An eerie silence drowned darkening halls across multiple levels, drifting on the entrails of the gaseous clouds engulfing the abandoned corridors of the Quasaris Biofabrication Center. The dying embers of light from the Draxari star penetrated the windows of the science facility during its final rotation of the day, providing solace for only a brief time – for when the darkness came, the silence evaporated.

A clattering in the distance. Frantic, heavy footsteps and panicked breathing of an exhausted figure seeking shelter. Rattling at door after door in her search for refuge, thwarted by mechanical locking mechanisms at every turn. A creak from the final door caused a sharp intake of breath from the lone figure, and a moment of hesitancy. A shrill, atmosphere-piercing shriek caused her eyes to widen and her heart to quicken its beats. She had no time to spare.

Barging her way into science lab three, she made straight for the only computer terminal to show any sign of life. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, eyes locked on the screen as she input her command codes, perhaps for the final time. Another scream in the distance caused her head to spin as if it were on a pivot. For the briefest of moments, she held her breath, until blood-curdling cries from a colleague bought her a momentary reprieve. A final tapping of the keys and a voice shook the woman.

“Enter voice authorisation.”

Using her hands placed carefully at opposite ends of the desk to keep her propped up, the scientist lowered her head, allowing herself a brief smile of relief.

“Authorization Orta, Alpha-Six-Seven,” she gave a hushed reply, eyes trained on the screen again, watching and waiting. Once the computer indicated her code had been accepted, she input her final set of orders.

“Computer,” she whispered, “initiate facility-wide lockdown and send distress signal gamma three. Contain all breaches and seal blast doors. Activate sterilisation protocols on my mark. Five… four… three…”

A primal roar shook the walls of the compound, halting the woman dead in her tracks. She spun on her heels, looking for cover as the lurking silhouette of a behemoth-like creature filled the wall outside the lab. He was coming.

Her eyes darted around the lab, finding the only cover she could at short notice. Another roar and she collapsed behind an upturned desk, pulling her knees to her chest and holding them tightly. Her tear-stained cheeks drained as the creature’s shadow loomed large in the room beyond. When it finally seemed like the creature had passed her by, she allowed herself the composure to complete her task.

“Two… one… mark.”

An explosion in front of her saw rubble and debris strewn across the lab, the beast bursting through the wall with a deafening roar. And then silence. Not just in the lab, or even on that level, but across the entire facility. Once home to over 600 hundred of the brightest minds in Draxari society, the lab had fallen eerily silent, and dark.

A sole red flicker, the only light in the lab, with words on a console screen signalling her mission was complete.

“Distress Signal Transmitted.”

Shrill. Repetitive. Annoying. Necessary.

Spinning on her heels, weapon held aloft as her eyes scanned the dark interior, the woman waited for the floating orbs to finish their countdown and change to her nominated colour. Each frustrating beep counted her down to the next…

A beam of compressed orange energy spewed from her weapon, impacting the orb approximately eight feet above her head. She was back on her heels in an instant, scouring for the next opportunity to show off. For now, she was still in the lead.

Beside her, her brown-skinned, large-eared colleague with the most peculiar green orbs for eyes stayed motionless. Only when he got the ‘sixth sense’ that the orb was going to change colour did he swiftly kick into gear, planting his left foot and pivoting until he shot into the sky and collected another point. Stalemate. Again.

The woman could feel her tension levels rising, giving her colleague the bombastic side eye she was becoming increasingly well known for these days. Shit… the countdown! She’d got so wrapped up in watching him that she missed her cue, shooting aimlessly and missing her target.

Sudden death was over after that, her colleague failing to miss his target and registering the fifteenth and final point, much to her chagrin.

“Perhaps you would like to rest now?” Lieutenant Or’uil suggested, holstering his sidearm and holding his arm out towards the holographic arch that appeared.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Peri frowned, hand gripping her weapon tightly as she took in a few deep breaths. “Yeah, you’d like to be able to brag about beating your successor. You know, I bet these big ol’ green eyes of yours give you an advantage…” she holstered her weapon and put her hands on her hips, “…an unfair advantage.”

Or’uil, to his credit, simply cocked his head and considered the Commander’s words for a moment. “Forgive me, Commander, but for a moment it sounded as if you may be accusing me of cheating?” his eyes twitched as he straightened up again. “Commander Noli always assured me that being part of Starfleet meant you trusted, and were trusted by, your colleagues…”

“She’s absolutely right,” Peri instantly regretted her outburst, called out (rightly so) by the younger man. “I apologise Or’uil. It’s not been a great few days, but I shouldn’t take that out on you,” her expression changed as she spoke, lowering her head and choosing her words far more wisely.

“One does not need eyes like mine to see that you are struggling,” Or’uil confided in the woman, taking a step to the bench behind them and taking a seat.

Peri followed him, sitting alongside the man, a smirk and a shake of the head accompanying his words. He was right; she was finding life aboard Lakota significantly challenging, mundane even, in comparison to the lifestyle she’d lived aboard Starbase Bravo. “I’m finding the monotony to be stifling. Even on our quietest days, Bravo would have something going on,” she whined, “but here? We’ve done nothing for weeks. How do you career starship people not get bored?”

Or’uil cocked his head and twitched. “Life on a starship comes with its challenges, but you will learn to value these moments because they are often fleeting. The next crisis is often just around the corner,” he advised her, with all the wisdom of an elder statesman. “You will not find another member of the crew who is not valuing the lull. You must remember the situations many of them have faced in the last six months.”

Again, the young Ungeat was correct. In the last six months, Starfleet, and this crew, had experienced war and destruction on a scale that had not been seen since the Dominion War of the seventies. Whether it was in the Deneb conflict or during the Frontier Day disaster, everyone had earned the break they were now enjoying. She was just being selfish, and it had taken some truth bombs from the Ungeat to bring her back to reality.

Craning her neck, the brunette looked the Ungeat in the eye and smiled, before playfully nudging him with her shoulder. “You’re a wise man, Or’uil. This crew is lucky to have you,” she smiled.

“I appreciate your kind words, Commander. We are also lucky to have you,” he reminded her. She, of course, came with experience and skills no one else on the crew did, which was why her assignment had been a no-brainer, at least as far as he was concerned. Any member of the crew who enhanced their operational capacity was worthy of a place.

“Listen,” she turned her body to give him her full attention, “I never thanked you, you know? For stepping aside for me when the Captain brought me aboard. Not many would have willingly given up a prestigious position for someone else.”

“A famous Vulcan once explained that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one,” the Ungeat rose from his seat and respectfully nodded. “Your presence here is best for the ship, the Captain, and the crew. I will always support such things,” he advised her in his typical no-nonsense manner.

Slapping her knees, the Bajoran pushed herself to her feet and tugged on her uniform jacket. She was lucky, she needed to start seeing that. And she would, with the help of crewmates like Or’uil.

Smiling, she drew her phaser and waggled it at him. “One more round?”

“I will endeavour to give my big ol’ green eyes a rest,” he mocked her, causing the Bajoran to chuckle as they took their stance in the middle of the play arena. Or’uil had just drawn his phaser, ready to start the round, when the game paused.

“All senior staff report to the bridge,” the voice of the ship’s XO rang through the phaser range, “immediately.”