The Miranda-Class starship U.S.S. Overseer cut cleanly through the space around the Shanxi star system, its shiny metal hull gleaming in the light from the currently distant star as it approached the foreign object that had been picked up on long-range scanners several hours prior. Miranda-Class ships were sturdy little vessels, bearing a total crew compliment of 35 souls and a maximum speed of warp 5 point nothing. Two forward weapons platforms, one aft, and a basic deflector shield that would hold up well enough against short bursts of weapons fire. Despite its diminutive size classifying it as barely more than a glorified Corvette, the reliable design and longevity of the Miranda saw it in use even nearly a century after its initial development, given mostly to green captains seeking to prove themselves, or advanced academy students seeking some shipboard experience. In this case, it was the latter.
The Overseer was part of the ninth exploratory fleet, currently engaged in a long-range scouting mission into the upper portion of the Alpha Quadrant, far away from any possible Cardassian incursions on what had so far been a rather uneventful mission. At least, uneventful until the Miranda's sensors had picked up on the presence of the artifact in this system. At fifteen klicks long and clearly artificial, it had warranted the small frigate to deviate from the main fleet to investigate the anomaly.
Captain Bruce Callaghan steepled his fingers as he regarded the object on his viewscreen, entirely unsure what to make of the frankly massive structure that orbited at the outer reaches of this system's gravitational influence. It looked like a giant tuning fork and seemed like a slumbering leviathan, just waiting for someone to come wake it up. The Captain cut a glance over to his science officer, wondering what the relatively young Vulcan Commander would have to say about his "Illogical anthropomorphism," as he'd so often called his fellow crew mate's tendencies to lend organic features to inanimate objects. He didn't let the smirk that fought to find its way to his lips show, and instead leaned back in his chair and looked back to the viewscreen, away from his XO.
"Status report. What am I looking at, people?"
"Our sensors can't do a deep scan, Captain. Whatever this thing's made out of, it's denser than neutronium," Lt. Cmdr. Alina Shepard responded, deeply engrossed in the readouts that were showing up on her display. She wore the academy uniform, like every other person on the ship other than his XO and himself, however she held herself like a true Starfleet officer, confident even in the face of the unknown. She doubled as the sensor and tactical officer on the small bridge, and so far had handled both jobs with aplomb.
Bruce furrowed his brow as he stared at the thing ahead of them, wondering who in the world could have been responsible for creating such a massive structure and then just leaving it abandoned in some little-traversed corner of the galaxy. It wasn't often that something like this was discovered, and even more rare that it wasn't discovered by an Enterprise. It was an extremely exciting discovery. But at the same time, he knew each and every one of the students that were serving on his ship—they were his class, his kids—and something like this had to be approached with caution. There was many a cautionary tale about Starfleet captains who thought themselves invulnerable, and personal experience had taught Bruce that he most certainly wasn't. The way his phaser scar made his leg ache near-constantly saw to that.
"Sir, we're picking up a low intensity signal coming from the station, a high end EM frequency. Shall I attempt to respond?" his communications officer, a slightly older Ensign with dark skin and the distinctive eyes of a Betazoid, asked as she turned to face him.
The Captain remained silent for a moment before giving the Ensign a nod, allowing her to turn back to her station and attempt to broadcast a signal on the same frequency that the colossal construct was emitting. After a few seconds of nothing, alerts started sounding on the sensor officer's console as the device began glowing a strange black-blue on the circular end, the great rings seeming to orbit around a congealed mass of energy. When unfamiliar alien artifacts started acting up like this, there was only one response for a Federation Captain.
"Shields up, yellow alert. Helm, back us off of that thing slowly, one quarter impulse," the Captain ordered calmly, only to be shaken slightly as the entire ship rocked. "Helm, report!"
"We're caught in some kind of tractor beam, Captain, it's holding us in place!" Ensign David Anderson responded, his hands flying over the controls to try and regain some sway over the million-ton hunk of metal that was keeping all of them alive in the unforgiving vacuum of space.
"Captain, sensors are detecting an immense buildup of some kind of dark energy, gravimetric readouts are going haywire! They say that the ship's mass is decreasing at an exponential rate!" Shepard called out, her eyes wide as she tried to make sense of the impossible data that her instruments were feeding her. She was top of her class at the Academy, but the simulations had never prepared her for something literally breaking the laws of physics.
"Go to red alert! All hands, brace-"
And just then, the alien artifact flared brighter than the system's distant sun for just a moment before catapulting the Overseer at speeds that exceeded the highest possible warp by an order of several magnitudes, completing the task that it had been built for in the first place. The blue energy decreased in intensity, however the device remained active, ready to carry out the next Mass Relay jump for the next vessel that approached it.
The ancient V.I. that governed the construct had not devoted one iota of processing power to the fact that this ship had possessed no traces of Element Zero, nor that the design and function of the weapons did not conform to the design intended by its creators. It had activated and done its duty, just as it had done for countless cycles before and would continue to do for countless cycles after this.
Of course, this knowledge was not known to the intrepid, if inexperienced crew of the Overseer. Whether this knowledge would have made a difference in the events to come, no one can say. Because, after all…
Hindsight is 50/50.
General Desolas Arterius was not a bad Turian. In fact, he was considered by many to be the prime example of what a Turian should strive to be—patriotic, charismatic, inspiring, intelligent, and supremely loyal to the Hierarchy and the Citadel Council. He was known to be strict on lawbreakers, and a solid, rallying figure on any bridge that he found himself on. Which was exactly how he found himself patrolling the far reaches of council space with a small fleet at his command, hunting down a group of Batarian raiders that had gotten too cocky and decided that attacking Turian colonies for slaves was a good idea. He stood on the deck of a dreadnought, accompanied by three cruisers and four smaller frigates that were there to show those raiders the error of their ways.
