The Relic’s Wake

Posted on Mon Feb 16th, 2026 @ 4:49am by Commodore Kovich
Edited on on Fri Mar 13th, 2026 @ 1:36am

4,555 words; about a 23 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Bridge, U.S.S. Sulaco
Timeline: 3190-08-29

The Azure Nebula was a swirling masterpiece of chaos, a thick, neon-blue expanse of ionized gas and high-density sirillium that made conventional Long-Range Sensors almost useless. For most ships, it was a navigational nightmare, but for the U.S.S. Sulaco it was the perfect playground.

Inside the Bridge’s command tier, the atmosphere was thick with the sterile hum of cutting-edge tech and the low, rhythmic vibration of the spinning saucer rings. Captain Ridan Tua sat in the center chair, his expression unreadable. He wasn't just watching the viewscreen; through the Tua symbiont, he was comparing the sensor ghosts of 3189 to the star charts he remembered from a lifetime ago.

"The 'computational friction' is rising, Captain," Lieutenant Jiro M’Ba reported from the Flight/Ops console. His hands moved with a fluid grace, constantly adjusting the ship’s pitch to compensate for the nebula’s gravitational eddies. "The 2nd-Gen drive is pulling hard. It’s like trying to steer a lightning bolt through a swamp."

"Keep your hands steady, Lieutenant," Tua said calmly. "That friction is exactly why we're here."

At the rear of the Bridge, Commodore Kovich stood perfectly still. He was a stark contrast to the vibrant, holographic displays around him because he was a man out of time. The Commodore didn't wear the traditional accoutrements of a Starfleet Commodore, instead he wore a pressed gray suit and sharp glasses. He was a man who looked like he belonged in a quiet library with his books rather than on the Bridge of a prototype starship.

"Doctor Tarka," Kovich’s voice was dry, cutting through the Bridge's ambient noise. "I see the mycelial cavitation is holding at 4.2 percent. Is that a result of your superior mathematics, or is the ship simply being stubborn?"

Ruon Tarka didn't look away as he leaned over a holographic projection, his energy manifesting as a series of frantic, precise gestures. "It’s called 'harmonic resonance,' Commodore. If the ship were being stubborn, we’d have been smeared across subspace five light-years ago. Galatea, show the Commodore the stability curve."

Galatea’s holographic avatar flickered into existence near the command chair. She appeared as a sharp, elegantly dressed woman, though her eyes occasionally trailed code. "The Positronic Matrix is currently processing three trillion variables per second to maintain our 'Ghost' state, Commodore," she reported. "The AIMS core is performing within a 0.003% margin of Doctor Tarka’s projections."

"I’m more interested in the hull, Doctor," Commander Karys interrupted from the Engineering station. Her Denobulan brow was furrowed as she monitored the structural integrity fields. "The 750-meter frame is taking a lot of torque. Those superconducting magnetic seals on the nacelles are drawing 15% more power than they should be just to stay locked."

"Innovation isn't comfortable, Commander," Tarka snapped back, though there was a hint of a smirk on his face. "If you wanted a comfortable ride, you should have stayed on a Merian Class."

"Focus, everyone," Tua interjected, his voice quiet but commanding. "We are here to prove the new Crossfield can operate where Starfleet is currently blind. Commander Nol, status on the predictive arrays?"

The Ferengi Science Officer adjusted his oversized headset, his eyes darting across a screen of quantum probability charts. "The arrays are feasting on the nebula's interference, Captain! We’re mapping the Azure core with 98% more accuracy than the last scout mission. If we find so much as a stray comet in this soup, we'll see it before it even knows we're here."

The Sulaco glided deeper into the blue mists, its detached nacelles glowing with a faint, violet hue. To any outside observer, the ship would appear as a shimmering phantom, a "Ghost Ship" appearing and disappearing in the folds of space.

"We’ll complete this sweep of the sector, then prepare for a long-range jump to the Kavis Alpha system," Tua announced, leaning back. "Let's see if we can break Discovery's speed records without breaking my ship."

Kovich watched the viewscreen, his eyes narrowing slightly as he checked his personal holo-PADD. "Efficiency is noted, Captain. But do not let the silence of the nebula bore you. In my experience, the universe rarely stays quiet for long."

