USS Culver City dropped out of warp at the edge of the star system, slowing to half-impulse as she started to make her way towards the binary stars at the system’s core.  On the bridge, Lieutenant Commander Varyn K’lev sat in the captain’s chair, leaning forward slightly as the stars in the viewscreen shifted from streaks to points of light, then into the star system.

He addressed his bridge crew.  “Okay, everyone, I know it’s not something we normally do, but Command’s asked us to conduct a survey in this system.  A battle took place here, long ago, and it’s our job to look for its remnants.  These wrecks are tombs, so if we find any let’s treat them as such; we’ll locate, identify if we can, and map, but we’ll not disturb them.  Both Federation and Klingon ships went down during the battle, but we will not discriminate; if we find a Klingon wreck, we treat it with the same respect as a Starfleet one.”

“Yes, sir,” came a chorus of acknowledgements from around the bridge.

K’lev nodded.  “Let’s get to it, then.  Chief Bong, launch some probes and tie their telemetry into Lieutenant Lotharys’s station.  Lieutenant Phillips, take us in, nice and easy.  Reports suggest the battle took place near an asteroid field, so let’s start there.”

Culver City made her way deeper into the system, launching three probes as she went to serve as extensions for their sensors and access spaces that a California-class starship could not itself enter.  On the bridge, the senior staff all sat with bated breath, attending their duties with care.

The search did not bear immediate fruit, however; the first returns came around 5 hours into the pattern, when the ship picked up a metallic signature.  It was small, but unmistakably debris.  “What do you make of it?  Looks like bulkhead or hull plating to me, but it’s hard to say if it’s anything remarkable.” K’lev asked Lotharys.

“Multi-spectral analysis confirms the piece as metallic, of a composition consistent with early- to mid-23rd century Klingon vessels.  Stellar radiation has bleached it, though, so any markings that may have been painted on it are likely long gone; unless a serial number is etched or engraved on, it’ll be impossible to tell what ship this came from,” she replied.

K’lev nodded, tapping his lips thoughtfully with one green-skinned finger.  “As I recall, there were around 2 dozen Klingon ships in the battle; not all were lost, but that still doesn’t narrow it down much.”  He sighed.  “Note it in the log, with coordinates and drift vector notation, then let’s keep going.”

Culver City and her probes moved on, finding more and more debris floating as they approached the binary system’s asteroid belt.  Not all of it was Klingon, either; some of the pieces were consistent with 23rd-century Starfleet ship construction.  As with the first piece, though, not much had survived to enable identification of what ships the debris came from, or even often what they were beyond hull and bulkhead components.  The crew logged the pieces as they identified them, then pressed deeper into what was now clearly the debris field from the battle.

A short time later, one of the probes picked up something larger: a long, thin shape, large enough to be part of a ship but inconsistent with Starfleet ship designs of the period.  “Put it on screen, please, Chief,” K’lev said.

Chief Bong called up the ship’s hull cameras and focused them on the object: there, floating in space, was the command section and neck of a Klingon vessel, an old Qugh-class destroyer.  K’lev stood.  “What do you make of her, Ophelia?  Any chance to identify her?”

Lotharys shook her head.  “I wouldn’t even know where to look,” she said.

K’lev nodded.  “It’s okay.  Log her all the same, as ‘ head and neck of an unknown Klingon vessel’, then let’s continue.”

As Lotharys set about her work – maintaining the survey log fell under the auspices of the Sciences section, after all – Chief Bong spoke up.  “I’m also seeing a group of what may be three targets of interest; a debris concentration that could account for two ships and-“ he paused, examining the screen to verify the data, “and what appears to be a downed Starfleet vessel, at least partially intact.”

The chief’s words shot through the bridge like a bolt of lightning.  K’lev looked between his veteran chief and Lieutenant Phillips at the helm.  “Can we get to them?  Or will we need to send a probe?”

Phillips looked at their navigational chart, then back to the chief, who nodded.  “I think we can make it,” they said.

“Then by all means, Ari, get us there!  The debris first, then the possible downed vessel.  Thrusters only.”

Culver City edged forward, maneuvering on thrusters alone now as the space around her had grown denser with both debris and asteroids.  “Let’s see that debris concentration,” K’lev said, motioning to the viewscreen.

The chief pulled it up.  After a few moments, Lieutenant sh’Livo spoke up from Tactical.  “Sir?  It may just be me, but doesn’t some of that debris look a little… odd?  I mean, we know this is a battle site, so I’d expect carbon scoring, but some of these pieces” she highlighted a number of pieces on the display “look like they’ve been exposed to a matter-antimatter detonation.”

Lotharys chimed in.  “Tyrisa’s right.  And there’s more; the debris seems to be from both Starfleet and Klingon vessels, but is mixed in a way that almost suggests the ships it came from had collided.”

K’lev looked between them.  “Could it be simply one ship exploding inside the debris field of another that had already been destroyed?”

After a moment, Lotharys shook her head.  “It’s hard to say, given the age of the debris.”

