Michael scoffed, crossing his arms over his bright red shirt. “You’re one to talk about logic, Vekal. How logical is it for a Vulcan to sneak off on a pleasure trip to sample the hedonistic wonders of Ar-jee-lius?”

Vekal fidgeted in his seat. “Respect for infinite diversity requires study and understanding. I am simply here to… observe how Argelian civilization has managed to achieve two centuries of peace while freely indulging emotional desire, as opposed to restraining it. If I am to work with emotional beings once we begin our term at Starfleet Academy—”

Kayros chuckled. “So you thought you’d sample a few of those ‘indulgences’ for yourself, right? Strictly in the name of immersion anthropology.” She leaned closer, affecting a pretense of seductive behavior. “Admit it, Vekal. Vulcan teenagers are as curious about sex as the rest of us. Aren’t you?”

Vekal had never expected to be so relieved by the sound of a navigational hazard alert. Reflexively, he turned to look out the forward port, where brilliant pinpoints of light were flashing briefly into existence, almost blinding him before the port’s filters engaged to dim the view. As the Ballou began to decelerate and turn, the pilot’s voice emanated from the intercom. “Passengers, please return to your seats. We’re encountering some kind of gravimetric and EM turbulence. I’m bringing us briefly to a relative halt while I assess— Aahh!”

Suddenly the blinding lights were inside the ship, just for a moment or two as it passed through the edge of the effect, despite the pilot’s efforts to avoid it. The result was akin to a lightning strike inside the compartment, the heat searing Vekal’s skin and the shock waves in the air deafening him.

When he gathered himself afterward, he noted that the engines had shut down and the display screens were dark. The overhead lights flickered and the air carried the scent of burned circuits and vaporized metals. Glancing at the viewport, Vekal saw that the Ballou was in a slow rotation.

He looked toward the cockpit, but Kayros had already recovered and was climbing the gangway leading up to it. Sliding the door open, she looked inside and gasped. Vekal strove to make out her words over the ringing in his ears. “Get the medkit! I think he’s been shot!”

It was an illogical assumption; more likely, one of the pinpoint energy anomalies had passed through the Argelian pilot’s body, as they presumably had with the engines. “Send a distress call!” he said loudly as Michael went for the medical kit.

Kayros checked the console and shook her head. “The power’s down!”

It was reasonable to surmise that the craft had an automatic distress beacon with independent power, but there was no way to be certain. Vekal put that matter aside for now; the pilot was the first priority.