Onboard the freighter USS Cyclops, Captain Daniel Forest mused over the irony of the name of his ship. The original Cyclops, the one this ship was named after, had disappeared in the 20th century into the Bermuda Triangle on Earth. Though he generally tended not to believe in superstions, Captain Forest couldn't help but be nervous every time he had to travel through this stellar Bermuda Triangle. After all, hundreds of ships that went in never came out. Then again, many more went in and came back out; he was proof of that.
If nobody ever came out again, he wouldn't be here with his shipload of supplies and headed to Brildah, one of the colonies out in this sector. Interrupting the Captain's thoughts was the navigator, Lieutenant Jessica Bradley, "Now entering Bermuda Sector, Captain, approximately one and a half days to our destination with our current speed."
"Good, good. Thank you." Forest nodded and went back to thinking. He wondered what had happened to those ships that had disappeared, pondering over different possibilities. A random malfunction here and there or pirates, occassionally accounted for a lost ship, but not always.
As he sat thinking, he suddenly realized that his communications officer was speaking to him now.
"...picking up a distress signal, straight ahead. Judging from it's strength, it can't be very far away but it's filled with static. I'm having a hard time picking up the details."
Captain Forest turned to Ensign Johnson, "Who's it from?" As the Ensign bent to the task of trying to filter the message out of the static, Forest turned to his science officer, "Readings on any ships in the vicinity, hostile or otherwise." Muttering under his breath, he added, "I hope it's not pirates."
"Nothing, sir, no ships at all." Commander Tormil answered almost immeditaly.
Before the Captain could ask any questions, Johnson gasped and went pale, "S-sir, it sounds like... it's from us!"
"What?" Forest's nervousness from before suddenly increased tenfold and he wanted out of here, "Helm, 180 degrees. Warp 7." Mere seconds later, before anyone could change course, the ship was rocked as if from an explosion. And again.
There was just enough time to activate the distress beacon before the lights shifted, dimed and finally went out. Silence took over as the crew also blacked out like the lights.
Soon there was nothing to suggest that a ship named Cyclops had ever been where it was. Nothing, except for echos of a distress call.
If nobody ever came out again, he wouldn't be here with his shipload of supplies and headed to Brildah, one of the colonies out in this sector. Interrupting the Captain's thoughts was the navigator, Lieutenant Jessica Bradley, "Now entering Bermuda Sector, Captain, approximately one and a half days to our destination with our current speed."
"Good, good. Thank you." Forest nodded and went back to thinking. He wondered what had happened to those ships that had disappeared, pondering over different possibilities. A random malfunction here and there or pirates, occassionally accounted for a lost ship, but not always.
As he sat thinking, he suddenly realized that his communications officer was speaking to him now.
"...picking up a distress signal, straight ahead. Judging from it's strength, it can't be very far away but it's filled with static. I'm having a hard time picking up the details."
Captain Forest turned to Ensign Johnson, "Who's it from?" As the Ensign bent to the task of trying to filter the message out of the static, Forest turned to his science officer, "Readings on any ships in the vicinity, hostile or otherwise." Muttering under his breath, he added, "I hope it's not pirates."
"Nothing, sir, no ships at all." Commander Tormil answered almost immeditaly.
Before the Captain could ask any questions, Johnson gasped and went pale, "S-sir, it sounds like... it's from us!"
"What?" Forest's nervousness from before suddenly increased tenfold and he wanted out of here, "Helm, 180 degrees. Warp 7." Mere seconds later, before anyone could change course, the ship was rocked as if from an explosion. And again.
There was just enough time to activate the distress beacon before the lights shifted, dimed and finally went out. Silence took over as the crew also blacked out like the lights.
Soon there was nothing to suggest that a ship named Cyclops had ever been where it was. Nothing, except for echos of a distress call.