The Fearless was finally at warp travel, locked on the last known coordinates of the frigate filled with contraband and trafficked sentient beings from across the sector.  Ed had been fooled; not once, not twice, but three times by the enigmatic so called ‘vigilante’ group known as the “Unsung Seven”.  Famed as heroes in the Noophar system, their aid and ingenuity had been invaluable in Fearless’ humanitarian aid in surrounding sectors.  Self-identified vigilante’s they appeared to stand for justice and order and their identification of illicit activities and syndicate organizations in that region of space supported their stories.  However, that story quickly turned myth after phasers and other stored Federation technology “magically disappeared” from the Fearless’ cargo hold.

Thirty minute after the heist, ten minutes after identifying the trojan coding, a systematic ship wide failure occurred.  One by one, ships systems began to fall offline, beginning with minor tertiary and secondary systems to distract Fearless’ crew.  Spread thin and lost in differential diagnosis, Fearless was paralyzed and adrift after dropping out of warp speed.  Ed had been duped and his pried strategically sabotaged.  It wasn’t the first time he had been burned for giving benefit of doubt; he took some solace that his First Officer, a Betazoid, did not empathically detect their duplicitous intentions.  Ed scowled at the view screen, eyes devoid to empathy and positive regard.  The ‘Unsung Seven’ would be stopped.  It was mission priority.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Junior Grade Zemeke announced, “receiving priority updates intelligence buoy on current status of ion storm activity in the sector; patching through to your stations now”.  She had served under Captain Langston long enough to know that targeted look; like tactical sensors guiding torpedoes to their target.

He knew there was not much he could hide from his crew, especially those who served regularly on bridge duty.  He no longer hid his feelings or sentiments as he often did for junior members of the crew on new rotation.  “Thank you Lieutenant,” he nodded in affirmation as he switched the upgraded holographic emitter display before him.  He scanned the holographic lettering picking out key words of most importance.  From what he was able to summarize, the effects of the storm were far more catastrophic than had been expected.  The reports and updates he had been privy too did not justice to the relayed information presented here now.  The last bit of information referenced a fleet wide communication calling all able vessels to assist in restoration and aide within the sector.

Stationed at the Strategic Operations station just off the starboard quarter, he could feel the aggressive tension seething from the Captain’s char.  Commander Avezun, Ed’s true friend and confidant, was certain he was not the only one feeling it.  He too sat quietly reviewing the buoy’s reports, noticing the line regarding an all fleet communique which was supposed to have arrived when the Fearless was dead in the water with communications down.  He leaned back with disappointed concern, he felt primarily responsible for not catching the ‘quick one’ the syndicate (as far as he was concerned) pulled on them in Transit.  In true Betazoid tradition, he reached out in empathic telepathy speaking directly to Ed.

Hey man, we’re not late to the party if we just got the invite, Commander stated in humorous tones.  However, it was apparent Ed did not agree by the lack of response or acknowledgement.  Look, we’re here now…and I know we’ll do a lot of good.  We’re the heroes that come in last and leave the world a better place than those who go in first guns ablazin.  Once again there was no response.  He knew full well Ed would be stuck in this rut till all was made right.

“We have arrived at the coordinates Captain,” Zemke announced once more.

Ed nodded in affirmation once again.  The viewscreen was full of empty space and twinkling lights, no frigate to be found.  He knew it was too much to expect Karma to have stricken the frigate with a personalized ion storm, but he would have given so much to have seen some twisted vision of these ‘unsung villians’ aimlessly floating in space waiting for the Fearless to tractor them in toe.

“Nothing on sensors,” called another voice from science station.

“The warp trail has either dissipated quickly, or they have found a way to mask their trajectory” called another young feminine voice at tactical.

“Captain,” growled a young Catian called, “Communications are being inundated with urgent requests for assistance.  I am having a difficult time sorting through without computer assistance”.

“Share the wealth Ensign,” Ed replied with dutifully cold candor, “prioritize urgent distress calls and life or death situations”.

Communication messages began scrolling across holographic screens across the bridge including his own.  The bridge was silent except for the hushed whispering voices of officers mumbling key words to themselves.  There was an abundance of need and terror in the sector, especially with a new band of brigands seeking opportunity under guise of vigilante supporters.  Their presence in this sector would only make Federation efforts harder.

“Commander, get Comms squared away ASAP.  We’re not going to be much help out here if we can figure out who, what, where, and when things are happening out here”.

“I’ll get right on it Captain”.

There was little commotion on the bridge all eyes glued to screens, reviewing messages that never made it to the Fearless.  The first officer made haste to the nearest turbolift while Captain Langston retreated to the comfort of his Ready Room leaving Lieutenant Zemke in charge.  Their orders were to hold tight until all messages were prioritized.  Ed feared this was simply the calm before the storm.