For millennia, scientists looked to the heavens and tried to make sense of the universe. From Galileo to Neil deGrasse Tyson, Spock to Zephram Cochrane, knowledge of the cosmos changed the very fabric of life as we know it. Even now, centuries after the memorable first achievement of warp flight, scientists still explore the heavens and enrich their understanding of the universe, travelling the galaxy in search of answers to many a question.

Sadly, the scientific endeavour the Arimathea crew had embarked upon was so far proving fruitless. The nebula they had been asked to explore by the Cardassian science ministry had proven to be nothing out of the ordinary, at least to the naked eye of the ship’s sensor suite. Beyond the tritanium hull plating, something was stirring.

“I think it’s time to call it,” Akaria Okan sighed frustratedly, looking up at Commander D’orr who had been working alongside her for what felt like an age now. “We’ve got nothing,” she told begrudgingly.

Onsas nodded slowly, reluctantly agreeing with his comrade’s analysis. He was just turning to tell the Captain of their ‘failure’ when a flailing arm from Akaria swatted him. He rubbed it in mock pain.

“Ow,” he frowned.

“Look…” she whispered, pointing to some new sensor readings that had just appeared several thousand meters away, at the heart of the nebula itself.

Leaning down to the console, a look of excitement spread across the Xelliat’s face, his fingers dancing and deep-set eyes darting across the screen as he tried to make sense of what they were seeing. “I’ve never seen readings like these,” he whispered to his counterpart.

“It’s incredible…” the younger Officer grinned, then spun her chair to face the heart of the bridge. “Captain, you’re going to want to see this,” she told her colleague from Hathaway.

Sliding forward to the edge of his chair, Giarvar turned just a fraction to make eye contact with his scientists. From a purely selfish perspective, he was happy to see them working well together at last and to see them genuinely excited about whatever they had found. He didn’t have to wait long as the Risian tapped at her controls and threw up her results. To the untrained eye, it was a breathtaking celestial tapestry of vibrant colours and ethereal beauty. To the scientists of the Arimathea, it was much, much more. It was magnificent. It was pure. It was a scientific discovery, unlike anything they had encountered before.

“We’ve discovered a massive energy signal emanating from the heart of the nebula,” Akaria revealed as she rose to her feet and joined her colleague in observing the display on the screen. “We can’t detect anything there, but it seems to be coming in waves, stronger in some sections of the nebula, weaker in others, such as where we are,” she told.

“That won’t be the case for long,” D’orr retorted quickly, having taken over the science station in Akaria.s brief absence. “According to our readings, the energy spike is heading in our direction and will impact us in 10… 9… 8…”

Much sooner than the Xelliat could have predicted, a minor shockwave impacted the science ship, just enough to cause objects to bounce off their tables and people to become unsteady on their feet. But almost as quickly as it began, the rumble was over. The phenomenon was not finished, however, as the first signs of trouble began to subtly manifest themselves. The nebula’s colours shifted, morphing from their initial resplendent brilliance into ominous hues of deep crimson and sapphire. As the vessel ventured further into the nebula’s heart, its engines, once humming with power and confidence, began to falter, sputtering and gasping, struggling to maintain thrust until the Arimathea came to a standstill.

Giarvar Kauhn watched his people at work, knowing better than to disturb them as they were working on a situational report for him. Anything he said right now would only complicate matters.

“Engines are offline,” Commander Nisea reported from the helm, fingers dancing wildly. “Propulsion systems are powered and active, the engines just won’t work. All momentum has ceased,” she concluded, turning briefly to look at the captain.

“We have another problem…” the Bolian at Ops reported to the captain. Rather randomly, the only other system seemingly affected by the change in the nebula was that of communications, with all external transceivers faltering, leaving the starship isolated in this new, eerie realm. The once-inviting nebula had transformed into a malevolent force that had effectively disabled their means of escape and contact with anyone outside the nebula. Arimathea lay helplessly adrift, and the nebula’s new-found malevolence continued to intensify. Further unpredictable electromagnetic storms erupted at its heart, unleashing torrents of cosmic radiation that battered the vessel’s shields and hull. Gravity wells, previously dormant, now exerted their influence, causing the ship to drift uncontrollably toward unseen perils her scientists had been unable to predict.

Another shockwave smashed into the ship’s starboard hull, far stronger than before and more than enough to send crewmembers crashing to the ground as the red alert klaxons finally sounded and the lights took on a decidedly red tinge to them. Dragging himself to his chair, Giarvar called out for a damage report.

“Shields at thirty,” the clicks and whistles of Lieutenant Iersa were translated into audible English for all to understand.

“Engineering to bridge,” the thick Russian drawl of the ship’s engineer filtered through the internal comms. “Energy reserves are dwindling and we’ve got systems down across the ship. Mostly minor things,” there was hesitation in her voice.

It was enough to cause the Captain to respond with curiosity. “Go on, Lieutenant. What else?”

“We’re running diagnostics on everything and they’re coming back quickly,” the Russian responded. “Everything offline should be working, they just…aren’t.”

“Captain… the nebula,” Akaria jutted her head towards the main viewer where the nebula was undergoing another stage of metamorphosis, this time returning to the vibrant work of art that had drawn them there in the first place.

“All energy output from the nebula has ceased, and there is no sign of the energy source,” Onsas declared from the science station, turning back to look at the Captain and his colleague. “It’s almost as if the nebula never changed,” he said, more than a little confused.

“I’ve got engines back,” the helmswoman declared from the forwardmost station.

“Put us in reverse Commander,” Giarvar instructed, returning to his seat and gesturing for Akaria to do the same. “Monitor the nebula and all ship’s systems.” He slumped into his seat, still feeling the effects of earlier, but at least slightly comfier as he grabbed the chair arms.

It was as if he had predicted the likely outcome of their movement. As the Arimathea gained speed, even on a reverse trajectory, the nebula seemed to detect her movements and grew angry. Soon the crimson clouds returned and the violent shockwaves of earlier impacted the aging vessel’s primary hull once again. Crewmembers and equipment alike were tossed in all directions, a little less violently than before, but for a sustained period of at least two minutes before enough was enough and a slice to the captain’s throat was enough to signal all stop on the engines.

When the proverbial dust had settled, the senior staff looked more than a little shell-shocked at events. Giarvar, however, knew exactly what to do. “Maintain current position and status,” he ordered, “senior staff to the conference room at once.”