K’lev sighed.  “Might there be enough debris here that we could tell by-“

Lieutenant sh’Livo suddenly interrupted.  “Forgive me, sir, but I just remembered something.  I’d done a paper on this battle at the Academy, and I remember reading a report from some of the survivors that a Klingon ship, a strange vessel that had what looked like some sort of massive cutting blade on it, rammed the USS Europa before being destroyed when the Europa self-destructed.”  Her face bore a mixture of hope, fear, and sorrow, causing K’lev to exchange a glance with Lotharys; both recalled that sh’Livo had said during a staff briefing on the trip to the system that she had an ancestor aboard the Europa during the battle who barely survived.

“That could explain what we’re seeing here; if the Klingon ship was still wedged in the Europa when she exploded, elements of the Klingon’s hull would have been exposed to the blast,” Lotharys said.

A look of dawning realization crossed onto K’lev’s face.  “Get those probes in there; I want every detail of this target.”

Over the next hour or so, Culver City and her probes scanned every cubic millimeter of the wreckage that they could access.  On the bridge, nobody – save Phillips at the helm – was sitting as the readings came in.  Once she was certain, Lotharys spoke, “Probe three scanned part of an old Starfleet nacelle; given the wreckage’s exposure in its orbit, the paint’s mostly gone, so the registry number’s mostly unreadable, but we found submicron traces of enough paint to tell that the final digit of the registry number is an 8, and the second may be a 6.”

Lieutenant sh’Livo covered her mouth.  “It’s the Europa,” she whispered through her fingers.  Her eyes shone with tears.

K’lev crossed the bridge to rest a hand on her arm, giving it a reassuring gentle squeeze.  As he did so, he turned to Lotharys.  “Note the time in the log, and report for the record: as of 1437 hours, this stardate, USS Culver City has reached and confirmed the final resting place of NCC-1648, USS Europa.”

He crossed back to his command chair, but did not take a seat; instead, he took a steadying breath, then turned his mismatched eyes to Chief Bong.  “Are we in visual range of the downed wreckage?”

The chief nodded.  “Yes, sir.  And it looks like it’s in an area shielded from some of the stars’ radiation, so in theory it may be easier to identify.”

“Pull it up on the screen, and send the probes over.”

The shape that appeared on the screen was largely that of an asteroid.  However, a filter quickly brought the shape of the downed wreckage into view.  The vessel – definitely a Starfleet ship – had clearly been part of the battle, with evidence of carbon scoring across the hull, multiple hull breaches, and several areas where entire sections of the hull had been blown away.  One of the nacelles had broken off completely, and the other was broken in half, possibly occurring when the wreck impacted on the asteroid.  There also appeared to be more recent damage, particularly in what may have been the engineering section; K’lev frowned at this evidence of illegal salvage.

The ship had gone down upright, at least relative of its landing on the asteroid.  What appeared to be escape pod hatch covers were open, indicating that at least some of the crew had survived to evacuate.  But as Chief Bong had noted, the asteroid had protected her from at least some of the stellar radiation, so portions of her paint job were still intact.  What could be seen, notably across the starboard side of the saucer, was only a few letters and numbers, but they were enough: -SS -h—z-o- on the first row in larger letters, and NC- – -2-7 on the second row in smaller characters, within a red band.

The bridge was dead silent, save for the periodic chirp of consoles.  K’lev eventually broke the silence as he turned to Lotharys.  “NCC-1227, USS Shenzhou,” he said in a solemn voice.

She nodded, checking her chronometer and updating the log.  “Include that she’s showing evidence of more recent damage.  Could be unauthorized salvage,” K’lev added, then turned to Chief Bong.  “Run the probes; let’s map her.”

It took 2 hours to map the downed Shenzhou.  As Culver City moved on, her probes ranged out again to widen her gaze.  Around 4 hours after leaving the Shenzhou, K’lev was roused from a much-needed nap in his ready room – he was too wired to leave the proximity of the bridge, but needed some sleep, so a nap in the ready room was a compromise between himself and Lieutenant Hilava in sickbay – and summoned back to the bridge.

“What is it?” he asked, tunic still half-open as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“One of the probes detected a vessel entering the system; she seems to be a cargo ship, definitely non-Starfleet,” said Lotharys as she resumed her station; K’lev had sent his entire senior staff to their cabins for rest after the prolonged shift, but they were now rotating back onto the bridge as summoned by their reliefs.  “I could be wrong, but she seems to be outfitted for salvage work.”  Lotharys looked at K’lev.

The Orion nodded, closing up his tunic.  “Well, they can’t have anything here.  Have the probes hold station for now, out of our way.  Tyrisa, take us to Yellow Alert, raise shields, and stand by on phasers and photon torpedoes.  Ari, intercept course; thrusters only until we’re clear enough of the wreckage to go faster, then increase to full impulse.  Put us between that ship and the debris field as best you can.  Chief Bong, hail that ship.”

