The first Slate knew that anything was wrong was the slight popping noise he heard at his feet. It wasn't enough to concern him, but it was enough to puzzle him. He glanced at his wife Lana, strapped safely into the seat beside him. She squeezed his hand. "I'm fine", she said. "Just because I get nervous about flying sometimes doesn't mean I'm going to panic at every strange noise I hear".

"I know", he reassured, and squeezed back. "And we did make the right choice. No more fighting—"

"No more gambling debts", she answered, somewhat accusingly. Slate said nothing.

Again the popping sound. And now his ears started to hurt. He looked around, trying not to let his nervousness show. He was a big man, and could do well for himself in a fight, but this was something unknown. He got up out of his seat, hugging Lana as he passed her. "I'm just gonna go make sure everything's all right", he told her.

He made his way to the cockpit. Hawkeye, his brother, chatted amiably to the nine year old girl in the co-pilot's chair. "…Ah no, the original was way better than the remake", Hawkeye was saying.

"The book or the movie?", the girl replied. Smart kid, Slate thought. That was Jade, Hawkeye's daughter.

Hawkeye answered, trying to speak into the comm unit at the same time. "The movie. John, I need you the cockpit. Preferably now". His voice remained calm, but Slate sensed an edge of concern.

"Problem?", Slate asked.

"Ah, we're losing pressure", Hawkeye answered.

Slate nodded. That would explain the pain in his ears. "I heard a popping noise. Came from the cargo bay. Could be we got hit by a micro-meteorite, holed the ship?"

"Unlikely", Hawkeye answered. "The Greg Edmonson is designed to take most things space can throw at you. Most long range ships are". He again pounded the comm, almost shouting into it this time, though he kept his voice even throughout. "John, I need you in here".

"Is it dangerous?", Slate asked.

Jade answered for him. "Of course not. My Dad is the best pilot in the 'verse". He had to admire the girl's pure optimism.

Ignoring his daughter, Hawkeye answered: "I've sealed the bulkheads. We're repressurizing now. Should be back to normal in a couple of minutes". To his daughter, he said: "Honey, why don't you go and sit with Mommy?"

"I like it here", she protested.

"I know you do, honey, but when John gets here, he's going to want his seat back. Slate, would you take her back to the passenger deck for me? Make sure she gets there?"

"Sure thing", Slate replied, almost without thinking. To the girl, he said, "Come on Hon. Let's find your Mommy". He held out his hand. Reluctantly, she took it, and acquiesced as Slate walked her back to the passenger deck where he had left Lana, and presumably where he would find Alison, Hawkeye's wife. He was just about to enter the large room when something caught his eye. He saw it before he heard it ‒ a tear appearing in the wall of the ship. At first, it looked like a flower opening up in the ship's side, but the petals were sheets of metal, and the center was the blackness of space. Then he felt it. He felt it through his bones. He felt the wind pick up, and watched as, seemingly in slow motion, cushions, chairs, and other light furnishings were blown into space. Then the ship tore in two, and he saw Lana swept into the black, still strapped to her seat as the entire row detached itself from the floor and disappeared toward the half of the ship that was no longer there. He tried to scream her name, but no words came out. He saw Jade fly through the air towards the gaping hole, and grabbed her leg in mid-flight. Then he realized that he was being dragged too, and held onto the door jamb for dear life, pulling himself and his charge back into the corridor. He couldn't breathe. Something metal pierced his leg; he didn't even have time to figure out what it was, but he yelped in pain. As the door separating him from what was once the passenger compartment started to close, he saw something which sent an even greater chill through his bones. Through the tear he saw the clear outline of a spacecraft ‒ a spacecraft with guns. This was no accident. They were being fired upon.

The door closed and pressure returned, but Slate knew he didn't have much time. He ran into the first door he encountered, dragging the screaming girl behind him like a rag doll. The door led into the lifeboat hanger. He acted without thinking and virtually threw the girl into the lifeboat, jumping in, dragging one useless leg behind him, and sealing the door. But he did not press the launch button. Instead, he switched everything off. He wanted to run, but his instincts said hide, and he trusted those instincts.

He lost count of the number of bangs and crashes he lived through. He knew that he must have launched the lifeboat at some point, but he couldn't remember even that. He did remember shutting down the lifeboat's power altogether, to the point of pulling the wires from the batteries. Through the window, he saw the explosion, and then felt the shockwave, as the Greg Edmonson was vaporized. With no heating, his breath formed clouds before his face as he exhaled. And then it was dark. He looked and looked, trying to see the ship which had fired upon them, which had killed his wife; his brother; his brother's wife. Then he saw it ‒ the unmistakable outline of an Alliance warship, glinting in the distant sunlight. Why?, he thought. That was the part he couldn't understand ‒ Why?

He waited. He waited a long time, hugging his niece to his body like she was the most precious thing in the 'verse. When, finally, he was sure that it was safe to do so, he reconnected the battery and switched on the heating. Some considerable time later, he activated the SOS.