Throwing herself onto her bed Fiona stared at the ceiling, thankful that her day had finally came to an end. Since the early hours of the morning she was overseeing the shakedown of a new engineering complex and had spent what ended up being twenty two hours making sure any and all errors could be flushed out.

Twenty two hours of staring at a console and pushing buttons, trapped in the control hub of the massive engineering complex. The whole room annoyed her. There was buzzing, humming, clicking, beeping, tapping and echoing. Not to mention the swishing of the old warp core and it’s hiss when they transferred to the new power systems. Then the insane amount of noise her team made when they began to tear the old systems out of place ready to be dumped back at base camp. That trip home couldn’t come sooner. She was already pre-planning a relaxing evening of avoiding writing her reports and just sit. Sitting was highly underrated. She could sit and stare into space for hours. The good thing was, despite being locked up in her cramped sleeping quarters, her job was done. It was time to go home and do some of that highly relaxing sitting. After she slept.

She checked the stack of work on the besides table trying to kid herself that she cared then with heart and passion sent a truly emotional message back home to her significant other. There were times when she could never express what she truly felt. Times where she was lost for words. In this moment she knew exactly what she wanted to say. But after being away doing the demanding job of making the ship fly with Sakarian technology, working every waking moment, she knew exactly what she wanted to say to her beloved.

Slowly she tapped out the message ‘I want French toast as soon as I get back.’

Giving into her body shutting down she fumbled around to switch the lights off and send her message, her eyes refusing to stay open for anything after she typed the ‘K‘.

Dead to the world the young engineer drifted off.

Two minutes later she was back on her feet and running down a dimly lit corridor flooded with a harsh red light.

The red alert klaxons and frantic crew were almost washed out by the sound of a fire fight outside. She could feel the hull buckling as the floor underneath her shook her, slamming her into the bulkhead with every blast she heard pound against the ship.

Trying desperately to stay awake and thankful she survived the turbolift journey, Fiona burst onto the bridge and ran to the master systems display tucked out of the way behind the captains chair. After supervising the refit and the test runs, she knew the ships systems better than anyone. She needed to be there to make sure they survived this. Though in her mind the only thought she could process was the strong desire to not get killed before she could get her hands on that French toast.

As she worked away, she listened into the action to try and figure out what was going on. She heard Captain Jorell shouting out a message. A distress call. Then she heard him call her name. The shields wee collapsing, could she maintain them?

Dodging a sparking console she tried to buy some more time. Rerouting power from the new power stacks to the shields, but whoever was attacking them knew what they were doing. They knew exactly how to take out their new power system. Slowly the number dropped. Shields were collapsing. Hull pressure rising. Structural integrity failing. Warp drive was offline, phaser banks were barely functional. They were dead in the water.

Emergency lighting hit and Fiona had no good news to report when the captain turned to her. “Theres nothing I can do.” They stared at each other for a moment. Both feeling hopeless. Out of options. Afraid.

Casualty reports came flooding in as Jorell repeated his distress call. But when the shields finally collapsed, his tactical officer had nothing to fire and fearing a core breech he gave in.

“This is Captain Mahad Jorell of the USS Independence. We signal our surrender. I repeat, we single our surrender.”
But the firing didn’t stop. The ship began to fall apart. The hull fell apart under the pressure like a wet cake.

Fiona’s tiny frame smashed onto the back of Jorell’s chair as her console buckled under the pressure. As she crashed onto the floor she could feel blood beginning to pour out of her forehead. Disorientated and nauseous from the fall, the engineer reached up to the arms of the captains chair, desperately trying to get back to her feet. She asked for the captain, her voice sounding like a distant echo in the back of her head, but as soon as her eyes came upon the man sitting in the centre chair she realised her call would go unanswered. Jorell lay burned from console blasts, his left side crushed by a fallen support beam and fire starting to spread towards him.

Startled by the sight of the captain taking his last breath, the fire charging towards her, she thought about going to the escape pods. But a quick search around her made her give in. The exits were obscured by rubble, the bridge itself was about to tear itself apart and in the background within the defeating thunder of weapons fire she could vaguely hear the computer giving it’s cold warnings. There were only seconds left. She wouldn’t have time to get to an escape pod, even if she could get out of the room.