The quiet aboard the Sulaco was an artificial construct, a thin layer of Starfleet discipline stretched over a core of raw, experimental power. In the Azure Nebula, "quiet" didn't mean silence; it meant the low, sub-audible thrum of the mycelial reaction cube and the occasional hiss of programmable matter adjusting to the ship’s internal temperature. Ridan allowed himself a moment to simply breathe. To his left, Galatea’s holographic form stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the main viewscreen. She wasn't just looking at the nebula; she was "feeling" the data streams, her positronic matrix dancing with the billions of sensors embedded in the ship’s skin.

"It’s peaceful," Galatea remarked, her voice modulated to a soft, conversational tone. "The nebula's particles are colliding with our shields at a frequency that resembles the rainfall on Risa. If I had a tactile interface active, I imagine it would be quite soothing."

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Galatea," Commander Vrax rumbled from the Tactical station. The Cardassian hadn't moved a muscle in twenty minutes, his eyes tracking the long-range sweep. "The more peaceful the sensor ghosts look, the more I worry about what’s hiding behind the refraction."

The quiet was periodically interrupted by the rhythmic click-slide of Doctor Tarka’s diagnostic tools. He was working in a localized silence field, but his frustration was visible in the way he paced the small Engineering area.

Commander Karys interrupted him, "The superconducting seals on Nacelle Alpha are vibrating at three microns out of alignment, Doctor. I’m seeing a power bleed in the primary transfer assembly."

Tarka didn't look up from his holographic schematics. "It’s not a bleed, Commander. It’s an exhale. The drive is shedding excess tachyon buildup. If I tighten those seals now, the pressure will back up into the reaction cube and we’ll have a very loud, very blue explosion."

"And if you don't," Karys countered, her voice low but firm, "the structural torque will warp the pylon. This is a Neo-Crossfield, Doctor, not a toy. I have one hundred and fifty crew members who would prefer to remain in one piece."

From the back of the Bridge, Commodore Kovich watched the exchange. He seemed less interested in the technical data and more in the people. He observed Lieutenant Elara Zale at Communications, who was meticulously cleaning a sub-space filter, and Lieutenant Jiro M’Ba, who was making micro-adjustments to the flight path with the focus of a surgeon.

Kovich leaned toward Tua, speaking in a voice that barely carried past the Captain's Chair. "You have a fascinating crew, Captain. A Denobulan who worries about the bolts, a Risian who worries about the math, and a Trill who remembers when the bolts and the math were simpler. Tell me... do you trust the AI to tell you if the 'rain' turns into a storm?"

Tua didn't turn around. "Galatea is more than just a diagnostic tool, Commodore. She’s the nervous system of this ship. I trust her as much as I trust my own hands."

"A high bar," Kovich noted dryly. "Let’s hope your hands don't shake when the nebula decides to push back."

Outside, the sapphire mists of the Azure Nebula continued to drift past the viewscreen, beautiful and indifferent. For a few more minutes, the Sulaco remained a ghost in the fog, a masterpiece of Federation engineering waiting for a reason to prove itself. The stillness on the Bridge was broken not by a threat, but by the Captain's intent to push the Sulaco to the next phase of its trials.

Captain Tua stood from the Center Seat smoothing the front of his uniform. "We’ve seen enough of the nebula’s nursery slopes. It’s time to see how the 'Ghost' handles a long-range transition. Lieutenant M’Ba, plot a course for the Kavis Alpha sector. Let's see if we can shave off Discovery's time."

"Plotting now, Captain," Lieutenant M’Ba responded, his fingers flying across the programmable matter interface. "Course laid in. Requesting authorization to engage the Drive."

"Commander Karys, take us to Black Alert," Tua ordered.

The Bridge lights shifted instantly to a deep, pulsing violet. The familiar mechanical thrum of the ship intensified as the saucer rings accelerated their counter-rotation, creating the localized subspace cavitation required for the jump.

"Black Alert active," Commander Karys announced from her engineering station. "Superconducting seals are locked. Reaction cube is at 90% viability. We are ready to transition on your mark, Captain."

Doctor Tarka leaned over the railing, his eyes fixed on the spore-density readouts. "Everything is perfectly symmetrical, Ridan. It’s almost boring. Galatea, initiate the spin-up sequence..."

"Wait," Commander Nol interrupted, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. The Ferengi Science Officer was buried in his IMT-C holographic arrays, his ears twitching with sudden, frantic energy. "Captain, cancel the jump! I’m picking up a massive neutrino surge on the edge of the Azure Sector."

