The Freighter That Wouldn't Wait

Posted on Fri Dec 12th, 2025 @ 1:27am by Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Ensign Garabed "Garo" Hakobyan & Lieutenant Commander Eirly Andersen & Lieutenant Commander Xalanth & Lieutenant JG Sakkar & Ensign Tyler Williams

1,941 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Bridge, Nidean Freighter "Katreen's Hope"
Timeline: MD 09, 0840 Hours

The Astrea's away team shimmered in, their particles solidifying after several short seconds.

The bridge of the Nidean freighter felt like somebody's half-forgotten workshop--dim amber strips running along the ceiling, consoles arranged in a wide crescent as though their designers prized symmetry over comfort. The air was unusually warm and humid--smelling faintly of ionized dust. Chairs were bolted low to the deck, their backs almost straight to a ninety-degree angle. Severe, one might say. Perhaps built for bodies that didn't mind being kept honest and alert. A ring of display pylons hovered above the central pit, each thrown into a polite chaos of interrupted navigation charts and half-written commands--like an electronic frenzy suggesting someone had been in a hurry, or afraid, or both.

Along the starboard bulkhead, storage lockers sat open, the inner panels sparkling with glinting minerals. Tools lay scattered across the floor--delicate instruments with jointed arms and coloured grips. It was as though a surgical team had simply dropped everything before they could finish the work. Nothing looked violently disturbed, but it didn't appear entirely peaceful either.

Only one seat on the bridge was occupied. The helm. Its occupant, the ship's pilot, was facing away from the boarding team. His oblong head was fully enclosed by his flight helmet, an ungainly-looking device adorned with blinking lights and a thick mass of wires and cables connecting it to the overhead. The Nideans, renowned traders, kept precise shipping schedules by connecting their brains directly to their navigation computers.

This pilot, however, was oblivious to the fact that his ship was going nowhere, or that he had been boarded. Sakkar went to his side, and immediately understood why.

The pilot's hands were in his lap. One hand's fingers were wrapped around a small, bronze-colored polaron disruptor. A deep, black wound in the center of his chest still smoldered with tiny wisps of smoke. Sakkar pressed his fingers against the pilot's neck, then pulled his helmet off. The Nidean's lips were slightly parted, as if he had been interrupted while saying something, and his three eyes stared vacantly into nothingness.

The Vulcan tapped his commbadge. "Sakkar to Astrea. The ship's pilot is dead. Apparently self-inflicted. There's no one else on the bridge."

Xalanth had panned his carbine around the bridge before taking up defensive positions at the one door of the bridge. "Someone pull up a crew manifest, see how many crew may be on board." he said calmly.

[Dorsainvil to Away Team,] came Jean-Baptiste's voice through the comm. [Ship's registry was last scanned twelve days ago on Starbase 773. I'm seeing a complement of twenty-two crewmembers. Commander Andersen has a copy of the entire manifest.]

As Xalanth turned to her for the confirmation, Eirly presented him with the manifest. "Schematics, manifest, and the most up-to-date sensor readings," she reiterated from what she'd been told. "Everything you need."

Garo crouched beside the pilot with the care of someone handling an antique vase and not a dead person. "Brother jan," he murmured under his breath, "you should not be slumped like bag of old potatoes." He shifted the Nidean just enough to reach the console--supporting the limp shoulders and easing him back into the chair, as straight as dignity allowed.

The console blinked to life beneath his fingers. Its interface was all soft curves and floating glyphs, the typical way Nideans preferred. Garo's hands moved anyway, stubborn Federation muscle memory nudging past foreign and unfamiliar menus.

"Mm," he said. "Last log... four days ago. That is bad housekeeping." He tilted the screen toward Sakkar and Xalanth, the green light shining up to their faces. "Inspected at 773. Everything normal. Then--nothing."

He tapped his way into another sub-menu. Crucial ship systems cascading across the screen like a quaint star map. Garo squinted. "This... this is strange." He scratched at his jaw. "Some sections show normal atmosphere. Others--" he jabbed a finger at blinking red zones in several areas of the vessel--"just... off. Not failed. Not damaged. Off. Like someone flips the switch and walks away."

"Okay, environmental gear on," Xalanth said, activating his own, causing a helmet to shimmer into life around his head. As he watched his team activate their own he began to open the door. " Stay behind me, my bits can grow back." he said as he took a step into the empty corridor.

Sakkar, meanwhile, busied himself in the computer interface that Garo had opened. He next wanted to see what destination coordinates the pilot had laid in. What he saw made him pause. "Destination: Acrux IV." Sakkar had never been there, but there was something familiar about the name. He tried to recall where he had heard that name before. The answer did not come forth.

Sakkar cast a glance at the dead pilot. Illogical, he knew, since the answer was not going to come from him, either. Unfortunate, as he had many questions. "Why kill himself?" He asked, mostly thinking aloud and not expecting anyone to answer. "What was the urgency in escaping from Barisa Prime? And why was death preferable, once it became clear that escape was impossible?" With a gentle hand he reached down and took the polaron disruptor from the pilot's grip. Setting the weapon down on the console, he next turned to the cargo manifest.

