Posted by Lieutenant Thalos ch’Ravik (Chief Of Security) in Main Sim - Bridge

Posted by Captain John Tiberius Glen (Captain) in Main Sim - Bridge
[Snip]

The distortion coalesced.

Three vertical fractures of crimson-gold light tore silently into existence, not illuminating the room but replacing it in narrow slivers. Within them, shapes moved—not arriving, but aligning.

Then, with a sharp, almost inaudible snap—

They were there.

M’Mera reacted with the instincts and skills of her past Security background as she easily launched over the side rail and landed between the Captain and the materialized beings. She stood half crouched facing them with teeth bared. Every hair on her body, visible on the outside of her uniform, was raised in instinctual threat mode and to make herself look larger.
⸻

They did not materialize in the traditional sense. There was no beam, no cascade of energy. Instead, the figures resolved as if they had always been standing there and reality had simply caught up to them.

Three Shiarian officers.

Towering.

Armored.

Immovable.

Their presence immediately altered the space—not physically, but psychologically. Predatory. Controlled. Absolute.

⸻

At the center stood Over-Captain Vreth’kan Taruun.

He was larger than the others, his chitinous exoskeleton a deep burnished crimson layered with blackened, ceremonial plating. His armor was not merely functional—it was hierarchical, etched with ridged command sigils that pulsed faintly with bioluminescent gold.

His multi-faceted eyes reflected the bridge in fractured amber, taking in everything at once. There was no urgency in him. No aggression in motion.

Only certainty.

When he shifted, it was minimal—precise, deliberate, like a creature that had never needed to rush.

⸻

To his right stood Weapons Master T’korr Hakis.

Where Taruun was controlled, Hakis was coiled violence.

His armor bore visible scoring and reinforcement—layered plates designed for close engagement. Along his forearms, integrated weapon nodes hummed faintly, their energy cycling in a low, predatory rhythm. His stance was forward-weighted, as if every second not spent attacking was a deliberate restraint.

His gaze locked onto tactical stations, then shifted—measuring crew, distances, threats.

Calculating lethality.

⸻

To the left—

The third figure.

Unidentified.

Unlike the others, this officer’s armor was sleeker, less adorned, with faintly shifting patterns across its surface—bioluminescent lines that moved, not randomly, but in complex, flowing sequences. Where the others felt physical, this one felt… unsettled.

Out of phase, even now.

For just a fraction of a second, their outline doubled—like a shadow misaligned with its source—before snapping back into singular form.

Their role was unclear.

But their presence was not secondary.

⸻

Across the ship, reports began flooding in—

Multiple boarding signatures.
No transporter lock detected.
Internal sensors unable to track insertion vector.
Additional Shiarian units appearing across key systems.

They had not breached the ship.

They had simply… chosen to be aboard it.

⸻

On the bridge, Over-Captain Taruun finally moved.

One step forward.

Measured.

Inevitable.

When he spoke, his voice did not come from a single direction. It resonated—layered, harmonic, as though several versions of him were speaking in perfect synchronization across adjacent moments.

“Federation vessel… Merrimack.”

A pause—not for effect, but for assessment.

“You proceed within contested structure.”

His gaze shifted—landing, unerringly, on the command chair.

“You will cease your advance.”

A faint flicker passed along the edges of his armor, the bioluminescent lines pulsing once.

Not a threat.

A statement.

Behind him, T’korr Hakis adjusted his stance—just enough to remind everyone on the bridge exactly how quickly this could turn violent.

And the third officer—

Watched.

Not the crew.

Not the ship.

But the space between things.

⸻

All across the Merrimack, the same realization settled in—

This was not a boarding action.

This was a demonstration.

The Shiarians had not forced their way aboard.

They had proven they did not need to.

GM Nosferatu
Your Darkest Nightmare

Elyss had a front row seat to the arrival of the Shiarians. This was not good. No one who looked like they did was going to make ‘nice’ with the crew of the Merrimack. Her hands froze over her console and only one word could be heard from her still figure. “F*ck!”

Lieutenant Elyss Zavey
Chief Science Officer USS Merrimack

Rana was just as surprised and perhaps more so than everyone else. He just tried very hard not to show it as he took in the bridge officers. Stella looked a bit disappointed and alarmed all at the same time as she watched the intruders. Elyss had a look of resignation and anger. And of course, there was M’Mera. Rana looked toward the intruders and smiled as best he could. ” Good afternoon gentleman.” he said even though he himself had no idea what she ships clock was saying at the time. ” Welcome aboard.” He then looked to M’mera and said firmly,” Lieutenant please. Stand down you might make one of our visitors feel unwelcome. Then he added a bit for her and hoped that it was added as a means to secure the bridge as well as the rest of the ship. ” And if you could have your people disable all lifts while our visitors and the captain talks to keep anyone from being surprised?”