Tua’s brow furrowed. "A surge? From what?"

"It’s an explosion," Nol said, his voice dropping an octave as he crunched the data. "But the signature is... wrong. It’s a high-yield antimatter collapse, but there’s a heavy-matter residue mixed in. I’m also seeing a chronometric distortion at the epicenter."

Galatea’s holographic avatar suddenly stiffened. Her eyes, usually a calm blue, began to flicker with rapid lines of gold-tinted code. "Captain, I am processing the sensor telemetry from Commander Nol’s station. The explosion occurred 1.4 light-years away, near the Aethelgard moon. The energy signature matches Emerald Chain disruptor technology, but the secondary blast..."

She paused, her form shimmering as her positronic matrix worked at light speed. "The secondary blast is an exact match for a Federation Warp Core Breach. Specifically, the signature of the U.S.S. Valiant."

Commodore Kovich stepped forward from the shadows, his eyes narrowing behind his spectacles. "The Valiant has been missing for decades, Galatea. Are you suggesting a ghost just blew up in our backyard?"

"I am suggesting a chronometric event," Galatea replied firmly. "And I am detecting a localized distress handshake emerging from the debris cloud. It is broadcasting on a frequency I... I haven't heard in a long time."

Tua looked at the viewscreen, where the peaceful blue of the nebula now felt like a shroud. "M’Ba, scrap the Kavis Alpha jump. New coordinates: the Aethelgard system. We aren't going for a speed record anymore."

"Tarka," Tua looked up at the scientist. "I need that 'Blink' maneuver you’ve been boasting about. We need to be there yesterday."

Tarka’s smirk returned, though it was tighter now. "Finally, a real reason to break the rules. Engineering is ready, Captain. Let’s go find your ghost."

"Black Alert," the Trill's voice was like stone. "Execute."

The Sulaco didn't just move; it folded. Under the guidance of Galatea’s positronic matrix, the ship slipped into the mycelial network, bypassing the 1.4 light-years of conventional space in a heartbeat. The transition was violent. On the Bridge, the crew felt the "computational friction" as a high-pitched, metallic scream that vibrated through the bulkheads. Lieutenant M’Ba fought the controls as the ship’s detached nacelles strained against the superconducting magnetic seals, the blue light of the nebula replaced by the white-hot flash of a forced re-entry into normal space.

The Sulaco "blinked" back into existence directly over the lunar horizon. The viewscreen flared with the dying light of an antimatter bloom, the pulverized remains of the Valiant, but that wasn't what held the Bridge in a collective, horrified silence.

"My God," Lieutenant Zale whispered at the Comms console.

Looming over the moon's fragile atmosphere was a leviathan of jagged metal and sickly green light: an Emerald Chain Juggernaut. At 3.2 kilometers long, it dwarfed the Sulaco, its massive forward heavy-matter disruptor array glowing with the build-up of a second shot, this one aimed squarely at the civilian colony below.

"Status!" Tua barked, standing from his chair.

"We’ve emerged 500 kilometers off their starboard flank," Commander Nol shouted, his Ferengi ears flattened against his head from the pressure of the jump. "The Juggernaut is targeting the moon's primary power hub! If they fire, the atmospheric stabilizers will collapse. There are thousands of civilians down there!"

"They’re ignoring us," Commander Vrax growled from Tactical, his hands already hovering over the Phaser Arrays. "They think we’re just another scavenger ship."

"They are mistaken," Galatea said. Her holographic form was standing at the center of the Bridge, her eyes glowing with a blinding, steady gold. "Captain, the Black Box... the relic from the Valiant. It has survived the breach. It is on the lunar surface, and it is screaming for a handshake. It is unlocking my AIMS legacy sub-routines."

"Captain," Commander Karys called out from Engineering station, her face illuminated by warning lights. "The 'Blink' put massive torque on the pylon seals. We have hull micro-fractures on Deck 12. If we take a direct hit from that heavy-matter beam, the regenerative shielding won't hold."

Commodore Kovich stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the Juggernaut. "Captain Tua, you are currently in possession of the only ship in the quadrant capable of stopping that beam. I suggest you decide if this is still a 'test flight' or a declaration of war."

Tua didn't hesitate. "M’Ba, bring us about. Intercept course. Put the Sulaco directly between that Juggernaut and the colony."

