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"Mr. Jeffy", Reed called out, "activate NS Drive."
"Ho, ho, sir!" the Engineering Officer exclaimed, bringing his stocky stature to attention.
"That's 'aye, aye', Mr. Jeffy", Reed corrected.
"Yes, sir", Jeffy said glumly, slowing the vessel to the prescribed speed.
"Any change in that signal, Lieutenant Scott?", Reed queried.
"Negative, Commander. Nor am I getting any reading on life support. However, by maintaining a course of .035 we will be within transport range in three to four spibleps."
"Make it so then, Number Two", Reed said already considering the dangers that might lay in wait.
The ship slowed to what seemed a crawl, and consulting the holographic star chart on his console, Reed noted with some unease that they were drawing near the Neutral Zone. He hoped they'd find their prize before their presence was noted by the Wyzenhymers, a swarthy, nose less, war loving race of stooped, hairy humanoids. Reed was shaken from his revelry by the arrival of Mr Proteau and Spunky.
"You summoned me, Commander." Proteau said quietly.
Reed turned to his Security Officer, "Yes Mister Proteau, I need you to assemble a landing party. Mr Jeffy, Lt. Scott, and I will be accompanying you."
"Aye aye, sir.";
Just as Proteau left the bridge, Lieutenant Scott spoke up, "Commander, we are within transport range, and we have visual on the vessel."
The main televiewer screen changed to show a Space Fleet transport frigate floating lifelessly in the dark abyss, laser scarring on the its starboard side. The impact marks on the hull were distinct, and immediately Reed recognized the destructive signature of the Wyzenhymer Armada.
