daily as they’d made the journey to the Shackleton Expanse.  The captain’s background was littered with serious scientific credentials, while the rest of the crew filled in the tactical, engineering, and security needs a ship that size would require.  Wallaker’s mind had a hard time imagining a scenario where the Runyon would risk being compromised.

“Lieutenant, section 3 is complete.”  The science ensign, having finished the report, turned back to the console to continue searching.  The Vestibule was its own section at the rear of the bridge with four stations and a large transparent display that displayed the sector.  Wallaker stood before the display, watching as it updated with clarified data.

She manipulated the map, zooming in on section 4.  “What about that signal – the computer initially diagnosed it as an errant piece of mining equipment.”  Hazel turned her head to catch Commander Park’s attention.  The executive officer had climbed the turbo lift ladder to chief science early in her career.

Park caught the look, walking over to the display.  “Let’s see its frequency.”  Hazel watched her eyes focusing on the display with an intensity she recognized. She wondered if the woman had a connection to the Runyon. The frequency popped up, and the XO studied it, tapping at the screen to run it through a battery of filters.  Park’s first group of filters made sense to Hazel.  It was the default that the computer ‌used.  Then, the XO started digging into alternative filters that confused Hazel.  The determination on Park’s face reeked of confidence, as if she was determined to break the computer or prove her superiority over it.

Suddenly, the signal on the map blinked yellow, and then red.  Several stations sounded alarms, and nearly every head on the bridge turned to The Vestibule, and the map.  Park pointed at the flashing marker. “That’s not mining equipment.  That’s a damaged impulse drive, specifically a Starfleet impulse drive.”

Captain Walton sidled up beside them, her eyes shining with a similar determination.   “How bad?”

Park tapped at the screen. “Whatever attacked it was packing enough of a wallop to separate it from the ship.  We get it into a cargo bay; engineering can give us a full workup.”  Walton gave her a nod, and the XO made for the turbolift door.

Walton turned her attention to Wallaker, who felt her eyes widen. She fought the embarrassment that threatened to bloom across her face. The captain shifted her gaze to the map, sparing Hazel.  Was that intentional on her part?  Walton didn’t have a softer touch with her subordinates.  Why the exception, Hazel wondered?  Walton asked, “Can we use the location of the impulse engine to focus our sensors on tracking the Runyon?”

The science chief blinked as her mind lurched out of the embarrassing moment and back into action.  Her hands jumped forward as she worked the screen.  “That’s possible.  A-Team – task sensors on the impulse engine and trace any signals, trails, or otherwise from that point.”  She turned to the two officers on the other side of The Vestibule.  “B-Team, go back through the signal logs – the computer might have mislabeled something that is related to the Runyon.”  She waited patiently, watching as the transparent glass screen continued to update.

An ensign from A-Team excitedly reported, “We’ve got an impulse trail off the drive’s location – it’s intermittent.  The preliminary track shows it heading deeper into the asteroid field.”

Walton moved to stand behind the ensign’s station, her face tightening as she replied, “That’s pretty deep into the field.  Perseverance can probably navigate it, but we’ll be pushing it.  Franklin D. Roosevelt is too big.  We may have to use runabouts or shuttles towards the farther end of it.”  Wallaker stared at the map, wondering what had chased the Runyon into the crowded field, pushing them farther and farther into the catacombs.  Farther and farther away from mining operations.  She felt her stomach drop.

Farther and farther away from witnesses.  The B-Team interrupted her realization with their report.

“We’ve got something.  We took the signal logs and found a path – as much as we could put back together.” The new plot map rippled across their screens as Wallaker and Walton shifted to stand behind them.  The ensign continued. “It matches the report from the engine – they were on their way to continue, and then their course abruptly changed.”  The track of the Runyon took a sudden turn and became erratic until it faded out. The group fell silent as the track on the screen blinked yellow, an aching absence of information leaving the rest of the map plotting blank.

Walton took one last long look at the screens.  “We’re going to have to get in there the hard way.  Mr. Prentice, start mapping a course through the chunky soup.  Ops, put us on yellow alert.  Inform Mr. Carlson it’s going to be a bumpy ride – he’ll need to activate all damage control teams.”

At operations, Lieutenant Matthew Phillips frowned. “All of them, Captain?”

Walton sat roughly down in the center command chair. “All of them.  I have a feeling we’re not just going to be dodging asteroids out there, Mr. Phillips.  Prepare accordingly.”