Book Two
March 29, 2319 - 07:19
{Seven years earlier}
The Starship T.S.S. Phoenix was dead in space. Sparks flew from ripped wires and off of jagged metal throughout. The bridge was smashed. Smoke and stale air quivered with silence. There were no cries of pain or anguish, nor were their curses of anger or frustration. Each and every officer on the bridge were highly trained, and battle-seasoned professionals, yet the smell of defeat hung in the air. They were not accustomed to running from a fight, but the crew of the Phoenix was in no condition to stay in it. Heavy armor covered the only windows, encasing them from the outside, obscuring the starlight. Sparks from frayed wires gave brief flame like flashes of illumination in contrast with the handful of black flickering comput