Garo watched Sakkar's gentle and meticulous approach to the pilot. "I'm sure he was only following orders. Suicide is extreme choice," he said, casting a sad look at the corpse.

He turned to Xalanth and Eirly, placing his toolkit on the deck next to the operations console. "Commanders," he began. "With permission, I would like to remain here and see what else is hiding in the Nidean system."

"Xalanth is the one in charge here, I'm just along for the ride," Eirly commented while she observed everyone. "I have no issues with this; Williams can stay with you unless he's required elsewhere?" She directed the question to Xalanth more than Garo.

The lizard nooded, though he kept his eyes aimed down the corridor. "Okay, keep an open coms with the Astrea and seal the hatch behind us. If anyone tries getting in who isn't one of us, call in the marine backup team. The rest of you form up in formation standard ship clearance pattern."

"Yes, sir," Garo replied, opening his toolkit.

The comm opened once again.

[Dorsainvil to Away Team,] JB's voice boomed. [We're detecting an encrypted signal emanating from the engineering section of the freighter.]

"Let's move." Xalanth said to his team as he led the way through the ship. As they stepped into the first cargo section, it was obvious something was up. All the lights had been shattered leaving the bay in deep darkness.

When the last Away Team member was through, Garo and Tyler shut the access hatch leading to the rest of the freighter.

"Alright Tyler," Garo said, handing the tactical officer a tool from the kit. "Please tell me you know how to use a focal adjustment spanner."

"Can't say I've had to use it often, if at all, but tell me what we need to do and we'll get it done, right?" Tyler replied as he examined the tool before double-checking the surroundings if there were other issues needing their attention too.

Garo knelt beside the command chair, his boots creaking on the grated deck. The air on the bridge was musty and smelled of sweat. With a grunt, he popped the access panel on the left armrest free. It clattered to the deck with a hollow clang, echoing up the darkened ceiling of the bridge. Behind it was a mess of optic filaments and a square diagnostic port tucked about three inches deeper.

"Aha," Garo murmured. "Every ship, no matter how fancy, still hides its underwear in the same drawer."

He fished a device from his toolkit--a stubby, green cylinder with a flat alphanumeric keypad on one side and a large round display that was currently off. Carefully, he connected a wire from the cylinder to the armrest's diagnostic port.

"Tyler," he called to the tactical officer with a grin. "Know what this device is called?"

Tyler shook his head and then raised a brow, "Sorry man, no clue. What is it?"

"Armenian mothers call it Get-the-Truth-From-Your-Lying-Child. Starfleet calls it a harmonic coherence probe. Much less honest name."

The device's display flared to life, glowing amber. Glyphs scrolled across it--Nidean system architecture rendered through Federation software. It wasn't pretty.

"Very good," Garo murmured, squinting at the display. "Main power grid is stable. Warp engines are offline--to be expected after we disabled them," He paused, licking his lips absently. "As we suspected. Several decks are in complete shutdown. Not malfunction. Not failure. Makes no sense."

That explanation didn't exactly explain what the function of the tool was, but Tyler huffed a laugh at what Garo had said the Armenian name for it was. "So, you're saying it was all manually shut down? And what's the link to everyone being dead, aside from suicide?"

Garo's eyes remained glued to the probe's display but he heard Tyler's question. "I don't know yet. But there is some program--security program--sucking lots of bandwidth. All other systems remain normal: propulsion is responsive, cargo containment is stable, internal sensors... hmm. Internal sensors are turned off. Just like life support on some decks. Navigational computer is locked on Acrux IV."

He let the probe run another cycle, pulling more data from the freighter's main computer. "I should be able to access--"

Suddenly, the probe's display turned an angry red and beeped in quick succession. Garo's brow furrowed as he turned to Tyler.

"Someone just locked me out."

"Son of a bitch." Tyler swore as the beeping continued. What on earth was going on here?

Garo unplugged the probe from the diagnostic port and sat back heavily in the command chair. "I thought our scans showed the crew to be dead." He considered what was happening--the freighter was ready to jump to warp. Presumably to Acrux IV. Astrea disabled the warp engines. Upon beaming over, the crew was nowhere to be found, the only sign of any Nideans being a dead pilot with a self-inflicted wound. Then, an encrypted signal being beamed into space from somewhere near the freighter's engine room.

And now someone was actively preventing Garo from digging any deeper into the freighter's computer.

He tapped his combadge. [Hakobyan to Xalanth.]

No answer.

[Hakobyan to Away Team.]

Another long beat passed with no response.

Garo stood up quickly. He could feel his heart beating a little quicker as he gained his footing on the grated deck. "Tyler, I think we are alone."

---

Lt. Commander Eirly Andersen
Second Officer
USS Astrea


Lt. Commander Xalanth
Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea


Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Assistant Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea


Lieutenant J.G. Sakkar
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Astrea


Ensign Garabed "Garo" Hakobyan
Transporter Specialist
USS Astrea


Ensign Tyler Williams
Tactical Officer
USS Astrea

 

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