The Hathaway’s bridge was a scene of controlled chaos as Captain Nazir, still nursing her injured shoulder, made her way to the command chair. Her team of survivors from the messhall had encountered no resistance as they navigated the corridors, finding to their amazement that all across the ship assimilated crewmembers had reverted back to their pre-assimilation selves. It was a development that left them all with a mix of relief and confusion.

Together with Lieutenant Commander Teyahna, Lieutenant Or’uil, and other members of the crew, they quickly assessed the status of the ship’s systems. Control had been returned to the Starfleet crew, and the ship was now laying dormant but active, awaiting their orders.

Lieutenant Or’uil, the Ungeat, worked diligently at the communications console, trying to establish contact with Starfleet and provide an update on their situation. His long, gangly fingers danced across the interface, his bulbous eyes focused and determined.

Meanwhile, Teyahna sat at the science station, her sharp mind processing data from the ship’s sensors. She needed to ascertain the extent of the losses they had suffered during the Borg attack. It was not making pleasant reading.

As Or’uil worked, a message indicator on the main viewscreen caught his attention. He alerted Captain Nazir, who gave the order to open the channel. The screen flickered to life, and they were greeted by a rather familiar face serving as the commanding officer of the USS Arimathea.

“Captain Nazir,” Kauhn’s voice came through clearly, “we are closing in on your location and will be able to provide assistance shortly.”

“Captain Kauhn,” Nazir’s weary face brightened at the sight of her former subordinate. “Thank you, Commander. We’ll be grateful for any help you can offer,” she replied.

Kauhn nodded, his expression serious. “Before we arrive, there’s someone here that belongs to you,” he said cryptically. “I think you’ll want to see them.”

Confused, Nazir exchanged a glance with Teyahna and the others on the bridge. The screen flickered again, and to her surprise, Commander Noli appeared on the viewscreen.

“Noli!” Nazir exclaimed, her heart soaring with relief. “Thank your Prophets!”

Noli’s face broke into a grin. “Yes, Captain,” she replied. “Thanks to the timely intervention of the Arimathea, not the Prophets this time.”

Nazir couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s good to see you well, Commander,” she said warmly. “We were worried about you.”

Noli’s expression turned serious. “I was worried about all of you too,” she said. “I’m glad to see that you’re all safe.”

Nazir nodded, her heart filled with gratitude for the friendship and loyalty of her crew, both at home and away. “We’ve been through quite an ordeal,” she said, “but we’re still standing.”

Kauhn nodded. “We’ll be there soon,” he said. “Hang tight.”

Nazir smiled, feeling a sense of camaraderie and unity with the crew of the Arimathea swiftly permeating the bridge and drawing smiles among those relieved by the support. “Thank you, Captain,” she said sincerely. “Your assistance means more than you know.”

As the transmission ended, Nazir turned to her team on the bridge. “Prepare for Arimathea‘s arrival,” she instructed. “We’ll need to coordinate our efforts to get the Hathaway back to Avalon for repairs.”

The crew sprang into action, working together with renewed determination and hope. The knowledge that they were not alone, that they had allies coming to their aid, giving them the strength to keep going. Strange to think of what had happened to them in the space of one short day. And they were not alone. News of similar tragedies happening across the Federation soon filtered through and brought the stark reality of their situation to their doorstep.

Captain’s Log, Supplemental.

 

Frontier Day was supposed to be a celebration of unity and progress but has instead left a haunting toll that echoes across the expanse of the Federation. The joy that many felt on the eve of this momentous occasion has yielded to the sombre melody of mourning, the death toll standing as a grim testament to the devastation wrought by unforeseen circumstances. Reports from various sectors paint a harrowing picture – hundreds of thousands of lives lost, scattering the weight of grief across countless worlds. The promise of Fleet Formation mode, a concept intended to fortify our defences, has instead opened an unexpected conduit for our adversaries to infiltrate and assimilate numerous starships, along with their courageous crews.

 

The aftermath is a panorama of chaos and ruin. The proud bastion that was Spacedock lies in ruins, its halls bearing witness to the fierce battle that unfolded. The venerable USS Enterprise, the very emblem of our Federation’s spirit, now rests among the stars as a poignant reminder of the sacrifices endured. As much of the fleet lies ravaged and broken, Earth itself teetered on the brink of calamity. Thanks to the intervention of the crew of the USS Titan at the eleventh hour, Earth was saved from what could have been a devastating fate, an act of heroism for which the valorous Titan crew have the eternal gratitude of so many.

