The USS Nexus, flagship of the Khitomer Alliance, was a marvel of Federation engineering. A modified Scott-class vessel, with 75 decks, measuring 1,180 meters in length, 884 meters in width, and 532 meters in height, it was the largest ship in the Khitomer Fleet. But now, against the sheer bulk of the Voth Fortress, it was little more than a speck in the vastness of space.
The Fortress loomed before them—a gargantuan vessel stretching over 130 kilometers (80 miles) from stem to stern and 45 kilometers (28 miles) tall. Its presence was overwhelming, eclipsing the view screen as the entire crew of the Nexus stared, paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the threat they faced.
"Uh… Sir… they have weapons..." Veirik, their battle-hardened tactical officer, shook his head in disbelief, his voice tight with shock. "A LOT of them… Over 10,000 antiproton beam arrays, and more than 5,000 transphasic torpedo launchers…" He looked up, his augmented features still wide in disbelief. "All locked on and charged at us."
Keten, seated at his console, muttered under his breath, "Our shields wouldn't last a single second against those weapons…"
Anzyl, still in a state of stunned shock, managed to compose himself enough to speak. "Open a channel," he ordered, his voice steady despite the growing fear gnawing at him. He'd heard of the Voth Fortress before—every Captain had—but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of it. It was no longer just a name or a rumor; it was standing before them, all weapons trained on the Nexus, a vessel that could obliterate them in an instant.
Nolan, his face pale and drawn, was already at his science station, fingers flying across his console. Heluna, communications officer, did her best to keep her focus, though her eyes kept darting to the view screen, unable to look away from the looming threat.
"Hailing frequencies open, sir," Heluna reported, her voice tight.
Anzyl took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He adjusted his uniform, drawing strength from the moment. There was no room for fear now—only resolve. "To the Voth Fortress Ship, blocking entry to the Sphere Port of Entry," he began, his voice calm yet firm, "this is Captain Anzyl Praxas of the USS Nexus, Khitomer Alliance. We seek no harm or hostilities. We only request safe passage. You are surely aware, any escalation between our factions could certainly end in a war."
The view screen flickered, and a saurian Voth officer appeared, his face set in a permanent scowl. He was heavily armored, decorated with dozens of medals, his presence imposing and cold. His voice was low and guttural, dripping with disdain.
"I know who you are, Warm-Blood," he sneered, his eyes scanning the bridge crew. The term was a derogatory one—the Voth's way of labeling all warm-blooded species with contempt. He then fixed his gaze on Nolan in the background. "Return the Apostate to our custody at once. Nolan Rivas, you are under arrest for Apostasy, Heresy against Doctrine, and Treason against the Voth Hierarchy."
Anzyl's face hardened at the words, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. He stood up, his voice sharp with authority. "I object to these claims. Nolan defected from the Voth years ago, and he is now a valued member of this crew. I will not hand him over."
The Voth leader's expression remained unchanged, unmoved by Anzyl's protest. "Irrelevant," he growled, dismissing the Captain's words as though they were nothing more than a nuisance. "The words of a Warm-Blooded heathen hold no weight in our high courts. Surrender the Apostate. Now."
Nolan stepped forward, his voice trembling with urgency as he approached Anzyl. "Anzyl, if I go back, my trial will be a farce. They'll execute me without question. There won't be a chance for anything resembling justice."
Anzyl placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "I won't let them take you, Nolan," he said softly, his voice resolute. He turned back to the Voth officer, his tone hardening. "Know this, Voth Council: The USS Nexus is not merely a Federation vessel. It is the flagship of the Khitomer Alliance. Attacking us is not just an act of war against the Federation, but against every faction of the Alliance your Xenophobic doctrine managed to Piss off!"
Lusaalli exchanged a silent glance with Keten, "Ohh the Captain's Mad!"
The Voth general's expression didn't change, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your Alliance is nothing compared to our might. Our technology surpasses your pathetic Khitomer fleet."
The general's words hung in the air like a taunt. Anzyl clenched his fists at his sides. "You can say what you want about your technology, but you underestimate our-"
But before he could say more, a sudden surge of energy rippled through the bridge, and Nolan vanished—teleported away in a flash of blue neon light.
The entire bridge crew froze, a collective gasp escaping from their lips.
"No!" Anzyl roared, but it was too late. Nolan was gone.
"Captain," Keten's voice broke through the chaos. "They've taken him."
Anzyl's mind raced, his heart pounding. They had to act fast. "Get us out of here—now!"
The crew scrambled to respond, the tension in the air thick. But as the Voth Fortress loomed in front of them, its weapons still charged, Anzyl knew they had mere moments before the situation spiraled beyond their control.
He turned to his crew, his voice cold and resolute. "Evasive maneuvers! Full power to shields!" He turned to the view screen as they pulled a hard 180 and whispered, "Hang on Nolan, I'm coming for you buddy."
The massive Voth Fortress loomed larger than life on the view screen, its weapons trained on the Nexus, as the ship turned tail and fled as fast as its quad engines could carry it. Time was running out—and so was their chance to save Nolan.