The turbolift doors parted, and Rios stepped onto the bridge. The crew was already at their stations, the hum of the warp core a steady undercurrent to the tension in the air. Captain Vann stood near the command chair, a PADD in her hand, her antennae angled forward in a way that suggested bad news.
"Commander," she said, her voice clipped. "Starfleet Command just updated our orders."
Rios took the PADD, scanning the text. His stomach tightened. "This… isn't just a Borg investigation."
"No," Vann said, her tone like ice. "The Vega system is under communications blackout. Starfleet lost contact with Vega Colony and the U.S.S. Khartoum—a Nebula-class ship assigned to patrol the sector—forty-eight hours ago."
Jorak turned from tactical, his tusked jaw tightening. "A Nebula-class? If they're gone—"
"—then whatever's out there is likely more than a stray Borg probe," Vann finished. "And there's more. Long-range sensors picked up a subspace rupture near Vega IX. Starfleet believes it could be an artificial aperture."
Rios looked up sharply. "A transwarp conduit?"
"Possibly," T'Lenn said from science, her voice calm but edged with logic. "But the energy signature does not match known Borg patterns. It is… different."
Cole swivelled in his chair, his usual grin nowhere to be found. "Different how?"
"Unknown," T'Lenn replied simply.
Vann's gaze swept the bridge. "Our mission parameters have changed. We are to locate the Khartoum, secure Vega Colony if possible, and identify the source of the subspace rupture. If it is a conduit, we close it. If it's something else…" Her antennae twitched. "We adapt."
The weight of her words settled over the crew like a gravity well. Rios felt it pressing on his chest. This wasn't just a reconnaissance run anymore. This was a potential first-contact scenario—or a war waiting to ignite.
"Helm," Vann said, her voice cutting through the silence. "ETA to Vega?"
"Two minutes," Cole replied, fingers flying over the console. "Dropping out of warp on your mark."
Rios moved to his station, his mind racing. Borg signatures. A missing starship. A subspace rupture that didn't fit any known profile. Whatever awaited them at Vega, it wasn't in the Academy simulations.
And for the first time, he wondered if the Horizon—and her crew—were sailing into history… or oblivion.
"Dropping out of warp in three… two… one," Cole announced, his voice tight.
The stars snapped back into pinpoints as the Horizon emerged from warp. The viewscreen filled with the Vega system—a golden sun burning against the void, its planets tracing silent arcs. But the serenity ended there.
The debris field hit them first, literally. Violently bouncing off the deflector shields.
Fragments of duranium hull plating drifted like shattered glass, glinting in the starlight. A nacelle—charred and broken—tumbled slowly past the bow. The wreckage stretched for kilometres, a graveyard of ships. Federation and civilian registry codes flickered faintly on twisted metal.
"Holy…" Daxan whispered from engineering.
Jorak's voice was a low growl. "Confirmed. Multiple Starfleet signatures. The Khartoum… and at least three other vessels."
"Any life signs?" Vann asked, her tone like steel.
T'Lenn's fingers danced across her console. "Scanning… none."
Then the comm crackled to life, a burst of static followed by a broken voice:
"…This is Vega Colony… emergency… Borg… they're everywhere… we can't—"
The transmission dissolved into a shriek of interference.
Cole turned, his face pale. "That wasn't just a sensor ghost."
"Confirmed," T'Lenn said. "Multiple Borg energy signatures detected. But…" She hesitated—a Vulcan hesitation, which spoke volumes. "There is an additional anomaly. The subspace rupture is active. And it is… growing."
Rios felt the deck tilt beneath his feet—not physically, but in his gut. Borg. A destroyed Nebula-class. A rupture that didn't match any known conduit. And now, a colony under siege.
Captain Vann rose from her chair, her antennae rigid. "Red alert. All hands to battle stations. Helm, set course for Vega Colony—maximum impulse."
The klaxon blared, bathing the bridge in crimson light. Rios gripped the railing as the Horizon banked hard, the debris field sliding past on the viewscreen. Ahead, the planet loomed—a green-and-blue jewel marred by fire.
And beyond it, like a shadow in the dark, something vast stirred near the rupture. Something that wasn't Borg.
