A/N: I have some idea of where this is going, thought feisty characters often stray from the best-laid plot outlines. Stay tuned, review if you wish, and happy writing!

Chapter 1: Suspendium

The captain of the ship beamed at his bridge crew through eyes too young and bright for all their wisdom . From the rockiest of starts he had earned a healthy – if fledgling – respect from his senior officers. They were the best and brightest Starfleet had to offer, and each performed his or her job admirably.

But Kirk could sense a problem with morale like an ache in his own body. Now, with the computer poised to broadcast his words to entire ship, it was time to say what had gone so horribly unsaid.

"I know none of us have come through the tragedies of these past few weeks unscathed," he avoided his first officer's gaze. "But contrary to common belief, we aren't bound to each other by grief. At least, that's not what I signed up for." He felt the group tense. Good, he thought. Perfect timing for some healthy release.

"We're here for the same reason Columbus left the Old World in search of something new. For the same reason humans first colonized the moon, Mars, and Europa. We're here because we wonder what's just beyond the next horizon. Most of all, we're here because we believe that there are more than just monsters at the edge of the map, and because the wonders of the universe are more than we can – yet – imagine. I know a lot of us have lost loved ones…" He finally let himself look Spock in the eyes. The Vulcan shifted his own to the floor. "But I think they believed there are friends out there, and the exploration of common ground is as important as charting the stars."

He let that sink in a moment. The crew tactfully pretended not to hear a sob from Chekhov.

"Now, I'd love to raise a glass to this crew, but my first officer has informed me that Starfleet doesn't advocate intoxication on the job." They chuckled awkwardly between restrained tears. "So minus the glass, here's my toast: to the final frontier."

"The final frontier," they echoed.

After a short silence the crew resumed their stations. A small gasp came from Ensign Chekhov, followed by an irritating trill from his console.

"Captain," he said, clearing his throat. "We are receiving a distress signal from Tarracina outpost."

Kirk turned to Uhura. Her eyebrows were already set in determination as she listened to the signal.

"They're under attack," she said at last.

"How close are we, Sulu?" Kirk felt his heart sink. Starfleet ships were few and far between these days. He had a feeling it might take some time to get there.

"Not far," Sulu replied. "Zero-point-two light years away. But we are the only ship within range."

"Maximum warp."

Kirk ran the calculations in his head. Less than an hour. Not long, but plenty long enough for a battle to be lost or won.

"Captain!" Uhuru cried, staring at her terminal in horror. "It's a Bird of Prey. They're under attack by a Bird of Prey."

Silence fell across the bridge. It was no secret that Starfleet feared an advance by the Romulans. The Romulan Empire had kept its distance for over one hundred years, but since the massacre at Vulcan the Federation had become an easy target.

Kirk turned to Spock. The Vulcan was already at his side. "Tarracina is equipped with only light weapons systems. However, we can anticipate survivors. The Romulans are conquerors, not killers."

Kirk nodded. "Kirk to sickbay. You'd better get ready for company."

"What?" McCoy growled over the intercom, but Spock cut him off.

"Prepare for an influx of patients at some point in the next hour. Combat injuries such as phaser burns and heavy impacts are likely. Spock out."

The two commanding officers exchanged a glance before falling back to the ready room. When the door shut behind them, Kirk let out a harsh sigh and rested his palms on the desk, facing away from Spock.

Spock waited in silence, observing him. He had yet to see his captain crack under pressure, and doubted he would anytime soon. Still, his heart leaped with sickening joy at the thought. He immediately suppressed the emotion and kept any traces from reaching outward expression.

James Kirk confused him. Spock felt such an odd mix of affinity and contention for the man. He had yet to find a logical source for these feelings, and resolved to mull them in later meditation.

Kirk finally turned, composed as ever.

"So, we have the honor of responding to the first Romulan attack – from our own time line – in decades. Any suggestions?"

"We should notify Starfleet immediately."

Kirk waved impatiently. "Yes, yes." He paused for a moment. "It could be a rogue ship."

"Possible," Spock nodded, "But highly unlikely. From what we know of the Romulans, they keep a militaristic social structure in which loyalty is highly valued."

