Source: Atalanta Ship’s Log (Fragmentary) / Torth Historical Edition

  Type: Mixed Log & Dramatized Narrative

  Publication Date: Veyrin 01, 0 AFB

  Catalog ID: ATL-56-000-519

  Excerpt from Atalanta Ship’s Log:

  Date: 124/168/3185:5965

  Port: Taregia

  Local Date: Hasperin 27, 2886

  Embark for Naplin, 32 hours to Jump bridge

  Date: 125/168/3185:1825

  Port: Daedalus Spaceport

  Local Date: Hasperin 29, 2886

  Jump to Xatag via Daedalus Bridge, estimated arrival one standard week

  Date: 127/168/3185:1825

  Location: Jump Point 3, Daedalus Bridge

  Distress call received, emergency codes authenticated, jump confirmed, check ship status, and prepare to receive injured personnel to medbay

  Too much red. More alerts than he’d ever seen on the screens. More than he could process.

  Captain Rafinin gripped the console. The attack had come without warning. One moment, space had been empty. The next, the Atalanta was under fire.

  It had been chaos. Shields flaring under unseen impacts. Deck plating rattling beneath his boots. Crew members shouting as reports overlapped in his ear.

  Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the enemy had vanished, leaving behind nothing but damage reports and emergency alarms.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. The Atalanta wasn’t a warship. It was a transport, a ferry between star systems. A hundred thousand lives aboard. And now they were stranded. He thought of his nephew, always asking to visit the jump deck. He’d been on board. Somewhere.

  “Can we get back to a jump bridge? Any bridge?” Rafinin asked.

  Howard shook his head, knuckles white against the controls. “I’m sorry, sir. The jump engines can’t take it. There’s a chance they’ll fail completely, and then we’d be stuck. Real-space engines… it’d take months.”

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  A disaster. Rafinin forced himself to breathe. “Ker, what’s our status on communications?”

  “Still down.” The com officer’s voice was tight. “We’re not entirely sure why.”

  “Can we reach the jump lanes? Maybe we’ll pick up a signal there.”

  Another head shake from Howard.

  Rafinin clenched his jaw. The options were crumbling. “And engineering?”

  Mara, his second, sighed. “Impact ruptured the engineering bay. We lost a lot of good people. We’re lucky to have any engines at all.”

  Rafinin exhaled slowly. Engineering. There was always a handful of people down there. No time to evacuate. So many lives lost…

  And no time to think about that. Not now.

  Focus on who you can still help.

  He’d given that order before, on a much smaller scale. It never got easier.

  “Do we have any engineers left?”

  Mara hesitated. “Some were off duty. But... without parts, it’ll take days to fix the engines. Our best bet is to find a planet, get what we need, and print replacements. Hopefully, we won’t be there long.”

  “Tell me you have a planet,” he said, turning to Mara.

  Mara typed something into her console. A planet flickered onto the screen. "Closest with everything we need is Aralin," Mara said. "Some old terraforming project, but records are thin. Breathable air though, which is a plus in an emergency. Unclear if there are still people there."

  She scrolled further. “Hmm… odd.”

  “What?”

  “High radiation spikes in the atmosphere.” She frowned. “Looks like old notes mention periodic solar flares in the system. No way to know how severe.”

  Rafinin exhaled. “We’ll worry about that when we get there. Right now, we just need to make it.” It was a risk, but everything was a risk now. No communications. No jump engines. No choice. “Send Howard the coordinates. Can we reach it on real-space engines?”

  “Probably,” Mara said. “It’ll take a few weeks.”

  A few weeks. Long enough for people to panic. He turned back to Howard. “Can we use the jump engines in a short burst?”

  Howard frowned. “Maybe. Could damage them further, but they might handle a couple of seconds.”

  They would have to risk it. “Use the jump engines in a burst to get us as close as possible. Make sure it’s safe.”

  Howard nodded and worked furiously at the controls. Rafinin strode across the deck. “Consilia, shipwide announcement.”

  Consilia, the ship’s AI, responded, “Ready to broadcast, sir.”

  “This is Captain Rafinin. As you know, we are in emergency lockdown. Crew members are doing everything they can to restore systems, but the Atalanta has sustained serious damage. We are en route to a nearby planet with the materials necessary for repairs. Please remain calm and follow crew instructions.”

  He signaled to Consilia to end the broadcast.

  “Coordinates locked, Captain.”

  Rafinin nodded. “Make the jump.”

  Howard pushed the lever.

  Mara’s screen flickered, then flooded with warning indicators. “Wait—”

  Howard’s hand was already on the lever. The jump caught mid-protest.

  Too late.

  The micro-jump lasted only seconds. The planet came into view through the portside window. Then an alarm blared.

  The screens went black. The lights cut out. Everything was dark except for the dim glow of distant stars and the partially illuminated planet ahead.

  The silence hit next. Even the hum of the engines vanished, like the ship had forgotten how to breathe.

  Excerpt from Atalanta Ship’s Log:

  New local date established.

  Calendar reset to Year 0 AFB (After the First Burst). The Portilian Month System has been adopted to match planetary rotation estimates.

  Date: 145/168/3185:2268

  Port: Aralin

  Local Date: Veyrin 1, 0

  Systems have been rebooted after initial EMP surge, now believed to be tied to local solar activity (“bursts”). EMP shielding has been installed on primary systems to protect against the bursts.