The speeches had drawn to a close, and the sun had fallen beneath the horizon, but even in the twilight, the crowd continued to make its voice heard. “Our planet, our choice! Offworlders, hear our voice!”

They were still worked up, and with the coming of darkness, they’d grown rowdier too. Now, instead of their fists, they raised plywood and crowbars, and an occasional flaming bottle arced overhead. This was no longer a civil demonstration. Now, it was becoming a riot. But why? Why had the arrival of Starfleet, their mission meant to help the colonists of Duraxis, worked them up like this?

“I think it’s time we get out of here,” Commander Jason Gideon leaned over and whispered. It had been a fruitful fact finding mission, but nothing good was going to come of what was happening now. If they hung around much longer, he feared there was a significant chance that one or both of them might end up gravely injured.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Ensign Elara exhaled. She was relieved, truth be told. Sure, they were disguised in local attire, and sure, everyone was far too preoccupied with their rage to notice them, but still, the rage effusing off the frenzied colonists was more than a bit overwhelming to the young Betazoid.

As they turned and began to make their way out of the town square, suddenly, the sky became fire, a blue-white flash arcing across the night’s sky, searingly bright, bathing the square in harsh relief. 

Ensign Elara reached up to shield her eyes, but then the shockwave hit, a gut-punching rush of air accompanied by a deafening series of booms reverberating through the square. She was thrown from her feet as dust covered her body and the panic of a thousand terrified colonists, those in the square, and those all around, flooded her senses.

It was over as swiftly as it began, the imprint burned against her corneas lasting longer than the flash. But as her eyes began to readjust, she realized it was dark. Very dark. Every lamp, every window, everywhere she looked, there wasn’t a light in sight, the only illuminance coming from above, the low lying clouds now lit in a deep orange.

“What the…” she asked as she got back to her feet and looked around for her colleague. Commander Gideon was also just getting his wits back about him. “You alright, commander?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. What the hell was that?”

“Based on the fact all the power’s out, the reactor would be my guess,” Ensign Elara offered. “What else explodes like that?” It was a grim thought though, to say the least.

“But they don’t explode like that,” Commander Gideon offered. Fusion reactors were used for power planetside because their mechanisms were intrinsically safer than matter-antimatter annihilation or fission-based atom splitting. Reactors like the one the Corps had installed here over the last week also had safety systems on top of safety systems. They were all but bulletproof. But as his tricorder confirmed the point of origin, he couldn’t argue with what was on the screen. “Fuck, yeah, it was… we need to go!”

The pair broke into a sprint, as fast as they could muster, rushing through the narrow and completely blackened streets of Duraxis colony. 

As Commander Gideon and Ensign Elara rushed towards the reactor, glass cracked beneath their feet, the result of windows shattered by the force of the shockwave. All around them, there were colonists too, all in various sorts of disarray. Some were still on the ground or just getting back to their feet, while others had emerged from their dwellings, staring dumbfoundedly as they tried to make sense of what had just happened. Nothing like this had ever happened on their world, not even when the Klingons raided them in ninety-eight.

After what felt like an eternity, although really was just shy of two minutes, Commander Gideon and Ensign Elara covered the half kilometer distance to the reactor facility’s perimeter. What they saw was something akin to a post-apocalyptic holovid. The massive dome at the plant’s center was still mostly intact, but a hole had been blown out of the superstructure, and several massive fuel tanks were ablaze. All around them too, Starfleet officers were beaming in, a sea of yellow and teal, some in full fire turndown gear and others carrying medical kits.

Commander Gideon grabbed one of the fresh beam-ins, not because the ensign in teal with a medical kit appeared to be in charge, but simply because he was the closest. “Report?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, sir,” the ensign replied, a look of terror in his eyes as he tried to process the scene. “I was just about to get in the sonic shower when the call came in… something about a fire at the reactor.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Commander Gideon huffed. Even a Pakled toddler could have deduced that. “Carry on.” 

As the man hustled off, the commander again found himself wondering why it was that he’d taken this assignment. Was his career really worth it? 

“Let’s go inside and find someone who has more than two brain cells to rub together,” he then said, motioning for Ensign Elara to follow.

