PROLOGUE. SUSPENDED IN DARKNESS

Time seemed to have stretched indefinitely for the people – mostly civilians – on board the Trillius Prime-bound passenger transport: the assault had sprung out of nowhere, or so it had seemed to them, and from one moment to the next they had found themselves in mortal danger with no idea how to react to the threat they were facing. Now, the scant 100 or so passengers who had boarded the Hikawa Maru from Deep Space 9 had quickly assembled, assisted by the crew, in the mess hall, as required by safety protocols.

The emergency lights blinked incessantly, their reddish shadows turning on and off in an unnerving, nonstop manner. Behind one of the tables shifted against the outer bulkheads, near the wall where the replicators were located, was a young Ktarian boy, clutching his father’s chest and trembling with fear, he was trying at all costs to show courage in the face of a situation he did not fully understand, simultaneously attempting, probably on an unconscious level, to align the flashing of the red lights with his father’s heartbeat.

For his part, his father’s heart continued to increase its frantic pace with each passing moment, to the point that, at a certain moment, the child no longer knew whether it was the beating in his parent’s chest or the light that insisted on going on and off that got the better of him. Cognition of time was lost as the attack progressed, waiting for something to change, for someone to announce that they were all safe, that help had arrived. At one point, there was a jolt so powerful that fears began to spread among the passengers that the hull had inexorably torn apart under the relentless onslaught of the unknown assailants. In an instinctive gesture, the child clung tighter to his father and began to cry, overwhelmed by fear, seeking comfort from his parent.

Suddenly, the lights went out. Only moments later the young Ktarian realised that all the power, even that reserved for the emergency lights, had been diverted to support the shields, and even the alarm lights were no longer flashing. Perhaps the retired engineer who claimed to be able to boost the ship’s defences really knew what he was doing down in the engine room.

In the pitch blackness the ship was now plunged in, the child distinctly recognized the blows unleashed by the enemy ship as they shattered on the shields boosted by the last remnants of energy that the passenger transport seemed to be clinging to. The father shuddered, and although he still tried to reassure his son, his heart seemed to betray him by wanting to speed up further from fear: «It will be alright, my son! Help will come.»

A shot went over the shields and hit the tritanium plates that made up the ship’s outer shell. Tension rose wildly and children began to cry, too frightened to be silenced by their parents or other adults trying to console and calm them. Another burst of explosions hit the vessel, briefly illuminating the cramped spaces where the civilians were standing.

The brief flash of light had shown a few bodies scattered on the floor of the mess hall, but had not allowed the Ktarian boy to tell if anyone was simply unconscious, injured or worse. Near him and his father were grouped three Trill, or so, the only woman in said group had told him as she tried to keep him calm while waiting for his father to find him during the first salvo of the Breen.

In her attempt to distract him, the Trill had told him how she and her colleagues were scientists working for the Trill Science Institute and how they cooperated with Starfleet aboard Deep Space 9, the space station from where the transport had departed a few hours earlier, for a research about artificial and stable wormholes. She had told him how it had been two Starfleet officers, one a compatriot of hers and someone she cared a great deal about judging by the tears that had rolled down her cheeks, who had accidentally discovered the Bajoran wormhole, which led to another sector of their galaxy, but which was now off limits to all types of vessels due to the recent tensions between the Federation and the Dominion.

She had continued to comfort him, noting that they would be rescued at any moment by those same officers who had discovered the Celestial Temple, as it was called by the Bajorians; as she had told them, she knew them well and trusted that they had somehow received the distress call that their transport had managed to send before their communication system was rendered useless by a blow from their assailants.

Then, just as suddenly all the lights had gone out, the fierce and constant shaking of the ship ceased; the people, even more frightened than before, had no idea what was happening. Had rescue finally arrived? Or had the attackers inexorably succeeded in overcoming the defences increasingly weakened by the constant attacks? And if so, what would happen?

For long still moments nothing happened. Then, a flash of light illuminated the space where the civilians were standing.