The Approach

Posted on Mon 26th Jun, 2017 @ 2:22pm by Colonel Horatio Drake & Commander Zachary Hunt

539 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: For The Uniform
Location: Main Bridge - USS Warspite
Timeline: MD-02: 1700 Hours

The journey had taken a few hours, despite their destination being only the edge of the sector. It had been uneventful, considering this was the first leg of the Warspite's shakedown cruise, it had been a testament to how well Starfleet Engineers could repair a ship that had been all but destroyed and sitting stationary for over a decade.

"Sir, we're approaching the co-ordinates" the young Ensign, now beaming with confidence, informed Drake.

"Very well, drop us out of warp and bring us to half impulse" A very strong part of him wanted to also take the ship to yellow alert. Whatever had taken out the Bretagne was probably long gone, dead and buried by now but, nevertheless, they were approaching a derelict Federation starship in a sector of space virtually devoid of all life.

The Archanis sector had gone from being one of the most fought over pieces of space to one of the most ignored. Almost as if it had earned notoriety for the amount of dead strewn here. They were now approaching the tri-sector area of the Romulans, Klingons and Federations - a dead zone, these days. Even freighter ships seemed to plot around this area of space... hence why no one had turned up to try and salvage the ship.

"Mr. Hunt, begin scanning the area" He instructed his First Officer who was still sitting at the Operations console.

"On it," He stated back, starting the sensor sweeps. It wasn't long before a ship was found. Hunt didn't even need to say anything as Drake had already noticed himself.

"On screen" He instructed no one in particular.

Within an instant the view screen flicked from a Starfleet emblem to the Bretagne. She was tilted at an odd angle, clearly adrift. There was evidently no power and black scorch type marks were dotted around both her primary and secondary hull. Drake took a moment to take in what he was seeing - a piece of history was floating only a few thousand kilometres away from him.

"Life signs?" He asked, knowing the answer full well but following procedure nevertheless.

"Hmmm," Hunt hummed, "None, sir."

"Power signatures?" Again, extremely unlikely.

"No..." He paused. "Hang on, some type of residual energy on the hull. But it isn't residual energy, my readings aren't showing what it is." A genuine concern came across Hunt's face.

"Tactical analysis - has she been in a firefight?" Drake turned his attention to Marine manning the tactical console.

"It's difficult to say, sir. The scorch marks are unusual and the computer is having trouble identifying exactly what's caused them. But there are signs of hull damage, consistent with weapons fire. I'm afraid I can't tell you which weapon though." His answer was simple but insightful.

Drake turned his attention back to the view screen. The lifeless hulk floated as if left behind in the wake of a huge fleet battle. He took a deep breath, there was something about this which was raising alarm bells in his head. Something wasn't right, beyond the glaringly obvious... he just couldn't put his finger on it.

He hit his arm rests with both hands. "Shall we?" He asked Hunt.

"Let's go," Hunt replied.

 

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