Enigma: Andante

Posted on 16 Jan 2024 @ 3:07pm by Lieutenant Commander Stovek

Mission: Enigma Variations
Location: Sector 7447, Grid 12-6
Timeline: Current

Groll entered the control center of the freighter Bixilfiz, his Bolian features flushed a deep blue. He had been awakened by an alarm in his quarters; he prayed to the High Gods of the Skies that it was not the alarm he thought.

"Report," he said, the door swishing closed behind him.

"We are passing through a moderate wash of Epsilon radiation," said Della, a fellow Bolian, from the Engineering substation less than two meters away. "Its coming from those eclipsing binary stars a few light years to port."

"Our shields should be more than sufficient to protect us from a radiation wash. Why the alarm?"

"It is affecting our cloak."

"Affecting it how, exactly?"

"The Epsilon radiation is interrupting power flow to the cloaking device. We are on the verge of losing the cloak entirely."

"Next time, lead with 'we are losing the cloak,' hm?"

"Sorry, Boss," said the woman, her hands racing across the control panel furiously. "I'm pretty sure that I can stabilize the cloak. The plasma coils on this particular model are a little glitchy." She turned her chair to face Groll. "Next time, we should buy from the Suliban. The refurbished Klingon model we got from that crazy little Ferengi aren't worth the trouble."

"You advised against purchasing from Frool in the first place. Now I see why."

"Hm," said Della noncommittally as she slowly rotated back to her station. She continued to work, her fingers moving at an almost dizzying pace. "Boss, I don't know if I can..."

The freighter rocked violently, listing heavily to starboard. White-hot sparks showered down from the conduits above, followed by a plume of black smoke. Control panels went dark, and most of the control center was plunged into a dark abyss.

Groll picked himself up from the floor, steadying himself on the now darkened flight control console. The pilot, a Bolian named Zann, lay in a heap on the deck plating. There was no blood, but the pilot had a nasty bump on his head from striking the deck.

"What just happened?" shouted Groll to nobody in particular.

"We have dropped out of warp," said Della as she righted herself in her seat. Main power is...oh shit."

"What do you mean? Talk to me, Della."

"The cloaking device...exploded."

"It what??"

"Exploded. Which sent a surge of phased tachyons back into the EPS tap. Main power is fried, and auxiliary generators are at forty percent capacity and falling."

"Warp drive?"

"Offline. The detonation of the cloaking device severed the stage one EPS step-down conduits. Can't be repaired without a Drydock facility. And we won't get to Drydock without a tow."

Groll stroked his chin. This was a predicament for certain. "Recommendation?"

"We don't have many options," said Della flatly. "We should send out a distress call."

"...and run the risk of Starfleet responding? Absolutely not. The cloaking device alone is a treaty violation, punishable by prison time. And our other cargo...Gods only know what the penalty for transporting that would be."

"Our cargo is in a scan-shielded compartment. Starfleet would never thing to look inside an antimatter injector casing for something like this. And we can make it look like this was an accident with other systems."

"You're certain?"

"As certain as I can be, Boss."

"Alright, Della. Send the distress call."





Independent Freighter Bixilfiz
Registered out of Adigeon Prime