 

Hathaway stands as a testament to both courage and misfortune. Our ship, like many others, bears the scars of conflict. We navigate the starry expanse towards Avalon Fleet Yards at a cautious pace, its destination shared by others of the Fourth Fleet, battered yet resolute in the face of adversity. The comforting presence of the Arimathea and the Venture alongside us in close formation reminds us that, while we are diminished, our strength lies in unity.

 

In a turn of events that is both bittersweet and daunting, I have been honoured with an appointment by Task Force Command. The title of Fleet Captain carries with it a new responsibility, one that I embrace amidst the turbulence of tragedy. Hathaway and the Arimathea shall constitute a new squadron under my command, a mantle that brings both pride and sorrow. It is a leadership role borne from necessity, a call to action that underscores the unbreakable spirit of Starfleet, even in the face of despair.

 

The magnitude of the catastrophe has exacted a heavy toll upon the Hathaway. Our ship mourns the loss of many cherished individuals, their memory woven into the fabric of our shared experiences. Among the fallen are Lieutenant Varru, the steadfast deputy of the Hellhounds Starfighter squadron, Ensign Teanne Udraa, a promising Assistant Flight Operations Officer, and Counsellor Chiera, a compassionate guide to the crew’s well-being. Their loss ways far heavier than that of Commander Bachmann, a foil to many aboard the ship, but someone who gave his life in the service of Starfleet nonetheless. Their absence, like many, leaves an ache that cannot be quantified.

 

The wounded survivors bear both physical and emotional scars, a testament to the agony they endured. Some 32 souls have been tragically lost, and nearly two hundred others have been touched by injury. We stand united in the knowledge that these wounds will heal in time, but the echoes of trauma will linger long after the scars have faded. Our hearts are heavy, but our resolve remains steadfast. We will never cower in the face of danger, nor give in to terror.

 

In this most solemn hour, as we join our fellow beings in mourning the fallen, I am reminded of something my mentor once said; there is solace to be found in the unassailable truth that Starfleet’s finest continually confront the perils that seek to extinguish our light and live to fight another day. Our sacrifices, and our resilience, have blunted the edge of malevolent intent yet again, and as we stand upon the precipice of restoration, let us remember that the indomitable spirit of the Federation prevails.

 

Even in the darkest of times…

Captain Keziah Nazir sat alone in the dimly lit observation lounge aboard Hathaway, PADDs displaying reports and status updates scattered across the table in front of her. Outside, the lights of Avalon Fleet Yards glittered against the inky canvas of space, a stark reminder of the repairs her ship had been undergoing for the past three months. Repairs had been much slower across the fleet given the sheer volume of starships needing spare parts, replacement equipment and yard engineers to do the jobs the ship’s own engineering personnel couldn’t.

With a sigh, she rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of exhaustion and responsibility pressing down upon her weary shoulders. The aftermath of the devastating Frontier Day had left its mark on both the ship and its crew. Despite the progress in repairs, there were still many weeks to go before the ship would be fully operational again, and the crew were already growing restless.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t immediately notice the door to the observation lounge sliding open. Only when a shadow fell across the scattered PADDs did she glance up, her expression shifting from contemplative to curious at the arrival of her visitor.

Commander Noli stood at the entrance, her usually composed features etched with uncharacteristic seriousness. Nazir straightened in her seat, her concern deepening at the sight of her trusted executive officer’s demeanour.

“Noli, is something wrong?” Nazir asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Noli hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on Nazir. “Captain,” she began slowly, “there’s something you need to know.”

Nazir’s heart quickened at the grave tone in Noli’s voice. She leaned forward, her attention fully focused on her XO. “What is it, Commander?”

Noli stepped further into the observation lounge, her expression betraying a mixture of reluctance and urgency. “Task Force Command has sent new orders,” she said, her voice measured. “Orders that will affect the entire command crew.”

Nazir’s brows furrowed in confusion. She wasn’t accustomed to receiving orders that would directly affect her crew. “What kind of orders?” she inquired, her mind racing to consider the possibilities.

Noli’s gaze didn’t waver as she spoke. “Orders that might take us away from Hathaway,” she revealed, her words hanging in the air like a heavy curtain.

The Captain’s heart seemed to skip a beat. Away from the Hathaway? Away from the flagship of the squadron she had just been given command over? The ship that had become a second home to her and her crew, the place where they had faced insurmountable challenges and stood united against the darkest odds? It was inconceivable.

As the two women locked eyes, the weight of the decision ahead hung in the air. The fate of the Hathaway and its crew rested on Nazir’s shoulders, and the impending orders held the promise of a new chapter, one that was both uncertain and full of potential.

“You best take a seat, Commander…”