So imagine, if you will, the General's surprise when an inactive relay in the system that they were currently patrolling suddenly lit up like the silver sculptures outside the General Assembly building on Palaven and caught a very small, unfamiliar vessel from its billion-klick-per-second voyage through space. He did not know the race that the tiny ship belonged to, and he didn't much care—they had broken Citadel law by activating a dormant Mass Relay without authorization. Desolas glared at the battle map that projected itself in front of him, telling him the location of the vessel in relation to his fleet, and flexed his mandibles as he made his decision.
"Helmsman, lay in a course to intercept the criminals that just jumped into the system. Relay orders to the fleet. Let's show these scum the consequences of defying the law," Desolas growled in a dual-timbered baritone, his orders immediately followed without question.
After all, he was the general. And no Turian would be so bold as to defy the order of a commanding officer on the bridge of his own starship.
"-for… impact..." Captain Callaghan finished as the ship stopped rather abruptly, the inertial compensators just barely stopping the bridge crew from being thrown around like sacks of potatoes. The Viewscreen currently showed another one of the alien artifacts that had sent them on their little trip, this time behind the rear bow, as the visual sensors automatically locked onto the last object that they'd been ordered to focus on. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to calm his currently-frayed nerves to at least maintain an outward facade of calm.
"Report. I want to know what the hell just happened to my ship. Give me a casualty report" the Captain ordered.
"All decks reporting in sir, nothing worse than a few bumps and bruises. That sudden stop wasn't exactly gentle. Good news is, the ship hasn't been damaged by… whatever just happened," his comms officer informed him, concern hiding just beneath the layer of professionalism that was expected of a Starfleet officer.
"I've got helm control back, Captain, but navigation seems… off. According to my readout, we're halfway across the Alpha Quadrant," Anderson called out.
"…Fascinating. Captain, my instruments show that we have just traversed over 30,000 light years in a span of time that should, by all known laws of physics, be impossible. The fact remains, however illogical, that we have just violated the laws of physics as we currently understand them," Cmdr. T'gala stated in a tone that could have equally been used to discuss the weather as talk about a scientific phenomenon that could, most likely, revolutionize their understanding of how the universe operates. Bruce found it quite reassuring that, no matter what had just happened, his XO was still the same, stuffy Vulcan.
Before the Captain could respond to this new information a klaxon sounded on the bridge, the entire room bathing itself in dark red light as the ship's computer's automatic response systems detected a weapons lock registered by the sensors. Shepard relayed the information to the captain, along with the fact that eight ships, one of them three quarters again the size of the Overseer, were on an intercept course.
"Charge forward phaser banks and load torpedoes, Shepard. Divert all power to forward shields," he ordered the Lt. Cmdr., before turning back to his comms officer. "Open a channel on all subspace frequencies, attempt to communicate. Ensign Anderson, engage defensive maneuver Sigma-Seven, and get ready to haul ass out of here on my order."
All three members of the bridge crew didn't even bother to respond beyond a sharp "Sir," already performing the tasks set before them as swiftly as they could manage, trying to ignore the trembling that threatened to overtake their hands. They were outnumbered, alone, and probably outgunned against an unknown alien force that appeared to be very hostile, if the way that they ignored all attempts that the Betazoid officer made at communication was any indication. The men and women aboard that ship were barely out of adolescence—some weren't even there yet—and weren't supposed to see active combat for some time.
Callaghan grimaced as he realized that it was going to be now, whether he liked it or not.
One of the smaller, faster ships approached them ahead of its fleet, its main guns lighting up and firing what appeared to be kinetic rounds at the Overseer. The bridge rocked slightly as the rounds impacted the deflector shields, but no serious damage was sustained in the opening salvo. Which meant that it was Callaghan's turn to strike back.
"Target their engines, Commander. Let's not make them any more angry than they already are. Jayala, keep hailing them. Maybe they'll start responding when they realize we have teeth too," he ordered, watching the viewscreen intensely as a bright orange beam of energy lanced out from the forward emitters, striking the engines of the other small vessel directly and severely damaging the propulsion. It drifted, dead in space, and the Captain heard a small "Yes!" of celebration from his tactical officer as she congratulated herself on the shot. Bruce's eyes narrowed as he looked at the wreckage, wondering why their shields hadn't deployed to protect them from the phasers. Although, based on the kinetic weaponry, perhaps they weren't used to energy weapons?
One of the medium sized ships, about twice the size of the Miranda-Class, began firing, followed closely by two more of the smaller vessels.
"Anderson, evasive maneuvers, pattern Delta-Six. Shepard, keep the phasers at half-power and focus your fire focused on the engines and weapons, try to pull out their teeth. I don't know what provoked this, but I intend to find out," the Captain ordered, ignoring the shaking his body went through as the shields absorbed the impacts of the powerful kinetic rounds. The smaller ship hadn't packed much of a punch, however when they attacked in tandem like this there was a very good chance of the ship's shields being overwhelmed. Lances of orange light struck out from both emitters as Anderson angled the ship down and hit the impulse engines, forcing the larger, clunkier vessels to execute a wider turn while the Overseer's phasers raked along their hulls, scoring deep wounds along the hulls. Some of the academy students began to cheer as Anderson and Shepard worked in tandem to try and disable the hostile ships, thinking that maybe, just maybe, they could pull out ahead here.
It was then, after disabling two more of the smaller ships, that the world exploded.