A dark blanket, contrasting with blacks and yellows, and the occasional white, which is shaped as a circle and sometimes a crescent. There are stars which dot the blanket in an intricate pattern. For this is space. And in the vast ocean of space, there is only silence. An ominous, brittle silence.

A silence that was shattered like a glass dropped from a great height, as a bright flash of light appeared, serving as the precursor to the emergence of a burning, smoking spaceframe of a starship from some sort of space vortex. Explosions ravaged the external hull of the mighty vessel which, to anyone watching, seemed to be hurtling out of control at an alarming speed, leaving thick plumes of black smoke trailing in her wake. Rather fortuitously, an opportunity to put a halt to the disastrous situation presented itself; it was just unfortunate that the solution came in the form of a large, lifeless space body directly in the ship’s path.

Inside the burning hulk, chaos had ensued. Just like outside, explosions and smoke filled countless rooms and corridors as the aftermath of the catastrophe took hold. On the bridge of the starship, red lights flickered as smoke continued to fill the room, the environmental systems struggling to filter the gas. In the centre chair, Italia Ruas was dabbing at a wound on her forehead as blood trickled down her left cheek and she let out several coughs. “Report!” she beckoned over the sound of the chaos, the alarms and the sparking consoles, unaware of whoever would be able to respond.

From several feet behind her, and tapping away at what was left of the engineering controls, Commander Vasoch Gor grunted in response. “There isn’t a system on this ship that is functioning properly!” the Tellarite fumed, looking up at the display above his head. “Propulsion, shields, weapons, long range sensors, communications. Even life support is failing…”

[Deck 13, Astrophysics]

Akaria had always argued with her husband that starships shouldn’t have a 13th deck – sort of like how old hotels used to avoid a 13th floor. Of course, Tomaz didn’t have to tell her that she was crazy; they both knew it. The superstition had always been more of a bit joke that she would do to annoy Tom. But now – as the ship’s red alert blared and despairing, pained screams echoed down the cacophonous hallway – Akaria wondered if she should have been more weary.

Especially now that she was pinned, semi-conscious under a pile of ceiling and part of the wall she’d been gazing at moments prior while her colleagues carried on with, well, whatever they’d been talking about prior. Akaria could feel her uniform thickening with blood around her waist, trailing from as far up as her forehead. “Help…” she called, in the loudest voice she could muster.

And then her plea for help faded into the sounds of the blaring red alert as Akaria drifted into unconsciousness, wondering if Tomaz had made it through unscathed.

[Deck 1, Bridge]

Up in the command center of the bridge, the Captain of the Thesis was huddled in her command chair, holding on for dear life as the ship’s deck plating rattled away beneath her feet. It was yet another test for her ship, and now she could practically feel it falling apart at the seams. She hoped her crew were holding up better than the ship seemed to be, but given the fact that no one had made contact with the bridge, it wasn’t looking good. Maybe they wouldn’t make it through this time.

Tempa lay on the deck, a head wound slowly bleeding onto the carpeting. The helm station was in pieces. Luckily, the same overload that caused the large top of the console to now be embedded into the starboard bulkhead also blew her backwards, probably saving the young Andorian’s life in the process. Groaning, she fought to regain consciousness.

Behind the tactical station, a butch Orion was in similar shape, but his console seemed far less worse off than the Lieutenant’s. Dragging himself up, he pressed the comm panel and opened a channel. “=/\=Medical team to the bridge,” he requested before rushing to help Ensign th’Zorati to her feet.

Tempa nodded in appreciation before moving to an auxiliary operations station. “Attempting to regain helm control,” she said, blood still dripping from the head wound. She was pretty sure she had at least two cracked ribs and possibly a broken ankle.

”Ensign Jaara,” Ruas called out to try and get the attention of the ships Tactical officer again, “I need some sort of indication as to the state of the crew. What can you tell me?”

”Internal sensors are offline,” the Orion revealed in between taps of frustration on the console, “there is no way to tell who is alive and who isn’t beyond this room.”

”Helm control is completely lost. The primary navigational computer is, gone, as best as I can tell. The ODN lines to the secondary NAVCOMP is severed, or damaged or something,” Tempestava reported from her auxiliary station. “We should be able to regain control from Engineering, if anyone is still alive down there.”

”I think we might be too late,” the Tellarite executive grunted from the Tactical station as he threw up the external view of the ship in order to confirm what his limited sensors were telling him. On the viewscreen, the distorted view was clear enough for those present to see the danger before them. Thesis, in all her burning glory, was on a collision course with a massive moon or something in front of them.

”Without helm control, we’ll be caught in the gravitational pull of whatever that is. We’ll be pulled down onto the surface and there will be no stopping it,” he continued and watched as Ruas slowly pushed herself to her feet, “In about ten minutes, this ship will crash…”

It had all come down to this. Years of work on a state of the art starship, months of progress on new, classified technology, and all would be lost, gods knows where after their uncontrolled trip through warp. Italia had to think fast in order to safeguard the lives of her crew. If the ship survived whatever was to occur, then she would deal with the aftermath, but for now their safety was paramount.

It was every commanding officer’s nightmare scenario, their last resort, but it had to be done. Reaching down to the controls on her chair, she closed her eyes and uttered a few words under her breath before speaking loudly and clearly. “Computer, activate emergency evacuation protocols. Five minute countdown,” she instructed coldly. With comms seemingly down, she couldn’t give the order herself, but if this new protocol worked, the computer would do it for her.

Ensign Jaara glared at the Captain, not out of anger, or disrespect but out of concern as the seconds lingered on and the computer still failed to respond.

Then, with a crackling over the comm array, the familiar boatswain’s whistle sounded and the computer’s female voice finally kicked in and rang out across the ship.“Emergency evacuation protocols active. All hands abandon ship. Five minute silent countdown enabled.”

Taking in a deep breath, the Captain looked around the bridge. “All of you, split up, find as many people as you can and get to an escape pod or shuttle,” she instructed. “I’m heading to engineering,” she added, sensing the almost instantaneous protests from those with her.

Disappearing into the port turbo lift, the Captain watched as her faithful crew disappeared into the turbo lift opposite. Taking a fleeting look around the command centre one final time, the Trill took a resigned step backwards and let the doors close in front of her. She would never set eyes on the bridge again.

Or would she?

At the last second, a bleeping alarm from a forward console caused the Trill to thrust her arm between the doors, and stop them from closing fully. Forcing them back open, she made a beeline for the Operations station.

Emerging from the starboard turbolift in much the same way as the Captain, Ensign Jaara joined the Trill at Ops. Soon, the Orion smacked the console again. This time, out of happiness. “There’s another starship coming in…” he grinned as the other officer’s joined them at the front of the bridge.

“It’s the Santa Fe…”