Rana Singh Number One

Glen actually saw this as a step=forward. As he had told his officers already, mapping the Caradthian Expanse was a pointless exercise now that they had found that its structure and form changed relentlessly, and its fractured space meant that they couldn’t explore it safely even if it didn’t change. So, they wouldn’t have been going to ‘advance’ very much further anyway. Their secondary mission was to make First Contact with the Shiarians, and behold, here they were! The Shiarian in the centre looked to be important too, by way of all that extra shiny stencilling on his suit. On top of that, no one had upset them yet, such as by saying how much Bolay looked like Dolphins, though that weapons officer could easily be mistaken for Robocop.

“Captain John T Glen of the Starship Merrimack,” Glen spoke to the Sharian in the centre. “Welcome aboard. We have no wish to trespass and apologise if we have. We were on a peaceful mission of exploration. We came here seeking only friendship and to demonstrate our goodwill. We mean no harm to you and would merely like to communicate with you.”

“Please can we get our guests some seats here?” Glen asked Rana.

• Glen, CO

Rana looked around the bridge with a dumb expression on his face as if he were in a meeting room with an abundance of chairs somewhere. He wasn’t even sure that the visitors could sit. He was betting that they were just projections of some sort. He ended up shooing the helmsman and the navigator from their seats and then gave the captain a nod as he himself stepped away. He then gave the nod to M’mera to come to the captain’s side with what he hoped would be just an alert attitude.

Rana Singh Number One

The bridge held. Not calm. Not stable.

But held—balanced on a knife’s edge between diplomacy and something far more final.

The Shiarians did not immediately respond. They observed.

Over-Captain Vreth’kan Taruun remained fixed on Glen, his multifaceted gaze unblinking, unreadable. The faint bioluminescent lines etched into his armor pulsed once… then again—slower this time, as if syncing not with the ship, but with the moment itself.

Behind him, Weapons Master T’korr Hakis shifted—just slightly. That was enough.

At Tactical, targeting sensors attempted to compensate—and failed.

Not jammed. Not resisted. Simply… outpaced.

Solutions resolved half a second too late. Firing arcs predicted positions the Shiarian officer no longer occupied—micro-adjustments occurring faster than the system could reconcile. The implication settled in cold and heavy:

If he moved—Starfleet weapons would always be reacting to where he had been. Not where he was.
Across the bridge, the third officer’s presence deepened.

The air around them… bent. Not visibly—but perceptibly.

Consoles near their position began registering impossible returns: overlapping spatial coordinates, fractional phase drift, and momentary duplications of nearby objects that corrected themselves before they could be fully perceived.

At Science, the readings told a quiet, terrifying truth—
The Shiarians were not entirely in the same frame of spacetime. They were anchored to it. Loosely. Deliberately.

Taruun finally inclined his head—just enough to acknowledge Glen’s words.

The harmonic voice returned. “You employ ritual courtesy.” A pause. Not confusion. Assessment.

“It is… noted.”

Behind the words, that same layered resonance pressed faintly against the crew—probing tone, cadence, intent. Not quite telepathy. But close enough to feel like being measured from the inside.

A flicker of light passed across Taruun’s armor—sharper this time.

“You will comply.” Not louder. Not harsher.

Just… absolute.

At Ops, a new alert pulsed—Turbolift systems: unresponsive.

Rana’s order had gone through. But not entirely by Starfleet’s hand.

Across the ship, lift systems reported dual command inputs—one Federation, one… other. Control was no longer exclusive.

In Engineering, power distribution began to fluctuate along non-critical pathways—nothing failing, but something testing tolerances.

In Sickbay, bio-monitors registered slight temporal desync in neural patterns among crew—milliseconds only, but enough to trigger alerts.

And on the bridge—M’Mera stood between predator and crew.

T’korr Hakis noticed. The Weapons Master’s bioluminescence flared—just a fraction brighter. Not aggression. Recognition.

A predator acknowledging another willing to bare teeth. Then—

The third officer moved. Not a step. A shift.

For a fraction of a second, they existed in two positions at once—one beside Taruun, the other several meters closer to the science station—and then reality chose. They were back where they started.
But the message was clear. Distance meant nothing.

Taruun spoke again, his focus narrowing.
“You will halt your incursion into the Aperture.” A beat. “You will remain.” Another. The faintest tilt of his head.

“Or you will be removed.”

Silence followed. Not empty but weighted.

