Post Number: 255 *Another Unanswered Hail*
Posted on Sun Apr 6th, 2025 @ 3:16am by Lieutenant JG Celine Quinn
460 words; about a 2 minute read
Mission: Secrets
On:
The comms station on Starbase Obsidian hummed with subdued activity, its usual chatter replaced by the grim silence of a Federation still reeling. Lieutenant Celine Quinn, Chief Diplomatic Officer, sat stiffly in front of the console, her fingers hovering over the controls. The screen before her displayed the same message for the twelfth time in as many hours:
**<< Transmission to Trill Homeworld – No Response >>**
She exhaled through her nose, her jaw tight. Eleven days. Eleven days since the Synthulans had emerged from the void and carved through Federation space like a scythe through wheat. Earth, Vulcan, Andor—all struck with terrifying precision. And now, as the dust settled and the survivors tallied their dead, entire worlds had gone silent.
Including Trill.
"Try again," she murmured, more to herself than to the young ensign manning the station beside her.
Ensign Veldon hesitated. "Lieutenant, we’ve sent the same hail every two hours for the past three days. If they were going to respond—"
"I’m aware of the timeline, Ensign," Celine cut in, sharper than she intended. She softened her tone. "But we don’t know *why* they’re not responding. Jamming? Damage to their comm arrays? Or—"
*Or they’re gone too.*
She didn’t say it. The words lingered in the air anyway.
Veldon swallowed and nodded, inputting the sequence once more. The console chirped as the transmission shot through subspace, streaking toward the Trill system. The screen flickered:
**<< Transmission Sent. Awaiting Response... >>**
Silence.
Celine leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. She had been to Trill once, years ago, during her early diplomatic training. The symbiont pools of Mak'ala had glittered under twin suns, and the Trill diplomats had been warm, quick to laugh, quicker to debate. The idea of that world reduced to static was unthinkable.
And yet.
Her console pinged—an incoming notification. Her heart leapt before she registered it was just Captain Pontmercy’s latest update. She skimmed the report: more attacks along the Romulan border, another colony gone dark. No mention of Trill.
No mention of anyone, really, who hadn’t already screamed for help loud enough to be heard.
Veldon cleared his throat. "Lieutenant... maybe we should focus on the systems we *know* are still active? Bajor’s government is asking for aid coordination, and the Betazeds—"
"I’m not giving up on Trill," Celine said quietly.
Veldon fell silent.
She stared at the screen, willing it to change. Willing *something* to cut through the quiet.
It didn’t.
**<< Transmission to Trill Homeworld – No Response >>**
Somewhere out there, beneath the same stars that watched over Obsidian, Trill hung in the darkness.
And Celine Quinn refused to let it disappear unheard.
Off:
Lieutenant Junior Grade Celine Quinn
Chief Diplomatic Officer
Starbase Obsidian
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