Together, the pair made their way into the facility, stepping over concrete blocks and duranium piping. Soon, they found themselves stepping into the control center for the reactor, where they found two of their colleagues, Captain Kiara Feng and Lieutenant Commander Hana Cho. The pair looked shell shocked, covered in dust, soot and blood, but they were alive and standing, deep in conversation with Commodore Amit Agarwal and Captain Reed Westmoreland. By the attire of the latter two, still dressed in their bedclothes, it was evident they’d beamed straight down.

“I swear it wasn’t us,” Captain Feng was insisting to the commodore as Gideon and Elara approached. “Lieutenant Commander Cho had just come down to relieve me when, all of a sudden, the core went psycho.” And that was the only way she could describe it, the way it’d taken on a life of its own, bent on superheating core plasma to critical no matter what she and Cho did.

“You sure?” Commodore Agarwal asked, glancing between the pair with a concerned expression on his face. It was incredible, truth be told, they had even survived given the extent of the damage around them, but it was also odd though too that something like this could have happened given all the built-in safeties.

“Absolutely positive,” Captain Feng nodded, her eyes filled with conviction. She was certain it wasn’t them. “This is standard shit, Amit. We could run this thing in our sleep.”

“Yeah, I know,” Commodore Agarwal nodded. “But you know I have to ask.”

Captain Feng nodded understandingly. Whenever something like this happened, operator failure was the first thought. Systems were designed with redundancies, but people were not. This time though, she was sure it wasn’t that. “We weren’t making any adjustments when the fusion runaway started, and all safeties were in place and active.”

“So tell me then, what exactly happened?”

“First indication of an issue was when we detected temperature rising in the reaction chamber,” Captain Feng recounted. “For safety reasons, standard operating procedures dictate running planetary fusion reactors within the range of one hundred to one hundred and twenty megakelvins, but they’re rated to one fifty. First reading we got was one forty, but then it was one fifty, one sixty, and well, you get the idea…”

Commodore Agarwal nodded. Heat was only a byproduct of the reaction, but it was directly proportional to the energy of the superheated plasmas, so it served as a barometer. If temperature climbed above allowed levels, it indicated that the reaction could be eclipsing what the containment systems could restrain.

“We immediately began emergency shutdown procedures,” Captain Feng continued. “I flooded coolant into the reaction chamber to buy us time, while Cho attempted to disable the ICRH injectors.”

“Attempted?” Commodore Agarwal furled his brow, noting the word choice.

“The injector control systems were non-responsive,” Lieutenant Commander Cho jumped in, flashing back to that moment, the feeling of helplessness she’d felt as she keyed in the commands and nothing happened “No matter what we did, microwave injection just continued to increase.”

“So how’d you stop it?” Commodore Agarwal asked. They had, after all, eventually succeeded as they were all standing here. If they had not, this’d have been nothing more than a kilometer-wide crater, and instead the limited casualties the med teams were tending to, it would have been a colony-scale catastrophe.

“I yanked the coupler that powers the injectors straight out of the PD trunk,” laughed Captain Feng as she raised her hands, showing palms scared by burns from the discharge caused by the desperate move. “We still weren’t out of the woods though. The reaction wasn’t getting worse, at least, but the containment systems could barely keep up with the energy and pressure already in the chamber, so, without time for a proper cooldown, I went for a straight shot two hundred and fifty kilogauss magnetic quench.”

“Ballsy,” Captain Westmoreland chuckled. 

“Stopped the reaction dead in its tracks,” Captain Feng pointed out. “But threw any semblance of pressure containment out the window, hence the explosive decompression that followed.” She had no idea how bad it had been, except that she was still alive and the whole place hadn’t been reduced to rubble.

“Yeah, we saw the damage on the way in,” Commander Gideon offered, making his presence known. Everyone turned to look at the commander and the ensign that’d just stepped into the room.

“How bad was it?” Captain Feng asked warily, fearful for the answer. She hadn’t had a chance to go outside yet – hell, she could barely stay standing – and since Commodore Agarwal and Captain Westmoreland had beamed directly into the control center, they had no details on the damage either.

