Bridge, 0758 Zulu
+00:40 since Ω Alert

Captain Oteng stepped back onto the bridge, gently rubbing his eyes. The entire situation was weighing on him; the burdens of command weighing heavily on him. He had received orders to go and search for the source of the subspace disruptions and determine if the disruptions were from a potential Omega particle detonation or the Blackout. After the conversation with RADM Ochieng, Fabien’s head was spinning. His First Officer, however, brought him back to the present.

“Captain, what are your orders?”

He then realized the bridge crew were all looking at him. He shook his head, centering himself back in the present.

“Ops, begin scanning for the source of the shockwave. Let’s see if we can’t pinpoint the source and determine what is causing the disruptions. Once a course has been found, helm, follow it. Full Impulse.”

“Aye, sir.” Lt. Muthoni nodded as she began to set up her console to follow the course once the data came in from Ops.

“Aye, looking for the source of the shockwave.” LTCMDR Pearse replied.

The bridge crew responded with the professionalism Captain Oteng had come to expect from all of them throughout their time together. As the crew busied themselves, Captain Oteng took a seat in his command chair, next to Commander Abramov. They gave him a look; asking silently if he could talk about what had been going on.

“Commander,” Fabien said in a low voice, anxious to not interrupt the rest of his crew, “did we get any reports overnight? I have not had a chance to look at the logs or read last night’s reports.”

“Yes Captain,” they replied coolly. “We have several transmissions marked Code 47 from various Starbases and Command.”

“Huh. Can you forward them to…”

“…to your ready room? Already did so.” Commander Abramov gave him a small knowing smile. After almost two years of working together had enabled them to pick up on the CAPT Oteng’s habits and preferences.

“Captain, sorry to interrupt. I’m receiving a faint and distorted distress signal. Origin unknown.” LT Spencer spoke up as he tapped on his console, verifying the transmission.

“On Federation frequencies?”

“No sir.”

Captain Oteng glanced at Commander Abramov; puzzlement written all over his face. He twisted in his chair, looking up at Lt. Spencer.

“Not Federation, Mr. Spencer?”

“No sir. Best I can decode; with the significant interference sir, it’s Klingon.”

“Klingon?” Fabien’s tone is incredulous. “Is it the Morska listening station?”

“Maybe, sir? Our sensors cannot sense that far. All I can tell you is that the fragments of the transmission I am getting has a Klingon transponder code.”

“Put it up on the viewer, let’s see how much range we have to trace the transmission.”

“Aye, sir. Putting it up now.”

The view went from the stars outside to a view of a distorted map with the signal bouncing all over on the leftmost border.

“Any chance we can clean that up?”

“No, sir. This is as good as it gets.” Lt. Spencer continues trying to clear up a heading without success.

“Okay. Helm, let’s start following the signal; maybe it’s linked to the distortion waves. Miss Pearse, keep on your task, please.”

“Aye, sir. Continuing to try and track the distortion waves.”

Captain Oteng crosses his legs, then turns the display monitor towards him.

“Lt. Spencer, place the ship at Yellow Alert.”

“Yellow Alert, aye.” Thomas tapped on the tactical console. Instantly, the bridge lights dimmed, and the light bars started to flash yellow, accompanied by the familiar Yellow Alert tone.

“All decks reporting condition yellow, Captain.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Miss Pearse, anything?”

“No sir, I’ve been unable to track the origin. It just…disappears off into the distance. Our sensors can only scan accurately up to about 2 light-years. Any more than that…it’s like the scanners lose their resolution, and just inky blackness. I’ve never seen anything like this ever. Then again, Captain, I’m a lawyer, not an engineer.”

“Right. Just do the best you can. I need to know what the blazes is going on.” Fabien looks around the bridge, at his officers. “Off we go…into the inky black void…” he says dryly, eliciting a few snickers from the human crewmembers. This was enough to break the tension, and the tension slowly dissipated. The crew retained their focus and professionalism, as years of Starfleet training showed.

As everyone went back to work, some still snickering at Fabien’s statement, LT Spencer had a look of puzzlement. He shyly broke the silence.

“Captain? I didn’t understand your reference. Off…we…go…into the inky black void” he repeated slowly, trying to wrap his mind around it. “What do you mean? Our sensors still work, however limited.”

His comments and tone drew fresh smiles from the human crew, most of them understanding the historical reference Captain Oteng made. Captain Oten smiles and turns in his chair to look at him as best he can.