"Captain, that's suicide!" Tarka yelled, "The shield-to-matter ratio..."

"Do it, Lieutenant!" Tua commanded. "Vrax, arm Torpedoes. Galatea, sync the Automated Phaser Point-Defense to the Black Box's predictive data. If they fire, I want us to catch it."

The Sulaco dived. The sleek, 750-meter explorer plummeted toward the moon, a silver needle racing to stitch the gap between a monster and its prey. When in position, they hung in the void, a sliver of Federation silver defiant against the jagged, obsidian mass of the Emerald Chain Juggernaut. Below them, the moon of Aethelgard was a marbled sphere of white and grey, its thin atmosphere already shimmering from the heat of the Juggernaut's targeting sensors.

"Intercept position confirmed," Lieutenant M’Ba reported, his voice tight. "We are sitting right in their throat, Captain. If they sneeze, we’re the first to feel it."

"Shields to maximum. Divert all non-essential power from the Spore Drive to the forward emitters," Captain Tua commanded. He didn't take his eyes off the leviathan on the screen. "Lieutenant Zale, get me Federation Headquarters. Priority One. Scramble the signal through the Azure Nebula's interference."

"Channel is open, Captain," Lieutenant Elara Zale announced. Instead of a flat image on the viewscreen, the Bridge's holographic emitters shimmered. A life-sized, flickering projection of Admiral Vance materialized on the command deck, standing just a few feet from Tua.

Vance’s holographic form carried the weary weight of the 32nd Century. He looked around the Sulaco’s Bridge, his eyes lingering for a second on the spinning saucer rings visible through the windows. "Captain Tua," Vance’s voice echoed through the Bridge. "Reports indicate you’ve deviated from your shakedown coordinates. What's a Crossfield Class ship doing in a standoff with a Chain Juggernaut?"

"Protecting civilians and a recovered Federation asset, Admiral," Tua replied. "The Emerald Chain has already destroyed a courier vessel. They are prepared to glass the colony. Requesting immediate authorization to engage and neutralize the threat."

The hologram of Vance paced a short circle on the deck, his brow furrowed. "Captain, the Federation is in a fragile state. A direct engagement could trigger a sector-wide conflict we aren't prepared to fight. We're diplomats, Tua, not conquerors."

"Admiral," Commodore Kovich stepped forward from the shadows, his physical form overlapping slightly with Vance’s flickering hologram. "The 'diplomacy' of the Emerald Chain is currently calibrated to a heavy-matter disruptor beam. If the Sulaco retreats, the Chain secures a tactical advantage and a graveyard. I suggest you authorize the Captain to defend himself."

Vance’s hologram stopped mid-stride, his jaw tightening as he looked from Kovich to the readouts bleeding through the Sulaco’s telemetry. He looked ready to give the order, to finally let the Federation strike back, when his image suddenly wavered. A frantic officer whispered something off-screen at Starfleet Command.

"Belay that, Commodore," Vance said, his voice dropping into a flat, professional chill. "Captain Tua, stand down. New orders just came in from the Council. The Emerald Chain has initiated a high-level diplomatic backchannel. They are claiming this entire incident was a 'navigational error' by a rogue commander."

"A three-kilometer Juggernaut doesn't make a navigational error into a civilian's backyard, Admiral," Tua countered, his voice low.

"Regardless, the Chain is withdrawing," Vance insisted. "And we're letting them. If you fire now, you aren't defending a colony; you’re starting a war the Federation isn't ready to finish. Maintain your position, but do not, I repeat, do not engage!"

As if on cue, the oppressive green glare from the Juggernaut’s primary emitter began to fade. The deep, bone-shaking hum that had been vibrating through the Sulaco’s hull for the last three minutes subsided into a hollow silence.

"Captain," Commander Nol reported, his eyes wide as he tracked the Sensors. "The Juggernaut is closing its weapons aperture. They’re venting thermal exhaust and... they’re backing off. They’re moving to a high-orbital exit trajectory."

"They're running," Commander Vrax growled, his hand still hovering over the Quantum Torpedo trigger, his disappointment radiating off him in waves. "They saw the Sulaco, they saw the tech, and they’re running back to report."