Accepting her fate was an odd moment for her. She had always wondered if her life would flash before her eyes when she died. Just as she’d read in stories. From being born in Shang-Hi, growing up in the shipyards to growing up to become an engineer. But with moments left only one chapter of her life flashed before her eyes. Only one memory was important enough for her to spend her last moments with.

The person who consumed that memory would suffer the news in the morning. Maybe sooner. Only a few weeks ago they made the final arrangements for their wedding. It was less than a month until the day they would make their vows and make that promise. ‘Till death do us part.

Fiona though about the wedding. She thought what would happen on that day. One lonely soul sitting alone in their home. She wished she could have said a proper goodbye. Something with a little more love than being hungry.

She hoped somewhere out there her voice could be head as she said a tearful ‘I love you’ as she stood alone. Surrounded by those dead or dying. She didn’t feel ready to join them in their fate. But she knew she didn’t have a choice.

It was only a few moments later that Fiona’s life ended. There may have been a huge explosion as the attackers fled leaving the once proud and dignified Akira class ship, a ship with a long and honourable history, nothing but debris flying through space.

Somewhere in that debris there once stood a woman, an engineer. She wanted to live out the last few moments of her life remembering the lover she left back home. The one thing in life she cared for above all else. Unfortunately as Fiona’s fragile human body was ripped apart along with the Independence her betrothed was not on her mind.

Just before the died she looked at the view screen. Or at least, where the it used to be. By the time she actually looked outside the bridge the view screen was a hole in the wall. Gazing into the space beyond, only a fragile force field holding the air in letting her breathe those last few gasps of air. She didn’t even mean to look at the view screen. At least, not consciously. Her eyes just happened to drift. They just happened to see her attackers flee the scene, trying to escape the impending shock wave.

The problem was she knew those ships. She expected them to be an unrecognisable alien threat or one of the may threats to come into the Federation in recent years. But no, those were allies, ships she’d worked on. Ships she’d stood on doing the same job she a has just finished on the Independence. They were Starfleet ships. Assigned to the 51st fleet operating out of the city she lived in.

Just before she left this world she saw two ships of her own people fly back home. Starfleet vessels had destroyed the Independence, killed the crew, ignored the surrender.

She didn’t know why. But in that last moment all she could think was that those ships were on their way home. To her love, her friends, her colleagues. Murderers en route to find sanctuary in what locals had dubbed the city of peace. On Sha Ka Ree.

The last few seconds she sent alive, she could only wonder if she’d be sent to some form of afterlife and with those ships heading home, how long it would take for everyone in Sha Ka Ree to join her.

Flames were rising around the bridge, orders dulled out under explosions as the enemy fire pounded against the ships hull. Morgan couldn’t hear anything but the thunder of disruptor fire tearing holes in the ship while smoke engulfing the room blinded his view of his flight control console.

They were outnumbered and outgunned. What had turned into a routine survey had turned into a fight for their lives. The bridge was crumbling as the shields fell, rubble scattered around the bridge separating him from the rest of the crew.

Even if he’d heard the order to abandon ship, there was nothing he could do about it. With one shot the bridge was torn apart. The view screen ripped away from sight, the cabin depressurising instantly. Morgan tried to grab onto the console but he could feel himself being pushed out into space, the oxygen in the room blasting out, taking him with it. As he was thrown out of the bridge, the force field sealing the cabin behind him, the swarm of enemy ships ahead he knew this was his time. It was over. He was about to die, he could feel himself fading away. Then in the silent vacuum of space he heard a voice. “Captain?”

He looked around, green disruptor fire zooming past him. In the debris around him he could see a face forming. With a blink of an eye the stars and wreckage disappeared, replaced with the all too familiar grey tones of his ships bunk room.

“Val?” The memory of his dream seemed to fall away as his eyes opened to see his tactical officer crouching over his bunk, her usual stoic expression glancing down at him.

“Sir, there’s an incoming transmission from Sha Ka Ree.” She explained, though he was too tired to recognise that her calm Vulcan demeanour wasn’t as it should be. She was always his voice of reason, his right hand gal. But at this moment on time, she had reduced herself to his annoyance.