"Still, they only sent one ship. Maybe they're testing us."

"That is more likely."

"If that's the case then we'd better bluff," Kirk smirked coldly. "But… what if it's a rogue ship?"

Spock frowned. "I fail to see the value in following that line of thought when other possibilities are far more likely-"

"Spock, I'm surprised at you," Kirk chided. "You would dare to insult the Romulan Empire? Such an honorable people would never go back on their word. It MUST be a rogue ship."

"Based on the evidence at hand..."

Kirk shook his head. His mind was apparently set as he headed for the bridge.

"Captain, I must protest. This is little more than wishful thinking."

"Spock..." Both looked down. Spock had taken hold of Kirk's arm.

"I... apologize," Spock released his grip. He felt Kirk searching his face as he attempted to drain the flush from his cheeks.

"Hey, don't mention it," Kirk said. "Look, we're all a little tense. Here's what I'm thinking. The Romulans know the Federation is hurt, but they don't know how bad. So they're scoping us out. If we can convince them we have a healthy fleet they might back down, right? I don't think they'd want to risk another war ending in stalemate. But if we treat the attack like an act of war, they might decide to take us up on it anyway. So we go in there like it's a rogue ship."

Spock narrowed his eyes. "Offer them a scapegoat?"

"Exactly."

"I see," Spock thought a moment. "In that case, we should proceed under the guise of a patrol ship."

Kirk cocked his head to the side. "Not bad. I guess I should share plans with my first officer more often, huh?"

"That would be prudent, as I cannot offer input on strategies I am not yet aware of."

"Right," Kirk grinned and left him without another word.

Captain Camilla Triaria watched the Federation outpost submit as her crew made short work of the commanding officers. One woman broke free with a scream and attempted to attack a soldier, only to be subdued by a phaser blast.

Camilla surveyed her prisoners. They stared back at her in hollow, frightened defeat. The outpost was obviously scientific in nature, though the inhabitants must have felt on constant holiday. The small cluster of buildings was located along a fertile stretch of land adjacent to a sandy beach, just north of the planet's equator.

Still, the humans had not grown complacent. They had surprised her with their force and managed to kill one officer and wound another.

"Your dead leaders have fought admirably," she said to those before her. "There is honor and passion in your race. When given freely to the Romulan Empire, these traits will be greatly rewarded. But to those who resist..." she motioned to the recently-executed corpses, "only ruin awaits you."

With that, she let her second-in-command take over and headed for a dock on the beach.

She would let this outpost keep its Human leadership structure, but she would replace those at the top with her own crew members. The planet's location would make a convenient launch point for advancing on other barely-protected Federation worlds.

The destruction on Vulcan was so incredible to those on Romulus that rumor had spread faster than information. Their long-hated rivals and the strongest pillar of the Federation had fallen, and through no action of the Empire. According to a packet of mysterious subspace communications, nearly the entire Federation fleet had been wiped out in the process, along with a few major Klingon military bases. It was all too good to be true.

Not to mention that the source of information was dubious, to say the least. Some mysterious Romulan captain named Nero had done all this in the name of the Empire. She had never heard of a captain named Nero, or how anyone could accomplish the destruction of an entire planet. She doubted he was even Romulan. The potential complexity of his motives made her skin crawl.

Still, she felt they was moving too cautiously. After observing a thinly-populated region of Federation space for weeks the Senate finally granted her permission to strike. There had been no sign of patrol ships or even supply vessels. If Starfleet was as weak as they surmised, this area of the galaxy would soon be ripe for the taking. And Camilla would lead the charge.

"Captain Triaria," her communicator hummed to life, wrenching her from her thoughts. It was the voice of her second centurion.

"A Federation ship has just come out of warp and entered orbit."

Camilla arched an eyebrow. "And yet you're contacting me. You aren't cloaked?"

"No," came a hesitant reply. "We didn't detect them until they'd seen us."

"You will be disciplined," she said icily. "I trust I don't have to instruct you on strategic matters such as activating shields?"