The ship became a flurry of activity as she went to battle stations; while California-class ships were not designed to fight, a salvage ship shouldn’t be too much trouble, in theory at least.  After a few moments, the viewscreen shifted as the inbound ship answered the hail.  “What do you want?” asked the ship’s captain, a female Caitian.

“Unidentified vessel, this is Captain Varyn K’lev of the USS Culver City.  You are approaching a battle site that contains the wreckage of several Starfleet vessels.  Salvage of this debris is prohibited under both Federation law and Starfleet regulations.  Please state your intentions; if you mean to scavenge this field, please depart the system.”

“We’ve been working this system for weeks now; the salvage is ours, Starfleet.  Now go away.”  The salvage ship kept coming on, raising its shields and powering a single light disruptor turret.

K’lev scowled.  “I’m not a violent man, but I do take a dim view of illegal salvage, and especially when it’s plundering graves.  So this is the last time I will ask you this politely: please stop your engines, lower your shields, shut down your weapons, and prepare to be boarded.”

The salvagers responded with disruptor fire; Culver City rocked, but her shields held.  “Evasive pattern Sigma-2.  Charge phasers and load torpedoes.  When ready, return fire, phasers only for now; target engines and shields first,” K’lev ordered.

Phaser fire lanced out from the Culver City as she heeled to port and dove, phaser fire lancing out after her arrays finished charging.  The amber beams – one from her forward dorsal array and one from her aft array, unmasked by the dive – impacted near the nacelles and shield generators respectively of the modified cargo ship, which shivered and fired again.  The two ships danced for a handful of minutes, each scoring hits on the other before a phaser beam from Culver City punched through the salvager’s weakened shields and breached one of its nacelles.

The female Caitian, now bloodied and with flames visible behind her, appeared on Culver City’s viewscreen.  “Enough!  If you want this field, fine; just let us go.”

Her tone was proud and confrontational still, but her eyes betrayed the truth; her ship was outmatched, and at the mercy of the Culver City.  This was not lost on Lieutenant K’lev.  “Unfortunately, you’ve fired on a Starfleet ship.  Stop your engines, power down your weapons, and prepare to be boarded,” he said.

The Caitian captain growled in frustration.  “Fine,” she said, shoulders slumping, then closed the connection.  Lieutenant sh’Livo nodded.  “They’ve stopped, and are powering down their weapons.”

K’lev nodded, then turned to Chief Bong.  “Gather a boarding party; arrest them all, and download their logs and databases.  I want to know what wrecks they’ve salvaged and who they sold to.”

Over the next 30 minutes or so, the boarding party from the Culver City beamed over to the salvage ship and transported back with its crew, taking them to the brig.  The ship’s damaged nacelle was capped, stopping its plasma leak, and Culver City, now secured from Red Alert, took it in tow.  K’lev looked to Lieutenant Lotharys and Chief Bong.  “Have we completed our survey?” he asked.

They both nodded.  “Yes, sir.  The report is ready to file,” Chief Bong answered, speaking for both.

K’lev took his seat.  “Very well.  Chief, hail Starbase 86 on audio.”

After a moment, a voice came over the bridge speakers: “This is Starbase 86.”

K’lev spoke.  “Starbase 86, this is Culver City.  We’ve completed our survey of the battle site, and are preparing to return; transmitting our report now.” He nodded to Lotharys, who initialized the transmission.  “If I may, I would suggest transmitting a copy of this report to the Klingons, since we found at least parts of several of their ships, too.  We also ran into an unauthorized salvage ship that decided to play rough, so we will have a ship in tow, and there are prisoners in our brig.”

“Understood.  Report received, and we’ll see you soon.  Starbase 86 out.”  The channel closed.

K’lev stood.  “Just one last thing to do….”  He stood, tone and posture solemn.    “Lieutenant Phillips, all stop, if you please.”  He then keyed the intercom as Culver City glided to a stop in space.

“All hands, this is Captain K’lev.  We have completed our survey of the combat area of the Battle of the Binary Stars.  We have confirmed the final resting places of the Federation starships Europa, Shenzhou, Ride, and Shran, along with at least sections of 5 major Klingon wrecks.  This battle cost thousands of lives, between our Starfleet forebears and brave soldiers of the Klingon Empire.  As we prepare to depart this system, let us take a moment of silence to remember the lives, of both Federation and Klingon citizens alike, cut short not only during the Battle of the Binary Stars but also during the Federation-Klingon War.  All hands, honor the fallen.”

The ship floated stationary, all aboard silent for a full minute, save for the chirp of consoles and the sound of the ship’s artificial bell pealing out a solemn ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding.  The echoes of the bell’s final rings had faded before K’lev spoke again.  “Thank you, everyone.  Bridge out.”  He closed the intercom channel, then took his seat.  “Take us back to Starbase 86, Ari.  Warp factor 5.”

“Course laid in, sir,” replied Phillips.

“Let’s roll,” came the reply, and on the word of her commanding officer USS Culver City, captured salvage ship in tow, went to warp.