Every system, every breath, every heartbeat aboard the Merrimack seemed to wait—for the next choice

M’Mera remained with eye contact for a moment with the second Shiarian before taking a cautious step back. She had heard the XO’s orders and the Engineering panel was chiming with messages. Her fur began to settle as she stepped back far enough to stand beside an auxiliary console which with a few swipes of her deft paws she pulled up the Engineering schematic. While keeping an eye on the intruders she swiftly got caught up on the alerts. “We arre no longerr the only oness in contrrol of ourrr sship, Captain!” She growled. “They arre alsso and arre tessting ourr ssysstemss!”

GM Nosferatu
Your Darkest Nightmare
OOC: My apologies for the sudden LOA, I was very ill:)

The Captain told Dariusz Pokorski, the Navigator, “Dead Stop Lieutenant! Power down and reroute additional power to shields and structural integrity.”
Dariusz’s hands moved swiftly across the console, his eyes scanning the readouts as the engines powered down. The bridge fell silent, tension mounting as the crew awaited further instructions, every member acutely aware that their fate hinged on these decisive actions.

A faint hum resonated through the ship as energy redirected, strengthening the shields. Outside, the stars seemed to shimmer against the hull, reflecting the crew’s growing apprehension.

The Captain Glen turned back to the Shiarian who had spoken, meeting their gaze with measured composure. “We use welcoming greetings and courtesy, yes. It is our custom to initiate contact with respect and hospitality, as we have found such introductions often help to create harmony among unfamiliar parties. Establishing this initial rapport can usually facilitate better communication and understanding, allowing us to bridge the gaps between cultures and intentions. However, in the spirit of further reassurance, I have also requested my crew to power down our engines completely. This action, as you may observe, will eventually bring our vessel to a halt, ceasing all forward motion. I do this deliberately as a gesture of our total compliance with your protocols and expectations. Our intention here is entirely peaceful; we have absolutely no desire or design to provoke any conflict or misunderstanding. There is no need for you to alter any of our systems.”

After a small pause, Captain Glen continued, “I wish to make it clear that our mission objectives were twofold: first, to conduct some simple cartography, mapping this sector for navigational purposes; and second, to open a dialogue with you and your people. Since it seems that your way is to be very direct and forthright, I will get straight to the point and speak bluntly, as you prefer. We bring urgent news to you, which may not have yet reached your awareness. During our mapping operations, we have discovered a dire and immediate problem with the fabric of the Minkowski space-time continuum throughout this entire region. Our scientific instruments have detected anomalies. Such ruptures would threaten the stability of space-time itself. Unrepaired, such breaches could have catastrophic consequences for every entity and civilisation within this sector. The threat is real but by mutual effort and open dialogue we would hope to resolve this crisis and ensure the safety of all.”

• Glen, CO

Thalos stood at his console, listening closely to the Captain’s words as they carried across the bridge. His expression remained composed, unreadable to most—but beneath it, calculation never stopped.

His eyes flicked briefly to the tactical display.

Numbers did not lie.

If the situation turned hostile… the Merrimack would be outmatched.

His antennae angled forward slightly, registering every shift in tone, every fluctuation in sensor data. He did not allow the concern to surface—not here, not now. Doubt had no place on the bridge.

Instead, he focused on what could be controlled.

Weapons remained ready.
Defensive systems stood primed.
Crew response time—acceptable.

He exhaled slowly, centering himself.

He trusted the Captain’s judgment. He had to.

Still… if the Shiarain chose to attack, Thalos would ensure the ship gave far better than it received.

Lieutenant Thalos ch’Ravik
Chief Of Security
USS Merrimack

Rana for his part had gone into observation mode. For the most part admiring the way the captain behaved in the face of sure and certain extinction at any given moment. This could be where they got the old phrase about mad dogs and Englishmen he supposed. But looking at their history, the English had done a lot on bluff alone. Perhaps the captain could stay true to his heritage?

But observing can do a lot. Watching the Shiarians Rana was reminded of a fishing trip he was taken out on by an Inuit friend. It involved more beer than fishing, but he had learned the oddest thing. His friend was going to teach him to spear fish salmon. It didn’t work for him. He couldn’t catch a one. Finally laughing at him his friend told him the secret. The water distorted where the fish were. One had to bring down the spear in front of the fish. The Shiarians were like that. They were or seemed to be in several places at once. He hoped that someone else had caught this. Just in case anyway.

.> He then heard M’mera getting upset. She only seemed to have two moods. Relaxed to the point of sleep or coming completely unhinged. She was good at her job though and impeccable in everything but her moods. He had little doubt in the captain. He acted slightly perturbed with the aliens. As if they had had the utter gall to interrupt him at tea uninvited. As for himself Rana had finally accepted whatever fate might be coming his way. He stood still and silent ready simply to aid in some fashion any crewmembers or the captain. One thing the shift thing with the Shiarians. They hadn’t attacked. They had come aboard and scanned their systems. They were interested.

Rana Singh Number One