Aboard the USS Callisto, most of the crew was blissfully unaware of what awaited them. The ever-present hum of the engines pulsed like a heartbeat, steady and familiar, through corridors, workspaces, leisure spaces, and quiet quarters.

In sickbay, Dr. Nichelle Trova moved between patients, her hands quick but her mind drifting. She knew she’d studied the faces of her colleagues, met each of them at least once – but she was, and had always been, awful with names.  She offered a warm smile to a young nurse who was assisting her with a sprained wrist from an ill-fated attempt at impressing someone in one of the gyms.
“Sorry, remind me, it’s… Rea, isn’t it?” Nichelle asked, more guessing than knowing.The other woman grinned. “It’s Raylan, ma’am, but close enough.”
Nichelle laughed, a little embarrassed, but glad to find the nurse unoffended by her lacking ability to remember names. At least she got the first letter right.
Around her, nurses chatted, one sharing a recipe for Bajoran spice cakes, another recounting a romantic holodeck adventure with her sweetheart.

A few decks away, on the holodeck, Lieutenant Jonathan Keller found himself finally able to be relaxed and present. He watched his children laugh as they scrambled over the simulated grass to catch a ball he had tossed their way. His youngest, with an exaggerated look of determination, caught it, stumbling backward with a laugh as he raised it high over his head like a trophy.
“Good catch, kiddo!” Jonathan cheered, ruffling his hair, and feeling… lighter…  as he regarded the pride in every inch of his small frame. Here, the worries and duty felt irrelevant. Here, all he had to do was be Dad – and he savoured each second of it.

Meanwhile, in the Counselor’s office, Ensign Velix shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting a shy glance toward the Counselor. She picked at the edge of her uniform, trying to find the right words to answer the question she had been asked.
“I know it sounds silly, but… I mean, Lieutenant Pereira probably doesn’t even know I exist. As a person, I mean, not just a colleague.” she sighed. Her eyes flickered up to meet the Counselor’s gaze. “But every time I pass him in the corridor, I just… feel all warm and fuzzy.”
The Counselor had to hold back a smile. Of course he couldn’t say anything, but ironically he had the exact same question with Lieutenant Pereira only a few days ago. “Sounds perfectly normal to me. Have you thought about just… talking to him?”
The young woman’s eyes widened. “I could never…”

In engineering, Ensign Sarin adjusted a recalibrated warp coil, fending off playful teasing from her team.
“Are you sure this won’t take half the core with it?” one of the other ensigns teased, nudging her shoulder with a smirk.
“Oh, it’ll work,” Sarin replied dryly, casting an overly confident wink. “And if it doesn’t, you’ll be the first to find out.”
“Uh…. I guess this is where I take my lunch break.”, her counterpart replied, taking an exaggerated step back, but ultimately remained closely.
The warp core did not explode.

It was, to anyone passing through, just another unremarkable day.

But up on the bridge, the atmosphere was very different.

Captain Ceix’ brows had furrowed in a frown as he leaned forward. He studied the viewscreen with a quiet intensity no one dared to interrupt. And there was no one to interrupt it, because  the entire bridge crew mirrored his focus, almost transfixed by the image of a shuttle drifting lifelessly against the cold backdrop that seemed so much darker than it had before. Its hull was almost entirely shattered, a charred remnant of what had once been sleek plating, pocked with breaches that exposed empty interiors. 

“Yellow alert.”, said the Captain eventually, breaking the spell. The amber light pulsed across the bridge, casting an eerie glow over consoles and faces. 

Lieutenant Dakora, eyes fixed on her readout, spoke up next. “Captain, life sign scans are negative. No survivors…  I am trying to download the crew manifest and passenger list, but… “

She trailed off, her voice dissipating into an uneasy hush as her fingers hovered over the data. Every indicator suggested this had been a civilian shuttle, outfitted with only the barest of shields, its systems designed for routine travel, not combat. There was no reason for it to have been attacked so brutally.

Brennan’s gaze flicked from the console to Captain Ceix. “We followed a distress signal, but… it’s almost as if whoever did this wanted us to arrive just in time to find nothing.”

Ceix’s jaw tightened. The details on his screen displayed simple passenger logs—generic names without rank or designation. Each lacking piece of information hinted at lives unremarkable, but dearly connected: a mother, a spouse, a son. Ordinary people. Not rich as far as he could tell, not connected to anyone with a name that mattered.

“There is something else. The cargo is untouched, and whatever valuable components the attackers could have taken from the shuttle are still there.”

“If they didn’t come for parts, they came for something else.” Ceix said eventually, the edge in his tone sharpening as his eyes took in the trail of debris. They could have taken everything, but so far, it looked like they took nothing. And that made the destruction of the shuttle even more senseless. 

“I want every available information on the crew and the passengers.”

Brennan gave a nod, and got to work. 

“Captain… I’m picking up traces of a warp signature. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

“Source?”

“Unknown. Not a federation starship.”

At once, the energy on the bridge shifted from shock to focus. This was something they could do, rather than sit with the questions they didn’t have any answers to. But it was the Captain’s decision whether they wanted to pursue this, or not.

Captain Ceix straightened, and his gaze hardened. “Follow that signature.”