The Paramount soared through space like a hot rod cruising down the highway. All around the ship crewmembers whispered among themselves. Discussing their new guest, What happened to them? What are they doing here?

The senior staff meet in the conference room to discuss their guest. They went back and forth among themselves.

“I think they should be put in the brig,” Arva spoke loudly, silencing the bickering happening among them.

“Why’s that?” Nitus inquired.

“None of their stories make sense,” Arva said as he picked up a PADD from the table. He looked over the transcript of one of the interviews between him and one of the survivors. 

“How so?” T’Soni questioned him. Although she knew that the skilled Bajorian officer who was the ship's chief of tactical & security had evidence to back his statement. 

“One of them says they think they were attacked by the Gorn. Another says the Klingon’s one even suggested the Romulans,” Arva said in disbelief as he looked around the room at his fellow officers, “They are hiding something and until we can figure it out I recommend they be kept in the brig and ar the minimum have a security officer trail them,” he said to them. 

‘They all seem… off,’ Arva thought to himself as he looked over the transcripts of the interviews, ‘Some of them were nervous, which would be expected when your home is attacked but a small number of them seemed way too calm,’ he thought to himself.

“I disagree,” Laura said aloud, bringing everyone out of their thoughts as he started speaking.

“Why's that?” Nitus asked her curiously.

“I don't think we should jump to conclusions on what's happened until we get there and see it with our own eyes,” she said to them.

“I agree,” Zahir said.

“I agree with Arva,” Mason said, “We don't know what's happened to the Deblin colony or the rest of the colonists. For all we know they could be the perpetrators.”

Then a sudden flash illuminated the void behind the ship. The once smooth and steady journey transformed into a chaotic dance of unpredictability, sent shivers through the vessel's structure. The crew grasped onto consoles as the ship convulsed, a turbulent ballet induced by an unknown disruptive force.

The delicate equilibrium of the warp field, finely tuned for interstellar travel, now teetered on the edge of destabilization. Alarms blared, emergency lights flickered, and the ship's artificial gravity momentarily lost its hold as the crew went flying into not only each other but the walls around them as well.

The ship's fate hung in the balance as the crew scrambled to execute emergency protocols. The unsettling sensation of being pulled out of warp was not a mere hiccup but a deliberate attack on the Paramount and its crew.