“Approaching the colony now.”  Prentice shifted the Douglas into a high orbit of the planet.  Whatever was below had given them concerns to at least take a look.  The reports that the Jem’Hadar had avoided it during the war had given them all pause about putting an away team down on the planet.

Dread sat in the center command chair, “Fowler – what do we see?”  It had been a mystery why suddenly a signal was detected from the long-abandoned colony.

Sadie frowned at her science screens. “Signal is…fading.”  She shifted and adjusted the sensors. “It was coming from the center of the former colony.”  The view screen shifted to the view of one of the many high-definition cameras that dotted the Douglas’s hull.  It zoomed in on an aging communication rig that was encrusted with rust.  “They must have left the original unit there.  Atega?”

Lieutenant Atega turned to her station, connecting to the communication equipment. “Looks like there’s a short in the relays—started about a week ago.”  She searched the screens as she dug into the unit. “The power couplings are disintegrating…. It looks like it is in the middle of falling apart. That’s why the signal faded.”  It wasn’t the result she hoped for – the Douglas had been granted to them for exploration and science.  Being assigned to the Gamma Quadrant was supposed to afford them plenty of opportunity to fulfill their mission.

Helena sighed, “Let’s close it out, then.  Send the report to Starfleet.  Put a marker here for us to return to investigate further on the return trip.  “What’s next on our list?”

Sadie tapped at the console, “We’ve got a system nearby that needs evaluation and investigation.  Two nebulas farther along and a few unknown phenomena to examine, captain.”  The possibility of all of it was exciting for her and her science team.  There was a sharp tone from her console, and she turned her attention to it, “Captain, I’m getting an unusual signal…increasing in both strength and effect.”  Without warning, klaxons began ringing softly as the deck underneath them began to tremble. Fowler activated the safety straps for her chair as others around the bridge quickly followed suit.  She retasked the sensors as the deck shuddered, and the alarms became more insistent and loud.  “Detecting a massive surge in energy close by – disturbance waves are impacting against the ship – shields holding, but it’s…” The deck suddenly pitched, sending standing officers flying across the deck as the lights flickered under the increasing gravimetric forces.

Dread gritted her teeth from the command chair, stabbing at her all call for the ship, “All hands secure yourself and brace for impact!”  She wasn’t sure what they would impact, but it got worse as the deck shook, groaning as the hull was pushed and pulled.

Fowler tapped wildly at her console, “I’m reading power levels beyond measure, captain – something is opening up ahead of us!”

Prentice crawled back to the helm, his head smeared with blood.  He snapped on the strap and reported, “Helm, not responding!  Impulse engines are overloaded – thrusters are ineffective at this range and speed. – we’re moving near warp speed into it!”  Will did his best to reroute power and commands, but it was impossible.  The deck pitched again as a collective groan, and a shout was shared across the bridge.  The shaking became an earthquake as the sound overwhelmed their ears.  The Douglas bounced through several scattered and violent fields before being tossed into the depths of a stormy aperture, which promptly closed behind the Constitution III class ship.

The lights flickered a gaudy dance in engineering, the smoke hanging above the room as fires flickered across it, bodies sprawling everywhere. Some were starting to stir, while others remained still. The warp core’s usual glow was absent, and the sounds of an active and alive main engineering were muted, replaced by an eerie silence that ached.

Elizabeth McKee’s eyes flew open, and she growled at the soreness that emanated from all parts of her.  She lay against a wall, and she remembered going airborne in the fading moments of her consciousness.  She brushed her matted hair out of her face and slowly pulled her body up.  Her vision was blurry, but she could see flames burning at various points.  Blinking several times, she was able to see more clearly.  There were any number of bodies around her, but she hadn’t found her Chief, Greer.  McKee moved through her limbs visually, gingerly touching each to test for pain or injury.  Her legs were sore, but one arm was throbbing with pain.  She worked through the various possibilities and settled on her dislocated right shoulder.  There was movement near her as an ensign picked himself up off the floor, coughing as he leaned up against the wall across from her.

“Lieutenant McKee, you okay?”

She replied, “Shoulder’s out of socket and sore as hell.  You?”  She winced as the pain arced through her shoulder.

“Leg might be broken.  What did we hit?”

She was as confused as he was: “Whatever it was, it did a number on the ship. It looks like emergency power isn’t online. We’re running auxiliary batteries with the lights, but the consoles aren’t active, and the core’s shut down.  Shit.  The battery will keep us alive for twenty-four hours, maybe a little more.”

There was a clash and a clatter nearby.  Two wide-eyed crewmen walked hesitantly towards them out of the swirling smoke, “Sirs?”

McKee recognized them both.  “Rogana, you’re cross-trained in medical. Help me get my shoulder back in.”  The young woman looked around and clicked open a medical supply wall locker, sliding next to her armed with hypo sprays and a sling.  She went to work silently while the other crewman stabilized the ensign’s leg.  It took Jerica Rogana ten minutes and lots of grimacing in pain from McKee, but the shoulder shuddered back into place, eliciting a sour shout from the patient and a tired smile from the crewman.

“We’re triaging our way through engineering, sir.  We’ve been unable to reach sickbay – communications are spotty at best.  No casualties, but we’ve got some pretty hurt people down here.”  She held up a flickering PADD, “Doing my best to take reports as we go.  So far, 25 survivors on the third and second floors of main engineering.  You’re the first we’ve run into on the main floor.” Elizabeth accepted the water bottle and drank deeply, asking if they’d found the chief.  “No, sir.  We’ll keep working our way forward – tricorders showing plenty of life in various conditions, so we’re hopeful.”

“I’m coming with you.” She stood, accepting the sling and arranging her arm.  “Crewman – stay with the ensign.  Rogana, let’s move.”

“Goddamn, that hurts.”  Jordan dabbed at the deep cut on her forehead with a spare washcloth.  Whatever had happened had flung sickbay into chaos, and she had to triage herself first before she could identify other needs.  It took a minute for her to staunch the bleeding and another minute to seal the wound.  Her charge nurse hobbled over, one arm under a makeshift crutch.

“We’re not getting any communications – badges are spotty in who they can reach.”  She handed over a flickering PADD, “Aux battery, no consoles.”

Reid grumbled, “Status of sickbay?”

“Most injuries are stable – we’ve got one critical who took a header into a console.  We’re working on relieving the cranial pressure and relying on some old-school training.  It’s not pretty.”

Jordan winced at the reality. If emergency power weren’t restored, they would be using many old-school methodology treatments.  “It’s going to get a lot uglier.  Gather a team – we’re going to have to go to our patients at this rate.”