“In the black body of heaven’s keep, in the space that is the beauty of the universe, among the stars that shine so bright, we travel ever onward…”

Exploration. The desire to surge forth into the unknown and pursue wonderful discoveries that await. Exploring the cosmos was the founding principle of the United Federation of Planets, something every cadet to have ever passed through the hallowed halls of Starfleet Academy craved for, and a dream turned to reality for every Starfleet officer travelling the heavens. To see the beauty of the universe among those distant stars for the very first time was the highlight of Captain Gor’s career all those years ago, and everything he would chase now as master and commander of the Hathaway. It was his purpose now, to travel ever onward in search of new wonders in the same way that Captain sh’Elas had done aboard the Ulysses.

That was then; this was now. This was his time. People would laugh when he spoke of his deep connection with space, but he would swear, even now on the bridge of his ship, that he could feel the shifting winds drifting through the cosmos. The universe had begun to change course, and they would be forced to change with it. The Century Storm; the emergence of Blood Dilithium; the sudden exacerbation of phenomena in the Typhon Expanse. Something was stirring out among the stars. It felt like a different future was coming, a better one that the galaxy would have had if there had been no war or conflict.

His grandfather had once said, “What we do builds on the goodness our ancestors left as their legacy.” And it was with an ever greater sense of determination to bring about a better world for this and future generations that he would travel the stars. In search of the unknown, the Undiscovered Country.

‘BEE BEE BEEP, BEE BEE BEEP.’

A shrill sound from somewhere to his right drew the Captain from his daydream among the stars and back to the harsh reality of commanding a starship.

‘BEE BEE BEEP, BEE BEE BEEP.’

There it was again, only this time he was able to pinpoint where it was coming from. Planting his feet to turn his chair slightly to starboard, the Tellarite locked eyes with the Klingon-Terran hybrid at tactical.

“We appear to be picking up a distress call,” the relief tactical officer informed him, her eyes moving back to her panel.

Inching forward, Vasoch subconsciously crept to the edge of his seat, hands still gripped on the armrests. His first distress call.

“Origin?”

To his left, Akaria had already begun trying to pinpoint the exact location from where the distress call had emanated. “It would appear to be a bearing of two-five-seven mark three-six,” the science lead told, looking across the command center to the tactical officer who had first detected the transmission.

Mayr nodded in thanks to the science chief. “That’s confirmed,” the Lieutenant agreed.

“Henry,” Vasoch called out, using his hands to propel himself out of the command chair and towards the tactical station. “Lieutenant, recall the senior staff.”

“Adjusting course,” Lieutenant Mitchell confirmed, already anticipating the instruction of the Captain. From the second the word ‘distress’ had been uttered, there had been no doubt in anyone’s mind that the commanding officer would seek to render aid. That was just who he was. 

“It’s an M-class planetoid in a blue dwarf system approximately three lightyears away,” the tactician told the stout man, who stood on the opposite side of her console, looking down at the CONN.

Tapping his commbadge, the Captain opened a channel to main engineering. “Bridge to engineering,” he barked.

“Engineering here Captain,” the familiar, ethereal voice of Lieutenant Prida filled the bridge.

“We’ve detected a distress call, Lieutenant. I’m going to need everything you can give me,” the Tellarite told, nodding towards Henry at the CONN.

“Aye sir,” Prida responded, “I can give you up to warp nine point nine-five, but that’s pushing the envelope. I’ll monitor from here,” the Bajassian concluded.

Without any further instruction, Henry turned back to the CONN and increased the ship’s speed to the maximum he could take it. The sudden vibration of the hull no doubt a signal to those across the ship that something was going on.

“See to it, Lieutenant. Gor out,” the Captain acknowledged, then terminated the channel.

“I have the distress call on audio Captain,” Akaria interjected now, “but I’m having trouble with the universal translator. It’s not liking something,” she frowned, eyes never leaving her control pane.

“Play it anyway,” Vasoch instructed, walking away from tactical and standing in front of his command chair, instinctively looking towards the main viewer at the front of the bridge.

Once the call began to play out, the crew were mesmerised by the sultry voice; the tone, the inflexions.

“यः कश्चित् एषः सन्देशः प्राप्नोति तस्मै। अस्माकं साहाय्यं कुरुत। अस्माकं जनाः अपहृत्य दासत्वेन विक्रीयन्ते। केवलं तान् उद्धारयितुं अस्माकं साधनं नास्ति। कृपया। अस्माकं साहाय्यं कुरुत।”

“Well, she doesn’t exactly sound in distress,” flyboy quipped, spinning in his chair to look towards the tactical station. “Are you sure it said a distress call?”

“I know a distress call when I see one Lieutenant,” the tactician scowled.

“And she’s right,” a high-pitched voice emerged from the aft turbolift. Leading Commanders Kauhn and Noli onto the bridge was a tall Andorian in science division blue. Lieutenant Pamao Zh’ito, the head linguist in the division, crossed over to her department head’s station waving a data PADD.

Mayr folded her arms across her chest and shot an ‘I told you so’ look at the flyboy.

“I took the liberty of listening to the call as it came in,” she revealed, looking across at the Captain, “and I couldn’t help but notice that it sounded very similar to the early language of the Trill people. I managed to isolate the algorithms where we were having problems,” she smiled, placing the data PADD on the surface of Akaria’s console.

“If I can use these settings to make an adjustment to the universal translator…” the Risian trailed off as she got to work.

Whilst she was distracted, Noli proceeded to get a debrief from her assistant, but rather than take over, the Bajoran simply stood beside her colleague with baited breath. Giarvar, meanwhile, had been getting his own rundown from the Captain in the center of the command pit.

“Got it,” Akaria called out, high-fiving her subordinate as the two waited to hear the message from the heavens.

“Play it,” Vasoch instructed, lowering himself into the command chair and bracing himself for the message to be played again.

To anyone who gets this message,” the voice called out in Federation standard, and just as beautiful as before. “Help us, please. Our people are being abducted and sold into slavery. We have no means to rescue them alone. Please. Help us.”

Once the communication ended, Vasoch looked at Henry. “Sounds like a distress call to me,” he scowled at the youngster, in a way that drew a silent look of appreciation from the tactical officer who had been questioned on her abilities.

“Good work Lieutenant Zh’ito,” Commander Kauhn smiled at the Andorian next to Okan. “Why don’t you stick around?” he asked, “just in case.”

Nodding at the suggestion from the XO, Pamao took over one of the stations behind her chief, and waited for more to come in.

“Mayr; keep trying to reach whoever that is. Noli, get Tuca up here. I want to talk with him,” Vasoch instructed his tactical officers, “Akaria, I want to know as much as possible about this region before we get to the planet.”

Sliding back into the comfortable embrace of his chair, the Captain felt something come over him. It was a strange sensation, something he hadn’t felt for quite some time.

A sense of being at peace once again. Back where he belonged, on the bridge of a starship, he was once more at peace.

(Opening quote by Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, March 21, 2021).