This is my first attempt at a fanfic. It's a time travel caper and I hope to do quite a few episodes. It will mainly be my own characters with one or two familiar faces cropping up. I'll try to set it out like the old TV show, as well – intro, acts 1, 2 & 3. Anyway, here it is. Enjoy.

Star Trek: U. ИITY

Episode 1 – The Knight's Tale

PROLOGUE

He opened his eyes and saw nothing. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but this was more to do with the fact that his arms were secured to the chair, rather than the darkness. He looked down and, as his eyes got used to the gloom of the room, could make out the maroon of his uniform and the chair in which he was held. Not built for comfort; it was some kind of interrogation chair.

Obviously, whoever had taken him captive wanted something from him. The problem was, he didn't know how long he had been here or what had already gone on. His memory, usually so good, was somewhat fuzzy. He had the strangest feeling that his life had flashed before his eyes. In fact, he was worried that he may have already told them something.

Suddenly, the lights above him came on, surrounding him in a narrow cone of bright white light. Clearly, whatever he had told them hadn't been enough. Perhaps he could delay long enough to remember just what was going on…

A voice rang out, quite nasal, trying to sound reasonable, but clearly not used to it: "Shall we try again, Joe?"

"My name is Joseph S Carroll, I hold the rank of Lieutenant Commander in the Federation Merchant Marine Fleet. My number is…"

"Why do you wear a Starfleet uniform, then? We know that you used to serve with them and why you had to leave, but it seems strange that you appear now, back in the colours, as it were. Why are you wearing a Starfleet uniform, Joe?"

Carroll looked down at his uniform again. In this harsh light, there was no denying that his Merchant Marine uniform had somehow become a Starfleet one. One sleeve was ripped off. He wracked his brain to try and work out what had happened.

"Would you like us to help you remember, Joe? We have a psycho-tricorder here that could help you access your memories. Just think back to the last time you wore your true colours, Joe. You're not Starfleet, Joe. Remember who you are, Joe. Not Starfleet, Joe."

In the control room, three Romulans monitored Carroll's reactions. The one speaking into the microphone sat back, turning the intercom off as he did so. The larger of the three put his hand on the shoulder of the first and spun him around to face him.

"Doctor," he said, with a rumbling voice full of quiet menace, like the warning tremors of a volcano, "the Admiral needs those codes now. Why do you waste time with the psycho-tricorder when you have already said that this 'subject' is not affected by it?"

The doctor sighed and began to explain, speaking slowly, as if dealing with a stupid child: "Each time we attempt to gain some information, the subject experiences some slight amnesiac episodes. If we threaten him with 'reading his mind', as it were, it will make sense to him along with what he sees when we activate the holographic matrix. Whenever we display some kind of scenario from the historical archives, he corrects it, without even meaning to. We simply have to find the moment he came into contact with the device for the first time. And it will take time."

The other person in the room stepped forwards now. A female Romulan. She slunk over to the doctor, oozing sensuality. It is clear how she thought she could get the information. The doctor sat up straight in his seat, staring directly ahead, trying not to make eye contact; she was having a completely different effect to the one she wanted to achieve, or did she? The doctor was clearly scared of this woman.

"Doctor, if you can't get what we want and get it now, I'll take over the interrogation. The Tal Shiar get results, remember that?" She put her mouth next to his ear and whispered, "We are very good at finding out secrets, Doctor."

The larger Romulan pulled her away. "Stop, sister. The good doctor is clear on what the Admiral wants. And he will deliver. I do think, however, that traipsing through endless historical records and analysing his reactions will not yield the desired codes."

The doctor protested "Centurion, any of these incidents could be the basis for the code that he chose to lock out the device. It makes sense to go through these memories with a fine tooth comb. We just…"

"No," the centurion interrupted. "Go over the sensor data from the moments immediately prior to our acquisition of the device. It was in his possession, then. If we can recreate the situation he found himself in, he could try to lock the device out again. And there we will have our codes, doctor."

Carroll sat there under the spotlight, trying to recall how he came to be in this situation. There was a fight with someone, of that he was sure. Someone close to him? Over an object of some type…some equipment that did something special. It was just about coming back to him. Think…

As he pondered, he didn't notice the lights go down. Suddenly, all the stars came out, above, below, all around him. He was floating in space. Yes, he thought, I was in zero-G, I was in space. But then what happened? He looked around and saw two objects floating there, no, not floating, struggling, what are they? He found himself steadily approaching the objects. Oh Lord. I remember.

There, in front of him, suspended in space, were two figures, locked in mortal combat: one was a man, in a damaged spacesuit, with one hand on a bizarre piece of equipment; the other was…himself, also with one hand on the device, but a hand with the flesh stripped from it, revealing a sophisticated mechanical endoskeleton. All the way up the arm, the skin had been torn, along with the sleeve of the Starfleet uniform. The face of the second figure was sheared down one side, showing the glint of an android's metallic skull, but the rest…the rest was irrefutable. The face was Carroll's own.