The Horizon tore through the debris field, impulse engines straining as the planet Vega loomed ahead. Fires burned across its surface, glowing like angry embers against the green-blue world. Orbit was chaos—wreckage, escape pods, and the unmistakable green shimmer of Borg tractor beams.
"Visual on Vega Colony," Cole reported, his voice tight. "Multiple Borg signatures in orbit. One sphere confirmed. Two probes… maybe more."
"Arm phasers and load quantum torpedoes," Vann barked.
The red alert klaxon pulsed as the bridge bathed in crimson light. Rios gripped the railing, his heart pounding as the tactical display lit up with hostile contacts.
"Sphere is locking weapons," Jorak growled. "They've seen us."
"Evasive pattern Delta-Two," Vann ordered. "Fire at will!"
The Horizon banked hard, phasers lancing out in brilliant amber beams. They struck a Borg probe, carving glowing scars across its hull. The probe returned fire instantly—emerald disruptor beams slamming into the Horizon's shields, making the deck shudder.
"Shields at eighty-seven percent!" Jorak called out. "Sphere is powering up a cutting beam!"
"Target their tractor emitters," Rios snapped.
"Firing!" Jorak's fingers flew over the console. Twin quantum torpedoes streaked across the void, detonating against the sphere's flank in a burst of blue-white light. The Borg ship barely flinched.
"Minimal effect," T'Lenn reported calmly. "Adapting to our phaser frequency."
"Of course they are," Daxan muttered over comms. "I'll rotate shield harmonics, but if they get a lock—"
The ship lurched violently as a green beam raked across the hull. Consoles sparked. Smoke filled the air.
"Shields down to sixty percent!" Jorak barked. "Structural integrity holding—for now."
"Helm, bring us about!" Vann shouted. "Keep us moving—don't give them a clean shot!"
Cole gritted his teeth, throwing the Horizon into a tight roll as another beam sliced past, missing by meters. "They're trying to pin us between the probes and the sphere!"
"Then we break the line," Rios said, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Target the lead probe's power matrix. Full spread of torpedoes!"
"Locked!" Jorak roared. "Firing!"
The Horizon unleashed a storm of quantum torpedoes. The lead probe erupted in a blinding explosion, fragments spinning away into the void.
"Direct hit!" Jorak grinned fiercely. "One down!"
"Don't celebrate yet," T'Lenn said coolly. "The sphere is deploying assimilation drones… toward the colony."
On the viewscreen, green transport beams stabbed down through Vega's atmosphere. Tiny black specks—drones—descended like locusts.
"Captain," Rios said, his voice low but urgent. "If they assimilate the colony, this system is lost."
Vann's antennae angled forward, her eyes like ice. "Then we stop them. Helm—get us between that sphere and the planet. Tactical—prepare for point-blank engagement."
The Horizon swung hard, engines screaming as it dove toward the Borg sphere. The stars blurred. The planet filled the screen. And ahead, the green glow of the Collective pulsed like a heartbeat.
The Horizon rocked under another barrage, sparks raining from an overloaded console. The Borg sphere loomed on the viewscreen, its green lattice pulsing like a heartbeat of doom.
"Shields at forty-two percent!" Jorak barked. "Hull breaches on decks four and six!"
"Emergency force fields holding," Daxan's voice crackled over comms. "But I can't keep this up forever!"
Captain Vann gripped the arm of her chair, antennae rigid. "We can't hold this position and protect the colony at the same time."
Rios stepped forward, heart pounding. "Then we split our efforts. I'll take an away team to Vega Colony—evacuate survivors, turn off any Borg ground units. If they assimilate the colony, this fight is over before it starts."
Vann's icy gaze locked on him. "You'll be cut off if we lose transporters."
"I accept the risk," Rios said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "We'll need the data and any survivors that're down there"
For a heartbeat, silence. Then Vann nodded sharply. "Approved. Take T'Lenn and two security officers. Beam down as soon as we're in transporter range."
Rios turned to the turbolift. "You heard the Captain. Let's move!"
The deck trembled as another blast rocked the ship. Rios stepped onto the pad, phaser rifle slung across his chest. T'Lenn joined him, calm as ever, flanked by two security officers—Ensign Vega and Petty Officer Korr.
"Coordinates locked," the transporter chief called out over the rising whine of the system. "Colony plaza—what's left of it."
"Energise," Rios ordered.
The world dissolved in a shimmer of blue light.