Lieutenant Elara Zale tapped her console. "I’m picking up a wide-band broadcast from the Juggernaut, Captain. Open frequency. They’re claiming 'mechanical failure' and requesting clear space for a Warp jump. It’s a farce."

Vance’s hologram flickered, regaining stability as the interference from the enemy's weapons subsided. "Captain Tua, you have your orders. The Juggernaut is disengaging. You are to do the same. Break orbit and resume your shakedown cruise in the Azure Nebula. Starfleet will handle the diplomatic fallout from here."

"And the Black Box on the moon?" Tua asked. "We’re just going to leave it for them to come back for?"

"The colony is safe for now, Ridan," Vance said, his tone softening only slightly. "We have couriers in the area who can retrieve the asset once the situation de-escalates. The Sulaco is too valuable to risk in a border skirmish. Bring her home. Vance out."

The hologram dissolved into a swirl of light, leaving the Bridge in a heavy, frustrated silence.

Commodore Kovich didn't move from his spot in the shadows. He watched the Juggernaut’s massive silhouette begin to rotate on the viewscreen, its thrusters firing for a slow, predatory withdrawal.

"A remarkably convenient 'navigational error,' wouldn't you say, Captain?" Kovich asked dryly, his voice cutting through the Bridge's tension. "The Emerald Chain doesn't blink unless they’ve seen something that scares them, or something they want to study from a distance. I suspect they got exactly what they came for: a sensor scan of a ship that shouldn't exist."

The Trill remained motionless in the Captain's Chair, his eyes fixed on the Juggernaut. "Lieutenant Zale," he said, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "Is the channel to Fed HQ closed?"

Lieutenant Zale checked her console, her fingers tapping the programmable matter. "Link severed, Captain. We are officially back on the shakedown protocol. No active monitoring from Federation HQ."

Tua stood up. The lifetimes of experience behind his eyes seemed to converge into a single, sharp point of cold fury. He looked at the Emerald Chain vessel - the ship that had just murdered a courier and threatened a moon full of civilians, only to hide behind a diplomatic technicality.

"They think we’re bound by the same fear that holds the Admiral back," Tua said. He looked toward Commander Vrax at the Tactical station. "Vrax, lock all forward Quantum Torpedo tubes. Target their secondary reactor cooling vents - the ones they just exposed to vent that thermal exhaust."

The Bridge went silent. Commander Karys turned from the Engineering station, her eyes wide. "Captain? The Admiral gave an explicit order..."

"The Admiral ordered us to resume the shakedown," Tua interrupted, his gaze shifting to Doctor Tarka and then to Galatea. "And part of a shakedown is testing our offensive capabilities against a superior tactical target. Galatea, ghost our signature. I want them to think we’re a sensor glitch until the first impact."

"AIMS protocols engaged," Galatea responded, her holographic form shimmering with a predatory gold light. "Weapon locks are invisible to their current sweep. They believe we are at Impulse."

Kovich adjusted his glasses, but as Tua’s hand moved toward the command interface, the Commodore’s posture shifted from passive observer to the iron-cold representative of Federation authority. He didn't raise his voice, but the sudden, sharp authority in it cut through the Bridge's combat hum like a blade.

"Captain Tua, step away from that console immediately," Kovich commanded.

"Commodore, you are interfering with a tactical engagement," Tua said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned to face Kovich, the centuries of the Tua symbiont's memories flashing with indignant fury.

"I am preventing a catastrophe, Captain," Kovich replied, his expression utterly flat. He did not look at the tactical rail. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the holographic avatar standing beside the command chair.

"Galatea," Kovich said, his voice cutting through the Bridge's tension. "Authorization Kovich-Alpha-Zero-Nine. Initiate a lockdown of all offensive systems. Override the Captain’s tactical authority and secure the Bridge."

The holographic AI flickered. For a microsecond, her golden eyes darted toward Tua - a ghost of a 25th Century loyalty sparking within her positronic matrix, but the override was hardcoded into her core, a fail-safe built by the very Federation that commissioned her.

"Acknowledged, Commodore," Galatea said, her voice dropping into a flat, synthesized tone. "Tactical arrays frozen. Torpedoes disarmed. Command authority redirected to the Starfleet Oversight protocols."

The Bridge consoles suddenly flared red, then went dark. The high-pitched whine of the launchers died into a hollow, mechanical moan. Commander Vrax slammed his fist against his station, but the controls remained locked under a layer of AI-enforced security that no organic officer could bypass.

