A red emergency light pulsed, bathing the metal corridors in a dim, flickering glow. A deep metallic groan reverberated through the walls, as if the station itself were waking up. The air carried an unnatural charge, a tension that made the away team hyper-aware of every sound. A low hum built beneath their fee, energy being redirected.

Trying to remain calm and composed, Keslara scanned their surroundings, tightening her grip on her rifle.

“Stay alert. Panic or rash behavior will only put us at a disadvantage. Focus on the task at hand. Kane, your assessment?”

Darius studied his tricorder, his eyes narrowing as he ran a threat assessment.

“Give me a moment,” he muttered before pausing. His expression darkened.

“I’ve got confirmation on movement. However… no life signs detected.”

That, by itself, was alarming. Even the Borg registered some degree of life.

Near a damaged control panel, Aneesa’s fingers flew across the console, frustration clear on her face.

“I’m doing my best to bypass the security lock, but the language, whatever it is, doesn’t make this easy.” She tapped another sequence, then cursed under her breath. “The system is actively resisting my attempts to override it. It’s like it doesn’t just have security measures, it’s fighting back.”

Keslara turned to Thal , who was kneeling nearby, desperately trying to get a stable communication link with the Himalaya. Even from her position, she could hear the static-filled signal, a clear indication that the interference was worsening.

Then, a noise.

Both Keslara and Kane instinctively turned, weapons raised.

A shuffle. A flicker of movement against the red glow. A shadow stretching along the corridor.

Bridge – Himalaya

The bridge was tense, status displays flashing yellow and red as energy readings spiked. Outside, subspace ripples distorted the stars, bending them into fractured light. The Himalaya’s shields flared and crackled, struggling against external energy fluctuations.

Valerio sat forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly.

He was evaluating options, neither of them good.

They could push the ship closer to the station to try to stabilize the transporter lock, but that would mean putting more strain on their systems.

Or they could hold their position, hoping the interference cleared up naturally, but that meant leaving the away team stranded.

Neither choice sat well with him.

“Come on, Keslara, give me something,” he muttered under his breath.

Revek’s last message had been garbled, and now there was only silence.

Something wasn’t right.

Abandoned Station 

The away team pressed deeper, reaching what looked like a central control node, but something felt wrong.

Aneesa slowed, eyes scanning the flickering holographic displays, their corrupted Starfleet interface menus layered with unknown code. “What the hell is this place?”

A console suddenly powered on, scrolling distorted log entries in Federation Standard and an alien script she didn’t recognize.

Aneesa’s breath caught as she hurried to the console, her fingers flying over the controls.

“This is the strangest place I’ve ever been,” she admitted, her voice quiet. The station’s architecture didn’t add up, why was there Starfleet tech mixed with something else?

Then, her gaze landed on a specific entry.

Her brow furrowed. “This is a distress message… but it’s not a call for help.”

Keslara turned slightly. “Then what is it?”

Aneesa hesitated. “That’s… the question. This station wasn’t built for habitation.” She tapped a partially translated phrase on the screen. “It was built for containment.”

“Containment of what?” Keslara’s expression darkened.

She scrolled through fragmented entries, then stopped, her breath catching. Then Aneesa start reading an entry.

“We made a mistake. It isn’t what we thought it was.”

A sharp beep cut through the moment.

Darius’s motion tracker lit up.

“I’ve got rapid movement, again, no life signs.” His stance shifted, rifle raised.

Thal’s eyes flicked across the sensor data, his mouth tightening.

“The station is reconfiguring its systems,” he muttered. He pointed at a data stream. “I can’t tell for what purpose.”

Then, the lights shifted.

The red glow dimmed for a second, replaced by a deep violet hue.

The walls shuddered, as if something pressed against them from the inside.

A long-abandoned Starfleet terminal crackled to life.

The screen displayed:

SECURITY PROTOCOL INCOMPLETE.

Keslara and Kane immediately raised their weapons, pointing toward the far end of the chamber, where a shadow stretched unnaturally along the wall.

But there was no source.

Aneesa’s console flashed red.

The air felt heavy, charged with energy and something else, something unnatural.

The walls groaned, as if the station itself was reacting to them.

Aneesa barely had time to register the data before Keslara yanked her back behind cover.

“The station is executing its last-logged protocol!”

Kane’s grip tightened on his rifle. “That’s bad news.”

“We need to move. Immediate retreat!” Keslara ordered. “Lieutenant Kane, take point!”

The shadow moved, glitching at the edges, like a corrupted hologram.

The corridors ahead began sealing off, cutting off escape routes.

Then, a single sound filled the comms.

It wasn’t a voice.

It was something distorted, layered, inhuman.

And it was getting closer.