"No, Captain. Shields are up, weapons systems ready. But they're hailing us, and a matter so delicate should be handled by the captain-"

"I fail to see what is so delicate about it. We are at war with the Federation, and one of their ships in your sights!" Camilla ground her teeth. The only reason she hadn't thrown this officer out of an airlock was that he had been "hand-picked" for her crew. By an influential relative of his.

"But Captain, the Senate has not made an official declaration. According to the hails it is a patrol vessel. I am not qualified to order an attack on a..."

She tuned him out so she could think. Oh, he would be disciplined. And perhaps not by her. He had let his guard down and now they lacked any element of surprise made available by their cloak.

"You are relieved, Centurion," she interrupted.

A moment. Then, "This is Third Centurion Kapal."

Camilla found that neither rank nor training could hold a candle to the value of an officer's obedience. Despite her second centurion's so-called "experience," any self-respecting lower-ranking officer would at least carry out her orders.

"What do their weapons systems look like?" she asked.

"Their defenses are substantial, but they appear to carry only low-grade phasers."

"Take them out," she said.

"Yes Captain," he obliged. There, that wasn't so hard.

The transmission cut out and combat ensued. Camilla squinted as she searched the sky. There they were. A few bursts of light indicated the orbital battle, though she could not see the ships themselves. She ran her fingers along her tightly woven black braids, as was her habit when nervous.

From the other end of the dock, First Centurion Balbus also scanned the sky. The captain was touching her hair , which meant something was wrong. His eyes failed to find the ships, however, as they lingered on her form. Despite the straight lines and squared-off shoulders of her uniform, the Captain's sleek feminine beauty was difficult to hide.

"Captain?" he inquired. She did not turn.

"Our ship is engaged with a Federation vessel," she said softly. "I fear our highly gifted second centurion has given away most of the tactical advantage. I should have left you in charge."

"I'm honored, Captain. But I must inform you... we just learned that one of the Humans managed to send out a distress call before the invasion."

"Oh?" Camilla spun to face him. "How long ago?"

"About an hour, sir."

Camilla paused and stared at the shoreline. "So the Federation ship responded to the call."

Balbus knew better than to reply when she spoke to herself. He was older than Camilla Triaria, though she had risen through the ranks quickly. He had watched her advance rapidly through intense mental discipline, yet she held a wild spark that he had fallen in love with.

Balbus knew from the start any advances on his part would earn him a cold response, or even a transfer order. So he had resolved to treat his duties to her with all the attentiveness and care of a lover. He had long suspected that she knew of his feelings. How could she not? Yet he was rewarded with her utmost trust as First Centurion. And he was satisfied enough with that.

Camilla spoke into her communicator again. "Status report."

Her words were greeted with heavy static and shouts. No reply.

"Status report," she repeated. More shouts. Something about photon torpedoes. Silence.

She looked to Balbus once more, about to bark a command, when five Humans materialized on the sand behind them. Camilla drew herself into a crouch and readied her phaser.

The Humans wore brightly colored uniforms that reminded her of colorful birds. How grotesquely arrogant, she thought. They must be easy to target on any planet. She took aim and fired at the brightest red garment she had ever seen.

It seemed to Kirk that ensign Stefanik went down the moment they materialized. He dodged just in time for more phaser fire to shriek harmlessly past his ears. Catching himself, he saw two humanoids at the end of a dock firing at his away team. Romulans, he assumed from his encounters with Nero. Though their uniforms were different from anything he had ever seen, and they had far more hair.

Kirk fired in their general direction, hoping to put them on the defensive. Instead, he managed to blast the phaser out of what could only be a female Romulan's hand. She shouted and charged at them. Spock stepped forward, took one shot, and she fell down cold.

The remaining Romulan screamed in anguish. Kirk realized he must think the female dead.

The second Romulan charged. Again, Spock took aim and felled the attacker. But he was larger, and the stun setting managed only half its job. The Romulan lay on his back, winded, but conscious.

Balbus turned his head to see Camilla's lifeless form next to his own. Shaking, he raised his fist in salute, respectful to the last.

"My Captain," he breathed. "I have failed you."

With that, he placed his phaser against his own head. And fired.