Captain David Gold had never been prone to nightmares, but the one he raggedly clawed his way out of left him gasping for air. Not trusting himself to speak for a moment, he remained in his darkened quarters, his deep, faltering breaths creating strange echoes that only heightened his uneasiness.

“Lights on,” he finally managed and blinked rapidly several times as his quarters flooded with light. Though not large by any stretch of the imagination—he could cross corner to corner in about six quick strides, provided he didn’t bump into his small desk or the bed—its familiarity nonetheless began to calm his nerves.

Glancing at the chronometer, he saw that its uncaring surface displayed 0300 hours; he’d only been asleep an hour.

Slipping his legs out from under the covers, Gold sat on the edge and rubbed both hands vigorously across his face, as though the effort would scrub away the last vestiges of the nightmare. He stopped when he realized that it still felt as though someone else were rubbing half his face. They’d told him that the hand replacement was almost a perfect match and that his mind and body would quickly come to accept it as his own. Yet, months later, on mornings like these, he could still tell. Holding out his hands, he saw they were still shaking.

“Gevalt,” he said and slowly stood up. His wife Rachel might need multiple cups of tea, but once he was up, there was no going back for hours.

After a quick shower and shave he returned fully dressed and sat at his desk. “Viewscreen on,” he said, and perused crew reports and duty rosters for the coming days on the small desk-mounted console. He continued on for some minutes before the realization struck that he was hiding from his nightmare. With disgust he turned off the screen and faced what had awakened him so early; he’d never backed away from the truth and he was not about to start now.

His granddaughter was just fine. There simply was no reason to believe otherwise. For a moment he pondered the possibility of actually contacting Rachel back on Earth, but then realized the ludicrousness of such an act. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the ribbing his wife would give him for such a call. For a rabbi, Rachel had a mean streak in her. Better to face a Breen armada than years of that kind of torture, regardless of its good-natured fun.

But if Esther had been hurt…or was sick…No. Rachel would contact him at once.

A chime sounded, interrupting his debate. “Gomez to Gold.”

Clearing his voice with a rusty cough, he put on his captain’s voice and tapped his combadge. “Gold here. What’s up, Gomez?”

“Sir, we have a distress call.”

“I’m on my way,” he said.

Looked like there was something to be doing after all.

Both Gomez and Tev were on the bridge when Gold arrived; as usual, his best officers were already on the case.

“What do we have, Gomez?” he asked before he’d even finished stepping onto the bridge.

Gomez punched up the signal and let it do the talking for her.

Static. Then, “We are trapped inside the Demon. We are running low on resources. Help us.”

“The Demon.” Gold tapped a finger against his chin. “Nebula? Plasma storm?”

Sonya glanced at Tev, then admitted something that was obviously difficult for the both of them. “We don’t know.”

“Well, it’s a distress call. Why aren’t we moving?” Another captain might already be reprimanding his crew for negligence, but he’d come too far and been through too much with the remaining crew after Galvan VI not to trust their judgment. Especially Gomez. If they weren’t moving yet, she had a good reason.

“Because there is some doubt about its validity. It has a quantum flux that’s right off the charts.”

As usual, he waited for Gomez to continue; he knew when she had something further she wanted to say, but had not yet figured out how best to present it to a nonengineer. He stifled a yawn that threatened to crack his composure; he hid it behind a scratch of the nose and a quick glance around the bridge at beta shift’s watch officers, who all looked calm.

He had a feeling that would change in a hurry.

Like he’d had a feeling that his granddaughter was in trouble?

“There’s a resonating…no, more like a multiphase gradient to the signal that is causing the computer to determine that the signal, well…is about ninety-three years old…give or take a few months.”

“Why is that so unusual?” Even in a quadrant filled with almost real-time subspace communications, there were still enough prewarp sentient races out there to have standard radio signals (some of which were distress calls) still crisscrossing the void with regularity.

“Because it’s a subspace signal,” Tev said with his usual bluntness.

Now that was unusual. Subspace made for almost real-time space communications. To discover one that the computer actually tagged as being a century old…didn’t make much sense at all. He had a vague recollection of a course in the Academy where the professor had droned on and on about the theory of a subspace signal retaining its cohesion and field strength in a self-renewing loop that would allow it to travel across quadrants, if not across the entire disc of the galaxy.

Could they have stumbled across such a signal, originally from an unimaginable distance away at the outer rim of the farthest side of the Milky Way?

As he continued to look at Gomez, he realized she had something more to say and was waiting for him to assimilate the first bit of news. He was never sure whether this habit of hers annoyed him or amused him.

He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s the rest of it?”

“The signal degradation puts the point of origin at only eighteen light-years away.” She glanced down at the screen as though to verify the information once more.

“Even I know that doesn’t make any sense, Gomez.” He moved to his chair and immediately began to warm up to the problem. “What do we know about the region of space around the point of origin?”

“The sector is designated 221-H. It is close to the recently fallen Thallonian Empire,” Tev spoke up as though the question had been cast for his ears alone. Gold saw a flicker of annoyance wash across Gomez’s features and vanish as quickly. Tev, while continuing to speak, was not even looking in their direction. “It is a region of space the Federation has not been welcome in for very long. I believe there are now two Federation starships assigned to the area.”

“The Excalibur and Trident,” Gold said. “And they’re hip-deep in local politics. Anything else?”

“Tellar dispatched a science vessel toward this sector to study astronomical anomalies, which is as detailed as the Starfleet report gets on the subject. But they will not arrive on station for another six months or more.”

“So we know virtually nothing about this sector. No Federation outposts or colonies, and the region’s littered with astronomical anomalies that have so far defied the Federation’s ability to define. Would that sum it up, Tev?”

“That is correct, sir. Until the Tellarite vessel arrives.”

If one thought about it in the right light, such comments were almost amusing. Gold glanced at Gomez, and saw that she hadn’t found this new way of thinking yet.

“What about the message itself? What language did it arrive in?”

“The language banks mark it as Resaurian.” Tev shrugged. “There are no immediate references available in the computer’s archives.”

“Well, regardless, it’s a distress signal and we’re obligated to respond. Even if we end up being one hundred years too late.”

“Nintey-three,” Tev reminded him.

Gold swiveled his chair toward the Tellarite. “Yes, of course.” He swiveled back. “Rusconi, set a course for that destination point, maximum warp.”

The conn officer answered with a professional, “Yes, Captain.” She adjusted their course with efficient movements. Gold took a moment to glance out the forward viewscreen. Stars chased themselves through the slipstream wash. He hoped he never tired of the beauty of warp speed.

He turned back toward Gomez but as usual, she was already ahead of him.

“I’ve already got my people working. Carol and Bart are digging into the computer, looking for any files related to the Resaurians. Fabian has a theory that the signal itself may have been caught in a subspace-generated stasis field that only recently ruptured, allowing the signal to continue. I’m not so sure that is the case.” She glanced at Tev, almost as though waiting for him to interrupt. “The quantum degradation is simply wrong for…um…”

Gold knew that he was becoming very adept at appearing to be interested in the technobabble of his engineers, but with Gomez, he just couldn’t seem to fool her no matter how often he tried.

“Sorry Captain,” she interrupted herself with a slight shake of her head. “We’ll get right to work, and see what answers we can pull in for you before we arrive.”

“Thank you, Gomez.”

With that, she departed with Tev in tow and Gold moved with purpose. He needed to inform Starfleet that they’d be delayed in their current mission.