For those lucky few transferring to Buran, the experience was a relative dream. No such dramas as experienced elsewhere thanks to the ship’s recent shakedown cruise being well out of range of the Jupiter signal. Frontier Day had, thank the prophets, skipped the Rhode Island-class starship by, and that filled the ship’s new commander with great relief.

Captain Romaes Anjin had been aboard the scout vessel for the last hour or so, gradually getting acquainted with ship, crew and personal workspaces. With her recent refit completed, Buran was in the best possible shape for their upcoming missions (whatever they proved to be). He’d spent the last twenty minutes or so going over the personnel manifest for his nearly 100-strong crew. Whilst much of the ship’s crew below decks would remain the same, the only member of her team to remain from the previous command team was her engineer, a human by the name of Zhou Yun. Replacing almost the entire senior staff had proven quite difficult, but some negotiating and deal-making between the commanders of the squadron finally yielded results, results that meant he felt lucky to be receiving such an experienced bunch of replacements.

Enticing certain officers to join them was no mean feat considering the fact that the ship’s main focus would undoubtedly take her far from the action most officers craved these days. Ensign Brak Qiraro was relatively inexperienced, but his Hathaway colleagues Commander Zinn and Lieutenant Pamao Zh’ito provided the sciences division with considerable knowledge and field experience. From the Arimathea, he’d snaffled the experienced Lieutenant Illiana Duran, who would look after the mental health of his small crew. His biggest coup had been in calling in every favour he had left and securing the transfer of his Bajoran compatriot, Lt. Commander Peri Anya, who had been serving as Director of Promenade Security on Starbase Bravo. Luckily, she’d been at a conference on Brahms and had been enticed at the prospect of getting out among the stars once again.

Perhaps the most intriguing appointment was the one command had made for him. His new first officer was a complicated woman with quite some history to her. Tharia sh’Elas had been the first officer aboard the Santa Fe under the command of Sebastian Farrell over a year ago before moving on to better things, such as command of the Temeraire and the Ulysses.

At least that was what the official records stated.

Unofficially, and truthfully, the past few months had been significantly worse. In truth, the poor woman had been held captive by Changeling infiltrators for months, ever since she had been part of an away team during the Century Storm crisis, and until the Hathaway crew had come across intelligence that led to her rescue. Captain sh’Elas had never existed, never making the leap to a command of her own. After weeks of recuperating at Avalon, and going through intensive counselling sessions, the Andorian had been cleared for a return to duty under the care of the ship’s counselling team. On the surface, Romaes was more than happy to give the woman a chance to rebuild her career, but beneath the surface, he had reservations for sure. For now, he had no alternative and no choice. At least she would have a lot to keep her focused, as she’d be carrying out the additional responsibilities as head of the flight operations department aboard the ship.

He was in the middle of reading the latest report regarding the Commander’s Counselling sessions when the internal communications array called out to him. “Captain Romaes to the bridge,” the heavenly voice penetrated his ears, calling to him like a siren upon the ocean. Rising from his chair, the Bajoran made the short journey out to the bridge, appearing from the starboard entrance.

The command centre was dimly lit, with the room mostly operating on reduced power due to their attachment to the dockyard’s power supply. After all, why waste their own supplies when they weren’t going anywhere? The room was quiet, with two figures huddled over the tactical operations station on the port bulkhead. Even in the poor light, he could make out the two other members of his command triumvirate. Commander Peri, seated at the station, was tapping furiously, whilst the XO stood over her, watching her every move.

“Ladies,” he called to the two, crossing the bridge only far enough to stand beside his new, incredibly comfortable, command chair that stood isolated at the heart of the command centre. Placing a gentle hand on the headrest, he absentmindedly caressed the leather material.

At the sound of the Captain’s voice, Tharia pushed herself off of the console and turned to look at Romaes whilst their Bajoran tactical chief continued about her business. “Captain,” Tharia nodded to her superior, “we’ve been sent something rather curious…” her voice trailed off as she turned back to Peri.

“Sent something curious?” That alone was enough to pique the Bajoran’s curiosity, but he had another question anyway. “By who?”

“An unknown source,” Peri piped up, finally turning to look at Buran’s commander. “It’s peculiar for a number of reasons, not least the fact that it was sent directly to each ship in the squadron. Not to anyone, in particular, mind, but to the squadron, and only the squadron,” the younger Bajoran looked perplexed at the thought of what she had read. “It’s a data file. It was encrypted but a simple algorithm solved that problem,” she continued, glancing up at the Andorian hopefully.

Folding her arms across her chest, Tharia took her cue. “It’s a set of co-ordinates and a simple instruction,” she told, and was then passed a data PADD from her tactical colleague, and in turn passed it to the Captain to read.

Taking ownership of the PADD, Romaes lowered himself into the command chair and used his planted right foot to turn in their direction. When he read the simple contents he could understand Peri’s confusion. “Find him?” He asked, “find who?”

Both women shrugged their shoulders in a passive response that almost drew the man’s ire, until he was able to compose himself.

“Get me the flagship,” Romaes instructed as he rose from his seat again, “perhaps Nazir can shed some light on matters…”

“I haven’t a bloody clue…”

Romaes shuffled uncomfortably in the leather chair positioned behind his desk, bristling at the admission from the squadron leader regarding her own lack of understanding about the data file. “My people have worked out that the coordinates are somewhere along the Gorn-Federation border,” he revealed when comfortable.

“We’ve learned the same,” Nazir nodded on the screen. “The last vessel in the area was Venture a few months ago. According to our strategic operations officer, it’s possible it could be a member of the crew of the USS Scarborough, which went missing over six months ago.”

Sitting back, Romaes puffed out his chest and let out a deep breath. “Buran’s probably the most able ship to investigate,” he advised hopefully, “and we could be there in a matter of days.” Fleet Captain Nazir looked a little uneasy, probably at the thought of sending the squadron’s scout ship to a potentially dangerous area. “This is what Buran is made for, Keziah. We’ll go in, scout the area, and call the big boys if we need you. But we’ve got to investigate,” Romaes did his best to plead his case while trying to assuage the concerns of his superior.

Reluctantly, Keziah conceded the point and nodded in agreement. “Very well. Head off when you’re ready and keep us updated. Osiris will be ready to go in two days if you need support, and I can have Lakota ready in three. If you need us, call us,” she instructed him, a glare that indicated she was more than serious about the danger the situation potentially posed to her group as a whole, let alone the Buran itself.

“Understood,” Romaes nodded.

“Fair winds Captain,” Nazir smiled, nodding at her colleague before disappearing from her counterpart’s computer screen.

Swinging in his chair ever so gently from port to starboard and back again, all while leaning his right elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbing his chin, the master and commander of the Buran couldn’t help but let his mind wander. He’d been sending people on missions for over a year now, sending them into dangerous, potentially life-threatening situations; it felt so long since he had been sent on one himself, and now he found himself volunteering to take his little scout along the increasingly dangerous Gorn border. He was trying his best to heed the words of Counsellor Ryke Ashfield. Perhaps something they would discover or achieve on this small science vessel of theirs would make a difference after all.

It would all depend on what awaited them at the coordinates they had been sent.

Or who.