Kovich stepped into the center of the command horseshoe, the red emergency lighting glinting off his glasses.

"Captain Ridan Tua," Kovich said, finally looking at the man. "The Admiral’s orders were explicit. The channel was closed, but my mandate is not. You attempted to fire on a retreating vessel after being ordered to stand down by the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet. You are relieved of duty pending a general court-martial for insubordination." Kovich looked toward Commander Karys. "Commander, take the Center Seat. You are now in command of the Sulaco. Galatea, notify ship’s security. Have the Captain escorted to his quarters."

"Security team dispatched to the Bridge," Galatea reported, her holographic form standing perfectly still, though her flickering image suggested a massive internal processing load as she balanced her directives.

The two security guards stepped forward, their Phasers held at low-ready. Commander Vrax looked ready to leap over his rail to defend his Captain, but Tua held up a hand, stopping him.

Tua looked at Kovich for a long moment. "The Federation survived for a thousand years because it had the courage to act, Kovich. You’re trading that courage for a piece of paper the Emerald Chain will burn the moment they’re out of sensor range."

"The Federation survives because of the rule of law, Captain," Kovich replied, unmoved. "Something your symbiont seems to have forgotten in its old age. Galatea, escort the Captain out."

"Yes, Commodore," the AI replied.

Tua turned and walked toward the Turbolift, flanked by the guards. As the doors hissed shut, Commander Karys slowly stepped toward the command chair, her face pale.

"Lieutenant M'Ba," Karys said, her voice shaking slightly. "Resume the shakedown course. Take us back into the nebula. Impulse only."

The atmosphere on the Bridge shifted from the heat of a tactical engagement to the cold, sterile reality of a military seizure. The alert klaxons had fallen silent, replaced by the steady, rhythmic pulse of the Bridge’s internal diagnostics.

Tarka didn't wait to be summoned. His face was a mask of twitching, manic disbelief as he stopped at the edge of the command well, glaring at Commodore Kovich, then at the flickering holographic form of Galatea.

"You effectively lobotomized my ship," Tarka spat, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. "Do you have any idea what an abrupt positronic lockdown does to the synchronization of a second-generation spore drive? The reaction cube is currently screaming in a frequency only I can hear because your 'Authorization Alpha' just slammed the brakes on a sub-quantum level!"

"The ship is intact, Doctor," Kovich replied, not even turning to look at him. "And it will remain so under the supervision of someone who respects the chain of command." Kovich turned his attention back to the center of the Bridge. Commander Karys stood by the Captain’s Chair, her hand resting tentatively on the armrest, though she refused to sit.

"Commander Karys," Kovich said. "The shakedown cruise of the U.S.S. Sulaco is officially concluded. Your performance, and that of this vessel, will be reviewed by the Council in person."

"We haven't finished the long-range stability tests, Commodore," Lieutenant M’Ba noted from the helm, his voice small.

"The 'testing' took a secondary priority the moment your Captain attempted to initiate a war of choice," Kovich countered. He looked at the AI. "Galatea, plot a direct mycelial jump back to the coordinates of Federation Headquarters. Ensure the path is locked and encrypted. No further deviations. No 'Blinks'."

"Coordinates received," Galatea responded. Her voice was devoid of the warmth she usually shared with Tua. "Mycelial navigation locked to Starfleet Command's secure beacon. Powering the displacement-activated hub drive."

Tarka let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "So that’s it? We’re going back to be picked apart by bureaucrats? We just proved the Sulaco can dance around a Juggernaut, and you’re treating it like a failed experiment."

"On the contrary, Doctor," Kovich said, finally looking at him with a gaze that felt like a surgical strike. "The experiment was a resounding success. We learned exactly how powerful this ship is; and exactly how dangerous it is in the hands of those who think they are above the Federation. We must prepare for the DMA though as it is a threat to the entire Federation, more so than that Juggernaut will ever be. You will report to Discovery upon our arrival." Kovich turned back to the First Officer, "Let's go."

The ship began to vibrate, the saucer rings spinning up one last time for the journey home.

"Black Alert," Karys whispered, more out of habit than a command.

The Sulaco vanished from the Aethelgard system, leaving the moon and the mystery of the Valiant behind. On the Bridge, the crew worked in a silence so heavy it felt as though the ship itself was mourning its Captain.

 

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