“Val, I’m sleeping.” Morgan slurred, closing his eyes in the hopes of drifting off again. “We’ve talked about this. I might be a lieutenant in rank but as you know full well, by good old naval tradition, I’m still your captain.” Feeling a rant coming on, he turned away from her, pulling his sheets over his head to try and block her out “It could be argued that I politely requested that you leave me alone while I catch up on my sleep, which as you know is extremely valuable now we’re running on Sakarian time, but as I’m your captain and you’re a member of my crew it could also be argued that you are in direct violation of an order and I’m pretty sure by Starfleet regulations by disturbing me in my valuable sleeping time I can decompress the airlock with you inside. So just so we’re clear… go away and leave me alone for at least another nine hours.”

With the rant over, Valaris kept her retort short and sweet. “We just received a distress call from the Independence.”

Within half a heartbeat Morgan’s eyes opened. He replayed her statement over in his mind. Throwing the sheets aside, he jumped out of bed, dashing past her to the wardrobe. “When? What happened?”

Before Valaris could answer, Morgan had grabbed a fresh uniform and left his bunk room, running down the stairs to the bridge. He was hoping for a quiet day.

Half dressed, the ’captain’ charged onto the bridge, Valaris following seconds behind him. Throwing his pants over his chair, he closed his shirt and lurched over the tactical station. “Are we there yet?” He asked as Val gently pushed her captain aside to get to her station.

“Almost. Three minutes, ten seconds. Someone‘s jamming communications from the source, we haven‘t been able to make contact since receiving their message a few minutes ago.” She replied as Morgan took his seat centre stage.

“Is that her?” Morgan asked, watching a small blip through the window start to take shape as they got closer. In the moments that passed the blip he could see if he squinted turned into wreckage as they got closer to the source of the call. Soon Morgan was standing on the bridge looking upwards only to see wreckage all around his small craft. There were no survivors, no trace of enemy attack. But Val and her beautifully technical Vulcan mind gave him a ray of hope.

Warp signatures. They reported back to base to inform them of the Independence and asked for reinforcements as they followed their breadcrumbs, but before they could even feel the adrenaline start to pump through their veins from the thrill of the hunt, that ray of hope was snatched from them.

“Dressing informally.” The crew assembled around Morgan’s chair as they watched the face of their messenger, their gallant and frankly irritating leader Admiral Riesman ready to call off the chase.

“Starfleet issue boxers, besides… bigger issues?” Morgan uttered as he finally pulled his pants on. “What the hell’s going on?”

Riesman took a breath. “I’m sending my own team you’re being recalled to base. This has become a matter of internal security and any further actions must remain classified.”

Internal security? Morgan shook his head. “Balls. We‘re the closest ship in range, there could be survivors and…”

“As far as you’re concerned, Lieutenant, you saw the Independence explode due to a warp core breach.” The Admiral interrupted.

“Do you know how many lies I’ve had to tell for you, Harry?”

“Do you have any idea what the truth would do to our alliances in the Kolar Region James?” The Admiral snapped back. “You have your orders. Complete your mission objectives and report to Sha Ka Ree as soon as possible.”

The crew stood in silence for a few moments, trying to comprehend the weight of the situation but it was too much to take all at once. Minds were filled with questions, concerns. The more involved the Admiral had become with Starfleet Intelligence the more they were sent on ‘classified operations’, ordered to lie and cover up the truth. It was a far cry from the honest and pure image of the Federation they were raised to believe.

“Val…” The captains voice broke the silence. “Close that damn channel. Perry, begin the start up sequence on the Transwarp drive and get us underway as soon as we’re ready.” He turned his chair to look at the crew standing around him. All of them were as unsure and stunned as he was. Any seasoned captain would have something to say, something poignant and supportive. Something to get them through the tough times ahead.

But there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do. He wasn’t even a real captain.

As the crew snapped into action, one remained beside his captain. The often outspoken, and more often bored out of his mind in the tiny room someone laughingly labelled ‘sickbay’, Dr. Landis sat in one of the rear consoles as he watched the crew prepare to head as their captain began to scan the news networks. “Do you think the rumours are true?” He asked softly.

Keeping his eyes on the news, Morgan tried to calm himself down as he answered his medic. “If the rumours are true, then I’m going to have a hell of a time trying to figure out the good guys and the villains.”

“What side do you think we’d be on?” He said jokingly.

Unfortunately Morgan didn’t see the funny side. “Doc, I have a feeling that we’re already the evil henchmen.”

Landis nodded as he turned to leave. “I think you might be right.”