“I was just making a reference to an old song. Really old.” He smiles. “Let me explain. Centuries ago, before United Earth and the Federation, our world used to be divided into nation states. One of the most powerful in the late 20^th and 21^st century was a nation-state known as the United States of America. At their peak, they were a trans-continental power in North America, spanning from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean. Their defense forces were divided into different departments: the US Army, Navy, Marines, Space Force, and the Air Force; all focusing on different specialties. Each department had their own song. The Air Force’s song started with ‘Off we go, into the wild blue yonder.’ So I just changed it to match our current predicament.”

“Ohhhh, okay; that makes sense. My apologies, sir.”

“No apology required Lieutenant. We’re Starfleet. We’re here to learn and explore new worlds. Even if the new world has been a Federation founding member.” His last statement drew a fresh round of chuckles and snickers.

“Alright, that’s enough; back to work, everyone. Including me.”

A chorus of “Yes, Sir” and “Aye, Sir” filled the air as the bridge crew continued to search for the elusive source of the signal and distortion waves.

Bridge, 1130 Zulu
+03:32 since Ω Alert

Captain Oteng stretched as he sat, resisting the urge to start pacing the bridge. He was frustrated that he and his crew had yet to definitively find the source of the signal. Or the distortion waves. It wasn’t the fault of his crew, he reasoned, because they had been diligent. In point of fact, the only reason they were able to actually get some sort of bearing on anything was due to the ingenuity of CMDR Aranda and her engineers. They figured out some sort of way to actually increase the sensor resolution beyond the new maximum, though it was still a fraction of their long-range sensors.

“Captain…we’ve tracked the Klingon signal to the border. Based on extrapolation and the sensor’s best guess, it would seem the signal is coming from Rura Penthe.”

Fabien looked up with alarm.

“Rura Penthe. You sure, Lieutenant?”

“Yes sir. That’s our best guess, based on all available data.”

“Okay. Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Mr. Spencer, try sending a message to the Klingon monitoring station; tell them we received a distress call from their prison colony, and we are on the way to help.”

“Aye, sir. Transmitting.” LT Spencer looks at his console with concern. “Captain, they aren’t receiving any messages. I tried sending it, and nothing.”

“Okay. Okay…okay. Let me…try hailing the Berwick. See if you can get RADM Ochieng.”

“Transmitting now…no answer on any frequency. They’re too far out. We would just be able to transmit our transponder code and a scrambled message, and that’s pushing it. There’s no guarantee they’d receive it.”

“Okay. We’re on our own. We have a duty to render assistance. We’ll stay at Yellow Alert, hopefully we don’t run into Klingons. They’re not going to take too kindly to Federation vessels violating their borders. But they’re our allies.”

Silence permeates the bridge, as the reality of the situation sets in. Brooke and Siobhan exchange uneasy looks, an entire conversation happening in the look that boiled down to ‘Who’s going to tell him…not it…fine, I’ll do it….’ After a moment, Brooke breaks the silence.

“Captain, it would be remiss of me if I didn’t remind you that Federation guidelines forbid us from entering Klingon territory without express permission.”

“I’m aware, Commander. Are you objecting?” His tone is terse, but not angry; both officers understand that this is protocol and CMDR Abramov’s objection allows the issue to be, as Siobhan might put it, “preserving the issue in the record” in case his actions fall under official review.

Brooke thinks long and hard before answering. “Captain, with all due respect, I think it is my duty to remind of Federation and Starfleet regulations.”

“So noted. Any other officer who wishes to object, may do so freely, without fear of reprisals from me.”

No one says a word; in fact, most are focusing on the task at hand. After a moment of silence, Commander Abramov leans over to Fabien.

“No hard feelings; right?” Their tone is concerned, but also just checking in.

Captain Oteng chuckled before answering, shaking his head. “Oh hell no. No issues at all. You wouldn’t be the finest first officer in the fleet if you hadn’t objected.”

Brooke rolls their eyes, smiling at Fabien as they turn to look at the viewscreen, back to its normal star view.

“Alright, alright. Captain has the conn.”

LTJG Muthoni responds. “Captain has the conn; aye, Commander.”

“Helm, set course for Rura Penthe, full impulse, then try going to warp 3.”

“Setting course, sir. Warp engines online. And…no warp field can be generated. Captain, I can only offer impulse drive. At full impulse, we will arrive at Rura Penthe in approximately 8 hours.”

“Better than I expected. Full impulse, Miss Muthoni. Set course.”

“Course set, sir.”

“Engage.”

The Los Angeles turned to its new course and headed into Klingon territory.