Roj Deylt, Chief Flight Control Officer of the USS Tanjura, checked the flight logs from their unexpected jump across space.  The numbers were incredible, warp speeds in the double digits, but no control.  It was just luck that they had not hit a star but there were a couple of near passes.

Try as he might, he could not wrap his head around the physics involved in the weird event that flung them here.  Even just trying to follow the science made his antennae ache.  But that was what the Science Department was for.  Best to leave it to the experts.  In any case, he had enough to do working out how to get the Tanjura from where it was, to where it needed to be.  The impulse system was is surprisingly good shape, but getting anywhere on impulse power alone was still going to take ages.

Perhaps the shuttles would provide some warp capability.  He was still waiting for word back from Engineering or Ops or whoever was looking at the shuttles.  Roj stood up, he needed some food and maybe a nice mug of The.

—

Irij, the communication officer, tested the relays.  The warp-capable probes that had been converted into communications links were working as they should . . . except they still not found the Federation Network to interface with.

It was disheartening but the distances were vast, surely they would find a connection soon.  Irij did not want to let the ship down, or Captain Ajzure, who had placed so much trust in her.  Darn it, Federation Network, where are you?

She looked up, noting that someone had stepped up to her.  It was Roj.

—

Roj handed Irij a mug of The and a ration bar, as he knew she would not leave her post until she restored communications with Stafleet.  “You need to eat, Ensign,  We need you at your best for when you contact command.”

“You think I will?” asked Irij.

“Of course,” said Roj.  “You are the best or you would not be here.  Captain Ajzure wanted the best from her Andorian crew and got it.”

“Well, you are quite a pilot,” she said around a mouthful of ration bar.

“Much good it did,” he said with a laugh.  “It was like trying to steer a comet.  It was good fortune not my skill that got us here safely.  But I will pilot us out.”

She returned the smile.  “I know you will.”

“I appreciate it, Ensign,” Roj said.  “I look forward to showing off for you.”  He bent his antennae roughishly.

Irij laughed, almost sputtering The everywhere.  “I will expect to see some fancy flying from you, Lieutenant,”

“I promise,” said Roj, “now I had best let you get back to your task.”

“When things get back to . . . less crazy, let us have dinner.”

“Agreed,” said Roj.

—

Deep in space, a probe broadcast, as it had been programmed to, a set of interface protocols.  It had been doing for hours as it traveled further and further away from its launch point, the USS Tanjura, as it was designed to do.  This time, unlike the others, it got a reply.