The week started with the same routine, but today felt different. Ever since Juliette began her post at Starbase Bravo, she had established a daily routine, something she had picked up while leading planetary digs as a Xeno-Archaeologist Project Leader. This sense of routine grounded her in normalcy when a project felt overwhelming. However, today her routine was disrupted due to a last-minute leave of absence that left her department short-staffed, and Juliette had to pick up the slack.

She put down the last PADD she was holding and went to end her final call of the day, two hours past her original finishing time. One might wonder what a Xeno-Archaeologist does on a Starbase, a stationary object in space that isn’t old enough to hold undiscovered civilizations beneath its carpeted floors. Juliette’s role had shifted to administrative tasks, which involved communicating with planetary project leads, reviewing their reports, providing skilled support, and compiling a cataloged data report to send to Starfleet Headquarters. On some days, however, artifacts were transferred to the station for further study, and fortunately, today she would have the opportunity to examine a few pieces of art created by a pre-warp civilization lost to time.

Just as she was about to end her call, something caught her attention, distracting her from her planned tasks. From her workstation in Lab 94, Juliette noticed a flashing “lost signal” on the screen in front of her. Simultaneously, all the screens linked to the sites she was overseeing vanished, displaying the same “lost signal” notification. She recognized the signs: throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, a strange anomaly known as “the Blackout” had been causing chaos, isolating planets, solar systems, and even entire sectors.

As she reached for her comm badge, she noticed that the stars she often gazed at during lunch—stars that had remained in place for millions of years—had suddenly vanished. This realization took her breath away; they were within the Blackout.

Amidst the darkness emerged a foe—a small battalion. A second ticked by, and the assault began, causing Juliette to tremble to her core. A fleeting thought of her mother, who had died in combat during the Dominion War, crept into her mind—a woman she hadn’t considered in some time. This memory seemed to foreshadow a difficult future as she watched both friends and enemies face defeat; she witnessed each Federation ship in the area succumb to destruction.

Before she realized what was happening, the room plunged into darkness, illuminated only by intermittent flashes of red from the alert systems, indicating that power was being diverted elsewhere. In that moment, she regained some clarity and started moving toward her designated battle station, a location she had learned about during orientation. However, her progress was abruptly halted when an impact near her lab sent her flying over a workstation, causing her to crash through a transparent glass touchscreen and onto the floor.

As she lay on her back, surrounded by shards of the broken glass screen and feeling the throbbing headache from hitting her head, Juliette couldn’t help but wonder if her mother had ever experienced this kind of helplessness and vulnerability. The only comfort she found was knowing her enemy, which was more than she had now. And just like that, everything faded to black.