“Captain? Jelel?” Heti called out, her voice strained as she slowly regained consciousness. The metallic floor felt frigid against her skin, sending a shiver down her body as her senses gradually came to life. An incessant barrage of alarms echoed throughout the cramped interior of the shuttle, their piercing wails cutting through the haze of confusion in her mind. Panic surged in her chest as she took in the chaotic scene around her. The control panel flickered ominously, flashing red lights that illuminated the scattered equipment strewn across the floor—remnants of a tumultuous event. The absence of her captain and ensign weighed heavily on her thoughts, causing a knot of dread to tighten within her. Desperately, she scanned the dimly lit cabin, searching for any sign of her crewmates amidst the debris.

Struggling to her feet, Heti brushed the dust from her clothes, wincing as the sharp sting of a fresh cut on her scalp sent warmth trickling down her forehead. She glanced around the dimly lit room, taking in the chaos and the remnants of their hastily abandoned mission scattered across the floor. With determination, she steadied herself and moved toward the captain, her heart racing.

“Captain!” she called, her voice cutting through the din. After several desperate shouts, her persistence finally paid off. The captain, her face etched with concern, turned toward her, and the ensign, wide-eyed and visibly shaken, followed suit, shifting their attention from the turmoil to Heti’s urgent presence.

Juliette glanced around, anxiety tightening her chest. “What’s our situation?” she asked, her voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them. Heti moved closer to the flickering console, her brow furrowed in concentration as she navigated through the barrage of warning lights and disjointed readings. “We’re in serious trouble,” she replied, her tone grim. “Most of our systems have sustained significant damage. Communications are completely down—we’re cut off from any external contact. The engines are nonfunctional, leaving us stranded. Our weapons are offline, and to make matters worse, our power reserves are low—only enough for minimal operation of our shields if needed. We’re essentially vulnerable.”

“How could debris penetrate our shields? This doesn’t make sense,” Juliette exclaimed, her voice rising in frustration. She furrowed her brows as she scrutinized the control panel, its blinking lights casting an eerie glow that mirrored their vulnerability.

Deeply absorbed in the stream of data cascading across the console, Heti deftly adjusted the controls, her fingers moving with precision. “The sensors detected peculiar anomalies indicating a phase discrepancy in the spatial debris,” she explained, her voice calm yet tinged with concern. “To fully understand what we’re facing, we need to conduct more comprehensive scans of our surroundings. That will provide us with clearer insights and perhaps a path forward.”

As Juliette listened to Heti, she recognized how adept Heti was in challenging situations, which significantly contributed to her current role. Heti’s exceptional planning during difficult times stood out to Juliette. At that moment, she noticed Heti looking at her, silently seeking acknowledgment of her authority. “Let’s find our medical supplies first,” Juliette suggested. “We need to stabilize ourselves and assess what we have before we explore the area.”

As Jelel settled onto the cold bench, she winced when Juliette knelt beside her. The captain held a medical tricorder in one hand, its soft blue light casting a glow over Jelel’s bruised skin. With careful precision, Juliette used the limited medical supplies at her disposal to bandage the deep cut on Jelel’s arm, her expression focused yet reassuring.

“Well done, Ensign,” Juliette stated, her voice steady but warm as she finished securing an adhesive strip over the gauze.

Jelel looked up, confusion etched across her features as she furrowed her brow. “‘Well done?'” she echoed, disbelief evident in her tone. “I crashed the shuttle; I don’t exactly think that warrants praise.”

The captain met her gaze, intensity in her eyes. “You saved our lives with your exceptional flying skills. If it weren’t for your quick thinking and skilled maneuvers, we could be dead right now, lost in the vastness of space or in a million pieces. Instead, we’re here—alive and, in some form, safe. So yes, Jelel, you truly deserve commendation. Well done.”

“What about the San Jose? They won’t be expecting us for hours, and we couldn’t send out a distress call!” Jelel’s voice trembled with urgency, her wide eyes darting nervously between Heti and the captain, an unmistakable edge of panic creeping into her tone.

“Don’t worry about that, young one,” Heti reassured her, her voice gentle but firm, imbued with the wisdom of someone who had seen much of the galaxy. The dim light of the ship’s controls and the glow peering through the dense trees softened the worried lines on her face. “We are still on the exact course we relayed to them before we lost communication. In approximately six hours, they will initiate a search operation. Remember, our scheduled check-in isn’t for at least another three hours, which means they could begin looking for us even sooner than that,” Heti continued, her calm demeanor offering a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.

“Now that’s a stroke of good fortune,” Juliette exclaimed, attracting the attention of both Heti and Jelel. Her voice rang with excitement as she trailed her fingertips over the surface of the replicator, noting its worn but sturdy exterior. “With just a few minor repairs, it looks like we can get it operational. It may not work perfectly, but even its limited functionality could be a game-changer for us. We’ll need to search around—those supplies must be hidden somewhere in this mess.”