“You got a shuttle-sized hole in the superstructure,” Commander Gideon reported. “And several fuel tanks are currently on fire.” He could see concern wash across their faces as he spoke. “Don’t worry. Damage control is already on it. We saw dozens of beam-ins, fire suppression and medical both, as we came inside.”

“Guess Saito is good for something, at least,” Captain Westmoreland scoffed. He wasn’t one to keep his opinions to himself, and he was no fan of the forever-captain. He and his colleagues in the Corps achieved their ranks by competence, but Kenji Saito had come to his by nothing more than tenure.

“Reed,” Commodore Agarwal said, disregarding the shot his colleague had taken at the USS Pacific Palisades‘ captain. “You and I, let’s get started on forensics. Kiara and Lieutenant Commander Cho, why don’t you both head back to the ship and get checked out by Doctor Goodwyn?”

“Amir, if you don’t mind,” Captain Feng said, straightening her uniform as if trying to shrug off what she’d just been through. “I’d rather stay down here and help you guys put the pieces together.” There was a deep burden of guilt in her eyes. Even though she was certain it wasn’t her fault, she felt deeply responsible for what had just unfolded.

“Very well,” Commodore Agarwal nodded, knowing better than to tell her off. “Let’s start with…”

But before he could finish his statement, Gideon’s combadge chirped to life. “Palisades to Commander Gideon,” came the voice of Captain Saito. “We have a situation.”

“No shit,” Captain Westmoreland grumbled under his breath.

Commander Gideon, though, was more graceful in his response. “We are aware, sir,” he assured the captain. “We’re already on site. Damage control is underway, and Ensign Elara and I are currently debriefing with the Corps team about…”

“Not the explosion, Commander,” Captain Saito interjected. “Or more, not only the explosion. We have another problem.” There was a sense of panic in his voice. “We’ve been monitoring the colonists, and it looks like a riot is forming in response to what just happened.”

“Yes, we observed a shift in attitude as the protest devolved through the evening,” Commander Gideon confirmed. Truth be told, it had probably qualified as a riot even before the shockwave hit the town square. He could only imagine what it’d devolved into now, if the colonists had put two and two together. And it wasn’t hard to do, given that the power was out, and smoke and fire were rising from the reactor facility. “Do you…”

“I need you up here, now,” Captain Saito ordered. “We need to figure out how to contain the situation before it gets worse.”

“Yes sir,” replied Commander Gideon. “I’ll be right up. Gideon out.”

“The fuck he need to gameplan with you?” Captain Westmoreland sighed as the commander closed the link. “Management of civil disturbances is something every security officer is trained in, and y’all got forty of them aboard the…”

Captain Agarwal raised his hand gently, cutting the captain off. “Not everyone has the same experience with frontier tensions as we do,” he reminded his colleague. “Commander Gideon, why don’t I join you back on the Palisades to help Captain Saito sort this out?”

“To help him, or to calm him?” Captain Westmoreland laughed sarcastically.

Commodore Agarwal ignored him and turned to the Palisades‘ Executive Officer.

“Works for me,” Commander Gideon nodded, appreciative of the support from the commodore. “Cho, you come back with us so the doc can check you out, and Elara, why don’t you remain here with Captains Feng and Westmoreland in case they need any help?”

“Will do,” Ensign Elara nodded. She wasn’t sure what an intelligence officer could do to help two engineering captains with the burned out shell of a fusion reactor, but still, she was more than willing to be an extra pair of hands for anything they needed – even if it was just to patch up the contusion on Captain Feng’s forehead. That much, at least, she knew how to do.

“Alright then,” Commander Gideon said as he gathered together with Agarwal and Cho. “Palisades, three to beam up. Energize.”

In a shimmer, they were gone, leaving Ensign Elara standing there with a concerned expression on her face. She wasn’t one to speak critically of Captain Saito like the others, but that didn’t mean she was ignorant to his weaknesses.

Captain Feng walked over and set her hand on the young Betazoid’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ensign,” she offered compassionately. “This is one of the things the commodore is particularly good at.” Frontier rabble rousing might have been new to the crew of the Pacific Palisades, but unfortunately, it was far more common out here than one might’ve thought. The Federation had neglected this place for too long, and in that vacuum, militant localism took root all too frequently.