I know you won’t read this. Even if we were to find a way past the Blackout, I probably wouldn’t have the guts to send the message. And even if I did, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you didn’t even open it. 

I remember our last argument – you trying to keep me safe, and me straining to advance in my career, blaming you for feeling stagnant. 

How much I long for safety now.  

— deleted message

“Ceix to Sh’shiqil. We need you here.”

There was something strange about the way they had said it. A shift in his tone that somehow made the order sharper, more urgent.

For a moment, a small part of Eshrevi wondered if her failure to regain the crew’s trust had finally caught up to her, and she felt almost relieved at the idea. Then, a much more reasonable inner voice reminded her that even if this was the case, Ceix couldn’t just dismiss her. And even if he did, she wouldn’t be able to leave.

It was, she considered as she hurried to the turbolift, much more likely that yet another refugee ship was approaching the station. Ceix’s idealistic views – that the refugees had come to the station because they had been successful at building a basis of trust – seemed almost naive to her. It was more likely they were attracted by the other vessels that had swarmed the station in demands of supplies they didn’t have, and help they couldn’t spare.

“Direct them to platform eight.”, Eshrevi muttered to herself, as if rehearsing. She would have to ask Doctor Trova which of the triage centers were available, and could already imagine the woman’s frown, followed by a ‘none are’.

Her response? ‘Then make them available.’

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. And just before the doors opened, she took a deep breath, straightened, and made the commitment to face this – whatever this was – head on.

“What’s happening?” She asked as she strode out of the turbolift, wearing her mask of arrogance bordering nonchalance. As if none of this bothered her. Because feelings were something she could have in her time off.

“I want you to take a look at this.”, replied Ceix calmly, his eyes never leaving the viewscreen, and as Eshrevi followed his gaze, she understood why.

The vessel displayed was unlike anything she had ever seen, and yet intimately familiar through the countless reports she had read ever since the beginning of the crisis.

So this is how it ends, she thought to herself, and wondered why no one had raised red alert yet, and powered the weapons array. They were ill equipped to defend themselves, but they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“How many ships?”, she wanted to know, doing her best to keep her voice from shaking.

“Just that one.”, Keller, in the process of vacating the tactical console for her benefit, replied. “And they’re sending out a distress signal.”

“A distress signal?”, Eshrevi asked incredulously, and looked at the readout. There it was. Weapons powered down, shields down, and a distress signal.

“Anything else? Any attempts at communication?”

“Nothing. They are not reacting to our hails either.”, Keller frowned.

“It’s a trap.”, Eshrevi said, surprised by the conviction in her voice. “The Vaadwuar would not send one lone ship. And the vessel is not damaged, they have no reason to be asking for help.”

“And yet, they are.”, Ceix remarked.

“It’s a trap.”, Eshrevi insisted, louder this time. Much louder.

Ceix looked to her. “What do you advise, Lieutenant?”

“Hail them again. If they don’t respond and justify their actions, power weapons. And we should be-…”

No. Red alert – or any kind of alert would bring the already volatile situation of sickbay, the habitat ring, the promenade and Little Risa to a boil. Perhaps that’s what the Vaadwuar wanted – watch, while Caireann Station destroyed itself from the inside out.

But what other options were there?

“I agree with Sh’shiqil.” Keller nodded. “I am not someone who uses weapons as exclamation marks, but if they want help, they will have to talk.”

Ceix nodded, and for the first time, Eshrevi noticed how tired he looked. Like he had aged centuries in just a few weeks. “I agree – with both sentiments.”

Her hands began moving over the console before he had finished speaking. And while she was already thinking about a defense strategy and how long they would last if this was a trap, a small part of her hoped that it wasn’t.